#i used to be less good at it when i was a child but i remember one time i was talking to my friends mom at her house

[nemesyaaa]

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy��s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, part 1

Jason was at first hesitant about the floating white-haired green-eyed child that offered to be his sidekick. Evermore so when the kid told him that he knew that Jason had been dead. He explained that he could tell because he himself was half-ghost. Despite his hesitations he decided to take the kid on for a trial period.

The kid proved to be skilled, and knew how to deal with the many criminals that made business in Gotham. Over the last month he found himself growing closer to the boy, and upon learning that his parents tried to kill him for his half-ghostly nature, he decided to take a page from his old man's book and "legally" adopt the kid, this black-haired blue-eyed kid, his new son, Danny.

Now came the hard part, introducing him to his family. He had sent Alfred a message saying that he would make an appearance for the weekly family dinner with an additional guest. The following day they arrived at the manor. As they walked into the dinning room the rest of the family were already seated, he and Danny made their way to their seats.

Alfred: Master Jason, thank you for joining us tonight.

Jason: Of course Alfred. Jason looked at Danny and stood. Everyone I would like you all to meet Daniel, he goes by Danny. He's my new sidekick... and of a week ago my adopted son.

The rest of the family stopped eating and looked at Jason.

Bruce: You... adopted?

Damian: I'm rather surprised, I would have expected Richard to be the first on of us to adopt a child, he is the most like father. Nevertheless I shall take my new responsibilities as an uncle with great humility.

Dick: Damn, Damian what did I ever do to you? How am I the most like dad?

Bruce: What's wrong with being like me- No, where getting off point. Jason you adopted?

Jason: I did.

Bruce: I- hi Danny, welcome to the family.

Danny: Hi grandpa!

Snickering could be heard across the table.

Bruce: Hi kiddo, so how you two meet?

Danny: I followed him home and in through the window. I became his sidekick, then his son, and now we're here.

Jason: Danny is a meta, an experiment gone wrong caused him to become half-ghost, it's a little complicated, but he has some neat powers.

Tim: What happened to your parents?

Danny: They tried to kill me because of my powers.

Cass: We know our next targets then.

Bruce: Cass no. Jason how did you even adopt Danny?

Jason: I stole one of the pre-notarized adoption papers you keep in your desk.

Bruce: Ahh. Well I'll still ask Barbara to make that 100% official.

Stephany: Don't worry Danny at one point our another all our adopts legally were questionable at best.

Danny: Ok.

Bruce: Well it's good to have you here with us Danny. You two are welcomed to spend the night and join us for training in the morning?

Jason (looking at Danny, who was looking at him): Sure.

Alfred: Splendid, now let's eat, supper is getting cold. And I don't want Master Daniel's first dinner as part of the family to a less than perfect.

They all started eating.

Danny: Oh, I'm also the Supreme King of the Infinite Realms, High King of the Ghost Zone, and King of all Ghosts.

Jason: I knew I was forgetting something.

Danny and Jason went back to eating as the rest of the family looked at them bewildered.

(Master Post)

[geneviveleocardius]

i want y’all to know that this isn’t okay, i’m not romanticizing it, much less normalizing it in any way.

simon riley never saw himself as a good man. not even close. he knew his flaws too well—sharp-edged and cutting like the knives he carried. you deserved better, he told himself a hundred times, but selfishness had sunk its claws deep into him. you were his, and the thought of you walking away felt like a death sentence.

lately, though, he couldn’t ignore the signs. you weren’t as warm as you used to be, weren’t lingering in his arms like before. your laughter, once so easy and free around him, had quieted. he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, that you’d come around. but when he caught you sitting alone, staring out the window with an expression he couldn’t read, doubt began to gnaw at him.

you were slipping away.

he couldn’t let that happen.

that night, when you crawled into bed beside him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. his grip was firm, unyielding. you stiffened at first but didn’t pull away.

“what’s wrong with you lately?” you asked, your voice soft, almost cautious.

he knew what you wanted—what you’d confided to him during one of those rare moments where walls had come down. you wanted a family, a child to hold and love. he’d scoffed at the idea back then, brushed it off as something far too tender for someone like him. but now… now he saw it differently.

he saw it as a way to keep you.

he didn’t answer right away, his face buried against the curve of your neck. he breathed you in, grounding himself.

“you’re mine,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “you know that, don’t you?”

you shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between you, but his hold tightened. “simon—”

“no,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “i mean it. you’re mine. you don’t get to leave me.”

“i’m not trying to leave you,” you muttered, but he didn’t bought it.

he didn’t believe you. not fully. and that fear, that bone-deep terror of losing you, made him desperate.

“simon,” you murmured, your voice laced with sleep.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “just relax.”

you didn’t resist as he tugged you closer, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, spreading you beneath him. his movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t want to give you a chance to question him. instead, he focused on the feel of your skin, the way your body responded to his touch. he buried himself in you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he moved, his grip on your hips possessive.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wasn’t thinking about the consequences, not fully. all he could focus on was the need to keep you tethered to him. and he knew what you wanted—had heard it in the way you spoke about children, about the family you dreamed of.

this was his way of giving it to you, of ensuring you’d stay.

when it was over, he stayed inside you, his hand splayed over your stomach as if to seal the promise he’d just made—without words, without asking. you didn’t say anything, your breathing still uneven as you lay there, and he took your silence as acceptance.

he told himself it was for the best. you’d understand eventually. and when the time came, when you held that baby in your arms, you’d stay. you’d have to.

because simon riley didn’t lose the things that mattered to him.

he’d make sure of it.

[microwavablefork]

Hi! 👋 I'm ovulating too and Nikto with a baby makes me squeal. Isn't nature a wonderful thing? 😌

He heard that skin to skin contact is important for bonding, so he takes naps with the little bean on his bare chest. The little one cooing and suckling softly in its sleep and his heart almost bursts in his chest. Large hand gently draped over the tiny back and the little breaths tickle his scarred skin.

He's a heavy smoker, but the moment the baby is there he becomes crazy aware. Not lighting a cigarette when the child is in sight, no smoking in the house anymore and he starts to try and smell less of cold tobacco.

Most times not one to push a pram, but he likes to have the baby in one of those carriers, his jacket zipped up over it so it stays warm and the little head peeking out looking up at papa.

When the baby can't sleep, he'll take it on endless walks through the night until the cold fresh air and the steady movement of his steps lull it to sleep. He'll make sure it's safe when they're out this late of course, but maby he has a gun with him just in case. One can't be too careful with a precious cargo like this.

And when he can't sleep (which happens often) he just sits in the nursery in the armchair where you feed usually and just watches the baby. Before he used to wander around the house or the streets aimlessly until dawn would break, but now he's content with sitting there and watching his kid breathe steadily. And he's already there when it wakes up and cries for milk or because it had a little bad dream. Papa to the rescue.

Have you seen when people draw eyebrows onto their babies? You do that one time to surprise him and give your little one a grumpy set of brows 🤨 and it results in one of those very rare fits of laughter from Nikto. He rasps and wails and holds his belly and then takes a million pictures.

That's what I could think of. Stay strong, the baby fever will subside until next month when it will inevitably come back. 😌

Oh my goodness me I need him desperately.

[ray-moo]

>Because the Bible does not specifically say, in originally-penned 21st-century English, these words in this specific order: For the record, it doesn't say clearly that homosexuality is a sin in Hebrew or Greek either.

>there's wiggle room so it must be your bigotry claiming to speak for God. It's less that I'm relying on wriggle room or bigotry, and more that I am saying 'the Bible does not prohibit homosexuality or transsexuality'.

>understanding that principals can be exegeted from God's Word very simply and plainly because it is a supra-cultural Scripture meant to be preserved and applied to modern life as well as the time it was written... Exgesis from God's word is not God's word, and the idea that principles can be infallibly exgeted from God's Word is extrabiblical. You can't just claim it's true.

The Pharisees likely exgeted their laws from the principles they saw in God's word, but Jesus still criticized their laws.

"Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands when they eat.” He answered them, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?"" (Matthew 15:1-3)

"And he said, “Woe to you lawyers also! For you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers." (Luke 11:46)

>it is a supra-cultural Scripture meant to be preserved and applied to modern life as well as the time it was written... People have been reading the Bible for centuries and misapplying so-called clear principles for centuries, people were doing it in the time of the Church Fathers. The Bible cannot be examined without cultural context. In different cultural contexts, the Bible has been used to justify slavery or child marriage.

Like, are you sure you can interpret Deut 25:5-6 without cultural context?

Of course, the principles of God's eternal law are timeless, but I think it's worth being cautious assuming that there is no need to be aware of the cultural context the Bible was written in in order to find the principles beneath the words.

>It's too obvious by any measure of logic, reasoning, and honest translation that God for sure meant that homosexuality is a sin. Then why doesn't it clearly say Homosexuality is a sin in the Bible? I think that deriving from principles is a good way to show that certain activities are actually already banned sins already mentioned in the Bible, but I don't think a major species or category of sins would need to rely on derivation from principles to be known to be forbidden.

>In fact, anything outside His intended design—which is one man, and one woman, united as one flesh in a holy covenant before Him—is a sin. Where does the Bible say that? Whether that marriage is God's intended design, that marriage is between one man and one woman, and that anything outside of marriage is a sin?

We know that not everything outside of marriage is a sin because celibacy is accepted. So then God has at least two accepted paths regarding sexuality that humans can choose. Who's to say there aren't more?

You thought when people painted the "someday you're going to have to choose, for real, between the World and God, you won't be able to walk the line between both" picture that they were talking about martyrdom.

Some extreme. "Trample this picture of Jesus." "Say you don't believe!" "Convert to a different religion!"

You didn't realize that it wouldn't look like that. You didn't realize that when the line gets drawn in the sand, and Jesus is on one side, the other side would look like crying people wailing out, "why can't you just accept me for who I am? Why aren't I enough for you?"

You didn't realize that the choice would be between Jesus the Truth...or a majority of people in the culture making movies, making t-shirt slogans, changing their names, gently telling you that maybe this word in the Bible doesn't mean what you think it means, maybe love just means love, maybe you can have Jesus and whatever sexuality you want.

