#fic: rememberance

[no-to-noto]

This started as a doodle, but I just love him too much not to give him a pretty sunset.

This is Charon based off of the Styx Beach AU by @jacqcrisis !

He is looking at Hermes. Of course.

[brittleskyblue]

**SPOILERS FOR THE CUTSCENE AFTER THE FINAL TFS MISSON**

I will never be normal about these two again. I almost started crying my eyes out because of them.

brb gonna go lay down in the rain

[etherealpapercut]

prompt: i was feeling pretty heartbroken on remembrance day. writing is my therapy so this... just... popped out.

~*~*~*~

you can keep your promise

~*~*~*~

fandom: post-endgame mcu

pairings: gn!reader x grieving!stranger!thor

genre: it’s angst. all angst, dammit.

warnings: cold. candles. reader is indicated to be christian, or at least suffering from religious trauma. graveyards and everything that ensues. mentions of grief and other sad scenes. the works.

word count: 2.3k

summary: y/n visits a graveyard on remembrance day and ends up meeting a grieving norse god.

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself :(

~*~*~*~

you shake in the cold as you stand with your friends. the poppy on your coat threatens to stab your heart.

the blank stones on the unnamed soldier’s graves stare back at you. the crypt in the midst of all the other tombstones seems so very calm.

you have a little candle in your hands. so do the rest of your friends. the tiny flames fights the chill of the air.

there are things that separate you and your friends, though.

for example, you have gloves.

your friends have mitts. one of your friends doesn’t have anything on their hands at all.

you all know that they’ll be okay.

your friends have family and other people to visit in this graveyard.

you don’t.

the cold is taking over your bones. you have to move.

it looks like you’re smoking. the chill of the air is turning your breath into floating ice.

november is the one month where tradition strikes the hardest for you, and you are expected to pray for the dead every day if possible.

back home, you have aunts and uncles and great-grandparents buried six feet deep under the frost-bitten soil, but today you are in the city. your companions were planning to visit this graveyard today anyway. they say they brought you along because you know all the good prayers for the souls.

you’re just good at speaking from the heart. most prayers are made up. “hail mary’s” and “our fathers” are mostly used when you don’t know what to say.

you’re talking to God when you pray. it’s a conversation. or supposed to be.

you don’t always seem to get an answer.

still, your friends walk away from you. you’re not really needed.

tradition compels you. you look for a grave to pray over.

the cold and harsh november afternoon light falls over the field of stone.

bones and rotting flesh lie far beneath you. you try not to think about it.

you walk past the crypt. a family name is engraved over the door. sheer concrete walls seem desolate and empty from this side.

you silently beg that you don’t end up walking over someone’s grave. you pray and you pray so very hard so that you won’t walk over a grave.

you reach a tombstone in the middle of a row and set down your candle in the snow.

you have to brush a layer of frost off the front to read it.

sometimes prayers have to be made personal. it’s good to know who you’re praying for.

his name is george. he died in 2008 at the age of 32. 

you make something up:

don’t let him suffer in death, you say to the heavens.

you can’t come up with anything else. it’s harder than it looks.

you dutifully recite an “our father.”

that’ll do it. you can’t stand still in the cold much longer. the blood in your fingers slows down and cools. you have to move again.

you pick up your candle and continue to walk through the cemetery.

it’s a large graveyard. so many people. so many tombstones. you see another crypt in the distance. 

and suddenly you see a tombstone all by itself.

it’s in the middle of a memorial section. that means there isn’t a body buried underneath it.

it’s in its own row, unlike many other stones throughout the graveyard. 

either a reserved section, or a recent grave in a new row.

you’re drawn to it. something seems a bit off.

sometimes you get those kinds of feelings.

it’s tall, shaped like a dome that ends in a point. upon coming closer and under further inspection, you can see that it’s carved to look like the stern of a boat.

there’s a rope that fences it off. it looked shorter in the distance. it’s much taller than yourself.

this tombstone amazes you. you don’t have the words to describe how foreign it feels. out of place. out of time.

it belongs somewhere else. sometime else. definitely not in a mass manhattan graveyard.

the light is shining on this stone in particular. the sun has melted the snow away. no ice remains. it isn’t cold enough for that yet.

you sneak under the rope and put your candle down in front of the tombstone and something inside tells you to sit a while and stay.

someone needs you, the voice says inside your head.

you try to start a prayer for the soul.

you’re in a daze. you forgot to read the tombstone. you don’t know who this is.

you hear someone behind you.

you’re not scared right away. you’re not sitting in front of the grave, in case you made a mistake and there is someone buried underneath you.

the candle is supposed to indicate that you are praying. people will know.

the most they’ll assume is that you were close in some way to the person that this header belongs to. they’ll assume you have a right to be there.

you don’t.

you’re scared when the person who you heard behind you also steps over the rope and sits down next to you.

he is quiet. you turn to have a look.

he towers above you, even though he is hunched over.

long, dirty blond hair hangs in disarray. some strands are braided. one braid has black hair tied in it. you can’t see his face clearly. his clothes are rumpled and well-loved. a denim jacket lined with fur and farm jeans. he holds his hands clasped. fingers woven into each other. a pendant swings from a homemade cord round his neck. you can’t tell if it, too, is made of stone, or iron

he barely moves. the weight of the world is with him. he’s seen a lot.

this is a man who has been grieving.

you can’t see his eyes but you can tell he’s looking at the gravestone in a way that tells you he knows who the grave site belongs to.

you look for dates on the tombstone.

~964 A.D.–2018 A.D.

you were never good at math, but you figured the lifespan was well over 1000 years. you blinked. 

the rest is suddenly incomprehensible. the sunlight hits it just so that there are no shadows in any crevice and the rest of the engraved words cannot be seen.

you reach your hand out to the man sitting next to you. he notices your movement and looks down. 

he takes it in his opposite hand, shaking in a friendly manner.

you expected his hand to be as dry and warm as it was.

you didn’t really expect his voice to be so deep and hoarse.

“thor odinson, at your service.” he says. he’s having trouble getting his words out. he’s holding back so much emotion. 

“y/n l/n,” you reply.

you had meant to hold his hand in a comforting act. you phrased this to thor. he seemed a bit taken aback, but took your hand anyway, swallowing it up in his and the two of you sit in silence.

you can see the tears slowly dripping from his chin. he looks at the stone with a steady gaze.

you shiver. you are in the shade of a tree planted by the end of the grave. the shadows in november are always the most unwelcoming. even december shadows have no such bite as these ones.

