#her guardian looks like her late husband

[thievinghippo]

Saw a post yesterday that reminded me of an idea I had that I really want to try out

Meet Bertha. She's seventy-eight years old and retired. Fifty years ago, she was part of one of the most popular bands in Faerun. She had a very brief and very unhappy marriage with the lead singer of the band, but she got a wonderful daughter out of it, so she doesn't complain too much. Especially since he had the decency to die of mysterious circumstances after only two years of marriage (She testified under oath that she didn't have anything to do with his demise. She was almost telling the truth)

These days, she mostly babysits her great grandchildren. And does a lot of knitting to keep her fingers limber, as playing the flute still gives her a great deal of joy

She was on her way to Neverwinter to visit her grandson when she was kidnapped. (She has two grandchildren. A granddaughter who married young and already has two children of her own, and a grandson who is a 1st year professor of sorcery at the Eltorchul Academy)

Bertha immediately became the team mom, with a soft spot for Astarion, because he actually saw her perform in Baldur's Gate fifty years ago

She will romance no one (but might hook up with Halsin, we'll see). But her ultimate goal, besides saving the world? Is deciding which of her new friends she'll set up with her grandson!

[kavehology]

Summary : your husband and your son forgot their lunch at home so you decide to drop it off for him as a surprise...

Warnings? : fluff, Megumi lives with you guys and calls you mum, Yuji and Nobara have no idea Gojo is in a relationship , tbh I have no idea what else to add.

Notes : let's forget the fact that Megumi lives in the dorms in the show. He lives with you and Gojo since when Gojo found him he made you and him his legal guardians🫶 THIS IS MY REDEMPTION POST FOR THE LAST ONE😭

Gojo x wife!reader

The sound of your husband's alarm had woken you up at 7:30am, you thought that he would wake up and turn it off so that he could get ready for the day but for some goddamn reason he still hadn't rolled over and turned it off so you sat up and leaned over him so that you could turn it off yourself. Just as you had swiped up and shut off the rather annoying noise you could hear your husband mumble a playful "Thank you babe" into your stomach. Scoffing you leaned back over him and positioned yourself on your elbow staring down at his stupid grin.

"Are you going to get up and get ready now? Just how long were you awake?" You had asked with a small yawn. "Since the alarm went off" he replied with a cheeky grin. You gave him a light slap on the shoulder and flopped on top of him as he littered small pecks all over your checks and wrapped his arms around your back. "And I think I'll stay like this for a while, all cozied up with you" he sighed out as he pressed yet another kiss to the crown of your head. It was peaceful for a while before you decided that it has been long enough and told him that he had to get up and has yet to see if Megumi is awake.

With a groan Gojo let go of you and went to sit up while stretching. You had rolled over and pulled the covers up to fall back asleep, which is something you usually do after spending some morning time with your husband. After Gojo had gotten dressed he had realized that he was actually late because he had spent so much time cuddling with you and hadn't realized that time was slowly ticking away, so quickly he rushed out of the room and woke up an annoyed Megumi and rushed back to your room and placed a quick kiss to your forehead and a "love you" before him and Megumi rushed out of the door completely forgetting to pack themselves lunches.

It had been two or three hours since the boys had left when you had woken up. You yawned and got up slipping on some slippers and a gown then went downstairs to make yourself some tea, when you had noticed that not only had Gojo forgotten his lunch but Megumi had too. So you checked the time which was around 10:30am meaning they would have been still be in class and decided on bringing their lunches to them as a surprise (and an excuse for you to see your boys.) After you had gotten dressed into something casual you grabbed their lunches and popped them into a little tote bag and put some candies with a soda each in there too as a treat and then started making your way to the school.

As you were walking down the halls you had crossed paths with Shoko and had a little chat since you hadn't seen her for a while and then asked her which class was Gojos. After she had given you directions to his class you two exchanged hugs before you made your way to his class. As you made your way down the halls to your husband's classroom you could see the room just at the end of the hall so you speed up a little, getting a little nervous as you got closer to the room. The moment you got to the door you could hear the chatter of students and Gojo inside the room so you felt a little relieved to know you had the right class and lifted your hand to knock but your nerves got worse when you could hear that the whole class went silent as you knocked. You could hear a muffled "come in!" from the other side and slid the door open to reveal your husband at his desk staring at the door. As you stepped in you gave a soft smile to Gojo as he gave you a surprised look and got up.

It's like his whole personality switched the moment he realized it was you because he instantly looked more cheerful as he bound towards you with that cheeky grin on his face

"Baby! What are you doing here?" He said as he wrapped you in a hug. You hugged him back before responding. "You and Gumi forgot your lunch this morning when you left" extending the bag out to Gojo he looked inside and grabbed the sweets happily. "Oh! Thanks babe, you're the best!" You gave him a deadpan look and grabbed one of the sodas and one of the lunches and walked over to Megumi's desk and placed them down gently. "Next time you need to set an alarm to bud" You said playfully while ruffling his hair as he grumbled. You walked back over to Gojo and placed the bag next to his desk and then asked if Gojo needed anything to which he replied with "Yes, a kiss" which was probably one of the cheesiest things he said all week. But when you leaned down to give him a kiss you failed to notice the other two students staring at you like their eyes about to pop out of their head (mainly Nobara.)

"HUAAAH?! SINCE WHEN COULD HE PULL?!" You had suddenly heard from the girl in the class which made you halt your movements and stare over at the students. You then had noticed how Megumi was in the seat closest to the door covering his head in embarrassment, the girl in the middle and the pink haired boy closest to the window. You looked curiously between them and your husband before he laughed and stood up putting a hand on your shoulder. "Babe these are my students Kugisaki and Itadori! They're first years." You waved sweetly at them and Nobara had scrambled out of her seat and up to you before she slapped Gojo's hands away and replaced them with hers "PLEASE LADY YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER" she cried out while shaking you around as if that would do anything. You hadn't said anything at all throughout this whole ordeal until Megumi had yanked her away and scolding her for not even giving you any time to think. You thanked Megumi as you steadied yourself a little and smiled at the boy.

You stayed behind to chat with the kids and your husband for around an hour since they started to like you more than you intended. You had found out that Itadori was the vessel for the king of curses, Sukuna, and you had voiced how you felt bad for him since Itadori is such a lovely kid but he reassured you that he was fine and that he can handle it and then you found out that Nobara is the drama queen of the group and is really confident in her opinions and in what she does, she also seemed to gain quite the liking to you since while you were in the class you would have a couple jabs at your husband whenever Megumi and Nobara had goes at him.

After about an hour you decided that you would head home since you had some chores to do like laundry and dishes that the boys hadn't cleaned the night before. You gave Megumi a hug and a kiss and a "Love you Gumi, be safe okay? Don't get too hurt" which gained the response of a muffled "Love you too mum" since he was a little embarrassed and then you went up to your child of a husband and hugged him before he started complaining about not getting a kiss too so you placed a gentle kiss to his lips and mumbles "love you my toru" and ruffled his hair before leaving the class to a cheerful Gojo and an embarrassed Megumi.

GUH I HOPE THERE AREN'T MANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES IN THIS 💔💔

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (11)

Prayer

Faced with the possibility of their separation, Aemond joins Arianwyn in prayer.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: description of injuries and medieval medical procedures

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“I think that it is long past time for Arianwyn to come and live with her father – and her sisters. When you leave for King’s Landing in the morning, brother, she will remain here. With me.”

Arianwyn felt as if the very ground beneath her feet would crack open and swallow her whole into the darkness below.

She wished it would.

For this was much, much worse.

After more than a decade of silence, punctuated that very day by taunting, cruel words, her father only sought to lay claim to her now?

It was surely not out of love or a sense of familial duty. If Daemon had ever possessed either, he would have come for her sooner - or never abandoned her at all. To claim her now, he must have another purpose. But Arianwyn had not inherited her father’s penchant for malice – she could not begin to imagine what his reasoning might be.

All she knew was the fear and rage crackling in her heart like frost and the stinging of tears washing over her wounds. She was so godsdamned tired of crying.

“I will not!” Her eyes of silver – the eyes of House Royce – never left her father’s. She looked at him with all the hatred she possessed, and still, it was less than he deserved.

But Daemon had seen that same look in those very same eyes before. It did not sway him then, and it would not sway him now.

“It has been a difficult night for you, my girl,” he said. Though his lips played in a pout of pity, his eyes flashed with hatred as he glanced at his younger daughters. Was that it? Was stealing her away some sort of punishment for fighting them? She hadn’t even hurt them. “So, I will forgive your unbecoming behavior. You will be coming with me – as your father, I command it.”

Arianwyn shook her head, hand instinctually reaching out to the empty space on her left. But Aemond was not there. He still stood with his mother, her arm cradling him as they both looked at Arianwyn with fear in their eyes. “Help me,” she mouthed.

“What right have you to command her?” The Queen stepped forward, releasing Aemond from her grasp and nudging him toward the maesters. He stumbled as he ran, trying to turn back to Arianwyn, but Maester Kelyvn held him firm as he wrangled her back into the chair. His remaining eye was wide with despair as he looked at her.

Aemond had been her guardian for so long. She had been for him, too, in her way. But he had just lost an eye trying to protect her, and now, he was helpless. They both were.

“Since Arianwyn was only weeks old, the king and I have been her guardians,” Alicent addressed the gathered crowd as much as she did Daemon and her husband. “Her late mother, Rhea Royce, even as she lay dying in the birthing bed, was more parent to her than you have ever been. Arianwyn stays with us.”

Daemon’s lip curled as he faced the queen. “And I offer my sincere gratitude to the both of you,” he snarled, struggling to keep the spite from his voice, “for fulfilling my duties in my absence. But having just lost my beloved wife, I have resolved to rededicate myself to my family – including my firstborn.”

Arianwyn was so disgusted by her father’s brazen lies that she could vomit. Surely anyone with even a shred of sense could see through his sickly-sweet façade. Surely, the king would not allow this to happen.

But when she turned to him, she found him heaving with exhaustion from the unending calamity of the night. Once more, he lowered himself into the Driftwood Throne. He looked at Arianwyn, his eyes apologetic.

No. No, he couldn’t send her away. She shuffled toward him. “Kepus, kostilus. Jon jaelon daor!” Uncle, please. I don’t want to go.

The king said nothing. Then, with a great sigh, he turned to Ser Westerling.

“Clear the room,” he ordered. “I must speak with my brother and my wife. Alone. Now!”

Arianwyn was so enraged at being excluded from the conversation to determine her fate that both Ser Criston Cole and Ser Warren Crayne were required to carry her from the throne room. She did not make it easy for them. She twisted her shoulders in their arms to try and escape, but whenever she finally escaped one of their grips, the other was ready to catch her again.

“Let me go!” she demanded while she kicked her legs against Ser Criston’s shins, seeking to knock him down as she had watched Aemond do to Jace earlier.

Criston sighed, entirely unaffected by her attempts to bring him down. “I will let you go, but only if you promise to remain calm and stay out of the throne room.”

“But I can’t let him take me!”

“The queen will do everything she can,” Warren said, his voice frustratingly even. He didn’t even blink when she yelled in his face. “You are still but a girl. It is not your place to petition the King.”

“I am not just a girl!” she screamed, still fighting to free herself. “I am the Lady of Runestone, like my mother before me!”

The men exchanged a look and finally let her to the floor.

But before she could run away, Warren grabbed her shoulders once more and turned her to face him. “You are, my lady,” he raised his hand to cup her cheek. “But you are also a girl. The power of your position will not be yours for years to come.”

She pouted, though she did not fight him. “Cregan Stark just reclaimed Winterfell from his uncle, and he is only three years older than me. Why must I be made to wait? It is not fair!”

“It is the law of the land,” he said, “as it has been since long before Aegon the Conqueror landed in Westeros. It does not have to be fair.”

Arianwyn’s head drooped as she stepped into Warren’s embrace, for she knew his words were true. She could only be grateful that her thrice great-grandfather had let the old laws of the Vale that allowed her to inherit at all stand.

Criston stepped forward. “I am ordered to return you to your rooms, Arianwyn. But if you promise to behave and tell no one I’ve disobeyed my orders, I will take you to Aemond instead. Let you spend time with him…”

He did not have to finish his sentence; she knew how it would end.

While you still can.

Aemond returned not to the guest chambers he shared with Aegon but to the Maester’s Tower, where he could continue to be looked after. He laid in a bed that had been brought in for him, with several pillows stuffed at his back to keep him upright. The bed was too hard, the pillows too scratchy, and the entire room smelled like seaweed.

He thought about slipping away while the maesters had their backs turned – they had finished dressing his wound and were now whispering by the fire. But when he tried to stand, his legs felt distant from his body and would not obey his wishes. So he resigned himself to the uncomfortable bed, but not without complaining to Orwyle.

“I want to go back to my room!” He demanded.

Orwyle didn’t even look at him. “You must remain here, my prince, where we can best care for you.”

Aemond didn’t understand why they could not do so in his room. It surely wouldn’t be so difficult to move their supplies. At least the maesters would then disturb Aegon’s sleep as much as his own.

As if the thought summoned him, Aegon appeared in the doorway, his face drawn in an expression Aemond had never seen before.

“Why are you here?” The milk of the poppy had apparently loosened his tongue. He had never been so bold around Aegon before. Doing so would prompt hours, if not days, of teasing.

But the elder prince said nothing. He simply stood there – no smile on his face, no gloating, no trace of anything that would hint that he had come here to torment Aemond. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he looked away, kicking a foot against the wall. “And for… everything before that. I should’ve protected you. And Aria. I’m just… sorry.”

Aegon frowned, and his eyes grew dark. Was that… anger? Shame? Guilt? All emotions Aemond did not know his brother could feel. Could this be some hallucination? Aemond’s addled mind creating the image of the brother he wished Aegon had been? No, he could not even imagine such a thing. So this, as unbelievable as it was, must be real.

“I…” What could he say? In this moment, his brother was a stranger. Eventually, he settled on “Thank you.”

With a half-smile and a nod, Aegon walked away.

“Aemond!” Arianwyn shouted as she burst into the room. Sers Criston and Warren were behind her but lagging behind. Their armor slowed them down, and her desperation gave her speed like she couldn’t believe.

He was lying on a bed, propped up by pillows. The maesters had dressed his wound so Arianwyn did not have to gaze upon the horrid gash. She was glad of it. If he was to leave without her tomorrow, she did not want his injury to be her final image of him.

