#it would fill the child shaped hole in his heart

[majimaisms]

majima goro u were born in the wrong generation u shouldve been a youtuber

[gogogodzilla]

day 10, breeding kink

steve rogers x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, creampie (obvi), oral, fingering, mentions of pregnancy, from steve's pov kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Steve wouldn’t admit it, but he was a family man at heart. He always dreamed of finding a nice girl and settling down somewhere. When he woke up nearly 70 years in the future, he’d accepted that he’d never get the life he had planned for himself. 

And then you came along. You were a firecracker, to put it mildly. You were intelligent without being arrogant, you were funny without being obnoxious, and you were beautiful but not vain. You were the entire package, and Steve fell hopelessly in love with you. 

It was rare you got a moment alone at the Avengers Tower. Either of you were always jetting off to this mission or that one, or Nat was requesting girl time and Sam was asking to train. 

It made the moments you did get together much more worthwhile. Every cloud, right? 

You only had 20 minutes before your team dinner and movie night, so Steve had to work fast. He started with his head immersed between your thighs. He circled your clit with his tongue as he held your hips in place. Your thighs clenched around his head as he dipped his tongue into your entrance and fucked you with his tongue. When you began to beg for more he slipped one and then two fingers inside you. He pumped them languidly as he latched onto your clit once again. By minute five, he had you clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you. 

He let you catch your breath as he undid his belt, your soft pants mixing with the clinking of his belt buckle. He released himself from the tight confines of his jeans, already painfully hard. He could’ve come in his pants just tasting you, but he had a goal tonight. He stroked himself a few times, his breath catching as he slid a thumb over the angry red head of his cock. You reached out, wanting to touch him, possibly taste him. He grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head with one hand and you whined in protest. 

He slid his cock through your dripping folds and pressed a kiss to your cheek, a silent promise that he’d make it up to you. You arched against his touch, and opened your legs further, beckoning him in. He enjoyed teasing you as he gathered your slick on the head of his cock, but you were beginning to squirm against him and he was getting impatient. 

He inched inside you, barely meeting any resistance as your greedy hole swallowed his cock. Your walls fluttered around him, and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. 

Slowly, he rocked his hips against yours. You let out a high-pitched mewl as he gradually picked up his pace, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling and back arching against him. 

He released your hands and grabbed your thighs, no doubt leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises in his wake. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him in impossibly deeper. 

He fondled your breasts that would soon be filled with sustenance for your future child. He couldn’t wait to see you with a round belly holding his child. He placed a palm on your stomach as he rutted into you, imagining what it’d look like in a few months' time. He knew that maybe it wouldn’t take the first time. He’d pump you full of his seed as many times as it took. 

He rolled one of your nipples through his index and thumb fingers, earning a moan from you. His other hand drifted downward and circled your clit. You clenched around him; you were close and so was he. 

His thrusts were getting sloppier as that familiar coil tightened in his belly. He took your other nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud. You screamed his name as you came hard around his cock. With a final, deep thrust he was following you off the edge. He rutted deeply inside you, allowing his hot white seed to paint your walls. After he had stilled with you, he pulled out, cock twitching as he watched his cum drip out of your leaking entrance. You moaned as he pushed it back inside you with his fingers; he didn’t want to waste a single drop. 

You’d try again later that night. Maybe he’d take you while everyone was watching the movie. You’d bite back soft moans as you sat on his lap and took him from behind. Maybe he’d take you after dinner in the bathroom just off the dining room. He’d bend you over the sink and have his way with you. Maybe he’d take you again after he saw his cum dripping down your thighs. 

The possibilities for the night were endless, and the thought brought a smile to Steve’s face. Maybe he’d get the future he dreamed of after all.

[rebelliousstories]

Sins of the Father

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 4,992

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When the victim of a crime shows up to a hospital, she only has one name on her lips as she dazes in and out; Luke.

John F. Kennedy said, “Children are the world’s most valuable resource and its best hope for the future.”

Racing inside of a hospital in the blistering cold, there were medics and emergency room staff working desperately on a woman in a stretcher. A small boy who was crying out for his mom from the back of the ambulance. An oxygen mask covered her mouth but she kept trying to speak.

��Get the OR prepped now!” A nurse yelled, running alongside the gurney.

“Luke. Luke!” The woman pulled her mask off and fought with her nurse that was trying to put it back on. People moved out of their way as they ran down the hallways. As they were doing that, a small boy was being led by an EMT to the waiting area to wait with him. A woman in a suit, and a man in a polo showed up to the nurses station and showed their credentials before being pointed over at the waiting room.

“Buddy, I know that you’re scared, but I’m gonna wait right here till the police can show up and help you. Do you want a water?” The EMT tried to get the boy to open up, but he just curled in on himself.

“Excuse me,” the woman gained the attention of the older man, “we’re agents Prentiss and Alvez. May we speak with you for a moment?”

The man went to nod, but his eyes drifted back to the small child next to him. Luke stepped forward and crouched down in front of the small boy. The boy hesitantly looked towards the older man, and looked at him with recognition that the agent did not understand.

“Hey there. I’m Luke. Do you mind if I wait here with you?” He asked softly, waiting for the boy to acknowledge him. But the boy said nothing. The medic was ushered away by Emily, but Luke still sat on the floor in front of the boy to not crowd him in.

“You’re the one who treated the woman that was just admitted?” Emily asked, already going into business mode.

“Yeah. She was in rough shape when we found her and her son. I’ve seen so many things in my years, but if I never saw one of these guys victims again it would be too soon.” He shook his head as he dropped his eyes.

“Can you tell us where you found her? We know there was a 9-1-1 call that led you to an abandoned factory. Was there anything unusual about it?” She pressed. Her feyes flickered over to where her friend was still sitting near the boy.

“Um, she was bound with tape and rope. Her kid was holed up in a closet down the hall.” The man responded.

“This is very important, did you remove anything from her hands? Stamps, coins, even bugs that have been preserved?” Prentiss got her phone ready to make a call with whatever the EMT said.

“Cards. We gave the police a queen of hearts, jack of diamonds, and a uh… oh what was it,” he was thinking hard about what the other card was. “Oh, a king of clubs as well.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” She let the medic go and turned to where Luke was still trying to get through to the woman’s son.

“Ready and willing for you, my fair lady.” The cheery voice of one Miss Penelope Garcia chimed through the phone.

“Hey girl. Listen, the collector left a set of cards this time. I’m gonna have the Virginia P.D. send them over. But he only left three this time. He didn’t complete the set.” The older agent continued to stare in confusion at the duo in front of her while the clacking of keys filled the other line.

“Why wouldn’t he have completed the set? That’s like his whole thing.” Penelope was also staring confused now.

“I don’t know, but we do know that the three previous victims all had something that they hid and never claimed. Look into our Jane Doe and see if anyone matching her description has gone missing that has a child.” Emily instructed, noticing the smile passing over Luke’s face as the child looked at him again. He still had not said a word but he was responding.

“Oh she has a child? That is awful. Why do bad guys do bad things? Okay, I will see if anyone has gone missing in a tri-state region matching her description that has a child. Farewell fair g-woman!” And the line clicked off. Prentiss smiled but kept her distance from the to men in front of her and just watched them.

“Can you tell me your name bud? If I know your name, I could find out how to better help your mom.” Luke gently pried, finally moving to the chair next to the boy.

“Liam. My mom has a picture of you.” The boy admitted, turning his body fully to the man to his left.

“Okay Liam, what do you mean your mom has a picture of me? Like from the T.V. or computer?” He pried again, confusion forming deep in his face.

“No. In her necklace and in the frame in her drawer. She thinks that I don’t know, but I do.” Liam looked down at his feet as he kicked lightly.

“You’re very smart Liam. Do you know where she got those pictures?” Now, Luke was going away from the main objective.

“She’s had them forever,” he shrugged, “she doesn’t like talking about it with me. Mom just cries late at night. I think that’s why the man gave me this.”

“Gave you what, Liam?” He did not know how that little brain was able to comprehend and process everything that was happening; Luke’s brain was having a difficult time by himself.

“This.” Liam pulled down his shirt and showed something stapled to the inside. Luke helped him flip the edge over to reveal a card. Whipping a glove out of his pocket, Luke was grabbing the card, careful not to cause harm to the child. The name “Luke” stared back at him, which just added more confusion to his mind. The agent looked back to Emily who was calling to get an evidence kit to collect the card. Once the card was collected and sent off to the BAU, Luke continued to sit with Liam as he did not want to leave the boys side.

At the headquarters, Reid stared at the three cards that he currently had and thanked the agent that delivered him the fourth. There was a reason the unsub did not pair all for cards together like he should have. He was known as The Collector; he should have put them all together out of compulsion.

He placed all four cards on a board and just stared at them. This unsub paired the stamps together with years consecutively apart. Coins were in the same pattern, just with earlier years. And the bugs were the oldest but the dates on the back of the frames were earlier, but all together.

“Garcia got a name on our Jane Doe- what are you doing?” JJ asked, walking in to the round table room where Reid was staring at the pictures of items that were found at the scenes of the crime. He did not give her an answer but instead turned to his friend instead.

“I know why he’s choosing what he’s choosing to display. Who’s the latest?” Spencer jumped from thought to thought with surprising speed. Jennifer told him her name, and placed her photo where it needed to go on the board.

“Great. We need to get the team together.” He left to go track down his fellow teammates while JJ just stood there, trying to see what he saw in the pictures. In just a moment, JJ and Spencer stood with Rossi, Lewis, Simmons and Garcia while Alvez and Prentiss were on a conference call.

“I didn’t see it until the card came in, but please indulge me for a moment.” Spencer began, gaining the attention of those around him.

“So, when we’re young, what’s something that we can easily get to collect? Especially young boys?”

“Bugs.” Lewis offered.

“Exactly,” his hands were running wild as he spoke, “then when we’re old enough to make or get money, you usually collect by date. When you’re old enough to write, you might send letters and if you have the collecting tendency, you collect stamps. Finally, when you’re old enough to start playing cards, you might collect cards based off their patterns and designs.” After his explanation, Spencer was looking around and just hoping he had not lost them.

“So he’s telling the story of his life through the collectibles he leaves.” Rossi pointed out, feeling like there was more to be discovered.

“Exactly, but this is where it get’s interesting.” Reid pulled down the cards and laid them on the desk.

“On the front, all four of these cards look similar, however,” the cards were flipped, “on the back, only the two hearts match. The two kings don’t match each other or the hearts. They have completely different appearances.”

The team stood around as they thought about the explanation. It was not until a nurse came by that Luke’s attention was drawn away. He let Emily know that he was going to her, and left the team.

“She’s resting right now. There was some extensive damage but she should make a full recovery. You can go see her now.” The nurse led the way down the hall to where the woman lay in her hospital bed. Alvez thanked the nurse, and she went on her way. He looked in through the glass at the beaten woman inside and felt his throat close. Her voice still ran through his head everyday, even after all this time.

Luke walked inside the room, and let out a shaky breath at he watched her just lying there. She was staring off into nothingness and barely registered that there was another person in the room. With a clearing of his through, the agent brought her attention to him.

“Luke.” She whimpered, tears welling up at the mere sight of him.

“Hey reina.” He whispered, coming over to the side of the bed. She said nothing for a minute, before she finally burst out crying. The pain in her face flared up, yet she could not help but cry.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry.” Her words caused the man to hold her hand delicately as she continued to cry.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetie. You did nothing to deserve this treatment.” Alvez tried to reassure her but she just kept shaking her head and crying.

“It is all my fault. I did this. This is my fault, Luke. I set him off.” Her breathing was starting to pick up and Luke knew he needed to act fast. He had enough of his friends from the army that developed panic attacks after what they saw to know when one was starting.

“You gotta calm down, reina. Breathe, you gotta breathe. Follow me. In and out. There you go. Try it again. Good job. Let’s try it again.” Luke led her through several exercises to help stave off the attack, and was glad to see her heart beat finally calming back down. Once she was able to catch her breath, the woman looked around, and was about to be sent into another tizzy.

“My son. Where’s my son? Where’s Liam?” Even though she tried to get up, the agent did not let her.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Lay back down. Liam is with my coworker, Emily. They’re just outside in the waiting room.” He reassured her once more. She nodded as she settled back into her bed with Luke at her side.

“So, where are you working now,” came her ask. Her voice was small and weak than he had ever known.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico.” He answered, sitting down in the chair beside her bed.

“BAU, huh? Would have never thought you would go from the FTF to a desk job.” She teased, causing them both to chuckle.

“Hey, don’t wanna hear nothing. Little miss work from home author.” Alvez sent right back, making them chuckle again. But once they died down, the man turned solemn. “I’ve gotta ask some tough questions that I’d much rather not have Liam present for, if that’s okay?”

She nodded and let her self get comfortable in her bed first. Luke readjusted in his seat as well before he began.

“Do you know the man who did this to you?” He asked, watching the woman closely for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah. My ex-boyfriend, Santiago.” Her eyes shifted away as she answered.

“Wait, Santi did this? I thought he was still in New York.” Luke could not catch a break on the confusion.

“He followed me here. When I broke up with you, Luke, I didn’t want to. But he said he would kill you and my parents if I didn’t. I couldn’t take that chance. He knows where all of you live.” She pleaded, looking back with tears in her eyes.

“It’s fine. You were only doing what you thought was right. Even though, I would have had someone investigate his threats for you. But sweetheart, that was five years ago. What have you been doing all this time? And why would he do this now?” Luke pressed, holding her hand in his own.

“I was taking care of my son. But I was tired of being controlled. I found out that your number hadn’t changed. I guess he found out cause one minute I’m packing Liam’s bag, and the next I’m tied down to a table in an abandoned building.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth uncontrollably.

“When we found Liam in the waiting room, he had a card stapled to his shirt. Now, that’s just his signature, right. Leaving something on his victims that is a collectible. But the cards weren’t collectible. They were all different except for the queen and jack. Two different kings that did not match. Does that have anything to do with Liam?” Luke noticed how she chewed her lip between her teeth and picked at her nails unconsciously. That was always her tell that she was hiding something. Now just what that something was the question. He called her name, and she looked him in the eyes. The woman was wishing that she had not done that.

