#below tags are for navigation purposes

[transstarfolk]

Transstarfolk ✦

(pt: transstarfolk /end pt)

(id: a banner of a golden vine stretched out straight. /end id)

a build-a-headmate blog that does additional requests such as flag edits, graphics, moodboards, and userboxes. This blog takes a lot of liberties with headmate packs, adding non-gender ids & 2nd/1st person neopronouns pretty frequently. Timezone: MST

(id: a banner of a golden vine stretched out straight. /end id)

About the Admin Sources List (you are able to request sources outside of the list, just please be mindful that they will take longer and most likely will not be source-accurate in the slightest!) Will do/Won't do To-Do List Taglist

banners by @/strangergraphics!

[exculpateinteractivefiction]

"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allan Poe

Exculpate: The Fall from Grace is an upcoming 18+ action packed and fantastical interactive fiction novel. Loosely inspired by media like “My Hero Academia”, “Bungou Stray Dogs”, “Jujutsu Kaisen”, “The X-Men” and “Titans”.

Tags: [Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Romance, Drama, LGBTQIA+, Textbased]

The Astra. In the years after the war it was a name that had grown familiar. A select group of individuals who had gained special abilities after the…incident. They are powerful. They are talented. They are gifted.

And you’re one of them.

Or at least you were around a decade ago. Before you made the mistake.  The type of colossal fuck up that blows up your apparently  flimsy life in a matter of minutes. The kind that has you running away and starting completely over. That kind.

Now instead of using your worthless ability to save people, you are stuck using it for much more…aggressive work. More effective work. Or at the very least work that pays better. The only cost seems to be your sorry excuse for morals. Trading your soul and sense of justice for a paycheck. What could go wrong?

It was manageable. Meaningful even. Something that gave purpose to the now shattered pieces of your life.

Everything was great.

...until you got a hit for the strongest hero in existence. Wonderful.

Play a former hero turned assassin turned…“hero” but not really .

Customize your character’s name, appearance, personality, and gender identity.

Develop a better understanding of your dreadful ability.

Explore and navigate complex relationships with six unique romantic options.

Kill your former best friend and betray old allies and new ones alike!

Come face to face with your past (both the choices you’ve made and the people in it).

Repent for your mistakes…or continue making them.

The Hero (Your Target): Maverick “Mav” Kingston (He/Him)

Maverick Kingston, your current target and the strongest member of Astra. The strongest, period. He is unstoppable - unreachable - unattainable. You would know as his (former) best friend.

Appearance: Maverick is the embodiment of “perfection” and that crosses over into his looks. He is roughly 6’1” and is quite lean. He has vibrant light blue eyes and a head of messy blonde hair that seems to always fall perfectly into place.

Personality: Maverick’s greatest flaw is undeniably his personality. To put it bluntly, he’s the best and he knows it. He manages to come across as nonchalant and egotistical on a good day - often just messing around or teasing both his enemies and coworkers alike, and while he can be quite charismatic, his laidback and annoying disposition tends to steer most people away. Although, you get the feeling that there seems to be something deeper lying beneath the surface even after all these years…

The Strategist: Carmen Reyes (She/Her)

Carmen Reyes, lead strategist of the Astra and to put it bluntly the only one with any common sense. She is an intimidating presence - although that might just be due to her title of the best hand to hand combatant of the Astra. You used to be co-workers and classmates but that was a long time ago.

Appearance: Carmen’s beauty is just another thing that adds to her imposing nature. She is roughly 5’11” and has spent years building up her muscular physique. She has curly dark brown hair that rests just below her chin and surprisingly sharp hazel eyes that seem to track your every move…

Personality: Carmen can be considered reserved and wise at best and completely distant at worst. She has a professional air to her that most officials and authority respect, but it can come across as aloof or boring especially when comparing her to the loud personalities that the rest of the Astra has. That’s not to say she is uncaring though - in fact she is arguably the most moral of the group - or at least she was back when you were a member…

The Heart: Silas Jones (He/Him)

Silas Jones, arguably the kindest member of the Astra. He’s excitable and naive - if not a bit endearing. He tends to act as the mediator between the public and the other members of the Astra when necessary. You don’t remember being particularly close with him back when you were in the Astra so it’s surprising how desperately he seems to want your attention now…

Appearance: Silas is roughly 5’8” and has dark brown skin with glowing silver marks scattered across his body. He has black locs that have been dyed red at the tips and dark brown eyes that seem to pull you in wherever you go…

Personality: Silas is easily the nicest of the group and can be quite soothing especially compared to the harsher personalities of the other members and higher ups of the Astra. He is incredibly open and energetic, if not a bit naive. He cares very deeply for the people around him and that clearly extends to you even after all these years. It does make you wonder why he is so interested though…

The Healer: Juno Aceso (She/Her)

Juno Aceso, head of the healing and medical department at Astra. She isn’t what most people expect when they hear the words “doctor” but she is a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the group. You were close with her back when you were in the Astra…or at least as close as you can be with someone like her.

Appearance: Juno is roughly 5’5”. She has deathly pale skin and dark eyebags that frame her murky green eyes. Her straight chestnut colored hair lands right at her chest, though she usually keeps it up in a bun.

Personality: If Carmen is distant and Maverick is nonchalant then Juno is on a whole other level. She is practically apathetic with her laidback nature and tends to be quite removed from everyone else. That’s not to say she has no personality though. She can be incredibly snarky and sarcastic when she wants to be. Unsurprisingly, she seems the least invested in your return. Although you get an odd feeling whenever she glances your way…

The Star: Payton Monroe (They/Them)

Payton Monroe is nothing if not a star. They embrace the celebrity status that comes with being a member of the Astra with open arms. You weren’t particularly close with them back when you were in the Astra but you heard the rumors of their exploits…

Appearance: Payton is roughly 5’7” and seems to make it their life’s goal to make themself as appealing as possible. They have ivory colored skin and dazzling lavender eyes. Their hair is shoulder length and white with streaks of pink going through it.

Personality: Payton is someone who has no issue embracing the finer things in life. They are far more interested in the public image aspect of being a member of the Astra and that comes across in nearly every interaction. While they are quite flirtatious, they seem to hold no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. Maybe you’ll be the one to change that…

The Newbie: Amari Gray (Gender Selectable)

Amari Gray, the newest member of the Astra. Not much is known about them - they joined after you left and they don’t seem exactly interested in getting to know you. They tend to be annoyed with you more often than not but you get the feeling that they are that way with most people. Although, their constant avoidance towards you specifically is quite odd…

Appearance: Amari is roughly 5’3”. They have tan skin and sharp gray eyes that seem to be set in a perpetual glare. They have thick white hair that is currently styled as a short undercut. They have a few piercings and tattoos.

Personality: You don’t know much about Amari but one thing you do know is that they don’t like you. They are either actively avoiding you or are going out of their way to pick fights with you. They seem incredibly familiar which makes their determination on making your life miserable even weirder…

DEMO TBA

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog!

The Scrungly Little Guys (gender neutral) Contest will start THIS THURSDAY, September 26th. All contestants have now been processed and are ready to scrungle it up for your enjoyment. Reminder that this contest enshrines the weird, the off-putting, the comic, the character actor, and the strange cinema legend. If you need a reminder of what scrungle means, this picture is the golden standard.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. I am working on a more complete tagging system so people just here for the polls can navigate the blog more easily, but that's still in the works.

FAQs:

“Define scrungly?” For the purposes of this tournament, a contestant must noticeably present in some way as at least one of these: odd, bizarre, off-putting, disheveled, creeping, feral, small, filthy, silly, funny, kooky, comical, exhausted, or just plain strange. This contest presents a wide array of scrungly appeal, so not every contestant will hit every single one of these (but should, ideally, be a few of them). Scrungles were chosen based on how convincing their submitted propaganda was. This contest is all about oddball character actors, creeping henchmen, comic relief sidekicks—the side characters who never get the credit they deserve in proper rundowns of famous old movie actors.

"How do I decide who to vote for?" Vote on whoever seems scrungliest to you. Do not vote for someone based on hotness alone. The video propaganda, included under the cut, is highly encouraged for showcasing scrungles.

"Is this just like the hotness tournaments?" No. This contest is sillier.

"Hey! Some of these guys sucked and they shouldn't be here!" Yes, some of these guys sucked. I agree with you. For reasons I've gone into before, I don't exclude anyone from the contest for moral reasons, even if I personally think they were garbage. I do this because I cannot responsibly research and vet every competitor's background and legacy, and I'm not comfortable being the moral barometer for everyone, even in cases where I think it's really obvious. You are welcome to vote against people for moral reasons, but as mod I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about anyone.

If I see repetitive, trolling, or bigoted remarks in the comments, I will block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor’s problematic aspects in the replies, that’s fine, but if I see bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked. I will also block if you start harassing other people voting on the polls. If you really hate that someone is winning, please post positive propaganda for their opponent instead.

I welcome additional propaganda for the scrungly little guys in reblogs or asks. I boost the best propaganda I see and try to boost equally for everyone. I don't accept propaganda that’s post-1970 or from non-film appearances. When sending your propaganda, please don't send me too many pics or videos at once (I max out at about four per ask.)

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t alter submissions beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. I do choose the poll pics, purposely trying to pick the silliest ones possible for this contest; if you think I could do even sillier, send me one I can use instead. If you think a contestant needs more propaganda, send me an ask with some and let me know if you'd like it added to the poll post if they make it to the next round.