“tell me about this memorial header, thor,” you whisper. “tell me all about the person to whom it belongs.”

you still have the intention of intercession.

tradition still drives you forward.

thor turns to have a good look at your face. the tears suddenly fall faster.

“for some reason,” he says to you, “when i saw you sitting here, i thought that i knew you. i thought that you knew who this memorial belonged to. and yet you are but a stranger to me.”

you nod. to many people you seem familiar. you seem to have one of those looks.

he thanks you for your kindness in staying with the grave. his voice is ever the more husky.

you are under no real obligation to stay with this man. 

still, something keeps you here. 

thor smiles at the stone.

“my brother is remembered here.”

he nods to himself.

you cannot help but to think, your brother is always remembered, everywhere, in everything you do. you have that sense of grieving.

it’s been quite a couple of years since thor’s brother has died. you read it in the stone.

you can feel how fresh the wound is to thor. it radiates from him.

“his name was loki.” thor says. “you–are you sure you didn’t know him? he did keep many secrets. you may have been one of them. and the rope is an enchanted barricade, no one who is not familiar with the remembered can enter or come close.”

you simply shake your head, then nod. enchantments didn’t work. not on you. they weren’t real. you belonged to a religion that prevented their use and effects.

you really didn’t know loki. however, his name tickles something in the back of your mind. you can’t seem to recall why.

thor smiled through his sigh, allowing it a little bit of a merry sound. it still wasn’t quite right. “he was a nuisance, my brother. he messed things up. big time. all the time.

“he wasn’t the best being to ever walk the nine realms,” thor continued. “he had that sort of aura that he wasn’t even meant to belong here, at times.”

you knew what thor was talking about.

some people were mistakes. and while some mistakes were embraced, some were continually rejected. they didn’t belong to this existence, even though they existed.

“he was a mischief maker. my mother didn’t really help, teaching him magic. he was the god of lies.”

the man beside you chuckled. he was suddenly lost, delving into memories.

“loki stabbed people, too. he stabbed me. he was ambitious, that one. sometimes to a fault. he even tried to take over new york city some years ago.” 

you blinked. you now remembered why the name seemed familiar.

“loki wasn't always–loki wasn’t good.” thor said. he looked down.

the final blades of grass were dying at your feet.

“but i still loved my brother.”

thor choked softly on his words.

the light dies fast in november. when you looked up, you could suddenly see the rest of the words carved into the stone on loki’s tombstone.

not that it mattered. you couldn’t read the words anyway. the stone didn’t have any of the normal sayings carved in it.

it was covered in runes.

you were at a loss for words.

how were you supposed to pray in this scenario?

the two of you bow your heads.

your candles sputters, drowning in wax.

thor breathes in. behold your hands a little bit tighter. 

“i’m sorry, loki,” he says.

he’s lost in reverie. you won’t be able to reach him if you spoke right now.

"i made a promise," he says. "i can’t keep it, though. forgive me, my brother."

you wonder what the promise is. you wonder if it’s your place to ask.

the voice inside tells you to ask.

after a pause, you do. you ask thor what promise he made to loki.

thor can’t respond for a long time. you let him take all the time he needs.

your friends, wherever they are, can wait.

this is whom you gut told you to wait for. you can wait for him a little bit longer.

thor finally speaks again.

“as loki was dying in my arms, i promised him that the sun would shine upon us again. i can’t keep that promise, y/n.”

you can feel the sadness from thor creep like the frost and start to invade your own body.

a promise like thor’s made to the living-now-dead is a promise that can rarely be fulfilled.

you stand, thor’s grief threatening to take him over. his hand is limp. you hang on tight. 

it’s not easy to tell which way is up when you’re drowning.

thor stands with you. he’s not as tall as he seemed before.

you pull him right to the stone. you pull him out of the shade cast by the tree.

the sunlight is still harsh and cold. it’s still unforgiving. but it’s still the sun.

“you can keep your promise, odinson.” you speak directly to him.

you demand his attention, and stick it right to the carved likeness of a slender, dark haired and elegant man on the stone.

thor seems to contrast the image greatly. the two are polar opposites. you still have no doubt that they are brothers. there is something in the carving that tells the viewer they share a mother.

there is a certain look that brothers have sometimes. it makes them seem like they were meant to be with each other. thor and loki were destined to be brothers, even if loki was never supposed to exist

“make sure that loki can be illuminated by the light.” you say. “make sure that you are, too.”

thor moves to make sure that the image is still in the sun.

he has let go of your hand. you let it drop.

the sun is shining on them once again.

you can’t seem to cry, but thor can.

he forgets you and leans on the stone, hand pressed up close to loki’s carved image. he gasps once, and the floodgates of the heaving waterfall open.

something has closed, though.

a little bit of thor’s wound that tore wide open when loki died in his arms has had its closure.

you step over the rope. you’re expected by your companions now. you’re ready to leave the graveyard.

you don’t bother to retrieve the candle.

it's gone out.

[gunpowder-tim]

heres a jonny/tim/bertie fic i posted ages ago but never shared on tumblr

[cerezzzita]

I forgot today was my 2 years bday on the dmc fandom pfft- anyways happy 2 years of me being married to this amazing fandom with these amazing people and, of course, married to my one and only strawberry shortcake, Dante!

[nocturn-warrior]

I ALL THE THINGS I'VE SHOULD DONE• 🔅

Alucard x reader

Summary: You are pregnant with your first born with Alucard and he has been overprotective over you, but during one night he a jerk tries to assault you. Alucard and your friends kick his ass.

Warnings: angst, SA mentions, abortion mentions, violence, jealousy at Greta, pregnancy, crying (but ends up with fluff), my bad grammar and text similar to a 12 years old's writting fanfic (english is not my first language) and bad dialogues.

Note: month of the three milks is may in medieval calendar, puiuţ is a nickname romanian parents call their babies and it means baby chicken. Most of the titles of my fics are based on Kate Bush's songs or song quotes. This one is taken from This Woman's Work

You were so excited taking care of Sypha and Trevor's baby. With his mother's big blue eyes and his father's jet hair, he was the cutest thing in the world. Everyday, your heart beated faster to the thought of having a child of your own with Adrian; a little baby to light up your lives and bring joy to that enormous castle again, but it took months for you to start trying for it. There are too many children around, the village orphans would be jealous if we had a baby. You would squash off the idea to yourself with a silly excuse. Actually, you feared having a child would have a reverse effect. Alucard was still mentally fragile and you rememberer his breakdown nights, where he wouldn't close his eyes to sleep until the sunrise. But one day it happened, and when it happened you and Adrian couldn't contain the happiness, though your hearts were still full of doubts.