She approached the bed, looking to Orwyle for permission before perching on its edge.

“How do you feel?” she asked. It seemed like the right thing to say, even if it felt like a foolish question.

Aemond shrugged, fiddling with his blankets. “I can hardly feel much of anything, to be honest. Orwyle gave me more milk of the poppy when we got here.”

That was good. Even though Arianwyn knew his heart was certainly aching, at least his pain was gone. She smiled and waved her hand in front of his face. “Can you even see me right now?” she asked, “Or is your vision filled with ghosts and faeries?

He laughed, reaching out to catch her hand. It took him three attempts to finally snare it. “I can see you. Though not as well as I would like.”

Of course – his eye. Guilt wrenched through Arianwyn’s heart as she laid their hands between them. “I’m sorry, that was cruel of me.”

Aemond shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I know you did not mean it cruelly.”

“Will you be able to fly tomorrow?”

“I think so,” he said. “Vhagar knows King’s Landing, and there will be three other dragons for us to follow… I hope.”

Arianwyn swallowed her budding tears. “Hope is all we can do tonight. And pray.”

Moving to intertwine their fingers, Aemond stared deeply into her eyes. “May I pray with you?”

She nodded. “I would like that. You’re much better at it than me.”

“I know. Now, close your eyes.”

Arianwyn obeyed. But rather than clasp her own hands in front of her, she kept her fingers laced with his.

“Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Warrior, Smith, and Stranger,” Aemond began. “Grant us all your strength now. We have never been in such dire need of your aid. Heal our wounds, inside and out. Help us leave those who would harm us far behind and strengthen our bonds with those we love and who love us in return.”

He opened his eye, gazing at Arianwyn’s beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, her brow knitted together as she concentrated on the prayer. The thought that she may be taken from him stung sharper than any knife.

She couldn’t leave him. He could not bear it. If she was taken away from him…

“Protect us.” He begged of the Seven and any other god that might be listening – he could need the help of anyone who could hear. “Wherever we may be tomorrow and in all the days to come, keep us safe and whole. And no matter how far we may be, let us always­ find our way back to each other.”

After the prayer, neither child made any mention of what decisions may be made by their parents. They chose instead to talk of simple things. The odd seafood they were served at dinner. The books they were both reading. If Vhagar would like Emrys and if he would like her.

They talked for what seemed like hours, though it was only minutes until the milk of the poppy took its final hold on Aemond, carrying him gently into a peaceful sleep. Arianwyn stayed by his side even then. She lay beside him, running her fingers through the tangles in his still sandy hair.

The queen arrived just as she finished straightening his silver locks. “You are meant to be in your own rooms, Aria,” she scolded, though her heart warmed to see the girl here.

“Ser Criston brought me here,” Arianwyn replied, “though I was not supposed to tell you that.”

Alicent smiled. “That man’s heart has always been his weakness. Though I have never been able to find fault in that.” She came to sit at the end of the bed, watching her son rest.

Arianwyn did not want to know the answer, but she had to ask. “What did the king decide?”

Devastation crossed the queen’s face as she reached for the girl’s hand. “I am so, so sorry, Aria.”

The gods had not listened to Aemond's prayer.

Author's Note: Sorry :(

[jcollinswrites]

Narmer (m) is a man in his late thirties. He led several successful military campaigns to liberate and unify Egypt. For that, most people think of him as a fierce, unyielding protector of the kingdom, but his unbending attitude has earned him a lot of enemies as well. In his private moments, he tends to be a soft-spoken, gentle person. He's very tall, with a strong, muscular build, due to two decades of harsh military service. He most often shaves his light brown hair to the scalp. He has heavily freckled, golden brown skin with countless of scars, and very dark brown, almost black eyes.

Qenna (selectable gender m/f) seems to be a living enigma with their dubious role in the royal palace, and secretive background. At first glance, they look to be somewhere between thirty and forty, but it's hard to tell. They tend to talk a lot, but never about themselves. Despite their self-destructive tendencies, the king relies on them a lot, and seems to hold them in relatively high regard. They are on the shorter side of average height, with messy, dark hair. Their skin is a deep sandy brown with darker circles around their hazel eyes.

Zaia (selectable gender m/f, genderfluid) is Qenna's guardian spirit with a lightning essence. Like most spirits, Zaia is not overly social, preferring to turn invisible when they don't want being talked to. Zaia and Qenna have a bickering sibling-like relationship. Their exact age is unknown even to them. They are a shape-shifter, but they prefer to appear as a person of lean build, with average height, and caramel brown skin. Their hair reaches the middle of their back in dark, loose curls. Their eyes are matte and dark, entirely devoid of life.

Tabiry (f) is a medjay who used to serve as a royal bodyguard, but she recently gave up the position to be able to spend more time with her family. She is a dependable, hardworking woman in her late twenties. With lean, carefully built muscles, she is a force to be reckoned with. She likes to keep a manicured appearance with colorful makeup that compliments her dark skin, and she wears her long hair in jeweled braids. Off-duty, she doesn't have an intimidating presence with her above average height, but in armor, she's very hard to ignore.

Ahmose (selectable gender m/f) is Narmer's 18 year old child. They are still looking for their own path through life, especially regarding their own future. Ahmose is highly educated, very curious, and a generally cheerful person. They have a good relationship with their father despite the latter's lack of time for them, and they think of Qenna as the member of their family. They are tall in height, have a lean and athletic physique, wavy brown hair, golden skin, and a dazzling smile.

Non-romanceable main characters:

Hudjefa (m) (for priest origin only)

Hudjefa is the man that was… not exactly a father figure for you when you were a child because he's only a decade older than you, but maybe a big brother figure. He taught you most of what you know in your profession, and he also taught you how to be a much better person than what you were set out for before you came to his temple.

Petepihu 'Pihu' (f) (for child of the vizier origin only)

Ah, dear Pihu. Your older sister has always been the bane of your existence. With her delightfully arrogant personality, you two have never quite gotten along. Fortunately, ever since she moved in with her husband, the Theban governor, she has become a lot less present in your life. The distance definitely helped mellow your relationship into what you would call 'tolerance'.

Nedjemut (f) (for captain origin only)

Nedjemut is your biological mother. She is a tough, no-nonsense woman whose attitude left a mark on you as well when you were a child. Fortunately, the warmth she could never give you was compensated by her wife's nurturing and cheerful nature. When Nedjemut lost an arm in the line of duty, she was forced into an early retirement and you inherited her position as Captain of the Theban Guard.

Ramesses 'Sesi' (m) (for thief origin only)

Sesi is your childhood friend, your occasional partner-in-crime, and you two have a sibling-like relationship. You grew up on the same street with a gaggle of other children, yet he is the only one you still keep in contact with. He is around the same age as you, has short brown hair, and dark eyes. He is very thin, although he started getting a bit stronger ever since he started working as a courier.

[koji-haru]

Swap AU Part: 6

Michael had been flying over the garden for a while now in search of a certain human. The lake was devoid of the first man’s presence when he came down from Heaven. Of course, he waited at first, maybe Adam was just late or busy. Though as more time passed, his concern only grew. There was nothing dangerous in the garden, every animal and every plant were all safe for the humans, but at the same time, Adam had never missed their daily meetings. In fact, the human himself claimed it was what he most looked forward to everyday. So where was he? The last time he was delayed was when Lucifer had tried to talk to him…

The sound of soft chattering directed the angel’s attention towards a small river, secluded by an encompassing green forest. Michael flew down towards the sound. It could be Adam. Though as he got nearer, the voice sounded clearer, the pitch a bit higher, the tone more reserved. In front of him was the first man sitting by the river bank, his knees close to his chest and his expression a little uncomfortable and guarded, albeit willing to stay and listen to… Lilith, the first woman, as she made small talk in such a casual manner. 

“Adam, I’ve been looking for you,” Michael announced his presence as he walked towards the first man and kept an aloof eye on Lilith at the same time. “You weren’t by the lake.”

Adam gasped then looked up at the sky. The sun was at its peak, its intense rays shone brightly over the entire garden. “Oh, I’m so sorry Michael! I didn’t realise the time!”

“Oh, so you’re Adam’s new friend, Michael,” Lilith noted, her cheek resting on the palm of her hand as she observed the unfamiliar angel. The angel bore some resemblance to her chosen husband, Lucifer; sunny blonde hair and milky white skin, but that was all. This angel was taller, less wispy, and definitely not as amiable as Lucifer, if his freezing gaze towards her were any indication. Still, that didn’t dissolve Lilith’s relaxed demeanour, angels were not allowed to bring any harm to humans after all. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Lilith.”

The air of nonchalance that surrounded her, her confident gaze, her amused smile. Michael disliked all of it. The way she acted like she belonged wherever she pleased when she should be the last thing to approach Adam. “I know who you are, first woman,” Michael replied. “I’ve taken over Lucifer’s job as Adam’s guardian since the incident. I’m sure you’re well aware of it.”

“Uh uhm, Michael…” Adam looked at the angel with pleading eyes. The air around them had suddenly gone heavier, the tension crisp as it sent shivers to his spine. Why was this happening now? Just as he was about to fix things with Lilith!

The smile that graced Lilith’s face quickly faded at Michael’s words. The careless elegance upon her figure was replaced with stilled paleness as dread surfaced in her eyes. “Oh. I’m assuming Adam told you.”

Michael nodded, “Though you are saved from the consequences for now.” He pulled Adam closer to him, wings protectively wrapped around him. “You can thank Adam’s kindness for that.”

Lilith released a breath she hadn’t realised she was even holding. The stiffness that overtook her body washed away by relief from the words she just heard, though some unease lingered preventing her to assume the level of nonchalance she had prior. “I guess you’re right.” She turned her gaze towards Adam, her expression unreadable. “Thanks Adam, that was very kind of you.”

Everything seemed to be going wrong. Things were supposed to get better, not worse! Adam quickly pulled away from Michael and stood between the angel and the first woman in an effort to mend the situation. “Michael, Lilith and I were just patching up. Please be kind to her.”

Michael simply gave a blank stare. Did he hear that right? Adam was rebuilding his relationship with Lilith after everything she had done with Lucifer? Surprise and a bit of disappointment flashed in his eyes before he quickly regained his composure. “That’s good…I suppose,” he huffed. 

Adam kept his gaze on the angel, pleading and reprimanding at the same time forcing Michael to break contact as he shifted his gaze to a random tree. “I will be polite.”

That was better than nothing Adam supposed, though he did hope that everyone would get along better in the future. He turned to look at Lilith. She seemed a bit better now, some of the cool air than normally surrounded her coming back as her figure appeared to be relaxing slowly. That was a good sign. Adam released a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry about that Lilith.”

“That’s alright,” Lilith smiled. “I feel like we started off on the wrong foot.” She looked at the sour angel behind Adam. “Hi, I’m Lilith, the first woman and a friend of Adam.”

Michael sighed to himself. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. To pretend to make friends with one of God’s traitorous creations. “I’m the archangel Michael, the sword of God and Adam’s current guardian.” He turned around, picked a direction and then started to slowly walk away. “Alright, let’s go Adam.”

“Ah- wait..!” Adam rushed back to his spot earlier near Lilith and picked up the small bag he left there before running after the angel.

“What’s with the rush?,” Lilith asked from her seat by the river bank.

“Oh, we’re just about to grab something for lunch,” answered Adam as he paused in his tracks.

“Ooh, can I join?”

“No,” Michael replied tersely as he stopped to look at the first woman.

Lilith settled comfortably on her seat, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Why not?”

Feeling the atmosphere become more awkward and tense again, Adam replied to Lilith before Michael could, “Maybe next time Lilith, sorry.” And with that the two left, leaving a clearly amused Lilith by the river bank.

—-

On the other side of the massive forest, far from the river bank where Lilith was, Michael and Adam picked forest berries by hand and placed them onto a small basket the angel had conjured for them to use. The heavy atmosphere from earlier was now replaced with the serenity of bird songs and the cooling shade of the forest foliage away from the heat of the midday sun. 

“Are you okay?,” Michael suddenly asked as he kept on picking berries.

Adam stopped to face the angel, head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

“From what I know the last time, you didn’t want to be even near her.” Michael placed the berries he picked into the basket before straightening himself up and returned Adam’s gaze. “If she’s forcing you to do things for her, then I can put a stop to that.”

“Nono, she wasn’t doing any of that,” Adam smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips. His angel was such a worrywart. “We were genuinely trying to fix things between us. And while I still haven’t forgiven her or Lucifer, I do miss the way things were before…this,” he gestured randomly around him. “So I’m trying harder this time.” 

Michael hummed in response. He accepted Adam’s response, but couldn’t help but be a bit unsatisfied. Again, he thought that the first man was being too easy with those two, but he supposed he just had to respect his wishes no matter how much he disagreed with them. Kindness and patience was a virtue after all, though the human seemed to have too much of it. Michael released a sigh at his inability to really do anything at the current circumstances. He really didn’t like it. This feeling of uselessness. He was one of God’s mightiest angels, and yet here he was letting a fragile human deal with the troubles in the garden, that shouldn’t exist in the first place, while all he could really do was stand by and watch. 

Adam had gone back to picking berries when he heard Michael sigh and mumble something under his breath. A thought then struck his mind and he quickly got back up, a little panicked, and grabbed the angel by his shoulders, forcing him to look back at him.

“Ah! Of course that doesn’t mean I want you to leave!,” Adam quickly added. “You’re a change that I’m very happy to have permanently!”

Though Michael was confused and unsure of what caused the first man to react like that, he was also happy at what Adam had thought of him. The idea of being a permanent change in Adam’s life; to have carved and marked his spot forever in Adam’s heart. It all sounded…nice. “Then I’ll be sure to remain by your side for eternity,” he smiled with a fondness that came from deep within him. 

To have those crystal blue eyes look fondly at him and that tender smile that rarely appeared on his flawless face directed at him made Adam’s stomach feel odd. As if there was something small fluttering inside, like a bunch of tiny butterflies fluttering about unsure if where to go. With slightly shaky hands, Adam let go of the shorter angel, looking away from his bejewelled face. He could feel a slight warmth on his cheeks, and the need to simply hide away bubbled inside him as he fought to remain still. “I, uh, sorry…for shaking you like that,” he coughed into his palm in an attempt to hide his burning face.

