#he died. i think. right around when she met seven. right before. seven never met him. so she was. what they met in 7th grade?

[arlathen]

i see “your parents actually werent around much” and say “that isnt angsty enough and doesnt channel my personal trauma in a way i want”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 69 (More Spooky Party Time!)

With the party still going strong, Conrad greeted Bella with a smile. "Mrs. Goth, thanks for coming."

"I love a good Spooky Day party. Thanks for the invitation."

"I wanted to apologize for how uptight I was the day Heather went...travelling in your attic."

"Grimmie told me you two called him for a chat. I'd say I hate to say I told you so, but I don't hate to say it at all."

"I'm coming around to some of these ideas you think are completely normal, but-"

"There's nothing normal about them, and that's what interests me."

Conrad smiled. "All my life I've been smacked by reality, but that night at your seance table was the first time I've ever really experienced the paranormal. It freaked me out."

"Have you never even seen a ghost?"

He shook his head. "Just Heather's cat. I mean, thinking I hear them is another story..."

Bella eyed him sympathetically. "You don't have to wait for the Ambrosia Society to send you back to see the mentors, you know. You could always go on your own, if you're curious. I haven't put the table away in the attic yet, and it's always nice when you and Heather come by."

"Thanks Mrs. Goth. I'll think about it."

"Anytime, Detective Gordon. My paranormal exploration days are long past me, but the world beyond our own is full of strange mysteries I believe should be shared. Anything you want to know, all you need to do is ask." She smiled, taking a cookie as she stood from the table. She passed Heather on her way to the living room. "Wonderful party, dear. And your costume is fabulous!"

Heather grabbed a plate of leftover spaghetti with 'Dulce sauce' (her second that same day!) and joined Conrad and her parents at the kitchen table. "River told us what you two went through recently," her mother said. "We just wanted to let you both know we're sorry."

"It's okay, Mrs. Nesbitt. We've been to a grief counselor and I've really made a lot of progress on some things I've dealt with since the deaths of my parents. Heather's a lot stronger than me."

"I never had to go through what you went through. My parents did, though. When my mother was seven, her grandmother died and she grew up in foster care."

"Have you ever wondered about them?" asked Conrad. "What they might have done, had they lived?"

Daisy nodded. "When I was younger, absolutely. But then I met Neal and we had four amazing kids, and I wasn't looking for my family anymore. I had them."

Neal smiled at his wife. "Our life together has been pretty fantastic. Now we've got grandkids and in-laws coming out of our ears, and I found my brother again. I never thought I could have all this when my parents died."

"I love the way that sounds, and I want that," he said. Heather listened, waiting for the but. This time, he stopped short, and they both smiled.

Guests finally began to leave around one in the morning. Hazel and Nicola fell asleep upstairs, and Conrad fell asleep quickly in the bedroom, but Heather tidied a few dishes and summoned Grim again.

They met outside under a clear sky full of stars. "When he talked about having a family tonight, he didn't say he wasn't ready. I don't want to assume what it does mean, but I think he's working through his parents' death and I wanted to thank you for helping us this morning."

"You're welcome. Do you know how many people have bothered to summon me just to say thank you? Putting on all these robes and chains is a pain in my hollow neck, but it's worth it just to hear a bit of gratitude."

"Bella Goth was right about you, Grim. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon, and not for any reaping."

Grim gave a respectful nod before slamming his white staff to the dirt and disappearing out of sight. Heather showered and got into bed, snuggling close and waking Conrad from a light sleep. "I know I'm out of uniform, but if you still need me to deliver your mail..."

Heather grinned, capping off a successful party with Conrad under their brand new bedcovers, identical to the ones that burned earlier that day. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Seven

Day: Thursday, October 5th Time: 11:00 AM EST

"Andrew hates her, you know. Andrew's not really big on the idea of Aaron's happiness, see? So if Aaron likes Katelyn, Andrew doesn't want him to have her. Andrew might smile awful bright but he is a master of childish spite." "That doesn't make sense," Neil said. "It's complicated," Nicky said, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't really Dan and Matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you." He looked over his shoulder again. "I told you Aunt Tilda gave Andrew up, right? That's only half of it. Truth is she put both of them in the system at first. One week later she changed her mind."

"They know she gave them both up?" Neil asked. "When Andrew's foster mother called to set up that meet-and-greet, she asked Aunt Tilda how only one of them ended up in the system. Aunt Tilda told her, and Aaron heard it on the upstairs line." Nicky gestured up as if indicating Tilda's bedroom. "I don't know why the hell Andrew's foster family told him, but yeah, he knows. I'm thinking that's why he wouldn't talk to Aaron when Aaron wrote to him. He was—justifiably, I think—pissed off." "But it's not Aaron's fault," Neil said. "It was their mother's decision." "That's Andrew for you: making sense since never." Nicky spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Finding Andrew again was a turning point for Aaron in all the worst ways. Aunt Tilda moved them cross-country, started drinking more than ever, and got heavy-handed with Aaron. Aaron got into all kinds of trouble in some sort of traumatized rebellion. He took her drugs and got into fights at school and in general grew up to be a bit of an asshole. Mom wrote me about it when I was in Germany because she was worried about him. The only good thing Aaron did in South Carolina was play Exy, and he only picked that up so games would get him out of Aunt Tilda's house. Then Dad found out about Andrew and began this years-long campaign to bring Andrew home. Told you last time, right? He wore Aunt Tilda down until she agreed to take Andrew in, then talked to the courts and Children's Services and Andrew's last foster family. He met Andrew, who apparently wasn't at all interested in a triumphant return with his mother, and introduced Aaron to Andrew. That's when things started moving. Andrew suddenly got motivated. He started behaving and toeing the line and got released on early parole about a year later." "Andrew decided he wanted a brother after all," Neil said. "So what went wrong?" "Aunt Tilda died, and Aaron blames Andrew." "Did Andrew do it?" "The night Aunt Tilda died, she and Aaron got in a fight. That's how Mom and Dad finally found out Aunt Tilda was beating on Aaron. He showed up at their place with fresh bruises and cuts. Dad called Aunt Tilda over to sort things out, but she didn't stick around long. She took Aaron and left. They didn't make it home. She went over the median into oncoming traffic and wasn't wearing her seatbelt.... It wasn't Aaron in the car. Aaron was standing in for Andrew at a study session. That was before Andrew was on his drugs, so it was a pretty easy act for Aaron to pull off. He didn't know why Andrew asked him to do it until the police called. I still don't know what happened, if Aunt Tilda panicked when she realized which son was with her or if they were fighting or if it was intentional, but... It's not like Aaron liked her, but she was his mother, you know? And Aaron never got to fix things with her, never got to understand why she was so messed up or why she messed them up so bad. Aaron can't accept that she's gone. He misses her. He can't forgive Andrew, and Andrew doesn't understand or care about how much it hurt Aaron. Stalemate."

He spoke slowly, giving himself time to think and to bleach the grief from his voice. "Andrew did care. That's what went wrong."

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

[sayafics]

Dance of Shadows - Chapter I

Hi guys, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this series!

I know the teaser was an excerpt of another chapter after Aemma died, but I wanted to add some context/depth to Daemon and Saenyra's relationship before that, since there's such a long gap in the timeline before he returns to Kings Landing after beating the Crabfeeder.

I hope I got the timeline right, and I do hope this lives up to your expectations! Please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs are appreciated <33 thank you to everyone who showed love on tha teaser excerpt!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra had just spent the last few hours lounging in the library, browsing through books ranging from histories of the Seven Kingdoms and how they came to be, to the myths and legends of dragons and other beings which lurked the lands they inhabited and the seas they wished to rule, to charming scrawls of love written in between lines of literature and poetry.

She had finally found a book she was content with, eager to return to her room before divulging its contents. If she were to hurry, she was sure she would be able to finish before it was time for dinner.

With the book held in one hand, Saenyra used the other to gather the skirt of her dress. Whilst her sister preferred to adorn herself in gowns of black and red - the designs grand yet mature for her age, Saenyra deigned to dress herself in shades which resembled the skies on a warm autumn eve or the sun on a bright summer's day. She would parade around the Keep in hues of yellows and blues, greens and pinks - whatever it was that her heart so desired.

As she made her way through the Keep, eyes roving around the walls as she treaded through corridors and weaved past bowing knights and respectful Lords, she turned the corner only to bump into a solid figure.

Saenyra stumbled back, her hand letting go of her skirt to brush against her forehead as she took in the figure in front of her, a slight pout on her lips. Her eyes found her smudged reflection glinting in a shining and tainted armour, gleaming in the light of a new day but stained with the signs of a bloodied battle.

Her eyes continued their path until they met a set of familiar violet hues.

Oh.

Before her stood Daemon Targaryen, looking as though he had slaughtered an army single-handedly. His eyes were bright with the thrill of a good fight. He looked lively, and if she peered closely enough, she could see how he trembled with unbound energy that coursed through his veins.

At the sight of his niece, the one so quiet and quaint who looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, Daemon found an unfamiliar softness seep into his features, "niece, my apologies."

He rarely saw his little niece around the Keep when he did come, he preferred to keep company with whores and dragons.

It was with poorly hidden determination that Rhaenyra would find him, trailing his every step.

When Rhaenyra had found him before his bloodbath in the city, he had gifted her a necklace. A piece of shared ancestry, a piece of home. Now, glancing at Saenyra's bare throat, he wished it had adorned her instead.

Daemon was not one for apologies, even Saenyra was aware of that. So, to hear the words brought a heat upon her cheeks as her gaze became down-turned, "I fear I must apologise too, dear uncle. I must have become too distracted with my thoughts."

A smirk tugged at Daemon's lips at the sight of her bashfulness, amusement colouring his features as he spoke, a teasing tone tainting his innocent words, "ah yes. I believe it is only right if you make it up to me then, don't you think?"

Daemon had never spoken to his neice in such a way, too fearful of what his brother might do. Of what he, himself, might do.

Daemon could not be the reason his darling niece shed tears. He would not forgive himself if he was the reason she were to break.

Seanyra's head had never looked up so fast, eyes flitting around the corridor as she leaned closely, as though she was sharing a secret - "of course. Only if you promise not to tell Kepa." Father.

The easy slip of High Valyrian made Daemon heady with the desire to hear it again, and his eyes burned into her at the eagerness she showed as she was desperate to make things right. His smirk grew broader at the show of her naivety, but still - he would make no fool of his sweet neice, his little 'nyra.

"Anything for my Zaldrītsos." Little Dragon.

Her heart twisted slightly at the endearment, despite the heat that flushed her body once more - although said good-naturedly, the word was a stark reminder that the only dragon the girl had was the one pumping through her blood. It was a subtle reminder of the differences between Saenyra and her sister, of how Rhaenyra has conquered a dragon and emanated a fierce and challenging nature, whilst Saenyra was simply a dragon by name.

Daemon could see how her eyes dimmed at the word, hated how her smile wavered - the Seven Kingdoms would rave about the similarities between Daemon and Rhaenyra, how the two had fire running through their veins and charging their souls, how they would burn each other to ash should they get too close. And with Saenyra, they would whisper about her lack of spark, how she didn't have the charm of a Targaryen, nor the fire of one too.

All that tied her to the Targaryen line was her silver-white hair and lilac eyes.

But a part of Daemon, a dark and repressed echo that grew louder as the days went by, found that he preferred it as such. She was a calm summer evening, a quiet winter's day.

Daemon was chaos, and Saenyra was peace.

Her voice broke him out of his reverie, "so, what is it that you want?"

There was a curious smile on her lips, her eyes searching his as she became impatient. He huffed a laugh, teeth bared in a broad grin - "I guess you shall have to wait and see."

Daemon knew what he would ask. He had been thinking of doing so from the moment he had stepped foot back in King's Landing and seen his Saenyra. She had grown tall, her hair flowing down her back is careless ruffles, flowers twisted between the intricate braids that adorned her head as a circlet rested atop her brows. Her gowns were tight fitting, the neck would swoop low, or her arms would be bare of fabric, and sometimes, if he was lucky, careful patterns would be cut into the lining of her waist to reveal the milky skin that lay underneath.

Daemon would be lying if he said a part of him hadn't grown feral at the sight, something dark and desperate coming to life within him as his desires for Saenyra grew stronger.

It was something unexpected, especially by him. He had expected, if anyone, it would be Rhaenyra he would pursue. The two were in a silent battle for the place of heir at Viserys' behest, fervent prayers that the next child Aemma gave birth to would not be a boy. So it would make sense to present a united front. To present themselves as a joint option, a better choice to the other heirs Viserys would force his wife to bear.

But Rhaenyra and Daemon had the fire of a dragon running through them, and they would ultimately burn each other and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

Daemon cleared his throat, forcing himself to stray from his traiterous thoughts and focus on his task - he had to attend the meeting with the Council, he had to reach Viserys before they filled his head with lies about Daemon - before they seeded doubt and had him sent from the Seven Kingdoms once more.

"I must take leave now, dear niece."

Daemon skirted around the girl, his golden cloak billowing behind him, the soft and bloodied material brushing against her cheek in an imitation of affection he longed to show himself. His moves were slow and sluggish as though he was hoping she'd stop him. And she did exactly that - "where are you going, Kepus?" Uncle.

He inhaled sharply at the Valyrian word, there was a frown on her lips as her head twisted in question and Daemon felt as though he would kneel for her and give all of himself right there, if she had simply asked.

Her hand came to hold his own as she tugged at his fingers. Daemon risked a glance down, eyes tracing over her nimble fingers and how they dwarfed against his own. She tugged again, "Kepus."

The word was stressed and elongated, hoping to catch the man's attention as he kept gazing off to a place far from where she could see.

"The King wants to see me," it wasn't a complete lie, but it was an easy one, "I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

She nodded, understandingly. But there was a part of her left unsure by his words, Daemon was never one to obey with such ease - always at the ready to challenge those around him, including his own brother. Even if he was King.

It seemed, however, his words were enough to snap her into a state of disinterest, she turned away from him with such ease and continued on her way, a soft "I shall see you later, then," passed over her shoulders with a friendly smile as she walked away from him.

Daemon found he could do nothing but watch.