“Who is Liam’s father?”

A knock at the window caused the pair to pull away and look to the source of the noise. Emily had arrived with Liam, who ran to his mother. Luke helped the young boy up, and followed the agent out of the room to discuss.

“This woman had the most rage shown to her, but not the son. Whoever this guy is, he is getting closer to his end game. But I can’t help feeling like we’re missing something.” Prentiss lamented, noticing how distant Luke was after her little speech.

“What is it?” She pried.

“I know who this guy is. We need protection detail stationed at her door until we catch him. He’ll come back and finish off the job.”

The two agents raced back to Quantico while on the phone with the team to fill them in. Inside the SUV, the air was so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. Prentiss was not sure what was going on with Luke since they left the hospital, but he was silently staring out of the window. The man was lost in his thoughts as he thought about everything that had happened in the last decade.

When they made their way up the elevator to the sixth floor, Luke was silent through all of that. His next words would not come until he had barged his way into Garcia’s lair. The technical analyst let out a shriek as she was startled by the loud noise.

“Oh hello to you too. What can I do for you mister with the very scary look on his face that tells me something bad is about to happen?” Her voice trailed off as Alvez came to rest his hand on the bak of her chair and look over her shoulder to gaze at the screen.

“Garcia, pull up anything and everything you can on a Santiago Domingo from the Bronx. We went to the same high school. Send it over to the main screen.” Luke left as soon and as fast as he had entered which left the woman to scramble to get his information. Making his way into the round table room, Emily met him in there with determination.

“I got your text. What’s going on that you don’t want to fill the team in about yet? Is this about the latest victim in the hospital?” She wasted no time, and got right down to business.

“Yes,” he admitted with a deep sigh. “I wanted to tell you first before bringing the team up to speed.”

“Floor is yours.” She prompted.

Down in the bull pen, the rest of the agents watched through the blinds as the unit chief spoke with her agent. They were all trying to figure out who this guy was, but was not able to. However, no one missed the DMV photo that was pulled up on the big screen.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Lewis pondered, sipping her coffee. She had lost track as to what number cup she was on for the day.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good.” JJ replied, popping a chip in her mouth as she was finally able to take a break to eat. A noise prompted the rest of the team to turn their heads to the resident genius who was still focusing on the cards that were collected from the scene.

“Your IQ is whining so much I want to give it some cheese. What do you have, Reid?” Rossi teased, prompting a few chuckles.

“The cards. The other mismatched king, the king of spades, that’s the one that had Luke’s name on it but why?” Spencer held a confused look on his face as he tried to piece the puzzle together.

“Maybe the unsub knows Luke and wanted to taunt him. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.” Simmons pointed out, but Reid only shook his head.

“It’s got to be more than that. The queen and jack are from the same suit, and the same deck. But only the kings are different in suit and deck, and they don’t match any other card that was recovered.” He continued his explanation.

“What’s your point?” Rossi asked.

“I’m not sure.” Reid concluded.

“Guys,” Emily stepped out and called their attention, “you’re gonna want to get in here.”

The team shuffled into the room, and all stood around the table while Luke was right in front of the screen. His face was solemn and defeated; a look that did not suit Luke Alvez very well.

“The man we’re looking for was my best friend in high school, Santiago Domingo. We called him Santi. He was a bit of an odd guy, but harmless for the most part. Came from a broken home and was a typical kleptomaniac. Anything he could get his hands on, he took.” Luke took a break and casted his eyes to the table. Having to dig up old memories was hard for him.

“Halfway through senior year there was a girl who transferred to our school. She had all the same classes as me so I got assigned one morning to help her around. I really liked this girl, I mean she was the total package. Smart, pretty, great sense of humor, wanted to help people, already had a job and another more permanent one set up after high school. Well, as time went on and she would hang around me and Santi, I ended up falling for her. I didn’t realize that Santi was in the same boat I was in.’

‘Prom came around and as much as I wanted to ask this girl out, Santi was asking me for advice on how to do it himself. So I helped him. He was the happiest I had ever seen him when she said yes. They made a really lovely couple. After high school, they stayed together. And I saw less and less of her, and anytime I did see her, she was always within arm length of Santi. Then the bruises came.”

Pictures flashed on the screen, and the whole team had to hold their breath. The woman’s face was covered with scrapes and marks. Her arms, chest, legs, hands, and feet were all in the same horrid condition. Garcia averted her eyes as they continued, but everyone else kept watching the slides.

“She reached out to me about twelve years ago, wanting to get out of the relationship but felt like she couldn’t. I got her to go to the police, testify against him in court, and got Santi put away for ten years. Two years later, we started dating once she felt like she could and we were happy. I planned on proposing to her, but before I could, she broke up with me. Left all of her stuff in our apartment, and was gone in the middle of the night. According to prison records, Santi only served four of his ten. Got out on good behavior. According to her, she had to break things off with me, otherwise he would have killed her parents, then me.” Luke concluded. The room was so silent, you could hear everyone’s breathing. No one said anything for a while. They just stood there and stayed silent.

“So how can we help find Santiago?” Emily asked, which pulled everyone else from their stupors.

“Garcia, where was he staying in town? If he’s doing all these murders, he’s got to be staying somewhere isolated that he can plan and execute everything.” Matt directed.

“Right, um. So Domingo’s last known address was…” her face dropped once the search result came back, “an apartment downtown. He’s been living on the same floor as Luke for the past six years.”

“No matter how stupid this guy may be, he’s not stupid enough to keep her, with a child on the same floor as Luke. He’s got to have another spot that he was holding them.” JJ countered, but it all slipped away for Alvez. Six years Santiago had known where he was and knew the routine.

“Look for anything registered in her name. That’s going to be where they’ve been living since leaving Luke.” As soon as Spencer said the magic words, Garcia had her fingers racing across her keys. Another ding.

“Okay so I’ve got an address, also downtown, but about five miles from the apartment. It’s a house registered in her name. They’ve been there for five years.” Penelope looked up at Luke, but he was just staring that table into the ground. If looks could kill, that table would be taking a world of abuse.

“So we go to his house. He was interrupted with her. He’ll wanna regroup before going with his next strike.” Luke made the move to leave the room to get ready but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, Luke. You are far too close to this case. Let us handle it. We need him alive, and with your relationship to the victim, you’ll be a liability.” Rossi gently spoke, as if hushing a cornered animal. The agent turned around and leveled his unit chief with a look. A look that said, “you signing off on this right now?”

“Go stay at the hospital with her until we catch Santiago. You’ll be better suited for that than this.” Emily did not miss the look of indignation that came across Alvez’ face. Even less so when it was paired with the stomping of boots as he stormed away.

Luke obeyed the order though. He drove silently to the hospital, wishing that he was out in the field taking down this guy. Once he was parked and the vehicle was shut off, he hit the steering wheel a couple times to let out his anger at the situation. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Alvez left the vehicle and made his way into the hospital. His team was out there taking down his childhood best friend without him. If anyone should be able to make that arrest, it should be Luke.

He kept thinking about this all the way to her room. And then his mind drifted to her son, Liam. The kid was just five years old and had almost lost his mom thanks to that man. Arriving at her room, Alvez noticed that the blinds were drawn and immediately had a bad feeling in his gut. Placing a hand on his firearm, he went into the room as quietly as possible.

“Thought I wouldn’t notice yo slipping right back into Mr. Perfect’s arms, huh?” It was Santiago. He had found her. Luke should not have been too shocked; Santiago needed to complete the collection.

“Please, don’t hurt us more than you have. Okay? Liam loves you. Don’t do this in front of him.” She was trying to shield her son, but with her condition and being in a hospital bed, that was very difficult.

“Don’t lie to me. I know he isn’t mine.” Santiago growled, waving around a knife.

“Santiago, put it down.” The man in question turned around, but his face relaxed to be almost jovial upon seeing the agent in the room.

“Well, look who we have here. Luke Alvez. Big bad FBI agent who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about where he comes from.” Domingo moved closer to the mother and son in the bed while moving his knife closer and closer. This prompted Luke to draw his gun, and kept it trained on the man in front of him.

“Santi, I don’t want to hurt you but I will. Let them go and drop the knife.” He pleaded, shifting his eyes to her in reassurance.

“Has she even told you,” came the question. When no response was given from anyone, Santiago burst out laughing in his spot. “Oh, she hasn’t. This is too perfect. You’re so clueless man.”

“Santi, please.” She begged, but cowered when the knife came closer to her and her son.

“No! Don’t you think he has the right to know? I mean, you wouldn’t be so heartless as to keep that from him would you?” He was teasing her, and still waving a knife around her son.

“Go on, tell him. You’ll feel better.” Santiago kept repeating the prompt over and over again, but she refused. Instead, she held her son close and waited for the nightmare to be over.

“Tell him!” He shouted, yanking Liam from his mom’s grasp. Both people cried out and tried to get to the other, but Santiago had other plans. With a knife held menacingly over the boys stomach, he prompted the woman again. This time much gentler. “Tell Luke.”

She looked at her son, who had tears coming down his face. He looked just as confused as the agent that she laid her eyes on next. Her vision was obscured by the tears that were pouring down her face as she tried to figure a way to get her son back.

“Luke, when I left to go to Santi, I was pregnant. I told him for years that Liam was his, but when he started growing proper hair, I couldn’t lie anymore. Liam is your son, Luke. I’m so sorry I hid that from you.” Her wails were overshadowed by Santiago’s whoops in delight.

“Doesn’t that feel so much better. How about you Luke? Feel any better knowing the truth?” Santiago teased again. The agent kept his gun and eyes hardened on the man but was quietly processing the information.

“Now where were we?” He raised his knife up as if to swing, and Luke did not think about it another second. Landing a bullet in the man’s shoulder, the agent swooped in and kicked the knife away from him as he grabbed the boy and hoisted him up. Santiago was writhing in agony on the ground, blood steadily pouring out, but Luke did not care. He set the young boy on the bed, and called it in.

In just a few minutes, his entire team was there. Luke kept himself busy for the time being with giving a statement, getting Santiago out of the room and filling his unit chief in. Thirty minutes later, he finally caught a long enough break to go back into the room where mother and son rested. Even though they were lying down, neither was too terribly tired. When she heard the door click, she waved the man over to sit on the chair beside them. Keeping a hand on the boy, she reached her other hand out to hold Luke’s.

“Was that true? What you said earlier.” He asked, begging for confirmation.

“Every word. He’s yours, Luke. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but he wouldn’t let me reach out to you once we knew for certain.” Liam sat up and faced the adults talking.

“Hey buddy. I’m your dad.” Luke choked out as tears came to his eyes. Without another word, Liam launched himself into his awaiting arms as Alvez cried. Bringing her into the fold, they all sat there crying and finally being together as a family.

“Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.” Charles R. Swindoll

[leonw4nter]

My Daddy Forever, You’ll Always Be

ID!Leon + GN!Child

Dad suffered a lot. Uncle Chris or Aunt Claire tells me just how much he suffered and how he continues to suffer. No one had to tell me that my dad pushed all the suffering back and didn’t feel into them just to take care of me, even when the scrape on my knee was nothing compared to the fracture in his collarbone or the swelling of his eye. I do my best to be there for him, reminding him to celebrate birthdays or find happiness in the mundane like coloring books but I guess even that isn’t enough to fill the mom-shaped hole she left in his heart. No one’s going to fit in there, not even me, and I don’t think dad wants anyone to fill it in and that’s okay because I have a mom-shaped hole in my heart too, even if I only know how mom looks based on pictures in the frames and photo albums dad loved to look at.

On every birthday he has, we always prepare two candles– one for him and one for mom, even if they don’t share a birthday (they’re six months apart). Dad always sadly sighs when he blows out her candle; I think he hates doing that. I hate observing that though they were born a few months apart, they’re even more apart now that one of them is still on Earth while the other is in heaven now. Despite the fact that I sort of killed mom by being born fussy, Dad still loves me and does his best to be present in my life. He knows which dresses to buy and doesn’t mind wearing make up, even when the lipstick is smeared or if some powder got into his eyes. Sometimes I think he’s trying to make up by treating me well because I look like the splitting image of my mom and he’s trying to suppress the guilt every time he sees me but I don’t mind; he lost a woman who’s been around in his life longer than I have been. He lets me sleep in his and mom’s room sometimes, letting me sleep in what he said was her side of the bed. If we both couldn’t sleep, he could talk about anything and everything but her. There was one time where I told him that my classmate’s mom remarried after her dad died in service and that she was happy and I asked him if that would make him happier.

“Marriage is how you know that your love persevered through tough times. A second marriage is proof of how you were willing to give yourself another chance to love. I don’t think I can marry again because I know I won’t be able to love someone else as much as I fiercely love your mother,” was all he said before I turned to face him, his chest shaking slightly and tears streamed down his stubbly cheek. I apologized to him and quietly promised that I won’t ever make dad cry again and that I would do my best to make sure dad stayed happy.

Dad isn’t very keen on writing; he’d much rather install a tile and get dirt underneath nails he maintained than write on several pieces of paper back to back but I notice that he began buying stationery in order to write letters but those letters were never sent. He keeps them in a womens’ shoe box and occasionally takes a letter out to read as he quietly cries to himself. On the night of what would be five years since mom left us, I woke up in the middle of the night to find dad’s side of the bed empty. I got up and saw him sitting on the floor as he hugged the shoe box close to his chest.

“Will we ever see each other again? How long until you’ll come back to me and our daughter?” was what I heard as he continued to cry. I have heard Dad cry but never as gut-wrenching as this. I continued to watch him cry, tears of my own spilling and I felt bad for him. Aunt Claire told me that dad never showed fear when he was at work, shooting and defeating the bad guys but whenever he looked at me, there would always be a small tinge of fear in his eyes. She said that he just didn’t want me to see the world the way he saw it, whatever that meant. I couldn’t take it and I ended up sobbing, maybe as hard as dad did. He heard me and got up, walking over to where I was hiding. He lifted me and hugged me tight, pressing kisses to my hair and repeatedly apologizing for being a little too loud when I was sleeping. If only Dad saw that he had nothing to apologize for but how could he see that when the splitting image of his wife is me and my face reminds him of what he gained and lost on that day?

