#he gets dimmer when he's sad too

[mapledrawsarts]

Headcanon Leafy design 🍃

[convexicalcrow]

"Cub, please, go rescue the Allays, please, we can't let them stay there, they're so distressed!"

Scar's voice was also distressed, but Cub hadn't needed to hear him to understand. It had been a long time since Cub felt that deep Vex rage well up inside him, and it was both strange and also familiar. At least he knew why he felt that way.

"I'll get them, don't worry. He's not still there, is he? He's gone to do other things?"

"He's not there, no. Just, hurry. They're so scared! We gotta get them outta there!"

"Alright, leave it with me."

-

Jevin was easily distracted, it's fair to say, and in his Vex form, Cub was able to sneak into the place where he'd kept the allays with ease. He could feel their distress as he got close, and they flew to him once he broke in, clinging to him in fear.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out of here. You'll be safe with us. The Vex will avenge you," Cub murmured, giving as much comfort as he could.

There were small sad trilling sounds coming from the Allays. Cub could see the scars on their bodies where they'd caught Jevin's sword but had somehow survived. Cub wasted no more time in whisking them away to his base, hoping he could find a way to calm them down a little. He wouldn't defeat their trauma, of course, but that wasn't the point. At least he could give them sanctuary.

-

A lot of people assume Allays and Vex are enemies. That Vex corrupt Allays into Vexes. But this isn't true. Vexes are the rage Allays can't express. When Allays seek revenge, it is deep indeed, and handed over to the Vex, who can act in ways they simply cannot. And when the rage is over, the Vex are becalmed by the sweet song of the Allays, both comforted by their own presence. That is why Allays reside in mansions and pillager camps. Anywhere the Vex are, so too are the Allays.

-

"Cub, I've left a creeper in Jevin's house! That'll sort him out!" Scar said as he arrived at Cub's base later on. He wasn't surprised to see Cub still in his Vex form. "I named it CatDog! That'll teach him to kill Allays!"

"Very good, very good. It's certainly a start, that's for sure. I think we can find other ways to torment him, though, as the season progresses. These poor Allays, man, you gotta come see them. They've got scars, it's awful," Cub said.

Scar gasped. "Scars! Oh no! How dare he! Come on, show me where they are, I gotta look after them!"

-

Cub led him down into the basement of his house and flicked a switch. It opened a hidden door that led to a staircase going down.

"They're down here. They wanted to be far, far away, so I dug a hole at bedrock, and that seemed to suffice. They were sleeping last I checked," Cub said.

"Good, I'm glad they're resting. They'll be okay, won't they?" Scar said.

"I hope so, but you never know with traumatised Allays. Sometimes it's just too much. But I'm hoping we can give them enough of an outlet so they feel okay again."

-

It was, of course, a long way down. There was some soft conversation, but both Cub and Scar felt their anxiety and rage grow the closer they got. Part of it was empathetic; they were both feeling that way anyway, but part of it was coming from the Allays as well. Eventually, they arrived at a room, with a door closing it off. The soft sounds of Allays could be heard from within, their songs still very soft and mournful.

"Just be quiet and gentle, they're really on edge," Cub murmured as he opened the door as slowly and carefully as he could.

Scar nodded and followed him in. The room was small and confined, the two Allays sleeping under a blanket on a pillow in one corner. A soul lantern in one corner offered a little light, enough to see how much dimmer the Allays were. Cub sat down beside the Allays, watching over them.

"Just sit and be quiet. They like knowing we're here. I promised we'd get revenge for them. If you want to Vex yourself up a little, I'm sure they won't mind that either," Cub said, keeping his voice low.

Scar grabbed a spare pillow and sat down. He closed his eyes a little and let his Vex features come through a little bit. Vex magic always felt more powerful when he was in Vex form. "We'll avenge them alright, don't you worry about that, little Allays. I'm still so angry! Gods. I'm a zookeeper! How dare he just kill Allays like that!"

Cub shushed him. "There's a time and a place for anger, and right now isn't it." He reached down and gently touched the Allays, who opened their eyes and sat up a little. "The Vex are here, little ones. We'll protect you. We'll avenge you."

The two Allays made soft little cries before allowing Cub and Scar to hold them. Cub held his close to his chest, offering a little Vex magic to comfort the poor creature. Scar wrapped his in a blanket and cradled them in his arms. The rage was building, and for an Allay to feel rage, well, something very bad had definitely happened to cause it.

"This is just like the one I rescued last season. The one Zed got to kill him by holding thorns armour. Man, that Allay was messed up," Cub murmured.

"I did hear about that one. I hope they're okay now."

"It took a long time, but we got there. And these guys'll get there too. And if that means we get to have a little fun along the way, well. So be it."

"So be it. Long live the Vex."

"Long live the ConVex."

[eufezco]

HEART TO HEART — FINNICK ODAIR x FEM!READER

Synopsis — It's hard to get your life back on track when the Capitol has gotten inside your head but Finnick is there to help you. You were enjoying a party in District 13 when you discovered something that triggered you.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ And I break down, then he's pulling me in. In a world of boys, he's a gentleman ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Finnick looked at Katniss and considered himself a lucky man.

Although both of them had managed to get back the loves of their lives, their situations now were quite different from what they were used to. Finnick now looked at Peeta and realized how the Capitol had completely destroyed the friend he made in the games, making him incapable of telling the difference between what was real and what the Capitol put in his head. Finnick saw the sadness grow in Katniss' eyes as she and Peeta couldn't spend more than five minutes together without him wanting to jump on her neck.

You, on the other hand, had your moments of lucidity.

Finnick considered himself lucky for being able to enjoy the person you were before the Capitol took you, but the longer those moments lasted, the worse your breakdowns were.

Even though he considered himself luckier than Katniss, it wasn't being easy for him either. He hated to see you fighting the medical team from District 13 while they were trying to inject you with a sedative and the way he had to hold you so they could do it. He hated to see you with your hands and legs tied to the bed as you tried to free yourself from the straps that held you to the mattress. He hated to see your eyes red with rage, the way you flinched when someone made an unexpected move next to you, and how you could not help but be alert to everything that was going on around you.

But Finnick also appreciated when he saw you smile, or talking to someone who wasn't him, or seeing that you had changed your clothes that day or enjoying your meal in the dining room. The way your eyelashes fluttered when he spoke to you like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, how you were always looking to have some sort of physical contact with him whether it was sitting too close at the table or something more subtle like seeking for his hand in the crowd as you listened to the words that Alma Coin pronounced.

The Capitol caused irreparable damage but they had not been able to take everything from you.

―Let's give a huge round of applause to Sarah and Mike from District 11!

The two siblings had been singing since dinner was over along with their band. The lights in the dining room were dimmer, not the cold white ones that gave you a headache every time you went inside. They had set up a small stage and some decorations on the ceiling. Alma Coin knew that Christmas was close and wanted to do something special to raise people's spirits, and it seemed to be working because after dinner, people had stayed to listen to the siblings sing, and some had even encouraged to go out and dance.

―We still have time for a couple more songs, any requests? ―The boy spoke into the microphone, looking at the audience.

It was your hand that rose.

Finnick and Katniss who were sitting at the table with you looked at each other. You got up from the table and walked to the stage, well, you didn't feel your feet moving on the floor, it was more like you were floating. You were enjoying the little concert so much that you had managed to remember all the lyrics of the songs that they had performed when just a few days ago you couldn't even remember your name, your feet moved under the table following the rhythm of the instruments and you even hummed some of the words.

Both siblings approached the edge of the stage and bent down to listen to the title of the song you were asking for. They looked at each other, satisfied, and more than approving your request. You went back to your seat at the table, happy, and before Katniss and Finnick could ask about the song, the little girl called your name through the microphone.

―Why don't you come and sing with us? ―She asked you in her sweet voice. All the people in the dining room were waiting for your answer, some you knew were encouraging you to come up like Haymitch and Effie, and others you knew were judging you just by the way their eyes were on you like Gale, but you didn't care because since your return you had never wanted anything so much as to get on that stage with those two kids.

Finnick held your hand, his eyebrows drawn together. ―Are you sure?

You nodded and showed him a little smile, reassuring him.

They welcomed you with smiles and sweet gestures to show you where to stand. They had placed a microphone in the middle of the two siblings for you.

―May I? ―You asked for the guitar the young girl was holding. She showed you a smile and gave it to you. The guitar felt out of place in your hands, as if it was a stranger and it was the first time you were meeting each other. That was not the truth, the truth was that you had been playing the guitar for as long as you could remember. You liked to play it for the children at District 4 while they sat around the campfire in the sand accompanied by Finnick and they sang with you. But now it all seemed so far away and the instrument felt odd in between your fingers.

You coughed to clear your throat without realizing that you did it right into the microphone. Finnick smiled at how innocent that had been and you smiled embarrassed. ―Sorry.

The two siblings from District 11 were looking at you with their big eyes and with smiles of comfort on their faces, waiting for you to start singing but all those people staring at you was all you could think about. You couldn't remember how the lyrics started.

Finnick nodded at you from the audience.

Can't take my past Can't take my history

The little girl sang for you. There was a friendly expression on her face. Her eyebrows were raised as she was singing the beginning of the song and she nodded as she looked at you, trusting that you knew the words and helping you with her kind gesture to find them.

You could take my pa But his name's a mystery

Her brother continued singing. A similar expression was on his face. Apart from your friends and Finnick, you had trouble finding people who trusted you in District 13. You didn't blame them because even you found it hard to trust yourself.

Nothing you can take from me Was ever worth keeping Nothing you can take Was ever worth keeping

Your voice didn't sound as you expected, it was still the same sweet voice as always. You expected to have completely destroyed it after all the screaming you did at the Capitol, but no, your voice was still there, just as Finnick remembered it. He was trying very hard not to burst into tears because he knew you were watching him.

The band played the song perfectly on their instruments while you tried to follow them on the guitar and more people listening to the lively rhythm of the song came out and danced in the center of the dining room.

Can't take my charm Can't take my humor You can't take my wealth 'Cause it's just a rumor Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

Those lines you were singing meant so much, it was like pulling the middle finger to the Capitol. He had never seen you so happy since before the Quarter Quell. There was a smile on your lips while you sang, your body moved to the rhythm of the son, your hands moved skilfully on the guitar, and the boy and the girl from District 11 danced on the stage around you.

―Come on. ―Katniss stood and Finnick looked up at her with his green eyes glassy thanks to the tears.

―Come on where? ―Finnick asked.

―We're gonna dance.

Katniss took his hands and dragged him to the dance floor.

Thinking you're so fine, thinking you can have mine Thinking you're in control Thinking you'll change me, maybe rearrange me Think again, if that's your goal

You laughed into the microphone watching them and you handed the little girl her guitar back. You came down from the stage to join them. Katniss stepped back when she saw you coming and you followed Finnick's movements. He had always been a very good dancer so you let him lead you. You twirled around, laughing, until you were so dizzy that you had to wrap your arms around Finnick's neck, your fingers digging into his hair while his arms went around your waist.

―You were amazing. ―He told you, speaking a little louder so that you could hear him over the music. You hugged him again.

―I love you so much.

Finnick cupped both of your cheeks and kissed you. ―I love you too. ―He said before the group of little girls pulled you by the arm so you'd dance with them.

He kept dancing or something like that with Katniss but with his eyes fixed on you. The girls were being so nice; two of them held your hands while the other two were dancing on their own. Their hairs were tied up in braids and they even asked you if they could braid yours later.

But all of a sudden, you let go of their hands and took a few steps backward, bumping into the people dancing. The girls looked at you worried, had they done something wrong? ―No, no, no. ―You mumbled to yourself.

Finnick stopped and approached you quickly, pushing people out of his way when he saw the change in your mood. He took your face in between his hands, looking for your eyes but they were focused on something that wasn't him. You pushed him once his hands cupped your cheeks, only making eye contact with him for a few seconds and then going back to focus on something else.

When Finnick decided to follow your gaze, he felt a wave of heat form in his lower body and rise to his head. Cressida was behind Castor, directing how the shots of you dancing with the girls should look like. By that time you already left the room.

You tried to record a propo a few days after your arrival in District 13. Heavensbee, but especially Coin, were very insistent that you should do it. They said that your rescue and your dedication to the revolution would bring hope to the people resisting in the districts. You weren't too sure about it, much less Finnick and Katniss, who could see how bad was your state to be exposed to something like that.

You were still in a daze, confused with everything that was going on, and very weak physically when you stood in front of the camera in the ruins of District 13 covered with white roses. The smell of the flowers made you fall to your knees in the debris before Finnick could catch you and throw up everything you had eaten since you were taken out of the Capitol.

―I'm okay, I can do this. ―You said, wiping your mouth with the cuff of your uniform, but it was not true and you found out that when you got in front of the camera. Castor pointed the lens at you while Cressida repeated behind him what you were supposed to say. The spotlights were on you and also were the eyes of the president herself, who had come to the surface to see you film the propo, and suddenly you were back at the Capitol, sitting in front of Caesar Flickerman, drugged to the point where you could not remember your name just the words they'd been repeating for you to say during the interview. Your outfit was tight, your face was covered with powder and make-up so that the bruises would not be visible.

―Don't make me regret rescuing you. ―Alma Coin said to you with a smile on her face before the propo. Something similar to what he told you when the Capitol took you out of the arena.

―Don't make me regret not killing you.

After that day, only one type of images of you was broadcast for the rest of the districts to see and they were of you living your life in District 13, recording you when you didn't notice and taking advantage of the moments when you were doing well to show it to the rest of the nation and obviously, without your consent.

Finnick was not happy with that decision and he made sure to make it clear at the meeting at which it was discussed, shouting, running his hands over his face, offering himself to do all the propos they wanted. He was desperate to get them to let you recover in peace.

Katniss agreed with Finnick. She did not like the idea of turning you into a product to fool people into thinking that everything was fine, much less without having your approval. Haymitch and Effie were silent but neither did they agree with what Alma Coin wanted to do with you and Beetee suggested other options but nothing was as valuable to Alma as your image.

The only ones who openly agreed with Heavensbee and Coin were Cressida and Gale. She said that it would be good for the spirit of rebellion and that they would do it so discreetly that you would never know. On the other hand, it seemed like Gale had a lot to say even though he didn't know you at all, and because of that, he ended up in the infirmary that afternoon after he replied to Finnick's complaints by saying:

―There are times when we have to do things we don't want to do, you should know that better than anyone else.

And Finnick couldn't help himself and get up from his seat and before Gale could finish speaking Finnick's fist was already against his cheekbone. That same hand with which Finnick hit Katniss' friend was now smacking Castor's camera into the floor, a gasp could be heard from the people who had stopped dancing to see what was happening. Finnick pointed at Cressida with his index finger, threateningly.