***

Saenyra hadn't left her chambers much after her encounter with her uncle - with no dragon to tend to, and the lack of duties as a second-born and the burden of being a girl, she had no pending responsibilities. Left in the confines of her room, she made due with what she had - her books.

There was not much else to do in King's Landing, with no Kingsguard assigned to her yet, she was not free to roam the cities that belonged to her father.

Saenyra ate in her chambers, despite the call for her to join her family in her father's - were she to join, she was sure the room would be full of praises for a successful Rhaenyra - whether it was how she was getting on with her lessons with the Septa or a new dragon-riding trick mastered, or whispers of possibilities of their future son - a new heir and a new King in the making.

Anything but Saenyra.

All throughout the hours of the night, even as she laid her head to rest, her mind would tiptoe back to the voice of her uncle.

Despite all his time in the Keep, and all his trips out, Saenyra had never been able to bond with her uncle the way she wishes she had. The way Rhaenyra had.

Daemon had been the Master of Laws, the Master of Coin, and now Commander of the City Watch. And throughout it all, she had been unable to bond with her uncle in a way she was desperate for ever since she was a child. She remained oblivious to his glances and heated stares, to the dark whispers in his mind and the temptation that lurked under every passive graze and touch.

It was instead Rhaenyra who found him, who bonded with him. Who found common ground in their love for riding and dragons and violence. Rhaenyra who adored her uncle as he adored her. As everyone adored her, in a way Saenyra craved for them to cherish her.

The two would gush over dragons and tales of battles and wars, a wistful tone taking over Rhaenyra's voice as she spewed questions at her uncle whenever he dined with them, and a look of admiration would sparkle in Daemon's eyes as he answered every question with ease.

Saenyra would sit quietly, never speaking aloud unless spoken to, and even that was quite rare. So, for her uncle to say he wants something from her? It was a surprise, indeed. And a bubbling sensation of guilt began to fester as she realised that she felt excitement build at the prospect. What would Rhaenyra think? Would she be hurt? Jealous?

Saenyra was not blind to how Rhaenyra was captivated by Daemon, how she craved him and called to him. Although Daemon was both of their uncle, there was an unspoken claim placed upon him from the moment Rhaenyra was old enough to articulate her fascination with the man. A silent boundary, a whispered challenge Saenyra had never dared to overstep. And she was worried she may now.

Would he ask to take her dragon-riding? Perhaps he would ask her to steal him some lemon cakes, as he had when she was much younger? Or maybe he would ask for a favour she couldn't provide.

Perhaps, he wanted her help to get Rhaenyra something. Or to tell her something.

Saenyra wasn't blind to Daemon's own infatuation with her sister, whether it was because of her claim to the throne or her violent beauty. The man was enamoured, even if he tried to deny so.

She resigned herself to the idea of having to wait until Daemon had finally asked her whatever it was he decided, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she rolled onto her side and faced the open balcony windows, watching as the soft winds blew a quiet tune through the curtains. Her eyes traced over the dark shadows of King's Landing, her eyes finding the moon and seeking comfort in its shallow glow.

With steady breaths, she fell asleep quickly, her mind flashing with images she had long learned to ignore. What good is being a dragon dreamer when you are unable to tame one?

***

In the cities of King's Landing, Daemon had taken to throwing himself in the arms of lust as he sought out ways to expel his energy and frustration in the brothels of Silk Street.

He had been here for perhaps hours now, gyrating and grinding against the softness of his paramour. Mysaria wasn't a quiet lover, her moans drawing an audience as he pounded relentlessly, chasing a high that escaped him at every turn.

No matter how hard he tried, how much he relied on his imagination - it wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't who he needed.

The meeting with the Small Council hadn't ended badly, but Otto's reminders of his duties to the Bronze Bitch of the Vale continued to follow him. A dark reminder that although his marriage was not consumated, in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms and in the eyes of his brother, Daemon was a married man. And even if Targaryen men had taken on second wives before, he knew his brother would never accept such an ordeal.

But still, such moral obligations hadn't stopped him from chasing his pleasure in brothels and amongst whores. Yet, Mysaria's dark hair was a pitying reminder of the woman he felt no love nor lust for and so proved to be a dampener for his fun, amongst other things.

He sighed out of frustration, halting his hips as he laid his head against Mysaria's shoulders. He pulled out roughly, tugging a blanket over his naked form as he trudged towards the window in a hollowing mix of rage and despair. His eyes found the stars, seeking comfort in their luminous glow as his mind flitted over myths and legends of constellations etched into the dark sky.

Mysaria followed, consoling the man as she praised him. But her words had no effect on him, so she offered him something more instead.

"I could bring in another? Perhaps one with silver hair."

Daemon was tempted to say yes, urged to give in to his fantasies and imagine.

But it wouldn't be what he wanted. No, the whores of Silk Street - the bastards of the Targaryen line, although their hair grew white it wasn't the right shade. Too different for him to be able to pretend.

And Daemon didn't want to pretend.

Twisting his fingers and tugging strands of golden-white hair were a mere illusion for the girl he pretended he wanted.

The girl he truly desired was one he would never taint, her hair brighter and longer - the wisps of her soft, white hair were their own streaks of light, like beaming stars in the night sky.

No, it wouldn't be the same.

It wouldn't be what he wanted - what he needed.

Daemon Targaryen wanted Saenyra. But he knew he could not have her.

He would not take her, for fear of corrupting her. Of ruining her, and breaking her beyond repair.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta

[rhey-007]

Helios - Chapter 1

Father!Homelander x daughter!reader (platonic)

Summary: A fatherless girl finally meets with him after her mother's death. Little does she know that from this point on, her life will fall apart. She'd meet a lot of new, interesting and disgusting people and experience a lot of traumatizing events. Will she be able to choose the right side and take control of her own fate?

Warnings: violence, overpowered reader with mental weaknesses, family fluff

A/N: Rreader is 15 here so that makes Homelander around 33, just so you know. I made Homelander a naturally born supe. His mother died while giving birth so he was raised by his grandparents, his father was just a one night stand (still soldier boy). It's not really mentioned in the fic though so I thought I should explain it here how it is possible that him and reader's mother met when they were teens.

Helios - God of sun.

Wordcount: 4073

Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Chapter 1: Sunrise

Your mother was once in love with a wonderful boy, who wasn’t interested in girls, but her... Oh... she was his whole world, his sunshine. He would’ve done everything for her, even kill... He was just perfect. Soft blonde hair your mother liked to play with, ocean blue eyes she found herself lost in so many times, big smile with white, shining teeth, strong body and... super powers, the only thing she didn’t really like... Everything that later became your curse. They were still teens when Alice got pregnant. She had no idea how that happened as she took pills and always made your father use condoms. Maybe it was because of his powers – she thought. Maybe his sperm was just so strong... She had no idea. Even though she knew your father loved her, Allice was till afraid to tell him, afraid that he would run away, that he would hurt you... And unfortunately she was right... One day the pair was ona a walk in the forest, enjoying their time, talking and laughing happily when your mother’s stomach started to hurt beyond endurance. It worried the boy and he ultrasounded her belly after placing her down under a tree. What he saw terrified and angried him. He was furious, thinking she cheated on him, as he believed he was sterile because of his powers. The boy had no control of himself in that moment and attacked your mother before she has managed to explain, throwing her back. Her back hit a tree, and another one, and another. Every one of them breaking until she lost the speed and collapsed unconscious under one of them. It was only then that your father understood what he had just ddone that he hurt his sunshine. Frightened by it he didn’t even check if she was alive and fled, leaving the two of you alone. He later forgot about you, but he never did about your mother. His first and last true love...

Your mother told you this story on her deathbed. You didn’t know why yet, but you appreciated it later. You already knew then that the all mighty Homelander was your father, she told you and you didn’t believe at first. But when she showed you their photos and compared your powers, you believed. You watched her die of breast cancer when you were 15. You were scared of your fate but soon a strange woman walked into your life, like a guardian angel. Her name was Madelyn Stillwell, the head of an organisation called Vought, and she offered to take care of you. You weren’t sure at first but you had no better option than that. The woman took you to the Vought Tower, where you met the seven. Well... actually six as one of them was departed on a mission. You quickly became friends with The Deep and Queen Maeve, and the team welcomed you in warmly. You even got your own room there, which wasn’t in some basement nor was some kind of a laboratory as you would’ve expected. No, it was a nice, teenage friendly room. Almost the same as the one you had back home. To your surprise, almost all your stuff was there too.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

A few days passed when you finally had a chance to meet the seventh and most important member of the seven – your father, Homelander. You were ordered to join him in the meeting room after the group finished their meeting.

‘’H-Hi... dad...’’

You whispered as you slowly and hesitantly enetred the room. The man had his back turned to you, hands behind his back as he watched the town. You could already see that he was strong and powerful, just by his posture. When he heard your voice he turned around rapidly, scaring you a little. You didn’t have to say anything more for the man to recognise you.

‘’Alice?...’’

The man asked soon. You looked so much like your mother for him, although you thought otherwise. You looked like his younger, female twin. You were perfect, just as he was. That’s also why you were successful with boys, which pissed you off if you had to be honest. You looked down sadly at your mother’s name, tears filling your eyes as you remembered everything about her. You didn’t mean to cry on your first encounter but there you we’re, standing in front of the allmighty Homelander sobbing your eyes out. John noticed your sad expression and walked up to you. His hand found it’s way to your chin and slowly pulled it up, making you look at his face with a soft smile.

‘’Don’t cry little one... You still got me...’’

The man was suprised when you threw yourself at him, embracing him in a hug and letting tears fall down your cheeks and soak his costume. He didn’t complain though, he was just happy to have his Alice back in some way. He hugged you back, rubbing your back to calm you down. Soon you pulled away and wiped your eyes.

„Sorry... „

You mumbled unable to look him in the eyes.

„It's okay... Look at me”

His voice was soft yet still firm. When you finally looked up at your father, you could see the hurt in his yes, just as he could in yours. He missed Alice every day since he left. The man even tried to kill himself in the first weeks as he couldn’t live with the thought that he might have killed her. Then, Vogelbaum found him, like a guardian angel, just as Madelyn found you, and helped him come out of misery. He made him even stronger than he was. Even madder... Even crazier... Which you had no idea about yet. After a short while you broke the silence with a soft laugh as you couldn’t hold it in anymore. John doing the same, his white teeth were just as shining as your mother described them to be.

‘’Okay, enough of this sadness. Let’s go and check out if you’ll kick your old man’s ass, shall we?’’

He smiled brightly down at you and offered you his arm which you took happily and soon the two of you left to the training area.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You watched as Queen Maeve fought some guys. She looked so flawless, graceful, beautiful. Homelander's tap on your shoulder shook you out of trance.

„Margaret! I assume you already know my little ray of sunshine, Y/N? „

You walked up to the woman after she finished, your father's arm wrapped around you as he led you towards the ginger.

„Of course I do! We've been spending every dinner break together for the past few days. Still can't believe she's yours though”

The woman said with a chuckle, earning a soft, displeased frown from the blonde.

„Yeah... Anyway... I wanna check if she's as strong as her daddy. Mind helping us? „

Homelander asked with a toothy grin. Maeve nodded obediently and lined up several mannequins while your father positioned you at the other end of the room.

„Wh-what am I supposed to do exactly? „

You asked nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You barely used your powers after an unfortunate incident in primary school. You would never forget about that terror...

„Easy, just use your lasers. You should have them”

„Oh... U-um... I... I-I don't know how to use them... „

You whispered afraid, your body shrinking in his embrace. The man looked down confused and tightened his grip.

„What do you mean. Don't. Know? „

He hissed, making you scared even more.

„Well... I-I don't use my powers... Especially lasers... They just come out in random moments... Usually when I'm angry... And I don't control it at all... „

You explained while looking down.

„Then we'll teach you! „

Homelander's demeanour changed quickly and now he was all happy and smiling again – you had to admit his smile was terrifying and you had no idea how your mother fell for it. His happiness was caused by the fact thet he was excited you would be able to do all the father-daughter activities, just in a different version. After a tiring lesson you collapsed under the wall your father threw you on.

„John! Oh my god Y/N, are you okay?! „

Margaret scolded the man and run up to you. You just nodded while breathing heavily. Nothing happened to you thought, as you were indestructible just as them, and a little bit more.

„I'm okay... Just have enough... For the rest of my life... „

You breathed out with a smile and earned a soft giggle from the Queen. She picked you up bridal style and shot Homelander a furious look.

„Come on! She’ll be fine! . I didn’t even use half my strength! „

Homelander huffed. He expected you to be perfect from the start, but it turned out you weren’t. He was disappointed. You on the other hand, didn’t care about it at all. You weren’t going to become a superhero just as your father, it was never your thing, it never excited you. The fact that you could fight and defend yourself was enough.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Maeve took you to your room, placed on the bed and sat down beside you. She brushed her fingers against your bruises with a heavy sigh.

‘’I told him to go easy on you...’’

She mumbled. You found yourself really attached to Margaret after just a few days of your stay there. She reminded you of your mom, both had ginger hair and a beautiful smile, so you weren’t much surprised when you discovered she and John were a thing. You nuzzled into her hand when it met your cheek and said after closing your eyes.

‘’Don’t worry, they’ll disappear in few minutes’’

‘’They will?’’

Queen asked confused which made your eyes fly open.

‘’Yeah... I-Is it weird?...’’

‘’Oh no, no! It’s just that... John heals like a normal human, so I thought you did too. But good to know you’re not his exact copy’’

Both of you smiled at yourself after her words. You actually were glad you weren’t 1:1 with Homelander. Maeve on the other hand started to feel that deep down you were almost nothing like him, that you were stronger... Way stronger... And it wasn’t a good sign, for both you and Homelander. He could go nuts if he realized that and he could hurt you, as there could only be one strongest supe and it was him...

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After a few months of extreme trening sessions later, you were finally able to control your powers. It made Homelander proud of his baby. It was also the time when you could finally go back to a normal school instead of being homeschooled. You had enough of staying all day in the tower, having to deal with the childish behaviour of Deep and A-Train, and constant fear of accidentally seeing Translucent naked. But Homelander was afraid to let you go. He was scared that if you went back to school you would find some stupid friends that would keep you away from him and that you wouldn’t like to spend time with him anymore. All of that wasn’t true, you could never do that to him as first of all - he was your father and second – he tried his best to be a great father, sure it didn’t work well all the time, but he still tried! And you felt attached to him anyway.

