#i thought that i would grow out of it that it lessen and I'd be able to exist without being in a constant state of panic

[learn-and-accept]

I so badly want to have more people in my life, but holy shit I'm so fucking bad at building relationships

[blackberreh-art]

I got an ask on retrospring asking after a lil headcanon I have (about AfO having an eating disorder) so I thought i'd share the answer here!

Anon asked: Previously, you mentioned that you headcanon that AFO has an eating disorder, can you expand on that a little more? It’s such a unique hc and as someone obsessed with his character I’m interested in your thoughts, especially since I’ve never heard of that idea before

My answer:

I wanted to wait on this because I wanted to think it through when my head was a little clearer but it's been ages so 😭forgive me for my lack of proper thought. Growing up on the streets as a kid i bet food was scarce and you had to eat what you could, and the more afo grew the more he needed to eat. He went long stretches of time without eating, to eating all he could get his hands on when food is found. When he's older I imagine he tends to go long stretches of time without eating out of habit (he's superhuman why would he need to eat) and then when it catches up he binges. Many times he couldn't keep it down. It lessens as he grows older and isn't so affected by canon time, until his fight with All Might.

In old man yaoi AU I utilize this backstory thing, having it flare up in the wake of the HPSC's torture, where they very much starved him a majority of the time

[dp-time-police]

“While in truth, we had shared the same economics course and had one or two idle conversations, I place the moment of significant contact to be a week after my... incident. I knew her by a different name, back then. She had been my first, and only, visitor.

Her presence there had brought both confusion and comfort. A stranger had deigned to see me when my own family and friends could not be bothered to even send a heartfelt letter, much less show their faces. The unexpected gesture left me feeling numb. I could not muster the energy to be angry with her there, not when she was blameless. The true wrongdoers had been conveniently absent until then and, much to my increasing bitterness, would continue to remain so for the duration of my stay in the hospital. It wouldn't be until much later that I'd realize what a boon that would prove to be.”

“Hikari's visits would start off brief, but meaningful. A tape recorder here and there with the day's lesson, written notes or books other times, home-cooked food always... With my speech hindered by the wraps covering my face, I was certain my unexpected guest would grow tired of the one-sided conversations and eventually cease coming. But I was wrong. Instead of deterring her, this hurdle only seemed to embolden her, and soon Hikari would come up with ways for me to contribute as well. A notebook for penning down thoughts. A whiteboard for more creative endeavors and quick messages. And other... out of the box methods.”

“Years later, those notebooks are still dearly kept in the drawer of my desk.

Nothing could satisfy the inherent need to speak, however, which is why I was tremendously happy when the bandages got removed, a mere month into my imprisonment in that sterile tomb. And yet, neither of us were prepared for the sight that accompanied my regained liberty.”

“There was... nothing.

The doctors had warned me that my ailment would leave me permanently disfigured. No one with the kind of angry, sensitive eruptions I had sported until then would have any chance of coming out unscathed. I hadn't needed a medical professional telling me that for me to know. But my skin was pristine and looked somehow healthier than when I first landed in that forsaken hellscape. I was, decidedly, wary. Hikari, while also hesitant, erred more on the side of overjoyed. I could finally leave! The discomfort was gone for the most part, and medical diagnostics would clear me of any serious issues. With a mild prescription and orders of bed rest, I was finally out of the woods.”

“I should have known better... “

“I did know better. “

“But knowing did not lessen the utter torture that would follow.”

“It was at this point where I had come to realize just how dire my situation truly was. Maybe I was in denial until then. The hospital was far from equipped to handle interdimensional materials. It was at this moment, with the sun setting on my life, that I realized I would be confined to that suffocating prison. That bed was my cell. My coffin. My tomb.”

“For better or worse, she stayed. Even through the mounting pain, the dizzy spells, my body betraying me... She had been brave all throughout. My dear wisteria, the love of my life. I could see the fear and concern in her eyes even with the optimistic front she put on. Even when an inferno fiercer than anything I could ever imagine burned me from the inside out, boiled and melted my insides and forged me anew, seared my mind until I couldn't think past the agony, she stayed with me. When my eyes glowed with a bloodthirsty crimson and claws gripped and ripped through the bedding.”

“When the staff had to strap me down to keep me from hurting myself or others --thankfully without witnessing the inhuman features…”

“She continued distracting me with tales and inane topics.”

“Even when I lashed out at her and hurt her like the wounded, mindless animal that I was becoming...

Even in those days when I wished I could just... If only it would all just... 

…..

Even then, she would not give up on me. She had steadily become the only one to believe in my harshly dwindling chances of recovery, as the months passed and I only ever got worse, not better.

I wouldn't be able to take this merciless treatment for much longer, of course. Try as I might, I was still at least half human at that point, and there is only so much the human body could withstand before it draws the line and shuts down. I'm only thankful that that threshold was crossed before my psyche would fail me more than it did, and with an accidental parting gift from my beloved, no less.

She bestowed upon me her true, self-chosen name and from then on had been known in my heart and soul as Hikari Kondo instead of the name she was born with."

"Yet, as blissful darkness finally took me, a year into this nightmarish ordeal, I was still not spared… and neither was she. But I shall spare you the following year of near close calls and uncertainty. It wouldn't be my story to tell, after all. I was in a coma and as such wouldn't prove a very accurate source of information on that front.”

. . .

“… And I do believe I have divulged enough, on this particular topic. After all, it satisfies the question. I met my wife after a certain buffoon and his oblivious girlfriend caused the very accident that mercilessly and ruthlessly set me down on the path I now walk. I suppose I… could be a little grateful for the situation, as I would not have my wife now if not for them.”

“...”

“You know what? No! They not only caused me years of pain and suffering, but they also left me to perish alone. And I did, in fact, die in that horrendous cot. I owe them nothing.

Now, I believe we are done her- Miso? Miso whatdoyouhaveinyourmouth–”

Part 2 coming soon

HUUUUUGE THANKS to @feralsrock !! For the lovely ask and the infinite patience!

[luxexhomines]

christmas shopping

Alright, so I know Christmas passed and all, but I thought I'd share this old work anyway to serve as both posting writing and also as a mini-announcement here!

I received two requests already, so thank you for your support, even though it's been a long time! I'm working on the first one already, although it's looking really rough, ahaha. I won't close requests yet since there's only two.

This work is actually from November 2020, if you can believe it, but I never posted it because a.) it felt unfinished and b.) I had actually intended to write it as a birthday present for Solar @\solarwhisper. But I never finished it and felt sorry about it, so it was never sent or posted... Anyway, this is a Kokichi x Reader (PG) short one-shot!

“Wake up! Wake up!” 

You feel an overbearing pressure on your midriff as you try to get your bearings, still half-asleep and wanting to go back to sleep, wrapped in fluffy blankets. Your eyes slowly peel open a crack, and a familiar silhouette comes into view. 

“...Kokichi?” You mumble and shut your eyes again. “What are you doing?” 

You can almost see his grin as he laughs and shakes you ruthlessly. You’re not sure when you last became close enough with Kokichi to be shaken as he sits on you or when Kokichi even managed to get into your room, but you’re not too concerned. It’s Kokichi, after all. Now, if only you could get back to sleep… 

“No, no going back to sleep!” Small, not to mention cold, hands pat your cheeks repeatedly. “It’s time to wake up! Come on, lazybones. It’s already 10 am. We have places to go, things to do, people to see!” 

You grumble discontentedly and unsuccessfully attempt to roll over on your bed. Kokichi is too heavy for you to do so, even if he’s a tiny boy. All you end up achieving is turning your face to the side. 

“Leave me alone. I didn’t make any plans with you. I need my sleep. I was up late doing work…” 

Then, you hear him sniff quietly. Uh-oh. Disaster number one was about to head your way. In a flash, you shoot upright and slap a hand over his open mouth just as he’s preparing to let loose a piercing wail that you were sure your neighbors would hear. You glare at him as his purple eyes stare back, seemingly smug despite how firmly your hand was clapped over his mouth. That mouth could do horrible, horrible things, and it wasn’t restricted to only telling lies and emitting sonic cries. You weren’t keen on finding out what else it could do. 

“Enough! I’m awake. What do you want, Kokichi?” 

You let your hand fall from his mouth and instead cover your own as you yawn sleepily. Kokichi huffs as he sits with his legs resting over yours. The bedding does nothing to lessen the impact of him weighing on you, and you reach over, gracelessly pushing him off of you. 

“Using brute force this early in the morning?” he pouts, but he looks positively delighted as his purple eyes sparkle brightly. “Anyway, now that you’re awake, don’t tell me you forgot all about the promise we made to go Christmas shopping together for gifts!” 

You frown, yawning yet again. 

“I didn’t make any promise to go Christmas shopping with you.” 

Kokichi’s eyes grow big and wet, and he purses his lips indignantly. 

“You forgot! We promised, we really did. You said you’d help me look for Christmas gifts this season because I can never find good gifts. I’m usually too busy carrying out my Ultimate Supreme Leader duties, after all,” he asserts. 

You shake your head adamantly. 

“I didn’t promise you anything.” 

He knocks himself on the head with a fist, making a silly expression with a wink and sticking out his tongue. 

“Whoopsie! I mean, maybe that was a little white lie but…” He suddenly has his arm hooked around yours. “Now we have a promise! Go Christmas shopping with me today, alright?” He points at your calendar, which is chaotically hanging askew on a tiny hook on the right wall of your room. “You don’t have anything today! You’re free all day,” he sings triumphantly. 

You have the urge to promptly kick him out, but instead you pinch the bridge of your nose to mitigate your incoming headache. 

“It’s like that because I planned today to rest,” you emphasize the last word, hoping to get through to him. “I need this day to be free, or I won't survive the rest of the week.” 

But he doesn’t give in. 

“Going Christmas shopping with me is like being free,” he claims proudly without a shred of guilt, a barefaced lie. “You’ll have so much fun you’ll forget all about all your worries and stress. Come on,” he begs with shining eyes.

How did his eyes sparkle like that? Did god sprinkle glitter in Kokichi’s eyes when he made Kokichi? You brush away your thoughts and try to get back to the topic at hand.

“Yeah… No.” You send him a disapproving look. “I know you’ll drag me to every store and tire me out before lunch, and then make me carry all your bags for you as you run around the place without a care in the world.” 

“Aww, how did you know?” he sulks. “Still, it has to be you. Gonta’s good for carrying things, but not much else. And Shuichi has zero stamina, so he’ll be tired after we go to maybe two stores. Plus, there’s no way I could convince anyone else to come with me. Maybe Kaede, but I’ll probably get a life lesson and lecture if I have her come with me.”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what his motive was, anyway. 

“Are you seriously just asking me to go Christmas shopping with you? Nothing else? What do you want from me, anyway? I’m not as strong as Gonta, and I doubt I can give as much advice on gifts as Shuichi or Kaede.” 

He just grins and puts a finger to his lips playfully. 

“Hm, I wonder? What do I want from you?” He jumps off your bed sprightly and skips to the door. “Anyway, be out of your room in ten. We’re going to the mall!” 

Before you can object another time, he goes out and shuts the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts and an unfortunate time restriction that gives you little time to tidy yourself up. Sighing, you clamber out of your bed, resigned, and start sifting through your clean clothes. It was going to be a long day with Kokichi at your side.

Even so, you can’t deny he’d indeed sparked your curiosity, and when it came to satiating it, Kokichi never disappointed. Excitement simmered in your chest just below the surface of your weariness. There was something to look forward to, even if you weren’t sure what it was yet. And boy, was it something.

[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 34

Words: 3.4k

As promised for Smutty Sunday // Y/N and Prof Van make the most of their journey time back to campus // deep-throating, degradation, it’s pretty dirty 🖤

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

The journey back to campus is certainly an experience. You've done the 'walk of shame' in far worst states after all, and this time you're not actually walking, you're travelling in style, reclined back in the passenger seat of Van's sleek Audi, exchanging sultry glances whilst he waits to pull out of his winding driveway and on to the main road.

"This car's really nice," you say, hands stroking the black leather upholstery appreciatively, pressing your thighs together as you imagine how it would feel to slide into his lap and and straddle him, really give his neighbours something interesting to gossip about. You'd wondered whether the curtains had been twitching this morning when you'd emerged from the house together, and even though the driveway was mostly shielded from prying eyes the thought of the scandal it would cause gives you an illicit thrill nevertheless. "It's a shame we're in such a rush this morning. I've always wanted to do it on leather seats. There's just something about the thought of it that really turns me on."

