#dusk's fanfic

[teuzmoonlit]

竜娘🐉❤️

Dusk ❤️

• アークナイツ | Arknights

[toaro-star]

A fanart of @Namelessclient’s dusk au!!

I love this au sooo much, I just wanted to recolor the original scene but why stop there?

[shabbyshoebox]

Dusk - Sea Grunkles drabble

"Did I ever tell you about the time I experienced death?" Ford murmured.

Stan jerked up from his half-asleep fishing position. "I'm sorry, what?"

"That was a bit abrupt, yes, but I've been thinking about mortality and well, this particular experience came to mind." Ford pushed his glasses up his nose and adjusted himself in the chair. His gaze remained fixed, though unfocused, on the fishing rod in his hand.

Stan's grumbling was barely heard above his crackling knees as he stood to walk off, "Lemme fetch us some Pitts. Watch my pole, would ya?"

A couple moments later, he returned with two open cans, handing one to his brother.

"Thank you, Stanley." Ford grabbed the familiar peach-colored can. Almost instantly, droplets condensed from the humid ocean air onto the cold metal.

"Yea." Stan plopped back in his chair, took a sip, placed the can down and picked his rod back up. His gaze lay on his own rod. "So, uhm, you... Died?"

"Yes, but...Not exactly."

"Well damn, Poindexter, what was the heart attack for?" Stan tried to joke, finally glancing over.

"It... I, uhm..." Ford kept one hand on the pole and used the other to fiddle with the tab on the can. "Bill, in an effort to get the equation so he could escape Gravity Falls, subjected me to several physical and psychological...experiences."

"The little shit tortured you." Stan muttered and took another sip of his cola, the sweet taste stark against the salty air. "I remember."

"Yes. At one point, he simulated, psychologically, what death would be like."

"And?" Stan prompted, watching his brother's face flit through a dozen tense micro-expressions.

"And nothing. It was simply nothing, Stanley. There is no after. It's one thing to know that logically, it's another to..." He allowed his voice to trail off.

They sat in silence for a bit, the waves dark in the dusk, constellations growing brighter in the sky.

"Ford. I'm... Sorry." Stan leaned his pole on the boat.

"No, you didn't know."

A warm hand rested on Ford's shoulder. He finally looked up

"Thank you for telling me." Stan returned his gaze, then glanced away. "It's hard... Talking about shit like that. Just know that I am here for you."

Ford dropped his pole on the deck of the boat, stood, and hugged him. Stan hesitated for just a moment, then returned it.

Sploosh.

Ford whipped around to find his pole missing.

"I'm not buying you another damn pole, though," Stan harrumphed.

Ford smiled. "At least I actually got a bite."

I love you, too.

[adore-laur]

CALIFORNIA DUSK

— birth of baby #2 in the dadrry universe 🌊

——

6:24 AM

California dawn brings serenity to the house. The sun is leisurely rising, painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across an endless canvas of powder blue. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping their claws down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant ocean shore with persistence, as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.

Soon, golden rays will seep through the flowing curtains and cast shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the coastal breeze, sending earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered in the living room from the night before will be left alone to wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.

A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as chickadees sing their song near the window. Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Being awake for the past two hours—hunched over the kitchen island and rocking side to side while breathing through painful cramping—isn't how you would've liked to commence your morning. Harry is brewing homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance it will be a long, tiresome day ahead. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early riser. And you know he would never let you handle the discomfort alone.

Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, oblivious to how soon she'll be a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so Harry's mother is on her way to pick her up in case you give birth.

You've decided on a natural water birth this time. Being in the hospital for your first childbirth experience was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. The nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, and the stale room all felt suffocating. You're confident you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home, with only Harry and the midwife witnessing you in your most vulnerable state.

As the pain temporarily alleviates in your abdomen, you slowly straighten your posture and walk some laps around the living room. There's nothing you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of being unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether you'll be having a baby today. It's a waiting game.

Harry is surprisingly relaxed, and you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. Seeing the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor is humorous. He had clammy hands, was a stuttering mess, and also forgot to bring his driver's license when he drove you to the hospital.

Now, it's like he has never been more prepared for anything in his entire life. He could be hiding his nerves well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" jingle from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show every morning. He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today—swim shorts for when he gets in the birthing pool with you and a faded graphic tee that looks like it has seen better days. His favorite blue baseball cap is snug on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath. He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.

After your tenth lap, you wander back to the kitchen and stand beside Harry as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Hi," he says, leaning his hip against the counter. "Contraction over with?"

"For now," you reply dully. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."

He jerks his chin toward the sink. "I want you to drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please just drink one glass for me, baby," he says, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of grape jam. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

You roll your eyes and steal a cup from the drying rack. He clearly remembers when you vomited at the hospital just hours before giving birth. Yes, you were dehydrated, but that was the last thing on your mind.

As you sip cloudy tap water, you watch Harry silently spread jam onto his perfectly browned toast. He's been too quiet this morning—entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.

"You're scaring me."

Harry freezes with the butter knife in his grasp. "I didn't know your husband making breakfast was a fear of yours."

There it is!

"No, not that." You wipe off a glob of jam on his thumb. "You're just really relaxed right now."

Setting his toast on a plate, he turns to you with a crease between his eyebrows. "Should I be freaking out?"

"Well, I might give birth soon," you say, your heart rate increasing at the mere thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"

"Of course, I'm nervous," he replies, gently squeezing your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a hot mess once you're in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant. You know... soaking it all in."

You release a shaky exhale, your mind spiraling as everything becomes more real the longer you talk about how you'll be a family of four very soon. "Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."

Harry obviously doesn't buy it because he stares at you briefly before trapping your fidgeting hands with his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm freaking out," you admit weakly. Your voice wavers, and the lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

His face softens with sympathy as your eyes gloss over with tears. "Let's walk down to the shore," he suggests, kissing your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."

Sniffling, you ask, "What if I can't make it back to the house?"

"Then I'll carry you."

"Good luck with that," you mutter before grabbing your phone from the kitchen table. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."

He nods, taking his plate and the baby monitor from the countertop, and then leads the way out the patio door.

During the short journey there, your heart blooms with fondness when you catch Harry smiling to himself as he walks, his tattooed arms swinging. It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. The fresh air has rapidly lifted your mood, and you're thankful for it.

"What are you grinning about over there?"

Harry looks up and gives the camera a big, open-mouthed smile, pure excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so patiently for another baby, and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.

"What's got you so happy?" You laugh and stop recording.

He shrugs, still smiling contagiously. "I can't believe it's happening. It just hit me right now."

Both of you reach the sand and sit away from the lapping waves in case you have to head back to the house promptly. Harry places himself behind you, a position that's supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and support, and he can massage wherever you're hurting.

"I can't believe it either," you reply with a pensive shake of your head.

"Talk to me. How are you feeling?" Harry asks, taking a crunchy bite of toast. "Emotionally, I mean."

Talk to me. It's a three-word sentence he's been saying to you for years. He always wants to know how you're feeling whenever you bottle up your thoughts—anger, sorrow, or happiness. It has never changed, and it never fails to help immensely.

"I'm not as nervous as last time," you answer, closing your eyes when he starts playing with your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's terrifying that I'm doing it naturally this time."

He hums in acknowledgment. "That's completely valid. No one expects you to be one hundred percent confident when pushing a baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know that I'm eternally grateful that you've grown two beautiful babies for us. You're a superstar."

"Thanks. I just feel like—" You gasp suddenly, your hand quickly shooting to your side as another contraction hits.

"Okay," Harry says soothingly, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his own. He quickly unlocks his phone to set a timer. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his chest. "Harry, it hurts," you cry as your other hand grips his knee. "Ow, ow, ow."

