#but i hope there's only one big tears-worthy moment here

[fictionadventurer]

Well, now I know why Jo was crying.

[leavemetrappedinacage]

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

⤷ summary: You're very ill, you don't have much time left, so you ask him to spend your last moments by his side, dancing to your favorite song.

⤷ pairing: yandere!megumi fushiguro x terminally ill!fem!reader.

⤷ warnings: anguish, comfortless pain, yandere, terminal illness, kidnapping, death (reader).

⤷ notes: it's the sweetest thing you'll ever see me write, I hope you like it. :)

You muster up the courage to tell your kidnapper about your illness, you don't have long to live, and after so long without treatment, you know your time is coming. He cries and you console him, you can't imagine how hard it must be for him, you, his only love, are dying and he can't do anything to save you. You hold his face and kiss his forehead, you wipe away his tears and lean your head on his shoulder.

"I never wanted you to know until now, because I hated being stuck here, stuck with you." You're being honest, it's painful for him to hear these words, but it's the first time you've opened up to him, so he listens carefully. "But after a while, I came to like you, I think it's what they call Stockholm syndrome." You laugh, playing with your fingers, and he blinks, incredulous at your statement. "I'm not asking you for anything, and you're under no obligation to do anything for me."

"What do you want me to do?" He interrupts you and grabs your hand, your gazes meet, you blush. "I'll do anything."

"A ball." You replied. "Not with other people, just you and me." You add quickly, before he misunderstands, you can't miss this opportunity. "I've never been to a ball, and I'd like to go to one with you. With romantic music and fancy dress. I won't be able to accompany you to graduation, so consider this a foretaste."

"Oh, you're... inviting me to a ball?" Megumi blushes and covers his face with his arm, it's so adorable.

"Well, I guess so." You laugh at his reaction. "But I don't have a dress, you'll have to pick one out for me."

"I'll take care of that." He takes the liberty of coming closer, you turn your face and point to his cheek, he kisses you. "I'll take care of everything, I promise."

Over the next few weeks, he organizes the ball and buys the decorations according to the description you've given him; he doesn't let anything go wrong. He uses Gojo's card to buy a huge number of gala dresses for you to choose from, and suits for him. You spend days discussing the preparations, he brings you make-up and some jewelry, he watches various hairstyle tutorials on YouTube with you, just so he can help you when the big day arrives.

When the big day arrives, you are driven to the salon he has rented in a limousine. You're wearing a black dress with a purple gradient, there are gold details on the lace, a beautiful white gold crown with inlaid amethysts has been placed under your head, an adornment worthy of the queen of the ball. Megumi is wearing a simple black suit with a purple tie, he's completely overshadowed next to you, but it's no wonder, you're the star of the evening.

He guides you through the corridors until you reach the great hall, and you are amazed at the care and affection he has put into every detail: there are flower arrangements hanging from the pillars, a table with food and drink, the colored lights in pleasant tones without excessive glare, and of course the dance floor.

"It's so beautiful." You can't help but get emotional, you shake your face, stopping the tears from coming out. "Thank you, Megumi."

"Don't thank me yet. The evening has only just begun."

Megumi grabs your waist with one hand and entwines her fingers in yours with the other, the music starts and you're not surprised when you realize it's your favorite song, he guides you like a lord, light and subtle steps, you glide across the dance floor, the flashing colored lights and the romantic music create a welcoming atmosphere. He lets go of your waist and spins you around, your bodies separate, joined only by your intertwined hands, you circle each other with your arms outstretched as you face each other, you smile from ear to ear, it's exactly as you imagined. He's fascinated by the sparkle in your eyes, he's never seen you so happy, his heart goes pitter-patter, it's at this moment that he realizes he knows so little about you, if he'd known how happy it made you he would have danced with you more often, but now it's too late.

You see the tears streaming down his face like a waterfall, you know exactly what's going on in his head, you take the liberty of coming closer and hugging him, you pat his back as you dance, he grabs you and buries his face in the gap between your neck and shoulder, he sobs.

"My love is mine, all mine. I love, mine, mine, mine." You hum along with the song, but it's not just a song, you're opening your heart to him. "Nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine, all mine." You wish you'd fallen in love with him sooner.

You dance to a few more songs before sitting down at the table, you eat, talk and laugh, you take the liberty of recording the moment on his cell phone, he makes an effort to smile in the photo, you take advantage of the distraction to kiss him, your first and only kiss, you think it's cute the way his ears turn red whenever you make a move. You dance one last time and sit down because you're tired, he tells you a few things about his past, then you understand the motivations behind the kidnapping, you tell him you don't blame him and you both fall into a comfortable silence.

The night ends and you have to go home, Megumi calls your name, but you don't answer, you're sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, or at least...

"Y/N?" He shakes you, the air escaping your lungs when he realizes you're gone. You have a smile on your face, your hand is holding his, you left with such a peaceful expression, he is relieved to have given you a little happiness in your last days. "...Good night, darling. Have sweet dreams." He kisses your forehead.

Megumi buries you with your prom dress on a beautiful tombstone, the place next to your tombstone belongs to him, and soon he will be by your side.

[believesthings]

The inspiration invitation // Jason sudeikis x famous reader

As a joke, you started to separate your songs into two folders: love songs for Jason and sexy songs for Jason.

You kept it going though, cause it made you laugh.

Your label was pressuring you for just one more song to round out your new album and you’ve been struggling with it all week. They weren’t wrong. You did agree it was missing just a little something. The trouble was finding the perfect song to fill its spot.

As cliche as it sounds, this was the album that you were the most proud of. You know every artist says that about every new album they release, but it really didn’t feel like an exaggeration to you to say that this was your best.

You really pushed yourself lyrically and vocally to a space you haven’t before and you hope your fans love it as much as you.

The problem, of course, is that since you’ve pushed yourself lyrically, you have a very specific story you want to tell. Every song on the album is perfectly placed to unfold the story in the direction you want and trying to not only find a new song to fit the theme but also a perfect place to put it so it still flows is proving to be one hell of a task.

Two doors down, your boyfriend was in a similarly stressful boat. Jason has been tied to the editing chair for weeks. The first two seasons happened prior to all the awards. Now that the show had turned out to be far more successful than anyone could have predicted, the pressure was on to make a 3rd and final season that was worthy of the praise the show had received so far. Taking off his headphones and taking his hands through his hair, he determined he needed a break; as much as he instinctively wanted to keep going until something was perfect, he had to acknowledge that sometimes the best thing to do was walk away and come back with fresh eyes.

You were so focused on your own project that you barely even registered jason sitting down next to you until he start kissing your shoulder blade.

“Are those folders for me?”

“What?” You ask, not looking up from your own screen.

“I wanna see.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You ask Jason, tearing your eyes away and finally looking at him. God he was a sight.

“I’m taking something called a break, you’re probably overdue for one yourself.” He teased you.

“I know. And I will - I promise. I’ve just found a really good groove and I didn’t want to lose it.”

He rubs circles into your thigh. “…maybe the answer is in one of those folders.”

You laugh at him. “Oh, you think so?”

He nods seriously at you, “I can help you sort through them, If you need any help.”

You grab his hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers in his and giving a light kisses to his knuckles. “You’re really not gonna let this go are you?”

“Well, can you blame me? I see folders with my name and the words ‘sexy and love’ obviously, I’m going to be intrigued.”

You put your laptop off to the side, snuggling into Jason. “Well, you’re obviously the only man I’m writing songs about these days-“

“damn right.” Jason quips, smirking at you.

Rolling your eyes you continue, “and my manager always likes to tease me that I have two moods for you which is disgustingly in love and disgustingly horny, so - as a joke, I started separating all my songs into those two categories. I keep doing it though cause it’s fun.”

“So, what mood is winning right now?”

picking your laptop back up, you open up the folders giving a quick scan at the numbers. Jason peaks over your shoulder, surprised by how many songs there actually are. Some titles he recognizes, some he’s never seen. It’s one of those moments, that might seem small and inconsequential but it feels oddly special to him. To have someone here, in his home, that spends their time trying to put him into words. Everyone always thinks that the big PDA moments are the sweetest, but he’s discovered that a lot of those experiences are filled with belonging but not with love.

“Looks like love songs has the lead right now.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at you, he replies, “really? Well I’d be more than happy to help in the sexy department if you need some inspiration.”

“I’m supposed to be working.”

“This is work! I’m giving you inspiration to write another song for your album, so you can add a sixth Grammy to that collection in the bedroom.”

“I thought you were taking a break.” You question him.

“Oh, pretty girl, spending time with you is not work to me.” He snags your laptop out of your lap and is quickly picking you up off the couch. He gives you just enough to time to get your bearings before he’s kissing you and leading you into the bedroom.

In between kisses on your neck, he’s whispering to you, “you know, I read somewhere that you shouldn’t wait for inspiration, sometimes inspiration needs to be invited. So, what do you think? Are you up for inviting me to inspire you?”

“Of course I am Jason. Always.”

He tilts his head to the side nonchalantly. “Still doesn’t hurt to ask.”

He lays you down on the bed and your head turns over to see his own laptop sitting in the corner. Remnants of your man hard at work. Headphones, an open journal with a red pen resting on it’s open pages.

“Hey.” He says tilting your head back to look him in the eyes. “This is about you right now - my work will still be there when I’m done. If it makes you feel better, since I’m helping you, you can always help me with my work too.”

“What? Jason I don’t know anything about editing a television show!”

“So?” That’s okay. I don’t really feel like I do either most days.” He jokes.

You go quiet, reaching your fingers up and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “If I did offer to help, does that mean that I could get a sneak peak into season 3, maybe even-“

“No. Sorry can’t do it.”

“Oh come on! Can’t you at least give me a release date?”

“Sorry, you’re just gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Man, what good is sleeping with the boss if it doesn’t get me anything?” You pout at him.

“Oh now that isn’t true. I think we’ve clearly established that sleeping with the boss gets you Grammy award winning songs. So, come on let’s write you another one.”

[unhingedhearties]

The 24 Hour Chimp-Out

Liz has been chimping out a lot on Instagram. I know that news must be shocking to some of you.

Let's play a game! 50/50 shot of being right. Is Liz in love with Erin at the moment or does she hate her?

If you guessed hate, YOU ARE CORRECT!

The human mind can't fathom why Erin might have blocked people from @ing her. What possible reason could there be?

And we're back to bitching about nepotism. The battle cry of the scorned Heartie.