“No need to apologise. It didn’t hurt me or anything,” Michael let out a small laugh. “Though, I must admit, it was a bit odd,” he added, amusement on his face as he watched Adam somehow turn redder. He wasn’t sure what was causing the man to become so bashful, but he quite liked it. He found him especially endearing like that. It suited him. That was how Michael thought things should be for Adam. To have simple worries only, and none of that Lilith and Lucifer thing. And he was glad to at least have that kind of effect on Adam.

Adam released a shaky breath, “W-well, those berries aren’t going to pick themselves!” And with that excuse, Adam ran off to a random direction away from the angel, bringing the basket full of berries with him. 

“Ah. He ran away,” Michael muttered to himself. He looked down at his hands full of berries. “And took the basket with him…”

Why did he run away? Adam really didn’t know why, but he simply felt like he had to, and before he knew it, his mouth made a silly excuse and his legs carried him away. At that moment, he felt like he was about to combust as if the butterflies inside of him just multiplied tenfold and were screaming for an escape out of him. And if he was about to explode, then at least he had the decency not to do it in front of Michael. 

…

Adam groaned into his hands. Why was he acting like this? Recently, he had been feeling a bit odd, like there was something inside of him. It was something akin to nausea, but also quite different. Was he ill? Did he eat something bad? He was sure there weren’t any bad things in the garden. The worse thing was that the feeling sometimes intensified whenever Michael got a little too close to him. Was that what was making him ill? Angelic presence? That didn’t make sense to Adam. He spent plenty of time with Lucifer before and he never got sick. Lilith was also still fine. Adam wondered and wondered, put all of his thought into this one thing, but came up with no answers. He was so confused.

After a few moments of regaining his composure and taming the butterflies inside of him, and much back and forth with himself, Adam finally returned to where he left Michael. The first man came back having picked precisely zero berries since he ran away, too busy being bewildered and worried about himself, while the angel had two new baskets beside himself filled to the brim with berries, way more than what Adam had. 

“Oh, welcome back,” Michael commented offhandedly, still busy picking berries despite most of the bushes and trees now devoid of said berries. 

“Um, I think we’ve gathered plenty enough for ourselves Michael.” Adam looked at the staggering amount of berries the angel had gathered, and then to the empty bushes around said angel. “Way too much.”

At that, Michael paused his activity and finally truly looked at his surroundings. Oh. Perhaps he got a little too engrossed. “Huh. Well, that’s less work for us to do tomorrow, I suppose.” 

“Yes, well, um, that’s good…” Adam fidgeted at his spot. He could feel the butterflies starting to flutter wildly in his stomach again, his hands were getting clammy by the second as he held the little leaf bag in his bag. “...actually, I’ve got something for you.”

Well that got the angel curious. Michael eyed the small bag that Adam had in a tight and guarded grip. “Really? What is it?” 

Adam nervously made his way towards the angel, one hand outstretched as he reluctantly handed over the small bag he was holding to Michael. “I just wanted to thank you for the beautiful lyre you gifted me,” Adam said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I hope you like it.”

The bag felt light in Michael’s hand, almost weightless. Slowly, he opened it, revealing its contents to himself. Inside was a carefully handcrafted bracelet decorated with various glistening stones, such as sapphires, aquamarines and lazurites, and seashells of varying shapes and sizes painted white, light blue and a deep ocean blue, all held by a silky golden fibre. The care and thought put into the small gift evident by the intricacies etched into the pieces that completed it. 

The angel’s silence at seeing his gift was eating Adam up inside. “Do you not like it?”

Michael looked back up at Adam, taken aback by the first man’s question. How could he possibly not like it? It was one of the most thoughtful gifts he had ever received in his existence. “Adam, I love it,” he answered as he proudly put the bracelet on his wrist. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been gifted. Thank you, really,” he smiled wholeheartedly, his deep blue eyes glistening with sincere appreciation, the little golden stars under his eyes glowing faintly under the shadow of the forest foliage. 

“Really?,” asked Adam, still somewhat unsure. There was no way his little gift was the most beautiful thing someone as nice as Michael had ever received.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Michael guaranteed.

Adam felt his heart swell at that.

[Things are getting sappy 😖]

Part 5

Part 7

[case-almost-closed]

Hi. How are you ? Glad that you write for DC. not many people do 🥰❤. Can i request for Furuya? Feel free to ignore if you dont like it. But yeah. So there is this girl who is being verbally assulted/catcalled, and the guy is just being a creepy stalker literally following her (nothing serious, just wants to hook up and her number or social media), so she decided to ask for help from the first person she can find, who was Furuya walking with Conan . And she was like (can you pretend to be my husband boyfriend?). Im sure a person like him would understand the situation based on her body language alone even before she explains it, and im sure if he scans his surrounding he will even find the creepy person within secs. So yeah, Furuya being the gentleman he is, will take matters into his hands ❤🖤.

Guardian Angel

Furuya Rei x fem!Reader Words: 1.8K A/N: Thank you so much for that request, lovely idea, really. Sorry that it took a bit longer, but I was busy. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but I still hope that it's okay.

She knew she should have listened to her friends and taken the opportunity to return with them. However, she had had so much work to do that she simply hadn't been able to afford to go home earlier, but as she walked home in the dark, the path lit only by the lanterns and billboards, she wished she had listened to them.

Although she tried to take the roads where there was a lot going on and a lot of light, it became more and more complicated as she left the heart of the city for the more secluded, quieter areas she had to cross to get home. However, it hadn't been her biggest mistake to walk home so late, but to decide that nothing bad would happen if she took the shortcut through the park.

"Come on sweetie." The man's voice behind her sounded muffled and raspy, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

Of course, it must have been her luck to run into the only person who was in the park at the time, and of course he had to be the creepiest guy who could have been.

"I just want your number!" She walked on without looking back, hoping he would just stay on that bench and drink himself into a stupor. However, when she heard rustling followed by footsteps behind her, a shiver ran down her spine again and she instinctively quickened her steps, clutching her bag tightly. The footsteps behind her didn't pick up speed, but they were still too close for her liking.

"Sweetie, come on now." His words came out slurred and the thought alone made her feel nauseous. "Please...please leave me alone." Her voice was quiet and didn't sound as firm and sure as she would have liked, so she took another step faster, which elicited a laugh from the man behind her. "Don't be like that, I just want your number, nothing more!" By now she had left the park and was back on a street. Her eyes darted back and forth without moving her head much so as not to attract any more attention from him, hoping to find someone who could help her, but the streets were deserted. So she had no choice but to keep walking and hope that her pursuer would just give up at some point. Which, of course, he didn't.

She briefly toyed with the idea of turning back in the hope of getting rid of him, especially as she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of showing him where she lived, but decided against it. It probably wouldn't do her any good as she was already so far away from the busy part of town.

However, she noticed that her pursuer seemed to have slowed down a little, probably due to the alcohol disrupting his coordination, and picked up the pace again, turning the corner sharply only to almost collide with someone. She stumbled and caught herself in time on the fence of a front garden, the wood digging uncomfortably into her hand and her face contorted in pain. " My sincerest apologies, are you all right?“

Her head shot up and she saw a man and a small child in front of her, the former crouched down to be at eye level with her, looking at her with equal concern. In a matter of seconds, she took in their appearances.

The child was young, perhaps six or seven years old, had typical dark hair and wore glasses that covered half his face. The man, on the other hand, appeared to be tall, athletic and, to her fascination, had blonde hair that seemed to be natural and fell into his tanned face. He gently grabbed her elbow and helped her up, looking at her with concern. "I'm really sorry, I really should have been more careful..." She wasn't normally the kind of person to interrupt others, but she felt it was appropriate at this moment.

"Help." Her voice was no more than a whisper, a breath, and she would be surprised if he heard her, but he seemed to do just that. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, which might have been cute in other circumstances, but her heart was pounding in her throat. "Excuse me, but is everything all right?"

She shook her head, which deepened the worry line on his face, and started to speak again when she heard the shuffling footsteps behind her. Her body stiffened instantly, which was noticed by the man, whose gaze shot upwards only for his expression to darken. "There you are, sweetheart..." slurred the man, whose speech was now riddled with hiccups.

She shivered slightly and turned her head so that he could hear her. "I've already said I don't want anything to do with you." "Oh come on, don't be like that. It's just your number I want. For now." With that, he laughed and stepped towards her, reaching out for her arm. Her reflexes weren't quick enough and she just managed to tear her eyes open, prepared to be grabbed by the arm, but the blond man she had bumped into seemed to have other plans. He quickly pushed himself between her and the man, gripping his wrist tightly. "And what exactly is this supposed to be?“

Her harasser stared at the blond, as if only now realising that he existed. "What do you want, you scumbag?" he blurted out, spittle spraying through the air, but she tensed up when she saw him raise his hand. The little boy next to her, however, only took her hand reassuringly and smiled knowingly. "Don't worry. Amuro-san knows what he's doing." And the little boy was right. The blond, Amuro, blocked the blow with ease, twisted the man's arm behind his back, causing him to let out a painful groan, and pressed him against the nearest wall. "I should be asking you that." Amuro's lips were set in a knowing yet grim smile, giving her goosebumps as he leant forward and pulled his arm up a little further, eliciting another groan of pain from the man. "What kind of scum do you have to be to chase after young women in the dark and molest them?“

"I only asked her for her number, not sexually harassed her!" The man's face was contorted in pain. "Besides, it's none of your business!!!" She winced at his shout and the boy pulled her back slightly so that she had enough distance between herself and the man. "It's enough to make you guilty of molestation," Amuro hissed. He glanced at her for a moment and an idea seemed to occur to him as, unbeknownst to the man, a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "It would concern me if she were even a stranger. However, it's my business especially because she's my girlfriend. So?" As the heat shot into her face, the man blanched and began to stammer out pathetic apologies.

She could see that Amuro was far from satisfied, but he seemed to realise how uncomfortable she was, so he snorted, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the road. He stumbled and landed almost face first on the tarmac, but managed to catch himself. He took one last look at them before he took to his heels and fled. Amuro looked after him, shaking his head in disgust, before turning back to her, his expression instantly softening.

Before she was able to thank him, he smiled shyly and scratched the back of his neck. "I apologise if I went too far in calling you my girlfriend. It's just been my experience that most people are more easily put off by that sort of thing, at least in the peaceful way." She shook her head hastily, her face warm with embarrassment, and bowed to the man. "No, no, not at all. I really am incredibly grateful to you for helping me. It wasn't a matter of course." He shook his head slightly. "Which is a shame, because it should be." He eyed her intently and a shiver ran down her spine under his gaze. "Are you all right?“

Only now did she notice the slight throbbing pain in her hand and when she looked down, she realised that a splinter of wood was stuck in her palm. "Just a small splinter, nothing more. You made sure of that." Instead of reassuring him, however, her comment seemed to have sparked renewed concern in him, as he took her hand in his and inspected it without thinking about it.

"It looks big," he murmured, gently stroking the skin around it, making her feel cold and hot at the same time. "You should pull it out carefully at home and disinfect it, otherwise it could get infected. It's not a big wound, but we don't want to take any risks."

He looked up mischievously and gave her a slight wink, causing the heat to rise in her face again and she took her hand back.

A clearing of the throat sounded and she looked down at the boy, who gave Amuro a look that she couldn't interpret, but he could. "We should get going." "Sorry if I kept you," she bowed again, this time a little lighter. "Even though I'm grateful for your help, I don't want to keep you any longer." Amuro frowned, obviously not keen on the idea. "It's not a good idea to walk home alone in the dark." "It's not far now."

"Still," he replied, looking at her with a gaze that ran through her heart and soul. Beautiful, but deadly piercing, as if he knew everything about her. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, and I wouldn't be able to do so with a clear conscience, knowing you were wandering alone." He smiled slightly. "If you don't mind too much, I'd like to walk you home. Just to make sure the guy's really gone."

At that moment, she was grateful for the dim light, as she couldn't remember the last time she had blushed so much. "I...I really don't want to be a bother."

"Not at all." His eyes sparkled and he tilted his head. "If you don't mind: I insist." She was unable to look at him, so embarrassed was she, but nodded curtly, which elicited a pleased chuckle from him and, to her surprise, he even held out his arm for her to hook under. "Thank you very much, my lady. Lead the way."

Annoyed, Conan watched after them as the nervous woman led Amuro, who was obviously thriving in his role as hero, down the path and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Amuro would insist on accompanying them to the front door, the courteous guy that he was. He sighed and followed them at a distance so he wouldn't have to listen to Amuro, who seemed to enjoy making the woman blush and embarrassed, charm her.

Ran would give him hell for being late home again.

[nemo-in-wonderland]

"I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we've no idea what we've got until we lose it And no amount of love will keep it around If we don't choose it And I don't know what's got its teeth in me But I'm about to bite back in anger No amount of self-sought fury Will bring back the glory of innocence

My, my, those eyes like fire I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre Come now, bite through these wires I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire

I have traveled far beyond the path of reason Take me back to Eden Take me back to Eden"

"Take Me Back To Eden" - Sleep Token

You remember how, the other day, I wrote about how Aranea would eventually meet her demise a few centuries after the events of BG3?

Well, you know that with me, angst and fluff go hands in hands, so I wanted to draw the moment Mephisto found Aranea, mere moments before she is to pass. And he knows that she is going to pass, because he already can feel her soul drawn to himself, reaching for him, as part of their contract. So, before this happens, he brought her to the small garden of rocky trees and crystals that he created for her when she joined him in Cania and became his consort.

As for HOW Aranea has met her end, I like to imagine that it was always her desire for revenge that got her, and her inability to let go of grudges just lead her to a poor decision that, eventually, brought to her demise.

Her grudge against the Dream Guardian, who he was, and how he tricked her into taking her late husband form, was something that Aranea NEVER forgot nor forgive. It was something done deliberately, something that brought her excruciating pain (born out of hope and longing) even if her frozen heart was already in Mephisto's hands, and she could never look past it, not even if the Dream Guardian was the reason she didn't become an Illithid.

So, after the events of Baldur's Gate, she would go her way to find him again, with all the intent to make him pay for what he did (I know, I know, the retribution might be disproportionate, but considering that this happened after Aranea spent a whole century reaping souls for Mephisto, her morals are a tad skewed).

So, considering that the reason for Aranea's death is once more connected to the reason why she sought Mephistopheles' help in the first place, I decided to go down the symbolic route, and give her a garment that resembled the one she had the first time she invoked Mephisto, in a sort of cruel irony.

As for who is taunting Mephisto...well.👀👀👀👀 (but gods, I loved drawing Mephisto so pissed, if anything because drawing all sort of strong emotions is truly a treat for me eheheh).