Immediatly you started to work on your unborn's room, asking the villagers carpenters to reform Adrian's childhood bedroom and redo the furniture just like the way he remebered, since it all was destroyed during that last fight. All except that little wolf plushie which you storaged in the wardrobe. Alucard was surprised when you, after the nursery was finally finished and you both were decorating it with paintings and toys Adrian crafted himself, came in with the plushie and placed it over the little crib. He could feel a tear forming into his eye in that very moment.

"H-how did you..."

He stuttered, holding the toy almost as if he was checking out to see if it was the original one. You chuckled and said:

"I kinda stole from you so many days before Trevor had his hero moment. It was too cute to stay all dusty and forgotten in a wooden box. What is his name, by the way?"

Alucard sniffles the toy for a while, it smells like childhood. Like comfort. Smells like a time that will never come back, but he is happy it will belong to his child now. For that, new memories will be builden up. He finally answers, sitting on the small bed with you and caressing the toy's fluffy head.

"Lupi"

The dhampir smiled as his eyes wandered across the bedroom: it was exactly like he remembered. With his drawing skills, it was easy to picture everything in paper and intruct the carpenters.

After two long years, the village was finally built. Settled in the Belmont ground, it was full of small but cozy houses, a small fair, and a graveyard to honor their lost members. They were grateful for everything, and for that they decided to make a big celebration, in the day of their protector saint, Sara Kali, who is also the protector of pregnant women, for the exhiled and despaired ones as well.

You, Alucard and your friends were invited to such a beautiful moment, since you four had a big role in providing that people comfort and protection during and post the nightcreatures attacks.

It was 24 in The Month Of the Three Milks and you were 5 months pregnant. At first, Alucard was a little hesitant about attending at the festival; besides he cherishes the comunity so much, he feared you made too much effort or that all of these sounds, scents and feelings would be overwhelming to you. In his core, he wanted to go of course, but your safety was more important.

"Are you sure, my darling? You need to rest, you and the baby. Greta and the others will understand if you don't attend"

He tenderly argues, placing a hand on your waist as you look for a proper dress to use in the occasion in your big wooden wardrobe.

"Adrian,"

You drop the pieces of clothes to cup his cheeks, his amber droopy eyes looking towards yours as you explain. How could you take that pouty face of his seriously in that moment? You contain a chuckle.

"I am fine. My sickness doesn't affect me anymore, and some fresh night are will be good for me. You worry too much"

Adrian looks down presses his hand over your growing bump, trying to feel the child. He's been obsessed with it, constantly asking you if his puiuţ, as he constantly reffers to your baby is awaken and active.

"They are quiet this afternoon, my love."

You answer, placing your hand over his colder one. He says nothing, thinking about the festival and if taking you was a good idea until he breaks the silence:

"Let's find you a dress to wear, i will do your hair"

Your eyes light up, filling his heart with joy. Alucard adores to see you smile and beam with happiness, specially now that your mood changes so frequent. Any wrong word can cause an endless angst in this sensitive head of yours. He doesn't complain, though. After all you did for him in those dark gloomy nights, is not just his duty but also his wish to take care of you.

The two of you mess around your clothes, trying to find anything that feels comfortable enought for you to wear all night long. You try this, try that, but all of your formal gowns feel tighter and constraining around your stomach. Trying the last one with no success, you leave a deep sigh and plop yourself on the bed, laying with your limbs spread:

"Alright. Forget it. I accepted my fate: we are not going to the festival."

Though you had a silly smile in your face, Adrian could tell you were very upset with the fact no dress could fit you propperly now, and standing up in silence while looking at your hopeless expression, he takes a hard decision. Entering or seeing his parents' personal objects was a challenge he has been avoiding for two years. That's why most of them were gifted to the people from Danesti. They shouldn't be in there storaging must and moths. He gave it all, except some.

"Actually, i think there are still some dresses that belonged to my mother when she was pregnant. My father kept her belongings, and i couldn't get rid of them yet"

The joyful expression returns to your face as Alucard gives the problem a solving, you quickly sit up again and smile excitedly at him. For a while, you wonder why he kept exactly his mother's pregnancy dresses. Was it because he already planned everything? He could have given them to Sypha years ago. But you don't question it, you just nod and stand up, holding his hands.

"Thank you, Adrian. But you don't have to do it, if it's too hard to see her things again."

He gently shushes you, raising your hand and placing a wet kiss over it and ressuring he would be alright. Adrian tells you to stay in your bedroom while he looks into an old wooden chest, containing some of his parents' remaining belongings.

Minutes after, he cames in with a beautiful red dress, larger in the stomach and breasts part. It's oppulent silk bounces as he moves smoothly, placing it over the bed.

"Here. Try it on. I might do some adjusts on it's sleeves or cleavage if you want me to. We still have time"

He smiles at you, and standing up, you grab it to try on as he said. You inspect it's fabric, the dress has a slight musty scent due to all of these years it spent untouched, but it's alright. You quickly slip off your undergarments and put the dress on. Alucard expectates for the final result, arms crossed and eyes wandering across you changing body. It looks so beautiful, like a goddess of fertility.

"It feels tight in the arms"

You raise up your limbs, proving your point. The long sleeves restrict your movements. Lisa had a more slender figure, you guess, so it would really feel tighter in some of your body parts. Alucard approaches you, adjusting some pieces of the fabric and turning you around to check out the clothing

"I can cut them for you, my dear"

The solution comes without hesitation and you are surprised. He would modify his mother's relics just because of you. The hesitation came from your part

"Do you really mean that? Love, this belonged to your mother"

He playfully scoffs and lifts up the silky hem of the gown, helping you to take it off so he could make the necessary adjusts

"If there was something my mother was not attached to, was material wealth. Plus, it's for the wife of her son i am doing that. Don't you worry, it's just a dress"

Adrian removes the dress from you completly and with the lines and needles, he starts to work on the sleeves as you sit on the bed, waiting for it to be finished.

One hour and a half later, your dress is finally adjusted and fits perfectly. Now, you two should take a shower, get perfumed and elegant for the event so important to your friends of the village.

Adrian does your hair as promised: he braids it and finishes with a ribbon matching the color of your dress. He ties your shoes and you help him folding the hem of his trousers. Now passing through the giantic doors of the castle, you two head to where the festival would be settled.

Arms interlocked and faces enlighted by the rising full moon light, you catch a sight of Sypha and Trevor sitting on a wooden bench, their son Simon is running around with the other kids.

"He is already running. Years ago this boy was just a..."