This is a good time to ask a question for a post I've been meaning to make. Can anyone send me (you can do it anonymously) examples of "nepotism" on WCTH? Stuff like Viv's real life kids playing his kids on the show. To make it perfectly clear, I AM IN NO WAY ACCUSING ANYONE OF NEPOTISM AND IMPLYING THAT THEY DON'T DESERVE THEIR JOB. I just want examples of things on the show that could be considered nepotism. I want to compile a list of examples and I want people to use that list anytime they see whiny, bitchy Hearties crying about Erin and Nathan benefitting from nepotism. Demand that they give their opinion on the other examples and push them when they ignore it. Anyway, back to the Liz-fit

"What do you think of me now, b_tch!?! Been 2 weeks"

For the record, that's a lie. She came back to Twitter for a few days last weekend under the name "123jennab" (unlike her last Twitter name which was "123JennaB")

The mental gymnastics here are gold medal worthy.

It's YOUR fault that you can instantly recognize when Liz has made a new account, and not her fault because she complains about the same dumb things each time in the exact same way.

If you JERKS would just stop blocking/muting Liz whenever she harasses you and just became her friends, everything would be great and she wouldn't be forced to make so many new accounts where she keeps following you JERKS.

I've mentioned this before, but the people who OBSESS over how actors kiss are messed up. It's reached a point where I can't think of any other word to describe it but perverted. You are shallow and perverted if that's the only thing you care about.

blah blah blah Erin so disgustingly private blah blah blah it's all her fault

I can't say for certain, but I think 2883 is a bigger number than 179.

Chris still hasn't posted a photo of him with his girlfriend or child on Instagram (good for him, BTW). Most of his posts just look like selfies. But please tell me how Erin is the more private one and everything is her fault.

I truly hope that the big, top secret "personal reason" for the break up wasn't something devastating like the Michael O'Hare/Babylon 5 situation I always reference, but if it does eventually come out and it was because of Chris, I'm going to laugh so hard.

Liz is back on the finger ring dents conspiracy!

EVERY. SINGLE. ACTRESS. I've * *EVER* * loved, I knew * everything * about!!

Yeah, it's a real mystery why Erin tries to block you. Very healthy behavior. Your family did an amazing job raising you into a functioning, contributing member of society.

I don't even know how to pronounce her middle name!

What a selfish bitch Erin is to not pin a video of herself saying her middle name for Liz. I bet she won't even share her social security number or thumbprint with her fans.

WHAT DO YOU WANT ERIN TO SHARE!?

I really don't get this. She bitches about Erin being so private, but bitches whenever Erin shares photos of her personal life. What is she supposed to share that won't set Liz off?

To everyone reading this, please always remind Liz, whenever she calls Ben "ugly", that she doesn't even have a boyfriend and will die single and alone.

And Liz, if you're reading this, please know that the day I find a picture of you, the gloves are off and I will leave you in tears and regretting the day you touched an electronic device.

What an excellent judge of character. And what "bad" things does Erin believe? Do you really want to go down this path, Liz? Because that's how your accounts get banned.

[imagineanime2022]

Your Boy Friend *Part 5*

Kurapika Kurta X Fem!Reader Hisoka Morrow!Brother X Sister!Reader

Word Count: 642

Requested: Anon

Request: Hello, I hope you're doing well :). I was wondering if could do another part of Kurapika x Hisoka's sister reader, I love the story. Maybe where the reader and kurapika get married and the reader asks Hisoka to give her away, just an extremely wholesome moment between the two and maybe some tears when Hisoka prepares to give her away?

*Part 4*

You and Kurapika had finally settled down after having your little girl, you had both managed to keep her away from the excitement of the hunter world and she’s grown up happy so by extension you were both happy, you didn’t think that there would be anything more that you needed, that is until Kurapika proposed to you, you hadn’t even thought of marriage but you agreed, you loved him and you loved your daughter and officially becoming a little family would be the best thing that ever happened to you.

As you started planning the wedding, you realised that with your parents being the main cause of all yours and your brother’s problems, you had no one to give you away, that line of thought had only been a problem for 5 seconds because your mind travelled to your older brother, Hisoka. He had been there for everything, taught you everything and protected you from everything, it was only right that he was the one to give you away, give permission of your protection and happiness to someone else. So after a discussion with Kurapika who of course had no objections, that was your choice after all, you decided to talk to your brother.

You called him over one day when Kurapika had one out with the boys and your little one to give you the space to talk about it. Hisoka was living you a look as you milled around getting the drinks ready “something is bothering you.” He said as he leaned against his fist. “What?” You asked. “No snarky responses or teasing, something is bothering you.” He explained and you looked at him and sighed. “Alright I want you to know that you don’t have to agree to this if you don’t want to but I wanted to ask something of you.” You explained and he raised an eyebrow, he didn’t say anything as he waited for you to continue. “Well as you know I’m getting married and I need someone to give me away and since you’ve been my biggest protector and the person that’s been there for me the most, I would really love it if you would be the one to do that.” “Me?” He asked. “Y-you don’t have to, I know that it’s not really your thing-” “I never said that I didn’t want to do it.” Hisoka said as he reached out for your hands as he gave you a soft smile. “I will be the one to give you away, our father can’t do it… Not that I would let him.” “You want to do it?” You asked. “Of course, he’ll be fighting me for the rest of your life if I don’t.” Hisoka teased, you giggled as his antagonistic behaviour, he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your forehead as squeezing your hand affectionately in reassurance.

A few months later it was your wedding day, everything had gone as planned so far and you stood outside the venue ready to walk down the aisle. Hisoka was waiting for you and as he laid eyes on you he smiled “you look beautiful.” He said softly. “Thank you.” You looked down at your feet, he lifted your face where you noticed the tears gathering in his eyes. “Are you ready?” He asked. “I am, are you?” You asked. “Never.” He answered honestly. “I never thought there would be a day where I entrust you care to someone else, but of all the people it seems that he is a worthy suitor… Not that he’d ever believe that I’d say that.” “You're right.” You said softly. “Now come on, you’ve kept them waiting long enough.” He put out his arm for you to take and once you took it the staff opened the door and the music started, your big day ready to begin.

Request Here!!

[sanctuaryforalluniverses]

I keep seeing takes about how the Roy/Keeley reunion was too sudden, or too manipulative, and how Roy hasn't been working on himself at all. Since you guys clearly haven't been watching the same show I have all season, let me do a quick run through:

3x2 - Roy's WHOLE SPEECH about leaving Chelsea early because he could see the end coming and didn't want to drag everyone down and become an embarrassment was such an obvious metaphor for his relationship with Keeley that Trent points it out to us IN THE EPISODE. His wistful (for Roy at least) thought that maybe he should have just stayed and enjoyed it while he could is equally painfully obvious regret that is even MORE obviously for Keeley ends with "but that's not the kind of man I am." (Not a direct quote, but an accurate paraphrase). As the season continues, we will see that that isn't a line of arrogance. It's a line that highlights the fact that Roy's self esteem is complete shit.

(Before you argue with me, let's go back to his confrontation with Trent earlier in the episode. Would someone with GOOD self-esteem carry a negative review about himself in his wallet for DECADES? Not as some kind of motivation, but as something that genuinely upsets him to this day? Can you picture Sam doing this? Or Dani? Or even Isaac? I absolutely CAN picture Jamie doing this, but frankly that only confirms the picture of a cocky man whose self esteem is secretly garbage.)

Speaking of Jamie. The show has paralleled the two men the ENTIRE TIME, and it's quite possible to say that Roy's growing acceptance of Jamie goes hand-in-hand with a growing acceptance for his inner self. His agreeing to train Jamie in the face of Zava's Zava-ness is a recognition of Jamie's value (and maybe in some distant way his own), and even though he's very brusque about it that's also how Roy's been treating himself all season.

Then we get to 3x6 and Roy's insight about how never learning to ride a bike was probably an insult to his grandfather's memory. Rephrased, it hits Roy that a time he shut down because of strong emotions (in order to protect himself from those emotions) would have hurt a person he loved very much. (This will be important later.)

(Also in this episode -- Rebecca's comment to Roy about "someone who feels they're worthy of her." Rebecca has read him like a book this WHOLE TIME. Their friendship is such an underrated treasure.)

Then we get to 3x9, and Roy's talk with Isaac about how he isn't really angry about this, and how he needs to fix it before it screws up something he DOES care about. Roy's speaking from personal experience here, and what's the big thing Roy has screwed up this season?

Also in that episode, Rebecca yelling at Roy about the press conference. She tells him to pull his head out of his ass, and once again talks about Roy not feeling like he's worth anything and how he needs to accept the fact that he deserves good things. He then proceeds to deliver such a fucking beautiful press conference that it brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it. One he was apparently capable of this whole time. He was just so focused on escape before that he'd never let himself.

And in 3x10. To clarify -- neither the letter or the realization was about getting Keeley back. He said he was a mess, and the nice teacher lady said she hoped the mess didn't cause any damage. In that moment, in part because of everything that had come before, he realized that him trying to keep his mess away from Keeley might have caused her damage instead.

(Should he have figured that out well before now? Of course he should have. But when your self-esteem is garbage you don't see depriving someone of your presence as damaging them. In fact, you might even think of it as making their life easier.)

The letter was apologizing for THAT. And he was planning on just leaving it under her door, since a genuine apology demands no response. In fact, he probably kind of hoped he WOULDN'T be there when she read it, but his terrible handwriting made it impossible. And when he's done yes, he does stay a bit, because who WOULDN'T hope that Keeley Jones would suddenly fall into their arms. But when she doesn't, he goes. And if Keeley hadn't called him back, he would have kept going.

You just have to LOOK.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

"You're having a really rough day, huh?"

Miranda's voice was quiet as she entered the room, leaving the lights off as it seemed rude to click them on. She sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a soft hand on where she figured Kurt's shoulder would be under the heap of blankets he had burrowed himself away in. A soft little noise came from under the covers, with Miranda gently lowering herself to lean onto him a little in the hopes her presence provided some comfort.

It made sense to her, anyway; Kurt cared so much about everyone's feelings and especially hers that being emotionally exhausted like this was inevitable. And it broke her heart a little to think she had a big part in it, still often turning to him for emotional comfort.

"Hey. I love you. I'm here for you. Please let me be the same safe haven to you like you always are to me," she said softly. A sigh left his form, before he held up the covers with his arm as his tail wrapped around her and pulled her in under the sheets. Within moments she found herself down on the bed as Kurt curled up on her, his face buried into one of her shoulders as she softly ran her fingers through the curls of his hair while she wrapped her other arm around him.