"Did God really say...?"

You thought it would be something overt. But the bad guys never said, "hey, choose the dark side over the light." They always said, "hey, maybe you don't even know what Jesus said."

The choice is: "It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems good to Him." OR "Did God really say...?"

That's the choice. This is where the rubber meets the road. This is our "choose this day who you will serve." As for me, I'm serving the Lord, and He's holding on to me. He never changes, and yes He did really say.

Hold fast to the truth. It doesn't change. People and cultures do.

[theoceansluvr]

Percy Jackson x Hera!Reader

warning; uhh the gods (read: zeus) being petty.. author's note; thank yo to the anon that requested this and sorry it took me WEEKSSSS to post it- finals + holidays killed my flow T^T

forbidden child + forbidden child.. what could go wrong !

well uh firstly, hera took percy aside and gave him an hour long scolding on how he better treat him out well or he's getting a horrible quest😨

but percy loves you too much to even THINK about hurting you so he's safe !

is really giddy about the fact that he knows you two are locked in

like he's very aware that it's marriage or nothing !! and he couldn't be happier :3

he dates to marry and nothing else

Zeus was actually more upset about it then Hera was (which shocks none of us)

he'll go out of his way to interfere with any quests you two take on which is.. less than ideal

but hey, they gods will be petty no matter what !

anywho, back to percy😼😼

he gets you a bunch of trinkets with peacock feathers on them ?! earrings, keychains, an entire porcelain peacock, he's got you !

he also LOVES doing domestic house chores with you !!

kinda sucks at folding clothes for some reason, but he'll do it just so you guys can gossip or talk about whatever you two have on your minds <9

before a major quest he had to go on, you gave him a sailor's knot bc.. son of the sea- (it's tied cloth people used to give sailors before they went to sea :33)

it took him a good couple minutes, a asking annabeth, to figure out what on earth it meant-

but when he finally figures it out, he starts BAWLING and when i saw bawling i mean it :(

needless to say, he takes it EVERYWHERE with him, doesn't matter how long he'll be gone

highkey.. you guys have matching rings as a "placeholder for when you get married" -percy's own words !!

the minute you're ready, please expect him to drop to his knee to propose T^T

also anytime you guys go to Olympus after a quest, Hera glares at him and he kind of just.. leans over to you and whispers "you think i have something in my teeth ?"

bc he thinks he's soooo funny angering the woman that basically wiped his memory😓

I AM BEYOND APOLOGETIC THAT THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST !!!! break was hectic, but trust me i WILL get all of these reqs completed loves :<

[vigilskeep]

omg tell us about your new hawke

her name’s esther, she’s a slightly purple-tinged blue mage hawke who considers her family and friends extraordinary but herself a very ordinary woman just trying to get by. she went from helping with the twins all her childhood to becoming a single mother when she was about nineteen or twenty. the father was not as willing to run away for a mage partner and child as leandra was! which she insists was completely reasonable and she’s fine about it. (she’s known for a fact since she was a kid that fairytales of true love really do happen, but she learned then that they don’t happen to her.) she pretends not to like the violent mercenary life she had to take up to support the family, but how true is that? it’s the first time in her life that the good responsible thing for her to do has been to stay out of the house and actually use her magic. she indulges in the excuse a little more than she thinks she should

she’s responsible and sweet, capable of being funny when coaxed to abandon her natural shyness, with a less obvious ruthless streak: there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her baby. she’s a bit uncertain about the prospect of mage defiance. certainly she wants her own little family to stay free, but malcolm also raised her to very firmly follow the strict magical guidance he learned from the circle and told a lot of cautionary tales, so she’s somewhat wary of what other mages (who she has had little to no contact with) get up to without that training. also, she cannot be getting into any rebellions, because she has the aforementioned baby to get home to. (then again, some may ask if it’s really keeping that kid safe to raise it in a world full of templars.) like i said, she thinks of herself as someone simply trying to get by, and just managing that is more than enough trouble. her heartstrings are relatively easily pulled on, though, so i’m interested to see how all that goes if i stick with her for any length of time

[0rczy]

I really like analyzing Varigo, one thing I've noticed recently is how different their approach to romance (and human connections in general) really is, but also how they're pretty much the perfect foils in this regard.

Varian grew up sheltered away in their mansion. He didn't have much clue about socializing, so when Rapunzel came to him, he gives all of them proper respect (calling Rapunzel "Princess", Eugene "Flynn Rider", as in the full name). You could assume it's because of his dad; later when the two confronted each other, Varian called him "Sir". Probably because Quiring taught him to be respectful of others, and they both clearly take this social rule rather seriously.

So then Cassandra comes in and saves Varian, for apparently no selfish reasons. She likely just didn't want to have a child get crushed when she could've prevented it, but to Varian, this changes his view on people. Cassandra isn't just a distant figure to respect; instead, someone he could have a connection with. And this is where one of Varian's most essential traits come to light: when comfortable, he treats situations like an experiment. He immediately starts calling her by a nickname, "Cassie", to see how she would react. At the day of the expo, he keeps trying out different tactics, trying to essentially just get close to Cassandra. One could Interpret this romantically, but I personally like to think he just really wanted a friend. A lonely kid, seeing someone cool show any kind of affection for him immediately made him go "there could be something here! I need to find out!", and so he does. In his own, nerdy way.

Hugo, on the other hand. He, unlike Varian, grew up having to socialize all the time. Having to talk his way out of situations constantly, he learned to put up walls so that the most desirable results come out, benefiting him and his missions. When he weasels his way into the Team, he also calls them nicknames. In his case, it stems from a need to distance himself from people, so that he doesn't get attached. One slight exception though is Varian, as Hugo seemingly not only uses nicknames on him to keep up built-up walls, but to get a reaction out of him. This is very similar to how Varian approached Cassandra when he was younger. He's interested in Varian from early on, and he handles this in his good old Hugo fashion, because he finds Varian entertaining. Varian at first doesn't trust Hugo, but when he proves himself trustworthy, he gives in. He's willing to reach out, making Hugo more than a means to an end. Eventually, the two become friends! Then more than friends!

And then, their approaches change.

I'd like to think that it was Hugo, who fell first. Or at the very least, he's the first to realize it, and he HATES THIS. His flight or flight is activated, and he really wants to flee. He's the type to ignore his feelings, try to bury them. That's all he knows how to do, really. Especially because for what could be the first time in his life, he's actually falling for someone who is his friend. Someone who means a lot to him! He wouldn't want to ruin things, especially because he knows that betraying Variant will break the guy's heart, once he finds out. Therefore, the less pain, the better.

Varian is the exact opposite of this. It takes him a long time to figure out what he feels, and that it could be romantic (he didn't exactly have the history with romance before. The "puppy crush" on Cassandra could have easily been more of an obsession with the possibility of someone showing affection towards him). But once he realizes that there's a chance that the two could be a thing? He doesn't have to think hard about what his next step should be: he likes Hugo, and he's a scientist. Trial and error is practically in his blood at this point, so if there's even a small possibility of them getting together? That Hugo likes him back? Varian will do anything to find out how probable his theory is. And so, once again, he treats the situation like an experiment. Wasting no time, he tries to confess or bring up the idea as quickly as possible. And Hugo FREAKS OUT. He's not ready!

Varian's other big trait is his stubbornness. He's not satisfied with an uncertain answer. He wants to know Hugo's view on them, as clearly as possible. So he keeps poking around, trying to find an approach that brings out different reactions, different answers as to why Hugo would be scared of them being together. Again. Really similar to how he treated Cassandra at the expo back then. This is the only way he knows how, though. And he needs clear answers.

He gets one at the last trial. Boom. Heartbreak. This isn't about angst though, so I'll end it here.

I find them so interesting. How their upbringing influenced their view and approach to people, to friendship, to romance. To each other. They are both scientists, but one is more afraid of the results than the other.

So it all boils down to the importance of clear communication: another big theme in Vat7k, what with Ulla and Donella setting an example as what not to do.

I could ramble about these characters for ages, but yeah. This is my view on them, I loooove reading different Interpretations in fan fiction though!

[deleteddewewted]

Supermarket Romance P6

Demetrian Titus x Gn! Reader

S: Titus and you meet up at the supermarket to help him find a compression sleeve for his leg. He's excited to spend time with you and receive help. He opens up a but more about himself and you soon realize that the mysterious stranger is actually just as vulnerable as you.

MDNI

W: Some Abelism, Angst, Fluff, Feelings Are Discovered, Chairon Is Mentioned, Lust and Feelings

If you want to buy me a Ko-fi

Taglist: @kingmagnificolover @garlickedbreads @eliferraris @justeverythingnothingelse @absent-still @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lichkingofangmar @hatsubara-8chan @riokunova @sk-3-tch @futtorliya @missmannequin

Previous/Next

Titus was waiting outside the supermarket on a bench that was placed near the entrance, his cane leaning against the wall next to him as he awaited your arrival. He had forgone pants again and instead went with loose shorts as he had concluded that he might need to try on some of the compression sleeves. He wore his brace again, his leg was acting up and he needed the support to walk. This weather did not agree with him. His leg and joints complained as he got dressed to leave his home and he hoped that this trip would be quick so he could go back to his warm home. Though, the anxiety wouldn't let him rush you by texting you or calling you. He wanted to see you as this would be the first time he would be purposefully spending time with you.

He looked out towards the parking lot, his car parked closer to the store as he didn't feel like walking all that much on the way back. He thought about leaving his cane in the car at first, maybe it would make him look less pathetic, and yet he brought it with him. You had seen it already and hadn't made a negative comment about it. He looked down at his leg brace and wondered why you hadn't mocked him. He was abnormal in appearance, his once unscarred and clear face was now draped with age and uncanny injuries that would leave anyone starring in horror. He was deep in thought to the point he hadn't noticed you calling out his name.

“Titus! It’s good to see you again! Come on, you’ll get sunburnt if you stay outside.” You stopped in front of him, a smile plastered on your face. You looked comfortable, baggy oversized pants that he could only assume were pajama pants and a loose shirt that hung over you like a tent draped your body. You were in your sleeping clothing.

"Yeah, when i said i got locked out i mean i got locked out." You explained while giggling.

"I dont know what possessed me to leave my house without changing first but i guess this is the look for the day. Hope you don't mind being seen with me looking like a hot mess." You joked, your eyes lingering on his own as you waited for a response.

"Not at all. Its understandable." He replied back. He tried his best not to stare to much but he couldn't help but think you looked like a child who had stolen their parent's clothes. You were drowning in your clothes and he knew you probably were more comfortable than he was. How he envied you and your lack of care for others' opinions on your apperance.

"Let's head in. The suns only getting hotter and the weather is going to get cooler later on. Maybe if were lucky we'll get rain tonight."

“Of course.” He stood up, grabbed his cane, and used it to lift himself up from the bench he was sitting on. His leg began to tremble, he didn't feel stable putting weight on it. He looked down and glared at it, his face red with embarrassment.

“Here," You get closer to him, bending down to wrap your arm around his waist and under his shoulder, "Use my shoulder.” Titus tensed for a moment as he felt your body next to his own, your hand placed next to his side as you leaned in to give him your body as a support. He relaxed and took your support to get up and find his footing. You both stood there for a moment, you holding his waist as he tried to lean his weight away from you in fear that he would crush you with his weight.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft, almost like a whisper as he thanked you.

“No problem.” You reassured him with a smile. You waited for him to feel comfortable walking before letting him lead the way inside the store.

Once inside, you ask him to follow you to the far right side of the store towards the pharmacy. Titus followed close behind as you made your way down the different departments before reaching your destination. A long line of people were waiting to pick up their prescriptions by the pharmacy counter as you walked past them towards the aisle you were intending. Placed right next to the pain medication and muscle cream was a wall full of different types of braces, compression sleeves, and mobility aids. Titus was almost embarrassed to say he didn’t know this section of the store existed. In his defense, he didn’t get his medication from the store, he just picked it up at the pharmacy at the hospital. And in the cases in which he needed muscle relaxers or creams, he ordered them online because he didn't want to interact with a cashier. You stopped in front of the giant shelf of items and began looking through them before turning to face him.

“Let’s get you something that’s tight enough to smooth out under your clothes but not too tight that it’s uncomfortable. Would you say your leg is a Large or an Extra Large?” You crouched down and started pulling different colored compression sleeves, some were adorned in fun patterns while others were neutral colors like black or beige.

“E- Excuse me?” He stuttered out. He blinked at you, hoping to get clarity on what you asked him but none came to him.

“Extra large it is!” You pulled a skin-toned sleeve and pressed it against his exposed leg to see if the color matched. It wasn't an exact match but it was close enough to not be noticeable at a glance.

“Do you want something that looks like your skin color or do you want to go with the basic black sleeve?” You ask as you grab another sleeve.

“The black sleeve should suffice.” You nodded at his comment before undoing it from its hooked packaging. It slit out in one piece and handed it over to him.

“Go ahead and put it on, see if it feels comfortable or not.” You watched as he slipped it on, his other leg flexing as he balanced on it to slip the sleeve over his shoe and pull it up his leg. He hiked it up as much as he could, you could still see the defined muscles under the fabric. You had to pry your eyes away from the mouth watering sight.

As he placed his leg down he began flexing and unflexing his now covered leg and swung it a little just to see how it felt. He liked the tightness and the appearance, it was oddly subtle in appearance since it looked like leggings under his shorts though it was only one sleeve. This worked for him. He liked that it fit with the hobbies he had which were mainly working out. He worked out often and no one would question it, maybe this would also let him wear his leg brace without feeling like he stood out in public.

"It feels good. Almost like a tighter and thicker layer of skin." He commented. he continued to watch as it moved smoothly over the leg brace and didn't prevent his mobility. He wished he would have found out about this sooner.

"Does the size work?" You asked, watching as he examined his leg.

"It does. I think this is perfect for my needs."

"Let's get you some variety so you don't have to worry about doing laundry all the time." With that, you both grabbed a few colors that Titus liked and looked over the rest of the aisle for things he might want to try.

He enjoyed your presence and the patience you showed him. Not only did you not rush him but you also helped him find other items that might help him. From a specialized heating pad meant to be worn on the lower back, to informing him of the joys of a full body massage, you helped make Titus feel more comfortable seeking alternative help for his problems. This was enjoyable in a way he didn’t think it would be. You both probably spent an hour or so just walking up and down the aisles looking around before he even noticed that it was getting late.

“Y/n, I'm sorry for having taken up much of your time. It’s late, allow me to thank you properly for your help.” He offered.

“Titus, don’t be silly. I’m happy to help a friend out. You don’t owe me anything.” You reassured him. You had found an empty basket and had been using it to carry much of his things so he could browse without issue.

“I insist. Is there anything you would like to get?” He insisted. He looked at you directly, hoping that you would agree to get something so that the guilt of spending your time would vanish, but you disagreed.

“Not really from here but, again, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to just hang out with you.” You patted his arm hoping that it would make him stop insisting as it was getting harder to not cave in. His eyes were just too expressive.

“How about this. I’m hungry and don’t feel like cooking. Would you allow me to invite you to a quick meal?” He offered. You don’t know how he managed to do it but this behemoth of a man was making puppy eyes at you unknowingly and it softened your resolve.

“Fine…” You managed to choke out. Your face began heating up and you hoped that he couldn't notice it as he stared at you.

“Perfect. Let me pay for these items and then we’ll find something to eat.” You didn't know what to expect but he put out a small smile that was almost unnoticeable but it engrained itself into your memory. The edge of his mouth quirked up and his expression eased as he looked down at you. It made something in you flutter to life and it left you wanting to see that smile again.

You joined him as he checked out, item after item was bagged, the total of everything slowly amounting to a number you could only dream of having reflected in your bank account. You helped him carry some of the items to his car before hopping into the passenger seat and waiting for him to join you. He didn’t start the car's engine right away, instead, he sat in his seat and waited for a moment before turning his key and bringing the car to life.

“Is there anywhere you personally want to go?” He asked as he pulled out of his parking spot.

“I still have an hour to kill before my landlord shows up, so why not a drive-thru?"

“Perfect.” He drove the two of you to a place close to his apartment. He asked if you wanted to eat in the car or if you wanted to come to his apartment and eat there to which you replied that you would love to go to his place. He feared he might have rushed your friendship, that he might have coerced you into going to his home, but when you agreed he couldn’t have been more ecstatic. He pulled into the drive-thru window of a McDonald's and began listing off the items you both wanted from the menu before thanking the employee and pulling to the next window. He grabbed the orders and paid even though you had tried slipping your card to the employee only to be physically blocked by Titus' body as he handed them his credit card. He drove to his home, meals sitting on the back seat with the rest of his bags as the two of you sat in silence.

"I don't think I ever really told you what I do for a living, did I?" You started the conversation, hoping to kill the silence.

"I made an assumption that you were an artist. Maybe an art instructor."

"I wish. Art teachers get paid consistently. I'm a freelancer." You murmured.

"That sounds fun. You have the freedom to chose what projects you want to take on."

"But I dont have guaranteed employment or pay." The conversation died again but Titus, maybe out of curiosity, reignited it again.

"What's your end goal for your career?" He asked, curiosity dripping from his voice.

"I don't know, Titus. At the moment I just want to be able to pay my bills without worry." You sighed, almost looking deflated in the passenger seat as you looked at him and then out the window without adding anything more. He pulled up to his home and parked before unlocking the car doors and unbuckling his seat belt. He didn't exit just yet, he sat there mulling in silence before speaking.

"What would it take to achieve that goal?"

"Something that's going to be long-term or semi-long term. My last client ended their contract with me cause they claimed they found a 'quicker alternative'." You explained, "Apparently, AI is 'revolutionizing' the business so they no longer need actual artists when they can get art for free." You mope. Titus didn't know how to best comfort you as he didn't understand the greater issue that was being underlined but he did provide you with a hand on your shoulder in a small gesture of reassurance in the form of a smile.

"You will find something soon. I can feel it." With that, you both got out of the car and grabbed the bags from the back seats before entering his apartment. His home was unassuming from the outside, colored in a light beige paint and the door painted brown. When you entered, it was as bearing as you would have assumed it would be. No pictures, no decor, nothing that would scream that someone lived here was evident anywhere in the space except for some blankets on the couch. The kitchen was cleared of cups from its countertop, there were no coffee bags out, no cereals that he might enjoy, there was nothing. Everything looked like it was part of an Ikea display, devoid of personality and it made you sad as it most likely indicated that Titus didn't feel this place was home but a shelter to sleep in.

"I usually eat at my desk, so this will be a welcomed change." He commented.

You smiled up at him before placing some of the bags on the kitchen table and sitting down across from him as you unwrapped your burger and fries. You ate with gusto as you hadn't had take out in a long while. Having not had the budget to order out or even get a cheap meal, you had missed the taste of frozen oil patties and salty fries drenched in day old boiling oil. From the taste to the smell, this cheap meal had been the best thing you've had in a while.

"You seem to be enjoying your meal." Titus teased. The edges of his lips lifted as he watched you eat. You practically inhaled your food and choked on it when he started talking.

"It's been a while since I've had fast food. It's oddly good after a while." You explained, a smile still stuck on your face as you ate. He noticed how crumbs clung to your mouth, your cheeks puffed as you continued to chew on your food. It was a pleasant sight.

"I agree. During my service, i longed for the days we could go off base and purchase food and items we didn't have the luxury to be given." You nodded at his comment before placing your food down and grabbing a napkin to clean your hands.

"You served?" You asked.

"Yes, for a long time." He said it with a sense of longing. You could see it in his eyes again, what he meant. He looked like he was recounting old memories in his mind.

"Must have been one hell of a career if you stayed for so long." You joked, a chuckle escaping you as you resumed eating.

"I would agree. I truly enjoyed what I was doing." The conversation ended as you both continued eating, Titus looked pensive as he ate. He stared at an abandoned piece of food wrapper before he directed himself to you.

"What type of work do you usually make?"

"I usually do illustrations and paintings. I loved traditional art as a teenager and had a focus on it but once I got the chance to study further I opted into graphic design and digital art."

"Why did you expand to graphic design?" He asked.

"My parents told me they would only help with college if I picked up something that would 'pay me money' in the future but i still continued learning and going to fine arts courses." You took another bite out of your burger, chewing a little aggressively as if it had personally offended you.

"You are a jack of all trades, Y/n." He said, voice soft and laced with kindness.

"I guess I am. Just not good at implementing them, I guess." You fired back.

"Would you mind showing me some of your work?"

"Sure, it's mostly on my socials. Let me pull up my profile." You clicked away on your phone before making your way around the table and showing him. Your work was beautiful. Large pieces on canvas that you painted and digital artworks that demonstrated people or environments impressed him. He wasn't one for the arts, the most he did was sing drill songs and drunk karaoke that he didn't even remember from when he was a young soldier, but this was something else. He felt something when he looked at the painting you had depicting a woman lying in a bed of flowers, her brown skin and face delicate as light beads of sunlight showered her face in what could only be described as an angelic touch. Many other drawings of friends, neighbors, and employees of the supermarket were drawn digitally. You even had one of Chairon where he was flexing and showing off his prosthetic arm. Every drawing was outstanding in his opinion and they reflected you perfectly. You had some other posts that depicted your graphic design work, it was just as fun and artistic, to say the least.

"These are beautiful, Y/n. You should submit them to a gallery." He complimented. He turned to face you and he was nose to nose with you. You were so close, he could smell your perfume and get a whiff of your natural scent. Warm and almost honey-like, you were addicting to the point he almost leaned in closer to get a better smell. He couldn't help but let his eyes drop down to your lips which were slightly open. If he wanted to he could lean in and plant a kiss on them. He turned his head to look back at your phone and asked you to explain what one of your sketches was, hoping to distract himself from the fluttering feeling in his stomach. These impure thoughts about you, they were random and unnecessary. He shouldn't be thinking of you in this way, you were clean of sin, clear of damage

You on the other hand were internally panicking at the closeness. God, his scent was strong. He smelled of smoked wood and something you could only describe as masculine musk that clung to him. It was pleasant but it lit a flame in the pit of your stomach you weren't sure how to address. When he had turned around it was almost as if you had gotten staring at him, like he knew you were thinking about him and the way he looked. You got a better look at the faint marks that decorated the right side of his temple, some of them had raised scar tissue from what you could assume was shrapnel that had gotten lodged there and had to be removed, and a long scar that cut through his hairline. He had another set of scars on his nose and cheek that looked more befitting a man who was prone to danger than the gentle soul you had gotten to know. His eyes on you were electrifying, god you want to lean in and kiss him even if his lips were a little chapped. But you don't, instead, you take note of his red ears and how the blush trails down to his cheeks.

You both parted, creating distance between the two of you as you realized you might be making him uncomfortable, his posture was stiff and his breathing shallow. You thanked him for the compliments and asked him if there was anything else he wanted help with so you two could plan further ahead.

"There is nothing that truly comes to mind though I didn't know our worlds were so small."

"What do you mean?" You cocked your head to the side.

"Chairon. He's the security guard at the gym i go to. How did you two know each other?" He explained while gesturing at your phone.

"Chairon bought me a coffee this one time. I was in line and I was waiting to order. The prizes at the shop had increased but I didn't know, so when it was my turn to pay and I was short a few cents, Chairon who was behind me offered to pay the remainder." You talked about the other man with a fond smile on your face. Something about it made Titus feel relieved but something akin to a knot began to form in his stomach.

"Was that the extent of your interaction?" He asked, his eyes focused on your face hoping to see your reaction.

"Nope! Chairon and I became friends, kinda. Sometimes he gives me a ride or advice on how to fix things around my place. I'm not handy at all." This brought a bitter feeling to Titus.

He doesn't dislike Chairon being a good person, the man has always been kind, but he didn't particularly like that he was close to you. This felt like a defect Titus needed to fix. Like he was wrong in some way and he needed to realign his thoughts for thinking so bitterly of a man who has done him no wrong. This knot in his stomach only grew tighter as you reaffirmed the other man's good nature and it left him feeling ill.

"It sounds like you two are close." He commented blankly, hoping that the acrid feelings weren't evident in his voice.

"Chairon's an amazing guy. He's sweet and funny and always there to support you even at your lowest. I'm sure you can find a friend in him too."

"I have. I'm... grateful." He smiled at the memory of the younger man helping him through a panic attack he had recently. Not only did he not judge Titus, but he was helpful. He had brought him cold water and a wet towel to press against his head as he spoke him through it. Chairon had empathy for him that no one else had shown him outside of his small group of friends. It brought him hope and reassurance even though they didn't know each other all that well.

Lost in thought, Titus hadn't noticed your phone begin to vibrate or you checking it to see who had been calling you. The call ended and a notification popped up with the name of your landlord attached.

"Oh shit, it's my landlord. I have to go!" You start to clean up your mess, empty food wrappers and greasy takeout bags were all thrown into the trashcan that stood by the table. Titus followed suit, worried that you would leave in a hurry before he could offer to drive you home. He clears his clean wrappers and also throws them away and makes his way back towards you.

"Let me drive you home. It's late and I don't feel comfortable letting you go home by yourself." He pleaded. You tried not to look at his eyes but the pretty blue eyes he possessed had you in a chokehold. He looked concerned, his crow's feet growing deeper and somehow making him look more handsome. You blushed as you averted your eyes, urging in your mind to reply already as he only seemed to grow more dejected as the seconds ticked by with no response.

"Sure, that would be nice." You managed to push out, cheeks still in flamed and growing hotter by the moment.

"Great, let me grab my keys and we'll go." He made his way to the kitchen counter and grabbed his keys before heading towards his front door, opening it, and holding it for you. He waits until you're out before locking his door and guiding you back to his car. He seats himself in the driver's seat, you following suit as you buckle yourself in beside him. He turned the engine on with a quick flick of his keys and drives off towards your home with the help of his GPS and your directions.

The drive grows quiet as you looked at the window and watched people and cars pass you by. The sky had grown dark and the air cooled as the winter months neared. You liked this time of year and also dreaded it. It was usually nice weather and allowed you to have an excuse to hoddle up in your home in blankets and hoodies. But it also brought on a horrifying electricity bill due to the heater being used the most during this time. You wondered what Titus would think about doing during the winter. It was already starting to take a toll on him, you could see the heating pad on the couch and a mini heater nearby on the floor. You wondered if he worried about the bills like you did. You doubted it since he looked to be doing well for himself but it was still a nice thought, that maybe you and him were not so different after all.

As he pulled onto your street he took note of the state of the neighborhood. Old homes that have been left to rot or have been neglected were everywhere. Even as he pulled over and parked in front of your home he noticed how the paint on your homes walls not only had yellowed over time but also had begun to peel. He understood that people were struggling, and he had no place to judge as he was practically living like he was homeless when he was deployed, but this was something else. He wondered what had led to this being that situation you were thrown in, if you felt comfortable or even safe in this place you called your home.

He noticed a man sitting by the porch with a cigarette in between his fingers. The man waved at you both, no smile present as he he did. You sighed, annoyance already settling in as you began to unbuckle your seat belt. You were about to open the car door but was stopped by Titus' hand reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist. His hold was loose, almost as if he feared that he might hurt you if he tightened his grip.

"Do you want me to... stay until he leave?" You listened to him but the words didn't process. You merely blinked at him.

“I’ll be fine, Demetrian.” You pull your arm away and he gives way without hesitation. He nods at you but not before telling you that he has no issue with waiting if you don’t feel comfortable being left alone.

“It’s sweet of you, but the most he’s going to do is give me a nasty key fee since he had to replace it.” You reassure.

“Well then, I’ll see you some other time.”

“We’ll talk soon. I promise.” You gave him a reassuring smile before closing the car door and making your way over to your landlord. Titus watched as you and the man spoke before shaking his head and driving off.

You eyed Titus’ car as it left, turning to watch it drive and take a turn that made him vanish from your sight.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Your landlord joked. His breath smelled of nicotine and it made you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"No, he's a friend I made when grocery shopping."

"You always get attached to the weirdest people." He comments before leaving your porch and walking towards his car. He peels off with no regard for the other cars on the road or the speed limit. You enter your home, the new key unlocking the door without a hitch, unlike the one you had before. You're home was a mess. Canvasas, sketch paper, portfolios, and drawers filled to the brim with tubes of paint and brushes. The space felt full and yt to you it was empty. You had no pets, you had no other person to share the space with. You were alone coming to live out here just as you were back home where you were always last to receive praise or recognition while your sibling got all of it.

[searchingforserendipity25]

very like, very like.

for @janeuary-month. day 4 - portraiture. Fandom: Persuasion. Anne Elliot/Frederick Wentworth, Established Relationship.

Also on AO3.

They sit for the portrait in Cádiz, in a cramped artist's studio with a view to the marina.

High masts prickling a low sky, the business of a short-lived peacetime climbing inside the windows along with a few tendrils of fragrant honeysuckle, not enough to cover the smells of turpentine or bitter almond liqueur ingrained into the walls.

A good use for the profits of Frederick's most recent prize, and a peculiar hankering of his. A whim of the day, at the end of a long conversation when they took shelter from the high sun beside the church.

"I have spent years avoiding thinking of you, and wondering how much I had forgotten of your countenance," he said. "How much you may have changed."

"I grew sallower, I think," Anne noted."Thinner, and with less roses upon my cheeks, though I was not so freckled as I am now. No, one of us only grew handsomer in separation."

Her husband kissed the back of her hand over her glove, pressed the warmth of it against his breast.

Years after their marriage, the old injuries they had dealt each other had much eroded in sharpness, a reminder that ached and prickled and did not mark the shape of their days.

Not easily laughed at; though Frederick could make her smile, not happily, by mentioning some of the foolish things he had done in trying to hold her in his heart only with dismay - walking out of recitals when a song she had liked was played on the piano, pretend to loathe Figaro when speaking to a disciple of one of Mozart's disciple, lie unwisely to his sister to little and unprofitable results.

