#life is beautiful :) and good things happen to those who stick around to find out

[girl-bateman]

Exchange semester in the Netherlands???? Hello ???? Fall of 2024 ???? I got accepted ???

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

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Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They��re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[silverhairsimp]

The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

Banner from @cafekitsune

Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.

[temis-de-leon]

Dateables as Single Fathers

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon, gn!kid, Luke and gn!MC

Part 1

Main Masterlist

CW: nothing, I think? Correct me if you feel something should be warned, but I think we're good to go. Just like in the other one, these HCs explain the characters' relationships with their kids and a romantic interest in MC at the end.

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Diavolo

This one has to be the most difficult situation out of all, considering his political position.

He either had a child outside of marriage, who I think would’ve been considered a bastard, or he had the next heir with his wife, who would’ve eventually become the queen of the Devildom beside him.

No matter the option, each one would have had significant consequences.

Fortunately for his country, he’s too respectful and responsible to fool around and risk the chance of leaving his offspring behind, so political marriage it is.

I already used the ‘mother died in childbirth’ reason for Lucifer’s HCs, but I can’t see any other explanation for Diavolo being a single father. Both of them would be loyal and committed to their partners and Diavolo has the additional duty of keeping a kingdom going.

Now, we could do some AUs that could explain the future queen’s absence, but that isn’t what this post is about, so let’s leave it at that.

In the end, Diavolo is left with a child that is deeply loved and well taken care of.

I think Beautiful Boy by John Lennon would describe their relationship perfectly.

Loving his kid is not his only priority; raising him is also as important. He’s a caring parent, very attentive, protective and stern when necessary.

Diavolo is too aware of their duties as royals and future monarchs but tries not to act on them. Since he is already preparing himself to become king, there’s no need for his kid to lose their freedom and their childhood.

However, as occupied as he is, he tries to put his work on hold each time the child calls for his attention. They drew themselves with him and Barbatos? Okay, let him set these documents aside so he can admire the drawing properly. They saw a cool bug outside? Say no more, he needs a break anyway. They had a nightmare? Maybe they should have a sleepover!

The kid just needs to be careful not to do many of those things in front of Barbatos. Otherwise, the butler would chastise both.

He’s highly proud of them when they dive into a friendship with you; seeing their eagerness and comfortability around your presence as a sign for keeping the student exchange program going.

Still, he finds the need to have a somewhat serious conversation with them about you, your purpose in the Devildom and your status as a human; the imbalance in power and biology that makes you both so different.

As time passes and his own friendship with you deepens, so do his feelings. He isn’t obvious about it, or at least he tries, but his kid inherited his observation skills and soon innocent suggestive comments are trailing behind him everywhere he goes.

The situation amuses him and makes his heart flutter with enthusiasm.

With encouragement like this, how could he not try to pursue you?

Barbatos

I like to think there’s some kind of errand boy roaming around the castle. Not necessarily a boy, but still a child doing a little bit of everything and helping whoever gives an order. They’re quick and cheeky, making the staff cheerier and less stressed about their chores, and Barbatos finds them surprisingly charming.

He doesn’t mind them running between his legs as long as they know when to stop and don’t hinder his work and, unlike the little Ds, that turns out to be what happens.

Barbatos tries not to get attached at first and a long time passes until he can’t deny the affection he feels for the little devil.

When I say long, I mean long.

Decades, even a couple of centuries, unable to ignore the lack of parental presence in the child’s life. They’re always in the castle, going from one point to another, talking to everyone and sticking to no one. The few moments they have to rest are spent with the prince’s butler, talking about their day with breathless excitement.

It’s a nice dynamic that Barbatos enjoys more and more with each passing day, but it isn’t until the rest of the staff informs him of every little thing the kid does that he finally realizes how deep he has fallen into the rabbit hole.

He is a father figure.

Again.

He isn’t complaining, not at all, but it still surprises him.

More time passes until he gathers the courage to ask Lord Diavolo for a room inside the castle for the child to sleep in. His cheeks are warm when he specifies he’d prefer if the room were close to his and the embarrassment only grows when the prince laughs out loud with excitement.

By the time you are introduced as the second human exchange student, everyone treats the kid as Barbatos’s and they even call him ‘father’ when they’re alone. Neither are ashamed of their mutual affection, but they’d rather keep it private.

The child likes to tease you harmlessly, joking around, asking pertinent questions under the disguise of childish innocence and appearing out of nowhere when you least expect it.