―I warned you to keep that shit away from her.

Katniss was fast to intervene, stepping in between Finnick and the woman. She looked at Cressida with pure rage but knew she couldn't do anything with all those people watching ―Go find her.

Finnick approached the girls you had been dancing with. He knelt by their side. ―Did you see where she went? ―He asked kindly to them, perfectly hiding his nervousness. One of them pointed at one of the doors and he immediately knew where you were. He flashed a smiled to her as a thank you.

―Have we done something wrong? ―She played with her hands.

―No, she was having lots of fun with you. ―Finnick caressed the hair at the top of the little girl's head and stood on his feet.

―When you find her, please tell her we still want to braid her hair.

You were sitting on the floor, holding your legs close to your chest. You had already hidden in that place several times before. It was Katniss who found the first time because it was the same place where she would hide right after she was rescued.

You moved back and forth, mumbling words that Finnick could not decipher, and with your head down, your forehead resting on your arms. When you heard Finnick's footsteps getting closer, you tried to escape him, crawling backward and watching as he quickly approached so that you couldn't get too far away. He fell to his knees in front of you, grabbing your cheeks again to make you look at him.

―It's me. It's Finnick.

You analysed his face, your eyes moving fast across his face looking for any friendly features on that face but all you could see was the face of a traitor. Your lips trembled as they continued to mumble I don't think I can forgive him for what he's doing, Caesar. I didn't know Finnick Odair was like that, I didn't know he would join the rebellion. What you do in the games is one thing but what you do outside the arena is what defines you.

―You're safe. We're in District 13, you're not there anymore.

You're right, Caesar. He has tricked me into thinking he was someone he is not. I thank president Snow everyday for helping me realize.

―You're from District 4. We live together. Our house is near to the beach. You won the 72th Hunger Games. We went back to the arena for the Quarter Quell. The Capitol took you. I'm Finnick Odair. I was your mentor along with Max.

If he were watching this I would tell him to think for himself. It's not too late to start doing things right and stop this war, and if he is unrepentant and this has always been his true self, Caesar, I think I may have never lov...

―You're here with us and we will protect you. Katniss is here at District 13 and so are Johanna and Peeta.

...I think I may have never lo...

―You're okay, baby.

...I may have never...

You hugged Finnick tightly against you, your eyes wide open and your hands shaking from the strength you were putting into holding him to be able to feel he was real. ―I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm losing my mind. ―You cried.

Finnick shook his head while he held you almost as strongly as you held him. He kept whispering sweet words until he felt how your body began to relax. Finnick carefully pulled you away from him so he could use his thumbs to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. ―It's fine, I'm here with you. It's not your fault, they've done horrible things to you but you're with me now, you're safe. They will have to go over my dead body to get their hands on you again.

He helped you to move so that you were sitting on his lap, with your head resting on his chest and his arms around your body. When some time passed and you calmed down, he could see it in the way your body had stopped shaking and also because you had stopped sobbing a while ago but you didn't want to separate from him, Finnick decided to try to cheer you up.

―Do you know who told me where you went?

You shook your head, really curious.

―Those new friends you made on the dance floor.

You pressed your lips into a smile, you were having so much fun with those little girls...―They were so cute, I must have scared them.

Finnick shook his head and kissed your temple. ―Not at all. They told me they'll wait for you. They said they wanted to braid your hair.

Now you really smiled, snuggling into his chest.

―Do you want me to take you to our room?

You shook your head, making yourself comfortable in Finnick's lap. It was not the most comfortable or welcoming place to be but he didn't want to rush you to leave. He was aware that they would be looking for you two, they would take you away from him and lock you in a room next to Peeta's, thinking that you were a menace and putting you in a place where the screams of the boy next door would drive you crazy.

―We can stay here for as long as you want then.

You hummed in response, closing your eyes and focusing on Finnick holding you in between his arms. Thanks to your head on his chest and the silence, you could hear Finnick's heart and you were relieved because it was the realest thing you had ever experienced. Its beats were peaceful but still managed to quiet all the noise in your head.

You were so immersed in Finnick's heartbeat you would swear yours was beating so hard against your chest because it wanted to escape your body so it could be closer to his.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡You're Gonna Go Far｡⋆.

Batsis!reader

We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: older sister syndrome, angst, mentions of Jason’s death (seriously Lou not every fic), hurt/comfort, all platonic

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

The letter in your hands felt far heavier than the small envelope of papers should have felt. You knew already what it said, what it meant and by god it was tempting to just shove it into your desk drawer and forget about it.

But you couldn’t forget, not when the words inked on those white pages meant that you could finally follow your dreams. Your thumb traced along the emblem at the top right corner of the letter as you read over the excited paragraph of acceptance yet again. It was a spur of the moment thing, a brief lapse into insanity when everything got to be too much and now, the consequences had come.

Could you go? Could you really leave all this behind and do the things you’ve always wanted to do? The seed of hope began to sprout in your chest, slowly weaving through the years of responsibility and obligation you had used to bury it as deep as you could.

But then, you heard muffled arguments through your bedroom door, seeping in like a thick fog. It brushed against your feet, sending a freezing chill through your body. It licked at your fingertips until you couldn’t stand the cold. 

Quickly, you shoved the envelope and the letter into the bottom of your trashcan and stood. “What are you fuckheads fighting about this time?” Your siblings responded with more shouting and as you left your bedroom, you doused that little bit of hope with the poison of your duty.

——————

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” The question hung in the stale air for a moment, looming over you as you worked on sharpening Damian’s favourite sword. Your father was sitting at the massive wall of screens, wearing all of his uniform except for the cowl. A pensive look on his face, he seemingly couldn’t meet your eyes.

“A dinosaur cowboy rockstar.” You snipped back. The letter flashed through your mind but disappeared quickly enough with another pull of the blade against the sharpening stone. Bruce’s brow furrowed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You sighed heavily through your nose as your shoulders tensed with the blowout that was about to happen. His eyes pierced into you, watching you with that same bit of intensity they had the first time you donned the Robin suit. 

The leather hilt of the blade creaked with the strength of your grip and the cave settled into a tense silence. But you couldn’t feel that anger that you used to when he asked that question any time before, all you felt was that overwhelming, devastating sadness of what your life could have been.

The first time was when Dick left; Bruce wanted comfort, to know that what he had condemned you and your brother to do was right. You had swallowed down that anger, the urge to scream at him and blame him for everything in favour of telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’ve always wanted to help people and being Robin was the best thing I could be.”

It was after Jason’s funeral when he asked next. Your eyes were still swollen with your tears, your shirt ruined from where Dick had been clinging to you and the bruises from the explosion that took your little brother not yet healed. You had refused to answer him, just telling him to get some rest and that the mantle of Batman would be yours until Alfred determined him fit for the field once more.

You supposed this time had been brought on by Tim’s departure to college barely a week ago. The house was noticeably dimmer without the boy genius and it had quite obviously been affecting your father. You nor Dick or Jason ever got the chance to go to college so it was a massive change.

The bite of your nails into the palm of your hand brought you back into focus where your father was watching you, unblinking. Bruce was a patient man, you’ll give him that.

“Why exactly does it matter? I have a job to do here- protect my brothers, protect the city, protect you in that order, just like you taught me.” His flinch was almost imperceptible to the untrained eye but you were far from untrained.

“Is that really what you want out of your life?” He was probing for something and you didn’t really care. The blade slid easily back into its sheath as you approached the wall of weaponry behind you. 

“What I may want isn’t relevant here, I’m doing what I can- is that enough for you?” With more force than necessary, you slammed the sword into place, turning your back on your father. “I have shit to do, call me if you need backup.” 

——————

You had been avoiding your room like the plague for three days now. Each time you stepped foot in there, all you could think about was the letter and how the deadline for the offer was drawing ever closer. The easiest solution would just be to throw it out or even calling the university to tell them that you were declining their offer but the easy way of doing things was not your style.

Instead, you started staying up all night and crashing on the couch whenever you needed a power nap. You weren’t dense enough to think that your family hadn’t noticed your change in behaviour but they at least didn’t mention it and you were grateful for that.

“Hey Dams, I need you for a second.” Ever eager to avoid his homework, your youngest brother perked up, his undivided attention now firmly on you. You chuckled softly. “Can you go grab my charger from my room, it should be on my desk.”

“Tt, so forgetful.” He muttered but obeyed anyway, leaving you smiling softly as you returned to your book. 

You hadn’t noticed how long he had been gone until it was Jason that strolled into your father’s office. Still donned in his leather jacket, hair still damp from the rain that had only just started, he looked like a mess. “I thought you vowed never to come back.” You quipped. 

“Har har, you’re still annoying as shit I see.” But even with his harsh tone, Jason plopped himself next to you on the couch and leaned his head on your shoulder. “Are you ever gonna get outta here?”

Your eyes flicked to your not so little brother. “Why is everyone asking me that, I mean if you want me to move out, I can.” You brushed off with a laugh.

“You don’t have to stay y’a know, you can go if you want. No one would be angry at you.” Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. That little seedling of hope began to come back to life once again, tentatively putting out roots.

“Where would I go Jay-bird?” He shook his head, forcing his face into your neck just like he would do when he was little.

“Anywhere, somewhere far from here.”

“But then who would be around to protect you Robins hm?” 

“We aren’t little anymore, we can take care of ourselves.” You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Before you could respond, the office door opened once more and most of the rest of your family filed in.

Each of them looked haunted and almost withdrawn, save for Damian who angrily stomped over to you, and shoved Jason off of you so he could crawl onto your lap. “Who died?” You let your youngest brother wrap your arms around him as you made eye contact with your father.

But it was Dick that stepped forward, a piece of paper in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice shook with that unique mixture of rage and heartbreak that it seemed only he could perfect. The paper trembled in his hands, making the embossment at the top visible.

You poked Damian on his side. “I told you to stop looking through my stuff, you little shit.”

“Couldn’t find your charger.” He responded indigently, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“This is a big deal miss, not just anyone gets into this university.” Alfred, ever the peacemaker, laid a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You should have told us.”

“It’s nothing, it was a lapse of judgement. I wouldn’t leave you all.” You brushed off but evidently, that wasn’t good enough for anyone. Dick and Jason scoffed while Bruce just looked like he was about to cry.

“You could go, leave this place and you’re giving it up for some idea that we need protecting? That’s fucking stupid.” Jason shoved himself away from you, angrily rising to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. “You have a real shot here.”

“Is that what this is, some kind of fucking intervention? My life is my own thank you very much, I don’t need all of you telling me what I can or cannot do.” You tried to pry Damian from you in some vain attempt to get away from the conversation but that sneaky shit had dug his fingers into your shirt so tightly that there was no way you were getting him off of you without ripping off your shirt.

The roots were taking hold and it made you feel like shit. Who were you to leave this all behind when it could so easily be ripped away from you? You were needed here, your purpose was here not at some college where you couldn’t be there to protect your brothers.

“We’ll be ok, you can go.” You shook your head, biting back tears that were already building. Bruce came closer, taking your face between his hands. “I have put too much on you, I should have realised long ago. I’m sorry Birdie.”

“You haven’t called me that since I was 12.” Your father laughed sadly.

“Oh my girl, I haven’t been a good father to you have I?” His calloused thumbs wiped away the tears that you hadn’t realised were now steadily rolling down your full cheeks.

“You were never a good dad.” Jason scoffed which was quickly followed by a yelp as Dick elbowed him in the stomach.

“They’re having a moment.” 

“I put so much weight on your shoulders, it was my job to protect all of you but I don’t think I’ve done a very good job at that. This shouldn’t be your dream, you deserve to make a life for yourself without having to worry about all of us.” It was so strange to see your father laid so bare in front of you, freely admitting his mistakes. “You deserve so much more than this.”

You looked at your brothers as if they would give you some excuse to stay, to reject that offer but their faces remained stern if not a little sad. “You can go sis.” Dick nodded.

“You’ve done more than enough for us, I think it’s time that we pick up the slack.” Jason bumped him with his shoulder and gave you a big grin. “Besides, I think it would be nice for you to actually have a social life instead of nagging us all the time.”

Alfred spoke again. “I believe what Master Jason is trying to say is that we won’t hold you back from chasing your dreams. In fact, we are actually quite proud of you.”

A solid weight against your chest brought your gaze back down to the youngest of the group. “Damian?” You knew that boy was incredibly attached to you and would take some kind of issue with you leaving to go study somewhere else.

“If you don’t go, I will never talk to you again.” 

“Well I guess that settles it.” You said thickly, struggling to speak through the lump in your throat. “I’m going to college!” Bruce didn’t hesitate to scoop you into his arms in a hug so tight you felt your ribs creak. Damian whined a slight protest but made no move to slip out from your arms.

“Good because Tim already accepted the offer for you, you start in a couple months.” As your laughter filled the room, the hope in your chest blossomed, casting your guilt and pain into the shadows of its petals. 

[Verse 1] The only time I got to praying for a red light Was when I saw your destination as a deadline "This is normal conversation, babe, it's all fine" Making quiet calculations where the fault lies This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Verse 2] The college kids are getting so young, ain't they? They're correcting all the grammar on a spray paint And I even gave up driving after nightfall I got tired of the frat boys with their brights on This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Pre-Chorus] It makes me smile to know when things get hard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll bе far from here And, while I clеan shit up in the yard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll be far, far from here [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creak The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever We sure will [Verse 3] We're overdue for a revival We spent so long just getting by That's the thing about survival Who the hell— who the hell likes livin' just to die? You told me you would make a difference Well, I got drunk and shut you down It won't be by your own volition If you step foot outside this town But it's all we've had For always [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creek The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever [Outro] You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far Yes, you are (Ooh-ooh) If you wanna go far Then you gotta go far

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8 @honkytonkbabe @certifiedhunter @qardasngan

[tiddie-taylor]

Updated nostalgia info/headcanons

(ref sheets are at the bottom of the Post)

Basic information + personality

nostalgia's sexuality is aromantic-asexual or for short just aroace

she arrived in headquarters a little before the events of io2

Nostalgia inherited Joy's glow but her glow is slightly dimmer than Joy's and is more on the deeper blue side in comparison

She is in between both being pessimistic and optimistic and she is capable of being both or one another

She's caring and sweet for a lot of times but stern/tough about those she cares deeply for

She's also very possessive or her mother's especially Sadness and will do anything for them but she loves them deeply nonetheless

shes the in between mature and childish, she's almost a healthy balance

She's a quick thinker and gathers ideas quickly for the emotions that can help Riley in the future or now

She's very compassionate about a lot of things she's into

She's motherly (even if she's without a child, gets it from her experience of being the only emotion technically raised by a parental figure) to the emotions and will do anything in her helping to give them the advice or help they need

She's a helper around headquarters to make up for the lack of work she has to do on the console and usually likes to help sort things out around headquarters etc etc

little Nostalgia info

little Nostalgia is a curious little emotion and loves to explore headquarters and ask questions about it and how things work around headquarters

She's quite optimistic and a happy child but can be a little fragile when it comes to her feelings being hurt

She isn't the most understanding type of person but is always willing to learn to understand things better

She's very attached to her mother's and can tend to be a little upset when left alone without them or just alone in general for too long

She's quite energetic for her small size and likes to walk around headquarters and play while the others work

She is pretty naive at most times but she tries her best

Little nostalgia (around kid to toddler) is around half the height or just a little above that to anger but is taller than envy

Anger is one of her favourite emotions besides her mother's to be around (he's like a cool uncle to her!)