Words fail with excitement, seeing your nephew toddling and interacting with other children. Alucard completes the phrase, placing a hand on your bump.

"A little bean. Just like our baby. Soon, he or she will be joining them. Ooh, it seems like he is sticking a frog into his mouth!"

As Alucard finishes, you can see from a afar, Sypha rushing to stop the toddler of eating a frog. You giggle, already imagining the adaptations in the castle you and Adrian shall do to prevent your own kid to hurt themselves.

Trevor see you two approaching and, taking a large sip of his ale, he places the cup aside, facing you two.

"Hey, i thought you two wouldn't even come. Y/N, you have to try this ale. This shit is a drop from heavens!"

By his tone, you could tell your friend was already drunk. Alucard intervines with a calm, yet slightly sarcastic tone, cracking his whip:

"You are not trying to make my pregnant wife drink alcohol, are you, Belmont?"

"I forgot this detail"

He snorts, shrugging and turning his attention back to his beloved ale. Since Simon was born, Trevor and Sypha had made a promise he would never drink again, but today is a special occasion so they gave it a break. Talking about Sypha, she returns to the place, holding the willful Simon on her hip and smiling as she spots you and Alucard.

"I can't keep an eye off from this boy, it's like he is the exact copy of his father. I can't keep an eye off of him as well. Trevor, you are already drunk?"

She places her free arm on her hip, facing the sitting man who denies it, with his clearly intoxicated tone.

"Gods, i don't know why but i still love you that it hurts!"

She chuckles, sitting by her husband's side and releasing Simon from her arms before she finally talks to Alucard and you.

"Your bump is already so big, my dear Y/N! Bigger than last week. Please, cherish this moment, becsuse after that you will deal with back pains and ankle soreness due to this little human growing in there"

Sypha looks tenderly at your belly jutting against the red silk of your dress, and then at her own son who rushes to "uncle Lulu", as he calls your husband.

"But it's all worthy."

You were so excited by seeing your friends that didn't even paid attention to the festival decoration. It was beautiful, full of colors and good scents comming from the food. The women wore their traditional clothes, children ran around the big fire settled in the middle. The tawny moon enlighted everything, making the scenary even more breathtaking. Alucard conduces you to sit over the bench and accomodates himself by your side as well.

"What do you think, love?"

He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek

"Beautiful. I love how their people, even after so many troubles and distress, found a way to put everything together"

The food scent was inviting, you spot a plump old lady holding a large plate of something you judged to be sarma, placing it over the large table along with other food. An increasing desire starts to take over you, and Alucard notices your fixated gaze. He chuckles, placing a hand on your belly before standing up.

"Are you two hungry? Stay here, i will get some food. Will you guys want something as well?"

He looks at Sypha who shakes her head, and at Trevor who says nothing but a grunt that Alucard reads as a no. You watch your dhampir walk graciously towards the table abundant with food, greeting the people as he approaches it. Resting your elbow on your knee and your chin on your palm, you don’t notice how head over heels you are until he comes back holding a bowl and speaking to you so sweetly:

“Here, my dear. It’s still warm”

Alucard sits by your side and you glance at the bowl full of sarma; a meal made of cabbages and stuffed with meat and rice, a typical dish of the people from Danesti. He grabs a forkful and takes it towards your mouth, waiting for your approval. You chew up the bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth. Alucard’s smile increases when you leave a satisfied groan and nod your head. He places the bowl on your lap, allowing you to occasionally feed him as you two chat with Sypha.

Some children from the village spot you sitting in there and rush towards the bench. As expected, they were quite excited about the baby on the way, always competing between them to touch your bump and feel their new “sibling”. After all those little ones passed through, you were happy to see them play around. You see in their faces, the future of that community like flowers blooming after a long winter.

“mother, mother!”

A little girl grabs the hem of your silky dress, trying to get you attention and climb up to your lap, followed by other three kids who fight for their places. Noticing the mess they could make, Alucard grabs the bowl you hold and tries to calm down the hectic little ones.

“Woah, woah, calm down, Delia, Elek. Let your mother breath.”

He adverts the two sassiest ones with his firm wet warm tone, gently pulling them away as they chitter.

“But father Alucard, I want to feel the baby!”

They argue and you can’t resist to their pouty faces, sensitized by your mood changes you intervene into Alucard’s rebuke, accepting their little excited hands to touch your bump. Your husband doesn’t protest back, he knows how stubborn you are and how these children love you, but as you allow Delia to climb up onto your lap, he can’t help but feel apprehensive the girl would make too much pressure over your belly. You can see the disappointed expression in her face as she roams her palm around your stomach but isn’t able to feel nothing.

“The baby is sleeping now.”

You whisper, tilting up her little chin and smiling pacifically. Alucard admires your ability to calm down these children, always so patient and warm. Delia seems to understand the situation and climbs down from your lap, turning to her little friends and communicating the state of your baby. Still, the kids wouldn’t give up and keep fighting for your attention. Alucard knows that gently pushing them away wouldn’t do much good and gives up, so he lets it be. Sypha, noticing your discomfort calls one the children’s name and says:

“why don’t you take little Simon to play around a little, Delia? Hey, but don’t allow him to eat any frog!”

She adverts as the little girl gives up on pesting you and quickly takes your nephew’s hand, guiding him off from Sypha’s lap.

“nor any cricket or moth!”

“Alright, aunt Sypha!”

The small group of children leaves the four adults alone, in a mass of giggling and screaming mess. You can breathe finally, laying your head over Alucard’s shoulder and watching them move away, secretly hoping your baby takes after you and your husband, and doesn’t come to be so hectic like their future peers. Chatting with your friends about your adventures and about parenthood, most of the conversations end up with mocking Trevor. You guys are really taking advantage of his intoxicated state to make fun of him. The weather is pleasant and the crackling fire sounds relax you.

You hate it, but a snort leaves your throat when one of the children approach again, rushing towards Alucard this time at least. The little boy has in his face the expression of the messenger of a king, and speaks while panting, leaving Alucard slightly worried. You fear something bad has happened, as well.

“father Alucard, Greta wants to talk to you.”

The request was not urgent or a life or death case, but the woman’s name has sent you some discomfort into your heart. It’s not like you hate Greta: she is not as close as Sypha is to you, but she is still a friend and you recognize the importance she has to the community, yet you can’t help but feel insecure whenever she is around. Even though it’s been two years since you and Adrian are together, even though you are pregnant with his child.