BUT BUT BUT. This is just one outcome, and not even the canonical one! You know how all the characters have different endings in BG3?? Same thing applies to Aranea as well, I promise! THERE IS PLENTY OF AU WHERE SHE IS ALIVE AND WELL, WREAKING CHAOS ALL AROUND THE NINE HELLS (and Faerun as well lolol), and to be honest, my most favourite outcome among them all. I *live* for a trickster immortal fiend, Consort of Mephisto lolol. (plus, while I explore various possibilities, in my brain all my characters are alive forever, lolol)

AND FOR NOW I AM DONE WITH THE ANGST, I PROMISE.

I promise that the next artwork with Aranea and Mephisto will be a JOYOUS one (fluff? SMLUFF? who knows, but it will completely devoid of Angst. Only 100% Pure Smluff of Certified Origin lololol).

WELL, I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE THIS.

--Nemo

[dwellordream]

“Young women have always been for sale. In the fifth century bc, Herodotus describes the practice of selling Babylonian daughters at a yearly auction in his Histories. He wrote:

They used to collect all the young women who were old enough to be married and take the whole lot of them all at once to a certain place. A crowd of men would form a circle around them there. An auctioneer would get each of the women to stand up one by one, and he would put her up for sale. He used to start with the most attractive girl there, and then, once she had fetched a good price and been bought, he would go on to auction the next most attractive one. They were being sold to be wives, not slaves. All the well-off Babylonian men who wanted wives would outbid one another to buy the good-looking young women, while the commoners who wanted wives and were not interested in good looks used to end up with some money as well as the less attractive women.

The Babylonian men paid a bride price, but some of their money would come back to them because the young women were given dowries, which their husbands would administer even if they could not raid it. This exchange seems odd but was not so unusual in the classical world, where women served to cement together two male-controlled families. If a married daughter died without children, her money would go back to her family, which removed any incentive to harm her.

At the time, virginity was not always necessary to a girl’s successful marriage—the Lydians prostituted their daughters to raise money for their dowries. Because of the dangers of childbirth and high rate of early mortality in ancient Greece, it was common for wealthy relatives to provide not just their daughters but also their poor relations with dowries. Athenian law even required that the State dower poor women of just passable attractiveness; teeth were all that were required. Because Athens was under constant threat from its rivals, it depended on its young women to provide it with a constant stream of new soldiers.

Classical literature is filled with accounts of creative daughter disposal. In some memorable verses of The Odyssey, the father of Penelope, Odysseus’ wife, then thought to be a widow, urges her to marry the suitor with the most gifts. Greek fathers took care not to raise more daughters than they could dower. Outright infanticide was abhorrent to ancient Greeks, but they did practice “exposure,” wherein parents intentionally left unwanted infants exposed to the elements. They believed that the gods could choose to save the abandoned children, thereby eliminating their agency while achieving their aims. Husbands were not permitted to run through their wives’ dowries but neither could the wife.

A Greek woman’s dowry yielded about 18 percent per year, and if the couple got divorced, either party could request the dowry. It was returned to a woman’s guardian or, in certain cases, kept by the husband, who paid 18 percent interest to his former wife’s guardian for her support. The wealthier the family, the more likely it was that a marriage would take place between two young first cousins. Such marriages keep money in one family and tended to correlate with periods of cultural instability, when power was held by a few important families. Cousin marriage was particularly popular among the higher echelons in Elizabethan England, the Antebellum South, and in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Britain.

Greek girls who died in childhood were mourned specifically because they did not fulfill their destiny as wives and mothers. Their epitaphs make reference to their failure to marry, and the girls were quickly writ into myth. Like Persephone before them, they were considered married to Hades and dwelled, as wraiths, in the underworld.

In the Roman period, women did not fare better. Catullus sums up the Roman attitude toward marriage, writing, “If, when [a young woman] is ripe for marriage, she enters into wedlock, she is ever dearer to her husband and less hateful to her parents.”

The middle class continued to sell their daughters at regional markets throughout most European countries during the Middle Ages. For the upper middle classes, the social stasis of the period made marrying an heiress one of the only means to improve one’s social status, and it was nearly impossible to do without deception. The middle classes began to consult marriage brokers—a growing cottage industry in Europe—who would help them plot their rise, reconstruct their family histories, then help them relocate in order to achieve success in another part of the country. If a woman did marry up, she would find that she had much less control over both her body and her daily life—where she walked and even what she ate—than she had in a middle-class environment. In the upper classes, the legitimacy of heirs continued to be of primary importance, and as such women’s movements were intensely regulated.

Women were progressively more visible during the Renaissance. Increased trade created a new culture of conspicuous consumption, propped up by merchants and explorers who transported new goods through Genoa and Venice, Zanzibar and Constantinople, outward to European capitals and the known world. Newly available luxury goods made life easier and more enjoyable—tobacco, tea, coffee, silks, and spices facilitated a culture of male comfort in which wives and daughters played an important though entirely passive role. In ancient Greece and Rome women were kept mostly in the home, but during the Renaissance men put their velvet-swaddled wives and daughters on display, trotting them out in public, where they would often sit separately, saying little if anything but fulfilling a necessary decorative function. A woman’s beauty, or wealth, was most of all a statement about the social status of her presiding male, be he husband, father, or brother.

For much of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, sumptuary laws on food and goods defined and limited social space. By legislating who could obtain specific fabrics, foods, drink, and other luxuries, governments prevented servants and the middle classes from masquerading as aristocrats by denying them access to the materials necessary to appear richer than they were. Pre-Reformation Europeans were just beginning to let go of feudal social organization.

Though more people now lived in cities, family patriarchs had long made decisions for their large clans and were not interested in giving up a privilege that had served them so well. Daughters were married to create important and lasting connections between families. Those who could not be married off in a way that would benefit the clan were often forced into nunneries. For a noble family, sending a daughter to a convent or forcing her into spinsterhood was far preferable to tainting a family line by permitting her to marry beneath her station.

This system of dispensing with daughters worked peaceably for hundreds of years, until Henry VIII came to need a son and heir. When his attempts to have his first marriage, which had produced no sons, annulled by the pope failed, Henry charged ecclesiastical and secular legal scholars in England with finding a way to divorce his consort Catherine and marry his pregnant mistress Anne Boleyn. Their solution was divorce and breaking away from the Catholic Church. Henry began the violent dissolution of Catholic monasteries in 1536. It lasted for four years, during which the crown plundered church lands, sold them off to rich allies, and used the surplus cash to wage dubious wars in France. For wealthy young women, newly Anglican, there was an additional change, perhaps the single most significant social change women would see until suffrage. Their safe haven—the convent—was now gone.

The absence of nunneries sent numerous marriageable aristocratic young women into circulation. When once they would have been in the country, awaiting the marriages arranged for them, or preparing to enter a convent, these young girls were now brought to court, which is where they were most likely to find husbands. By the time Henry’s daughter Elizabeth I began her reign in 1558, the atmosphere surrounding marriage had a new urgency.

Elizabeth’s rule began in religious chaos after her predecessor, her half sister Mary, violently restored Roman Catholicism to England. Elizabeth spent the better part of her first years on the throne fighting for her father’s Protestantism in an effort to fend off those who wished to depose her. Her legitimacy was questioned with every decision she made, and she understood that her courtiers were her key to maintaining the throne. She tightened her control over the aristocracy by reducing its size to a new low. She stripped disloyal aristocrats of their titles or made it known they were not welcome at court.

It was against this tumultuous backdrop that Elizabeth, in an effort to form beneficial social and political alliances, began having young ladies ceremonially presented to her at court. These presentations were small affairs and limited to the daughters of Elizabeth’s most important courtiers. They took place in the queen’s “withdrawing room,” a private room, but located next to larger public rooms, where she could go with a smaller party. The girls were led from a public stateroom into the smaller adjoining room at Hampton Court palace, so that other courtiers would know who was being favored.

At the more private ceremony of presentation, the young girls curtsied to the queen. The young girls had a vivid experience of being watched and assessed, enhanced by the fact that of the roughly 1,500 people in regular attendance at court, only fifty were women. These presentations came to be referred to as “drawing rooms,” and they engendered a curious experience that blended ostentatious display with the familial and private, a mix that would continue to characterize the debutante ritual for its duration

Many of the presented young women served her as attendants and became intermediaries between Elizabeth and the wider circle of her court. They helped Elizabeth to exert control over the nobility by creating an elegant buffer between the monarch and her courtiers. In order to present a petition to the queen, one first gave it to a lady-in-waiting, along with a fee that the lady in question would determine based on her closeness with the queen. Elizabeth encouraged her ladies to charge exorbitantly for this service—not so much because they’d have some independence, but so they would have enough money to be able to gamble with her.

She also regularly rejected petitions based on their lack of generosity toward her ladies. The queen could also be capricious—Elizabeth’s ladies-in-waiting could not marry of their own volition. Elizabeth Vernon spent a week in prison (with her new husband the Earl of Southampton) for marrying without the queen’s permission. Lettice Knollys was banished permanently for marrying Elizabeth’s favorite courtier, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. When Elizabeth discovered that another lady-in-waiting, Mary Shelton, was secretly married, she attacked her and broke her finger.

Elizabeth’s social standards and rituals persisted after her death, with queens taking over control of drawing rooms and social presentations even when there was a king on the throne. Elizabethan presentations-at-court served a very clear political purpose. Though they bore little resemblance to the feverish social theater that characterized the fully developed debutante ritual of the nineteenth century, these court presentations provided the foundation for modern debutante culture and served, too, as its myth of origin.

They show the important link between society and politics, a symbiotic relationship that only deepened as the ritual became institutionalized and spread outward to all corners of the British Empire. Elizabeth’s backroom maneuvers—quick conferences with her ladies or political advisers—provided the precedent for the many political meetings that took place at debutante parties in later centuries, and emphasized the soft power of social settings, which were controlled by women who understood that the way to power was not always hard work or even fortunate birth, but judicious conversation next to a sloshing punch bowl or quivering trifle.

The Stuart monarchs who followed Elizabeth continued the tradition of the drawing room (“with” was dropped from “withdrawing room” in the late seventeenth century), which retained its function as a matchmaking tool. Elizabeth’s successor, James I, arranged the marriage of his favorite courtier, the charming spendthrift James Hay, to Honoria Denny by granting Honoria’s reluctant father a title and royal patent. While these high-level marriages took strategy, marriage law remained chaotic. There was no legislation that defined marriage, and there were no protections for women after they were married. Rather, the absence of law meant that women might be forced into marriage by their fathers, married by capture, or tricked into marriage.

The age of consent to marriage was twelve for women and fourteen for men, and contracts were often made during the “unripe years.” It was a particularly dangerous time to be an heiress. During these years women could inherit property. Inheritance law was not clear on whether her property would become her husband’s upon marriage. Without knowing if they could control their property, many women resisted marriage.

Restrictive regulations for daughters intensified after they were wives, especially if they were considered to have broken proper codes of behavior. If a wife were to be convicted of adultery, she would lose her dowry or marriage portion and her husband could make a good case that she could punitively lose her property as well. There was no comparable financial forfeiture for adulterous men, and courts habitually disbelieved women who tried to defend themselves against claims of adultery. It is not difficult to explain widespread female acquiescence.”

- Kristen Richardson, “Marriage (Market Price).”

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I'm a horrible writer, and I'd had this idea stuck in my head for weeks. If you have time, I'd love to see it in your writing style. Only if you want to, though.

Javier and fem!reader are in an established relationship, and have been ever since they were teenagers. They joined the gang together after Javier was run out of Mexico, and he asked her to run away with him. Like the bonnie to his clyde. When the gang arrives in horseshoe overlook, the reader starts to feel sick. She'd become close friends with Abigail, so she discussed how she had been feeling (Ex: Sore breasts, nausea in the morning or with smells of certain things)

and above all, her period is late. About 2 months late. She thought it might have just been stress, but Abigail suggested that she might be pregnant. The reader waited a little while before telling Javier, because she was nervous, scared, and overall afraid of what he'd say. They both knew how dangerous the world was for people like them. When getting ready to lie down to bed one night, Javier can tell that there's something wrong, and he pulls her aside. As they walk around the outskirts of camp, she finally tells him what was bothering her.

Maybe he takes her into town to celebrate? and by celebrate, I mean they get a hotel room. wink wonk

Let’s Go To Bed

(Javier Escuella x Fem!Reader Smut)

Forgive me I’m a busy little guy

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, praise kink

An acidic stripe of vomit moved up your throat in a way that reminded you of mercury rising in a thermometer. You felt the familiar sensation of gagging tugging at the back of your throat as you began to overproduce saliva, your body's attempt at preparation for the bitter regurgitation of this morning's breakfast. You briefly managed to swallow it down with a silent burp before groaning and falling back to sit on your ass. 

“You look awful.” Abigail remarked, wrapping a shawl around your shivering shoulders. You could only nod in response, a line of saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as your head lolled to the side. 

“I feel awful.” You groaned, leaning into Abigail’s hold. She dug through her pockets, fishing out a bottle that she presumably got from the medicine wagon. She more or less bottle fed the tonic to you, holding it to your lips and tipping your head backwards. The taste alone made you nearly gag once more, and you let out a strained grunt when she pulled it away. She then handed a mug of coffee to you, hoping it would replace the flavor of the tonic. 

“Thank you so much Abigail… But I’m sorry I woke you up so early.” You apologized, holding the mug beneath your nose. The coffee seemed to be the only smell around camp that didn’t make your head spin in a vomit inducing nausea. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I couldn’t just ignore how sick you were. In fact, I’m surprised Javier didn’t wake up…” Abigail narrowed her eyes at him in a way that made you giggle. She had a point; your retching had been so loud and so close next to his body, you felt that even if you had spilled your guts all over him he still wouldn’t have woken up. He slept as though he had traveled on foot across the country and back.Though other members of camp had been awake at the time, they weren’t as well prepared to handle your sickness the same way Abigail was. 

“Yeah… I don’t know how he can sleep like he doesn't have a care in the world..” You sighed, envying your husband for not having to suffer the same way you did. 

“Well you should be his one care in the world!” She rebuked, rolling her eyes at his sleeping form. The two of you broke into silent laughter afterwards. Abigail looked back at you, a motherly concern in her eyes. 

“You’ve been real sick lately, (Name). I’m beginning to worry. It comes at random too.” She sat down next to you, studying your body. She held a maternal air around her, worrying over you the same way an experienced guardian would in consulting their child and giving them advice. 