Physical appearance of both adult and baby version

Adult nostalgia is slightly taller than disgust yet is still shorter than fear while baby Nostalgia is roughly around one and a half memories tall (maybe slightly bigger) while first born nostalgia (around one and a half weeks old) is only one memory tall.

Adult nostalgia does in fact have eye wrinkles/eye bags designed that way just as a simple character quirk and from her lack of sleep

nostalgia has chest scars from a past surgery to help shrink down her bust as she was unhappy with her appearance before surgery

Nostalgia is a little chubby like her mama Sadness but is a little more stretched out body type wise as an adult/teen while baby nostalgia has a more stubby and rounder body type in comparison to her adult self

Just like joy and disgust nostalgia is seen with differently colored lips that being a darker blue then the blue side of her body

Her eyes are the same shade of blue as sadness' eyes

More facts

Nostalgia is ambidextrous

When Nostalgia is nervous or in distress she likes to hide herself in her coat

Nostalgia has the ability to change memories the same way sadness is able to

Nostalgia is slightly nearsighted but her vision is good enough where she doesn't constantly need to wear glasses although she does struggle to read on her own.

She does not create her own memories as often as the other emotions do. her job is mainly to turn memories nostalgic by touching already made memories that she or other emotions bring up to headquarters, but she has a unique ability where her memories move! For example the colours of regular mixed memories stay in place while with Nostalgia's memories the colours move and mix around, the colours are never still.

One of her favorite things to do is to let Riley do the things Riley used to do when she was younger like watching old childhood shows or playing with older toys etc etc

Nostalgia can sometimes go completely non verbal when upset or in distress and it is mostly out of her control

Voice claims

Adult nostalgia: Agnes from fantastic Mr Fox

toddler nostalgia: Socks from Bluey

Parents

Joy

Sadness

Disgust

Adult ref sheet

I've decided to give an update to nostalgia's outfit along with adding some more color (and pockets! :3)

Note: the scars seen are from surgery

Baby ref sheet

mainly made this one just to get a better look at baby nostalgia up close in detail

Also if you'd like to ask questions about nostalgia feel free to ask :3

[blueberrypancakesworld]

hii a little bit ago I ask if you could write loc dead x fem reader who self harms and I loved the one you wrote but could you please write another one 💕

I will hold you

warning : hurt/comfort, self-harm, emotional, kissing, no use fo Y/n

Info : Yeah I remember your request hope you like this one and have fun reading even if it's a little short but regardless have fun reading ;)

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain. Pain is something that everyone feels at some point, whether it's when you hurt yourself cutting fruit, when you get a stomach ache from laughing or when you're just sad.

But there have also been days, weeks, months, years and decades when you can't get rid of pain. Something that gets stuck in you and hurts you with every passing day.

He knew it, the blond singer of the band knew this feeling, he experienced it every day and could only soften it slightly through the music with his heart by his side. But exactly this pain had captured him and his girlfriend, the one he loved, who was like the light at the end of the tunnel. But even this light can grow dimmer from time to time.

A light that is permeated by pain, a light that has been destroyed by fire, by ice, by metal and by his own body. He had tried it himself and had gone into this spiral abyss, but he had overcome it for a few days at a time and had now somewhat accepted it and survived.

But it was always painful for him when he caught his heart interrupting him and he went home to the room in the house they all shared. He didn't feel the smell of fire after a fire, it was different.

,,Darling! I'm back!" he called into the house, hearing something fall to the floor before he ran upstairs to her, the door to the room was torn open without a lock before he saw that she had thrown the lighter to the floor, the knife lying next to her, but the look of fear, rejection, pain he saw on her face was the most painful thing he had ever seen. That look he knew was a cry for help, a scream that only gave surface to her pain.

A pain they both knew, something they shared and yet hid prematurely. Sometimes, however, they bumped into each other and saw what was going on inside the other.

But the fire they both had not seen for a long time. ,,Wait, darling, just wait a moment," he said hastily, running out of the room and into the bathroom where he grabbed the first-aid kit, which was still more than half full, but it would do.

The crying he heard from her was sad and lonely in her current state. Something that bothered him she shouldn't suffer and yet this was easier said than done as he knew it was painful.

They both knew that this life was painful but life should never be like this. ,,Here I am," he said and knelt down in front of her, wordlessly yet gently taking her arm, the burns and cuts not too deep but the pain of this brief redemption was something she had felt without seeing the end.

,,I'm sorry," she murmured, tears flowing down her cheeks and hiding behind her hand as her friend touched her. She tried to soothe a little while he disinfected the wounds and cleaned the burn cream they had bought just for this.

,,It's not okay, I'm here…it could have been worse but my heart I'm here okay it's going to be okay" he talked to her as he sealed the bandages around her wounds with tape and pulled her into his arms.

Her sniffling mumbles of apology only caused him to hold her tighter. Just stay with me for today, we'll get through this," he reassured her, kissing her head softly, listening to her crying gradually become less and less.

Maybe she even had hope that she could now see the light at the end of the tunnel and not the other way around. He was her light in times when she knew how hard it was. But in the end they would make it, they had always made it somehow and they were making it today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[aaal-iz-well]

What happens when you're tired, and angry, and feeling betrayed

Pairing: Avery and Jameson

Summary:

Jameson fucks up, again. But this time, Avery's had too much, and is too tired to hold back what's in her (heavy) heart.

(takes place sometime during The Hawthorne Legacy)

A/N: hello guys, so this is my first time posting my work over here, and i hope you guys like it. enjoy reading! AO3 LINK

Jameson, never the gentleman, opened the door for Avery before stepping in himself.

The lights flickered on automatically, and as if they knew he’d brought a girl, were dimmer, softer. Which surprised him, because why couldn’t they be like this when he stumbled in drunk? Instead of that eye-wateringly bright, which was mirrored on the insides of his eyelids for hours.

He’d have to look into that.

For now, he was looking at the state of his room, and wished he hadn’t been so bitchy about letting the staff clean it. As if letting someone see his stupid collection of riddles was a clear devaluation of them.

And it would’ve been cool if it was the sort of room that embraced the mess. Instead, the room seemed detached, its pristine surfaces glaring at the cluttered papers, just like Avery probably was.

Only when she quickly strode over to a wad of papers at the center of the mess did alarm bells go off in his head. But it was too late, as she was already straightening one against the floor, and turned to him with eyes that held so much—anger, betrayal, sadness, did he—

“You didn’t tell me about this,” she accused, and he wanted to rescue the paper from her clenching hands. That was the only copy he had; one she’d destroy if she didn’t control those shaking fingers. One he literally went to hell for.

He immediately moved towards her. Damage control. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, “just a—”

He stopped abruptly, grimacing at the way her fingers further tightened over it. “I thought we’d decided to tell each other everything,” she said indignantly. She wasn’t shouting, but the quake in her voice suggested she might as well be if she was that sort of person. “And, then let the other person decide what is and isn’t important.”

Jameson felt chagrined by his words to her upon discovering her letters thrown back at him.

But, he did what he did best in tight situations in front of disappointed teachers, and brothers, and grandfathers, alike. He shrugged in the boyish way he’d seen Avery admire from afar. “Well,” he tried to smile.

This only resulted in her crossing her arms over her chest, and the bitterness in her eyes as she appraised him felt more cutting than any barbs or threats or insults anyone had ever thrown at him.

His mind wanted to default to a wink, but he very much did not want to test her patience.

In a desperate attempt to avoid those eyes, he bent down and started collecting everything he’d discovered along with that zoomed in shot of Toby—which thankfully, wasn’t in a quite so bruising grip now.

Her hand clamped down on his wrist. She all but snatched them off the floor. Without sparing a glance at him, she quickly walked to his desk, and with exceeding force, pulled out the chair underneath it. Changing the lighting to that same blinding setting, she stacked the pages and tapped them against his desk, apparently determined to go through the whole load of them at this very instance.

He thought he saw her discreetly wipe off a tear over her cheek, which he doubted could be chalked up to the lighting.

His whole body felt tight, coiled up within the weight of her disapproval. His hands twitched to give something, that he didn’t think he had; to ease her shaking shoulders.

To convince himself he wasn’t a completely shitty person, he placed a hand on those shoulders, rubbing them slowly. “Heiress,” he said as softly as he could manage. “It’s been a really shitty long day. We- you can pick this up tomorrow. Why don’t you get some rest for now?”

She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing under his hands, and for a moment, he felt hopeful.

“Please,” she choked out, her eyes fixed on a zoomed-in image of Toby. “Don’t touch me.”

Jameson’s heart sunk, literally sunk. He felt it being dragged under, settling somewhere at the bottom of his gut; its rapid beat as it squirmed to be let free. Suddenly, he found his hands were still there, and lifted them as if burned, shifting back brokenly.

And he knew he couldn’t be in the same room as Avery with the knowledge that she didn’t even feel safe, after she’d said that. Before he knew what he was doing, he had collected a towel, and a spare change of clothes, thrown what he hoped was a coherent, “feeling like a shower” and locked himself in the bathroom.

Yes, he was a Hawthorne, hiding in his bathroom.

As he deposited what he’d brought over the hangers, a determination settled over his shoulders, giving them some strength.

An image started to form in his mind: of him exiting the bathroom, tragically handsomely. Steamed glasses, towel around his waist, backlit against the counter lights with steam condensing into his air-conditioned room. And have a heart to heart with Avery.

(He was yet unaware of the effects said heart to heart would have on him.)

As if to warn him, the striking hot water hit his skin, making him yelp, and he quickly switched to comfortably lukewarm. And got to doing something that had helped him crack so many stubborn riddles. Masterminding in the shower. So…

Toby was a mystery to Jameson. Something that made his hands itch to do something, everything, to find him. By hook or by crook. A part of him also thought of it as a race.

But he didn’t put a lot of thought into what he’d do after Toby was found. What was even left of a mystery when it was solved? Now that was a clear devaluation, the loss of allure. But he couldn’t picture anything significantly changed.

It couldn’t have been more different for Avery.

Those nimble hands kept filtering through everything, anything, when it came to Toby, eyes unblinking. Not because: Ha there you’re hiding. Nice place by the way, have to give it to you.

But because Toby was her friend, someone she bought breakfast, someone whom she let buy her breakfast. And by now, Jameson knew what an incredible feat that was, for Toby to have accomplished.

And then they found out he might be her father. Even with his eyes focused on the scribbled wall, he noticed her breathlessness as she ran out. Or how all the colour drained out of her already quite pale face, leaving her looking like something lifeless, when they were faced with the harrowing possibility that he might be hurt, or worse, dead.

For Avery, every thread unravelled was a nail bitten, an extra crease on her forehead, a pound lost.

What an incredibly senseless way to live, especially for someone as sensible as Avery, letting every hope hinge on something so uncertain.

***

Jameson got out the shower, not because he felt nearly composed after considering everything (quite the opposite actually), but because his hands were pruning, and his skin felt raw. He wrapped a towel around his torso, but the idea of going out like this felt ridiculous, so he quickly changed into the clothes he’d brought, and stepped out.

The result was rather anticlimactic, considering all his imagining, because Avery was slumped over the table, head to her side, over all the pages she’d earlier been determined to pour through all night.

Jameson had that feeling again, of those coils around him.

He gently shook her shoulder. “Heiress,” he said, “Avery!” Her eyes fluttered open, and it was a relief to see them look at him confusedly, rather than with malice. “Come on, get up, I’ll walk you to your room. Your back’ll thank you in the morning.”

Avery cracked both her eyes, quite painfully, it seemed, and they looked painfully red as well. It was then that he noticed the dried tears on her cheek. “Jamie,” she croaked.

The boy in question felt a pinch in his throat, at the sight of tears staining her face, and his nickname being used like that. For something other than the upper hand in a petty power play.

“Yes?” he whispered back.

She patted his shoulder, and it took him a while to understand, but he pulled back the other chair and sat down next to her.

He waited for her to say something, feeling uneasy.

She lifted her head up, somewhat. “Why’d you have to do that, Jameson?” she asked. “Every. Single. Time.” Her voice should have been demanding, claiming, but it felt like giving up instead. To sleep, to feelings— he didn’t know.

Her face scrunched up. “I think we’re even, you know. When I show you everything I’ve collected over the years, praying you don’t think me mad for holding onto garbage.” She stopped, and he noticed the tears pricking the redness in her eyes. “Can you imagine how hard it must be for me in this shiny place? How stupid I feel showing you mum’s postcards, my old life, for what is game, Jameson—” she poked his chest righteously, her voice quivering “—all a game to you.”

“Avery—” he said, shaking his head, but stopped when he realised what a selfish thing he’d wanted to ask of her. Please stop, don’t tell me how shitty I am.

She had paused, and seemed to know this as well. “Yeah,” she said knowingly, mirthlessly. “But it’s okay, I think, because you’re doing the same, like I’m not opening up to be shot at.” She paused again. “But then, then you pull something like this, and I feel so stupid—” she seemed to be clawing for words, but a broken sob was all that came out, tears following.

“I hate being stupid,” she managed. “And over a boy, my god.”

Only when the silence— broken by her trying to compose herself, furiously swiping at her eyes— stretched on too long did Jameson realise she was done.

He felt tears prickling his eyes as well. At his utter uselessness, just sitting there, staring at her; at the urge to spew an excuse, to say ‘oh, guilty as charged’; at his tied tongue.

But, mostly, at his capacity to hurt. So grievously and deeply. For a truly dark moment, he thought there was no difference between him and Emily. After all, wasn’t this exactly how she’d made him feel. He recalled his shrug earlier, how it must have felt like a slap in the face, the way it’d come naturally for him to minimize her anger.

And his thoughts felt scattered, dangerous in the way they were bubbling up, trying to come out his throat. And he knew that anything he said right now might very well break the thread he stood on with Avery.