The man insisted on taking you there himself, he wanted to be there for your first day as a father should. But Madelyn categorically forbade him it - obviously. Although Homelander was too stubborn to listen to her and started to plan a way to be there. Then it was your job to talk him out of it.

‘’Dad...’’

You sighed tiredly as you watched John make a tenth circle around your room while discussing the plan. He had you gone in the first half.

‘’DAD’’

You had to repeat as the man didn’t notice you call him. Eventually you got up from your bed and shouted, only then taking him out of the trance.

‘’DAD! Ugh... I know you want to be there for me but the world is not ready to find out you have a child! Thye would think that if they had no idea of you beeing married, then presumably divorced, that means that I AM a child from a filthy romance without marriage AND sex before merriage, which all is a what? A SIN. Think about it! Besides... I don’t want kids in school constantly asking me about you. Not because I’m ashamed of you –because I’m not. But because it would be so tiring and I don’t want to be always compared to you and asked to do all that crazy supe stuff that obviously I CAN'T do... I just want to be a normal teenager... Please...’’

You took a deep breath after your little speech and looked at Homelander with hopeful eyes. He had to admit you got him in the first half. And you knew that. You knew that well, that’s also why you used the church argument. John let out a deep sigh then plopped down onto your bed.

‘’If that’s what you want...’’

You could see the sadness in your father’s eyes and hear it in his voice. God damn it. Why did he always had to play the sad card!? You sat down next to him and hugged his side.

‘’I promise I’ll make as many photos I’ll be able to and we’ll watch them together later. Okay?’’

‘’Okay’’

Homelander smiled down at you and placed a soft kiss to your head.

When the day came, Homelander made sure you had eveyrthing prepared. He packed your backpack the day before when you were asleep. He put there all important stuff and hid a note for you to find later. He even made you lunch himself! Maeve was really proud of him for that. You two also picked an appriopriate outfit the day before. It was a warm, olive green sweater with loose beige pants and your black sneakers. It screamed perfect. The man kissed your head goodbye and after a long and tight hug let you finally leave. He acted as if you were going away for good, but it was just a few hours of school! You never thought he could be so dramatic.

The day went by smoothly, at least for you. John on the other hand, sat in the meeting room all day, looking at the city and waiting for you to come back like a puppy. A few hours later you came back to catch your father asleep on his chair. You giggled at his ability to act like a stereotypical father after just a few months of your aquiantance. You left the meeting room quietly to soon come back with your blanket.

‘’Didn’t mean to wake you up’’

You said softly with a smile as you noticed him awake.

‘’You’re finally back. How was it?’’

John asked with a huge smile which you reciprocated. You sat down on his lap and showed him all the pictures you made, and there were a lot of them just like you promised. It took you so long that by the time you finished it was dark and you laid half asleep in Homelander’s embrace. The minute the man noticed your state he took you to your room and put in bed, wrapping in the blanket you wanted to give him earlier and placing a kiss to your forehead.

‘’Sleep good my little Helios’’

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

As the years passed you’ve spend less and less time with your father, because he noticed you getting stronger than him with every training. As much as his heart ached he could not let that happen, so he thought it would be the best. You didn’t like it at all either. You hated how he ignored you every time you tried to talk to him, or needed help in any way. You hated how he saw it normal to push his own daughter away just because some stupid powers! But you aslo hated yourself, your powers, and the fact that because of you him and Queen Maeve broke up. Even though Margaret assured you it’s not your fault you knew better. She always took your side which led to multiple quarrels with Homelander and eventual breakup.

At some point you started to rebel. To cause trouble. To stick your nose in where you were not wanted. That’s how you fathomed out the truth about Vought and your father. It didn’t devastate you - as you knew that such a big corporation had to have some dirt under their nalis – but the part about your father saddened you. You could’ve never thought he could kill anyone one... He was a SUPERHERO after all. But it turns out that he was just a super liar just like the rest of the seven. They have killed so many people... They were montsers... One day you stole the important files from the Vought’s databse and fled out of it. You didn't know why you did that. Maybe because you wanted the whole world to know but your hands were unable to post the photos you’ve made. When the seven notticed your disappearance they informed Madelyn and Homelander and only then did he remembered about your existance. He was the first one to start looking for you, but the one who found you was no other than Queen Maeve. She knew the secret place you went to after school when you wanted to be alone and went there in the first place. And she was right. You sat there, in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, clutching onto the cases and crying your eyes out. Your head snapped hearing the woman’s footsteps and got up quickly.

‘’Leave me alone’’

You hissed, your whole body trembling. Margaret noticed the files in your hands and understood why you’ve run away.

‘’Helios please... I-I know it looks bad but-’’

‘’BUT WHAT?! ALL THOSE DEATHS WERE JUST ACCIDENTS?!’’

You cut her off angrily, your voice shaking like crazy.

‘’YOU’RE JUST GLORIFIED MONSTERS THAT THINK THEY CAN DO EVERYTHING THEY WANT JUST BECASUE YOU HAVE SOME STUPID ASS POWERS! BOTH YOU AND THAT MOTHERFUCKER! HELL- ALL SEVEN OF YOU!’’

Your shouts could be heard from miles away, so it was to be expected that Homelander heard you, especially when he was so sensitive to your voice. It didn’t take him long to storm through the ceiling.

‘’Ugh great... Only you were missed here... Why do you suddenly care about ME! ‘’

‘’Because you’re my daughter and I worry about you’’

The blonde gritted out making you laugh stupidly.

‘’OH REALLY?! Then why do you pretend like I don’t exist! You’ve been ignoring me for such a long time!... You don’t care about me... You just don’t want anyone knowing about this... „

You waved your hand with the files.

‘’You’re just a stupid, egoist that only cares about himself and not the good of the people he is supposed to safe. It’s your only fucking job and you fuck it up too! You should not wear that cape just to stain it with blood of innocent... You should not wear that false patriotic mask if you do shit like that... AND YOU SHOULD NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO GOD BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST A STUPID PUPPE-’’

You were cut of by Homelander’s hand meeting your stomach. He crushed you into a wall then gripped your neck tightly. You wriggled in his grip, trying to catch a breath, your hands clawing at his and begging for relief.

‘’How dare you disrespect me like that... I made you... You wouldn’t be alive nor so strong without me. You should be grateful I haven’t killed your mother’’

Homelander had no idea what came over him. He would never disrespect his love yet now it seemed as if he regretted not killing her – which wasn’t true. Something snapped inside of you at the mention of your deceased mother. The blood in your vains started to boil and you could feel it flow like crazy. You frowned furiously.

‘’I would prefer to DIE than to be recognised as your daughter’’

You spat on his face, making him loosen his grip on you and earning a few second for payback. You kicked him away with such force that his back met the wall at the other end of the warehouse.

‘’If you want to kill me so much, why don’t give it a try now, huh oldman?’’

Homelander gritted his teeth, he hated the alias, he wasn’t that old. He didn’t want to kill you, no... He loved you, you were his baby after all. But he also couldn’t let you go knowing their dirty secrets. It was too much to proces in such a short time but the man had no other option... A devilish smirk was painted on your face as you quickly met him there and proceeded to crush him into the brick wall. You’ve done it for a couple seconds but John was unfased. He chuckled at your attempts on hurting him, though his face seemed unmoved. Soon when he felt bored he grabbed your wrists and threw you to the floor. Now it was his turn to punch the shit out of you. If not Maeve he would get you knocked down after just 3 punches. The woman pushed him away and stood in front of you, protecting you like a mother would protect her child.

‘’She’s your daughter!’’

She cried out trying to mess with his head. But he knew well to not fall to her traps, especially since they've been through it so many times already.

‘’Which is why it’s not your fucking bussiness!”

You’ve watched as Margaret fell unconscious to the ground after Homelander threw her to the sky.

'’What have I done...’’

You thought, tears falling down your cheeks as you thought he killed her. Killed her because of you. The man made his way over to you and gripped your blonde hair tightly. He made you sat up and look up at him.

‘’Now you gonna cry? I thought you were as strong as me. Hell! Even stronger! But it turns out you’re just a weak and cheap copy. You’re pathetic...”

He hissed and tried to laser your head off but you’ve manage to accumulate the remaining strength and reciprocate the act. Your lasers met with a loud hiss. In that moment you remebered all the happy memories from your life, as you prepared yourself for death. But it backfired, bringing you even more power than you’ve ever had. You rose to you feet and got your hair out of John’s grip, all while not breaking eyecontact and still using the heat vision. He felt you overpower him. It terrified him and he couldn’t let you defeat him. The man used all his strength making you do the same. Both your visions were so strong that soon sparks started to appear and the force pushed you away from each other. But neither gave up, giving all you’ve got. The hall started to feel warmer with every second making you realize something was wrong, yet before you noticed it was too late. Your laser visions caused an explosion and the whole warehouse blew up into the sky. You stood there, numb in the falling dust looking at the remainings of the building. Neither Homelander nor Queen Maeve were nowhere to find. They must’ve been burried under the concrete. To your surprise you quickly found Margaret and dug her out. She was alive. A smiled formed on your face as you watched the woman breath heavily. She was still unconscious and a little bruised, but she was alive. You couldn’t care less about your father thought. You stood up from where you knelt next to the ginger and looked around once more. In that moment you’ve decided it was time to disappear. To play ‘dead’ and never ever come back as Homelander’s daughter.

It was the end of a chapter.

But just a begining of your story...

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

A/N: If you made it here, here you go 🍬🍭. You deserve it. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it! 💞

Next Chapter

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

following up on the Alastor during different points of his life, how would he be in high school with the reader? given his time period I feel like things would be really difficult especially if the reader is white coded y’know, so what would that be like for him? and the reader too? also maybe the reader could be on the wealthier side, while Alastor isn’t?

A/N: I love detailed requests like this <33, so thank you so much! But this is a really messy concept, for everyone involved, but i love it.

No title for this one since I can’t think of anything :(

Alastor goes to a completely different school than you do

Almost every day you have great lunch, bus is on time, you’re books are brand new, everything is pristine down to the uniforms

For Alastor, the bus is late or breaks down on the way there, the students don’t have proper uniforms, some either wear the uniform or have a passed down uniform that most likely doesn’t fit them. The books are worn and torn, sometimes pages are missing, and the lunch is most times anything other than edible.

Your schools are only a few yards apart, however your bus always gets there quicker while his sometimes takes two hours to get there, and most times he needs to walk mid way while the bus is getting fixed

Your schools are in a secluded part of the town, with a lot of trees and forest behind it.

During your free period you sneak out of your school and over to his, thankfully your free period is his lunch period and you always have left overs

You two talk a lot, either about what your working on or just anything in general

During this time Alastor really fancies going to the north, he wants to get out of louisiana and start a new life

“If that’s what you want to do then I support you.” You always say and while he appreciates it, he’s always thought about asking you to go with him

By the time the year comes to a close you two see less and less of each other

You pick up a summer job at a boutique, he ends up working with his mother in a supermarket

on one of your days off, you stop by, not knowing he works there of course, and begin to get things off your list

You’ve never gone around his part of town much, your father forbid it, but he didn’t need to know you were there, as long as you went home with groceries you were fine right?

so when you began to ask his mother for help, he almost died of a heart attack watching the two of you talk

“Potatos are on isle seven dear, and cinnamon is on three with the rest of the spices.” His mother says kindly, and you smile finally having some sense of direction in the store

Alastor is quick to work the register, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and it works

Along with a lot of other customers giving you strange looks, what’s a white girl doing in a colored store? cant she get fined for that? is she crazy? lost?

“Oh! Hello Alastor.” You say with a smile as he grins back at you.

“Hello my dear, I see you’ve met my mother.” He says as he begins to total the things you’ve picked out.

“Oh that’s her? She’s such a sweet woman, really.” You say back, pulling out a few dollars and some quarters go pay him.

“That she is, though I must ask what brings you to this part of town?” He questions, and at this your face heats up quickly before you brush it off.

“Well, I’ve just gotten off of my shift, and father mentioned he needed to go grocery shopping so I figured i’d do it for him.” You say as Alastor writes your total down. You don’t wait for him to give it to you, instead you hand him all the cash and quarters you have in your pocket.

“This is well over what you owe.” He says grinning, he knows what you’ll say next, but it’s fun to watch you become so proud of yourself.

“Yes, however I don’t have any use for the rest, so I believe you can keep it. Good day Alastor.” You say smiling and grabbing the bagged items. He smiles and just puts the money away, his mind is already running on how to make it up to you.

your father never notices where you got the groceries, he only cares he didn’t need to drop more money to get it

When the next school year rolls around this time you both are in the eleventh grade, this is your most important year

You’re stressed with papers and exams every other week, Alastor is swamped with having to help other students as a tutor, his lunch period now being the only time he can see you

However, your schedule isn’t the same, now your free period is during a class of his and now he’s sneaking out more than once to see you, most of the kids in his grade have stopped showing up, most did after the eighth grade

You rant and complain about how stressed you are, and how you can’t wait for the year to be over so you can finally breathe

Alastor laughs and for the first time in his life he can truly feel how fake it is, he’s never been more stressed in his life and though your books might be better the work is just the same especially since he’s in the gifted program

you ask about his mother time to time and he appreciates you thinking of her, no one really asks

he tells you of his plan to go to New York, how excited he is and how much he’s saving, how his mother has been picking up extra shifts to bring in enough

this is when he asks you to come with him, but you tell him you can’t, that you can’t leave your family, your parents or siblings, how your life is here

he understands, it hurts him to leave his mother, she’s the only family he’s ever known, ever had, he hates leaving her behind

but he promises to come back, that he will come back to Louisiana, and you smile because you believe him

when graduation comes he waits until your parents retire for the night before knocking at your front door, he’s risking a lot for this, but he needs to see you before he goes

When you answer the door hes overjoyed, and you wrap him in the tightest hug he’s ever felt before, even though he doesn’t feel many

He hands you flowers with a small congratulations, and you smile and tell him the same, before you remember something

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You say, before you stop and turn to him, opening your front door. “ I’ll be right back, don’t move.” You say, and take off into the house. He smiles and waits, taking in your neighborhood. It’s clean, large houses, perfect sidewalks and a nicely paved street

you come back with an envelope in hand, and when you hand it to him he shoots you a look. What is this?

