#but it just doesn’t feel right that none of them honored her at all

[tilthesound]

That scene in the car when Tai talks about taking care of Natalie with rehab and all because she doesn’t have anyone hits the rightest and most tender spot.

[deadsetobsessions]

It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.

There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.

Find their grave, and defile it.

It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.

As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.

——

Please.

Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.

You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.

“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.

My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.

Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”

Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.

Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.

“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”

I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.

“I will.”

When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.

——

“CONSTANTINE!”

“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.

“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”

Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”

John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.

“Go, go!”

——

Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.

“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”

Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.

“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”

That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.

She swallowed.

“She… had red hair?”

“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.

“To help. Please, will you let me help?”

Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.

The ice melts.

“Thank you.”

Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.

And then, he was proven wrong.

Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.

“Oh.”

The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.

Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.

“Is this… alright, your highness?”

Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.

“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”

He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.

——

Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.

“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.

“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.

“Of course.”

A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.

“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”

“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”

——

“I want their heads.” Danny says.

“We don’t kill.”

“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“Alright.”

“Constantine.”

Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.

“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”

“Hm.”

——

Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.

“How old are you, Phantom?”

“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”

“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”

She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.

“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”

Constantine swears.

Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.

Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.

Then, she gets up, and hunts.

[thetimetraveler24]

Sometimes I think about how people rank Jason as their least favorite because he’s “such a bland character with no personality”, but was he even allowed to have one in the first place?

He’s two years old when Lupa guides him to Camp Jupiter. He’s brought up to be the perfect soldier, the perfect Roman, the perfect hero. He doesn’t know life outside the legion. He’s the son of Jupiter, he has to be great. If he’s not, he’s a failure and a disgrace. If he is then he’s still not the best because there so many other heroes who did it better than him so he has to keep trying harder and harder even though no matter what he’s never going to be good enough because the moment he slips up he’s no longer the perfect hero.

The few times he actually tries to do something he wants, he’s only cut down. Changing the 12th legion to the 1st legion? No, you can’t do that. It’s tradition. You’re wrong. That’s stupid. Joining the 5th cohort? Why would you join those losers? You’re only hurting yourself. You could be great if you join the 1st cohort instead like a good Roman boy.

So why would he try to do anything that cultivates his identity? Why would he try to do anything that brings him joy if everyone around him is just going to suck it right out?

He has no best friends at Camp Jupiter. He has acquaintances. He has people he’s friendly with. Say what you want but Reyna was a coworker. Dakota was cool, Gwen was nice. But none of them make Jason want to stay at Camp Jupiter instead of Camp Half-Blood. He thinks of Reyna but only in terms of he doesn’t want to saddle her with the responsibility of picking a new praetor. He thinks about duty. When he is picking between the camps he’s weighing his options between doing his duty as he’s done his whole life or picking himself for the very first time ever and he picks himself.

And it’s honestly so fucking depressing that the first time Jason picks himself and is actually supported in his decision happens when he is sixteen years old. And most of the people supporting him have only known him for a month.

But then he saddles himself with duty and responsibilities because that’s all he’s ever known and Percy is dying and Jason is a good Roman and a good hero and his job is to sacrifice his life for everyone else because of course it is. So he takes on Pontifex Maximus to build shrines and temples to minor gods and goddesses (not that they shouldn’t be honored but… once again he’s sacrificing his identity for the good of everyone around him).

And then, just as he’s finally discovering an identity for himself—he likes physics, he’s learning about the mortal world and living in it, he’s becoming more than just Jupiters son and Juno’s perfect hero—he’s killed.

Jason never got to be Jason. He only got to be Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, Praetor of the 12th Legion, slayer of Krios, one of the Seven, Juno’s Champion, Pontifex Maximus. He always belonged to someone else and never himself.

All this to say, Jason is my favorite of the Seven and although he’s not the eldest nor a daughter, as an eldest daughter I relate so hard and feel very seen in him.

[maidragoste]

hiii can i request a jace velaryon x reader where they are betrothed and jace is head over heels for her but she doesn’t want to get married because she knows it’s a political marriage and she doesn’t think jace likes her because he avoids her (not really “avoids” but tries to keep distance by ending convos quickly or not sitting next to her during mealtimes etc) due to his crush and being nervous around her.

ps. i’m so sorry for you loss, my cats are my babies so i am sending you an extra tight hug :(

Hi, anon, thank you very much for your message 🫂🫂 I hope you are well 💖💖

I'm sorry it took me so long to finish your request but I hope you like the result 🥰🥰

As I always say, likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated because they motivate me to keep writing 🤭💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

To say that you are excited about your engagement would be a lie.

Well, actually, at first you were, after all, every girl's dream was to marry a prince. But any fantasy of a loving marriage was put to rest with your fiancé's attitude.

Jacaerys Velaryon is not a bad man, he is not rude or treats you badly. But he clearly doesn't like you. Every time you try to have a conversation with the prince he finds a way to excuse himself to quickly end any interaction with you. When he arrives after you to the dining room and you smile at him giving him a clear invitation to sit next to you, you always end up disappointed because he is going to sit next to his brothers. But you never felt so humiliated as right now. You thought he would ask you to dance, you were sure he was watching you from the other side of the room and when you saw that Prince Aegon, King Viserys' son, gave him a push towards where you were sitting you thought it was to encourage him to ask you to dance, but when Jacaerys approached instead of offering you his hand he gave it to Baela, who was sitting next to you. You stared at your lap feeling deeply embarrassed and wishing to go home.

Maybe the problem was that Jacaerys wanted a Valyrian bride and instead, he had to settle for you, a noble girl without a dragon or violet eyes. But if that was the reason why Jacaerys wasn't even forcing himself to make this not just a political marriage then you thought he was a fool.

You wanted the party to end so you could go to your chambers and write to your mother to beg her to convince your father to break off the engagement. You didn’t want to marry Jacaerys.

“Will you dance with me?”

You raised your eyes from your lap to see Aegon Targaryen, your fiancé’s younger brother. You felt mortified, you must have been such a pitiful sight that the kid decided to take pity on you and put you out of your misery.

“It would be an honor my prince” You took a while to reply but Aegon never got nervous, in fact, he seemed sure that you wouldn’t refuse him.

The little prince led you to the dance floor like a good gentleman and the two of you began to dance. You honestly thought that he would at least step on you by accident once but the truth is that he dances very well.

“My brother can be quite a fool sometimes,” Aegon said, drawing your full attention, and if you weren’t already so upset with Jacaerys, then you would have told him he shouldn’t talk about his own brother like that. “I think he acts like that with you because you make him nervous.”

“That sounds foolish,” you said, not allowing yourself to have any hope that your possible future brother-in-law is right.

“I told you, he’s a fool,” he said with a small smile before spinning you around.

You were shocked when you finished spinning and found that your new dance partner was none other than your headache: your fiancé. You tried hard not to feel anything when his hand took yours and his other hand placed itself on your hip.

“You look beautiful,” Jacaerys said, surprising them both because he hadn’t planned to say that out loud. “It’s not that you didn’t look beautiful the other days, you always look beautiful,” he quickly clarified, afraid that he had offended you unintentionally when he saw that you remained silent.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile when you noticed his nerves. Maybe Prince Aegon was right.

“Thank you, my prince. It’s good to know that you don’t displeasure me.”

“Displeasure me? “Why would you think I displeasure you?” His pretty brown eyes looked at you distraught.

“Because you don’t spend time with me,” you answered obviously. “You seem to prefer being anywhere than being with me. It’s a miracle that you’re dancing with me right now.” There was no harshness in your tone but Jacaerys still felt embarrassed. “You know your brother told me something interesting, I’d like to know if he’s right or wrong,” you said, drawing the prince’s attention.

“What did Aegon say to you?”

“He told me that I make you nervous and that's why you avoid me,” you replied cheekily and watched with delight as a slight blush appeared on his face upon being discovered.

“I am so sorry, my lady."I shouldn't have had such a shameful attitude,” he apologized, realizing that because of his nerves, he had given you the wrong idea. It had never been his intention to make you think he didn’t like you.

“I will not accept your apology,” your words were like a slap to him and he couldn’t help but tense up. You weren’t even married and he already managed to upset you. “At least until I see your change of attitude,” you declared and felt excited as you saw his eyes fill with determination. Suddenly he seemed to have gained confidence.

"I'll do it. I will reward you,” Jacaerys promised, determined to be a better fiancé and not disappoint you again. He wanted to lay the groundwork for a good marriage with you.

“I can’t wait to see that,” you smiled, and he quickly returned your smile, feeling happy that you were willing to give him another chance.

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hotd masterlist

[beloveds-embrace]

If I might give a brain worm unto you that has been wiggling around my noodle: Dukedom AU x Designationless reader AU.

The boys treat her the way they do partly because of their relationship and the threat she is to it, but also because she’s not like them. The staff of course follow suit.

The reader, while having long since adjusted to the terrible circumstances surrounding her simply just existing, was really hoping that this would be a new start. She’d heard on and on about what a hero and a good man Duke Johnathan Price was and built up a fantasy in her head of what he would be like. Maybe he’d look past what was “wrong” and treat her like a person. He did ask for her hand in marriage after all. That had to mean something, right?

It breaks her heart when she recognizes the scrunch of his nose, the disdain, the explicit barring from nests and bonding expected of a pack. It was the same situation she’d always been trapped in, but in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.

Or something like that.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH 😩😩

The first time you see him- truly see him- you believe your heart and mind have played a cruel trick on you.

You’ve heard so much about Duke Johnathan Price. His reputation precedes him, woven into tales of heroism and integrity. A man of honor, a soldier, a leader. A man who chose you. The supposed man of your dreams.

Even now, sitting stiffly across from you on your first dinner as husband and wife, he looks every part of the noble figure painted in stories. Broad shoulders draped in fine fabrics, a beard neatly trimmed, hands steady as he cuts into his meal with a precision that speaks of years spent wielding a blade. He is handsome, powerful. Capable.

And yet, when he looks at you, there is nothing in his eyes.

Not curiosity, not warmth. Not even disdain at first- just a lack of acknowledgment so profound it makes your throat tighten.

Then his nose scrunches, barely perceptible but devastating nonetheless. Because it's not the first time this has happened, and you’ve seen that expression before. It won't be the last, either, but you had hoped...