"... Life's hard," Kurt's voice was tethering on the verge of tears, while Miranda pressed a soft little kiss on top of his head while holding him a little closer to provide comfort and safety.

"Oh, tell me about it," her tone was soft and supportive, gently running her hand over his arm as she spoke while making sure he was safely tucked away in her embrace and the soft covers of the bed.

"I don't even know why I'm upset," Kurt muttered, further settling into her embrace and pulling his face out of her shoulder only to rest his head on her chest, listening to the quiet heartbeat within, "I just know that sometimes your power of just... hiding when you don't want to be found sounds nice to have."

"Mhh," she hummed softly as she gently played with a curl of his hair, "only in short bursts, really. That's something you've shown me, you know? That there's safety to be found in sharing your feelings with someone you trust. Even if that's "I'm sad and I don't know why," that's worthy of being seen and heard."

"Guess so," he sighed, curling up further around her as his tail coiled around her waist, "just... stay here with me while I try to sleep off whatever this is?"

"Of course. There's no where I would rather be than here with you," Miranda whispered, keeping her gentle touch going to soothe her lover.

"Miranda? I love you."

"I love you too."

[whiteknifesmile]

I posted this on Twitter a while ago and I’d like to clean it up and expand more on it but that’ll be a while and I want to preserve this original thread.

Wei Ying pressing A-Yuan into the hollow of the tree trunk.

“Xian-gege…” the little boy cries with tearful amber eyes

“It’s okay, it’s okay, my little radish!” he promises breathlessly, painting characters around the hollow, even as his body feels like it’s crumbling at the seams.

“I’m scared…”

“I know. I’m sorry, A-Yuan. Your Wen-popo- and everyone-“ he takes a deep breath and kisses A-yuan’s forehead with a sudden movement, the awareness of how little time he had hitting him with a pang. “Everything we did, all of it was for you. So you would grow up safe and happy. We love you… so much. But I think it’s time now… to try something different okay?” He smooths a finger over A-Yuan’s cheek, then his fluttering eyelids. “So, my little radish, you are going to take a little nap, and when you wake up… you’ll be just the way you need to be. And you’re going to grow up so good, from a radish to a big strong cultivator, I know it.” One more kiss, and Wei Ying rips himself away before he can lose his nerve. His smile is ragged and just as tearful. “You’re going to be amazing.”

A-Yuan blinks hazily at him, then the sleep spell drags him under and Wei Ying heaved out a grieved breath in the empty silent air around him. He knows what he’s about to do will kill him, without a doubt. But his actions have already lead to so much pain and anger and with the whole world against him, death is the least he deserves according to everyone. Wei Ying has run his luck out. No more chances, no actsof mercy or kindness left to draw on.

Despite it all, Wei Ying has one tiny piece of hope left to save from the fires of the siege. His A-Yuan, his baby radish… a-yuan never deserved a second of this retribution. From a labor death camp to a barren wasteland, his sweet boy has seemingly never had a moment’s peace or stability- but he’s still so sweet! Wei Ying knows that A-Yuan is surely not meant to die here. Not here, in this evil place full of dust and ghosts, not in the ashes of his family’s lineage, his clan annihilated. A-Yuan will not die!

And Wei Ying will make sure of it. The spell he laid on his radish was a very special one, built in his moment of terror about leaving this child behind in a world that hates his bloodline without any family left to protect him.

The spell will change A-yuan’s features, just enough to erase that tell-tale Wen nose, those Wen brown amber eyes, the distinctive Wen curls to his hair. Change to what, you may ask!

The next person who picks up A-yuan from the tree hollow, the person who the spell will decide is worthy to caretake for the little radish, the spell will find that person’s features and change A-yuan to match. To make him more like /their/ son, not a Wen’s. Like a foundling.

A-yuan has no more family in this world who can protect him. Wei Ying will simply make him some more family.

Wei Ying half wonders if his brother will be accepted by his spell. He prays that no Jin will be. But Wei Ying supposes that he’ll be dead by that point and he will have to trust in his spell enough to trust that it’ll choose whoever is best suited to raising his radish child…

Wei Ying just wishes he could have seen his A-yuan grow up, picked out his courtesy name with Wen-popo, taught him to shoot arrows with his Ning-gege too…

In a gentler but imperfect world, Jiang Cheng could’ve been his uncle and Wei Ying could have pressed A-Yuan into his arms and asked him directly to take care of his child, Jiang Cheng’s nephew, and there would be no need for uncertainty, for untested spells and shaky trust in a world cruel to him and no luck to rely on. His A-yuan could die, instead, if no one comes by the hollow.

Abandoned. Alone.

He’d never know that Xian-gege didn’t leave him behind… that this was the only way to give him the best chance to survive.

Even as the fierce corpses and ghosts tear him to pieces, slowly yet thoroughly, that thought haunts and hurts him the most, that A-yuan is hurting more.

— —- ——

When Wei Ying is reborn, or perhaps a better word is transplanted, it takes a while to get his bearings. Quite a lot happens very quickly… but seeing Jiang Cheng with his nephew, jolts at Wei Ying that he sees only one nephew, a boy with his mother’s eyes.

There is not another little shadow hiding behind his brother, no boy with his foundling father’s nose or eyes.

Wei Ying can’t think of anyone else his spell could have chosen to unveil and change A-Yuan to. So that must mean his little radish died long ago. Forgotten.

One of the little Lans hurry to Hanguang-Jun’s side, in the lull of shouting and staring contests, and Wei Ying watches with faint interest, renewed grief heavy in his heart.

The littlest Lan whispers something to Lan Wangji, and then two sets of matching golden eyes turn to look directly at Wei Ying.

Huh. He had thought that golden eyes were the hallmark of the main Lan bloodline? How’s this boy got them?

How strange. That little Lan looks just like how Lan Wangji used to look, a lifetime ago in a library that hadn’t burned yet, that little twitchy nose at Wei Ying’s antics, and that smooth straight hair down his back that Wei Ying longs to tug on and bother until that golden gaze is on him, angry and confused about it. But this little Lan… his expression is so sweet, Wei Ying instead wants to pinch his round cheeks and call him a chubby radis- no. Bunny.

Because he’s a Lan, and the nephew of a sect leader. He’s protected and cherished by his clan, well fed and educated and beloved certainly!

He’s not A-Yuan, last child of a scorned clan.

That’s Lan Wangji’s son, heir to the prestigious Lan family.

Not Wei Ying’s.

[kob131]

What’s your thoughts on Arslan’s arc in Fixing RWBY?:

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBYcritics/comments/13lzuwb/fixing_rwby_v6_ep_19/jlehbke/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&utm_content=1&utm_term=15&context=3

Well, normally I wouldn't even bother because I am not wasting my time on Celtic's 'Fixing' but I see that he's the one referenced here. So sure.

To defend my own writing choice there, this was what I planned to be Arslan's fate back when I retrofitted her character back during Volume 3. 

Sorry Celtic, didn't you hear? Defending your writing choices is attacking your critics and rejecting criticism.

So be a good little creator, take it up the ass and ask for seconds.

It was only after that in which she appeared in.... Before the Dawn, I want to say? She may have gotten a mention in After the Fall, but that was mostly away from Shade as a locale. When I learned she was in the book I was initially irritated, because I like the arc I did for her, but if they did something with her I would be willing to detour. Unfortunately, they... really didn't do anything with her. She, along with 90% of the remaining cast in that book, was completely wasted, so I felt no anxiety in detouring. 

Maybe because we have these things in the real world called 'limitations' and 'restrictions'. I know you like to pretend you could just write an outline, get some shitty sketches and pretend it's an actual product but actual creators have to deal with limitations while producing an actual product.

Considering I've already deviated by killing some characters, maiming others, and having a handful survive when they weren't supposed to, this change wasn't too big to me.

Keep this in mind. It's going to bite him in the ass soon.

As to why I did what I did with her, while the episode's story is squarely on Cinder, this is the conclusion of Arslan's arc... or should I say, her failure to arc.

... No. He didn't do that, did he?

Her life up until Vytal was defined by trying to one-up Pyrrha and earn the respect of those around her as a competent combatant. Her defeat at the tournament (and subsequent fall of Beacon) should have been the moment she self-reflected and found something else to value in her life, but what ended up happening was emotional stagnation. While she became more jaded and tired, as seen in Fixing Volume 5, she still held onto her world view back when she was trying to upstage Pyrrha. Her desire to seek revenge on Cinder may have seemed noble at first glance (partially because Cinder was also involved in Lionheart's death, at least to her knowledge), but in reality it was her way of trying to find closure to her spat with Pyrrha. She wanted to beat the person that killed Pyrrha because by transitive property, she'd be superior to Pyrrha. Unfortunately for her, Pyrrha was markedly outclassed by Cinder, so Arslan had little-to-no-hope of beating her. She let her obsession overtake her and she made several critical flaws that led to her dying as a result. Arslan should be looked at a dark tragedy.

... He did. He fucking did.

Hey Celtic, where did you get such an idea huh? Maybe from, I dunno...

A doctor breaking down a power hungry bitch?

Raymond McNeil.

You didn't GIVE Arslan her own arc. You copy/pasted CINDER'S arc then cut out half of it.

The whole idea of 'I am obsessed and I died because I failed to move on' is what CINDER is going through. That was the whole point of Watts' tearing into Cinder- to get it through her thick skull that she hadn't proven herself worthy of shit. That she was stagnating and stuck repeating her mistakes. And to cement that even if she got better as a villain- she was still a VILLAIN at the end of the day.

And it works with Cinder because this same inability to move on is shared with other villains like Adam and Salem. All of them are stuck in the past, in their own pain, while the heroes move past that and keep fighting. It's a called a 'theme', Raymond. Try analyzing it sometime.

Here, what is the point of Arslan going through this arc? Does it reinforce a theme or idea? Does it set the tone going forward? Is there any kind of parallel between her and her killer?

Going off of what you deemed important enough to mention- No. None of that is the point. Going off what you say later-

As to my overall process, Fixing RWBY is a lot more wholistic in approach than just making nips and tucks, even if I try not to stray too far from things (a solid example is the upping of the number of episodes that I've stuck too since Volume 1). I make changes to characters, lore building, world building and plot structure all the time because I feel like there's more to be squeezed out of those elements than the show even attempted to show (looking forward to actually working on Penny in Volume 7, we have almost too many ideas where to go with her).

Also gotta love the fact that Celtic is claiming he's changing things for the sake of the series while dedicating time to a character that adds nothing and indicates her arc has no real reason to exist. If it connected to the themes of the series- why didn't he mention it? Unless he doesn't think about themes in a heavily THEMATIC show.