He opens it to find a large sum of cash, he can’t even begin to imagine how much your handing him. He shakes his head and hands it back.

“I cant accept this.” He says, his smile tightening. He’s upset. Do you think he needs this? But you smile wider and insist.

“For new york silly, everything is crazy in this big apple. If not for you then for your mother, please. I saved it for you.” You say, and he sighs, lightly flipping through it.

“How much is it?” He asks, almost afraid of what you’ll say.

“Seven Hundred.” You reply, and his eyes widen, and his smile drops finally. This is the first time you’ve seen him without one.

“I cant possibly-“

“You must. Please. It’s not my parents if that’s what your thinking. I earned it, and I wanted to give it to you.” You say, before he’s silent

“I don’t need your charity dear.” He says, his smile returning. Clearly he’s annoyed by this point, but you don’t seem to care, if you can even tell

“It isn’t charity. It’s a gift. No one is ever too good for a gift.” You say crossing your arms, now he laughs. Your stubborn, you refuse to take it back. You’re not asking him to take it, your not giving him a choice.

“Alright, fine. However I’m not using this. I’ll give it to my mother.” He says, and you smile contently at that.

“I’m okay with that.”

[shithowdy]

Please tell us more about fallout Oliver (falliver?) did you like the show by the way?

You could say it made me... falliver in love....

That sucked, I'll workshop that one.

I loved the show!! I even did some fanart for it, I never do that! Like a lot of people it was my impetus to actually Play A Game, despite people insisting for years it would be up my alley and getting the old 'I'll add it to my list'. Seeing Cooper run around like a yeehaw maniac had me continuously thinking "oh he and Oliver would be such good friends" and once you start imagining an OC within a setting it's all over for you.

Considering they are both prewar ghouls who served in Alaska as power armor operatives there's a significant chance they do know each other (in WoW, he was a Silver Hand paladin before becoming a DK-- how could I resist the parallels). Maybe one day I'll draw them getting trashed on coke together.

Unlike in WoW, where he deserted on conscience in the middle of the Stratholme culling, he stayed with the military right up until he met an abrupt "retirement" in 2070 after a psycho-induced heart attack inside his armor, an incident that left him deeply traumatized and mistrustful of any sort of organization where you can't say 'no' to a command, which is why he refuses to fully affiliate with the NCR. The "good boy" payout he got for the incident allowed him to retire and purchase his dream ranch in the Jemez Mountains, which he and some fellow hands maintained for seven years until the bombs dropped.

My headcanon is that northern NM didn't get that cooked in the blasts (Alamogordo is presumably a barren field of trinitite, though), but his area was so remote that when communities tried reforming into city-states and pooling their resources, no one could justify the back-and-forth with limited transport options. So he released his small livestock and they all packed up and attempted a cattle drive toward Taos with other ranchers. But winter was setting in, and an irradiated storm from the north blew through in what would be the event that began his ghoulification. Most died, the cattle scattered or also died, and as an absolute husk of an individual he decided "fuck it" and went west with his horse to find the hidden vault that is his son's tomb instead.

And for 200 years he's chased that delusion, not knowing he's been looking in the wrong city the entire time. 👎 He did meet and fall in love with a woman (hi, Senkha!) about 150 years before this RP; they spent decades together and through her he gained experience with psykers and how to wall them out of your surface thoughts with constant music, but he also gained experience with the eventual understanding that most humans grow old and he doesn't. When she passed, he began distancing himself from people.

When he's not scouring the old LA metro haystack for a nonexistant needle, he does mercenary work to support his hobby as a scavenger for prewar memorabilia and civilian tech. His prized possession is a turntable he repaired (and the vinyls he's scavenged for it), and he also has a truck he's completely restored save for the fact that he has no power core for it. So he just sits in it and pretends.

Some mercenary work he did close to their formation put him immediately on the Legion's shit-list, a status in which he takes pride and now goes out of the way to cultivate to the point that he's earned the nickname "Matador" within the NCR. Now that he is traveling with the deserter son of a high-ranking individual in the Legion, life is about to get spicy!

So yeah, I'm having fun. I've joked that this is actually the setting he's supposed to be from and WoW was actually the AU, because my boy was made for this.

[vawilcox]

Can I get an angst to fluff scenario where the reader some how snaps at Tamaki?

Sure thing!

As requested a Tamaki x Reader angst to fluff.

You stood angrily in the messy kitchen, arms crossed and left foot tapping repeatedly in agitation. The messy counter tops and dishes piled in the sink were driving you to the brink of losing your cool for the first time in your newly wed marriage to Amajiki Tamaki.

You stood staring at the mess still wearing your business suit and with the large purse you'd always take on business trips with you slung over your right shoulder. You were gone for a week, and from the state of the house, it had been about that long since the house had been cleaned last. How could one man make such a mess alone on the house for seven days?

You knew he was busy with his hero work but you were busy with your job as an accountant as well and you still managed to clean up after yourself AND your husband for the past three months. You were pissed. You never used to even think twice about the cleaning, you just did what needed to be done, but having him here by himself making such a mess while you were out there working hard to help setup a new branch in a city six hours away made you realize for the first time that you were the only one doing all the cleaning so far.

This. meant. war. Turning around, you walk back out the door, lock it, and call a taxi to take you to a hotel your company frequently uses.

-Two hours later-

Tamaki worked hard again today at work. He hated being around all the people, but what was worse was all the attention he got from people who saw his quirk for the first time. He liked to use the tentacles from eating octopus and squid to help wrangle in the villains, but sometimes a bystander would comment on it being gross, one even made a crude comment about him being a hentai because of it... That hurt. The only woman he'd ever been with was the love of his life, his wife, his precious one.

Thinking about her took the sting away from the pain of the insults and disgust from others, as well as calming the incessant pounding of his chest whenever he had to be around others. Other people... terrified him. But not his precious wife. She was all that was good in this world. For her, he could do anything, deal with anything. And he smiled lightly to himself on the train home, all while hiding his face beneath his hood. He knew she would be home today, and he couldnt wait.

The rest of the trip home was a blur of discomfort and pent up tension. Like a mantra Tamaki just kept reminding himself of the day it was- the day his love would come home from her business trip. The longest they had been apart since they had met over a year ago.

His smile widened as he neared the door to their home, and it was a full on toothy grin when he opened the door, expecting to see the love of his life waiting there for him eagerly.. but she was gone. The smile instantly died, but he looked around for you. The house was untouched since the last time that he came home, he hadnt had a lot of time to be home, only 2-3 hours a day to eat and sleep before his job called for him again. He missed you so much that he busied himself with work to distract him from the loneliness. He had been doing so much overtime every day blended in with the other and all he did when he got home was eat something quick and sleep.

But today was supposed to be different. He didnt take the extra shift today he had been taking, some days he would be working triple shifts, some days he'd be stuck doing an extra and a half.. but today he asked to come home as soon as possible. You were no where. The house literally was untouched.

He immediately pulled out his phone and called your number. No answer. After leaving a voice mail, he instantly started to text you, asking if you were okay and where you were. No answer. He started to have a full blown panic attack, grabbed out some old leftovers from the fridge to slam down so he could use them with his quirk and ran for the door. *Ding* the notification went off on your phone, a whole 3 minutes after your text. This wasnt normal for you two. Both of you always responding within a matter of seconds to each other since before the engagement. "I'm staying at a hotel until you can clean your mess up. Slob. 😤"

Tamakis heart froze as he read your text. He closed the door he just slung open, about to desperately search high and low for you. Opened the tiny shoe closet, walked in, and closed the door. Huddled into a ball Tamaki cried himself to sleep. The pent up exhaustion and the build up for you coming home all hit him like a freight train. He slept stone cold for 15 hours.

-3 hours after the fight-

You sat in your bed angry for maybe 15 minutes after you sent that angry text. Then you started to think about what you knew of your Tama and realized you were overly harsh to him. You texted him almost right away after you pulled your head out of your bottom but it was no use. He wasnt responding. Text after text you sent, he didnt reply. You started to panic. Quickly checking out of the hotel, you took a taxi home, it was faster, though more expensive, than the bus or the train. Getting home you worriedly looked at the phone again, nothing. Not even a sign that he had read your text.

Anxiety hit you for the first time in your life to the level that you knew your love had to deal with on a daily basis. You could barely breathe. You thought of all the worse case scenarios and your anxiety continued to spiral out of control. You finally arrived outside of your home, you practically flung the cash at the driver as you dashed out of the taxi and ran to the door to your house. Going inside you saw nothing. He was gone. The house was still a mess, but you didnt even care at this point... He even opened the fridge and never closed it this time... for a brief moment agitation struck you. Seriously!?- you thought. Then you stopped yourself. You realized that he was not in a normal frame of mind, and that it was your harsh words that must have been a dagger to his already fragile heart.

You called for him, but he didnt come. You took a walk in the neighborhood around your home, looking for him, calling for him, texting him, calling his phone. Nothing. He was just gone. You worriedly called his agency, they said that he hadnt contacted them since he clocked out, and that he said he would be taking an extra long time off so he could spend it with you. But he was gone.

Going home you brokenheartedly berated yourself. Mascara dripping down your face as you clung to the phone desparately with one hand, and tidied up the house with the second. Every 30 seconds or so you looked down at your phone, willing him to text or call you back. Sending another apology and a desperate plea for him to reach out to you. Within an hour the house was spotless. But he still hadnt gotten ahold of you. Grabbing a gallon of icecream and a spoon, you sat on the couch and put your favorite rom-com on. It didnt help. Mascara was all down your neck at this point I must look like a monster out of a horror movie by now you thought to yourself.

You spent the next 11 hours on that couch. Eating half the gallon and being too lethargic from the wave of depression and anxiety to even put the icecream away, you set the last half of the gallon on the coffee table. Not even caring that it would melt. Somewhere in the second half of the movie, you fell asleep, dreaming of your precious Tama leaving you for another woman because of how cruel you were.

A gentle touch and a familiar voice woke you. Opening your eyes with a start, you saw your Tama there. Red eyes brimming with tears as he looked down at you. He muttered something you didnt understand. Still groggy from your sleep but so excited to see him you mutter "Huh?" His lips start to quiver and his voice is shaky. "I'm s-sorry babe. I-I.. didnt mean to leave such a me-" You pounce on him before he can finish his statement. Clinging to him like you were drowning and he was a live persever and your own chance at survival. "Dont say it. Dont you dare say sorry, you dummy. It was my fault. I'm so sorry baby. It was my fault. I am so sorry I got mad at you." You plead for his forgiveness. "No, bunny, its my fault. I am so sorry I left such a mess. I wasnt home a lot while you were gone. I was too miserable to be in this empty house without you. Next time, I will make sure its clean for you when you get home." Tama states with a heart-wrenching determination. "What do you mean next time you stupid octopus. I'm never leaving you again."

You both spend the next three hours in each others arms. Whispering assurances to the other, crying, kissing, and something a little more private at the end. Your day ends with you both entwined breathlessly in each others arms, all of your needs met, all insecurities swept away with the pure affection and love you have for each other.

[pockyteau]

SPRING IS THE SEASON OF KINDNESS

✩ a chishiya x reader where the spring dew is colder than you remember it being

The first game you'd played with Chishiya was the first game you'd played at the Beach, a Three of Diamonds. 

You'd approached your group's designated car, catching sight of the executive for the first time. Back then, you had known nothing of the blonde; you had smiled at him hesitantly, hoping to make an acquaintance, or maybe just someone you could talk to. Only, he had simply smirked in response, quirking a brow as if to ask why you were wasting his time. 

Never mind, then. 

His brown eyes, then and now, were cold and dark and honey-like. The fleeting thought had crossed your mind that his eyes looked not nearly as sweet as their colour would suggest.

One person was killed in that Three of Diamonds game. You'd squeezed the hand of the girl beside you consolingly, the stricken expression on her features one you had once worn yourself. Catching a glimpse of Chishiya, however, you found that he looked bored - his eyes were full of something like expectancy as they rested on the crumpled body on the floor; you had searched for the slightest flicker of emotion, for the honey you thought you'd seen in his gaze before, but came up empty. Was it really possible for someone to be so apathetic? It was so strange to you, especially with the poor girl weeping beside you. It could've just as easily been you, clutched at by sorrow, so why not extend some warmth in a place that needed it as much as here? 

The second game you'd played with Chishiya was a Seven of Clubs. By then it seemed that the two of you had an odd knack for being placed in the same team. His eyes had flickered to you in recognition when you'd met the group of Beach members at the car, so you'd tried for another smile.

"Chishiya, right?" you'd said politely. "I think we were together last time as well."

The blonde had looked at back you lazily, his eyes half-lidded. "Were we?" He'd shrugged, although the amusement in his voice suggested that his question was more of a taunt. "I don't recall."

Though nothing about his tone had been apologetic, you'd dipped your head in response. "Ah, don't worry about it, then." You'd supplied, effectively ending the conversation. 

Luckily, another member of your group had stepped in to speak to you. She was sweet, and had an earnest look about her - you were grateful for the friendly face, and chatted to her during the car ride. You'd thought back briefly to your conversation with Chishiya, and decided that his answer was fair enough - you can understand how some people might not want to get acquainted with others in such a place as the Borderlands. The coldness in his eyes made it clear that he was one of those people, anyhow.

The Clubs game, despite its high number, was technically simpler than the Diamonds game you'd played with Chishiya. Even so the blonde had been calm and sharp, his interest in the game more prevalent than his interest in anyone around him. Three people died, one from the Beach and two of the other players. You'd carefully taken the hand of the woman who you'd become friends with; she seemed to have been close to the Beach member who'd died, or known him at the very least. You'd whispered words you hoped were of comfort to her as her shoulders shook with distress. Blood had formed petals on the floor, a carpet of little crimson flowers that bloomed around you. 

But out of the corner of your eye, for just a fraction of a second, you thought you'd seen Chishiya watching you, before he'd silently collected the Seven of Clubs card and left the building. You couldn't tell if the look upon his features was one of disdain, or perhaps something different. 