They won’t mind if you lightly reprimand them for their constant playful behaviour, that’s what their father does after all, but they’ll quickly love you if you joke back.

Either way, he likes to follow you around and Barbatos instantly notices. It piques his curiosity and warms his heart, but with how highly the child talks about you and how much you captivate him on your own, he starts to wonder if he should’ve pulled the kid away from you since the beginning.

His strong feelings for you are foreign, but not unwelcomed. He’s just too vigilant of all the possible outcomes.

Fortunately for you, for every doubt Barbatos has about these feelings, the child has a dozen reasons to make them stronger.

Solomon

How many wives did King Solomon have again? How many concubines? How many children out of all of those partners?

I’m not saying that any of those children succeeded in achieving immortality like him, I doubt that could’ve happened so early in his life, but outliving human partners doesn’t mean that Solomon chose to refuse to have any more partners at all.

I can see him entering a relationship with someone who has a longer lifespan and, regardless of that arrangement being casual or committed, having a child with them.

Maybe the other parent passed away, maybe they didn’t want to be in a relationship, maybe they tried and failed to stay together… who knows, you can choose your favourite. The conclusion here is that Solomon kept the child and raised them alone.

Feral child vibes, I fear.

As devious as their father and completely oblivious to it, they are too curious for their own good. Exploration and experimentation through trial and error are fairly common practices in the family and the only reason Solomon isn’t worried is because he’s sure nothing wrong will happen as long as he is there.

The kid may appear at the front door of their house with an eldritch horror-looking creature and Solomon would be like: ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’.

He knows introducing his child to a human infant is not the best of ideas. They would have to move places constantly due to their slow ageing to not raise suspicion and that would be completely unfair to the kid. They’re allowed to have permanent friends their age, after all, not a playmate turned into a babysitter or faceless companions that would disappear in their memories over time.

So they mostly engage with other immortal beings, like witches, demons and fellow sorcerers.

That saddens Solomon in a way; the human part he passed to his child is slowly dying due to lack of interaction.

This is why the human exchange program Diavolo proposes is so interesting to him.

Not only is he going to meet one of his kind in a world he easily moves around, but his child is also going to get the opportunity to be with another human in an environment they feel comfortable in.

It goes as well as you could expect.

Both of them are curious and eager to meet you, but at the beginning of your friendship it feels more like academic research. You stick to the brothers and their antics and they stick to the angels and their kindness.

If Luke is a Chihuahua, then Solomon’s kid is a thirteen-year-old delirious Yorkie.

As time passes and your friendship develops into something more genuine, Solomon can’t help but feel like he’s finally breathing fresh air after being locked in a cave for years.

His child still explores their surroundings, but there’s a new hope in their actions that he knows doesn’t come from him. It’s true childlike wonder and care towards their subject of study. An appreciation of life only a mortal would express.

You don’t understand how much you changed his child’s life.

And you don’t understand how much he loves you for it.

Simeon

I mean.

Luke.

He already is a single father in canon.

I don’t know how angels are born in the game, but they do grow up. Maybe Luke just spawned and was put under Simeon’s direct care, but there isn’t any mention of other parental figures in Luke’s life back in the Celestial Realm (although that may be due to the game being lazy with lore).

We know Michael is Luke’s hero, but not a father figure, so Simeon as a single father makes total sense.

A single mom who works two jobs and loves her kids and never stops.

Jk, jk…

But for real, though.

Simeon is thoughtful, affectionate, careful with Luke’s emotions and conscious about his need to mature and grow up. He treats him like a child, because that’s what he is, but tries not to infantilize him to not hurt his dignity.

While proud of Luke’s morals and golden heart, Simeon wants to make him see not everything is black and white and he’s allowed to have opinions that can differ from what they’ve been taught.

Some demons are good, some humans are consciously devious and some angels need to reevaluate their priorities.

It is a difficult task since Luke is certainly stubborn, but spending time in the Devildom is the perfect opportunity to prove that point.

Thankfully, your presence only helps Simeon change Luke’s judgemental thoughts. You are patient, easy-going and lighthearted and don’t get too stressed when the young angel refuses to reject his views on demons.

They both enjoy spending time with you because your soul is still kind and free of punishment, but for Simeon is much more than that.

He enjoys being with you because it feels natural and because knowing you feels like the greatest gift he has received in a very long time.