There's also the unfortunate factor that as I move along, making even small changes will cause a ripple effect, meaning we have to account for more and more as time progresses. It's just the nature of the beast. I fully expect by the end of the series the two stories will only vaguely resemble each other. Hell, Volume 6 so far has had to account for so much that it already feels insanely different to the original, even while doing our best to keep specific plot points extant. What started as "Let's put some tournament drama in this tournament to put pressure on Pyrrha" evolved into "Arslan can't let go and this leads to her unfortunate demise."

Then you failed Raymond. Because according to you-

Really the heart of it is trying to figure out the story/stories that Miles, Kerry, Monty, (and later) Eddie and Kiersi want to tell with what they present us and then reverse engineering it to get the most mileage possible

You are writing their story.

And here's the thing- you didn't NEED to bring in Arslan. You try to just this by saying that Cinder killing mooks doesn't sell her threat-

That.... was a��lot more than I intended to write, but I hope that ramble helps you understand where I'm coming from with the choice made about Arslan. As to your suggestion, I don't feel a simple mook from the Spiders would have served a purpose, plot or character-wise. Cinder is a serious threat, even at her lowest, and this is the moment that affirms that when she's in play, people's lives are on the table (looking at you, V8).

-but your own words imply Arslan has been living in Pyrrha's shadow for years. Hell,your own words about Arslan's death imply as much. If Pyrrha was better than Arslan but lost to Cinder- no shit Arslan was gonna die.

Could have gone the mook route and avoided all this shit with Arslan. But when you're more concerned with getting your dick sucked- guess basic writing skills need to go.

P.S. I find it funny that Raymond tries to take a potshots at V8 for not portraying Cinder as a serious threat when the finale absolutely did...while still emphasizing that she's stil alittle girl looking for control.

Maybe try boxing on your own level next time. I hear first time self insert harem fanfics could use a spell checker.

[allylikethecat]

would you consider putting kiss prompts on ao3? they are so good, they deserve to be kudosed and commented on

i would love 10 or 20 (thinking of g’s broken collarbones 🥹)

The more and more I think about it, the more I think that I will eventually move these prompts over to AO3 so that I can have them all in one place! I'm going to hold you to the commenting on them thing when I do though 😂 I'm so happy that you're enjoying them and think that they're worthy of being posted on AO3! I've filled #20 twice so far, and at the moment I am out of idea for that one. The previous fills can be found here and here. However, I hope you like my interpretation of #10! Thank you so much for reading and for sending in this request!

❤️Ally

10. Kiss ... desperately

George heard the key turn in the lock and was on his feet, rushing towards the front door before his brain could catch up to the fact that he was acting over eager. He slowed his pace, and took a deep breath. It had only been a week, Matty had only been gone a week. He tried not to think about how this was the longest they had been apart since Matty had gone to rehab.

He tried not to think about how those seven weeks had nearly broken him. How they had left him laying in their too big bed, crying himself to sleep each night. How he woke up alone each morning, and made two cups of coffee, before pouring the cup meant for Matty down the drain. How he went into the studio, and worked on client records as if nothing was the matter. How he turned down invitations to go out in favor of tearing their home apart, looking for each and every hiding place Matty might have had, and flushing his stash. Assuring his friends, assuring their brothers, that he was fine even as he sat alone, picking at a frozen dinner in front of a blackened TV screen like a ship lost at sea. 

He knew Matty had been sick, he knew that Matty needed to leave so that he could get better. He knew that to protect Matty’s dignity it wasn’t something that had been broadcast outside their inner circle. When Matty’s plane touched back down in London, George felt like he could breathe for the first time. He felt like had been watching the world pass him by in black and white, but with Matty’s return he was thrust back into tricolor, like Dorothy waking up in Oz. He had clutched him to his chest on the tarmac, his smaller body, while no longer frail, still fit perfectly against George’s own. He had breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, eucalyptus and peppermint mingled with cigarette smoke and the stale recycled airplane air. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until Matty called him out on it, giving him a crooked, lopsided smile, full of false bravo and a “you missed me that much?” That had George slamming their mouths together desperately as if he could consume Matty with his love. In the six years that followed, they hadn’t been apart for more than forty eight hours. 

Matty had only been gone a week this time. He had been in New York, writing with Jack and Taylor. George had been invited, but had declined, Taylor was Matty’s friend, not his, and he had his own projects keeping him in London. It was good, it was healthy for them to have different friends, for them to spend time apart. He didn’t want to tell his therapist that being apart made him feel as if he was being torn to pieces from the inside out. He didn’t want to tell her that he missed Matty by his side like he missed a limb, phantom pains were Matty should have been riccoating through his heart. He was a big boy, he could handle his boyfriend leaving him for a week. It hadn’t even been a full week. Six days between Matty kissing him goodbye on the doorstep, and the sound of the key turning in the lock. 

The first day George had deep cleaned the house, eager to scrub and organize without Matty underfoot. The second day had been too quiet. The third day he let Mayhem up on the couch, digging his fingers into the dog’s scruff while he watched Drag Race rerun, wishing that it was Matty pressed into his side. The fourth day he slept in the guest room, hating the way he would reach out to Matty’s side of the bed and he wasn’t there. The fifth day he had gotten a pint with Ross, who started to tease him about missing his Missus, before he back tracked quickly when he saw the way George’s lip quivered.

Today was day six and Matty was on the doorstep, fumbling to get his key in the lock, it was raining and he was sure Matty hadn’t brought a coat, his wet fingers making the key slippery as he tried to twist the metal. The latch always stuck and Matty didn’t have the patience to jiggle it in just the right way. 

The door opened and Mayhem jumped off the couch he wasn’t supposed to be on, whizzing past George, barking happily as he slammed a hundred twenty pounds into Matty’s legs. He knew better than to jump but still knocked Matty off balance as he shook out his damp curls, causing him to bump into his suitcase, ending up in a heap on the floor, Mayhem licking his face. 

“Did you miss me buddy?” Matty asked, petting the dog enthusiastically before looking up at George with bright mischievous eyes. 

“Did you miss me?” he asked George, spying him lurking in the hallway like he had been waiting for his return. He looked up through his eyelashes and George closed the distance between them, shooing Mayhem away with his foot to haul Matty to his feet, pressing their lips together in a desperate, pressing kiss, backing Matty up against the wall, digging his fingers into his sides as he licked into his mouth as if he tried hard enough he could climb inside and they could become one. 

Matty chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest as Georged kissed his neck, licking and biting and sucking as if to mark him up, as if to show the world who he belonged to. 

“Something like that,” George said, pulling away from the underside of Matty’s jaw to press another kiss to his lips. “Something like that.”

[the-cryptographer]

Not really ao3 worthy at this point (I'd like to edit and contemplate a second chapter), but here's a little something I wrote for the most important day of @rainstormcolors YGO Super Rare Pair Week.

Atem/Haga & some cracky dimensional travel to the Insect Queen's Lair.

~~

“You can’t be serious about going back in there?!”

Haga’s question came out in a deranged screech. And Atem leaned back and away from the gnash of his teeth. The putrid cowardice of his being.

Disdain was an uncomfortable feeling, like something slimy on your tongue. Atem got angry to cover the taste.

“You would leave your friend behind?!” he demanded. “In the depths of that hive?!”

“The bugs have probably torn him to death already!” Haga protested.

His brow scrunched. His beady black eyes looked very large, magnified behind the lens of his glasses. They were the same gold frames with the scarab as he’d wore in Atem’s dimension. Or Yuugi’s dimension, maybe. Atem wondered where he’d gotten them, and where he’d gotten that brown jumpsuit he was wearing.

Before Atem could ponder on that more, he realised with sudden horror that there were tears beading in Haga’s eyes as well, enlarged by the lens.

“That wasn’t what I asked anyhow!” Haga hissed. “He’s not your friend in there! You’re the one that shouldn’t be serious about it?!”

Atem crossed his arms over his chest, looked into Haga’s face for some betrayal – something underhanded waiting to be uncovered.

“Jounouchi liked Ryuuzaki,” Atem said. A friend of Jounouchi’s was a friend of his. And Ryuuzaki was Haga’s friend. Which make them unfortunate friends-in-law.

“Jounouchi?” Haga sneered. “That bleach-blonde thug thought he was better than us. As if his ugly face wasn’t just as unpopular with the girls.”

“Girls?” Atem blinked.

“Feh,” Haga spat. “It was just Ryuuzaki and me back when- Just don’t act like you care!”

He stomped off. Only as far as the other end of the cave, thank Ra. They didn’t need to draw unwanted attention.

Though Atem suspected it wouldn’t matter in the end. This place stank like dung and honey, sweet and rotten. No corner untouched by those insect monsters, the Korogashi. It was empty for now, but he and Haga would be found eventually.

Atem tried to summon his Ka – Black Luster, the three Gods, Mana and Mahaad, Exodia. But he couldn’t get his Ba to manifest.

He wondered if he’d have been able to with one of Kaiba’s duel disks.

Thinking about Kaiba made Atem angry again. Angry and infuriated and a little heartsick. Even if Atem himself was stuck in this hellish dimension, he hoped Kaiba had made it back home safely to Mokuba. He hoped Kaiba hadn’t just splintered and fragmented the entire fabric of the universe, like an amateur jeweler getting overenthusiastic with a diamond and a pair of shears.

Yeah, big fucking thanks to your stupid boyfriend~ It was impossible to tell Priest Set’s sneer from Insector Haga’s.

“He’s not my-!” Atem reared on his companion. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

Because no matter how frustrated Atem was with Kaiba, Kaiba had thought everything and the whole universe was worth risking to come see Atem again. Not Yuugi, and not the Pharaoh, but Atem as a person. And Atem wouldn’t let anyone else call him stupid for that.

The world winked out and then winked back in with a flash of blue light.

It was still the cave – the borough of these insects. Dung and honey.

“What did I do?!” Haga whined.

He was looking at Atem like he hadn’t even said anything. Maybe he even hadn’t.

Atem let out a groan of frustration. The problem was he didn’t know. Haga took advantage of things like this. Made doubt yourself. Made you trust him before he turned on you.

“Oh, you mean Jounouchi?” Haga sneered. His eyes narrowed with sudden sadistic focus. “Did you ever show him that costume then?”

Haga pointed at Atem’s forehead and laughed, an ugly nasally thing. And it took Atem a moment to realise he was pointing to the golden eye of Wedjat.

