#and people were asking for faraway wanderers

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I read MTXT’s novels before they became “really” popular and I’m ecstatic about the official translation but I’m also in the mode of “oh I’ve read these before, I’m so cool” which is so stupid, especially as they’re now translating novels I want to read and haven’t yet so I don’t know what’s going on…..

[cumikering]

John Price x reader

2.5k | tw implied sui ideation, angst, comfort Thank you for being here today

John smiled to himself as he watched from the end of the bar. A few feet away, a group of three women chatted. The pub was packed, but it didn’t escape his notice that one in particular laughed so bright. The life of the party.

It was the same woman who ordered for the group, round after round. In fact, for other groups too. She’d sent rounds to random tables the past hour.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but what caught his eye was how his battery was at 4%. A stupid idea to be out on such little juice, but the outing wasn’t planned – it was no more than an escape.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barman placed a pint next to the bourbon he’d been nursing. He opened his mouth to clarify-

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured to the very same woman.

John nodded at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She raised her own pint in acknowledgment. He finished the last of his bourbon and made his way over with the gift.

“Noticed you’ve been buying people drinks. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Saturday night. No one should be drinking alone.” She sipped her beer.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “But aren’t we all fundamentally alone?”

“Correct, but not here-“ She shrugged, teasing. “If you can help it.”

“Honest, is it your birthday?”

“Nah. Just happy.”

“Wanna be like you when I grow up.”

Her laughter was crisp yet warm. It caressed his ears despite the rumble of the establishment.

“Cheers, love.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a swig.

“Enjoy.” She followed suit before turning back to her friends.

He lingered, leaning against the bar as his gaze wandered across the room. Framed photos of vintage rugby and football stills crammed the wooden walls as they glinted under the deep yellow glow. The pub had seen better days, but from the size and chatter of the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone cared.

He didn’t either. He didn’t pick pubs for their looks.

Behind his glass, he smiled again at the way the woman laughed so easily. She reminded him of a certain someone, a blue-eyed Scot who never stopped soaring despite his clipped wings. The one with the sun roaring in his boundless heart.

The one to do things because he was happy.

She downed her beer, and gave each of her girls a tight hug. She was leaving, but not for a short time it seemed. She turned to the barman to tap her phone on the receiver before handing him a thick wad of bills. The grin cracked his face in half as he thanked her profusely.

John took a step towards her. “Leaving already?” he asked, a little louder this time due to the swelling noise.

“It’s almost 12.”

“Are you Cinderella?”

She laughed. “Wish I was.”

“You can be. I’ll just have to make sure to find you again.”

“No, don’t think so. It’s my last night here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving away.”

That explained the lengthy hugs. “Oh, where to?”

“Middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know.”

John knew a thing or two about faraway places. He spent the entirety of that day in one.

“You’re really Cinderella,” he concluded and downed the rest of his pint. “Have you got a pumpkin chariot waiting outside?”

“It’s nothing that interesting.” She grinned. “Want to enjoy my walk before it’s terribly late.”

“I can walk with you, if you’d let me. You did say no one should be alone Saturday night.“

He was nosy, clingy – not himself. But after managing to crawl out of the hellhole he called his mind, this was his first conversation of the day and he wasn’t ready to wallow in his flat again just yet.

She shrugged. “Alright, why not.”

Once more, she hugged her friends, rubbing their backs. They were teary eyed, but she wasn’t - her smile as lively as ever. He tucked a few notes under his glass before following her out.

On the pavement, she took a lungful of fresh air in, chin tipped up towards the sky. He supposed the weather was decent. At least it wasn’t raining.

His boots thudded as he walked next to her. With her hands tucked in the pockets of her light jacket, she strolled with a little bounce to her step as she looked up at the stars. They were easy to miss, but they were present, and it was enough to bring a curve to her lips.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask,” he said in amusement. “Why are you so happy?”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Could you really be happy for no reason?

He chuckled. “You make me want to dance, and I don’t even dance.”

She glanced at him teasingly. “You should. Dancing is fun.”

“You know how to?”

“No, but you don’t need to know how.”

“Want to show me?”

She turned to him with a laugh. “What, now?”

He shrugged. Her joy was contagious.

“Well, first of all, you need music.”

“Lucky you, I got the whole world in my pocket.” He pulled out his phone and clicked the power button. Once, twice. It wouldn’t light up. “I take that back,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Your phone then.”

“If we find a busker.”

He barked out a laugh. “What are the chances at this hour!”

“Slim to none, but you’re probably luckier than me.”

John thought of the close calls he’d had: the gunshots to the shoulders or the bullets ricocheting off his helmet that sent his ears ringing, or the desperate jumps he’d executed from cold-blooded heights. But despite everything, the gift of life was still his. Still beating and fluttering in his rough hand, stained with blood that hadn’t washed off.

He hummed. “I like to think I’m pretty lucky.”

With wonder in her bright eyes, she continued to admire the sky.

Was the secret etched onto its darkness, behind the fading clouds and dying stars? Perhaps he could find out if he squinted, even that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at.

Midnight London was nothing close to the desert skies he’d witnessed; the marbled ones with a handful of diamond shards splattered and swirled across them, the ones that made him feel like he was nothing but a speck of stardust waiting for its inevitable dissolve.

But perhaps the answer wasn’t in the beauty, but rather in what you made of what you had.

John glanced at her again because, well, a smile was a smile. If the unassuming sky could inflict something so beautiful, maybe it would work on him too. Even if just a tiny bit. If he’d just give it a chance.

As they entered her neighbourhood, she pointed out the establishments. This flower shop, the owner stopped her one day to give her a stalk of red orchid. That one cafe around the corner had amazing coffee and croissant, but she couldn’t bear waiting over an hour for them ever again. The chippy across it used to be her favourite kebab shop.

She chuckled. “I came in every week for years. It’s been three years and I still miss them.”

“You reckon they know how much their kebabs are loved?”

“Probably not. People never love enough until it’s gone.”

He considered.

“What does it matter anyway? The world runs on the width and height of love, not its depth.”

He shrugged. “True.”

He’d never taken the time to sightsee. It wasn’t really his thing, but a little tour of the city - the city she was leaving - made him feel nostalgic, like he too was leaving. Was he?

It didn’t feel like it took any time at all before she stopped at a building.

She turned to him with a wince. “Sorry, I’m not inviting you in.”

“I know. That’s fine.” John smiled, like the weight had been lifted off his chest, even if temporarily. “Today wasn’t the best for me, but you’ve made it better. So I wanted to thank you.”

She let her gaze drop, and for a second she looked… distraught, before recovering. “Well, you can come in for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t- I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he quickly said, but she’d headed towards the stairs. He didn’t stop her.

She pushed open the door to a studio apartment, tiny even when it was nearly empty.

“Tea?” she offered, making her way to the kitchen.

Her bed was in the far corner, a small table with two chairs by its foot. Across it, stood a dresser with a guitar leaning against it. The walls and surfaces were bare. There was no clutter apart from an empty carboard box on the floor.

“Sure.”

He didn’t judge. He too barely had enough to fill out a box, but that was his room on base, not his flat.

“You’ve got everything packed, it looks like.”

She hummed, filling the kettle up.

“Can I use your charger for a bit so I can order a ride later?”

“Of course. It’s on the nightstand.”

John made his way over, but the charger wasn’t there, nor on the floor. Nor was it in the ajar drawer. It was empty, safe for one thing. He whipped to her, chills running down his spine.

“Actually, why don’t you keep it. I don’t need it anymore,” she said lightly, flicking the kettle on.

“S’not there,” he muttered.

She scanned the room. “Oh, sorry. Then it must be by the table,” she pointed.

Wordlessly, he strode over and plugged his phone in with shaky hands. He swallowed, his throat going dry as his heart drained. He stared at the back of her head as she opened the overhead cabinet, only to chuckle to herself.

“I’ve only got a mug left. A bowl would have to do.” She set them on the counter and opened two tea bags.

He was going to be sick. He blinked rapidly, searching for something to distract himself with. His eyes fell to her guitar. He swallowed once more before he croaked, “T- That’s a gorgeous one.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at what he was pointing at. “It is. But one of the pegs broke and I never picked it back up.”

“Can I play?”

She frowned. “You can’t. It’s broken.”

“I’ll make do.”

“But it’s useless. I was going to give it away, but no one even wants it.”

“It’s still a guitar. And it’s not broken forever. Nothing is ever broken beyond repair.”

She paused before turning back to the counter. “Feel free then,” she said quietly.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, back against her bed. He strummed and tuned the dusty instrument as best he could. As expected, it didn’t sound right because of the jammed string.

His heart continued to beat out of his chest as she poured the hot water into the mug and bowl. She set them on the table before settling next to him.

The lump in his throat only swelled, but he turned towards her. His fingers trembled as he picked the strings. The first chord. A beat. A bar and two.

He let out a long, steady exhale. On any other day, he couldn’t have endured the disharmony, but today the ringing in his ears was far louder as he inhaled.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

John’s blue eyes stayed on hers as a smile blossomed on her lips. The sight pained him. His gaze cut to the fretboard.

“No blinding lights or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark.”