I hope Dad doesn’t beat himself up for losing what he had left of mom. I hope he doesn’t feel sad whenever he sees another dad with his wife bonding with their daughter in a park. I hope he doesn’t cry whenever it’s his birthday and he pokes a third candle into his cake. I hope he doesn’t consider himself a bad father because I would rather live a short life with dad than a long life without him. It made me sad how dad would never see me in a wedding gown and would probably never walk me down the aisle or have our daddy-daughter dance; after we watched the movie Father of the Bride and seeing dad get all emotional about it, it kind of made me a little happy to image dad being so excited for me. I hope he will be kind to himself and let himself experience happiness. I hope that God would let me be reborn as dad’s best friend so I can help him get through what he went through. He would’ve been a pleasure to walk to school with. Hmm. Maybe he’d be the type to remind the teacher of homework.

NOTE - Sorry for dropping this short and mid ass fic, I just had to hop on my computer and write this one bc I came across this one wedding tiktok where the dad sees his daughter who's getting married for the first time and I cried then suddenly remembered I wrote an angsty fic where Leon's kid dies and I decided to add this as the kid's POV. I was too sad okay I just HAD to write one up but looking back at it, now that I'm not that sad, it's actually... ehh. A for effort, I guess. Anyways, that's it and thank you SOOOOOO much for reading my fics, it means a lot to me :) I <33333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are from @saradika , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[soulc-hilde]

0.0 - Nature and Her Children

Pairing: Jacob Black x Black!OC [Circe Davis]

Synopsis: The town of Forks is home to few and a stranger to newcomers. Bella Swan's return to her hometown initiates an unprecedented change in a universe far from her understanding. As her curiosity fuels her obsession over her mysterious yet isolated classmate -- Edward Cullen, Circe Davis falls victim to her family's curse. Forced into a vulnerable state, Circe and her family must take arms against their greatest threat.

Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive

My life has been centered on something far bigger than myself. 

My mother would always say that our existence is sourced by a form of nature we as humans overlook a lot.

She, nature, portrays our emotions. Our tears and our angers. Our happiness and our anxiety. However, she lacks a face. She lacks the ability to create a tangible relationship with her children.

Instead, she births life to those who are to enforce her wrath. Enact her joy and protect her from her horrors. 

Circe Woods and her mother, Corinne Woods, were not strangers to the damp, somber atmosphere of their little town of Forks, Washington. The home of 3,120 people, constantly covered in shrouds of clouds and rain, its people live within a bubble – surrounded by forests and wildlife, far from the crowded bustling urban world. A town filled with families that know one another, privacy a lack luster fantasy.

In the eyes of their fellow townsfolk, the Woods have always been a good family. Granted, their family name hadn't lived in the town for centuries, but the impact of Corinne's parents and their legacy spoken so grand it could be mistaken as an art of mythology, was enough to cement the family in a good light. Circe's uncle, Charlie Swan – another Forks borne hero, was an even stranger story. 

The Swans – a midwestern family conjured of farmers and hunters – made Forks a home where their son, Charlie, felt accepted. His childish soul found solace in the presence of other children by the names of William 'Billy' Black, Harry Clearwater, Quil Ateara IV, and Corinne. Though separated by their racial differences, the group had found a family in each other. 

To put it bluntly, Circe was a genuine mistake. A child born of blind intimacy, her lack of a father was a weaponized joke used to attack her own character and that of her mother's. As her mother's best friend and the girl's godfather, Charlie had proudly taken his stance as a father in Circe's life. Undoubtedly, she, too, had filled the hole in his heart left behind by his daughter, Bella. 

Left alone and forced to face the grief of his parents' passing by himself, Charlie had solely lived his life without a thought. His responsibility as Chief of Police, sworn to protect the home of his family and friends, motivated him greatly but even then – it could never compare to the warmth that settled in his heart whenever he was around his wife and their little Isabella. And now, after years of living away in Phoenix, the young Swan was to return to her hometown and live out the last of her high school years with her father.

"Are you excited to see Bella again, love?" Corinne asks, eyes focused on the road before her. 

Circe hums in thought for a moment, almond shaped eyes studying the repetitive blur of trees from her window. "Somewhat," she answers. "Bella's not going to remember me, much less socialize with the likes of a freshman."

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous," Corinne scoffs. "If she is still the same Bella as before then there's no doubt, she'd be happy to have a familiar face at school." 

Corinne pulls into the muddy driveway of the Swan house; the duo jumps out of the F-150. Circe snorts, "at least she won't have to spend her time parenting her dad."

"Eh!" Corinne gasps, lightly smacking her daughter's stomach. "I told you that in secret. Don't say any of that in front of Charlie." 

Bursting through the front door of the white, two-story house was a tall, slightly muscular man dawning a black, badged fleece lined coat. The uniformed man was of cool ivory skin and dark features. His dark brown, nearly black, hair was cut short and pointed every which way. His moustache was rounded and brushed over his top lip. Earthy colored eyes carried a natural sink that drastically contrasted against the slight bemusement that flashed across the onyx gems.

"Corinne, Circe," he happily greets the mother and daughter. His arms wrap tightly around Corinne's waist, landing a swift peck on the woman's cheek. "It's good to see you both."

He lets go of Corinne and pulls Circe into a one arm hug. Behind him, a short – almost frail – appearing girl steps onto the small porch. Her small figure inches towards the three, hooded brown eyes darting between the wet dirt under her battered Converse and the mirky eyes of Circe. 

"Bella, you might remember them, but this is Corinne Davis and her daughter, Circe," Charlie introduces each party. 

Corinne smiles at the girl, greeting her with a nod. "It's good to see you, love." Bella nods back, "it's good to see you as well." 

"Hey, I'm Circe," the 15-year-old waves. "We used to play with the hens on my family's farm." Bella nods, a light chuckle slipping past her lips. "I remember."

She points at the younger girl, eyes squinting. "Is the one... it was like, black and gray. Very aggressive –" The short teen giggles, "Lucille is still kicking. Literally."

The sound of an engine revving down the slick road, a soft honk splitting the awkward tension. Two smaller, older trucks pull in front of the house. The slim, rusted champagne truck was driven by a natural golden man with silk dark hair dressed in flannel and a trucker hat. 

Ahead of him in the orange truck was a boy that appeared as a younger copy of the older man. The boy jumps out of the truck, jogging over to his father's truck. He picks up a folded wheelchair from the bed of the Chevy, opening and locking it outside of his father's door. Charlie walks over to the truck and helps the boy pull the man from his seat.

Settled, the three return to the girls. Charlie looks at his daughter once more, nodding at the newcomers. "Bella, these are the Blacks," he introduces. 

"This is Billy—" Bella interrupts with a warm shake of the hand as she greets the elder. "Billy Black, you're looking good," she smiles. 

The man shrugs, confidently, "well, I'm still dancing." Corinne snorts, "more like spinning." The three adults giggle, sharing glances. Billy continues speaking to Bella, "I'm glad you're finally here."

"Charlie hasn't shut up about it since you told him you were coming," he sides eyes the Chief. Charlie rolls his eyes, turning to walk away. "Keep exaggerating, I'll roll you into the mud," he playfully threatens.

Billy spins in his wheelchair, "after I ram you in the ankles." The two begin to wrangle in the street, Corinne rolls her eyes and follows them. 

In the meanwhile, the long-haired boy steps forward with a sheepish look. "Hi, I'm Jacob," he silently gulps. "We used to make mud pies together." His puppy-like eyes bounce between the two girls.

"Right, right," Bella nods. "I remember. Circe would make these huge ones and nail her mom's dates with them." Jacob chuckles, nodding. 

He fully stares at the shorter party, studying the appearance of his friend. Circe had a beauty that was seen far and in few with almond eyes fueled with mirth and logic. Thick hair was braided and twisted, spiraling down her spine and brushing the middle of her back. The dark brown tresses mix with platinum strands like the most delicious two-toned ice cream.

Unlike most of the adolescents of Forks, she dawned dark clothes and thick boots. Her loose, knitted sweater overlapped the dark grey camisole and the sleeves droop dramatically past her small digits. Her fitted yet baggy jeans were held to her waist by a thick, bejeweled belt and torn at the knees while the shiny yet scratched tips of her boots peak through the mounds of fabric. Her accessories were a consistent theme of turquois, symbols of balance, and spiders.

She sends him a slanted grin, "Jacob." He turns flustered, back straightening as his hands dig deeper into the back pockets of his jeans. Nervous, a chuckle escapes him before a quiet: "Circe," leaves his tongue.

Outside of Nature creating these divine children, there's an aspect of life that not even she could outsmart.

Every creature that exists has another half. A friend. A lover. A sanctuary. 

And despite our hearts being promised at creation, the journey to find one another is a test crafted to rebirth the souls as one union. 

... heyyy, guess who's trying to make a comeback - sort of. Please, don't be mad!

Now that you all haven't attacked me as of yet, I would like to say that I'm currently in the process of revamping and continuing my current stories. I really just took my time away from Tumblr for some personal time, but I'm back and will be making some changes.

In the meantime, please enjoy the beginning of my Twilight Franchise. Kisses 💚

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: plans & protestations

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 12; one month after 'from a world away'

Summary: Tensions start to run high when you and Loki thwart Prince Damien's monopolization of your schedule and the visiting prince acts impulsively, making a declaration that could ruin your once bright plans for your life in Asgard

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.3k [pls prepare drinks & snacks accordingly]

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); potentially inaccurate depiction of an archery lesson; definitely inaccurate depiction of a royal court gathering; Prince Damien (yes he's a warning now); misogynistic behavior from the royal family of Alfheim (are we surprised?); lap sitting; Odin's A+ Grandfather-ing

Things to be aware of: Loki giving precious protective future husband energy

The sun had barely begun to rise in Asgard when Loki hopped off his bed, speeding his way through his daily morning preparations, using his magic to cut every corner he could, all to be out of his chambers and ready for when you would step out. Today he was going to be there before that blasted Prince Damien. Today he would walk to the dining hall finally by your side, as it should be.

Today the void in the shape of you that had made its presence felt for the last two fortnights would finally cease to plague him.

He took a deep breath, pleading to the Norns that when he opened the doors to his chambers the hall would be noticeably lacking in a certain bothersome visiting prince from Alfheim, and perhaps he could finally spend a sliver of time with you today. The hall was thankfully empty when he stepped out; however, he knew from days past that this did not necessarily equate to your time not being monopolized by the short-sighted scheming prince.

The sound of footsteps approaching your door from the other side filled his heart with hope, his pulse quickening when your doors opened and he caught sight of your face peeking out, an adorable expression of conspicuous alertness coloring your features as you glared at the turn at the end of the hall. Your gaze swept across the length of the hall, your eyes softening with visible relief when they met Loki's.

"Good morning, little princess," he greeted you with a chuckle, holding his hand out for you to take as you stepped out of the door. "You seem in need of a place to hide."

The god's brows knitted together the moment your full form came into view, immediately questioning the sleeves that covered the length of your arms, with holes at the end to put your thumbs through. What worsened his concern was the additional collar piece that covered the entirety of your shoulders and neck.

"Darling, are you ill?" He quickly closed the distance between you and placed the backs of his fingers to your forehead, tracing your features with his fingers, feeling for a chill under your skin.

"Ill? Gods no, Loki, don't be absurd," you answered him with a chuckle. "I have not known the displeasure of being ill since I was but a child." And then as if on queue, your face scrunched its features in clear discomfort.

"What do you call your frequent headaches, then, darling?" he prodded, pressing his fingertips to your temples and gently massaging the area, a smile coming to his face when you let out a relieved sigh in response. "Would you tell me then why you've chosen to wrap yourself as if you are to go into the tundras of my birth realm? Are you cold?"

You let out a lighthearted laugh when the god pulled you into his arms for an embrace, not hesitating to wrap your arms around his midsection to return the favor. "Not cold," you said with evident deflection. "I do however appreciate the hug. I feel as if I hadn't seen much of you, or anyone really, the past few fortnights." Loki's heart quickened in his chest when you nuzzled your cheek against his chest. "I've missed this," you sighed, sounding the paragon of contentment as you settled into his hold.

"I've missed you as well, little princess," he breathed out, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "However this does not dissipate my initial concern. Is everything alright with you? Something feels amiss."

Without lifting your head from his chest, you shook your head to answer his question, your audible groan of frustration rumbling against his skin through his robes. "This blasted prince has been monopolizing every waking moment of my time, so no. Everything is not alright. I haven't had an hour this past moon apart from sleep or bathing to barely even think. He has infiltrated every aspect of my life, and I despise it."

He rested his cheek against the top of your head, holding you just a touch tighter. "I take it the visiting prince's wandering eye has not ceased?"

"If only it were just that," you grumbled. "Now he has wandering hands as well. I reckon if he was not certain that I would chop off his manhood where he stood he would attempt to have wandering lips to go with it."

He knew that it was irrational for him to see red at that moment, for that voice in his mind to seethe and scowl "How dare he lay his hands on what is mine? Has he no awareness of what would befall him if a single hair were to fall out of place from my beloved? My fated?"

But the words stung bitterly in his heart. You may be his beloved and his fated, yes. But you were not his. Not to kiss, not to praise, not to pleasure or love.

But in this moment, perhaps he could be granted the privilege of having you as his to hold. And much as he knew you were more than able to fend for yourself, his to protect.

"This insolent boy of a prince, has he hurt you? Forced you? Pressured you in any way?" he seethed, holding you by your covered shoulders and searching your features for any sign that could tell him the answer was yes. So that he may have an opportunity to inflict some form of damage on the arrogant visitor; he'd been itching for the chance ever since his first day in Asgard where the two exchanged words that were as if they'd been meticulously chosen and woven together to crawl under his skin.

And rub into his face that his desire and love for you will remain unrequited for the rest of his days.

"Just say the word and an accident could befall him."