Your stomach churns.

It is the same look others have given you when they realize what you are. Or rather, what you are not.

Not an Alpha, nor an Omega. Not even a Beta.

Just a ghost of what should have been.

You set your fork down carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice how unsteady your hands get. Across the table, Chef Johnny emerges from the kitchen, setting down a fresh plate for Duke Price with far too friendly smile. The dish is a work of art, beautifully plated, steam curling in delicate wisps.

Your own meal is… not the same. The vegetables are overcooked, the meat a little too dry. A careless oversight, perhaps?

But then you notice how Kyle, the head butler, watches you with an impassive expression. How none of the maids refill your glass as swiftly as they do John’s.

How the room feels colder than it should.

You eat what you can, ignoring the tightness in your throat, ignoring the stares.

This marriage was meant to be a new beginning.

You had dared to believe, just for a moment, that Duke Price would be different. That he would not look at you like you were wrong. But it seems you were severely mistaken.

The rejection from him, thus, is quiet. The rejection from the rest of the duchy, thus, is just as quiet.

There are no harsh words, and no blatant cruelty. But there are barriers. Invisible ones, carved deep into the very bones of the household.

Certain rooms are not meant for you. The Duke’s- because calling him John now feels far too inappropriate for you, his damn wife- study is always closed when you pass. The library, though technically open, is always occupied when you wish to visit. You are never explicitly barred from entering, of course, yet when you step too close, the weight of silence and the stares and the whispers push you back.

And the nesting rooms- warm, safe places where bonds are nurtured and scents are shared- are not for you.

You learned long ago that you do not belong in such spaces from your own parents. But you had still hoped...

The first time you wander too close, you barely make it past the threshold before Duke Riley blocks your way. He is taller than Price, broader in some ways, with sharp, piercing eyes that assess you coolly. You've early on caught to the... relationships your husband has.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around your skirts. “I was just- ”

“Off-limits.” His voice is flat. Final.

You nod, pulse stuttering. You do not need to be told twice.

But it is not just Simon.

Kyle remains distant, fulfilling his duties with impeccable efficiency yet never offering you so much as a fleeting smile. The other servants follow suit eventually, mimicking his detachment. Even Johnny, who seems the warmest of the three, does not linger in your presence the way he does with the others.

But it's the absence of touch that is the worst.

In a household full of Alphas and Omegas, where scenting and casual touches are second nature, you are untouched. Unacknowledged.

Not wanted.

The realization festers deep in your chest, an old wound reopened in a new, unfamiliar place.

You do not cry beyond shedding a few, lonesome tears in your rooms.

Instead, you simply adjust, and that adjustment means the shrinking of your world.

At first, you try to push forward, to do your duty as a Duchess with grace. You ensure the estate runs smoothly, oversee the staff, attend the necessary gatherings.

But the strain of existing in a space that does not want you wears you thin.

So you stop attending the dinners, no longer willing to sit across from a husband who does not see you.

You withdraw from the bustling halls, the grand rooms filled with people who murmur behind your back but never speak to your face.

Even your reflection in the mirror begins to look unfamiliar. The light in your eyes dims, your gowns hang looser on your frame. You hear the maids whispering.

"She’s wasting away."

"Maybe it’s for the best."

"No one can love someone who fades into the walls."

"No one can love someone so different. So... unnatural."

You wonder if it even matters, curled in your bed. They will continue their whispers even if you appear, even if you don't appear.

And still, no one comes for you. No one considers you.

Not your husband, and not his pack that you will never be a part of.

Not a single soul.

[prythianpages]

Just A Girl | Eris x Rhysand's Sister

series masterlist | summary: Your father throws a ball in your honor. When Beron belittles you, you decide to show him what you're capable of, catching the attention of his firstborn.

word count: 2K

a/n: Hi guys! It's been a hot minute since I've written anything and I feel rusty lol (kinda like when you stop riding your bike and have to relearn type of feel.) Anyway, this is entirely based off no doubt's just a girl bc I felt like it gave off Rhys's sister vibes and then I thought why not incorporate this into an au I had planned for an Eris x Rhys's sister one shot??

“When I’m High Lord, I’ll go–”

“I’m sure you’ll go far,” you interrupt, a half smile playing on your lips as you look up at the first born of Spring. With his luscious blond hair, striking green eyes, and well-defined jawline, he's undeniably a sight to behold. Unfortunately, his personality doesn't match his looks—dull yet somehow arrogant and miserably misogynistic. 

You don’t have it in you to spare him a moment longer, especially not when his overbearing pride is becoming overwhelming for your senses. You push past the desire to call upon your abilities and manipulate his emotions into something more humbling. He is not worth exposing your powers.

With a pat on his shoulder–too harsh for his liking– you add, “and I really hope you stay there. It was nice speaking with you, Heathen.”

“It’s Heath.”

You give an uninterested hum before making your way to the refreshments table, desperate for something to soothe the tension between your brows. A silent prayer is sent to the Cauldron that no other male approaches you with a lame attempt at conversation. If they are interested in you, they should at least be able to hold a good one. One that doesn’t incorporate any microaggressions toward you.

Fortunately for you, it is your brother who approaches you next. He takes your–what was it? fourth or sixth, you can’t remember– champagne flute from your grasp with an effortless ease. A glare settles upon your features as you watch him chug it before fixing your gaze straight ahead, to the dais where your father and mother sit. 

Your father occupies the grand throne, while your mother sits beside him in a smaller, less ornate chair. The Lady of the Night Court—magnificent and burdened with countless responsibilities—receives none of the praise that is lavished upon your father. Despite her contributions to your court, she is not held in the same regard… simply because she is a female.

It leaves you to wonder what your destiny is.

Rhysand looks at you with sympathy, and you realize that in your moment of vulnerability, you've let your mental shields slip. “Please, save your breath,” you mutter.

Sensing Cassian and Azriel approaching, you flash them a small, relieved smile. “And please, stay by my side,” you say, your eyes scanning the room where multiple pairs of eyes are fixed on you. You feel so exposed and though it’s no surprise, it still leaves you unsettled. When your gaze meets that of one of Autumn's sons, you quickly look away and strengthen the shield around you.

“I could use my scary brother privileges right now.”

“Who are we scaring, princess?” Cassian asks, flexing his muscles as he pretends to adjust the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows.

Azriel lets out a snort, but his keen eyes are already scanning the room, easily locating the Autumn male. The red-haired male immediately cowers under his cold, hard stare.

“No one.” Rhysand replies, shooting them both a warning look. He then turns to you and you don’t need his daemati abilities to know what he’s about to say. “y/n–”

“Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?” You interrupt him with an exhausted sigh.

Tonight was a celebration–a ball to honor you and all you’ve done for the Night Court during the war. When the war started, you were twenty-three and deemed too young to participate. Though, at that age, Rhysand had already completed the bloodrite and was esteemed a formidable warrior. You were fortunate that your father allowed you to train and even more so that he allowed you to join the Night Court council.

You quickly mastered the politics of war and the intricacies of the Prythian courts. Midway through the war, your father entrusted you to visit the war camps and delegate on his behalf. There was no doubt that it was a privilege you were granted due to your powers. Still, you embraced it eagerly and tonight was the night you would officially be recognized as an emissary.

But of course, many–especially the sons of the High Lords–confused tonight as your debutante ball. You were in your third decade, after all. While your brother was recognized as a fierce warrior and heir, you were regarded as a highly sought out bachelorette. 

Lucky you.

“I am meant to be pretty and docile,” you continue, gesturing to yourself. 

The dress you wore was far from your usual preference. The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and sequins, featured a sweetheart neckline that teased a glimpse of your breast—but not too much. The skirt of the gown was voluminous, made of layers of soft tulle that shimmered with every step as the light caught the scattered sequins. It was a beautiful black ball gown, crafted by your mother's talented hands. Yet, you much preferred dresses that clung to you like a second skin, revealing more of your figure.

To put it frankly, you felt quite suffocated in this gown. And you rather not even get started on your makeup. You were transformed into a perfect painting of a sweet and innocent princess. Not the daring and powerful female you knew yourself to be.

“Desirable but not too attainable.”

 “However, that does not mean I need to be consistently tortured by dull conversations and hungry stares from controlling males,” you finish, crossing your arms against your chest with a scowl. “No one has even asked me about my role in this court.”

“Oh, yeah. How is it being an emissary to the Night Court?” Cassian asks, earning a smack to the back of his head from Azriel.

“Just splendid,” you reply with a sarcastic smile.

“You played a significant role in establishing peace between Spring and the rest of the courts after the war. I’m sure your efforts will not go unnoticed,” Rhysand assures you.

“Perhaps I played my role too well. Heathen has seemed to have taken an interest in me.”

It’s as if he heard his name being called, for the blonde male’s gaze meets yours across the ballroom. He winks at you with that stupid, cocky smirk of his. A grimace crosses your face. You had been hoping your conversation from earlier would deter him. It seems it has only spurred him on.

“He’s... pretty,” Rhysand starts, but then trails off, struggling to find a compliment for Heath. “Pretty full of himself,” he finally manages, shooting you an almost apologetic glance.

Both of you erupt into laughter.

“It could be worse,” Azriel comments after a moment, a futile attempt at making you feel better. “It could be the heir to Autumn. As the by-product of growing up under Beron’s cruelty, I hear he’s pretty ruthless. Might even turn out to be crueler than him. At least Heath isn’t as bright…”

“Ouch,” Cassian says with a playful wince, almost feeling bad for the Spring heir.

Your eyes find the male in question. Eris Vanserra. His vibrant red hair makes him and his siblings easy to spot in a crowded room. Surprisingly, Eris hasn't made any attempt to approach you tonight. Unlike his brothers. Instead, he stands by his mother's side. She appears uncomfortable and weary, her arm linked with his as she rubs her swollen, pregnant belly.

 As you focus on him, you feel a mix of anger and concern. “Somehow, I doubt that,” you voice your thoughts out loud, following the trail of emotions. Your eyes land on the recipient of his anger. Beron. The High Lord of Autumn stands amongst the other High Lords, engaged in conversation with your father.

Sensing your gaze on him, your father looks up from where you stand. He holds a hand up, summoning you and your brother.