The metal strings buried themselves further in his fingertips. He drew a sharp breath, eyes shut, wishing the tears wouldn’t spill. Not now.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,” he heaved, trying his best to calm his voice, but a tear finally slipped. “I’ll follow you into the dark,” he rasped.

When he looked up at her, she had turned away, wiping at her tears.

He set the guitar aside and inched closer to her. “I saw…” he started, even when he wasn’t sure what to say. “In the drawer.”

But he couldn’t help himself when he wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, face pressing against his shoulder.

“It hurts,” she choked between sobs, her tears seeping into his shirt. “I keep telling myself to hold on for another day… But it’s been too long, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.”

“I know. Thank you for choosing to be here, no matter how hard. Thank you for trying. Thank you for giving it a chance, every day. Thank you for letting the world love you, because it will never be the same without you.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” she mumbled into his shirt, shaking in his arms.

He rubbed her back as he let out a breath. Another tear ran down his cheek. “It might not be now. Might not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but I swear it will be okay in the end. Always. Even if the worst has happened.”

John didn’t know how long, but in the silence, he held her until her tears and its tremors dissipated. Her grip on him loosened.

“If you… Tonight…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Would you?”

She nodded. It was tiny, but it was all he needed.

He wiped his own tears with a shaky sigh. “Come on then. It’s your birthday. We can do whatever we want.”

“What?” She pulled away with a chuckle, her voice still hoarse.

“Let’s go out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. Are you hungry? There’s waffles. Or chippy, pizza or kebab. The birthday girl can have everything.”

“What about the tea? It’s not even hot anymore.”

“Lucky me. Never been a fan of hot tea.”

She laughed through her drying tears as he chugged it down.

John Price considered himself pretty lucky, but he wasn’t lucky enough to find a busker in 2 a.m. London.

But he was lucky enough to spend hours on his tired legs walking across the city with her. They bought food - whatever that still looked appealing enough at the hour, until they decided to rest at a park. At the top of the stairs as they looked upon the rousing city, they basked in the remainder of its slumber.

At the break of dawn, in the distance, the blush of gold crept over the horizon.

She turned to him. It might not have been as wide or bright, but that smile carried something else. An empty field with the faintest sprout, stained with a tinge of hope.

“I’ll get my guitar fixed.”

It looked good on her.

Thank you for being here today. I’m so happy to have you here. Please stay safe and take care

Masterlist Ex bf Price Formula One Price

[twstowo]

I noticed that you opened the ask box, so I came to ask for Floyd x Yuu with the scene from "The Little Mermaid", in which Ariel saves Eric from shipwreck, like it was an au where they met like that

I hope i'm not being too picky with my order ♡

♡OMG, I literally thought about this but with Azul, but then I was like, "Would Azul be able to save you?" because I have this mental image of him not being able to swim very well/being really slow. Lmao

♡Warning: Drowning

You'd always been a wanderer at heart, eager to explore the world, discover new places, and connect with people. Your adventure began when some sailor buddies welcomed you aboard their ship. Days at sea were filled with chants, parties, drinks, talks, and lending a hand to everyone. Once on land, you made the most of each day, wandering through cities and villages, documenting your experiences, and sketching landscapes. Your circle of friends in these new lands expanded so much that monthly, you'd receive a flood of cards and gifts, making it a challenge to find a spot for them all. Life was easy-going, a privilege granted by your birth into a well-off family, affording you the means to sustain yourself in these faraway places.

As you wrote letters to your distant friends, the sea's scent became a comforting constant, making you feel more at home on the waves than on solid ground. With night approaching, you finished the last letter and stepped out for a walk before dinner. It was then that one of your sailor friends, looking pale and alarmed, rushed towards you. "A storm's heading our way!" The wind had already picked up, and though storms at sea were nothing new, the urgency in your friend's voice unsettled you. "This one looks really bad, we might need your help," he said, and you nodded, following him.

With the wind intensifying, tasks on the ship became more challenging. The wind seemed determined to push everyone off the deck, and as you struggled to secure the unruly sails, your hands felt the sting of the rope. Panic spread across the crew, and for the first time, you feared this might be your last adventure. Looking at the encroaching storm, escape seemed impossible.

"Look out for that barrel!" you screamed as you watched the object land on someone's head, sending them tumbling down the ship. You ran towards them, grabbing their hand and holding it with all your strength to prevent the man from falling into the wild sea. The boat waddled with the strength of the waves, and you started to fear it would turn around at any moment.

"Don't let go!" you told him as you tried to pull him back up. You watched the fear in his face fade as he placed all his hope in your confident words. However, uncertainty crept in as the strength drained from your arms. The biggest wave you had ever seen approached the boat. You feared you'd never see your friends and family again as you said your last words before the wave hit all of you. "Fuck!-"

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You felt so cold, your body shivering as you slowly opened your eyes. It was mainly dark, but you could see some strange light from above reaching towards you. Nothing made sense as your brain tried to process everything around you. Strange wood started sinking around you, and the bodies of the crew members slowly sank by your side in a slow rhythm. You tried taking a deep breath, but your brain didn't allow it as you realized that you were underwater, having fallen off the boat after that huge wave hit it.

You finally grasped the situation as you started flapping your arms and legs around, trying to reach the surface. Wood pieces hit you along the way, sending you tumbling repeatedly. You feared the oxygen would not be enough for you to save yourself. Your throat burned as you tried holding your breath, unable to swim back to the surface. Everything started to become dark as you dared to breathe in the water. Then, you felt a strange touch on your shoulder. The lack of oxygen was surely playing tricks on you as you watched a strange creature look at you with a curious glance. You closed your eyes, awaiting death to take you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Floyd observed your sleeping form on the sand. He had brought you to the nearest land he could find, ensuring that your chest's gentle rise and fall indicated life. It was the first time he had come in contact with a living human, finding you strangely intriguing. Although he had seen some humans at rock bottom underwater, encountering a living one was a different experience.

Attempting to wake you, Floyd shook you gently, his fin hands reaching for your shoulders. However, your eyes gave no signal of opening. Annoyed, he sighed and lay back on the sand, half of his long tail submerged in the water.

Minutes passed as he lay there, gazing up at the sky. Strangely, after saving you, he felt in a remarkably good mood. He wanted to talk to you, for you needed to thank him, and he had questions about the inland people. Your head leaned against his shoulder, your cheek touching him, catching him off guard. He grinned as he gently arranged your hair.

When your eyes started to open, Floyd watched as you struggled to comprehend the situation. Weak and almost unable to move, you stared at his face, just a finger's distance away. You had never seen someone like him—strange ears, unnatural skin colour, and vibrant yellow/brown eyes. "Wh-Who are y-you?" you weakly whispered, and he quickly glanced behind, sitting down on the sand with his arms, reaching for the water.

“Oh My! Y/N is that you!” a voice shouted, and you tried to sit down, looking in the direction of the man who had vanished. You swore you had seen a tail—had you been saved by some sea creature? "We need to take you to a doctor!" a friend's hands reached for your arm, trying to help you stand as you continued gazing toward the ocean.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“A human? I wasn’t expecting you to take such a strange liking to one of them,” Jade mocked his brother with a grin.

Floyd wasn’t enjoying Jade's tone as he swam away. He had been interrupted by another landwalker just when he had the chance to talk with you, not even learning your name. Though he'd never admit it to Jade or Azul, Floyd occasionally returned to that beach, hoping to meet you again. Perhaps one day, the two of you would get to talk properly, and Floyd could finally learn your name.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

Neslin AU idea -> A ballad of beasts

AU where Tamlin, unwilling to deal with his brothers' power struggle for the High Lord title after their father's death goes FUCK NO, and legs it for the mortal realm.

He eventually finds refuge in a little, faraway village called Carterhaugh. But even though he's fae, he has no idea how shit works in the mortal realm, and he needs a safe place to stay.

BUT, he can't just saunter into the place and be like 'please will you let me into your house and give me a safe place to stay??'

That goes against all the fae rules, sanctuary must be given freely of a mortal's own choice and mind, no asking allowed.

SO

He transforms himself into a cat and wanders around until he comes across Nesta; the prickliest woman of the village, who couldn't give less of a shit about other people, but who is instantly besotted by the bedraggled and clearly malnourished cat that's mewling pathetically at her village bookshop door.

<><><>

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, gathering up the golden cat into her arms and scratching it under the chin.

It purred happily, and she immediately made for her small cottage at the edge of town.

"You must be hungry, don't fret little one, I'll look after you."

<><><>

She takes him home and gives cat-lin a bath and feeds him, and everything, but Tam starts feeling guilty so he poofs back into his fae male form and Nesta rightfully freaks out, screaming at him to get out of her house but eventually she listens to his story

High Lord powers -> WILL be killed by brothers

Nesta's still kinda eh,

So Tam just PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE's and Nesta is eventually just like 'jesus fucking hell, fine, but i'm gonna make you do unpaid labour in the bookshop if you're gonna stay.'

So that's how life is for a while, they grow closer, and eventually Nesta tells him her story.

Years and years ago, her sisters were out playing in the woods near their home, and she was tasked by her mother with looking after them. But then as she was watching them, a thick wreath of shadow just... gathered them up and disappeared them from sight. They were never seen again, and Nesta's mother had hated her for it until her death, and Nesta has spent every day since then hating herself for it.