Atem looked down at his white and purple Pharaoh's robes, from the dimension he’d come from. As foreign to Haga as Haga’s own brown jumpsuit was to Atem.

“So you never did show Jounouchi, your precious ‘friend’?!” Haga laughed. “I guess you knew he’d think you were worth as little as us, if he knew you were an Egyptian mythology otaku! Or do you also think you were better than us, Yuugi?”

Haga let out a derisive snort.

“Let me set it straight for you!” he shouted. “Dinosaurs are better than pyramids any day of the week! And bugs are better than both of them!”

Atem felt a little deflated. He was never going to understand why dinosaurs and bugs and pyramids were worth shouting over like this but-

“I’m not Yuugi,” he said.

“What you have a character name for your Live Action Role Play?” Haga mocked. “You have to be cuter to get me to call you Cleopatra~”

“No, I’m not Yuugi,” Atem insisted.

Haga blinked. Readjusted his glasses. Blinked, like maybe in the dim light of the cave, through the fog of these different dimensions, he was seeing for the first time Atem’s coiled hair and dark skin.

“You knew I wasn’t Yuugi!” Atem felt furious now. “You taunted me! You pretended to rip his soul apart, when he was trapped in the Seal of Orichalcos!”

“W-What are you talking about, Yuugi?” Haga said. “We haven’t seen one another since you destroyed my Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth at Duellist Kingdom… And that was before… um… There was a disaster… My brother’s pesticide business…”

Haga scratched the back of his head.

“How did I get here?” he asked.

It occurred to Atem that this might not be his Haga. That they might have come from totally disparate planes of existence, and were only meeting here briefly in this strange dimension.

Haga didn’t seem to be taking this well.

“How did I get here, Yuugi?!” he demanded. And when Atem had no answer for him, he flared up. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me, Ryuuzaki wouldn’t have been captured by those-!”

There was a loud scuttling sound echoing through the caves. Something scraping the edges of the tunnel.

“Quiet!” Atem hissed. He lunged forward and pressed his hand over Haga’s mouth.

Haga might have made things difficult for Atem if he tried. Because even if he was a hair shorter than Atem, he was stockier, less lean.

But for some reason Haga didn’t make trouble. And, distracted by the problem at hand, Atem pressed them both towards the burough’s smallest darkest corner, where he thought they might be overlooked by their approaching assailant.

The Korogashi rolled its mound into the cavern, scuttled, pincers snapping.

They said the monster crushed its foes with the dung it rolled, but Atem didn’t thought it could have crushed them all by itself. These insects monsters were as large as people, or larger. Like holographs but solid. Like pain.

Atem closed his eyes, and tried once more to summon something from his Ba. Not even caring whose hand he reached, as long as it was someone’s. Then-

“Boh!”

Something popped into existence.

Atem blinked, and the first thing he saw was Haga’s eyes, wide as saucers. He followed them to the Ka he’d summoned.

“Boh! Boh! Boh!” Kuriboh said. Its eyes narrowed in determination. And it gave a salute, before bouncing off through the cavern.

Atem heard rather than saw the Korogashi turn and follow in pursuit.

He waited a moment in silence then, when he was sure the monsters had gone, became very suddenly aware of Haga’s lips damp against his palm.

Atem dropped his hand quickly and stepped back.

Haga seemed to come to himself, slapped Atem further away. His pale face looked very pink in the dim light.

“…Are you alright?” Atem asked.

Haga’s flush deepened, but he didn’t bother answering, or even meeting Atem’s eyes.

“Ugh! It doesn’t make any sense!” Haga cried.

“It doesn’t?” Atem said stupidly. Mostly because a lot of things weren’t making much sense right now.

He thought about the Kuriboh. He hoped it would be okay. Manage to escape the insects.

“Honeypot ants are one thing,” Haga was saying. “But dung beetles don’t live in colonies! They live in mated pairs! They shouldn’t be organised like this!”

“Right,” Atem said.

“Unless…” Haga snapped his fingers. “Insect Queen!” he said. “They must be answering to the Insect Queen.”

“…Right,” Atem said. He didn’t understand how Haga was reaching these conclusions but, well… Even if Atem couldn’t trust Haga, he definitely trusted that Haga knew more about insects than him.

And maybe that knowledge would be useful right now.

“These common bugs are one thing,” Haga was fretting, “but if the Insect Queen has Ryuuzaki… But could I betray my Queen for…”

Atem feel like he suddenly knew everything he needed. “You plan to go after Ryuuzaki?”

“That’s what I said from the start!” Haga snapped. “You’re the one that shouldn’t-”

“Then I’ll help you,” Atem said.

Even if the universe shattered. Even if this dimension was going to fade out like a dying star.

And who knew? Maybe Kaiba or Mahaad or Mana would still find a way to save them.

But even if this was the end of everything, helping two friends reunite wouldn’t be the worst way for Atem to spend his last moments.

“It seems I’m still able to summon low level Ka,” he said. “With my Ka, and your knowledge of insects, we can put together a strategy to rescue Ryuuzaki.”

He turned and started out the cavern.

“Let’s go,” he commanded. “We’ll plan as we move. I don’t work well if I’ve gone on the defensive too long.”

“Uugh!” Haga groaned. But he fell into step, running to catch up. “Who do you think you are bossing me around like that?!” he demanded. “Who put you in charge of everything?!”

“Atem.” He didn’t bother answering the question about who’d put him in charge. “My name is Atem.”

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO @fandomohana , who is an absolute ANGEL. She's so wise and kind and gentle and she's been such a sweetheart to me and others. I'm so grateful you're here, Christina, and I hope you enjoy!!!💞💞💞

Summary: you struggle to understand how or why Eddie loves you and Eddie struggles to understand how you can't see he's head over heels for you. Fluff, comfort.

TW; negative self-talk, negative self-belief, low self-esteem, crying, not believing you're worthy of being loved, relationship doubts and insecurities. THIS IS ONLY AN X READER FIC IF YOU ARE CHRISTINA!!!!

Eddie, your sweet beloved Eddie, knew you.

He knew you, perhaps better than anyone. You had a level of understanding with Eddie that you hadn’t ever been able to find in another before him, and you were certain that you would never find it in another after him, either.

Eddie Munson was it for you, just as you were it for him.

It sounded simple, in theory, you and Eddie against the world (with Uncle Wayne standing before you, his arms folded, his piercing blues daring the world to fuck around with his kids and find out what would happen) and it felt simple in practice, too, or it should…

… but sometimes the thoughts screamed much too loud. They crashed through your mind like a symphony of destruction, causing devastation and despair in their wake as the hurricane blazed through you and ripped to shreds everything you knew about yourself. All of your hopes and dreams became grief and nightmares, everything you wanted became everything you thought you would never have, and you ended up beating yourself up, tearing yourself to shreds over things which you knew Eddie would tell you he loved you for.

The sweet metalhead absolutely adored you. From the first moment he had ever laid eyes on you, he knew that his life would never be the same again. You complemented his life, you made it better just by being in it, and it broke Eddie’s heart every single day when you had to endure feeling like the opposite was true.

Today was one of those days.

Just like always, Eddie knew how you were feeling with just a look. He knew how your mind was trying to poison you against yourself, and how you were fighting like hell to stop that from happening. Raging a war against yourself was one thing, but winning it was quite another. You survived each and every day, you faced yourself every morning and you won every night, and Eddie knew that you were the most metal ever.

His Christina, with the gorgeous long hair which he so adored to run his fingers through and to help you maintain, the beautiful eyes which held all the love in the world in some moments but then all the pain in the world in other times, the big heart which would be larger than Hawkins if someone dared to quantify it (an impossible task, he would wager), the kindness and compassion which extended out to others even when you were suffering in silence… you were an angel. A total fucking badass, too.

A fighter. A warrior. His sweetheart. His girl.

His.

“Oh,” Eddie cooed gently as he sat down beside you on the worn sofa, springs dug uncomfortably into his back but he didn’t leave because he wouldn’t leave your side for anything or anyone, “I know that look, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around you, his fingers splayed across the plush of your shoulder so that he could touch as much of you at once as he possibly could, “c’mere. You’re safe here, I promise.” Eddie pressed kisses to the apple of your cheek, his lips drying your sticky cheeks damp with tears, his full lips soft and pillowy against your own as he laid traces of his love and affection for you anywhere and everywhere he could reach. He never solely relied on words to reassure you when you had doubts and insecurities about how someone like Eddie could love someone like you, no. Eddie was a man of principle, a man of action, and so he kept you tucked tightly into his side. “I’m here, Christina, and I’m not going anywhere. I know you can’t see it right now, but…” Eddie paused, frowned as he considered his next words, “You’re the bats to my Ozzy, the cereal to my spoon, the guitar to my amp, the Sam to my Frodo, the food to my hobbit, the… manual to my figurines, the…” he gesticulated wildly with a hand, looking for the words to conjure out of thin air. He snapped his fingers when he found them, the same way a magician finishes with a flourish. “You’re the Christina to my Eddie.” He nodded, satisfied.

The tone of completion, like Eddie had just revealed some great truth which was now totally and finally out in the open, filled your ears, and it told you everything you needed to hear to let yourself believe this day that what he said was true; Eddie was of the absolutely unshakeable belief and knowledge that you and he were not only two complementary wholes, but he couldn’t think of anything much to define the both of you as a couple because you were so perfectly unique that you were your own descriptors. Only true love cannot be explained, only felt.

“I love you, Eddie.” You sniffled, trying to simply enjoy the moment as the thoughts screamed at you that this was it, enjoy it enjoy it it won’t last he won’t stay you’ll be alone again -

But Eddie sensed your thoughts once more because he knew, he always knew, and he seized your lips in a bruising kiss, his expression of love for you as demanding as it was generous as he took and gave in equal intensities. Your head swam, your toes curled, your thoughts quietened, and just as you totally fell into Eddie, he broke the kiss; he chose instead to pepper your face with kisses to dry the remaining tears and to soothe away any persistent thoughts as best as he could. If he could have reached inside your mind and literally smoothed them away, he would have done it without hesitation, but this was the best he could do.

“I love you too, Christina. Don’t believe otherwise because the words aren’t mine, ‘kay?”

At least for the rest of today, you believed him.

Tomorrow would be a gamble, but that was okay because Eddie wouldn’t let you face it alone. Eddie and Christina against the world, with Uncle Wayne guarding the front, was the way it would always be for the three of you. Once a Munson, always a Munson, and family sticks together.

