#hey look! a new chapter

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let��s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[crustaceousfaggot]

Honestly, I've never really had any interest in Undertale or Deltarune shipping in the past, and that still mostly holds true. That being said, I cannot stop thinking about the delicious psychological horror implications of Kris/Ralsei

[everyitachi]

[qqueenofhades]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, Nikolai Lantsov/Alina Starkov, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik Characters: Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy), Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Nikolai Lantsov, Kaz Brekker, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Inej Ghafa, Zoya Nazyalensky, Genya Safin, Jan Van Eck, Jarl Brum, Mei Kir-Azaan (Original Character) Additional Tags: Shadow and Bone (TV) Season 3, Or What It Would Have Been, Post TV Canon, Obligatory Fuck You Netflix, Ice Court Heist (Six of Crows), The Darkling Is Dead But Doesn't Let That Stop Him, Future Fic, Mad Queen Alina, Lots of Fivan Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crows Shenanigans, You Know All That Good Stuff Series: Part 2 of Shadow and Bone Seasons 2 & 3

Summary: Mei hesitates a final moment. She doesn’t know how this request will be taken, but has to work with what she has. “Their names are Ivan Sakharov and Fedyor Kaminsky, Your Majesty. They are both Heartrenders, well known to you and the entire Grisha order. We traveled together for a time, from Ahmrat Jen to Ketterdam, and then were separated in the course of several misadventures. But we were pursuing a deadly weapon, the one that was used against you at your own coronation. It is called jurda parem. If you help me find Ivan and Fedyor, I will tell you what I know about it.”

There is a very long pause. Alina’s eyes remain that same unsettling, hungry black, until she looks up. “Indeed, Mei Kir-Azaan,” she says, and smiles. “I would very much like to take that bargain.”

Sequel to we could stay like this forever [lost in wonderland].

[loafbud]

Just took my first biology exam and got a pretty decent score of an F! 🎉🎉🎉

[mxanigel]

fic update: Cut to the Feeling

an Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin) fanfic

[Read on AO3]

An in-progress longfic that asks the question, What if they lived?

Chapter 28: Longing

Shion and Levi return from a somewhat eventful mission to investigate the remains of the cavern underneath the Reiss chapel. Then they and Hange wrestle with the ramifications of Hange's ongoing recovery.

Rating: M

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/OC, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë & OC, eventual Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë/OC

Additional Tags: They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë Being Hange Zoë, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Friendship, Banter, Swearing, Lots of Cursing, Angst, Love and Loss, Asexuality Spectrum, Levi Ackerman Is Obsessed With Cleaning, Falling In Love, Literal Sleeping Together, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Canon Divergence, Nightmares, Torture, Blood and Injury, Demisexual Levi Ackerman, Bisexual Hange Zoë, I'm writing this because it's taken over my brain, I have spent so many hours on the wiki lol, Eventual Romance

----- preview snippet below -----

Sasha and Jean dismount to open the doors as their group wearily slows to a halt in front of the main Orvud stable assigned for Survey Corps use. Inside, they find Moblit and two young soldiers inspecting equipment. He looks up and says, “Welcome back. Any casualties?”

Shion, gingerly sliding off her horse, is silently pleased that he leads with that kind of question.

“Other than Eren smashing his very human forehead into a very solid piece of his leftover Titan form, we’re fine,” Armin replies, his tone mildly amused.

“I thought we weren’t going to mention that!” Eren protests.

Jean snickers. “Even the bruises are already gone. No one would know if we stayed silent.”

“That was the point!”

Mikasa pats Eren’s head. “It’s good that you’re healing quickly again.”

He groans.

“Enough,” Levi snaps while dismounting. “How’s Hange?”

“Extremely bored.” Moblit grimaces. “Deliver samples for them to examine as soon as possible.”

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tag list (thank you~ like/unlike this post to be added/removed)

@poetikat @outpost51 @captastra @arendaes @alterdaes

[purplehairedwonder]

Fandom: One Piece Rating: M Pairings: Eventual Lawlu (plus non-con Doflaw) Words: 4,324 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin, Marco the Phoenix Summary: After Law purchases a house sight unseen, he starts experiencing things he can’t explain: footsteps when he’s alone, a coffee mug falling from the middle of the counter, flickering lights with no electrical issues. He’s a skeptic, but his friends convince him to call in a group of paranormal investigators: the Straw Hat Paranormal Group.

Of course, nothing is ever what it seems, and Law is haunted by more than just spirits in his new house.

[fuzzysoulyt]

HAIII update on the fast pass episodes bc today we got another chapter and it's saph again!

what I sense is that we're going to switch pov from the castle to whatever place odette and sapphia are in rn, and focus on their silly runaway adventures :P

ALSO WHAT'S UR OPINION ON THE KING SITUATION I feel like there's gonna be a reunion at some point because luna said the kiss from his wife was needed, and we know she's alive sooooo

YAYYY SAPPHIA IS BEING SO ADORABLE IN THOSE PANELS <333

I can't wait to see themmmm

As for with the King, OH MY GOD THE SLEEPING BEAUTY TROPE 😭 now we know the overarching plot ljfglkergjkleg I bet he's gonna wake up and then we learn he's supportive of them lmao And there's totally gonna be a reunion. I need it so bad. maybe the mom is gay???

Thanks for the update!!!!!

[finniestoncrane]

running around in a circle tugging at my hair and holding back tears: too many things too many things too many things too many things too many thi

[quinn-pop]

doodles of the puff himself !!

[xxthe-hidden-spyxx]

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Wendy Marvell, Gajeel Redfox, Laxus Dreyar, Cobra | Erik, Sting Eucliffe, Rogue Cheney, Irene Belserion, Belserion (Fairy Tail), Lucy Heartfilia, Layla Heartfilia, Jude Heartfilia, Makarov Dreyar, Original Characters, Jellal Fernandes, Erza Scarlet, Simon (Fairy Tail), Millianna (Fairy Tail), Shou (Fairy Tail), Wally Buchanan, Hoteye | Richard, Angel | Sorano Aguria, Yukino Aguria, Midnight | Macbeth, Racer | Sawyer, Freed Justine, Evergreen (Fairy Tail), Bickslow (Fairy Tail), Mirajane Strauss, Elfman Strauss, Juvia Lockser, Levy McGarden, Atlas Flame, Igneel (Fairy Tail), Ignia (Fairy Tail), Zeref Dragneel, Metalicana (Fairy Tail), Cubellios | Kinana, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Grandine (Fairy Tail), Chelia Blendy, Weisslogia (Fairy Tail), Acnologia (Fairy Tail), Mash (Fairy Tail) Additional Tags: Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, But They're Actual Dragons, Alternate Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Dragons, Lots of dragons - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Fluff, Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net Summary:

(Seven Dragon eggs are found and brought to the city of Magnolia; however, nobody could have anticipated the story that would soon follow.)

[rise-of-the-ancients]

For You, My Love…

A stone tablet was gently placed onto Terios’ table unexpectedly. With a grumbled sigh, Terios lowered his burger to his plate and crossed his arms to his chest. Weary eyes shifted upwards to see an eagerly waiting hedgehog batting her eyelashes and smiling warmly. AmyRose, Bygone Village’s only linguist anthropologist (and curator of the Bygone National History Museum), was always fascinated with the Ancient’s culture… specifically mythology and stories of love. Ever since Sonic dropped the ball and slipped Terios’ secret out to the others, the linguist had brought him many tablets and scrolls to decipher from the museum’s archives. Some, he admitted, were quite charming to review. It was nice to see that someone still cared for ancestral roots and voices from the past. Other made his blood boil and scoff at their existence. He had to remind himself not to bring biased perspective on their translations and meaning whenever he assisted her.

However, he was in no mood to assist Ms. Rose in the anthropology labs at the museum. He was not in the mood for translating tablets that consisted of flatbread recipes and witty jokes. Today was meant to be a period of tranquility and peace. All he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet from the others around him. Though he questioned if retreating to Meh Burger was the wisest option for solidarity, especially since Bygone Village was more active than usual. He should have expected such with all of red and pink heart-shaped decorations across the village square. It would also explain the reason for Amy’s very formal looking attire. Not that he cared much anyways. Perhaps he should’ve just stayed secluded in his cave on the outskirts of the village today.

“What is this,” he mumbled.

“The dress? Oh! Sticks, Percy, and I are doing a Gal-entines Day thing today since the boys have their own thing going on. Sonic asked me to pass the invitation to you since we ran into each other earlier. There’s nachos and video games and—“

Terios shook his head. “Not the dress,” he said in a lowered voice, “I meant the stone tablet.”