“Girl talk, but have you and Javier been intimate lately?” Her question was straight to the point, blunt in a way that suggested she was looking to get to the bottom of this. You blushed and giggled nervously, looking back and forth between Javier and Abigail. Part of you felt that you’d be doing Javier a disservice by sharing details about your intimate life together with someone else, especially while his unconscious body bore witness. 

“Uhm, yeah. I suppose so…” You nodded slowly, unable to look her in the eyes. She raised her brows and nodded knowingly. 

“And what else have you been feeling?”

“Well, I’ve been tired and pretty out of breath, I thought I was just unfit or something?” It sounded as though you were trying to convince yourself of that more than you were Abigail. “And my breasts have been pretty sore, Javier did say they got bigger…” 

Abigail rolled her eyes at that last remark. “Of course that’s the first thing the man notices and not how sick you’ve been.”

As if you were catching onto what Abigail was getting at, you added “And I haven’t gotten my period in two months…”

Her eyes went wide as her jaw dropped, covering her mouth in disbelief. Your resting expression turned into one of squeezed panic, like a rabbit being held by its neck. A recollection of the events of the past few months came gushing back to you, and everything seemed to click into place like a gear shifting inside clockwork, finally striking on the answer. A shared sense of knowing settled between you two. 

“I thought I was just stressed?!” You seemed to bargain with the idea, attempting to grapple with any alternative explanation that wasn’t as severe as this. But Abigail pursed her lips and shook her head, confirming your fear. 

You supposed in all the years you and Javier had been together, this was something that was bound to happen. The topic of pregnancy and having children together wasn’t necessarily a topic that was out of the question, but it also wasn’t something you had anticipated happening to you so abruptly. Though it made sense, you could only have so much unprotected sex without conceiving a child; and you and Javier had done plenty of that. 

Another reason the idea never came fully into fruition during discussions was because you were both very well aware of the world around you. After having run away from Mexico, the two of you lived your lives constantly on the run. Coming into the country alone and not knowing the language, the two of you were all the other had. Living your life squalidly before finding some sense of stability within the Van Der Linde gang, but it had been years since then. You also knew raising a child in a gang environment wasn’t ideal, but Abigail had been doing it. Albeit with difficulty, but she had the entire gang there to support her. And you knew you’d have the same support system as well. 

Abigail remained by your side in hushed conversation, offering you any advice she had for your situation. She said you were fortunate to have a man who actually gave a damn about you, so you would definitely have his support there. But there was an underlying sense of apprehensiveness at what Javier’s response would be, one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge as to not entertain the possibility.

Abigail saw you off by allowing you to keep the shawl and tonic, wishing you the best of luck in telling Javier the news. She reminded you that regardless of his reaction, she’d have your back as well. You thanked her hurriedly, as Javier had begun to toss awake. You sat there by his side as he blinked sleep away, smiling at the fact that you were the first thing he saw when he awoke. 

“Buenos días, mi amor.” He croaked, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He slowly sat up from where he laid and rubbed his eyes. He gave you a second look, concern crossing his features and startling him awake. 

“You look so sick, are you okay?” He suddenly leaned forward, attempting to cradle you and check for anything that might indicate less than perfect conditions. His hand brushed your breast, making you audibly groan from pain. He reeled his hand back like a young child who just touched a stove, looking on in morbid confusion as if trying to figure out what exactly was the cause of your pain. 

“I’m just feeling a little nauseous this morning… and I’m a little sore too.” You tried to reassure him with a half hearted smile, contemplating when would be the right time to tell him. Not telling him simply wasn’t an option, after being together so long, it would be dishonest. Though when you told him one of your bodily symptoms was soreness, his mind seemed to go to the gutter as he slowly smirked. 

“Hm, guess I was a little too rough on you last night, no?” He laughed to himself as you groaned, pushing his face away to hide your blush. A reminder of what exactly got you into this situation.

The day was torturously slow. There seemed to be a constant veil over your consciousness that set you and reality five feet apart. Every action felt disconnected from your body, and it was only when you looked down at your belly, that you felt grounded once again. The idea of having a life growing inside you filled you with a fresh sense of panic, rattling through your rib cage and fully spreading through your shoulders in cold harshness. At times, you would think about your future excitedly, pondering all the different ways in which you and Javier would embrace parenthood. Though those thoughts would quickly become sour and twisted, a fork in the metaphorical line of thought forming as you fearfully included the possibility that Javier might react negatively. At some point you had even begun crying at the thought of your nearly decade long relationship ending, to which all of the camp girls and a few of the men would try to comfort you, asking over and over what was wrong. It was only until Javier came over to you that you blurted out the question “Do you still love me?!”

Of course, Javier was quick to comfort you, allowing you to blabber as many inconsequential questions as you wanted while he held you. And while he was definitely used to dealing with your emotional outbursts, he was a professional at it, he found their sudden consistency to be quite alarming. At some points he had begun questioning himself, whether he had done something wrong; to which you’d have to end up comforting him from. That or the two of you would confess your anxieties to each other tearfully while reassuring each other; it was rather theatrical.

As you changed into your nightdown that night, you stopped for a moment longer to look at the latent swell in your belly. You smiled widely and rubbed it, sighing contentedly before turning around to face Javier; your joy mixing unpleasantly with fear. Hurriedly, you changed (to which he insisted you stay undressed a little longer) before settling into your tent together. You were fidgety, unable to find a proper position to lay down comfortably. The hardness of your cot, something you had become used to, became ten times worse in your heightened state of awareness, the overstimulation turning you ill-tempered.

“Amor, what’s wrong?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it would get the answer out of you. As if a switch had been flipped in you, triggered by the very question, your eyes began to water and your bottom lip began to tremble. Javier looked on in horror, thinking back on every word he’s ever said to you, overthinking his tone and inflection, reflecting on the past few days; he tried to find anything in between that might have caused you to become so emotional. You let out a wail as you sunk into his arms, confusing him to no end. 

“What happened?! Are you okay? Please, just talk to me.” Javier’s voice quivered as he begged, completely at a loss as to how he could help you. People from camp had begun to sound their concern outside your tent, asking if the two of you needed help or to ask what was wrong. Fed up with the unwanted attention, he led you outside of camp away from everyone’s curious eyes, whispering comforting words to you as he led you into the woods. 

He took your shoulders and turned you to face him before cupping your cheeks to tip your face upwards. Your melancholic expression felt like barbed wires squeezing his heart, and he pulled you into his chest for a hug. He shushed you soothingly, rubbing comforting circles on your back. After a few more moments of silent crying, you cleared your throat and sniffed. 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, looking into his face to immediately catch any expression change. At first Javier’s eyes merely widened, his jaw opening in a way reminiscent of Abigail’s earlier. After a few seconds, he smiled widely, hugging you even tighter. The spreading anxiety within you diminished and was replaced by a flood of relief that made you feel ten times lighter. You wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. 

“Are you serious?! Amor, this is amazing I… I’m finally going to be a dad!” He exclaimed in a whisper. He looked like a kid who just received the best present on christmas morning, uncontrollably giddy from excitement. You smiled widely and wiped away your tears, nodding. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Well, I was speaking to Abigail about how I felt this morning and we deduced what was up with me and… I wanted to tell you soon because it was the right thing to do but I was also scared about how you’d react and I was just so nervous all day…” Your lip began to pout as more tears threatened to fall, but Javier wiped them away for you with his thumb. He leaned in to kiss you, your worries melting away like warm butter. Your body relaxed and released a tension you had not realized you had been holding onto. 

“We have to celebrate.” He suggested, smiling. 

“Right now?!” You giggled. 

“Yes absolutely, let me get my horse, we’ll go into town. I’ll treat you to something.” 

You had never felt happier as you watched Javier retrieve his horse, giggling when you watched him excitedly whisper into his horse’s ear about how he was going to be a father. Javier was the gentlest he had ever been as he helped you onto his horse, giving your knuckles a peck before getting on as well. You held onto his waist tightly as he spurred his horse into a gallop, and as you did, you felt his body tremble with excitement. You saw the low glow of Valentine as you approached the small town, the constant buzz of work having died down and turned in for the night. As people began winding down for the day, they ventured into bars or restaurants, buying the last of their errands at the general store, or resting up at the Saint’s Hotel. 

Javier had bought you a multitude of treats and food despite your insistence on him not spending money on you. He splurged a little extra on buying you the finest new clothes, cotton skirts and form fitting blouses (he claimed he wanted to be able to see your belly when it swelled better). He refused to drink that night, claiming he would join you in sober solidarity. For the last event of the night, Javier insisted he buy a room for the two of you to sleep in, saying he could not allow his dear pregnant wife to sleep on a hard cot. 

Though the two of you seemed to have other plans, because as soon as you entered the room, your hands were on each other. Your eager mouths united in a kiss that was far from sweet and gentle. Javier began pawing at your ass through your skirt as he sucked on your tongue and lips, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling. 

As he undressed you vigorously, it appeared to you that the only reason he bought you the new clothes was to tear them off you immediately after. He nearly tore your bloomers off of you, leaving you stark naked as you sat on the bed. You laughed at Javier’s impatience as he threw his own vest off, followed by his shirt and jeans. And before long, he joined you in bed naked as well. He laid next to you and wasted no time in spreading your legs open, resting one of your legs atop his thighs. He prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger before pushing them into your mouth, shuddering at the feeling of your wet appendage circling his digits. He left his fingers in there for far longer than necessary, indulging in the feeling alone before retracting his hand, which still clung to your lips through a string of saliva. 

He spread your folds open and gave your clit a quick flick, before sliding his fingers down past your vulva and to your entrance. He let out an involuntary moan at the feeling of your wet warmth as he dipped his fingers in, the both of you sighing in satisfaction when he slid in down to the knuckle. 

“Fuck, you’re so warm… Can’t wait to be inside that tight cunt.” He whispered in your ear, the combined sensation of him fingering you and whispering into your ear causing you to shudder and mewl lewdly. He reached his thumb back and began rubbing your throbbing clit, and at the same time, connected his lips to your nipple. He kept in mind the sore state your breasts were in as he cupped one of them, kneading gently so as to not bring you any pain. But the light sting of soreness brought you some sort of pleasure, and your entire body began to squirm as Javier nibbled lightly on your nipple. You reached down towards his aching cock, which was leaking pre cum on the sheets below you (you felt bad for whoever it was that would be cleaning the sheets after tonight). You began stroking his throbbing erection, smearing his tip with your thumb, though your strokes were inconsistent and stuttered as he began fingering you harder, a smattering of your wetness soaking the sheets beneath your ass. 

“It’s so cute how flustered I can get you with just my fingers, (Name)..” He hissed into your ears, kissing your lobe and tracing kisses down your neck. His cock was left forgotten on his lap as he fingered you to completion, cumming all over his fingers and hand. You let out a high pitched wail, rocking your hips against his fingers as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

“That’s it… Just like that… Such a good girl.” He smiled against your pulse before pressing a kiss to it. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the corners of your vision spotted as you came back down from your climax. Your breath was stolen once again when Javier captured you in a kiss, far more tender but equally as passionate. He mounted your quivering body, holding your thighs open with one hand as he held your hand with the other. You moaned wantonly when he teased your clit and hole with his tip.

“Can’t wait to give our child a little brother or sister to play with one day… until then I’ll keep fucking you raw. We’re gonna have so many kids together…” He slid in as he finished talking, his voice turning into a whimper. Your wetness allowed for easy entry as he bottomed out. 

There was a consistent wet slapping as Javier began fucking into you, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His expression was completely debauched, seemingly more aroused by the idea of permeating your womb with his cum. He shuddered at the very thought of you being pregnant, and was filled with a sense of anticipatory wonder and excitement when pondering the thought of expanding your family together. 

“You look so good, can’t wait to see your belly swell…” Javier threw his head back and his eyes slid slowly closed, wetting his lips with his tongue as though his words left a decadent taste on his lips. His hips pistoned into you with determination, and within a few minutes he ended up cumming. Though you barely registered the fact he did, as he kept thrusting into you. You groaned at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you, only to be fucked back inside by him. He scooped up any that escaped, claiming that it all needed to be inside you. A white halo formed at his base, and his fascination with watching his cock disappear into you bordered on obsession.

“Take all my cum.” He breathed into your ear, his breath hitching as he came again. The two of you laid there together, dissolving into a chorus of breathlessness as you tried to recollect yourselves. You both became an amalgamation of combined limbs as you embraced each other, not minding the intense body heat the both of you emitted, even if it became unbearable. 

“I love you, Javier…” You sighed, burying your face in his neck. He smelled of sweat and faintly of scented shampoos and products. 

“I love you too, amor.” He kissed your forehead. He made it a point to shift his hips into a more comfortable position to remain inside you, harboring some sort of irrational fear that if he slid out, you might somehow wake up not pregnant. 

He held you tight as you fell asleep, and oh, how quickly you gave in to exhaustion. His chest swelled with pride and excitement, and every time he felt himself getting closer to sleep, the thought of soon being a father made him skittish and ripped sleep away from him. And at once, all the violence and pain that it took to get to this point made sense.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Let's Go To Bed - The Cure

[seramilla]

So I had a thought for a normal human au. So Sera is the legal guardian of her sister Emily and is doing her best to balance being a single parent (not technically a parent but may as well be), her busy work life and trying to find a partner though she barely has anytime for dating and is coming to terms with the fact that'll probably be single forever. Anyway Emily is good friends with Clara Carmine a girl she goes to school with. Sera goes to pick up Emily after a play date and meets Carmilla carmine and is blown away with how beautiful she is and falls for her hard. Unfortunately Sera is sure that Carmilla is straight she is either divorced or widowed to man and plus a lot of the time when Sera has to see her after she meet her she looks a bit extra dressed up especially if she is dropping off Clara and her older sister Odette with Sera so she assumes she also is dating someone. (Lucky bastard.) Meanwhile Carmilla who has much better Gaydar than Sera is annoyed that Sera isn't picking up on her hints or the fact that Carmilla is clearly into her and wants Sera to make the first move she's even been flirting with Sera but it seems like that is going over Sera's head. There are times she wonders if she should just answer the door in her underwear to try and get the woman to finally make a move. If there weren't children around she might.

The four universal constants:

Odette and Clara are always sisters in every universe

Carmilla is always their mother even when she’s not

Carmilla and Sera are always star-crossed lovers

Sera is always a completely useless lesbian without an ounce of self awareness and Carmilla has to make her see reason

(In this universe specifically, Carmilla keeps inviting Sera over to these big extravagant parties with other moms but oops, they keep canceling on her and Sera is the only one to show up. Welp, she already opened some expensive vintage wine from her late husband's stores. It would be a shame if they let it go to waste. Oh, look, they're drunk. It would be incredibly unsafe for Sera to drive home in this condition. It's late. No, an Uber would cost a fortune, her mansion is so far outside of town! Yes, of course, Sera and Emily can stay the night. Carmilla will get the spare bedroom set up right now. It's no trouble at all!)

[luvvvivii]

tour guide — c.bc

pairing - bangchan x mom!reader

genre - fluff, imagine

wc - 1.3k (1,357)

warnings - not proofread (are we surprised), no pronouns used but reader has a kid and is called mommy/mom, mentions reader's ex-husband leaving her/cheating, lmk if more

a/n - late bday post for chan! hope you enjoy

synopsis - taking your five year old out to a museum was supposed to be educational, so why is the tour guide stealing your heart?

it was saturday, and you were out with your son visiting the museum for the latest dinosaur exhibition. he had always been fascinated by the extinct creatures, and had grown a keen liking to them. that was the reason why almost all his possessions were dinosaur-themed.

"mommy, mommy, look! that man has a dinosaur on his hand!" your 5 year old, hajoon, broke you from your daydream with a tug on your fingers, pointing towards a figure in front of you. the man, indeed, had a dinosaur puppet propped on his hand, playing with the kids that gathered around him. with urgent pulls from your little boy, you were suddenly standing in front of said man, with your hajoon looking up at him in awe.

"hi kids! and guardians," the man started, acknowledging all the adults with a smile. "my name is chan, and I'll be your museum guide for today. if all the little ones could go over there for a second whilst I talk to the adults, and then we can get started shortly!" chan pointed towards the large play area behind him, adorned with bright walls, plenty of equipment and, of course, dinosaur figures everywhere. you urged hajoon to go play, and even make some new friends, whilst you listened to what the tour guide — who you noticed was also quite good looking — had to say.

"so, as I mentioned, my name is chan. I've been working here a while, so trust me, I've got experience. and, I promise to make this a fun and educational experience for your little ones. you guys won't have to do much, basically just follow us around and take care of your kid while I do all the work. pretty laid-back for you guys." chan explained. you tried your hardest listening to what he was saying, but now that you were much closer, you were forced to take in all of his features. they were so defined, and beautiful, you couldn't help but stare. all of a sudden, he turned and made eye contact with you. it stayed like that for a bit, until you realised he was saying something directed towards you.

"erm, I think your kid's calling you?" he pointed to something behind you, and when you turned around you were met with hajoon's impatient whines. it was safe to say, you were completely embarrassed. "r-right…sorry!" you rushed over to your child, and looked after his needs straight away, before immediately entering a mode of shame. you hadn't seen it, but chan chuckled in seeing your embarrassment. "cute." he mumbled to himself impulsively.

soon enough, the museum tour was starting, and the kids were already riled up. they were running around, admiring all the exhibits, chatting amongst each other softly ; it was pretty obvious that they'd finally gotten to know one another. you glanced over at hajoon, and smiled to yourself at seeing him growing a close bond with one other girl, whose name you'd learn later on to be sumin. you had a feeling of guilt over taking you, however. despite coming here to have a great time with your little boy, all you could focus on was chan. your eyes always lingered on him a second longer than they should, and you felt your heart fluttering when your eyes met. despite all the promises you made to yourself when hajoon was born, you couldn't help but slightly fall for the cute tour guide in front of you.

when you were pregnant with your boy, a month before you'd gone into labour, your (ex-)husband had announced that he'd found another woman he was interested in, and therefore no longer wanted to stay with you. it broke your heart into too many pieces to count, but you knew you had to stay strong for hajoon. even if his biological father wouldn't be there to see it, you would look after hajoon as if you had no other care in the world, and you would execute it beautifully. you had also promised yourself that, unless you were 100% sure you were ready, you wouldn't get with another man. the obvious part was that you still felt the struggles of your ex-husband leaving you, and it tore your heart out every single day. the only problem was, were you sure you weren't ready to try to find someone new? someone who could love hajoon as much — if not, more — than you?

it took a while, but you had finally reached halfway through the exhibition. in all honesty, you had no idea what was going on half the time. but seeing hajoon's overjoyed face almost broke you to tears of happiness. you turned from hajoon's direction to behind you, where you were met with soft, loving eyes. chan's glance towards you felt…odd. not in a bad way, but it was still quite odd. it made you feel things you didn't think you'd ever feel in a while, but you weren't complaining anymore. this could be like your own little adventure, just like hajoon's.

but what if you were getting ahead of yourself? what if he always looked so caring to everyone? you were just getting tied up in something which wasn't even true.

"okay everyone! it's time to continue, up on your feet now." his sweet voice rung across the museum. you wondered, should I just give it a chance?

eventually, the museum tour eventually all came to an end. your five year old was dejected to have to leave, but immediately changed his mind when he saw they were giving out free dinosaur related toys. he rushed over, dismissing you with a quick "you can wait with the car mom!" with this, you took it as an opportunity to make small talk with the tour guide. eventually even lead it to a bigger picture.

"hi there, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I was the mom of one of the kids from the tour? hajoon?" you were fidgeting a bit, rethinking the choices that you made.

"yes! I've definitely noticed you, don't worry! is there anything you need?" chan's face contorted into one of concern.

"no no! I'm okay! I just…" you were doing it. you were actually doing it. you would be asking for the cute tour guide's number, but would he actually give it to you? that was when you looked up to finally meet chan's eyes. they were still wearing a hint of concern behind them, and his head was cocked slightly to the side.

"I just wanted to say thank you for making all the children so happy." you sighed, slightly annoyed at yourself for chickening out, although you did really mean what you said.

"of course! this is my job of course~ but in all seriousness, I really try to make them as happy as possible, how else would they enjoy it?" you giggled slightly at his response, before bidding him farewell and turning around to get hajoon.

"wait!" you paused and whipped your head back towards chan. "erm, don't take this in the wrong way but, are you a single mother? I mean, all the other kids had both their parents come, but with hajoon it was just you?" you nodded, to which he responded with a small "ah." and looked down.

"also, if you were cool with it — which if you're not, it's totally fine! I understand — but could I maybe get your number? just to keep in touch sometimes! because I think you're pretty cool, and hajoon's pretty cool! argh, this is totally not right, I'm so sorry. but—" you cut his trail of thought as you pulled out your phone and showed him your number. he looked relieved, running his hands through his dark brown locks. he typed in your number and saved it, sending you a small text so that you could do the same. you said your final goodbyes and promised to stay in contact with one another.

you never thought you'd be able to love another as much as you loved your ex-husband, but maybe when chan came along, fate decided to change that.

©@luvvvivii all rights reserved | do not repost or translate

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hey bbg 😽

so i was reading a fic for an entirely different character but i think itd be absolutely adorable for my husb- i mean OUR husband Quill

Maybe reader is like stressed (over smthn i have no idea) and the guardians tried to cheer em up but nothing worked so they brought the big guns: peter. jason. quill.

and he tries to cheer reader up with lil jokes and just the stuff he knows makes reader smile hshsjshjss all the fluff bbg 🛐

hope you can get to this soon! have a great week/end 🫶

-🪐

hii bbg!! angelface, I love it, I love it all. and im glad you corrected yourself, ‘our’, yeah you’re right😏 jk jk, when I talk to you, he’s yours, but here he’s ours🤭 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

surprise visitor

Peter Quill x f!reader

— word count: 559

— warnings: none, just fluff

₊✧ masterlist + taglist

Whenever you felt stressed, it often accompanied other emotions you were unsure of. You found it difficult to cope and manage the stress, and ultimately it would lead to you shutting down. You didn't like others to know how you felt, so you preferred to keep up the facade and pretend. Lately, you've been feeling more stressed than usual, and it was starting to get you down. It made you feel silly for getting so worked up over nothing. 

The other guardians could tell something was bothering you, more specifically, Nebula. She was often highly observant of everyone around her and would notice the slightest change in others. So she pulled Mantis aside to plan ways to help and comfort you. 

Although the gesture was sweet and heartwarming, it wasn't what you needed. It wasn't what you wanted. What you wanted was Quill, but he wasn't here. He was away on a planet restoration mission with Rocket and Groot, so there was no way of seeing him right now, or so you thought. Once Mantis touched your arm, she could feel what you felt, understand you- even though you couldn't identify it yourself. She could feel how much you missed Peter, so she wanted to give you the one thing that would help, the only person that could soothe and calm you, Quill.

"I heard someone's missin' me," Pete bellows, a playful expression on his face as he enters the ship. "Someone's missin' me real bad," he smirks, pacing towards you. 

"Hi," you earnestly smile, instantly wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Hi, honey," he says quietly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he strokes your back with his easing palms. 

"I missed you," you muffled into the crook of his neck.

"I missed you," he softly sighs, pulling away to look at you. "Mant told me," he sadly smiles, looking into your eyes. "Not feelin' too good, huh?"

You slowly shake your head, avoiding his soft green gaze.

"I'm sorry, hon," he frowns, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. "That's okay. You don't have to be okay all the time— well, it's not okay, but not not okay— you know what I mean," he chuckles, clearing his flustered haze. "You get what I'm tryna say," he grins, wrapping his big warm arms around you. 

"I know," you softly laugh into his chest, hugging him tighter as if you were afraid he'll slip through your fingers.

"You know I'm not going anywhere— you're gonna end up popping my lungs," Peter chuckles, brushing slow, comforting strokes over your back. 

"Sorry," you giggle, muffling against him before you pull away. It was the first time you really laughed since he left, and it all felt right. Felt like how it was supposed to. "When do you go back?" you ask, questioning the inevitable.

"I'm not— well, until you're feelin' better," he says, kissing your cheek. "Drax is taking my place," he adds, noticing your puzzled expression.

"What if I never feel better?" you smile, speaking playfully.

"Then I guess I'll have to stay forever," he grins, slipping his hand into yours, leading you to the back of the ship. 

"Where we going?" you ask, catching up with his long strides.

"Secret," he looks over his shoulder, a boyish grin lining his lips. "No, no, just kiddin'. Goin' up top to look at the stars and cuddle."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

quill taglist: @annielr @spacetalbot @bubblezuku@idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @queerponcho @selfryed @traiitorjoe

[desiderio-dixon]

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 3 : Hand Me Downs

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Glenn returns from Atlanta, Daryl returns from hunting, and all of you leave on a rescue mission for Merle.

Chapter warnings : language, violence, gore, general twd themes

Word count : 3.8k

A/N : This one wasn't proof-read so if anyone noticed any mistakes please lmk! next update may be a little slower because closing in on the process of adopting a puppy!

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Emerging from your tent, you head for Dale immediately. The noise is only growing closer and louder, and everyone is grouped around Dale. The old man looks through his binoculars, eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I'll be damned." Dale mutters.

"What is it?" Amy pushes impatiently.

"A stolen car is my guess."

The bright red sports car pulls into the quarry, and your heart leaps in your chest when you spy the driver. While everyone around panics about the noise, or their still-missing friends, your relief outweighs anything else. You leap onto Glenn, hugging him tight while he attempts to calm Amy. Paying it no mind, you only focus on the way his arms circle around your back to return the hug. It only lasts a couple seconds before he's stepping back to pop the hood for Shane. It's enough, though.

"Why isn't she with you? Where is she? She's okay?" Amy sputters, wide eyed and frantic.

"Yes! Yeah, fine. Everybody is. Well, Merle not so much." Typically you wouldn't care that anything had happened to Merle. You'd even go as far to say, you'd be downright relieved. You wouldn't wish death on anyone, but maybe you'd wish that Merle would somehow be teleported a good 200 miles away from you. But, that relief was only there for a split second. Instead, you felt a deep sense of worry for Daryl.

You didn't know him much at all, hell, he's spoken no more than five sentences to you the entire time you'd known him. None of those sentences were ever delivered in a particularly friendly manner, but just this morning he had helped you. You knew he felt like an outsider, and it seemed the only person in the group he liked was his brother.

Not only were you worried he'd fall into some form of depression if Merle was dead, but you were also worried he'd leave. Daryl provided so much to your group, and whether they realized it or not, everyone owed a lot to him.

You break free of your thoughts just in time to hear Dale scolding Glenn. "It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

You know Glenn looks up to Dale, can see his worry of disappointing him. "Sorry," Glenn says, staring at his feet. Then, he looks up with a grin. "Got a cool car." That makes you let out a huff of laughter. It is a pretty cool car.

Your attention is stolen away by the sound of tires crunching over gravel, the van pulling in behind the red dodge charger. Andrea is the first to hop out, running to Amy. Morales, T-dog, and Jacqui all spill out after her. Morales greets his wife and children before coming over to give Dale a hug. "I thought we'd lost you folks for sure." Dale laughs.

"How'd y'all get out of there, anyway?" Shane asks, hands on his hips. The classic authoritarian stance he always seems to don.

From beside you, Glenn speaks up. "New guy." He glances to the van. "He got us out." New guy? It's been a while since your group has welcomed a new addition.

Nothing could prepare you for the reaction to the man who steps out of the van. Lori and Shane frozen, absolutely shellshocked. Carl, running and screaming for his father.

Lori recovers after a moment, falling into her husband's awaiting arms. Shane stays where he is, no hint of a smile on his face. You catch him fake one when Rick looks his way. It's not hard to guess what's happening. "Trouble in apocalyptic paradise for Shane and Lori." You whisper to Glenn, who only looks down at his shoes and shakes his head in sardonic amusement.

You get along well enough with Lori, if nothing else but for the simple fact that you adore her son. She's never done anything to make you think less of her, and you really don't blame her for her obvious affair with Shane. She'd told the story to you once or twice. Husband gets shot on the job, comatose, shit hits the fan, husband's best friend takes care of her and her son. And of course, she'd told you the part where Shane had listened for a heartbeat. There was none. Or so it was said.

Who can blame a grieving widow, lost in this shit-storm of a world for seeking comfort in a fling with the man she believes is her savior?