<><><>

"I- I tried," her throat bobbed, eyes going distant and hazy.

"I tried to go back for them, I took my winter cloak and walked to the wall to bring them back home."

A tear slid down her cheek, "I failed."

<><><>

Tamlin immediately goes sHaDowS? kidnapping? that fukcing bastard Rhysand -> Shit, I'm pretty sure I know where your sisters are -> cue trip across the faery world to find Feyre + Elain

SO, they finally trek to the wall, trek across the courts, end up in Night, and Tamlin + Rhysand confront each other (bitter ex lovers energy, obv)

<><><>

EXTRA BACKGROUND

Tamlin's father dies of illness or smth and his two older brothers fight to the death for the High Lord title, cept the winner almost forgot about Tamlin until the magic fails to go to him and he's like 'fuck', forgot to kill the other one, so he goes after Tamlin. BUT he makes the fatal mistake of asking Amarantha for help, and she's like, oh, you're trying to kill my beloved??! UNO reverse, fucker.

DEAD.

So now she's taken over the Spring Court and still trying to find Tamlin to make him her 'mate' and become High Lord/ Lady of Spring

BUT fae magic can't be sensed in the mortal realm, so she's just kind of been wasting time being a shitty ruler.

ALSO

Turns out Rhysand has only been taking young girls from the mortal realm to keep Amarantha happy-> she sacrifices them for her magic rituals, or if she likes them enough, keeps them as serving girls/ maids, and she'd originally wanted RHYSAND'S SISTER as her companion, so he was doing it for family. doesn't make it any better, but yeah

<><><>

"But if however, I were to present you to her... I am sure her appetites would be satiated for quite some time." Rhysand's eyes glittered and Nesta's stomach roiled at the implication. Beside her, Tamlin only listened with a stony silence.

Don't. she begged. Don't you fucking dare leave me.

<><><>

Rhysand brings them both before Amarantha, who is instantly threatened by/ jealous of Nesta x Tamlin

So she proposes a bargain.

<><><>

"Is your love true, I wonder?" Amarantha's wicked fangs leered down at her.

Nesta fought to keep her voice even. "It is."

"Would you love him if he were a mere man?"

"I would."

"Would you love him if he had nothing?"

"I would."

"Ah, but would you love him if he were a beast?"

She turned to him then. To Tamlin. To the man that she had grown to love so purely and wholly. It was to him that she spoke her next words.

"Man or beast, I would love him with all my heart. Thorns and all."

<><><>

Thus begins the trial of beasts.

A blood red ribbon is used to bind Nesta and Tamlin by their wrists.

Amarantha uses Tamlin's shapeshifting powers against him and forces him to shift into beasts of all kind without any control over his body.

If Nesta can maintain her hold on him throughout his beastly transformations and endure the claws/ fangs/ gashes/ bites without cutting the ribbon, Amarantha will let them all go (Nesta, Tamlin, Feyre and Elain)

Nesta, being the bamf she is, completes the challenge.

Amarantha, pissed as hell thinking that Nesta wouldn't be able to do it, but unable to break her bargain without repercussions, has no choice but to let them go.

the end

or is it???

AMARANTHA LETS THEM GO, BUT NOWHERE DID SHE SAY SHE WOULDNT ATTACK THEM AFTERWARDS, SO THAT'S WHAT SHE DOES

she goes for Nesta, and THAT'S when Tamlin's High Lord power finally snaps into place, because it was dormant the entire time he was in the mortal realm and he goes full beast mode on Amarantha and murks her once and for all.

[whiteferraristurns]

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ⚠︎︎ pure fluff, no use of y/n, cursing?, use of pet names (Ma and another one?)

(psa I will use my nickname if it’s implied because I don’t like using y/n or y/nn. Just imagine your nickname!)

Bri ༯ this is so cute 😓

masterlist🕷️

The crisp autumn air nipped at your cheeks as you stood on the porch of Chris’s house, your black boots tapping anxiously on the creaky wooden steps. It was Halloween, and the evening was alive with the sounds of distant trick-or-treaters, rustling leaves, and the occasional eerie laughter from the haunted house down the street. But you weren’t focused on any of that. You were thinking about him.

Chris had been quiet all week, not his usual charming, sarcastic self. He had texted you earlier today, asking if you wanted to hang out, but there was something in his tone—if you could even call it that over text—that made you nervous. It wasn’t like him to be distant. He was usually the one cracking jokes, throwing in those pet names you pretended to hate but secretly loved. Ma. Doll ect.. The way he said them made your heart skip a beat every time.

The door swung open, and there he was, dressed in a simple black hoodie, dark jeans, and messy hair falling slightly into his eyes. “You gonna stand out there all night, or you gonna come in?” His smirk was lazy, but his eyes were searching yours, looking for something. Maybe he didn’t even know what.

You pushed past him, entering the warmth of his home, and inhaled the familiar scent of cedar and faint cologne that always lingered around Chris. The house was dimly lit, the decorations minimal—just a few fake cobwebs and a lone jack-o’-lantern by the fireplace. The usual Halloween party scene was nowhere to be found, which struck you as odd.

“No party?” You asked, turning to face him as he closed the door.

“Nah,” he shrugged, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “Wasn’t feelin’ it this year.”

Chris had a reputation for throwing the wildest Halloween parties, the kind where the whole neighborhood showed up and things got messy. The fact that he didn’t want one this year only added to the strange vibe hanging between you two.

You wandered into the living room, the dim lights casting long shadows against the walls. “You okay? You’ve been kinda off lately.”

Chris stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m fine. Just… got a lot on my mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, then walked over to you, his movements slow, deliberate. “You ever feel like… things are changing? Like people aren’t who they used to be, or maybe it’s you who’s different?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. This wasn’t the usual Chris—carefree, unbothered. “Yeah,” you admitted softly, feeling the weight of his words. “All the time.”

Chris nodded, a faraway look in his eyes before he snapped out of it and gave you a small smile. “Enough heavy shit. It’s Halloween. Let’s do somethin’ spooky.”

You grinned. “Like what? A séance? Or are you gonna scare me with one of your creepy stories again?”

Chris chuckled. “You’re the one who gets scared, Bri. Don’t act tough now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the nickname made you stomach flutter like it always did. Chris knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you melt with just a single word or glance.

“You wanna do somethin’ fun?” he asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of you, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a spark through you, the familiar, intoxicating pull between you two. “I’ve got an idea.”

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “What’s that?” His eyes held yours for a beat too long before he broke into a mischievous smile. “Let’s go ghost hunting.”

Ten minutes later, you were outside, walking through the darkened streets, the only light coming from the occasional porch or flickering streetlamp. Chris led the way, his phone in hand, occasionally glancing down at a map of the supposed haunted spots in the area.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you trekked through the empty streets. “Seriously? Ghost hunting? I didn’t take you for the type.”

Chris shrugged, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “What, you scared, Ma?”

“Please,” you scoffed, though your heart was racing for more reasons than one. The night felt electric, the cool air swirling around them as if carrying something unseen.

You reached an old, abandoned house at the edge of town, its windows dark and its front gate hanging on by a thread. Chris pushed open the gate with a loud creak, and you followed him inside, your breath catching in your throat.

The house loomed over them, its presence almost oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and neglect. “You really think this place is haunted?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris chuckled softly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “Who knows? But it’s Halloween, right? Might as well see what happens.”

You both walked up the creaky front steps, and Chris pushed open the door, which groaned in protest. Inside, the house was even more chilling. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, dust covered the furniture, and the faint sound of wind whistled through broken windows.

Chris grabbed your hand, pulling you close as you stepped further inside. “Stay close, Don’t want you getting lost in here.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the contact, but you was too distracted by the eerie atmosphere to focus on it. “You better not try to scare me, Sturniolo.”

Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “No promises.”

You wandered through the house, the floorboards creaking under your feet. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by your soft breaths and the occasional distant sound of the wind.

Then, suddenly, Chris stopped in his tracks. “Did you hear that?”

You froze, your eyes widening. “Hear what?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, his head tilted slightly as if listening for something. Then, with a smirk, he turned to face you. “Gotcha.” You punched his arm playfully. “Asshole.”

But before you could say more, the lights flickered—once, twice—and then went out completely.

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively reached for Chris, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie. “Chris…”

“I didn’t do that,” he said, his voice low, but there was a hint of amusement still lingering.

“Very funny.”

But when the lights flickered back on, Chris’s face was serious, his eyes locked onto something behind you.

“Bri, don’t move,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced as you slowly turned around, but there was nothing there—just the empty, decaying room.

When you turned back to Chris, he was inches away from you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m kidding, baby,” he said softly, his voice different now—deeper, almost vulnerable.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, the air between you suddenly thick with tension.

“Chris—” you started, but he silenced you with a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t urgent or hurried; it was slow, like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “Happy Halloween, Ma.”

You smiled, your heart still racing. “Happy Halloween.”

Bri ༯ Two of my favorite things Halloween and Chris sturniolo 🫡

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 1 of bracket one

Several different versions of Zorro were submitted, I decided to count them as one guy. I don't know enough about him to judge if there are any significant differences between those versions.