The blonde man places a quick kiss on your cheek, swearing he will come back as soon as possible and stands up, guided by the child towards the house Greta awaits for him. You observe him adjusting the collar of his shirt as he approaches, and you see Greta come out through the door. Even from meters afar, you notice and admit how gorgeous she looks in that traditional dress, her dark hair and bronze skin glowing under the moonlight, and the wind seems to bring her perfume to you. Almost if it was teasing your jealousness and provoking your feelings.

The leader greets Alucard with a tight hug and in this moment your heart slightly sinks. Ruminating about their possible conversation topic, you convince yourself she is just thanking him for the support he offered during these two years, and not complimenting his beautiful amber eyes or his soft blonde locks you combed yourself. She drags him to inside the small house, followed by other two villagers.

Your fists close, you start to bounce your leg in anxiety and Sypha who is much an observer, places her hand gently on yours and leans in, looking at you with tenderness:

“Y/N, calm down. He is going to talk to the elder ones. You have nothing to worry about. Greta isn’t stealing your man.”

She speaks in a laid-back tone, softly caressing your hand. You turn to face your friend but you can’t contain the concerned expression. Sypha chuckles a bit, not mocking at you, but finding your feeling extremely valid. You protest:

“I-I am not jealous, Sypha. I just---“

You can’t find better words to describe your feeling, so you just give in to Sypha’s moral lesson.

“You are jealous, Y/N. I can tell it by the pout in your face. But you know what? That’s completely understandable, dear friend. You are going through a lot of changes all over your body, it’s pretty normal.”

She leans in a little more and whispers in tone of secret:

“when I was pregnant, i argued with Trevor about anything. Even ale itself made me feel jealous of him”

Your friend takes your hand once again and continues:

“what you need to know, is that Alucard loves you no matter what. It wasn’t Greta who held him every night when his nightmares tormented him. It wasn’t Greta who took care of him at his lowest, my dear. Adrian loves you and he doesn't hide it"

You know Sypha meant every word, but why did you feel like Alucard would eventually get tired of you? Why did you think Greta would charm him with her strong sense of leadership and athletic phisique? You try to focus on something else ignoring the burning jealousy increasing and consuming your brain and on Sypha's trying to cheer you up.

You finally see Alucard step out from the cabin he entered with the leader of the village, his beautiful face beams with happiness as he chats something unhearable. Greta pulls him closer to where other young women beautifully dressed in those tradicional patterns organize themselves to start the dancing, he is probably greeting them.

The young men start playing the instruments, and the ladies dance in the rhythm. Seeing your husband idly moving his shoulders, you expect for the worst to happen. Greta takes him by his hand and starts teaching him how to move smoothly like the dancers, twirling around and expecting him to do the same. Adrian doesn't give a single glance at where you are sitting, he seems to be hypnotized by the moment.

You stand up and feel Sypha's tight grip on your wrist. You look down at her as she asks softly:

"Where are you going"

"I need to pee"

You force a smile and even if it was your intention, Sypha knew you were distancing for other motive. But she doesn't intervene, though. She just releases your wrist and focus on Trevor who seems to be in an alcoholic catalepsy by her side.

You walk towards the latrine behind the village, holding up the hem of dress so it wouldn't get stuck in the ivies underneath. Leaning against the wooden thin wall of the cabine, you feel an increasing heat take over your face and thick tears drop down from your eyes. The music of the festival sounds distant, but you can hear the people's laughing and cheering.

The crickets and night birds seem to be the only spectators of your breakdown until you hear a hoarse, unfamiliar voice approaching you.

"Why are you crying, beautiful lady?"

You pull up your head from the wall, turning to where the voice comes. The light of a torch reveals the silhouette of a man who limps towards you, speaking in an alcohol intoxicated voice.

"A beautiful lady like you shouldn't be here, all alone. Did you know the nightcreatures are still around?"

He laughs in a mischevious tone, spitting on the ground. Getting closer and closer, he sees your face and his eyes widen up, a smirk forms again in his face:

"Are you the dhampir's wife?"

You've never seen that man at the village, he has been here due to the festival, you guess. You gulp, shortly nodding your head:

"Y-yes, mister."

The man stays in silence for a while, his eyes roaming through your body like he he was chosing a piece of meat until they linger on your belly.

"You are pregnant! You are carrying that evil's seed! Your husband's race only brought disgrace to this land. This thing you carry in your womb is cursed, it has a cursed blood just like it's genitor. You are nothing but catter for that demon to spread his offspring"

Your heart sinks at the tone he speaks to you, his intoxicated breath stinging in your nose as he approaches. You can't move, your body freezes as he says:

"I will put an end on it"

He completes with a sly grin, spitting on the ground again:

"And insert mine inside this pretty belly of yours"

You try to run, but the man grabs you by your middle and starts to run his filthy hands across your cleavage. Where is Alucard? You stood with him during this thundery years and when you need him most, he is entertaining himself with Greta. You fear for your child as the man's fingers press deeper against your skin.

"If you screm, it's gonna be worse. They can't hear you"

The man whispers and all you can do is whimper.

All the while, Sypha watches the movement of people, the colors of the dancers' dresses twirling and the instruments sounds echoing to inside the forest. It's been 5 minutes and you didn't came back. She fears leaving you alone was a bad idea.

Her attention turns to Alucard who after chatting with the villagers and receiving their grateful compliments, happily heads to the bench eager to reunite with you. His face drastically changes noticing only Sypha (and a dozing off Trevor) are in there.

"Where is Y/N?"

He asks the woman, a concerned expression in his face, and he could see a slight frown or worry in Sypha's forehead, but she didn't want to alarm him by mentioning her concern.

"She went to the latrines minutes ago"

For a while, Alucard feels a little upset with your friend. She shouldn't have let you go on your own. He stays in silence for a while, deciding if he should go after you.

Your vision gets foggy by the tears, and you can't tell if the music stopped or you are just falling out of consciousness by the terror, but as the sounds of instruments finally fade completly, you scream in agony, hoping someone can hear you plead. Hoping Alucard could hear your plead.

Alucard's pupils shrink as he hears your recognizable voice and before Sypha could even ask him if he heard that too, he desappears in a figure darker than night, smoothly directing itself to where the sound of you came from. Sypha rushes after him, already closing her fists, ready to use her powers.

The drunken man slides his hand down to your womb, roughly pressing his thumbs onto your skin. You groan, tears falling down your cheeks. He is going to take the life of your so expected puiuţ.

The trees and people speed distorted as Alucard in his fog shape rushes in your rescue. His heart is filled with an unnatural rage, something he never felt before as he sees that filthy bastard hurting his beloved. Something similar to what his father might felt.