"You'd better hold that thought," he replies, the corner of his lips twitching into a devilish smirk. He's wearing shades but from your position sat beside him you can see his eyes moving over your bare thighs. "Believe me if I had my way I'd be fucking off this meeting and you'd be spread wide on the back seat for me right here, right now."

You grin salaciously, an ache growing in your core that's begging to be sated. Even though you're still tender from last night you'd endure any amount of discomfort to feel the delectable stretch of him inside you once again. "Right here? Whatever would the neighbours say?"

"Fuck the neighbours," he responds gruffly as he pulls on to the road.

"I'd rather you'd just fuck me."

You don't miss the way he shifts in the seat, the tension across his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel tighter. "Horny little thing aren't ya? I'm gonna make such a mess of you on this Italy trip but I need you to be patient for me. Think you can behave yourself from now until then?"

How the hell does he expect you to behave when temptation personified is sitting right there just inches away? He looks so good this morning it'd be a sin to pass up a prime opportunity for some misbehaving.

"I'm not sure if I can," you respond with a sigh, letting your legs fall open in the hopes that he'll take the bait. "I don't know if I can wait a whole week. It's just that I think about you all the time... how good you make me feel... I find it hard to control myself if I'm being completely honest. Who knows what I might get up to if you're not around to keep an eye on me?"

There's a simmering heat in the car that has nothing to do with the fine weather, it radiates off the both of you, a fiery chemistry that sparks whenever you two share the same space. You wonder whether it'll ever lessen so that you might feel normal around him... and even if you really want it to. After all it's his voracious appetite that thrills you and unleashes your wayward side. He makes you feel desired and so vitally alive, like anything is possible whilst you live out the wildest of fantasies that up until now have been tucked away in the darkest recesses of your mind.

The hand that was on the gear shift moves across to your lap and he nudges the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing upwards as he speaks. "I wasn't asking you Y/N, I was telling you. I trust you do know who this belongs to?" A finger traces the crease of your inner thigh before skimming over the silk of your panties, making your breathing hitch.

His possessive words and fleeting touch are a catalyst to your already aroused state. You can't help but react, mirroring his actions by reaching over the centre console to run a hand over his thigh, fingers raking down the tightly stretched denim. "Of course I know that but a week's a long time. A girl has needs and you can't seriously expect me to wait that long. Maybe if you could just give me a little something to... you know... tide me over until then... maybe, just maybe I could wait..."

You know that you're playing with fire, the sly disobedience in your voice sure to tempt him as you slide your hand in between his thighs.

"Insatiable little slut," he growls low in his throat, his demeanour shifting, much to your delight. He spreads his legs to allow your touch to wander further which of course you take full advantage of. "So desperate for my cock you can't even control yourself on a ten minute drive to campus. Have you learnt nothing at all about restraint?"

"You're a really good teacher and all but there's just so much to take in... I think I might need a re-cap..."

Your hand moves upwards to cup his growing bulge, tracing the outline of his cock. You know full well the risk of getting caught increases exponentially when you're out in public but you can't help yourself. There's something so scintillating about teasing him like this when he can't fully react like you know he wants to, the fact that you're driving through rush-hour traffic on a busy week-day morning, everyone going about their business unmindful of you seducing your Professor in the confines of his car.

"I should teach you a lesson you're not gonna forget this time," he says, hips canting upwards as you slide your palm over him more firmly. "Pull over and fuck you pressed right up against the windscreen so the whole world can see what a needy whore you are. I don't suppose that would be punishment though would it? Sure you'd enjoy it."

"Don't make threats you're not gonna follow through with," you counter boldly, purposefully challenging him. "It's making me wet just thinking about it."

You smirk victoriously as a frustrated groan escapes him as you start to rub him with purpose. You know he's struggling to maintain his composure and not pull over at the side of the road and carry out his wild threat, you can see the tension in his jaw as he curses under his breath, turned on beyond belief but not being able to take control of the situation like he normally does.

"Oops," you giggling mischievously as he stiffens even more under your touch, the muscles in his thighs tensing up. "Look what's happened. You look a little uncomfortable in those tight jeans... maybe I could help you out by loosening them a little?"

His eyes keep darting down to his lap to watch as your dainty fingers seek out his hardness through the fabric, the other hand deftly unfastening his belt. "What the fuck d'ya think you're doing? If I have to stop and I'm late for work you'll be in serious trouble."

He doesn't stop you though and his inaction speaks volumes. You've never been in such a position of control with him before and you love it, the surprising shift in power filling you with confidence. You have the urge to really push the boundaries, the temptation of seeing him melting under your touch too good to resist.

"Better keep your eyes on the road," you tease brazenly. "You wouldn't want to have an accident now would you? And who said anything about pulling over? I think you should carry on driving. Don't wanna miss that meeting do you? I'll take care of you, don't worry about that."

His lust-filled gaze darts to meet yours briefly before it fixes on the road ahead, his mouth opening and closing like you've rendered him temporarily speechless. You think he's going to halt you as you start to pop open the buttons on his jeans but he doesn't. In fact he lifts his ass off the seat to allow you to push his jeans down his hips.

"Just when I think things with you can't possibly get any better you go and surprise me yet again."

You smile, the needy sigh he releases as you slide your hand under the elastic of his underwear to free his cock sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

"God you're such a bad girl... and so filthy... fuck... and it's all for me..."

"All for you Sir..."

You simper at his wicked brand of praise, drooling at the sight of him rock hard and eager for you. You're desperate to lean over and take him into your mouth, swallow him down as deep as your gag reflex will allow until he's panting and squirming in the seat but you don't want it to be over too soon. You're mindful of the fact that you're now only a few minutes drive away from campus but you want every second spent with him to last, you want to stretch it out until he's trembling and groaning and all he can think about is you and your hands and your lips and your tongue. Maybe you'll drive him so wild he'll be forced to pull over after all and carry out the delicious threats that he's been taunting you with all morning.

So you take it slow, flexing your fingers around his girth and letting them run slowly up and down his length, pausing every so often to run your thumb slowly over his tip, small feather-light circles around and around until you feel him twitching and throbbing and growing in your palm.

"I just like to make you feel good, that's all," you whisper, low and seductive, satisfied to see his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip as you tease his slit, feeling the wetness gathering there.

"You do... you bloody do... you know exactly what I like... ughhh.... feels so good..."

Having him under your thrall like this is driving you crazy, the small groans that slip from his lips, the way his fingers grasp the steering wheel harder each time you squeeze him a little more firmly. The tip of his cock is glistening now, pearly drops of precum gathering there, making you salivate. You need more.

You swiftly unbuckle your seatbelt and turn your body towards him, leaning right over so you can press a soft kiss to his jawline, nuzzling into the scratchy stubble there. Your free hand pulls on the collar of his shirt to expose more of his throat.

"Can I taste you?" You murmur your words against the warmth of his skin, feeling his pulse skitter under your lips, your teeth nipping at his collar bone. "I've missed the way you feel in my mouth... and my throat... please Sir..."

"Fuck yes," he mutters without hesitation. He takes a hand off the wheel to reach up and lace his fingers through your hair, exerting a slight pressure to urge your head downwards. His movements aren't harsh but when he speaks his tone is commanding.

"You know what I want. Be a good girl for me and suck it. Put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once..."

His words devolve into sighs as you lean right over to lap at the creamy precum beaded at his tip, the ache between your legs intensifying at the taste of him. The hand gripping your hair tightens satisfyingly as you let your tongue swirl around him before you purse your lips and slide down his length. He's so thick, sliding deliciously against your tongue, the stretch in your jaw already telling you that you're nearing your limit. It's a struggle to accommodate his size but you try as best you can, your lips only halfway down his shaft before you feel your throat protesting, wetness pricking at the corners of your eyes. A hilarious thought flits through your head that if you died at this very moment, asphyxiated by choking on his cock, it would totally be worth it. You want nothing more than to indulge him and hear the sounds of pleasure drifting down from above. You want to give him everything.

You close your eyes, concentrating on savouring those gorgeous noises as you begin to eagerly bob your head, the husky breathlessness in his voice as he tells you, "that's it... like that... just like that... I'm gonna have to pull in behind the history building... don't stop... don't you dare stop."

You feel the car turn sharply before accelerating,  then it pulls to a sudden standstill, the low purr of the engine falling quiet. As instructed you don't stop, not that you want to anyway. You're too consumed by the delectable fullness of him in your mouth, intoxicated by the way his hips start to buck upwards like he can't control himself. Both hands now free, he brushes your hair back off your face so he can closely watch you, transfixed by the sight of his dick sliding wetly between your spit-slicked lips.

"Look at you... you look so good with your mouth full of me... so fucking dirty... and I know you can take it all. C'mon baby... just a little more."

Despite the ache in your neck and the strain to your back from the awkward angle you feel your arousal growing, your panties sure to be soaked through by the time you're finished. One hand still firmly wrapped around his dick you let the other slip tentatively between your thighs. You want to touch yourself and feel that hot slickness under your fingertips, that blissful pressure, that satisfying friction, that exquisite release. You're so worked up you know you'll come undone in mere minutes, reaching down to rub a few quick firm strokes over your damp underwear. You're already beginning to lose yourself in your own sinful world of pleasure as you writhe in the seat.

"What the fuck d'ya think you're doing?" He suddenly growls and your heart skips as he reaches over to roughly knock your hand away, your whines of protest smothered as he pushes your head even further down and holds you there. "Only I get to make you come... don't forget that!"

A stifled moan tears up from your throat as his fingers immediately take over from where yours left off, slipping under the silk of your panties and locating your clit with ease. You're overwhelmed, already lightheaded with your airway restricted, dribbling and choking around his cock as your body succumbs to the pleasure.

"Already this wet just from sucking my cock? Filthy girl."

He chuckles darkly, plunging two fingers straight into your sopping cunt as his thumb sweeps masterfully over your clit. You whimper pathetically, stunned at how quick the tables have turned. Just moments ago you were in charge, teasing and tempting him in a calculated seduction. Now he's dominating you yet again, your mind blurring at the edges as he controls you completely, gripping your hair harder as he forces your head up and down, thrusting and grunting with each sharp motion, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon.

"I'm gonna come," he blurts urgently, and you can do nothing but drool helplessly around his cock, the obscenely wet sounds of you spluttering and gagging filling the car as he presses deeper still into your throat. He's still fucking you ruthlessly with his fingers, sending you hurtling headfirst towards an orgasm so intense that your body's already shuddering violently. You want to scream out loud but your sounds are muffled and it's probably just as well as you'd be sure to draw the attention of inquisitive passers-by.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... OH FU-CK..." he groans, holding you firmly in place as you feel thick spurts of cum hit the back of your throat, your own body bucking as you simultaneously hit your peak, the lack of oxygen intensifying everything to dizzying heights. Only then does his grip on you finally loosen and you pull away, gasping for air which you suck desperately into your strained lungs, the throes of your climax still radiating through you.

"Holy fucking shit... that's a hell of a way to start the morning off!" He lets out a breathy laugh like he can't quite believe what's just occurred, hastily tucking himself away and adjusting his clothing.

You keep your head down, panting like crazy whilst you try to gain a modicum of composure. You know you must look a state, reduced to a whimpering, red-faced mess once again by this man who you know damn well without even looking up will be infuriatingly calm and unruffled even as he comes down from the peak of his own high.

The hands that had grasped you so brutally only moments before are gentle and mindful, one pulling the hem of the t-shirt down to cover your modesty, the other carefully smoothing sweat-dampened strands of hair off your face as he tries to tilt your face upwards. You resist for a moment but give in, straightening up in your seat to look at him when he calls softly to you.

"Y/N... c'mon now... look at me... don't hide away... let me see that pretty face..."

"I must look a right mess after that," you mumble, partially hiding behind your hands as you allow a smile to surface "... again! Seems to be a bit of a recurring theme."

He's smiling too, amused by your sudden bashfulness. "Well... you've only got yourself to blame... teasing me like you do. You didn't really think I was gonna let you get away with it now did you?"

He reaches up to catch hold of your hands, moving them to uncover your face and to your surprise his fingers entwine through yours as he brings them down to rest in your lap. He doesn't let go, that same unexpected warmth you glimpsed before in his eyes catching you off-guard.