“Avery, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, I promise,” he told her, just as he saw her head droop to one side. “You should head to bed right now.”

She buried her sleepy face into her hands, and sighed. “I don’t want to go to my room.”

“Oh,” Jameson breathed. “What do you want to do, then?”

Avery rubbed her hands over her eyes, mumbled something unintelligible, and Jameson waited, waited, but she didn’t seem keen to repeat herself.

He shook her shoulder, and when she cracked open her eye, she looked even more annoyed. But before she could say a word, he pulled her up to her feet. Avery seemed to understand, as she walked quickly, following his lead to navigate all the clutter, to the bed.

He let her ease herself onto the mattress, and, then removed her shoes. Picking a thin blanket from his armoire, he draped it over her. As he went to switch off the lights, her hand caught his.

“Jamie,” she said, and it did feel like a powerplay this time. “Don’t you dare hide anything from me again. I’m not lying when I say I’ll kick you out.”

He was certainly surprised by her words, but could only nod. As he was closing the door behind him, he heard Avery call out. “Jameson, please don’t tell Alisa I’m here.”

“Sure thing.”

[cephei-ea]

Genshin - Argument Pt1

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, HCs

Synopsis: you walk out during an argument, when the guys say something hurtful.

Warnings: yelling, cursing, mentions of assault, mugging and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde (ginger) content, I REALIZED right after writing Diuc’s part that I’d gotten carried away so the rest after him are shorter

THIS IS UNEDITED EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES🙏

___

Diluc

* Y’all were arguing over him overworking himself.

* You we’re just concerned for his health, but he just wasn’t seeing it from your perspective.

* After all, it wasn’t you who was spending all of your hours, well into the morning and hardly getting any sleep, any food, any rest, for the past month.

* You’d brought up the concern to him before, but all he would do is brush you off and insist you’re overreacting.

* Tell you that he’d be done soon,

* to not worry.

* Only to return to his work immediately like he hadn’t just promised to put down his pen.

* File after file after document after signature, you both knew it was exhausting, but the man was too used to his old bad habits

* One day, you decided to bring it up again, seeing the cold plate of food you left for him on the table hours ago

* And the deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

Smoothing your lithe fingers along his shoulder blades and dragging them up towards his shoulders, where you pause to massage his muscles for a moment. The man sighs and temporarily puts down the pen, rubbing a hand down the curves of his tired face and placing the other on yours, against his shoulder.

“Darling, come to bed?” He finally turns and solemnly shakes his head, even after seeing the sadness taking its place in your eyes. “Please?” You plead, softly brushing a strand of right red hair behind his ear. “You’ve been working enough.” The man leans into your touch; but furrows his brows.

“I can’t. The winery needs remodeling and all kinds of attention. It’s not just any work, and surely none that I can ignore.” He stands and calmly exits the room, leaving you behind, still staring at his chair with an irritation in your eyes he had failed to note. You take a breath in and quietly blow it out through your mouth, a weak attempt at calming yourself. Diluc is filling a tall glass with water and sipping it with closed eyes when you enter. The moon behind him reflects through the window and makes him glow; beautiful.

“Diluc we haven’t gone to sleep together in weeks. Please. I’ll help you in the morning, but I can’t let you lose so much sleep.” You plead again, stepping toward him to coax him away from his never ending work. He shrugs you off almost instantly.

“Listen!-“ he sighs after his short outburst. “Just leave me be, I don’t need you meddling in my work. It has nothing to do with you.” Your brows knit together, a crease forming above the bridge of your nose. “Don’t concern yourself, just go to bed and I’ll join you later.” His replies were curt, and bland, lighting the flame underneath your emotions.

“M…” you began— but the words caught in your throat before your mouth could catch up. “Meddling?” On your lovers part, he wasn’t doing much better handling the stress than you. He couldn’t explain why he was pushing you away, he needed you now most. You were the only one he’d allow close to him and the only one who could calm him. But as of then, he was getting irritated, a likely result of his sleep deprecation; his grip on his glass tightening. More and more until he couldn’t compress the glass any farther without hurting himself and you. “Diluc what are you on right now?” The man let out a shaky breath. His mind no longer on the fact that he had so much work to do. “Why are you being an ass to me right now?” You sniffled. The lights seemed to grow dimmer, a thick tension settling between you two, as rare as it was.

“I’m getting angry and I don’t want to yell at you, just leave me alone and stop being so overbearing. I can’t stand it.” Your pot of emotions began to boil.

“What the fuck did you just-“ the loud screech of glass shattering, landing and then disordered and scattered across the walnut wooded floors interrupted you. This followed the brassy slosh of water that dropped in place and spilled sloppily around the room. Dilucs fist slammed into the counter along with his glass of water, a dull but powerful thud shaking you to your core and the thick glass shards he’d created flying across the room in all directions. A hand of yours shot to your mouth, eyes now wide after feeling a painful sear across the skin of your abdomen. You grunt, a high pitched hum he seemed to miss. Soon after the disruption ensued the near quiet drops of blood against the glass below your lover as his hand bled from the gashes across his palm. You felt one yourself, the trickle of red hot blood slipping down your hip— one of them must have knicked you. His hand bled profusely, but he only squeezed it into a fist. The limit to how much you could take had long been crossed, and now, you felt unsafe. He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t have time to convey his message, you’d left the room entirely, a hand at your waist as you hurried out of the room. It took your lover a moment to catch up, and when he did, he was hauling ass to the front doors, only to find them wide open and you nowhere in sight. Frantically, the man had searched high and low around the winery for you. Inside and out, had very maid and every butler on the look out�� all while regretting what he’d done; repeating the same curse over and over. Demeaning himself for hours on end. Diluc Ragnvindr, for the first time in years, was a wreck.

It was late at night when your lover finally gave up, opting to wait you out and having faith that you would return to him. Diluc was sitting on a couch near the fireplace, his hands intertwined and supporting the rest of his head. His leg was bouncing like a cheap washing machine, eyes fixed on the dim fire light and his brain fixed on you. What might have happened to you late at night, your eyesight impaired by the darkness and without your weapon or armor. Wearing nothing but your clothing for bed. The thought made his short fingernails dig so deeply into his bones that new beads of crimson pooled at his skin. Maybe you’d gone to a friends house. You were probably safe.

But what if you weren’t?

And what if you were in danger?

Or even worse— what if you never returned?

Childe

* The argument started when he returned home with even more injuries than last time.

* You’d had this argument before and Childe knew by the way your hands trembled and you bit your lip,

* You weren’t happy having to patch him up again.

* Placing away the medical kit, Childe stood from your shared bed and limped over to hug you from behind.

* It escalated so quickly, the ginger hardly had time to react.

* You shoved him off, immediately wiping the tears that pooled when he couldn’t see your face

* “Babe?”

* You immediately yell at him. “NO.” your smaller shoulders quivering as tears streamed down your face. He wished he could see you.

* “You promised me!! You swore to god!!”

* You were right, he thought. He’d given you his word that he would take better care of himself.

* But what did that matter when he needed to fill his quota for the week? The Tsaritsa was relentless.

* “I know babe but you don’t have to yell at me. Just calm down.”

* “Calm down!?”

* Suddenly you got beef with a ginger 💀

Childe placed a hand on his head, dragging his palm down his face and rubbing the crease between his brows with a thumb. You wouldn’t listen. Not when you were upset like this. But after relentlessly fighting for hours, he didn’t have the energy for this. Not now. Not tonight. The lights overhead suddenly felt all too bright, urging on the pounding in his head.

“Ajax, I mean are you even fucking listening to me!!?? Why must you always have the attitude of a child when I’m being serious right now!” His teeth ground, fists clenched.

“I don’t need your nagging right now, okay?” His voice was quiet. And by that alone, you knew he was irritated. But with the countless sleepless nights and migraines; worrying about where the love of you life could possibly be at those ungodly hours of the night. Wondering if he was even alive and only receiving your answer in the morning, when you would find him passed out on the floor, bleeding profusely from injuries that littered his skin. Soon to be scars soaked the carpet beneath him a crimson red you’d never have gotten used to; had it not been for the endeavors of your lover.

“I don’t want you to fucking die, how is that nagging, Ajax!!??” Having to spend hours cleaning out Tartaglia’s blood from your carpet was traumatizing, your hands would often be stained red with his blood by the time you finished, late into the night.

His wounds hurt. Whether it was the stress or irritation that caused the aching beneath his skin; he didn’t know.

“I’d rather ‘fucking die’ than have to put up with you every day.” He whispered in a tone he could have sworn was quiet enough. When you didn’t snap back immediately, the eleventh harbinger feared for the worst. Turning to you fully now, he searched your face for any clue of what you may have been thinking. He merely found trickling tears at your jaw and a crease above the bridge of your nose. “Wait, hold on, I didn’t mean th-“ you storm past your lover, closing your bedroom door behind you when you enter, as if that’ll stop him. He enters not long after to find you already with a duffel bag half filled and your left hand wiping tears away from your skin. Lip trembling pathetically. He panics; he hadn’t realized the potency of the effects of his words and what they could do to you. He never did. “Hey, nonono! Put down the bag, cmere. Baby, please-“ he pressed the bag into the bed and pulled you away from it, into his chest despite your protests.

“Childe, I swear to god get your hands off me.”

“No, I’m sorry. No, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said, love, I never would say something like that to you-“ He was cut short when you shoved away from him, glaring indignantly into his softened, yet concerned, blue eyes and spinning away soon after. You booked it out the door, before he even realized your absence, you’d already grabbed your car keys, slipped on the easiest pair of boots and coat and were unlocking the front door. Oh how Childe wished he were quicker. The moment the door slides open and he’s almost caught up to you, hears the rush of some of the hardest rainfall you’d gotten in months. A few lightning strikes flashed in the distance and with one last look from you, you slammed the door behind you and left.

“Fine then. Wouldn’t want you to die.” Childe could have sworn he was ready to cry. He’d been too late by just a second or two and he ended up slamming his fists against the door, hard. The Fatui was fast, however, and violently swung open the door as quickly as he could. A mere few seconds after you’d left. The scowl on his face deepened and the panic in his eyes had set. You were long gone. The ginger sprinted for the garage, only to find the door wide open and your expensive car missing. He didn’t mind the pouring rain soaking him or the gravely concrete beneath his feet. The only thing he could focus on was your absence and the storm you had driven off in and how he remembered he was going to mention you needed to get your brakes checked. They seemed to have been acting up as of late.

“FUCK.” The man cursed deeply, looking around frantically to make sure he hadn’t missed you. Maybe your car was being repaired and you were still here? The only way to avoid his worst case scenario, Ajax believed, was to not allow the opportunity to present itself. For the first time in a while, Childe was reminded of how damn sudden loss was. How it could happen at any moment to anyone for any reason and the panicking man would have no clue until after it were too late. He’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten to appreciate you.

He’d forgotten how he had no time to waste fighting with his loved ones. Especially with you. And with this in mind, Tartaglia booked it inside for the keys to his Rolls Royce. The sleek black car he’d picked out with you beeping when he unlocked it. And though sitting in the car that had infinitely too many memories of you for him to handle, if he wanted to ensure the creation of more memories, the ginger had no choice but to drive until he found himself bringing you home.

Dainselif

* This poor man was sitting by the fire for hours, mind plagued by the idea that he would inevitably lose you one day.

* However, instead of saddening him, it only angered him.

* The stick he had been playing with snapped between his fingers, a clear demonstration of his frustrations.

* Hearing the rather loud snap across the hall as you readied your shared bed for the night, you looked up.

* Why was your lover still up? With the fire on, no less?

* You stalked over to the fireplace, only to find him hunched over and leaned on his knees like he was crying.

* You rushed over and lifted his head.

* “Don’t touch me.” He couldn’t stand the feeling of your skin on his, despite his crippling addiction to it.

* If he enjoyed it too much, the loss would only be worse.

“Dain? Love, what’s wrong?” Your voice was filled with concern that Dainsleif found irritating. He almost never angered. And when he did, he tended to push you and everyone else away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His anger was concise, his tone snapping at you so harshly that you saddened. He’d always been sure to lace his words with the sweetest of sugar, to make sure he wouldn’t scare you off. Hearing it without the love it usually had, told you something was very wrong.

“Dainsleif don’t push me away, please.” You sat beside him and Dainsleif felt like he was losing his mind. Maybe it was foolish, but he never intended on caring so much for someone. Much less falling in love. His love for you had grown dangerously deep. In that he would kill for you. He would find a way to take his own life if you commanded it of him. He would play dead until the end of time. The sofa dipped beside him and he clenched his fist.

“Just stop.” His voice was hushed. “Leave me alone.” He raised his voice at you, which he never did. Clearly, he was very upset, but if he wouldn’t let you know what it was that caused this outburst, you couldn’t help. It was so unlike him to act this way.

“Dainsleif don’t you dare raise your voice at me. I’m here to help you not for you to take our anger out on. Just tell me what happened and-“

“I wish you would just disappear.” And of course Dainsleif didn’t mean it literally. But he’d never felt so terrified. He wished the feeling of vulnerability away; not you. Never you. Not ever in millions of life times would he ever be able to wish you away.

“Oh yeah?” You sighed, standing immediately and walking to the door. The blonde was very fast in realizing his mistake, lifting his head to look at you. By the time he could even stand, you were up and walking out of the door. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, his chest aching beneath his skin. “Goodbye Dainsleif.” You would never leave the love of your life. Of course you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. But you wanted to at least get back at him. For making your heart crack after you’d placed it so carefully in his palm. You throw a jacket over your shoulders and bolt out the door. Surely the traveler will be able to hook you up with a nice place to stay, after all, he’d always been so kind to you.

Now, it took Dainsleif all too long to realize that you were actually gone. He lifted his head in a feeble search for you, still hardly able to process the fact that you’d abandoned him. If you looked him in the eyes and asked him why he truly said those things to you, he would be speechless. The moment his hazy thoughts were able to piece together what was happening, he sprinted to the door, hoping that if he opened it, you’d still be there. Alas, his hopes were for naught and the realization that you’d abandoned him, and that it was his fault, knocked the air out of him. The fear he had acted upon had come to life, and Dainsleif could swear to Celestia that he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure what he would do if you didn’t return quickly. And even if you didn’t, Dainsleif would have sat on the couch for centuries, waiting for you until you returned for him, to place his awaiting lips against yours. Exactly where you’d left him, head in his hands and tears threatening to fall at any second.