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

You sit down by the unlit firepit with T-dog and Glenn. T-dog gnaws on a piece of jerky, eyes downcast. "Daryl's not gonna be happy," You start. No one has filled you in exactly on what happened, just that Merle was left chained on the roof. Alive but trapped. "But I'm sure he'll understand to some degree. He's gotta be more tired of his brother than any of us." You joke. T-dog just shakes his head, obviously guilty.

"He was out of control. Rick did the right thing." Glenn tells you. You hum in response, gaze wandering to where Rick wanders around camp, acquainting himself with all it's residents. The deputy must feel your eyes on him, because when he's done shaking Ed's hand, he heads for you. He's all confident strides, a sureness you haven't seen in anyone since the end of the world. You guess it's the effect of finding your wife and child in such unlikely circumstances.

He stops in front of you, hand extended and a smile more full of happiness than you've seen in two months. "Rick Grimes." He introduces.

You return his smile, clasping his hand. "Trust me, I already knew your name. Carl's told me all about how cool his daddy is." He laughs, looking down in a sort of bashful manner. You tell him your name, and he repeats it, nodding to himself.

"Yeah," He drawls. "Turns out I already knew yours, too. Glenn told me you know the city like the back of your hand." You nod. You'd lived in Atlanta before the turn, and you'd only become even more informed on it given the various runs you'd been on.

"Oh yeah. Normally I would've been there, being the one to save Glenn's ass. Glad you were there to fill my shoes." You tease, nudging Glenn with your shoulder. He pushes you back gently, sputtering out defenses.

When you glance back to Rick, he's laughing too.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

After the sun had gone to sleep, and the stars brought a bitter chill to the air, everyone gathered around the firepit. Rick has Lori and Carl tucked into his side as he recalls the chain of events leading him back to them. "Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion; all of those things but, disoriented comes closest."

It must be strange to just wake up in a world like this. At least you had seen things progress. Heard the stories of cannibals on the radio, seen the news clips of deathly beings attacking civilians, watched the hospitals become overrun and the system fall apart. You'd seen the bombs drop, too.

"Words can be meager things, sometimes they fall short." Dale pipes up beside you. You look at Glenn, his face illuminated in a warm glow from the fire. Looking at him lights a sense of comfort and safety within you. He may be young, awkward and clunky, but he saved you.

The conversation goes on, focus almost entirely on Rick. When he turns to Shane, a sincerity to his eyes, you feel almost guilty. As if you are the one harboring the secret of Lori and Shane's affair. "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane." You have to suppress a sigh at his words. "I can't begin to express it."

"There goes those words falling short again." Dale quips. You can't help but agree. It's not your business, but you feel that words can't begin to express how convoluted the relationship between those three will end up being. How long can you keep secrets from a cop?

Shane leaves shortly after to argue with Ed. Not the first time the drunken man had insisted he needed a larger fire. You keep an eye from your spot, watching Carol and Sophia closely. You don't like Shane, but you know he'd use any excuse to beat on Ed. There's no complaints to be had from you if an altercation between the two started; as long as Carol and Sophia are safe and away from the action.

Somewhat unfortunately, the situation seems to resolve, Shane coming back to the main firepit. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." Dale says once Shane's situated. This time, your sigh does spill out. You weren't a part of the Atlanta group, and yet, all you've been thinking about since they got back was Daryl Dixon.

"I'll tell him," T-dog offers. "I dropped the key, it's on me."

Rick shakes his head. "I cuffed him." You see Glenn shaking his leg from beside you, glancing between T-dog and Rick beyond the fire.

"Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." Ah, so that's why he was so nervous.

"I really don't think Daryl is like Merle," You say, unsure why you feel the need to defend him. Just because he brought Carol to you? "At least not like that." There were definitely other ways Daryl was like Merle. Their brash language, their unkempt demeanor, and perhaps their general strength and hunting skill. Still, Daryl didn't strike you as a racist.

The conversation goes on, discussing what to tell Daryl. Who to take blame, whether to lie or be honest.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain, not that padlock." T-dog rambles, the fire crackling loudly as a backtrack to his words. "My point– Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

His confirmation that Merle is alive ends the discussion for the night, the group trickles off into their respective tents, and the fire flickers out. Glenn stands from beside you, announcing his departure. You watch him as he leaves, a coldness taking over in his absence.

You stay behind for a moment, no one left at the fire. A few feet away, Shane sits atop the RV. Paying him no mind, you lean back and stare at the sky. It's moments like these that you allow yourself to remember your best friend; allow yourself to picture her face among the stars. You take a deep breath, feeling it stretch your lungs, before breathing it out into the chilly night air. You imagine it takes the weight in your heart with it. But when you're done, standing up and heading to your tent, your chest feels just as heavy.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Daryl finishes stringing up cans around the small clearing. It's not much, but it's some form of protection. He lies in the makeshift bed–his bag as a pillow and a t-shirt as a mattress. The trip hadn't been as productive thus far as he'd hoped, only a string of squirrels lay beside him. He'll get up before the sun, and keep going until he finds something of value he decides.

He takes comfort in staring at the night sky. It's where he feels he belongs. Even before the end of the world, he'd spent most nights sleeping outside in nature. It was always safer. In some way, he does find himself feeling more exposed without the knowledge that there are people around him. At the quarry, there's always someone keeping watch. He couldn't trust Merle to keep sober to watch his back.

But soon enough, it'll be back to just him and Merle. He'll have to deal with it.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

You, Carol, and Lori are on laundry duty this morning. Carol scrubs Rick's sherrif uniform and something about it almost makes you giggle. Wearing a police uniform in the apocalypse is nothing short of something from a comic book.

You have Glenn's hat, trying to spot clean little dried blood stains. "I wish peroxide wasn't as valuable," You comment, scrubbing with all your might on a particularly stubborn stain. "Used to wash out blood like magic." Carol hums, agreeing. Lori stays silent, working on her own laundry with a faraway look.

"Everything okay with you and Rick?" Carol asks, touching Lori's arm gently with a soapy hand. Lori nearly jumps out of her skin, water splashing from her basin. Suds fly through the air, and to your great displeasure, a splotch of soap lands right in your eye.

"Ow, shit!" You cry, dropping Glenn's hat and covering your eye. Lori frantically apologizes.

Due to your momentary loss of vision, you don't notice Glenn approaching you until he's calling out. "Hey, you okay? Let me see," He says. You tilt your head up, trying your best to open your eye. He takes the corner of his shirt and lifts it, using it to gently brush soap away from your eye.

His care for you makes you warm. It feels good to know someone cares. You rapidly blink to clear the remnants of soap, before flashing him a radiant smile. "Thanks." You breathe.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Later, you stand next to Glenn, sharing in his grief. Dale and Jim are under the hood of the Dodge Charger, yanking out parts and pieces. Glenn's hands are on his head, brows furrowed in sadness. You pat him on the back. "We'll find another."

"Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. Got no power without it. Sorry, Glenn." Dale calls. Glenn looks down at his feet and you giggle, much to his chagrin.

Before you know it, Rick has approached you, a similar look of amusement on his face. "I thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days." Glenn mumbles.

"Maybe we'll steal another one someday." Rick echoes your earlier sentiment. He wanders off, likely to find Lori.

"You replacing me with officer friendly?" You joke, nudging Glenn. He exhales through his nose, a small grin on his face.

"I don't know who makes fun of me more." He whines. You roll your eyes, reaching up to steal his hat off his head. Placing it on top your own, you turn and run, laughing while he chases you.

The chase gets cut short by a chorus of screams. You and Glenn freeze in unison, wide eyes meeting each other before you both dash. You hear Carl and Sophia's distinct voices calling out for their mothers.

You run as fast as your feet can carry you, Glenn's hat discarded still on your head. The children are at the edge of the forest, and as the adults arrive, they all run right into their parents arms. Running into the forest behind them, you all find the culprit. A deer, now dead, with a walker feasting on its innards. Your eyes are drawn to the various arrows sticking out of it.

The men jump into action, beating the walker with various objects. It reminds you of prison beatings in movies; ugly, uncoordinated, and inefficient. When they finish, the grunts and huffs silenced, you point to the arrows. "Daryl." You simply offer.

Shane nods, but otherwise they seem to ignore you. "It's the first one we've had up here. They never come this far up the mountain." Dale says, eyes wide.

Suddenly, the tree branches start to move and dried leaves crunch under the weight of something. You all gear up to fight another walker, when Daryl Dixon comes stumbling out of the woods. There's a level of relief to seeing him, knowing that your group didn't lose both their prize hunters in one fell swoop. But there's also a level of dread, a sinking weight in your stomach when you think of the news that needs delivering.

You don't get to think on it long, for Daryl interrupts your thoughts with an outburst. "Son of a bitch. That's my deer! Look at it. All gnawed on by this–" He starts kicking the walker. "–filthy, disease-bearin', motherless, poxy bastard!" You can't help but laugh. You really don't mean to, don't want him to think you're mocking him. The giggles just tumble out one-by-one, unstoppable in their path.

Everyone pauses to look at you, varying degrees of concern and confusion, but you just can't stop laughing. Daryl narrows his eyes at you, "This funny to ya?" You can't answer through your huffs, so Daryl just scoffs, turning his attention back to the walker. It receives one more swift kick to the side.

Dale extends his arm in a notion to stop. "Calm down, son. That's not helping." You know it from the moment it leaves his lips that he'll receive an earful for this. It simply doesn't work to tell a man like Daryl to 'calm down'.

Just as expected, Dale receives the opposite of the intended reaction. "What do you know about it, old man? Why don't ya take that stupid hat and go back to 'on golden pond'?" You, for one, think Dale's bucket hat is very stylish, and you'd let him know that on multiple occasions.

"I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What do ya think? Do ya think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" He seems genuine, chewing on his thumb and contemplating with a furrowed brow.

"I would not risk that." Shane says. Daryl sighs, disappointment evident.

"That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel, about a dozen or so. That'll have to do." Daryl moves to leave, and you start to follow behind him.

Suddenly, the decapitated walkers head breathes life once more, snapping it's teeth and groaning. Daryl stops in his tracks, almost making you face-plant right into his back. "Come on, people. What the hell?" He readies his crossbow, shooting the decaying head right between the eyes.

"It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?"

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

Daryl makes it back to the camp first, tossing his string of squirrels by the firepit. "Merle! Get yer ugly ass out here, got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" He does find it strange that Merle doesn't immediately respond, knowing how loose Merle's jaw is.

Shane's voice, his tone, sends a spiral of uncertainty through him. "Daryl, just slow up a bit, need to talk to you."

Daryl whips around to face Shane. "About what?" Shane places his hands over his belt buckle, eyes darting away from Daryl.

"About Merle. There was a–There was a problem in Atlanta." Daryl let's the words sink in, nodding slowly. He feels that all too familiar lump in his throat, panic digging her claws into his esophagus.

"He dead?" He thinks he must be. What else could Shane be referring to?

"We're not sure." Shane says. That lights a fire in Daryl. Uncertainty has never been his friend. Things didn't feel real without confirmation.

"He either is or he ain't!"

Rick approaches, hand out as if Daryl was some rabid animal. "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."

"Who are you?" Daryl snaps, looking this new guy up and down. He looks past him, to everyone at camp, who seems to not bat an eye at the newcomer. The hell did he miss?

"Rick Grimes." The confidence that Rick delivers his name in only makes Daryl more angry.

Daryl huffs, stepping closer to Rick, chest puffed. "Rick grimes, you got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal." Rick tilts his head, locking eyes with Daryl. "He's still there."

Daryl almost laughs, a bitter, angry laugh at the absurdity. "Hold on. Let me process this." He gestures to his head. "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?" He yells.

"Yeah." Next thing Daryl knows, he's pulled his knife and Shane has him in a chokehold.

"You'd best let me go!" He screeches, thrashing wildly.

Shane only seems to tighten his grip. "Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

"Choke hold's illegal."

Shane has an air of amusement in his tone when he responds, but nothings funny to Daryl right now. "You can file a complaint. Come on, man. We'll keep this up all day."

Rick crouches down to look Daryl in his eye. "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that? Do you think we can manage that?"

Its not Rick's request, or his condescending tone that causes Daryl to agree. It's not Shane's grip either. It's when he looks behind them, to you.

You, with your eyes full of not fear or worry, but of sympathy. It makes shame burn in him, enveloping his body in an overwhelming and uncomfortable warmth. He feels your eyes on him and he feels your pity and it makes him sick. He needs out. If he has to have a peaceful conversation with Rick to get away from your piercing eyes, then so be it.

Imagine Daryl's thrill when Rick proposes you and Glenn to join in the rescue mission for Merle. He'd said something about you and Glenn knowing the city, needing you to retrieve a bag of guns. Daryl narrows his eyes at you and Glenn when you pack into the back of the van. You've still got the kid's hat on, and something about that makes him uncomfortable. Who has time for love in this world?

The ride is mostly silent, some jokes exchanged between you, Glenn, and T-dog. Nothing Daryl pays much attention to. He'd rather go get his brother himself. Eventually Glenn stops the van. "We walk from here."

On the walk, Daryl's heart speeds up the closer he gets to the department store. He's antsy, just wants to see his brother, dead or alive. You seem to notice, speeding your steps a bit to walk in pace with him. "I'm sure he's okay. You Dixons are tough." Daryl just scoffs, refusing to meet your eye.

Each step up to the roof sends a new wave of nerves through his stomach, so he takes them two at a time. T-dog cuts through the padlock and Daryl brushes past him onto the roof. "Merle!" And then he sees it. Grey and decaying, bloody and lifeless. It reminds Daryl of everything else Merle has left for him.

All the ripped old flannels, the half drank beers, hell, even the aged porno mags with the ink smeared and half the pages falling out. Merle never left anything pleasant for Daryl.

Though, while sobbing over Merle's dismembered hand, he has to say that this is the worst hand me down of all.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

taglist(open): @celtic-crossbow

[satin-polar]

FNAF Bible theory. In light of recent Dave theory. It's just from my surface knowledge of the bible (but I am from a christian home, I know a lot) and few wikipedia findings.

Scott is very well known for being a religious person. That's nothing new. And this theory will conclude with statement that ,,FNAF is just a retelling of the bible,, at least part of it. There will not be Jesus in this one. The closest one will be his cousin John.