“Who won the major hottie tournaments?” Eartha Kitt and Toshiro Mifune are the reigning hotness champions. They are both living it up by the pool in the sunshine, as far from the shadow realm as possible.

“The....the shadow realm?” All hotties who fail to continue in a hotness tournament are sent to the shadow realm, far below the crust of the earth where the sun never shines, a dark and dismal and gloomy place. (Boris Karloff keeps making everyone try his brandy-based guacamole.)

“Was [this famous person] submitted to any of the tournaments?” Try a tag search for them (ie, [#famous person name] in my search bar). If you still haven’t found your hottie, they either did not fit the criteria of working in movies from 1910-1970, weren't convincingly scrungly in their submission, or were not submitted at all.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Ongoing: Dracula Daily casting polls

Starting September 26th: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

After that: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Hottest On-Screen Couples (Astaire and Rogers, Bogie and Bacall, etc)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

[cupidzone]

˚꒰ 🏹 DISCORD FORUMS TUTORIAL♡

i'm not sure if people have seen or tested out the forums on discord but i thought i'd make a tutorial on how i use it for roleplaying since i found it super fun and helpful for organization purposes!

so what are forums? discord describes it as "a space for organized discussions". much like threads, the discussions can be contained in one post which makes it easy to keep your topics in order. the part that i find most useful is that you can organize your post by tags and filter through them! now in order to get forums in your server, you will have to enable 'Community' on your server. so let's start!

♡ . ) first thing you'll do is open your server setting. there will be an 'Enable Community' that you can click on and it will take you to a page like this

♡ . ) once you click 'Get Started' it will take you through a series of questions and system settings. you will need at least one "default channel" where discord will send automated updates. this channel is necessary if you want to use forums.

if you continue with the default settings, discord will automatically create two channels for you: one titled 'rules' and another titled 'moderators-only'. the announcements made whenever there's an update as mentioned above will be sent to the latter.

NOTE FROM CUPID ! i personally like to make a single channel titled something like 'updates' and keep it locked. this can be done before or after enabling community, you will just need to change the settings to go to the new channel first.

♡ . ) once you have community enable, you're free to make all the forums you want! when you go to create a new channel, 'forums' will show up as an option like this

for this example, i'm going to show how i set up my muses' profiles for 1x1 writing server like a roster, but you can also do this for single muse / threads / sms / etc.

♡ . ) when you click into the forums channel you created, you will see a landing page like this. there are instructions on how to navigate the channel as well so feel free to read those as well! the first thing i like to do is create tags. you can open that setting by clicking either of these buttons.

(navigate to the 'Tags' section and click 'Create Tag' if you need to) it will open a popup box like this. i like to create a tag for every muse that i want to add to my roster and you're able to add 20 tags!

when you're finished, they will be listed as you see below. there are other options in forums settings that you can play around with including a 'default reaction' emoji, 'slowmode', layout and sorting option, age restriction and 'hide after inactivity'. all these are based on preference!

♡ . ) once you've saved your setting changes, you can leave this page and are now able to make your posts by clicking 'New Post' on the upper right hand corner.

this is where you're pretty much able to do whatever suits your style including formatting how you like and adding photos, all you need to make sure to do is add the corresponding tag to the post! once you're finished making it look how you want, you can click 'Post'

they will appear in the channel like this!

♡ . ) and by clicking on a post, you will be able to open it in a side view like this. if you want to see the post in full view, you will click the three dots in the upper right hand corner of the side view and then choose 'Open in Full View'.

you're now able to add more messages within the post! for me, i like to add stats of my muses and headcanons that may be useful when i thread.

NOTE FROM CUPID ! one set back i found is that you are not able to use threads within a forum post so it may get a bit cluttered depending on what you send in a forum post. so if you are wanting multiple different sections for one topic, i suggest creating a forum instead. for example, if you are wanting to add musings, faceclaim pics, headcanons and stats all for one muse, i would create a single forum post just for that muse instead to avoid having important info getting lost!

and that pretty much covers how i use forums for discord rp! i encourage you to play around with it to find a style and format that best works for you. and if you have any questions, you're more than welcome to send it to my inbox. happy writing everyone♡♡♡

[visit-new-york]

Unveiling the Marvel: 10 Fascinating Facts About the Brooklyn Bridge

Step back in time to the bustling era of the late 19th century, where innovation and ambition converged in the heart of New York City. The Brooklyn Bridge, an iconic symbol of engineering prowess, stands as a testament to human ingenuity. As we embark on a journey to uncover its secrets, let's explore ten captivating facts that will transport you to the enchanting world of this architectural marvel.

When was the Brooklyn Bridge completed?

The Brooklyn Bridge, a testament to enduring craftsmanship, was completed on May 24, 1883. Imagine the excitement and awe that swept through the city as this colossal structure emerged, connecting the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn.

Who was the chief engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge?

The visionary behind this grand undertaking was none other than John A. Roebling, an engineer with a relentless passion for suspension bridges. Tragically, Roebling succumbed to an injury during the early stages of construction, leaving his son, Washington Roebling, to carry on his legacy and oversee the completion of the bridge.

How long is the Brooklyn Bridge?

Stretching majestically across the East River, the Brooklyn Bridge spans a total length of 5,989 feet. Its dual towers loom high above the water, a testament to the bridge's grandeur and endurance.

What are the main materials used in the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge?

The bridge's construction harnessed the power of steel and stone. The towers were built using limestone, granite, and cement, while the span itself relied on a combination of steel cables and iron. This blend of materials ensured both strength and aesthetic appeal.

How many towers does the Brooklyn Bridge have?

The Brooklyn Bridge proudly boasts two towering sentinels, each standing as a majestic guardian at the entrance of their respective boroughs. These granite-clad towers not only serve as structural anchors but also as enduring symbols of the bridge's resilience.

Can pedestrians walk across the Brooklyn Bridge?

Absolutely! The Brooklyn Bridge welcomes pedestrians with open arms. Take a stroll across its wooden-planked walkway and revel in the breathtaking panoramic views of the Manhattan skyline, the Statue of Liberty, and the bustling river below.

Is there a fee to walk or drive across the Brooklyn Bridge?

Fear not, adventurers! Walking across this historic bridge comes with no price tag. However, if you plan to drive, be prepared to pay a toll. But trust us, the pedestrian experience is unparalleled.

What is the purpose of the Brooklyn Bridge?

Beyond its functional role as a vehicular and pedestrian thoroughfare, the Brooklyn Bridge stands as a symbol of unity, linking two boroughs and transcending the waters that once divided them. Its purpose goes beyond transportation – it's a living testament to human ambition and the relentless pursuit of connection.

How tall are the towers of the Brooklyn Bridge?

Stand in awe as you gaze up at the towering giants of the Brooklyn Bridge. Each tower rises to a majestic height of 276 feet, piercing the sky and leaving an indelible mark on the city's skyline.

How many cables support the Brooklyn Bridge?

The strength of the Brooklyn Bridge lies in its cables, and there are a staggering 14,680 of them! These cables, meticulously woven and anchored, provide the bridge with the support it needs to withstand the test of time.

Conclusion:

The Brooklyn Bridge, a marvel of engineering and a testament to human resilience, continues to captivate hearts and minds. Whether you traverse its walkway, gaze at its towers from afar, or simply revel in its historical significance, the bridge remains a living testament to the spirit of innovation that defines New York City. As you navigate its storied path, remember that you're walking not just across a river but through the pages of history itself.

[lilacliquors]

welcome to lilacliquors's

single? taken? hopelessly in love with unattainable fictional men? this event is for you!

in the days leading up to valentine's day, we'll have 7 fluffy and 7 smutty prompts to celebrate a day centered on romance

rules + relevant info below the cut!

the 14 days start on february 1st and will go until the 14th, and because we only have 14 prompts, these may be longer

these prompts are based off of the posts they're snatched from! yes it's cute and also it gives me a prompt to work with, so they'll be out faster

because we have only 14 days, i'll only write for a character once. i know we might all wanna see our faves doing every fluffy / smutty prompt, but we gotta share the love here

like kinktober, if you enjoyed a prompt and want longer versions, or perhaps you want that same prompt with a different character, i'll be more than happy to write it over the holidays!

i write afab reader only. however, with these being in general fluff prompts and not smut, there is a much higher chance they'll be more gender neutral

i will be tagging all posts with #sweet and spicy special 2024, #character name fluff, #character name smut, and #character name sweet and spicy special for easier navigation or for tag blocking purposes

the list for my characters can be found here

make sure to check back to this post to see which prompts have been claimed!

SMUT - from this post here!

[PINNED]: sender pins receiver against a wall - edgin x reader

[COLLAR]: sender grabs receiver by the collar to pull them closer - phillip graves x reader

[LAP]: sender pulls receiver onto their lap - alejandro vargas x reader

[OFFICE]: sender and receiver are making out in receiver's office - matt murdock x reader

[PULL]: sender pulls on receiver's hair to expose their neck - johnny cage mk11 x reader

[MUFFLE]: sender puts their hand over receiver's mouth to keep them quiet - billy butcher x reader

[TABLE]: sender touches receiver's thigh under the table at a restaurant or a dinner party - soldier boy x reader

FLUFF - from this post here

[  OVERHEARD  ]: sender reveals that they’re in love with the receiver to a third party, not realizing that the receiver, while out of sight, has just overheard the confession. - bi - han x reader

[  TRACE  ]: sender, believing the receiver to be asleep, gently traces the message “i love you” on the receiver’s bare skin with their finger. - syzoth x reader

[  DANCING  ]: as they slow-dance together, the sender takes the opportunity to lean in close to the receiver and tell them that they love them. - miguel o'hara x reader

[  WEDDING  ]: as they prepare to exchange wedding vows, sender gazes at the receiver and says “i love you” for the last time as an unmarried couple. - kuai liang x reader

[  RELIEF  ]: upon reuniting with the receiver, whom the sender briefly believed to be dead, the sender emotionally embraces them, and says “i love you” in the spur of the moment. - johnny cage mk1 x reader

[  QUIET  ]: on a cozy night in with the receiver, as they curl up together on the sofa/in bed, the sender says “i love you” to them. - smoke x reader

[  FIRST  ]: sender tells the receiver “i love you” for the first time. - poe dameron x reader

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Court, death, mentions of violence.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! We are getting closer and closer to the end! Only 3 more chapters to go, I can't wait to finish this with you. I know I sound like a broken record, but jesus! I've had this bad boy ageing in my computer waiting to be posted haha. Anyone, Enjoy! <3

Chapter 107: And So The Tide Rushes to Shore 

The news of the seizing of Kings Landing by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen spread across the realm like wild fire. There was no corner that had not heard the news, nor person that had not swallowed in apprehension.

But the promise of war was over.

There would be no war.

No torching of the realm and its innocents, no destruction of Keeps and homes and livestock. No call for men to join armies and fight for the throne in a bloody and violent death. Nor women and children who would be left alone without their fathers, or husbands.

However, now was a time where the fragility of her rule would hang upon a delicate thread, and although Rhaenyra had her supporters, there were still those who had supported Aegon’s rule, and then subsequently Aemond’s.

The Small Council of the Greens had been rounded into cells by guards and knights. Gold cloaks flooding the Keep at the order of Daemon, a man who they had kept their allegiance to for all his time spent away.

And as Rhaenyra had personally escorted you, alongside Daemon, towards your original chambers, the ones that you grew up in, and not the one that now housed the corpse of your late husband, you walked quietly, dagger still in your hand, Daemon’s fingers unable to pry it from you just yet.

The corridors were a mess of Lords and Ladies, maids and servants who rushed and fled, were captured, and otherwise scattering like ants as they were unsure of what to do, or what was to come. 

Above you, four large dragons, circled the Keep, crying out into the air. A vision of red, and green, and pale pearl flying about as they surveyed the Red Keep below. One outsized them all.

The bronze scales of Vermithor shimmered brightly in the sun.

A sob of relief fell from your lips as you watched him, looking up at a dragon you had been separated for months from, not being able to see him or know he was okay. There was agitation in his body as he flew, but otherwise he was safe.

He was safe.

And he knew you were too.

When you had gotten to your chambers, Amala and Joanna were already there, waiting, wringing their hands together in anticipation. And upon seeing you, Amala had gasped, and ran towards you, hands checking your face for wounds, no doubt shocked by the blood.

Daemon turned to the girls, “Fetch her some water for a bath.”

And with that, their fussing and stress stopped, and they sprung into action, running from the chambers. Both girls eyes dragging over your body and the crown atop your head as they exited.

It was weird to be back in them. 

The chambers that felt alien to you now.

You stood in the room you had once called your own and breathed, slowly walking over to your old table to place the dagger atop it, finally feeling safe. Finally feeling as though you didn't need the blade any longer. That the last piece of safety Aemond had given to you had served its purpose. And it was then that you breathed, truly breathed. Breathed for the first time since coming to the Red Keep.

It was over. 

It was over.

You stood as you were and watched the maids return, another younger girl in tow, blonde and thin, who bowed and introduced herself quietly to you, ‘Ceryse, Your Grace’, eyes widening at the blood on your skin and hair before she averted her eyes, face having turned ashen.

Daemon and Rhaenyra waited with you as they filled the bath, and as the chamber doors opened once again, you had expected one of the girls to be bringing more water to rinse you with, but instead, you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes. 

Jacaerys.

You sucked in a sob as he raced across the chambers, crashing his body into yours as he gripped you tightly. You almost fell backwards from the clashing of your bodies, arms curled under his and up his back, squeezing the leather riding tunic he wore to you tightly. 

He smelt of dragon, of musk, and the subtle sulfur of dragon flame. But most of all, he smelt of home.

You half sobbed and half laughed, overjoyed and grieving all at once in his arms. Hands shaking around him as he squeezed you tightly. His chest shaking as he sobbed himself, holding you outwards in his arms as his eyes roamed your body, looking you over.

He was taller, so much taller than he had been, and broader too. His hair was long against his shoulders and curled, pulled behind his ears by braids.

"You're here." He breathed, as though he was even unsure of it. As if seeing you had confirmed that his greatest fear had not come true.

You nodded, hand coming to touch his jaw gently. He grabbed the wrist that held his face tightly, emotion pouring through his eyes as he shook. And in a turn of familiarity that you only knew from Daemon, he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, eyes shut, brown lashes clumped together and wet as he fought the tears that escaped them.

"I'm here." You breathed, "I'm here."

The rest was a blur.

A blur of reunion, a blur of being bathed, the milky water below turning a soft pink, to an earthy copper as the blood was washed from your hair and face. The maids scrubbing your body with a sponge to pull the dried blood from your skin, Rhaenyra not once leaving your side.

One of the maids had to bring her a chair and tell her to sit down as she anxiously stood between you and the door, eyes darting back and forth, the fear of having you taken from her again ripe.

But nothing had happened. No knights entered to take away, no Greens supporters came to call, no Alicent, or Jasper, or anyone. Just you and your mother, who insisted on brushing and braiding your hair, and you had let her, tears cascading down your cheeks as she hummed to you.

A familiar tune.

Something the maids had sang to you a long time ago, but this time, it was the song of the Goddess Meleys, and you had cried even harder.

She had been there all along.

That evening you dined with your family, exhaustion burrowed deep within your bones.

And it was still all a blur, it felt like a dream still. Sat with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Rhaenys and Baela around the table in the intimate dining hall. 

It was almost like it had been before.

Before the war. 

As though this was as it was supposed to be. 

Almost.

And whilst they celebrated the victory quietly and solemnly, toasting a cup towards you which you lifted your own in response, there was no denying the grief that lingered in the foreground. No denying the grief of the loss of Lucerys and your sister. Their palpable absence. The grief of the war and time lost, of your own child, of Aemond.

Tears escaped your eyes, and you were thankful to be with them, but for the most part, sitting with your family, it felt as though you were watching them all through somebody else’s eyes, as though you were watching from somewhere else, or that you were a puppet from Flea Bottom and somebody, high above in the clouds, was pulling your strings, stretching your cheeks into a smile, nodding your head in agreement, ears listening to tales and comments of relief without truly listening. 

It was not a loud and joyous celebration. In fact, it felt more like a funeral, like the one for Laena, like the one for Laenor.

There was no music, there was no dancing, but it was enough.

It was enough to just be with them, to just be in their presence, hear their voices, be able to reach out and touch them if you wanted to. The subtle scents of their own, curling around you in a soft blanket.

You had reached for your goblet at one point during the night, mouth having gone dry at the mention of Aegon, and you had to hold in a scream, eyes finding your hands covered in blood once more. Your eyes had widened in shock, a small inhale ripped into your lungs, and Daemons careful eye from across the room had spotted you.

And though the maids had washed and scrubbed you vigorously, cleaning under your nails with careful hands, even though you knew in your heart that you were clean, it didn't stop your mind from seeing them soaked red with your lovers blood. Covered as they had been that morning.

And he was there.

Watching.

By the corner of the room.

Eye never leaving you.

But you kept a brave face, if only for a while longer, not daring to look where you hands would reach, grasping blinding in front of you, resulting in wine spilt and worried eyes. You had blamed your tired and shaky hands. For how were you to explain that when you looked down upon them you saw the proof of your misdeeds. The proof of your sin. The proof of your betrayal.

Then all too soon, exhaustion creeped over you, and your mother, noticing the shift, escorted you back to your chambers, and readily tucked you into bed, sitting on the side as she looked at you with nothing but love. She brushed your hair from your face, and without a word, climbed into bed beside you. She pulled you to her tightly, and you curled up against her, nestling your head into the crook of her neck to breathe deeply.

And as your eyes were closed, you let yourself pretend that it was him.

Sleep dragged you under, and no dreams haunted you this time, though you felt his presence behind you. And when you woke, still in her arms, her hand was holding your head against her as she breathed, fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair in thought. You shifted, looking up into her lilac eyes which seemed to be shadowed, dark rings on the skin beneath.

She had not slept.

“Did you rest?” You asked, eyes darting across her face as you shifted to sit up in bed.

“I have not slept since the day you left. And now that I have you in my arms again, I am frightened that my eyes shall close, and when they open and you will be gone.”

You swallowed thickly, “I would never leave you.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small smile, though edges pulled down into a frown.

“If it is your wish, I would not keep you here in the Keep. If the memories are-“ She paused, unsure of how to move on, “If it is too much to bear, I would not hold you here. I would not force you to stay.” She whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You frowned at her, “I am your Hand. I am bound by duty to be at your side.”