A/N:

I realize this is very very late and I apologize

I didn’t expect my workload to increase by so much

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ A Star That No Longer Shines ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ Among the stars is where I'll be waiting... ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Angst (onehsot)

Warning(s): Death, use of Dottore's (speculated) real name

wc: ~3k

Notes: This is a re-post cus the previous one wasn't showing up in tags fsr— Got this idea from an anon! Been writing quite a lot of fluff lately. It's time for some sad >:)

The stars used to hold a never-ending shimmer to them. Was it just him or were they getting dimmer everyday?

You’ve always loved the night sky, a barren canvas painted with a cluster of flickering lights, such a magnificent view must’ve been crafted by the delicate hands of a god. Caged by this Eleazar of yours, what’s better than to go stargazing with your lover? 

For him, however, it was quite the contrary. He loathed them, it was as if their blazing gaze were mocking him. The disdain he held for dainties stopped him from appreciating the view. 

With every chance that you had, you’d drag him onto the balcony installed in his resting quarters, bringing a fluffy blanket and two hot drinks with you. Sitting on the cold stone floor with crossed legs as you draped a blanket over your forms, sipping your favorite drinks away while your eyes were fixated at the sky.

He was not fond of it at first, he knew the sky was a hoax, after all. It was all just a fabrication to deceive the human kind, he didn’t see the appeal to them.

Whenever you look at them with a glint of fascination in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Why were you so drawn to them? 

When you fell asleep, he’d go back to the balcony and observe them, trying to discern the secrets they hid from him. 

Was it the layout of their unique patterns? Or perhaps they held some sort of significance to you?

Either way, they were just some glowing dots, nothing more, nothing less.

He has been doing that for a long time now, years, maybe even. Yet, his mind was only filled with only hypotheses. 

And hypothetical assumptions, were not the answers he was seeking for.

He would ask you, but his pride held him back from doing so. That’s how he was, the answers would be more satisfying if he was the one to discover them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you coughing uncontrollably. Immediately, he rushed toward you to help you sit up and gently patted your back.

“Easy there, dear, easy there.” 

The worried frown on his face would only soften when your coughs died down a little, his tender pats turned into soft strokes.

“Are you alright?”

You coughed a little more before answering him, “Y-yea, I’m okay.”

This was not looking too good. It seemed like the medicine he gave you wasn't so effective anymore. He was worried, more than worried, in fact. Fearing that one day you would… 

No. He mustn’t think like that. Despite your illness, he knew you were a strong person. His darling wouldn’t let some irritating pest of an illness to take over you just like that.

He knew.  He believed in you, you’d wait for him until he found the solution.

“Zandik?” You called out.

He made a “hm” sound, letting you know that he heard you.

“Get in the bed and sleep with me, please?”

He smiled at you in response and nodded. As he did so, you tried your hardest to engrave the image of his winsome smile into your sea of memories, your mind was still hazy from waking up in the middle of the night. 

He got into the bed with you and wrapped an arm around your feeble form, his hand rubbed against the scales that coated your arm. Treating you as if you were a fragile piece of paper that could break easily. Which in a way, you were. 

The scales that Eleazar plagued on your body was a weird sensation, it made your skin feel numb. But it also made you feel like your body was being smoldered by an invisible flame, one that could not be extinguished easily.

In that moment however, in his arms you felt… normal. It was like you never had this illness to begin with, and all of that was only an illusory pain. 

Safe, was what you felt as you listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, guiding your tired mind away into a land of bliss… 

---

The next day came and the sun made its way above the tall, icy mountains. Its soft rays of light embraced your body, causing your eyes to blink open. You expected to greet your lover but he was nowhere to be found, the other side of the bed was cold. 

Huh, maybe he was busy today, you told yourself. 

As you laid there, a soft knock came through your door and it was opened, revealing a segment of Dottore—Beta. He was holding a tray of freshly made breakfast as he made his way over to you, setting it onto the nightstand. 

“Good morning, (Y/n)!” Beta greeted you with an enthusiastic voice. 

You adored the segments, they were always so ecstatic to see you.

In return, you gave him a little grin and waved at him, saying a “good morning” to him, as well.

“As usual, I’ve made you your favorite! Pancakes with some fruits on the side!” He clasped his hands together, proud of himself that he was able to make you your meal.

You turned your head to the tray and woah, it looked really appetizing.

Without any hesitation, you went to grab the fork. But with how shaky your hands were, it slipped out of your grasp and hit the floor.

"Ah… I'm sorry," you said. Retracting your hands back to your side. You didn't remember being this tired from lifting your arm up….

"It's alright, darling. I brought a spare one just in case. How about I feed you instead?" Beta picked the fork up, switching to a cleaner one. 

You were about to deny but stopped yourself when you saw how his face practically screamed please-let-me-feed-you.

Just like Prime, the segments loved to pamper you.

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a gesture to do as he pleased. And just like you have guessed, he perked up and sat down on the side of the bed, feeding you pieces of sliced pancakes.

Like usual, the segments would take turns to keep you company. Theta told you about a story where he accidentally put too much spice into Prime’s food. Well, that explained why he came back holding his stomach that day. And Zeta was just there for you to cuddle as you took naps.

The only difference was you found out you weren’t able to stand on your own. As soon as you got up from the bed, your legs would become wobbly and cause you to lose your balance. Thankfully, Delta was there and he was able to help you get up.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the door creaked, your eyes opened and was met with Zandik crouched down next to the bed facing you. 

All the sleepiness you felt instantly disappeared when you saw him.

“I’m sorry, my dear. Did I wake you up?” He asked, stroking your cheek.

“No at all, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” you replied. Relishing in the warmth his gloved hand gave off.

“Now that you’re back, why don’t we go stargazing together?” You were getting up, only for him to push you back on the mattress.

“My apologies, dove, but I need to get back to the lab in a bit. I’m only here to check on you. Delta reported to me that you weren’t able to stand today.”

Ah, so he heard.

“Yea… I guess my Eleazar has been taking a toll on me, lately.”

He leaned in and gave you a short but passionate peck your lips and held your hand.

“That’s what I’m here for, a cure will be made and you won’t have to suffer any longer.” He told you, but it was also a way to reassure himself that you would not be going anywhere.

“Please get some rest now, you need it,” he said, before getting up from his crouched position.

As he left for the door, you called out one last time, “Zandik.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head shifted a bit to your direction.

“Thank you…”

In response, he gave you a nod and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to you, the moment you said that his heart dropped. You said it like you were going to leave him… 

No. No, you wouldn’t leave him.

He would not let that happen.

He will find the cure no matter what.

---

It has been a few weeks now.

Day by day your Eleazar was getting worse, it was affecting you more than you had expected. You were getting weaker as the scales covered the majority of your body, almost immobilizing you. Breathing was starting to prove itself to be a challenge for you as well.

And he hated it. He absolutely hated how he wasn’t able to do anything. 

He hated how useless he was.

“God damnit!”

He slammed his hand against the table as he let out a frustrated yell.

Another failure.

Why? Why wasn’t it working? It was going so well, but what stopped it?

He panted as he brushed his oily hair with his hand, ignoring the growl coming from his stomach for the fifth time today.

The thought of taking care of himself was shoved all the way back at the deepest part of his mind. How could he eat or shower when your life was on the line? There wasn’t a day where he’d stop worrying about your well being.

It was a race between him and the inexorable march of time before he lost you to that ridiculous Eleazar.

He must find the cure. He had to.

---

How long has it been since you've last seen him?

How long has it been since you've last seen his goofy grin?

How long has it been since the two of you were in each other's arms as you gazed at the stars together? 

You didn't know.

All you knew was how agonizing the pain felt. You were thankful the segments were with you, some were holding you and the others tried their best to sooth you.

But at that very moment, all you wanted was just to see your lover again. You've missed him dearly and you knew his presence would make all the pain go away.

Oh, what you would do just to see him one last time…

Such a weird feeling. Where did all this fog come from? Amidst it, was a faint image of a smiling Zandik.

Ah, what a beautiful sight it was.

You were glad that you at least remembered that.

Where are you, Zandik? I wanted to see you again…

---

He was almost done, all he had to do was to—

"Doctor!" 

A Fatui agent barged into the lab, panting.

Zandik turned to him and spoke with an irritated tone, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's… It's (Y/n)—"

Upon hearing your name, he put both of his hands onto the agent's shoulders and squeezed it.

"What is it? What's wrong with them?"

"They… Um, they're…" The agent stumbled on his words, his voice was foreboding.

"Speak." Zandik got impatient.

"They're gone..."

…What?

No… No…

No, no, no, no.

He knew you were stronger than that. 

What was this scumbag bluffing about?

Zandik's faces scrunched up in disgust and shoved the agent against the nearest wall, holding his collar.

"Do you think this is funny? Joking about my lover like that?" His voice dripped with venom.

"I-I swear, sir! I wouldn't dare joke about something like that!" He pleaded, scared of what the harbinger would do to him.

Zandik didn't trust him one bit. But just in case, he had to go check on you. He needed to make sure you were okay. He must know that you were still breathing.

He ran to where your room was and opened the door.

All he could see were his crying segments surrounding your bed. When they noticed Prime, they made way for him to get to you. 

When the segments got out of his way, he laid his eyes on you. He saw your figure laying there. However, your chest wasn't moving.

Oh gods no, please tell him it was just his eyes playing tricks on him and you weren't actually…

He got closer to the bed and slightly nudged you.

"Darling…?"

But you didn't move.

And he nudged you again, a little bit harder this time.

"My dear, it's me. I know you're tired but open your eyes for a bit, hm?" His voice wavered.

And yet, your form remained still.

He laid his head against your chest and listened to your heartbeat, desperately hoping that you were just a heavy sleeper.

But there was nothing.

He couldn't hear anything.

For the very first time in a long time, he felt something wet dripping down his face as he held you close.

He cried, and cried, and cried and cried. 

Feeling what little warmth he could feel from your icy body.

He was a man that could easily win every battle. But against time…

He had lost.

---

After your passing, he isolated himself in his laboratory. Running experiments upon experiments. He believed that he could bring you back to him; to chase after a tantalizing hope.

But just like finding the cure, he failed. 

He failed way too much.

And it finally dawned on him that he would never get to see you again.

He was laying on a desk when someone knocked on his door. He didn't give a response but they invited themselves in anyway.

"Prime, I was cleaning the room when I found this on the nightstand." Delta spoke in a raspy voice, and put whatever that he was holding onto the desk. 

He wasn't looking too good himself as well. His hair was a mess and eyes redder than usual. 

Without saying anything more, he left Zandik alone.

He looked up from his lying position and saw an envelope, written on the cover were the words "To Zandik."

He recognized that handwriting somewhere… It was yours.

Picking it up and took the piece of paper out, it read:

To Zandik,

Hello, dear! I hope you've been taking good care of yourself. 

By the time you read this I'm probably… not here anymore. But that's okay, I'm still always here with you! Maybe not physically, but spiritually I'm always there.

Knowing you, love, you're probably blaming yourself. But please don't, okay? It's not your fault and I'd hate to see you do that :(

I know that you're just a big goof that worries about me. It makes me happy to know that you cared so much about me, to the point where you'd do anything to find a cure.

I just wish I could've gazed at the stars with you one last time. But that's okay too, I'll wait for however long for you and we could do that again.

Speaking of, you're probably wondering… Why am I so drawn to them?

Surprised? I knew. I've always known. Every night whenever you think I was "asleep" you'd observe them. I love them not simply because of how pretty they are, but because of the moments I got to share with you.

With my Eleazar, it honestly feels painful. Whenever I'm looking at the stars with you, it'd somehow make me forget that I was in pain. All the worries are just… gone.

No matter what, I want you to know just how much I'm grateful to be with you, my crazy scientist <3

If you ever missed me, just look at the stars and I'll be there :)

I love you, Zandik.

-(Y/n) ♡

I love you…

I love you…

As he read those words again and again, he clutched the piece of paper to his chest as he let his tears fall once more.

The things he'd do just to hear you say that to him again.

Were you hoping for him to be there to watch the stars with you? 

Were you hoping to see him one last time, just like he was?

Too blinded by his desperation to find a cure for you, he missed his only chance to say goodbye…

---

Weeks passed and in his hands, he was holding a blanket, two hot drinks and a photo frame, all the while he was walking to your room.

It's been quite a while since he's been there. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and opened the door. 

The bed was covered in smooth sheets; the usually messy floor was now cleaned; the bookshelves were collecting dust.

Despite having been living here for the majority of his life, it felt like this was the first time he's been here.

He went to where the balcony was and sat down, putting the photo frame of you smiling on the floor close to him, along with a cup of your favorite drink in front of it. 

He put his aside and wrapped the blanket around himself, making sure it covered the picture frame beside him as well.

He sipped on his hot chocolate as he gazed up at the starry sky.

There were so many of them decorating the void, and yet, if anything they made him feel alone. 

And well, you weren't there to see them with him anymore. They weren't as enjoyable as they used to be.

However, out of every star, he noticed how there was an odd one out. It seemed to be flickering so intently.

A melancholic smile made its way to his face.

Was that perhaps you saying "hi" to him? You did say if he ever missed you, all he had to do was to look at the stars and you'd be there.

He couldn't help but wonder… 

If he tried hard enough, would he be able to reach that star one day?

You were waiting for him, after all.

[cannotgiveafuck]

Have a 2am surprise snippet!

.

Billy's staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror again, and he can't seem to stop.

Not in the Narcissus way, of course. He's heard that story before from Diana. No, it's in the way that he can't quite comprehend what he's seeing. It's in the way that he sees himself and he feels a deja vu, like he's seen a ghost. And Billy has experience with ghosts.

The bruises under his eyes are worse, he thinks, or maybe it's because of the rough couple of nights he couldn't quite fall asleep. Particularly sensitive to the touch. Even if his finger tips weren't slightly calloused. And his eyes are blue, like always, but maybe a dimmer sort of blue? Not as bright as he thought they were, but deeper. There's specks in them, if he looks close enough, but not too close. Doesn't want to be a snake biting it's own tail, forever falling into depths that are a part of him.

He's played out that story before, too. Barely stood a chance.

His teeth aren't quite blinding white and straight, and smiling with his whole face comes easy, but it hurts his cheeks after a long minute. The deep blue doesn't shine as much as he expected, either. And as he rubs his face he can feel the uneven hair starting to come in like patchwork. That beard he's been trying for never quite growing out right, so Billy shaves it clean when he can. And that, too, feels wrong.

Billy stares at himself, expression lax, and he looks wrong, somehow.

He thinks, 'Cause you're not supposed to be like this, and it startles him to blink away from the mirror. Down his hands, fingers a little too boney, palms a little too rough, he thinks again, you're supposed to be more.

His reflection stares back at him now, wonderment gone and replaced with furrowed brows, with mused hair that never sits right.