[azureeyenews]

Thanksgiving: Chapter 15

(Editor's note: the poll tied again)

The voices in your head that give you the best advice are being remarkably unhelpful right now, so you take out your lucky cursed coin again and flip it. It explodes in mid-air, turning into a screaming unkindness of ravens. Hm. Probably bad.

Even WORSE, you're pretty sure you remember that Bronwyn means something like raven. And the last Bronwyn you knew was an asshole. Man, you hope this one's better. You trudge sullenly across the hallway, which is an impressive amount of sulking to do in about ten feet.

It occurs to you, somewhat belatedly as you knock on Bronwyn's door, that the last, horrible Bronwyn that you knew was this one, and immediately wish you'd gone to see David instead. He probably has the devil's lettuce, and instead you chose to go to an angry bible lady's room.

You're just about to turn away when you hear a "Come in!" and you know it's too late. Well, I mean, realistically you could, but that would be the worst of all possible things: SOCIALLY AWKWARD. You shiver as you briefly remember the things you said and did in middle school.

Bronwyn's room is covered in paintings and sketches of angels. And not like the friendly, sunday school kind- the biblically accurate ones. Terrible, fiery wings, piercing multitudes of eyes- goddamn, Bron's gotten GOOD at art. This is museum worthy, if it wasn't so scary.

"Oh," she narrows her blue eyes with irritation as realizes who it is, "you. Glad you're home. Now leave."

"Um, happy birthday?" You try to be at least SOME polite.

Both your eyes flick to the clock. Wait, how did you know it was Thanksgiving day now?

"Thank you," she forces a smile, "Happy birthday to you as well. Now get out."

"Look," you fumble around for something, "Have you seen Dad lately?"

She stares at you like you're an idiot.

"Yes. At dinner. Just like you did."

"But he wasn't there. It was just the 7 of us."

"Yeah. You know, maybe Mom was right about you. First you run away from home, no one hears from you in YEARS, then you show back up here and you don't even recognize Dad when you see him. You are the most undutiful child in the world."

She... might have a point there.

"Your art's gotten really good!" You try to change the subject, again, "Those angels are beautifully rendered. I- wait is that arabic on the Throne angels? Kind of a non-traditional choice."

"AVESTAN!" She absolutely growls, gritting her teeth and beginning to radiate malice.

"I-"

"You. Killed. Chorles."

You stop entirely, and for a moment your heart does as well. No one's ever said it out loud before. Everyone always told you it wasn't your fault, but... but you knew. She'd been so close to him. Almost worshipped him. Her big, hero brother.

"You killed Chorles. I was there. I saw it. I SAW YOU PUSH HIM. I don't CARE what everyone else says, I SAW IT. You MURDERED our brother. You ran away from home. And now, what, you're back? The prodigal child returneth for your inheritance? No. NO! Go. To. HELL!"

All you can do is stand there, unable to meet her eyes.

"You like my pictures so much? Fine. Take one," she tears the one you'd been admiring off the wall and shoves it into your chest with such force that you're physically knocked out of the room.

"Happy Birthday," she smiles sarcastically, "Now get out. And maybe find the courage to do the right thing for once in your godless little life and atone for the murdering our brother so you could inherit the family fortune."

She slams the door in your face.

That's... that's the Bronwyn you remember. Only worse.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk down the hall and up the stairs towards your room, feeling for all the world like the chains of Marley's ghost are weighing you down. That's the wrong holiday, but whatever.

You hurl yourself down on your bed and open up the drawing, blankly staring at it without seeing as her words bounce around in your brain. You don't know how long you lay like that before it slowly dawns on you that something's not right. It's a smell. A familiar smell.

You think its your room at first, but... no. Old incense and ozone, like lightning hit a joss stick.

Magic. OLD magic. Here. In your room. You blink. No, not your room- your HANDS.

Bronwyn's drawing is literally MAGICAL. How in the world...?

Your fingers trace the delicate Avestan characters. You can't read them, but you've spent so long surrounded by magic you know it by smell now. You have just been gifted a SCROLL OF LOCATE OBJECT. You stick it in your inventory for later.

Something isn't adding up here. Bronwyn, a painfully devout Christian, has been copying some sort of Avestan-language grimoire with enough fidelity that the magic literally rubbed off. One with old, weird angels. And she's insisting Dad was at dinner, when he wasn't.

At least two of your siblings are dabbling in real magic. Old, OLD magic, back before the Arcane and Divine schools diverged. Meanwhile your mom's ghost is evidently living in the graveyard out back, and a different, unknown ghost has been possessing your family for generations.

You are in danger, and the mysteries are growing by the minute. You need to move. You decide to search:

[scnsualforalphas]

Daimon simply never ceased to amaze him. For the past five years, nearly every night Tommy had spent thinking about the other, wondering how he was feeling, picturing how this very moment, this reunion would go. With every day he noticed himself change a little bit, asking himself if the same was happening for his prison lover. Were they moving in the same direction, were they drifting apart? Tommy had been so busy worrying about the future he wasn't certain would ever happen, that he didn't even think to reflect on the details of their shared past. Of course he reveled in the memories, reminsicing fondly of the nights in their cell, of Daimon's massive body holding his own close, of the other's scent... But he'd never thought to look back and wonder if there were things he had missed. Only now, five years later, did Tommy even realize small details like the fact that the other had paid attention to his silly little ramblings. His dreams of travelling all over with his Demon once they had regained their freedom. Hopes that had felt like a naive fantasy he'd held onto in order not to go insane behind bars... The fact that Daimon not only remembered those stories but was actually here, right now, to make them a reality, had Tommy floored, extremely touched by the fact that their connection had always run even deeper than he'd been aware. And this was only the beginning of the revelations he was facing...

Hearing the genuine pride in Daimon's voice, seeing the smile on the other's lips when he shared his accomplishments almost brought tears to Tommy's eyes. "I never could have done it if I hadn't met you", he spoke softly, not even knowing where to begin expressing his endless gratitude for the other man. Back in prison, even if the physical aspect of their relationship had not been so highly intense and kept Tommy much too busy to focus on catching up on his education, he wouldn't have been able to go through with it anyway. He might have arrived in prison that first night with a big mouth, thinking he was the hot shit, but in reality that attitude had masked Tommy's fully shattered self-worth at the time. His dysfunctional upbringing had left the young man's confidence in shambles, and a sad but unfortunate truth was that part of why he'd so easily embraced the total submission Daimon had initially forced upon him was the simple fact that Tommy didn't believe himself to be worth much more anyway. He'd resigned to the fact that he was at the bottom of the food chain, just a hole to fuck. Maybe that was all he was good for - at least those were his thoughts in those early days. Ironically, it was Daimon who made him feel special. Who made him feel capable and worthy. Just like he had been able to soothe the beast within his cellmate, Tommy's own demons had been exorcised thanks to Daimon's help.

The initial lack of a reaction as he mentioned the wedding planning and his domestic life had Tommy... concerned, to say the least. It wasn't necessarily unusual for Daimon to stay calm and quiet even when confronted with something that was destined to anger him, but in the smaller man's experience, those moments of self-control were usually an indication of an even bigger danger, as Daimon's rage was one thing, but seeing him cold-blooded was a whole other story. So part of Tommy was anxious, mentally bracing for the other to explode at any given moment, preparing to calm his lover down if needed. But instead... He was making plans? Tommy stared in disbelief as Daimon made big promises, not because he had any doubt the other was serious but simply because it was so far from the reaction he had feared for in response to his words. As much as he loved his Demon, Tommy remembered very well the beast that was his lover. Remembered how Daimon would make sure to let him know without a doubt whenever he'd angered him. Whether he was asking too many questions or voicing an opinion the other didn't agree with, Tommy would be taught his lesson, pounded into submission, his body sore and barely conscious by the end of it, Daimon's seed usually spilling from his overworked hole as a monument and reminder for the blonde to know his place.

But none of that was happening, and Tommy began to wonder if maybe this was a dream after all. It felt unreal that Daimon had tamed his beast so well, the amazement over the change making the blonde forget to even respond to the suggestion of getting a job or starting his own business. The sheer notion of that felt so beyond the realm of possibility, and yet Daimon never spoke in vain. Hearing his lover make promises of that dimension... It was only surpassed by the confessions that followed. All those words, all these admissions to moments in the past five years that had made so little sense at the time but were so easily dismissed... It all began to make sense now, and the realization that Daimon had been there, in spirit, the whole time, was overwhelming. Tommy could no longer hold back the tears streaming down his face, the sheer disbelief and joy at how much this man loved him making it hard to find words. "The rose... I knew that was you", he whispered, still in utter shock and feeling his heart pounding as if it was about to jump out of his chest. "I thought I was going crazy because there was no way it was you, but... it had to be", he mused, closing his eyes.

Knowing that his fiancé's life had been at risk multiple times during the past few years was less joyful of a revelation, but as painful as it was to think of the other and the fact that he'd just left him without a proper explanation or even saying goodbye in person, Tommy was immensely relieved, proud and shocked all at once that Daimon had held back from going through with the hit, even while knowing this stranger was making love to his Angel. "Happy... I think I was. I was... broken, Daimon. I left part of myself in that prison and I have been fractured ever since. Until today", he smiled, teary eyes shimmering with devotion for the other. "But he kept me sane. He gave me a reason to survive out here in this world that's so beautfiul and yet was missing what I needed to live. If it hadn't been for him, I would have seen just two ways, and trust me, I had considered them both", Tommy confessed. "I was either going to end it all, or I was going to do whatever it would take to get me back to you. I would have blown up a building if it meant being reunited with you."

"Sometimes I like just listening to you, Angel," Demon replied simply to the other's surprise at how much attention he'd paid and also how much he remembered, "You do enough talking for the both of us. But, you're not wrong, love, I was focused on those things but that didn't mean my ears stopped working," he smiled, enjoying that this came as a pleasant surprise to the other. He'd then simply laughed off the other's joking question about whether he'd picked up a gambling habit and where he'd gotten his resources from, but offered no answer or indication to satisfy the smaller male's painfully obvious curiosity.

Hearing Tommy return the sentiment stirred something inside Demon, something warm and comforting, something that soothed that ever raging fire and desire for destruction inside him. Like the warm hand of an owner stroking the head of their pet, or the soft serenading sound of music to a serpent or beast. He hadn't felt that feeling in five years and he'd started experiencing it from the moment he'd heard Tommy's voice again, but now, having him by his side, officially and starting their life together and hearing him openly admit that what they shared had never died for him either ... brought a unique kind of quiet joy and peace to the stone-faced lawbreaker that was better than any drug or anything else could make him feel.

"You're shittin' me," the Irish-American said with pleasant surprise, squeezing Tommy's hand, "Ya actually went and did it!?" he said, the pride clear in his voice, "Congratulations, my Angel, I told ya that ya could do it," he said, even breaking into a smile. Tommy had always been smarter and more capable than his rap-sheet would lead one to believe and Demon had seen that in him from the start. Naturally it'd been too difficult for the other to study in jail as Demon inadvertently kept him busy and used up all of his time, plus the other still seemed conflicted over a lot of things at the time. But hearing that Tommy had been working to improve himself made him genuinely happy and proud for the other, "We'll need to get you a graduation present then," he hummed, looking over at the other with a wink and pressing another kiss to the back of his hand.

He nodded as the other continued, surprisingly showing no real reaction to the other mentioning the wedding he had almost followed through with or performing wifely duties for another man. Tommy would soon come to learn that Demon had also been working on himself outside of just his intense physical routine. Once he'd accepted the fact that he wanted a life with Tommy no matter what, he'd done everything he could to start setting up for it, including improving his behavior in prison so that there would be no more delays in serving his sentence and also learning to deal with things in a much more mature, level-headed way.

"If you wanna work that badly, we can find you work," he shrugged, "Or ... we could get your started up with your own business. Don't gotta worry about some prick wanting to hire you if you're the boss," he pointed out, "Say the word and we can make either of those happen," he said simply. Demon wasn't a man of empty promises or fancy words, he said what he meant and meant what he said and Tommy would know that. He looked over at Tommy when the other began to ask questions and immediately remembered when the other would question him when they were in prison and he would lash back out at the other and remind him of his place and force-fuck him into silence and submission until he forgot what he was questioning him about in the first place.

After a few moments, maybe minutes, of silence and consideration, Demon took a deep breath, and proceeded to, again, surprise them both with his changed self. "Two days ago," he answered honestly, "An' I've had you tracked since about a year after you left," he also admitted. That begged an obvious follow-up question, "An' ... I ... I knew about you finishing school," he also revealed, "But I'm still proud. That's no word of a lie. An' when you finished, you know that check you received? The one that they said went to "the hardest worker" in class or some shit ... yeah, that was bullshit, it was from me," he wasn't looking over at Tommy as he spoke now, his eyes laser-focused on the road. He never admitted to the things he did, especially things he did from the shadows through his infinite-seeming web of connections; it was the reason someone of his criminal caliber had gotten such a light sentence- the feds hadn't been able to pin anything on him as he'd never given them anything to go on. But, here he was, letting himself be seen and known to Tommy.

"Same like the rose left on your doorstep on your birthdays," he murmured, "Aye, that was also me," he chewed his lip. He stayed silent for little bit before continuing, "Whenever you got into a little trouble with anythin'- if it somehow magically worked out in the end - it was probably me, Angel," Demon finally slowly glanced over at the other but was unable to hold his gaze for too long, feeling too exposed in the moment to handle it, and turning his eyes back on the road. "Almost had that cock-sucker fiance of yours taken out multiple times but ..." he let out a tight, long breath, "I knew they'd probably look at you first for it and also for all I knew maybe you were actually happy with that beige, boring sonovabitch."

Demon's hand never wavered from the secure hold it had on Tommy's, "You remember what I told you that first night you showed up in my cell?" he cleared his throat, "I said that from then on that I'd look after ye," he reminisced softly, "An' I don't make bullshit promises. You know I don't," he said more firmly and clearly, he added in the same, certain tone. "Nothin' ever changed that for me. Nothin'," he let out a slow sigh once he got it all out, clearly having struggled to be so open and honest but pushed himself through it, "You've always been my Angel, no matter what. And God almighty as my witness; until my dyin' breath and beyond that, you always will be."

[octo-hyacinth]

Hey! I recently stumbled across your work and have been absolutely hooked. Can I request Dorm Leaders’ reactions when fem!reader accidentally falls under a sleeping curse? The cure is true love’s kiss of course, but they’re either too dense or too anxious to know that:P