"I've got you. Just breathe through it." He lifts the hem of your oversized shirt and spreads his hand on your stomach. It's stretched beyond belief and has dropped significantly throughout the past week. "Focus on my breathing, all right? And relax your shoulders. They're too tense."

You breathe with him as he massages your lower back. Your face is getting hot and your throat is dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.

"Tell me something. Please distract me."

Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."

"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.

"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sun hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. And the way it brightens your eyes reminds me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."

You smile weakly and rest your head on the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."

His deep, comforting laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."

You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You make a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no dire need for her to come and check on you.

"I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."

"Short," you think aloud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might be Braxton Hicks."

He dramatically falls back onto the sand and spreads his arms out. "Does that mean no baby today?"

You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."

He's silent for a minute before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"

You scoff and swat at his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."

"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until a week later, remember? You should've listened to me."

"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried. I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."

Harry draws patterns on your belly with his finger, causing a response of fluttery kicks from the baby. "I know, I'm only joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder. The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.

Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be all right.

——

7:03 PM 

The tub is ready.

You are not.

A shirtless Harry is already sitting in the circular birthing pool, looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself. You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction—a particularly strong one that indicates you're going to start pushing soon.

Your water has already broken, and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense due to the overwhelming pain. The bedroom is too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's dotingly looking at you is too much, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to perform the most vigorous exercise imaginable.

"We need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," says the midwife, snapping you out of your overthinking spiral.

"I-I can't," you reply helplessly. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

You regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with an epidural.

"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth delivery process," she assures you. "Your husband is waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"

You frantically nod your head—you've never trusted anyone more. "The water will help with the pain," she adds with a kind smile. "It will relax your muscles and make you feel very nice. Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."

You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly approaching him. Equipment scatters the floor and the bed beside you—clean blankets, a tarp for the mess, towels, medical supplies, and a cup of ice.

Harry carefully helps you into the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. Once you're situated in the lukewarm water, you focus on his heartbeat pounding double-time.

"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.

"Yes, you can," Harry says, kneading your shoulders. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a baby boy or girl to hold tonight."

"I'm scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can't handle the pain? What if I—"

"Hey," he scolds softly. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"

"Count your tattoos."

"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since then, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."

You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh. You then grab his left arm and count all the small ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive underneath. There's also the outline of a wave representing his home with you in California, where you built your life together. They all mean something near and dear to his heart.

The midwife brings you out of your trance when she leans over the pool and checks your dilation as Harry places comforting kisses on the back of your head. "You're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds of uncomfortable inspection.

"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."

"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"

You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your pelvis.

"Do you want your ice?" Harry asks.

"Yes, please."

He reaches behind him and grabs the cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature and force your brain to focus on something else.

Several minutes pass, with Harry whispering loving encouragements as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. She allows you to exert tiny pushes while applying pressure to your abdomen. Everything goes in one ear and out the other, but you know the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.

"Do you still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife asks, checking your dilation again.

"Yeah. Am I ten centimeters yet?"

"Just about. I'm going to have you push now."

You turn your head and stare at Harry with wide eyes. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them near your ear. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you need, just let me know. If you need me to get out or scream at me—anything at all."

You look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push using all of your strength.

The first push is the most agonizing. Your head throws itself back on Harry's shoulder as you grit your teeth and contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight, and your legs are tense in the water. Harry softly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in his.

Breathe out for three. 

The second push feels like you're on fire, but not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. It's felt externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry escape your mouth as the pain strikes your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.

Breathe out for three. 

The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hitting your neck and a kiss behind your ear. When the midwife gets to number two, she pulls the head out. The burning sensation remains, but the most challenging part is out of the way.

Breathe out for three. 

The final push is when you give every ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break his bones. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, making your entire body rigid as you stop your breathing to make this the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you: They're almost here, you're doing so good, I love you. 

Then, all at once, there's release.

Relief.

Remission.

You quickly pull your baby up from under the water and cradle them against your heaving chest. You're shivering from the adrenaline, and your body feels bizarrely empty.

"It's a girl!" announces the midwife as she wipes and rubs her down with a towel.

The tears immediately fall. You hear Harry let out a quiet sob as he buries his face in your neck with trembling lips. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles while the sound of your baby girl's cries fills the room.

"Would Dad like to cut the cord?"

Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes tiny surgical scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and releases an emotional breath as he opens the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. He picks them up and tries again, successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting things up for the after-birth process.

You cradle the back of your baby's head and cry with unspeakable happiness. "Hold her," you tell Harry now that she's detached.

He reaches his hands out, and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He seems almost lost in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down instantly once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.

She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek squished against his chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones. "Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."

"I know. She loves you already."

His gaze is now focused on you, with an expression conveying so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," he says.

Those two simple words are spoken with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean: Thank you for letting me be a father. Thank you for pushing through all the mental and physical changes again. Thank you for her. 

You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a day's work."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "You're the strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than what you just did."

"Thank you for helping me through it."

"I always will," he says while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hand. It almost engulfs her entire body.

"Are you insinuating we're going to have more babies?"

"You know I'd have a million with you. You're fuckin' perfect."

You slap his arm lazily. "Don't swear."

He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Give me a kiss."

"Your lips are dry."

He licks his lips, and you meet his mouth. He hums and grins into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his eyes. "I love you so much," he murmurs before glancing at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."

"I love you."

A tiny hand suddenly hits Harry's mouth. He sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it repeatedly until she lets out a gurgle. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up to smell her head, the baby scent being one of his favorite parts about having a newborn.

"Already a daddy's girl," you slur tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

He puckers endless kisses onto her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he tells her. "Is that okay? Hmm? Gonna be my snuggle bug when I need it the most?"

Her eyes remain closed, and her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry. You look at Harry, and you find him absolutely mesmerized by her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her—he's watching it all with proud eyes and a permanent smile.

No other man would you want as your husband. No other man would you want to be the father of your babies.

——

8:40 PM

It's been a little over an hour since you gave birth, and since then, you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lie with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still making calls to his loved ones to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.

He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and part of his hair is held back with one of your daughter's pink butterfly clips. You're both running on empty but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her body wrapped in a white swaddle and a baby beanie snug on her head.

The windows are open, letting the ocean breeze waft in and cool your body's dull ache. The midwife had been kind enough to bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance when Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed it to him, some dropped onto your baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements. Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin. Either way, it was entertaining.

Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your breast as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.

"Are you awake?" Harry asks quietly after he ends another call.

"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve. It smells like heaven.

He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "I just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."

You release a laugh laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named after an ornery old man."

"True. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest. I'll be quiet now."

"I don't want to miss anything," you say, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.

He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."

"I know, but what if she does something cute?"

"Then I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue.

"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You need—"

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes your head turn toward the sound. The knob jiggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there. She's holding her favorite blanket, her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume Harry's mother must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with the both of you.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry says softly. "C'mere, we've got a surprise for you."

She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Did you have fun with Grandma today?" you ask her.

She nods distractedly, her eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up, setting her on his lap. "That's your baby sister," he explains. "You're officially a big sister now."

She looks at him. "Where?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her closer to the baby. "Right here, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."

"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry exchange smiles.

"Isn't she pretty?" you ask.

"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she pokes the baby's fists. "So little."

"She is," Harry says with a sniffle. "You were once that little. You have no idea how perfectly you fit in my arms."

You kiss her cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"

She glimpses at Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her between the two of you, and then you maneuver the baby into her arms while ensuring the head is supported.

The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is to her new baby sister, admiring her like a delicate flower, examining her closely like a beautiful specimen, gently touching her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking at you and Harry when the baby wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.