Nothing about you sits right.

Thin skin tightens over clenched knuckles.

Nostrils flare and his mouth twitches, and it's not at all like the marble stone look Captain Marvel can do. A glance that stops most in their tracks. Billy can't do that. Maybe his jaw isn't hard enough? Or his chest puffed out? Shoulders back, chin up?

Oh Gods, he looks like a fuckin dweeb. Billy, stop that. Ugh.

He doesn't remember if his dad was as big as Marvel, but Billy knows he's much scrawnier than both. Shorter, too. Clark would say something about early childhood development, but Clark is one hundred percent farm raised beef, so what does he know about nothing but day old bread for three days?

Clark looks more like your dad than you ever will.

And that thought burns bright and hot across his brain, sears itself behind his retinas, and he hates it more than he knows he should. He hates it so much. Which is stupid because he likes Clark, but Billy looks at himself with his skinny arms and short legs and crooked smile and just...

There's nothing marvelous there.

He's just plain ol Billy Batson, twenty-three and barely looks it if not for the weight of Magic perpetually on his shoulders, the ghosts lingering in his eyes. Young and old all at once.

And yet, not young enough, not old enough.

Everything and nothing, and ain't that just his life? Gods, he never stood a chance.

Once, when he asked Teth how old Champions got to, Billy did not expect to see the age lines on Teth's face to be so deep, nor his eyes to get so dark. It wasn't a new expression, but Billy knew that Teth Adam tried not to show such sadness in front of him. Toward him.

"Champions outlived their loved ones," he had said, solemn and serious. "Except for the children chosen to bear the mantle. They never had a chance."

Teth's hand had gently clasped his shoulder, and Billy wondered for a moment at it not completely dwarfing him anymore. The squeeze no longer bruising.

As if to say, You never had a chance.

[louloulemons-posts]

The Criminal And The Princess VI

Grumpy!College!Eddie X Sunshine!Skater!Reader

Summary : It’s time for Eden to get back on the ice, but she can only feel like Eddies hiding something.

Word Count : 1.4k

Warnings : not proofread, sad eddie, it’s just a lot of fluff, big skating chapter, swearing.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Early mornings in September, it was starting to get cool, the sky was dimmer each morning for longer. This drive to the rink may be my final one with my windows rolled down.

I smiled, today was gonna be a good day, I could feel it. Honestly I had been smiling since the night before, the sweet text I had from Eddie sent me over the edge.

Unknown : Hey Princess, I just wanted to say I had a really great time with you today.

Unknown : Oh shit it’s Eddie btw

Of course Robin and Nancy had teased me for the rest of the night because of how much I had been grinning whilst we had a conversation. Just small talk. That’s all it was.

Just getting to know a friend.

A friend.

Because that’s all Eddie was a friend.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was 6am on a Monday so the rink was dead, bar the maintenance staff who I waved at as I walked by. There was one other person, sat in the rink, on those cold seats.

“Irene!” I said, loudly enough so she’d hear me, but not too loud as to make her jump. “Oh my love!” she grinned, walking over to me quickly and wrapping her arms around me.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I said into the hug, it mumbled slightly, but her chuckle said she’d heard it. “I’ve missed you too Eden.”

Pulling back I took her in. She was truly one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen, golden hair and eyes and curls that anyone would be jealous of. Along with that gorgeous smile.

“How’s Cole? How’s baby Dorian? More importantly how are you?” I asked.

“We’re all great, Dorian is at home with his dad. And here I am, back with my favourite girl,” she pinched my cheek.

Yrene wasn’t massively older than me she’d turned 33 the same year I’d turned 22. She was the best though, always knew she wanted to be a trainer and not a professional.

So when dad found her and we got on like a house on fire, Irene took me under her wing not just as a student, but as a younger sister.

“How are you doing my love? Dad giving you a hard time?” She asked. I nodded, but shrugged also, “When does he not?”

“That’s why I’m here, so we can use your routine. As soon as I say it’s good, or it’s mine, he’ll be happy.” I sighed, because I knew it was true.

The amount of routines I’d made, or co-made with Irene that my dad had no clue about was ridiculous. Purely because he’d hate them if he knew they were my own.

“Do you want to show me?” She asked.

“Sure. Just so you know, it’s simple. Dad saw my first draft and said I should go back to the basics because I’m sloppy.”

“If he says anything like that whilst I’m here I’m throwing my skates at his head,” she said, you knew she wasn’t even joking. She was as, if not more, protective over you as Robin and Nancy.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Well I thought you said it was basic?” Irene asked as I skated over to her. “It is.”

“Your lutz, your axles, the spins, the jumps. Honey, it’s not basic, and all the moves are clean and sharp.”

“Really cause dad-“ She held up her hand, stopping me from finishing my sentence. “Can Ethan Bennett skate?”

“Well he played hockey, so.”

“Can he figure skate?”

I shook my head, “No.”

“No he can’t, that’s right. Now I’m going to tell you, and you will listen to me Eden Bennett. That routine was fantastic, you are amazing. Okay?”

I looked at her face, trying to sense any lies in her words. “Okay.”

“Good, now what the hell did you take out of that routine to make it ‘basic’?”

“A salchow and a,” I mumbled the last part.

Yrene leaned on the barrier, getting closer to me, “What was that?”

“A .. a backflip.”

“Jesus fucking christ Eden!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I told you no working on them until I’m back! It’s so dangerous!”

“I know I know, but I’ve got really good!”

“You could have really hurt yourself too!” She replied, hands coming up to rest on her pulled back curls.

“Well you’re here now,” I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile, knowing she’d probably drag me off the ice. “You’re lucky I love you. Jesus christ I’m never letting Dorian skate.”

The woman sighed as she did up her own skates and headed over to the centre of the ice with me. “What part of the song would be playing as you did the move?”

I handed her one of my earphones, letting her listen. “Hm, it could work. Alright show me. But I swear even a wobble, we’re practicing on mats.”

“Okay okay!” I plugged my earphones back in, when the music built up I leaped into the air, spinning. Landing on one foot I glided across the ice with ease.

The older woman watched me with her arms crossed. “How long have you been practicing that exactly?”

“Before you left for maternity leave.”

“Please tell me not on ice.”

“No,” I dragged out the last letter. She cocked a brow asking me where, “On the sofa cushions at my dads.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Practice had gone on until just past 8, so I had enough time to clean up and head to my class. Irene had mentioned having a word with dad about making the routine more complex.

I swapped out of my skating gear and into some jeans, a top and a knitted cardigan that Nancy had got me for my birthday.

Walking into class I immediately met the gaze of a brown eyed boy, without hesitation I went and sat behind him. “Morning,” I smiled.

“Hey,” he said softly, not looking up at me now.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just tired.” I hummed, nodding. Taking out my notebook, I noticed Eddie fiddling with his rings, almost wringing them.

“Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“Look at me.” This was the first time since he was on stage that I had seen him with his curls unbound. They fell just below his shoulders, and hid his face.

He looked up at me, he looked - sad? I leaned closer to him so I could whisper, “Are you really okay?” It was almost like he was reading a book whilst looking at my face, trying to take everything in.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to get shakes after class? We don’t have to talk about it, but maybe the company would help,” I suggested.

“Yeah, yeah I’d really like that,” he nodded, “Thank you Eden.”

“That’s weird,” I scrunched my nose.

“What?”

“That’s like the first time you’ve used my real name.”

There it was, his grin. “Well I’m sorry Princess, I won’t use it again.”

“Hm, you better not.”

“Why? Like being my Princess?”

“Something like that.”

I moved away from him so I could sit up straight, hearing him hum as I did so. I then spotted Vickie walked in and waved, she came and sat on the other side of me.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Me and Eddie sat across from each other in a booth in the diner. He was unusually quiet, I didn’t like it. “Hey, did my dad speak to you?” I asked him.

“Uh yeah, I meant to say. Sorry,” he was so out of it. “It’s okay, no need to apologise,” I reached over the table and gently squeezed his hand.

He flinched slightly, but relaxed soon after. “Eddie.” He hummed at me. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but did something happen?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Is it okay if we don’t?” he asked, wide eyed, almost like a child. “Of course it is,” I said squeezing his hand.

“Are you busy for the rest of the day?” I asked him. “No, why?”

“After our shakes, we’re gonna go and grab some lunch and then we’re gonna watch some movies at mine. Sound good?”

He grinned at me, “That sounds really good. Finish your shake.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

if you understand the, not so subtle, references i love you 🫶🏻

taglist : @gnrquinn @flawiette @taylorswiftsloverfr @mygirlchaos @marvelcasey05 @ali-r3n @browneyes8288

let me know if you want to be added 😚

[notquitecanon]

Ghosting // John Constantine x Reader

to quote Tumblr, I love when my girlies are a little off. a little weird. off putting.

tw: murder implication

"What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" 

The first time John Constantine saw you, he clocked you right off the bat. Dead. Passed on. Haunting. A spirit, apparition… 

A ghost. 

Sure, the warlock was a bit tossed, but you were definitely otherworldly. His words were supposed to be sarcastic, one of the wisecracks he was known for. 

Still, you just turned to him confused before a kind yet playful smirk pulled your face up. With a cocked head you answered, "I bet you say that to all the girls." 

You knew the blonde was different the moment you set eyes on him. Mostly because he looked at you and truly saw you. You had been gliding through life for a while now feeling like even the people who saw you and heard you, didn’t truly. Like you were a shadow in the corner of their eye or a whisper just quiet enough to write off. 

Still, this corner of the city was different. You felt more alive here, people seemed more interested in your presence…. And then this man came along, all blind arrogance and charming accent wrapped in a fluttering trench coat and a red tie like a bow on a gift. You had seen him around before, always with a card up his sleeve and a cigarette between his teeth. 

John mirrored your cocked head, giving you another scrutinizing once over. He cleared his throat and stepped closer, steeping you in the smell of cigarettes, herbs, tea, and aftershave, "What’s keeping you here, luv?" 

Your eyebrows knitted together, what an odd question. The sun had barely gone down and the city was just coming alive, why would you be leaving? There was still so much to see, hear, feel, taste, dance, and do. So much life around you. 

So you simply smiled again, motioning to the couples on the dance floor, "Everything. Nothing. Something in between." 

"Are you always this bloody vague?" He gruffed through a long drag of his cig, unamused by your non answer. 

"Are you always this nosy?" You challenged. A feeling you had forgotten about bubbled up in your stomach- that giddy bouncy feeling you get when your playfully arguing with someone, trying not to laugh while you wait in anticipation for their next witty retort. It had been so long since someone talked to you like this. 

The man laughed- somewhere between a chuckle and a snort- and hung his head, "Yeah, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, and yet here I bloody am. What’s your name, luv?" 

"(Y/N)." You offered, holding out your hand. The blonde looked confused, staring at your outstretched hand- his discerning eyes flicked from your waiting fingers- decidedly dimmer than the rest of you- to your eyes- just sad enough to feel haunting. Slowly, hesitantly, he moved to take it. 

When his hand touched yours, he expected to go straight through. Theoretically, you should be noncorporeal, but the moment his calloused fingers touched yours there was something akin to a static shock, but softer, a rounder feeling as you wrapped your hand around his. 

Your touch, at first, felt normal, if not worryingly chilled, but the longer he shook your hand, the more frayed the edges of your form felt. As if he was holding on to pure ethereal energy, a manifestation of your very soul- which, if he was right, he was. 

John shook your hand slowly, staring at the interlocked embrace in confusion. You seemed unaffected, if not a little confused by his incredulous expression. So you cleared your throat, even though to John it sounded more like a distant rattling of glass, a memory he couldn’t quite place before your voice followed, seemingly just off kilter to how your lips moved, a new sensation. John released your hand, realizing he was spending too much of your energy and not only had you initiated it, you weren’t stopping him. People who had previously spared you a glance now were staring straight through you, your voice took a more echoed whispery property, your appearance became wispy almost, like a feathered edge to an old photograph- John reckoned he could only still see you because now he was trying. 

"And you are?" 

John watched you for a moment now with his hands at his side. You seemed to almost recharge, life returning to your eyes, seeming more in place among the living, lips catching up to your words. You didn’t even seem to notice, just looking at him expectantly, "How much have you had to drink?" 

"Not nearly enough." The Brit muttered, wiping a hand over his face, not missing how you seemed to flicker between his fingers, "I’m Constantine. John Constantine." 

____

John came back the next day, this time in broad daylight. 

You had disappeared after at least two hours of frustrating yet enticing fickle non answers when John flagged down the barkeep for another pint, before he could get any real answer out of you. There was something about you that drew John in- something happy and yet melancholic all at once, almost like a longing look in your eyes as you watched others around you. And nothing could catch John’s eye like a troubled soul- mortal or not. 

Still, he had never encountered a spirit like you. You seemed so ordinary that if it wasn’t for the micro indicators and John’s lifetime of expertise, he could have written you off as an odd human, maybe a mortal that had been unknowingly touched by the paranormal. Odd for a human…. yet an absurdly ‘normal’ ghost. 

You appeared a full manifestation, head to toe, no mist or wisps surrounding you, completely opaque save for the occasional flicker. You spoke and moved and laughed like a normal human until something caught your eye and you went eerily still, exuding a slight aura that disappeared as soon as you blinked. Things moved when you touched them, except when John noticed they would lag or move prematurely sometimes. People around you noticed your presence, some keenly aware and some just out of the corner of their eye, and yet sometimes people would stare straight through you. John wondered if it was his supernatural keenness that brought and kept you in such sharp focus…

You didn’t seem to have some great power to justify this form, this existence. You seemed like an ordinary person going about their life in the city. Most ‘ordinary’ ghosts struggled to make themselves known and were lucky to manage the same phrase repeated over and over, spent years of spiritual energy to rattle a window pane or appear as a shadow in a mirror. Higher powered and or the older spirits simply glided about, able to be seen and heard and yet either unaware of those around them or resentful of the living- those spotted lurking in windows and caught in the corner of film. And then there were the poltergeists and meaner spirits whose power only came from rage, only good for cruelty, spitting and shredding everything good around them. 

You fit in none of these categories. You weren’t malevolent or bitter or oblivious to those around you. If anything, you were too full of life, too eager to fit in with the living and not eager to do anything specific. It frustrated and interested the experienced paranormal expert who swore he had seen everything. 

When he didn’t find you in the bar, he asked the bartender on shift. You had implied you spent a good bit of time there. Constantine gave a thorough description, from how you looked to how you were dressed to how you spoke. The bartender had knitted his eyebrows, opening and closing his mouth a couple times like there was an answer on the tip of his tongue, a name he couldn’t quite place, a memory on the verge of being forgotten.