The sky was dark when you'd finally persuaded your friend to leave with you, the moonlight bitter cold. You had ended up sat next to the blonde on the car ride back to the Beach. He'd remained silent, the cords of his earphones visible beneath his white hoodie. 

You'd wondered whether you'd imagined him studying you earlier, and pushed the thought from your mind.

-

Another game means seeing Chishiya again, and even less pleasant, another death. 

This time, the Six of Spades has sought a victim in your earnest, sweet-faced friend. There are more crimson flowers scattered over the ground, blooming beneath your feet. Red flowers were always said to be unlucky. You kneel beside her anyway, wishing you had flowers that were a luckier, happier colour to lay at her side. 

At that moment you hear the soft rustle of fabric, marking the presence of someone new as they crouch beside you.  

Chishiya surveys the redness of the floor with half-lidded eyes, his gaze roving slowly over the ground to the body that lies before you. You hear the slight breath he takes before he speaks; it's tinted with something strangely like disappointment, almost like a sigh. The sound melts the silence like snow.

"Do you regret it?" he asks, and his gaze flickers to you. You blink. His voice isn't as mocking as the last time you'd spoken to him. The words that fall from his lips take on an almost...curious colour.  

"Do I...regret it?" you repeat softly. "Regret what?"

The blonde gestures to the body before him. "You made friends with her," he says. "Don't you regret it now?"

You turn to him, frowning. "Why would I regret it?" 

Chishiya studies you, as if searching for an answer you didn't have within the planes of your face, the irises of your eyes. When he finds nothing he exhales. "Forget it." He sighs and slowly rises from the ground, already ready to leave. 

Your brow still furrowed, you cast one last look at your friend. Perhaps you should do the same, get to your feet to move away too - but you can't bring yourself to just leave like that. Surely there had to be some flowers around here, a daisy of some kind growing by the venue. Something to leave, something to say goodbye. Come to think of it, it's early April - perhaps the cherry blossoms are beginning to flower in the trees. 

To your surprise, Chishiya watches you as you venture outside instead of leaving. He simply waits as you hunt around the shrubs that surround the building, and return with a sprig of the pink blossom. The petals are delicate, and tremble with spring dew.

"It's not much better than red," you murmur, placing the cherry blossoms between her fingertips, "but I hope this is alright."  

Chishiya's eyes are on the sprig of cherry blossom when you turn back to him, and for a heartbeat you see the traces of honey in the umber of his gaze. But then it is gone as soon as you'd caught it, replaced with something colder when his eyes travel up to yours. 

"Flowers will do nothing for her now," he says archly. "Red or otherwise."

"I know that," you say quietly, "But I like to believe it'll bring her some comfort...wherever she is. Flowers mean someone cares."  

Chishiya utters a hollow laugh. "The dead don't care either way." He shoves his hands in his pockets, his words full of scorn. "Do you do this for every person who has ever died in this place? Tuck flowers into their hands to comfort them?"

You blink at the poison in his voice. The answer to his question would be no - it's just that she had been kind to you, and you had wanted to do the same for her. But what was it to him? The dew from the cherry blossom petals still rest upon your fingertips, cold on your skin as if a reminder that sentiment was no longer treasured in this world. And especially not by Chishiya, by the looks of it. 

"She was my friend." You shrug. "She was kind, to me at least. She deserves cherry blossoms." 

Chishiya laughs again at your response, a bitter sound that matches the disdain in his eyes. He throws one more glance at your friend over his shoulder. "Well," he says, reaching into his pocket with an idle movement of the hand, "how touching." 

Your eyes follow as he holds something out to you, drawn from the pockets that line his hoodie - the Six of Spades card, crisp and white between his index finger and thumb. "Here. You should have it, since it's your-" he smirks as he says the word, "friend who helped win the game. Right?"     

You meet the blonde's gaze, but there is nothing kinder in the brown of his eyes. He waits, the card still raised towards you like a challenge. You can't help but wonder why he's challenging you, what he has to gain from ridiculing you like this. 

Eventually, you gently push his hand that holds the card out to you back towards him, shaking your head slightly. His eyes seem to flicker when you touch him, but he betrays no other reaction to the motion. It's difficult to choose an answer that you think will satisfy the blonde, so you pick your words carefully. 

"It seems to hold more value to you than me," you say, "so you should be the one to take it. It'll be neither of ours in the end, in any case."

Chishiya simply shrugs and pockets the card once more. The smirk still lingers on his features. "Well," he says, drawing his words out slowly as if savouring the taste of them, "if that's what you want. Have it your way, then." 

But then there it is again - the look he'd given you some time ago, after the Clubs game. It's fleeting, but you don't think it's disdain. It's almost like intrigue, a new colour in his eyes.

And then it is gone as quickly as it came, and Chishiya turns away. His footsteps echo throughout the room as he leaves, once more the only sound in a place of solitude.     

-

You were no longer surprised to see Chishiya by the car assigned to the group you were to be playing a game with earlier that afternoon. He had simply smirked at you then, lifting a hand in a lazy wave. You had not spoken to him since the Six of Spades, and you were uncertain whether you even wanted to. Every word he spoke was like glass, cold to the touch and sharp at the edges. Only his eyes seemed to hold some kind of humanity, with their curiously shifting hues. 

Yet you find him next to you once more after the Three of Diamonds, the second time you'd played for such a card. The blonde's presence seems to turn the night's touch of breeze a lot colder, somehow. You wait for him to say something cutting, to challenge you again like after the last game you had played, preparing to walk away.

But Chishiya simply holds out a card to you. The Three of Diamonds is pressed between his fingertips, just as the Six of Spades was the last game you'd played with him. He tilts his head, vague traces of humour visible in his expression as he waits for you to take it. The card catches the sheen of the crescent moon. Your eyes flicker to his, bemused, but you make no attempt to take it from him. It feels like another challenge. 

"Why the card?" you caution. Your voice leaves your lips soft and careful, something in the atmosphere fragile enough to cause your words to come out quiet. You are already making up your mind to push his hand away like you did the last time, shaking your head. But Chishiya's eyes, ever scrutinising, study you with amusement. 

"I want to make a trade," he says simply. "Take the card, and I'll ask you a question."

"...You want to make a trade?" you echo. 

It's intriguing, the difference in his voice. Although Chishiya speaks carelessly his words are pleasant in your ears, lacking the poison he had spoken to you with the other day. You find it strange that he feels the need to make an exchange to ask you a question - you don't want the card, and you are sure Chishiya knows this too. Does he dislike the idea of debt to such an extent? Even so you feel compelled to accept his offer, curious as to what he wants to ask you. 

"You don't have to give me the card to ask me a question," you finally say. Chishiya's lips curve, as if he has already predicted you would say something along those lines. 

"That's kind of you," he hums. "But I'm afraid I don't like to owe people." 

"You wouldn't owe me," you frown, but your eyes follow him as he takes a step closer to you. You blink, startled when Chishiya lightly takes your hand in his - you feel as if you should pull away, but his touch is surprisingly warm; you'd almost expected his hands to be ice cold, based on his disposition. Your confusion allows Chishiya to fold your fingertips around the card. His hands fall away and the umber of his eyes find yours. 

"I'm going to ask my question now," he says. You nod, your brows still drawn together. Chishiya shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. "You did that...thing again today, when that guy died. You comforted her. Why do you always try to comfort people you barely know?" 

Stunned, you can only stare at him for several moments. At first, you think Chishiya is mocking you again. But he waits for you to answer, his half-lidded eyes void of any humour as it sinks in that his question is a genuine one. Why did you comfort people? You chew the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words. Several beats of silence pass as the two of you stand there in the cold. Was warmth really such an alien concept to him? Maybe it really was curiousity that had been contained in his gaze some time ago. 

You hesitate on your response. "Well, it feels like the humane thing to do," you admit. "If I were in their place, I think maybe...it would be nice to know that I'm not completely alone in the world." Even in your own ears the words sound childish, and you laugh softly. 

Chishiya laughs too, only it is the same hollow sound as when he'd ridiculed you for leaving cherry blossoms at your friend's side. "So it's nothing more than empathy." His tone bleeds scorn.

You hum. You had been expecting Chishiya's scorn. "It is empathy," you say mildly, the taste of the night air on your tongue. "I don't want anyone to feel that way, so I guess it's for my own peace of mind, too. Say, I cried all the time as a kid," you say with a half smile, "sometimes for a reason, sometimes for none. But I would've given anything to be hugged or to hear a few words of comfort. That kind of thing sticks with you, I suppose."   

The blonde smiles thinly, yet you catch a flicker of something else in his eyes. It's almost like catching a fracture line in ice, not yet shattered but a hint that there is something beneath the sheet of snow. "You know, I'm curious as to how much you value your life. I'm sure you're aware people like you get killed here for that same reason."

You shrug. "Kindness and a will to live can coexist." 

Chishiya shakes his head. "Not here," he says. "You are not rewarded for being soft-hearted. Once you show emotion, that you care just the slightest bit more than the average person, you're as good as dead." 

You look at him carefully. It's evident that these are the principles that Chishiya lives by, every word he speaks void of any emotion. You can't help but wonder what has led him to view humanity so harshly. 

"And what makes you think that way?" you say gently, but Chishiya merely smiles. 

"Equal exchange, remember?" He tilts his head. "Don't ask me a question if you don't want to owe me." He pauses, and the taunting expression passing over his face is illuminated by the moonlight. "I wouldn't advise owing me anything, either."

-

For once, you and Chishiya had not been placed into the same group. 

Mildly surprised, you follow the stoic Ann to your designated car. You had grown used to greeting the blonde, albeit apprehensively, every time your visa had to be renewed. You are unsure of which group Chishiya has been placed in, and feel the quiet urge to search for him in the crowd. In a way, Chishiya's presence had been a comfort, the only constant you had known other than the colours of spring now slowly beginning to fade. But you smile when a woman with dreadlocks ushers you into the car with a friendly grin, giving in to her cheerful banter. 

Ann takes the card once the game is cleared. You seem to have played quite a number of Diamonds games recently, this one included - you count yourself lucky that it had been a card game you'd once played with your neighbours when you were younger. The elderly couple who lived next door seemed to be retired social gamblers of sorts, and since your parents were never home you'd spent a lot of time with them learning to play Thirty-One - only, slices of fruit were bet on instead of money.

"Another double-up," Ann frowns, and so it is. She pockets the Five of Diamonds and leaves the venue swiftly; you are given the impression that the executive does not like to waste time. The woman with dreadlocks follows her, so you do too. 

Only, you stop outside the venue, for there are the last few cherry blossoms of the season clinging to the trees outside the building.  

The flutter of spring breeze still colours the air, even though you believe it is already late May by now; time flows like water here. It's odd how the existence of seasons now feels like a distant memory. The pink flowers you are looking for greet you a few steps away from the building exit - there are significantly less flowers than before, but a few still remain on the branches. It saddens you to see that the petals of the remaining blossoms are slightly diminished. They are heart-shaped and clearly veined, appearing as if they would crumple at the slightest touch. 

You reach up to carefully pluck one from the branches, your wrist scraping against the coarse bark. There is no one to mourn from this game, luckily enough, but the sight of the cherry blossoms had reminded you of Chishiya's words from what seems like so long ago. Don't ask me a question if you don't want to owe me, he'd said, but you'd never quite figured out what his idea of equal exchange was. 

You cup your hand protectively around the blossom as you lower your outstretched arms to keep it safe. You make your way back to the car in the dim light, hands closed over the flower as if it were made of glass. 

 -

You don't know at what point Chishiya returns to the Beach, but you see the white of his hoodie soaked with red before he can say anything. 

You stand in a rush, the horror in your expression reflected in his eyes. "The first aid kit," he says, and you go to retrieve it without another word.

One rapid thought after another flits through your head, silenced only for a heartbeat when the bite of the kit's cold metal touches your palm. When you return, Chishiya has slid down the wall, his shoulder pressed against the hotel plaster and a hand pressed to against his side. He looks remarkably at peace in spite of the blood concentrated around his abdomen; you are momentarily seized by panic, but he lifts his head when he hears your footsteps and reaches for the first aid kit wordlessly. 

Chishiya flips the metal clasps up one at a time, one hand still pressed against his side. The blonde shrugs his hoodie off and you silently kneel beside him to dig out something that looks like a roll of bandages, setting the roll tentatively next to him. You are still surprised that Chishiya was able to be injured in the first place - you had played a multitude of games with him, and in every one he had come out unscathed. You didn't understand. What could've caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor?

"What happened?" you mumble, deciding to chance the question.

Chishiya reaches for something that looks like gauze. "Flesh wound," he says, "I'll survive." 

This is not a proper answer to your question, but you decide not to press him. You still find it in you to be surprised at how collected Chishiya is, even down to his voice, absent of the telltale catches of pain you would hear from someone injured. The blonde handles the treating of his wound with relative ease, the occasional tremours in his breath the only sign that anything was wrong at all. You catch a glimpse of the gash in his side and wince; it looks a lot deeper than you'd thought, and you know how antiseptic can sting. Chishiya catches your expression and laughs, although the sound of it rings empty. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," he comments, unrolling a layer of gauze. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, motioning for the roll of medical tape in your hands.

"Still," you murmur, "it looks painful." You hand him a misshapen strip of tape. "You scared me, when you walked in like that."

"Why?" Chishiya says, motioning for another strip of medical tape. "Did you think I was going to die?"

The barb in his words is clear, intended to sting. You hold the tape out to him. "I did," you admit. Chishiya smiles bitterly. 

"I have another question for you," he says, slowly unwinding the roll of linen bandage. You look at him, somewhat surprised. He returns your gaze with the same bitter smile, waiting upon your answer. Somehow everything Chishiya says feels like a test, a means to prove yourself in some unknown way. Your eyes fall back down to watch as the length of bandage between his fingertips gets longer.   

"What do I get in return?" You feel Chishiya's silent approval of your reply in the air, his brown eyes crinkling slightly. He shrugs, returning to bandaging the terrifying gash in his abdomen. 

"How about this," he muses. "I'll ask you my question, and you can ask me a question of your own."

You smile, the term equal exchange that he had previously used surfacing in your mind. "Okay," you say, "sounds good to me. Shoot." 