Believe him, Luke’s praises about you have nothing to do with the love he has for you. Those are just an additional bonus.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[cultofdixon]

Falling for you…wasn’t meant to hurt

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The two of you grew close because the universe thought you were meant to be. But Daryl agreeing to let you help him find Carol’s daughter, he didn’t expect anything bad to happen • ANGST/SFW • TW: Impalement / Injuries / Anxiety / Restlessness

Requested by: Anon

“If you’re gonna go search for the kid, don’t go alone.”

“Fine” Daryl made his way toward the camp outside the farm house as Rick gave him a confused look.

“Who are yea takin’?”

“Y/N” He states without a second thought in mind as Rick quickly grabs his shoulder stopping him.

“You sure that’s your best option?”

“I trust her more than you, Rick. She’s more than the best choice” Daryl retracts from the man continuing his way over to the tent city they have going on as Y/N’s was on the side closest to Daryl’s.

________

“Who’s that?” Merle elbows his brother to look at the woman seated on top of the RV.

Daryl looked over trying to get a good look at her face but when he couldn’t. He gave up and told Merle not to go there knowing damn well his brother was going to holler at her.

Then later in the night, Daryl went over to the camp fire they always have going when dinner was made from whatever he and Merle caught. He went to get him and his brother some dinner only for the woman from the roof of the RV to hand him two prepared plates before he could ask somebody to.

“It’s Y/N by the way”

“What?”

“My name. I’m the “who’s that” from the other day” Y/N gave him a small short lived smile before looking down at the book laid in her lap.

Daryl stood there a bit awkward while holding the plates as he cleared his throat to get her beautiful E/C eyes to look up at him.

“Daryl”

Her smile shot back instantly making his heart beat quicken.

“Don’t be a stranger, Daryl”

________

“Do you trust Rick?” Y/N asks Daryl as he was getting one of the Greene’s horses strapped with a saddle.

“Don’t know yet, more than Shane if it came to that though”

“Ugh. In those terms I agree…I just. Don’t understand how he’s so blind to their nonsense” Y/N frowns looking over to the camp while Daryl did his thing but his attention seemed to always fixate on her when she didn’t seem alright.

“Ready. Least I think I got this shit on right”

“You ride a horse before?”

“Uh. No, shouldn’t be too hard”

“If we had the resources like the old world, I’d tell yea to wear boots. So your feet wouldn’t slip from the stirup” Y/N stared watching Daryl get on with ease extending his hand for her as he kept his cool when her smile practically shot him. “Don’t do anything too crazy, cowboy”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl chuckles lightly as his mind was running miles at everything she did, even if it was the smallest thing of wrapping her arms around his waist. “Alright, let’s get”

God I really hate horses Y/N thought as she held onto Daryl for dear life wishing they went on foot.

I can’t focus On the other hand, Daryl’s mind raced having her this close.

But a good thing can’t last forever in the end of the world.

________

Daryl cared, but he also didn’t. In the moment he didn’t care about anybody else except her when he returned from Atlanta to find out a herd was crashing through.

Not that she needed any help given every walker that came toward her, met the short end of the stick.

Once the horror show came to an end and many were mourning, Y/N dropped her axe before falling to her knees and trying to wrap her head over all the happened. Her mind was flooded until she felt hands carefully take a hold of her face. Her eyes instantly locked onto his piercing blues.

“Are yea bit?” Daryl frowns waiting for her to answer as she shook her head, bringing a whole wave of relief. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s get yea cleaned up”

________

They can handle anything

Daryl jolts awake in a bit of a haze feeling the pain in his side realizing he was impaled by his own arrow. But given the racing situation at hand, it didn’t remain in his side as he quickly pulled it out while scrambling to get his crossbow in order to shoot the walker getting dangerously to Y/N’s unconscious form.

The second he landed the shot, Daryl dropped his crossbow rushing the best he could over to Y/N and rolling her onto her back noticing the branch embedded in her side.

“Fuck” Daryl frowns removing his shirt wincing when he agitated his injury and wrapping it around her middle to secure the branch. “Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP” he didn’t meant to shout so loud at the last part but it got her to jolt awake wincing in pain immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry”

“W-…What a way….t-to wake a dying p-p…person” Y/N scoffs wincing more feeling the branch move when she took a breath.

“Y-Yea ain’t dyin’”

“H-Hurts…though” Y/N finally got a deep breath in, exhaling slowly feeling his fingers press against the pulse point on her neck. “Mm still here…”

“Yea better be by the time we get back”

Y/N couldn’t even wrap her head around that thought. Of making it back alive. She thought she was going to die there or on the way back, but given how hard Daryl was trying and the anxiety laced in his voice. Even with how much he’s talking…she’s not going to feed into the seeds of doubt and let him try, hell…she’s still trying.

“Can’t move yea too much…gonna have to go the long way”

“H…How’d we even…?”

“Stupid goddamn h-horse” Daryl winced to his pain when he tried to get up so he could help her up. Y/N carefully pressed her hand to his injured side getting another wince out of him and when she removed her hand she saw the blood.

“You can’t die for me” The first clear thing she’s said since the fall and Daryl didn’t know what to say. The anger that always laid dormant in him at times, started to peak out when his mind raced to the conclusion that he’s not going to listen to her if she starts talking about leaving her behind.

“F-Find something”

“What?”

“F-…Find ah…” Y/N laid back again in the dirt looking around locking onto the walker he had killed to keep her from getting bitten. “S-Stop the bleeding. T…Ta…Take his s-shirt”

He would listen to her direction but find himself yelling at every moment she closed her eyes. They were both weak, but he’s the only one capable of getting them out of there.

Daryl took the shirt and secured it to stop the bleeding on his side. Then he decided to take the dead’s pants thinking if he could climb up from where they fell while Y/N was wrapped to his back, then they could follow the same tracks that got them there instead of trying a whole new route. But that meant having to cut the branch shorter and warning her was the easy part.

Feeling her nails dig into his arm as he used his knife to shorten the branch on either side…listening to her scream in agony and the blood continued to seep through his shirt that was supposedly secured around her. He was in hell.

Y/N tiredly watches the creek disappear as Daryl carries her on his back taking his sweet ass time climbing.

“Gonna get Hershel, to check on yea.”

“You…”

“Me? Me what? Me too? Yeah no shit. None of’em out there are gonna let me walk around bleedin’”

“…s-someone needs to care”

Daryl was reaching the last stretch in climbing when she said that. He was confused on what she meant but when he finally got onto the main path pulling the rest of her up and beside him. Y/N had gone unconscious again. She wasn’t finished and he wasn’t happy seeing her eyes closed.

“Come on” Daryl shakes her at first, trying to keep the yelling at a minimum because the only thing it’s going to do is draw more sickos toward them. But he wasn’t getting anything immediately. “Y/N?” His fear started to get him as he gently brushes the hair out of the way of her face shaking her head carefully. “Please. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.” His voice cracked, his tears were threatening to spill over.

It took a second but she tiredly opened her eyes reaching forward and grabbing a fist full of his tank top.

“Tired…” She sighs feeling his hands rest on her face. “Sorry”

“You’re not allowed to die, alright? I’ll kill yea if you do”

Even in a weak state she couldn’t help but laugh to such.

Soon they were on their feet, Y/N’s arm draped over Daryl’s shoulders as he kept her up the best he could while they made their way back.

“Walkers!” Andrea yells catching everyone who was outside’s attention.

As Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog grabbed their guns and made their way to the walkers given there was only two. But Andrea decided to take the hunting rifle and get ready to take at least one of them out.

“Andrea don’t”

“Shut up Dale”

Y/N groaned touching her side to see the fresh blood coming out as she gave Daryl a worried look while he kept a stern one. He wasn’t stopping. Then her anxiety got the best of her right when the four approached them aiming their gun.

“That’s the second time you aimed that thing at me” Daryl huffed.

“Oh my god Y/N” Glenn frowns noticing her injury then they all were startled by both Y/N shoving Daryl off and her falling back when the shot rang through. “Holy FUCK!”

The group that rushed over surrounded Y/N as Daryl weakly looks up from his fallen position noticing her unmoving form. He couldn’t quite pick out what they were saying as he tried to get himself off the ground. Eventually T-Dog approached him with an extended hand.

“C’mon man. We gotta get you checked out”

“Is she—-“

“She’s still breathing” T-Dog reassures him as he got Dixon back on his feet bringing his arm around his shoulders. “The hell happen?”

“Goddamn horse” he scoffs feeling his anger bubble inside himself when watching Shane carry Y/N sprinting toward the house.

Daryl found himself at the dining room table letting Maggie do his stitches while the room that once had Carl, now had Y/N being worked on by Hershel with help from Patricia. He anxiously waited and winced every now and then when Maggie pulled a bit too tight on her stitches. She’d apologized immediately.

“Yer dad is good right?”

“Yes. For someone who originally only worked on animals” Maggie states applying the bandage as Daryl immediately got up leaving the house and approaching the camp.

“Who the fuck fired?”

Everyone grew tense with the tone he took as it was obvious given her avoidance to eye contact when he brought it up.

“Who. Shot. Their. Gun.”

“Andrea” Glenn blurted as Dale smacked him in the arm. The guy was nervous. He wasn’t about to lie for her.

“I’m sorry Daryl! You two looked awful and from afar—like walkers. I had to protect—-“

“FOUR OF YALL CAME TOWARD US. WE DIDNT NEED SOME TRIGGER HAPPY BITCH TAKE CARE OF IT” Daryl snaps as Rick stepped between them pushing him back gently keeping mind of his own injuries.

“Look. You’re upset. We all are. We’re worried about—-“

“Nah. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had just trusted me to take care of business by myself. I shouldn’t have taken the one person I care about in this goddamn apocalypse” Daryl clenched his jaw moving his gaze to the floor. “I’m leavin’ if I lose her” he whispered.

“Daryl”

The two quickly turned to Maggie as she kept a relaxed expression but the tension in her shoulders struck Daryl’s anxiety.

“We need you”

Daryl quickly ran toward the house and barging into the room noticing the branch was still in Y/N’s side.

“Why the fuck haven’t—-“

“I stabilized it but she woke up, screamed at us wondering where you were—-“

He didn’t say anything all he did was instantly to go to her side noticing the color that left her face from the blood loss, and the bullet graze on the side of her face.

“D-Daryl. It h-hurts” She whined with tears streaming down her face as Daryl held her hand trying not to fall apart.

“He’s gotta take it out and access yea, sunshine”

“P-Please. Don’t leave”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl states giving Hershel a look for him to get started as he watches the doc move the bandaging showing the branch that still needed to be pulled out. His heart was pounding in his chest holding Y/N’s hand knowing in a split second he’s going to have to hold her shoulders.

Which happened to be now. Hershel started to pull the branch out and Y/N tried to fight Hershel wanting him to stop but he kept repeating “almost there”. Daryl brought his hands to her shoulders pinning her down as Patricia held her legs down to keep the movement at a minimum. She clawed at Daryl’s arms crying in pain as he knew he would be hearing her screams whenever something went wrong in the future.

Once the branch was removed, the blood poured in new places that weren’t where the clamps were. Leading Hershel to apply pressure immediately while Patricia scrambled to get what they needed. Daryl relaxed but tensed instantly when Y/N’s breathing slowed…slower than normal.

“Goddamn it” Daryl frowns holding Y/N’s face shaking her slightly. “Come on come on come on!” He shouted startling everyone as Hershel took notice and quickly checked her pulse while Patricia kept the pressure.

“Son, you know CPR?!”

“What?! Nah. No she don’t need it. She’s just—-“

“You need to do it or she’ll die”

Then the sound went out in his head. Daryl instantly started to do CPR and tried his best not to instantly break her ribcage with the pressure he was building up to. His shoulder was grabbed when Hershel finished his work and checked her pulse. He did good. Daryl did good.

“She’s gonna be unconscious for a while” Hershel states, about a few hours later as it was now the evening. Daryl hasn’t left her side and he mainly said that in hopes he’d get up to walk around a bit. But he didn’t want to face anybody. “She lost a lot of blood and it’ll take a while—-“

“Use mine”

“Pardon?”

“I’m fucking universal. Take some of mine to help her”

________

“He seriously did that?” Y/N questions Daryl as the two were sitting alone in the room they were sharing at the CDC.

“Got a lot of money out of it”

“But that’s not safe. Taking three pints? How did you not go into shock?”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“Daryl, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever gave me your blood”

“Huh?” Daryl was confused on what she meant and Y/N was getting at, if the situation asked for it. She wouldn’t want him to bleed himself just for her to live. “You ain’t gonna lose a fuckton of blood. Won’t let it happen”

________

Three pints. Fucking moron.

But Hershel only took one a day and gave it to Y/N, letting Daryl take the couch in the living room to recuperate after each transfusion. He had to be a human blood bag, Hershel couldn’t calculate a pint so he had a cut off period. Meaning 3 pints could’ve been less than what was taken.

Daryl didn’t have to give anymore and found himself back in the chair beside the bed staring blankly at the window seeing the group take advantage of the luxury of the Greene farm. Part of him knew it wasn’t going to last. Something in him was leaning toward that, but he wasn’t going to lose her if something bad were to happen.

He flinched to feeling something as he brought himself to cross his arms turning toward her thinking it was just a breeze. But when he noticed her open eyes and extended hand, it was her.