"Sorry, man, I swear that sounds familiar but-" the barkeep apologized again with slumped shoulders but John waved him off. 

"No worries, mate, forget I asked." 

As he exited the bar back onto the sunny street, he lit a cigarette, eyes scanning the area. It was perfectly possible he’s never see you again. Maybe you’d spent a decades worth of spiritual energy just to be seen that night. Maybe you just needed one last night before you moved on. Maybe you were gone. 

"Those things will kill you, haven’t you heard?" A familiar voice sent chills down his spine that no longer bothered him, somehow distant and whispered at the same time. 

You, from your favorite bench in the park across the street had seen John Constantine enter the bar. It had been a wonder you kept yourself from following him, there was just something about him that made you feel real, alive. He was funny and quirky, cynical as he was handsome, complete with an accent that left you wanting more. You hadn’t meant to leave last night, truly you don’t know why you did, but the moment he took his eyes off you, it was like your battery died. You honestly didn’t remember much about getting home or your morning- you blamed the drinks. But there he was again, just as handsome with the sun reflecting off his dirty blonde hair. You couldn’t resist the teasing that bubbled you your throat. 

Finally, he turned to you, eyes scanning you just as sharply as the night prior. Somewhere between checking you out and terminator vision- had anyone else done it, it would have been creepy but he… When John did it, you just felt seen. It was nice to feel seen. 

"If I live long enough for these to kill me, I’ll be thrilled." His dark humor made you laugh and you swore his lip ticked up for a moment before he continued, "You weren’t in the bar."

Your eyebrows crinkled but your smile remained, as if to say ‘duh’. 

"Wouldn’t you be more concerned if I was in the bar at this hour? Sure it’s five o clock somewhere, but not here." You shrugged falling in line beside him, John took a long drag of his cigarette,

Clearly troubled but changing the subject. 

"You left without saying goodbye. Didn’t even see you leave."

You squinted against the sun before dropping your eyes, "I don’t remember much after our conversation. I think I had too much to drink."

"You didn’t-" John, confused shook his head, not able to tell if you were joking or not, "You didn’t drink anything last night." 

Which was true. You hadn’t touched a drop all night, though had multiple times mentioned how good the bartender made drinks. Genuine confusion flashed across your body resulting in a sudden breeze that you didn’t seem to notice. Your smile crunched into a confused look before smoothing back out to your default, as if the breeze blew away the truth, "Listen, I know you guys across the pond drink like fish, but not all of us have such a tolerance." 

You giggled at your own joke not bothering to recollect the actual events of the night. This only troubled John further, was this some prolonged but you were committed to? Instead of doubling down, he switched tactics. 

"What did you say your last name was again?" 

This time when the question look returned, it stayed. Eyebrows knitting together, smile dropping. You didn’t notice you had stopped walking until John got a few steps ahead of you before turning to look back at you. 

"My what?" 

"Last name, luv. I told you mine, but I only got your first." He pressed, watching you carefully, eyes narrowing. Surely, you hadn’t forgot to tell him your name, you thought. John continued, "(Y/N) what?"

Forcing a giggle, you cleared your throat, "oh it’s…" 

You thought for a moment, (Y/N) what? Eyes filling with confusion as they met John’s, your forced smile dropping as well.

"(Y/N)…" you trailed off again, not understanding the blank spot, how did you not know your own last name. Anxiety bubbled up as you racked your brain, eyes leaving John’s to look around as if the answer was written on the city sidewalk. You had one, everyone did, why couldn’t you think of it? (y/n) ____, the space only filled by a aching void in your mind, as if it wanted to be filled. You ran a hand over through your hair as if tugging your scalp would jog the memory, "My name is (y/n)…"!

John watched you mutter to yourself, your entire demeanor changing as you tried to come up with an answer. A blustering wind almost blew his cigarette out, flapping his tie around his neck as his coat billowed around him. He noticed the wind only got stronger as you caved in on yourself, eyes quickly becoming unsure and frightened, even though your hair and clothes stayed still, unmarred by the sudden change in weather. 

"My name, my name how do I not know my name," your voice was becoming sharp, knowing in your heart that something was wrong. John, always softer than he wanted others to believe, tried to ignore how his heart clenched at the sight and before he could stop himself, he waded through the now choppy winds that seemed to be in pace with your stuttering breaths. 

"Your name is (Y/N), forgive me for asking, it’s none of my business." John assured you, paying no mind to your frantic eyes searching his for answers. His hand grabbed yours, producing that same feathered shock. This time you felt it, distracting you as the wind slowed from blustering to gusty. 

"But my-" 

"Forget I asked, luv." He cut you off, quickly squeezing your hand. His skin was so warm on yours that it was all you could focus on. John, however, was noting everything about you. 

Your hair was untouched by the wind, clothes the same as the night before, after your amnesiac fit, your appearance seemed hazy around the edges, you hand seemed too light in his grasp, and around your neck was a gold necklace that stated your name in scrawling font between your collarbones. 

John frowned. That was probably the only reason you knew your first name. The memory loss wasn’t uncommon in spirits- unfinished business paired with amnesia left souls wandering the mortal planes for centuries. A cruel joke from the higher powers. 

Still, after the weather display- something even mid level entities struggled with and you had done without even noticing- he was afraid pressing the issue would result in pushing you into poltergeist territory. 

And there was something about your sweet smile or maybe your longing eyes, John had to immediately dismiss the thought of you becoming vengeful and cruel. That would make you a problem and he was the one who took care of paranormal problems. 

His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand, not ignoring but embracing the tingling sensation the prolonged contact sent into his bones, "Take a breath, luv."

Your breathing slowed as the wind came to a sudden halt, dropping kicked up leaves and paper where they were. Your eyes never left his, lips still mouthing questions, but John allowed you to clutch him like a life preserver even when your hand started to slip through his like fog. 

After a minute, this gave him a front row ticket as he watched the frightened awareness in your eyes glaze over. Your entire body relaxed, gaze softening, smile returning as if someone pressed reset. 

Once you hand had completely phased through his, you blinked once, then twice, your eyebrow twitched just slightly before you took a step back, "I’m sorry, what were you saying?" 

As if you hadn’t just panicked up a hurricane. As if you had no memory of the last two minutes. John’s eyebrows furrowed again, shoving his still tingling hand in his pocket. 

"Oh nothing, just admiring your necklace." He lied easily, flicking his cigarette into the nearest potted plant. Your fingers flew to your neck, tracing the golden scrawl. 

"This old thing? I’ve had it for as long as I can remember." You smiled fondly. 

Constantine didn’t doubt it. 

Then, out of no where you yawned. Suddenly, between one blink and the next, looking very tired, dark shadows appearing under your eyes and cheeks suddenly becoming gaunt. 

"Sorry, I’m exhausted! Couldn’t tell you why though." You chuckled through another nod, shaking your head though the motion seemed almost blurred. Your words were off kilter with your mouth again, and your hands and feet seemed hazy giving you an almost hovering appearance. John realized between the prolonged contact and wind show, you must be spent. Your smile was tired but your eyes were as sweet as ever, "I’ll see you around, John." 

And before the exorcist could stop you, you gliding in a random direction, appearance fizzling away with every step until you had completely disappeared, leaving the air charged with that same strange static your hands held. 

It was then John realized what was really going on. The memory loss, the panic, the power, the longing and liveliness… 

His jaw hardened as his eyes set on where you had been, fighting down the sad feeling in his chest. 

You didn’t know you were dead. And with this sort of power, your death had to have been something gruesome. John thought of your kind eyes and sweet smile... his jaw clenched.

You would go on half living forever if someone didn’t stop you, no memory of who you truly were and no knowledge of how to move on. Slowly,

It would drive you mad. John was surprised it hadn’t already. 

And for better or for worse, John Constantine was incapable of leaving pretty, troubled girls alone.

[galaxythedragonshifter]

Herobrine Headcanons because I feel obligated to do so~

It's me, I'm the obligation

Herobrine is NOT evil in my headcanon. The whole evil "leafless trees go brrrr" thing never resonated with me. I definitely can and will read a story with evil Hero in it, but it has to be done well. In my opinion, the Gameknight999 books didn't really write Hero in a way that made sense (or for villains in general, frankly). It seems really difficult for official (and published unofficial) Minecraft products to actually make him into an interesting character (something a lot of fanfictions seem to accomplish easily). I'm assuming it's because fanfiction writers do it for free, out of their love for the media, and those who actually publish said story into a physical Minecraft product are only monopolizing on the success of Minecraft in general. That's also another reason why I'm glad MCSM went the way they did. I'm glad they didn't go the Steve, Herobrine, and Alex route. Personally, I love the story and the world they've created with Jesse and the others. (Sorry this one was so long Imao)

However, there are rumors of him being evil floating around. I mean, a white eyed man that doesn't just survive, but thrives in the Nether could be terrifying, to be fair.

He looks like he's in his early 30's but he's actually 217. He's an old man. (But also not really, if you're comparing it to the equivalent of other human's lifespans).

Not a demigod. Just a superpowered human with plot armor and pure fury.

Because he's been in the Nether on his own for the most part (spare the mobs), he doesn't really know anyone else really. He hasn't had proper human interaction in several decades, so he's not the best at socializing.

In tandem with the last one, it results in him being lonely. He of course didn't know he is though. He's gaslighted himself into thinking he's not. This also results in him having a hard time trusting others. Like, at all. He prefers to do everything on his own, and hates to ask for help, admit if he can't do something, or show weaknesses to others. (Resulting in him also having a problem with bottling up emotions, until they are too much to handle.)

If he does meet someone he can trust though, he will be incredibly loyal, protecting that person no matter what. Even if it makes him come off slightly aggressive. (He's kinda like a grizzly bear in this way. Aggressive when protecting those he trusts.)

He usually hides his anger well. He'll also hide his other emotions from those he doesn't trust. (Which is pretty much everyone).

Sarcastic "I hate everything and everyone" mood

"Well if you weren't this stupid. you wouldn't be in this mess."

"What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Disappointed dad glare and pose™

His eyes do, in fact, have somewhat distinguishable pupils. But they're almost the same color, and with the glow, they're super hard to see unless you really observe his face. And he'd probably say something along the lines of "Stop that." In a really annoyed tone if you tried.

Going along with the last one, his eyes do show emotion. They can flicker with certain emotions (and depending on how conflicted he is, the fastor or slower they might flicker), and become dimmer for longer bad mood episodes. They grow brighter with more intense emotions like anger, but dim with emotions like sadness, disappointment, ect. He can control it to an extent, but it's like breathing or blinking. It's usually involuntary unless he's consciously thinking about it.

Looks like he could kill you, can definitely kill you, but is also a cinnamon roll.

His hair goes past his ears. And it's just a mop of brown hair. Like, he brushes it, but the man's got messy hair all the time.

Ok boomer (he's much older than that LMAO-)

He's 5'6. So short-ish, but not too short.

He can telepathically communicate with mobs to an extent. He can direct them and get a basic feel for Thier emotions, but not really any "talking". Kinda like charades.

Speaks Swedish and is bilingual (English and Swedish). And no, I'm not taking any criticism on this one, because I read it in a fic and I've been obsessed with the idea for years. I will die on this hill.

If he knows you, and you do something stupid (especially a newbie Nether mistake), he will stand there and judge you. Menacingly.

Classic blue shirt with indigo pants. Also likes to wear a tattered dark blue cape (that has a hood) when he's out and about.

Contrary to popular belief, he actually prefers Netherite over diamond weapons. He's also a pretty good archer, but it's not his preference.

He's got fire powers, teleportation, abnormal strength, flight, and the ability to read mob's body language. He actually rarely uses flight, and only does it when bored, or he does it absentmindedly as a stim. If he does he'll just kinda float around. He also has enhanced healing as well, and wounds typically heal faster. In addition to that, he can die, but it has to be more extensive damage than fatal wounds would typically be. Especially if he has no potions on him. (He can't like, heal instantly or anything). However, his powers do use his energy, so he can only do so much. (He can still pack quite the punch though. And take quite a few hits.)

Extremely good fighter and has good control over his powers. Typically hides him emotions from those he doesn't trust/know. (Even from someone he may trust). A pretty good archer, but not his preference. Surprisingly good at building. Good with potions and crafting.

Brine absolutely cannot understand social cues or cultural social cues. He also for the life of himself can't stand the cold. He does have resistance to extreme temperatures, but he just really dislikes the cold. He still feels uncomfortable in the snow, especially since he lives in the Nether, resulting in the cold resistance not really being as effective.

He does have nicknames, but he only lets people use them if they are on a nickname basis (he has to really trust that person). His nicknames are Brine and Hero.

He's Aroace. The man's got no understanding of romance in general, much less flirting. (If someone flirts with him, he'll just be like: "No.")

Probably a dog person. He gives dog person vibes. No, i will not elaborate.

He lives in the Nether for the most part. He has extensive knowledge of the location, and he has a much higher heat tolerance. Although, he isn't necessarily the "Nether king" as far as rumors go. He just kinda resides there, and the mobs leave him alone for the most part.

He doesn't curse often, but if he does, he typically uses "damn and hell" and thier variations.

His hobbies consist of exploring the Nether, fighting, crafting, and surprisingly, reading.

His favorite color is blue. He doesn't see much of it in the nether.

Trust issues go brrr

Social anxiety also go brrrr

"You have no self preservation, whatsoever."

He's good at fighting his way out of a situation, but his plan B is always sarcasm. Just, sarcastic witty banter. (He's got King Jaron vibes, for those who read the Ascendance Series)

He sometimes likes to annoy people, when he is around people he knows. If it's someone he dislikes though, it's more often and snarky.

Some character flaws for y'all: Blunt, bold, emotionally distant, perfectionist, overprotective, rebellious, stubborn, smart-alek, can hold grudges for a while, trust issues,

*literally gets impaled* "Oh cool a sword-" *collapses* (Alt: "Rude...")

"Have you lost your damn MIND?"

"Don't you Dare throw that snowba- dammit!" (if you haven't noticed, I'm having fun with the dialogue)

He's kinda based on many iterations of Herobrine I've read over the years, with some of my own twists on it. He's basically a mixture of my favorite traits from other versions.

I may sometime make a part 2, idk. I've been developing my version of Herobrine for like, 2-3 years now lmao. So possibly. Imma see how much my brain forgot after I've posted this lmao 😭

Y'all can feel free to send asks or comment about him if ya wanna, they're always open!

Also, I'm sorry this post is so long ajjsjdhdhhdhd. More content for you ig XD-

And some other things, I DO have more Herobrine content. (In the works and not). I already have a Fic on my Ao3 page called Ex Prince. (However, it isn't canon to my current Headcanons of him, as that was a lot earlier in his development stage.)