Your shyness increases and you feel flustered, not knowing what to say or do next, but it doesn't matter. All of a sudden he's moving forwards, closing the small gap between you to crush his lips against yours. The kiss is deep and intense and passionate and you melt into it willingly. The perfect combination of ravenous hunger and sweet tenderness, a contradiction that you've come to know so well from Van. Despite how much your sexual encounters rile you up it's these small moments of tenderness, no matter how brief, no matter how fleeting, that draw you in helplessly. Your mind's in a spin as you pull away to catch a breath, words spilling from your lips that you instantly regret.

"It could be like this for us... every morning... if we really wanted it..."

FUCK! Why the hell did you have go and say THAT?

All that mind-blowing sex has obviously short-circuited your brain... made you forget that just this very morning you were reassuring him that this was just casual no strings attached fun.

"I mean... I didn't mean... I mean I wasn't talking about us like being together or anything... not like a couple..." you stammer quickly, trying to backtrack but instead digging yourself an even deeper hole, your cheeks blazing like a beacon.

"I know what you meant," he smiles, and it's warm and reassuring, disarming you once again, drawing you in even more. "Let's just enjoy the time we have together, yeah?"

"Yeah... and I... I really ought to go... before someone sees me," you mutter, still flustered. You try to pull away but he won't let you go, pulling you back this time with a hand at the back of your head like he can't bare the thought of your lips being away from his even for a second.

You wonder if he can taste himself on your tongue, but if he can it appears not to bother him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he's claiming you as he murmurs against your lips how perfect you are and how pretty you are and how good you are for him...

But you're not.

You're anything but. You're not good for him. You're bad for him, just like he's bad for you. Two careless thrill-seekers drawn to each others' dark whims like moths to a flame, too blinded by the tempting heat of the fire to recognise the damage that same flame could cause.

But for better or for worse you're not sure if you can live without it anymore.

[a-common-enemy-story]

A Common Enemy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 - 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓡𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮

Tristien and Theoden are in the carriage. It was rather cramped for a royal carriage. Theoden expected something a bit more grand. He had watched as the shepherd watched them leave, his look of heartbreak rather ridiculous looking on the old man.

"So, my king," Tristien says, reaching into a side compartment and pulling out a small jar full of leaves, opening it and popping one into his mouth to chew, "what will you do with this newfound power?"

Theoden narrowed his eyes at the man. The way he chews slowly, deliberately, and loudly, made him grind his teeth in frustration. "Who are you really?"

Tristien raises an eyebrow quizzically, but still kept that same smug look. "Whatever do you mean, my dear king?"

"Don't play dumb," he says sharply. "I know you know what I'm talking about. My world.. you were a girl."

Tristien laughs sharply. "A girl? My king, do I look like a girl?"

"No. You look like a bastard that I can punch the shit out of."

Tristien smirks, resting his face into his hands. "Such rage. I suppose that's why you were perfect for this position."

"Stop being cryptic or I will actually kick your ass."

His smirk only widens and suddenly, his face and his face melts and twists in a horrific scene, his broad nose turning thinner, his wide chin becoming more pointed, his hair growing out. The cracks and shape changing was so disgusting that Theoden thought he was going to throw up.

Suddenly, Tristien was replaced by a woman. The same one from the convenience store. The same one with the horrific smile and the odd eyes and the sharp face. The same one who lead him to his death.

"You!" he exclaims, reaching out to grab her, but she raises a finger.

"Ah-ah. You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?"

His glare only sharpens and she laughs. "Who am I kidding, of course you would."

He clenches his fists. "What is going on? Why am I here? Who the fuck are you?"

She laughs and snorts and it's such an ugly sound. Sharp and high, like breaking glass. She pops another leaf into her mouth and chews and chews and chews, not answering his question.

"You have a brother waiting back at home for you," she says. "He's not all too happy to learn you're taking his place as king."

"King.." he murmurs, testing the word out. "Why are you giving me this position?" He smiles wickedly. "It's not like I'm complaining, really."

She leans against her seat and chuckles. She reaches out to boop his nose, getting a snarl of contempt in response. "Let's just say I've taken a liking to you. And you can help me, and I can help you."

He laughs wryly. "You can help me? Sorry, lady, er, man, or whatever the hell you are, but I don't need anyone's help."

"Aha.. ha.. ha.." He hand shoots out, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic and pulls him close, her breath smelling like cannabis. "Theoden Colt, I don't think you understand the gift I have given you. You wouldn't have this wonderful opportunity if it weren't for me. So I'd start being grateful now while you have the chance."

He's gone still and he's filled with the need to run, jump out of the carriage to get away from her. But he didn't, the only thing stopping him being her grip on his shirt.

"Ok... all right.. But, what can I give you? You said I can help you with something. Does it involve work?" he asks, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the word.

Her gaze's intensity lessens and she releases him, smoothing out his tunic. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. All you need to do is be yourself."

"Myself? That's all I have to do to give you what you want?"

"Pretty much!"

"All right," he says, staring at her, trying and failing to read her. "I'll do that.." He leans against the door in an attempt to make as much space between the two of them as humanly possible.

She kicks her legs back and forth gleefully. "I'm sure you're new neighbors will be so happy to meet you."

"Huh? Neighbors?"

"The rulers of the 4 other kingdoms that border Hoteiven."

His eyes narrow dangerously at this information. Other rulers. Bordering his kingdom. He would not have that. He had to have it all, because finally, finally the world was giving him what he deserved.

"Well.. who are they?"

"There's Pyronis ruled by Indras the Hell King," she says, holding up a finger. "Tenebris is ruled by Dante the Moon King. Brusevire is ruled by Niko the Mad King. And then there's Aerenthia, which is ruled by Alric the Tempted King. But he's gettin' reeeeeeal old, so his daughter Elira, the Free Princess, is probably going to take over soon."

"All those names sound ripped straight from some bad fantasy novel," he says in disgust, Tristien only responding with a shrug.

He rolls his eyes and he thinks of the names. Indras the Hell King. Dante the Moon King. Niko the Mad King. Alric the Tempted King. And a princess…

"They all have titles," he says. "How do you gain a title? I want to be Theoden the Powerful King!"

She laughs and pats his shoulder. "You can't give yourself a title! Those are given by the people within your own kingdom! They choose how they want to describe you. Pfft. 'The Powerful King.' Sounds like something a 13 year old's would come up with."

He blushes furiously at the mockery. "But 'Hell King' is any better!?" he exclaims.

She just snorts in response and he's never wanted to punch a girl so badly.

"What was Azim's title?" he asks, crossing his legs.

"The Silent King. Because he didn't do much and was rather forgettable." A cat like grin spread across her face. "Ohhhh, but when the people learn about you, Azim is most definitely going to earn himself a new title. Wonder what it'll be."

Theoden clasps his hands together and stares down. Finally, the carriage came to a stop.

"Looks like we're here," she says before shifting back into the male form she greeted him with and the transformation was just as horrific as it was the first time.

The guard's open the doors and Tristien was the first to step out, jumping to the cobble pathway was poise and elegance before he offered Theoden an outstretched hand. He didn't take it, instead stepping out on his own.

He looks at the castle that lies before his path. Dark green and blood red, tall spires and a giant flag waving at the top of each one. A large entrance, grand and luxurious with a bright red carpet for him. It was everything he has ever deserved.

Tristien walked behind him, Theoden leading the way, despite not knowing where he was going. But that didn't matter. He was a king. No one would ever question him. He was everything and everyone else was nothing. That's the way it's always been and now everyone knows it.

Theoden entered and trumpets blared and then it was followed by clapping. Servants and guards all waiting for him, here for him.

At the end of the carpet was someone dressed in fine robes that made Theoden jealous. He wanted robes like that. The boy looked younger than him, perhaps 19 years old, with silky black hair that's been pushed back neatly and the most striking hazel eyes. He held himself up tall and strong, as if he's been trained his whole life to stand this way.

And, upon realizing who this was, Theoden was filled with even more fury, followed by a sick satisfaction. His brother in this world. He looked nothing like Theoden's real brother, and perhaps that was a virtue of this complete stranger.

"Brother," the boy says. "I am surprised to hear that you.. really do exist."

Theoden smirks. "You heard of my story, I assume?"

"I always thought it was a myth, truth be told."

"Well, I'm happy to say I am most definitely real."

The boy narrowed his eyes, but then bowed. "I am your.. younger brother, Leuce. It is... a pleasure to make your acquaintance." It was clear the boy had much strain in getting the words out, his teeth grinding at just being in the presence of Theoden.

Theoden smiles wryly and ruffles the boy's hair in a mocking display of brotherly affection, where he can feel Leuce grow even more furious. "You should be ecstatic to make my acquaintance," he corrects with a snarky tone before walking past him.

"Tristien," he calls out. "Where's the throne room?"

Leuce glares coldly at Tristien, who just smiles at the boy before walking past him. "Right this way, my king."

"He hasn't even had his coronation yet..." Leuce says under his breath, but the two ignored him, leaving behind Leuce, the now Forgotten Prince.

They enter through two grand doors made of jade and red diamonds. They swung open and before them, at the center, was the throne, shining gold in the moonlight that poured through the stained glass windows. And it was all perfect. It was all his.

He sat himself in it and looked at Tristien, the two smiling together.

"How do I look?"

The mysterious man, woman, creature claps. "Like you're in your rightful place."

••••

Let the man grow comfortable in his seat and he will never want to leave. The more comfortable he grows, the sloppier he will become. But slop always creates the biggest messes. And messes cannot be risked in a kingdom. But I do love to take risks.

[vossn]

Month 3-to-4-ish on Testosterone

The reason why I haven't really updated is that there hasn't been much happening! Previous changes continue:

I'm getting hairier. Thighs, stomach, arms, hands, chest, everywhere. Starting to grow sideburns. My chin is fluffy. Odd detail, but my hands also look less feminine, it is hard to describe, but you know what I mean when you see it :D

My voice continues dropping. It is surprisingly low for the short time that has passed, but I'm enjoying it. I'll try to put together a comparison of my old fanfic readings vs now some time. Singing is hard because I start to squeak if I even try to go slightly high, and I am slightly hoarse, but I am confident this will ease over time.

I cry less. I can't even name the last time I cried, and it comes much less easy to me now, which is good, because god did I annoy myself with how fast I'd get teary-eyed.

I also can safely say that dysphoria has substantially lessened. There were times in my life where I'd just spend each and every evening sobbing my eyes out, go to sleep, and would wake up knowing I'd have to do it all again. I was so dysphoric that I felt no euphoria at all, in fact I often felt quite dead. If you're at this stage: It does get better, but I also know it hurts like hell. It won't hurt forever.

Nowadays I look in the mirror and I just think I look like a dude, I don't quite look my age, sure, but seeing him in the mirror makes me very happy. I don't pass super well, I have a bit of a ..shape, but it doesn't bother me like it used to.

My biggest adjustment with transition has been that there's a very stark difference between wanting to be something and actually being something, actually living it. That's mainly the fault of our society, not being trans itself. There are things I would have never thought possible to happen this way when I began, and had I known, I would have been scared out of my mind.

The trick is finding a few people who, fiercely and unapologetically, are in your corner. Shout-out to my grandma, who 1. acknowledged how hard it must be for me at a time where everyone was just straight-up blaming me, 2. offered me a place to stay and help if i ever needed it, thus being cooler at 92 years old than her daughter ever will be.

I like to think I'm better, at least for the time being. Far from great, but better.

That's all for today, I'm off to pursue one of the shittiest sports you can do while trans: swimming :)

[incomingalbatross]

Below: my attempt at a retelling of Tam Lin, with a little more emphasis on the Baby as a central concern.

---

The first time Janet goes to Carterhaugh, in the early spring, she wears a green cloak on her shoulders and a gold ring on her finger. She's curious, not stupid. She knows the prices Tam Lin is said to demand for trespassing, and she is prepared with every option.

The second time Janet goes, in the later spring, she wears her cloak but does not bother with a ring. She is more confident now, since her first meeting with Tam Lin, and thinks the cloak is a price worth paying to meet the fairy man again.

The third time Janet goes, it is summer. She wears no cloak, and wears no ring; and when she plucks the rose and Tam Lin appears, she sees him notice this even before he meets her eyes.

She smiles at him.

Later, when she wakes in the wood, she wakes alone. She finds her way home by moonlight, and wonders if she will ever go to Carterhaugh again.

There is no future there for her, she knows, no future with Tam Lin but these woodland meetings. He may never even appear to her again, now that she is no maiden... and she may never seek him out again, now that she has proven all the tale.

Time goes by, and Janet puts the memory of those hours in Carterhaugh away. There's much to be done about her father's court—sensible, daylight things, of the mortal world and not the fairy one.