"Your eyes were lovelier," Frederick said. His fingers, light and careful, wrapped around a stray curl of the windswept hair beneath her bonnet. "And they are lovelier yet today. As they may grow moreso in time, I would like to have a keepsake for memory, for when the mind falters."

The composition did not permit much irreverence; it was to be a small painting, larger than a miniature but not overly large, just the right size for a Captain's cabin.

Still, the artist was young and forceful, used to a clientele of officers and officer's wives and sweethearts. He flirted politely with Mrs. Wentworth, was politely indifferent to the Captain's opinions on background colors, made himself amusing with presenting a number of nautical implements laid out for choice.

"I have not seen so many broken astrolabes all together since my midshipman days," Frederick commented, turned a small model of a ship inside a bottle between his palms. "Many officer's children brought to pose, then?"

Indeed. Indeed, of course; and midshipmen, too. Anne took the small bottle, rubbed some old jammy thumbprints with the edge of her kerchief. For a moment her thoughts turned to her nephews, as they sometimes did, not often. It was good to live in peacetime, better to live in peacetime with no child of her family in the lists of the Navy.

You must sent us a copy. The sketches at the very least, so we might have them engraved, Sophy wrote to her brother and sister-in-law.

It is past time. In truth I had expected Frederick to beg you to sit for a miniature when you were wed; though there was little time then, and being lucky enough to sail together, I suppose he prefers the living model. But it is good to have these things; I for one brag quite badly of you to my acquaintances, so make certain to send a decent likeness, and a handsome one at that. The better, if you can have Frederick to do as Nelson did and trim his sideburns for it. He has not the cheeks to do them justice, as he indeed he ought to have learned already, if means to do justice to Anne's countenance.

Frederick did trim his sideburns for it. He did however sent his sister the first sketch only, before visiting his barber. Anne touched the neat line of his jaw afterwards, pressed her cheek to his to test them pleasing rasp of skin against skin.

They stood side-by-side, Captain and Mrs. Wentworth, for the initial sketching and then three or four further sessions, in between social engagements and official meetings.

It was something of a bother, but no true irritation, made better for the mirror against the studio wall, from which they could gauge their stance, and spy the other.

Few things in marriage are better conductive to love than a happy secret in company. The Wentworths had learned that even in their first betrothal, had long mastered the art of speaking from the side of their mouths in company, and having conversations in glances alone, which many a happy couple does possess, and few own to.

In the end Anne held a spyglass against her breast, while her husband rested a hand upon his sword, and another against the curve of her arm. Near enough the starch in his collar filled her nose. A few times he did touch her loose curls, to tease or adore; then the artist turned his back to fetch some paint or linseed oil, and pretended at polite deafness. Sailors, port side artists know, were very like each other, no more so than when in love.

 Not more than three months they stayed in Cádiz, and a pleasant time it was, more so by the knowledge of its brevity. In this fashion they passed some afternoons, and referred friends in their circles to the care of the artist. As for the painting, it referred itself.

A fine painting from a fairly mediocre hand, with some fine Mediterranean light to it; all that saw it agreed something to that effect. His epaulets glittered, her mantilla was well-made, and the lace passably managed in oil.

A handsome man; and the lady's eyes were striking. One could tell, not by the varnish or the trick of light in a delicate paint stroke, but the angle of her husband's chin, tilted to glance sideways at her profile. 

[thefadecodex]

Our first real exposure actually beings with the Grand Oak tree in DAO! (Thank you @meganooooooooooooooo for pointing this out!)

Players began to notice a distinct cadence in Solas's speech during interactions in DAI. Notably, when he recounts moments from the Fade, his voice occasionally takes on a rhythm and tone reminiscent of a hymn or chant, evoking the cadence of "Hallelujah."

This has led The Fade Codex to theorize that this cadence reflects a dialect used by spirits—an ancient, rhythmic way of communication that blends emotion and intent through a deliberate structure.

(note: @the-northern-continent does a great breakdown of the Hallelujah cadence vs iambic pentameter in this post. And @liaragaming does a good breakdown of Solas speaking in that cadence in this post.)

This concept is further explored in Dragon Age: The Veilguard through various encounters with spirits. Below are examples that demonstrate this rhythmic, almost lyrical, pattern in their speech:

The Anxious Spirit (A Spirit of Comfort) - Arlathan Forest

"Trapped. Can't get out. It hurts. It's dark. Please. They didn't know what to do. They didn't want to die."

TRAPPED. CAN'T get OUT. It HURTS. It's DARK. PLEASE. They DIDN'T know what to DO. They DIDN'T want to DIE.

"Stop the thoughts. Stop the fears. Quiet, please. Make it quiet."

STOP the THOUGHTS. STOP the FEARS. QUI-et, PLEASE. MAKE it QUI-et.

Eulogy (Originally a Spirit of Compassion) - Minrathous

"Something larger stirs. Calling the desperate. I cannot see what."

SOME-thing LARG-er STIRS. CALL-ing the DES-per-ATE. I CAN-not SEE what.

"Know the hope you bring Dock Town thwarts it. And may you continue."

KNOW the HOPE you BRING. DOCK TOWN THWARTS it. AND may YOU con-TIN-ue.

"As you found their names, I felt them whisper through the Fade."

As YOU found their NAMES, I FELT them WHIS-per THROUGH the FADE.

"My own name changed. I am now Eulogy."

My OWN name CHANGED. I AM now EU-lo-GY.

Hope Unyielding - Hossberg Wetlands

"Light glimmers the surface. Flowers break through snow. Hope unexpected. I am such."

LIGHT glim-MERS the SUR-face. FLOW-ers BREAK through SNOW. HOPE un-EXPECT-ed. I AM SUCH.

"No. But nor was I forever."

NO. But NOR was I for-EV-er.

Pluck - Hall of Valor

"What foul-hearted spirit tugs at the corners of your lips to turn them down so?"

What FOUL-heart-ed SPIR-it tugs at the COR-ners of your LIPS to TURN them DOWN so?

"Greetings, Mourn Watcher. You are a long ways from Nevarra."

GREET-ings, MOURN Watch-er. YOU are a LONG ways from Ne-VAR-ra.

Emmrich (to Pluck)

"Hail to you, child of Valor. As voice of our lightless shores, I pray your blade may never sunder."

HAIL to YOU, child of VAL-or. As VOICE of our LIGHT-less SHORES, I PRAY your BLADE may NEV-er SUN-der.

Pluck

"You honor me. Few remember the old ways."

You HON-or ME. Few re-MEM-ber the OLD WAYS.

The phrase "the old ways," as used by Pluck, is believed to reference this rhythmic, cadenced speech. It’s a pattern steeped in intent, echoing the emotional resonance of the Fade itself.

Grand Oak - West Brecilian Forest

(image source)

What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?

What MAN-ner of BEAST be THEE that COMES be-FORE this EL-der TREE?

Ahhhh, yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life and all but blind to the peril you cause, the lives you take, such chaos is down within thy wake.

AHHH, yes, I re-MEM-ber THY kind. SO brief of LIFE and ALL but BLIND. To the PER-il you CAUSE, the LIVES you TAKE. Such CHA-os is DOWN with-IN thy WAKE.

This dialect may serve as both a form of communication and an expression of a spirit's essence, allowing them to convey ideas, emotions, and purpose in a way that transcends mere words.

This theory deepens our understanding of how spirits interact with mortals and each other, highlighting the unique and poetic nature of their existence.

[nemoredraw]

Can we get a full Nemo (your oc) body drawing? And some notes about them! I’m invested in his story and his deal!!!

[TRIGGER WARNING] Violence, drugs, etc.

Of course!

Here are some reference drawings I usually use.

Fun facts about Nemo Arkham:

• Skilled in mechanics: Surprisingly, he does quite well fixing and understanding the workings of many vehicles or even gadgets.

• Firearms proficiency: Despite always carrying two pistols, he’s not very skilled with them. He prefers to play with the element of surprise in close combat. He still has a lot to learn about firearms but is quite adept with melee weapons (though explosives require less effort for him).

• Fashionable: He likes to dress well, usually in elegant suits, even in complex situations. It has become a symbol of his identity.

• Smokes anywhere: Even in tricky situations, he smokes. Let’s just say it helps him think.

• Great actor: He always likes to keep everything under control. When things slip out of his grasp, he becomes overwhelmed and desperately tries to regain control. He never does anything without a double intention, making it hard to trust him. He always seems to be playing with those around him. Nemo has excellent manipulation skills.

• Multilingual: He speaks several languages—Russian, German, Japanese, French, Spanish, and English. He is most fluent in Spanish and English. His origins are European, though the specific region is unknown.

• Empathy for children: This is the one area where he shows genuine empathy, likely because it reminds him of his childhood.

• Feminist: Despite his identity as a villain, he always defends women, viewing them not as sexual objects but as people.

• Spending habits: He doesn’t care much about spending money and is often surrounded by luxury, but only when he’s with others. In the quiet of his home, he’s content with a good bottle of whiskey and regular cigarettes.

• Solitary: He dislikes having close relationships, believing they could become a weakness others might exploit.

• Body modifications: He has a navel piercing.

• Transgender: He transitioned at a young age, and since his body hadn’t developed much yet, transitioning to male was easier for him.

• Heir turned soldier: Nemo is an heir but was raised more like a soldier or a weapon, always under his father’s yoke.

• Self-grooming: He cuts his own hair, which is why it always looks rather messy.

• Drug addiction: He’s addicted to a new drug called ASH BONE. He usually consumes it alone since (depending on the dose) it puts him in a state of chemical submission. A small dose only relaxes him.

• Goal (spoiler): Nemo’s objective is to destroy Batman and Gotham, no matter the limits he has to cross.

• Slade Wilson’s role: Slade trained him in hand-to-hand combat for a period of his life. Nemo never liked Slade. (Spoiler) When Nemo escaped his father’s grasp, he was kidnapped and tortured to break his will. Slade oversaw the torture, administering the experimental drug ASH BONE for the first time, making Nemo addicted.

• Shade the cat: As a child, Nemo adopted a black cat named Shade.

• Connection with Damian: The only member of the Batfamily he gets along with is Damian. He understands his anger and pain, so they connect perfectly, even though they maintain a lot of emotional distance. Nemo gave Damian those little star-shaped clips.

• Nicknames for Batman: Nemo ironically calls Batman “the emo who listens Deftones.” (He has many nicknames for the Batfamily: “the bats,” “winged rats,” “the emo squad,” “the darkness,” “the dark divas,” etc.)

(I could go on all day writing more random facts about Nemo, but I don’t think many people would care, haha!)

[haileycantcometothephonern]

Scars

Spencer x fem!reader

Prequel fic to this part (but can be read alone)

CW: pregnancy, kidnapping, torture, angst, also a little bit fluff. (not proofread)

___________________________________

18 months ago

You felt the kicks before you felt the warm sun rays waking you up from your deep sleep. Your baby has been quite excited, you can tell. She is keen to meet her mom and dad, it seems. You open your eyes slowly and crack a smile at your very pregnant belly.

Sydney. That's what you both decided her name would be. Such a pretty name really. You immediately got up to make yourself some breakfast as your daughter isn't so calm when she starts to get hungry.

You then remember the absence of your husband. You really hoped he would be here before next week, as that's when your due date was and your daughter might come out any moment now. You didn't want Spencer to miss such a pivotal moment of your child's birth. You knew how much he looked forward to it.

As you make yourself some breakfast filled with all kinds of nutrients, your mind goes through all of your pregnancy journey. Spencer and you have always wanted to start a family and you were blessed with your angel a few months ago. You were both equally excited about the new edition to your family and made sure to do thorough research about how to ensure that she's safe and healthy.

Spencer was also very present these past few months, putting his foot down when he is needed here by you or your daughter. You really appreciated his support throughout your pregnancy but since a few weeks he has been quite busy. You understood that he can't keep putting off work to stay with you, but you also wanted him to do that for you. Maybe it was selfish, but you were also on the verge of giving birth to an entire human and you wanted your husband there to support you.

You thought back to the call with Spencer last night as you had your breakfast and wondered when you'll get another update from him. You eventually realized that you're focusing on him too much and he must just be really busy saving lives, so you ended up watching some movie on the TV.

Ring. Ring.

You were jolted awake from your morning nap by your phone's ringtone. You immediately hoped that it was Spencer calling to tell you that he's home bound.

"Hello"

"Hey, baby! How are both of my girls doing?" Spencer sounded tired.

"We're doing good, would do better if you're here with us though." You pouted.

"I know, love. I'm already on the jet, and wanted to check on both of you before we started. Will be there by evening." He sighed into the phone and you can feel him physically relax his shoulders. The case must have been a tough one, well tougher than usual anyway.

"Oh that's great news. I'll start on dinner soon. Love you baby, say love you to papa syd." You tried to make Spencer feel a bit less stressed and you honestly felt really glad that he'll be home soon.

"I love you both, stay safe until i get home." Spencer parroted back, and you can hear the caution in his voice.

You suddenly remembered that you forgot to inform about your doctor's call last night.

"Uh Spence, Dr. Min just called me yesterday. She wanted to see us tomorrow, I told her that I'll let her know if we can after I spoke to you today."

"What did she want to talk about? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is Sydney okay?" He immediately questioned with worry.

"Yes, yes, we are completely alright. And Dr.Min did not tell me what it was about as she had some emergency and ended the call urgently. But I'm sure it's nothing serious." You said with a doubtful tone, you didn't want him to overthink it during the whole ride.

"It's okay, baby. I'll call Dr.Min, and ask her what it's about. Just take care." Spencer tried to reassure you and ended the call as the pilot was ready for take off.

You ended up taking another nap while snacking on some fruit platter as you were still full from your breakfast when you were once again woken up by a knock this time.

You checked who it was through the peephole first, Spencer instilled this cautiousness in you. It was just some delivery guy, maybe it was the new blanket you ordered three days ago for Sydney.

You excitedly open the door and were about to take your order when the delivery guy is pushed aside and you are being dragged out of your house by two really burly men. You wanted to scream, but they had their guns pointed straight at your belly. You gulped and cooperated with them.

"What do you guys want?" You tried not to sound so scared.

"Your husband knows what we want. Don't worry you'll get out of this unscathed if he listens to our demands." One of them replied and pushed you into a black jeep.

After that your memory goes pretty hazy, as you assume that they drugged you. You regain consciousness after a while, you don't know how long it's been but it was darker outside. You can see that through the only basement window in the room that you were held in. Yep, that's definitely a basement that you were in. You weren't scared as you had complete trust in your husband and his colleagues. You trusted them to save you and your baby.

You then heard some voices from outside the door. You remembered one of the voices was the man who brought you here. Just as you were about to concentrate on what they were talking about, the door to the room opened. In walked the two men who kidnapped you.

"Dr. Reid, as promised. Your wife is here, unscathed. Just get us that plane, our money, and Jason. We'll be out of your hair." He screamed into the phone, you assume Spencer is on the other side of.

"No I'm not going to do anything until you let me talk to her." Spencer tried to sound as neutral as he can, but even you can sense the fear in his voice.

"Alright, suit yourself." The kidnapper placed the phone near your ear. "Speak."

"Hello, Spence?"

You could hear the relief in his voice when he asks you to stay strong like you always do and that he'll be there to get you soon.

"Everything will be alright, baby. I'll be there."

And you believed him. Because why wouldn't you. You believed him with your whole being. You believed him. You made that choice. You let him deceive you. You let him deceive not just you, but also your daughter.

Spencer wasn't there. He wasn't there to save you. He wasn't there to save Sydney. He wasn't there when they cut you. When they left bleeding to your death. When they left Sydney to die with her mom. You still don't have complete memory of what happened after the call.

BAU unlike every other time, failed to deliver on their promise and failed to save you or Sydney. The kidnappers tried to get what they wanted by harming you, thinking that'll motivate the BAU to submit to their demands. But this time, the kidnappers were wrong.

Spencer found you that night, almost at the verge of dying. His heart stopped at the sight of you. Multiple cuts on your arms and your collarbone. One large gash on both of your wrists, blood flowing out uncontrollably. If only they were a bit faster, if only Hotch would have agreed to their demands. He knew that he couldn't blame anyone else but himself for what happened that night. He stayed by your side at the hospital until you regained your consciousness.

"Spence, What happened? Where am I? Where's Sydney?" Your frantic voice woke him up from his seat beside your bed. He looked like he'd been through some kind of apocalypse, maybe he was. His hair unwashed and disheveled. His beard, unshaven. His eyes, sunken, surrounded by pigmentation. He looked like he was crying non-stop.

Your thoughts immediately went back to that night.

"Sydney. Where's Sydney, Spencer?" You asked cautiously.

He looked like he was on the verge of tears and held your hands. His lips opened and closed, and tears started streaming down his cheeks.

"No, no, no. It can't be. No, not her. Spence." You were beyond frantic now. The tears came first.

You didn't want to believe that she was no more. Your love, your angel, your baby. Your Sydney.

You sobbed and sobbed and hiccups echoing off the hospital walls. Throughout it all Spencer held you, letting you express your grief. He had his time, although he thought no time could heal this wound. He wanted so badly to redo everything.

The BAU had all visited you and him, offering their condolences. Hotch showed up too, expressing his regret and guilt. Spencer assured him that he doesn't hold anything against him. You didn't reply to anyone. Not him, not his mom, not your parents, nor your friends. You didn't have anything else to say. You didn't know what one says when they feel like their soul has been snatched away. Their voice had been hijacked. Only thing you can know and feel for sure was the ache in your heart and the emptiness in your womb.

Days passed away before you knew it and it was finally time to go home. Spencer packed everything up from your hospital room and called out to you.

"(Y/N), It's time to go home baby." He whispered slowly placing his hand on your shoulder.

You looked away from the windows and towards him. Yes, nobody is at fault except Spencer. It was him who promised to keep you and your baby safe. But he was nowhere to be found on the day you actually needed him. He was the one who caused all of this. Your brain, filled with grief couldn't decipher what it was thinking or where your thoughts are taking you. You knew only one thing for sure, you wanted to hurt someone. You wanted him to hurt.

"Spencer you killed her. You killed my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, you almost thought he didn't hear you. But the way his eyes dulled and filled with guilt showed you that he did hear it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby." He said, he sounded wracked with guilt. He started sobbing.

That was the first time in a few days you felt some kind of sick relief. A part of you ached at seeing him like that. But the sick satisfaction over took every other feeling.

"Spencer, I'm going to hurt you until I can find peace. I promise, and I don't break them like you do." Your voice was filled with vitriol. Spencer never even imagined that you could look at him with such hatred in your eyes, but he was proved wrong today.

He knew he was going to be blamed for everything. And he blamed himself too. He was okay with taking everything from you, because he knew behind all that hatred and vitriol, there was love. So he was willing to be your punching bag for however long you want him to be.

You realized that Spencer was going to accept it. And you knew you were just getting started. Maybe this will end up hurting you both, but you felt like that's what the two of you deserved in the end. For failing to save her. Your Sydney.

_______________________________________

a/n: Not that satisfied with how this turned out, wanted to write fluff but it turned out into angst 😭😭. anyways i'm thinking of writing a fluff series next and maybe an angst one too. deleted one on my old blog, want to restart it.

[urfavlarry]

Doomsday

Seok-woo x fem!reader warning. swearing, not proof read, no happy ending

A/N. rewatched train to busan a few days ago and I just thought of this and wanted to write it out!

You had worked for Seok-woo for as long as you could remember. You were probably there even before he was blessed with his beautiful little girl, Su-an. She had a way of melting your heart effortlessly, much like her father had managed to do over the years, though you'd never admit it. Not out loud, at least.

It was a shameful thing to feel. You, a grown, intelligent, and self-sufficient person, were in love with a man who has a wife. Or, well... had a wife until just a few months ago.

You'd seen how the divorce affected him, but it was Su-an who suffered the most. Her bright, contagious smile had dimmed, replaced by a sadness far too heavy for a child to carry. You tried your best to bring it back whenever she came to the office with her dad on the less hectic days. Whether it was through little jokes, snacks, or just letting her draw all over the unused papers and documents you were sure you’d never need.

Seok-woo noticed, of course. He always did. "You’re too good to us," he'd said more than once, half-smiling in that soft way that made your chest tighten.

Today was one of those days when Su-an had tagged along. She was sitting quietly in your office, flipping through the stack of magazines you kept on the coffee table for guests. Her small hands delicately turned the pages, her big eyes wide with fascination. "A little birdie told me it’s someone’s special day today," you teased with a playful smirk, pulling open your desk drawer to retrieve the small, neatly wrapped gift you had tucked away a week ago.

The girl looked up at you, curious, setting the magazine aside as you extended the gift toward her. Her wide eyes sparkled with surprise and excitement. Just as she reached for it, the door opened. “Morning,” you greeted automatically, your tone warm as Seok-woo stepped inside. His expression was a mix of relief and mild irritation, likely from rushing to drop off an urgent client file before picking Su-an up. “Morning, [Name]. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble,” he said, his voice carrying that clipped efficiency you’d come to know.

His gaze shifted to the box in Su-an’s hands, his eyebrows raising slightly. “You got her a gift?” “Of course,” you replied with a small laugh, brushing off the question as though it were nothing. “She’s been a sweetheart, as always. You know I don’t mind having her around. Though…” You glanced at Su-an with a teasing grin. “I’m not sure she’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it!” Su-an piped up, her small voice full of determination as she started tugging at the ribbon. You shared a smile with her father as you both watched her carefully unwrap the present, revealing a set of colored pencils and a thick sketchbook.

The reaction was immediate, and a bit expected. “Oh my gosh! It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, holding it up like a treasure. “Thank you so much!” “She’s been doodling on all my reports lately,” Seok-woo muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his words. You caught the faint twitch of a smile tugging at his lips. “She’s creative,” you quipped, ignoring the smirk he gave you. “Now she has her own space for it.”

Before Su-an could dive into her new gift, Seok-woo glanced at his watch. “We should get going. Her mother wants her by tonight. Something about her recital.” His tone was carefully neutral, but the slight stiffness in his posture was hard to miss.

Su-an’s excitement visibly faded. She clutched the sketchbook close to her chest but didn’t argue. The silence was heavy, but you stepped in, as you always did. “Su-an,” you said softly, crouching to her level, “don’t forget to fill at least one page before you leave, okay? I want to see what you create next time.” Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

Seok-woo offered a brief but genuine “Thank you” as they left your office. You watched them go, a pang in your chest you couldn’t quite ignore. You couldn’t help but worry about both of them—how fractured their lives had become and how much weight they carried in silence.

That evening, everything changed.

It started as a last-minute phone call. Seok-woo, his voice uncharacteristically urgent, asked if you could meet them at the station. “Su-an wants to take the early train to Busan,” he explained hurriedly. “Her mom’s there, and I promised I’d get her there by morning but I forgot..” You tuned out the rest of what he said, answering with no hesitation in your response. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

You arrived at the station with a bag of snacks and supplies, something told you they might need it. When you spotted Seok-woo and Su-an on the crowded platform, you waved, smiling as Su-an ran to greet you. “Are you coming with us?” she asked hopefully, clutching your hand. Seok-woo frowned slightly but didn’t protest. “It might actually be good to have you along,” he admitted after a pause. “Just in case.”

You didn’t realize how ominous those words would soon feel.

Everything spiralled into chaos, news of an outbreak causing great panic all over Korea. You were lucky enough to get away from every danger you were faced with, always having Su-an’s safety on your mind before anything else.

In a state of panic and overwhelming emotions you couldn’t quite control, you pulled Seok-woo into a hug, almost seeming desperate as you clung to him like a lost child; however to your surprise, he returned the hug with just as much desperation. Something inside you instantly clicked as you pulled him away from the little group you’ve gathered over the many carts full of infected monsters; a pregnant lady and her husband.. their names being Seong-kyeong and Sang-hwa, at least you think.

Seok-woo looked at you with confusion as you took a deep breath, your hands shaking with nervousness and especially adrenaline. “Seok-woo, I know you absolutely do not want to hear this right now but in case we don’t get o—“ He glared at you and gripped your shoulders. “There is no ‘not getting out of here’ [Name], I will get you and Su-an off this train no matter what.” Your breath was shaky, tears threatening to spill as the days events sink in. “No, Seok-woo listen to me. If we— if I don’t get out, I want to let you know that I love you. You and Su-an. Please stay— stay safe for me okay? And make sure to tell Su-an to kill that recital.” You say between sobs, Seok-woo already pulling you into a tight embrace, shushing you. “I’ll get us out.” was the only thing he said before he went back to his daughter who was patiently waiting for you all to make a move.

You felt your heart ache as your words and confession was left unheard; the three simple words slipping from your tongue and left unnoticed by the man who has had your heart in a headlock for what seemed like all eternity, but of course, love could wait— survival can’t.

The silence in the next car was suffocating. Seong-kyeong sat in a corner, her face buried in her hands as she quietly sobbed. Su-an clung to you, her small hands gripping your sleeve as if she found your embrace as some sort of escape from this absolute nightmare. Seok-woo stood near the window, staring out at the chaos with a blank expression.

But you couldn’t focus on him. Your own thoughts were spiraling. The burn in your side was impossible to ignore now. At first, you thought it was just exhaustion, maybe a bruise from the earlier bumping into seats and doors—but when you finally glanced down, your blood ran cold.

The tear in your shirt revealed jagged teeth marks. Red blossomed around the wound, dark and unmistakable. You’d been bitten. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you quickly covered the mark. You looked around, panic rising, but no one had noticed yet. Not Seok-woo, not Su-an.

“[Name]?” Su-an’s soft voice pulled you back. She was staring up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “You’re shaking. Are you okay?” You forced a smile, kneeling to her level. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you lied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Seok-woo turned at her voice, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. You could tell he sensed something was wrong, but before he could speak, the train lurched violently, sending everyone stumbling. You held Su-an’s head close to your chest, trying your best to shield her as the train started to slow down.

“Attention please. Due to blockage on our track we’ve stopped at East Daegu station. We either wait for the rescue team or go to Busan by a different train. I’ll go and find a working train, if you’re alive.. please transfer safely. Godspeed.”

That was all you heard from the train operator before it went silent; only the awful sound of hissing and gurgling coming from the other cars. Your head felt heavy, and with every step you took your legs started getting heavier and heavier, sweat dripping down your neck. Everyone managed to get out, however you stopped in your tracks as you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side and body. “[Name]..” Su-an called out with worry as she stepped back into the car even after your protests. “[Name] come on, we need to go to the east track like they told us. We can’t loose time.” Seok-woo said, his tone rough yet laced with worry. You smiled with tears streaming down your face, your hands shakily taking off your ring that you got yourself not long after your first ever pay check at the company.

“I think this is my stop, yeah?” You hiccupped, caressing the little girls cheek with nothing but love. “Hold onto this for me yeah?” You placed the ring into her smaller hands, closing her palm and kissing it gently. You turned your gaze to Seok-woo who looked terrified, kneeling next to you and shoving your hand that was clutching your side away, revealing those disgusting teeth marks. “Shit. No, no… no. [Name] you— Why didn’t you say anything? I told you to stay close to me, why, why didn’t you—“ You put a finger against his lips, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going on a little trip, okay? Promise me you’ll get to Busan safely. That you will go to that recital and that you—“ You shook violently, a painful groan echoing through the car. “Seok-woo. I love you, I love you and Su-an so much.” You smiled weekly before backing away from them, stumbling towards an empty cart which you then closed.

Su-an pressed her hand against the class, screaming your name with tears flowing down her face, while all you could do while your mind was still somewhat conscious was look at her, pressing your forehead against the glass. “I love you Su-an.”

That was the last words they heard before they rushed out the car and your mind got twisted into a flesh eating monster.

— 3 years later

A memorial was held for all the people who were lost during the breakout, bodies never being collected; only burned to get rid of every trace those events had left. The memorial was held in Busan on the Haeundae beach where thousands gathered to try and put their resting loved ones to peace.

"We’ve come here to remember those we’ve lost and honor the lives they lived. Though some of us come here to remember, some might want nothing more than to forget. The world has changed, and the scars left by all we’ve suffered remain, but we gather in the hope that together, we can begin to heal.

Let us find strength in their memory and courage in one another as we face what lies ahead, carrying their legacy forward in the world we rebuild."

A roar of cheers and applause filled the area as everyone spread across the beach, lanterns in hand, ready to release them into the sky. Each glowing light was a symbol—a guide for lost souls to find their way to a better, pain-free afterlife.

Su-an clutched her father’s hand tightly. The scar left on her young heart that day was still fresh, though it was slowly healing with time. Seok-woo, however, had never truly moved on from your loss. Your office remained untouched, never given to anyone else, despite countless suggestions from others after his company started up again. It was your place, and no one else’s. Su-an still visited occasionally, sitting there to draw and talk to you—or perhaps to herself.

“Hold this for me, please,” Seok-woo said gently, handing the lantern to his daughter. He lit it carefully, just as many others around them were doing, their lanterns already rising into the dark sky. Together, they held the lantern—Su-an on one side and Seok-woo on the other. With a nod of silent agreement, they released it, watching as it drifted upward to join the hundreds of others.

Seok-woo knelt down beside his daughter, pulling her into his side as she sobbed against his shoulder. He rubbed his hands up and down her arm, trying to comfort her, though his own heart ached just as much. A small silver chain was around his neck, a ring on it like a sort of charm; the same ring you always wore until that day. He couldn’t deny the weight of his regrets. The regret of not saying goodbye. The regret of not saving you. The regret of failing to protect you.

But worst of all…

That he never said I love you back.

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[violinios]

Dream Sans headcannons!

Some might be not cannon accurate, and it's only my own interpretation of him. Might update sometime. I'll mix angst headcannons with fluffy and some funny ones.

The illusion his aura creates also affects people's smell. Yeah, people's smell. His aura makes other people attracted to him in many ways, and smell is one of them. Each person can feel a different, pleasent smell coming from him, it depends of their personal favorite smell. If their favorite smell is chocolate, they'll feel like Dream smells like chocolate. If someone likes the smells of strawberries, Dream would smell like strawberries to them. The only ones who are actually able to feel his true smell are, obviously, people not affected by his aura. I like to think his aura creates a lot of types of illusions that make people attached to him.

Once he got a (temporary) room for himself, he decorated the ceilling and almost everything he could with star-shaped things. This is because Dream used to sleep with his brother under the stars, looking at the sky at night before going to sleep, and he started to miss this feeling. Of course that sleeping in a bed is way more comfortable than sleeping against a tree, but he still misses his old home. Even if the stars on the ceilling are fake, it stills feels nice and it brings him a feeling of nostalgia. He only wishes he had his brother once again to watch the stars with him...

Dangerous animals become soft around him. Or at least, most of them. Lions, for an example, are pratically kittens when around Dream. Yes, this is also a result of his aura. Wouldn't it be fun if he just came back home to meet his partner with a motherfucking lion following him like a lost puppy?

He's unaware of how harmless or how dangerous things can actual be for mortal beings. He thinks they're way more fragile than they actually are and can be overprotective without noticing. He's barely affected by deseases that affects normal people and can handle more than mortals would physically be able to handle, but he has no idea if some things are deadly or not, and becomes overly worried about normal things such as a cold. It took him some time to realize a tummy ache won't kill his friend...

He has healing tears. His body heals by his own, and he can use magic to heal other people, but this makes him extremelly tired since it demands a lot of his powers. So when healing others, he has to cry and let his tears fall on the bruises instead of using his powers, but it would take more time to heal serious injuries. They would heal a deep cut in a matter of minutes, at least.

He panics around statues. At his first years of freedom from his imprisonment, he thought that the statues were people going through the same situation he went through more than 400 years, stuck in stone and started to react as a result of trauma, trying to free them in any ways he could, yet failling because they weren't real people stuck in stone. It took him some time to realize that, and he tried to tell himself to act more rational when around statues, but still, he feels uneasy when he's around statues of real people. He tries not to react or to be worried, but he keeps trying not to look at them and avoids being near them.

Everyone compares him to an old men when he texts. He likes to use a lot of emojis and uses those "good morning" gifs non ironically. He writes like he's writting a formal letter, like he used to write to his brother when they were young (even though he writes like a formal letter, his writing is definetly not the best... he's not good at writing at all lol. example below.)

Even though he's still tries to mask his own feelings with a positive and cheerful attitude, his behaviour changed a lot. He's less energetic than he was as a child, a bit more shy due to insecurity and less extroverted than before, but still social. He's a bit closed off when it comes to his own feelings, but knows how to handle social situations well and how to handle with other people's emotions. His adult self is less silly and more serious and mature, but still as gentle as ever. He got rid of his childishness, even before becoming an adult, as a result of feeling guilty for the events that happened in Dreamtale, as if he told himself he doesn't deserve a childhood. He prefers to, instead, give a good childhood to the children around him, the childhood he never had, and is more protective of children than adults (but he won't deny them protection too, he just enjoys being a brother/father figure to the young people)

[2demondogs]

I Was Just A Girl, Then | Arthur & John

Tags: John/Abigail, past Eliza/Arthur, and referenced VanDerMatthews; (CW) teen pregnancy (Abigail), canon character death, whole lotta brotherly angst, does it count as comfort if it doesn't work?, vignettes Words: 1.5k A/N: I think a lot about the fact she was only around 18 when she gave birth to Jack. Good grief.

Abigail is too young to look at Arthur with this much— pain. Pain is what it is, and he'd like to think his hesitancy to call it that is entirely because John is his brother, and men should always think their family is innocent.

Her hair is dark and long; her face is round and soft. In the light of the campfire, she looks like a woman he once knew. Shadows cradle her, fall harsh on the side of her belly that's facing the night. Grimshaw will need to alter her dresses a second time, and soon.

"He's your brother," Abigail is saying, throat thick with emotion, and he feels so very uncomfortable. He knows he is. He holds her hands, anyways, the knuckles rosy and chapped with the chill coming over the air in the last month, rough against his palms. She's never had soft hands, none of them have.

The seasons are changing, and so did John. He's been gone for six months.

"You know him. You know the way he thinks, don't you?" She's moved on from hoping, because he's not answered any of her letters. Now, Abigail is grieving. She doesn't know what she's asking, but Arthur does. "Why did he—?" A choke cuts her off before he can.

His face feels tight, almost as tight as his chest. "I used to know him," he says.

This grief is worse than when Abigail began to show, because now it is shared.

He thinks of Eliza, and if some other man held her hands, entirely enclosed in his, while she cried because she was unwanted, because her life had been decided for her by a wanderer who hadn't had to hold up the same burdens. Condemned to what so many girls dream of playing house, but— girls should never be with child. He looks down at Abigail's hands instead of at her face, how the fire catches the tears welling up in her eyes.

She's a strong girl. She wouldn't have survived as long as she has if she weren't, and he knows she will go on for much longer, too. It feels wrong to see her cry, and to feel the shards of heart pulsing through the veins along the backs of her hands whenever he gains the consciousness to stroke a thumb over one.

He's not used to comforting people. Not women, especially, who expect so much more than a clap on the back and a companion to sit out the silence with,the way Hosea taught him was proper for a man to offer, lest he be misunderstood. Never stopped him from treating Dutch how he treats Abigail, now. It seems so much kinder than silence.

Arthur is walking over those shards, and whatever he says could crack them into more. Abigail squeezes at his fingers and he lets her.

"It ain't you, Abigail," he says.

It's John.

She misconstrues what he means, and lets out a small sob of: "I know, Arthur."

Yesterday, Arthur wished they would've hanged him with his father before he had a chance to grow up mean. Today, he told John they should've hanged him when he was still sprouting.

After giving him that nasty, black ring around his eye, of course. He supposes it'd only be fair to give him one in return, brothers in bruises. Hosea seems more sad than anything and Dutch, more or less disappointed. Arthur thinks both are unwarranted, even if they are — as far as he knows — less severe than the anger he deserves for acting out as their son. Lyle would've given him a fresh scar along his face. His chin stings at the thought.

His son is dead.

Eliza, too, but not even grief can lie to him enough to think that they would ever spend a life together. He has little to mourn besides a woman that he wronged and his own pathetic attempts to redeem himself in her eyes, which he knew wasn't possible.

She cried when she saw him at the saloon, wandering through, all those months ago. When he had recognized her and taken her into his arms, she slapped him harder than he thought a woman their age could ever hit. They had dinner. She said he ruined her life and that pregnancy was her worst fear as if it were the weather, all over weeks-old bread that he thought tasted just fine as fresh before she spoke, and started to cry again. Then, it all seemed stale.

Issac's absence hurts differently.

Only men are supposed to die. Not boys, lest they open their mouth the way John has. Mocking him. Can't even shoot a gun let alone— and he's mocking him for trying to be a man.

It hurt because Arthur told himself the same things. He had a handle on things until he didn't, and now the reins have slipped from his fists again.

Issac's fists. They were so small, even though he was growing like a weed. Another month, he would've needed new clothes that Arthur could have stolen the fabric for. He wonders, now and then, how tall Issac would have gotten.

Much worse is another voice telling him that Eliza wouldn't have missed him had he died, because John had spoken it into reality. He had drawn it from the pit of his thoughts the way he always does — how Hosea and Dutch are able to, too, because apparently sleeping in the same camp makes your dreams intertwine and writhe around one another just enough — and he had given it life.

It's the first cigarette they've shared since John returned.

Arthur said they should've hanged him, and then said it twice more in the same week. Old habits die hard. John hadn't found it quite as funny as Dutch had, and neither had Hosea.

Dutch doesn't often realize when Arthur is capable of fratricide.

He's older now, but he isn't. John's nose still has that mean crack to it, scraggly old beard at his jaw, and he looks as much like a kicked dog as ever. Always has looked defensive, and sad. Arthur doesn't like to consider that he's picked it up from him, and that he picked it up from Hosea. The chains that bind suffocate the most when he yanks at them.

John's an ugly sight against the setting sun. He misses when he could tell him as much and John would laugh instead of saying it wasn't very fair. Fair, fair, fair— that's all men care about: fairness. Life isn't fair, so maybe John really is all grown up, because he expects some kind of civility out of a world where people like them die in the streets everyday.

He dreams despite it all. Arthur does not, and that is why they aren't the same.

Surely, they cannot be the same. Eliza cried at the sight of his face, and Abigail fell to her knees. Arthur is nothing like his brother.

He misses John terribly. He misses when he could tell him he was ugly, and when he could push him into the water and feel good about calming the panic in his eyes.

Isn't that what brothers do? Torment and save, over and over? This only feels like one or the other, day after day.

John asked to bum a goddamn cigarette when he proposed a smoke, though he must have his own pack. Arthur was handing it over filter-out before he even opened his mouth. The instruments are out of sync, but the music still plays.

He misses adding onto one another's insults of Dutch's operas, when he first began listening to them. That was only two years ago, but the memory tells him they were both boys yet.

It seems warmer than this summer evening. John's hair is shifty and blue-black where once it looked like it could've been brown when he was born, merely darkened with age. The sun used to show some part of the man that the night couldn't. Anymore he's all midnight, all of the time. And when he looks at Arthur, his eyes are full of shame that he knows intimately and yet not at all.

"She's jus' happy you're home," Arthur says, before he can speak.

John grimaces. "I know."

Arthur likes to think he is not all nighttime himself. Every loathing thought dissipates when he must confront the issue of John Marston, and he finds himself a better man in every way. Beneath the jealousy, he knows he's better in no way at all.

The creek is still from where they sit. Arthur feels the anger build up, and he can hardly swallow it down enough to even his voice.

"I held her hand while she gave birth," he says. Turns to John, and lets the hatred seep into his eyes. "It should'a been you, Marston."

John looks away, and grimaces. "I know."

He could say that she screamed unlike anything he'd ever heard before; that he found very little beauty in the newborn, like Susan had, that he thought maybe he should visit his mother's grave, if he could find it, he hadn't thought of her in over ten years; that he had seen the look on Hosea's face while he wiped the cool cloth over her forehead: disappointment, and not in Abigail.

None of it would change anything.