The dhampir materializes in front of the man, pushing him with anger against the stone wall of a house, the bastard couldn't even tell what was going on until he feels Alucard's piercering eyes, red as flames staring into his and his sharp fangs so close to his neck as he hisses like a serpent.

He was about to take his life when a sharp disc of ice cuts the bastard's skin. Alucard swiftly looks back and sees Sypha rushing towards you as you fall on your knees, sobbing. His attention then turns back to the man who feels the dhampir's fangs almost touching his throat.

"I am not marking this date so important for the villagers with your filthy blood. But get to know: if you touch my wife once again, i open your abdomen and wrap your guts around a tree with you alive."

This words doesn't seem to be spoken by your sweet Alucard. For a while, it feels like his father's anger for human kind took his mind and manifested phisically using his body.

He releases the drunk who limps florest inside and his eyes shift back to it's beautiful amber pigmentation, now filled with tears as he sees you broken on the ground attached to Sypha's shoulder, sobbing in shock.

"Shh... it's everything alright now, Y/N. He is gone"

Your friend rubs your back soothingly and helps you to stand up, but your arm never leaves hers until Alucard approaches, stretching his arms open to embrace you.

"Y/N! I am so sorry. I've failed you"

"H-he tried to kill our puiuţ..."

You whine and he rests his chin on top of your head, holding you tighter. He couldn't save his mother years ago, he couldn't save his father from his own madness. If he lost you to such an avoidable way, he couldn't forgive himself.

Sypha's heart sinks seeing her two friends in such a broken state. She hugs you both tightly and recomforts you, guiding you back to the festival.

No one of you including Trevor who was sleeping to the lullaby of alcohol had mood to continue in the village that night, going home was the only option. Your friends would sleep in the castle.

You didn't exchange a word way back to home until you silently opened the doors of your chambers and slowly slipped off from your dress. In the oval mirror, you could spot the two marks caused by the agressor's hands. A lump forms in your throat again, it's been q while since you don't feel your child, you fear the worst happened.

Alucard cames in, wrapping his arms around you though he hesitated for a while. He kisses your cheek and kneals down in front of you, pressing his ear against your belly.

"Can you hear it? The heartbeat... can you still hear anything?"

You speak, trying your best to not to cry being so aprehensive about his answer. He lingers a little, shifting his position and lowing down his breath.

"I can hear it."

He looks up at you, a sigh of relieve leaves your body.

"Our puiuţ is safe."

Alucard stands up after placing a kiss on your belly and wraps his arms around you, wiping away your relieved tears. You hug him tightly, sobs muffled by his chest and his tears fall over your hair as well.

"That was my fault"

You silently climb onto bed after calming down from the overwhelming night you had, and after minutes, he finally breaks the silence.

"It was my fault. If you or our baby got hurt, it would be my fault"

You didn't want to rub salt into the wound though you knew the incident was directly linked to the fact Alucard left you. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you listen to his apologize.

"I should have known you would be pissed off with me because of Greta, but it was not my intention. Forgive me, darling. I promise i will never leave your side ever again"

He turns to face you with those droopy amber eyes, tears tangled between his long eyelashes and he blinks for them to follow their flow. You cup Alucard's cheek and gives him a ressuring smile. You couldn't be mad at him.

"Accepted"

Seeing Alucard have another breakdown was the last thing you wanted to see. He wraps his arms around you, hand resting on your belly like a shield as you sleep in a deep slumber, lulled by the wind knocking on the window.

[tobythetrashyartist]

Spot art I made for @thirteenthhr 's fic for the BOTW Journey of Rememberance Zine! If you want to read the story, be sure to check the zine! ;D

You can download it over here for free! Please check out the other artists, writers, and musicians on the zine!

[elucienweekofficial]

Instagram ・ AO3 Collection ・ Twitter ・ Event Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who participated in Day 1 of Elucien Week!

We did our best to keep track of all of the tumblr contributions below, but if we missed anyone or made any mistakes please assume best intentions and kindly reach out to one of our mods! 🌸🦊

-

📝Fics, drabbles, and poetry:

In Rememberance of Regret by @aldbooks

Glimpses of Maybe Tomorrow by @avabrynne

A Warrior of the Mind by @starfall-spirit

Elucien Hunger Games AU by @bee-the-bell

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why by @foundress0fnothing

Fated (Day 1 Mini) by @onlyinmymiiiind

ACOWAR (Elucien's Version) by @crazy-ache

Just A Tug by @yaralulu

Perennial by @zenkindoflove

Dreams of a Seer by @ennawrite

The Cauldron by @shadowqueenjude

What Do You Know About Love? by @the-lonelybarricade

A Heart of Gold by @jules-writes-stories

Long Live by @separatist-apologist

Watch It Glow by @cauldronblssd

Karma Is My Boyfriend by @rosanna-writer

maybe these lights'll take you home by @writtenonreceipts

Sight Beyond Fate by @sonics-atelier

Day one: Fated Poem by @stargirlie25

Something About April by @starsreminisce

Fated by @clockwork-ashes

Fates Intertwined by @xtaketwox

Sun On A String by @booksnwriting

Fated- Elucien Week Day 1 by @shadowisles-writes

Chance Encounters by @lady-sunbeam

Secret Letters by @xaliceatlasx

🎨Art:

In The Hands of Fate by @queercontrarian

meet me in the afterglow comissioned by @lucienarcheron from artist @toastyrobos

Elucien stained glass mural by @works-of-heart

“𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆.” comissioned by @cauldronblssd and @moonpatroclus from artist @/jaoies

Fated Art by @artedeabs

Mirrored Suffering comissioned by @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade from artist @sassyhobbits

“Don’t just leave her on the damned floor!” by @velidewrites

Forever Happily Married comissioned by @foxylady13 from artist @/pinkishmalina

Day 1 "Fated" by @brielyasmin

Elucien Wedding by @lamija-v

Elucien Portrait comissioned by @gwynrieldefenseatty from artist @carol-pisarro

Once Upon a Time by @laxibbeb

a single thread of gold tied me to you by @jadedbugart

Elain & Lucien’s fated future in the Day Court comissioned by @honeybeegarden from artist @majuandrad

a vision of Elain's future comissioned by @lulufoxlainfawn from artist @/cedakotes

Lucien and Elain by @eburnsillustrations

Fated Elucien Art comissioned by @foreverinelysian, @amandapearls. and @acourtdelaluna from artist @/Adamszkiart

Elucien week Day 1: Fated by @nesta-apologist

Day One — Fated by @oristian

Fated/Orbit by @scrawlandspirits

🎶Misc:

ELAIN & ELUCIEN: FATED Moodboard by @octobers-veryown

Elucien Week Day 1: Fated Moodboard by @climbthemountain2020

Destin Enchanté Moodboard by @fieldofdaisiies

Elucien Fate Analysis by @acourtofthought

Elucien 🌻 Moodboard by @lomlloll

Worth The Wait: An Elucien Week Playlist by @areyoudreaminof

fox and fawn playlist by @oristian

"Mine. You are mine and i am yours. MATE " Moodboard by @zoya-nikolai

Elucien Week Day 1: Fated Moodboard by @iheartfjords

Elucienweek2024 Mix Vol.1 by @sadiegirl2021

the tortured mates department elucien playlist by @vanserrass

“Are we together in every life?” by @oristian

They are inevitable, by the Fates by @bookishwithathought

Intertwined Hearts | An Elucien Playlist by @lainalit

-

Thank you as well to everyone who coloured today's Coloring Page!

