#i finally got it after years of searching

[tinyfantasminha]

Thoughts on Jack's dream(MASSIVE main story spoilers ahead)

JACKS DREAM got me by the thROAT bc the more I analyze it the more angsty it feels and I alreadfy sobbed n cried and I must SCREAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM He's dreaming of the magift tournament but basically if..... if Leona's plan never took place....... If Leona actually WERE the hero Jack has idolized...... 😭

First I gotta take note dosodkgkfdgjdfkghfdjk hOW JACK YEARNS FOR HIS SENPAI'S PRAISE AND AFFECTION 🥺🥺truly the epitome of loyal, puppy-like behavior..... It doesn't take much for him to be happy… He yearns for the respect and acknowledgement of those he admires. He craves respect and recognition, but not only that—he genuinely wants to see those he admires thrive.

Seems to me that what Jack longs for most is a sense of belonging within a pack. He’s not just devoted to those he holds in high regard; he also desires to be cared for in return (This becomes even more apparent when he asks Ruggie to act as a mentor or older-brother figure in his dorm uniform vignette.) Jack's actions reflect his innate wolf nature��a being built for connection, loyalty, and mutual protection. No matter how much he tells himself or others how he prefers to handle things on his own… We can clearly see that Jack is happier when he’s part of a team, fighting alongside companions who’ve got his back. It’s the dynamic balance of trust: to protect and be protected, to rely on others and let them rely on him in return. It deeply resonates with the essence of wolves.

We often hear the phrase “lone wolf,” an expression of grudging admiration. A lone wolf is often viewed as a rugged individualist, uncompromising and independent, driven to forge his own path, unfettered by the sentimental need for companionship. In reality, few people would ever want to live this way—and, as it turns out, few wolves would either. Wolves, males and females alike, may go through periods alone, but they’re not interested in lives of solitude. A lone wolf is a wolf that is searching, and what it seeks is another wolf. Everything in a wolf’s nature tells it to belong to something greater than itself: a pack. Like us, wolves form friendships and maintain lifelong bonds. They succeed by cooperating, and they struggle when they’re alone. Like us, wolves need one another. (source)

Which is why the factual reality cuts so deeply.

After Ortho wakes Jack up (in oUTER SPACE DKJGDSDKFJGKJS that was so adventitious but so cool.....) and Jack falls down like a meteorite (ALSO SUPER COOL BUT WTF.....) Fake!Leona and Fake!Ruggie rush to his side, Leona softly reassures him, saying it’s a relief he’s uninjured and advising him not to be so reckless while Ruggie says ''You're a promising rookie. Our treasure.'' (I started crying here.)

Jack breaks into a bitter, despairing laugh as the truth crashes down on him. The sincerity and warmth his “upperclassmen” showed in that moment? It wasn’t real. It never actually happened. Jack recounts his excitement when he first joined Savanaclaw, eager to fight alongside the dormmates he admired so much. He talks about how he had watched Leona’s play three years ago—over and over again, captivated by it. He reveals the painful truth of discovering their wicked plan, the frustration of being unable to snap them out of it, and the overwhelming helplessness that consumed him.

I gotta say, I'm SO HAPPY that Jack's feelings on the events of book 2 were finally properly addressed now (cause let's be real, book 2 uhh... did kinda a shitty job at this 💀 Neither the narrative nor the fandom really took the time to explore the emotional impact it had on him, which is such a disservice to his character.)

Think about it from Jack’s perspective. He was obsessed with Leona's play 3 years ago, watching it over and over again. In his eyes, Leona was a hero, someone worth idolizing to the point of projecting an idealized image of him: an earnest, hardworking, honorable leader. When Jack finally had the chance to join Savanaclaw and be part of the dorm he had admired so deeply, what was his reality? Ostracization, bullying and even physical violence from some of his dorm mates (as shown in Leona's dorm uniform vignette) And worst of all? Jack was met with his idol’s true, treacherous side—dirty tactics, underhanded schemes, and a willingness to harm others to achieve his goals. When Jack tried to confront them about it, he wasn’t met with understanding or respect. Instead, he was called a “filthy traitor” and a “spoiled brat��—by the very person he admired most. It’s a complete dismantling of everything Jack believed in, everything he worked for.

It's a shame the game and manga did not give enough weight to Jack’s feelings, (the novel seems to do a better job at it though) but now it’s clear just how much this hurt him. It wasn’t just a setback; it was a deep, personal betrayal that shook him to his core.

He’s only a first-year. Beneath his gruff demeanor and physical strength, Jack is still a boy—pure-hearted, earnest, and full of hope. All he wanted was to stand beside those he respected most but what he got instead was disappointment, betrayal, and rejection. To idolize someone so deeply, only to have that image crushed in the most personal, gut-wrenching way........ Savanaclaw doesn't deserve him 💔

.

,,,,okay forgive me to break the essay to talk about this but I'm going insane over the fact fake Ruggie ominously coos, ''Hey puppy-chan you're a good boy so come here.....'' UGHGHHHDSHNGDSHNDGSHHHnnnnhhHHHH HE IS BASICALLY SAVANACLAW'S UNOFFICIAL MASCOT,,,,,,, their loyal little puppy 🥺🥺🥺😭😭

fake ruggie and fake leona try to lure him in to sleep again, but Jack says he has no intention of fighting alongside fakes and defeats them 😌

And we get this utterly precious moment where Jack praises Yuu and Grim for having guts and persevering through everything and he PETS GRIM'S HEAD............ HE DIDN'T NEED TO COMFORT THEM BUT AWWAAHBBBAYYAWYWYHAWWABYWAWAYAA

I can't wait to see what role he'll play in Leona's dream 😌 Jack’s arc feels like it’s finally getting the weight it deserves… 🙏🙏🙏

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) just say the word.

𝜗𝜚 MIKAGE REO: RANUNCULACEAE.

a/n: [fem!reader] OMGG exam szn is finally over gais i am free!! i still have so many tests to do tho🙁 AND YES the title is a keshi reference

when mikage reo has a crush on you, he’s the type of boy to use your initials as his math variables. you’re all he ever thinks about, ever since he’s been rotted by the sugars of your kindness and presence. you were like his first and last breeze of air mixed in with love and refreshments. he had been enchanted by your soul, knotting his head and heart with yours. you’re all he ever wants to be around, and you have unconsciously seeped into his life like blood into a white sheet. a love that just keeps leaking, changing its colour completely.

SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

when mikage reo realises, he can’t help but stare at you lovingly. his eyes are glued to you focusing on your tutor work he had given you, your pencil rapidly yet gently moving across the paper. his eyes are so tender and earnest, staring at you like you had hung up the stars yourself. reo finds himself instinctively caressing a stray hair from your face, his violet eyes still endearingly gazing. instantly, a pink hue graces across his face as his eyes meet yours.

THE LOOK YOU'RE GIVING ME GIVES YOU AWAY

when mikage reo steals your heart, he’s the type of guy to take his time into untangling your silver necklace. the one he had gifted you on your 6th month anniversary, that glistens in the sun. it’s chains are pristine, yet tangled tight, just like the way he had found himself when he fell for you (and does everyday). he smiles at the thought as his tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, one of your favourite habits of his. as a tease, you like to kiss the spot his tongue is before he can pull away. he loves to feel your face close to his, because it feels like his soul is too. he takes the time to untangle your necklace with his initial on the simple charm, even before the date’s expensive booking, he is gentle in unstringing every weaved chain.

YOU FINALLY FOUND THE HIGH THAT YOU'VE BEEN CHASING

when mikage reo falls impossibly deeper, he calls you all the time. not texting, because he knows you won’t listen. reo will call to make sure you eat lunch. reo will call to make sure you have your medicine. reo will bring you your favourite beverage and makes sure to remind you to take a break. reo will do everything he can to take care of you, because to him, when you came into his life, time is definitely more expensive than money. reo will take the time to make sure you are well fed and rested. his favourite part though is when you’re apart. don’t get me wrong, he hates it, but when you’re calling him and quietly telling him you miss him, his heart pounds against his chest a little more. and yes, he lets out a boyish chuckle once you’ve fallen asleep.

ONLY ONE MORE CHOICE YOU GOT TO MAKE

when mikage reo who never forgives himself when you have your first fight. after 6 gracious years, he finds himself living the day he could never fathom. yes, he had forgotten to buy your favourite snack at the convenience store, and he says he swears he will never forgive himself. how could you ever love him again? is what runs through his mind as he curls up against the couch, knees on his chest not feeling privileged enough for a blanket, nor feeling privileged enough to lie down with you in the bed in the room nearby. till then you, realising your fiancé’s absence, cluelessly searching for him, you gasp softly as you find reo all small on the couch. you sit next to him, but he inches away. he can’t help but confess his sins, but it all melts away when you lightly giggle at his silly habits.

I NEED YOU TO TELL ME 'CAUSE I

when mikage reo gets to be held in your arms, he melts completely. he feels his body go putty, his eyelids struggling to stay open to stare at your stunningly sculpted features. his teeth feels like he’s rotting, and his heart aches with an abundance of love. reo nestles his head in the junction between your chin bottom of your neck, absorbing every molecule of love he can. there is nothing he would want more than to unwind, cozily tucked into the embrace of his most beloved, sweetheart, and future wife.

IN MY ARMS FOR A SECOND

when mikage reo finally has you for himself, his brows twitch at the sight of your gorgeous figure, walking down the aisle. tears brim at the bottom of his eyes as you smile at him, taking your last steps in front of him. glitter highlighting the apple of your cheeks, lashes fluttering through the brown mascara and the necklace he untangled 5 years ago dangling off your collarbone. there was not a single moment in the world he would trade for this one. he finally smiles through the tears that stream down his cheeks, sliding the silver ring across the hand that once wrote tutor worksheet answers. it glistens in the sun, he thinks, just like you do.

BABY, SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

mikage reo’s breath hitches. this is where he is. he is currently playing with his one-year-old, her incoherent babbles filling the silence strung into the air. reo finds himself laying on his stomach on a soft carpet next to scattered toys and various oils and creams for his little version. everything about this surreal moment had all gathered together to grasp onto the base of his neck, clenching onto him as tight as they can, making a lump form in his throat. his little version gently pats his nose, confused why her dad suddenly stop activating. he can’t help but tenderly smile at her, swallowing the lump as he lets a tear fall. your one-year-old innocently wipes it away. she must’ve got her kindness from you. he smiles, because thats what made him fall for you in the first place.

now, your initials have changed. guess he’s gotta fix those math equations, huh?

JUST SAY THE WORD.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 93 (Finally Coming Clean)

When Conrad arrived home on Friday night, Ash was in the city. He took a shower, joining Heather in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and talked about Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver who she'd met that afternoon. "He seems as nice as Ash says. It's just annoying I had to find out about him from my son and not his father."

Conrad didn't say much; he couldn't exactly chastise Malcolm for keeping secrets from her. Lavender was awake and Conrad practiced sitting with her for a while, putting her to bed as the scent of chicken stir-fry wafted up the stairs.

He went to the kitchen, smiling at the setup of food and candles at their dining table. "You didn't have to do all this." He kissed her cheek. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is, I love you. I just wanted to take away a little stress from your day."

He frowned, and his hands went limp around her waist. "Heather, I need to tell you something. The case I told you about that's been driving me crazy...I backed out of it yesterday morning."

She looked at him, confused. "Maybe that's for the best. But it's not like you to give up on a case."

"I had to let this one go. It was kind of...it wasn't an official case. I've been looking for someone off the books for close to six months."

"Why? Is it someone you know?"

He nodded, and she followed him to sit across from him at the kitchen table. "There's so much about my past I haven't been able to tell you. I should have said something long before I moved in, but I'd convinced myself it was totally in my past and would never be an issue."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember that woman who was looking in our windows when you were pregnant? I wasn't sure at the time, but I got the cameras as a precaution, regardless. She started texting me after Lavender was born."

"Who is she?"

He took a deep breath. "She's my ex."

"Conrad, what does she want?"

"Me. She only wants me. But she can't have me so she's..."

"Is she dangerous? Is this the college girlfriend who cheated on you and broke your heart?"

"Same one. Her name's Ximena Bonilla and she's a little...erratic. But she might not be as dangerous as the people she associates with."

"Who does she associate with?"

"Selvadoradian cartels. She's a drug dealer."

The shock and confusion on Heather's face turned to anger. "How do you know her?"

"I met her when I was in college. She said she was a student and convinced me for almost a year. She was raising her kid brother, Rafa, by herself and escaped being trafficked by the cartel by running drugs for them instead. When I found out the students were her customers, I should have broken up with her. But I was in love and I wanted to keep her safe. I didn't leave. I got deep enough that I met some of her bosses and knew about some of their operations, but she cheated on me and it broke the spell. I finally left her, but one of their ops went bad and one of the guys they picked up gave my name to San Myshuno PD."

"Conrad, you don't have a criminal record. I looked you up after we started dating."

"You hacked the police database, too?"

"No...I did a public records search after River made a joke about a hacker and a criminal."

"To this day, I don't know how my father did it. My file's locked under clearance even I don't have, same as anyone else on the force with a past, but Landgraab Security's always had contacts at San Myshuno PD. He pulled enough strings to wipe my record clean and transfer me into the academy. I had to give them a couple names in exchange - street dealers, local guys. No one that would really upset the cartel. But the force had to look like they were managing crime in their city, and that's the only reason I became a cop and not a complete screw up."

"Is the cartel after you? Or just your ex? Did you give them her name?"

"I never gave them her name. I couldn't, because I didn't know what would happen to her little brother if I did. She tried to get me back after I left, but I knew it could never work out. When Gord was still a puppy, she cornered us outside my apartment to get my attention when I brought home another girl. I got a restraining order, but when it expired and she stayed away, I thought she was finally gone for good."

"So why is she back?"

"She asked for my help to find her brother."

"Is her brother even missing?"

"He is missing. He's wanted by San Myshuno PD. I wanted to help him before he was arrested and sent to prison."

"But you were looking for him under the table, as a favour to your ex who sounds obsessed with you? No wonder Gord hasn't left us alone since Lavender was born. He always knew what was going on with you, didn't he? And you never thought to mention any of this to me?"

"Heather, I wanted to, I-"

"Were you going to help this guy avoid prison? How? Criminal connections?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to talk to him, encourage him to go back to finish high school, find a solid job, and maybe convince a judge to go easier on him. I really thought I'd be able to find him in a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and we could all move on again. But uncovering leads has been impossible, and his sister's not a reliable source. I'd even started a file on Ximena because I thought once I found her brother I could finally get around to what I should have done more than once and turned her in. But I could see what searching for Rafa and keeping it from everyone was doing to me, so I finally told her yesterday I was done."

"You've been in regular contact with your ex and didn't tell me? And not because there's something between you but because she's dangerous? Conrad, that's worse."

He nodded. "I know it is. I know how not saying anything makes it look, but I'm so ashamed of that chapter of my life. My bad decisions killed my father. After he got me into the academy, his heart got weak. Two heart attacks, and he died within months. As long as I live, I'll know the stress I put him under was the cause."

She was quiet, nervously playing with her food. Neither was hungry anymore. "You should have told me this."

"I'm so sorry. The longer I kept it from you, the more I feared telling you too late to deserve understanding. I love you so much, and I never wanted to do anything to lose you."

They were interrupted when Conrad's phone started beeping. This time, it was work, but he read the dispatch and his stomach dropped.

The phone shook in his trembling hand and Heather stood. "Conrad, what is it?"

"There's a dead body at the pier. I've got to go back to work." A bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat quickened, as though he knew what he'd find when he reached Fisherman's Wharf. "I'm so sorry, Heather. I want to keep talking about this, but I can't."

She nodded. "I understand."

A pit formed in his stomach. "Will you do me a favour? I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but will you leave for your parents' place in Henford tonight? Don't wait until morning. I'll probably be working all night and I'd rather know you're safe outside of town."

She uncrossed her arms in shock. "Do you think your ex is involved with the body at the pier? Is that why you want us to leave? Lavender's sound asleep already, but you want me to wake her and take her an hour on the Simmerloop when you invested in those security cameras?"

"Heather, please," he begged, reaching for her hand across the table. "If she's anywhere near Brindleton Bay right now, I can't focus on work if I'm worried about the two of you."

Heather looked at him with sad eyes as their fingers brushed against the wood-top table. Betrayal was written all over her face, but she nodded toward the uneaten food and pulled her hand away. "I'll pack this up in the fridge and then I'll take her. Do you think you'll make it to Henford at all this weekend?"

"Heather, I don't know. I hope so. But I can pack this up before I go. Thank you for cooking. I'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it."

"Me too," she snipped. "Good luck. Be careful."

Heather couldn't look at him and Conrad wouldn't press her. As much as he wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, a deadly crime scene called him to the pier. ->

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

NOTE: Heather doing a semi-romantic dinner setup wasn't a flirty gesture, but she has the caregiver personality type. I can't remember if this is from a mod or an EA feature, to tell you the truth. I think it's a mod. Conrad has the jester personality type, which I think suits him, too. Conrad is really responsible and respectful which suit his proper trait (which was learned after younger mistakes), but jesters trend toward mischief/"foolish games" in addition to being jokesters. EDIT: It's WonderfulWhims/WickedWhims that adds this!!

WCIF Poses Used? Dinner Table Talks by @herecirmsims. I don't even mind the clipping because their kitchen table and chairs didn't quite fit the dimensions, because the poses gave me the expressions I wanted. I tried way too long to try to get the teleporters in the middle of the chairs, but I got close enough for me. Just ignore the fact that their chests were in their stir-fry for 90 per cent of that convo! Thank you so much for creating and sharing! 🙏

[jessilynallendilla]

DPXDC KID DANNY FIC REC

TITLE/LI NK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

KID DANNY 

Eldritch Toddler  T 7,466 SERIES 

Bruce is not prepared for when John Constantine hands over a young boy who has been de-aged. While Constantine goes off in search of the one responsible, Bruce and his family are left to care for the child. Danny is a sweet kid, he isn't fussy either! This should be fine. They quickly learn to take Constantine's warnings seriously. 

I Found Him, He's Mine Now  G 1,810 SERIES 

Damian finds Danny alone in the park waiting for his (imaginary) dog with no parents in sight. That level of negligence is unacceptable and if he has to be this boy's guardian then so be it. 

Mother Of The Storms And Her Star Child  T 

After an accident leaves everyone Danny has ever known dead, and clockwork injured. He brings a now younger Danny to an old friend. His old pal has the perfect place for him amongst her other wards. But Danny is scared and scarred, can the bat fam trace down the young boys origins? Leave it to the family of detectives. 

Danny Finding A Family In The Shape Of A Bat  NR 

Clockwork sends Danny to alt dimension de-aged and injured after the reveal goes bad. Clockwork had a plan and lets Danny know so he can get set in this new world where being a hero is an actual job, and sliding Danny where he needs to be to gain an actual childhood and training. Bruce finds another blood child he didn't know about. 

So You Suddenly Found Yourself The Father Of A Ghost Child....  G SERIES 

Timothy Drake-Wayne would have it known that he did not get infected by Bruce's adoption problem. The kid hanging off of his coat just followed him home. 

Cut Out The Middleman  G 973 SERIES 

Alfred adopts himself a grandchild. 

(Un)Dead Beat Dad  NR 

Danny finally escaped his parents, and in his muddled thought process, went to see his mentor, clockwork. Clockwork, however, had no clue what to do and took Danny to his dear old friend, Gotham. Going along with this game of halfa telephone, Gotham took the now six-year-old boy to her most trustworthy knight. 

It Takes A Mob  NR 8,402 SERIES 

Bill didn't ask for a lot from life. A roof over his head and a job to the pay the rent.  He spent a lot of his adult life being the punching bag of a bunch of furries and has had every single bone in his leg removed on more than one occasion. That being said he wasn't a dumbass. He knew how to read a room and was smart enough to Know when the odds had changed. It's this reason that Bill has found himself in the possession of one tiny Meta in the city known for a strict rule against them. God, Bill should've never left the Goonion. 

Gotham's Youngest Ghost  NR 

Somewhere in Gotham, a small child finds themself alone and lost on the streets of Crime Alley. Nearby, a liminally-challenged vigilante has no idea his life is about to be turned upside down. Again. This is all Clockwork's fault, Danny is sure of it. 

My Boy, My Son  G 18,210 SERIES 

In desperate need of a vacation, Danny has Clockwork turn him into a five year old so that he can have the childhood he never got. Soon, five year old Danny finds himself running wild in Gotham only to be kidnapped by some weird teenager in a costume who decides that Danny is going to be his son. What's Danny to do but accept this new weird guy as his new dad and become a super cool crime fighting vigilante with his new adopted family who have no clue he's a two thousand year old ghost king? 

Uncanny  G 

Jim Gordon sees a boy walk down Park Row. A boy that looks exactly identical to a tiny and terrified kid that he pulled into his arms and comforted after his parents died so many years ago. 

Don't Leave Me In The Dark  NR SERIES 

What's Jason supposed to do when he comes home one night to find a crying child with only one arm, and Lazarus Pit green eyes, wiping their own blood up from his apartment floor? The answer is probably not, "Adopt them.", but, hey, he's never had the best plans and the kid looks like he weighs five pounds soaking wet. (Danny can't remember how old he is - he remembers being sixteen, but he remembers being six even clearer - just that the last thing in his head is someone rooting around his intestines and telling him he's a fascinating specimen.) 

Sunshine  T 2,826 SERIES 

Dick finds a pair of young children outside in the cold. He takes them in as his own. Soon Jazz starts showing worrying signs. 

The Son Of The Red Hood  T 

Clockwork intervenes in Danny's life so that he can learn all he needs to be king of the Infinite Realms, and hopefully this time he can actually be loved and cared for the way he deserves. 

It's Strong, And It's Sudden, And It's Cruel Sometimes (But It Might Just Save Your Life)  T 1,404 SERIES 

[Attempt number-one-hundred had been successful.] When Dan woke up, his very first thought was his usual: ‘Goddamn son of a fucking bitch.’ That was when he realized that he didn’t say it out loud. 

A Ghostling's Second Chance  T 

Due to a problem concerning ghosts, undead, and the reliving happening in lady Gotham's city, she asked for help from her dear friend Clockwork. one thing leads to the other and now team phantom must help the bats with cults, owls, talons, LoA, and... apparently being known as teen dads??? Team phantom also has to deal with being de-aged, good thing that half of them can pass as old beings who can be tracked back to the roman empire, or is the Egyptian empire older?? 

Alfred And The Tiny Attic Squatters  G   

Alfred discovers four tiny squatters hiding in the attic and spends a number of days coaxing them out while keeping Bruce and the rest of the family from imploding after they discover that Damian is not his only child.  It only gets more chaotic when they discover other relations and that the children may be involved in many of the unexplained events going on around Gotham. Jazz just wants to punch Clockwork in the throat for de-aging them and dropping them in a alternate dimension where she is getting targeted by a combat furry crime boss and his bird-themed minions, several of who seemed to have developed a obsession with her that is giving her strong Vlad vibes. 

The Joys Of Fatherhood  T SERIES 

He'd never expected this. It was a complete shock. But he was going to do this right, he was going to be the best dad ever to this precious little boy. His adorable little bird. 

A Second Life  G 159,219 SERIES 

He wakes up with no memories. He knows things, but he doesn’t know why. Who is he? And how did he get here? 

Baby Catastrophe (Literally)  T 

Everyone knows babies exist. Only a few know that Jason has a baby. And none of them know that said baby is a de-aged Ghost King with no survival instincts. 

Imprint  T 

He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly. What the fuck. What the hell was Jason supposed to do now? 

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away   T SERIES 

After escaping from the GIW, Danny crash lands in Gotham. He's six years old, his entire life has burned behind him, and one of the Gotham vigilantes is running around with a stifled Core. What's a kid to do? A Jason Adopts Danny fic featuring De-aged!Danny, family feels, and Jason's Grand Master Plan going completely off the rails. 

Dick Grayson V Gotham  T 

It's taken months, but Dick Grayson was finally able to foster Danny Smith, the kid who kept showing up to crime scenes and solving murders. But after reporters learn about Danny's existence, Dick returns to Gotham to wait out the media storm. Fortunately, Bruce is allowing him to help on this new Red Hood case. Danny's not supposed to be here. Not in this dimension, not in this kid body, not without his powers. For the last year, he's made the most of it and even developed a reputation of being a medium detective. But now, his foster dad is taking him to Gotham, where threats new and old challenge the stability he's found. 

Raising Phantom  T SERIES 

Jasmine started working at Gotham's Public Library, while having to take care of her baby brother and going to college. Danny is frustrated at having to be in hiding as well as everything else poor in his life. Also there is something off about the man that comes in to check books out. His family included. Batfamily playing a game to figure out these two's life only for things to get serious quickly. 

The Boy King And The Dark Knights  T SERIES 

Daniel Fenton may be dead, but he wasn’t suicidal. Unfortunately, avoiding Batman and his vigilantes get a lot harder when he’s stuck in a seven year olds body in Gotham. Clockwork so owes him for this. In which Danny Fenton fixes a broken family, grows a bit as a person, and makes another technically-dead friend. Not exactly in that order. 

To Become Blue-Blooded T

Bruce Wayne was named Prince of Gotham for decades. He didn’t though about it much. The Wayne family being called the royal family of America, or the Bat family having great influence and prestige in the superheroes community was just another type of fame, of prestige, sometimes a tool but more of an annoyance. Danny Fenton knew the weight of the Infinite Realms’ Throne. It was the type of power that reached everything around you and changed all your ties in life and death. He took the smart decision when he refused. But the Realms needed a Monarch. And so Daniel existed.

[talonabraxas]

Shiva and Shakti Talon Abraxas Shiva and Shakti - The Divine Union of Consciousness and Energy

Shiva Shakti Story

The legend of the marriage of Shiva and Shakti is one the most important legends related to the festival of Mahashivaratri. The story tells us how Lord Shiva got married for the second time to Shakti, his divine consort. According to legend of Shiva and Shakti, the day Lord Shiva got married to Parvati is celebrated as Shivaratri – the Night of Lord Shiva.

The Legend goes that once Lord Shiva and his wife Sati or Shakti were returning from sage Agastya’s ashram after listening to Ram Katha or story of Ram. On their way through a forest, Shiva saw Lord Rama searching for his wife Sita who had been kidnapped by Ravana, the King of Lanka. Lord Shiva bowed his head in reverence to Lord Rama. Sati was surprised by Lord Shiva’s behavior and inquired why he was paying obeisance to a mere mortal. Shiva informed Sati that Rama was an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. Sati, however, was not satisfied with the reply and Lord asked her to go and verify the truth for herself.

Using her power to change forms, Sati took the form of Sita appeared before Rama. Lord Rama immediately recognized the true identity of the Goddess and asked, “Devi, why are you alone, where′s Shiva?” At this, Sati realized the truth about Lord Ram. But, Sita was like a mother to Lord Shiva and since Sati took the form of Sita her status had changed. From that time, Shiva detached himself from her as a wife. Sati was sad with the change of attitude of Lord Shiva but she stayed on at Mount Kailash, the abode of Lord Shiva.

Later, Sati’s father Daksha organised a yagna, but did not invite Sati or Shiva as he had an altercation with Shiva in the court of Brahma. But, Sati who wanted to attend the Yagna, went there even though Lord Shiva did not appreciate the idea. To her great anguish, Daksha ignored her presence and did not even offer Prasad for Shiva. Sati felt humiliated and was struck with profound grief. She jumped into the yagna fire and immolated herself.

Lord Shiva became extremely furious when he heard the news of Sati’s immolation. Carrying the body of Sati, Shiva began to perform Rudra Tandava or the dance of destruction and wiped out the kingdom of Daksha. Everybody was terrified as Shiva’s Tandava had the power to destroy the entire universe. In order to calm Lord Shiva, Vishnu severed Sati′s body into 12 pieces and threw them on earth. It is said that wherever the pieces of Shakti’s body fell, there emerged a Shakti Peetha, including the Kamaroopa Kamakhya in Assam and the Vindhyavasini in UP.

Lord Shiva who was now alone, undertook rigorous penance and retired to the Himalayas. Shakti took a re-birth as Parvati in the family of God Himalaya. She performed penance to break Shiva’s meditation and win his attention. It is said that Goddess Parvati found it hard to break Shiva’s meditation but through her devotion and the persuasion by sages and devas, Parvati, also known as Uma, was finally able to lure Shiva into marriage and away from asceticism. Their marriage was solemnized a day before Amavasya in the month of Phalgun. This day of union of God Shiva and Shakti is celebrated as Mahashivratri every year.

There is no Shiva without Shakti and yoga is a realization of the unity of all things. That is not to say that everything in tantrik texts is figurative; many describe practices which are said to bring about this realization.

Shiva Shakti Mantras Separator - Divider - Red

Shiva Shakti Panchakshari Mantra

“Om Hrim Namah Shivaya”

Important Shiva Shakti Mantra

(i) “Om Shiva Om Shakti” (ii) “Namah Shiva Namah Shakti” (iii) “Om Sarva Mangal Mangaley Shivay Sarvarth Sadhike

Sharanye Trambhake Gauri Narayani Namostutey”

Therefore, Shakti is the dynamic power of Siva through which he manifests the worlds and their myriad objects and beings. He brings forth the worlds and their beings through his will and his dynamic energy, Shakti.

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

He’s like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be his baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

You’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” But he says it like a question. He’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” You ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” You beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a way—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied. 

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. “Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s prowling after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow. “Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush full of heat, embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help ease it.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching pussy, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[vanilladiorr]

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘁 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 – 𝘗𝘢𝘶 𝘊𝘶𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘪

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Summary: Pau, your neighbor, had always liked you, but he could never express it because of how shy he was. And one day while stargazing with you he finally let it out..

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Pairing: Pau x FEM!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning/s: None

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A/n: This is my first time writing on tumblr, so pls forgive me for any mistakes, There might be some grammatical mistakes. Forgive me for that too.

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Laying on your bed lazily, you looked at the ceiling. A sigh left your mouth as you put on your headphones. "Today sucked," you muttered to yourself.

You scrolled through your phone, searching for a relaxing piece of music. Once you picked one, you looked out of your window before turning your back to it.

On the other hand.

Pau, your neighbor, was quietly grabbing his bag, preparing to sneak out of his house and make his way over to yours.

He slowly and quietly climbed up to your window, taking advantage of the cover of night to ensure no one would notice him sneaking out.

Once he reached the window, he peeked inside, his eyes falling on your back as you lay on the bed.

You lay silently on the bed, your eyes closed as you silently listened to the peaceful music through your headphones, completely unaware of the figure watching you quietly..

You were startled as Pau suddenly tapped your shoulder, causing you to almost whisper-yell at him, "What are you doing here?"

He put his finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. "Let's go," he whispered, "I've found a new spot where we can have an amazing view of the stars."

"I don't feel like it," you stated firmly, only to be forcefully pulled out of the bed by Pau.

"you will"

After a good ten minutes of relentless convincing, you reluctantly agreed. As Pau and you quietly sneaked out of your house, heading towards the spot he suggested.

The spot he led you to was quite nice. He sat down on the grass and patted the spot next to him, motioning for you to sit as well.

He looked at you with concern, asking, "How was your day? I noticed you were looking upset all day."

You silently focused on the stars above, stars that glimmered in the night sky. "It's nothing," you responded, "I just had a fight." Pau nodded in understanding.

Gradually, the mood began to lighten as Pau continued to crack jokes and share stories about his day, all in an effort to bring a smile to your face.

Your lips curled into a warm smile as you spoke, "Pau, you're such a sweetheart,"

His cheeks flushed with a soft tinge of pink as he melted under your words. He met your gaze, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and said, "You too, but you're my sweetheart."

He immediately realized his slip-up and apologized, but you couldn't help but let out a lighthearted laugh.

"it's okay" you said

"Pau, if you had a chance to make a wish upon a shooting star, what would you wish for?" You asked.

His heart quickened its tempo as he confessed, "There's a girl I've liked for years. So I would wish for her to be mine." He spoke without looking at you, the color in his cheeks betraying his flustered state.

"who?" You asked quitely

"the one sitting beside me" he said, Your breath caught in your chest as his words hit you, and your cheeks began to burn.

"Excuse me what?" You asked again

He took a deep breath, his words coming in a rush as he confessed, "I like you, Y/N. I've liked you ever since we were freshmen. I like you too much." His voice trembled with both nervousness and excitement, his eyes searching yours.

He confessed further, explaining the reason behind his sudden confession. "Seeing you smile at that boy yesterday scared me. I got worried that you might like him, so I decided to confess my feelings to you before anything happened."

A warm smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied, "I don't like him, he's just a friend of mine. In fact..." You paused, mustering up your courage before confessing. "...I like you too."

"Really?" He asked, not believing what he just heard.. You nodded "Yes"

You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, and he responded by holding you even tighter in return. Then, he asked, flustered and all nervous "Can I be your boyfriend?"

"Of course" you said

He couldn't help but smile as your response, a sense of joy washed over him. He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a depth of love and affection, and he reached out to gently caress your cheek.

You felt a gentle caress upon your neck as he slowly moved closer, Kissing your lips slowly and gently, he moved his hands to caress ur cheek.

You pulled away, looking directly into his eyes, and stated with a soft smile, "I like you!" you said.

"I love you"

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 17: Catching up

First chapter | Previous

Send some love to @lovelivingmydreams who's written this wonderful story!

Read on tumbler:

“Should we catch mister Remus up on what happened the past fifty years?” Patton wondered as they walked towards the nearest village.

Remus had reluctantly accepted a cloak from Virgil to hide his altered form from the villagers.

“Oh Virgin told me everything already. Gussy got a promotion. All it took was every other great mage and above to kick the bucket. Except the high mages probably aren’t actually dead. The great mages… I saw some of them before I got locked up. They looked very dead,” Remus stated casually. “We’d all be stuck where we were if you three didn’t want to play hero and go snoop in a missing mage’s tower. That’s gutsy I’ll give you that. And that’s where you found Virgin in a box!”

“Stop calling him that,” Roman insisted, feeling Virgil’s annoyance at that nickname.

Remus turned to him with a smirk. “When he gets some I’ll stop calling him that,” he promised.

That… Confused Roman. Virgil had boyfriends before. Many from the sound of it. He didn’t think Virgil would be inexperienced… Virgil seemed amused by that statement, so he probably wasn’t.

Not something Roman wanted to be thinking about too much actually.

“Didn’t…” Patton started, but Virgil interrupted him.

“Anyway. My love life aside. There is a chance that there are some allies around who will help us no questions asked. Thomas is king, I don’t worry about him. It’s the council I am not sure about and I’d rather have the gang complete and agree on our story to keep these three out of trouble on the off chance this whole thing goes belly up,” Virgil explained, indicating Roman and his friends.

Roman was about to interject, but Remus interrupted him.

“So we gotta nap,” he said, clearly annoyed by that part of the plan. “Eat, and then go find Janni without any clue where to find him?” he surmised.

“Well, we have some clue. We have an area within which we need to search. We can start from the center and then go from there. Which just so happens to be… Here,” Virgil announced as they came upon the village.

“Oooh, I remember this one!” Remus cackled. “Didn’t you have a cult here for a while?” he wondered.

“Not a cult. Just…” Virgil tried to correct.

“Dude they had tattoos. It was a cult,” Remus grinned.

Virgil sighed. “You stop one forest fire,” he muttered.

“How long is ‘a while’?” Logan wondered. Which was fair. A while for them might mean something entirely different to them than to the centuries old mages.

“A decade or two,” Virgil admitted.

“Dude, babies were born and raised on the idea that you were an actual god,” Remus chuckled.

“It was a very isolated town back then. Not many travelers going through, let alone mages. Few even knew it was there,” Virgil explained.

“And worrywart Virgin kept tabs on those wittle settlements like a good wittle high mage,” Remus teased.

“I wasn’t the only one,” Virgil pointed out. “You are more of an outlier than me in that regard.”

Remus shrugged. “Anyway, Virgie finally had enough of the worship every time he checked up on the wards and asked me for help setting things straight. I’m pretty sure they still thought we were something divine for a good while after that… I think that kid… Damian?” Remus mused.

Virgil nodded. “Once Damian was found to be gifted and he went to school, he managed to convince his family and neighbors that magic, while powerful, is not an indication of the divine,” he recalled. They made their way to one of the larger buildings. Not the inn though. “Ever since, I’ve been treated as a welcome guest,” Virgil mused.

“And I as a scary reminder to treat you as a person,” Remus grinned, elbowing his friend in the side.

Virgil chuckled and knocked on the door. “Here’s hoping for allies,” he mused.

Not much later, a woman in her early twenties opened the door.

Virgil relaxed. "Daughter of James, son of Adam?" he guessed, pulling his hood back just a bit.

The woman gasped. “You are here,” she breathed as she ushered them inside.

"Grandfather will be thrilled," she said in an excited tone as she led him onward to the living room where an elderly man in his seventies was seated along with a man in his late forties or early fifties. They both rose from their seats, the eldest a bit less fluently.

"Please, stay seated," Virgil bid, making the eldest gasp. "Virgil... it really is you," he whispered. Virgil pulled back his cloak, revealing his cursed appearance, the man seemed unphased.

"Hey, Adam. You look good," he smiled fondly.

"No need to lie," Adam chuckled, tears welling up in his eyes. "When we got the message... I didn't think I'd see you this soon. But I came here because I knew that if you did end up in the area, this was where you'd look for aid," he explained shakily. Virgil gently guided him back to his seat. "Well, I found Remus in the area, so I couldn't just pass you by. What message, though?" Virgil wondered. Adam pointed at the table. A messaging stone.

"The phoenix has risen," Adam said weightily. "That was the message," he said. Then he took in Roman and his friends. "Are we all allies of the high Mage?" he asked firmly.

"They are good, Adam. Man, you got serious while I was away. I remember you being much more fun," Virgil chided playfully.

Adam smiled fondly at him. "Well, what I am about to reveal could put my family and our allies at risk, so I have to be cautious,” he offered apologetically. “We are the guardians of the Phoenix secret. We shared information on your last years and those of other high mages that kept in contact with the common folk,” he explained. Then he leaned forward, looking Virgil in the eye. “There are wizards and mages the council has no knowledge about. No one knew what the ritual that would allow them to become great mages entailed exactly I'm afraid. And we didn't stumble upon it while we tried to educate free thinking magic wielders as we'd hoped. But still, you'll have plenty of students of varying ages eager for some more guidance. Many of them have lost a loved one to the plague and did not accept the official explanation for their passing. They eagerly await word from you," Adam explained.

Virgil chuckled. "I should have known you'd keep your trouble maker tendencies even after taking over as caretaker of the town," he mused.

"But it's good to know there will be mages around to help guide the official magic community." The cursed high mage decided. "I'll help them as soon as we know what happened to the other high mages. We already found the smoldering heart and the frozen tempest. I'm sure there will be more returning to help soon," he promised.

"How can we help?" The other man, James probably, wondered eagerly.

"We could use someplace to rest for an hour. Food. And information. Anything about where Janus silver tongue was last seen or anything about a basilisk in the area," Virgil summarized.

"We won’t need a big room," Remus assured them as he pulled a flustered Patton closer by the waist.

"I'll fit this one in my lap," he mused. To which Patton made a high pitched squeak.

"Don't make him uncomfortable Remus,” Virgil warned.

Remus let go of Patton. "Came Vigini!" He whined petulantly. Roman was at a complete loss as to what he just said. And then Virgil responded in kind.

Roman was pretty sure no one in the room knew what the heck they were saying.

Remus seemed to be on the defensive and Virgil seemed both skeptical and intrigued.

Roman felt a nudge. He looked beside him and saw that his friends were looking at him expectantly.

“What?” he whispered.

“What are they saying?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes as though that was obvious.

“I can’t read his mind. I need some more context and even then it’s an educated guest. Remus is trying to convince Virgil of something. Virgil is not impressed. That’s all I got,” he whispered back.

“Got on what?” Remus asked curiously. Roman glared at him, not willing to say anything if Virgil hadn’t.

“Oh, Roman and Virgil have a magic bond and they have this cool thing where they talk without talking now,” Patton summarized helpfully, glad that he wasn’t the topic anymore Roman assumed.

“Really?” Remus said intrigued.

“It was an accident,” Roman insisted. “When we found Virgil’s ashes I didn’t expect to be touching human remains, I panicked and tried a cleansing spell and then Virgil started to reform and my magic mixed with his and now here we are,” Roman insisted.

“It is probably for the best that it did happen though,” Logan pointed out. “We would likely not have been so quick to trust Virgil had it not been for Roman being so connected to Virgil’s emotions,” he pointed out.

“I might not have stuck around you guys for longer than necessary to grab some supplies and hand you a favor before getting home if I hadn’t felt your shock and worry. It alerted me that something was off and made me more cautious. Slowing down, as frustrating as it was at the time, probably was beneficial to preparing and planning the rescue mission,” Virgil admitted.

“Well, good that things turned out how they did,” the woman who’d initially opened the door for them said.

“My brother and his wife run the inn. They’ll have some space to spare and the resources to cook you a proper meal,” she offered.

“Thank you,” Virgil smiled before turning to Adam. “We’ll be on the move as soon as we have somewhere to go, but I’ll be back to catch up once things have settled,” he promised.

Adam nodded gratefully.

Logan offered their hostess the map. “The yellow circle is the area within which the high mage Janus should be found. This should help you in gathering relevant information,” he stated.

The woman nodded and then took them to a different building.

As they were guided outside, Roman gently touched Virgil's arm with his own to get his attention but not be noticed by someone else, specifically Remus.

Virgil glanced towards him, picking up on his attempt to be subtle.

Roman looked back at the house where the two elder men were watching them go to wave at them and then turned to Virgil curiously, already having his suspicions. Virgil smiled, fond accusation in his eyes. Roman turned away from him, embarrassed. Virgil subtly nudged him in comfort. Glanced back and showed his nostalgic affection for the young man Adam was when they knew one another. Then he looked at Roman, flooding him with the inferno of affection, completely consuming the embers of what remained of whatever once existed between him and Adam.

Roman felt a little silly for being jealous of an elderly person. But Virgil didn't seem to fault him for that.

"You weren't kidding. This is gonna be fun," Remus chuckled. Great. So he did catch on.

“Drop it Remus,” Virgil sighed.

“Aw come on V. You haven’t had a magic bond since school. It’s a little intriguing,” Remus shrugged.

“That you know off,” Virgil stated, making Remus gasp offended. “You bonded with someone other than me or J on purpose?” he asked. Virgil just smirked and walked on. Though Roman could tell he hadn’t just made that up to rile Remus up.

He wondered who he’d chosen to bond with.

"Jessica! Peter! Guests for Grandfather. They need rooms and a meal!" Their guide called out they entered the Inn. Behind the bar stood a young couple looking surprised at their arrival. Middle of the day was not exactly rush hour.

"We don't need to use the beds, and we only need the space for an hour," Virgil promised gently. His hood once again securely over his head. "And we got gold to pay," Remus added.

"Um. Well, the rooms are just cleaned out and I don't expect anyone till dinner. So uh... how many rooms?

"A single one if there is enough space for all of us to sit comfortably," Virgil offered. Tossing Remus a warning glance to which the high mage pouted.

Jessica nodded, grabbed a key, and led the way.

"Here you go. I'll have a stew and some bread ready when you get back," she offered as she opened the door for them and handed Virgil the key.

"Thank you," he bid before closing the door and turning to the group.

"Everyone knows the drill. Roman I want to try and see if I can teach you a few things about being a phoenix high Mage while resting. Are you okay with that?" Virgil asked.

Roman frowned, pretending to be confused for a moment before coming to a realization. "Like how you showed us your memory for clues," he guessed so no one would know there'd been a much more recent experience for Roman.

Virgil nodded though his emotions searched for confirmation. He wanted to know if Roman wanted it to be like last night or like the first time.

Roman pressed on with confidence, indicating his desire for them to be one again.

"Ooh first a magic bond, now sharing a dream? Virgil you always had favorites, but you're never so obvious about it," Remus teased.

"Shut it Remus," Virgil warned as he locked the door so they wouldn't be interrupted.

"I'm being serious!" Remus insisted, throwing an arm around Roman's shoulder. "Seriously, seriously though," he whispered in Roman's ear. "He is thick as a rock when it comes to guys liking him." Roman doubted that but Remus' ignorance seemed to be a source of amusement for Virgil so he didn’t correct him.

"But I'm pretty confident he likes you. So when you make your move, lay it on thick," he advised. Roman was taken aback. He hadn't expected to get Remus' approval. Not that he'd wanted it. Virgil's as the only approval that mattered.

Still. He appreciated the gesture, even if he was not going to admit that.

"Get of me," he huffed as he broke from his maybe great something uncle's grip. “I think I am currently a bit more aware of what he does and does not feel than you,” he pointed out dismissively before turning to Virgil.

"I'd love that. Thank you," he told Virgil. He could hear Remus sigh defeated. Thinking he'd failed to be a good guide for his 'nephew' probably.

"Alright. Come sit with me. We have an hour," Virgil reminded him. Roman nodded and joined Virgil, where he sat on the floor. They sat themselves back to back.

"Wanna cuddle?" Remus suggested to someone. Probably Patton. "No, thank you," Patton squeaked.

"Great, now there's four," Logan muttered. And then it went quiet, and Roman could focus.

He was five and looked up at his grandfather with big eyes. Under the wonder and excitement there was surprise that was not his own.

"Roman, my boy. I will tell you the tale of the birth of the marvelous town me, my father and your father grew up in," his grandfather said weightily. “It was my father’s first memory. They traveled through an icy storm to find a new home to live with his parents and everyone from their former village. A band of rogues with terrible magic means had ransacked their village, poisoned their lands.” Roman could vividly imagine it, though he hadn’t at the time. Those bands of rogue wizards specializing in weather magic, turning it against the kingdom to send everyone in disarray.

“And no aid was coming for them, so they packed up and tried their luck elsewhere.

They were forced to travel under terrible circumstances Roman, but they had to find shelter. So, they braved the storm,” grandfather said dramatically putting his grandchild on the edge of his seat. “And finally, the gods heard their prayers for mercy and the storm died down. Just as they found themselves in a valley near a forest, a river between them and predators, but not impossible for humans to cross so they could hunt for food in the forest. They stood a chance at survival.

But my father didn’t remember that day because of the storm or the miraculous appearance of the perfect valley to live in.” Grandfather leaned in closer. “Not even for the white-blue feline monsters that emerged from the forest, jumping over the river with ease, just as they had settled in.” Roman gasped in shock.

“No. He remember it for what happened right after his father covered his fear frozen body with his own. Through his embrace he saw a bird, black as night swoop in between them and the advancing monsters. They cowered away just as the majestic creature lit up in purple flames and turned into a man. With a mere gesture of his hand he sent the monsters back to the forest. He stood there a moment, light pouring from him and encircling what would become our town,” grandfather said. “And then he turned and knelt down to meet my father’s gaze. And you know what he told him Roman?” Roman shook his head, entirely enraptured.

“He told him that he’d sorted out the issues with the neighbors and that they should have pleasant weather for a long while. And they did. And we do. Only gentle snowfall and regular showers to water our crops, a rare late night thunderstorm to enjoy from the safety of our homes. It was, and still is, a magnificent place to live,” grandfather said wisely.

“I suppose that is a no to moving with us?” Roman’s father said from behind him. The memory shifted.

He was sat in his dorm room reading a bundle of poems.

"Roman," Logan's voice called. "Will you please put that down? This is important," he insisted.

"I'm not slacking," Roman insisted. "These are written before the plague and honor the great mages of that time. Uncensored " Roman pointed out.

"Really?" Patton gasped. Nervous and excited at the same time.

Logan was silent. Craving the hidden knowledge, but also well aware that if the Council knew about this book, they'd probably ban it. It had likely been overlooked due to it being poetry. They weren't supposed to learn anything about the magic of that time if it was not vetted and deemed safe by the arch mage...

"Listen to this," Roman said, encouraged by the fact that no one was stopping him. "The flame of night, endlessly bright upon the crowd. The sky had fallen, the stars were enraged, yet it did not phase the mage of night. And thus he tamed the blazing stars, docile the hellhound laid at his feet,” Roman cited gently.

“Wow… That’s kind of cool,” Patton breathed.

Logan hummed, not wanting to admit that he agreed.

“Too bad that such magics led to a plague,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but still… I wonder what it was like, to live like that. Not having to worry that you offended Her,” Roman mused.

They didn’t mention the goddess of magic out loud when they could help it. His friends knew which ‘Her’ he meant.

“We will likely never know…” Logan sighed, also not happy with having their magic so limited.

“In any case, I found something… Peculiar,” the diviner of their group stated, shifting topic.

“What’s that?” Roman asked.

“The arch mage. There is nothing to find about his death. Not the date, not the cause. Not even that he died. His death should have been a state affair. But there was no mention of it made ever. He just seems to, disappear,” he informed them.

“Wait… He might not be dead?” Patton asked confused. They’d all assumed he was dead. But Logan was right there should’ve been some sort of record for that. If there wasn’t then that meant…

“Who is searching for him?” Roman asked.

“I don’t know, but they aren’t successful, clearly,” he stated.

Roman grinned, he knew that glint in his friend’s eye. That was the same look he’d had when they made their pact to become mages.

“What do you say we offer some help?” Logan suggested.

“How?” Patton wondered.

“I have been doing some research, there is a ritual that can elevate us beyond ordinary mages. It is difficult and dangerous, as we have to connect with the very fabric of magic on a deeper level. Being rejected is extremely likely, and who knows what might happen if we are. But with ample preparation, I believe we might succeed,” he announced.

Roman looked to Patton and then to Logan. They were once again on the same page. They’d take on this challenge together.

Roman let go of his hold of the past and felt himself be gently pulled in another direction.

He was lying in a field under a starlit sky. Minding his breath. Stardust next to him. Staring up at the endless void of dark and light.

"What are you doing?"

His concentration broken, he glanced at the boy who'd managed to settle at his side without him noticing.

He looked back up to the stars. "I am trying to commune with Magic," he explained.

The young man gasped. "You can do that!?" he whispered incredulously.

"Sort off," he said. "It takes a lot of focus though," he explained.

"What are you saying to her?" His student wondered.

He was silent and looked at the 14 year old. He didn't need to know about his suspicions. "I asked for some guidance," he said simply.

That got him a long moment of silence.

"Why did she make you a phoenix and not a dragon?" The teenager asked suddenly.

"Because I'm not a dragon. I'd be a terrible king," he stated.

"You're a great teacher," the young man countered. He chuckled. "I'm alright, I suppose," he allowed. "I wouldn't give it up for the world," he mused. The young man nodded in understanding.

"Want to comune with me?" He offered. In answer his student laid down next to him.

He blinked and he was in a hallway looking at his student. Now a young adult. He was eying the doors nervously. It was a different room, a different building and a different city. But it had the same design and the same function as the one he’d entered for his ascension.

"You will be fine. I'll be here when you get back," he promised.

"Thank you," his pupil said. "For sneaking me in here," he added.

"No problem. I wish I'd gone behind everyone's back when I became a great mage. I hated the whole circus," he admitted, making a face. His student laughed. "Well, see you later," the young mage bid before walking in and closing the doors.

He took a deep breath and held out his hands, a little pouch with herbs on his wrist. He had prepared the room. Now, he just had to activate the bubble. The guide would break the circle when it was time.

A bright flash, a gust of wind blew the doors open, and he stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of a dragon in the smoke. Then he blinked, and it was all back to normal.

His protege standing in the center, shaking. He rushed forward and embraced him. "I've got you," he promised.

"Did you know?" The young man whimpered into his shoulder.

"I had suspicions. I didn’t want that burden to be put upon you any sooner than necessary. No one has to know until you are ready," he promised.

"But the people..." the future king protested.

"Are well looked after by all of us," he assured him. "You don't need to take the crown until you are ready," he swore.

He felt the embrace tighten.

And then he was in the forest in his phoenix form his student stood before him holding one of his feathers, focusing. And then there was a golden phoenix before him.

"Welcome to flying 101. Your first lesson in preparation of ascending," he announced.

His pupil shook his head disoriented. "The phoenix senses will take some getting used to. Now, shall we?" It took a few tries and some encouragement in the face of defeat, but they took to the sky and the future king was having the time of his life. As they flew all around the lands that would someday become their kingdom, he explained becoming a high mage to him.

"You will no longer be looking up at the stars but feel like you are part of them. Like they are old friends. Magic will bend for you more easily. Like you know it's language. Basically, the same changes after becoming a mage and a great mage. But more extreme. You won't notice right away. Only when using spells at first.

As if you subconsciously give yourself more time to process. It's a lot. But once you get comfortable in your new body, magic will be as natural as breathing." he explained.

"How do I ascend?"

"When you are ready, you focus like you did when you first connected, and this time, you let it consume you. You will not disappear. You will be one with magic. When you are ready to accept that, it will happen as it should."

They flew in silence. "You will be there, right?"

"Until you send me away," he promised. He angled his body to gain altitude above a forest and then he dove down again. Heading straight for a castle. A new castle. One that would survive several centuries of both peace and war. But now it was shiny and new, only a decade old, built as crown jewel of the chosen capitol.

He landed in the courtyard, human once more. His student stood before him, surrounded by curious, confused, mages.

“Do you have it?” the younger mage said nervously.

“All taken care off,” he promised with a bow of his head. “You’ll do great,” he promised before walking back to give the soon to be high mage his space.

The young almost king took a deep breath and in a blaze, spread his wings and took to the sky. Growing bigger and bigger until a fully grown, golden dragon flew loops around the castle, letting out a mighty roar and flying off.

Virgil smirked proudly and conjured a table on which he laid out the newly made golden crown and the ten swords that had left the fire only that morning, enchanted and made ready for their pledge an hour ago.

When the king came back from marking his territory, he would be crowned and nine mages would be chosen as his advisors and confidants. Together the ten of them would reflect the ten main gods. Remus would often be jokingly referred to as the unofficial eleventh representative of eclipse, only showing up when it pleased him.

He looked up and blinked against the sun.

And then he was standing in front of the inn earlier today looking at Roman slowly transforming, before his eyes. His hair growing longer his skin changing color and then suddenly he was blinding to look at, for a moment he thought he saw wings and half expected to see a Pegasus appear. But no. When he could see him again he was a gorgeous white horse with golden eyes, though he could swear there were some red and purple hues in his manes when he moved his head and the light hit it just right.

He blinked and he was flying through the temple. To his horror he saw Roman taunt Remus into attacking him. For a terrifying moment he thought he was watching one of his closest friends torch a man he’d come to care deeply for in a dazzling short amount of time.

But the yellow and green flames Remus produced turned golden and red and even a little purple as they bend around Roman as though protecting, no embracing him.

Roman started glowing himself becoming one with the flames, making it just one whirling storm of fire.

And then it became a silhouette of a phoenix, bursting from the wave of flames with grace and regal purpose. It actually intimidated the chimera for a moment. Then the fire phoenix closed its wings and shrank down, leaving behind a faintly glowing Roman. Who still stood his ground like nothing had happened.

That idiot.

“Hey! Love birds! Wake up!”

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

OH WOW AFTER SEARCHING FOR 13 YEARS I HAVE RASPBERRY GRANITA AGAIN!!! I FINALLY FOUND IT!!! AND I GOT 3?!!?

i doubt anyone will read all this, but I have to share and get this out

I got this flavor and 4 others when it came out in 2004 when I was a sophomore in high school. I was stupid and threw them out and about 13 years ago I started looking for it on Ebay, had no luck and stopped looking until 6 months ago. This the the #1 item I wanted more than anything and now I HAVE 3?!? I'm using one, Idgaf if my lips fall off. It smells just as good as it did 20 years ago and it makes my lips look just as fucking awesome as it did back then. best lip gloss I've ever had still to this day!!!

Bath and Body Work Tutti Dolci Raspberry Granita Lip Gloss

2004

MY PERSONAL PICTURE FINALLY THANK GOD

[raven-617]

mother doesn't like the opossum ornament

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20's Fantasy High: Junior Year episode 17

[la-galaxie-langblr]

what is going on w my brain

[heartbeetz]

There is literally always shit happening to me

[humanmorph]

does anyone know art of mako like this. im pretty sure the vibe is like, sad & it's post-finale mako art. in which case it might've not actually been larry and just mako's reflection but if that's the case it's like. you're supposed to think of him

[sonata-stigmata]

my number one piece of advice is to find a comfy chair. find a chair specifically for you at a fair price and sit in it with a blanket like an old woman watching the price is right. this will fix so many things i promise

[the-yearning-astronaut]

Didn't get the job I interviewed for last week

What a shocker