Rhaenyra let out the breath she had been holding before she nodded, “Duty be damned, I think you have performed yours and then some, more than I ever would have asked you to." She breathed deeply, "The rest of the council and my men shall arrive today. There will be a trial, to convict those who have plotted against me. Those who aided Aegon in the usurpation of the throne. And those who kept you here.”

You shifted in the sheets as you looked at your mother. 

Her soft brows pulled slightly together, the frown lines that seemed to now permanently mar her skin, were present with the movements of her lips, which she pressed together into a thin line, moving to open again.

But you beat her to it, “Then we must be ready.”

And so, you were dressed in a black leather bustier, with large winged shoulders, the neck of the leather coming just below your chin. It was a shorter gown, coming just mid calf, and beneath, you wore black trousers and leather boots that tucked them inside, just below the knee. Across your chest was chains, hooped and long against your bust, each end being the opened mouth of a dragon on either side.

The girls braided your hair back, gentle and soft in their movements, both working together as they used small pins with red jewels at their tip to hold your hair up and off of your neck. And all the while, your eyes did not leave the Conquerors Crown that was placed atop the table, smears of blood on the steel and ruby.

Rhaenyra had already left, to be dressed and readied for court in her old chambers, joined by her husband. But you were rooted on the spot, unable to move as you looked at it, watching as the light from the sun caused the ruby to glimmer.

A blood red.

Blood.

Like the blood that had covered you. Like the blood you had tried to stop at Aemond’s neck. The blood that spilled through your hands and his and soaked the sheets and pillows below. The blood that had soaked you.

You would not dare look at your hands, for you knew what you would see.

You blinked and moved towards it.

But it was your crown.

Yours by right.

And so you lifted it, placing it atop your head, revelling in the weight that it pressed down your neck. The weight that then settled in your chest and gut. 

With determined steps, you left the chambers, blade tucked into a holder at your side, dried blood still smeared across its blade and hilt as you walked swiftly down to the throne room to meet your Queen, and meet with the rest of the council and Lords of the realm.

All ready to see and watch the true heir to the Iron Throne be seated where she should have always sat, from the moment Viserys had passed, and for her to cast down her judgement on those who went against her. 

Traitors and turncloaks alike.

When you entered the throne room, it was bursting with life, and the floor where Larys had laid was stained with his dried blood, a large smear across the stones from where his body had been dragged and removed.

All eyes were on you, each step echoing in the chambers as the people quietened, and your mother lifted her head.

Your father stood at the foot of the throne, Jacaerys beside him, as you came to stand before her.

Ser Erryk Cargyll announced you to the chambers, presenting your titles to the room, “Hand of the Queen.”

With a bow of your head, foot sliding beneath you, you pressed your knee upon the floor and reached a hand up, grasping the crown from your head as you held it towards her, “Your Grace, I give my crown lands and titles to you, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne.” When you stood again, you looked up at your mother who smiled gently at you.

“Princess Y/n, my daughter and first born, you have earnt that crown valiantly, through months of tireless work.” Her voice rose in the chambers, all still as they listened, “You may hold it in your possession, as a reminder of your deeds.” You could feel the eyes of all in the chambers flickering on the back of your head and then to the Queen who sat atop the throne.

“Your acts of bravery have not gone unnoticed, nor has your role in winning this war, and returning the throne and all the realms to me rightfully.” Jacaerys shifted at your fathers side, a small smile pulling at the side of his lips, “And at this time, the succession for the Iron Throne has changed.”

What?

Your breath stopped in your chest, eyes darting to Jacaerys who gave you the slightest tip of his head.

“Let all who stand here bear witness to the naming of my true successor. A successor who had been promised the throne once before.” Her eyes met yours, “Let it be known, that in the eyes of the Realm and before the Old Gods and the New, that my daughter, Princess Y/n Velaryon, is my heir and successor to the Iron Throne. Duty of the Hand of the Queen shall be placed upon Ser Corlys Velaryon.”

Heir.

Successor.

You blinked.

You were her heir.

You were the heir to the Iron Throne.

"But now," the Queen continued, "Is not the time for talks of succession and my rule. Now is the time to bring forth traitors and turncloak's who broke their oath to my father, King Viserys, and to me, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

The sound of men around you shifted as they bowed their head towards you, your face in pure shock as you looked at them.

“Now,” The Queen boomed over the rising whispers in the chambers, “Bring forth the accused.”

You stepped on unsteady feet, unsure and uncertain as you came to stand beneath the throne on the opposite side of your brother and father, both who beamed at you with pride. The Conquerors Crown still in your hands, the cool Valyrian steel pressing into your palm.

But as the doors to the chambers were opened once more by guards, you had snuck a glance at your father, who was already watching you, and gave you a promissory nod. And so with certain hands, you lifted the crown once more, and settled it against your scalp.

Wild auburn hair appeared first, and then a gown of deep green as Alicent Hightower was dragged before the Iron Throne by Gold Cloaks. Each one stood behind her as her hands were locked in chains at her front, eyes flickering from you, to Rhaenyra, and then back to you.

And then you began.

“Lady Alicent Hightower. Dowager Queen of King Viserys. You stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You are bought here to be charged with crimes against the Crown. You are accused of treason.” Your voice carried through the chambers, the chains on Alicent’s wrists knocking against each other as she picked at her hands, fingers raw and bloody.

“You are charged with conspiring against the Crown to usurp the throne with Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Otto Hightower. You are charged with the conspiracy to cause harm to a Princess of the realm, and her wrongful imprisonment.”

“Rhaenyra, see reason. I beg you. Your father-“ Alicent began to plead.

“-My father,” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed, “Is dead. And you kept that hidden from the people for days, and rushed to crown Aegon as King in the Sept before the realm. You usurped the throne from its rightful heir and King Viserys’ successor, whom your House swore fealty to. Do you deny your charges?”

“I beg mercy! I only did as I believed was right. Viserys told me before he passed that he wished Aegon to sit the thr-”

“-You will have chance to make your own petition, Lady Alicent. Do Queen Rhaenyra the curtesy of letting the charges to be heard.” You held your head high, mimicking the same words she had said to your mother, a long time ago, “If the Lady Alicent Hightower speaks out of turn once more, cut out her tongue.” You watched as her face ashened, and her brows pulled together in desperation.

“You supplanted the Iron Throne’s rightful heir.” Rhaenyra growled, “You sent Aemond to slay my son, Prince Lucerys, the heir to Driftmark, who was an envoy in Storms End. And you have kept the Princess, my heir to the Iron Throne prisoner in this Keep under the hands of your rabid sons.”

“Please, Rhaenyra.” Alicent begged, “Am I to pay for the crimes of the wants of a father on his daughter? For the crimes of my sons? We were close, you and I. Friends!”

Daemon snickered beside the throne as he watched the Hightower woman beg.

Rhaenyra straightened, “What good is a friend who plots and grooms her sons into usurping the throne from its rightful heir? Their half-sister? From her supposed friend? These crimes are treason. And there are witnesses. A Maester who was slain here. Maids who had watched. Gold Cloaks, and servants, and Lords alike witnessed your crimes, Lady Alicent. Do you deny these charges?”

A tear fell from Alicent’s eyes as she sucked in a shuttering breath.

She stayed silent.

Rhaenyra looked at the woman from down her nose before speaking once more, delivering her conviction.

“For your crimes against the Crown, against my blood, and against the people of the realm, you are found guilty. I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death by dragon fire.”

Alicent’s face morphed into horror, “No! Rhaenyra, please! I beg mercy! We are but women who had our hands forced by the men around us!” She cried into the chambers as she was dragged out by the Gold Cloaks, “What choice did I have?! Imprison me, Rhaenyra, I beg this of you!”

Alicent Hightower’s voice faded down the halls and walls she was dragged down, pleading for mercy, begging to the Seven for help. But the Seven did not hear to her prayers, for the Stranger was already on their way to take her.

Maester Orwyle was next, and the man stood silently as his charges were given to him. He did not speak, nor did he rebuke them, or plead for mercy. Instead, his dark brown eyes stared into your mothers with nothing more than disgust and pure hatred, until he was pulled away, the same way he came, back to the holding cells of the Dungeons you had once spent your days in, with his verdict. 

Guilty.

It was this way until the whole of the Green Council and turncloaks was laid before your mother, each one individually brought before the Queen, had their accusations of treason laid. Some were given the option to bend the knee to Rhaenyra and serve her in exchange for their lives, others were not. 

None, bar Lord Jasper Wylde, bent the knee.

And all, bar the Master of Laws, was sentenced to death.

The chamber of the Iron Throne was ripe with energy. Nervous, excited energy from Rhaenyra’s supporters as they watched on as they delivered the sentences to those who had betrayed or turned cloak against her. 

And then, the court was dismissed, and the Lords and her supporters were led outside of the Keep, to the mouth of Blackwater Rush, where a flat grassy knoll lay before the cliffs, and a worn path for traders was trodden upon. 

It was there where Lady Alicent Hightower was led, beside her Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, and the turncloaks, Lord Bourney, Butterwell, Mootey and Rosby stood in a line. 

The oceans breeze ruffled the cloaks and hair of all those in attendance, and Rhaenyra was the last one present. The final person to arrive. 

Above you, the large and excitable screech of a dragon who would finally be reunited with its rider. 

Alicent looked up the skies in fear, her hands clutched tightly together in prayer as she shut her eyes, mumbling to the Seven, begging for mercy, and guidance, and promises of good servitude if they grant her her life.

But dragons did not answer to the Gods.

Nor were they inclined to show mercy.