“Time to shine,” Rhysand says, holding his hand out to you.

**

“Ah, my son,” your father greets with a smile as you and Rhysand come to a stop before him and the other High Lords. He then turns to you, violet eyes alight with pride that has your chest swelling with warmth. At least your father recognizes your worth and you don't dare to wonder if he'd see you the same if you weren't blessed with your power.

“My daughter, the guest of honor," he introduces, reaching for your hand to pull you to his side. You offer a polite smile and curtsy to the High Lords. “Y/n has done a lot for this court and all of Prythian. Tonight is a means to show my immense gratitude and present her with the official title of lead emissary of the Night Court.”

It is the High Lord of the Winter Court who speaks first, offering a slight bow of his head. “I look forward to continuing working with you, Lady y/n.”

“A wise and thoughtful member of the Night Court.” High Lord Thesan says with an amiable smile, the High Lords of Day, Summer and Spring sharing his sentiments.

However, the same cannot be said for the High Lord of Autumn. His lips curl in distaste, the thought of having to interact with a female tasting sour on his tongue. He had tolerated you before but only due to the war.

“You expect me to welcome her to my court to discuss important matter?" Beron huffs. "She’s just a girl.”

You don’t speak. You don’t even make a sound. But the look in your eyes…the look in your eyes was downright murderous.

Memories begin to flood your mind of you being berated and undermined. The box in which you had locked away your emotions can no longer contain them. A wave of anger and frustration begins to surge forth...

Rhysand knew exactly what was about to happen, his hand silently reaching out for yours. To hold you back.

But it was too late. Your mind was like a wall of steel. Impenetrable.

All you saw was red, your wings bursting forth from your glamor, unfurling behind you. They tore through the seams of your dress, provoking gasps. Swiftly, your magic mends the fabric, accommodating your true form.

Tendrils of darkness emanate from your outstretched hands, weaving through the air like sinister ribbons. Your gaze, unwavering and intense, remains fixated on Beron.  With each movement of your fingers, the room plunges deeper into shadow. The once-illuminated space is now consumed by a thick veil of darkness. Even Azriel’s shadows, accustomed to the darkness themselves, cling onto him like a second skin.

As the last glimmer of light fades into oblivion, the ballroom becomes a chamber of obsidian night. With a mere thought, you tap into the emotions swirling within the hearts of those present. Careful to be subtle upon the intrusion as you do not want to expose the true extent of your abilities.

You summon only the most negative emotions like a maestro orchestrating a symphony. Screams erupt, drawing your lips upwards. You can feel resistance against your power and whether it is from your father or brother or even one of the other High Lords, you can’t tell.

Gathering all your pent up frustrations, you use it to fuel your strength, wanting to hold onto this moment of mayhem just a bit longer. It is only when you feel Beron’s heart racing, feel the trace of fear threatening to dim the fire in his veins that you let go.

In the blink of an eye, your tendrils of darkness disperse, succumbing to the resistance. The faelights around the ballroom shimmer to life once more and the moon’s light seeps back into the room. It casts an ethereal glow over you, revealing the calm and cool expression on your face. Yet, your eyes remain seething with the fury of a dark, raging storm.

Beron's scowl deepens at your display. He parts his mouth in disbelief, looking towards your father, who says nothing. Beron then looks back at you.

For once in his miserable life, he is at a loss for words. Pride swells in your chest and you push against the talons raking across your mind, wanting to bask in your small victory.

“I’m just a girl,” you finally say and then give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders before turning to leave.

Reveling in the animosity radiating off of him, your smirk deepens as you recognize a faint trace of humiliation somewhere among the fire of his wrath.

The assembled crowd parts before you, their gazes a mixture of disdain, shock, and fear. You keep your head held high and eyes focused straight ahead. Dread begins to settle in, the onset of a headache from overexertion threatening to break your composure.

Still, you carry on, feigning nonchalance. The only sounds echoing through the room are the hushed whispers and the sharp click of your heels against the marble floors.

Yet, amidst the sea of wary onlookers, one figure stands apart.

Eris.

The heir to the Autumn court is leaning casually against the wall near the exit doors, his mother nowhere to be seen. The corner of his lips are upturned into a smirk, amber eyes alight with amusement and curiosity and perhaps, even something more.

Your steps threaten to falter as your eyes meets his. He looks back at you, holding your gaze with a searing intensity, it sends a shiver down your spine. He looks at you in a way no one ever has...as if he can see you for you who you really are.

Because you aren’t just a girl.

You’re the daughter of the Night Court. A shining star. A force to be reckoned with and one he finds himself irresistibly drawn to.

series masterlist

a/n: I honestly don't know how to feel about this one. I guess it's kind of a prequel to my upcoming one shot. Also, you can't tell me Eris wouldn't find anyone besting his dad like reader did in this hot lol

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

[maenefa]

Ok, so if Eowyn wants to die in battle to avoid a worse fate at the hands of the enemy, why is it so easy to miss that??? Why does Tolkien misdirect us?

I could write a whole essay on Tolkien’s love of understatement, of meaningful silence, of “glimpses of untold stories,” but let’s focus on Eowyn for now.

Tolkien creates a suffocating bubble of silence around Eowyn. It’s brilliant and horrible and I love it and I hate it.

Faramir tells Eowyn what he thinks about her motives: “You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn…. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle.” And Eowyn doesn’t correct him! She just looks at him silently. And she declares her love for him during this scene.

Eowyn is often described as “frozen” or “cold,” and it’s clear that she has to hide her true feelings a lot of the time. Tolkien REALLY hits us over the head with the silencing of Eowyn in the Houses of Healing, when all the men are staring at her unconscious body and wondering why she was so unhappy. Eomer is positive that her crush on Aragorn was the problem; Aragorn doesn’t want to take the blame. Finally Gandalf speaks up:

“My friend, you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, being born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours.”

And then he says this:

“My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips, you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?”

Gandalf has just made the most openly feminist statement in the novel (aside from Eowyn and her “burned in the house” speech), but he follows it by saying that Eowyn has private thoughts that he cannot or will not explain. It is up to the men to decide if they want to know more. Eomer is deeply struck by Gandalf’s words and silently rethinks his entire life with Eowyn.

And then Aragorn has a truly infuriating bros-before-hoes moment: he breaks the uncomfortable silence by reassuring Eomer that yeah, maybe Eowyn’s crush on him was actually the problem after all. Just a minute earlier, he had denied responsibility for Eowyn’s despair. But he hates to see his friend, his brother in arms, feeling shamed. So he jumps in to rescue Eomer from his negative emotions. And Eowyn is RIGHT THERE, silent and unable to defend herself.

We already know that Aragorn is reluctant to know more about Eowyn’s problems. During their confrontation in Dunharrow, Aragorn dodges all of Eowyn’s attempts to make him see her point of view.

“A time may come soon,” said he, “when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”

And she answered: “All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”

“What do you fear, lady?” he asked.

Neither Aragorn nor Eowyn want to talk about what will happen to her if the enemy wins; this is why there is so much misdirection about Eowyn’s motives! Aragorn glosses over the atrocities that are likely to happen and tells Eowyn she can have a heroic last stand, as a treat. Eowyn is infuriated by his poetic vagueness and spits out this horrifying image of being burned alive—but then she fiercely insists that she is a warrior and fears neither pain nor death. She doesn’t want to perform feminine vulnerability to get Aragorn to listen to her. Eowyn is proud and dignified, which makes it especially painful when she resorts to kneeling and begging Aragorn to let her fight. As she tells Faramir, she desires no man’s pity.

I have to give a shoutout to @balrogballs, who has written about this subject extensively:

The cultural fantasy of the female victim of violence often traps women in an unyielding present tense, positioning them as symbols of sentimentality. These women are objectified and become sites of social intervention, their suffering the focal point of external pity and mourning. The narrative demands their pain be witnessed, but rarely offers a way forward, reducing them to objects for emotional consumption rather than subjects of their own story.

This is exactly what Eowyn is trying to avoid. She wants to be remembered as a hero, not a victim.

Tolkien embroiders this theme very cunningly by having Faramir give Eowyn a cloak that belonged to his mother, Finduilas, who died when he was five. Faramir thinks the cloak is “fitting for the beauty and sadness of Eowyn,” which has a deeper meaning that he probably does not intend. Finduilas is also the name of an elf maiden from the Silmarillion, who was captured by orcs and killed with a spear. In Tolkien’s work, both Finduilases exist mainly to provide tragic backstories for male protagonists. Oh, and Arwen’s name was originally Finduilas as well. To be a Finduilas is to be beautiful and passive, and to die tragically. A fate that Eowyn rages against.

(The Finduilas thing becomes even more absurdly cryptic when you recall that only Tolkien knew about the tragic connotation of the name at the time LotR was published. But he did this kind of thing!!! Recall Elrond and his warning against oaths.)

I have always wondered why Eowyn didn’t challenge Faramir when he informed her that she was suicidal because of Aragorn. Perhaps she simply wanted to put the whole nightmare behind her.

But the most painful silence, to me, involves Theoden. Gandalf reveals that Wormtongue was planning to rape Eowyn, and Theoden says nothing. Eomer grabs his sword and has to be restrained from killing Wormtongue, but Theoden actually offers Wormtongue a second chance to prove his loyalty:

"Do you hear this, Wormtongue?" said Theoden. "This is your choice: to ride with me to war, and let us see in battle whether you are true; or to go now, whither you will. But then, if ever we meet again, I shall not be merciful."

This betrayal of Eowyn happens so fast that it is easy to miss. None of the characters comment on it, and the narrative moves on. There’s something horribly realistic about a powerful man with a beloved image casually offering a second chance to a sexual predator and everyone, including the reader, being unable to process what is happening.

The silences in Eowyn’s story come from the male characters and from Eowyn herself. Theoden and Aragorn want to avoid talking about the type of violence that threatens her, and they ignore her desires. Eowyn doesn’t want to be trauma porn; she resents having to explain herself. And this silence offers readers the freedom to empathize with her, like Eomer, or to fall back on sexist explanations, like Aragorn.