His growling vow didn't do much other than elicit a slight chuckle from you, your nearly covered hands reaching up to cup the sides of his face. "There's no need for that, Loki, I am more than capable of fending for myself. Truly my only frustration is that of all the things I can control where this royal farce of a courtship the only thing that slips my grasp is my time. I haven't the chance to train or plan or even study, my duties have been taken on by Grandmother's ladies in waiting or by Grandmother herself. I feel myself a burden—"

"Ah, Princess. Good morrow. I could have come here earlier had I known--Oh," Damien's words were cut short as he caught sight of you in Loki's arms. "Good…Morning, your Highness. Are you…are you ill? Your eyes are a frightening shade of crimson. Shall the princess and I call for a healer for you?"

"There will be no need for healers, Prince Damien." Your voice had lost all softness once more as you addressed him, a striking contrast with how delicately you were stroking the god's cheeks with your thumbs. "Ro deg ned," you whispered to him, giving him a beaming grin when his eyes returned to the stormy blue hue you'd grown accustomed to. For a moment he'd nearly forgotten that you two were no longer alone in the corridor.

That was, until the bothersome prince made his presence known once more. "Right then," his voice pierced through the otherwise peaceful quiet of the palace's halls. "It was such a beautiful day out I was wondering if we could arrange for a nice picnic out in the gardens or perhaps even the palace roof--"

"Unfortunately, Your Highness, it seems the princess' day would be a touch too full today," Loki cut him off, looking down at the visiting prince. From the corner of his eye he could see your face light up with more than visible optimism. "Perhaps you can postpone to another day?"

Where there was relief in your expression, there was an equal amount of evident irritation in Damien's, the smile he'd painted on his face so strained that the corners of his mouth were visibly shaking from the effort. "I already had the day planned out that the fair Princess and I would leave for the market after breakfast and--"

"As Loki said, my itinerary today is just a touch too full, Prince Damien," you cut him off, the bite in your tone slowly creeping in. "Perhaps another day."

You motioned towards the hall, your eyes burning with impatience as you wordlessly urged him to be on his way and find other plans for the day ahead. Unfortunately before he headed back down the corridor, he turned to you again, seemingly unwilling to accept that he would not be monopolizing even a fraction of your time this day. "This itinerary of yours is something you must do alone? Perhaps I could accompany you, assist you where--"

"She won't be alone," the god interjected, his tone quickly becoming sibilant as he fought to hold back his own displeasure on how this prince was imposing his presence upon you. "As you know, Y/N has been tasked to plan and arrange for the upcoming festivities for the Winter Solstice, and in the past moon since your visit had begun hasn't had much opportunity to progress these plans. She's sought my council and assistance to make up for lost time since we worked splendidly together planning for the previous festival, and we are to spend the next few days planning in hopes of replicating last season's success."

The elven prince's nostrils flared as he processed the words. Yes, you insipid little boy. The days of you wasting her time are over. You will not be what hinders her from performing her duties to the best of her abilities. From becoming the queen she ought to be when the time comes. I'll make sure of it, Loki thought to himself.

"Don't forget about training," you chimed in, your overall demeanor significantly relaxing knowing that you would not have to spend the day swatting away unwelcome hands from encroaching on your personal space. The mischievous gleam in your eyes had returned as you threw a smile the god's way. "However with all my time out of practice I can feel my strength waning a fraction, it'll hardly be a fair fight."

"Little Princess, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were asking me to treat you with a lighter hand." His fingers instinctively twitched to lightly touch your own, his heart skipping a beat when he saw your little finger reach out in a motion as if to hook itself to his own.

"You know better than that, my Prince. I would always insist on a fight consistent with that of a battlefield, don't even think of--"

"Well then," Prince Damien butted in, tone shrill and impatient. "It seems that I've been moved to make alternative plans for the following days." He hissed out his words, hilariously and equally incapable of masking his irritation as you were at hiding your relief. "I will see you again when your schedule is a little less congested, Y/N."

"Princess Y/N," you bit out, correcting him. "You've not yet earned the level of familiarity to call me by such a casual moniker, Your Highness." You motioned once again to the direction of the hall from where he came from. "Until the next engagement," you said coldly.

"Right…" The elven prince's nostrils flared once more as he turned back and walked down the corridor, footsteps heavy with his indignation from your dismissal of him.

"Does this mean I may change into…less constricting attire?" you spoke in a considerably lighter tone, softly bumping your elbow to his arm when Damien turned the corner.

"Whichever way you're comfortable with, darling." He brought your hand up to press a soft kiss to the backs of your fingers. "I can wait if you decide to change."

Your next action caught him off guard. You charged toward him and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. "I'll find some way to make it up to you, I swear."

The god tucked his hand under your chin, basking in the sight of the radiant grin taking over your features. "Nonsense, little Princess. The vision of your smile is more than enough." He pressed a light kiss to the tip of your nose, leading you to scrunch it at him before you ran back to your chambers to change into the attire that he and the rest of Asgard had grown accustomed to. Once you were well out of earshot and the heavy doors of your chambers stood between you two, he let out a soft exhale. "My love…"

"Fuck." You hissed out the expletive as the arrow you loosed landed a good few inches to the side of your intended target, feeling tension tighten your muscles into knots as you readied the next arrow and pulled the bowstring back.

Before you loosed your next arrow, however, Loki assumed his position next to you, one hand wrapped loosely around yours stopping you from releasing the bowstring, the other splayed over your stomach. "Wait, darling. You're letting your frustration rule you. Focus on your target and release your breath…slowly." As you exhaled, he moved his hand from your wrist to your elbow, making minute corrections and feeling for involuntary fidgeting from straining to hold your breath. "Now release."

It felt as if the world was at a standstill as your loosed arrow flew right into the dead center of your target, your jaw dropping in astonishment as it split the arrow already occupying its space straight down the middle. The arrow that your mother Lady Sif had shot into the target before departing from the training fields.

"Very nicely done," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. With a wave of his hand, a new target materialized next to it, this time in the form of of a wooden sculpture in the shape of a man that was slowly but steadily approaching you. "Now aim for his knees and elbows before he reaches you. Incapacitate your opponent before he has the chance to strike."

You turned your head as best you could only to end up cheek to cheek with the raven-haired god. "Wouldn't it be more efficient to aim for his head and stop him where he stands?"

"For the sake of this exercise, pretend that you need to capture this opponent for future interrogation. He'll be of no use to us with an arrow embedded in his skull. He's getting closer, little Princess. Make your move."

You took a breath and loosed an arrow that shot straight through the wooden dummy's knee, slowing its movement. It took a handful more attempts before you got all four targets and his enchanted wooden dummy ceased all movement.

"Decent enough," Loki murmured with a click of his tongue. "But I've seen you do much better, little Princess. You were not jesting when you said you were out of practice." You could both hear and feel him chuckling against the back of your head, hands working at the knots tensing up your shoulders. "Do not feel so discouraged, darling. A few days of regular training and you'll be back in fighting condition. We just have to work together to keep that bothersome prince from muddying your itinerary for long enough."

You let out a groan just as he hit a particularly large knot in your shoulders. "That will be quite the feat if we can keep him away even past this evening. He seems quite adamant that this time sucking endeavor—I mean, this courtship," you seethed at the word. "Would eventually lead to a formal proposal for my hand."

"Refusal would still remain an option," he offered. In truth, the god knew that it would have been questioned by Odin the second the rejection slipped from your elegant, articulate lips. And he would expect a reason that was beyond reproach for why you would burn a bridge with Alfheim so resolutely with such words.

The explanation of wishing to marry for love might not save you for much longer.

"We both know it isn't," you sighed, shoulders slumping down and out of Loki's hold. "If I say no, the ever mighty Allfather would expect a damn good reason behind it. So unless your magic can conjure me a proper husband that wouldn't turn his back on me and have a harem of concubines to fulfill his troublesome and questionable sexual appetite before this blasted Prince formally states his intention to propose, I fear my days on Asgard may very well be numbered."

"Numbered?" he gasped, your words feeling as if an anchor had just sunk to the pit of his stomach. "Y/N, darling, surely you wouldn't leave home just for--"

"Ah, there you two are." Loki stepped back from you at the sound of Sif's voice floating across the field. "My husband and Odin require your presence, Brother. You'll find them in the Main Hall with the rest of the royal court. And the visitors from Alfheim."

Your mother's words were heavy with an implication that he dared not look into for fear of the conclusion he would come to. There were few potential scenarios for what would greet him once he entered the hall. But only one screamed audaciously with the haughty air of inevitability.

The combined efforts of yours and Loki's to keep Prince Damien from consuming all your free time had led the vapid visiting royal to act rashly. To move up his timetable in such a way that his intentions to woo you would be expedited, and he required the approval of the royals above you before he could proceed.

With a brief peck to the back of your head and a nod towards you and your mother, he departed from the fields and headed off to the Main Hall to see what matter needed his opinion. Or perhaps his approval.

She began to walk the steps toward you, assessing the work you'd done on the target board and the dummy. "You require a touch of practice, my dear Daughter," she commented before her eyes landed on the center of the board once again, realizing that her arrow from earlier had actually been split down the middle. "But your aim is impeccable. I take it the last few fortnights have not been conducive to your training as a warrior…"

Your mother walked over to a small display of weapons and picked out a short sword, motioning toward it and prompting you to pick your own weapon of choice. Daggers.

"One of these days I'll have to watch you spar with your uncle," she said, both of you falling into a rhythm of swings and blows where she tested your defense capabilities. "You're quite possibly the closest to his level of proficiency with this weapon."

"He's an excellent instructor," you shot back, feeling the slightest pinch in your muscles trying to move as fast as she did. "You are right, however, Mother. This past moon has placed the slightest handicap on my agility…and my focus. Norns willing, the next few days will correct that even by a touch. At the very least, Loki seems convinced of it."

Her next swing was strong enough to get you to stumble from your stance. "You two have grown quite close…confide in each other more than others, even. Anyone watching from afar might even mistake you for--"

"Lady Sif, Princess Y/N, your presence is requested in the Main Hall."

You both promptly dropped and stashed away your weapons and followed the palace guard down the corridors toward your destination.

"Might mistake me for what, Mother?" you asked her to fill the heavy silence, trying desperately to put your mind off of what was to come once you walked through those doors.

"Pardon?"

"You were saying something earlier before we were called on to come to the Main Hall. Something about me and Loki confiding in each other…" you trailed off, hoping to prompt her of her prior train of thought.

Recollection lit up her eyes. "Ah yes, I remember now," she murmured, absentmindedly patting your shoulder as you stopped just shy of the doors, waiting for the guards to announce your arrival. "It was nothing, Daughter, truly. Put it out of your mind."

You eyed her with the slightest hint of suspicion, wondering what could have been at the end of her sentence, but ultimately did as she suggested once the palace guard opened the doors and you were greeted with the sight of a packed hall, every seat on the table occupied, with Odin seated at the head.

"Announcing the arrival of Princess Y/N and Lady Sif," the guard spoke before stepping off to the side and making a gesture for you and your mother to step across the threshold.

"I can't find a seat," you grumbled under your breath, just barely enough for your mother to hear.

"Unfortunately, Daughter, you shall be alone in your plight," she answered back with a hint of playfulness. "So long as your father is in the room, there is always a seat for me." She practically glided over to where your father Prince Thor was seated and all too happily situated herself on his thigh.

You couldn't help but watch their exchange with fondness, and a tinge of enviousness. Wondering if this type of affection could even remotely be what was in store for you with what was to come of your life once Prince Damien speaks the words. Or if it would feel as if nails were being hammered into a coffin as the days passed until you were declared his wife.

"It seems I shall be standing, then," you said a little louder, assuming your warrior's stance.

"Don't be so brash, Your Highness," one of the visiting royals from Alfheim chimed in. "There are two perfectly suitable princes more than ready to accommodate you." You raised a single eyebrow at the Alfheim courtier, silently daring him to continue and prompting a barely held back chuckle coming from Loki's direction. "I am positive Prince Damien would be more than willing to offer--"

"Yes, I am indubitably," the visiting prince interjected, sitting up straighter and vaguely reminding you of a Midgardian canine, tongue wagging as he awaited a treat.

"You said two," you pressed on, your tone showing the slightest hint of irritation. "Before you were interrupted."

"Ah yes." The courtier cleared his throat, a seemingly sinister sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Well, there is also Prince Loki."

The sound of a chortle vaguely came from the other end of the table, though you couldn't quite place who it had come from. You opted to instead direct your gaze at the raven-haired prince, raising your eyebrow at him with the slightest scrunch of your nose, as if silently prompting him to confirm.

He responded with a minuscule nod of his head, shifting his posture on his seat that would allow for you to use his thigh as your seat if you so pleased.

You had a choice to make, but as soon as the thought crossed your mind, you felt a harsh, banging pain in the back of your head. The faintest sound of a voice screaming from a faraway distance about how there was no choice. There never was.

Then an invisible force that tried to push you forward.

This visiting elven prince was getting on Loki's final nerve. With every word that came out of his mouth, the god's urge to have him mysteriously and conveniently disappear grew stronger. To perhaps turn him into a mouse and feed him to one of the wolves in the den.

He carefully considered what the consequences would have been for such an act, if he could even get away with it. What the procedure would be if a search and investigation would be launched and who would be suspected and questioned. It was that line of thinking that ultimately had him decide against such an act.

You would have been suspected of harming the prince. And Loki would be inconsolable if he were to become responsible for any harm that would come to you as a result of that suspicion.

He would just have to find another way to extricate the bothersome prince from your lives.

The god's thoughts were abruptly halted seeing the obvious signs of your head hurting once again, your face struggling to not contort into one of discomfort. Vehemently refusing to show any sign of weakness.

You and him were quite alike in that form of stubbornness.

Come to me, my love, he thought to himself. Let me help relieve your aches.

The irksome prince cleared his throat, the sound something that the god likened to a toddler stomping his foot and pulling a temper tantrum. "Princess Y/N, I would be more than capable and willing to help in alleviating the burden of your heavy load. If you would--"

"The burden of my heavy load?" you repeated, your voice dropping into a vaguely menacing tone, stunning Damien silent. "Prince Damien, for the sake of your constituents that are present in the room with us and only for their sake, I will hold my tongue."