Fated coloring page by @sadiegirl2021

Fated coloring page by @cauldronblssd

Fated coloring page by @shadowqueenjude

Fated coloring page by @yaralulu

Fated coloring page by @olenvasynyt

Fated coloring page by @the-lonelybarricade

-

If we missed one of your contributions, kindly reach out to one of our event runners!

Header art by @laxibbeb

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Legend: G -> General Audiences M -> Mature (violence, gore, abuse) E -> Explicit (smut!) DEAD DOVE -> Read the tags carefully

> FIC MASTERLIST <

Mi Querida Esposa || best friend to lovers! | G | fluff | "Amor a Alejandro" challenge |

Tu Querido Esposo (follow up on the one above ^) | G | fluff + smut |

Riding a Vaquero. || Tinder!AU | E | crack + smut |

Who wears the pants. || husband!John | E | smut | DEAD DOVE |

Confidence. || young!John | E | smut |

Three. Four. Five. || toxic!husband!John | E | smut , humour | "O, Captain!" challenge |

Lost in Ikea. || strangers! | G | hurt/comfort | "O, Captain!" challenge |

Temporary Fix. || cheater!Johnny x fat!reader | E | smut | DEAD DOVE |

Temporary Fix v.2 || skirt chaser!Johnny x fat!reader | E | smut | DEAD DOVE |

Met His Match. || Tinder AU | E | smut | collab with @crashtestbunny |

Talk. || baby daddy!Kyle | M~ | fluff | DEAD DOVE |

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x reader x Ghost | M | smut |

Breeding? || Merman!Gaz (Mermay 2024) | E | smut |

Again. || Merman!Gaz pt. 2 (Mermay 2024) | E | smut | DEAD DOVE |

Quiet Confidence. || ONS!Gaz | E | smut |

Bereavement || Ghost | M | angst |

Sleep. || Ghost x f!reader | G | fluff , angst |

Boxing AU || Ghost x Soap | M | fluff |

Ojalá || stripper!Ghost x f!reader | E | smut~ |

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x reader x Ghost | M | smut |

Bait and Switch. || victim!Ghost x scammer!reader | M | crack , dark? | DEAD DOVE |

Regret & Rememberance || grieving!Ghost | M | angst , dark? | DEAD DOVE |

Mine. || brother's best friend!Ghost | E | smut | "Ghost Challenge" |

Washing up. || merman!Ghost (Mermay 2024) | E | smut | DEAD DOVE |

> COMING SOON <

Don't cry. || rogue!Nikto x fat f!reader | M > E | dark | DEAD DOVE |

> HEADCANONS <

Simon is a natural caretaker | G | fluff |

When you're feeling sick. | G | fluff |

Ghost as the 141 Captain. | M | angst |

Ghost's Skull | M | angst | DEAD DOVE |

The 141 Shopping | G | crack / humour |

The 141 on Holiday | G | crack / fluff |

Retired Husband Price | G | fluff |

[quin-ns]

Mastermind (JJ Maybank x Reader)

I was so sure that I had a request for jj + mastermind by taylor swift from when I was taking those prompts… and now I can’t find the ask. either it disappeared or I’m delusional but I wrote it anyway so here enjoy

ik it’s a normal fic during the horny month but I’m stuck on literally everything soooo

The first night you saw him, blonde hair and a winning smile, you knew you wanted him. It felt like fate that you would end up in the same room at the same time. You were from different sides of the island, you might’ve never met him if it weren’t for the fact that the party invite went to everyone.

That first night, you talked to him for hours. Like a piece on a chess board, you maneuvered yourself into his purview. You weren’t going to approach him outright, no… no, you had to be clever about this. You made it a coincidence that you ran into him, and talked with him as if you hadn’t already planned what you were going to say.

Maybe he didn’t realize you were a Kook, or maybe he didn’t care, but he flirted with you. You were sure of it even before he touched your hand, but that made you certain. The fuse had been lit, and there was no putting it out now. Even before you knew his name, you knew he was going to be yours.

Although, you liked having a name to put to the face that resided in your dreams. JJ didn’t quite leave your thoughts, even in sleep.

It wasn’t accidental when you ran into him again a week later. You heard from someone, who heard from someone else, that his best friend was throwing a kegger at the Boneyard.

You guessed since it was his best friend, JJ would be there, so you made sure you were too. And you were right. Good thing you’d worn your favorite dress.

When he saw you, you smiled, and JJ walked right up to you. You’d left a lasting impression, just like you had planned.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted like he was trying to be casual, but he seemed excited to see you.

“Hey—JJ, right?” you asked, as if he hadn’t been on your mind for days.

“You remembered,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

You smiled and teasingly said, "Do I get a prize?”

It made him laugh, and it was just as lovely as you remembered.

“You do, actually.” He extended a red solo cup towards you, and you raised your brows a little, impressed. “First place name-rememberer…” he trailed off as you took it, face scrunching a little. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

You chuckled, then sipped your drink. You saw the way he watched you, knowing what you were doing. When you lowered your cup, you couldn’t help but smirk.

“I wouldn’t say lame. I’ll go with cute.”

The relieved smile confirmed everything you knew as you began to lay the groundwork for this relationship.

At the kegger you flirted all night, just as you had the first night, and when he asked for your number, you gave it to him.

From there, the dominos cascaded in a line, just as you had set them up.

You saw him around, and you met up when planned, and soon enough, you were official. It was all exactly as you had designed.

Months of pure happiness with JJ passed, and you knew you’d made the best decision of your life. Not to brag, but felt like a mastermind.

Finally, one night, you decided to tell him on a whim.

“That first night we met… I knew I wanted to be with you,” you confessed, wrapped in JJ arms as you laid facing one another. You smiled a little to yourself. “And I… I made sure it happened.”