[hvnlygrl]

Hey girl! I wanted to send in a Rafe request for the angst prompt #7: accidentally/drunkenly confessing feelings and yes it’s for the celebration! But it’s Rafe that confesses his feelings for the reader even though she’s a pogue but he’s always had a soft spot for her🤍

drunken confession.

pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

word count — 0.7k

synopsis — rafe gets drunk and starts spilling the beans on his love for you.

notes — hi babe! i love this sm he would be such a doofus honestly.

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

you watched rafe down shot after shot, part of you feeling a little concerned for his well being for the rest of the night, and the other part of you just wanting to focus on your friends and mind your business.

but rafe was your friend too, you reminded yourself. you’d grown a soft spot for the kook after a party one night, one very similar to this one, in fact. jj loved to tease you and say that the feelings you harbored were much more than platonic, and you constantly denied his statement. but you knew he was right.

you also knew, however, that rafe cameron would never be caught dead dating a pogue. so any and all thoughts and feelings that were more than platonic for rafe got locked away to protect your own well being. the last thing you needed was the boys getting on your ass for being in love with a kook, or for topper and kelce to antagonize you for being a nasty pogue that nobody, especially rafe, would ever love.

and yet here you were, stuffing him into the passenger seat of your car because he’d had far too many to drink.

“how you feelin’ buddy?” you hum softly, your voice sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “let me know if you wanna throw up, okay?”

he just groaned in response, your words nearly triggering his gag response. “drive slow,” he keeps his eyes closed tightly as he takes deep breaths.

“you got it,” you huff through a laugh, driving as safely and steadily as you could while you brought him back to your house. you knew ward would flip his shit if rafe got brought home by a pogue while drunk like that and you wanted to protect him from that shitshow as much as possible.

by the time you got him to your house, he sighed desperately as he crawled into your bed, trashcan ready by his side. “y/n?” he called out, eyes trying to steady themselves to look at you.

“what’s up?” you call back with a sweet smile on your face, having absolutely no problem taking care of him in this vulnerable state. honestly, you felt honored that he trusted and asked for you specifically.

“i love you,” his voice is shaky and you almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.

you’re sure he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him too, so you brush him off with a soft laugh and allow your hand to rub his back soothingly. “love you too, rafe.”

“no,” he groans as he rolls to face you better, “i love you. like i know i shouldn’t cause you’re a pogue or whatever the fuck, but i love you and i can't stop thinking about you when i'm not with you. i want us to be more than this.”

you blink at him in shock, your face clad in an expression he’s unable to read that nearly sends him face first into the trashcan. he’s almost positive he ruined everything.

“are you being serious right now, rafe?”

“yes, i’m sick of walking on eggshells, i just-“ he sighs deeply, “i can't even look at other girls anymore because none of them are you.”

“i love you too, rafe,” you could cry at the confession, eyes watering and hands trembling, “i have for a while now. i just didn’t think you would feel the same way.”

“you really couldn’t tell?” he raises a brow at you.

“i guess i was in denial,” you shrug with a breathy laugh. “what do we do now?”

“well, i guess now i ask you to be my girlfriend,” rafe smiles at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy from the alcohol.

“you sure you don’t wanna wait until you’re not drunk anymore?”

“i won’t regret it, i promise,” he holds a pinky out to you, gesturing for you to hook yours with his.

you do, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently.

“y/n l/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“rafe cameron, i absolutely will.”

he sits up slowly as to not upset his stomach, and kisses you gently, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other one steadies him. he pulls away just enough to whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“i always will,” you peck his lips before checking the time. “you hungry ? some places are still open, i could run and grab you something.”

“god, you’re an angel, woman.”

-> back to masterlist

[flwrkid14]

Batfam Goes to See Hamilton (Thanks to Jason Todd)

note: based on the fact that i saw hamilton on broadway today!

So, Jason somehow managed to drag the entire Batfam to see Hamilton—because yes, Red Hood is a theater nerd, and apparently, none of them can say no when he’s excited about something. Here’s how it went down:

Jason Todd: Living for it. Jason knows all the lyrics by heart and is practically singing under his breath the whole time. He’s vibing hard to every song, mouthing along to My Shot like he’s in the show. You’d think he was a one-man standing ovation from the way he keeps reacting to every scene. He also goes full nerd mode explaining all the historical inaccuracies and why they don’t matter because the storytelling is incredible.

Bruce Wayne: Very confused, but engaged. He’s trying to get into it, but you can see the gears turning in his head, over-analyzing every political angle and historical context. He does appreciate the themes of legacy, sacrifice, and honor (classic Bruce). He might’ve even shed a few tears during It’s Quiet Uptown, but he’ll deny it forever.

Dick Grayson: Having the time of his life. Dick is the one clapping the loudest, laughing at all the jokes, and crying during the emotional songs. He’s completely caught up in the performance, and by the time The Room Where It Happens comes on, he’s all but bouncing in his seat. He also loves the choreography and probably made a mental note to learn the dances later.

Tim Drake: Secretly loving it but pretending to be indifferent. Tim walked in like he was only going to humor Jason, but by the end of Act 1, he’s fully invested. He tries to keep a straight face, but you can catch him mouthing the words to Wait for It and tapping his fingers during The Room Where It Happens. He’s obsessed with the way the show mixes history, strategy, and storytelling, and he’s definitely taking mental notes on things to google later for a deep dive into historical rabbit holes. After the show, he’s already re-watching bootleg clips on YouTube, but if anyone asks, he’ll just say, “It was fine.”

Damian Wayne: Not impressed. Damian doesn’t see the appeal. He’s sitting there with his arms crossed, giving side-eye to everyone clapping or singing along. “I could’ve done better,” he mutters after Guns and Ships, but you catch him tapping his foot during Yorktown, and he seems unusually focused during the duel scenes. Maybe it’s growing on him… but he’ll never admit it.

Stephanie Brown: Living her best life. Steph is totally into it. She’s laughing at all the jokes, especially King George’s bits, and probably even got Bruce to crack a smile. She’s belting out Helpless and Satisfied in her seat and whispering excitedly to Cass about how they should come back for the next performance. She’s already planning a Hamilton-themed karaoke night after.

Cassandra Cain: Loving the energy. Cass isn’t much for words, but she’s totally feeling the performance. The choreography and intensity of the actors keep her fully engaged. She’s watching every movement with laser focus, and you can see her appreciating the way the actors tell the story through body language. She’s not super vocal about it, but afterward, she signs to Jason that it was “powerful.”

Duke Thomas: Totally into the music. Duke is all about the beats and rhythm. He’s vibing in his seat, really feeling the music and lyrics. You catch him nodding along during Wait for It and The Room Where It Happens, and he’s probably already added the soundtrack to his Spotify. He’s impressed by the storytelling through music and keeps shooting Jason looks like, “Okay, you were right—this is awesome.”

At the end of the show, Jason’s the first to stand up, clapping like his life depends on it, and despite the varied reactions, everyone else follows suit.

[mattsjuul]

introducing. . . reach the sunshine ౨ৎ

skater!chris x surfer!reader .ᐟ .ᐟ

in which.. a florida surfer girl believes she’s got everything she needs in life. she has a hobby she’s incredibly good at, a good group of friends, a family that loves her and the beach a ten minute drive away. then there’s a guy who’s not as put together as her. he’s got about two friends, a decent home life and basically nothing besides his skateboard. she’s had one boyfriend all her life and he’s been single all 18 years of his life. she never really thinks about getting in a relationship, he only really does when he sees olivia rodrigo post on instagram. yet the day they meet, both of them can only ever think about each other.

skater!chris . . . is an 18 year old boy, also known as owen, who just graduated high school by a mircale. he’s never really cared about school. only reason he really went was to see his best friends. and well, his two brothers made him. he’s usually kept to himself. not because he’s some mysterious guy or he’s shy. he just chooses to. ever since he met his two friends in fifth grade, he’s kept it like that. he thinks friends bring too much drama. meaning, he’s never even considered getting a girlfriend. he’s told himself and everyone he knows that if he ever does, he’s got to have a really good feeling about her. and she has to be the prettiest girl ever. he thinks the ‘looks dont matter’ thing is bullshit. but no girl’s ever caught his eye like that. so for now, he’s sticking with having a celebrity crush on olivia rodrigo. although he never really listens to her music, he just thinks shes the prettiest girl hes yet to see. he only really listens to music when he’s skating. which is.. really really often. he spends about 90% of his free time skating with headphones on. he used to be on the airpods wave but they slipped out of his ears too much. then he tried wires and had the same problem. plus he accidentally skated over them when they fell off one day so they’re gone. eventually he just bought some beat headphones and he’s stuck with them ever since. theyre covered in stickers like his skateboard. the skateboard he’s had since he first started. he loves it to death. he’s learnt all her knows on it. he’s considered buying a new one but none have really ‘connected’ with him. and if they ever do theyre about a hundred bucks too much for him. so he sticks with his current one although it’s slowly dying. he’s been gifted many before but he just doesn’t feel them. so basically, christopher sturniolo is a loner skater boy loser.

surfer!reader . . . is an 18 year old girl, often called sunny, who recently graduated from high school with honors. she was always top of the class and mostly handled the stress well. she’s very patient and attentive, which made her a good student. although, she was never pressured to have good grades while in school. her parents understood the stress school can cause and even sometimes tried helping with stressful assignments or projects. she has a good group of about six friends, all met freshman year. except her best friend, sydney. they met in second grade due to sydney moving in across the street. sunny’s mom wanted to get off on the right foot with the recently moved in family, so she knocked on her door with a batch of cookies and sunny shyly hiding behind her mom. since then, sunny and sydney havent left each others sides. and after many many trial and error friend groups, they found the ones freshman year pe class. eventually, she shared her love of surfing with them and they’ve all become decent surfers. slowly, everyone in the group has gotten into a relationship. except for her. she’s happy where she’s at. she’s not looking for anyone. she’s focused on surfing. she even wants to enter a surf competition. so if anyone thought she used to always be at the beach, they’d be worried about how much shes been at it recently. she’s practicing her every move. even trying new things. shes determined. and once she sets her mind on something, she doesnt stop. so, she’s basically a ball of sunshine girl who loves everyone and everyone loves back. and i mean everyone.

authors note ♡: I CAAAANT BELIEEEVE IT!!!!! my first au.. this is crazy. this is js the introduction to chris n reader but im rlly rlly excited for this :’) as u can tell i love summer n the beach n stuff lol!! n ps, this takes place in the florida keys and theyre still teens!! i’ll prob do a lil smth talking abt other lil details like if they ever crossed paths at school or smth but thats for later:’)) i rlly rlly hope this does well n u guys enjoy it. ALSO! thank u for 100 followers i love you all, i’m glad you love what im putting out ♡ ♡

[adoriels-tears-if]

Adoriel's Tears Q&A (1th meeting)

The soft afternoon light spills into Elianna’s study, lending a calm warmth to the room that contrasts sharply with the tense atmosphere. Ashlyen sits by the window, gazing out as though trying to avoid the others. Tobias leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly, his expression unreadable but far from welcoming. Elianna adjusts her seat, her hands fidgeting in her lap, and her eyes dart to Ashlyen before quickly looking away.