The court members from Asgard and Alfheim alike looked to the prince whose cheeks reddened with humiliation, undoubtedly slapping himself internally over his poor choice of words. A chorus of stifled chuckles began to fill the war room before Odin cleared his throat loudly, calling everyone to attention once more.

"Now if you would remember what I said earlier at sunrise about familiarity, you would do well to keep in mind that the lesson rings true and extends to more than simply the monikers and titles by which you can refer to a person. It may extend to this situation as well."

Your expression visibly softened, causing a pit to form in Loki's stomach from even considering the possibility that this would take a turn and you would somehow state that the familiarity could be established in such a gesture. Perhaps even making light of his remark about heavy loads.

"However," you continued, the simple word already soothing the god's concerns. "Much as I appreciate the gesture and the…" You paused for a charged moment, a smirk tugging at your mouth. "…enthusiasm, there are two categorical truths in this exact moment. The first is that your level of familiarity with me, while still quite rudimentary, has improved to some degree."

Suddenly the pit was back in his stomach.

"The second…is that I have that familiarity with and have known for much longer…my own family." You stepped toward the side of the table seating the Asgardian royals, once again beginning to calm Loki's racing heart.

When you reached his side he wasted no time holding his hand out toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you steady as you perched yourself near effortlessly on his thigh. As if you were meant to be there all along.

"Comfortable, little Princess?" he teased in hushed tones, desperately straining to keep the tone light while thinking of the most unsettling images to quell his burning desires.

"Quite," you answered with unmoving lips, gathering your hair over your shoulder farther from his face. "Is this alright?"

More than alright, my darling. I don't want you to ever leave, he thought to himself, not trusting any word that could come out of him at the moment. He opted to answer you with a soft smile and a nod, his heart skipping a good few beats when you gave him the tiniest scrunch of your nose before facing everyone once more.

"I would like to know what the agenda of this meeting is." The upward lilt of your tone toward the end nearly made it seem like a question, but the god knew you better than that. This was a command, directed at the visiting prince.

You did not need to be present in the minutes prior to your and Sif's arrival to know that he was the reason this impromptu gathering was called. That this was simply his way of trying to reassert some dominance in the relationship he was attempting to establish with you.

"Erm, yes..." he stammered, clearing his throat before starting. "Well, Your Highness, I am quite aware how you value your time and schedule, so I shall do my best to keep this short."

Much like other parts of yours, you tapped into the back of Loki's hand in Morse, nearly failing to stifle a chuckle.

Behave, little Princess, he tapped back, desperately resisting the urge to press his cheek to your shoulder. Or Norns help him, kiss it.

"I would like to formally state my intention to court you. With the eventual objective of marriage."

You went so cold in his arms that if he didn't know any better, he would have thought you'd gone ill in that exact moment. The smallest tremor from you was enough to tell the god that you were quickly growing to be as furious as he was with this development.

This cannot be happening, you tapped with a shaky hand. If he could reject this pesky brat of a prince on your behalf he would have done so in a heartbeat. He didn't need to look upon your face to see the mix of fury and trepidation on your face.

Loki could feel it emanating off you in waves.

"I would completely understand if you feel overwhelmed by my declaration, Your Highness--"

"I'm not," you cut him off, poorly stifled chuckles once again filling the room. You cleared your throat, doing what you could to straighten your stance while perched on the God of Mischief's thigh. "Prince Damien, you have been a guest on Asgard for a full moon, and in that time I believe it would be correct of me to assume that you have heard the whispers about me."

Looks of intrigue colored the faces of every member of the royal court present, shifting their gazes between you and the god that had his arm around you. He for one was much too aware of what the denizens of this realm whispered when they believed that no one of consequence could hear them. What the optics of your relationship with your father's brother implied.

Surely you were not referring to those rumors? He'd spent an exorbitant amount of time and effort ensuring that your ears would never be tainted by those vile whispers, even if they were partly true. At least when it came to Loki's affections for you.

"And…which whispers would we be referring to, Your Highness?"

"The only one with any merit," you shot back almost immediately. "That I have, on more than one occasion, expressed my intent to marry for love. Not for power, alliance, or lineage. Now considering that I am more than capable of droning on until the sun sets and I have the slightest flair for the dramatic--" You turned to Loki for the slightest moment. "--made worse by my time spent with you…" You then turned your attention back to the visiting prince. "I will grant you a touch of mercy and not hold you all hostage with a rather lengthy answer."

"Here we go," both Thor and Sif muttered before shifting their position in their seat as if settling in to watch a play.

"To put it succinctly, I do not love you. I'm not even quite sure if I am inclined to say that I like you. This past moon I have been more than gracious in granting us both the time to acquaint ourselves with each other's characters and if I may be plain, I find that I am left wanting. There is much that I wish in not only a husband but a partner and I am yet to find those traits within you."

It was at this moment that the elven prince's colors had begun to show. Damien scoffed at your words. "I am the crown prince and Future King of Alfheim, what more could you possibly want in a husband?"

"And I am to be the Queen of Asgard and the Nine Realms." Your voice took on a tone that he'd not heard since the Summer Solstice, when you had Astrid removed from the palace. "The last time I consulted the records, Alfheim is among those realms. My list of wants may be exhaustive but I can say here and now that my requisite is fealty. I am in no need of a king that finds he needs to satiate his hunger with a harem of maidens at his disposal. I need a partner. And while I find myself too aged to believe in myths of fated souls and crimson threads, I must admit that would be, as the Midgardians call it, a nice cherry on top."

Oh darling, if only you knew that your fated soul currently held you in his unconditionally devoted hands, Loki thought to himself, struggling to hold back his smirk once he spotted the prince once more visibly seething from across the table. He once again had to hold back the urge to make any move that might create the image of him staking his claim on you.

He would continue to toe that fine line of occasionally indulging in the chimera of having you to call his while he fulfilled his unspoken vow of keeping you safe from those who wish to do you any harm. From those who intend to use you to further their agenda driven by power or greed.

Before you could continue and before the prince from Alfheim could utter a word, Odin broke the silence. "Ehem, I'm sure that what the princess here means is that...not enough time has passed for the two of you to adequately familiarize yourselves with one another. Perhaps extending your visit a few moons more would grant you both the opportunity to bridge this gap?"

You'd begun to subtly shake with your barely contained rage. If this meeting didn't conclude within the next few minutes there was no doubt within his mind that this would lead to a shouting match between you and the Allfather.

But before Loki could step in to find a way to mediate the course of the conversation, you spoke again.

"Or perhaps we could agree upon a different type of partnership. One that requires…significantly less physical contact. I own a good few businesses on Midgard, I would not object to you or another representative from your realm establishing your own entity that could franchise off of one of them. That way a unification between our realms can still be attained between our realms by less…antiquated means."

The god once again felt you relax in his hold, just as the other prince began to visibly seethe in his seat, the tips of his elvish ears beginning to turn pink. "And why would I want to have anything to do with Midgardian business?" he questioned, hissing his words through his teeth. "Those Earth folk are--"

"We will forward your gracious offer to the royal family for consideration, Princess," one of Damien's royal advisors spoke for him, putting an arm out in front of the prince whose attitude likened him more and more to a bratty toddler throwing a tantrum with each passing second. "We are most grateful for this opportunity, Your Highness."

"But I will still extend my stay on Asgard," the crown prince spoke again, his tone more whiney than resolute. "I wish to stay this course. I have said in the beginning of my visit that I no longer have the wandering heart that I once had in my youth. I have been reformed. And I will prove it to you."

"Very well." Loki did not need to see your face to know that you, too, had begun to speak through your teeth, the exchange becoming more insufferable with every word that Damien uttered. "If you do not wish to take the offer of a business merger, I do hope someone within the royal court of Alfheim will be willing to take that helm. As for your visit moving forward, we can discuss a schedule that will allow for you to stay your course while I can maintain my duties, for I refuse to be stagnated any further. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Princess."

"Well then…I believe we may adjourn this meeting. I'm quite sure we all have our own duties we must get back to and I'm quite sure Prince Loki here would be more than happy to be relieved of the burden of my heavy load."

The room burst into a fresh round of chuckles, some much louder than the others, as most of the attendees stood and took their leave from the Main Hall. A quick look around the table and Loki spotted his mother attempting to demurely cover her mouth with her hand to mask the wide smile, and Sif currently had her face tucked into the crook of Thor's neck, shoulders visibly shaking with her laughter.

He bounced his knee once, making you jump slightly on his thigh letting out a little hiccup that had you looking back and playfully squinting your eyes at him. "You are not, and you will never be a burden, little Princess. Remember that," he said just loud enough for you to hear before he lightly poked at your side.

It was all he could do not to pull you back to him when you stood from your seat on his thigh, smoothing your hands down the skirt of your dress. "Well, I shall get back to my planning for the Winter Solstice festival." You turned once more to face Damien, squaring your shoulders and straightening your back as if daring him to defy you. "We shall discuss that schedule tomorrow morning. After breakfast. And not a moment sooner."

"Y-Yes, Princess." From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother's head tilt to the side the moment the elven prince's jaw clenched once you strode out of the room.

Just as Damien was about to take his leave from the Main Hall, Thor's voice boomed and filled the room.

"Prince Damien, a word of advice. My daughter was not made to be impressed by titles and shows of sheer arrogance. She was raised to value people for their character, for their substance. You wish to be favored by her, then show her that you are someone worth favoring."

"Of--Of course, Your Excel--"

"Otherwise please do cease your continuous waste of all our time."

Thor's words took everyone aback, an evidently proud look coloring both Sif's and Frigga's expressions.

"I--I do not wish to waste anyone's time, Your Highness," Damien stammered, the legs of his chair scratching across the floor with a grating sound once he stood. "I will win the Princess' favor, I swear it."

Once he too had taken his leave, the remaining Asgardian royals also dispersed, and Loki followed the arrogant tone that could only belong to a certain visiting prince down the halls to see his character's truest form. He found him at a rather secluded corner of the palace, not too far from one of the hidden passageways.

He quickly cast a cloaking spell, ducking behind the hidden door before the elven prince began to pace around the corridor.

"It was humiliating, Father!" he whined into the Midgardian communications device that looked quite similar to the devices you would at times be seen fiddling with for more trivial amusements. "I will not bend the knee to this bratty entitled wench of a Princess. She enjoys trying to make a mockery of me as if she's so special and powerful and Oh Princess do you wish for me to drop to my knees and kiss the ground you walk on while you ask me to satiate my needs with only you for company when you would probably be the lousiest lay in all of the Nine Realms?"

Loki began to grow white-knuckled from how hard he clenched his fists. How dare this short-sighted infantile excuse of a man speak about you so disrespectfully? It would already set the god uneasy if this Damien were to talk about any woman in this light but to hear these vitriolic words spoken about you led him to strongly consider violence toward the visiting prince.

Another quick enchantment granted him the ability to hear the other end of the call.

"Son what have I said about grinning and bearing it for the sake of the Realm? All you have to do once she's agreed to marry you is ensure that you do not perform a Vow of Fidelity so that consequences won't come to you once you need to seek…better company at night. Your females here are growing more and more desperate for your return I might pay them a visit to calm them some."

"What pigs," the god muttered to himself. He needed to do something. Stop this courtship in its tracks before you had to be strong armed by Odin to marry into this repugnant family.

"You're welcome to them," Damien answered with a dark chuckle. "I'm running low on funds to keep these wenches quiet, make sure they don't run back and tell their beloved Princess about their visits to me. Norns know that if she ever finds out, she and her magic-wielding guard dog will thwart our family's dreams of my becoming Allfather on the spot."

"I shall send more, Damien, don't you worry. You only focus all your mental efforts on how you will secure this Y/N's hand. Then you marry her and come home. Where you can live your life as you decide, not how she or her family dictate. She may be in line for the throne to rule all Realms, but until she sits on said throne, she is just another woman. Granted she is afforded a few choice privileges that stop the moment she steps foot on Alfheim soil."

"Thank you, Father. I'll marry her and rip her away from that overprotective oaf of a father of hers. And that incestuous prince. Then when she's stripped of her defenses all she will be is a vessel to bear my children. Then our family shall rule the Realms and everyone in the Realms that looked down upon us will watch helplessly as their beloved Princess becomes nothing more than a Royal Childbearer."

Loki's blood ran cold. This was the plan? He'd known the moment he laid eyes on this Damien that something wasn't quite right with him, but to have targeted you simply for your title and isolate you from everyone that loved you and that you loved in turn? From your friends? Your family?

From him?

No. He would not stand for this. There had to be another way. He would find another way.

He would move the Realms themselves if it meant keeping you safe from those that wished you even a fraction of the misery that this elven bastard of a prince planned to put you through.

The god moved through the passageways as quickly as his feet could carry him, nearly breaking into a run until he reached the exit that led straight into his mother's workroom. He'd forgotten his manners and simply barged through the threshold, eyes wide and murderous as he caught his breath.

"Loki! You nearly gave me enough of a fright to send me to the Healers. What has gotten into you, my boy?"

"We have a problem."

A/N: *peeks from around the corner* Well hi there…it's been a while since the last episode from this series…like about 7 months give or take 🥴🥴 When I tell you my writer brain just decided to go wheeeeee…I barely even know what I'm working on these days 🤣

Anyways, RTC is back and I'm doing my best to plan out the last 3 chapters of Season 1 and then the series will officially go on a break to plan for Season 2 because I gotta be honest I have little to no padding for the first half where I intend to cover the events of the betrothal 😅

But the plot (I hope) is plotting and now y'all can see what the actual driving force behind Loki's surrender was 🥺 And we hate Damien and his father in this household because seriously?? Writing that conversation gave me the ick and if you knew the type of "comedian" I had to watch just to get that vibe down like I need to cleanse my soul after 😩

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[gods-favorite-autistic]

No because the way love ties into this season is so good especially during the last three episodes

Like we start off with all the Bad Kids going through it love-wise, Gorgugs just recently broke up with his girlfriend, Adaine had to leave her sister right after she reconnected with her only to find out that she moved out while she was away, Fabian is doing what Fabian is doing with Ecaf, Fig gets back to find out that her girlfriend will be going on a trip and she won’t be able to see her all year, Kristen is also going through her breakup with Tracker, Riz is still struggling with his sexuality and aromanticism, it’s a lot.