She did not reckon with the fact that those hours might not be done with her...and so even after a week of sickness, when her father said, "I fear you are with child," it was Janet who was most taken by surprise.

That should have been one risk lessened, she had thought, by chancing herself in Carterhaugh and not with one of her father's knights.

Now she was struck with fear; for it had been one thing to take this affair upon herself, but what had she done to this babe inside her? Was it a mortal babe, sired as it had been by a fairy creature, and one she barely knew? Even at the best, what would the babe do in the life she had made for it, growing up fatherless and in dishonor?

Her own father, always kind and mild, did not press her when she said the father would not be found among his court. He frowned mournfully at that, but gave her time, to consider what the child's fate might be.

She was still considering, though, when the oldest, grayest, dourest of her father's men shook his head at her and said, "Ah, and now our lady is with child? It's us knights who'll bear the blame for it, Lady Janet, you will see."

"Hold your tongue!" she snapped back, thoughts broken by her scorn. "As if," she said, "I'd let any child of mine be claimed by you—or any of your company—or ever give any of you reason for such a claim."

Some of those within earshot laughed; but one, a younger knight, shot back, "And what manner of man is it, then, who is so preferred to us, but who has not claimed the child?"

Janet looked at him, and all those around, and thought of Tam Lin. Strange, uncanny Tam Lin, of airy form and shifting mood, remote and strange and dangerous—but Tam Lin, still, whom she had sought out once, and again, and a third time, for more than the mere adventure of it all. Tam Lin as she had come to think of him, fair and brave beneath his strangeness, with a hidden warmth and gravity in him—she thought—that had come out for her, more and more in the short times they had spent together.

Janet could, perhaps, be fairly dense in recognizing uncomfortable truths, but when she did recognize them she faced them squarely and without flinching.

"He is the one who holds my heart," she said to the younger knight, clear for all the world to hear, "as well as the naming of my babe—and if he were a mortal man, and not a fairy strange, he'd be a better knight than you could ever hope to face!"

In the silence, she swept away to her own rooms.

---

Once there, however, she fairly collapses into her seat, picking up her sewing automatically simply to occupy her hands. (It is the finishing work on a mantle, green as leaves and grass; a replacement for the one she left with Tam Lin, some months ago.)

Despite her words down below, she is keenly aware that Tam Lin is not a mortal man. A fairy cannot serve as father to a human child (and again, she thinks with a thrill of unease, is her child going to be human?), and yet Janet knows now that she will not—cannot—consign herself and her child into the keeping of any other man she knows. She will not give her child, or her heart, to any man but the one who has true claim to them...and he is no man at all.

Or...

Well, what is he?

As she sits and finishes her seam, Janet becomes uncomfortably aware of how little she knows of Tam Lin. Perhaps, if he knew, he might be able to propose something she could not—if, that is, he is human enough to care.

"Well," she says aloud, jumping up, letting needle and thimble fall to her feet. "There is only one way to learn.

So she braids up her hair and straightens her skirts and sweeps the new mantle around her: and again, for the fourth time, Janet goes to Carterhaugh, to the well where they met before.

This time, though, she does not pluck one of Tam Lin's roses. She looks around her, thoughtfully, and spies a patch of herbs she knows full well a pregnant woman should not let near her mouth. She bends, and gathers some in her hand...

And is stopped by a small, cold hand upon her wrist, the hand of a fairy knight.

"What are you doing, Janet?" Tam Lin demands, voice urgent, face pale and set. "What are you doing to our child, the child we got between us?"

And that answers half of her questions, right there.

Janet straightens to face him, a rush of warmth chasing out the chill that's been following her. "I would not harm our child," she said, hand resting on her belly, "and truly, Tam Lin, I would carry this child through day and night, summer and winter, for love of it and love of you."

Her face warms, but she sees his eyes soften in surprise, and it is worth it.

"But," she says then, and watches him stiffen in wariness, "but, Tam Lin, I must know whose child I bear."

She stops for a moment, watching him; but he only watches her back, his slim shoulders set back, unearthly face still as the hills. Only his eyes show feeling—a flicker of some intense feeling, far beneath the dark surface, like a caged hawk waiting for a door to open.

"Tam Lin, tell me," Janet says, with a breath taken in silent, desperate prayer. "Did you ever pass through the church-door, or feel the water on your forehead? Were you ever earthly knight, or any kind of man who rode beneath the Cross?"

At her questions, that feeling leaps out of his eyes, and Tam Lin's face comes alive with all the warmth and laughter she has ever seen in it.

"Yes, Janet, yes," he says, and Janet sits down hard on the curb of the well. "I was a man like any other," he continues, taking her hand, "a youth of this country trained for knighthood, until the day I fell from my horse into the Queen of the Fairies' hands."

Her love has a soul, like to her own—and a heart, what's more, for her and the babe. This, Janet thinks, is the most important thing. Everything else, they can manage.

Of course, this is before her love goes on to tell her of the fairies' tithe to Hell.

"Tonight?" she asks incredulously. "You ride to pay the tithe tonight?"

He smiled at her. "If you had decided to see me a little earlier, perhaps..."

"Perhaps if you had told me sooner," she said, "that the Fairy Queen meant your soul to go to Hell, I would have—" But then she stopped herself.

"I did not think," he said gently, "after your last coming, that any reason would arise for you to see me here, let alone to miss me."

And then, from something in his face, and from the sudden memory of his manner at that time, Janet guessed that, then, they had both been using one another. If she had sought adventure and pleasure that came free of the consequences of her father's court, Tam Lin had perhaps been seeking that same pleasure, and a respite, away from the knowledge of his doom. And then they had parted ways, affection mingled with their half-hidden guilt, never to meet again.

But then another life had entered the affair. Another life that neither of them would willingly see harmed, even by their own foolishness.

"You are not the Queen's," she said at last, meeting his eyes fiercely, "and you are not her court's, and you are not going to any devils while I breathe. So how do I take you from them all, Tam Lin?"

He smiled, like a man who had just seen his first sunrise in seven years, and he told her.

---

When Janet met the Fairy Court riding at the crossroads that night, she had no time for fear. She was repeating his instructions in her mind.

"First you'll let the black horse pass, and then you'll let the brown—"

—and then she leapt for the unfamiliar armored figure on the white steed, dragging him down into her arms while all the procession crashed to a halt.

The figure wavered in her arms, and writhed, and became something small and slithering—

"They'll turn me in your arms, to an adder or an asp."

The snaked seemed to rear and then strike, fangs bared, at her body. Janet stiffened, but kept her grasp tight, refusing to recoil.

You, she reminded herself and it, are the father of my child.

And as its head reached her belly the snake's mouth closed, merely tapping her with its snout—"Hold me fast and fear me not," she almost heard—

Before wavering again, and growing, encompassing her in fur and musk and muscle until it seemed as though her arms physically could not wrap around it.

"They'll turn me once again, to a grim and fearsome bear."

Janet set her teeth, and held fast. You are, she thought again, my earthly mate to be.

And its claws and strength were not turned against her; but just as her grasp began to feel more like a hug, the shape wavered again, to something hard and sharp and searing—

"They'll turn me to an iron brand, red-hot as blazing fire."

Janet hugged the iron tight to her breast, through a pain like none she had ever known before, and concentrated all her will on not letting go.

She could not think, but she could remember.

"But hold me fast and fear me not," her true love's voice had said, "and I'll do you no harm..."

And just like that, the pain was gone. The shape in her arms changed, in a way somehow unlike the other changes, into something real and warm and permanent, solid and familiar.

Quick as thinking, Janet swept her mantle over the naked man kneeling against her, covering him in her cloak and arms as he rested his head on her belly.

Above them both, atop a tall mount, the most beautiful woman Janet had ever seen glared down at them.

Janet stared back, triumphant and unafraid.

"So you are stolen, Tam Lin," the Queen of the Fairies said, her voice frozen with rage.

"Not stolen," Janet said at once. "If I had stolen him tonight, I know I could not have kept him. He already belonged to us."

Her love straightened to lift his head beside her, face clear in the moonlight—like and yet not like his fairy face, she thought, but not unlike in ways that she would miss. His breath was warm on her cheek, as he turned to face the Queen.

Whatever the Queen saw there, she hissed at, a long indrawn breath.

"If I had known," she said, "Tam Lin, what drew your eyes from me, I'd have taken them from your skull this night and changed them for eyes of wood.

"If I had known," she said again (with a poisonous look to Janet), "what pulled your heart from me, I'd have taken it from your chest this night and changed it for one of stone."

But with that, she cracked her reins, and—the court sweeping in disarray behind her—rode off and vanished into the morning mist.

Tam Lin turned his eyes to Janet, smiling wide and joyful.

"And I am father to your babe," he said, taking her hand, "and I will be your mate in life, and I will be your true love, Janet, as long as you will be my wife."

"As my love I claimed you," she said, smiling too, "and as my husband-bound-to-be, and as the father of my child: so, Tam Lin, these things are yours for good, and so too I will be."

Home then they went, and the banns were read, and in due course came the marriage and the child. And the story was often told by their hearth, as that child grew older, of the role it had first played in bringing its parents through peril.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hey! Are you okay? I hope so, can I make a request for daryl dixon? something angst but cute at the end as if daryl had moved away from reader(they were a couple) because of leah, and then she leaves with maggie, but at the end of season 10 they meet again. something like that if you want, sorry for the english and the inconvenience, thanks for the wonderful writing

I’m doing well honey, thank you. Please don’t ever feel like an inconvenience, I love this request! Thank you for your lovely words :)

Maggie looks at me, eyes full of worry as I stare at the familiar man standing in the middle of the clearing, guiding new people around a beaten and broken Alexandria. He looks older, hair longer as if Carol decided to let him grow it a bit, but still the same Daryl as I knew before.

"You didn't tell me he was back." I mutter, hands shaking at my sides and I shove them into my pockets, sending her a frantic look. She reaches out to me, looping her arm around mine with a sad smile.

"I didn't know." I allow her to lead me further into Alexandria, occasionally stopping to say hi to friends that we've gone too long without seeing and I let a relieved smile slip across my lips.

That is, until Daryl approaches me while Maggie is talking to Carol.

"You still mad?" He asks, swaying awkwardly back and forth as a dog whines at his feet, obediently glancing up at Daryl before giving me a curious look, head tilting cutely.

"You still stupid?" He scoffs at my rebuttal, hand reaching up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I'm taking that as a yes." I go to move past him but his fingers wrap around my upper arm with a sigh.

"Listen to me, alright-"

"No, you don't get to call the shots right now, D." I snap, holding a hand out to him before snatching my arm from him, a frown pulling on my lips as I fight the tears that want to so desperately rise to my eyes. "You left me, willingly, without hesitation." The reminder hits him like a punch to the gut, his head drooping a bit so he doesn't have to look at me, so he doesn't have to remember the pain that he put me through. "Did she leave you and you remembered that I existed and thought to pay me a visit?"

His eyes lift to mine briefly in a heated gaze and I realize that he never knew that Carol told me about his little fling out in the woods. He thought that the betrayal that I feel is simply from him running away after Rick died but I can tell by the worried look in his eyes that he knows that this is so much deeper than him running away from me.

"I never forgot about you." He promises, stepping up to me in a desperate attempt to be close to me but with every step forward he takes, I inch away from him. "I didn't know what to do after Rick-"

"So you're blaming this on your dead best friend?" His eyes close in frustration, head shaking as a scoff escapes me. "You went out and fucked another woman, abandoned me, and somehow it's Rick's fault." I can't fight the tears now, reaching up to bat them away quickly as Maggie looks over to us and an apologetic look flashes through her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He mutters.

"You're not."

A minute or two passes and I take the chance to look anywhere but him, watching them attempt at building the walls back up, patch together walls on buildings that tumbled down in the fight and share meals together. I've missed this.

"But you're right. She left." Daryl sighs, heartbreak riddling his voice as he shuffles his feet against the dirt beneath us, a bitter smile slipping across his lips. "I couldn't choose her. She asked me to."

"So who'd you choose?" I ask, not even trying to hide the eagerness to my voice, hoping that he'd finally give me the answer that I've been waiting to hear for years from him.

"My family. You." He says almost instantly, shoulders rolling back in relief as if just saying the words lessened the load on his back. I let him step towards me, hair falling in his eyes as he smiles softly. "When Carol would come out and find me, I'd ask her if you were back yet. Every time she said no and it just gave me no reason to come back." He explains and his words make my heart ache so badly that I reach up to rub my sternum, sucking in a gasp of air as my tears dry on my cheeks.