You eventually peel your gaze away from her and find Harry staring at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes, his nostrils flaring from residual emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus on the bay window. The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes, and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon.

It's quiet in the bedroom, with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional coo from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more full of love. The world around you is serene, just like it was during the sunrise before she came into the world.

California dusk has brought you an angel.

——

[yoshitsuno]

Happy Birthday Damian Dusk ❤️

Today is an important day, because it's the birthday of a character who has had a huge impact on me this year, who has become an integral part of me.

It's Damian's birthday, @speedysart 's Slytherin MC.

I say he's had a huge impact on me this year because he's a character with whom one of my MCs shares a different universe. And it's mainly thanks to this character that I've been able to really work hard on my main characters like Alice, Ariane and even Tristan. But it was especially beneficial for Alice because she was lurking in the shadows, without really having any development. And even though he's a troublemaker, he brought out the best in my character, just as Speedy allowed me to reveal even more of myself.

So what better way than to pay tribute to this magnificent character and his creator. 🖤 Thank you Damian & my Wifey🖤

[babiestbubbles]

Huskerdust Drabble

AU where they start dating after ep 4!!

Angel is terrified of ruining his first good relationship so he tries SO hard to be easy to love Meanwhile husk absolutely adores him, flaws and all, and just wants to understand his partner better and be there for him So he constantly tries to get Angel to talk After a couple drinks, or during late nights, or after nightmares. He's always there, he's always listening, and he always wants to help. But he never gets very far, because Angel is just so terrified of being too broken for him And so one night, Husk is walking to their shared room to turn in for the night. He hasn't spoken to Angel all night, Angel came home from work and walked straight past the bar and to their room without a word. And so Husk is like, trudging back to their room all sad mopey wet cat-like. (Yk, his natural state.) And he hears Angel crying and, rushes inside and is like, "Are you okay, what's going on?"

And Angel's like "Husk! Oh shit. No, I'm fine. It's fine" and he's wiping away tears and like, sniffling, insisting he's fine. And Husk is like, "But you don't have to be. I'm here for you. I WANT to be here for you. I want to help. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on?"

And Angel's like, "You've got enough on your plate already. I don't want you to have to take care of me on top of that. Worry about yourself first. Really, I'm okay. Everything's fine, just a hard day at work"

And Husk goes "This IS me worrying about myself. i don't have anything else in my life nearly as important to me as you. I hate seeing you like this, so upset. It upsets me too…" and he's like, reaching out his hand as he's talking going to hold Angel

But when Angel hears him say that, he pulls back and interrupts and goes "WHAT? NO! Please, it's fine. I'M fine. Don't be upset. There's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine…" And Husk just loses it and goes, "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! I may have a hell of a lot of patience, but even I have my limits. I'm trying to HELP Angel. I CARE ABOUT YOU. And all you ever seem to do is push me away…" And Angel interrupts and is like, "I just- Don't wanna be too much for ya. I've never done this before. i've never had this before. I don’t know what to do with it? I don't wanna be too hard to love- " And Husk is absolutely infuriated by the idea that Angel can't see that he could Never be too much. That Husk would destroy himself entirely for Angel. He loses himself in his anger. "You can't keep pushing people away, they're only willing to push back so many times. I can take the nightmares. I can take the crying. I can take the lashing out and the flashbacks and Fuck I can understand the addiction. What I can't take is you lying. Hiding it. Acting like you're fine all the time. And pushing away the only person in this goddamned hotel who cares about you." There's a beat of silence, filled only with Angel's sniffling, and ended by a heavy sigh from Husk. "You know what Angel? Maybe you were right. Maybe you are too hard to love." And he turns around. And leaves.

[fraugwinska]

Here's one of my favorite snippets from the latest Chapter of my Fanfic 'Method to Madness':

“Watch it, or I'll make spaghetti for dinner and break them in half before cooking them.”

Angel gasped, hands clutching his chest. “'Ya. Wouldn't. Dare.”

“And I'll cook them in unsalted water.”, you said with an evil glare.

“MONSTER!”, he shouted dramatically and you cockily swished your tail at him.

I love them so much together =D

[chairofchaos]

51 pls bestieee - maybe a neschei 👀👀 or azris

(hehhehehe)

This does contain prompt 1, but prompt 51 had too much potential with Azris for me to let it go. Since you have given me such latitude in what I write for you, I offer you a work with two of my favorite pieces of music. This is what I listened to (and imagined them dancing to!) while I wrote this drabble. Also, it is slightly over 1000 words but I'm still counting it as a drabble. Enjoy!

xxx

Still, They Dance | Azris Drabble

The music of the chamber orchestra drifted out to meet them on the front steps of the event hall. The last of the guests had trickled out the door, but Eris Vanserra still wanted one thing out of his mating ceremony.

“May I have this dance?” he turned to offer a hand to the male standing at his side. Azriel turned, lowering his hand raised in parting to their guests, and smiled. 

“You’ve had many,” Azriel grinned, placing his hand in Eris’. “And I would never deny you another.”

Eris turned, guiding Azriel back inside. “I lied when I told you I hired them for four hours. They’re here until midnight, or until we get tired.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled about their hands, but their master said nothing, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Did you enjoy it all?” Eris broke the silence as they approached the ballroom’s doorway.

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “More than I even thought I would. Did you?”

Eris grinned as they stepped into the candlelit hall. “More than I can express.”

As they returned, the harpist’s opening arpeggio led the instrumentalists in a beautiful, arching piece of music. Eris placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder and smiled. Azriel leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Eris’ temple as the music grew and breathed about them. “Ready?” he whispered. One of his hands settled at Eris’ waist, the other lifting Eris’ free hand into position.

 Eris smiled, though Azriel couldn’t see him. “Always.”

They began to dance, Azriel leading them through the steps of the dance they had first danced publicly the previous spring at Nyx’s fifth birthday party. The music was over far too soon, but when the couple continued the steps, the conductor queued the musicians to begin the piece again. 

Three, then four times, they danced around the room, losing themselves in the music and the harmony of each other, a quiet camaraderie that had built between them in secret over the last seven decades. 

No words were said. None were needed. This, the arching give and take of the violin and the harp, the longing of their music come to fruition at last, said all they needed to say.

Once the piece had been played until each time had bled together into an extensive, living thing, they stilled in the center of the room. The music’s final cadence faded, and the musicians hesitated a moment before continuing with a new piece. 

Azriel’s hand at Eris’ hip had slowly moved to his lower back, pressing them closer and closer as they danced. Now, they stood, facing each other with chests brushing as they simply breathed in, and out, and in once more. 

Eris broke their stillness, moving to pull his hand from Azriel’s, but Azriel gripped his hand tight with a broad smile. “One more.”

Eris nodded, cheeks flushing a deeper pink. “One more.” 

Azriel pulled him closer, resting his cheek against Eris’ before beginning to lead him in a slow dance, hardly moving at all beyond the gentle swaying of their bodies. 

Eris willed the flames of the candles to dim slightly, casting the room in a fainter glow. His thoughts wandered. He and Azriel were mated, pure and simple. The bond was accepted. They would never be separate again. And Eris was filled with an immense gratitude with the male who recognized that Eris would dance until the end of time, if he could.

The dates of their courtship had been varied, but steadily, one thing had become a tradition. On Saturday nights, Azriel would take Eris dancing. It didn’t matter where, or what kind, but Azriel would dance with Eris in taverns, dance halls, alleys outside restaurants they ate at where a quartet played, even rooftops, when they had been courting in secret. They danced.

After their first night spent together, instead of going to sleep, Azriel had all but insisted that they dance ‘just one dance’, and so they had, one, then another, and another, dancing in embers of firelight kept alive only through Eris’ will until dawn broke. 