Then you have their individual b-plots with Fabian being left alone at home for a whole year right when he gets back (hoping to reconnect with his mom since he hasn’t been able to really do that for the first 16 years of his life) leaving him with no one to care for him so he tries to fill his home with so much noise that he can drown out the parent shaped hole in his heart, Fig taking on Gilears curse not through blood but through the sheer love that this man has for his child, Adaine not having the resources she needs but not wanting to burden Jawbone with that because that’s how she was conditioned to feel for her entire life, Riz struggling with the idea of losing the only friends (besides Penny) he’s ever had but knowing he’ll need to work himself to the bone to have even a chance of staying with them throughout college

And then you look at the entire Mordred Manor fight, Baron, Riz’s literal manifestation of all of his fears of being aroace coming to life, who has been here this whole time following Riz in his briefcase, a gift from his best friend who has denied time and time again of them being best friends but who gave him that gift out of love, using twisted manifestations of the loving, caring people of Mordred to attack the Bad Kids and even possessing and controlling to them to try and attack each other but they make it out and they break Gilears curse and they can leave Baron behind for now

AND THE LAST STAND dont even get me started on the Last Stand like they’re in mortal danger and yet Fabian is still teasing Adaine for her horrible joke like the siblings they are, Adaine helping Fig with her smite, Fabian calling out for Adaine the second he gets trapped because she’s Adaine, she’ll know what to do, the power of friendship getting them an extra spell slot, Kipperlilly slitting Buddys throat because she never truly cared for him as her party member, he was just an expendable pawn, Kristen trying to revive him despite how she might feel about him, it’s all love now, GOD

I could talk about other fights but I think this post is already very very long

AND there’s all the outside of combat moments that I love, like Riz’s mom trying to make sure he’s okay and he’s not being taken advantage of, the entire party trying to help Adaine with her crush, Fabian originally going after Ivy over Mazey because he’s better equipped to deal with someone mean and who doesn’t truly care about him over someone kind and good and who is concerned about him in a genuine way, Sandra Lynn still being unable to parent Fig in the way she deserves but she’s getting better, Fabian trying his damndest to reach out to his father, AYDAS MESSAGES, even beyond the party, Ankarna being corrupted by her followers but absolutely refusing to harm her ex wife and her sister, Zara Sool getting her powers from her beloved AUGH

THE LAST TWO FIGHTS THOUGH, Figs armor of Ayda, remember when we died, Oisins betrayal, Fabian’s speech to Ivy, Gorgug being driven by his love for his friends and refusing to turn to the rage of Porter, Adaines detect thoughts that ends up saving them coming from a gift from Fabian, Fabian being the one to do the divine intervention and Ankarna destroying Porter after seeing the pure love Fabian and Mazey have and refusing to let the injustice that would be them dying happen, Fabian’s talk with his dad, I don’t need justice against these people, Cassandra and Ankarna being reunited, AGJRJJESN

anyways. Fantasy High Junior Year. Rahhhh 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Growing

Author's note: Zadakiel's next chapter.

Past =-= Next

Warnings: Implied Astartes and Human relations. Talks about how to deal with bullies. The advise comes from an Astartes soo... Yeah. Not anything else I can think of? Let me know if I need to add anything...

Summary: Zadakael has to allow his tiny Bonded to go to this thing called 'pre-school' and is totally N O R M A L about it.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

“Lovely and perfect,” Zadakael continues to croon a lullaby in High Gothic as he gently rocks his tiny bonded asleep. 

His bonded human’s parents had met him, and had a friend who had an Astartes to help translate what was going on. They had been understandably, been a bit uncertain when they’d first heard that he’d bonded to their darling, fragile, tiny child. 

But he had slowly started to prove himself to them, and was wonderful with their daughter. Who was usually wonderfully and well behaved around him. If they were unable to get her to sleep, his gentle hold on her and his crooning singing would put her to sleep faster than anything else could or would.

The new parents were grateful to have an extra set of hands that didn’t need as much sleep. Granted, he had his own schedule that he followed for his duties as a Space Marine who ended up on Ancient Terra. He’s grateful that his new Captain was understanding and allowed him to bond with his new human. And that his hours of duty shift and training were changed around so that he could help his human’s family tend to his almost an infant Bonded.

At first he had been terrified to touch his precious Bonded. For they were so young and fragile, and his hands were covered in the blood of so many. He had learned gentleness when he learned artistic pursuits and he still continued to indulge in his hobbies.

Although part of him snapped and snarled and hissed when his precious, tiny bonded was in the arms of her parents he didn’t stop them from doing so. Sternly reminding himself that their family is also important for their growth and development. He’d researched all he could on Good Child Rearing Practices as well as taken lay-classes for child rearing and what not.

That had also eased the worries of his Bonded’s family when they saw how serious he took his duties towards his bonded. He’d been taking classes for the primary language that his humans spoke at home, which was different from the one that was the dominant language of the area. So he was easily learning languages at once to ensure that he’d be able to help his tiny human learn to speak multiple languages.

Spanish, he learned, was the name of the language that their family spoke, while English was the language that was spoken by the baseline humans in the area that he had landed in. His tiny human had several older siblings who thought he was Super Cool.Some of their elderly relatives seem to be more uncertain of him, which was fine.

Being with his tiny bonded, and watching as they grow and their personality take shape fills his hearts with a warmth that has a bitter sting to it as well. One of the things he finds out to his utter dismay is how fast his tiny Bonded is growing. 

It’s something that his Tiny Bonded’s parents commiserate with him over. As they grow, they are taken to ‘pre-school’. Which he grumbles over, he could teach them far more about how the Galaxy truly works than the so-called educators could. He’s seen what sort of homework their older siblings have and he’s unimpressed with how basic and sometimes outright false the information they have to learn is. Although, their literature and arts education is interesting and he can go down rabbit holes seeking more Ancient Terran knowledge about such things.

Still, his human’s parents insisted it would be good for their development to have time away from the house and them. With children her age (there are a few of his fellow Space Marines with Bonded around that age, or with Bonded who have children around that age). He’s pointed that out, and while they do have play dates with. 

But apparently that’s not enough. While both parents are able to work, Zadakael is happy to watch over the children and give guidance and a portion of his pay to help the household. The parents have deemed going to ‘pre-school’ to be important to their development.

He gently holds his tiny Bonded’s hand and walks with them to the pre-school, it’s fairly close to where his human’s family lives. And his tiny Bonded hand clung to him and had been Tearful about paring with him.

He would only admit to himself that he was equally reluctant to part with her. It had taken one of the Salamanders who worked there (with their Bonded Human as one the pre-school teachers) coming out to help calm the Tiny human (and only the tiny human. He wasn’t growling at anyone.) 

Stop judging him To’val! And no, he didn’t linger and watch his tiny bonded for the rest of the day. That would be ridiculous and were blatantly false accusations! He had certainly not needed to be dragged away by an exasperated Ultramarine to go tend to his duties that day. Zariel- stop making that face at him. Judgy Ultramarine bastard.

His tiny Bonded hadn’t wanted to leave his side to go to some stupid Pre-school. But that had been one first few days, they had grown to enjoy pre-school. Happily babbling to him and their siblings and parents about what they learned, and did, and about their friends that they played with on this and that day.

Sure, he occasionally heard of the childish squabbles, but he let his tiny Bonded know that they should Stand Their Ground and that if someone tried to bully them to punch them in the face. That would get them to stop that nonsense. And if someone tried to get them into trouble for it he would talk to the teachers about it.

The parents had been partly scolding, partly playful in their exasperation about what he’d said about defending oneself and one’s friends from bullies. But he was entirely serious about it. Bullying wasn’t something that was tolerated, and it could cause friction and Chaos if allowed to fester. Resentments, hurt feelings, and all sorts of nastiness if not dealt with promptly and with a proportional response.

Some of the children are other Blood Angels and their successor Chapter’s bonded human’s children. He pretends that he doesn’t see how some of the children look like a perfect blend of the human and Astartes's. Especially the children who are male presenting, having bright blond hair and red in their eyes.

[mpregtales]

Aaron & David II Part 3

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   ⬤   [Part 4]   [Part 5]

One evening, as the sun set and the house settled into a peaceful quiet, Michael and Josh sat on the porch, their hands intertwined. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the warm light casting a soft glow over them.

“We’ve come a long way,” Josh said, his voice filled with wonder.

Michael nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “We have. And I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

Josh turned to look at Michael, his eyes filled with love. “Neither would I.”

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, the connection between them stronger than ever. The passion that had always existed between them flared to life, a reminder of the love that had brought them together in the first place. That night, they made love with a renewed sense of purpose, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. It was a night filled with love, commitment, and the promise of a future they were both ready to embrace.

As Aaron’s pregnancy continued, the physical changes in his body became more pronounced. His belly grew larger, rounding out and stretching the skin tight over the life within. The weight of the baby pressed down on his pelvis, creating a sense of fullness and pressure that he had grown accustomed to but never quite gotten used to.

Aaron stood in front of the mirror, the soft glow of the morning light illuminating his reflection. He let his robe fall open, allowing himself a moment to take in the full view of his body. His eyes traced the familiar curves and new contours that had developed over the past months. His pecs, once firm and athletic, had taken on a fuller, rounder shape, his nipples slightly darker, a reminder of the life growing within him. His hand moved down to his belly, round and prominent, stretching out in front of him like a testament to the incredible journey his body was on.

He admired the strength in his legs, still muscular and toned, supporting the weight of his pregnancy with ease. And then, with a smile, his gaze shifted to his glutes—full, perfectly rounded, and sitting high. They had always been one of his favorite features, but now, in this state, they looked even more pronounced, a blend of strength and softness that was undeniably beautiful.

Aaron chuckled softly to himself, turning slightly to admire the curve of his backside. "I must be the best-looking pregnant grandfather-to-be in the whole world," he thought, a mix of pride and amusement filling his heart. The changes in his body, once a source of insecurity, now filled him with a sense of confidence and appreciation. He remembered how he had felt during his previous pregnancy, the uncertainty, the self-doubt, but now, standing here, he felt none of that. Instead, he felt strong, powerful, and beautiful—embracing every change, every curve, every stretch of skin as a part of the incredible journey he was on.

With a final, satisfied look, Aaron turned away from the mirror, feeling a surge of confidence that he hadn’t felt in years. He was ready to face the day, knowing that he was not just carrying a child, but also the love and legacy of the family he had helped build.

Aaron couldn’t help but notice how his body seemed to be echoing the changes he had experienced during his previous pregnancy. The same sensations of fullness and pressure in his hips returned, a familiar feeling that signaled his body’s preparation for the coming birth. His pecs, too, were beginning to swell, the subtle changes bringing back memories of carrying the triplets. Yet, this time, there was something new—something different.

A certain pulsating sensation had developed in his hole, one that seemed to coincide with the widening of his hips. It was a peculiar feeling, a mix of pressure and anticipation, as if his body was instinctively preparing itself for the stretch and strain of labor. The sensation, while unfamiliar, wasn’t entirely unwelcome. In fact, it had a strange effect on Aaron, making him feel unexpectedly aroused. He assumed it was just his body getting ready for the birth, the natural process of preparing to bring another life into the world. Whenever he felt that pulsing sensation, David was always around to help ease the tension, much to both their pleasure. 

Later that week, it was time for Aaron’s scheduled checkup. He, David, Michael, and Josh all went to the doctor’s office together, the anticipation of the visit hanging in the air. As they arrived, Aaron decided he wanted to ask the doctor about the pulsing sensation he’d been experiencing.

Once in the examination room, Aaron was asked to undress and get on all fours for the check-up. He did so on the table, arching his back slightly, his belly hanging low and his big bubble butt sticking out. The doctor, a seasoned professional who had overseen Aaron’s previous pregnancy, moved to examine him.

“Your glutes are filling in just right,” the doctor remarked, his voice calm and reassuring. “Your hips are widening just enough for the birth. It seems your body has a certain muscle memory from your last pregnancy.”

The doctor then parted Aaron’s cheeks gently, examining the area with a careful eye. “Everything looks good here,” the doctor continued. “The muscles in your hole are indeed getting ready to stretch for the birth. This is common in second pregnancies, especially for someone who has carried multiples before. The pulsing you’re feeling is just your body’s way of preparing for the upcoming delivery.”

Aaron nodded, feeling a mix of relief and understanding wash over him. It was comforting to know that what he was experiencing was normal, just his body doing what it needed to do.

Once the examination was complete, Aaron dressed and was rejoined by the others in the room. The doctor asked if they wanted to see the baby or know the sex during the sonogram. Michael and Josh exchanged a look, then decided they wanted to keep it a surprise.

The doctor prepared the sonogram, applying the cool jelly to Aaron’s belly. As the machine began to hum, Aaron felt the familiar kicks from within and couldn’t help but rub his protruding belly, now round and firm, as he lay on his back on the table. The image on the screen came into focus, and the doctor smiled.

“Everything looks perfect,” the doctor said warmly. “The baby is healthy and right on track.”

A collective sigh of relief and joy filled the room. Aaron’s heart swelled with happiness as he looked at the faces around him—David, Michael, and Josh, all sharing in this beautiful moment. The love that surrounded him was palpable, and Aaron knew that this child, this grandchild, was coming into a world filled with endless love and support.

As the weeks passed, Aaron found himself growing closer to Michael in ways he hadn’t expected. They spent more time together, talking about the baby, the future, and their hopes and dreams. Aaron’s experience as a father and his unique perspective on life gave Michael a sense of comfort and reassurance that he hadn’t found elsewhere. Their relationship, once defined by the roles of stepfather and stepson, had evolved into something deeper, a friendship built on mutual respect and understanding.

The unusual dynamic of their situation was something they both acknowledged but didn’t dwell on. Instead, they focused on the love and support they were giving each other, the shared experience of bringing a new life into the world, and the bond that was growing stronger with each passing day.