"You didn't come back because I wasn't there?" I ask with a small pout, not missing the fond smile he wears when he looks up at me, eyes flickering back and forth between mine.

"You were my family. Without you there, I didn't wanna go back."

"You're making me a little less mad." I allow myself to laugh, breaking the awkward tension that was swarming around us just moments ago and, though it takes everything in me, I do truly feel less bitter after hearing his explanation. "If you keep saying nice things, I might give you a hug." I offer and his face falls in relief, head nodding as he reaches out to me, pulling me into his arms desperately.

"I love you and I missed you."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @bungunz

[wild-lavender-rose]

Sorry, first time requesting anything im not sure if im doing this right haha. But can you do a gender neutral reader with hank lawson. Where reader gets shot, dr mike does surgery, and we wake to up hank there. Fluff please!!:)

I've been waiting for inspiration to write this, anon, and it finally arrived! I hope this is fluffy enough for you :) Please feel free to send me another Hank request, I'm pretty sure we're the only two on here who love him and I'd love to grow my Dr. Quinn master list!

My Fault - Hank Lawson x reader

Warning- Cannon-typical language

It had been your own fault. One second you were between Hank and the black-clad stranger, trying to keep the two from killing each other over a misunderstanding about a horse. You had focused on the stranger, knowing Hank would listen to you and stand down the moment you intervened. You thought that the matter was settled and had turned around, walking back to where Hank waited, broody and silent.

The gunshot had sounded practically in your ear. You had fallen forward, pushed by the bullet. More gunshots. People were screaming. You tried to get up and fight. Hank was shouting but you couldn't understand him. You felt numb and cold all at once. The dirt was wet under your hands. Blood. But whose?

"Get Michaela, now!" Hank was on his knees next to you, keeping you from getting up. You had looked at him, vision blurred. You called to him, your voice sounding hollow and distant. His blue eyes were the last thing you remembered, frantic and helpless. He picked you up and the world went black.

The next time you woke you were in Dr. Quinn's office lying on her examination table. The pain was white hot, coming from your right shoulder. You cried out, trying to move, to escape. You were calling for someone over and over again. Hank. Hank, please. It's my fault, I'm sorry. Please.

Dr. Mike appeared over top you, pressing a white gauze to your nose, calming you with a soft voice and worried eyes. You sank back into darkness.

The next time you woke you were in one of her recovery rooms, the sunlight highlighting the cream colored quilt you were laying under. You were naked from the waist up but were covered by the quilt. A thick bandage was wrapped around your right shoulder. You felt stiff and hazy, but the pain was gone.

"Hey," a familiar, husky voice sounded by your head.

You looked to find Hank sitting by the bed, his oversized form hunched over in a chair too small for him. He smiled, his eyes even more bleary and red-rimmed than usual. It looked like he had been crying.

"Hank," you tried to talk but your tongue felt thick and fuzzy.

"Here," Hank hurried to pour you a glass of water from a basin sitting by the bed. He raised your head, helping you to drink.

Finishing the glass, you cleared your throat, trying once more. "Did he, am I," you glanced at your shoulder.

"Shot you in the back," Hank shook his head. "Bastard."

"You get him?"

"Jake did. Right in the head."

"Shoulda had a trial." You muttered, pretending that you weren't glad that your attacker.

Harry gave you a half smile. "Talkin' like Michaela now."

You smiled back, the gesture lessening as the memory of earlier washed over you. "M'sorry, Hank. I should have kept out of it. I just, I didn't want you hurt."

"Hey, shh. Don't worry about it," Hank leaned forward, brushing at your cheek with a soft and uncertain touch. "You just focus on resting up, all right?"

"Hank,"

"You'll be back to bothering me in no time." Carding his hand through your hair, Hank blinked a few times, smile wavering.

"Hank," you reached up, fingers tangling in one of the locks of hair falling in his eyes. You caressed his grizzled jaw with the back of your hand, your touch causing his eyes to close.

Hank leaned into your touch as if starved, like he was trying to memorize the moment. You felt yourself drifting off once more but fought to hold on, touching his face, conveying the thoughts you were unable to explain. I love you, you thought. I couldn't live without you.

Your hand grew weak, falling back rest on the quilt as your eyes fluttered shut. Hank pressed his hand, warm and steady, over yours. He whispered something you probably weren't supposed to hear. Something you would never forget.

"I love you, sweetheart. Don't leave me."

Fanfic Masterlist

[eywamygoddesswrites]

Hello there,I hope you're having a good day! I'd like to say first that I love your works! Could I request a Kiri x F!Reader where one of reader's loved one passed away and she doesnt tell anyone until a few days later when she hasent eaten since and didnt sleep as well and just breaks down in front of kiri who just end up comforting them and giving her love? I recently lost my uncle and I miss him so much.

— 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮 — (kiri x fem!reader)

requested: yes

pairing: kiri x fem!omatikaya!reader

tags: comfort after losing a loved one

warnings: lowercase intended, loss, self-neglect, mention of y/n being thin because of lack of food intake

a/n: characters are aged up!

hello, mushroom! thank you so much for sending in a request. i'm very sorry for your loss and sending all my love to you and your family. losing a loved one is very hard and it will hurt for a while especially when you're close to that relative. i will admit, it hurts to lose them especially when we want to achieve something that you want them to witness.

the healing process will take a while, maybe months or even years, but i'm here to say that letting out your feelings is okay because it will lessen the hurt you will feel in the future. speaking from experience, whenever i think of my grandma, yes i tear up from time to time but as time passed, all i will remember are the happy memories i spent with her instead of her passing.

you're a strong person, okay? a person with human emotions. it's okay to let them out and to grieve for your loss. if people think otherwise, then they're wrong. all the strong people i know are comfortable with feelings. i may not know you personally, but i believe that you are a strong person.

i hope this fic gives you a sense of comfort and sending my condolence to you and your family. *sends virtual hug*

word count: 964

+ gif not mine. ctto.

for the longest time, y/n had been with her auntie for as long as she can remember. her parents were no longer present because of the sky people during one bad raid and her aunt, the sister of her mother took her in. her aunt was there in every big event of y/n’s life. from creating her songcord to bonding with an ikran. her aunt was her rock, her inspiration, her best friend, and her mother figure.

so when y/n’s aunt passed away after battling with an unknown illness, y/n didn’t know what to do. hell, she didn’t even know what to feel. can she even mourn in front of the others? does anyone even know that her aunt was missing these past few days? questions and uncertainties filled her mind as she held her aunt’s head to her chest, her body growing colder as time passed. when everyone was asleep, she quietly buried her aunt and collected their favorite flowers, and placed a woodsprite over the body. she placed her aunt’s songchord in her arms before burying the body. she added a small but visible marking over the grave then left to go back home, where she would feel the cold of the night as a home of two became a home of one.

y/n didn’t show up to any of the clan’s gatherings since that night. she had let go of her health as she became a husk of what she once was. the people grew worried when they noticed that y/n nor her aunt had been showing up the past couple of weeks. why were the two keeping to themselves? did something bad happen to them? did they leave the clan one night and never returned? are they on the run? the omatikaya clan could only assume what happened, except kiri. the oldest sully daughter couldn’t help but get a gut feeling that maybe it was something deeper.

knowing y/n all her life, kiri knows that she and her aunt wouldn’t just get up and leave out of the blue. maybe they were going through something, sure, but to leave the clan? she doesn’t think so.

kiri planned on sneaking out of their home to go visit y/n and her aunt when midnight comes. she thought of what to say and what to do before arriving at the front of their home. ‘everyone is worried for you two’, ‘some of us missed you’, ‘i missed you’. the last had her shaking her head ‘no’. what was she thinking?! this might be a serious matter and she’s putting her romantic feelings upfront. that can wait for now.

when she was finally in front of y/n and her aunt’s home, she peeked in the bedroom window, only to be met with y/n’s figure sprawled on the floor, her aunt nowhere in sight. panic filled her body as she immediately let herself into the house to check on the omatikaya in front of her.

kiri noticed that y/n had grown thin as her eyebags sunk deep as if she hadn’t been sleeping right and this was the only time she actually had any form of sleep, her breathing erratic as sweat fell down her forehead. ‘she’s having a nightmare’ kiri thought as she softly woke y/n. the girl shot up from her nightmare as panic began to seep into her body. she looked around looking for her aunt, only to be met by kiri.

tears began to fall down her face as she immediately clung onto kiri, sobbing heavily as she does her best to keep herself as close to kiri as she can as if the sully kid was going to disappear if y/n lets her go.

kiri could only hug the crying na’vi as she whispered sweet nothings, reassuring y/n that she was not going anywhere. the lass calmed down after a while, her body shaking from the lack of nutrition in her body and loss of sleep since the burial.

“what happened, ma paskalin? where have you been?” kiri asked as softly as she can as if her voice was louder, the girl in front of her would break. after a deep and shaky breath, y/n explained what had happened and why she had been gone.

the sully kid didn’t know how to react after knowing this information. she felt angry towards herself for not approaching y/n earlier and for not comforting her earlier, another was she felt sorrow that another member of the clan had passed away and joined eywa. she wiped y/n’s face with her thumbs before pulling her back into a hug, one hand holding y/n’s head and the other resting on her lower back. y/n’s arms were wrapped around kiri’s waist.

y/n was still shaking as weeks of neglect on her body caught up. kiri will have to help her get well and help her process her grief in a healthy way. now, y/n needed her more than anything else. confessing her feelings will have to wait until her love was in a better mindset.

for now, kiri will protect and comfort y/n as best as she can. she places a soft peck on top of y/n’s head as she sings to y/n softly. after weeks of sleep loss, y/n finally fell asleep in comfort. her breathing became normal as her grasp on kiri didn’t falter.

kiri laid down, y/n still in her arms and chest, as she rubbed y/n’s back. “you’re safe here with me.” she whispers to the sleeping na’vi as she herself falls asleep.

starting tomorrow, y/n won’t be alone as she thought she would be.

na'vi dictionary:

paskalin - sweet berry (term of endearment)

taglist: @nyotamalfoy

[bloodyshadow1]

Guiding Wisdom ch 11

Someone told me that they couldn't read my story anymore since I put it so only people with ao3 accounts can read it because AI is using Ao3 now. I felt bad so I thought I'd post the newest chapter here

It was breathtaking being in front of her mother’s villa. Despite how many times she visited, Olympus never lost its grandeur, but she had never been here. It was standard, if still impressive due to the size and style, but less obnoxious compared to Zeus’. It reminded Annabeth of the Athena Cabin back at Camp Half-Blood. It was made of gray stone, perfectly symmetrical, it was one of the most beautiful buildings Annabeth had ever seen.

“It is pretty nice right,” Athena said more than asked, “let us go inside,” she suggested. “Unless you would like to study the exterior more. It is up to you.”

“It’s fine mom,” Annabeth said, but she was still looking over every inch of the outside of the palace, marveling at its beauty. “I can come outside later, right,” she finished questioningly. She knew Athena planned on inviting her children, but that didn’t mean it was an open invitation. Right?

“Of course,” Athena agreed, though clearly out of her depths, “my home should be open to my children whenever they visit Olympus. Even on your sabbatical you are here most often. Visit as often as you like. Though I cannot guarantee that I will be here. My duties make it so I rarely have time to use my lands as anything other than a glorified office.”

“I guess you are always busy,” Annabeth said, trying to sound sincere, not bitter. Athena was an important goddess, Annabeth understood that, but growing up she would have killed for a chance to do anything like this with her mom as a kid.

“Yes,” Athena admitted, “but that has lessened, if only slightly. For now, things have calmed down, there is no threat on the horizon that I can see. Many of our ancient enemies are put to rest for now, in no small part thanks to you and your friends. I am no longer needed in war rooms where I am continuously ignored.” Not that she was bitter. “I wish to make up for lost time, as it were.”

“It’s a start,” Annabeth said neutrally. She wouldn’t hide the pain Minerva had put her through, and she was close enough to Athena that Annabeth didn’t know how much overlap there was. A 12 year old Annabeth would have loved everything Athena was trying to do. Annabeth as 19 could only hope it was real, maybe afraid and cursing herself for being hopeful, but the gods can change. So she could allow herself to hope, it had worked with Fredrick to an extent.