And so you watched, in delight and anticipation, as the large bronze dragon landed against the grass beside you, purring into the air with his large scarred snout, mouth full of jagged teeth opening, and eyes dancing over you. 

All watched as you reached out to touch him, the dragon rumbling deep in his chest as he leant into your hand. The bond sent sparks through your fingers and arms as you leant a forehead against him, breathing in his dragon smell, sulfur and smoke, and the distinct almost reptilian stench that they all carried. 

But your true reunion would have to wait, for the Queen and realm were waiting on you.

It was only right that you delivered the blow of justice. 

As heir.

As now stand in Hand before Corlys.

In fact, your mother and father had been most insistent upon it, if only you wanted to. 

And the Gods knew that you did.

The crowd of people shuffled backwards as Vermithor’s long tail beat against the ground forcefully, vibrating the earth beneath.

Alicent Hightower jumped in her spot, knuckles white as she stared at you in fear.

“You are guilty and have been charged of treason-”

“-I am innocent. I beg mercy, please. Rhaenyra, see reason!” Alicent cried out into the soft ocean breeze, her words lost to the crashing swell. Rhaenyra blinked impassively at the woman.

“Reason?” You parroted, “Mercy?”

“Please, it was the ambitions of a father onto his child. I had no play-“

“No play? None?” You sneered.

There was that rage again.

“I beg mercy. I will work in-“

“-Where was your mercy for the Queen when you usurped her throne?” You stiffened, Vermithor behind you growling, sensing your anger through the bond. 

“Where was your mercy for her sons? For Lucerys?”

“I was not at-“

The Bronze Fury shifted behind you, head coming to loom forward in the space beside, teeth bared as he growled at the woman who dropped to her knees in fear, legs giving out beneath her.

"Where was your mercy when you locked me in a cell? Where was your mercy when you let him rape me? Defile me.” You took a step forward towards her, “Hurt me.” 

Another step, and ice spread through your chest, “Where was your mercy when the King broke into my chambers?” You spoke dully this time, but inside you was the fire that you had hidden. Trampled by your own hands and feet in order to keep on, to keep moving. 

To survive.

Vermithor lifted his head into the sky and cried out shrilly, all around him flinching from the sudden movement. His large jaws opened, and a plume of fire shot into the air, the heat falling down around you hotly. 

You looked down at the woman who started it all. 

Her children. 

The usurp of your mother. 

The war. 

Lucerys. 

Syndor. 

Visenya. 

All of it.

“You are found guilty of treason, for the usurpation of the Iron Throne from its rightful heir. You are guilty of crimes to the Princess; Daughter and heir of the Queen. You are guilty of hiding the death of King Viserys from the people and Lords to conspire with turncloaks and oathbreakers. And you have been sentenced to death.”

You stared into the eyes of the woman before you, tears cascading down her cheeks as she looked up at you and pleaded, begged for her life, begged for mercy.

Prayed. 

Her hair was messed, her robes were crinkled and green, and as you looked at the woman you felt a surge of rage.

“Dracarys.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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Blood of Eden // Bad Omens Urban Fantasy AU (Chapter Sixteen)

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @mysticdoodlez @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @cookiesupplier @meliferafaerie @concreteemo @itsafullmoon @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @spicywhenspeaking @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @darling-millicent-aubrey @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @darkmxgician

The sway and jostling of the armored truck was enough to make her stomach churn and bile rise in the back of her throat.

The constant lurching and bouncing as the heavy vehicle rumbled over the uneven, potholed roads created a nauseating rocking motion that threatened to overwhelm her senses. With only the meager, bitter-tasting wheat grass shakes she had been subsisting on for days sloshing around in the empty cavern of her stomach, she knew that one more good tossle of the tank-like truck would likely cause her to erupt in a violent display of retching and vomiting all over the armed, imposing figure sitting next to her. The close confines of the armored personnel carrier, combined with the stale, recycled air and the pungent odor of sweat and gasoline, only exacerbated her unsettled stomach and heightened her nausea.

She swallowed hard, willing herself not to give in to the overwhelming queasiness, but the relentless sway of the vehicle made it an increasingly difficult battle to maintain her composure. Gripping the edge of the hard metal bench beneath her, she braced herself against the constant lurching, praying she could make it to their destination.

Rosa’s gaze wandered to the tall, striking blonde woman sitting across from her. Her intense green eyes were fixed intently on Rosa despite the sway as they navigated the winding city streets, stopping and starting again with a sense of purpose. Rosa couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease, noticing the occasional flicker of what seemed to be sadness or regret that would flash across the woman's features. Gone were the sharply tailored suits Rosa had become accustomed to seeing her in - instead, she was dressed head-to-toe in sturdy, form-fitting leather, an ensemble that gave the impression she was prepared for battle at a moment's notice. Rosa had been offered the same outfit, having bern in the same clothes for several days with only rags and bowls of water to sponge bathe in, it was nice to wear something clean for a change.

She felt lightheaded, exhausted, but to afraid for her life to sleep. Visions had begun to return, flashes of an old style home that looked like its foundation was cracking and the roof fallign in begain to flash across her mind. She had never seen this place before, but the faces in it were familiar. Jolly, Maria, Oli along with several other guard members and their masters all huddled around laptops and take out containers. They all looked bleary eyed, bags hanging from their eyes boring lines into their cheeks. of Jolly from Noah’s perspective and the glimpses of himself as he’d stare in the mirror made her heart ache. Despite being able to see him she couldn’t connect to him, the shots of poison she’d been given daily by the Magistrate-poison she herself had made-kept her powers limited.

Exhaustion had begun to set in, her head feeling light and dizzy from the ordeal, but the overwhelming fear for her life kept her from succumbing to sleep, lest she leave herself defenseless against whatever fate had in store. Visions had began to resurface, flashing across her mind's eye in vivid detail.

Glimpses of an old, ramshackle house materialized, its foundation cracked and crumbling, the roof sagging precariously overhead. Though she had never laid eyes on this dilapidated dwelling before, the faces of its inhabitants were strikingly familiar. There was Jolly, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a weary, drawn expression, dark circles bruising the delicate skin beneath his eyes. And Maria, her brow furrowed in concentration as she hunched over a glowing laptop screen, takeout containers scattered haphazardly around her. Oli was there too, his posture slumped with exhaustion, joining several other shadowy figures - members of their guard, and their elusive masters - all gathered in this forgotten place, their collective gaze fixed on the technology before them.

It was as if the very walls of this crumbling shelter were imbued with the weight of their collective burdens, the foundation threatening to give way under the crushing pressure. Yet, despite the dismal surroundings and their haggard appearance, there was a resolute determination that burned in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment that whatever task lay before them, they would see it through, no matter the cost.

Her heart ached with a profound, visceral pain as the tears began to well up in her eyes, blurring her vision. The uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on her, the unanswered questions gnawing at her mind. Would she ever see them again - her friends, her loved ones, the people she had been separated from in the chaos?

She hadn't laid eyes on Nick, since that fateful day, and the haunting fear that the worst had befallen him consumed her thoughts. Was he even still alive, or had he suffered a tragic end?

She couldn't be sure if the images in her mind, the visions of them escaping to safety, were real memories or simply the desperate fantasies of her hopeful psyche. Perhaps they had all been captured, and these flickering, ethereal impressions were nothing more than the mind's attempts to cope with the trauma, to envision a better outcome than the bleak reality.

The uncertainty was agonizing, the not knowing eating away at her resolve, as she struggled to discern truth from fiction, to separate the real from the imagined. All she could do was cling to the glimmer of hope that somehow, against all odds, they had made it to freedom - but the lack of any confirmation left her wracked with doubt and overwhelming sorrow.

As her eyes slowly drifted shut, a kaleidoscope of vivid new visions began to dance and swirl behind her lids. Faded century-old castles, their crumbling stone walls and turrets silhouetted against a sweeping night sky filled with constellations she had never seen before, their strange patterns and unfamiliar celestial arrangements captivating her. Then the scene shifted, and she found herself running breathlessly through a shadowy, labyrinthine landscape, her feet pounding against the ground as she fled from some unseen pursuer, yet no matter how hard she ran, she felt like she was getting nowhere, the scenery unchanging around her. Fragments of her childhood then came flooding back, the old haunting nightmares she used to have as a little girl - dreams where she was always being chased, hunted by some malevolent presence, her friends by her side as they desperately tried to escape, only to wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down her face as she cried out that she just couldn't get away. Those had been such frightening, visceral dreams, the kind that linger long after waking.

As she replayed the haunting images of her nightmare, a tiny detail suddenly stood out to her, one that sent a chill down her spine. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, one of the women's eyes had caught her attention - they were achingly familiar, as if she had stared into them before. It was more than just recognition; there was a profound connection, a glimpse into the very depths of this stranger's soul. Though she had only just met this person a few days prior, the intensity of the eye contact in her dream felt like she was seeing a part of them that she had never meant to uncover. It was as if the veil had been lifted, exposing a vulnerability and intimacy that shook her to the core. It was a tiny detail, easy to overlook, but one that had the power to unravel the very fabric of what she thought she knew.