yes, ofc! i’ll only write up to vil cuz im not familiar enough with idia and malleus for the time being, but hopefully one day i can muster up the courage to write them haha

~~~~~

Dorm Leaders with an S/O Cursed to Sleep

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar,Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit Content Warnings: Tiny bit of angst (more like panic but the title is self-explanatory), yall can imagine the ending however u want im cutting it off at the kiss, mostly typed on phone so possible typos but its fine A/N: man it took me so long to get around to this and i'm so sorryyyy (*_ _)人 but i hope you enjoy!

"How could this possibly happen? Y/N is surrounded by students for a large portion their day, every day, and yet they are lying here, having been singled out and targeted by such a malevolent curse," Vil argued.

Leona leaned against the furthest wall, rolling his eyes. "Will ya shut your trap already? We get it, it's a bad situation, and it's real inconvenient." He scowled at your sleeping form, like maybe if he judged you enough, you'd wake up. "I almost wanna say they deserve this, for bein' so dense, but—"

"How could you say that?" Kalim cried, attempting to quickly wipe the tears streaking down his face. "They've been nothing but nice to all of us, but now they're d—"

"The prefect is not dead, simply... incapacitated for an indefinite amount of time," Azul replied smoothly, but if you looked closely, he seemed to be holding back a bit of his own worry from showing on his face. "I think—"

"No one asked you what you think, cephalo-punk—"

"QUIET, ALL OF YOU!" Riddle shouted, thoroughly irritated by the lack of progress in getting you to wake up. "Instead of sitting around complaining, we should be coming up with a solution."

They stood in silence for a few tense moments, before Vil softly spoke.

"I believe I've read about a similar situation happening with a princess long ago. She too was cursed into slumber, and the only way to wake her up was—"

"But-but that's impossible!" Riddle sputtered. "True love's kiss? Should we really be looking to a fairytale for our answers?"

"All stories are laced with truth, as they say," Azul thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Perhaps... we should try it, if we truly have no other options."

A heavy silence spread across the room as every leader contemplated this. Finally, someone spoke.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh, dear, what a predicament.

Riddle’s a clever boy, so he knows exactly what needs to be done... he just doesn't exactly have the courage to do it.

I mean, true love’s kiss? Is that something he can even achieve? Is he worthy of kissing you awake, or will he fall short of needing to be your "true love"?

He has his worries, but he does his best to be rational, and just do the next logical step in achieving his goal.... in this case the goal being to save you from being stuck in an eternal slumber that possibly no one will be able to wake you from. No big deal.

He ordered everyone to clear out, as there was no way he could bring himself to kiss you in front of all those eyes. Much too embarrassing.

He approached the side of your bed, and stared at your gently closed eyes. You looked so peaceful— was this perhaps a much-needed break from running around campus every day? As much as he wanted to say you SHOULD be waking up to attend to what needed to be done, he was afraid of forcing you back to your tiresome waking reality. What if you got upset at him for bringing you back?

But he couldn't dwell on these questions when you were stuck under a curse. Everyone wanted you back. And Riddle missed you more than he'd like to admit. So he leaned over your resting frame, and with only a moment of hesitation, he pressed his lips gently to yours.

Leona Kingscholar

First off, what a hassle.

Most of him didn't even wanna be here, arguing with the other dorm losers, but he couldn't bring himself to just ditch you when you needed help.

Once Schoenheit mentioned true love's kiss being the only option available to wake you up, he scoffed and almost left right then, ready to let someone else deal with that. But then he had a thought.

What if he was the one that you needed that kiss from?

The more he thought about it, the more possessive he was getting over you. He didn't want any of these other idiots kissing you, cuz you were his. He was the one that truly wanted you, and you felt the same way, of course. Right?

He got flashbacks to all the times you defended him, like during his overblot, when you simply refused to let him destroy himself when he was at his lowest.

And then, right there, he made up his mind. He wasn't gonna let any of these guys claim you first, so he pushed his way through from the wall, slipped his hand underneath your head, and kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back since he met you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was incredibly good at holding up a façade of confidence, even if he didn’t always feel that way. But upon realizing the fact that the only way to wake you was through a true love’s kiss, well, it made him more nervous than he expected to be

At first, he tried to approach it like he would any other situation. How can he turn this in his favor? How can he maximize his own gain from this situation? How can he take control?

But the more he thought about it, the more a certain sense of dread overcame him. He started to realize that this was not a situation he could take control of. There was only one option; to kiss you, or let someone else do it. No cheating, no manipulation, and there’s nothing else he could gain or lose. That was the only variable.

But now that he really thought about that… was kissing you really such a bad option? Or was it something he desired deep in the pits of his own soul, under all the indifferent, confident, businesslike masks he used on the regular?

The more he thought, the more his feelings for you started to claw its way towards the surface of his consciousness. And once those feelings broke through the tumultuous waves of all his suppressed emotions and made itself known, it hit him like a brick.

He cared for you. Deeper than he’d ever ventured back in the Coral Sea, deeper than he could’ve imagined. And then he felt something akin to possessiveness, almost. Not quite so aggressive as it, but he realized how badly he wanted to be the one to kiss you. Not any of the others, because then he’d have to face up to the possibility that he wasn’t your true love.

But then, even if he WAS the first one to kiss you, would you even wake up?

He really, really hoped you would.

Finally, after being stuck in his thoughts for what felt like an eternity, he decided to act.

In his most confident, self-assured voice, he asked the others to step out of the room, and only after Leona made a mocking gesture at him before closing the door, did Azul let out a big sigh.

Now alone, with his feelings free to take over, he inched towards the side of your bed, all the while keeping his eyes on your serene face before delicately sitting down on the edge.

Slowly, he took off one glove to gently hold the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. And as he studied how peaceful you were, and felt how soft your skin was upon your beautiful face, he felt a sense of calm wash over him like a beach at high tide. All of his nervousness about kissing you was dispelled. Because like this, he felt as if you were his rock during a torrential hurricane. You felt like the safety of his octopot whenever he was afraid. He cared for you so much, he could never be scared of you.

So if this was what had to be done to wake you, to bring back your smile and laughter and all the joy you brought to his life, he would kiss you without a moment’s hesitation.

And so he did, and it was as gentle as the rocking seaweed sways under the sea, but filled with enough love to create an ocean.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s so, so terrified that you won’t be able to wake up from this curse

Almost leaves to go get Jamil over here to figure out a way to wake you up, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you!

If Vil said that a kiss would be the way to wake you up, does that mean they’d all have to take turns kissing you? But he wanted to be the one that counted as true love!

I mean, he always showered you with gifts that you said were “too expensive” or something, and he always shared Jamil’s cooking with you, which of course you both thought was delicious. He does so much for you because he loves you! You’re his favorite person, and he regularly told you so, and how he wanted to bring you home to his family over school break, and that he was positive that his parents would approve of you!

And with how much he showed his love for you, how could he be anything but your true love!

Wait, he had to focus at the problem at hand. You needed a kiss to wake up, and he was totally willing to give you a lil kiss (you didn’t even have to be cursed to get one from him, he’s just that affectionate)

He tried really hard to push back the nervousness by thinking happy thoughts, like how excited he’d be once you woke up and then he could give you all his affection again and have Jamil cook up a feast to celebrate your waking, and he could get a bunch of fancy animals too, and invite the whole school so everyone could be happy that the curse was gone!

Dang, he wasn’t very good at focusing on the problem in front of him. Anyway.

If kissing you was all he had to do, he was willing to give it a shot! So he volunteered out loud, and without waiting for anyone to respond or even leave, he rushed over to your bedside, and combed his fingers through your hair before accidentally smashing his lips against yours a bit too hard. Oopsie. He was just overexcited, just looking forward to seeing your happy smile again!

Vil Schoenheit

Likely approaching this problem the most rationally, closely tied with Riddle.

In the story, the fabled princess was kissed awake by a wandering, random prince who just happened to be enraptured by her sleeping beauty, and he just happened to be her true love. But how lucky would you be, to have your true love be someone in this room?

Truth be told, he was hoping with all his heart that this was his chance to be the prince, the protagonist in the story, the one who ‘gets the girl’, as those ancient stories would put it. Going his whole life playing the role of the villain, he just wanted this one chance to be your prince.

Of course, you deserved nothing less than the fairest one this world had to offer, and Vil would say he was the fairest of them all, and that you deserved him, but more than anything, he just wanted to to able to deserve you.

He didn’t overthink the situation much. He was never one to succumb to nerves or panic or anxiety. He knew what had to be done, and he knew what he wanted to do. So he strode up to you without giving the other housewardens even a passing glance, gently cupped your face, and kissed you as lovingly and as elegantly as only the best prince could.

[amourdivine]

intuitive reading  ઉ   𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒.

hello, my angels! in this intuitive pick a card reading, i will be delivering some loving and gentle message from your spirit guides. i felt heavily called to channel something a little more healing yet still on the lighter side whilst cleansing my tarot deck. as always, please let me know if this resonates with you in some way! much love to you.

♡ ♡ ♡ personal readings are open, click here to know more!

how to choose your pile.  take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. which pile sparks a feeling inside you? which pile gives you a strong memory or calls out to you the most? take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

the piles.

1 → 2 3 → 4

disclaimer. this reading is for entertainment purposes only. it is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑶𝑵𝑬.

Hello! If you’ve chosen pile one, welcome to your reading. I must say this feels love related, more romantic than platonic, but you’re allowed to take this message as it fits best for you. I’m playing a shufflemancy playlist in order to channel your messages and it feels blocked, stagnant and difficult. A lot of heartbreak songs started playing out of nowhere and many of them spoke of unrequited feelings or one-sided relationships. Does your chest feel heavy when it comes to love? Does it make you ache for something or someone that you feel it’s too far away to reach? Your guides want to talk to you about this - they want to soothe you. Cleanse you, almost.

Do you feel worthy of love? They are gently asking you these questions, like a mother who wants to know why their child is crying. It’s a very calming energy. Something is happening or has happened in your love life that made you shift your views on love to a much gloomier perspective that’s very far from reality. Rationally, you may know some things don’t work out for the best of us, but emotionally, it’s okay if it’s hard for you to understand your own emotions, to process them. There’s no rush in your time to dive deep within them, to understand why this situation brought you to your knees. Do you blame yourself for it? Maybe because they didn’t love you back? Maybe you thought you were a little “too much”? A little too rough or too soft around the edges? All you know is that whatever is it that they wanted, you felt you weren’t “it”. 

And that’s okay.

You can lay down all of these defenses and weapons and arrows and knives. There’s no actual reason to prove your worth to them. Maybe you loved them more than you could ever have thought loving someone was possible, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your guides want you to credit your big heart for loving someone. All this love came from you, from your inherent and infinite source of affection and potential for connection - not them. These feelings and the lovely moments you shared or wished for weren’t a waste. They only prove just how much you have left to live and give. And receive.

You’ll get it back tenfold. Love comes back around, it’s the only thing that always does. Maybe not in the way you expect it to, but in a much better way in which you ever hoped it would.

additional messages: "i wish you saw you the way i see you", break or bend, fitting in, playing it cool, poker face, 1515, fifteen, daydreaming, leaving a party early, champagne tears, "you. i wanted it to be you."

channeled song: take a bow by rihanna.

𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑻𝑾𝑶.

Hello! If you’ve chosen pile two, welcome to your reading. There’s a huge sense of adventure within this pile. A feeling of “exploration” if you will. I can’t quite explain it. Are you starting over a new leaf? Getting into college or just fresh out of high school? I quite like it. You’re throwing yourself out there, a bit naive but open-hearted nonetheless. I’m not sure if you feel you’re inexperienced or if maybe you want new things to come to you after a long period of the same old things, but you’ve got your seatbelt on and it feels like it’ll speed up soon! In an overwhelming, exciting and thrilling way. You may be entering a period of “why not?” and simply do things for the sake of experiencing, for the sake of saying you did it, that you lived it. This feels.. divinely orchestrated. Fresh. Like spring fields and the smell of rain. It’s a forever young kind of energy, like being in the present moment whilst knowing you’ll remember it for days to come. But you may feel unsure, lost, a little all over the place or “of two minds.” Well, you’re on the right path - if there is such a thing as a right path, no?

All the roads lead to… exactly where you’re supposed to be, pile two. Cut yourself some slack. You’re already there. Already here. There’s a boundless desire for wanderlust, for adventure, for appreciating very silly and little things in your life. You’re experiencing joy again. Maybe for the first time in forever, or maybe for the first time in your entire life, you get a taste of the joy you ever so craved. Your guides want you to know you deserve it. There’s nothing you need to “earn” about joy, love and friendship. You simply get it because you’re human. Because it’s been such a long time since they’ve seen you shine in the way you’re meant to.

You get exactly that, the kind of life that is indeed living, not simply surviving. The kind of life you want to take pictures in your mind of. The kind of life you make playlists for, like a very long, warm and bright road trip into the sunset. Your guides love you so much, pile two.

PS: If you find it meaningful, you may wish to connect with angels and the divine realm more. 777 is a sign for you.

additional messages: weekend getaway, crystal clear, australia, new zealand, main character energy, coffee fueled nightmare, "young and in love," early to late 20s, "just say yes."

channeled song: always home by leucadia.

𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬.

Hello! If you’ve chosen pile three, welcome to your reading. The message here came so strongly, I couldn’t help but wonder if you’re diving into shadow work or simply understanding and integrating the “darker” sides of you that have been shamed, shut down, ignored or avoided for a long time. There has to be more than good and bad and you’re right. Something about this pile is nuanced, complex and very gray-minded. I think you’re taking all of what has been judged and making it yours. Claiming the horrible and harsh moments of your life to say “to hell with it”, because you’re done pretending it didn’t hurt. You’re done pretending people haven’t done wrong by you, that you’re only “love and light.” You ache and fear and rage just like other beings out there.

Rage is radical. It’s the catalyst for the change that needs happening in our lives. Sadness brings acceptance, but rage throws your tears off the table, gives you the energy to change the things which you’ve acknowledged. Sadness has you writing letters you’ll never send. Rage burns them. Rage says “I’ll never be treated like that ever again.”

You’re not a villain for wanting respect. Even when you look into the mirror and only see the horrible things you were called a lifetime ago, you’re not wrong for wanting to be understood. Seen. Loved. The parts of you that ache are the ones that need - and deserve - healing the most. There’s no need to perform a “fully healed” version of you. There’s no “fully healed” version of you. It’s not a destination. 

It’s just you, right here, in this very moment, so, so human and so worthy of being embraced as you are. We’re all a little difficult to understand, a little complicated and afraid. I don’t think you should ever be ashamed of this depth and this darkness. Remember that wherever light goes, darkness has gotten there first. That’s something to be respected inside you - the parts of you that weren’t heard are begging to be listened to. They’re not bad, they’re just hurt.

additional messages: maleficent, "hurt people hurt people", 999, 666, burgundy red, shades of gray, "it comes & goes in waves", red flags, "maybe you saved me by letting me go," "from ashes flowers grow."

channeled song: siren by taeyeon | more by jhope (bonus)

𝑷𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹.

Hello! If you’ve chosen pile four, welcome to your reading. I love the sweet nostalgia of your pile. You’ve been looking back, haven’t you? But fondly. I see someone going through a dusty shelf, picking up an old photo book (is that how people say it these days?) and feeling a little bit rusty… There’s some wishful thinking coming from you, from how much you miss certain things, certain people and places. But you know quite well you’ve outgrown them and there’s no need for you to go back, no matter how much you wish you could.

It’s a little bittersweet… but more sweet than bitter, I can assure you. You’ve come so far. Your guides just want to hold you, hug you. The battles you’ve fought were mostly on your own and no one was there to witness it but you. Well, you and the higher source you may believe in. You’ve moved on from so much hurt, but you wonder what’ll be left of you if not nostalgia. The love and the good memories aren’t any less real because of how much time has passed. I think the little kid inside of you wants to open up to the world a little bit again. Slowly, like you’re waking up from a deep sleep. Coming out of hiding, out of hermitting and holding all the weight of the world on your shoulders.

It’s true, you’re wiser. You’re older. But there’s no glory in remaining clueless. You’ve learnt a fair share of lessons and they were never meant to be punishments. Maybe you think you’re too old for all the things you crave now; like too much time has passed and you’ve been living in a different century. Pile four, you’re not made of glass. You never were. And maybe you stopped pursuing certain hobbies or passions because of good old societal norms and expectations. You’re not too old to watch a Disney movie. At the cinema or by yourself. You’re not too old for silly joys. You can afford to be silly, to be wise and to be knowledgeable all at the same time. What do you love? What do you want to do with what you have in the here and the now? How can you honor the little kid in those portraits? How can you honor the versions of you that didn’t know better?

additional messages: "never grow up", white/pink teddy bear, dusty shelves, attic, old book, singing lullabies, polaroid pictures, sepia, black & white, amelie (the movie), "everything you lose is a step you take."

channeled song: easy by morning midnightt | overture by roh young sim (bonus song).

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