Chishiya's lips curve in amusement. "I'm interested to know," he begins, "what you would've done if I'd dropped dead just then." He hums, taking the roll of medical tape from your hands nonchalantly. "Would you extend your limitless empathy to me as well? Lay flowers by my lifeless body, even though I wasn't a 'kind' person?"

You lift your gaze from his hands, momentarily taken back to the first time you'd had a conversation with him, the Six of Spades. She was kind, you'd said, she deserves cherry blossoms. In some unexplainable way, you'd expected a question like this from Chishiya, although you still wonder what he has to gain from asking such a thing. You suppose it seemed a logical progression from the conversation the two of you had had after the second Three of Diamonds, your conflicting values. You pause, deliberating on a response. 

"Why wouldn't I?" you say finally. Chishiya laughs. 

"Well, you think I'm cruel, for one." He says thoughtfully. "Perhaps even heartless? Selfish? Or," he pauses, the corners of his lips tilted slightly, "maybe you think I'm misunderstood."

You laugh softly, for he sounds almost playful as he says this. You wonder if this was how Chishiya perceived himself, why he found emotion so trivial. "Perhaps," you say lightly. "But may I answer your question with my question?"  

Chishiya answers, the amusement apparent in his brown eyes. "I don't see why not."

"Okay, then." You smile. "Here goes. My question is: do you want me to give you a cherry blossom?"  

Chishiya raises his brows as you withdraw the flower from your pocket, slightly crumpled but otherwise intact. You set it before you on the red carpet of the hotel lobby, where the blossom's pink petals glow softly against the ground. 

"Can I tell you something? I don't think you're heartless," you repeat Chishiya's earlier words softly, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "I've been told that when you learn to live without something, you tend to believe you never needed it in the first place." 

Chishiya examines the cherry blossom, an unreadable expression surfacing over his features. He exhales, but the shape of his lips form almost a smile. He reaches over to shut the medical kit with a metallic snap.

"Misunderstood is the wrong answer, by the way," he says mildly. He, too, addresses his earlier statement instead of giving you a direct answer, only picking up the flower you have laid before him by the stem. He closes his hand mindlessly around it and opens it again, as if deliberating whether to crush it or not. "I am heartless."  

You hum passively, reaching for the medical kit. Seeing as he had chosen to take the flower nonetheless, the fragile blossom sitting in the palm of his hand, you couldn't help but wonder if that really way the case. 

-

Spring has come and gone, sweeping branches bare of the colourful flowers that used to bloom over them. Winter takes its place, bringing with it glassy rainfalls and bitter winds. 

But while spring has left, taking the cherry blossoms with it, Chishiya still remains with you. 

The two of you continue to be placed into the same game group, each game ending with Chishiya waiting on you with a card in hand. The blonde no longer questions your displays of empathy, simply observing you silently when you offer a hug to a grieving player or whisper consolingly to an anxious child, but you can tell he does not approve of it either. 

You find it strange, though. You had caught him studying you once, his gaze suddenly full of the honey you'd sought in him the first time you'd met. The look hadn't lasted long, his eyes turning cold once he'd noticed you watching him. The difference in his expression had coloured your thoughts for some time afterwards. 

And when he had held out a card to you that same night, you knew what was to come. 

"What's your question?" you asked, smiling slightly. You took the card, the flimsy object just a touch cold between your fingertips. 

Chishiya hummed. "It's more of a request, actually." He had tucked his hands into his pockets now they had been emptied, tilting his head back in an idle movement, as if to fit your whole profile in his gaze.  

"Oh?" You said curiously. "What's that?" 

Chishiya was silent for a moment, as if phrasing his next words in his head. You waited patiently, running the pad of your thumb along the edge of the card. 

"Stay close to me," he said finally, lowering his head just enough to meet your gaze. "It would be better if you didn't die, for the time being."

You stared at the blonde, soundlessly mouthing his words as if to check that he'd really said what you thought he'd said. Stay close to me. The request was one you'd never expected to fall from Chishiya's lips, and so softly spoken at that. Worrying the edge of the card with your finger, you'd eventually uttered, "May I ask why?" 

The corner of Chishiya's mouth quirked up, like he found your question humorous. 

"I hate when people act like they're saints," he admitted. "It's rather sickening. And they all eventually stop pretending, in the end, so why bother at all? But you just don't give up." His sentence was broken with a sigh. "I don't understand you at all. I guess you could say I find you interesting."

You blinked. You were surprised that he would've expressed so much of his own thoughts to you, noticing the layer of contempt that veiled the rest of his answer. Perhaps it was true, then, what you'd said to him some time ago; when you learn to live without something, you tend to believe you never needed it in the first place. What kind of life had Chishiya lived, to not believe that people could truly be kind?

You felt your gaze soften slightly, lowering your eyes carefully from the blonde's. 

"Okay," you'd said. "I'll stay close to you. But, I think you have to give me more than a card for this trade to be equal." 

"Oh?" Chishiya tilted his head playfully. "What is it you want, then?"

You offered him a smile, holding the card out for him to take back. "You have to stay close to me too," you'd said. "That's fair, isn't it?" 

Chishiya chuckled, the first time he had uttered a laugh that carried weight. He slowly lifted a hand from his pocket to take the card from your outstretched hands, pocketing it thoughtfully. "Well. I think that can be arranged."

[justforbooks]

Roger Corman

American film director and producer who liked to describe himself as the ‘Orson Welles of the Z movie’

Although Roger Corman, who has died aged 98, directed more than 50 films, he will be remembered mainly as an influential producer and genial godfather to the New American Cinema of the 1970s. The list of his beneficiaries makes up a Who’s Who of contemporary American film. Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdanovich, Francis Ford Coppola, Monte Hellman, and Jonathan Demme were all directing proteges of Corman.

“You can see right away that the guy’s a superior producer,” said Jack Nicholson, who appeared in five films directed by Corman. “He’s the best producer I’ve met in the business. The man carried me for seven years. I feel tremendously indebted to him.”

But to pre-70s cinemagoers, Corman was an auteur in his own right, describing himself as the “Orson Welles of the Z movie”. The schlocky titles of the majority of his films disguise the fact that Corman was an extremely cultured, elegant and well-spoken man, without the slightest hint about him of the rock’n’roll counterculture in which he played an important part. He also had cameo roles in about 30 films, including as an FBI director in Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs (1991), and a senator in Coppola’s The Godfather Part II (1974).

Corman’s filmography as a director can be roughly divided into three groups: the quickies (1955-60), the adaptations of the works of Edgar Allan Poe (1960-64), and the mainstream experiments (1966-70). In the first period, on a tiny budget and in rented studios, he produced and directed such Z movies as Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957), Teenage Caveman (1958) and She Gods of Shark Reef (1958). Science-fiction horror with tatty special effects, cut-price monsters and unknown casts, they were aimed at the drive-in movie youth market.

He would produce up to seven films a year, his fastest being The Little Shop of Horrors (1960), which was reputedly shot in two days and a night. It was filmed using the same sets as A Bucket of Blood (1959), a self-referential black comedy. Corman once joked he could make an epic about the fall of the Roman empire with two extras and a sagebrush.

In slight contrast was the Poe series, amusing shockers in widescreen and colour. These included House of Usher (1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), The Raven (1963), The Terror (1963) and, perhaps the best, The Masque of the Red Death (1964).

Greater commercial success came with such films as The St Valentine’s Day Massacre (1967) and Bloody Mama (1970), but soon afterwards Corman retired as a director. His reasons were manifold: he had made around 26 films in 10 years and felt the need of a rest; he also complained that when he made cheap films nobody tinkered with them, but as a big-budget director everyone seemed to think they had the right to maul his work. “Specifically, a picture I made called Gas-s-s-s for AIP [American International Pictures], which was completely recut,” Corman said.

“It was a controversial kind of a comedy, and AIP cut all the funny stuff right out of the film, including the entire ending. The film was never shown anywhere as I shot it, and I felt, frankly, they emasculated the picture and destroyed any possibility of success.”

He was born in the city of Detroit, Michigan, to William Corman, an engineer, and Anne (nee High). His paternal grandparents were Russian-Jewish immigrants, and his mother was of German ancestry.

The family moved to California and Roger went to Beverly Hills high school before beginning an engineering degree at Stanford University. It was the middle of the second world war, and he spent two years as a navy cadet before finally graduating in 1947. He entered the movies at 20th Century-Fox as an errand boy, but then, under the GI Bill, took off to study English literature at Oxford University for six months, followed by six months in Paris.

In 1954, Corman sold a low-budget script to Allied Artists. It was released as Highway Dragnet, for which he insisted on an associate producer credit. But he was disappointed with the film and, believing that he could do a better job as a producer, scraped $12,000 together to make Monster from the Ocean Floor (1954), directed by Wyott Ordung.

After selling the film for a profit of $100,000, Corman scripted and produced The Fast and the Furious (1954). Shot in 10 days by the film’s star, John Ireland, it was distributed by a small new company, American Releasing Corporation, later renamed American International Pictures, with Corman as its house director.

In the early 60s, for AIP, he made his series of adaptations from Poe, a favourite writer of his since childhood. Using the team of the designer Daniel Haller, writer Richard Matheson and cameraman Floyd Crosby, he created garish, camp and amusing shockers, taking their tone from Vincent Price’s sibilant, ghoulish hamming.

They were sometimes referred to as “late wife” movies because, in most of them, Price had a deceased wife lying around a castle. Taking only 15 days to shoot, they contained scenes and sets interchangeable from one film to the next, but they were popular and gathered a cult following.

A departure from the horror genre of the period, and one of Corman’s favourites, was The Intruder (1961), a gritty social drama in which a rabble-rouser (William Shatner) arrives in a southern town to disrupt racial integration in the schools.

Corman’s taste for updated American Gothic was evident in the biker movie The Wild Angels (1966), which featured actual Hells Angels, and The Trip (1967), an indulgent plunge into psychedelia written by Nicholson. Both starred Peter Fonda, who went on to produce – and star in alongside Nicholson and Dennis Hopper – the Corman-influenced Easy Rider (1969).

Corman’s blood-splattered recreation of 1928 Chicago in The St Valentine’s Day Massacre was more tightly controlled and wordier than his usual product, with impeccable performances from Jason Robards as Al Capone and Ralph Meeker as Bugs Moran. In the cold-eyed and unromantic Bloody Mama, Shelley Winters let rip as Kate Barker, the murderous matriarch of a gang of outlaws, with an unknown Robert De Niro playing her son.

Corman followed up that success with a tale of another female gangster, Boxcar Bertha (1972), hiring a young Scorsese as director.

He gave up directing after The Red Baron (1971) nose-dived at the box office. Phony German accents were dubbed in against his wishes. However the dog fights, actually filmed in the air, gave the first world war flying sequences authenticity.

In 1970, he set up his own company, New World Pictures, and continued to produce formula films for the youth market, abiding by the profitable philosophy “make ’em quick, make ’em cheap and make ’em popular”. These included motorcycle movies (Angels Die Hard); sexploitation flicks (Night Call Nurses, Fly Me, Caged Heat!, the latter directed by Demme) and horror films (Night of the Cobra Woman), but the company also distributed films in the US at the opposite end of the creative scale, such as Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers (1972) and Federico Fellini’s Amarcord (1973).

In 1990, Corman sat down in his director’s chair once more and made Frankenstein Unbound, with John Hurt and Raul Julia, which proved he could still spin a gory tale, though, alas, without the success of earlier years.

However, the title of his 1998 autobiography, How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime, still rang true. He continued to produce and executive produce films into his 90s. In 2009, he received a lifetime achievement Academy Award.

He is survived by his wife, Julie Halloran, a film producer, whom he married in 1970, and their four children, Roger, Brian, Mary and Catherine.

🔔 Roger William Corman, film director, producer and actor, born 5 April 1926; died 9 May 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[angelasscribbles]

The Proposal

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake x Riley

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 1,471

A/N: This is finally! @twinkleallnight ask from my prompt wheel event. The ask was for Drake x fluff and angst x secrets and romance. I decided that any fluffy, romantic gesture from Drake Walker is going to be angsty because he's unsure of himself. What other romantic gesture would you keep secret than a proposal? So here it is finally. Hope you enjoy!

Also submitting to @choicesjunechallenge for Proposal.

My other stuff: Master List.

“What’s going on in here?” Riley asked.

The conversation had ceased the moment she walked in. That was the second time in as many days and Drake had been acting squirely for a week. Fidgety, secretive, and quieter than normal. Not that he was ever a huge talker, but this was quiet even for him. He seemed lost in thought often and when she asked what was on his mind, he just dismissed her with “nothing.”

She sighed and shook her head when Drake once again responded to her question with, “Nothing.” The same answer he’d given her earlier when he’d hung up on a call that he’d clearly been in the middle of when she’d walked in the room.

She was starting to worry that there was someone else or that he’d realized he’d made a huge mistake wanting to be with her.

Not that she would blame him. She had come here for his best friend after all. But the spark with Liam had fizzled and died quickly. There was no way the royal council ever would have approved her as a match for him anyway and she had figured out not long after landing in Cordonia that there was no way she would be happy living under the restraints that Liam lived under.

She thought that Drake had moved past the fact that her initial interest had been in Liam, but maybe he hadn’t. She had never meant to fall for someone else after realizing she and Liam weren’t meant to be, but she had fallen for Drake in slow motion, and had been unable to stop it from happening.

Maybe he had just gotten swept up in the excitement of the engagement tour and the adrenaline rush of all the sneaking around, trying to be discreet as they cleared her name and now that it was all over, regular life with her was boring. Maybe he liked damsels in distress and now that she wasn’t one, he was losing interest.

She turned her attention to the other man in the room and demanded, “Max?” Surely Max would tell her what was going on.

Max gave her a wide-eyed stare, like a deer caught in the headlights before blurting out, “Nothing!” and bounding out of the room.

Well, fuck.

She turned back to Drake with a tremble in her voice, “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“What? Of course! Riley, baby, nothing is wrong!” Drake was shaken to his core that she thought that. He took her in his arms and pulled her tight against him as he told her, “Nothing is wrong! I love you! Please tell me you know that!”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded as she pulled away and gave him a sad smile, “I’ll leave you alone and let you get back to…whatever you were doing…”

He watched her leave with his heart in his throat.