“I love you,” Eris whispered. He felt Azriel’s smile against his cheek before he heard the answering “I love you.” 

He pulled back, just enough to see Azriel’s half hooded gaze fixed on him, before drawing Azriel in for a kiss. Azriel held him, swaying all the while. Shadows drifted lazily about their shoulders, a physical manifestation of the bond which tied them together.

“To the rest of our lives,” Azriel whispered.

“Forever,” Eris answered. Azriel’s smile grew wider, and he reached up to his neck to grab Eris’ left hand. He pulled it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to Eris’ wrist, then a longer one to his palm. All the while, he held Eris’ eye contact. Eris could feel the flush growing on his cheeks, the temperature between and around them slowly starting to warm as his blood stirred. 

It had been a long day, and it would be a long night. Azriel pressed a kiss to Eris’ mating ring before pressing one last long kiss to his palm and stepped back, tilting his head. ‘Time to Go?’ his gaze asked.

Eris nodded. “Thank you.” 

Azriel smiled.  “You never need to thank me for loving you.” 

Eris smiled in return. Azriel swept Eris into his arms, wrapping them in his wings and kissing him. Eris leaned into his muscular mate, hands fisting in his tunic. Azriel cradled his face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen their kiss before they broke apart, panting.

“I love you,” Eris said.

“I love you, too,” Azriel grinned, kissing him again. Then he began to slowly walk them towards the door, pressing kisses all over his mate’s face as he did so.

“Thank you!” Eris called in the direction of the musicians. They said nothing, but Eris could hear them begin to talk quietly among themselves. It sounded as though they were amused.

“Let them talk,” Azriel murmured. “Let’s go.”

Eris laughed. “Alright, alright. Come on, you big Illyrian baby. Let’s go to bed.”

Azriel pulled back, his darkened eyes filled with affection. “To bed.”

It was not an end, but a beginning. The ceremony had been the end of a movement in an orchestration that would last centuries, through the phrases and phases of life. And all the while, come high or low, they would dance.

xxx Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria

[katyakurae]

What do you mean the drinks at Hazbin Tavern are not free?! A DnD AU

Random headcanons under the cut ;) *wink*

Race: Tiefling

Class: Rogue. Probably with a level or two in Bard too.

Alignement: Chaotic Neutral.

Goal: Run away from Valentino and have a peaceful life at the Hazbin Tavern.

An adventurer from the surface, Angel Dust was hired by Valentino, a noble from The Upper City on Baldur's Gate. He first thought his job was going to be something like entertainment or protection, but it turned out way more darker.

The scars on his horns and tail are, of course, from Valentino's bad moods.

Spent a few years as Valentino's personal toy until he could run away. That made him one of the top searched "criminals" of Baldur's Gate.

He doesn't really like to fight. Is more prone to robbery. But never says no to a good old backstabbing.

His best atribute is slight of hand.

Running away from the Flaming Fist and Valentino's personal guard, Angel Dust ended falling into the Underdark. Charlie found him and offered him shelter and a warm drink at the Hazbin Tavern. By that time, there were just her and Vaggie.

Soon after, Alastor, Niffty and Husk find their way to the tavern. Husk and Angel bond by their time together at the Tavern's bar.

They also have some common "acquitances" in the surface.

They gossip all the time. Specially about what the Hell Alastor and Lucifer have going on.

First and only client (by now) of the Hazbin Tavern, his idea was to steal from them and leave, but has grown fond of all of them and is part of the family now.

Previous character: Husk

Next character: Niffty

[loosesodamarble]

The Beginning of an Enchanting Evening

My introductory post to @/lyranova's Halloween Ball event at @blackclover-emc!

My post/ocs are open for interaction!

Summary: A select group of House Faust's members make their way to the Halloween masquerade. Pairing(s): Josele x Nacht, Josele x Morgen Josele's dress | Nacht's suit | Morgen's suit Dawn's dress | Dusk's suit | Albert's suit | Varg's suit | Valerian's suit | Vivian's dress Word count: 647

..........

“Are you sure you all will be fine at home?”

Josele stood at the threshold of House Faust’s front entrance. She wore a floor-length ball gown with a cobalt blue bodice and a skirt that started the same hue and faded to a baby blue. A large bow at the waist and fabric flowers decorated the gown, and glitter made Josele shine like a star.

Despite being ready to attend that evening’s event, Josele hesitated to leave her home and her children who wouldn’t be in attendance.

Standing in the doorframe was Josele’s eldest daughter, Sterling. The redhead giggled and held her mother’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry about us, Mother,” Sterling answered. “Us kids drew lots so it’s not like we can be bitter about not going.”

“You’re sure?” Josele pressed, her brows furrowed.

“Very sure.” Sterling leaned back and shouted into the house. “Now don’t keep Father, Uncle, and the others waiting, Mother!” She turned Josele around and pushed her towards the cluster of family waiting for the lady of the house.

“Right then! Okay!” Josele yelped as awkwardly stumbled forward from her daughter’s push. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Take care of each other while we’re away.”

“Like we’d do anything else,” answered Sterling with a lazy wave of her hand.

With that, Sterling closed the door to House Faust and Josele went to where the rest of her family was waiting in the shade of trees. Nacht and Morgen greeted her with their usual loving smiles, plus a kiss on the hand from Nacht and a peck on the cheek from Morgen. Dawn excitedly bounced on the balls of her feet. Dusk fidgeted with the coat of his suit but there was still a small, eager grin on his face. Albert and Varg were whispering to each other, something about who will woo their beloved better. Valerian popped his knuckles, as if he was preparing for a fight and not a party. And Vivian stared at her mother, quiet and unreadable in her expression.

“Sorry for the hold up, everyone.”

“It’s perfectly alright, dear,” Morgen assured her. “Besides, we’re guaranteed to make it on time. Right?” He looked to Nacht, Dusk, and Varg.

Nacht sighed, “You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I’d be mad at you for treating me like Finral.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Morgen patted Nacht on the shoulder. “Thank you, the three of you, for helping us travel to the ball.”

“Now what are we waiting for?” Dawn exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. She threw an arm around Dusk’s shoulders. “Let’s get going!”

With Nacht and Dusk’s Shadow Magic and Varg’s Eclipse Magic, the members of House Faust sank into the shadows before rising from them in front of Clover’s grand. Valerian and Varg quickly dashed away to be the first to enter. Dawn yelled “C’mon!” while she grabbed Dusk and Albert’s wrists to drag them along. And Vivian turned to her parents and uncle.

“It appears that us youths shall be taking the lead.”

“Not that you need us to guide you in,” Josele answered. She took a moment to adjust the ribbon in Vivian’s hair before letting her go. “We’ll see you all inside.”

“Have fun, Vivi,” Nacht said.

Vivian nodded then walked towards the palace entrance.

The three seniors of House Faust took a moment to themselves to make any final touch ups to their outfits. Nacht straightened the cuffs of his dress shirt and adjusted his cravat. Morgen shook down the cloak he wore with his suit. And Josele smoothed out the large ribbon that draped down the side of her gown. Both men offered their arm to the woman they loved, to which Josele decided to take Nacht’s arm. However, she did take a second to give Morgen a kiss and whisper, “You get my first dance though, okay?”

And thus began an enchanted evening.

[teuzmoonlit]

ドラゴンガールコレクション 🐉❤️

Nian • Ling • Dusk ❤️

° アークナイツ | Arknights

[dkniade]

Some misc fic recommendations!

-

Teyvat scholar, Venti (ft. Traveler)

“Excerpt from the book ‘Brand New Verses From The Bard of Bards’” by threading_in_dreams (@/a-yarn-of-purple-prose)

G, 838 words.

canon-typical fragmented publication, Teyvat scholars have fun but also suffer, Poetry, pretend this is a book you picked up in-game, Traveler/Venti if you squint

Pages from a book in which a historian ponders about scraps of poetry found buried under Windrise, and argues they're part of Barbatos canon.