A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through Rosa's veins, igniting an intense, visceral reaction within her. Something was undoubtedly off - no, not just off, but something was actively coming, approaching with an ominous and foreboding presence. Sitting upright in her seat, Rosa's heart began to pound thunderously in her ears, drowning out all other sounds around her. A strange vibration reverberated through the air, sending a prickling sensation across the back of her neck as the fine hairs stood on end, her body instinctively going on high alert. Just as she frantically tugged at the seat belt strapped tightly across her chest, a violent jolt ripped through the vehicle, lifting the wheels clean off the ground in a terrifying moment of weightlessness. Rosa's stomach lurched as the truck was violently wrenched from the road, her mind racing to comprehend the perilous situation unfolding around her. Something had gone horribly, catastrophically wrong, and she braced herself, heart pounding, for the inevitable impact that was to come.

The sudden and unexpected reversal of gravity sent the vehicle tumbling end over end, its passengers helplessly thrown about like ragdolls. Rosa felt her body lift off the seat as the vehicle flipped, her arms and legs flailing uncontrollably in the air around her. Weapons and other loose objects scattered chaotically, flying up towards the ceiling before crashing back down in a disorienting display of chaos. The experience was utterly disorienting, like being trapped in a never-ending, dizzying spin cycle. Just when it seemed the ordeal would never end, the vehicle slammed back down to the ground, the roof crumpling inward. Rosa's body lurched forward, and she felt a sickening jolt as her seatbelt caught her, the impact sending a sharp pain through her chest.

As the vehicle came to a rest, Rosa found herself surrounded by the motionless forms of her fellow passengers, one body sprawled across her feet, a trickle of blood oozing from the victim's nose. Dazed and disoriented, Rosa's ears were ringing and her vision blurred, but she could make out shadowy figures approaching the wrecked vehicle. The doors were suddenly wrenched open, and the figures began pulling bodies from the wreckage, climbing into the mangled interior. Rosa's seatbelt came undone, and she felt herself falling forward, only to be caught by the shadowy figures. Blinded by the bright sunlight as she was carried from the vehicle, Rosa let out a small cry of pain, her eyes clamped tightly shut against the glare.

“Easy, sunshine,” the soft tones made her nerves settle instantly, despite her pain she reached out blindly for him. Her hand clasped his warm fingers encasing her weak digits, “We got you now. You’re safe.”

****

As Noah approached the overturned vehicle, his heart sank at the sight of Rosa's limp, battered form. Frail and bruised from the violent accident, her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks hollowed out, giving her a haggard, worn appearance. 

What had they done to her? 

Noah knew the team had spent hours carefully planning this raid, but he had been uneasy about the decision to flip the truck, fearing the potential consequences. Still, it had seemed the only way to ensure the other guardians would be disoriented enough that they couldn't fight back properly, if they even chose to do so at all. As Noah watched the black box tip over three times before finally righting itself, his stomach turned with a sickening dread. Wasting no time, he tore open the doors and charged inside, desperate to extract Rosa as swiftly as possible and get her the medical attention she so clearly needed. 

The normally vibrant, strong-willed woman now looked a complete wreck, her body battered and her spirit seemingly broken by the ordeal. Noah could only imagine the terror and pain she must have endured, and he vowed to get to the bottom of what had happened and ensure those responsible would pay for their cruelty.

Noah's heart raced as he carefully carried the limp form of Rosa in his arms, her body feeling unnaturally light and fragile. With a sense of urgency, he rushed towards the dilapidated safe house, its crumbling walls the only refuge they could find in this perilous world. Gently, he laid Rosa down on the old, bare mattress, the springs creaking under her weight. The mattress offered little comfort, the coarse fabric scratching against her skin, but Noah knew it was the best he could do to keep her safe in this moment.

As soon as Rosa's head hit the mattress, Maria came rushing to her side, her eyes wide with terror and concern. Bending over the bed, she tenderly pushed the tangled strands of hair away from Rosa's pale, lifeless face, a choked sob escaping her lips. "Oh god, what did they do to her?" she cried, her voice laced with anguish.

Before Noah could even begin to formulate a response, Morgan, one of the magistrates who had been on the transport truck, approached them, her expression grave. "It was some kind of serum they created," she explained, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Joshua had explained there had been a celestial hidden among the magistrate but Noah had never imagined it would be someone so high up. Morgan had always been ruthless as a leader, angry and fearsome, but only when pressed. Otherwise she would sit silently in the corner. “They seemed to find it in the storage on your computer,” her face turned to Jolly as Noah saw the shadow fall across his face.

“They experimented with it. It was more potent this time around. I managed to sneak in a potion with her food. Without it she’d be dead. But it did very little to combat the serum side effects.” Maria sniffeled as she bent down to kiss Rosa’s forehead.

“What do we do now?” Jolly asked sitting cross legged on one side of the matress taking their girls hand in his. 

“They dosed her every morning, she got one just before we packed up. Wait it out for the night. She will need food.” Morgan leaned against the door frame folding her arms across her chest.

“We will take care of that,” Joshua came up behind her, “In the meantime we need to look for a bigger safe house. With the casualties of the accident the magiatrte will be out looking for us.”

The two celestials drifted down the hallway deep in discussion. Their centuries-old friendship was evident in the comfortable ease of their conversation as they exchanged ideas and made plans, their voices a melodic cadence that seemed to reverberate through the very walls. Meanwhile, Oli quickly squeezed past them, his focus intent as he hurried into the room. Without a word, Oli wrapped his strong arms around Maria’s trembling shoulders, offering comfort and support.

 "Come on, love," he murmured, gently pulling her to her feet. "She is safe now. And I need your help." Maria nodded mutely, her face streaked with tears, as she allowed Oli to guide her from the room, the couple disappearing down the hall. 

 Noah carefully crawled onto the mattress, tenderly pulling the unconscious Rosa close to him. Relief and joy etched across his features - she was here, she was home, and heaven help anyone who dared try to take her from them again.

[pascals-doll]

*ೃ✧ PASCALS-DOLL HOMEPAGE

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[ink-flavored]

OC Poll Tag Game

tagged by @noblebs , thank you!

Rules: Make a poll for your OCs to see who ends up being the favorite

it doesn't say how many characters are allowed in the poll so i'm gonna go crazy and/or stupid

Some propaganda for you, with character tags provided:

Pride (he/him), a transgender demon who immediately goes to jail for breaking into Heaven. He escapes to Earth so he doesn't get killed, and while he's down here, learns to love humanity, learns to forgive himself, and falls in love with the angel that saved his life.

Justice (he/him), the angel that helped Pride not get killed, and escaped to Earth with him. While he's down there, he discovers an identity outside of Heaven and God's will, embraces the humanity he's helped protect for centuries, and falls in love with Pride while he's at it.

Xinya (she/her), the queen of a struggling nation who offers her gods anything they desire in exchange for her people's safety. The thing that the answering God-Dragon wishes is her hand in marriage. Now she has to navigate being married to a dragon and being a politician at the same time.

Yu-Qi (she/her), the God-Dragon of Passion and the First Moon, and the dragon that asked for Xinya's hand in marriage. Secretly, she escaped from a higher dimension because the world has stopped responding to her power, and the rest of the God-Dragons have gone silent. She flees to the humans below to try a buy herself time to figure out what's wrong. Plus she's like totally obsessed with Xinya, it's probably unhealthy.

Priscilla (she/her, also known as Percy, he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving wife to the second half of their criminal organization. Originally she posed as Percy to gain power in the criminal underground, but it turns out he has a fun gender and likes to be a man sometimes too. Her specialty is protection rackets, smuggling, territory disputes, and coordinating her goons in general. Lusts for power and recognition above all else, and is often short with her husband for not going to the fullest extremes.

Henry (he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving husband to the second half of their criminal organization. He's the slower, more deliberating side, and focuses heavily on maintaining relationships with politicians, supplies, and bribing the cops to leave them alone. His ambition starts and stops at becoming unfathomably wealthy, and isn't willing to take his wife's risks most of the time.

Hayden (he/him), just a Chicago guy with multiple sclerosis who gets roped into taking care of five (5) baby dragons when a magic portal opens up in his closet apartment. Completely by accident, he catches the ire of a crazed business man who's obsessed with clamping down on all signs of magic in the world. He has to protect his baby dragons without losing his mind in the process.

Lenora (she/her), a fairy from the other side of the portal, who offers to help Hayden with his dragons while they figure out how to get her and everything else that comes through the portals home. Thanks to her magic, she can make Hayden's life and the lives of the baby dragons slightly less insane.

Asim (he/they), a mage from the rural swamps of a fantasy nation whose entire life is changed when magic artifacts start falling from the sky, not only in his village, but across the world. Determined to discover their purpose, they will do almost anything in the name of research. Including...unwise things.

Cahaya (he/him), the crown prince of the nation that felt the first impact of the falling magic artifacts. He doesn't really grasp how serious this whole thing is, and tbh has a hard time taking most things seriously. A fun loving guy who will always lighten the mood, whether you want him to or not.

Tagging: @foxys-fantasy-tales @noblebs @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @damageinkorporated @srjacksin @vacantgodling @sigridhawke @duelistkingdom @coarsely @ink-enchanted

[anisaanisa]

Drawtober 2023 (Now on AO3)

[Series Tag] [Art Tag] [FAQs Below the Cut]

Who: Hi I'm Anisa and I'm feral for feudal fairy tales :)　

What: Drawtober is a label for a project that comprised of a theme, and a list of ideas. If you wanna see the thoughts behind those themes, I've attached some meta notes over on AO3. For nifty purposes.

When: Right now. I've also taken the liberty of compliling my 2023 Pride Month series in a similar format, and will likely continue to do so whenever the urge strikes/the shoe fits.