Shit!

This was not supposed to happen. He was apparently a terrible secret keeper and a worse boyfriend. His girlfriend, the love of his life, thought something was wrong between them because he was making such a mess out of this.

He pulled out his phone and started typing into the group chat he had created a week ago.

Drake: Change of plans! We need to pull this off tonight! She’s suspicious and thinks something is wrong.

Max: Sorry, I have no poker face!

Hana: We can do this! Can’t we, Liam?

Liam: Of course! Anything for our two best friends my love!

Drake: Seven?

Hana: Seven it is. Max, come to my office so we can coordinate.

Max: On my way!

Drake pocked his phone and went to find Riley.

*****

After reassuring his girlfriend that everything was okay between them, Drake met his friends on the palace roof. “Oh my God, you guys, this looks amazing! How did you get it done so fast?”

There was a table draped with a white linen tablecloth, adorned with red and white roses and tapered candles. Twinkle lights stretched overhead and soft classical music floated through the air from hidden speakers.

“Being queen has it’s perks!” Hana giggled.

“She’s being modest,” Liam draped an arm around her shoulders, “My wife is amazing at everything!”

“Besides, you did all the planning,” Max interjected, “all we did was make it happen a few days earlier than originally scheduled!”

“Okay, okay,” Drake muttered as he walked around the area checking things, “Flowers… music… champagne….candles… what am I forgetting?”

“Uh…do you have the ring?” Max asked.

“Shit! The ring! Right!” Drake patted his pockets, then blew out a huge sigh of relief when he found it, “Got it!”

“Okay, now all we have to do is get Riley up here!” Hana nodded.

“I’ve got that part under control,” Drake answered, “Thank you all for everything!”

“Are you okay?” Liam peered at his best friend, “You look a little pale.”

“I’ve never been so nervous in my fucking life! What if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to get married? What if-“

“Hey, hey, hey!” Liam placed a hand on his shoulder, “She will!”

“Yeah, anyone can see how in love you two are,” Max assured him.

“As her best friend, I’m telling you, she’s going to say yes!” Hana added.

“Okay,” Drake took in several gulping breaths, “Let’s do this!”

*****

“We’re having dinner on the roof?” Riley asked as Drake led her through the door at the top of the stairs and out onto the moonlit rooftop of the palace.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun.”

“Wow!” She breathed as she took in the scene in front of her, “You did all this?”

“I had a little help,” he admitted.

“Why?” She asked as her eyes took in the table that was set with fine China, crystal champagne flutes and actual silverware. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good, romantic gesture, but this is out of character for you…oh! Is this what you’ve been so secretive about lately?” She watched his face hopefully.

“What? I mean…yes, yes! This is what I’ve been planning! I wanted to recreate the night we met!”

Relief crashed through her as she sat in the chair that he pulled out for her. “I’m pretty sure there was no China or champagne that night…”

“Yes, but this was the best I could do in the palace kitchens! There are no plastic plates in the place. But look!” He pulled the cover off her plate to reveal a deluxe cheeseburger and fries.

“Oh my God! This looks amazing!” she laughed, “This is great! I was starting to worry about you for a minute there, Walker!” Burgers and fries were much more his speed, and hers, than any of the fancy dishes that usually came out of the palace kitchens.

“So, you like it?”

“Of course! But why all the secrecy? You scared the crap out of me! I thought you were going to break up with me!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he ducked his head sheepishly, “I guess I’m not good at keeping secrets.”

“Ya think?”

His smile vanished as his countenance grew serious, “Riley, I never want you to be afraid of that. I want to be with you now, tomorrow and forever.”

Something in his tone made her body go still. Her eyes widened as she took in his serious demeanor, “What are you trying to say right now, Drake?”

“I’m saying…” he was suddenly down on one knee holding a ring up to her, “I love you, Riley Brooks and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you! Will you make me the happiest man on the planet and marry me?”

Her hands flew to her mouth as she sucked in a shocked gasp, “Drake!” tears started falling down her cheeks as she nodded.

“Yes? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes!” she nodded harder.

“Oh, thank God!” He slid the ring on her finger as his hands started to shake from the adrenaline that had dumped into his body.

He stood up and pulled her from the chair, crushing her against him as his lips crashed into hers.

When they pulled apart, she was laughing, “I can’t believe you thought I would say anything other than yes!”

“I have never been so scared in my life, Riley!”

She looked at him incredulously, “Did you really think I’d say no?”

“Maybe….”

“Not a chance! You’re stuck with me, now!” She teased as she admired the ring on her finger.

“Good!” He kissed her again then leaned his forehead against hers, “I love you, Riley.”

“I love you too, Drake,” she murmured as her hands ran through his hair.

The food was forgotten for the moment as they clung to each other with love and happiness flooding through their hearts.

[the-eclipse-is-in-me]

Fanfic

Hi babes, I just finished Chapter 7 of my Fanfic, It's Death or Victory on Ao3, and was wondering it I should start putting it on here as well for people that somehow survive without Ao3. So I'm going to put down the First chapter to see what y'all think.

Chapter 1: People Watching (Cresent's POV)

Its been 2 years since I arrived at camp, 2 years since I was claimed as a child of Hades, and 2 years of being completely, utterly, alone. Cabin 13 was usually empty, even if my brother, Nico, just got back from his world-saving quest with the seven. He’s been back for three weeks, but obviously, he decided to spend them with his “definitely not boyfriend” Will Solace, my cousin. He’s an Apollo kid and the Head healer, so I already didn’t see him much, given his almost never-ending shifts. Now he hangs out with my brother, cutting bandages and doing whatever other stuff they do in the infirmary, so I had no one to talk to.

I know it’s weird for someone to be in a place for 2 years and not have any friends, but that is not the case, I do have friends, for example, Rachel, the oracle and my mentor since I took an interest in art. The problem was that it was the middle of September and she wasn’t here right now, which was very sad for me. So it has been me, my dairy and my growing army of characters in my little notebook.

That all changed on the faithful day I met the brilliantly annoyingly, crazily amazing, child of Nike, Quinn Mechai. I had decided that “Hey, maybe we should go get some sunlight and fresh air, and train with our sword since it has been a while.” I got up, found my magic headband in case I decided to practice some archery on my way back and walked out the door.

When I had finally reached the training grounds, I found someone already there, wiping vigorously at the training dummies, as if they had said something very bad about their mother’s cooking (which I would have fought tirelessly for). In their hand, I saw the worst thing that fool could have been holding at the time, my training sword. I can’t say it was my sword cause I didn’t have one, the only weapon in my possession was my magic headband/bow/staff I had gotten from Artemis as a gift for completing a quest for her that for some unknown reason, known of her hunters could do themselves, (they DID NOT take that well).

I loved my bow, but I was also quite skilled at fighting with a sword and daggers (I’m a girl of many talents, and few words, except for my dairy)

Whoever the person was, they were using the one sword I felt comfortable with, and there for worked very hard to hide. Because I was also an idiot, I marched straight for them and almost got impaled by a sword going right for my heart. If it had not been for my quick reflexes and powers, I could have died. Though the burst of energy did send me falling on my butt.

When I focused again, I found a hand outstretched towards me, and attached to that hand was one of the prettiest faces I had ever seen. I still don’t know how I had managed to miss it before, but now that I had seen it, I definitely wouldn’t be getting it out of my head anytime soon. “Why did it look familiar, though” The figure in front of me had the most solid gold eyes I had ever seen and curly red hair with a fiery orange that fell onto it in just the right way. I wanted to stay in that moment forever, but I quickly remembered why I was there.

I swatted their hand away, because chivalry is dead, and got back onto my feet. I dusted myself and turned around before I embarrassed myself any further. I ran to the infirmary the moment the cute redhead was out of sight and pushed through the door. I found my brothers (since I consider Will my brother and as I said before he’s my cousin) having a conversation about something to do with Star Wars, Will’s favourite movie franchise and I abruptly interrupted them with the most important question of our time, (ok, fine, of the next week of my life, but still) “Who is the red-head in the training area?” Will gave me an exasperated look, though I was too distracted to worry about his conversation with Nico.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Cres,” Will answered, already getting up from his seat to get the camper files.

“Well, they had beautiful, solid gold eyes, and red hair with orange highlights, tan skin and you know that sword I usually use while training, they used it with such ease and flow, if I didn’t feel like training, I would have sat there for hours to watch.” “Wait, did I say that part out loud, well there goes the secret in secret crush”

“Well, I think I found his file, their name is Quinn Mechai, non-binary and gender-fluid. They got to camp 2 years ago, same as you.” Will responded, to my internal panic and dismay.

“Did you just say Quinn Mechai, the same Quinn Mechai that betrayed me a year ago, but everyone was too busy with the quest to care? That Quinn turned into the beautiful person I just saw outside.” “There was absolutely no way he became that hot, stupid traitor”

I was not getting a crush on the one person who bothered to notice me and then ditched the moment they got the chance.

Here is the rest of it on Ao3

It's Death or Victory - Cresent_Solace - Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Tell me what you think.

[unreadpoppy]

song as old as rhyme - chapter 12

{Beauty and the Beast AU - Raphael x OC (Elize)}

chapter 11

Read on AO3

Warning: MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTION/TALK OF SUICIDE. IF THAT IS A TRIGGER, STOP READING AT ' “How did she die?” He asked, urging her to continue. ' AND RESUME AFTER 'They both stayed silent for a moment.'

Taglist: @littlemoondarling @desenhosdebolso @shyminnie07 @lemonandhoneytea

One Week Later

When Raphael arrived in his room, he was met with a surprise. 

The table where he usually ate by himself was already set, and standing next to it, was Elize. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Care to tell me what is the meaning of this?” 

“I’ve noticed that there is a bit of a…misunderstanding between us.” She began to explain. “And, well, Haarlep suggested we talk about it to clear the air. “ Elize gulped. “Afterall, I will be here for a long time, it’d probably be better if we were on good terms with each other.” She finished explaining. 

Raphael stood silent for a moment and Elize was scared she might have overstepped. Then, he asked “What is it that you have cooked over here?” while making his way towards the table and sitting on one of the chairs. Elize sighed in relief and sat on the other side. 

“Just some rice and beans, potatoes, fish.” She pointed towards each food as she spoke. “I didn’t pick a wine, I thought it’d be best if you chose it later.” 

“It is very thoughtful of you.” He said honestly. Raphael took a bite out of the fish and hummed in delight. “The food is also very good.”

“Thank you.” Elize replied while eating the rice. “My mother was the one who taught me the recipes. I tried my best to replicate them. I’m glad to know it was good.”

“You mention your mother a lot.” In between spoonfuls of food, Raphael spoke. “Tell me more about her.” 

“Her name was Floriella. I said it before but she used to be a druid, went on some adventures until she settled down with father and had me.”

“Why did she settle down?”

Elize shrugged. “According to father, she was tired of running around and wanted to start a family.” 

“And you never thought to ask it straight to her?” 

“There are certain things we only realized we should’ve asked sooner when it’s already too late.” Elize looked down. “My mother passed away seven years ago.” 

“My condolences.” Raphael said and Elize nodded. “I never had a mother. She died giving birth to me.” 

“Oh. That seems…lonely. I’m sorry.” 

“I am used to it by now.” When he noticed the confusion on her face, he clarified. “Being lonely. I am used to it.” 

“Oh.” Elize stuffed food in her mouth while she thought of something to say. She failed to come up with anything so they ate in silence for quite some time. 

Eventually, both of their plates were empty. Raphael stood up, grabbed two cup and said  “Let us go find a good wine to drink.” With his free hand, he snapped them away to the wine cellar. 

Elize stood behind Raphael while he spent a good 10 minutes choosing a bottle, finally picking one and filling both their cups. 

“Cheers.” She said and they clicked their cups together. As soon as Elize took a sip, she realized how strong the drink was. “Oh my.” She said, already feeling a bit strange. “I think I’m gonna sit on the floor.” 

“Allow me.” He snapped his fingers and a small table with two wooden chairs appeared. “I forgot that most of the wines here can be quite strong for a human. I apologize.” 

“It’s alright.” Elize replied while sitting on one of the chairs. “It is strong but it’s quite good.” 

As they kept drinking, chatting about mundane things, Elize started to feel more bold. It was probably the wine.

“Why don’t you appear as a devil more often?” She asked suddenly. 

“Pardon me?” Raphael didn’t seem to be as affected by the wine as she was, but the question did get him off guard. 

Elize gulped. “You know, when you get all red and with horns. I only ever see you as a man. Why?” 

“Every day I am out there, trying to get more contracts done.” He said. “If I appear as a devil right away, some might be scared and run away.”

“No, that I can gather.” Elize shook her head. “I mean, like, this is your home. Be yourself.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes.” She quickly replied.

Raphael smirked and was engulfed by flames. A moment later, he was just as she had described, all red with horns. 

Elize smiled. “That’s better.” She took a swing of her wine and asked. “I’ve always wanted to ask something but I think it’s too personal.” 

“Better to ask now before you lose momentum.” He looked at her. “Or lose the chance.”

Elize nodded. “Who is Tav?” 

Raphael’s face hardened. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve heard their name being thrown around quite a lot by the others.” She drunk again. “It appears to me you two had…history.” Raphael took a deep breath. He felt reluctant to tell what happened and Elize noticed. Curiosity was getting the better of her, and so she offered 

“What if I tell you something personal first?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You are hesitant to tell me who Tav is.” She said. “I thought that, maybe if I say something personal, you might be more willing.”

“You seem very keen to get that information.” Raphael squinted his eyes. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Yes, but satisfaction brought it back.” She smirked and sipped the wine, looking at him. “Do we have a deal?”

His lips thinned, but he nodded. “Go on. Tell your tale.”

Elize took a deep breath. “Earlier, I told you about my mother.” Raphael nodded. “I didn’t tell you how she died.” She looked down. “I don’t think I ever told anyone besides my father, for a matter of fact.”

“How did she die?” He asked, urging her to continue. 

She sighed. “Mother always had a sadness about her. You could see it in her eyes.” She frowned. “Some days, she’d wake up and never leave the bed. As I grew older, it only seemed to get worse.” 

Elize put her cup down on the table. “I used to feel like a burden. When my mother talked about her glory days and how happy she had been as an adventurer, I knew it was my fault…my fault that she stopped living her life.”