Propaganda:

For Zhou Zishu:

he has a magical sword that bends called a whip sword! he keeps it around his slutty waist! it's one of three legendary magical swords made by the (formerly) immortal "ghost hand" swordsmith! his love interest uses it to make dick jokes!

he's an unmatched swordsman that created and led a secret assasin organization and then he retired to get drunk and be gay. he's never lost a fight unless he was at ½ or less of his power (he got terminally ill for a hot second) and the only person that compares to his skill is his husband, the former leader of the ghost valley. he's so babygirl and so gorgeous and so swordy.

he's got a special little bendy sword and he's my girlfriend (don't tell his husband)

He's already super dangerous with just his hands and random objects he picks up (from a stone Buddha statue he throws at a bunch of assailants in early chapters to flinging a clothes button right /through/ a man's wrist), but once he pulls out a sword, you know it's for real. He's gonna disarm a dozen people in a few seconds - as in, literally, he cut off a bunch of people's arms because they were trying to kill his bf, - or cut a "十" into someone's throat. He's especially hot... ahem, proficient with his personal sword, Baiyi, which is a soft sword - allowing it to pass defenses by bending in motion. Very fitting for a sneaky assassin & spy like Zhou Zishu!

For Zorro:

Has been an iconic swordsman for over half a century. Ask any Spanish-speaking person and they'd tell you how loved he is. Has strong bisexual energy regardless of which version of him you're watching. His mask is very cool.

An entire arc is just him wondering about the risk/benefit balance of coming out (being able to openly be with the one he loves, but at the cost of lifelong danger for himself and everyone who associates with him). The inherent queerness of secret identities. The also inherent queerness of hiding your real self and opinions from everyone except your closest friend, only for your parent to later admit they knew about it for a long time and just waited for you to be ready to tell them. The swordiness? Being one of the best swordsmen around is fundamental to every version of Zorro. He's so famously known for being good with a sword that One Piece translators were worried their Zoro character would be mixed up with him so they changed that other guy's name to Zolo.

Zorro = Fox in Spanish

All you need is a gif of him making the 'Z' with his sword

[hurpdurpburps]

Otherside Picnic Manga Yuri Club Special Story 6 English Translation

SPOILER WARNING: Takes place immediately after the events of File 6 - Resort Night at the Beach of the End in Vol 2 of the novels.

Written by: Miyazawa Iori

Translated by: @hurpdurpburps

-

Chapter 6: Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation [1]

The hotel room was air-conditioned and comfortable.

It was mid-afternoon, with the sun almost directly overhead. Although the glaring sunlight outside our windows was so bright that it was almost painful, it didn’t reach the inside of the room. With the lights off, the room felt dim, as if cut off from the rest of the world.

We were in a hotel room at a resort on Ishigaki Island.

Toriko and I were laying on a large bed, dazed.

We’d barely escaped the beach on the Otherside that we’d wandered into from the outskirts of Naha, and ended up on the faraway island of Ishigaki. On the verge of a mental breakdown, we’d impulsively fled to a resort hotel on the island in search of a place to relax.

The walk-in rates for our room was expensive, but I wasn’t in a position to point that out. We were in desperate need of some rest and refreshment.

We were doing fine immediately after our return from the beach on the Otherside, but as time passed and the tension that had been building up for so long was released, our condition deteriorated.

I suppose you could consider it a state of collapse. The shock we’d experienced from the Otherside was probably too much to bear. Somehow we had managed to check in, but I barely remembered anything afterwards. I was sure we’d entered the room and collapsed onto the bed... I couldn't remember anything after that. Everything felt like a fragmented dream, but I most likely simply blacked out.

It was already late morning when I woke up... After visiting the bathroom and drinking some water, I returned to bed, neither speaking nor thinking about anything.

Although it would’ve been more accurate to say I wasn’t capable of thinking about anything. A few hours had passed since then before I was finally able to take stock of our situation and put it into words.

"Are you awake?" I asked, my voice husky.

Toriko groaned in response as she stared at the ceiling.

"Good morning."

"Mmmm…" Toriko cleared her throat and repeated herself. "Good morning..."

"Are you going to sleep a little longer?"

"Dunno..."

And that was the end of our conversation.

We continued laying in bed, dazed. Toriko was on her back, staring at the ceiling. I rested my head against the headboard on a pillow, looking at the wall across us.

I could hear the gentle sound of waves beyond the windows.

Occasionally, I could hear people's voices coming from somewhere outside. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be laughing happily.

Come to think of it, we were at a resort. If we got up and went downstairs, there’d surely be tons of fun stuff to do.

And yet here we were, simply lazing in our room, wasting our time away in the shade and air conditioning, doing nothing. I knew better, but had no desire to do anything at all.

Depending on how you look at it, this might actually be the most extravagant way to spend time at a resort - staying put in a comfortable place, resting our body and mind, in a tropical location [2]…

Little by little, I could feel my ability to think return, but it was still a far cry from my normal state of being. Just remembering the scene on the beach, that deep blue sky above our heads-

I suddenly felt faint, and when I had finally regained consciousness, the clock had moved forward by about twenty minutes.

This is no good, I have to stop thinking about it. It’s bad for my brain.

I shook my head and lowered my gaze.

At some point, Toriko had decided to use my thigh as a pillow. Her long hair spread out messily on the sheets. She was sleeping on her side, so I couldn't see her face.

Perhaps in contrast with the bright sunlight outside, the inside of the hotel room was tinged with blue, as if it’d been passed through a filter. Toriko's golden hair appeared dull in the desaturated scene around us, and it felt as if I’d stumbled into a tranquil scene from a movie.

Without thinking, I reached out and stroked Toriko's head.

Toriko made no reaction. Facing away from me, she accepted my touch as if it were the most natural thing to do.

I had the sudden realisation that we’d missed our college classes, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped.

It was impossible for us to return right away, due to both time and distance.

I didn’t feel like rushing home immediately. Neither of us had recovered yet.

How many days did we intend to stay when we checked in?

We haven't been asked to check out by this point, so I don't think It’s just one night.

I'll confirm it later... It’s fine for now. I don't have the energy to think about such things.

But I'm starting to get hungry-

As if on cue, I heard Toriko's stomach growl just as the thought crossed my mind.

I waited until I had the energy to speak, then said, "You must be hungry."

"Mmn…" Toriko replied.

"Do you want to eat something?"

"Where...?"

“Dunno. The hotel must have a restaurant or something, right?"

"Or room service…"

"That sounds good too." My stomach started to growl just as I said that.

This time, it was Toriko’s turn to say it. “You must be hungry.”

The both of us burst into a fit of laughter.

It seemed strange that our stomachs were the first to complain, even though we hadn't fully recovered yet.

TL Notes

General note: I adopted a more 'literary' prose style to match the tone of the novels. Hence, the translation in this series will be significantly more liberal than my usual analytical posts. Feel free to ask me anything.

[1] The title of this short story is 石垣島、呆然のリゾート, which can be translated literally as “Ishigaki Island, Stunned Resort”, which makes no sense, so I made a more liberal interpretation.

[2] The term used here is 南国, which refers to Southern regions of Japan such as Wakayama, Kōchi, Kyushu and Okinawa, or even Hawaii and Guam in a 南洋幻想 context. Anyways, the gist of it is that due to the ‘tropical island’ connotations that come with 南国, I decided to translate this line as such.

List of Yuri Club's Otherside Picnic Short Stories [my translations]:

1. Shinjuku, The First Meet-Up (新宿、初めての待ち合わせ)

2. Hasshaku-sama Epilogue (八尺様エピローグ)

3. Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty (お茶の水、初めての打ち上げ)

4. Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One (池袋、ひとりカフェ飯)

5. Naha, After The Big Job (那覇、大仕事の後)

6. Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation (石垣島、呆然のリゾート)

7. Mercedes AMG, The Backseat (メル��デスAMG、後部座席)

8. Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back (異世界エレベーター、帰路)

9. Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party (小桜屋敷、ピザパーティー)

10. Ikebukuro Bookstore, Meet Up (池袋の書店、待ち合わせ)

11. Hannou, In The Car From The Station (飯能、駅からの車中)

12. TBD

[doyouknowthischaracter]

You've been asked before about 2 weeks ago, but I'm wondering if, with the new submissions, there's any new characters who've been sent in more than once (Hopefully by multiple people). Are there any who've been submitted more than twice now

For reference, I'm not going to list the ones that were repeated in previous submission batches, unless they show up again with the latest one, in which case they'll be added to the overall count. Previous list here if anyone's interested.