“Oh! Cliff gave me this while he was on a dig in Crater Lake,” AmyRose squealed. “I think that it’s a memoir. Stones that are polished and retouched with ochre paints appeared to be highly valued in Ancient culture. It’s been cared for immensely… even after the war over a thousand years ago! I know that you wanted to be left alone today, but this one is just too interesting to ignore. Do you think that you can help translate these glyphs for me? Please? Just something simple to note on a White Card?”

Terios drummed his fingers on his arms with a frown. “OMEGA is just as capable as—“

Just as he was about to finish his statement, Terios heard a cackle of laughter from behind. His eyes grew wide and his ears flattened as he listened to the cackling turn into screams. Terios shifted his eyes upwards to study the facial expressions of hedgehog next to him. Her once bright smile had turned into a sour grimace as she winced, sucking in her breath through clenched teeth as she watched the scene. Terios didn’t need to turn his behind his back to know what the situation was about.

“Step back,” he informed her as he reached for the stone.

As she opened her mouth to question his statement, the hedgehog let out a squeak as the table snapped in half. Terios, still seated, peered over the tablet to look at the remains of a once perfectly good table. Waddling from side to side in content, cyan colored eyes flickered open and observed it’s surroundings. After scanning the scene, the gray colored stone chirped in content to see Terios’ face. OMEGA. Of course OMEGA was getting in trouble when he wasn’t supposed to. Bringing him out in public to experience the new age of social development had seemed like an admirable idea at first. But seeing the rock golem’s head strive to cause chaos and purposefully run over people’s toes was causing some problems. He should have left him home, or at least in the care of the others. The mortals of this time period were not so used to mystical things as they once were a thousand years ago.

“TERIOS!” The rock golem’s head said gleefully. “GUESS-WHAT? MORTALS-IN-THIS-TIME-OF-AGE-ARE-EASIER-TO-SCARE. I-EMERGED-FROM-AN-INFANT���S-CRIB-AND-SCARED-A-LADY-WALRUS. SHE-SCREAMED-AND-THREW-ME-IN-THE-AIR!”

Terios shook his head and frowned as the rock golem cackled some more. “You know full well that you’re not supposed to be seen by the mortals. They’re too simple-minded to understand what you are.”

Amy cleared her throat and watched him hike his shoulders up. Most, not all mortals were ignorant and simple-minded. That was an understatement. He knew better.

“So…” Amy started, “do you think that you could translate real quick?”

Denying Amy once was a mistake that he vowed to never do again. He knew of the power that she contained when determined.

“Fine,” he mutter, “after this, I desire nothing more than to be alone.”

Terios turned the stone tablet to view on his lap and paused with his breath clenched between his teeth. Delicate relief carvings defined with ochre paint detailed a signature pen that he knew all too well. Even the score markings on the back, indicating an erased word, were a callback to a simpler, more loving time. As his eyes quickly skimmed the note on the tablet, Terios’ chest tightened as he read the final line, “for you, my love.” It was a poem that his soulmate had written to him many years ago. One that he had thought was lost as soon as the cold wars between the Ancients and Lyric began. Terios chuckled to himself with a faint smile. His fingers traced lightly over the ochre paints and faint etchings of the glyphs. It had been too long since he had seen the tablet. What a beautiful sign from the universe to show that their love for each other was still strong in spirit.

“That is classified information.” The hedgehog stood from the table and tucked the stone to his chest, “tell your antiquarian friend that I am pleased with the recovery. I will be apprehending this now.”

“W-Wait,” AmyRose stammered. She flung her arms around OMEGA—who had rocked back and forth for attention as he chirped a song—and trailed close behind the Titan. “Terios! You can’t take that! That belongs in a museum!”

“It belongs in my care. It was addressed to me.” Terios says as he tapped his clawed finger to the name scribbled towards the bottom.

“What do I tell Cliff? He’ll want to know what happened to the tablet.”

Terios turned on his heel and flashed her a cocky grin. “You’re very bright, Rose. You’ll think of something. Goodbye.”

And with that, Terios took his leave with the table held close to his chest. The ebony hedgehog studied the stone with care, running a finger over the engravings towards the bottom. “I love you too,” he cooed with a smile. “Always have, always will.”

[agayhurricane]

if anyone from here knows me from my fukumori fic a love as false as ours, i have good news

[homunculusrex]

Who the fuck designed this fucking factory in Poppy's Playtime

[aberooski]

Y'all are gonna get Sons of The Stars (Abby's version)(from the vault) like this week at this rate aksksks

[trans-leek-cookie]

Chapter 120 spoilers

parallels...

Chainsaw Man Chapter 99

vs

Chainsaw Man Chapter 120