As Aaron’s belly continued to grow, so did the anticipation for the arrival of the baby. The house was filled with excitement, laughter, and the warmth of a family that had come together in the most unexpected of ways. And as the due date approached, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the love that surrounded him, the family he had built, and the life he was about to bring into the world.

Part 4

The Aaron Trilogy: Aaron & David I ; Aaron & David II ; Aaron & Lucas

[rosyjn]

Dilf!Jake w his little halloween traditions from earth (no smut🙄)

You rest under the weaved roof of your tent, holding your baby against your chest. His soft coos mix in with the sound of soft wind blowing on Pandora.

"Lawnol a mì te’lan," you sing softly, almost whispering. Jake's ears perk from outside. He sits quaintly on his knees, parallel to the entrance of the tent. His pupils dilate as he turns his head and peeks at you and his son. His eyes burn into the side of your head.

You don't notice. You don't catch him admiring the way your eyes stare lovingly at your boy, or at how the beads in your hair sit perfectly and compliment your features. Your beautiful baby, Neteyam, relaxes in your arms while you stroke his head with your thumb.

"Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe," you sing another line of your songcord, closing your eyes in peace with your child. Jake's heart flutters. You slowly swivel your body, ensuring to keep Neteyam asleep. You rise up from the ground and tip toe to the baby cradle. A sharp inhale leaves your mouth as you set him down, sighing as he squirms in his sleep.

Your head snaps around as something scurries past the entrance of the tent. You kneel to the ground, peering out. Your ears perk up as you hear the scraping and cutting of wood. A maternal instinct kicks in. Your pupils contract.

Your feet tap on the floor lightly as you scoot towards the noise, turning around after every few steps to check on Neteyam. You push the flaps of the tent away and put your eyes on Jake. He sits and holds an ovular shaped piece of wood, carving it attentively with his adorned dagger. The expression on his face is concentrated. His brows are furrowed and he grinds his teeth.

You sigh in relief and scamper to him, like a spider. He looks up when he sees you, his face softening.

"Ma'Jake, you scared me," you take a knee next to him and place your hand on his broad shoulder. His hair is tied back and he brushes off his craft with his fingers, catching your attention. Your eyes widen as you stare at it in awe. It is shaped like a strange face, hollowed out on the inside, having an eye-like droopy feature with holes and a saggy mouth.

"How's my beautiful baby mama?" he smiles and watches your face, but you don't look up.

"I did not know you were an artisan, a maker of crafts," you reach out and rub the item. "What do you call this?" your voice is filled with wonder and curiosity. You are thrilled by Jake's new creation.

"On Earth, around this time, the sky people have a celebration. Called Halloween. We eat sweets and...dress up. Look," he holds it up to his face, making it look like he has long eyes and a droopy mouth. Your ears fold back and you laugh. Jake takes it down and looks at it, then drops it in his lap.

"This is a mask, um," he struggles to explain the concept to you. A native Na'vi would not understand this easily, but you try your best. "We have a lot of characters and stories on earth. So we make masks and clothes to be them, this mask is a ghost face, like aungia," he picks it up, giving you a second to look at it.

"Eltur tìtxen si!" you grab it from his hand. You think it is so beautiful. Often, sky people and their ideas upset you. They are very violent and close-minded to you. But this was different. A unique celebration that they had. You never saw anyone else talk about it, but you were intrigued.

"You put it on your face, to pretend," Jake tells you. You listen to him and hold it up, turning your face to him. He chuckles and looks down at the ground.

"We'll make a small one, for Neteyam! And then we'll pick berries and eat sweets!" you're jumping with excitement as you take the mask off and hold it up against your chest. Jake nods in approval, with a smile that reaches his eyes.

"We'll have to share the food, too. Give it out to other people," he says.

"Of course! Even better," you sigh and lean into his arms, setting the mask aside.

(Sorry y’all this was really bad)

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

I need to find my family

This sentence made me cry when I first heard it, and still makes me emotional. Series after series and filling some blanks with the books I made myself a little headcanon about Jaskier that I'd like to share.

From the books we know very little about Jaskier's childhood except three things :

He is born noble.

He was a recalcitrant child and his professors were using a cane to try to discipline him.

He was drinking strong alcohol at school.

In the books he seems very reluctant to speak about his noble roots. And the only link that doesn't seem severed is with his cousin. In the series, his noble roots are not hidden as much, but he has the profile of someone who is running from his past and from every kind of anchors, except one : his found family.

And in the same time, he is seeking for love all the time, multiplying one night affairs, writing and singing about love in every forms, from the most vulgar to the purest.

He loves too much. He needs love too much. As if he had a void to fill in, void that he doesn't feel when he is with his found family, because he belongs.

What if his parents didn't love him, or negligated him strongly, using the educational system as proxy. Educational system that tried to make him fit in a mold for his social rank using force and intimidation. Making him reject his biological and social roots.

What if this was what settled his need to break free and never fall into the classical blue print of a family.

Like he would prefer to starve at the end of the world rather than live in a cage. Prefering the life on the roads to a life at court, as his profession predestine him. And accepting to settle only where the found family stays.

What if his childhood dug a hole in his heart, like a deep wound he then tried to heal with love, trying to find what is missing ?

What if he doesn't feel so empty when he is with Geralt and that's the reason why he loves him so deeply ? Because with him, he is enough... Not a child you hurt to shape into something he is not.

What if the found family was the family he always seeked for ?

What if the events of season 3 hurt him more than we see at first because his fragile stability has just blown away ?

What if he feels the same need to find Ciri as Geralt, minus the rage ?

What if "I need to find my family" means everything that he is ?

[ashcal99]

Golden Hour : Rosalie Hale~

Prologue

"She's got glitter for skin, my radiant beam in the night. I don't need no light to see you shine. You slow down time in your golden hour."

Summary: By the young age of twenty years old, Grayson Cly had been through his fair share of trauma. Trauma that had left him a single father. Trauma that only grew more complicated when he joined his cousin Sam Uley as a shape shifting wolf. But, what happens when he imprints on the one thing he was born to protect the world from? Can he stick to his instincts when it comes to that protection, or will the persistence of that imprint derail his life even more?

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, general angst, slow burn

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Not sure how many parts this will be but yahhhh. Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz. Lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list thnx.

Soundtrack

Series Masterlist

------------

Grayson had always been mature for his age, taking every shocking thing that came his way with stride. So, when his girlfriend, Evelyn, of three years became pregnant with his child the beginning of their senior year, he promised himself he would be a better father than his had been for him. A father that their child deserved. His life had of course grown more complicated given the baby that grew more and more day by day, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course he was terrified. Terrified of not being enough, terrified of what this meant for not only his future, but Evelyn’s as well. That didn’t stop him from being excited at the end of the day. Deep down, he knew that this was what he was made for, the instinct of being a parent seemingly being born inside of him. So, when the day came that the contractions started, he had felt as prepared as possible, despite the butterflies filling his stomach. He had held her hand throughout the entire labor, her squeezing so hard that he was sure she would end up braking something. 

The cry of his son as he entered the world made him the happiest he had ever been in his life. And then everything else shattered around him. Everything was seemingly fine, until the bleeding wouldn’t stop. So much blood. Something was horribly wrong, that much was obvious, and the panic began to set in. There was nothing he could do, but sit back and pray to whatever god there was that the doctor would be able to save her. In the end, his prayers weren’t enough, and what had been the happiest day of his life had quickly also become the worst. 

So as he sat there, on the plush worn out cushions of his mother’s couch, just days after loosing the love of his life, he stared into the beautiful eyes of his child. The same eyes that he had gotten from his mother, and he allowed himself to feel the pain of her loss. The pain that left a gaping hole in his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes as he attempted to blink them away, but if there was one thing that he knew now to be true of grief is that it demanded to be felt. 

Despite the help his mother had been giving him in his time of need, the same mother who had raised him single handedly, he felt utterly alone in that moment. His heart ached so badly his whole body was sore as he realized that the beautiful child in his arms would never know just how wonderful his own mother had been. He would never feel the warmth of his mothers embrace, never feel the touch of her kiss on his forehead, and the thought sent his brimming tears over the edge. 

The big blue eyes of his son blinked up at him curiously as he eyed his father. Footsteps trailed into the room, a soft hand landing on his shoulder, flinching back as she felt the heat radiating off of his skin. “Why don’t you get some fresh air, Gray? You seem a little overheated.” She suggested, concern coating her voice as she gently took the baby from his arms, ushering him towards the back door. 

Grayson nodded, sniffling slightly as he moved forward, attempting to wipe the tears away as he pushed his body numbly to the door. A cool summer breeze blew through his hair as he shut the door behind himself, sucking in a shaky breath. The grief stabbed him in the chest, finally having been by himself long enough to feel all of the emotions he had been bottling up since her death. How was he expected to do this alone? Why her? She didn’t deserve to die, why was this world so cruel as to take her away from him?

An agonizing sob left his lips, the memory of her smile running through his mind.  A smile he would only ever see again on their son. Sudden anger flooded his heart, anger at whoever had taken the woman he had loved so dearly. Red hot pain seared through every inch of his being as something ripped inside of him. Fire raced across his skin, muscles tearing and growing back together all at once in a moment in time. Seconds morphed into hours of unbearable obliterating pain, before, almost like nothing happened at all, the pain vanished. It had taken a moment to realize anything had actually changed as his eyes trailed down to the ground that was occupied by a very large pair of paws nestled in the tall grass surrounding him, the white fur a stark contrast in the dark green landscape. The anger he had felt just moments ago vanished as it was quickly replaced by shock. 

“Don’t panic.” A voice rung through his mind. A voice he recognized. His eyes shot up to the large black wolf in front of him, knowing almost instantly who the figure was. Memories of the Quileute legends rushed through his mind as he realized that despite having learned the stories himself, the memories had been coming from the other wolf, seeing himself as a child within those memories. 

Suddenly everything was clear. It was all real, everything, and Sam was right there in front of him, explaining it all. They had grown up together, cousins on his mother’s side, spending hours upon hours together as children, so when the words had come from him, it had fairly quickly calmed the panic that had previously held a tight grip on his chest. 

So much had changed in so little time, it was almost as if he had reached his peek. So many emotions had been filling his heart in the past weeks that hearing that the legends were not only real, but included him didn’t set his world on its’ side like it should have. Vampires were real and the fact should have terrified him, but instead, knowing it gave him a sense of purpose. It was his job now to protect his child from the cold blooded monsters and he would be damned if he didn’t put every ounce of effort into doing so. 

As the months went on, the pack grew, along with the danger of the blood suckers around them. His newly found brothers created the strongly knit support system that he needed to cope through Evelyn’s death, and even though he knew he would never truly get over the loss that had left a gaping hole in his heart, he would try his best to be okay. To be the father that his son needed. To be the protection that he needed from the evil in this world, because there was no way in hell that he would ever let anything harm him.

Next Chapter -coming soon

[mimiriko]

I need more merman geto in my life

part one

Your heart hasn’t stopped weighing down on your chest ever since you managed to gather your jelly legs together and run back home from the ocean. It’s an emotion hard to describe, plenty to feel.

Restlessness, dizziness. A hole gnawing itself bigger as days go by.

In daylight, you don’t escape him. Not when the biting smell of sea salt still lingers in each breath you take, filling your lungs with an acid hard to neutralise. The books you once bubbled with excitement to read now seem bleak in your hands as you stand motionless in an aisle of your library. A frequent place you visit. With its mahogany hardwood floors and a slew of soft fairy lights hung all over. A contrast you welcome from the waters plaguing your mind.

But maybe you don’t know it well enough. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt surprised at a wide section of books in the fifth aisle full of sea life and its wonders. It felt like mockery, faith taking pity on your frazzled form. Your nimble fingers clasp around the binding, flipping through pages as strands of smooth dark hair dance over the surface of your memory.

At night, submerged in dreams where you are supposed to be the one with the handle, he takes control. You see him in his blue domicile, swimming in all his glory—elegant with the strokes of his tail and powerful with the force of them. Bulldozing through waves like a whetted blade on skin.

You dream about him through third person, looking into his hypothetical life behind a stained glass window. Sometimes you’re even right next to him, with your tails intertwined like two capillaries ready to join into a vein.

You wonder what your tail would look like. You remember his to be blue and purple.

The veil of fear you forged around yourself lasted one whole December, before you decided for the new year, you would return.

The snarl of winter keeps all life away from your home. Polarised, just the way you like it. Frosty sand prickles your feet and you stretch your toes in response. Each layer of clothing you strip off makes your blood wail, bones rattle.

You take a step into the wet sand, when all you have on is safety shorts and a tank top, and relish the way it sinks slightly with your weight. Fizzing sea foam clings to your ankles in a greeting, and the water changes its shape around you as you walk deeper.

It was always supposed to be like this, you think.

——————

He senses you before he sees you.

Your scent is different from the rest of humans. It lays thick on his tongue, overpowering with familiarity. It finds him every time, through valleys and bundles of waves, like a lost child in search of its home.

To the rest of his clan, it’s just another breath in their gills. To him, it’s a calling.

And he always picks up.

His heart beats like a rabbit as the space between the two of you slims; a gulf that narrows into a pond, but this time he halts at a place much farther than he’s used to.

That’s because it is you who is swimming much ahead of your usual distance.

Strange, flowy material hugs your figure, rippling like river water against the soil bed. Your movements are small but filled with purpose, and a warm burst of light explodes in his chest as his eyes catch your face above the surface, splashes of water hitting your chin in a way that oddly endears him.

He flicks his tail, suddenly skittish when you stop.

A chorus of voices in his head sing closer closer closer. Until the soles of your feet are near, and he leans forwards to face them. You remain calm, unaware—in search of the silhouette that haunts you.

Geto quietly breaks the water, and your shock almost sends you reeling.

———————

There’s an unearthly beauty to him. Angular features, slender nose and salmon lips. Milky skin with soft cheeks you crave to cup. The path down his neck and shoulders are delicately moulded and held by string, the rest dissolving into a smudge underwater, dim twinkles of his marble scales catching your vision.

“I didn’t expect to find you so quickly,” you rasp, voice rough from disuse of the day.