Cecily bursts in, parchment in hand and a determined smile lighting up her face. “Alright, everyone’s here! That’s great!” She stops near the table and sets her notes down with a flourish. “Today, I have the honor of asking all the questions our readers sent in. So, sit back, relax, and get ready for anything!”

Tobias snorts. “Ready for anything. Sure.”

Ashlyen glances at Cecily, one eyebrow raised. “Let’s hope these readers asked questions worth answering.”

“I’m sure Cecily will make it worth our while,” Elianna says, her voice soft but steady as she offers the young woman an encouraging smile.

Cecily beams at her. “Thanks, Elianna! I’ll do my best.” She straightens her parchment and clears her throat. “The first question is for Ashlyen.” Her eyes skim the page, and she hesitates. “Oh… it’s, um, a tough one.”

Ashlyen frowns and tilts his head. “Why? What does it say?”

Instead of answering, Cecily holds out the parchment. Ashlyen hesitates, then takes it from her hands. His expression darkens as he reads silently, though he quickly masks it. “How does it feel to know your child will grow up without their father? Do you think of them every day? Are you afraid they’ll grow up resenting your absence?” His voice remains steady, but there’s a strain in it that betrays his calm.

He places the parchment back on the table, folding his hands together. “It’s not an easy question to answer,” he says, after a moment of silence. “Every day, I think about them. Their face, their voice, their laugh—things I’ve missed and things I’ll never get to see, to remember. It’s not just a fleeting thought! It stays with me, no matter where I go!” His gaze shifts to the window, his jaw tightening. “I chose to leave because I knew it was the only way to protect them. I still believe that. But…” He exhales slowly eyes closed. “Yes. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that when they grow up, all they’ll see is the absence and none of the reasons behind it. If they resent me for it, I’ll bear that, as long as it means they’re safe.”

The room falls silent. Cecily fidgets with the corner of her parchment, unsure how to fill the heavy pause. Tobias pushes off the doorframe, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Safe? That’s a convenient excuse.”

Ashlyen’s gaze snaps to him. “You think I wanted this?”

“Maybe not,” Tobias says, shrugging, “but it doesn’t change what it is.”

Elianna raises her hand, her tone sharp. “That’s enough. Both of you.” Her words slice through the tension like a blade. “This is an interview, not a battlefield.”

She looks at Cecily. “Next question, please.”

Cecily clears her throat and flips to the next page. “Right! Let’s keep things moving!”

She flips through her parchment and looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “All right, here's an interesting one,” she says, a teasing smile on her face. “So, who started calling MC 'Little Star' first?”

Elianna smiled softly, glancing at Ashlyen. “I think you did, didn't you?”

Ashlyen shifts in his seat, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. “Maybe,” he admits, avoiding the young woman's gaze.

Elianna leans forward slightly, her voice teasing but warm. “Oh, come on, you can say it. You gave them that nickname, didn't you? ”

Ashlyen exhales, his gaze drifting to the window as if searching for the right words. “It wasn't just a nickname,” he finally says, in a calmer voice, ”It was a way of honoring their Elven heritage. In our language, stars carry meaning: they guide us, give us hope, and remind us of where we come from. I wanted them to have a connection to that, even if they would never understand it... completely.”

Elianna's expression softens, and for a moment she looks at Ashlyen with infinite tenderness. “It's beautiful,” she says softly. “And it suits them perfectly.

Tobias rolls his eyes, clearly enjoying the moment. “Honestly, I’m more curious about whether MC will find out that Ash keeps forgetting everything about them,” he says with a sharp edge to his voice.

Elianna turns toward Tobias, then back to Ashlyen. “Do you think they’ll ever find out?” she asks.

Ashlyen swallows, his expression briefly showing signs of discomfort. “I hope they never find out,” he says, voice low. “The fact that I forget them every half hour... it’s not something I want them to ever know. It’s less a choice, and more a necessity, but... I’d rather they stay in the dark. It’s safer for them, for everyone.”

Elianna shares a long, silent look with Ashlyen, but doesn’t speak. Tobias shrugs and glances toward the door.

“It might be better this way. Anyway, MC stayed the night at Telio and Mickhail’s to avoid seeing you. It’s... less painful this way.”

The room goes quiet, the words hanging in the air. Ashlyen stares down at the table, avoiding the others’ gazes. “It was… necessary,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“I think we can move on to the next question,” grumbles Tobias.

Cecily glances at her list, her eyebrows shooting up as she reads the next question. “Ooh, this one’s about you, Uncle Tobias!” she says with a smirk. "How would you react if you found out Arthur had a crush on MC?"

Tobias blinks, before cracking into an awkward laugh. “Arthur? A crush? On MC?” He rubs the back of his neck, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I mean, it’s… surprising, but not the worst thing in the world, I guess. I mean ! He’s ten. A bit young for that, don’t you think?"

Elianna chuckles softly, leaning her chin on her hand. “Come on, Tobias. Kids his age have crushes all the time. You can’t deny it’s possible. Plus Mc is really easy to like."

Tobias shrugs. "Of course they are! I was so excited for Arthur to meet them! He’s been asking a lot of questions about MC ever since I mentioned them. If he does have a crush, it just means he sees how great they are too.” His tone softens slightly, the affection for both Arthur and MC clear.

Cecily beams. “Aw, that’s sweet! But what if Arthur didn’t like MC? Maybe because… of...you know.”

Tobias’s expression hardens slightly, though not out of anger. “Arthur’s not like that,” he says firmly. “He’s a good kid, and I trust him. If something like that came up, I’d talk to him. Make him understand how wrong it is to judge someone by the blood running through their veins. But honestly…” He pauses, his voice softening again. “I can’t see him disliking MC. He’s been curious about them ever since I told him about Northview. I think he’s more excited to spend time with them than anything else.”

Ashlyen, who had been quietly observing, tilts his head. “Interesting. You’re remarkably sure of this boy’s character. A bold thing, considering his age, that you pointed out earlier.”

Tobias gives him a sharp look but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Arthur’s got a good heart. I wouldn’t have brought him to Northview otherwise.”

Elianna smiles gently, her gaze flickering between Tobias and Ashlyen. “It’s good that Arthur has you looking out for him. And that MC has someone like you too.”

Tobias grumbles something under his breath, though the warmth in his expression lingers as he shifts his focus back to Cecily. “Next question?”

Cecily lets out a chuckle. She adjusts her seat, her quill lightly tapping the parchment as she pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Okay, this one's a bit of a time-dive. The reader wants to know: How long was Ash in the picture with ‘preggo’ Elianna? Did he watch the birth of his child? If not, did he want to? And lastly, what were Elianna’s cravings, and how did everyone handle her mood swings?”

Tobias snorts at the word “preggo,” earning a quick glare from Cecily.

Ashlyen sits up straighter, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t there,” he says curtly.

Elianna hesitates, her hands tightening around the fabric of her red dress. “Ash… wasn’t part of my pregnancy,” she says, her voice measured. “He couldn’t be. Not with...the risks.”

Ashlyen’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “It wasn’t a choice I made lightly. But staying would have put you—and them—in danger. You know that."

Elianna looks at him, pain and sorrow in her face, then nods. “I do. And I don’t blame you for it. But…” Her voice softens. “It was hard.”

Cecily nods and gives her a supportive smile before turning to Ashlyen. “Did you want to be there for the birth?”

“Of course I did!” Ashlyen says, his voice low but firm. “Every day I wasn’t there, I wanted to be. It's a feeling that persists to this day. . And when I heard it was difficult…” His voice trails off, and he looks down, visibly struggling with the memory.

Tobias clears his throat. "It was difficult," he says bluntly. "Cecily and I handled it." He adds, smug. "She’s the one who brought MC into the world, not without a lot of effort. And Elia..." He stops, glancing at her with raw softness. "You were stronger than anyone had a right to be."

Elianna smiles faintly "Thanks, Toby."

Cecily jumps in, eager to lighten the mood. “Well, as for cravings, Elianna had a thing for sweet things. Honeyed bread, candied nuts, even raw sugar sometimes. We had to ration it so she wouldn’t run us out of supplies!”

Elianna laughs softly, some of the tension easing from her frame. “I blame the baby. They had quite the sweet tooth even then. Elianna chuckles softly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Oh, Tobias once came back with an entire jar of honey because I couldn’t stop talking about it.”

Tobias groans, shaking his head. “You mean the three jars. And you finished them in a week!”

Cecily laughs. “And what about the mood swings? How did everyone deal with those?”

Tobias raises an eyebrow. “Carefully.”

Elianna narrows her eyes at both of them. “I wasn’t that bad!”

"You were!"

“Elianna was an angel 90% of the time. But that other 10%? You did not want to be the one to give her bad news.”

Elianna raises an eyebrow at him. “You survived, didn’t you?”

“Barely,” Tobias teases, and the room erupts in soft laughter.

Cecily claps her hands. “Alright, that was a great answer from everyone! Next question!” She leans forward, clearly intrigued by the next question. “Alright, Tobias, this one’s for you. Have you ever indulged in the fantasy of MC being your pupil? Of them being a Tear, and the both of you traveling the world together—even if that could never happen?”

Tobias tilts his head back against the doorframe, letting out a low chuckle. “Fantasy, huh? That’s putting it lightly.”

Cecily’s pen pauses. “So… you have?”