Where: Specifically on my Artnisa pseudoname. Previously, this was exclusive to collabs where I was the arteest and had no hand in the writing. I may choose to shift gears somewhere down the line, but for now, that's where they'll be.

Why: Fandom, as a contruct, is ever-changing, and Tumblr, the frontline of such a construct, is doing the most to kill desktop navigation whilst speed-running the Focus Theft Race; pair that with a testy search function, ever-evolving "porn bots" sniping tag usability, it can be a 'mare finding fanworks out there, in the Tumblr dot com wilds, let alone attempting to create some form of personal archive in the comfort of your own blog. So, as the Internet shifts, like all cultures do, it feels high time to start archiving properly. On the archive. For posterity and such.

How: Laughable that the only mention of this guide on Tumblr exists in the form of a button on the aformentioned desktop navigation, but here's a beginner friendly tutorial on how to add images to AO3 for any writers/artists that would like to learn how to do so. Plus some other fun stuff in and around it. Of course :D

Bonus Fun Fact: There's a black & white image under each post, though I added no context. When I'm done with something that toes the semi-realism lines like this lot, I like to turn RGB off to see how my values (light and shadows, essentially) turned out. I paint in colour, so seeing that the light was Just Right when said colour is no longer there to lean on is like a little reward. I just think they're neat. Thank you :)

Bonus Bonus Fact: There is a 753 word strong ficlet hidden in there, somwhere :3

Forehead smooches 💋🤸‍♂️

[haterbracket]

A BRACKET FOR THE HATERS

Sick of polls about heroes and duos? Want a poll about guys who hate? Guys who loathe? Guys whose raison d'être is just to suck, like, so bad?

INTRODUCING: the Hater Bracket, a single-elimination competition to find the Biggest Hater in All of Fiction. Your Iagos, your Yzmas, your Syndromes, your GLaDOSes: characters whose primary motivation is a grudge against one specific person or group for some (perceived) slight—the pettier the better.

Entrants will be judged on:

Proactivity: ok, so they're a hater, but what do they do about it? Anyone can hate, but a true hater puts everything they have into their effort to screw over the person who's wronged them.

Pettiness: how "wronged" has this person been, anyways? Did the object of their hatred kill their entire family in front of them, or were they just less than perfectly 100% accommodating once and the hater has literally never gotten over it?

Successfulness: is a successful hater or a failed one a "better" hater? You be the judge!

Overall panache: The "x factor" of haterness. Did they hate with swag? Were they super eloquent in their monologue that basically boiled down to "oh my god I hate that guy SO MUCH"? If not, was it at least funny to watch them fume incoherently?

Submit a hater here. Nominations are closed; you can still submit through the ask box, but we reserve the right to point and laugh at you if you do.

FAQ below the cut.

FAQ:

How do I navigate this blog? With the tags! #mod post - housekeeping stuff #hater polls - bracket polls #hatemail - asks #haterprop - propaganda (asks and reblogs) #hb off topic - anything that isn’t housekeeping or a poll

How will competitors be selected? Mod discretion. Note that we will be more likely to select haters that we either know, have friends who know, or that come with a good explanation of their hater-ness (that is verifiable by google) in the submission. Stuffing the ballot box, as it were, will have zero effect, since the bracket is not selected by number of nominations.

How many characters can I submit? As many as you like.

Can I submit real people? No. This is a bracket for fictional haters. Real-life haters are way less cool and fun anyways.

Note: Real people who have been sufficiently fictionalized (either in one piece of media, or multiple), and real people who play a public “persona” that is separated from their actual private life & beliefs do qualify for the purposes of this tournament.

What about [MCYT/celebrities/other thing where people play ambiguously fictionalized versions of themselves]? Sure, but if we think it isn’t sufficiently fictionalized, we won't include it.

What about...? Submit it if you want! In the worst case I simply won't include it, in the best case I will.

How many submissions has _ gotten? We will release a full tally of submissions after nominations close. We are working on tallying up all the submissions! We will post a full list once we’ve cleaned it up sufficiently. Until then, we will not be answering any questions about how many nominations any particular character has gotten.

[puckpocketed]

about

deepest and sincerest apologies if you came here because I was posting about one or more of your guys. this is a Sharks blog first and foremost! I do, however, follow a lot of teams. navigation + tierlist below

This is a part-time Australian Ice Hockey League blog that follows the CBR Brave! I take photos of home games when I can, find them under -> #puck!cam Otherwise, feel free to filter #auspuck.

When not LARPing as my local team’s socmed manager:

I write essays about hockey -> #my writing

all gifs i've made filed under -> #puck!gif specific team tags will look like this: #p!gif:[team abbreviation] eg. #p!gif:sharks, #p!gif:wings

transcripts -> #puck!script

gif requests -> #p!gif:req

I also gif my guys and their goals, passing sequences, poke checks, plays that go nowhere, little things I think are super cool -> #puckpocketed details series

I poke around at prospects and produce very unserious vibe checks, filed under -> #puckscouting

I also paint once in a blue moon. watch out!!!!

TIERLIST & politics

Sharks Hockey first always forever ! <3

keeping things light. no enemies only babygirls i havent met!

The most narratively satisfying things are tragedies and tragicomedies!!! All Things Through Her (The Bit)

players aren’t their orgs. If I say I like a team, this doesn’t mean I like every player, and vice versa!!

The narratives are lying to you!!! LOOK PAST THEM. THE HOCKEY TELLS THE TRUTH!!!!!

I love hockey SO much !! Love of the game comes before ANYTHING, including teams!!! Talk to me about strategy. Show me spinoramas and ankle breaking dekes and head fakes and set plays. Talk to me about face-offs and your favourite underrated blorbo.

no seriously please send me propaganda i love propaganda i am a hair trigger away from adopting new guys. i've done it mid-game and id do it again!!!!!!!!!!!

Team rivalries don’t matter to me. My girls are beating the hell out of each other? The beautiful gaeme ...

i’m here for a laff and it truly aint that serious <3

Do Not expect me to have any couth about the CBR Brave!! I keep things light with the NHL but all that doesn’t apply here — I WILL be spiteful and unhinged!! im sorry the sports nationalism got to me!!!

that being said: CALIFORNIA SWEEEP!

housekeeping

hey please dont be weird in the tags of my posts about teams/players i clearly like. yeah even That Team. i don't want to hear about how you hope someone "escapes" or how much you hate xyz player. make your own post.

this is a non-rpf blog. I might lean into the narratives but tbh I’m not into men and don’t get much out of romantic shipping. Nothing against it though! I think everyone should engage with hockey however they like as long as it does no harm to themselves or others. Ride that ship into the sunset my loves we are holding fins 👍

gifs, videos, memes, photos by me will come described with alt text. I try my best as someone who has used a screenreader in the past, but please let me know if I miss anything.

30/07/2024 sources for any media i post will be linked to a live site + using the wayback machine when I can, or just live websites when I can't (in the case of youtube videos). yeah ok i finally gave in @ that one anon calling this wikipedia editor behaviour you are correct and WHAT OF IT!!!!!!!

5/08/2024 - NOTE live website links always precede archive links whether I label them or not. if there is no link 'pair' it means the wayback machine can't snapshot the link i put up. In the case of twitter/instagram and other such sites that require a logged in device to view certain pages i will do my best to grab the direct img link and archive that.

[ link 1, archive link // link 2, archive link ] <- self explanatory, long form.

[ x, x ] <- single source of media, will use for aesthetic purposes on gifsets and formal web weaving. same with: [ x || y // x || y ] <- "//" double slash denotes a new source, x is the live link, y is the archive link.

if a link or source is not immediately obvious I may have: 1) done an in-line link, click any underlined or bold-underlined text; 2) I might have missed it by mistake, please be patient and maybe shoot me a flag about it in my inbox/dms if you want !!! we are all human and I'm doing my best <3

I'm aware this is not the most fastidious archival practice! my goal isn't to be the arbiter of archival standards for sourcing. I don't know how long I'll love hockey or these teams, how long tumblr will be around, but going from here I'd just like this blog to be a place where fans years from now can come back to and not have to do as much digging as I did to source media.

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

Big thanks to @thisbuildinghasfeelings @three-drink-amy @sznofthesticks @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh @carlos-in-glasses @jesuisici33 @bonheur-cafe @herefortarlos @fitzherbertssmolder @theghostofashton for the tags. As I work my way slowly through the edit of First Time After, here’s a small snippet that’s been ever so slightly altered!

Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s like opening his phone and having forgotten, overnight, how to read. It’s like peering out of the windows of his home and suddenly having no idea how to get to work from here, how to navigate the kind of daylight in which people might see him, interact with him. He doesn’t even think he could handle ordering coffee right now. His mother drank raspberry tea in his and Carlos’s favourite coffeeshop, and asked them if they thought the barista, middle aged and greying with grace, was handsome. TK had scoffed, but Carlos had smiled, quietly delighted, and glanced over his shoulder to appraise the man in response. It felt light, like it mattered, like it didn’t. He remembers the booth in which they sat together, wonders if he’ll ever be able to sit there again. He curls the fingers of his dominant hand too tightly around the other. Two knuckles on his right hand crack from the force of it, and he catches the way Carlos frowns, ducks his head in search of TK’s gaze. TK glances up quickly, and then looks back down at his fingers.