Tags: @locatebiome (you have Hero all over your blog so yah. Lemme know if ya want the tag removed akjshgdhdg) @yumeyumeappleo

[seospicybin]

ONE SERIES PREVIEW.

ONE OF A KIND.

Felix x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: When you live in a small island there’s nothing more exciting than meet a new man in town, Felix. It’s getting more peculiarly nostalgic as if you feel like you’ve known him for years.

Preview under the cut!

...

Felix continues looking at the drawings you put on the wall and doing it so attractively, you get to see his side profile of sharp jaws, a small nose, and lips.

"Your drawings are beautiful!"

His deep voice is enough to get you out of your reverie, you immediately mutter your gratitude, "thanks!"

"You're a great artist!" He praises once again.

It's the way he delivers the praise that got your heart palpitations, "I'm not an artist yet but I got a scholarship to attend an art school this year," you don't want to brag but this kind of opportunity doesn't come often.

"In fact, I'm leaving next month," you add with an excited laugh, still can't believe it yourself.

Felix's gaze turns a shade dimmer like he has just heard something awful, "wow, congratulations!" He says but the excitement isn't there.

"Thank you!" Yet you sincerely thanked him for it.

You remember you haven't asked him his intention on this island, "how about you?"

"Huh?"

"Are you here for a vacation or do you plan on staying?" You ask out of curiosity.

"Or do you like my sister's pain au chocolat too much?" You add a joke at the end to not make it seems like you're pressuring him to answer.

He smiles and turns to face you, "I'm staying."

"Permanently?"

"It seems like that, yeah," he answers.

It's too early to assume that he was sad to know that you'll be leaving soon when he only started living on the island but you can't help it either.

"Well, you'll love it here," you tell him, and deep inside you got inexplicably sad that you only met him now.

You both exchange a gaze that elicits the same emotions, of something tender but sorrowful. How do you even have these sorts of feelings toward someone you know barely hours ago?

It's a mystery but you like how you can comfortably look into his eyes and drown yourself in them.

Felix breaks the eye contact first and asks, "so, where's the wind-chime?"

You slightly got a bit jittery, "it's uhm... it's in the other room," you can't find yourself saying the exact location but leads him there.

You both go back inside the house and turn to the right to enter one of the rooms.

Once he stepped inside, Felix calmly walks up to the window and pushes it open to let the air in.

The wind-chime sways and makes clinking sounds, "yours is beautiful," he compliments.

"I bet you know the wind-chime is just an excuse," you shyly say.

He sheepishly smiles and nods.

You approach him and stop right next to him, looking at his face under the pale moonlight that adds a mystifying glow, and makes him appear like a mythical entity.

"Can I kiss you?" You know your curiosity can only be answered with a kiss.

"I swear to you I've never done this before," you start to blabber because that's what you do when you're nervous.

"But you feel so oddly familiar to me like we've met and known each other for years, I just wanted to—"

Before you can finish your sentence, he leans in and closes the gap between your bodies.

It's like the stars aligned the moment your lips touched, it's ethereal and just right.

Your eyes are still closed when he pulls away and you try so hard to find a name for this peculiar feeling, one that resembles a feeling of coming home.

"Is it bad?" He asks with his hands still cupping your face as you stay quiet for a good minute.

You open your eyes and slowly shake your head, "kissing a stranger," you lowly mutter.

You jerk your head back in confusion, "I've never done that before..."

Felix softly chuckles, "yeah, you told me."

You touch his face and swipe your thumb over his small lips, "can we kiss again?"

Strange that you don't see any signs of confusion on Felix's face, "of course, yeah," he answers while laughing.

You're the one leaning in this time and gently place your lips on his, feeling his warm soft lips against yours for a few seconds then let go.

"Interesting..." you sigh in a perplexed tone.

Felix drops his hands to hold you by the waist and you like how he feels around you, safe and comfortable.

You look at his face and laugh at this funny thought that crossed your head, "can we do more than just a kiss?"

Felix once again doesn't seem to be surprised by the question but cracks a laugh at you, "is that what you want?"

You laugh again while burying your face in his chest, drinking in his natural scent mixed with sunshine and sea breeze.

Then you shyly nod without looking at him.

"We can do that," Felix says with his mouth close to the top of your head.

After a while, you look up at him and do not hesitate to kiss him, "maybe after a few more of this," you say between kisses.

And he caters to your wants, returning the kisses with the same passion while holding you close.

...

Full fic will be posted tomorrow!

[xxl1zardb3ansxx]

TADC AU time!

Since everyone's doing it thought I might make a TADC AU!!!

It's about Mire, (Not me the character) Faltor, Filorin, Falia, and Sninlia! The original characters are included too though!

Mire: Their head is an animated scribble that you can ever so slightly see the shape of an eye something. They wears a light-ish pink hoodie and black jeans, with one purple and one blue sneaker. However, when they are depressed, they wear a black and red striped over-sized sweater, with black runner sweatpants, and simple black and red sneakers with skull designs on them. They have the ability to basically transform their arms into tentacles to reach stuff. However, their entire body is actually made of one really long line thus they can only stretch so far. They can also store things in their stomach like it's a void of holding. Because of this, Jax likes to randomly shove stuff into Mire. They play the guitar and have anger issues. (Hint VERY gay)

Faltor: His head is a 2nd grader's impression of the sun. A yellow circle with yellow spikes. Yep. He has one eye placed vertically in the center of the sun shape. His iris is blue, but his pupil only shows when he's mad. Also when he is mad, all his visible outlines get fuzzy and static like. He wears the same demeanor of clothes as Caine just with different colors. Black button-down shirt with a white suit vest over it. The vest has a blue lining and little light blue clouds on it. He wears a blue ribbon around his neck, tied in a loose bow. (Although I should note that the sun shape floats a few inches above the neck.) He has white pants, and black fancy click-clack shoes. (Idk what they're called XD) He eats and drinks by just dumping the said food/drink in his neck. Jax likes to run his hand in between Faltor's neck and head, bc he's thinks it funny bc he's dumb. (Fight me)

Filorin: His head is a flame, glowing brighter or dimmer depending on his mood. He wears a simple back wool button-up shawl, covering his torso. He wears dark navy blue pants and simple buckle leather boots. He also has a little brown leather satchel. His eyes are little white circles that float a centimeter or two in front of his head. The circles are usually semi-circles as he is tired most of the time. He is very shy, and hates talking to people. (Unless it's Faltor) Yes, the fire that is his head will hurt and burn other people/items. Jax likes to toss random flammable objects into Filorin's head, to see if he can land a shot and watch it burn. Even though he hates talking, some people still try to be friends with him.

Falia: She is viewed as gorgeous by the other circus members, (Except for Faltor and Filorin and including Caine) Her head appears to be made of ink in a smooth sphere. She has a silver crescent moon shape on the front of her face, and a large purple eye filling most of the empty space left. She appears to be wearing 4-point star earrings (Despite having no ears) She wears an elegant black spaghetti noodle dress, that flows down, were there is almost a cape like section of the skirt that drags behind her. It seems to flow into stars and nebula's, looking like a piece of space was placed upon her dress. She has a cool, collected and royal manor. She speaks in a calm almost dead voice, the same every time. And no she doesn't get mad, or sad, or anything! That would be silly... (Heh heh, trauma related) Faltor is her brother, and she views his fondly. Jax will occasionally just...take scoops of Falia's ink to throw at Filorin. She acts like she doesn't care.

Sninlia: Sninlia's head is a snow flake. It has a very intricate and complicated, yet graceful design. (Which is why it makes it so difficult to get the shape back every time Jax melts her head) She wears a royal looking robe, (very similar to kinger's) except it's icy blue, and has icicles coming out the bottom. A light snow also drifts from the bottom of her robe, so you can always tell where she's been. She is rather quiet, but when she does speak she is very serious. Jax makes fun of her a lot for this. Jax also finds it fun to use Filorin's head to melt Sninlia's snowflake, forcing her to go place it in a mold like thing and freeze it again. Sninlia and Falia are dating (Although neither of them will admit it) and they are very close. Despite how Sninlia seems, she loves dancing to classical music or just dancing. She favors music quite a bit and will sometimes even listen to Mire play guitar, even though it's most definitely not her style of music. Sninlia is also Filorin's sister, and she wishes he would socialize more.

Jax: He is much more annoying with these new peeps around. Although, Caine and Bubble have noticed him blushing a little when he's around Mire. (Don't worry guys this isn't a cannon ship!)

Caine: He has a really big crush on Falia and has no idea she's already dating someone.

Ragatha: Yes, ButtonBlossom is cannon, but she likes hanging out with Filorin and Falia. Sometimes Mire, but only if she sees their lonely.

Pomni: She loves her girlfriend very much, and likes hanging out with Filorin. Although not that often, because she gets a bit weirded out by him.

Kinger: He didn't really like any of them but if he had to choose one to hang out with, it'd be Faltor. So they could autism together.

Gangle: Prefers to just hide from Jax, but occasionally try to talk to Filorin. *Ahem,* emphasis on the try

Zooble: Hangs out with Mire a lot and doesn't like any of the rest of them.

I post more about it if y'all send me some asks.

[phantomspren]

I loved the finale.

I truly did.

But the lack of anymore Wittebane lore was really sad to me, cause honestly that’s been my favorite part of the show since I first saw Hollow Mind. 

And there probably would have been something if Disney hadn’t cut it, but, well, I can’t change that and I’m still disapointed so here’s the fic I wrote when I should have been in bed and I had just finished crying for literally thirty minutes straight.

Basically, this is kinda a mess but I had fun writing it and it was disturbingly therapeutic for me. 

Philip died.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to happen.

He’d lived for over four hundred years only to be stomped into the ground, driven from the most powerful body he’d ever inhabited.

His flesh had been ground into the dirt under the boots of a descendant of the witch who had led his brother into temptation and out of the light of God, and a human who had betrayed her whole species. 

After four hundred years, that was how it all ended.

And he’d been so close.

And now he sunk into the darkness, the light above growing dimmer. He was unable to breathe, but his lungs had no need for air. He wasn’t sure if this was due to his being dead or his lack of a body. The liquid was dark enough that he couldn’t tell if he had any physical form at all.

He continued to sink.

And his mind replayed each and every of his failures.

His failure to properly destroy the human girl.

His failure to maintain the loyalty of a single one of his grimwalkers.

His failure to…

His failure to make Caleb understand his betrayal. His betrayal of both their ideals and of Philip.

His failure to bring Caleb home.

Four hundred years was a long time to grieve.

A long time to live with the blood of your brother on your hands. 

And a long time to seek vengeance against those who had taken him down the path of sin.

And he had still failed.

His descent ended.

The liquid beneath him simply gave way, and Philp began to fall far more rapidly. The air rushing past him finally gave him the knowledge that he did in fact have a body, but he noticed nothing more of his physical appearance than a flash of Caleb’s blue coat before he thumped into the ground. 

His vision blurred for a moment, but when it cleared, two all-too familiar faces loomed over him.

Evelyn, her short red hair a mess around her head. Her eyes contained a storm.

And…

And Caleb.

That damned cardinal sat on his shoulder. 

“You stole my coat,” he said, a self-satisfied grin sneaking onto his face. “I’d like it back.” 

“Caleb,” Philip gasped. 

“Surprised to see me?” Caleb’s smile widened. “Is it because you thought that our souls would end up in different places perhaps?”

He tried to ignore the theological implications of it all.

Caleb proffered a hand to Philip.

In over four hundred years, Caleb’s smile hadn’t changed a bit.

But oh, how the situations that invoked that smile had shifted.

Philip smacked Caleb’s hand aside and the bird gave an alarmed chirp, but Philip just pushed himself to his feet.

Before he could get a look at his surroundings, he saw the rats nest of red hair approach out of the corner of his eyes and the next thing he knew he was laid out on the ground a second time, his nose throbbing in exactly the same place as it had three hundred years ago when the other Clawthorne had punched him. 

This time when his vision cleared, the tears of pain finally having been blinked away, Evelyn still still had that storm behind her eyes but she shared Caleb’s smile.

“Bastard,” she said, the word containing the same force as that which was contained in her expression.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Caleb said. “You can keep the coat.”

“I hope it serves as a reminder of all that you have done,” Evelyn spat.

The two turned to go.

Caleb was leaving him again he was leaving with the witch he was abandoning him again again again again.

“Wait!” Philip pushed himself to his knees, reaching a hand out after them.

Evelyn kept walking, but Caleb turned.

“Caleb…”

Caleb met his eyes.

“I have lived with the decisions I made every day for centuries,” Philip started. “I have grieved over them every day. But I was doing it for the good of our souls, for the good of humanity!”

“You do realize that’s not an excuse, right?” Caleb said. “It was still you who made those choices. Not God. You refused to change even when confronted with the fact that you were wrong. You’re not that boy I used to know, Pip. I loved him, I truly did. But… when I was confronted with a better way of seeing the world, one that relied less on judgment and more on love and acceptance, I had to take it. I offered you that choice, later on. Perhaps I should have offered it to you sooner, but I was desperate to escape the hate that we had surrounded ourselves with. And…” He glanced over his shoulder at Evelyn, who was now waiting in the distance. “Well, I was a teenager. A foolish boy in love. I could never have guessed how that hatred would distort you. I loved my younger brother. But I thought that you would be strong enough to resist. You aren’t that boy anymore. And I cannot love this monster that you’ve become. And this time, me leaving you is not the act of a child. It is the act of a man who is leaving behind the demon who attempted to steal everything from him and the world and the people he came to love. And…” Caleb’s face contorted, the smile momentarily leaving his lips. “And then trying to bring me back. Again and again. Just to kill me again.”

“I was trying-”

“The first time I left you, it was of my own free will and I regret that. I regret not bringing you with me. The second time, you forced me to leave you by killing me. And now I will leave you again and I will never look back. I have said all that I have needed to say to you. Goodbye, Philip.”

Caleb turned and strode away. 

What Philip didn’t know was that he’d only been brought to the end to bring closure to his elder brother’s troubled soul.

As Caleb’s words began to sink in, began to worm their way into the crack of Philip’s heart, that purpose was fulfilled.

Philip still felt as though he had done what was right. For that was who he was. Merciless, uncaring, desiring only to fulfill his own wants and wishes. 

The words hurt, yes, and he recognized some of them as true, but they changed nothing within him. 

And so for a final time, his body began to lose form. His flesh gave way to a mass of green sludge, a symbol of the corruption and damage he had done to his own flesh and soul. With no bones or body to contain him, his being simply slipped into the earth, where the ways of the universe finally expunged him from existence.