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “Of course I have. It’s hard not to, sometimes. MC has… potential. A spark, They have something! And I’ve wondered what it would’ve been like to guide that spark, to show them the world beyond Northview.” His voice softens slightly. “To see them grow, to face challenges together as a team.”

Elianna shifts in her seat, her expression unreadable. “You’ve never mentioned this before.”

Tobias glances at her, a faint sad smirk tugging at his lips. “Because it’s just that—a fantasy. I know their path isn’t mine to guide. They have their own journey to follow, and I’d never try to take that away from them.”

Ashlyen, who has been quietly listening, finally speaks. “You wouldn’t want to be their teacher. Not really.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

Ashlyen meets his gaze evenly. “Because deep down, you know they already look up to you—not as a teacher, but as family, as...as a father. And that’s a far greater bond.” he swallows.

For a moment, Tobias doesn’t reply, his usual sharp demeanor toward Ashlyen softening.

“Maybe you’re right,” he admits quietly.

The exchange makes Elianna's head drop. Cecily hastens to seize her hand as she sees the young woman's eyes begin to glisten.

“Let's move on to the next question,” says Ashlyen, clearing his throat.

Cecily glances at the next question and hesitates, her gaze flickering toward Ashlyen. “This one’s… sensitive. But I think it’s worth asking.” She takes a steadying breath. “Ashlyen, out of all the biggest milestones that come with raising a child, which do you wish you had been there for the most?”

Ashlyen’s usual stoicism falters, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze drifts to the floor, his voice quieter than usual. “All of them. Every single one.”

Elianna’s expression softens, and she looks away, her hands clasping tightly in her lap.

Ashlyen continues, his tone heavy. “If I had to choose…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Their first steps, definitely. Seeing them walk for the first time—watching them move forward, maybe run even just a little, and knowing it’s the beginning of so much more. I’ve imagined it a thousand times, but it’s never the same as being there.”

Tobias, leaning against the doorframe, shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t interrupt.

Cecily’s pen stills for a moment as she studies Ashlyen. “Do you think you’ll ever get to be there for other milestones?”

Ashlyen meets her gaze, his eyes shadowed but resolute. “I hope so. More than anything. But hope doesn’t change the past.”

Elianna finally speaks, her voice soft. “It doesn’t. But it can shape the future, Ash.”

The elf glances at her, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

Cecily clears her throat, sensing the tension. “Well… thank you for answering so honestly.” She offers him a small, encouraging smile. “I think the readers will appreciate that.”

Ashlyen nods slightly, retreating into silence once more.

Cecily watches the silence settle over the room like a thick fog. Ashlyen's gaze is fixed on the table, his hand resting on the edge, tense and motionless. Even Tobias, who is usually eager to have the last word, remains silent, leaning back against the doorframe, looking somber.

Elianna studies Ashlyen intently, her features softening as she perceives the slight tremor in his hand. She sighs, a mixture of sadness and determination crossing her face.

“I think we all need a moment,” she says softly, breaking the silence.

Tobias raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue. He exhales sharply, mumbles something under his breath, and shifts position. Elianna rises slowly, her chair gently scraping the floor. Cecily's pen pauses mid-word as she watches the young woman circle the table.

Ashlyen doesn't look up, his shoulders rigid, his head down. Elianna stops beside him, close enough for her scent to reach him.

“Ash,” she whispers, in a tender yet firm voice.

He looks up, hesitant to meet her gaze. The reserved expression he wears so well fades and, for a moment, Cecily thinks he looks completely lost. It's a difficult vision, one that presses on her heart.

Elianna kneels beside him and grabs his hand from the table. She interlaces her fingers in his, the contact both grounding and comforting. “I know how much this weighs on you,” she says, her thumb grazing his knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

His jaw tightens, but his fingers wrap around hers instinctively. “It's not enough,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have been there, for you, for them.”

Elianna leans closer to him, her other hand rising to touch his cheek. He flinches slightly at first, but she holds on, her palm warm against his skin. His breath catches and he closes his eyes and leans deeper against her. “I wanted to be there,” he admits, his words heavy with unspoken pain.

“I know,” she replies, her voice poised but charged with emotion. “And so will they, one day. They'll understand, Ash. Because I'll make sure they know the truth - that their father loved them enough to protect them, even from afar.”

Ashlyen's hand tightens around his, his head dipping forward until their foreheads almost touch. “Elianna,” he breathes, his name a mixture of reverence and regret.

“You always did what you thought was best,” she continued, her fingers threading through his dark hair. “And I don't blame you for that. I've never blamed you. Not then, not now. We agreed.”

Ashlyen's shoulders shake slightly, and for the first time, Cecily sees tears shining in his eyes. The elf who had always seemed untouchable, inflexible, seems fragile and human in Elianna's hands.

Near the door, Tobias shifts uncomfortably, the tenderness of the moment seeming too intimate for him to witness. “If we take a break, I'll come out,” he murmurs, rising quickly to his feet.

Elianna glances at him but says nothing, her attention returning to Ashlyen.

Cecily clears her throat gently and offers a small smile. “I'll give you some privacy. Let me know when you're ready to continue.” She gathers her notes and follows Tobias, leaving the room to the two of them.

As the door closes, Elianna runs her thumb over Ashlyen's cheek, catching a tear. “You don't have to be strong all the time,” she murmurs. “Especially not when you're with me.”

Ashlyen lets out a shaky breath, his hand holding her like a lifeline. “I'm sorry,” he murmurs.

“For what?” she asks softly.

“For everything,” he replies.

Elianna leans forward and places a tender kiss on his lips. “I'm not Ash. Just let me be there for you."

[kaisturni]

bewitched | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ oc! created for the plot

→ plot; you and matt attend the wedding of your best friends, and he comes a realization about you that he should’ve known all along.

→ warnings; absolutely NONE. tooth aching, cavity inducing, sickly sweet fluff.

→ a/n; i’m so sorry i reread this and literally had to post

NOT PROOFREAD KINDA

——————————————————————————

“ready, man? big day today, huh?” matt shook, his best friends shoulders lovingly, excited to watch nathan get married, a sentiment you two always talked about together, the future wedding of the person that grew up beside the both of you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

“what do you think about charlotte?” he asked you whilst taking a sip of the milkshake you were sharing at dinner.

“oh, she’s the one.” he furrowed his eyebrows at you, confused by the certainty of your statement.

“how can you be so sure, they’ve only been together six months or so?”

you looked off to the side, giggling at his question, fiddling the straw wrapper between your manicured hands.

“she’s just so right for him, y’know? i’ve never seen him do the things he does for her, for anyone. they take care of each other. call it the honeymoon phase whatever, that’s going to last with them. oh man, have you seen the way he looks at her? that never goes away. when you know you know? right?”

he shrugs his shoulders, “yeah i guess so”

he had no reason to argue with you about your reasoning for why exactly charlotte was the one for nathan,

“only time can tell” he adds

“exactly right, matty. but time is all they need”

even then you had such an optimistic look on love. it was natural, real, and easy. you had no reason to believe a love like that couldn’t exist. but to put it bluntly, he didn’t exactly have the same compass as you when it came to love. he too had no reason to not believe a love like that was real, but that wasn’t something he could tell you. his relationship with you had only been a couple of weeks down the line. matt wasn’t ready to lose you just yet, so he kept those thoughts to himself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

“i’ve waited for this day since i met charlotte, when you know you know, am i right?” fixing the cuff links on his slick black suit,

deja vu hit him, and he thought of your words in a conversation you had years ago,

“for sure, now get out there and marry her”

the pair hugged, and nathan disappeared out to the venue, excitedly finding his way to the altar, the ceremony was about to begin.

of course, it wasn’t just him in the room, his brothers nick and chris, and nathan’s other groomsmen were also in collective. each got to walk down the isle with a member of charlotte’s party, you included, being her maid of honor after, and him as nathan’s best man. you were the ones to introduce them, after all. he faced the mirror on the other side of him, watching the men around him mingle and laugh. he fixed his own cuff links and tie in the mirror, almost letting himself think it was his own big day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the wedding party lined up, waiting for their cue to enter, you and matt being first. he hasn’t seen you yet that day, too busy scrambling; helping charlotte all day, getting ready yourself, and making sure everything was perfect for your best friend. right now, his mind could only imagine how beautiful you looked.

to be fair, he already knew how striking you were. since the day you two met, you were always the one to catch his eye. he could never focus on anyone else but you. in his mind it was young love; the love that makes you dumb, and wild, the kind that doesn’t truly last. now that years have passed you’ve been dating, and you’ve grown together, his dress shoes suddenly didn’t fit and the collar of his shirt was too tight on his neck, the thought of letting you go one day made him feel uncomfortable.

matt shook the thought out of his head, right on time to hear the music, signaling him to walk in to the ceremony.

you enter the same time he does, and his entire body felt weak at the sight of you.

matt knew you were never one to dress up, always in something casual and comfortable, unless necessary. he never gets to see you like this, the seldom times being prom and a handful of your own college formals. but nothing compared to this.

the black strapless dress hugged your skin perfectly, accentuating all your curves, paired flawlessly with white heels, yet you still fell short under his height.

your hair was neatly kept in an updo, soft curls falling in front of your face, he always loved seeing you with your hair up.

your delicate hold of the bouquet in your hands, french tips on your nails, as always.

your whole body glowed with radiance, and you met his face with a warm smile, which he gladly returned. he couldn’t help but think how strikingly perfect you looked; every detail of you he took in, there was no part of you that was a mystery to him.

matt has seen you be beautiful in every stage of life you’ve known each other, and this time it was astonishing as the first time around.

his mind trailed back to when you two were in high school and university; when you were still a girl and he got to call you that.

his girl.

but that was not the person standing in front of him, you were a woman now.

his woman.

you brought him out of his daydream, with a soft “hi,” soft enough that only his blessed ears could hear.

he mouthed the same back to you, and offered you his arm which you gladly took, effortlessly shifting the bouquet to your other hand. he looked forward at his best friend standing at the altar, nathan’s gaze bouncing between you and matt, smile growing exponentially bigger.

you and matt made your way down the isle, the trail of the others behind you following shortly after.

his mind went back to the thoughts he had earlier of what his wedding day would be like; walking down a similar path, similar people as his own groomsmen, but different decorations and maybe some different guests, but one constant was there,

and it was you.

meeting nathan at the end of the walkway, matt hugged him first and you following,

“thank you,” nathan whispered in your ear, you broke the hug, giving him a silent ‘of course’ as you shuffled to your side in front of the other women.

an instrumental began to play; charlotte was about to walk in. you could barely contain the excitement of seeing your best friend marry the love of her life. you felt a little proud about being part of the reason her and nathan started dating, but you were always humble about it.

matt on the other hand, he wasn’t thinking about charlotte; hell, he wasn’t even thinking about nathan. he could only think of you, and how you were beaming with joy in the moment.

would you be the same way on your big day?