Very fun if you like Venti’s Archon/human personas, poetry, and piecing together information from in-game books!

-

Aether & Paimon (ft. Zhongli)

“Those who share the memories” by liminalpsych (@/liminalpsych-in-teyvat)

G, 3225 words. Fluff and light angst.

Aether POV, scrapbooks, memories, canon complimant, Pre-4.0 update, Liyue Harbor

Stone erodes beneath the fickle breeze and relentless river. Plants wither to be born anew. A flame burns to smoke and ash, and water changes form so often that it forgets even itself. The wind tries hardest of all to forget, fleeing into the far corners of the world to outrun the sands of time.

In the void above, the stars bear lonely witness to mortal memory.

Or: Paimon gets Aether to help her make a scrapbook of their travels. Aether reflects on the weight of witnessing.

Scrapbooking summarizes experiences with many NPCs from World Quests and Archon Quests. This one is kind of structured like an in-game world quest!

-

Cyno, Diluc, Rosaria, Kaeya

“It’s Time To Duel!” by StrangeDiamond

G, 6,688 words, humour.

Genius Invokation TCG, misunderstandings

When Sumeru’s General Mahamatra shows up in Mondstadt, announcing his intention to duel the Cavalry Captain, misunderstandings ensue.

Humour from knights and vigilantes taking things too seriously

-

Childe/Lumine

“A meteor” by blood_orange_juice (@/blood-orange-juice)

G, 350 words, fluff, character study/analysis.

Childe POV, First Meetings, morbid fluff, morbid fluff should be a genre with these two

A white-clad figure carefully threads her way through the crowd below. She moves like flecks of sunlight on water, without bothering anyone. A sign of someone who is fun to fight and it draws his attention for a while.

Childe and Lumine's first meeting from Childe's POV. No plot, only vibes.

-

Shenhe & Xiao, Cloud Retainer & Shenhe

“Like a Pair of Hunting Birds” by yelp

T, 5881 words, hurt/comfort, character study.

found family, trauma, feral child Shenhe, feral ancient Xiao, good and bad ways to manage emotions

"These were granted to me by Cloud Retainer," Shenhe explains, touching the ropes that he appears to be studying. "They bind away my murderous tendencies, as well as human emotion. Two dangerous traits for an adeptus, or for one who walks among them."

Xiao comes a little closer, and circles her. Obligingly, she lifts her hair aside, so he can see the intricate knotwork on her back, and he exhales a sigh or a scoff.

"Shall I unbind you?"

-

Xiao/Lumine

“Skin Hunger” by Mythicamagic

T, 2635 words, hurt/comfort, romance.

insecurity, intrusive and self-deprecating thoughts, some descriptions of violence and gore, body worship, established relationship, non-sexual nudity

When immortals fall in love with each other, they have all the time in the world to explore their relationship; but first comes the insecurities. Xiaolumi oneshot.

Has fun parallels with their wings

-

familial Diluc & Kaeya, Adelinde, Klee, Lisa, Jean

“blinded by love” by li2

G, 6481 words, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending.

Kaeya POV, unreliable narrator, misunderstandings, temporary invisibility, familial kiss, fluff, skinship & physical touch, sharing a bed

Diluc suddenly becomes unable to see Kaeya. Thinking it’s just Diluc’s usual hatred for him, Kaeya doesn't suspect anything wrong.

Kaeya’s POV for the first half hurts so much but the second half is sweet😭

-

Lumine, Paimon, familial Diluc & Kaeya

“Lamp Grass Guides You Home” by StrangeDiamond

Gen, 6387 words, fluff, light angst.

souvenirs. Chapter 2 has brief mentions of pain, starvation, and violence

After scrambling to cobble together a gift before their Jade Chamber visit, Lumine gets the idea to start collecting small gifts and souvenirs, so she'll always have something to give if she needs to.

Kaeya is the first one she goes to for advice, and he has a lot of good ideas for things she can collect and make, using Mondstadt's regional specialties. He even tells her about a certain souvenir he was once gifted - a charm made of Small Lamp Grass, encased in resin, that he unfortunately lost when he moved. There's a bit more to the story, Lumine learns, when she sets out to make one for him to replace it. There's history linked to the charm Kaeya lost . . . but there are also new memories to be made going forward.

A sweet one about making and receiving gifts

-

Zhongli/Venti, Venti & Diluc (ft. misc adventurers)

“I need to tell him (I can’t tell him)” by asingleqingxin

T, 1949 words, angst, major character death.

Venti POV, mentions Istaroth, set during Chapter 1 Act I’s Rite of Descension, Venti doesn’t know Zhongli faked his death, misunderstanding played for drama, grief, dissociation, Venti loses grip on time period briefly

Oh, that's not good news.

He needs to tell Morax.

...he can't tell Morax.

OR

When the rumors about the Rite of Descension hit Mondstadt.

Angst and misunderstanding from the canon event written from Venti’s POV in Mondstadt

[kimberbohwrites]

Dusk & Honey: Chapter Two <Previous Chapter Word Count: 3,578 Rated: Overall fic rating is Explicit, this chapter is SFW READ ON AO3 (or continued below) Please don't forget to kudos/comment/like/reblog <3 >Halsin x Tav art by @ DARKURGETRASH on tumblr<

Summary: The story of my OC Tav, Luna and her experience during the timeline of the game, not modifying canon so much as adding more to the Halsin-romance path. Featuring: world-building, action, well-researched drow lore, hurt/comfort, slowburn Halsin romancing, and eventual smut. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS, we'll be exploring trauma in several areas including touching on some of the darker canon trauma faced by Halsin. Tags/Warnings: Eventual Smut, Enemies to Lovers, mildly they are gonna fight, Halsin Romance Route, Named Tav, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Drow Culture , Half-Drow Tav, Anti-Drow Racism, Anti-Tiefling Racism, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Baldur's Gate 3, Cleric Tav, Implied/Referenced S*xual Assault, (meaning the eventual discussion of Halsin's time in the underdark), Pining

Both Halsin and Zevlor had insisted upon a celebration of their successful efforts to save both the Grove and the Tiefling Refugees trapped within. The Druid had refused to discuss the next steps until they’d taken a night off for rest. It was unexpected, being asked to linger for longer at the Druid Grove. But Halsin seemed to be full of unexpected things. Luna thought it strange that he should so greatly stand in contrast to his fellow Druids, he was the only one of them to even show up at the humble party within their camp that night.

Everything must have a balance and Halsin balances his fellow Druids, she mused to herself over a glass of wine that had more taste of vinegar than of vineyard.

Still — it was a reprieve and the most normal thing she’d experienced in the short tendays that had transpired since she’d awoken on the Nautiloid.

The night wasn’t all celebration however, young Wyll lurked over by the water out of the sight of all. His brow was newly adorned with a set of horns and several other infernal traits had come along with them. A punishment from his hell-bitch of a patron, Mizora. After doing her best to comfort her friend, she’d thought it best to leave him to his brooding.

She had visited several of her other companions this evening and had to politely decline several invitations of various after-party activities. As tempting as the thought of letting go for a night and enjoying the touch of another was, she still felt raw from the day before. More honestly, she didn’t want to provide an opportunity for them to ask prying questions about her loss of control with Minthara.

It had caused her to sleep worse than usual the night before, replaying that incident in her mind over and over. She’d hurt her friends and without her healing powers, Halsin might be dead. The guilt she felt took a warm but equally uncomfortable turn when she thought of the Archdruid. Though she’d never admit it, thinking of him kept her awake as well. Not just her shame, but thoughts of his soft eyes set on the rugged canvas of his handsome face.