“That is all I can ask,” Athena said, bidding her daughter inside. The entrance hall of Athena’s estate was a wide room that was mostly plain. Two statues stood on either side of the doorway of gray stone, one of Artemis the other of Persephone. Each created by a master’s hand. Other than that it was a chamber made of white stone and plain walls. “Please take off your shoes,” Athena said as she took off her own. “Socks are fine or I can provide indoor slippers if that’s what you prefer. But no one is allowed to walk around my home with dirty shoes.” Hermes walked through her home with muddy shoes once, once and that was all he needed to learn the proper etiquette of Athena’s palace.

Annabeth didn’t mind, it was a simple rule and seeing her mother follow it too despite making the rule ended any argument that she might have made. It was polite and she didn’t mind, especially once she put on the slippers her mother provided. They were like walking on clouds.

“This is the main living quarters,” Athena explained, though her tone made it clear she was aware it was unnecessary. “I figured this would be where most of the hosting and socializing would be done, at least at first.”

Annabeth looked around, it was a huge room, slightly smaller than an auditorium, with high ceilings. Unlike the entranceway, the walls were covered with fine art and tapestries each made with a master’s hand like everything in the home seemed to be. Ancient weapons and armor from heroes lost to time, some on the wall, others draped over manikins. Even some posters of plays and signed headshots of actors from the age of the silent film to today. There was no rhyme or reason solidifying a style amongst the art work, some were scenes of battle, others love, others abstract art, but the lack of uniform almost seemed to pull the room together. It was like a less tacky theme restaurant with the walls covered in memorabilia.

Annabeth wished Rachel was there with her. Annabeth could appreciate good art, but her oracle friend would have a field day in this room alone.

There were couches, ones that looked old and worn, but seemed comfortable. Odd, though perhaps not too odd given who Athena was, but there was also a loom in the corner that stood out to Annabeth. “This is a lot of space,” Annabeth noted as she took everything in. Athena wanted her to help so she would do her best. “Maybe a bit…, too much. It almost feels overwhelming even with the entire Athena Cabin here, it’s a huge palace.”

“I suppose so,” Athena agreed, reluctantly. “I like my open space, but perhaps for the sake of my children, I could make it slightly less overwhelming.” With a wave of her hand the room grew smaller.

To Annabeth it didn’t even look like the room shrunk in size, it just was suddenly smaller. The powers of the gods were always impressive, despite not wanting to become one, Annabeth envied her mother’s power. She was about to say something to her mother, but stopped when she saw Athena take a deep slow breath. Annabeth didn’t know if her mother even remembered she was there right now, but for both their sakes she pretended to look away and give Athena some privacy. She didn’t have to pretend that hard, even in a smaller room, the artwork in the room was beautiful.

After a moment Athena approached her, “do you have any other suggestions for this room,” she asked, as if she did not need a minute to breathe.

“I was thinking that for the actual get together,” Annabeth started. ‘Get together’ sounded odd in her mouth, but ‘party’ didn’t really fit her idea of Athena either. “Carpet might work better. The tile on the floor is gorgeous and easier to clean, but it can feel a bit cold and detached where you want the atmosphere to be welcoming. Something softer might not be as grand, but it will be better at putting people at ease.”

“That does make sense,” Athena agreed, though Annabeth could see that it was hurting her mother to change her beautiful tile floor to carpet. Still, she took her daughter’s suggestion without argument. “What are you thinking,” she said and with a snap of her fingers the floor was covered in a short gray carpet. She looked at Annabeth for approval.

“Let’s put it on the maybe column,” Annabeth suggested.

Without missing a step, Athena touched the wall beside her and a white board emerged from it. At the top were three columns, yes written in blue, no written in red, and maybe written in green. Under the green was the equivalent of a thumbnail of the current gray carpet. “Then let us keep trying,” Athena suggested with a small, hopeful smile on her face.

“Let’s,” Annabeth agreed, trying to return the smile. For the next ten minutes or so the two of them had a genuinely fun time going through every type of carpet that the goddess of crafts and a girl with a dream of being an architect could conceive of. No matter how ugly or outlandish with Athena’s ability she could summon and create any pattern or image.

Annabeth even got her mother to laugh when she suggested a Lisa Frank unicorn carpet. When Athena summoned it the two of them agreed that the woman had a style, but not was a definite no. The maybes and nos filled up fast but they settled on a silver gray carpet that is soft long. “Oh yeah,” Annabeth said as she rubbed her hand over the soft carpet. “This is nice, a few sleeping bags and we wouldn’t need pillows to sleep in here.”

“That might be the case Annabeth, but I am not going to force my children to sleep in my den,” Athena said walking over to her daughter.

The idea of having her own room in her mother’s home was a childhood dream to Annabeth. To actually feel welcomed by a parent enough to have her own space, she loved her siblings but even though the Athena cabin was better equipped than the others on space, it still could feel like she never had privacy.

Still, “that’s really nice of you mom,” Annabeth said, “but I’m sure my siblings would appreciate that, but most of us are used to living at camp, you know in a communal living space. I freaked out the first night my roommate spent the night at her girlfriend’s and I was left completely alone.” She called Percy who had experience in a big open space alone since he was the only one in the Poseidon cabin, but she didn’t need to tell Athena that.

“I suppose you are correct,” Athena said with a nod, “but then most of your siblings are probably used to it by now. And sleeping on the floor probably is not good for some of them.”

“What do you mean,” Annabeth asked confused.

“Well Jeremiah is in his 60’s. I doubt he would be interested in sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag, no matter how comfortable I make the carpet,” Athena explained.

“Who is Jeremiah,” Annabeth asked, her confusion continued.

“He is your older brother,” Athena said as if it were obvious, “a teacher at Yale, enjoys opera and showtunes, has been living with his boyfriend for the past 43 years in a domestic partnership since their love is ‘illegal’ here,” she finished bitterly.

Athena had no interest in romantic love, she had only experienced it once in her immortal life and that was enough, but she seethed at the idea that her children were not allowed to wed their chosen partners. Similar problems had happened before interracial marriage was legalized too, and Athena was sick of it.

“My older brother,” Annabeth practically whispered. Logically, she knew that she had older siblings, she could still remember Sofia, the head of the Athena Cabin when she first arrived at camp. She had been nice enough, nicer than Thalia had been at first, but Annabeth never saw her after her first summer. She had been too old to spend her life in a summer camp, like Annabeth was currently, but even though she had never heard about Sofia dying, Annabeth assumed the worst, especially once the war started.

Historically Annabeth knew she had famous half-siblings, George Washington, Daedalus, and Frederic Bartholdi to name a few. But it was hard to wrap her head around the idea of older children of Athena out there in the world. Even without the option to go to New Rome.

“There are roughly 60 of my children alive currently,” Athena said seeing Annabeth’s confusion, “including the Athena Cabin at Camp.” There should be more, so many more, she cursed herself internally. Her children did not have the powerful scents that children of the Big Three had, in fact their scent was weaker than most demi-gods due to the lack of fantastic powers gifted to them. And her children were perhaps the most dangerous to monsters if they lived to 18 since survival was due to their skills in battle, not divine power. The soulless ones often chose a meal less likely to fight back than a fully grown child of Athena. If not for her pride and Minerva’s madness there would be dozens more, maybe even over a hundred.

The Athena Parthenos was a powerful relic and it helped unite the Greek and Roman demi-gods, but Athena regretted how many of her children she sent to their deaths to retrieve it. Part of her wished she could blame all of the coins that dangled from Arache on Minerva’s actions, but that would be wrong. Athena would not hide from the horrors she caused.

“I am unsure of how many will attend,” Athena said aloud, both to save her daughter and herself from their own spiral. “I still receive prayers every now and then, but as children of the gods grow older, most of them choose to leave that part of their lives behind. To become a key part of the mortal world than ours,” she said sadly. Athena did not blame them, it was common for many reasons. Once you became an adult, it was harder to pray to an absent parent for help, if they were not there for you as a child, why would they be there for you when you can stand on your own two feet.

Annabeth stood there, lost in her own head. Shaken from her discovery of having older siblings, who were out in the real world, alive. There were too many thoughts, happy that there was proof she had a future even outside of New Rome, but she couldn’t help but be bitter too. If there were adult demi-gods out in the world, why did everything have to fall on kids like her? Why didn’t they fight in the war against the titans, or Gaia, or the Triumvirate? They got rewarded for living to adulthood while she and Percy saved the world when they were twelve and kept having to do so every year.

It was just so complicated, but maybe also a little hopeful. Annabeth thought New Rome was their only choice for a future. Monsters might attack adult demi-gods less, but Percy’s scent was strong even now. They thought twice before attacking a son of Poseidon at his age, especially one as infamous as Percy, but would that be the same once they had kids. Do legacies have the scent that their parents or grandparents would? It was all just too much.

“Perhaps we should move on to the other rooms of the palace,” Athena suggested, she could tell Annabeth’s brilliant mind would be fixated on this if she was not distracted. Something Diomedes said happened to her all the time. If Annabeth needed time, she would have it, but Athena was proof that sometimes you needed to be saved from yourself.

“Yeah,” Annabeth managed to get out, “that would be for the best.” She didn’t have time to be bitter or hopeful. She had to remember she was helping her mother, she could deal with meeting her older siblings when she met them.

The next room was the kitchen, a kitchen from the future and from a chef’s dream. A massive state of the art kitchen with a fridge bigger than Annabeth’s dorm. Dozens of gadgets lined the shelves, some that Annabeth could not even begin to conceive of their uses. There was a black marble island in the center of the room where there was a sink and counter space.

“I always had an interest in cooking,” Athena admitted as she looked around her kitchen. “It was a rather interesting quandary for me. As a goddess I do not need to eat food like a mortal. Offerings and Ambrosia keep me sated. Yet, there are many foods that mortals make, some wonderful, some awful, but with millions, if not billions of recipes throughout time. It is rare to find something that tastes better than Ambrosia, but it does happen every now and then and it is fascinating.” Sally’s cookies for instance.

“So I like to learn how to make food despite it being inefficient for me,” Athena continued. “It is fun to learn recipes and cooking techniques from around the world.”

“I thought that this would be the best place to have snacks and other foodstuffs,” Athena said, fearing she made things awkward with her explanation. “It keeps things organized and if anyone wishes for something else, I can make it for them here.”

“That would probably be best,” Annabeth said, getting into design mode. She wasn’t an interior designer, but she had an eye for things. “You should make a lot of those cookies Sally taught you to make.”

“I can assume that you enjoyed them then,” Athena asked hesitantly. Athena thought they were tasty, but she did not have the courage to see if her children enjoyed them.

“Yeah, they were really good,” Annabeth told her sincerely. They weren’t the same as Sally’s, for some reason they tasted differently even though they were the same recipe, but they were delicious. Percy said they weren’t as good as his mom’s, but that didn’t stop him from inhaling half the box her mother left for her.

“I am glad you enjoyed them, I will be happy to make more for the gathering,” Athena said with a gentle smile that was rarely seen on her face.

From there, they continued the tour, each room being massive and beautiful with artwork adorning the walls that Annabeth had never seen. She’d have to take pictures to share with Rachel the next chance she had. It didn’t take much, Athena had impeccable tastes, even if it was a bit much sometimes. Athena’s palace would be full of masterpieces, but like the size of the rooms it could be overwhelming to be a mortal, or even half and know any one of these paintings, sculptures, or tapestries would be worth more than any house she’d be able to fine with Percy once they graduated.

It was the library/workshop that really made Annabeth gasp. It was huge, like every room in the palace, but this one at least looked lived in. It didn’t even have a roof, more of a veranda over the entrance, but it looked out over all of New York. The massive shelves are covered in books, some new, but others older than her father, older than this country. It made the Circe’s library on her island seem pitiful.

Then there was the craft section that made up the second half of the area reminded Annabeth of Daedalus’ workshop. Mixes of ancient and modern tools to craft every sort of medium Annabeth had ever heard of and many she didn’t. Easels, pottery wheels, of course a loom, Athena’s specialty, but there were tables for metal etchings and even a computer set up for digital art that would make the Hephestus kids drool.

“Mom…,” Annabeth was finally able to get out once she found her voice in the midst of her wonder, “the size of all these rooms?”

“You may ask your questions with no fear of retaliation Annabeth,” Athena told her as she grew more solemn, but not angry.

Annabeth figured Athena already knew what she was about to ask. It bothered her, but she still gave Annabeth permission. “When we were talking with Sally,” Annabeth said carefully, “you spoke of your birth, or after your birth. How you were in Zeus’ stomach. It sounded horrible, obviously, but the way you talked about it…, I could tell from your face that it still bothers you. Seeing this place, it’s beautiful, but the size of everything puts everything into perspective. Are you claustrophobic?”

For a moment Athena just stared out into the city, her face stone. But eventually she softened, “yes, I am. It is not debilitating, but it is uncomfortable being reminded of where I was first born. I become more…, testy and am more prone to irrational behavior.”

“I never knew,” Annabeth told her.

“I did not wish anyone to know, only a handful of beings know of my weakness,” Athena said, her voice full of disappointment in herself. Diomedes of course, Artemis and Persephone who helped her through episodes when they were younger, Hestia probably, and Pallas who died with that secret inside her. Not even her owls knew, some might have an inkling, but most were happy that the rooms of her palace were so large it made it easy to fly in.

Oh and Triton, he had been the one to explain it to her. That was before Claustrophobia had a name since it was before Psyche or Dionysus, but the phobia existed before the name. Despite the bad blood between them, he never told anyone of her weakness and she was grateful.

“We change things back and keep the ceilings high mom,” Annabeth assured her.

Hearing her daughter’s concern for mental state warmed Athena’s heart. She was still unused to having her children care about her, it was an alien but nice feeling. “It is alright Annabeth. The rooms are still large enough that it is not uncomfortable to be in them. Perhaps they will even be cozy when all of my children arrive,” Athena assured her. “Besides, if it becomes…overwhelming, I can change it back until the gathering and return the changes when I am hosting. I will be fine,” she assured her daughter.

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but decided against it, “if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Athena promised, even with Annabeth suggesting smaller rooms, they would still be huge for anyone other than her. Athena was sure she could manage for a few days if it made her children happy. “Let us continue, we can head to the outside from here,” she said, with what she hoped was a sincere smile on her face.

The effectiveness of said smile was debatable, but Annabeth did agree to move on so Athena counted that as a win. As they moved through the workshop however Athena stopped her. “I do not want to alarm you, but there might be something triggering for you up ahead. I will let you choose if you wish to continue, we can see it or I can hide it if you would like, whatever you want, I will respect your choice.”

“What is it,” Annabeth asked surprised that there was something in her mother’s art gallery that Athena thought she should be warned about.

“A piece of rope,” Athena said reluctantly.

“A piece of rope,” Annabeth repeated, not understanding what her mother thought that would frighten her.

“Yes, a piece of rope that was expertly woven by one of my daughters to save herself in her own personal hell on earth,” Athena said sadly and reluctantly.

Annabeth’s eyes went wide as she understood what her mother was getting at. Despite herself, she walked forward and saw the rope made of discarded kite string that she wove years ago in Arachne’s lair. It was the bridge she made all those years ago, mounted on the wall amongst all the other art and majesty that Athena had collected over the years, yet it was displayed as if it was the blade of a great hero.

“I don’t understand I burnt this,” Annabeth said, her heart pounding in her chest as she remembered that day. Before Tartarus it had been the worst day of her life. Trapped in a monster’s lair, surrounded by spiders and misogynistic ghosts, a broken ankle in the dark without even her hat as a magical item. She had woven the kite string into a bridge as a last resort that paid off, she needed to cross a chasm before the spiders could get her. She burnt it to keep them from following her, or at least to slow them down.

“You did,” Athena explained gently as she approached her daughter, she did not touch her, afraid to set her off, but she wanted to be there if Annabeth needed her. “But fire falls under my aunt’s domain. Hestia retrieved the rope, your first act of weaving and brought it to me, telling me,” really yelling at her, “how your wits and skill saved your life.”

It had been a little after Annabeth and Percy fell into the abyss. Athena’s head was nearly torn open as Minerva grappled with her for control. Hestia betraying her had been enough to give Athena the edge to maintain control for a moment, but not keep it. It was enough for Athena to mourn her daughter, to be proud of Annabeth’s success, while feeling shame for her own actions as Minvera.

“But why is it here on your wall,” Annabeth said drily, swallowing.

“It was your first act of weaving,” Athena said dourly, “and it saved your life. Once I found out you were alive and Gaia was dealt with, I put it up to remember your moment of glory.” And as a reminder of what her pride could force her to do.

“Then all the artwork and everything,” Annabeth said realizing what her mother was saying, “it was created by my siblings?”

“Not everything,” Athena admitted, “most things yes, I am proud of my children and display their gifts to me as openly as I can. Some were creations of mortals I patronized, or heroes I mentored, but yes, something from a child or student,” Athena said sadly. She knew every piece of art by name and creator, every hero who swung their swords or raised a shield, every student of hers that created something beautiful. She wanted something to remember them by and this was the way an immortal being could.

“You can make whatever decision you wish about the rope you wove Annabeth,” Athena promised again. “If you wish for me to put it away I will, if you want it to remain on the wall forever it will. If you want me to burn it to ash so there is one less reminder of the hell I sent you to, I can burn it right now so that not even Hestia can save it. Whatever you want, no judgment.”

Annabeth was quiet for a moment, “let me think on it,” she eventually said.

“Of course,” Athena promised diplomatically, “there is no rush, and you can change your mind whenever you want. While you are thinking about that, perhaps we can move on to something lighter,” she suggested as she continued to walk outside.

The outside was as breathtaking as the inside, though more wild. It was almost like the first time Annabeth had really seen Camp Half-Blood in all its glory. There was a beautiful garden larger than almost any Annabeth had seen. Beside that was a large clay circle with training weapons beside it. A large fire pit that wasn’t lit yet, but had a spit over it ready to roast something. There was even a breathtaking spring with a waterfall cascading into it from a cliffside, like something out of a fairytale.

However what caught Annabeth’s eye was a city, a miniature city about the size of a medium building. Annabeth walked over to it and saw that there were no people in the city, no, it was populated by owls.

“I see you have found Feathersburg,” Athena said, her tone a mix of soft and exasperated.

“Feathersburg,” Annabeth repeated and looked at her mother unsure if Athena was making a joke.

“It was not my idea,” Athena assured her, “I wanted to name it Owlthens, but I was outvoted.”

Feathersburg was something, Annabeth had to admit. Despite at first glance being a mishmash of birdhouses lumped together, she could see the genius of the city planning, the perfect fusion of efficiency and beauty. Feathersburg itself was a simple square shape, Annabeth could see the city was divided into quarters with a river running through it. No block was too big or too crowded. There were traffic lights and stop signs at appropriate intersections that would keep traffic from getting too congested. Each home had its own decently spaced yard the same size as the others, some had flowers, others vegetables and fruits, though they were people sized, not owl sized strangely enough.

It shouldn’t be as wonderful to see, but Annabeth adored it. She did have a question for her mother though. “If I might ask,” she started, but Athena interrupted her, not unkindly though.

“Why do they have cars or roads at all,” Athena finished her daughter’s question sounding tired. “It is just something they like for some reason. They know they can fly, they know it is actually slower to drive their cars anywhere than it is to fly, but they still do what they do. I might as well ask them why they wear clothes and wigs, which I have and they just stare at me with their large bird eyes no matter who I ask,” Athena said as she drifted off into the memory.

“Regardless,” Athena said shaking her head, “Feathersburg does not need any changes, except a new name,” Athena mumbled under her breath, “I thought you might like it as I do.”

“It is certainly something,” Annabetha admitted. The strange owl city was charming despite herself.

“This is the residential district,” Athena said, pointing to the most populated district where the homes were. “The economic district where the owls who want jobs work,” she said pointing to the area with the most uniformed buildings. “That is the leisure district, where recreation happens to their heart's content,” she moved her finger across the river to a much more casual area of Feathersburg. “And that is the Thespian district,” she pointed to the final area of Feathersburg.

“The what,” Annabeth asked, unsure if she heard her mother correctly.

“The Thespian District Annabeth,” Athena said with a sigh. It looked like something from an old Hollywood lot, with everything from sci-fi, to Western, to fantasy and to modern day backgrounds, costumes, buildings were clearly different and used as sets for whatever the owls wanted. “My owls are a bunch of eccentric little bitches and I love them so much,” she admitted. “They like to basically have an extended larp where they have fun acting out whatever they wish. It is quite entertaining,” Athena admitted. “However we must move on, as we have more to see and I could watch their antics for days,” she said walking away with Annabeth meant to follow her.

Annabeth strayed for a moment, the owl city was strangely enticing to watch. But eventually she tore herself away and followed her mother. “This is the garden,” Athena said showing off her field of work. “I mostly grow fruits and vegetables, but there are some flowers as well.”

And the two of them continued throughout the house, having a good time with each other on their first mother daughter day. Annabeth learned a few other rules of the palace, no flying in certain areas of the house, which wouldn’t be a problem for her.

While the other was to not go into the restricted rooms of which there were 3. A laboratory that Athena explained was filled with dangerous experiments that she did not want anyone but her own immortal body exposed to. A room that was locked that Athena simply told her no one is allowed in but her. And finally a bedroom on the fourth floor that was right next to her mother’s, on the floor with hundreds of other empty bedrooms.

“This is Diomedes’ bedroom,” Athena explained, “not even I am allowed to go in there without permission. She could enter of course, this was her palace, there was nothing that could actually stop her. But she liked to keep her relationships with her best friend and champion strong and invading her space without permission had the potential to ruin that.

“Diomedes, he was one of your favorite heroes in the Trojan War right,” Annabeth said. She had spent much of her childhood reading and learning whatever she could about her mother once she found books she was able to read. The King of Argos was one of the most dangerous warriors the Goddess of Wisdom had ever taken under her wing. But there wasn’t much about him afterward compared to Achilles or Odysseus who everyone remembered. But when she saw her mother wince she was afraid she got something wrong.

“Partially right,” Athena managed to get out and turn her frown into an awkward smile. “You are correct, however, and I want to be clear that it is not your fault that you did not know, but Diomedes is actually a woman. She transitioned with my aid after the war so please use she/her when referring to her in the future.”

“I’m sorry I-,” Annabeth started to say, but Athena cut her off.

“I know, like I said it is not your fault,” she assured her daughter. “It just brought up bad memories,” her champion had to fight, both to prove herself as a god and to be respected as a woman when she had her realizations. Bad memories. “Now that you know, you can act accordingly.”

“Of course,” Annabeth promised, “she is your roommate as well as your champion,” she asked more than said.

“Something like that,” Athena admitted. She was well aware that her friendship with her champion was strange from the outside but it worked for the two of them. “I can introduce the two of you later, but for now, just know that she is my best friend and loyal companion, and her room is off limits without her express permission.” She did not need her children speculating on her relationships like the rest of Olympus.

The rest of the day was pleasant and helpful, Athena showed Annabeth the room she could have when she stayed there. They were enchanted so that when a person other than Diomedes and Herself touched the door for the first time it would turn into whatever room the occupant desired as their perfect room. That way her children would have a home if they wanted. If Zeus let her bring her children up to visit for more than a weekend. It had taken a lot to get the King of the Heavens to give permission for the upcoming gathering, but it will be worth it for a chance to know her children more.

Eventually it started to get late, Annabeth needed to return to California. Athena offered to let her stay the night, but Annabeth turned her down. She had plans tomorrow and wanted to talk with her boyfriend about what she had seen and done with her mom today. But she was respectful about it though. She promised her mother that she would be there in a month's time with her other siblings to visit and let Athena know that she could visit before that if she wanted to.

That made Athena hopeful, she even managed to put a comforting hand on Annabeth’s shoulder when they said goodbye. They were not at the hugging stage, something they both were internally grateful for, but maybe one day.

Athena left her daughter in her home feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

[brandwhorestarscream]

What kinds of troubles does minimus end up getting into because of his double life?

And how many of the little ones inherited more of the mini-con genes? Three? two?

Ok actually gonna answer this in reverse order. Idk how many babies took on the minicon form, but I'd guess they're less than half, just cuz. Well. Runts of every species often struggle, even in the womb. I know being a minicon and being a runt are not the same thing, but think about it. In the womb, say there's 5 bitties. The bigger ones, aka the ones with Roddy's alt mode, would be constantly sucking up a large percentage of all available resources, be it building materials for their bodies or actual energy from their carrier's fuel. The smaller one(s) will only be left with scraps, thereby lessening their chance to actually make it to birth as a healthy newborn. Granted, yes, minicons are smaller and so will need less of the total fill, but it's still not optimal condition for babbies to grow 🥺 of the litter, I'd say only one or two are Minimus sized.