Let's see:

Ronan Lynch, The Raven Cycle x3

Monkey D. Luffy, One Piece x3

Sans, Undertale x3

Jessica Fletcher, Murder, She Wrote x3

Five Pebbles, Rain World x3

Crowley, Good Omens x3

Granny Weatherwax, Discworld x3

G'raha Tia, Final Fantasy XIV x3

Sam Vimes, Discworld x3

Haruhi Suzumiya, The Meloncholy of Haruhi Suzumiya x3

Murderbot, Murderbot Diaries x3

Captain Jack Harkness, Doctor Who / Torchwood x2

Data, Star Trek x2

Link, The Legend of Zelda x2

Tsukino Usagi, Sailor Moon x2

Eileen the Crow, Bloodborne x2

Zagreus, Hades x2

Olivia Dunham, Fringe x2

Jane Doe, Ride the Cyclone x2

Sylvain Jose Gautier, Fire Emblem: Three Houses x2

Mollymauk Tealeaf, Critical Role x2

Wallace Wells, Scott Pilgrim x2

Daan, Fear and Hunger: Termina x2

Alphinaud Leveilleur, Final Fantasy XIV x2

Nanami Kiryuu, Revolutionary Girl Utena x2

Gladion, Pokemon x2

Sylvanas Windrunner, World of Warcraft x2

Leo Fitz, Agents of Shield x2

Francis Crozier, The Terror x2

Maedhros, The Silmarillion x2

Vergil, Devil May Cry x2

Alex, Oxenfree x2

Tsume, Wolf's Rain x2

Niko, OneShot x2

Halt O'Carrick, Ranger's Apprentice x2

Dirk Gently, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency x2

Qifrey, Witch Hat Atelier x2

Schmendrick, The Last Unicorn x2

Pamitha Theyn, Pyre x2

Dracula, Dracula x2

Gideon Nav, The Locked Tomb x2

The Audio Tour Guide, The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality x2

N, Pokemon x2

Ginko, Mushishi x2

Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H x2

Merlin, BBC Merlin x2

Vislor Turlough, Doctor Who x2

Roronoa Zoro, One Piece x2

Ishigami Senku, Dr. Stone x2

The Little Prince, The Little Prince x2

Soren, Fire Emblem x2

Blindspot, Marvel Comics x2

Tahu, Bionicle x2

Luo Binghe, The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System x2

Hercule Poirot, books by Agatha Christie x2

Sakura Kinomoto, Cardcaptor Sakura x2

Beatrice, Umineko x2

Jerome Valeska, Gotham x2

Klaus Hargreeves, The Umbrella Academy x2

Abed Nadir, Community x2

Dick Grayson, DC Comics x2

Dante Sparda, Devil May Cry x2

Utena Tenjou, Revolutionary Girl Utena x2

Johan Liebert, Monster x2

Siffrin, In Stars and Time x2

Foo Fighters, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure x2

Snufkin, Moomins x2

Mae Borowski, Night in the Woods x2

Haruhi Fujioka, Ouran High School Host Club x2

Anders, Dragon Age x2

Wen Kexing, Faraway Wanderers x2

Hopefully, I didn't miss any! You'll see some of these sooner rather than later as they're already in the queue, and a couple have already been posted before.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

[mshroom1e]

Hello! I'm here to request for The Wanderer! Hope it's not too specific.

So Scara's been kinda doubting himself lately so his s/o tries to cheer him up by leaving him food with little notes telling him how much they love him.

Hello! Thank you so much for your request! To be honest, I wasn't really sure what to do with the story for this one, so I tried to just go for a single short and sweet type of fic. I hope you enjoy!!

To the Heart | Wanderer x GN! Reader

type: fanfic

Summary: they say that the fastest way to the heart is through the stomach. It appears that the same can be said for people like The Wanderer as well.

1.2k words

Warning(s): none

Saying that food was your speciality was a complete understatement. You were proud of your cooking and took great pride in it. You always found a way to share your cooking with others, and your beloved, The Wanderer, was no exception.

He was snarky and sometimes a little mean, but you knew that it was just his way of showing that he cared. He never overstepped boundaries and kept the playful teasing and remarks to a minimum. However, it was very rare when you saw him without some form of humour or smile on his lips as if the thought of doing something to tease you crossed his mind. You could read between the lines and knew exactly what made him tick, even though it may look like that he didn’t care. In reality, he was prone to self-doubt.

You also learned that he often had nightmares about past events that occurred in his previous home. That fact alone was enough to make you feel guilty every night since you knew that those incidents were caused by one single person, but that person was most definitely not you. It just hurt that you couldn’t do anything to change the past, so there wasn't much that you could do except help him get better.

Lately, for the past week, you haven't been able to find the time to spend it properly with The Wanderer. In the little moments that you were able to be together during the day, you noticed he seemed a little down. You wondered if it was because of your regular, untimely absence or just his mind catching up with him. It wasn't the same without his snarky remarks and teasing you that almost always backfired on him. He wasn't being himself and it didn't take long for you to notice.

The first thing that crossed your mind was food. You saw the way his eyes lit up and sparkled whenever trying the dishes that you made during your travels together. He always gave a curt reply, briefly telling you that he enjoyed the food while avoiding your eyes, but you could see right through him. You knew it meant that he appreciated it.

So, here you stood in the kitchen of the Inn you and The Wanderer were staying at for the next couple of weeks. You asked the owner for permission to use it for cooking (with a bribe of one of your best dishes, of course). You decided to go for a simple Inazuman-styled lunch, something that would remind him of his first home. You knew about his past and how much sadness and regret he felt when it was brought up, but the fond, faraway look in his eyes only proved to you that the feelings associated with his home weren't fully negative.

You hoped you could bring back a new, wonderful feeling with your food. Something that would make him smile softly as he ate it, while shyly trying his best to give a sincere compliment.

And off you went, cooking up a storm.

Kuni woke up with sunlight gently kissing his sleepy eyes. From the looks of the position of the sun in the sky, it was about midmorning, the usual time he woke up. The gentle, savoury scent of rice, meat and vegetables flowed through the air.

When he arrived at the kitchen which was the primary source of the delicious smell in the air, he saw that you were nowhere to be found. On a table that stood at the centre of the room, there was a light blue lunchbox. Strangely, the pattern of the box matched the motif of his outfit, that alone earning his curiosity. He raised an eyebrow, partially scowling, hoping he wasn't wanting his time.

"Might as well..." He muttered to himself and stomped towards the box. His scowl remained as he opened the lid, not fully convinced it was left with the intention of being for him, but the lunchbox's design said otherwise.

He let his guard down, soon realising the lunchbox was from you. His eyes grew the tiniest bit more eager, but he still had an annoyed expression painted on his face.

Then, he opened it.

He felt his eyebrow twitch and his frown deepen when the first layer of the lunchbox was unleashed to be viewed by his eyes. A note. In your handwriting.

'Eat well, cutie. Meow.'

He blinked. Then he blinked again.

A wave of heat travelled up his neck and invaded his entire face. Of course, the note was from you. You were the only one who had the guts (and stupidity) to call him dumb, cutesy names like that. It irked him, especially how you managed to call him things like that so casually. To be completely honest, he kinda liked it. But still!! It was so- ugh...

He felt the dark cloud that plagued his mind clear up after reading the note. Your usual ridiculousness easing his tense face into a smile when he couldn't conceal with his usual smirk or scowl. Anticipation built up in his chest as he got closer to see what you made for him this time.

It was a cute, simple dish. A portion of rice shaped like a cat, which made the 'meow' on the note slightly less weird, but The Wanderer still thought that you were ridiculous for that. The cutely shaped serving of rice was surrounded by various spiced vegetables in the shape of flowers and slices of meat cut into hearts. Some of the cutting was a little clumsy, but it was clear that you gave it your best when putting it together.

When he started to eat, the flavours melted in his mouth. Even someone without a heart could feel the emotions and flavours that were all packed into that first bite.

He took another bite. Then another. And another. The bursts of flavour felt exactly like home. Not the home that abandoned him, but the home that he found with you. His mind welled up with emotions that he wasn't even sure he was able to feel anymore. Eyes glossed over, tears glazing over them and giving them an iridescent sheen. Feelings of sadness and self-loathing loathing being washed away by just a single gesture. Little did you know about the overwhelming impact that your actions had on the young puppet.

He didn't even realise he was crying until a drop of water fell on the smooth paper, causing the affected area to become a shade darker.

Usually, when you left him a meal like this, it was because you were too busy to make something with him during the day. Your work usually meant that you'd be away from The Wanderer for a few days, or only be available at odd hours in the morning. When you weren't busy, you would make something for him and yourself, chatting about your week while he watched you with adoring eyes but a frown on his face to veil the joy he spent from spending time with you.

[dishearteningmediocrity]

June 25th, 1937

Eighty-seven years ago, on June 25th, 1937, Colin Clive died in Los Angeles, California. This was a column that appeared in the Monday, June 28th edition of the Hollywood Citizen News, written by Edwin Martin--columnist, press agent, and acquaintance of Colin's. If I remember correctly, Gregory Mank quoted excerpts from this in his biography, but the article is worth reading in full. There's a poignant tribute underneath all the name-dropping.

Yeah, I know, not enough misery in the world these days, so it's time to dredge up more from the depths of the past. Still, it's an interesting glimpse into his life and death--and some of the people left behind.

Source: Hollywood Citizen News, Monday, June 28, 1937. Accessed via www.newspapers.com.

Transcript below.

CINEMANIA by Edwin Martin

JOURNEY'S END

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here."

Night after night we had heard him deliver those lines, and they never failed to touch us.

On this day they came back to us again--more poignantly than ever.