She shook the memory away, lest she be distracted in front of the real thing just across the camp. In the morning they’d be leaving and Halsin would of course want to stay with his grove, it was a relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about the confusing feelings caused by the Druid, much longer.

 At current she was finding it hard to ignore the nagging feeling that his eyes were boring holes into her back when it was turned, as she chatted with her companions and the tieflings. But each time she’d turned back in his direction, he seemed to be interestedly talking to Zevlor or looking off at the woods.

When she finally approached him it was later in the evening and the drinks had made her bold. Her mind screamed at her to deal with the Druid now before he became a distraction. It was already too much, she’d found herself thinking about his smile for some reason.

And the way he’d looked up at her from the ground as if she were something special, something worth loving, worth cherishing.

“Are you having a good night so far?”

“Ah! My hero! It is a pleasant night for company. Are the evening’s festivities to your liking?”

The guilt rose in her, combining with the warmth of the wine — she immediately felt uncomfortable in her own skin. Just be brave, flirt with him and bat your eyes. It always works, he’ll be interested and then he’ll be gone. They never stay.

“Yeah, it’s great, I was wondering if perhaps, you wanted to share a drink?”

His eyes held hers closely but revealed nothing but their general kindness.

“In truth, I rarely imbibe. The stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”

At his joke, she smiled her pretty, practiced smile. Not too much teeth, not too eager.

“I fail to see the problem. But, perhaps, there are other ways we could get to know each other?”

“I’m sure there are. You strike me as extremely… resourceful. But there are many grateful people here who want to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself. As enjoyable as that may be.”

For a moment her eyes widened in surprise. She wasn’t used to be turned down and he had seemed so interested before.

“I see, well, um…Okay, thanks”

Luna panicked; she wasn’t smooth enough to talk her way out of this situation.

“Go on, enjoy yourself. Seek out some wine before it runs dry — there are a lot of thirsty people around here.”

Halsin added, seeming kind even despite the awkward moment Luna was having. She smiled at him, biting her plush bottom lip nervously as she gazed up into his eyes. The moment stretched on as their eyes lingered on one another. Glancing down at his lips she found he was smirking slightly, revealing a flash of teeth. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she saw a hint of point to his canine as if some part of the bear was always present. She’d already looked at his mouth for too long, she couldn’t look again.

Luna nodded at him, regaining her cool demeanor from the Halsin’s rejection at last. She could have sworn she’d seen a hint of pain in his eyes as she vanished behind her facade of easy charm and effortless kindness. It may have been wrapped in a flirty tone, but his rejection was clear and she wanted to get away from him immediately. 

“Thanks, maybe I’ll do just that.”

Spinning on her heel quickly to leave, Luna doesn’t even bother to check if Halsin is done talking to her. She just needs to get away from the humiliation of this interaction. She spots Zevlor lurking not far off in the darkness on the edge of camp as she purposefully walks away from the Druid.

Her heart wrenched at the sight of the Paladin, he looked so… tired. While Luna was very likely older than the tiefling, he seemed to be considered on the older side amongst his race. He seemed burdened with the struggles of time and tragedy, she empathized for the man.

Most of her life on the surface had been in hiding. She served her Goddess by helping others escape Lolth’s wrath. As a result, thanks to the influence and wealth of the Drow, ransoms were offered on the surface and the Underdark for her head. She’d lived in hiding for a long time while working in service of her Lady.

She hadn’t realized how insular it had made her until she’d met Zevlor and the other refugees. Luna couldn’t even remember meeting a tiefling in her travels before. But already she understood that their people seemed to be subject to the ire and cruelty by the humans.

There weren’t many half-drow wandering around Faerun that she was aware of, in fact she’d never met any beside herself. A quick look in the mirror would reveal a very Drow looking woman, the only evidence of her human side is her size — too tall for the small, lithe frames that Drow women were known for. It made her both unknown and exotic to most people she encountered. More often than not, people chose to fear her before she’d even opened her mouth.

Yet, Zevlor and his people seemed even more reviled by those around them. It didn’t make sense to her. The Drow were a cruel people thanks to thousands of years of Lolth’s tyrannical reign over Menzoberranzan. While in her heart she hoped for a better future for her people, she wasn’t sure they were still capable of good even without the Spider-Queen’s influence. But the Tieflings? What crimes were they guilty of? What cruel goddess did they worship unquestioningly?

In short — she understood why people feared her at least a little, the evil deeds of the Drow were legendary. But what had the Tieflings ever done? Hating the unknown was not a uniquely human trait however, as ugly as their hate could be. While the relations between elves and the other races had improved in most areas over the years, their judgement was still sharp and brutal. That thought brought Minthara’s last words to the front of her mind once more, “Usually, someone would do you the kindness of putting an abomination like you out of your misery as a babe, how uncared for you were that they couldn’t have spared you the shame.”

She shook the thought away and gave the Tiefling a little wave as she passed by. His tail swished behind him. Luna couldn’t help but smile and wink at him before continuing on, wondering if that swish meant anything.

When she turned briefly and spotted the little flush on his already red cheeks — she had her answer. Still, her failure to control the situation with Halsin had her feeling down and she wanted to return to the peace of her tent. Cowardly though it may be, she was willing to risk being humiliated twice in one evening.

With a last goodbye to their guests she retreated to her bedroll. Eyelids heavy from wine and her heart even heavier from so much trouble already. Sleep wouldn’t find her easy this evening, of that much she was aware. She could only hope that the wine could soften the thoughts in her head enough for her to slip off to sleep alone in her bedroll.

—*—*——*—*—

The morning after the party, the tieflings seemed to be long gone by the time she’d risen. It was surprising as she tended to wake with the sun each day, but Zevlor was a disciplined leader. Searching her mind, she recalled him talking about an early start for his people toward their destination of Baldur’s Gate. Head only a little muddled from wine, she said an extra prayer that morning to the Dark Dancer for their safe passage to the city. Her Goddess provided refuge to the downtrodden who escaped Lolth and Luna believe that grace must extend to the tieflings searching for freedom of their own.

With a sigh she set about her day. Somehow, she’d been selected as the leader of her own group before she’d even sensed it. It wasn’t something that came to her naturally— leadership, but always seemed to be thrust upon her. Even when she had joined the other followers of Eilistraee to serve her in the goals of freeing people from Lolth’s tyranny — she had risen through the ranks quickly.

If only she could make herself smaller somehow. There were countless nights she lay awake in bed and hoped to disappear, to be invisible. But from her too-tall figure to not being able to keep her mouth shut, she drew attention on herself. It was only her trying to be helpful, to belong, that she would open her mouth with a suggestion or offer care to someone. But each time it drew focus on her she’d rather have gone without. She didn’t deserve the spotlight.

There was no denying that the group was certainly in need of leadership to even stand a fighting chance. They were infected by mindflayer tadpoles and even in the Underdark that was well-known as a death sentence.

Mindflayers weren’t unheard of in the Underdark, some noble Drow houses kept them in their courts, although their presence and usage was neither admitted nor considered acceptable by the public. But there were few advantages a Drow Matron would not take in to strengthen her house and her position. She found herself almost wishing Halsin could stay with their group to provide the sort of leadership and guidance they so desperately needed.

—*—*——*—*—

When they departed their campsite a few hours later, Luna could have kicked herself for wishing for the Druid’s guidance. She’d gotten it — in spades. Halsin followed up the rear of their group quietly as their newest member and Luna was still glowering over their fight about the next steps.

He’d been so rude when she expressed her frustration about not having more answers. Snapping at her before continuing on about the terrible blight of the Shadow Curse.