As for the kinds of things Minimus gets up to 🤭 well! Lemme tell you, being a dad is much harder than he thought it would be. Children need discipline and attention, right? Easy enough. He's dealt with young upcoming recruits before, and boot camp surely can't be more taxing than minding toddlers, right? It's basically the same thing.

Uhhhh, yeah. No it's fucking not.

He was not prepared for how absolutely ragged these kids are running him. They have so much energy, and is it any wonder why?! They guzzle down more fuel than any grown adult he's ever seen! The bitties can outdrink him and their mother both! It's like their tanks are just bottomless pits and it leaves them bouncing off the walls for hours! He asks Rodimus what he puts in their energon because surely these kids are hopped up some kind of additive! There's no way they're this rambunctious, right?!

And Rodimus, the slagger, just laughs at him. Welcome to life with quintuplet babies! Just be grateful they aren't identical. Minimus definitely shivers at that comment 🤭

But despite his original reservations and complete awe at their craziness, he's actually a pretty good dad. He's perfect hugging size, great for gently patting at owies and then getting flustered when a sniffling bab demands he kiss it better, like mama does. He gets down on the floor to play with them, he lets them drag him along like a doll in their games of pretend, and he's more than happy to sit quietly for coloring time. He sheepishly asks Rodimus to teach him how to make their favorite snacks, and his first outing with the family is just a simple trip to the park, and try as he might, he can't keep a serious face watching the babs tumble and run and play. One of them swoops in to grab him and suddenly the smallest daddy at the park finds himself chasing his own kids on the jungle gym and through the tubes. He's never heard their babies laugh like that, and it's the first time one of them squeaks out a, "Love you dada!"

He helps Rodimus carry them back home that night, tho he can only manage the teo tiny ones, Roddy's grateful for the help.

He also gets into all sorts of messes, learns about how difficult baby bath time can be, has his first panic with little bumps and bruises and viruses, etc, etc. All while dodging state officials and the entirety of the council, making up lie after lie after lie and creating the most complicated webs for his alter ego.

He knows he shouldn't, he knows he should stop. He knows he should tell Rodimus the truth, but... he doesn't want to. Being Minimus, being a normal person, being a sire who's only responsibility is protecting those bitties' smiles? That feels way better than being Magnus ever has. He's content to keep living this lie forever, though it probably won't last

[kthlnco]

Unveiling the Clouds

Allure of the Clouds

Vaping, I was introduced to vaping during 6th grade, that one classmate acting cool and boastful in front of us showing off smoke that would make me cough. At that time I just thought it was absolutely dumb and ridiculous, growing up surrounded by chainsmokers I vowed to myself to not even think of touching anything smoking related.

Years come by and I'm on my senior years, vaping became more popular, students walking around with their disposables hanging around their necks. Peer pressure that's what it was on my first drag, new school, new classmates, you just want to fit in. There's this invisible rulebook on what's cool and what's not, and vaping seems to be right up there on the "cool" list.

On that first take I didn't see the purpose, "why do they enjoy this?", "what's the point?", questions running through my mind. I mean yeah it did make me feel that I belonged, it felt cool i guess? Being surrounded by people that constantly use them made me feel the urge to keep on using it and see what was the hype. A friend of mine lended me one and let's say I kept it.

There came the time of my first purchase, "mango ice" was the flavor, I mean come on it's crazy how disposable vape companies target most teens. From the colorful packaging, catchy ads, interesting builds - it's designed to reel us in. Plus the flavors? Who can resist something tasting like "strawberry lychee", "strawberry watermelon", heck a "Cola" flavor? The flavors got to me, that was what I enjoyed, during these times I have yet to hit my disposables, what I'd do is what some would call "hipak-buga". Then there came the time that I stopped.

During my lowest time, I needed something to calm my nerves, relieve my anxiety, lessen my stress, and that was when I bought a dispo once again. Once I learned to hit and actually take it in, I felt it. I felt the calmness, the relief, I felt relaxed. That's when I realized what it was for, not just for cool vapors and tricks, it helps lessen your stress much like a cigarette would, but with tasty flavors.

Not gonna lie but up to this date I still use vape, it became my escape. Vaping offers a brief moment of relief, a chance to forget about everything else and just focus on those swirling clouds. I often think about the chemicals I've been inhaling and the damage it could be doing to my body. But even knowing that, it's hard to shake the habit once you're hooked.

It started out of sheer curiosity, wanting to see what all the hype is about. And before I know it I'm hooked. Don't get me wrong I'm not writing to hype you guys to get hooked into this vice, it's more of an insight on why someone would use it (me).

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Bad Batch Season 2 Finale Reaction Part 2

I don't even know how to start this. Yes, other things happened in the finale episodes but I am not ok and I am still reeling from Tech's death. I haven't been that deeply affected by something in a while. The absolute horror and desperate pleading and crying at my laptop screen at 1am in the morning. It didn't properly hit me until after the episode finished but the genuine, visceral, painful ugly sobbing and crying that happened once the proverbial dam broke was something that hasn't happened in a while.

And it wasn't just that either. I felt physically sick and in pain. Still do. I've been wandering around in a sort of hollow, numb daze ever since, not really sure what to do with myself. Functioning but not really here. It's grief. I'm feeling actual, real, genuine grief. I feel like I've lost someone special that I cared for so much. I've kind of always known that I don't handle grief well and I'm getting better at identifying and dealing with it. This is one of those times where now that I've had a little bit more time I've realised that yes, it's grief.

I'm just – I cannot put into words how devastating that was. And the scene itself was even more completely heartbreaking. As soon as he said he could turn on the power but would have to do it at one of the poles I knew something was up. Instinctively, I just knew but I was desperately hoping and holding onto the idea that they'd have some ridiculous plan where they all got out of it safely.

But no.

Even now as I'm typing this out I'm so viscerally upset and trying not to sob and cry. Throughout that whole scene as things kept going wrong and the situation got worse and worse it all built up to the growing realisation that yup, this was it for Tech. There was a long shot of the rail cars from side on that showed the left rail car bending down and barely hanging on and then there was Tech dangling off the end even further below. I think it was that shot where it hit me that he's not getting out of this.

And then sacrificing himself to save the rest of the Batch.

"When have we ever followed orders".

...

I'm crying again.

I remember watching him in that moment and just desperately pleading and begging and no, you can't do this, no, not like this, not now, there's a way out of this, they can still save him, please, come on you can do this.

And then he makes this perfect shot that goes straight through the last bit of metal that was just barely holding the rail car up, because of course he does.

And then he just fell.

I've got so much more that I want to write about The Bad Batch finale but I didn't think I'd be affected by it this much. Affected doesn't feel like the right word but I can't think of a better one right now. It's all consuming. I'm not sure that I've even processed it yet. How I'm supposed to get through work tomorrow I've no idea. I really should have written more of this initial emotional reaction and thoughts at the time as I've had a while to sit with my emotions by now. There is so, so, so much more that I want to write about it all but at least I've started with this.

Do I actually think Tech is dead? No. Stay tuned for many deluded and in denial theories. Does that lessen the devastation and heart break of what happened and the emotions we're all going through? Also no.

This is going to be with me for sometime and I don't know if I'm ever truly going to be able to get over it or move on but I also don't think that's healthy or realistic. You learn to live with it and are changed by it. It's never going to go back to the way things were or how it used to be. But slowly, you're able to keep going in the new way of things.

But for now, I'm going to sit with it, feel this, and remember it all. And probably cry again.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Familiar Faces - Interlude Grayson and John

Summary of this AU: Elijah Gilbert has been haunted by dreams of other lives as long as he remembers, but now with the appearance of the Salvatore brother he may finally get some answers.

Not sure where this came from but thought I'd share, currently plotting out the events later on in the time line and what going on in MF vs NOLA.

If Elijah knew he'd look back at the time he was stopping Damon from killing Zach and miss it, he'd likely set everything on fire.

Anyway back to a even brighter time.

----

John and Grayson watched the kids on the lawn as the twins ran through the latest routine. Miranda was inside getting the kids a drink with Jenna likely gossiping about Jenna's love life.

John had missed the twins turning sixteen as so had arrived a month late, asking them to show him what they had leaned since he had last visited.

Cheerleading had been a natural choice for Elena, part to follow Miranda's footsteps and part to keep doing things alongside Bonnie and Caroline.

Grayson hadn’t been as happy with Elijah's choice, first to follow along and then to take an interest in gymnastics properly. Copying his sister and her friends had been fine as children but doing the same into high would have made Elijah a easy target for bullies, something he had been worried about already as he saw his son being pushed to the sidelines by the assumption that Tyler and Matt would be joining the football team. 

But his wife and Elijah had both made it clear he wasn’t joining the team, Elijah pointing out his episodes would mean he’d miss some games which would cause more trouble but being part of the cheer team meant they could just not include him for the final routines, while he still went to practice with the girls, even if it meant he was only acting as a spotter. 

He had asked Elijah why he was so interested in it.

“It’s mine” Elijah had explained, “in the way the instruments aren’t, they’re calming but like I already know them, gymnastics and the routines are new, I have to work at them.”

Elijah could’ve been a prodigy with his natural ability with all the instruments they had tried but he visibly became quickly bored or uncomfortable when he spent too long with them, the best they had got for him to enjoy them was when he started to play his siblings latest favourite on his instruments.

So Grayson and Mirandra had gotten used to listening to Elijah play ‘Linkin park’ and others on his piano to Elena’s and Jeremy’s amusement instead of the classic composers, it was all fine as long as their kids were happy.

Once he had agreed Miranda had insisted on hiring a proper instructor which he had also agreed with to Elijah’s annoyance, to make sure Elijah knew everything he needed to stop himself from accidentally hurting someone else or himself.

Elijah landed a backward somersault to Jeremy and Elena’s cheers, he smiled towards his son as Elijah looked up, as John clapped beside him.

He watched as Elena called Jeremy over and the pair started to instruct him how to act as their spotter, he felt himself tense as he always did when they started doing this.

“He’s good.” John complemented, “Healthy, you’d never have expected this after his episodes.”

Elijah looked a normal healthy teenager, only noticeably leaner when standing besides Matt and Tyler and in the last year he had managed to out grow Tyler slightly.

But he had been born worryingly smaller that Elena and while he grew, the episodes in the early years of his life and slowed him down from catching up.

“They still happen.” he sighed, even he couldn’t tell if they had lessened as Elijah had grown or his son had learnt to hide how much they affected him.

“Your research-” his brother started and he could already see where it was going.

“John.” The name came out a little too sharp but it shut his brother up, “I sat beside him in the hospital bed for nights after we tried the blood.” he reminded him “It didn't just fail to make a difference, it made it worse. Listening as he begged in his sleep, as he cried in languages he shouldn’t know.”

Jeremy helped Elena climb onto Elijah’s shoulder, his daughter raised her arms above her head with a bright smile, kept steady by Elijah’s hands on her calves. 

“His magic-” John started, but he cut him off again.

“He’s learned enough to keep control, Shelia will keep watch over him in case it becomes a problem.” Grayson explained. Elijah had about as much interest in learning more about becoming a witch as he did the classical composers. He learned enough to ensure he wasn’t a danger and nothing else.

Grayson sighed in relief as Elena returned to the ground with Elijah’s help, but he kept up a proud smile, even if it raised his heart rate it was good to see them all together, the twins had always been great with keeping Jeremy involved.

“He needs to be prepared, they do.“ John told him again, the words kept from the children by his clapping.

Grayson hated the reminder, he didn’t want any of his children facing the supernatural, he wanted to them stay innocent of the monsters of the world. 

Elena and Elijah both wanted to help people and they could by following him in becoming a doctor, but he didn’t want them to follow his other path, Elijah had enough nightmares already and the idea of an episode striking when he was facing one of them would be a death sentence.

“Elijah doesn’t need the added burden when we don’t know what is causing his episodes.” he shook his head as he confessed.

Grayson had no intention of showing either of the twins the Gilbert journals and he had made sure the Augustine Society knew to leave Elijah alone, he wouldn’t trust some of those at the society not to experiment on Elijah's adverse reaction to the blood.

Grayson did his brother a favour and ignored the fact John visibly relaxed once he knew the twins would be spared their family traditions, instead he swallowed his own guilt at only planning to place that weight on his youngest’s shoulders.

—--

When John to Mystic falls after his brother’s death he’s not expecting for the founder’s council to know about Elijah’s magic and to inform him that his nephew-son was standing in their way to remove the vampires.

He blames the Salvatore brothers, for endangering the twins and breaking his brother’s wish to spare them from knowing everything.