‘Wrapped me in your arms

Leaned in and whispered

"Keep me in your heart"

‘I'm so bewildered

What's this new desire called?’

‘I didn't know that much at all 'bout love before

But now, I think I'm learning’

in all honesty, he never paid much attention to the lyrics, just knew that you liked it. but for once, his ears tuned in.

‘You bewitched me

From the first time that you kissed me’

that was true. your first kiss together was sweet and innocent, shared after only one date at the most dive style restaurant in boston. even from that day, he was hooked on you.

‘Waited all night

Then we ran down the street in the late London light

The world froze around us, you kissed me good night’

the grand doors fell open, and there she was. charlotte was glowing. a perfect bride on her perfect day, everyone turning their entire bodies to look at her. but matt’s eyes never left you.

‘You bewitch me

Every damn second you're with me’

he watched your eyes become glossy, tears almost immediately streaming down from your face as you happily wept at the sight the girl you’ve known for years.

‘I try to think straight

But I'm falling so badly, I'm coming apart’

matt had to force himself to rip his gaze from you, now looking at nathan, who was biting his lip, doing little to nothing to stop the pools of tears coming from his eyes. matt could only think how lucky he was to get to experience this. to marry the woman he’s been so sure about for so long.

‘You wrote me a note, cast a spell on my heart

And bewitched me’

deja vu hit matt again, and it hit him hard.

“only time can tell” he remembers exactly how those words came out of his mouth that day.

“exactly right, matty. but time is all they need”

you were right. you were always right. now he knew. time was all he needed.

‘You're not even gone

I already miss you

What's going on?’

he was too caught up in thinking that all good things come to an end, that his first love wouldn’t last, and it would only be a matter of time. you were the only good thing he didn’t want to end.

‘I've never been through

This all-consuming fire fuming

Cursing at the moon and losing all control and crying

'Cause I think I'm falling’

a shaky breath released from his mouth, feeling the guilt of not realizing he wanted to marry you sooner, how you always did things for him, things you wouldn’t do for anyone else; you took care of him.

he lost count of how many times he pulled himself into reality from his own thoughts today, and as charlotte made her way to hold hands with nathan, she whispered an ‘i love you,” to you, matt finally felt his eyes gloss with tears, at both the sight in front of him and the thought of you. all of you.

he knew he wanted you all to himself, forever.

your eyes finally met his, not knowing he was looking at you this entire time. you gave him that smile again, a tear dropping down his face.

“i love you,” he mouthed, you let out a gentle breath at his words. he knew were usually the one to say it first, not like he never said it. he said it all the time; but you were quick to steal those three words from his breath without even realizing.

“i love you,” he watches you mouth back, doing your best to not interrupt the moment happening in front of the two of you.

he vowed silently to cherish you forever, love you ljke there’s no tomorrow, vow to make you his wife. vow to show everyone the way he looks at you, because that will never go away. matt almost selfishly knows you feel the same way, thinking about how you predicted the future of your best friends only half a year into their relationship. why would you stay with him if you didn’t feel that, too?

because when you know you know? right?

[solaarbeeam]

electric touch - kaminari denki x black reader

warnings: none, reader is portrayed as darkskin, usage of Y/N

a/n: guys he’s my favorite (besides shoto) soo here’s a special fic in his honor <33, i lowkey don’t like this but im trying to discipline myself when it comes to writing.

When Kaminari Denki made it to UA, he had a plan to become a heartthrob hero, not unlike Hawks.

His plan was completely thrown off the second he laid his eyes on you.

Rich and deep chocolate skin, brown eyes that nearly made it look black, and an all-white smile with the cutest tooth gems dotting your grin.

He was done for the second he walked in the room. He should’ve known then, but he didn’t.

He’d flirted with a lot of the girls in the class action once they had gotten to after the Sports Festival, but most just took it as jokes or rejected him, to which he calmly bowed out. No need to be an asshole about it, right?

As Jirou made fun of his quirk again, he laid his eyes on you once more. You were scribbling in your notebook, humming to the tune of what he assumed was a Bryson Tiller song, completely in your own little world.

He lost all sorts of common sense when it came to you. How couldn’t he, when you sat at your desk looking like you were the one that hung the moon in the sky?

“Hey, Y/N!”

Okay, he’d gotten your attention, what now? Oh lord, he’s an idiot. How is he supposed to do this? Your tooth gems catch the sunlight, making them gleam in the classroom, and he immediately hooks his eyes on them instead, so as to not come off as rude or creepy.

“Hey Kaminari, what’s up?” Oh my god he could stare at that smile for days. The coils of your hair makes him stare at them rather than look you in the eyes.

He holds his hand out. He mentally slaps himself stupid, because what was he thinking, just holding his hand out like that? Jirou could make fun of him for this all she wants and he wont even blame her, because what the hell?

He really loses all sense of self when he sees a pretty person, especially someone has gorgeous as you.

In response, you put your hand in his and marveled at how warm they were.

Three seconds pass by. Kaminari dies mentally.

He had just electrocuted Y/N L/N, the most beautiful person in existence, all because he can’t control himself or his quirk.

At lunch, he profusely apologizes to you, one because he knows your hair is important to you and if his quirk actually did anything bad to your hair, he’d put himself six feet under before you could.

“You’re honestly lucky my quirk prevents damage, but in all seriousness, it’s cool Kaminari. It was honestly kind of cute seeing you trip out like that.”

You have no idea what you’ve done, Cute? Cute?!?? You officially have Kaminari Denki wrapped around your finger.

They have the Training Camp. He’s stuck with Mr Aizawa for remedials, because he’s a dumbass and you can do no wrong. The villains attack, and you’re apart of the main fight. Your quirk, called Bounce Back, allows you to take damage, store the impact, and push it back out to deliver it back to the opponent. It was a perfect offensive quirk.

Until you, Bakugou, and Jirou get kidnapped by the league. You, because you were fighting Toga with Uraraka and Tsu, Bakugou for conversion reasons, and Jirou because of her scouting abilities and super hearing.

He goes with the team to get you back. He’d never forgive himself if he had the opportunity to do something and he didn’t.

Once they got the three of them out, he ran up to hug you, not caring who looked or who saw.

You hugged him back, just as eagerly and emotion full as he did. He felt whole, he felt complete again, and the feeling of you hugging him back with just as much warmth and intensity gives him hope.

They get dorms. It makes his crush a lot harder on him. For once, Jirou doesn’t laugh and actually helps him.

It was a regular night, a relatively warm one since summer had started. He knocked on your door, sparks literally flying from the tips of his fingers.

‘Do not electrocute them, this’ll be all for nothing if you can’t get it together.’

You open the door, and once he steps in, he’s hit by the smell of cocoa butter and hair products that smell distinctly like you.

“Okay so, Kami, what can I do for you?” You’re taking your hair out, as he can see, with half of your head still in mini-twists.

“Call me Denki?”

“Pffft-“ He feels blood rush to the tips of his ears. He’s already fucked up and he hasn’t even started the segway.

“‘Kay then, Denki, whatcha need?” He’s going to die. He will die here happily here.

You notice his hands are sparking. You coat your hands in a pastel yellow, a tell tale sign of your quirk, and you take the risky move of grabbing his hands.

He practically dies right then and there. You laugh out loud, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“You’re cute, yknow that Denki?”

The mention of his name brings him back to the present. He decides to just go for it instead of doing the whole plan he made with Jirou.

“Y/N, will you be my partner?”

“‘Course I will, I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

It seems that at the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, you’re the one with the electric touch, and not him.

© solaarbeeam 2024. reposts and translations are not permitted.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Pines Headcanons [Happy Birthday, Grunkles]

I cannot believe I just now got reminded of this- holy shit. Unfortunately, I'm not an artist so have these headcanons instead about Stan and Ford

Stanley ‘Lee’ Pines

He’s bisexual. This is not up for debate (/lh). It just made sense for him 

Stanley is ambidextrous. He can write and utilize both his left and right hands. This was something he self-taught himself in after the portal accident 

On the power of ‘I said so’, Stan does have some level of book smarts but instead of math or science- it’s creative writing. He’s got the talent for it; however, he rarely - if ever - shares these stories with anyone

Stan has some form of neurodivergency. Young Stan definitely gives the impression of ADHD but also I feel he’s got dyslexia- don’t ask me why. This is canon now

He does have scars from the time he spent on the run and doing his sales. I’m not sure what they are exactly, but just know he has them 

Stan knows martial arts. Other than boxing, I feel he would’ve taught himself in other forms of fighting- like the ones done on the streets and it’s a weird mix of martial arts and free-style fighting

He can be a bit of a poet, but for the most part- Stan prefers show-and-tell as his love language. He will present his partner with gifts, and makes sure they understand he’s there for them 

He’s kind of protective over his partners, and definitely has gotten into fights in an attempt to protect their honor. It’s ill-placed sometimes but he’s not about to let some bozo mess with them

Stan always sought his father’s approval. He attempted multiple times to perfect his studying skills before the science fair accident, but apparently Old Pa Pines didn’t seem to notice and the rest, well, it was already history

He fantasized of being a pirate when he was a kid. This is where the whole thing of going on a seafaring adventure with Ford came from! Unfortunately due to canon events, this soured out but he held onto a photograph he and Ford took in front of the beach as a memoir

He’s very much not a big fan of vegetables

Stanford ‘Ford’ Pines

He’s arospec and ace!