“I won’t be held accountable just because you’re naive enough to expect easy answers.”

“How dare you?! I’m just trying to help these people!” She had snapped back. She had felt Shadowheart’s hand on her shoulder and heard Karlach’s soothing coo. The Druid had insisted on continuing and Luna had forced herself to bite her tongue. Control yourself, the moon controls the tides as I control me. She had chanted in her head as Halsin went on, forcing her outrage behind the finely polished mask of constant calm once more. It wasn’t until he had brought up the Underdark that she had even bothered to open her mouth once again.

“We found the entrance to the Underdark in the temple after you left to set the grove to rights and I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. I have no idea where that leads. It could be the death of all of us.”

“The Shadow Curse is a fate WORSE than death, Luna! I do not relish the thought of venturing into the Underdark but I would not suggest such a course of action if I thought there were a safer way.”

His tone had at least been kinder than when he’d accused her of being naive but still firm. She hadn’t been able to tell if it was the thought of the Shadow Curse or if it was just her that got that made him this frustrated. Then, when he’d offered to join their camp to offer counsel and support as they ventured to Moonrise, it had taken each of her companions to convince her to agree to the Druid’s company.

She glanced back at him as they made their way toward the goblin camps to examine the entrance to the Underdark. It was strange, she thought, she’d expected him to look sadder as they left the Grove behind. Instead she found him looking ahead with a firm resolve on his face. When he caught her staring, he cocked an eyebrow at her and she flipped around quickly again. Animatedly, engrossing herself in listening to Wyll and Astarion rib each other back and forth. She wasn’t brave enough to turn back to see if he was still looking.

Just ignore him Luna, you don’t need everyone to like you. She told herself.

As they approached the goblin camp, the familiar touch of anxiety settled in her anew at the thought of being within the temple ruins again. It had only been a day or so since her loss of control, the incident still weighed heavily on her. She didn’t realize how heavy the burden was until they were once again under the roof of the ruined temple.

Something evil lurked forever within the walls, maybe it was simply her own regret that now haunted the place. Whatever it was, it seemed to compound with the weight in her chest she felt over the increasing and very real likelihood she’d be spending time in the Underdark once more.

It’s not that she hadn’t been back. She had returned since her escape but only in short trips and always staying clear of Menzoberranzan. The Drow have a long memory, longer for those who have wronged them. Thirty years was thirty seconds in the grand scheme of Drow revenge and plots. Her trips to the Underdark had always been as a guide for fellow followers of Eilistraee. Those who would go deeper within the cavernous lands to rescue others who were looking to escape the cruelty of the Drow.

The feeling of being watched snapped her from her thoughts. She was trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt, but it didn’t help that she could feel the Druid’s eyes on her again, like he knew what she was feeling. How could he possibly understand? They never understand. I don’t need his pity. She can feel the spike of anger within her. Her blood thrums in her ears and she barely hears her campmates as they approach the Selunite puzzle that leads to the Underdark. She allows her mind to be present once more just in time to hear their rogue’s cutting humor.

“Looks like a long fall, The Blade had better be careful,” Astarion hissed as Wyll while lunging forward and giving him a slight push toward the ladder and the fatal plunge. Luna shoots them both a stern look. She doesn’t miss the way Wyll flushes a little at the vampire’s teasing.

“I quite agree with Luna, I think this whole Selunite Underdark plan is bad news,” Shadowheart says to Halsin as she clutches at the wound on her hand. No doubt the Dark Lady is punishing Shadowheart for being in her sister’s temple.

“It’s Luna’s decision, she picks the route we take and I will follow,” Wyll added nobly.

“May I speak with you for a moment, alone?” Halsin asked her with a harried look. After a long moment, taking time to enjoying the way he seems to sweat over her answer, she nods. He gestures for her to follow, leading her a few halls over until they come across a quiet alcove amidst the ruined temple.

 When he rounds on her, she is distracted immediately by how small she feels in his presence. She’s always been tall, standing a head and shoulders above most of the people around her. The fact that the elf still stands several inches above her in stature rings through her mind, both pleasure and panic answer. Her heart races at his proximity.

Stop, she hisses to the traitor muscle in her chest. He very clearly doesn’t like you like that. Stop it. The sting of his rejection from the night before is still fresh in her memory.

“Whatever reason you have to fear the Underdark, it cannot be worse that the blight of the Shadow Curse,” He finally says.

Waves of emotion wash over her at his words. He doesn’t know anything about me. How could he possibly understand? What does this Druid even know of fear? She feels untethered by the sentence, pinpricks of panic blossom across her skin. With a deep breath she centers herself in the light of her Goddess, the only mooring she can tether herself to in a sea of emotion. She will not lose control again so soon.

Halsin studies her face, clearly watching the emotional struggle play itself out on her features with concern. Too long has passed since he spoke, and she knows she needs to answer him.

“Have you ever even been to the Underdark, Druid?” She almost spits the last word.

His eyes avert her gaze immediately. In a flash she swears she can see his calm demeanor falter for just a moment.

“I have.”

He offers no more and she knows immediately this is not something to pry into. There is a faint hint of sadness in his eyes when he meets her gaze once more. Her traitorous heart lurches again and she can only pray to her Goddess that the dusky blue of her skin hadn’t given way to a deeper blush on her cheeks.

Swallowing the feeling she gives him a tight nod.

“Fine.”

He sighs and she can’t help but silently celebrate having him so frustrated. It’s petty but she can only hope she’s causing him half the stress he’s already caused her.

Her mind tells her to walk away, that the conversation is over. But she doesn’t and neither does he, they just linger. Time slows as they gaze silently into one another’s eyes. He looks at her with what looks like hunger, but she knows it must be a trick of the dim light in their private spot. After his flat rejection she cannot bring herself to hope for anything more and besides, it seemed she was destined to spend her time fighting with him instead. She wills herself to look away, breathing slowly like it might make her heart stop racing. When she glances down, she sees his fists clenched tightly with coiled energy.

Halsin relaxes immediately when she notices and his entire demeanor shifts. For just a moment it felt like he contained a predator within, and she was just prey in his eyes. But then he’s himself once more. The moment passed and the familiar easy smile is in place again as he backs away.

“Oakfather be praised, you’re making the right decision Luna.”

She nods and gives him a tight smile, clearing her throat anxiously and quickly walking away.

Stupid! Why would you be alone with him? Never again. That was such a bad idea. She berates herself internally as she hastens to join her companions. As she grabs her pack with a flurry of busied activity, pointedly ignoring their looks, she finds herself looking forward to the Underdark. At least there it was clear cut and simple— live or die.

It had to be better than her increasingly confusing and awkward interactions with the Druid.

Taglist: @dutifullylazybread @scandistar @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @beaneburrito @tsabhira05 @cchickki @purpleasters-inseptember @reverieblondie @barbwillbrb @stuffforthestash @crowwolf @halsinningiswinning

(just comment if you want on/off taglist)

[101flavoursofweird]

How about "It's not your choice." for Husk/Angeldust?

((Thank you for giving me the chance to write about these two!))

Warnings: References to character death, drinking and abuse��� and cursing. (Sera’s not here to censor anyone like in my previous Hazbin fic)

Spoilers: For most of the series, including the finale

Set: After the final battle but before the hotel has been fully restored

Title: Anchor

Summary: Even in Alastor’s absence, something keeps Husk tied to the hotel.

“Those angelic bitches owe me a new bar,” Husk grumbled.

He pulled his once-gleaming ‘Concierge’ sign from the wreckage of the lobby. Between ‘Con’ and ‘cierge’, a crack had formed.

That’s what this had been all along, right? 

Another con from Alastor. A calculated show of power. A way to keep Husk in line, stuck on a leash…

The ironic part? Husk had actually started to like it at the Hazbin Hotel. Then, Alastor had finally— finally— fucked off, and it had all come crashing down.