Pls. Mind that english is not my first lauguage. Im good at using it, but I keep missing word. And i keep using languagetool. And few time I use term ,,standin for,, I'm not sure im using correct term. But hope you understand. So let's start with what we got now:

David - King of Israel, Battle with Goliath

Michael - Guardian of Israel, Battle with Satan

Elizabeth - Known for being a mother and having a baby (stick with me)

And few important names: Gabriel and Henry

When the name David came out lately, when Hyper Droid was talking about CC real name. It struck me. David in the bible is best known for battling the Goliath, and Slaying him, becoming King after that. And in the World of FNAF, CC also battled the Goliath, but this time Lost. Goliath being stand in for Fredbear, you know Giant Robot. We can argue that even if CC lost the rest still happened, Goliath was slain - Fredbear was never used again, and he kinda became the King - CC is probably the most important spirit in FNAF, and Golden Fredy is the Leader of Animatronics, Golden like a Kings Crown - And stay golden even after all the years, when Golden Bonnie faded, but that's later. Golden Freddy leads the Spirits even if it's not David (CC) it's Cassidy, but Cassidy is probably not a biblical name, but there might be something to it if we dig deeper.

Michael - The Archangel. The One that cast Satan out of Heaven. Yes Satan being stand in for William. ("...he does battle with Satan and casts him out of heaven so that he no longer has access to God as accuser" - Wikipedia quote). And mentioning. When David is the King of Israel. Micheal is the Guardian (prince) of Israel (If we take methafor for Israel in FNAF as the place where every spirit lingers, sooo Freadys. Yeah Freddy's is Israel, The Bible one, not the moder country, it's sounds weird now, but let's deal with it.) Then, idk whats better way to describe Mike. After his brother's death, he goes and protects what his brother has become part of, to redeem himself, to give his brother and every soul Afton killed an afterlife. But this Flipped retelling of Bible. As David failed to Defeat Goliath. Michael failed to Protect Souls. But after tries and punishment, he banishes the evil from immortality. Except there are no happy endings in FNAF.

Elizabeth is more difficult than two brothers, but. I might have something. As the fact that FNAF is Flipped retelling of bible more struck me, where nothing goes as it should, but parallels are visible. It got me there. Naming FNAF characters after biblical figures must have some reason. At least minimal. Let's start with this, and it might sound more weird than the rest, so at least trigger warning here. The Big Elizabeth in story in bible start with her husband going to a Temple and being visited by Angel Gabriel. And is promised Elizabeth will bear a son - John the Baptist. Kinda like Mike going to Circus Baby Pizza. Yes I compared Circus Baby Pizza to the Temple of God. But as we know, everything must go wrong. It might be parallels that Elizabeth, instead of bearing the child, got crushed in the belly of a child (baby) looking robot. (And you know, I think Elizabeth in bible is only known for being a mother of more important figure, and naming fnaf character after bible character might be difficult, and SL is kinda a spin-off, I don't know what Stott was thinking, I just see parallels) But as we now know, even if figures failed to fulfill their job, everything else still needs to happen. Destiny needs to fulfill itself. And have you ever noticed that Scooper rips out your guts, from the belly. And as spoken before, something needs to be born. And as Elizabeth would bere the child, now she crawls into someone's belly, as Baby put her self together. In flipped reflection of destiny. Michael goes to a temple, and is promised a Baby, it happened but in crocked refection, Elizabeth is born from her own Brother. But it's not Elizabeth that is the most important that day, because at the same moment, Michael is born again as the Baptist. To cleanse evil in the Baptism of Fire. And as weird as it gets, Mike being also the stand in for John the Baptist resonates well with me.

And that not the end, but I wanted to leave that on the end, because now we will talk about remnant, and remnants are still controversial in FNAF fandom. And I didn't want to taint my Elizabeth part with it. But You can add this to Elizabeth part, and it will only add more to the theory. Trust me. In the Bible when Elizabeth's husband visited the temple, angel said, and I quote "...and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born." Mention of being Filled with the Holy Spirit is something that just struck me the most. And I feared that it made sense. As we go further in FNAF games, (technically first ever mention of Remnant is in FNAF 6, but it's calling back to the Scooper) First ever usage of Remnant comes from FNAF SL. When Mike is being Filled with Remnant by the Scooper. As Biblical Child of Elizabeth was Filled with the Holy Spirit. Holy Spirit in bible is reserved for very special things. And if we going with naming FNAF characters after biblical names. Usage of Holy Spirit in the most important story connected to name Elizabeth and the Child she bore. As Scooper standin for filling someone with Remnant - Michael goes to a Temple of The False God that created the Baby and is Filled with The Remnants of Spirits. God!

Did I mention that It's not the end yet. It's not that big, but I want to point out what I see as interesting findings. And maybe we can do something more with this. I never readed bible, I just had religion in school, and I was kinda interested in that when I was younger. But I have really good memory, and this all just started coming to me.

When researching Michael, the name Gabriel keep coming out, It was interesting (like ohhh Scott, you know what you were doing) later when the name Gabriel came up in The Story of Elizabeth. There must be something more. First it was, did Scott name missing children after Archangels - No. But using just one name is enough. And as we all agree, Gabriel, being a child possessing Freddy. Scott used the name Gabriel on the first gravestone. Freddy the face of basic animatronics. Scott could name every kid after (as I found) - 7 archangels, but that would be too obvious, but he named only one, the first, the one we all agree is Freddy. Scott could give him a normal name, but he needed to name at least one after biblical name. And it's Gabriel. I have a weird feeling that, as Scott is a religious person, he just jumped on Wikipedia just like me, and found that Michael and Gabriel are very connected with each other. The fact that the name Gabriel comes out in 2 most important names in FNAF that also are standin for biblical characters. To this moment we got 2/3 names, but Mike and Elizabeth are kinda normal names, so we didn't care, but Now there are 3, we got David. All of William's children are named after biblical characters. With show how egotistical he is. But we got more; as we got Gabriel, it's now 4/3.

My smalled finding is that old version the name Henry is Harold. And it get me to Herod, the Guy that Order to Kill Children when Jesus was about to Born. But It sound more like William, You Know the Guy that KILL CHILDREN.

And Afton. The Guy Himself. Standin for Satan, Devil, Mephisto. The one cast out and banished from heaven. As Golden Freddy faded but stayed golden. Golden Bonny rotten, darken, faded to pitch green. Should be punished in hell, as destiny called for that. But not everything happened as it should. William is still punished, but what Cassidy the Vengeful Spirit done. Will it let go. Old Man Consequences is God Himself. The End (The last is just my own little head canon)

I went. Kinda insane at the end of this. But pls dont toss it out as a wird therory. Ther is a lot to this that make sense. And fell free to add more to this, if you can find more, or know more. My knowlege isnt that full. Retelings of the bible are very common. And no one ever get that angry when you use bibilical stories as the inspiraton. A lot of stories if you dig not even that deep, can be traced down to bibilacal stories. As its collection of very basic moral stories - Of good fighting evil. And thanks to Hyper Droid, his David theory opened the gate for.

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

My Touchstarved MC / OC time

Because I've been saving it for today^-^

[Warning: long rambling, and possibly no editing]

I have come to the point where I view the main LI's as my side characters to my silly little cannon divergent lore. So everything is completely made up, and also I'm going to rewrite my MCs to fit the actual game when it comes out. so there is my disclaimer before I head off into Lala land.

I've made different MCs based on the three backstories you can choose when you enter the game.

The Alchemist (Naudedel)

Hound (Hound)

Unnamed (Noble)

Each is still cursed but each curse takes on a different form or is gained at a different time along the journey to Eridia.

Noble is the one with the original curse from the game. They corrupt the minds of those they touch. Except on rare occasions...

Hound is a by-product of Nobel's hands. Hound is (till they reach Eridia...) the only one who can touch Nobel without punishment. Though she seems to have still retained her sanity, there is one man who refuses to deny the golden veins running under her skin.

Naudedel was an experiment gone rogue. An attempt to create an artificial God gone wrong. Turning his back on his creator, but still tries to reach for a false heaven on his own.

In my little headcanon world, they are all traveling together as a found family. Hound acts as their guardian, Noble is the oldest, Naudy is the weird middle child, and then there is Cetcher, who is a stand-alone OC who was adopted into their little family.

| And here is a little family photo/reference sheet :D - I'll explain the designs later |

Also, designs aren't finalized completely!! (which is why Hound is missing the prosthetic mentioned below)

The General BackStory: part I

Hound meets Noble when they are around six and takes care of them along with the help of her then-husband Cove. The two worked as mercenaries till taking Noble in as their own. The young couple promised to watch over Noble as they travel to Erida to try and find a cure for their curse. Along the way Hound and Cove hit what they called... a rough patch. Which resulted in Cove severing Hound's leg, not before she could take his good arm. Though Hound can't remember much of their life before that fight. She does know that he is still out there, and looking for them. But a swordsman without his dominant hand isn't much concern for her so she pushes on with the child at her side.

That is when they find Naudedel. The prodigy son of a mage who lived at the top of the hill in the remains of a small standing town. The mage was an older woman, but hospitable to the young mother and her child. She was also very taken by Noble after learning about their infliction. And wanted to help them in their journey to Erida seeing she had ties there from her past. This is where Hound was given her prosthetic, fueled by alchemy and mechanics. Noble took a liking to Naudedel despite his moody disposition and the two (to Naudy's dismay) were stuck at the hip during their stay. However, things didn't stay pleasant for long. As if the air changed in the small town, dire truths flowed with it. Hound and Noble soon learned about the true nature of the boy bound to the hill. The 12th experiment, the 12th body that surprisingly hadn't been dropped in one of the many pre-made graves that ran along the hillside yet. "What a resilient boy she's found!" was the last macabre expression Hound was willing to put up with from the townsfolk before marching up that damned hill only to find a darker twist in the doorway. Naudedel was the one to free himself. The one to kill his mother and step off that hill in his own shoes. Hound just happened to walk in front of him. Or at least that's how he is allowed to tell the story.

The now trio continue their journey, arriving in one broken small town to the next. Around the time the young ones are teenagers and Hound is theoretically pushing late 30s yet every familiar face they meet on the road swears she hasn't aged a wink, They start a town riot...

...

However, that's a story for another time. Anyways, the kids adopted Cetcher as their new baby sister. Cetcher worked as an assistant for an apothecary in town. Though assistant is more of a stretch, servant or pet would have been more fitting. The man running the shop treated the child less than an errand boy and refused to elaborate on where he got her. So Naudedel made it his mission to run off with the kid with the ever-so-graceful help of Noble. After convincing Hound to take her in, the glossy-eyed baby joined their one-wagon caravan. With surprisingly great help from Naudedel, Hound taught Cetcher how to read and write, which might have been the start of her greatest joys, at least in the moment.

But they were on their way. And spent another 5 years on the road before getting close to the city. But that was where they would part ways for a year. Naudedel had found a lead to possibly undoing Noble's curse. But it would be out of their way and a possible goose chase. And Due to an unfortunate run-in with a certain swordsman wielding his signature longsword in his non-dominant hand. They needed to get on the move fast. The plan was for Naudedel and Cetcher to go off the path and for Hound to watch over Noble and make it into Eridia safely. This was the plan, but of course, things would never go accordingly. Here we are in the current day, Noble alone in Eridia left in Leander's care, Hound presumed dead, Cetcher lost in the Fogfall, and Naudedel making contracts with deities he is too proud to admit are over his head.

:)

But yes, my cornerstones of my silly found family.

[crushedsweets]

Bing bong, I got a question.

What is Dina like in your AU?

Also, Merry Christmas!

-Bing Bong Anon

MERRY CHRISTMAS IM SO LATEE!!!

i realized i have no good footing for what i want dina to do in my AU. and so i kept putting this off. but i decided if i just talk, something will get out. so i got this.. THIS COVERS MY REWRITE OF DINA AND LAZARI!! <33

tw for cult topics, suicide mention, death, etc etc

i know i want lazari and dina's stories to intertwine.

i want them to be born into the same cult

dina is born to the leader. her birth is ceremonial and important, immediately she is treated like the second coming of christ. as she gets older, they begin to view her like a prophet of some sort - she's often referred to as a guardian angel just by existing, like her being keeps the cult intact and safe. blessings are attributed to her presence, loss is attributed to her absence.

as a result, she was kept under constant surveillance and incredibly isolated. she wasn't allowed friends, aside from some half-siblings who were still treated as below her. constantly being praised and treated like you are some sort of celestial being . . . really messes with someone.

in turn, lazari is in the same cult, but her mother was infertile, which the cult sees as a complete failure of a woman. so her mom sought out new forms of conception, and a demonic ritual involving zalgo took place. zalgo is lazari's "father", but she is raised by her mothers husband.

for opposite reasons, lazari is kept under constant surveillance and incredibly isolated. her mother is constantly doing rituals on her, trying to 'beat the demon' out of her daughter, as she regretted her actions the second lazari was born. she felt no love for her child. around age 7, lazaris mother does kill herself in front of her daughter. demonic tendencies begin breaking out for lazari

when dina is about 13-15, she begins sneaking out more often. it's just things like sitting on fields and talking to some random boys in the cult, something she'd NEVER be allowed by her parents.

one day, when she's out doing things she shouldnt do, she bumps into lazari. lazari is completely out of it, red eyes and black bloody oozing out of her mouth, all her veins are pure black and it looks fucking scary. and she bites dina. the next day, lazari looks normal.

dina doesnt tell anyone. she wasnt supposed to be out, she'd be in more trouble than it was worth to snitch on lazari. but shes scared, and she begins noticing changes in her own biology

her own veins darken, at night she wakes up black liquid fogging up her vision (crying a bit will get it all out), she is constantly ill, convulsing, etc. her own parents begin getting scared, and the rest of the cult begins whispering

and dina is fucking pissed. shes been given the entire world on a silver platter her entire life(aside from freedom), and lazari took it away in one bite.

after a couple months of dina's health and image deteriorating, dina is overcome with anger. she stumbles her way to lazari's little home, convincing her to go on a walk. lazari is suspicious but was raised to never deny authority, so they do.

dina guides lazari to the forest, deciding it her divine right granted by god to take lazari's life. completely convinced she is allowed to cast judgement on this 11 year old girl as punishment.

it doesnt work, very quickly they get physical - this 17 year old is trying to kill this 11 year old, but lazari is literally half demon. the second blood spills and lazaris adrenaline spikes, dina is slaughtered in the middle of the forest.

lazari tries to run away. but she is a product of zalgo, and zalgo is trapped in the forest due to slender pages decorating the perimeter. she'll stand at the edge of the forest, trying to get out, but there's some barrier that wont let her escape

and all the while, dina's corpse is being overtaken by zalgo

now lazari and dina are stuck in the same forest.