Raphael was quiet, just allowing the woman to talk. “Of course, she’d deny it, but I could see the truth written in her face.” Elize looked down. “One day, when I was fifteen, I woke up after hearing a loud thud. I went to my parents room and neither of them were there. When I got the kitchen, my mother was lying there.”

“At first, I thought she had fainted. But then I realized she wasn’t breathing. I shook her, I cried for her. I even gave her a health potion we had stacked but nothing worked.” Elize hadn’t noticed the tears that fell until she felt Raphael reaching across the table and giving her a handkerchief. “Thank you.” She wiped her face and continued. “When I looked down at my mother, I saw she had a bottle on one of her hands.” Elize paused. “It was devil’s bane. She took a whole dose of it. There was nothing that anyone could have done.” 

The both of them stayed silent for a moment. Then, Raphael finally spoke up. “I am sorry you went through that ordeal.” He said sincerely. He wanted to say more but couldn’t. He wanted to tell Elize not to carry that burden, that she should cherish the good memories she had with her mother. But why did Raphael feel compelled to comfort the mortal? 

“I think it’s your turn to talk now.” She said. 

Raphael took a deep breath, nodding. “Tav was an adventurer. A few years ago, they were captured by mind flayers, who stuck a tadpole in their head. If the worm wasn’t removed soon, Tav and their companions would become illithid.” 

Elize nodded along. She had a very small understanding about those creatures but it was enough to not get lost in the story. “I came to them, giving them a path to salvation. I offered to give them the means to set the prince of the gith free, with the Orphic Hammer, and in return, they would give me the Crown of Karsus.” 

“What does that crown do?”

“The Crown was a powerful artifact, crafted by Karsus, in an attempt to replace the goddess Mystryl. It did not work for him, but the crown could still had potential. I planned on using the crown to unite the nine hells and end the Blood War, crowning myself as Archdevil Supreme. And all I needed was for Tav to sign the deal.” 

“But they did not do that. Not only they refused me, they broke into my House of Hope, laid with Haarlep and stole the Hammer. They even turned one of my allies against me. When I arrived, they insulted me and a fight ensued.” 

“And I assume it didn’t end well for you?”

Raphael nodded. “I overestimated their prowess in battle. The only reason I didn’t die was because I left the battle before it was too late.” He looked down. “I lived because I was a coward.” 

There was a moment of silence. Then, he felt Elize, who had gotten up and walked over towards him, put a hand on his shoulder. “That must have been hard, for a man as proud as you. But…there is no cowardice in wanting to live.” 

He looked up at her. There was no signs of sarcasm or disdain in her eyes, only genuine care. Raphael felt a tug in his heart. No one had ever looked at him like that before. 

But before he got any hope, Elize took a step back, wincing, and placed a hand on her forehead. “I think that’s enough wine for tonight.” She said. 

Raphael got up and held onto her forearms, to ensure she wouldn’t fall. “I’ll take you to your room.” Before he snapped his fingers, he warned. “You might want to close your eyes. Teletransportation while drunk always feel worse.” 

Elize nodded and closed her eyes. But she did something unexpected. She leaned forwards, and hugged him. “This is just so I don’t get dizzy or fall.” She said in his chest. Raphael then snapped them away. 

In her room, he helped Elize get on the bed, taking off her shoes and even pulling up the sheets. Before he left, she held his wrist. “I want to thank you…for being honest. Maybe you’re not as bad as I previously thought.” And then the human fell asleep. 

Raphael chuckled and left the room, a weird feeling blooming in his chest. 

[memoria-99]

Snow White × Wizardess Heart

Cast

Snow White: Liz

Evil Queen: Zeus

Mirror: Hiro

King: Klaus

Queen: Yukiya

Huntsman: Elias

Seven dwarfs: Amelia, Alfonse, Lucious, Luca, Joel, Randy, Sigurd

Prince: Caesar

Episode 1

Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window, sewing. As she sewed and looked out at the snow, she pricked her finger with her needle, and three drops of blood fell on the snow.

"If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window frame." (Yukiya)

Soon after, the queen gave birth to a little girl who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony. They named her Snow White, but sadly, the queen died shortly after the child was born.

"Yukiya, you're already leaving?!" (Liz)

"Well, good for me. I didn't want many lines anyway." (Yukiya)

"You're supposed to be the newborn baby, Liz. Why are you talking now?" (Klaus)

"Oops, I forgot." (Liz)

"Make sure you play your role properly." (Klaus)

A few years later, the king remarried. His new wife was a beautiful woman, but she was proud and arrogant and could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone.

"Why is Zeus here? Don't tell me he's..." (Liz)

"Heh, even the writer knows I should be the highest one. I'm the pinnacle of all creations, alive or dead!" (Zeus)

"... I wonder what the writer is thinking." (Klaus)

"Hold on, Goldstein is the king here?! Why?!" (Zeus)

"Shut your mouth, will you?" (Klaus)

The queen had a magic mirror, and every day she would stand before it and ask,

"Hey, Hiro. Who in this land is fairest of all?" (Zeus)

And the mirror would answer,

"You, King Kook, are fairest of all." (Hiro)

The queen was content because she knew the mirror never lied.

"I knew it! But is it just me, or you sound completely soulless?" (Zeus)

"It's a torture to put a soul in that line." (Hiro)

Snow White grew up and became more and more beautiful. She was as beautiful as the clear day and more beautiful than the queen herself.

One day, when the queen asked her mirror,

"Hey, Hiro. Who in this land is fairest of all? It's me, right?" (Zeus)

The mirror replied,

"I'm already getting tired of hearing your stupid questions, but... the script says you're not. Snow White is even fairer than you." (Hiro)

The queen was horrified and filled with envy.

"What?! It can't be! Hiro, go get rid of her!" (Zeus)

"Idiot... I'm playing the role of mirror, aren't I? How could a mirror stuck on the wall do anything?" (Hiro)

"Oh, you're right. Lemme look at the script." (Zeus)

She then spoke.

"Okay, I'm summoning the huntsman." (Zeus)

The queen summoned the huntsman, and as the two met...

"YOU are the huntsman?" (Zeus)

"It's not like I'm here because I wanted to." (Elias)

"Can you even play a role as a fine huntsman? I mean, you're a weakling." (Zeus)

"... Just. Read. The. Script." (Elias)

"Hmph. Take Snow White out into the woods and kill her." (Zeus)

"I hate you ordering me around, but as if I even had a choice. Damn writer." (Elias)

The huntsman obeyed and took Snow White into the woods.

"We're here, Miss Hart." (Elias)

"What are we doing here?" (Liz)

As he drew his knife to slay her, she began to weep and begged,

"Huuuuhhh? Elias, please spare my life! I'll give you this persona mirror and never come back." (Liz)

"What did you just say? Persona mirror? Is... is that the real thing?!" (Elias)

"Yes, I swear!" (Liz)

Because this mirror was something he wanted to attain for his whole life, the huntsman took pity on her and said,

"Then Miss Hart, run away." (Elias)

With that, he left, tightly grasping the persona mirror in hand.

- To be continued -

[scarfacemarston]

Abigail Roberts A-Z Alphabet Fluff Prompt

Rest of the letters here! I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I don't know if Abigail would say I love you first if it's a new relationship. It depends actually on how it ended with John. It would be more likely be a conscious decision on her part rather than it being blurted out - but in a high-stakes situation, you never know!

It just depends on how safe she feels at that point, but I think she'd show it in every way she could without saying it first. I think she'd hoped the reader would say it first so she wouldn't have to because I hc that Abigail said it first to John, and so that makes it scarier for her to be "in charge" again, but if the moment is right, she'll do it. Does she say it all the time? I don't know. I think she might say "love you" kind of quickly and quietly instead or keep them for more quiet moments at first. Definitely nighttime before sleep. It overall depends on how safe she feels with you/John. If she's with Sadie, there is a lot of guilt involved at first because she doesn't want to push her into anything she doesn't want, but I think it would happen relatively quickly once the dust has settled in the gang.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?) If we're talking RDR 2 Abigail, I'd actually say she is not that jealous - or at least, she keeps it in. She's accepted that John says they're on break/may not get back together. She says so herself. Arthur says she pines more than anything.

Rdr 1 - Abigail is more jealous when he meets Bonnie, who is pretty and much younger than her. She makes a few comments, but that's it. Bonnie and Abigail end up being friends, though.

If she's in a relationship with the reader - she definitely notices. She teeters between thinking that she better show her feelings or not making a scene and tells herself she's the one in the wrong. It's active vs passive, really.

But she's not afraid to grab your hand, put her arm around your waist, or kiss you with a smirk and a wink

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

Her kisses range from soft and sweet - yet brief or more possessive. Soft, Sweet, and brief is like the touch of a butterfly's wing. It's almost a tease. It's a light "I love you" before moving on with the day. She also gives cheek kisses. Sometimes, she'll grab her partner by the collar and kiss them behind a tree before slinking off with a coy smile. This can especially happen if someone is flirting with her partner. 

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Abigail had always wanted a family. Her mother died when she was a baby, and her father died when she was seven. She was between the streets and the orphanages before she became caught up in the brothel system. There, she saw all sorts of horrors regarding childbirth, child loss, abortions, and maternal death. It made the consequences far more realistic to her. However, she dreamed of stability and the chance to have a family. She wasn't around children often as an adult. It wasn't until she met a few brothel children that she watched after or had Jack that she truly had experience with children. However, being a single mother scarred her. She knew the gravity of the citation and sometimes wished Jack was never born. However, these were thoughts that rarely came and only popped up as intrusive thoughts during her deepest depression. However, she is wonderful with kids. She's kind and patient, but also strict in that she doesn't take too much b.s. And encourages her children to be their best. She was extremely anxious to have her second child, but she did it partially for John and partially because she knew she was in a safer era in her life to enjoy another little one. 

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Part 2: One Chance

Part 1: Five Years Part 3: Seven minutes

She could feel someone on the bed next to her. She knew immediately that it wasn't Jake. It didn't smell like him, this man smelled of cigarettes and dirt, not cedar and coffee like Jake. His arm didn't wrap around her body making sure that his hand rested on her belly, trying to keep contact with the baby, trying to hold tight to the two things he treasured most. This person, whoever he was, didn't breathe this same, his air sounded ragged and thick, not calm and slow. There was nothing familiar in him.

He touched her in ways that he shouldn't. His hands searched for her most private parts. He was aggressive and sloppy. She pretended to sleep as long as she could, trying to control her breathing and come up with a plan.

Where was Jake and what had they done to him?

Panic began to clench her heart. She couldn't allow this stranger behind her to have the satisfaction of her fear.

Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out...

She tried the mantra and it worked for a while. She had to turn around and face him before he got more handsy with her, but what should she do? Should agree to his plans or fight right from the start? She had the baby to protect and Jake if he was still alive.

She knew that he would have died before he allowed anyone to touch her, to lay in their bed, to hurt her in any way. The two options ran through her head, He was either dead or he had gone. She was hoping that he had run, even though it meant that she would have to deal with this man on her own.

She couldn't think about the fact that Jake may dead. it would do no good. She had to be rational. She had to think like he would, calm and rational behavior was the best way to save them all. Slowly, MC turned to face the man.

He was more imposing than she expected. His hair was mussed, red and greasy. His eyes cold. The shirt that he was wearing strained at the seams, showing off their girth. Though she had been training and was rather lithe and coordinated, there was no way that she could physically overtake him.

He was delighted at her inspection of him, somewhat impressed with her composure in this circumstance. He would rid her of that composure if he had his way. He always had his way. Jake was a fool to have forgotten that fact. George thought to himself. A sinister smile crept across his face. "Hello MC," his gruff voice sent chills down her spine, it was still thick with desire and revenge. "I don't believe we have met. My name is George. I am an old friend of Jake's. I didn't think he could land a woman as beautiful as you are."

She sat frozen, but worked up enough courage to control her voice and hopefully, this conversation. "I have heard of you, " she wasn't going to elaborate on that point, knowing what a cruel person that he could be. "Where is Jake?" she asked.

"Oh, you don't know?" the man growled. "He packed a bag and left you about an hour ago. Must have gotten scared about something." He hackled. George took out a grubby hand and rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger. It felt like sandpaper on her skin and she shuddered despite herself.

"Ahh, there it is. Delightful." He breathed in as if the smell of fear was delicious to him. "I want you to know fear," he contnued, "I want you to be so afraid that you beg me to end your life." He whispered in her ear.

She was afraid, so afraid, but she would not let him see that fear again. She stiffened her chin and tightened her jaw. "What joy would it bring you for me to be afraid? What would come of that?" she prodded.

"When your husband hears of the things that I am going to do to you, the way that you will have suffered, he will never forgive himself. He will wish that he had been through these things instead of you and he will absolutely hold himself responsible. He will never forgive himself, never have a moment of peace, never recover. He will live a life in torture, constantly reliving the choices he made and the way that you met your end." His eyes took on a yellow glow as he spoke, his cracked lips curled up on the sides.

He was right. Her pain would be his punishment. It would destroy him. She couldn't let that happen and she couldn't let him harm the baby. He didn't seem to know about the baby

Why had Jake left? Did he know, was he afraid? Was he trying to protect them? Yes, that must be it, he must have thought that by leaving, he would be keeping George away from them. Why did he have to be so wrong and when did he forget that they were in this life together?

"I have been polite long enough," George's face stiffened. He grabs the hair at the base of her neck and pulls her across the room. "Take a shower, I want to watch before I show you how a real man satisfies a woman." His voice was rising, excitement building at the base of his voice. She could tell that he was already becoming aroused.

She paused. "Get going, we have a lot of exciting things to accomplish today," He said. He grabbed her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat, causing her to gag.

Sick bastard.

Without any argument, she slowly headed to the bathroom. She couldn't think of any other way to protect the baby. He could do whatever he wanted to her, but he would not harm that child. She would make sure of that. She knew that she would come up with something. Jake had taught her how to think on her feet and adapt to any situation. She just had to find the right opportunity.

As these thoughts flashed through her mind, she noticed a glorious shining object on the dresser. If she could manage to reach it, there may be a way out of this mess.

She only had one chance. Hopefully, that was enough.