As destructive and sadistic as Alastor could be, he hadn’t done this just to spite Husk. (Though, Husk definitely wouldn’t put it past him!)

No— Alastor, along with whatever deity controlled his leash, were far too invested in Charlie’s hotel.

The almighty Radio Demon hadn’t intended to get his ass kicked by that dickhead Adam… 

Alastor hadn’t made some heroic sacrifice like Sir Pentious.

Hell, Alastor wasn’t even dead! He couldn’t be.

Husk would have felt it otherwise. He would be free…

The sign broke in two as Husk lifted it up. Huffing, Husk tossed the pieces aside and continued sweeping through the rubble; splinters of wood, fragments of bone decor, shards of glass…

Husk dragged his claws over his head and groaned. “All that good booze— gone!”

“If you’ve got a problem,” a voice sang behind him, “you ain’t gonna find it at the end of a bottle… or something.”

Turning around, Husk found the one feature of his bar that was (thankfully) still in tact: His most regular patron. 

Angel Dust— battle-worn and bloodied— beamed at him.

Despite himself, Husk snorted. “Where did you hear that one?”

“Some drunk old loser…” Angel Dust shrugged, somehow making the casual movement seem theatrical.

He watched as Husk resumed his sorry attempt at a clear-up. Husk bent down to pick up a bag of peanuts.

“You gonna stand there or help?” Husk called over his shoulder.

“I’m enjoying the view,” drawled Angel Dust.

Frowning, Husk faced him again. Husk threw his hands out. “Not much to look at in this dump…”

“Here’s a bright idea!” Slinking closer to Husk, Angel Dust raised all four of his arms. “Why don’t we just ask Daddy Lucifer to make us new bar?”

Husky growled, “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Husk didn’t want a brand spanking new set-up. He wanted his old bar with the counter stains from spilt drinks and the scuff-marks from shoving people aside (mainly Angel Dust) and the stray cat hairs. He wanted it to smell of cheap alcohol and roasted peanuts.

He wanted the soft orange lighting and the squeaky bar stools and the sound of laughter… like last night, when they had all celebrated just being alive. (Husk hadn’t felt that alive in years.)

The last thing Husk wanted was to be indebted to another ruler.

Husk ground his teeth together. The peanut bag nearly exploded in his fist.

“Whoa— easy, tiger!” Angel Dust patted down the bristling fur on Husk’s back. “Fine, we’ll fix it withoutFallen Angel magic… Might just take us a little longer—“

“I’ve got time.” A sigh escaped Husk.

“Yeah, you do!” Angel Dust slung an arm around Husk’s shoulders. “And right now, it’s time to unwind! There has to be one club in town the Exorcists didn’t destroy—“

Husk ducked out of Angel Dust’s embrace. “I… I can’t. Not till I’ve fixed things here.” He tossed the peanut bag away. His attention returned to the ruins of lobby.

“C’mon, Whiskers…” Angel Dust rolled his eyes. “We’ve just survived a battle! Don’t you want to relax? Maybe raise a toast to our departed pal—?”

“‘Course I do—“ Husk grunted as he shifted a hunk of rubble, “—but I can do that in my own bar—“ The rubble was heavier than he’d realised. “Shit…!” Husk stumbled under its weight, until Angel Dust caught the other side.

“It’s your soul, isn’t it?” Angel Dust breathed. “It belongs to Alastor, and since he ordered you to work at the hotel… Your soul’s tied to this bar.”

“What?” Husk scoffed, dropping his end of the rubble. “I can leave here whenever I like! You’ve seen me—“

“Sure—“ Angel Dust spun around and chucked the rubble away, “—but you can’t leave permanently. You have to come back, sooner to later. Just like…” 

He gazed down at the dust on his hands, before clenching them into fists. “Like me and Valentino.”

“It’s not… that bad,” Husk muttered, with a slight wince.

For the most part, Alastor had kept Husk on a light leash, only tightening the chains if Husk dared to act up. Alastor had threatened him in private, but he hadn’t followed through on those threats (so far).

On seldom occasions, he had even saved Husk’s ass…

Contrary to Valentino, who took pleasure in violating Angel Dust whenever he could.

Angel Dust was staring down at the ravaged ground.

Husk gestured to him. “Any chance, uh, Valentino got exterminated?”

“I wish!” Angel Dust exhaled. He flexed his limbs, pushing against invisible bonds. “I don’t feel any different…” He looked up at Husk. “What about you? Is Smiles gone for good?”

“Nah!” Husk’s gaze roved around the ruins. Alastor would pop up at any moment. “He’ll be back before we know it.”

“And you’ll still be here,” murmured Angel Dust, “even if it’s not your choice.”

“Eh.” Husk shrugged. 

Running the front desk and the bar wasn’t the worst job in Hell. Maybe Husk was tied to the hotel… compelled to stay there and maintain it by Alastor…

Husk would complain about having to listen to everyone’s moaning, but honestly? He’d had grown quite fond of their company. (Plus— the booze was free!)

A smile slipped across Angel Dust’s face. “What about when— if— I ascend to Heaven?”

“Seriously? You still wanna go up there, after how they treated us?”

“We could take ‘em…” Angel Dust pursed his lips. He caught Husk’s hand. “Come with me?”

“I don’t give a shit about Heaven...” Still, Husk didn’t pull away. He coughed. “But, if the whole hotel happens to ascend, somehow? I’ll see you up there.” He gave Angel Dust’s hand a squeeze.

It wasn’t a contract, or a promise, or an aspiration binding them together… but something filled with hope. A gamble. A shot in the dark… and some other third thing. (Husk had run out of hopeful metaphors.)

Deviously, Angel Dust grinned. “You might need to get in line— Charlie said Heaven’s full of hot people.”

“Ha!” Husk laughed as Angel lifted his arm and twirled Husk around on the spot. “I’ll wait… Now, help me find the front desk, will you? Then, maybe I can take a quick break in town…”

“Deal!”

[siah-j]

My official fan art for them both 😭 hope you’ll like it.

“Pick your poison babe, I’m poison either way” -TS (immagetyouback)

It’s totally there song 🤍 love them eternally🤍

[onewiththedark]

And just like that, Nico begins to simply notice, as if the night before had been the starting domino to a very, very long line of revelations. 

How he rolls his rs and the way he chuckles to himself, the glow of his blonde– actually, scratch that, fucking golden hair and the sprinkle of freckles along his nose, shoulders, arms. His southern accent that slips into his voice whenever he’s mad, angry or focussed. 

Nico finds, more often than before, that the focus actually seems to be on him for once. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about it– he’s never been the centre of attention. It’s startlingly new, a foreign concept altogether. 

The warmth that pools into his stomach each time Will says his name, the skeletal butterflies soaring into Nico’s chest, all of it– they are sensations that he has yet to get used to.  

“Hey, Death Boy!”

Apparently, a certain son of Apollo doesn’t intend on giving him any time to adjust. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” Will asks innocently, tilting his head. It should be noted that Nico absolutely does not find this endearing. “Death Boy?”

“Whatever, sunshine.” 

“Oh my gods!” he laughs, loud and bright, all sunlight and liquid joy. 

Nico reddens– not blushing, he tells himself, cringing at the mere thought– before staring at his worn out Converse, muttering, “Can we delete the last three minutes from our memory?” 

“Why’d you want to do that?” Will exclaims, grinning. “We have nicknames now!”

“Shut up, Solace.”

And maybe Nico’s feeling embarrassed as fuck, maybe his cheeks won’t stop burning, maybe he feels like he’s on godly fire, but maybe when Will laughs it makes up for all of it. Maybe.