A few of us had gathered for a round-table at our favorite spot in Travaglini's--it was also his favorite corner that we occupied.

Just a few weeks before we had sat at this same table with him and planned a radio interview.

Soon after, when he went to the hospital, came a note in this manner: "Must have this old pump repaired a bit. Sorry we'll have to postpone our interview until I come out. Keep the corner warm at Travaglini's."

We had known him for many years--known him and admired him since they first brought him from England to star in the picture version of the same play he had made famous on the stage.

Later, when the play was revived by E.E. Clive, we enjoyed a most pleasant association while handling the publicity on the show during its run here at the Hollywood Playhouse.

During this time we got a little closer to this quiet, rather lonely man, who made famous the role of the hard-drinking Captain Stanhope in the stage and screen productions of "Journey's End."

Few knew it, but all during the past few months, even when he made such a hit in his outstanding part in "History is Made at Night," he had been carrying on under the constant shadow of a long illness--an illness which was gradually eating his heart out...but he never complained.

Sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes as he talked--just that--nothing more--he was Captain Stanhope to the end.

A few of us were keeping the corner warm for him at Travaglini's that day when we heard Colin Clive had reached his journey's end.

WALTER BYRON, another fine young British actor, was studying his lines at the bar for the splendid part he plays with Sarah Padden in "Chilikoot Lou," with which Miss Padden soon returns to the vaudeville stage.

Eric Blore, inimitable English comedian, still in make-up, was also there...and Larry Kent, Hollywood's wandering actor, just back from directing and acting in England, was telling about a picture he wanted to make in the South Seas...Eddie Lee, known as England's "Donald Novis," was resting from his triumphant opening at the Century Club...and we were listening to the gentle elder Mr. Travaglini tell about stirring days when as a young man he was an officer in the Italian army...while Tony Travaglini, Jr., looked over a radio script planned as a welcome home to Harry Langdon.

Into this crowd of men came a saddened figure--a lovely woman who had been a friend of Colin. She was the last member of that gay trio who often occupied this same table together...from which another splendid young British actor, John Buckler, had left one night only to meet his journey’s end in Malibou Lake in a tragic auto accident.

She was the last one left—and she dragged her weary self up to the bar and ordered a double brandy.

Everyone wanted to ask about his condition, but Larry Kent was the only one who had the courage… “How is he?” he asked.

“He is going,” the woman said. “When I left he was already in the oxygen tent. They wouldn’t let me see him,” she said, trying desperately not to break down.

Because she knew that even a friend of Captain Stanhope must face unknown adventures with head held high.

A phone rang—it was for her—she answered it. Somehow the ominous tone of that ringing let us know the message. “He’s gone.”

Silently the glasses were filled…then Eric Blore lifted his glass. “I give you Colin Clive,” he said simply, and a toast was taken in his memory…and eventually each man filed out and went his separate way.

Somehow we believed that Colin Clive would have liked to know that his journey’s end had been accepted with such a gesture…as he went to that last rendezvous with his old friend, John Buckler...and as we walked out into the sunshine we remembered that we had other things to do--other things to write--but the only words we could think of were his gallant words from "Journey's End."

"Think of all the chaps who've gone already. It can't be very lonely there--with all those fellows. Sometimes I think it's lonelier here"....we are keeping the corner warm for you--Adios, Colin Clive.

[eemcintyre]

One More Night (Tom Cruise)

A continuation of my previous fic "Something to Talk About."

TW: Nothing, as per usual. I'm a simple gal.

Summary: It's the last night of you and 90s!Tom's vacation where your relationship was uncovered by the media. He surprises you with a short motorcycle ride, a beautiful view, and a special gift to close the day out.

The last day of their vacation in Provence was coming to an all-too-swift end, and Y/N and Tom were scheduled to fly back to the States the next morning. Despite having finally been discovered by the media, they tried to spend the rest of their vacation exactly as they had planned. And for the most part, they were able to, although they did notice a number of cameras everywhere they went, and a couple of daring reporters did briefly approach them, but Tom and Y/N both gently declined to speak, continuing on their way. Annoying as these reporters and their frequent photo-taking were, Tom told Y/N that it was best to accept it and move on, as the reporters had not been confrontational, and there were no laws against being annoying, so it wasn’t as if they could have the reporters kicked out of where they were staying.

Although she was still anxious to see how she would be accepted by the media and Tom’s fans, Y/N had acquired an additional concern. Since their relationship was now out in the open, Tom had asked her to accompany him to the Academy Awards, which would occur days after they returned home. She was intrigued by the idea of experiencing the glitz and bustle of the prestigious ceremony while dressed in a gown. Tom was also excited to potentially share the occasion with her and was very hopeful that she would come; especially so because he had been nominated for Best Actor for his latest picture, Jerry Maguire. But at the same time, to debut their relationship at such a big event, where representatives from every news station would be peppering them with questions, was an intimidating prospect.

But, all of these concerns were to be put aside until the couple touched down on U.S. land. On this last vacation day, Tom had suggested they close out the evening with a motorcycle ride. The two of them were currently soaring down a road that overlooked the water, and the sky was beginning to dip into a beautiful sunset. Y/N sat on the bike behind Tom, arms wrapped tightly around his leather jacket and meeting in the center of his chest.

“Where are we going?” she called over the wind as they took a sharp turn around a winding patch of road.

“It’s a surprise,” he shouted, and she could tell that he was grinning. Both of their voices were slightly muffled by their helmets.

“Ooookay,” she laughed.

As the journey continued, they inched further and further from the heart of the city, the buildings patterned with lit and unlit windows, and the people who wandered the streets enjoying the temperate weather and each other’s company. Tom finally slowed the motorcycle to a stop when they reached the faraway edge of a small cliff, giving them a view overlooking everything they had passed. The city lights resembled gold sequins glimmering in the last few brilliant colors of the sunset above it. They could just barely spot the sea in the distance beyond it all.

Without dismounting the bike, they admired the panorama for a few minutes. Y/N rested her head on Tom’s back, and he put his hands over hers, which were still curled around him. Eventually, Y/N broke the peaceful silence, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said softly, “This place is really lovely- but why did you bring us here?”

Tom chuckled and nodded his head, giving her hands a squeeze. “Because…” he trailed off, rising slowly from his seat on the bike, “I needed to appropriately set the scene, so I could give you this.” He got on one knee in front of where she sat and produced a small velvet box from his jacket pocket. Y/N brought her hands to her mouth as he opened it, revealing a ring with a halo of small diamonds sparkling around the central gem.

“Wh- darling, you didn’t have to-”

“I know, but I always wanted to,” he replied. “I just wanted you to be able to deal with the public eye in your own time, on your terms. But, seeing as everybody knows now anyway,” he shrugged, wincing slightly, “Would you do me the honor?” He gestured with the ring box. “I want everyone to see that you’re my girl, so they better think twice before they mess with you."

Y/N brought a hand over to cradle the side of his face. “I really snatched up the sweetest man,” she giggled softly, bending down to kiss him.

“Is that a yes?” he joked, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling.

“Are you kidding? How am I supposed to say no?” Y/N grinned, playfully smacking his arm. “Now, are you gonna put that thing on my finger or do I have to do it myself?”

[andreawritesit]

ROYAL MISADVENTURES

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Zoro x Princess!Tashigi

Warnings: None in this part

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He was tired. Dragging his feet on the coarse ground was becoming harder and harder with every counting second. With an annoyed huff, he cut another branch in his way. Zoro was starting to question if visiting this apparently rich kingdom was worth it after all. Luffy sure had some confidence in him, sending him of all people to this faraway kingdom. He had already lost his way once or twice but this forest was truly testing his nerves. He had heard about the famous Kinokoshima and its magical plants – especially the mushrooms which were said to have miraculous healing abilities. Naturally, the Straw Hats had heard about them and Chopper had very gently requested Luffy to get some healing mushrooms for him. Luffy being Luffy agreed and sent Zoro on the mission. So here he was, Roronoa Zoro, trying and failing to get out of the damn cursed forest. Lost in his thoughts, Zoro almost tripped over a fallen tree branch. As he was falling backward, someone caught him and set him up straight. Before that person could run away, Zoro caught the hand that had stopped his fall and tugged it towards him. The cloaked person fell forward and onto his chest. He quickly lifted the cloak and was surprised to find a woman. Her dark blue hair was tied into a bun which was adorned by flowers. Her eyes widened upon being discovered and she tried to set herself free but Zoro’s grip proved to be stronger than her efforts. 

“Who are you?” he asked with one eyebrow raised. He was confused as to why a woman would be wandering in such a dense forest alone.

“Who am I? Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I am just traveling to the nearest island. This forest happens to be the only way there.”

“Kinokoshima? Why are you going there?”

“None of your business.”

“Is this how you speak to someone who saved you?”

“Oh, how ungrateful of me! Thank you for saving me! I’m sure that fall would’ve broken my bones.” Zoro couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. 

Her honey brown eyes shone with anger and she shoved at him hard. He winced and let her hand go. She rubbed her wrist while throwing glares at him. He stared back at her with an equal amount of anger and annoyance.  

“What?” she asked loudly.

“What what? Stop looking at me like that!”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she turned away from him and started walking away.

“By the way,” she said without turning, “the way you’re going leads to nowhere. The island is this way.”

Zoro grimaced and followed the direction she went in. This was going to be a long walk.

He had no idea how long he had been walking. The forest seemed so uniform, it was hurting his brain. The trees all looked alike, there was no way to tell if he was even going straight or in circles. After he came across the third fork in the road, he screamed in frustration and kicked a rock by the side of the barely walked-on path. It went flying and hit something. A yell came from the direction he had kicked the rock in and someone came running towards him. Zoro unsheathed Kitetsu quickly, expecting it to be a wild animal like a lion or a tiger. But the one who ran up to him and punched him in his stomach was the woman from earlier. She was holding her forehead with her right hand and her left hand was now laying punches on Zoro’s body.

“You absolute brute! Is this how you treat a woman? Or anyone in general? Whatever did I do to you?!” 

Zoro’s only response was to push her back slightly and put his katana back into its sheath. He sighed audibly and looked to the sky, hoping to just evaporate out of this situation.

The woman had also run out of patience as she walked over to him deftly and slapped him. His head snapped toward her as she stood there rubbing her forehead, which was now lightly bruised. His cheek was now red and stinging.  She looked into his eyes and her face was flushed, probably embarrassed that she had slapped a stranger like that.

“I will have your head for that, you know? How dare you throw that stone at me!”

“First of all, I’m sorry. Secondly, I wasn’t aiming for you. It just happened that the direction I kicked it in was the same as where you were. Don’t take it personally princess.”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “H-How did you know that I am a princess?”

Zoro wasn’t expecting that response at all so the first thing he did was laugh, trying to dismiss it as a joke. 

“Answer me! How do you know that I’m a princess?” she asked again, ignoring his laughter. 

He stopped laughing abruptly and stared at her. “You mean you’re really a princess?”

“Of course…” Her eyes widened and she smacked her forehead. “I thought you knew so… Oh dear God! I’m so stupid!!” she buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

“Hey hey, calm down. I mean, it’s not that I’m a robber or a kidnapper. It doesn’t matter if you’re a princess or not. Not to me at least. I just want to get to the damn mushroom island.”

“Kinokoshima. That’s my father’s kingdom…”

“You’re the princess of the magical mushroom kingdom?”

“Yes. Why do you wanna go there?”

Zoro deliberated on whether he should tell her or not. “On business. I want to talk to the king, your father I guess”, he responded casually. 

“Fine. I’ll take you there. We’ll reach there before nightfall.”

“Lead the way then, Princess…”

“Tashigi.”

“Zoro.”

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her.

By some stroke of luck, Roronoa Zoro had managed to make acquaintance with the princess. 

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I have an exam in an hour so I wrote this in a rush. IDK where this even came from but I just really wanted to write a ZoTash fic. I have NO idea where this will go from here but I just wanted to write something. Maybe I'll continue it or maybe I won't. We'll see.

[zelphin124]

SeasonTale - Chapter 4

Let’s note that Autumn changes his name later in his story, but he is called Fall for his past. This change will be significant, and he wishes to be called Autumn. Calling him Fall is practically an insult.

(Then again, he takes a lot of things as an insult-)

Masterpost

Onto the story!

~o0o~

Everything was always dying. 

Mainly the trees, which Fall found interesting. They would only grow warm-colored leaves only to have them fall and die. No matter how often he raked, more leaves would always be on the ground. 

It was good for the soil, apparently. 

Fall was surrounded by trees glimmering red, orange, and yellow. He loved those colors. It gave him a sense of belonging. 

Unless the red was a darker shade of blood. 

Fall rested the rake against the tree, wiping his brow. His gaze wandered to the town. He could smell Fall!Grillby cooking the morning pies. Despite the rumors of war, everyone seemed to be at peace. 

At least, as much peace as they could be in. 

The Fall Kingdom was not full of friendly people. Everyone fought to survive. Everyone had to be tough; kill or be killed. Those who were nice were often slaughtered first. There weren’t enough supplies for anyone anyway, and peace was not an option. 

The sun hid amongst the distant mountains as its rays shot through the colorful trees. The smell of pumpkin, cinnamon, and apples flooded the air. There was a tint of smoke from the factories in a faraway land; Fall was never told what that land was called. 

Not like he cared, anyway. 

“How’s the raking going?” 

Fall turned around to see his dad. Fall!Gaster glanced at the ground and frowned. He adjusted his oversized hood and mask on his colorful jacket. He had a cocky smile and scars to scare people away. 

Fall copied his frown, realizing it looked like he got nothing done. “I-I can explain–” 

“Those darn leaves, eh?” Fall!Gaster chuckled. “Looks like they got the better of you.” 

“What? No, I made all those piles over there!” Fall pointed at the three piles more giant than him next to a circle of trees. “That took me all morning!” 

“Yet, it’s not enough,” Fall!Gaster bent his torso to meet Fall’s eyes. “You’re not going to let a tree be better at its job than you, are you?” 

“No–” 

“Didn’t think so.” 

Fall sighed, grunting at the leaves already adding to his piles. “Can you help me?” He asked. “It would get done faster…” 

“Me? Help you? Kid, raking leaves is your job. I provide a roof over your head, and I make sure you don’t die. That’s my job.” 

“But–” 

“If you care about me, you’ll continue to rake until you’re done. A good son wouldn’t ask his father to help him.” 

Fall clenched his jacket, trying not to show regret. “Yes, Dad, I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll maybe accept your apology,” Fall!Gaster altered his wrists, staring at the sun. “Well… I’m going to need you for another assignment tonight. Hurry up, you’re gonna borrow something from an old friend of mine.” 

Fall knew his dad never meant ‘borrow’ when he told him to grab something. He often associated the task with stealing but Fall!Gaster always denied that. It was simply people repaying him what he deserved, as he put it. Fall didn’t question the orders; he wanted to please his dad and not be a disappointment. 

He picked up the rake and started working again. When his dad wasn’t looking, he used magic to burn the leaves, making them disappear quickly. I wonder which house I’ll go into tonight, he asked. Hopefully, it isn’t creaky like the last one. 

“Do you understand the map?” 

Fall flipped the map around a few times before he found the house. “Yeah. What am I grabbing again?” 

“Think, Fall, I told you this already.” 

“Uhm… A key?” 

“Yes, it’ll be a large gray key that glows blue with its gem. I need this for a future mission I must complete myself,” Fall!Gaster stretched his bones back and forth, making sure he was still flexible. 

“Mkay,” Fall got up from the chair, rolling up the map and putting it in his pocket. “Do I get to use the knives this time?” 

“Yes, actually,” his father replied. He pulled back the curtain where the weapons were stored. Fall immediately spotted the knives that were made for him. They glimmered in the darkness and begged to be used again. 

Fall!Gaster picked up the knives and handed them to Fall. “The blades are sharp. Feel free to use them on anyone who gets in their way.” 

“Wouldn’t that… hurt them?” Fall asked, putting the knives in their holders around his belt. 

“That’s the point,” he confirmed. “I’m showing mercy to them by sending you. Honestly, they don’t deserve to live anymore.” 

Although he was used to his father saying such vile things, he never knew the reason why he hated the ones he stole from. “What did they do?” Fall asked. Maybe his dad was right in hating those who wronged him. 

“You’re too young to understand,” he shrugged. “Now go, I need that key as soon as possible.” 

Fall wandered in the dark alleyways of the Fall Kingdom. Most monsters would think the eerie environment would freak them out, but it brought Fall peace, as he was used to it. Anything calmer than the hostile vibes would scare him. 

He rolled across the street and snuck to the edge of the town, making sure the knives didn’t fall out of his pockets. The map wasn’t super clear on which house he was supposed to break into. Big cabin with a red roof… It was the only description of the house he had. Surely, it wouldn’t be super hard to spot—

Bingo. The large mansion with the red roof was a few hundred feet away from him. There was only one light on: the lamp out front. Smoke exited the chimney peacefully. The walls were made of round logs and cut-in windows. It truly was a beautiful house. 

Fall spotted one of the windows on the side was cracked open. Everything he was taught started to come into play. He didn’t have time to study language or math; his school was one of stealth, defense, and stealing. Fall!Gaster made it clear it would be dire to have these skills, and it was the right thing to do. 

Thankfully, the window wasn’t creaky. Fall rolled into the house with ease and started searching the drawers. 

However, the peaceful aura of the house filled Fall with fear. He felt no sense of danger or any threat nearby. The house was so quiet that one could hear a water droplet fall to the floor. The darkness wasn’t scary at all. The house was filled with an apple smell, and many family photos were across the walls. 

Fall tried to ignore everything around him as he moved swiftly through the house, opening drawer by drawer. He found nothing within the living area and the kitchen. However, when he entered the first bedroom, it stopped him dead in his tracks. 

A large picture hung on the farthest wall of a goat family. There was a mother, a father, and a young kid. They weren’t from the Fall Kingdom. In fact, they didn't seem to fit into any kingdom when Fall thought of all the seasons. They were bright like the stars and looked very powerful. 