He edges slowly into the outermost dip of a spiral while he sits here, waiting to be pulled deeper, waiting to drown even after having called out for help. Carlos takes smaller bites than he ever has before, as though his own stomach were as sick as TK’s, protesting in simple empathy. And he watches him. He watches over TK at their dining table as though it were his purpose in life, a thing to which he is devoted with a singularity that narrows the spotlight of his entire world, and leaves TK staggered in the warm glow of its focus.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks. They’ve talked about this question. Carlos started out blushing badly when he asked it. It’s not unlike his earlier inquiry of what’s wrong. The answer seems distressingly plain, as though any attempt at response were simply redundant. He’d clamoured the first time he’d asked it, swooned through apologies. He’d reached out to stroke TK’s cheek, and his fingers had trembled against his skin. TK had taken his hand, kissed the delicate pads of his fingers, and they’d talked about it. When Carlos asks if he’s okay, he’s not talking about the long run, doesn’t mean to ask if TK is okay in general. They both know the answer to that. They can taste it on the fractured air. When he asks, he’s referring only to the specific moment in which he utters the words. He’s asking if things are worse than usual right now, if this particular instant seems harder than all the others. He’s asking if TK can still breathe.

No pressure tags below! 💛

@carlos-tk @catanisspicy @chicgeekgirl89 @birdclowns @detective-giggles @goodways @lightningboltreader @louis-ii-reyes-strand @liminalmemories21 @ladytessa74 @redshirt2 @tailoredshirt @welcometololaland @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript @reasonandfaithinharmony @mooshkat @inflarescent @thebumblecee @sanjuwrites @wtfuckevenknows @wandering-night19 @tarlosmalec

[untoldreader]

A Fateful Encounter

Summary

The reader's path crosses with Maria Hill's in an unexpected twist of fate, setting the stage for a deep connection to form

Warnings

None

Tag List

@alexawynters

The bustling streets of New York City pulsed with energy as I made my way through the crowd, my heart and mind consumed by the daily grind. It was just another ordinary day, or so I thought. Little did I know that destiny had a different plan in store for me.

Lost in my thoughts, I absentmindedly looked up and our eyes met. There she was, Maria Hill, a formidable presence with her piercing blue eyes and confident aura. In that instant, something shifted within me. It was as if time stood still, and the world around us faded into the background. It was a connection that seemed to transcend mere coincidence.

I stumbled, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. "I'm sorry," I managed to utter, my voice barely a whisper in the bustling city sounds.

Maria's stern expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "No need to apologize," she replied, her voice carrying a warmth I hadn't expected.

As she walked away, the memory of her gaze lingered, stirring something deep within my heart. It was a feeling I couldn't shake—the sense that this encounter held a profound significance, that I had just crossed paths with someone who would change the course of my life.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself yearning for another glimpse of Maria. I caught myself daydreaming, imagining what it would be like to be in her presence once more, to explore the depths of our connection. And fate, it seemed, had plans to bring us together again.

One evening, a message arrived, shrouded in secrecy, with the sender's identity concealed. "Meet me at the coordinates below. Trust your heart," it read.

Intrigued and filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement, I couldn't resist the pull of the unknown. I followed the coordinates to a secluded spot, where Maria awaited me, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes.

"You came," she said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice.

I nodded, unable to contain the emotions swirling within me. "There was something about you," I confessed, my voice trembling with honesty. "Something that drew me in from the very beginning."

A smile played upon Maria's lips, a subtle acknowledgment of the undeniable connection we shared. "I felt it too," she replied, her voice filled with a tenderness I hadn't seen before. "There's a love that defies explanation, a devotion that binds us together. Are you willing to explore what it means?"

In that moment, I knew that there was no turning back. The love between us had ignited, a flame that burned with an intensity I had never experienced before. With unwavering resolve, I met her gaze and whispered, "Yes, Maria. I'm ready to dive into the depths of this love, to embrace the devotion that binds us."

And so, with that heartfelt affirmation, our journey began. Little did we know the challenges that awaited us, the tests our love would face, and the strength of devotion that would be required to overcome them.

As days turned into weeks, Maria and I found ourselves inseparable. We explored the city together, hand in hand, discovering hidden gems and sharing our deepest thoughts and dreams. With each passing day, our love grew stronger, expanding like tendrils intertwining our hearts.

Maria's presence in my life brought a sense of stability and purpose that I had never known before. She was my rock, my confidante, and my partner in every sense of the word. We faced the world together, supporting each other through the highs and lows, and celebrating every triumph as a team.

But amidst our joy, shadows loomed on the horizon. Maria's work with S.H.I.E.L.D. demanded her unwavering commitment and often placed her in dangerous situations. Our love was tested as we navigated the complexities of her duty and the sacrifices it required.

There were nights when I lay awake, my heart heavy with worry, waiting for Maria to return safely from her missions. Each time she walked through the door, unharmed but wearied by the weight of her responsibilities, I held her tightly, cherishing every moment as if it were our last.

But even in the face of adversity, our devotion remained steadfast. We chose to embrace the love that bound us, to find solace in each other's arms and draw strength from our connection. It was a love that defied logic, that defied the odds stacked against us.

As the months turned into years, Maria and I built a life together—a life filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. We supported each other's ambitions, pushing each other to reach new heights. Our devotion was not just romantic; it was a commitment to nurturing the growth and happiness of the other.

Yet, with every passing day, the world continued to change. New challenges arose, threatening the delicate balance we had created. Forces beyond ourcontrol tested our devotion, pushing us to our limits.

One such challenge came when Maria received a top-secret assignment that would take her away for an extended period. It was a mission of utmost importance, one that required her expertise and unwavering dedication. As she shared the news with me, her eyes were filled with a mix of determination and sadness.

"I don't want to leave you," Maria whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "But this is something I have to do. It's my duty."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I fought to hold them back. I understood the weight of her responsibility, but it didn't make the impending separation any easier to bear. "I'll be waiting for you," I replied, my voice filled with a conviction born out of our love. "No matter how long it takes, my heart is yours, and I'll be here when you return."

With a heavy heart, I watched Maria depart, knowing that our love would be tested in ways we couldn't yet comprehend. Time stretched on, and the days turned into weeks, then months. The ache of her absence was a constant companion, a reminder of the love we shared and the sacrifices we made.

During those long months apart, we relied on letters and occasional encrypted messages to bridge the physical distance between us. Each word penned on paper carried the weight of our devotion, the longing we felt, and the unwavering commitment to each other.

In those letters, we poured our hearts out—sharing our triumphs, our fears, and our hopes for the future. We supported each other from afar, offering words of encouragement and love that transcended the limitations of distance. Despite the challenges we faced, our connection remained unbreakable.

Finally, the day arrived when Maria's mission was complete, and she returned to my waiting arms. The joy that flooded my heart was indescribable as we embraced, the weight of our separation melting away in that single moment of reunion. We had weathered the storm, and our devotion had emerged stronger than ever.

But the challenges didn't end there. Life continued to test us, throwing unexpected obstacles in our path. Yet, with each trial, we leaned on the foundation of our love and commitment, strengthening our bond and reaffirming our devotion.

Together, we navigated the complexities of life—supporting each other through career changes, personal losses, and the ever-changing landscape of the world. Our love was a beacon of light in the darkest of times, guiding us through the storms and reminding us of the unwavering connection we shared.

As the years passed, Maria and I built a life filled with cherished memories and shared experiences. We celebrated milestones, big and small, with hearts brimming with gratitude for the love we had found in each other.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

And so, our love story continues—a testament to the power of devotion and the resilience of the human spirit. Our journey is not without its challenges, but we face them together, bound by a love that knows no bounds.

For in the end, it is the devotion between us that sustains and nourishes our love, a flame that burns bright against all odds. Together, we embrace the unknown, knowing that as long as we have each other, love will always prevail.

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[lilacliquors]

welcome to lilacliquors's

to ring in the holidays, it's 12 holiday theme prompts!

rules + relevant info below the cut!

unlike kinktober, this event is open to everyone and will feature 12 fluffy prompts to give us some holiday cheer

the 12 days start on december 13th and will go until the 24th, and because we only have 12 prompts, these may be longer than the kinktober drabbles

these prompts are based off of the songs they're named after / have lyrics from! yes it's cute and also it gives me a prompt to work with, so they'll be out faster than the kinktober ones <3

because we have only 12 days, i'll only write for a character once. i know we might all wanna see our faves doing every fluffy holiday activity, but we gotta share the love here

like kinktober, if you enjoyed a prompt and want longer versions, or perhaps you want that same prompt with a different character, i'll be more than happy to write it over the holidays!

i write afab reader only. however, with these being in general fluff prompts and not smut, there is a much higher chance they'll be more gender neutral

i will be tagging all posts with #12 days of ficmas, #ficmas2023, #lilacliquorsficmas, #character name fluff, and #character name ficmas so easier navigation or for tag blocking purposes

the list for my characters can be found here

make sure to check back to this post to see which prompts have been claimed!

day one: walking in a winter wonderland - steve harrington

day two: rocking around the christmas tree - steve rogers

day three: i saw mommy kissing santa claus - soldier boy

day four: dreaming of a white christmas - bi-han

day five: last christmas - diego hargreeves

day six: baby it's cold outside - johnny cage

day seven: christmas wrapping - homelander

day eight: all i want for christmas is you - poe dameron

day nine: santa baby - miguel o'hara

day ten: jingle bell rock - soap mactavish

day eleven: let it snow - tomas vrbada (smoke)

day twelve: the most wonderful time of the year - billy butcher