Ford absolutely loves puzzles. Why? It just weirdly fitting for his character

He definitely has C-PTSD following the events of Weirdmaggedon

Autistic Ford? Autistic Ford. There is no way he doesn’t have it- I said what I said

Before he got involved in the strange and paranormal, one of Ford’s main interests was actually crystals and rocks! It felt weirdly fitting for his character, and here we are

Ford is more of a cat person. At one point, he rescued a cat-adjacent creature from an auction and named her ‘Nova’. Of course, it’s far from a cat but well, we’ll get to that later

He would be into LARP if it exists in the Gravity Falls canon. Like, that man is a nerd and already enjoys the show’s version of Dungeons and Dragons, there’s just no way he wouldn’t participate in LARP

He does have scars from his time in other dimensions for thirty years. He’s very secretive about them and doesn’t let anyone see- not even Stanley

Ford deals with the aftermath of a burnt-out gifted kid- like, he was the prodigal son and got all the right honors, scores, all of it but as he got older- the more he struggled, the more he felt like something was missing. As the golden child, he was brought up with the notion he would be important but then got smacked in the face when he realized none of it truly mattered

He had a lot of issues adjusting to his new life in Gravity Falls, Oregon after he was brought back from the portal. Ford’s triggered fight-or-flight response would kick in with unexpected situations- like, he’s definitely pulled a blaster/space gun

He likes hot chocolate

Ford enjoys cuddle piles, let’s be honest here. Once he gets more comfortable, he begins making nests with the rest of the Pines family

He’s protective of his family!

I’ll try and come up with new headcanons soon, but since I took too long releasing this- given I got sick unfortunately, I decided to post a smaller version 

[raisedbythetv89]

Listennnnn to be loved is to be seen

Buffy is SURROUNDED by people who project and project and project some more onto her without ever truly seeing her and just trying to force her to be whatever they want/need her to be often leaving her feeling used, abused, and lonely.

And so while yes on the surface the Buffy bot is icky as hell and obviously irl all of us would be rightfully horrified if that happened to us. This is fictional and with a still evil but trying to be good but with no human soul to help guide him on how to be good Spike - who has been rejected and is honoring that rejection and finding a solution to leave real Buffy alone by giving him a place to put all his feelings for Buffy somewhere that isn’t Buffy herself - programs her so well and therefore showing how well he sees and understands her!! NO ONE ELSE could have programmed that exact Buffy that was believable enough to fool her friends. So yes it’s twisted but this is a vampire falling in love with the slayer if you want completely healthy truly go elsewhere lololol but so the bot is used to show just how well Spike truly understands her and more importantly what he loves about her which given the partner she had right before this was Riley who VERY CLEARLY hated how strong she was and that she was the slayer…

spike is like SHE NEEDS A DEDICATED SLAYER FOLDER

HE PUT THE YEAR WILLOW CAME OUT IN HER BIO 😭😭😭😭 angel and riley truly could never in a million years pay close enough attention to the people in her life that Buffy cares about to add info like that

The choice of “make spike happy” instead of something like “pleasing spike” feels significant because it’s able to encompass a wider range of things including her care for her friends since that seems to be the active folder when she’s accessing information on them. Buffy caring about other people makes him happy even though he’s morally grey at best at this moment 😭 AND TWO KISSING PROGRAMS ARE THE VERY FIRST THINGS IN THAT FOLDER 😭😭😭 he doesn’t just “want to fuck her” like people try to claim he wants to love her 🥲 he wants her kisses like I’m gonna throw up from how disgustingly tender and heartbreaking that is

Buffy bot calls both her and Buffy very pretty and tells Giles he “should listen to the other Buffy because she’s very smart”. Spike made sure the Buffy bot was a Buffy that loved herself and valued her intelligence like I cannot even begin to tell you how NONE of this is your run of the mill making just a sex bot of your crush because not being able to have sex with them upsets you. He wants to love her because he knows she needs it as much as he wants to give it to her

We have this moment where Buffy bot has finally found Spike who she’s been looking for and worried about the whole time and seemingly only cares about him and no one else and she sees he’s SEVERELY injured yet when Giles calls for help Buffy bot responds at the same time as Buffy does and runs to his aide leaving Spike like she’s still just so BUFFY at her core even if the superficial aspects have been changed 😭

if we compare this moment to the one in something blue where xander calls out for help in the crypt in an IDENTICAL situation yet ACTUAL BUFFY just continues to make out with Spike when he’s not even injured at all 💀 like Spike didn’t even give Buffy bot the “extra love sick” component Buffy herself exhibits for him on multiple occasions 😭

and of course - WE END WITH THIS KISS AND THE WAY SHE’S FUCKING LOOKING AT HIM BRO 😩 she’s like holy shit he was for real when he said he loved me no one has ever done anything like this for me while simultaneously showing how COMPLETELY loyal and obsessed they are and how well they know and love all of me AND my sister like

‼️I CAN DEPEND ON HIM‼️

So close to death even Xander is feeling sympathy for him yet clocks IMMEDIATELY it’s her and she’s just like hi 🥹 yes it’s me, I really just did that. I see you and what you did for me. HAVE HOPE KEEP TRYING DONT GIVE UP.

If Buffy loves you she forgives you pretty easily and I personally think that’s what we’re seeing here with Spike like kissing him in the same ep she learns of the Buffy bot is low key CRAZY 😹 but truly people who have done less for her have done far worse!!! The bot kept dawn and tara from being taken instead and he proved he would protect both of them with his life and like she already loves him which is why she even went for the kiss she was like REALLY THE SITUATION CALLS FOR IT WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO 🤷🏼‍♀️

[kitnjon]

I would love if you could recommend some newer modern Jonsa fics!!!!

Hi anon, Sure! Some modern AU's I am reading/read this year

You tend the ash, and I’ll tend the pine by @eruherdiriel

“Are we really never gonna talk about it?” Arya snaps. “We’re all gonna pretend everything is normal and happy when Sansa just got divorced?” “Statistically, it is normal,” Bran says. “The divorce rate is something like—” “It’s not normal! Not for this family, and not for Sansa. True love, forever and always, that’s Sansa.” “Jon isn’t the person she married,” Catelyn chides. “Not anymore.” — Sansa and Jon get divorced, but fully untangling their lives is impossible.

2. all eyes on us by @theshipshipper

Sansa is one of the biggest popstars on the planet, Jon is among the top streamers in Westeros -- and the internet goes wild when their well-hidden connection is uncovered.

3. frozen pines by @cellsshapedlikestars

It hits Jon, then - the sharp smell of ozone. A scent that years ago, he’d become all too familiar with. The aftermath of a lightning strike, the burning of wires. Electricity heavy in the air. The hair on his arms still stands on end. The scar on his hand feels tight. His heart is still pounding. It’s just a storm coming, he tells himself. He’s in White Harbor, not Eastwatch. It’s just a storm. or, the Exclusion Zone spreads for the first time in almost fifty years, with Sansa trapped inside. Jon will do whatever it takes to get her out.

4. tell me, what's the perfect time? by @prclainivrysteel

"I'm Jon," he reaches out for a handshake, "I probably should've led with that." "Yeah, probably," she replies, fighting against the goofy-looking smile that threatens to take over her face, "I'm Sansa." She slips her hand into his. His fingers are calloused, but the way he touches her is gentle. The cold press of his rings sends a pleasant shudder down Sansa's body, making her toes tingle. Jon softly repeats her name. The tips of his ears are red, most likely from the chilly, September winds. He looks away for a brief moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before meeting her gaze once more. "That’s pretty."

5. how she died by @cellsshapedlikestars

She's buried on a cold, dreary day in late January. That’s all Jon can seem to think about at the funeral. It’s too cold, the sky is too grey. Bleak and barren; there isn’t even snow. It’s an inane, intrusive thought. It could rain, at least, he thinks. The sky should weep for her. The universe should mourn. It doesn’t make sense. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t understand why anyone would murder Sansa Stark.

6. i'm on fire by @cellsshapedlikestars

“Okay,” she says, voice shaking. “I’ll do it. I’ll order an escort.” “Are you sure?” Randa asks, eyes wide like she doesn’t think Sansa is. It only makes Sansa’s teeth grind together. “Yes, I’m sure,” she grits out. If Harry wants an open relationship, she’s going to give it to him.

7. trojan horse by @cellsshapedlikestars

He’s only known her for an hour, but he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

8. Attorney–Client Privilege by @kit-kat21

No one in her family had ever done this before. Her parents were true soulmates. Sansa hated to admit that she partially blamed them for giving her such high expectations of marriage and love. Her brother and his wife, Jeyne (Westerling), had just celebrated their twelfth wedding anniversary. None of her grandparents, aunts or uncles had ever been divorced. Sansa Stark was the first in her whole family to have this distinct honor. So there was no one she could ask for help or advice. When she told her parents that she wanted to file first, Ned and Catelyn did what they did with all of their children when one of them came to them. They dove right in and helped the best they could. Googling divorce lawyers seemed to be the only thing they could do and from there, they read reviews because just like restaurants and hair salons, divorce lawyers were online-reviewed, too.

9. snow angels by @kingsansa

He finds, as the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as his heart completely fucking nosedives, that her voice is lower than he remembers, but unmistakable all of the same. Sansa Stark stands in the hallway of his shitty, hole-in-the-wall, egregiously outdated bar; unmistakable.

10. Later Nights by @justadram

Her husband, Jon Snow, might be in his off-season--blessedly. But with the Summer Olympics around the corner, her late-night Olympic show producer, Tyrion Lannister, hasn't forgotten about the unlikely Team USA star and their recording-setting ratings in 2022. He has his sights set on a triumphant rematch between the newlyweds any way he can get it.

11. We Run the Gamut (Let's Run Away) by @hilarychuff

Boy and girl meet. Live parallel lives. And, one day, they start to come together. Scenes inspired by all the different types of love for the Jonsa Valentine's Day Event 2024.

12. Touch me, I’m going to scream by @eruherdiriel

He’s one building away when he sees her—auburn hair in two neat French braids, a grey peacoat on, and hands in green fleece gloves holding a shopping bag that looks heavy. Sansa Stark is walking up the steps of the triple-decker, leaving a sleek, black sedan idling by the curb. Flustered, Jon jogs the rest of the way and reaches the steps just as Sansa raises a hand to ring the buzzer. “Hey,” he says, and she stops her motion. When she turns to him, Sansa’s eyes go wide. “Are you all right?” — Jon and Sansa—how touch evolves between them over the years.