A smirk spread across JJ’s face. That look told you everything; he knew the entire time.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

can i request a johnny fic where he remembere the little things abt fem reader?

Summary: In which Johnny remembers the little things about

Warnings: none

Author's Note: guys is it js me or does edu Santos kinda look like Johnny? (I might just be losing my mind)

Johnny was an amazing boyfriend. But he always had a lot on his mind. There was very few times where he wanted to talk about himself so he ended up just learning more and more about you.

One day he showed up at your house unannounced asking if you wanted to go out. You were obviously excited but decided to tease him.

“What if I was busy, Johnny? What would you have done?” You smiled, stepping out of your house to walk with him.

“You're never busy around this time” He states simply and you give him a confused look.

“How would you know?”

“You told me?”

You mind dates vaguely back to when you told him that you're always so bored around this time and you go open mouth.

“You remember that?” You asked, shocked but rather pleased. He shrugs and walks ahead, a bit shy. You jog to catch up to him and he slows.

“Don't do that, it's not good for your leg.”

“That too?!” You remember when you complained your leg was hurting and you were genuinely shocked he still remembered.

“You said it every other day, how could I forget?” He teased and you pushed his head away, embarrassed.

“New perfume?” He asked grabbing the hand that pushed him.

“Oh my god! What don't you remember?!” You smiled and he returned it, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little gold necklace. It was gorgeous and certainly very hard to get for a greaser.

“Happy birthday, beautiful.”

[cristinacclearwater]

Hey! I was looking for two Batfics on AO3 but couldn't remember what they're called.. I found them!!!

Fic #1 - the YJ goes MIA for 5 years in space and the story kinda revolves around the aftermath..

Answer - Those Still Here by Lilac_Demetrius

Fic #2 - Tim was kidnapped and none knew except YJ, who were looking. The fic is about BatFam looking for Tim and later Tim's recovery at Kent Household where he got kidnapped again and then he is recovers at Wayne Manor.

Answer - Call to Rememberance by Raliena

Thanks all!!! Many hugs and kisses!!! ❤️❤️🥰

[nicollini]

I remembere this awesome fic from @hailqiqi the other day. This picture is not related, but I still really like the idea of Lance just carrying Pidge like this.

[an-interview-with-j1janedoe]

" AN INTERVIEW WITH URANIUM CITY'S PRIZED 'WRAITH.' "

(Ignore how the image text & the title text thing are slightly different I'm tired)

Yello, I'm back with another askblog! I didn't want to clog up my other Jane Doe/Penny Askblog.. so you get this! — @watermel0ns-dumb-cringe

[ALL ART USED BELONGS TO ME ; DO NOT REPOST. NSFW/PR0SHIP DNI.]

Format looks like this ⬇️

[⚙️]— "J-1 / Jane Doe."

" .. Must I be required for this? "

☆ RULES —

- No NSFW. Suggestive jokes are fine every now and then, but be wary for the person running this blog is a MINOR.

- Have basic human decency, please. This is an AU blog, being (partially) separate from canon. Ships most likely won't be included- aside from subtle hinting & already canon things. <3

- I'm completely fine with spamming asks just don't spam the same thing over & over.

J-1 doesn't have a larger role in the Target Aquired story yet— but you can read it here if ya want.

☆ IMPORTANT NOTE —

[May contain triggering/sensitive topics & imagery. Examples may include violence, blood/gore, & character death. Posts will have a TW/CW when necessary.]

FAQ under the cut

☆ FAQ —

Q: "What is the Target Aquired AU?"

A: Basic storyline for now is that that Penny Lamb was the only one to die in the Cyclone Roller Coaster Disaster, with the rest of the choir recovering in the hospital. She remains unidentified.

Before her funeral can be held, the unidentified body vanishes from its grave, the remaining alive members of the Saint Cassian Chamber Choir being found dead just after being released from the hospital.

Now having a robotic head, J-1 (Jane) essentially becomes something similar to The Terminator. Minus the time travel shenanigans. Not much is known about her other than the fact of Uranium City's residents slowly being picked off once they unknowingly are selected as a 'target' assigned to kill.

But maybe... Jane wasn't supposed to end up this way. Maybe she wasn't meant to be brought back as a killing machine. After all, a lot can happen when an incomplete 'machine' ends up in the wrong hands.

Nobody knows who she is, seemingly. Neither does she— her memories are gone. Programming blocking her feelings as to not get attached to 'targets,' and to not defy said programming pick those she's assigned to off.

However, J-1 seems.. a tad reluctant on the hunt for her most recent target. Is it rememberance? Is it pity? Or is it something else? Who knows. Her 'target?'

A painly familiar teenager. Perhaps someone she once knew before her death.

I'll leave the rest undiscovered for now. :) (fun fact, this doubles as a fic as well! .. even if it's from the pov of someone else.)

Q: "What are 'Targets?'"

A: Self explanatory. People that J-1 are supposed to hunt down & murder. She tends to leave odd symbols & writing at the scenes of the crimes.

Q: "Where can I read this?/Is there some kind of larger story?"

A: you can find it here! As mentioned earlier. :)

Q: "Who runs this blog?"

A: Yours truly! (@watermel0ns-dumb-cringe)

Q: "Who is he?"

A: ERROR. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

[⚙️]—

" That's classified information. "

[strawberfolk]

Redo's and Rememberance

A snip pit of the fic !'m writing that's heavily based on @randomhedgie SWTD Au!

(Cut from the middle)

“Gregor I wasn't stationed near the helipad yesterday, I was in engineering?” 

The rig shook violently, followed by the roar of screeching metal as the rig swayed. The crates slammed into his shoulder. His foot slipped when another explosion shook the rig, he saw archie holding onto the helicopter.   

“Gregor? What's wrong-” 

Caz is running towards him, when did he get here? Gregors hands are slipping. air is whipping at his face the ocean waves roar in his ears, he’s falling and then- 

“GREGOR”  

He chokes, his lungs filling with water air faster than his brain can catch up. The wind whips at his face as he falls, his body crashing to the floor. He doesn't know when his legs gave out under him or his hands gripped the sides of his head to try and muffle the roar of rushing blood in his ears 

[lisbeth-kk]

In rememberance of D-Day, the remarkable PatPrecieux has written a sweet but also a thought-provoking fic with emotional end notes. I nudge you towards AO3 to read 🌹80 Years🌹

Lest we forget 🌹

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @7-percent @a-victorian-girl @raina-at

@meetinginsamarra @peanitbear @ninasnakie @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler