#i love layla shes my favourite child ever

[marshmelia]

(OC) STARGRAM First four prisonerss

[fraeuleintaka]

Why Winx Club S1-3 is the only canon to me

(+ whatever I like from the corresponding comics)

I love Winx Club. I loved the series as a child, even though I had to realize recently that I've only ever watched the 1. season. Then I recently watched seasons 2 and 3 for the first time as an adult and yes, I still love Winx Club, or rather, again! However, I've actively decided against watching the later seasons. S1-3 are the only canon to me. I've seen clips from the later seasons and know about several developments/plot points which is how I decided against watching them. My 10 reasons are as follows:

The retcons: S1-3 may have one logic issue or another but the degree of changing or blatantly ignoring previous plot points the later seasons (and movies) do is really not pretty anymore. I hate how several statements (like that Enchantix is the final fairy transformation) and established backgrounds (like from Daphne and Icy) just get ignored or changed to fit to any new plot. I hate how the Winx graduate only to be back in school for the next plot but with knowledge of the previous one so that the timeline doesn't make any sense no matter how you look at it. Soft reboot after soft reboot and nobody has any idea anymore what still "really" happened and what didn't because everything gets changed or ignored at will anyway. In contrast to that S1-3 are wonderfully consistent and function as one complete entity.

Bloom gets back everything she ever lost: Admittedly, this was implied already in S3 and is one of the main reasons why I don't include the first movie in my personal canon, but the later seasons went off the rails with this. Bloom's tragic background is that her biological parents died (or disappeared), her home planet was pretty much destroyed and her big sister sacrificed herself to save her life. She found caring adoptive parents and a new family in her friends and spends a lot of time in the first three seasons searching for where she comes from. Her background is tragic but also meaningful because of it and one of Bloom's arcs is about her dealing with this loss and trauma. If she can just undo all of this now, her parents are there again, her planet is fixed again and her sister is alive again as well, then the entire time Bloom spent coming to terms with her situation feels wasted. Suddenly, the tragedy isn't tragic anymore because you can just undo everything. That doesn't only take the emotions out of the whole thing but also reduces the meaning of all further tragedies because you could just undo them all as well if you wanted to. (In general I hate when stories do something like this which is also one of the reasons I don't like the 3rd Kung Fu Panda movie.) With Winx Club it gets more uncomfortable because Bloom, our great main character, is the only one who this happens to. Musa's mother? Still dead and Musa just has to deal with it that she can't just wish her alive again. Layla's boyfriend? Also still dead. But Bloom? If she wants her family to be alive again, of course that's different! This double standard really annoys me.

The focus on Bloom gets absolutely overwhelming: It was also obvious in S1-3 that Bloom is the main main character even if all of the Winx are the main characters. She's the most important one with the greatest amount of focus. That already annoyed me sometimes but it was tolerable because the other Winx also got their times in the spotlight and their own arcs. With the later seasons this disappeared more and more and instead of "Winx Club" the series became more like "Bloom and her personal cheer squad". I don't dislike Bloom as a character, I just hate this excessive focus on her. The series should be about all the Winx Club girls and the friendship between them and not only about Bloom and her 5 interchangable tagalongs. The other Winx are great characters (Musa, Tecna and Stella being my favourites) with a lot of story potential and they deserve their times to shine. This would also help Bloom's own characterization as the relationships between them could be more in the foreground.

I hate the changed designs: Of course, you can criticize the original design of the series (e.g. the proportions) but personally, I like it a lot and think it gives the series its own identity that makes it easily recognizable among other series. It's beautifully gaudy and colourful with glitter, dynamic action sequences and expressive but not too exaggerated facial expressions of the characters; it can get dark and serious when it wants to and works just as well for adults as for children. The designs of the later seasons make all the characters increasingly similar to the point that, optically, they're barely more than palette swaps of the same character. Everything gets cutified and cuddlified so that serious interactions can't be taken serious anymore and the characters look like they're 10 years old even though they should be teenagers or adults. The designs are so overcrowded with ornaments and frills and everything that the facial expressions and animations are extremely undynamic and static at best. It just doesn't look good anymore and you can completely forget having any kind of dynamic action sequence.

The younger target audience: Every later season seems to have a younger target audience than the previous one. Winx Club of the first three seasons was also aimed at a young audience but more in the direction of young teenagers than that of preschoolers like season 8 seems to be. Because of that the focus is much more on cute animals and pretty colours, the storylines are simplistic and unambitious and the moral is made abundantly clear and obvious. Of course, series like this have a right to exist but Winx Club was never one of them. S1-3 tackled some serious topics in a way that even adults could appreciate. Nothing is left of that in the later seasons.

The incessant new transformations: When Enchantix appeared in S3 and all of the Winx earned it one by one in individual emotional scenes and risking their lives, it was an epic event. Then more and more transformations got added in afterwards, even though Enchantix was supposed to be the final and most powerful one, and earning them became more and more trivial. All of the Winx get them simultaneously and done. Everything serves as an excuse for a new transformation. Oh, you need to do magic underwater, something you could easily do already in the first few seasons? Doesn't matter, you need a new transformation for it now! While Magic Winx and Enchantix had beautiful individual designs which were unique for every fairy, the later transformations just have everyone in pretty much the same outfit just in a different colour. That may fit frighteningly well to their later story relevance but it's still sad to see.

Heart Pixies but worse: Even in S2 I wasn't a big fan of the concept of giving every Winx a bonded Heart Pixie. The pixies in general certainly had plot relevance in this season, even though some of their screentime was only used for "cute" shenanigans, but few of the relationships between the Winx and their Heart Pixies are truly fleshed out and could've been left out entirely. Sadly, this concept gets recycled in later seasons and only made worse. The Winx constantly get assigned some random critters that are even more interchangeable and less relevant than the Heart Pixies ever were. Maybe great for selling toys but not all that great for story quality.

Nabu: I don't really mind Nabu's death, as long as it's somewhat logical, I rather have something against Nabu's character as such. His introduction in S3 was catastrophic (hello stalker!) and I can only tolerate him because he gets introduced so late and doesn't play a significant role. As part of the main cast? No, thank you. I'm also not a fan of the idea that every Winx needs to have a boyfriend. At least one of them they should've left single (which would fit well to Layla and her independence) or given a girlfriend instead.

How Musa & Riven's relationship is treated: I'm an ardent defender of Musa & Riven's relationship in the first three seasons. Riven had a lot of problems in S1 that he decided to work on at the end of the season, that doesn't happen overnight. Both him and Musa have difficulty being open with others, especially in emotionally vulnerable situations, which is why they often have trouble communicating with each other. This is something they both can and should work on and something both S2 and S3 (when they had a subplot) had them do. In the later seasons these exact same problems get recycled constantly without showing any kind of progress. It might not happen overnight but just watching while they're constantly going in circles is extremely frustrating especially when genuine progression and development would be so much more interesting. Even worse was the decision to remove Riven for a season only to basically do all his development off-screen and re-insert him as the "new and improved" boyfriend as if you could do that by just pressing a button. That development is the most interesting part! Musa's side, meanwhile, gets ignored completely and she gets to be angry about Riven's return for no reason only so he can "convince" her. Having them separate for good would be even worse because then you just nullify all the relationship and character development up to that point. They should've just properly continued the arc that they started.

The flanderization of the characters: Not only Musa and Riven suffer under the storylines of the later seasons, the other characters don't escape it either. Stella & Brandon get some senseless jealousy drama (because we didn't have enough of those) when these two of all people are so secure in their relationship that they have flirt contests with each other. Stella in particular loses all of her strengths, likeable traits and nuance; in the later seasons she's just irresponsible, a bad designer and so annoying and ignorant towards everybody around her that you wonder why the Winx even like her. Most of the characters get reduced to one or two traits or plot points that they're allowed to repeat ad nauseam (e.g. Musa and her mother, Flora and her sister); Tecna can be happy if she even has any kind of plot relevance. Any kind of nuance the characters had in the first three seasons is pretty much gone and they're barely more than interchangeable stereotypes.

The later seasons certainly have their good moments too (like Riven learning to play the guitar for Musa and them singing together which I'll definitely incorporate into one of my fanfics) but for me the issues are so severe that I can't overlook them. I value S1-3 of Winx Club a lot and don't want to waste my time nor ruin my intact view of the story and characters. What I've seen and heard of the later seasons is already enough for me.

[sunghoonalter-archived]

𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

idol pairing: jake x fem!reader ft. Layla

WC: 1.3k

genre: angst, thriller

warnings: severe yandere themes, obsession, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, slight violence, one mention of weight, established relationship he gets what he wanted Layla is a big sweetheart

Synopsis: What it was like the first day you went to Jake's house, you, him and his big fluffy dog looking like the happy family he always wanted. He has his family and he's determined to keep it, no matter what

so this is just what it would be like if Jake got what he wanted and managed to make you stay and love him and yes he gets jealous of layla. have fun, feedback would be highly appreciated🥰

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you remember the first time you went to Jake's house. it was rather huge, at least bigger than your house. you looked at it from the outside in such awe, wondering what it would be like from the inside. 

he urged you inside, holding the door open for you. "Just put your shoes in that small shelf and choose any pair," he said, pointing at the shoes rack close to the door. it was a tiny hassle to get your shoes off from how tightly you tied it but eventually you succeeded, slipping into fluffy black slippers. 

"Are these okay, should I choose another?" you asked, sounding a little nervous. you wondered if maybe his parents or even he didn't like people wearing those. 

"They're just slippers," he laughed as he put his own on. "Besides," he pinched your cheeks, causing you to whine. "They look adorable on you."

you were kneeling down to fix the position of your shoes when you heard a sound. the sound of tapping on the wooden floor and immediately recognized it.

"Is that Layla?" you looked up at him with gleaming eyes. 

"Yeah, how'd you know?" he tilts his head, just about to call her when a big golden ball of fluff comes running to the front door, seeming to not have realized her owner was home. only she didn't run towards him. 

"What in the favouritism?" he mutters when he sees her go straight for you. her head moves directly between your arm and head, giving you a small hug as a greeting. 

you giggle as you move to give her all the love you could muster. "So this is my boyfriend's number one girl, huh?" he rolls his eyes as you continue stroking her head, moving toward her neck. "I don't blame him, you're the bestest girl, aren't you?"

she seems to be smiling at you, closing her eyes as she relishes the attention she's getting. you lean forward to give her a kiss on the head when Jake sticks his hand in between you and her to which Layla starts whining.

"Come on, we have to go study," he fake chuckles as he takes your hand to lift you up. 

"You jealous she's giving me all the attention?" you say tauntingly.

'No, I don't like you not giving me all your attention, I deserve it, not her.' 

walking to his room upstairs, Layla trails behind you two, much to Jake's surprising annoyance. Why should he be annoyed at his dog following him? Was it the fact that she was actually following you and you giving her all the attention he deserved? 

he allows you into his room first, letting you get comfortable at his desk as he goes to the bathroom and changes into more comfy clothes. yet when he comes out, there Layla is, sitting on your lap. 

finally, he has you where he wants you, where he needs you and your attention is being stolen by his fucking dog. he eagerly wants to chase her out of the room to have you alone, all to himself but you look too happy with her for him to take her away. 

he moves closer to you two, sitting down next to you. his hand stretches out to pet her too. she looked like a child in your arms, causing him to smile. 

'We look like a family. a happy family, just like we should. you, me and Layla in our own home, living happily ever after together.' 

"You know I love you, right?" he asks as he strokes her head, looking up at you.

you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him. "Where's this coming from, are you gonna do something stupid?" you ask, slight concern in your tone. 

'Oh the stupid things I'd do for you.' 

he lets out a small laugh as he moves his hand away from Layla's head. "No, I just want you to know that I love you." he just wants to hear you say it back. he loves hearing you say it. he worked so hard to get you to finally say those 3 words and he'll make you say it as much as he wants. 

"Hmm," you let out a hum of contentment. "I love you too, Jakey."

oh how his heart raced when he heard you say it. it wasn’t close to the feeling of when you said it the first time but it still excited him. you were his, you are his and you're never leaving. not on his watch.

☆

now there you were, in the same house, cuddling a whiny Layla in the corner of the master bedroom. you were shaking dreadfully and she was trying to comfort you as Jake was banging on the door, demanding to be let in. 

you cried into her fur as you regret going out, breaking one of his rules. 

"You're not allowed outside of this house without my permission, got it?" you nodded as he stroked your head. "Good girl." 

but you tried to defend yourself, saying you only went out to buy some bread since you ran out. he didn't care, you broke a rule and therefore had to be punished for it. 

last time you were punished, he locked you in this very room for days without any food, making you drink water from the bathroom tap. Layla would occasionally scratch at the door, wanting you to come out and play with her. you cried nonstop for those few days, promising you'd never break a rule again.

yet you did, and now you had to pay the price for it. he always had you walking on eggshells and today you broke through one of them.

you kept your eyes closed as he managed to break down the door, just holding onto your now shared dog. 

he towers over you, making you feel so small, so scared. there's no way Layla can protect you against him. she knew to run away as dogs, or animals in general, could sense trouble and it seemed she didn't want to be part of it. 

you were left holding air as he kneels down in front of you. "Hey," he whispers. his hand touches your arm so gently yet still scares you. "Did you have fun breaking one of my rules?"

you sniffle as your voice comes out shaky. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." 

"You didn't mean to, " he repeats slowly. "And yet you did." his hand trails up your arm, grazing your shoulder before it moves up towards your jawline. 

"Please don't hurt me," you beg. "I won't do it again." 

"Do you know why I do this? Keep you in here?" he asks, completely ignoring you. his hand softly touches your cheek. you flinch slightly as you expect him to hit you even though he rarely ever did that. 

"I keep you here to keep you safe," he says, hand moving to your chin to lift your head, making you look at him. "It's a dangerous world out there, you must stay here, where you're safe." 

his eyes glimmer with genuine love yet still seem so frightening. even with you as his, he could never stop obsessing over you. he always needed to know what you were doing, where you were going. sometimes he even took control over your diet, keeping you at the weight he idealized you to be. 

you move slightly, climbing into his arms. he was just taking care of you, looking out for you and you acted ungrateful today, you thought. 'Just listen to what he says, he just wants what's best for me.' 

he planned to take the spare house key with him when he left to ensure you couldn't leave the house, but you weren't going to. you were lucky to have gotten away without a punishment, and if you broke one again, it would just be even worse than before.

besides you have him and you have Layla. you have a perfect family, catering to your every need. 

why would you want to leave?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

taglist: @blonghoonie

[n0b0dy11]

Somewhat Dad~DreamWasTaken

DreamWasTaken x Fem!reader (Clay's last name is Fisher)

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"I will be the best dad, just for you..."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

part one - part two - part three - part four

"Is that daddy?" the little girl whispered. Both the adults eyes widened, while Nick was snickering and looking at some sort of bread.

"Uhm, no. Layla, this is Clay, a friend. Clay this is Layla, my daughter."

To say Clay didn't have a hard time looking at the little girl was an understatement. She looked exactly as her mother, Y/n. He didn't know why it stung him so hard.

Of course he loved, was still kinda in love, with the little child's mother but.... That couldn't be it right?

"Hi!" the little girl said energized, she was a real energetic child as he could observe, the only thing once more coming to mind was how her mother was exactly the same.

"Hey..." he whispered back, not because he was afraid or something like that, he was just surprised. Layla was so nice. Not that he would expect anything else from a child who's mother is Y/n, but her father was Jake...

At least he thought so...

He hadn't been able to ask that yet for to be completely sure.

But she had asked her if he was her dad, she didn't know her dad?

"Are you the weird boy from gran's photobook?"

"Weird boy?!"

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Layla fell in love with Clay, which wasn't so surprising seeing as she like the exact baby replica of her mother. He was trying his best to be there for his best friend again, and he was doing a great job.

At first Y/n wasn't quite sure about how to handle the situation, of course she could still feel her teenage heart hammering in her chest whenever their eyes met, or when he called her cute names, or-

I think you get the point...

It had been a couple weeks since they saw each other in the market and to be fair she hadn't been disappointed of her decision.

When Y/n was loading the food they bought into her trunk Clay decided to help, while he left Nick to do it himself, and after the cheeky man asked for her forgiveness as reward.

To which she had replied she would give him a chance, to prove he meant it, that he was choosing to stay.

He did.

They called from time to time, he asked about her work and Layla. While she would ask about his day and his new videos. Of course he had told her about his career, she was very supportive about it.

"hellooo!" Clay's voice rung through the speakers of her phone.

"Hi Clay."

"Hellooooooooooo, clayton!" Layla screamed, while running in her mothers room.

Y/n was happy how close they had become, Layla would constantly talk and ask about stories from when they were younger which they both happily talked about. She had started using the nickname Clayton when she had heard someone say it in one of his videos, she was a die hard dream stan now.

"You so cheated in your newest manhunt!"

"I did not!" Clay argued, he loved the little girl to death. Maybe not as much as he loved her mother though... but still Layla had owned a special place in his heart ever since they roamed around in the store for the first time.

"Okay, even though it is fun to hear your banter, let's talk about something I can relate with?"

"but mommy...." Layla whined, "you aren't as interesting."

Y/n let out a gasp, the betrayal!, while Clay was weazing from the other side of the phone.

"Sorry mommy, Clay's my favourite now," her own daughter shrugged as if it was the most natural thing ever.

"I guess you can go to him then," Y/n played along. "Seeing as you don't love me anymore."

This time Layla gasped, "OH! Mommy! i do love you!! Don't send me away! I wanna stay with you!"

"I know sweety I was just joking with you, I would never send you away," the mother spoke sweetly to her, and started kissing her face everywhere!

Clay couldn't see what was happening, but hearing the kissy noises and the giggles of the little girl, his heart melted a bit. He hated Jake for leaving the little, but loving, family and mistreating them, her. He hadn't forgiven himself from what he did, even though yn had told him multiple times the past few weeks, that she as alright now.

He was a bit scared of loosing them, he didn't know why, he just was. they both had such a special place in his heart. He wanted to be a part of the little loving family, he wanted to be sat next to them and also place kisses on the girl's face while he would have his arm around Y/n.

He hadn't fallen out of love with her, ever. But now, seeing or at least hearing her everyday, made him realise just how much.

"I'm gonna make some food," Y/n declared, "you can still talk with Clayton for a bid."

"Why can't he eat with us?"

His heart swelled again, he loved it when he felt so... wanted. He loved it when it came through that the little girl had a soft place for him too.

"You'll have to ask him, say we're eating pizza and have banana pudding in the freazer.

"Clayton...? Would you like to-

I think he hang up mom?"

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

After Layla got over the shock of Clay hanging up on her like that she helped her mother decorate a pizza, when suddenly there were loud knocks on their door.

"Who's that mommy?"

"I don't know darling, let's look."

As they both walked to the door Layla took a hold of her mother's hand swinging it between them.

"Hello how-"

"Clayton!!" Layla screamed running for ward completely forgetting she had her mother's hand in hers and flung herself at him.

"hello," he chuckled, "I couldn't pass on on pizza are you crazy?"

Ans that's how they spend their evening, decorating their own pizza

"Clayton, that's not right!! You don't put olives on your pizza!"

"Layla, you can't talk you literally have pineapple on yours!"

"Mommy!! Clay says my pizza is bad!"

"Clay!"

"Y/n, it was a joke, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"I swear I am raising two children."

And then eating them, before the tv watching a funny family movie from Disney.

But of course that good moment didn't last forever, as Clay needed to go back home Layla started crying. She didn't want him to go, which was obvious. In the end her crying got Clay to tuck her in bed.

He was making himself ready to leave so he want to say goodbye to Y/n, only to find her asleep on the couch.

"Good night," he whispered, while kissing the top of her head, "I love you." He added the last as a whisper even lower than that, he was scared that maybe she would hear, but he debated if that would be so bad.

"Please," she groaned while grasping his hand when he stood back up, "stay?"

"I can't, Y/n/n," he stated softly. "I have an early video to film tomorrow morning, George's time set up."

"okay," she whispered already falling asleep again. "Toodeloo."

"See you soon."

As he was steering his car in the driveway, he couldn't help but think about what she asked. Had she really forgiven and wanted him to stay? Or was she so sleepy she hadn't even noticed? Maybe he should've stayed and found out, or maybe she was actually too asleep and he would overstep the boundaries.

But he didn't sleep much that night. He just wanted her here, along with Layla of course. All night he just longed to have her wrapped in his arms. To have her head snuggled in his chest, like they did when they were teenagers. Clay certainly felt like one, wishing for his crush to notice him.

But he didn't know that she felt the change. He may have done something stupid but she forgave, and she knew she had said so in the store when they first caught up, but of course it wasn't like before in a snap of the finger. She needed time first and he understood, he gave her it, even though they called and messaged a lot, because they were both a bit scared if they didn't hold contact now it would've slipped away.

But she found her house cold when he left, except for her forehead, which he kissed.

Oh no, she still liked him.

Only complication: she now has a child and isn't a teenager anymore.

She also knew Layla wouldn't really be a problem, they got along great, but maybe it won't in the future... She was still worried sometimes.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Today Y/n had to work, her parents weren't home and she didn't have time and money to find a babysitter.

So you tried the last person on the list, "Clay, I have a favour to ask you."

"Sure what is it?"

"Can you watch Layla for the day? I have work and I asked mom and dad but they aren't home, If it's too much I get it and-"

But before she could make her sentence full he chuckled, "I'll watch Layla for you, no need to ask, I love that kid."

he could hear her sigh out of relieve, "Thank you! i'll even pay you or something I-"

"You don't have to pay me," he laughed, "I'll do it anyway."

"Okay thank you, so much. I'll drop her off at yours if that's okay, it's on my way to work anyway."

"that'd be great."

"Alright see ya."

As she hung up he raced out of his bed, he hadn't told her this but, he actually just woke up. But that was out of the question, he loved Layla and would look after her anytime, but he got to see you which was an even better thing.

He was happy you asked him, that you trusted him to look after her. he was starting to earn your trust and love again. Even though he already got it back, but he didn't need to know that.

"Come on in!"

"thank you so much! i'll see you later okay? You have your tablet and some extra exercises from miss. Lilly okay?"

"Bye bye mommy, I'll behave." she said already hugging Clay by his leg.

"is that Layla I see?!" Nick shouted from the hall. Nick had become a real good person in the little girl's life. Just as Clay he had kept in contact with Y/n and he loved Layla also very much.

"Sapnap!!" she shouted running inside while dropping her bag. She jumped up in his arms and hugged him too.

"Can I show her my gaming set?"

"Can I see the gaming set?!" she asked amazed, looking at her mom and back to Nick.

her mother gave a soft smile and nodded her head, which made the two run inside and to his room.

"Have fun with the children," she joked. Clay laughed, Nick could be a real child indeed.

"I have to go now, call me if anything goes wrong." With that she left, not before giving him a kiss on the cheek though.

He was glad she left so swiftly now she couldn't see his burning face.

"Yo, man. What happened? You look like you ate a hot chili pepper."

"Yeah, what happened dude?" Layla asked. She tried to rise her brow like Sapnap but failed miserably.

"She kissed my cheek," he whispered still in shock.

"Dude!" Spanap and Layla yelled together.

"Are you two a thing now?"

"Are you my dad then?"

"No, and ... no. I am sorry Layla, your dad isn't the best person and I'll gladly would step up in his place, but that's for you and you mother to decide. But i'll always be here, okay? I won't leave."

All this emotion made her burst in tears, while she ran up and tackled the already crouching Dream to the ground, "You deserve someone like my mom, so does she. She's amazing and I hope you become my dad."

I hope so too.

When Y/n came to pick Layla up she found the three of them in the kitchen all covered in flour.

"Mommy!" Layla screamed, jumping of her chair and running to give her mom a hug. Which Y/n had to kindly refuse.

"Who are you flour girl and what have you done to my daughter?"

"But it's me mommy! And that's Clayton and Sappy!"

"You really had to make her use that nickname huh?" Nick asked annoyed at Clay. To which he just responded with a 'yup'.

After getting the flour off her daughter Y/n saw it was already pretty late out, so Clay asked them to stay. Which they did.

they ate the best ever, but after she had witnessed the four-fiasco she had decided it would be better if she cooked or they got take-out and Clay not wanting her to cook wen it was his house choose for the take-out, which he also insisted on paying for.

But the evening soon came to an end.

So when Layla was safely tucked into her auto-seat her mother turned to Clay one more.

"Thank you again, for doing this."

"It's no problem really."

"I know you said you don't want any payment but can I at least show my gratitude in some way?"

Multiple ideas swarmed in his head, but he decided too shoot his shot, "you can say you will go out with me sometime?"

His boldness caught her of guard, "like a date?"

"Like a date."

"Yeah, yeah. I'd-I'd like that, send me the details," and with that she swiftly kissed his cheek again before almost running to her car.

"I got a date!" they both said out of disbelieve.

A/n

Sooo...

I liked it, I kinda have a lot of 'oneshots' combined to like speed up the time. I think there is a part 3 deserved, I kinda loved how this story turned out so I made it a series 'I Won't Leave'. Also If you have any suggestions, (in this story like if you want something to happen or just a story idea in general) let me know!!

Reminder: @ghostofscarley

Enjoy :]

[torgawl]

if i was the traveller i honestly would've thrown a cup of osmanthus wine in zhongli's face by now. literally no one is helping them find their twin. instead, they're stuck listening to Everyone's trauma afksjaknfs

okay, anyway! question for u bea!! which char has ur fave attack sequence + what vision/element/weapon do u think u would have? :D ! hope u have a lovely day/evening <3

AHJASJ approved, cheer leading your osmanthus whine attack 👌 i honestly think he would be very unphased, he knows he deserves it. besides... it would be a memory to share ��� bye. right???? traveller being so patient is probably the most unrealistic thing about genshin. they should have the chance to get a little silly as a treat 😌

omg those are such good questions!!! i'm gonna answer based on normal and charged attacks only so it's a little easier. i don't think i have one single favourite but i love love love, hands down, yae miko, yoimiya and kokomi's attack animations. their playstyle is so fun, it shows a lot of their personality and it's super satisfying to watch. the prettiest attacks!!! (and i have none of the three which is a shame, honestly, jail) from the four stars, though, yanfei and layla have my heart!!! yanfei's attacks are better than most 5 stars in my humble (very correct✌️) opinion. she is amazing. best girl. 6 stars even.

and if i was a character i think i would either use a polearm or a bow 🤔 they just look fun to use. i have used a bow before and it was such a cool experience. being able to use long distance attacks is also a cool move. especially if you get to be like childe who can also do close distance combat!!! i find sword attacks in genshin a little boring looking so that one's a no for me. and catalysts are only fun if i get to use these fists like heizou or directly throw my book until i hit an enemy in the face. *father, i crave violence meme* 😂 for vision, hydro if it was a choice (i have the feeling i was a marine animal in a past life or like a duck so i'm translocating that feeling into my hypothetic persona in the genshin universe ahaha). although there's no >official< confirmation on how they're given, i feel like if i ever got one in the universe, though, it would either be electro or cryo. but who knows?! would be happy with any. free superpowers, can't complain xd

thank you so so much for sending these questions (and also your traveller commentary ahah), they were so much fun to answer :D i would honestly love to know your answers as well if you're willing to share. hope you are also having a very lovely day so far!!! <3

[heecyon]

Enhypen Little Angels Series: A Small Friend

warnings: grammar mistakes (as always lol)

this was supposed to be posted two weeks ago. I'm sorry for the delay

word count: 1,612

Lee Heeseung:

The small family entered the pet shop, making the bell in the door go'ding' as they passed by. The cashier greeted them as Seojoon ran to see all the pets in the place.

“Papa! Look how adorable they are!” Joonie exclaimed and then Heeseung went to his side to check out all the things his kid was so excited about.

“Do you like this one, Joonie?” Heeseung pointed out a small yorkie terrier in front of him.

“Or what about this one?” Mina pointed out a small Maltese puppy.

The couple noticed that their son wouldn't respond to their questions. “Joonie?”

They got closed to their son who was happily seeing a beautiful dark brown coat ferret.

“Mommy, Papa... He's really cute.” He said putting his hand inside the environment the ferret was in and passed his hand through it's soft hair.

“How do you know it's a he?”

“I can tell.” Seojoon was hypnotized by the small ferret, it was like he had found a new friend.

Heeseung went to the cashier and asked for all the procedures to adopt the small cutie.

“What are you going to name him buddy?” Heeseung played with Joon's hair.

“Kirby!”

They both looked at him at him cutely.

“Kirby? Where did you get that name?” Mina laughed a little.

“I dunno? I just thought it was cute.”

Park Jongseong

The sound of the front door opening and closing caught the attention of both Bella and Mila. The little girl ran to the the living room seeing her father putting his backpack down on the floor.

“Papa!” She ran to hug Jay with a wide smile, then he carried her in his hip.

“Hi baby! Did you miss me? How was school?” He said kissing Mila's cheeks.

“It was good, mommy and I baked brownies after school and they are delicious!” She said kissing two of her fingers which made Jay laugh.

“I'm pretty sure you were a good cook today, so I brought you a gift.” With his free hand he grabbed a small gift box with a white covering and a gold coloured ribbon.

“Hi love, what's that?”

Jay placed Mila down ontu the floor, and then grabbed a bouquet of peonies handing it to Bella, making her smile.

“Tell me we didn't forget an special occasion?”

“Nope, I'm just spoiling my princess and my queen. Do you want to open your gift, angel?” Mills nodded excitedly opening her gift just to find a cute baby pomeranian in the box inside the box.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. She looked at her father with happiness and took the puppy in her hands.

“Papa he's adorable! Thank you!” Mills embraced the puppy in a delicate way.

“What are you going to name him?” Jay said as he saw the glow in his daughter's face.

“I'll call him... Prince!” She gave the puppy a kiss on his head.

“Why Prince?”

“Because if you are a king, mommy is a queen and I'm a beautiful princess, then his a handsome prince.” Bella and Jay smiled widely.

Shim Jaeyun

“There are so many puppies!”

Jacob exclaimed as the newborn puppies layed close to Layla, getting comforted by her fur.

“Can we keep them all?” He looked at Jake with his cute puppy eyes and pouted cutely to convince his father.

Jake got on his knees and played with his son's hair.

“Well, we promised Beomgyu and Yeonjun to give them some puppies, we also promised your mommy's sister to give her a puppy too, so we can only keep one.”

“Aw!”

“Don't be sad kiddo, they are all going to have a beautiful home with a loving family.” Jake kept playing with Jacob's hair.

“But I want to keep them all for myself.” The little boy pouted, and a few tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Jake looked at Layla and her puppies and smiled before looking down at his son who was a sad mess.

“What if you pick one puppy now and name them? Wouldn't you like that?”

“Yeah, I like that...” Jacob putted his knees on the floor and looked at all the puppies, before choosing one.

A little female puppy with a darker fur than the others.

“I'll call her Hazel, and know she'll be my best friend.”

“If Jin Ae could hear you right now... she would be hella mad at you.”

Park Sunghoon

Jin Ae was playing on the backyard, making a small picnic with her dolls, she had a pink dress on and a tiara on top of her head. She served some “tea” in one of her dolls cup, before she saw across her vision something around the flowers that her mother cultivated.

“Is there a dragon around here? You can come out, I don't bite.” She got up and ran to the flowers, and to her surprise she found the most precious bunny she had ever seen in her whole three years of life.

“Gosh, you are so cute. I'm going to call you Gyeoul.” She ran back inside her house withthe biggest smile in her face.

She grabbed on of dolls dresses and put in on the bunny.

“You are mine, you are all mine.” She said just as Sunghoon was walking down the stairs, he frowned at the sudden sight. Why was his daughter hugging a bunny dressed as a princess?

“Jin Ae? What are you doing with a rabbit inside the house? And why is it dressed like a princess combined with a pop star?”

“I found him daddy, he's name is Gyeoul. And his all mine!” Well, that was questionable. But her cute little puppy eyes were manipulating him somehow, she looked so happy with the bunny, Sunghoon didn't want to destroy his daughter's happiness.

“You know that you have to ask for permission to have a pet, but... If you are happy with him...” She squealed and jumped around Sunghoon like the cute little human being she was.

“Thank you daddy.”

“No problem darling. How could I say no to you and your cuteness?”

Kim Sunoo

What was going on today on the Kim's household? Well... The twins had gotten their first pets.

Hotteok and Keikeu, a pair of hamsters.

“Appa, I think we lost Keikeu!” Young-Jae entered the couples room, where Aera was fast asleep from a hard day of work and Sunoo was drying his hair.

“No way! Those hamsters haven't even been here for three hours!”

The twins were organised, but at the same time they could be very forgetful and clumsy, so it kinda made sense that they lost one of the hamsters.

“We're sorry appa, we should have been more careful.” Young-hee said with teary eyes, also making her brother spill a few tears.

“Oh, no, no! My babies, please don't cry! I don't like seeing you cry. We'll find Keikeu together, so don't worry.” He dried Young-Jae's tears and then patted Young-hee's back to calm them down.

“Appa, isn't that Keikeu?” Young-hee got up and reached the hamster, before giving it a small hug.

Sunoo could only sigh relief... But

“Appa, I can't find Hotteok!”

Holy Fu-

Yang Jungwon

Let's say that Seung-hye found a siamese kitten in the park without a collar. It was a stray kitten.

She had her favourite blue backpack with her, so she grabbed the cat quickly without Jungwon noticing it.

“Seung-hye, it's getting late, we have to go.”

The girl grabbed her dad's hand as they both followed to the car.

Jungwon buckled Seung-hye's car seat, and then he finally drove home. They were both humming to some music on the radio, when all of the sudden.

“Meow!”

Did he just heard a cat inside the car?

“Meow!

Yep, he definitely did!

“Seung-hye? Did I hear a cat just meow?” Jungwon frowned, looking a the little one with the mirror.

“No”

Hm... Suspicious. Way to suspicious!

“Can you pass me your backpack, please?” He said grabbing the backpack from the backseat.

“No! There's rocks in there!”

“Yang Seung-hye.” He repeated with his voice sounding lower that usual.

“Ok. There's a cat in there, but he was all lonely and he couldn't be alone.”

When they got home, Jungwon continued to grab the backpack, while Seung-hye kept following around, begging him to not take him away from her.

“Appa, please don't take Holang away from me, we have to stay together!”

Good news! They kept the cat in the end.

Nishimura Riki

There was a sneeze, after sneeze, after sneeze. Maybe baby Hinata was allergic to fur, but they never truly realized it. She was always playing around with Bisco, and now that they got a new dog, she just started having allergies out of nowhere.

“Do you think we have to take her to the hospital?” Niki asked Mei, he was really worried after all, Hinata never had an allergic reaction before.

“Noooo, I don't like hospitals.” She protested, as any child, she did not like hospitals at all, they were really scary for her to be around.

Even though her parent told her not to, she kept playing with her new pet Coco, for her she was the representation of cuteness and happiness all at once.

“Hinata, I told you not to play with-” Niki noticed a few feathers on Hinata's pig tails. That was it, she was allergic to feather, not the dog.

“Wait baby, please don't move.” He said pulling out some feather and hairs at the same time.

“Ouch, you are ruining my hairstyle, silly!”

After that Hinata wasn't going to let Niki touch her hair ever again. And Coco got all the cuddles of the world that night.

[childrenofthenightt]

only the black rose (chapter 5)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.

words: 3.1k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

----------

Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.

Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.  

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”

Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.

“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”

“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”

“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”

“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”

At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.

“It’s a favourite of mine too.”

The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.

“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”

“You have no idea…”

“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”

“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Everything alright, Layla?”

“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”

Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”

“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”

“I didn’t think you were that old.”

Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”

“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”

“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.

“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”

“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.

“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”

“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”

The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.

“Petal, I…”

“Jim, it’s fine. It—”

“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.

“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”

Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.

“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”

Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

----------

‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’

The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.

‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’

A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.

“Robert, hey. What is it?”

“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”

“Rob—”

This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”

“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”

Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.

“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”

Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.

“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”

“...”

“Layla? Are you still there?”

“How?!”

“I told you not to freak out…”

“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.

“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.

“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”

“Okay…Robert?”

“Yes, little dove?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”

Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.

“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”

“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”

“Right.”

The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”

“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.

“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.

“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”

“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”

The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.

“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.

Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.

----------

“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”

The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.

The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.

“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.

“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”

“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”

Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.

“How’re you doing, champ?”

“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”

“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”

The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”

“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.

“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”

“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.

“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”

Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.

“Let them sleep.”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

[fishnets-fingers]

“Well, I really didn’t think that I’d care about you this much when I met you at brunch.” She smiles.- well well well ;)

but yeah… Did I make sense?”- you did my baby, you did.

“You hang out here with Dolphin.”- Gladly!

I will not share mine, no matter how much you beg. So you better tell me if you want one.”- DAS MAH GURL

It was almost like it was a jelly silicone thing. He throws it on the glass and a chuckle escapes his mouth when they stick to the mirror.- I PLAYED WITH A TOY LIKE THAT (I know s not a toy here) ALOT BUT MY SIS IS SCARED OF THEM lmaoo

I still don't know how to chopsticks.. (tried ding it while watching shinchan -with forks lmao)

You can have mine, if you want,” he says, offering her the little he has left.- awwwwwh

You got a taste you over there mam (in music)

He gets her hair into three even sections but has trouble braiding them because she keeps moving her head listening to Mama.- pleaseeeee

“Your nose. Has anyone ever told you that it’s big? I mean it’s cute and it suits you. And I’m not one to talk with my long fat nose. Just wanted you to know that your nose is quite big.” She mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut.- this made me laugh out and fucking loud, like a "HA!"....yeah-

“Sorry,” she giggles. Her apology does not match her demeanour one bit. “What do you expect me to do? It’s right there.” She raises her arms defensively. “None of this now. You go before me, you dickhead.” He pulls her up and pushes her towards the guestroom.- lmfaooo, loved this

That’s not a problem. Uh, I’d like it if you’d join in for a couple of pictures,” he blushes.- *melts into a pudle*

No cause: Her fingers popping in and out of his fishnets, basically playing. lmao

Please what?”- mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy?

where's Anne btw?

before Anne could come home- oookkkaayyyy

“It’s a bit crumpled now. Sorry,” he says, pulling out a swamp milkweed that was crushed.- *melts again cause doesn't remember when the fuck froze back*

She’s simply fucked in the head,” he retorts.- LMFAOO

The caption said ‘Gucci and Crocs’ followed by a black heart emoji.- yes please

Harry as her boyfriend to her friends, a few trusted Aunts and Uncles, and her maternal first cousins. She locks her phone and tosses it on the couch.- I hope she doesn't have to regret that later.

“Definitely gonna marry you one day,” she says softly and his heart flutters in response.- YES, YOU WILL HAVE TO!!!!!!!!!!!

---

THISSSSSS WASSS AS PERFECT AS YOU'RE!!! SO MY GOLDEN FISHY YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love you mah-ma-maya, the readers out there are truly missing out on you.

Know that I would die if that meant I could meet you <333

AAAAH APRAJITA!!!! Looks like you finally finished huh, well done for balancing school and literally everything else.

- Well well well, indeed! Who knew mortified Layla in Part Two will end up liking this tall clown this much.

- WE DO NOT SHARE OUR CUP NOODLES CLUB.

- Chopsticks are super easy my child. I had a friend come in from Seoul when I was in fifth grade and I ate all the food she had to offer. Jjukkumi Gui was my favourite. She taught me how to use chopsticks. Just watch a YouTube video and pick up stuff using pencils.

- Thank you for the music taste compliment my queen! Do you like me linking it or do you think I should stop?

- The mommy? sorry made me snort laugh.

- The Gucci and Crocs as a caption was super cute ngl. I gave myself a mental pat on the back after I typed it out.

- Layla’s not gonna regret posting her boyfriend on Instagram because, knowing her, I bet her account is private and only let’s the cool people of the fam in. I can totally see her telling  Aunties and Uncles   - when they ask her why she hasn’t accepted their follow request on Instagram-  at family events that she ‘doesn’t use it much anymore’ or ‘she forgot her password ages ago’ lol. 

Thank you, my love. This part was my baby and I was a bit bummed when it didn't get that many notes but I’m over it now. Working on Part Twelve as I speak. 

Maybe we could meet if you ever find yourself in Chennai by any chance ;)

Also, I saw that in the tags when you reblogged it you put harry styles masterpiece 🥺 don't mind me sobbing in the corner.

[mab1905]

84 Questions

original: 

https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

1. Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs

Someone New (Hozier)

Cactus Tree (Joni Mitchell)

Budapest (George Ezra)

And Dream Of Sheep (Kate Bush)

Nancy Mulligan (Ed Sheeran)

And Then She Kissed Me (St. Vincent)

Level of Concern (Twenty One Pilots)

Lovefool (The Cardigans)

Best For Last (Adele)

Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles)

2. If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you?

Japan. I travel a lot and it’s been on my list for a while, I would really want to go to the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli theme park, if it ever opens that is. I would bring my best friend, Layla. I also would love to go to Amsterdam again.

3. What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen) 

My ink nib cartooning pen (similar to a quill, but without the feather)

4. Favourite month and why? 

October, not too hot, not too cold, and of course, Halloween!

5. Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them.

Nope, met several, got to true connections though. 

6. Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are.

My iPad, my Leatherman Multitool, my collection of David Bowie postcards.

7. What brand logo is closest to you currently?

The Apple logo

8. Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites?

Chess. Card games like Solitaire, Black-Jack, and Castle. A game that I can’t remember the name of but it’s essentially a board-game version of Capture The Flag. Mostly Chess.

9. A musical artist you love that isn’t well known

St. Vincent? I’m not sure if she’s well known or not.

10. A musical artist you love that is well known

David Bowie. 

11. What is your desktop background currently?

A picture of Apollo 11 accompanied by the words “It won’t fail because of me”

12. Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them

My best friend Layla, through the iMessage app.

13. First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow

Salmon

14. What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in?

My iPad, my computer, my collection of vintage stopwatches

15. What kind of headphones do you use?

Sony, wireless, noise canceling, over-the ear 

16. What musical artists have you seen perform live?

Twenty One Pilots, Sylvan Esso

17. Does virginity matter to you?

I guess? I think it’s important, it’s certainly some kind of ‘milestone,’ but I don’t think it should be treated like the scale of a persons ‘purity.’ It’s important because it’s sex, and (hopefully) that means that you’re sharing a consensual, intimate experience that feels fucking great for both (or all, if it’s more then two) participants.

18. What gaming consoles do you or your family own?

Z e r o, although I’m hoping to buy a PS4 at some point so I can play Detroit Become Human.

19. What pets do you have? What are their names?

Juno is my cat, she is an adorable grey tiger-striped shorthair. She’s got little white mitten-paws and it’s absolutely ridiculous.

20. What’s the best job you’ve ever had?

Doing tech at a local theater

21. What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?

Teaching art to little kids (I like kids but it was just exhausting)

22. What magazines do you read, if any?

The New Yorker, and the National Geo if I’m like, waiting in my doctor’s office or something.

23. Inspiration behind your URL?

It’s just my initials and a year from the Edwardian era

24. Inspiration behind your blog title?

It’s just my initials 

25. Favourite item of clothing?

My reddish-brown knit sweater vest and my floral bow-tie (often paired together)

26. Are you friends with any exes?

I made a very conscious effort to cut my exe out of my life… we were not happy for a very long time to say the least

27. Name at least one book you loved as a child.

Strega Nona, it’s about an Italian witch that makes great pasta in a magic pasta pot. My dad would read it to me and my sibling in Italian.

28. What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English)

US English

29. What email service do you use?

Gmail

30. Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in?

So many things. Here's the list:

A giant David Bowie poster, a plaque that says “David Bowie IS,” five David Bowie postcards, a giant Abbey Road poster, all of my patches from summer camp, polaroids of me, my friends, and my family (including my cat), ticket stubs from concerts and plays, two trail markers that I took off of fallen trees on two important cross-country backpacking trips I went on, playbills from a bunch of broadway shows I’ve seen, a poster that says “Stonewall was a riot,” a DC Comics poster, a Pink Floyd poster, a few paintings of mine, and a painting that I got for free from a street artist I befriended in Rome when I was twelve

31. What’s your favourite number, and why?

16, 24, 21, and 8, some numbers make me uncomfortable, but these are just very soft and light and nice 

32. Earliest moment in your life you can remember? 

A rocking chair with fruits painted on it sitting in a dark room and my great grandfathers brown leather loafers (I remember early early stuff in just images or stills, not full moments)

33. What did you have for dinner yesterday?

Pasta with shrimp

34. How often do you brush your teeth?

Usually twice a day, but I’ve been waking up later and later and sometimes forget in the mornings

35. What’s your favourite candy/chocolate?

I don’t know the name of it but it’s this chocolate bar that is stuffed with caramel, hot chili flakes, and crunchy bits of baked tortilla. It's one of the greatest things I’ve ever tasted.

36. Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently?

I used to have one but I deleted it because I never used it

37. If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat?

I would probably walk into the kitchen, realize that too eat something I would have to muster the effort to cook something instead, and then decide to just have a glass of milk instead.

38. What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of?

Downton Abbey (primarily Thommy)

Chernobyl HBO (as well as the Leonid Toptunov/Sasha Akimov subfandom)

Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit (books and movies)

CrankGamePlays

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Star Trek TOS

Philosophy Tube

The Dark Crystal and The Dark Crystal: Age Of Resistance

39. If you could study anything, what would it be?

If I had the energy to fully wrench my life in a completely different direction I would like to become a professional scuba diver and study the ocean. I already am a scuba diver, but it’s a hobby and not something I’m able to do very often at all.

40. Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick)

I’ll wear chapstick if I have a cold

41. How would you describe your sense of humour?

Intellectual and dry

42. What things annoy you more than anything else?

People who think they’re better than everyone else and people who recognize a fault in themselves and then refuse to work to change it

43. What kind of position are you in at the moment?

I’m laying on my bed, hunched over my laptop

44. Do you wear much jewellery?

Occasionally I’ll wear a necklace or a few rings. I have a lot of non-traditional bracelets (I literally just have pieces of canvas and industrial tie-line wrapped around my wrist). I’m a gay guy and I like to sort-a walk the line between feminine and masculine (often leaning more towards the masc side), so it really depends on my mood.

45. Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc)

A cheese-pizza flavored pringle is currently POTUS and every day the thought of that tears away at a piece of my soul. 

46. Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own

@shochmonster @velvet-of-the-night @panicsheerbloodypanic

47. What do you carry your money in?

My pocket, I have a wallet and I don’t use it

48. Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not?

It’s fine, don’t love it don’t hate it

49. Longest drive you have ever been on?

Three days

50. Furthest away from home you have ever been?

Went on a trip to Switzerland to visit family, I think that’s the farthest but I’m not entirely sure.

51. How many times have you moved house?

Twice

52. What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture?

Five paintings, stacks and stacks of books, boxes filled with stuff (mostly more books), plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes

53. How many devices do you own which can access the internet?

2, and iPad and a computer

54. Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy?

Listening to music

55. Is there anything that always makes you sad?

Thinking about my past for too long

56. What programs do you currently have open?

Google drive, I’m writing

57. What do you associate the colour red with?

Blood and fire

58. Last strong smell you can remember smelling?

Shrimp and butter

59. Last healthy thing you ate?

Three green olives and a handful of bean sprouts

60. Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day?

Used to drink coffee like it was life support (which it essentially was), now I’ll have the occasional cup of tea.

61. What do you associate the colour blue with?

Birds and rain

62. How long is the closest ruler you can find?

I don’t think I own one

63. What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing?

I am wearing olive green corduroy slacks

64. When was the last time you drank water?

30 minutes ago?

65. How often do you clear your browser history?

Never

66. Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic?

Nude anything can be artistic, it can also just be normal, eroticism is in the eye of the beholder.

67. Ever written fanfiction for anything?

Yes dear god so much fanfiction.

68. Last formal event you attended

I genuinely can’t remember, I am have extreme social anxiety and don’t go to events like that unless I absolutely have too

69. If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why?

I don’t care about birthdays

70. Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside?

Beach, I love to swim, I’m also a surfer

71. Roughly how many people live in your town?

Uhm… eight times the number of people who live in the state of Montana and that doesn’t count daily commuters and tourists (New York City is essentially just a tin of sardines, except inside are 8.399 million sardines)

72. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?

No, but three of my friends were born on the day just after my birthday.

73. Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores

The Strand Bookstore, L Train Vintage, any antique shops in the town of Hudson, New York 

74. Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one?

I used to have an iPhone 5SE but then it stopped working after a few weeks of quarantine and I haven’t gotten a new one (I’ve had it for about 5-6 years so it makes sense)

75. What is your least favourite colour, and why?

I don’t have a least favorite color, but my favorite color is prussian blue

76. How do you spell grey/gray?

Grey

77. Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link)

It’s anime fanart for a show I’ve never heard of

78. What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow?

3

79. How many posts do you have?

219

80. How many posts have you liked?

619

81. Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content?

Mostly reblogs but I do my own content as well

82. Do you track any tags?

No, just blogs

83. What time is it currently?

10:39

84. Is there anything you should be doing right now?

writing

I’m not quite sure who to tag so it’s just open to anyone I guess?

[nabrizoya]

Congrats on your 100 followers!!! 💞💞💞 Thank you for being here, for fangirling over Jesse and Lucie with me! You brighten my day every time I see your messages!! 🤗💕 Those 100 have made the right choice by following you!! Sooo... 1 about Cordelia, 4, and 6 about Jesse!! Something about me... I love watching rhythmic gymnastics and it is one of the leading sports in my country!! 😊

excuse me ma’am have i ever talked of how brilliant you are and everything that you do? when you first followed me i lost my shit because oH my GOD look who- yeah, safe to say, I was really excited and surprised. Man, talking about Jesse and Lucie is like the best thing ever but more than that, I’m glad that I got to know a little more about you as a person than just a tumblr user I adore. (idk about the right choice but ehh, we’ll see). 

1. Oh my god. I loVED Cordelia all the while reading Chain of Gold. She’s so wonderful and we all see parts of ourselves in her? She’s not self sufficient but she always strives to be better? The one moment that I fell absolutely in love with her was when she goes to confess to Alastair that she had been eavesdropping on him and Charles and she says, and I quote:

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear such things. I only wanted to tell you I loved you just the same. It makes no difference to me.

Because honestly, these words mean the world to a struggling person. And I can only imagine the effect they have on Alastair because the next time we see him, he’s fiercely protective of Layla, a side of him which he haven’t seen until then. It just shows the sort of power that words and especially words that mean acceptance can come a long, long way. 

I think many people already knew at the beginning of the book that the boy Lucie met in the forest was Jesse but I hadn’t known that at all. Possibly because I only started reading the rest of tsc i.e. TID, TFTSA, TDA and GOTSM since March. So I was clueless for a bit there. 

Here’s a bonus to you though: Much, much before I even started reading Lady Midnight, the moment I met Kit, I knew he was Herondale. Why? Did I have a metal detector thing that spots Herondales? No. Because I... wait for it... spoiled myself. Hell yeah, spoiler nation to the victory. But I spoiled myself way back in 2018 itself so idk it must’ve stayed at the back of my mind until it decided to randomly torment just as I began reading. 

6. Jesse [aah, there’s SO many!] 

When Tatiana would go around on her voodoo, black magic errands, Jesse would play the piano for Grace and it would be the only time when he would get to see his sister truly be the little child she was. I also have this strange headcanon that Grace is an excellent singer and that when her brother plays the piano, she sings the shadowhunters’ lullaby that her biological mother sang to her as a child. As she sang, Jesse would play the tune to match the piano because he has heard it being sung to other shadowhunter kids in Idris. In retrospect, it’s kinda sad, but what can be said? The two of them really did live strange and nearly awful lives. 

Jesse is a profound animal lover! He loves ALL animals and as a ghost while he wandered around the Brocelind Forest, he befriended almost many of them. And this kinda ties up well with the fact that Ty (who is said to be the most resembling to Jesse, what with his slender build and features and black hair) also loves animals so much, but the key difference is that Ty while loves the eccentric and rarest of them, Jesse quite likes all of them though there is a line that he draws where he carefully handles a little more dangerous animals. 

He once tried to fix the garden that made a clearing behind the Chiswick House (near the river next to the trees) and decided to build a birdhouse but due to his sickness, he never was actually able to. but he’ll fix it with Lucie. it will become abandoned after a few years and then it will collapse due to lack of proper care.

Jesse loves the space and he enjoys stargazing. (: 

Jesse is a manageable, perhaps a nearly good cook and because I doubt Tatiana ever fed him well he sometimes made his sister’s favourite treats that he otherwise wouldn’t when his mother was around.

Listen up you lovely person, I am SO GLAD I MET YOU and yess it’s an understatement when I say you’re awesome. :’) and i’ll keep repeating that until the end of eternity and your love for star wars is unmatchable. <33

(also, shit, this is awkward, i totally forgot to do 4. here you go: it’s a collection from december 2019 when i was reading a few books from the chronicles of narnia; 

“Grown-ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations!” said Digory. 

Aunt Letty was a very tough old lady; aunts often were in those days.

Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech.

Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. 

“...There is no pool now. The world is ended, as if it had never been. Let the race of Adam and Eve take warning.” // “Yes Aslan,” said both the children. But Polly added, “But we’re not quite as bad as that world, are we, Aslan?” // “Not yet, Daughter of Eve.”

The Magician’s Nephew, Lewis Carroll.

thanks for asking, matey. :”)

Also, Photographic evidence of me spoiling myself lol circa 2020 March 31st: (such a mood no? FML).

[kashimos-hajime]

home | l.l.

Summary: “Come home to me, my love. Please, bring him home.”  You’re a youthful little creature, but anyone who knows that life’s most vibrant gifts are the ones most dangerous, knows to stay away.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but happy ending, blood, death, sacrificial rituals, mentions of suicide bc loki :( Pairing: pre-Thor to postTDW!Loki x sorceress!Reader Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Okay, so months ago, I entered a certain writing challenge, and forgot about it. Layla was kind enough to tell me to take my time, and now I have it completed! My prompt was: “Excuse my tantrum, can’t you see I’ve got my hands full.”

@wxntersoldiers, enjoy bb!! You deserve it :)

They've hidden you away on this war-hungry realm, where the blades are sharp and the shields are sharper. Shoved books and herbs and tutors every which way they think you will intercept them, so that they can mold you into a lady worthy of Asgard’s standards. Placed your blades out of reach, because Vanaheim is the peace to Asgard’s war. The country to Asgard’s city. Farmers to their rich.

They call you simple. You are your father’s daughter, after all, and he was merely a farmer before he was a king.

So, yes, you are the farmer’s daughter, who just happened to be lucky to marry the Prince of Asgard. The simple girl who is well-spoken, and polite, and trusting without a fault. The pretty, simple girl from a peaceful realm who doesn’t understand that their Prince will never love an idiot like you.

What you know as the truth is all that matters.

.

Your father is Freyr of Two Kingdoms. Of Vanaheim and Alfheim and you are to lead both. Your father reads aloud strategy instead of bedtime stories, and you paint with a sword instead of a brush. You grow up a battle-hardened warrior who has not yet lost a battle, and your father’s father sends his blessings to you. He tells you the ocean sings in your veins and the winds rest in your heart. He tells you that you are the tsunami’s rage and the torrential rains of fall.

But all the courtiers call you is farmer’s girl. Little peach.

A farmer’s girl who wields a scythe like a second arm, who’ll cut someone in two if it means it’ll make your father proud. A sweet little thing who has knives hidden in a smile. A fountain of limitless potential without a leash, a witch, if anyone’s ever seen one, without a master.

Your father’s sister amends that immediately.

She bleeds you over the fire, and teaches you things your father does not dare to speak of. Sorcery, and spells, and little tiny tricks that’ll tip the balance to your side. Black magic, they call it. You say it’s making use of what you are born with.

Little peach. Dark princess.

A little peach who is her mother’s daughter, shimmering and beautiful. 

You’re a youthful little creature, but anyone who knows that life’s most vibrant gifts are the ones most dangerous, knows to stay away.

.

It’s a shame, you realize, that an arranged marriage was made.

You’re quite sure that if you’d met Loki in any other circumstance, you’d love him and he’d love you. He’s quiet and polite, and not hard on the eyes at all. In fact, you’re quite sure he’s attracted to you, too. After all, there are worse brides in the nine realms. 

But, then he listens to what the court says, and you keep up the pretense that you’re nothing but the clouds in your head. Not that it’s hard. You simply don’t fight it, and let the people do the rest. You have no interest in defending yourself against opinions that don’t matter. You only care about one.

Your mother’s whispers tell you to paste that smile on your face. It’s not worth the trouble to fight what they think of you.

Your father’s glare demands you to show them who you are. You are my heir, and you will earn their respect.

Your lady aunt Freyja takes no side, but you can imagine her voice perfectly. My autumn child, you know what men do for a woman’s love.

You smile and open up a book as your betrothed enters the library. His eyes rake over you for a moment as you let out a soft hum, face turned away. The sun shines through the window, illuminating the dust that flickers through the air and you flip a page deliberately to catch his attention again.

“What are you reading?” he asks two shelves over.

“Some odd book about seiðr,” you respond and your gaze rises to see him pausing. He grabs the book he has floating somewhere between him and the shelf, and turns around, meeting your eyes. He searches for something deeper. You drop your eyes back to the book you’ve read countless times before.

He sits down on the opposite end of the window sill bench and you tuck your knees to your chest. You hold the book open, and his eyes flicker across your face, drinking you in. 

“Interesting?” he inquires. You send him a smile.

“Enough.”

No more words are said. He simply cracks open his book and you return to yours. You cannot help the smile that spreads across your face.

Many things, Aunt Freyja. People do many, many things for love.

.

That is your little hideaway, the library. Only Loki knows when to find you and where — that spot on the window sill bench, after dinner and before breakfast — and he comes to join you often.

Mostly, he asks questions. You smile and answer all of them willingly. You’ve let him come to you, and now you have him in your grasp, and you in his. The moment he finds out you also know how to use magic, know how to do things that not many on this war-hungry realm can, you feel something in your chest lurch at the very sight of him. Perhaps it’s the way his eyes spark when he reads something new, or the gentle way in which he smiles at you. 

No matter. You enjoy the games you play together.

You watch the way the sunlight hits the smooth apples of his cheeks and brow bones as you play with the magic at your fingertips. The two of you play a game where you must get pieces through hoops the other positions. It can be as outrageous as one’d like, but in the lazy setting sun and the fullness of supper, neither of you go farther than the distance between the two. 

He holds a hoop between the two of you and your lips twist as you telekinetically toss a piece through it. It lands in his lap and you smirk victoriously.

“Now, I get a question,” you announce. Loki leans back against the wall, a satisfied smile upon his face. “Lemon tarts or berry tarts?”

“You know I don’t like sweet things,” Loki deadpans and you smile, tucking your knees to your chest. You flick your fingers and retrieve the piece still in his lap as his own wooden blocks float around his fingers. “Lemon tarts.”

Taking your own hoop and holding it up above your head with a wave of your fingers, you feel the warm gush of power flow down your fingers. The wooden hoop shimmers with blue magic as you look up, making the final adjustments to its position.

“I’m ready,” you announce and Loki picks up a piece with his fingers. It soars through the air with a flick of his fingers and through the hoop, and he catches it before it can drop on your head. He smiles with a little ‘ahah’ and holds the little wooden piece in his fist as you lower the hoop onto your finger with an amused smile.

It seems only in the sanctuary that is the library does Loki smile like he does. You’ve been here quite a while to know that he’s not the favourite son. The Allfather tries his best not to make it so painstakingly obvious, but you can see it plain as day. 

He wears his smile in the court like a courtesy. Whilst you float around, a butterfly searching for nectar, he is the crow perched on leaves, wondering when he can return home to his murder — his flock. You’ve tried to draw that smile you know lurks within him out, but fail every time.

Here though, he blooms like the sweetest flower and you reach over to skim your fingertips over his knuckles. His eyes flicker down before meeting yours. 

“Why do you act like that in court?” he asks softly, and you tilt your head.

“Like what?”

“You know what I mean, my lady.”

“I know what they think of me,” you say with a cunning smile. “You can’t make people change their minds, and an advantage can only be used once. But why should I care about silly little opinions when only one truly matters?” Your magic dances across your fingertips and over Loki’s hand as he slowly turns it over to grasp your palm. His fingers slide over your wrist, feeling your pulse that beats in your ears.

“And whose opinion is that?” he asks, tone bemused. You roll your eyes, draw back, and gesture to one of the hoops he has floating around his head.

“One question per point,” you remind him, drawing your hand away. Pink stains his cheeks and you send him another sly smile. “Come on. A few more rounds before bed.”

“Bed?” he repeats with a glint of mischief. You fling a block at his nose which he deflects easily, and his smirk causes your lips to press into a flustered smile. “Too early for bed, isn’t it, my lady?”

“The night is still young.”

“Ah, you know that wasn’t what I meant.” 

“If you’re so eager, a request could be made to my father to move the wedding up a fortnight,” you chuckle. With the wedding only a month away, everything is falling into place. The few things you have left to deal with is the final fittings for the dress, and the final draft of the menu.

“I’ll resist the temptation, little witch. The wait will make it sweeter.”

Your heart beats a little faster. By his little self-satisfied smirk, you know he knows, and you curse Loki for being able to turn the tides of your little battle against you.

.

The day of the wedding is scheduled for the first day of autumn, and gentle wind kisses your cheeks as you walk through the gardens. A spiral of orange and yellow, red and brown, follow your steps as your father walks you through one last time.

“You’ll return home, then? Once the wedding is over?” you ask softly. The sparrows chirp overhead, flitting from one branch to another. You smile at the sweet songs, leaning against your battle-worn father. He wears a handsome grey pelt around his shoulders, his cape dragging behind on the cobblestone road as you tilt your head to the grey-blue sky. 

“Yes. Once I’m sure you’ve settled in, and you’re comfortable here.” Autumn blossoms sprinkle the pathway as you ascend the steps to the Great Hall and you turn to your father with a smile reserved only for him. 

“I am happy here. If they’d let me bring out my sword once in a while, then it’ll be perfect.” 

He nods, cupping your face and tilting your chin up towards him. His dark eyes flicker over your face, thumb stroking your jaw and you smile bittersweetly. You know what he sees — his little girl.

“Thank you, Father.” 

And at last, he smiles. It vanishes a second later, but the love that swells in your chest does not as he sends the guards a nod.

The doors open, and you are presented to the people who are to be yours.

Loki wears his ceremonial armor, golden horns glinting in the morning sunlight that streams through the open ceiling. Rich green spills from his shoulders, his cape pooling around his leather boots as he turns to look at you. A reverent silence hangs in the air, filled by the soft lull of harps and choir voices, and you lower your eyes to avoid the evident smile that’ll occupy your face as soon as you see him.

When you reach the altar, you turn to gather up your dress that tumbles on for miles to see attendants already holding onto it, adjusting it so it flows prettily down the golden stairs. Your father watches with a hard stare, making sure you look as beautiful as you can be and you place your hands on your father’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Papa. For everything.” 

He nods once, and then takes hold of your hands with his rough ones. His thumbs brush over your knuckles as he turns to Loki, who holds out his own hands.

You look at the man who is to be your husband in mere moments, and he hides a smile beneath that helmet of his. Your father places your hands in Loki’s, giving you away, before descending down the steps and standing next to your Aunt Freyja who hides a clever smile behind her hands.

.

Marital bliss lasts for centuries. The both of you are in no rush for children, still young and eager to learn about the world and each other. 

“If it comes, then we let it come,” Loki whispers into your neck one night before bed. You press your whole body against his, wrapping him in a tight hug as his arm drapes over your waist. He kisses your jaw and brushes hair away from your face, eyes dark in the shadows of your shared rooms. “But in the meantime, I’d like to get in a lot of practice.”

“Practice, hm?” Your face is flush against his chest, and you press soft, tiny kisses against the bare skin you find there, fingers tracing shapes along his back. He sighs, his hand trailing up and down your side as he takes you in. Your eyes peer up at him modestly, and you reach up to touch his face. You feel his smile warm against your palm, and you wonder how it is that you’ve fallen in love with the man when he’s the one who is supposed under your spell. 

You suppose it isn’t hard to wonder why.

“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of practice.” His nose wrinkles against your cheek and your laughter is silenced by his kisses as you wrap your arms around his neck. The sheets twist around your body as you slide a leg between his. The burn of his skin spreads delightfully into your bones as you sigh, brushing fingers over his cheeks.

“I adore you, you know that?” 

“Of course I do,” he whispers, and he seals that promise with a kiss.

.

Your first is a daughter, and the birth is difficult. You think it’s the stress — the whole ordeal has been a hellish year, and the fact that Thor has been banished such a short time ago. 

Loki has been exiled to pace outside your room to let the midwives work as you let out a torrential scream. Outside, Asgard faces a storm, bullet rain that dents metal with every one of your pained shouts as wet wind carries the fate of your child to all corners of the realm. There is blood, so much blood that they have to change the towels beneath your waist twice.

And even then, it’s a struggle.

Frigga brings you sustenance — filling soup and water — as well as updates on your husband.

“He’s going positively mad,” your mother-by-law whispers and you let out a breathless laugh as another contraction rips through you. Something tears and you grip onto whatever is closest, clamping down with all your might. The midwives murmur amongst themselves but you cannot see through your tears to bother asking what’s wrong.

The labour continues on for another day and a half before you can rest. Frigga departs your bedside to go look and you raise your head blearily. You’re quite light-headed, and you wonder why there is such a silence. You can hear the gurgles of a child, the tiny little wails but otherwise, nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you croak, blinking. You need to see your baby. You gave your life and soul to this child and now they won’t even tell you what’s wrong. “Is it a boy, or a girl?” Nothing. “Answer me!”

“We… we don’t know, Princess.”

Your whole world shatters. You try to sit up but Frigga stops you as agony rips between your legs mercilessly. Groaning, you slide back down as she cups your face. Your blown eyes search hers, and you feel the tears coming before you can stop them. Hair sticks to the sweat on your skin as you let out a quivering breath, trying to stop yourself from sobbing.

“What’s wrong with my child?” you ask weakly, closing your eyes as tears burn hotter than the flames surrounding you. Frigga shushes you and you feel the shift of the bed as she turns to the midwives.

“You do not speak of this moment. You do so, and you will not wake up from your sleep. Leave.”

The door opens and closes. A soft bundle is pressed into your arms. Frigga stuffs pillows beneath your head and urges you to open your eyes.

“There’s a secret we’ve been hiding from Loki his whole life,” the Queen whispers as your eyes peel open. Tears blur your vision instantly but you blink them away. With a weak finger, you pull the towel away from your child’s face. “Something we should’ve told him long before he met you.”

“Boy or girl?” you ask quietly. The child turns in your arms, eyes squeezed shut and a closed fist hitting your finger softly. 

“You have a sweet little daughter.”

Nodding to yourself, you feel your fingers go numb as you stare at your tiny little daughter. She’s so small, so gentle, and yet she already has such a climb in front of her. Your heart swells for your firstborn child, and you hold her to your forehead, breathing in her scent as you stroke her tiny chest.

You kiss her blue, marked cheek, and her tiny blue knuckles, play with her creamy little fingers and brush a knuckle down the unmarked side of her face. You watch as your half-blue daughter searches for food, and you swallow a hard knot. Bearing your breast, you let her feed and try not to cry once again. 

“When will you tell him?” you ask. Frigga looks on with guilt, with shame. Your eyes stare frostily at her, and you wonder if this is why the Allfather favours Thor over him. “I won’t hide this from him.” The Queen has no answer, and a wave of nausea crashes over your head as you turn to look at your daughter. The birthing pains have faded, replaced by new, deeper cuts on your heart. “Please bring him in.”

When Loki meets his tiny little daughter, blue and cream, frost giant markings along her face and body, he confesses that he knows. Knows he’s a monster.

You tell him with every ounce of yourself that he is not even though you know he won’t believe you. So you tell him you love him instead, because he knows that that will never change.

.

“Thor! You’re back!” You rush to him, pulling him into your rooms as you admire your brother. His golden hair shines in the candlelight and he wears a fatigued smile as you go to pour him some tea. 

“There’s no need for that,” he says with a wave and you send him a strange look. Something about him seems off. He’s no longer the jovial man you know, or perhaps, something has happened. Before you can entertain that thought, though, a shrill cry pierces the air and you go to the cradle beside your bed. 

Your daughter squirms and wiggles, and you pick her up, shushing her quietly as you turn to look at Thor. He stares at your daughter for half a moment, and you smile sadly.

“They hid the secret from you, too,” you begin and he rips his gaze to you. “Sweet brother, Loki has been raised in a lie.”

And that is what makes the next bit of news so utterly horrible.

“Where is he, anyhow?” you ask. You gently rock your daughter in your arms, hoping that’ll soothe her to sleep but with a newborn, you’re only learning more and more everyday. Thor grimaces, fingers slotting together as if he’s trying to figure out the right words to say. You go to your balcony, looking at where the bridge has shattered. You arch an eyebrow, tilting your head and absently stroking your daughter’s cheek. “The Bifrost was glowing awfully bright before you returned.”

“Autumn sister,” he whispers, and his voice has grown thick. You turn to him, the wind tugging at the skirts around your ankles as he steps onto the balcony with you. The moon casts you both in silver, and you swallow. 

“Bad news?” Your voice shakes and you try to pretend it’s from the cold that does not bother you, not the fear that seizes your heart and threatens to crush it into tiny pieces of dust. When Thor does not answer, you shake your head and whip around, holding your child to your face. Yours and Loki’s. Our daughter.

“I’m sorry—”

“No. No, please don’t tell me,” you whisper. Kissing her cheek, you hold the child close to you in hopes that it’ll fend off whatever words Thor will say. “Don’t tell me, please.”

“He let go of my hand,” Thor whispers and you close your eyes, breath rattling in your throat. “He let go, and he fell.”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

A myriad of emotions digs into your heart, splitting it with a chisel and hammer, carving it into something that resembles a broken heart. You wilt, sinking to your knees and holding your daughter close. The last pieces of Loki you have left.

“Was I not enough?” you ask to the winds. Thor drapes his cloak around your shoulders, gently touches your daughter’s cheek who meets her uncle for the first time, and shakes his head. “Was our daughter not enough?”

“It was never anything you did,” he whispers, hugging you tight. You close your eyes, and tears trace over onyx armor as he presses a tight kiss to your temple. “Some secrets never should have been secrets.”

.

“You’re sending Thor to Midgard, but not me?” You throw open the doors with a slam, storming into the throne room. Odin Allfather sits up in his chair, his conversation with his wife all but broken as you stop. Blue autumn winds follow after you, brushing against your skirts, your hands, curling around your fingers. “I’m his wife, if you don’t remember.”

“You have a daughter. I don’t want young Hela to lose two parents,” he replies, an easy response, a trained one. You sneer, hands curling into knuckle-white fists. Magic rushes to your fingertips, but before you can protest, he slams Gungnir into the floor. “My decision is final.”

Frigga’s, however, is not. With a promise to take care of your daughter, she sneaks you into the Observatory. Thor flies you in, and the two of you hold on tight to each other as Frigga waves farewell.

“I need to return before he thinks anything’s amiss,” the Queen Mother explains with a slight smile. “Bring him home.”

“We will,” the two of you promise. 

When Odin’s dark magic powers the Observatory for the first time in centuries, he sends not one but two warriors down to Midgard.

.

“Loki?” you whisper, and he wilts under your stare. Something flickers in your eyes as you press your hands against the glass. He’s trapped in some sort of cage, and you paste on that smile of yours as he walks towards the thick walls.

He places his hands deliberately to cover yours, and you lean forward, your forehead touching his. The soft thunk tells you he does the same and you close your eyes. You can nearly feel the heat of him. Almost, not quite, maybe.

“What have they done to you?” you ask as your heart tries to touch his. It wrenches out of your chest, and you open your eyes to meet his, smokey blue, a gaze you don’t know. “Who did this to you?”

There is no answer. He merely backs away into the end of the glass container like you’d shocked him.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill whoever did this to you,” you promise. The glass begins to bend under your burning hands and the blue magic under your fingertips phases through the glass. The rest of you follows, and you are in the cell with him. He watches you like an injured dog, and your heart cracks as you open your arms.

“Stay back, wife,” he spits, but you don’t care. His poison has never touched you. You continue towards him.

“I’ll kill them all,” you repeat as the uncertainty in Loki’s eyes grows. “I promise you. I promise I will do whatever they’ve done to you to them tenfold. I will bring you home to our daughter.” You think of little Hela back home, and you smile. “She’s missed you. She’s your little girl.”

“She’s a monster,” he whispers harshly. You falter and your arms drop to your sides. “Don’t you see?”

“I’ve never cared much for monsters.” Blue mist spills into the air, tasting like cold starlight and warm spices as you reach out one hand to him. “And I know how to love one with everything I have.”

Tendrils of magic weave from your fingers out to Loki, who has half-turned away from you. It caresses his face and whispers over his jaws, taking hold and turning his cheek towards you. His eyes meet yours and you smile. 

“Come home to me, Loki.”

He takes a step towards you and your heart swells in your chest. Your fingers strain for his cheek and your smile grows as he walks into your reach. Your hand cups his face, and you let out a relieved laugh. You absorb every inch of him, the sunken quality of his eyes, the hollowness in his cheeks. My husband. 

Your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly, he’s embracing you back desperately. His arms clutch at the leather that binds your armor together and you kiss his neck softly.

“She looks so much like you,” you whisper, tracing shapes on the plane of his shoulder. “Come home to me.”

“I will. When the work is done, I will.”

“What?” Your head raises off the crook of his neck and shoulder, and you stare into his eyes. Swallowing, you open your mouth to speak but then he pushes you hard, blasting you through the glass and onto the metal floor. “Loki—”

“Trust me, wife,” he says with a sly smirk. In between the lines of his face, you can read him like any book in the library.  “It won't take long.” Dusting yourself off, you nod and swallow the hard knot of fear in your throat.

.

Safe in his chains and muzzle, he presses his forehead against your cheek and in your mind you can hear one name.

Thanos.

The frost that crawls down your spine is not from the cold. You hold your husband tight against you as Thor twists the glass cylinder containing the Tesseract. Blue cosmic energy washes over you and you return home to your daughter, who cries when she sees her father.

.

You bring your daughter to his cell, sit on the lip of the stone and hold her up in your lap as he sits on the other side of the golden barrier. A tiny grin encompasses his face and makes him glow as Hela reaches forward.

“Hello, darling,” he whispers as you pull her back from the barrier. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Loki.” You sigh, fingers scratching the stone you sit upon as you wrap an arm around your daughter. “She took her first steps today.”

“Really? She’s a quick learner, then,” Loki praises and you smile sadly. You press your hand against the barrier despite the tingling electricity burning beneath your palm as a blue shockwave ripples over the gold. 

“You should have been there to see it,” you whisper over your blistering skin and Loki’s eyes widen. Tears burn into your eyes as your burning hand curls into a fist. “Loki, I can’t do this. You should be here—”

“Hold fast, my love.”

“This is no way for us to live.”

He places a hand against the burning barrier, and you close your eyes the tears race down your face. Hela’s soft hand wipes them away unknowingly and you open your eyes to gaze at your daughter. You see so much of your husband in her that it makes everything ache.

“No one ever said this was fair.” You look up again to see his palm, black and white instead of cream. There is no wince or flinch at the blood that pours down his wrist and you glance down at your own hand. The burns have already begun to fade, but the ones on your heart will forever remain raw.

.

“I need your help,” Thor whispers, tugging you away from the harbour. You’re torn away from Frigga’s funeral jarringly, blinking as you collide with people although Thor makes a clear enough path as you reach a small archway in an alley of some street. You thrash your arm out of his grip, backing to the opposite end of the archway. He stands there, stung, but all you can muster is a glare. The candlelight illuminates half of his face, the other cast in shadow, and your fist clenches.

The fires heighten, burn blue.

“What do you want from me?”

“We need to end this threat. We need to find Malekith and destroy him before he comes for the Aether.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You cross your arms, jaw stiff as you take another step back to his step forward. 

“Promise me you’ll help me. I need you.”

“Why should I?” you snarl, poison biting at your words. “Have you ever gone to see your brother? He rots in a cell whilst you come bringing you little lady love to Asgard.” Thor’s mouth opens and you raise a hand to silence him. “Save it. I want to hear nothing from you.”

.

“I told you I wouldn’t help you.”

“You’re being childish.” Thor enters your rooms. You spin around from where you’re holding your daughter, mouth open in protest. “You act like some simple girl who doesn’t understand the consequences. If Malekith gets his hands on the Aether—”

“Excuse me if I’m having a bit of a tantrum. Can’t you see I’ve got my hands full?” you snap. You send a wicked glare at your brother-by-law who seems to wilt underneath your stare and you inhale sharply. “What do you want, Thor?”

“Convince him to help me.” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, and you frown deeply. “Why should either of us help you?” you ask breathlessly and Thor looks away. “You imprison your brother who was tortured, manipulated—”

“You want revenge for Frigga?”

Your heart breaks into shatters at the mention of her, and your breath catches in your throat. “You know I do.”

“Then, what other reason do you have to help me?” Thor’s eyebrows raise in sympathy and he extends a hand to you. “Your daughter will be cared for, I promise you.” You kiss your daughter’s cheek, gaze into her red and blue eyes, before nodding.

“Fine.”

.

“Move!” You run away from Jane whom you’d been protecting and scream, blue magic flaring around your fingertips as you push Thor away. No, no, no. “Let me see him.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers painfully and you let out a horrified breath as he clutches as your sleeves. Blood spills over the soil as you bow your head, pressing your face against Loki’s. “I’m sorry, wife.”

“Loki, no. Hold on, sweetheart,” you tell him, placing a hand over the wound, fingers bending as you search for the source of blood. A poisoned blade, cursed with something dark. You can fix this — you can fix this if you have time— 

Loki’s fingers let go of your sleeve, slip off your hands as the pale blue of his heritage overtakes every part of him.

“No. Loki, no!” You cup his face, but his head rolls away at the force and you let out an outraged scream. “No, no, no!” Slamming a fist against the dirt, pure cosmic energy flares between the cracks of the dirt as a pair of hands reach for your shoulders. With one hand holding Loki’s body towards you, you twist to slap Thor away. “Stay away from me!”

“We need to find him,” Thor whispers through a thick, tear-ridden voice. “Malekith is still out there.”

“You killed him! Why should I help you?” you scream, skirting towards your husband’s body, holding his head in your lap. You brush the hair away from his face and sniff through your blurring vision. Hot tears drop to the soil and onto Loki’s pale face as you bow your head. Agony rips your heart to shreds as it collapses in your chest, and you struggle to breathe through your clogged throat. You tear your gaze wretchedly to him.

“Y/N—”

“Go! Leave!” What little air you can breathe rattles between your teeth as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to cleanse the image of your husband from your mind as you run stiff fingers through his hair. “Leave me!”

“I’m sorry.” The words whisper at your ears, but you shake your head. Forcing your eyes open, you reach a hand to the wound. And here you thought you’d never need what you’ve been taught ever again.

Dragonsroot, heartsbane. You’ll need a warm fire, fresh, young blood.

For the first time in so long, Freyja’s voice sings in your mind and you press your lips together. The magic tendrils stitch Loki back together from within and you use your other hand to pull the poison from his blood as you pray to your father. You haven’t in so long, that you wonder if he’ll still hear you. Vile, black magic stains your blue and you toss it aside, letting it curl and sink into the dirt.

Take me home, Father. Grant me safe winds, Grandfather, and blessed waves. Bring me home.

There is movement under Loki’s eyes, so quick that you think you must have hallucinated it and you blink the tears from your eyes. “Loki?” you whisper, brushing your hands over his tear-stained cheeks.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” 

Whipping around, you let out a breathless laugh upon seeing your father. How long has it been? Decades? Centuries? He looks older now than he did before, but no less strong. The mere image of him grants you strength and your heart mends momentarily with sticky sap and pure spite.

His flintstone eyes widen upon seeing his child on this foreign realm, holding onto the dead prince of Asgard and he walks to you, falling to his knees. Trying to hold back your tears, your throat blooms in pain as you throw your arms around him.

“Please, help me,” you sob, your forehead pressing against your father’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Little one,” he whispers, holding you tight, “we know someone who does.”

.

In a pyre built by you and you alone, Loki burns.

The smell of burnt leather and hair fills the air, no matter how many flowers and sweet fruits loiter in the clearing you do this in. 

Your aunt’s instructions echo in your ears and you turn back to look at the castle over your shoulder where your daughter awaits. She’d been rescued by your father earlier that day whilst your aunt aided you in gathering what you need.

She stands on the edge of the clearing now, waiting, watching.

“This is your last chance,” Freyja calls softly and you shake your head. You need to do this, even if you aren’t sure it’ll work, even if it might kill you. Holding out a hand, you close your eyes and blow out a breath between your lips. The wooden handle of your knife is pressed firmly into your palm and you drag the silver tip over your fingers, not cutting the skin.

You toss a glance to your lady aunt, who nods and gathers the two bowls. In them, grinded heartsbane and chopped dragonsroot you’d prepared yourself. She walks to the back of the pyre, throwing them into the flames. 

Immediately, it bursts white, flickers of other colours you’d never seen before burning into your eyes as you walk up the pyre. The wood trembles beneath your bare feet and the fire licks at your skin greedily as you close your eyes. As your skin begins to blister, you stuff down the mortal throes that make you want to scream until you bleed and walk deeper into the fire. 

You can barely see through the white flames and you fall to your knees, blood clotting in your throat as you reach blindly for his body. He is yet untouched, covered in oils and blessings, and his skin is smooth and cold to your touch as you reaffirm your grip on the knife.

Say his name, then your wish. Give your blood, your sweat, your tears. Show them you are worthy. Spirits more powerful than us will decide.

“Loki,” you whisper and the flames twist and flicker. You trail your hand down his shoulder to his chest to the scar on his abdomen you’d tried your hardest to heal. “Come back to me, my love.” A rush of magic, threads of sorcery, run down your arms and flows down the knife, burning orange in the fire. “Come home.” Your teeth clench together and you peel open your eyes.

You are all ash and bones, black peeling skin, blood and tears, and what is left of your strength is visible in the magic that whispers over your skin. Bringing the knife to your stomach, you inhale flames and ash.

Please, bring him home.

And you sheathe the knife in your stomach, in the exact placement as the scar on Loki’s body. Blood rushes forward as you yank the knife out breathlessly. You drop the knife, and it slips between the wood of the pyre.

“It’s not his time,” you whisper through the blood rising in your throat. It bubbles between your lips, burning blue under your skin and you bow your head. Closing your eyes, you let the fire wash over your blackened body and lay down next to your husband. Your hands touch his cool skin, and you sigh blissfully. The air is thick, humid, and a wave of exhaustion hits you.

The simple princess, you think as you fall asleep. There is movement beside you, but you hold Loki closer, eyes shut against the bright white flames that purr against your skin. You think you can feel cold hands touch your waist where silk has burned away, and the fire begin to die. The only one that burns now is the one inside your heart.

Little peach. 

Farmer’s girl.

Yes, that is all I am.

[snarky-sims-witch]

This is an entry for @fataleromeo‘s upcoming Bachelorette Challenge! I’m sooooo nervous, I’ve never entered one of these before and I took almost two whole days to decide on which pictures to use from his photoshoot. I really hope I’m doing this right!

Jaxson Rosario

Aspiration: Soulmate Traits: Cat Lover, Geek, Clumsy

Having come from a rather dysfunctional family in the equally dysfunctional town of StrangerVille, Jaxson just wants a normal life. Not that he doesn’t like a good adventure, but he tends to shy away from drama and conflict. He just wants to marry someone he loves and settle down somewhere peaceful with a kid or two (and a small zoo of furbabies).

MORE INFO UNDER THE CUT!

Facts About Jaxson

Jaxson is not his real name. The name on his birth certificate is Four Rosario. Yes, Four. As in the number 4. His birth was part of a government experiment being conducted in StrangerVille and long story short, he has a lot of siblings, all with numbers instead of names. He doesn’t like to talk about it. It makes him feel like a freak.

He’s never met his father, so if Jaxson is ever lucky enough to become a father himself, he wants to be there every step of the way of his child’s life, through good times and bad.

He lives in a trailer park in StrangerVille with his twin sister, Three. He’s very close with his twin, although they often fight about their upbringing. She doesn’t understand why he’s so ashamed of where he comes from.

Jaxson just started a new job as a vet tech and he loves it! Well... he drops things a lot and trips over pet toys and food dishes constantly, but he loves the animals... especially the cats. He can’t have one in his trailer but he wants a cat of his own someday when he has the money to move into a proper house of his own.

When he’s not at the vet clinic, Jaxson loves to read superhero comics. His trailer doesn’t have wifi or cable, so comic books are his only window into the world of sci-fi and geeky fandoms. His favourite superhero is Wonder Woman and he’s definitely more of a DC fan than a Marvel fan.

His biggest fear going into this competition (if he’s selected) is that Layla will see what his life is like when the TV cameras aren’t rolling and think he isn’t good enough.

Other Info

@fataleromeo: Jaxson is wearing Kijiko’s eyalashes, but no other CC apart from my default skin/eyes. He should still look fine with whatever defaults you use. He comes with his twin sister who is wearing lashes, the skin overlay I already sent your way, and CC makeup but you can have her go makeupless or change up her makeup to whatever you already have in your game. Neither of them have any CC hair, clothes, or accessories.

PRIVATE DOWNLOAD

[annoshkii]

Hades

**unedited**

Chapter 3

Layla was in a good mood as she walked to school. Finally she had something to look forward too. After school today she would take Cerberus for a walk to the reservoir and bring him to her spot, she could hardly wait. But first, she had to survive another day at Shady Oak. Plus she had her detention later today, that put a bit of a damper on her mood.

Layla waiting for a traffic light to change, when she saw something shimmer in the corner of her eye. Turning her head to look she saw a wispy, almost translucent form drifting along on the side walk towards her. Layla blinked and rub her eyes, convinced it was a trick of the light but no. The form looked like a weathered old man, wearing a tunic that was cinched at the waist. He was gazing around in awe at the buildings. More oddly, no one else seemed to notice his presence. A couple people even walked straight through him, shivered, and then kept going like nothing had happened. Layla stared in awe as the man drifted closer and closer until he was an arms distance away from her. He was just about to pass through her when he suddenly stopped. Layla was confident she hallucinated what happened next.

The ghost stared at her smiled sweetly and bowed.

“Apologies my lady.” He said in a frail voice and then stepped around her. Layla watch the ghost carry on down the road. The light changed and people began to cross. Layla cast a look over her shoulder one last time for the ghost, but he had disappeared.

She had almost convinced herself that the whole thing was a figment of her imagination, until she reached the school. As usual the various social groups were mingling on the front lawn, chatting and laughing with each other. But unlike usual, lounging under the shade of one of the old oak trees was another ghostly figure, a girl this time. She looked young, no older than Layla was, also wearing a tunic that was cinched at the waist. Layla watched as the girl tried to pick at the clovers and grass surrounding her. At one point she looked up, beamed and waved.

Layla thought that her heart had stopped. Again, no one else seemed to notice the ghost hanging among them. Layla shook her head and hurried inside. Trick of the light, that’s all it was. Despite leaving the house on time for a change Layla was almost late for her first class of the day. Mr. Nelson was not phased when Layla didn’t turn in her math homework again. At the end of class he reminded her of her detention that afternoon threatened to call her parents.

Whatever.

In Science they dissected fetal pigs. Most of the girls were all squeamish and complained about the poor piggy’s. Layla was utterly fascinated. Her teacher, Mrs. Bartlow, was shocked to be bombarded by question after question. At the end of class she even pulled Layla aside to tell her that she had done the neatest dissection job she had ever seen.

At lunch she was cooped up in a small classroom with Mr. Nelson and two other students serving her detention. Mr. Nelson had forbidden them from eating or talking or moving. Basically he wanted them to sit there like corpses for the hour. Layla didn’t find. She had completely zoned out the minute she’d sat down. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Cerberus and the two ghosts she had seen this morning. It had certainly been an eventful time. The sight of the ghosts troubled her. Maybe she was going mad? No one else seemed to be able to see them and both times they looked genuinely happy to see her.

Layla recognized both of the kids in detention with her. There was Derek Longrass and George Humphrey. She was not surprised to see Derek in here, he was always in and out of detention for some reason or another. The teachers instantly took a dislike to him. Derek always swaggered around the school with an arrogant look on his face. It seemed o be his personal mission to push the limits of what exactly was the dress code. Today he was sporting a trucker hat, ripped jeans, and an over sized shit with the words support single moms and the silhouette of a stripper on it. He took pride in being a self proclaimed ‘bad boy’. Currently he was leaning back in his chair fast asleep. Every now and then he would snort, breaking the weird silence.

George on the other hand was not a detention regular. Layla normally saw him hanging out with the likes of Kourtney, the cream of the crop. He was not as loud and obnoxious as some of the others. When ever the gangs started hazing others groups she noticed that George would always hang back. It had earned him some good points but he still did nothing to stop it and that was just as bad. He was leaning forward on his desk, absentmindedly doodling on the edge of some paper. Layla was curious what he had done to land himself in here. George never had a hair out of place, always wore a clean shirt and his jeans always had the air that they had been ironed.

“Psst, hey.” Layla threw a confused look at George. He was holding out a piece of paper to her while keeping his gaze focused on Mr. Nelson. A futile action. Mr. Nelson was deeply engrossed in his copy of Fisherman’s Weekly. Layla took the note suspiciously and unwrapped.

On it was a doodle of Mr. Nelson as a walrus. It looked absolutely, Layla suppressed a grin and pulled out a pencil, adding a word bubble so Walrus Nelson was screaming more fish! Refolding the paper she handed it back to George. Only ten more minutes left then she was free. Layla went back to entertaining herself by tilting the chair as far back as she could. At the front of the classroom Mr. Nelson gave a great hacking cough and snort. His eyes never leaving his magazine once. Another piece of paper bounced on the desk in front of her. Layla dropped the chair onto all four legs with a bang. Everyone jumped, Derek snorted and woke up, Mr. Nelson shot them all an accusatory glare, George looked like he’d turned into a tomato. Layla unfurled the piece of paper again. This time George had written a message.

What did you do?  

Assassinated the school mascot.

Layla re folded the paper and threw it back. She listened to the paper crinkle and George scoffed. Two seconds later the crumpled paper bounced across her desk again.

What did you do with the body?

Dumpster behind the cafeteria.

“Alright, you guys can go.” Mr. Nelson said in a tired voice, not bothering to look up. Three chairs scraped against the floor as they all made a hasty exit. Layla stopped just outside the classroom to fix the safety pins she had put in to hold her bag together. Her stomach growled loudly and she cursed when one of the pins stabbed her.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Layla turned around to face George.

“What?”

“Want to go get lunch?” George was holding onto the straps of his bag, shifting slightly from foot to foot. Layla looked up and down the hallway to check if anyone was filming. Because obviously it was a prank. “You could tell me exactly how you murdered Charlie the Cheetah.”

“Um… Generic excuse?” Really smooth, way to go… Layla finished fastening the last safety pin and shrugged on her bag.

“Did you really just say generic excuse? Out loud?” George looked extremely confused. Layla nodded her head vigorously before turning tail and speed walking out of the hallway. On the scale of awkward interactions Layla had participated in, that ranked pretty high. Top of the list was the one time she had participated in a very public conversation with a person who was actually talking on the phone. This day was just weird.

Layla kept her head low as she followed the flow of students to her next class, ancient civilization. Because her detention had been held on the opposite side of the school, Layla was one of the last ones to arrive. She’d only just sat down when the period bell rang. Mr. D came marching in moments later. He beamed at the class as he set his briefcase down on.

“Good afternoon everyone.” There was a mumbling reply from everyone. “We are continuing our study on the Greek gods and I wanted to single out one of my favourites for us to study today, Aphrodite.”

Everyone, including Layla, had a puzzled expression on their face. Aphrodite? Out of all the gods his favourite was the goddess of love? Mr. D leaned casually against his desk and smiled.

“Many myths claim that she was the first Olympian. Unlike many of the others she was not a child of Rhea and Kronos. She was actually born from the sea foam that was produced from the fallen pieces of Uranus that fell into the water.”

No one was really sure where this was going. Why couldn’t they just have normal origin stories?

“But she was just the goddess of love and stuff. It’s not like she was powerful like Zeus or Ares.” It was Dylan who spoke up. All around him his friends were nodding their agreement and support.

“I disagree, I think she was extremely powerful.” Mr. D readjusted his seat before carrying on. “Love is a powerful primordial feeling. People have gone to war over love, Helen of Troy. People fought and died, homes raided, kingdoms destroyed. A decade long siege started over a woman. It is a force that has driven people insane. Arguably Love is one of the most dangerous tools a person can have. But it is also gentle and soothing, right? A mothers love, the love between a married couple.”

The philosophy of what Mr. D was imply was captivating for Layla. The idea that love was this volatile force that everyone possessed. Some thing raw to be used for good or bad? It was illuminating to say the least. Layla liked his version of the Goddess, liked that he saw her as a power primordial being not just some wishy washy giggly girl.

“Love and war.” Layla muttered.

“What’s that?” Mr. D asked. Layla blushed and cleared her throat.

“I just mean, with that thinking, it makes sense that love and war go together, you know? Love drives us to fight and protect what we believe in. I mean, it’s always the people who are fighting for something that fight the hardest, right?”

“Excellent point.” Layla blushed a brighter red. “And in fact, even though Aphrodite was married to Hephaestus, the god of the forge, she would frequently have affairs with Ares, the god of war. Further adding to the point that love and war are closely intermingled.”

There was a quiet murmuring of acknowledgement, accompanied by several slow nods. These kinds of lessons were always interesting. Layla thoroughly enjoyed listening to Mr. D talk about the old gods. He always made them seem real and personable. Beings with feelings and motives, not just almighty powers who sat on top of the world. Sadly though the last half of the lesson was spent reading quietly from their text books. Ten minutes before the bell rang, Mr. D went around the class collecting last nights homework assignments. As soon as the bell rang there was a mad rush to the door. Layla power walked down the hallway and headed towards the closest open door. If she got home quickly she could take Cerberus to the reservoir. Students were already spilling onto the grass outside. Some were milling around waiting for buses to arrive and others were just chatting. To Laylas relief there were no ghosts to be seen anywhere. But more importantly, no one out of the ordinary tried to talk to her again.

The day had turned overcast and cloudy. Layla wondered if it was going to rain tonight and if so, whether she could sneak Cerberus inside.

“He’s coming.” A voice so delicate and faint whispered in Laylas ear. She jump and spun around. To her dismay, Layla saw another ghost floating inches away from her. It was the girl Layla had seen under the tree earlier. Up close, Layla could see that her face was covered in faint freckles. Her limbs hung at her sides limply, the tunic shapelessly covered her body.

“Who?” Layla looked around wildly, checking to make sure no one else was watching.

“We do not speak his name.”

“Well that’s not very helpful now is it?” The ghost shivered, hit by a wind that only she could feel.

“The night approaches quickly. If we are ever to see the dawn again he must be stopped.” Layla just stared at the ghost feeling half amused and half bewildered.

“Right well I’m just going to go home now and forget about all of this weirdness. Sound good? You can just go back to whatever it is you do.” Hitching her bag higher on her shoulders, Layla turned her back to the ghost and started walking away.

“You must help us!” The ghost shouted a Laylas back.

“You don’t exist!” Layla yelled back, earning her a few confused looks from students standing close by. Great, now everyone would think she was going crazy as well.

The further Layla got away from school, the more she started to relax. She just hadn’t eaten enough today. A loud grumble from her stomach confirmed this suspicion. Her mind had just been playing tricks on her because she was hungry. Once she got home she would eat something then go with Cerberus to the reservoir.

Much to Laylas annoyance, she saw two more ghosts on her walk home. They were hovering together near the local drug store. Both wearing the same plain tunic that was cinched at the waist like the others. Layla resolutely kept her head down and trudged on past, not waiting to see if they tried to talk to her as well.

Rounding the corner so that the house came into view, Layla noticed that there was an extra car in the driveway. A sleek black Astien Martin, with a deep crimson trim. Layla groaned and rolled her eyes as she dragged her feet to the front door. Todd’s boss was here, Mr. Donnelly. The man was disgusting and boarder line sexist. Every time he was over Layla would either leave the house or hide away in her room. On the occasion that she was unable to escape, her mother would force her to clean up and act as the perfect hostess daughter. Mr. Donnelly would sit around and drink all the liquor they had with Todd. Any time she or her mother got to close he would try to slap them on the butt. Her mother played along for Todd’s sake. But the first time it had happened to Layla she thought it was an accident. When it happened again in the same night she glared at Mr. Donnelly with as much anger as she could muster. Everyone just laughed it off. From then on Layla had learned to keep a safe distance away from Mr. Donnelly and to stay on Todd’s side of the table.

Quietly as possible, Layla snuck around to the back yard. If she was careful she could sneak away with Cerberus and no one would notice. The back gate creaked a little as Layla pushed it open.

“Cerberus?” Layla whispered as she dropped her bag on the ground. She had expected the great black dog to be at the gate, tail wagging, happy to see her. Maybe he was sleeping.

“Cerberus?” Layla called, a little louder this time, keeping an eye on the back door. But Cerberus was gone. Layla’s heart fell as she did a scan of the back yard and did not see the big black dog anywhere. He must have escaped or his owner had come for him while she was at school. Her arms felt heavy as she picked up her bag again and dragged her feet up the stairs to the back door.

Layla could hear Mr. Donnelly speaking very loudly in the kitchen. One discreet look around the corner showed that he was sitting with his back to the doorway. He and Todd had clearly just come from the office. Both were still dressed in a dress shirt and tie. Todd was standing, leaning against the table just to the right of the table. Layla saw that her mom was also busy in the kitchen. No doubt she was wearing her small, frilly little apron that she always wore then guests were over. Now was her one chance to sneak across to the stair case unnoticed. Then she could hopefully spend the rest of the night quietly in her room, ignoring the debauchery going on downstairs.

“Layla, there you are. Come over and greet Mr. Donnelly.” Caught just as she had put her foot on the first stair. Layla clutched the straps on her bag and grudgingly turned around and went into the kitchen. Mr. Donnelly looked like the Michelin man if he had been over inflated and rolled in the mud. His hands looks like little balls of ham and his fingers were so fat that it was a miracle he could use them. Every time he breathed it sounded like a small bird was stuck in his throat, slowly being crushed.  

Layla stood in the doorway, only inching inside when she was shot a murderous glare by her mother. Mr. Donnelly turned in his chair and gave her a wide shark like smile. The man was just utterly revolting, the only reason he came around to the house as often as he did was because he was highly connected. Todd was an extremely ambitious person and was not below using such vain flattery.

“Hello little girl. My she has grown into a looker hasn’t she Todd?” Layla stared at Mr. Donnelly with a hard expression. “You should smile more sweet cheeks. You’d look even prettier.”

“Layla, smile for Mr. Donnelly.” Her mother whispered in a dangerous honey sweet voice.

“Hello Mr. Donnelly.” Layla replied, twisting her mouth into a forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Mom where is Cerberus?”

“He’s owner came by to get him after you left for school.” Todd replied before smiling at Mr. Donnelly. “Layla rescued a poor little puppy last night.”

“Of course she did. Women have such gentle hearts, that’s what makes them such excellent home makers.”

Layla clenched her fists. How her mother could stand listening to such comments and still smile was beyond her. All she could think about was sinking a fist in Mr. Donnelly’s smug face. It probably wouldn’t do much and she’d be in so much trouble after, but it would be so satisfying.

Her mother caught her trying to sneak back out of the kitchen and enlisted her to set the table. Layla tried to escape saying she had lots of homework to do but her mother would not listen. Insisting the she sit down and have dinner with them. Grabbing fist full of cutlery and plates, Layla hastily set the table for four, being sure to set her on the opposite side of the table from Mr. Donnelly. Her mother came wafting over every now and then to add steaming plates and frilly decorations to the table. Soon the center was laced with candles and delectable smelling dishes. By the time they were all seated around the table it was nearly seven. Layla determinedly stuffed food in her mouth, hoping to finish soon and leave. But no one had any intentions on letting her leave.

“How was school today Layla?” Her mother asked conversationally.

“Fine.”

“Anything interesting happen?” Too interesting would be more accurate. But Layla wasn’t about to say aloud that she spent the day seeing and talking to ghosts so she just shook her head and continued munching on a roll of bread.

“Teenagers these days have no direction.” Mr. Donnelly said importantly, pushing out his fat chest as he spoke. “You should make her sign up for the new office intern program. We always need new meat in the office and who knows? She might actually be good at it.”

Layla threw him an openly disgusted and confused look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Todd and her mother both shot her a warning look. Mr. Donnelly just sat forward and pressed his sausage fingers together. The chair beneath him groaning with effort.

“Well in the past, young women aren’t usually intellectually advanced enough to fully comprehend the work that we do at the corporation. But it’s a new time now and we are willing to give an attractive young lady like yourself a shot.”

“I wouldn’t work for you even if it meant I would starve.”

“Layla! Apologize to Mr. Donnelly.” Todd was glaring at her.

“Fine!” Layla threw down her knife and fork. “I’m sorry that you head is so fat that it got stuck living in the fifties! I’m sorry that your mother didn’t abort you!”

“Layla how dare you!” But she had already jumped up from her seat and sprinted out the front door. She was in deep trouble, that much was obvious. But at the moment she did not care. All that mattered was that she got as far away from the house as possible. She would deal with the consequences later. Half way down the side walk Layla collided with a stranger going the other way, and fell over.

“Sorry.” Layla said as she pushed herself up off the ground.

“Are you alright?” The stranger offered her a hand getting up.

“Yes I just wasn’t looking where I was going.” Taking one good look at him it was no wonder she hadn’t seen him. The man was dressed in black from head to toe. She could just make out his silhouette in the dying sunlight. He had a tall powerful frame with shoulder length black hair. In an odd way, Layla felt like he was emitting an aura of power, not physical power but magical. Layla just shook her head, that was just ridiculous.

“You need to wear a reflective strip. Your practically invisible.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He was staring at her with a piercing gaze. Layla met his dark grey eyes and did not waiver. “What are you doing out this late?”

“Clearing my head. Why are you going to abduct me? Because I should warn you, I have a mean left hook.” He actually broke into a small smile and chuckled to himself.

“I’m sure you do little one.” He walked away without another word. Layla stared after him for a while. He seemed to shimmer and fade with the night as he walked, like a perpetual fog went with him, obscuring his silhouette. It was the weirdest thing to watch, after all it was a perfectly clear evening.

He quite obviously was not from the neighbourhood. No one with any decency would dare besmirch this fine community with such outlandish and crude fashion. There for Layla felt extremely drawn towards him. She watched him until he walked under a large maple tree that was casting a long shadow across the street and disappeared. Layla’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Hands down the weirdest day of her life.

 Layla had walked all night and finally settling down in her spot at the reservoir. Thankfully the night was mild, with the occasional breeze ruffling the trees. Pulling her hood over her head and pulling the string tight, Layla nestled into the comfy crook of the tree roots. She would be in serious trouble when she went home. If she went home that is. She could very well just run away. Todd would be happy of she did and her mother, well her mother would be relieved. She could hide in the school locker rooms and steal food from the cafeteria or something. Or come morning she could march to the bus station and leave for good.

While Layla lay there contemplating what the rest of her life was going to look like as a homeless, run away teen, the night grew darker and the stars became brighter. The little clearing had a perfect, unobstructed view of the night sky. From her spot Layla could see Orion and the big dipper. Every so often a satellite would wander across, blinking and flashing as it went. When a shooting star blazed a path through the sky, Layla found herself wishing that Cerberus was with her. It had been nice to have him around. She wondered if his owner had really come to get him and if he was happy with them.

A low growl punctured the still night. Layla instantly shot up and hid behind the tree. Painfully aware that she had absolutely nothing to protect herself with. Something large cracked through branches and stepped into the clearing. Maybe a bear or a coyote or even a wolf. Did those kind of things live nearby? Logic would dictate that she should climb a tree to get away. But if it was a bear they could still climb up and get her. Just as Layla decided her best option was running for it, a loud whine came from the center of the clearing.

“Cerberus?” Layla poked her head around the tree trunk. Sure enough, the great black dog was standing in the clearing, his tail waving madly, slobber dripping out of his massive jaw. He barked loudly and bounded over to her, nearly knocking her over in his attempt to lick her face.

“Good to see you too, calm down.” Layla pushed him off and Cerberus sat down on the grass in front of her, his tail still thumping wildly against the ground.

“What are you doing here? Todd said you went home.” But Cerberus just whined again. Layla crouched down beside him and started scratching both his ears. Instantly his eyes shut and let out a low huff. After a second he dropped to the ground and rolled on his back, clearly wanting a belly rub. Layla laughed as she scratched his exposed tummy hitting the sweet spot and making him flail his legs around.

“Well you can stay with me now. We’ll go on so many adventures together, would you like that?” Cerberus opened his mouth and started panting, his long pink tongue lolling onto the ground. “Just you and me.”

[aquaburst3]

Since I’m kinda bored, I want to try this as a thought exercise. If in a one in a billion chance I was ever put in charge of a Teen Titans style animated show, this would be the line up and how I would characterize everyone. Like Young Justice, there will be a lot of alterations to characters to make them fit this new universe. 

Robin/Damian Wayne: To start things off, as for why I picked him, let’s face it, Dick and Tim are always the choices for team leaders for the Teen Titans. Hell, I can’t even think of an example of a TV series without either them as the team leader. Don’t get me wrong. Dick will always be my favourite Robin and one of my favourite characters in general, but seeing someone else be the team leader aside from those two would be a nice change of pace. I would still have Dick, Jason and Tim be a part of the show, but as side characters who are apart of Damian’s life rather then being main characters.

On top of that, having the team leader be the son of a great hero and villain would open up more opportunities for stories. Damian would have to struggle a lot more about which side of himself to choose and confront his grandfather. It would also give him the opportunity to grow into a leadership position as the story goes on rather then starting off as a natural at it.  Damian also adds to the theme of having the children of great heroes and especially villains that I’m going for here. 

As for his backstory, it’s pretty similar to what it is in the comics. Damian is the son of Bruce and Thalia, being raised by his grandfather to be the heir to the League of Assassins. His mother shipped him out to be with his father when he’s 14, planning to use him to rip apart Bruce’s plans from the inside. Instead taking his father down, he decides that he wants to change to be worthy of being Batman one day. But Damian has a long way to go, being a smart fighter, but lacking in...well...pretty much everything else. 

When Damian’s 16, Dick pushes him to join his old team as an attempt for him to make friends. This doesn’t go over well, getting into arguments with the other members like Beast Boy, Tempest and especially Zachary Zatana. Due to circumstances, including teaming up with Kaldur and Wally on an unplanned mission, who weren’t members of the other team, he makes up a team on his own that he’s the leader of. No more of Dick’s hand-me-downs. He has his own crew with a similar mindset as him. 

As for how I would characterize him, I would make him like a mixture of s0 and DM Yami from YGO in order to make him more likeable. Far less of a brat and Gary Stu at the start then his comic book counterpart.  Someone who has a conscience and has a good heart, being a caring and loving boy, but his methods of carrying out his actions are messed up due to his upbringing.  He can also be arrogant with a regalness about himself. But as time goes on and he spends more time with the team, he leans more towards the DM Yami side where his true self shines through more often. He calms down on the killing, but he can still be rather prideful, hot-headed and hides his emotions. His messed up side can creep up once in awhile as well. Oh, and he loves to draw and animals.  

 He also has a far healthier bond with his adopted brothers compared to his comic book counterpart, being the closet to Dick and Jason. However, he feels like he’s in his Robin predecessor’s shadows. He’s not as charming and sociable as Dick. He’s not as street savy as Jason. He’s not as intelligent or good of a detective as Tim. So where does that leave him? 

Also, Zackary Zatara, or Zatana’s younger cousin, is his rival on the other team. They often clash due to their similar and yet different personalities. 

Looks wise, he would have dark olive skin, black hair and brown eyes. He’s still very short for his age, which others tease him about. 

I would age up Damian to be 16. Just so he is a bit older, so that the series can tackle darker stories and has a bit more of a logical explanation for why he’s a badass.  (To be honest, I suck at writing child characters.) 

Aqua Lad/Kaldur/Jackson Hyde:  His origin would be more like his comic book counterpart then his YJ one. Instead of growing up in Atlantis, he’s an half Altantian boy, who grew up in New Mexico. He figures out about his powers during his teen years after he defends his adopted mother from a villain, being discovered by Aquaman before joining the team.    

Characterization wise, like his YJ version, he’s the calm and levelheaded one on the team, who is able to keep the peace between everyone. He took up the unofficial “second in command” roll on the team. Unlike his YJ version, he is less confident, since he’s first starting out. He speaks far less formally compared to his YJ counterpart as well.  

Like his reboot comic counterpart, he’s also LGBT. He takes his looks after his pre reboot counterpart. (So he has black hair and dreadlocks instead of a white fade, but still has dark brown skin and eyes.)  

Red Arrow/ Emiko Queen:  Her backstory is that she’s the daughter of Shado and Oliver Queen, being born back when they were dating and before he found out about Shado’s affiliations. She was raised by her mother to be an assassin just like her. Wanting to find out about the truth about her father, she seeks out Oliver and confirms that she’s his kid, saving him from assassination. Enraged about this, her mother holds her hostage, taking her with her in a helicopter, which was about to explode. She escapes and goes back to live with her father.  Not wanting to get her half-brother’s way, she decides to join the team to carve out her own path. 

Personality wise, she’s headstrong, determined and outspoken, which puts her at odds with her teammates. She is also more methodical and down to earth compared to Damian. 

Kid Flash/Wallace R. West:  To get this out of the way, he’s not the same character as Wally from Young Justice. He’s the son of Iris’ older brother, Daniel West/The Reverse Flash, making him Wally’s cousin. (Comics are confusing) 

Anyways, his backstory is that he was, at first, rebellious and got into trouble with the law a fair bit, resenting Barry for imprisoning his father. It wasn’t until he has a chat with his father, who’s in prison, that he tries to set his life straight again. He teams up with Damian on a mission, deciding to make a new team with him. 

Characterization wise, he’s pretty similar to how he is in the comics or like Jonouchi/Joey from YGO. He’s fun loving and cares deeply about his friends, being serious when he needs to be, but can say thoughtless or careless things and can be quite reckless. 

Looks wise, he has short, black hair; brown eyes and dark brown skin.

Djinn/Layla: A newer character in the DC universe, but I’m changing her backstory. Layla, who has flight, mind reading and spell casting powers, is a Moroccan girl. Her brother forced her to use her powers to further his agenda.  She ran away, using her powers in some small way to make amends for the horrors her magic has wrought. The last thing she wants is for her brother to find her. 

Characterization wise, she’s like a mixture of Raven and Star Fire. She’s optimistic, outgoing and socially clueless like Star Fire, but holds back parts of herself and has done horrible acts in the past that she regrets like Raven. 

[itsallabigmess]

50 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @prettywordsyouleft . Thanks for saving me from my boredom, love.

1. What takes too much of your time?

Work. I live too far from it so it takes around 2 hours to get there and almost 3 hours to get back home.

2. What makes your day better?

Watching movies, writing, eating chocolate.

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today?

I kinda dyed half of my hair grey. And I ate Japanese food.

4. What fictional place would you like to go to?

I never got over the fact that Genovia isn’t a real place so I would just go there if I could.

5. Are you good at giving advice?

People tend to come to me for advice so I guess I am?

6. Do you have any mental illness?

Depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, panic disorder... the whole package

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

No.

8. What musician inspired you the most?

Jackson Wang. But also Yoongi and Namjoon, from BTS (duh).

They inspire me in different ways, but mostly because of how hard they work, how they don’t give up on the things they want to do, and for Jackson, how he isn’t afraid to show his feelings... They also remind me that men can be good.

9. Have you ever fallen in love?

Yep. I do not recommend it.

10. What’s your dream date?

I guess the dream is to be asked on a date. Just take me someplace where we can have a nice conversation and maybe eat something nice.

11. What do others notice about you?

That I don’t talk much. I am constantly teased for it. Also, people always tell me they were scared to talk to me at first because I look too serious. It’s not my fault that I have a resting bitch face (I actually have been trying to smile more and I just look goofy). I’m also very shy and an introvert so that doesn't help.

12. What is an annoying habit you have?

I eat my depression and anxiety away. So I’m constantly putting junk food inside my body and now it got to the point that is making me sick, so i’m trying to change that.

13. Do you still talk to your first love?

Yes, we are good friends now.

14. How many ex’s do you have?

3

15. How many songs are in your playlist?

Spotify just told me I can't add any more songs to my playlist so... a lot.

16. What instruments can you play?

I knew a bit o piano and drums when I was a kid but that’s it.

17. Who do you have the most pictures of?

My dog, Layla. And Jackson. So yeah, my phone is filled with puppy photos.

18. Where would you like to go before you die?

Honestly, there is no place in the world I don’t want to visit. But Italy and South Korea are currently on the top of my list.

19. What is your zodiac?

I’m a Pisces (with a Virgo Moon, and a rising Capricorn which means I’m a fucking mess).

I also just found out I’m the year of the Snake (’sup Bambam). 

20. Do you relate to it?

Way too much, especially the too sentimental, too stubborn part

21. What is happiness to you?

Being in peace with myself - which doesn’t happen often. Being able to do the things I want to do and making other people happy.

22. Are you going through anything right now?

I’m going through my life, does that count? ‘Cause honestly, I’m surprised I made this far.

My depression is kicking hard lately so I’m just trying my best to get out of it.

23. What’s the worst decision you’ve ever made?

Traveling with my ex-best friend. But it was also good cause it made me realize that I was her friend but she wasn’t mine.

24. What’s your favourite store?

Miniso. Their underwear is really comfortable and great for sleeping. I also love bying notebooks there.

25. What’s your opinion on abortion?

I’m in favor although I’m not sure I would be able to do it. But I don’t think my personal feelings should be applied to other people.

26. Do you keep a bucket list?

Mentally I do.

27. Do you have a favourite album?

More than one. 111 by Tiziano Ferro, Lemonade by Beyonce, Love Yourself: Tear by BTS, Suck It and See and AM by Arctic Monkeys, MADE by BIGBANG, Verse 2 by JJ Project, 7 for 7 and Eyes on You by GOT7, Dawn by The Rose...

The list goes on...

28. What do you want for your birthday?

Be able to travel somewhere new.

29. What are most people’s first impression of you?

Maybe that I’m antisocial? I don’t think anyone ever told me their impressions of me.

30. What age do you seem according to most people?

I’m 30 but people think I’m on my early 20s. Which is funny cause people also thought that when I was on my teen years.

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

Under my pillow.

32. what word do you say the most?

Fuck.

33. What’s the oldest age you would date?

I don’t think I have a limit in my mind. I don’t really care about age in that aspect, although I always liked dating younger people.

34. What’s the youngest age you would date?

So, I’m not sure about this one. Like I said, I always liked dating people younger than me. But I’m not sure if I would be able to date someone that is “too young”. I’m 30 and I don’t know if I would feel comfortable dating someone on their early 20s. But at the same time, I feel very attracted to idols around that age so...(’sup Mingi)

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you?

Something related to arts.

36. What’s your favourite music genre?

Pop (so, K-pop), rock, indie music.

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

South Korea, I’m quite obsessed with the idea of living there. But also in Italy.

38. What is your current favourite song?

Focus on Me - JUS2 | Seesaw - BTS | Blah - PLT | Say My Name - Ateez

39. How long have you had this blog for?

Since 2011 ( but I had another tumblr before that).

40. What are you excited for?

For all the concerts I’ll be watching this year. Especially BTS, Monsta X, Muse, Arctic Monkeys and Twenty One Pilots (and if I get the tickets, Weezer, Foo Fighters, H.E.R and Pink!)

41. Are you a better talker or listener?

Listener.

42. What is the last productive thing you did?

I took a shower about an hour ago (believe me, when I’m down, even taking a shower is a success) and I wrote around 500 words for my next fanfic.

43. What do you want for Christmas?

To be hugged for a long time by someone that loves me.

44. What class do you get the best grades in?

I was always good with languages and history.

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now?

4

46. What can you see yourself doing in 10 years?  

I not even sure if I’ll last the year. But maybe... living in another country. ( I really hate where I live).

47. When did you first get your heartbreak?

Oh, my heart was constantly broken since I was a child - thanks to my family.

48. At what age do you want to get married?

Haha.

49. What career did you want to have as a child?

I wanted to be a writer and a dancer.

50. What do you crave right now?

Affection. Like, seriously, I’ve been feeling incredibly lonely lately.

I tag @jalapeno-princess , @nicelegsjackson , @ahgase55g7 , @enderkate , @jinyoungmoans , @this-song-thats-only-for-you , @peabodyrose , @peachyyugy , @illbetheresomehow and anyone else who wants to do it :)

[satyrykal]

Once Upon a Dream

Title: Once Upon a Dream

Author: Satyrykal

Pairing: Natsu x Lucy

Genre: Romance/Supernatural

Rating: M

Spoiler Warning: Not in the canon-verse, but pays homage to ideas in the Alvarez arc.

Summary:  In a world where soulmates can manifest in each other's dreams, Lucy has known her other half her entire life. He appeared in her fantasies as a child, a figure blanketed in shadows but she'd never seen his face. However, visions are seldom what they seem - and when she finally meets him in person, she realizes his eyes hold a familiar gleam. Modern Soulmate AU.

Read the story here, or preview the excerpt below!

CHAPTER 1 Excerpt – Once Upon a Dream

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…"

– Sleeping Beauty, 1959

Ever since Lucy could remember, there had been a figure lingering just in the corner of her eye – a shadow lurking in her dreams that had become a familiar presence. He was a mischievous little sprite, running wild in the forests of her imagination – always two steps ahead of her. She'd spent hours chasing him down – only for him to laugh, a tinkling muffled echo in her ears. She would often call out to him, though he would never respond to her – his form wavering in that world between slumber and wakefulness.

Still, she'd come to think of him as a friend, this small child who hung in the periphery of her mind – warm and inviting and safe.

She was five years old before she was realized it wasn't normal to have another soul living in her thoughts.

To this day she would never forget the surprise on her mother's face when she found out.

"Darling, what do you mean there's a person in your head?" Layla had asked her carefully, gathering the child in her arms as they sat on the lawn – the grass cool and prickling against the bare skin of their calves.

"He's my friend, Mama! He's always jumping around and he chases away the nightmares when I'm scared." The small blonde had told her, distractedly plucking at the dandelions growing by her feet, the sunny yellow bright and cheerful in the summer haze. "Do you have one too? Does Daddy?"

Layla's response hadn't been instant, the older woman peering down at her daughter with a chuckle, something unfathomable in those wise chocolate irises. She'd reached out with a gentle hand, brushing the little girl's hair behind her ear – letting her fingers trail along her cherub face.

"I did, once upon a time ago, or I should say I still do. I didn't meet him quite as early as you've met your friend, but when I was a young woman, I finally got to meet him in person." She'd explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners when her daughter clapped in delight.

Lucy had cheered, pigtails bouncing as she twisted in place to search the lawn, as if she could see a shadow peeking out from behind the great wood. "Is he here? Can I meet him?"

"You already know him quite well. You see baby girl, when I was a older, I found a man who shared my dreams. clearer than anything my mind could create on my own – I could even hear his voice. Then one day he just appeared – standing there in the middle of the street. This stranger who wasn't really a stranger, who I knew almost as well as I knew myself. Can you guess who he was?"

The child had tapped her chin, deep in thought as she'd considered the people she knew in her life. She squinted, button nose wrinkling as she scanned the yard. Noticing their elderly gardener tending the roses a few yards away, she'd immediately pointed towards him. "Was it Philip?"

Her mother had laughed, full bellied and unrestrained as she'd tipped her head back – a curtain of gold spilling over her shoulders as she had glanced down to her bemused daughter. Layla caught her breath, snickering slightly as she'd shaken her head – the baubles in her ears tangling in her coif. "No silly, not Philip. Your father."

"Daddy?"

"That's right. He became my best friend and I loved him to the moon and back. The universe gave me a way to find the other half of myself – he was my soulmate."

Lucy had rolled the word silently on her tongue, finding she'd liked the sound of it, the syllables seemed to settle into her, heating her bones as they whispered through her. She'd chewed the inside of her cheek, glancing back towards the flowerbeds.

A beat of silence had passed as they lounged in the August heat, the earthy aroma of snapdragons heavy in the air.

"Does Phillip have one too?"

That had left the older woman in a sputtering guffaw, tweaking her daughter's ear when she too, let out a peal of giggles – more because of her mother's reaction than anything else.

"No goose, he doesn't. It's a rare thing, enough that many doubt the bond even exists. You see, I was one of the lucky ones." Layla had paused, lips quirking up in fondness. "And it seems that you're one of the lucky ones too."

Lucy had lit up immediately, warmth blooming in her at the thought of being special. "Then the boy in my dreams is my soulmate?" She'd questioned, wiggling slightly when her mother had nodded. "And he's going to be my best friend! Oh, I can't wait to meet him!"

Layla had indulgently ruffled her daughter's flaxen tresses. "I'm sure he'll be wonderful – though remember Lucy, it usually takes time to find each other. You will have to be patient."

The little girl had furrowed her brow, bobbing her head seriously as if being entrusted with a valuable secret, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I can do that, I'll even write him letters when something important happens so that I won't forget to tell him about it when I meet him!"

"That's a brilliant idea. I'm sure I'll love meeting him as well. I really am happy for you darling. My lucky Lucy." She'd cooed, squeezing the child tightly and nuzzling her cheek against the crown of her fair head.

The rest of the afternoon had flown by pleasantly, a hum of laughter and smiles buzzing around them as the woman continued to regale her daughter with legends of bonded pairs.

Of famous loves, daring encounters and whirlwind romances – of dashing suitors and distant stars touching as they trekked across the skies. Of that fateful meeting with her own future husband on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Lucy had listened to them all happily, tucked under the crook of her mom's arm.

It was one of her favourite memories of her mother, and one of her last.

Layla passed away less than a year later.

She never met her daughter's soulmate.

The illness had taken hold suddenly, sapping her strength until she was little more than a husk – a falling, fading star of the woman she used to be. To watch that light go out had killed Lucy, leaving her confused and angry as she'd asked to see her mother – not understanding when she'd been told she couldn't. That her mom was gone.

Perhaps the only one who had taken it harder than she did, was her father.

Jude Heartfilia had never been a firecracker, he was stern where his wife was kind – reserved where she shined. They were opposites but they fit together in perfect harmony, bringing out the best of each other. When she passed, she'd taken a part of him with her – a shard of his soul that had left him broken, a candle doused of flame. He was never the same after that, withdrawn and quiet.

The doting father and husband had vanished, leaving a distant and icy man – unable or unwilling to face the child she'd left behind.

For the next week he'd locked himself in his office, throwing himself into old photos and memories – blind to the tears on his daughter's face and her desperate knocks on the door – too wrapped up in his own grief to recognize hers.

The night of the funeral, Lucy's dreams had been bitter and cold – full of inky darkness that threatened to suffocate her, blocking out the light as the walls crept in. Layla's voice had called to her from beyond a sheet of mist, haunted and yearning as Lucy had clamored towards it, stumbling on the rocky path. Then suddenly, crimson eyed creatures had emerged from the fog of her mind, all jagged teeth and sharp claws.

She remembered crying, running into the forest before she fell – recognizing it as a distorted mirror of the woods behind her home, skeletal and lacking birdsong. She'd shut her eyes then, folding into herself as she had sobbed.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours that she'd hidden there in the stark black – the nightmare twisting inside her as her heart had throbbed.

Then she'd felt it.

A warmth had engulfed her shoulder, steady and peaceful despite the turmoil raging inside her. She'd taken in a ragged breath, letting the calm seep into her at the touch. She still couldn't see him – her constant companion. He had still been an obscure shadow, but she could feel him.

She could feel his presence, his comfort as he'd curled around her.

And for the first time since her mother had died, she hadn't felt quite so alone.

End of Excerpt

Find the rest of the story on Fanfiction.net here.