But their smiles seemed so genuine in the photo. They seemed so happy; an emotion Fall had never felt. Fall figured they weren’t so happy now, with how the world spiraled downward. He thought he heard about a goat kid being slaughtered and the former King and Queen grieving their loss. Maybe this was the prince, Fall tilted his head. The prince who had died. Whose death had caused chaos in the world. 

The lights turned on. 

Fall spun around, grabbing his knives and facing the monster before him. His breath quickened, and his hands started to shake. No, they found me! No, no, no, no–

“Told you,” one of the goats said, smiling softly. 

Fall lowered his daggers. One of the goats he knew, Fall!Asgore. His red leafy cape hung from his sides as he adjusted his shirt. His horns were long and curly. He bowed his head respectfully before looking at the goat beside him. 

The second goat was the one Fall saw in the picture. His outfit was white and shined like the stars. He was tall and proud, and his body language showed his power. However, Fall found no fury in his eyes. He could only see kindness and patience, which the little Sans didn’t understand. 

“Thank you, Fall!Asgore. I promise you made the right choice,” the taller goat had a deep and soothing voice. 

Fall!Asgore cleared his throat. “How am I gonna deal with Fall!Gaster if he finds out? Surely, he will know I betrayed him. He will wonder where his son is.” 

“Let me deal with him,” the bigger goat responded. 

Fall!Asgore bowed low and exited the room. 

He started to curse in his head. My dad’s going to kill me… I failed the mission. Please don’t hurt me… Fall backed up as his soul pounded in fear. He held the knife in fear as a whimper escaped his throat. “G-Go away–” 

The white goat slowly sat on the ground, not breaking eye contact with Fall. His hands were open and gentle, gesturing for him to relax. “Fall!Sans, don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” 

Fall held the dagger higher, shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I mean you no harm,” he tried to reassure. “My name is Solstice, Solstice!Asgore.” 

“How the hell do you know my name?” 

“You’re pretty well-known as Fall!Gaster’s pet, child. You’ve been doing his evil deeds for all five years of your life.” 

When Solstice didn’t move from his spot and continued to talk to Fall slowly, he lowered his knife and took a step closer. He looked at him, then back at the photo. It’s the same person… 

“I want to help you, Fall,” Solstice continued. “I want to help all of you. I plan to free you and the other Sanses from their bondage. But I won’t force you.” 

“There are others like me?” Fall sat down in front of Solstice, looking up at him curiously. “Like, my same species?” 

“Yes, there are monsters like you. They correlate with the other seasons. Winter, Summer, Spring, you were supposed to meet each other, but others have ulterior motives…” The goat sighed, patting his fingers on his knees repeatedly. “Thanks to your friend, I’m able to be here with you today to rescue you.” 

A loud explosion sounded outside. Fall turned his head abruptly, worried. That means I need to hurry up… 

Solstice noticed it, too. “I don’t have much time,” his voice became a whisper and rushed. “This might be my only chance to rescue you from your father.” He extended his hand, concern in his eyes as he glanced toward the window once more. 

“Are you dumb? I need to prove to my dad I'm a good son!” Fall frowned, standing up. "I... need him to be proud of me."

“He’s manipulating you. There will be nothing that you can do to earn his approval. He will use you for evil, but I’m here to end that,” Solstice stood up, his hand still extended toward the kid. “I don’t want you to endure the pain you’ll face. I promise you will feel at peace and free when you come with me. I don’t have much to go by, but not enough time…” 

Fall watched as desperation filled the old goat’s eyes. He glanced behind Solstice, where Fall!Asgore was standing. 

“Trust him, kid. I do. Your father isn’t up to anything good. He will help you,” Fall!Asgore said. 

Fall heard the final explosion outside. He could return to his father and continue to try to earn his approval by obeying everything he said, only to be met with more tasks and disappointment. Deep down, he felt like his actions were wrong, and these kind strangers confirmed that. 

The goats didn’t attack him when he came in; unlike previous times, he’s broken into other places. They were kind and patient and showed no disappointment toward him. They looked like they wanted to help, and Fall believed them. 

“Okay,” Fall took Solstice’s hand. “Does this mean I don’t have to rake leaves anymore?” 

Solstice smiled, guiding Fall out of the bedroom and toward the back door. “No, you won’t have to rake leaves anymore.” He sighed in relief, yelling something to Fall!Asgore. “Thank you again, my faithful steed. Protect your house and your family!” 

Fall!Asgore nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you for rescuing him.” 

Solstice guided Fall out the door; his touch was gentle and reassuring. “Let’s get out of here toward your new life.”

[jonogueira]

Do you think that during canon timeline in inquisition Alistair and the warden (romanced or not) write to each other? If so what do they write about?

I am so so sorry if this is not what you were hoping for(I know it isn't exactly what you asked), but I hope you like it!

Again I highly recommend listening to the song while reading. And a reminder that English is not my native English.

AO3

———————-

He half-listened and half-daydreamed.

It had been like that for the last months, but the previous days had been the worst.

He tried to focus on the person in front of him, but she was the constant in his mind.

What wouldn’t he give up to be able to go with her? His crown? His servants? His people? Anything and all. She only had to ask.

A clearing of throat at his side, and he wiped the longing smile off his face. He missed her. Maker! How he missed her.

Her face floated in the air, and the scowl on her brows made him sit straighter and focus again…

At least until the ghost of her touch on his nape made his mind wander… once more.

It had been hours, and the boredom was reaching its limits. He took another deep breath, and the people around gave him a disapproving look. One he was used to by now. It seemed nothing he ever did or said or thought was right.

Maker…

It all changed when the courier arrived. He stood so suddenly that the guards took their swords out. Cleaning his throat, he asked for the man to get closer.

Her handwriting stood out from among the envelopes, and he reached for it with his heart in his hands. Without a moment to lose, he excused himself and went to his quarters. A private moment with his faraway queen.

In the letter, she told him of her adventures. The people she met and the good the Inquisition did. She told him of dragons and spiders and endless deserts and how much she would trade it all to spend a second by his side. How much it all wasn’t worth without him by her side.

He cried, clinging to her words. His body was as heavy as his tears, and he felt his body falling onto the bed. A fall that took years.

When he finally woke up, the crinkled paper remained in his hand. The sun was high in the sky, and he walked to the calendar on the wall. One less day before they met again… one more day without her there.

Walking to the study, he sought parchment and a feather. He wrote to her the newest gossip and how much he missed her. How miserable he was without her there.

He begged in his words. He pleaded with her to never forget about him. To come back to their planned future. To not leave him behind.

He wrote and begged. Professed his love and noticed the teardrops decorating the yellowed page. His eyes lifted to the heavens, and a prayer let his mouth.

The courier came and carried his letter away. Away to a place he couldn’t follow. Another day started. Another lonely and long day ahead of him.

So, he did his best under the circumstances… he half-listened and half-daydreamed.

Another couple of months dragged by. The courier came back. Something was different in his demeanor, though. A small smile played on his lips.

The letter in his hands was heavy on his way to his room. Closing the door behind him with his heel, he found himself alone. Alone. In their room.

With care and hope, he opened it, and a small object fell onto his lap. He turned the stone in his palm and rested it on the desk ahead of him.

With a deep breath, he reached for the parchment in the envelope. A simple sentence he didn’t understand.

Scratching his head, he read it aloud. The stone began to shine, and soon, a voice filled the room. Not any voice, though. Her voice.

In his hurry to grab the damned thing, he dropped it and cursed loudly, afraid he had broken it. When a giggle reached his ear, his heart calmed, and the longing subsided for a moment.

“Did you drop it, Love?”

“Of course not!” He held the small thing in his hand and threw himself in bed. A sheepish smile on his lips. And before she could say anything else , he interrupted her with a whispered, “I miss you.”

There was a moment of pause. A brief moment that made him worry to no end. A moment before he heard her first sob.

“I’m here.” His voice soft. “I’m here.”

For the next hour, they talked about everything, but mostly how much they missed each other. She explained to him that a mage named Dorian had given her the necessary enchantment to create the crystal so they could communicate. He asked her to thank him in his name, and she promised she would.

She told him she had to go. That the march into the fortress was near, and she needed to prepare.

The pause was a long one, and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he opted for the simplest and one that he hoped would convey all he needed. “I love you.”

She chuckled on her end. “I love you too. When we finish kicking their asses, I’ll contact you again, so don’t lose the Crystal.”

He laughed. “I would never do that.”

And he never did.

Because that was the last time he heard her voice.

That was the last time he confessed his love.

It was the last time she told him she loved him.

When the official news of her disappearance reached the Ferelden Capital, he made her a monument. He turned the crystal into a necklace for everyone to see. To witness there would be no one else in his life.

When the first talks of a new queen emerged, he shut them down as quickly as they came.

There was no one he would love more. No, there was no one he would love but her.

And every night, he clung to the letters she had sent him. He wrapped his fingers around the Crystal and cried. He cried like a child. Like a man. A man who lost his heart and soul. A man who lost himself. He cried to sleep and after waking up.

He cried until he heard his name whispered in the dead cold night. He cried until he saw the Crystal’s light under his clothes. He cried when he heard her voice again. He cried when she promised she was coming back home.

He cried.

Because she had found her way home.

She had found her way to him again.

———————-

Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!