“Couldn’t let my human shiver in the water for too long, can I?”

My human.

Maybe you were in his thoughts just as much as he had been in yours.

“..No,” you softly say, “I guess not.”

“You have a habit of coming when the God’s above are peeved,” he says with mirth, intently watching you tilt your head.

“The Gods abov… you mean the weather?”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “The Gods' control the change of the atmosphere, so yes, the weather.”

You blink. “I see. Do you not feel the cold?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, “We have alcoves for shelter. Mainly for children.”

He hesitates before adding: “Would you like to see?”

[wizisbored]

wip wednesday fills for 16th october

rabies time @zyrafowe-sny, @hurricanebreeze, @somefishycat

About a quarter-hour later, Ballister emerges from the bathroom to the sound of running water. He follows the sound to the kitchen. And there’s a pink doe, standing with her head in the sink under the running tap.

“...I take it you haven’t developed hydrophobia yet?” is the only response he can come up with.

“As long as I don’t think about drinking it, it’s fine,” Nimona says flatly. She doesn’t look at him.“Is the fever getting that bad?” He approaches her cautiously - her demeanour feels… off. Hard to say if her lacking energy is just that foreign a concept, or if it’s something else.

in case of emergency, break glass @kallisto-k, @whimsicalmeerkat, @kalira, @enigma-the-mysterious @loyal-house-of-lupin,

@1attheedge, @post-and-out

“Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.”

“You’re not being clever.” She throws the bag onto her back - a little more roughly than necessary - and heads for the stairs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can’t you tell I care so, so deeply about all the poor little souls you’ve locked away?”

“But not the live child being forced to track down ghosts, right?”

“Exactly. Fuck the kid.”

“You’re just saying this to upset me.”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

She shoves open the door to her sad little bedroom-cell, snatching up her handbook and camera to shove in the front pocket of the backpack and grabbing the mirror to check her face. No visible bruises. So she stomps back down the stairs to get her shoes on and wait for Otho; the quicker she can get out the door the quicker they’ll get to the job and the quicker it will be over, and then her life can go back to its regular, boring level of terrible.

Otho looks just as happy as the two captives when he arrives and asks about the backpack. He instructs Lydia to toss it into the back seat, which she does with pleasure and a little more force than necessary. The noise Beetlejuice makes is satisfyingly offended.

“It’s an old house some woman supposedly died in,” Otho says as they pull away. “They’ve been having odd noises and things moved around.”

“Gathering intel on the next victim?” Beetlejuice pipes up from the back. Lydia ignores them both, attention solidly on the window. It’s just beginning to rain outside.

laboratory four @quietly-sleeping, @cataclysmic-writer, @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

Again, she listens at the door before she risks opening it. No footsteps. No breathing. No faint muttering of a man to himself. With one last check up and down the hall, she lets herself in.

Emma keeps her eyes off the cage and the table, making a beeline for the pocket-sized computer that serves simply to write audio files to a hard drive. She feels an awful sense of deja vu as she sets her laptop on the counter and plugs in that drive. Part of her is screaming that she’s making a mistake doing it here, that she should be taking this back to her room to edit, but that would require another round trip to return the drive to the lab. Best to just get in and out as quickly as possible. Her own recorded voice, trapped and terrified, echoes horribly around the room.

eldrich madness @eriquin, @tamsinswriting, @sourb0i, @stonemaskedtaliesin

The aching, bloody hole in his heart was filled with something soft, for a moment. A fleeting, beautiful moment. And then it wasn’t. Then it was just a hole.

“I’m sorry, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, I don’t know how.”

“There were shapes, weren’t there? The big white shapes that- they were almost a spiral but they weren’t, they just went back and back and… I’ve been trying to draw them. I can’t. I can’t get them right and then Adam asks to see but it’s not like he’s gonna know, is he?! I don’t need his help, I need you.”Charles gently cradles the girl’s face in his hands. God, she’s so little.

be right back @auburnlaughter, @asha10100101010, @adhdavinci

She noses the fridge open, assessing the contents briefly before pulling out a bag of shredded cheese. By the time the boss catches up to her she’s laid stretched out leisurely on the floor, her whole head shoves in the cheese bag as the fridge beeps to be shut. He pushes it closed.

“You better be prepared to finish that,” he says. “I’m not putting wolf-slobber cheese back in the fridge.”

“You doubt my ability to eat an entire bag of cheese?”

He chuckles. “Are you going to have room for a more substantial breakfast, too?”

“Boss, I could eat several horses.”

“Noted. Remind me to never bring you to work with me.”

[porphyriosao3]

Day 21 - Mahal

(Author's note: this is set in the fic Dripping Water, which is part of @tamloid's Mirrorverse series. Highly recommend reading it!)

Looking around, the environment was utterly unfamiliar. Hm, Gror thought. Not a good sign. A sigh like an earthquake filled the room, and he looked over at a giant figure that resembled a dwarf, but was far too big and far too... everything... to be real. Whoops. Definitely not a good sign. Behind the figure, the shape of an anvil meant the room must be a forge, but it looked odd, wisps of vision of other furniture, columns, and the like all coming and going with each glance around. The sights before him didn't match the things he saw out of the corners of his eyes. Bugger. He must be dead.

"Mahal," he said, bowing his head as much as he ever did.

"Gror son of Fror," came the rumbling reply, like a spoilheap falling down a cliff. "Do you know where you are?"

"I... yes," Gror admitted. "I was hoping that pain in my head was nothing to worry about. Seems like that must have been a bad guess." He snorted and Mahal snorted back, an interaction that he could have had with any of his mining team and very, very odd to have with his Creator. "Assumin' these are the Halls, then. How can I be useful?"

"Ah, there's the mark of my children," the giant form smiled. "Well asked. You'll find the Halls are run like most dwarven cities, just... bigger. Miners are always welcome. You'll find the mineral deposits a lot more common here and the ores richer than usual, but that's my gift to you all." Mahal paused here, slight smile fading to a look of puzzlement. "I see you are bonded. I don't see your One. I'm assuming you married a non-dwarf." The eyebrows indicated this was an unpopular choice, though there wasn't any disgust in the massive face.

"Aaaaye," Gror admitted, not sure how to begin to explain the situation. "My One wasn't a dwarf, for sure." He really hoped that Klûk could be admitted to the Halls, so he didn't rely on sarcasm as he normally would.

"Well." Mahal grumbled, eyes flicking to the anvil as if in thought. "What are we talking about? Elf? Man? I can't do anything with men, I'll tell you now - even if I wanted to let one in, Námo wouldn't let me, and such an action would cause a fuss with my Father." Heavy brows drew down fiercely. "You can be sure, that's not an acceptable situation." Gror winced; not only did Mahal look fearsome, but he might be looking at an eternity of separation from his One which was... not on. As much as it rankled his character, he felt compelled to speak from the heart.

"No Lord, neither of those. His name is Klûk. He's a... well, I don't know what he is, but we're bonded, see? He's my heart. I'd suffer to face the time ahead without him." Mahal nodded distractedly, still puzzling over the 'neither of those'.

"I don't like riddles, child," the Vala said. "There's an easy way to see, I suppose." A mirror appeared, enormous, somehow both towering over them and tiny compared to Mahal and the anvil at the same time. Mahal's eyebrows went up. Slightly, but they went up, Gror saw it. He seemed startled, and this was now the best day in his entire life... assuming he could get Klûk in here somehow. The mirror fogged and cleared to reveal a mass of writhing black tendrils racing through tunnels, flowing faster than a horse could gallop over obstructions and pouring through tiny holes like oily black water. "That can't be..." he grumbled, only for Gror's voice to interrupt.

"That's him," Gror said proudly. "Prob'ly on his way here, if he can find it. Always said he could find me anywhere." Mahal stared - stared! - at Gror before turning back to the mirror. "If you could let him in when he gets here, I'll vouch for his behavior. I just want to be with him again."

"You... took as your mate one of the Void children." Mahal sounded floored. This was officially almost the best day of Gror's... well, not life exactly, considering the circumstances, but ever. It got even better when Mahal said "I will consider this request. It... he?... will have to speak with me directly, though."

"Aye, Lord, aye, no worries at all," Gror said, unable to keep from beaming like a pebble. "He's no trouble, I promise. Can't hardly imagine mining without him, and he..." Mahal's eyes were on him and some power of the Vala seemed to compel Gror to say things he wouldn't. "He completes me," he heard himself say. "He saved my life, not once, but over and over, and whatever his kind feel for love, he feels for me. I miss him like a drowning man misses breath." The compulsion left him. Gror worked his mouth and tongue for a moment, looking up at Mahal's poleaxed expression. "Bit unfair, that, Lord. Didn't expect it."

[intogenshin]

Does it make sense: Lisa's letter to Cyrus

Genshin's writing doesn't seem interested in the logics behind their storylines on purpose, seeing how they put Fontaine in altitude to follow the imagery of fountains even though they knew the archon quest revolved around a flood —it would have made sense to put Fontaine in a hole instead, would have been logical for a flood to happen. But they didn't care, which is why we ended up with this

Which is to say, they dgaf about logic as long as they get to tell the story they want however they want it. And that's fine, we don't need to care either, but we do end up with a final product that we have to put together and fill in the holes for our own sake, if we so wish to.

Regardless of the author intentions, we can choose to make interpretations that give some sense to these questionable writing choices. Maybe the flood is upwards and in a block of water for a reason that makes sense in-universe, y'know, maybe primordial sea just work like that (after all what we saw had a weird shape too)

I'm not implying this is planned by the writers, cus I don't know, but interpreting the canon to shape up a more coherent story is valid as a fan is all.

So I know the writers of the game don't care much to match the story to the comic that was released earlier (and already had mistakes or unfinished designs) but there's still a story I need to put together for a character I like. Right.

These are the relevant events in the timeline I want to discuss:

Cyrus never discussed Cyno's past with him

Cyno remembered or researched enough to figure out most of it on his own (the proof: he commissioned his helmet, which is worn by Temple of Silence priests)

Lisa and Cyno discussed his past openly in Windblume

Lisa sends a letter to her professor about Collei's situation in the comic

In the comic, the knights find documentation in possession of the Fatui related to the incident of Crepus' death. Among the papers, Collei finds one about the experiments performed on her, but it's written in an ancient language.

Jean asks Lisa for help, but she can't read it either and sends the letter to her professor.

It is a bit weird that she's sending a request for Cyrus, the sage of Spantamad and not Haravatat, for an ancient language. I know this was supposed to establish her connection to Cyno when he shows up later instead of their professor, but that's not what we're doing here right now.

Lisa sent this letter about documents in an ancient language (that Cyno knows but Lisa, the Akademiya's best student in 200 years, doesn't) that depicted experiments to put archon residue (the remains of a god) within a child, she sent this letter to her professor who years before had taken part in experiments to put the fragment of a god in a child which he stole and brought into the city and then refused to tell anyone about it. She sent this letter to this man, and we know from Windblume that Lisa indeed does know about Cyno's past, so it makes sense that she asked for help with Collei's situation.

So the options are:

Cyrus told Lisa and Lisa told Cyno

Cyrus told Lisa, Cyno found out on his own and then shared it with Lisa who already knew

Cyno told Lisa, Cyrus never said a word

With 1 and 2, Lisa was told by Cyrus about Cyno's past and addressing the letter to him makes sense. With 3, Cyrus would still be avoiding the subject and it would be funny if she sent this to him, he probably had a heart attack thinking it was extortion from the Temple of Silence for a second.

Cyno doesn't resent him at all, he's only grateful, and Lisa doesn't seem to think anything bad about him either, so it's not likely she would send the letter to him with second intentions. Unless they found it funny.

From Windblume event:

Lisa: I suppose you're something of a mentor to her, aren't you? Now that I think about it, the two of you aren't so dissimilar. The power of Hermanubis once brought you great suffering. 

Cyno: That's all in the past now. Besides, Professor thankfully didn't treat me like a test subject for the priest's power like the higher-ups had hoped, even though I was a desert-dweller. 

Cyno: Instead, he gave me the tools I needed to lead the life I have today. He adopted me, educated me, taught me how to fit into society... I am very grateful to him. 

Lisa: You are very gifted, and sometimes that can become its own curse. But he has reason to be grateful to you, too — without you as his son-slash-student, he may never have changed his stubborn ways.

Cyrus had to watch Cyno show up in priest gear at some point, so he had to be aware Cyno knew more than what he was told. It's just something they didn't bring up to each other. (It might sound like something weird not to talk about, but realistically how many of us bring up pain that our parents or caretakers inflicted on us to them.. people usually just prioritize the relationship with their parents)

So Cyrus knows Cyno knows, he might assume Cyno has shared this information with Lisa as well. But Cyrus doesn't talk about it openly, so how did Cyno show up in Mondstadt in the comic?

The letter was for Cyrus, he awkwardly asked Cyno to handle it and made funny excuses about it in order not to address the issue directly

The letter was secretly for Cyno, Lisa just said it was for her professor

The letter was for Cyrus, but Cyno accidentally saw it and took the matter into his own hands

The letter was for Cyrus, but Cyno intercepted it because he spies his mail

Spying his mail honestly makes sense with the events of Cyno's sq 2 lol also maybe Cyno just spies his stuff to look for answers about his past. Maybe Cyrus just allows it because he knows it's fair. But also making something up on the spot sounds more like Cyrus.

Or maybe Cyrus always talked about Cyno's past with both, he just was vague about it, and none of this matters

From Windblume event:

Lisa: Oh dear, looks like you've seen right through me. But I was in no hurry. I knew we'd see each other sooner or later. 

Cyno: Yes. It's just as Professor Cyrus said — shared aspirations always have a way of bringing people into each other's orbit. 

Lisa: Hehe, he always has such a poetic way of wording things. I suppose that's the one respect in which I've taken after him, while in your case... 

Lisa: Yes, it's his wit and eccentricities that have left their mark on you. 

Cyno: Hmm. I'm not sure that describes me very aptly these days, given that I'm now the General Mahamatra. Still, if we're going to talk about ways with words, I think my deadpan humor is far superior than our professor's.