“Holy shit. Holy SH—“ Daryl cut himself off when Y/N brought her finger to her lips to shush him as he leaped out of the chair dropping to his knees directly beside the bed dropping his head onto the bed. She instantly wrapped her arm around his shoulders as her other hand carefully reached over to run her fingers through his hair. “Thank god. Thank fucking god”

“Dar…your arm is bruised”

“Don’t…don’t worry about it, sunshine. I had to do what I had to do”

A sigh escaped her lips making him turn his face toward her as she gently caresses his face watching him relax to her touch.

“I’m always going to worry about you”

“Y/N…you almost died” His voice cracked as her expression saddened gripping the back of his shirt tugging at him. Daryl got the idea as he pulled himself up letting Y/N wrap her arms around him as they both kept in mind their injuries.

“I’m not going anywhere…has to take a lot to take me away from you”

“I love you…I loved yea since I first met you…”

Y/N held onto him with the strength she had feeling Daryl hide his face in the crook of her neck.

“Falling for you, wasn’t meant to be literal” She giggles feeling him pull away so he could get a good look at that smile of hers that he missed so much. “I love you Daryl”

The tears came back when he brought his lips to hers feeling her gently wipe away his tears not breaking the kiss they shared. She returned her arms around his shoulders parting from him to bring him close once again.

“I ain’t letting go, sunshine”

“Good…”

[tiredfox64]

Let’s Keep This a Secret

Prior notes: I like my men a little scary. He got me giggling, kissing my feet, and crying in horror. Also I just really wanted to post something of mine and change it up.

Pairing: Reiko x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Do you fear skin to skin contact?

You were only a baby when your mom married General Shao. You never viewed him as your stepfather, he was always your father. He raised you as if you were blood related to him. He promised to protect you and love you as his own.

And protect he did, from any and everything. Especially boys.

The older you got, the more attention you attracted. Not only were you the general’s daughter but you had your mother’s beauty. Many men wanted to get with you for the fact that you were pretty and they wanted the general’s admiration. That never happened. Shao would never allow a boy to step close to you at all. The only one who would ever get close was Reiko. Yet even Reiko had a hard time getting to know you.

When you both were young he rarely cared about getting to know you. He was an orphan who lost his parents to the war. All he cared about was what General Shao had to say to him. He listened well to every order he gave. After a while Shao almost started to see him like a son. Still not a good enough position to let near his daughter.

In fact, Shao thought you shouldn’t be seeing the grueling and harsh conditions it takes to be part of his army. It’s better that you don’t know. But you did want to know. You have the right to know. Plus you wanted to know a thing or two since Shao didn’t want to teach you anything. He said he would protect you, he meant it. Why do you need to know how to protect yourself when you got him. It just pushed you away from Reiko even more.

You would find reasons to go over though. Every time you would come around to the training grounds you would always look for Reiko. At this point he was the lieutenant to your dad’s army. How could you not be drawn to a man with power and authority. When he was the only man in your life that your dad somewhat let you close to, you started to be attracted to him. Seeing those milky white eyes take a glance at you made you excited. However, no matter how old you got your father would not allow you anywhere near.

You had to take matters into your own hands. You went out with friends one night. As you were out you realized no one would be able to stop you from talking to any boys. The only person who could stop you was yourself, and you did stop yourself. You were too nervous to be around other guys or even say a word to them. Shao was to blame for your lack of social skills when it came to men. The only person who you could fathom talking to was…Reiko! Of course! Why didn’t you think of him before? You should go see if he is anywhere around.

Your friends were not too keen on sticking around and running to the training grounds. They didn’t want to get in trouble and they were actually scared of Reiko. Not many women go after him believe it or not. They begged you not to go but you were determined. You walked off on your own, your heart pumping with nervousness and excitement. As you expected you saw Reiko at the training grounds. Lucky you.

You hid behind a tree, not wanting to disturb his training. You looked with curious eyes as you watched him get some extra training in. His shurikens would strike the wooden dummy. His aim was precise. Every time he would fling them he would let out a grunt that made your stomach do twirls. The way the sweat on his muscles glistened in the moonlight and how his hair slightly blew in the light breeze made you think you were looking at nature’s finest specimen. You didn’t realize you were being drawn towards him in that moment and you stepped over a stick. It snapped and Reiko’s head snapped towards your direction. You gasp as you went back to hiding behind the tree. You were worried you had ruined everything. Closer and closer you heard him make his way towards you in a quick pace. Then there was silence. In one fell swoop he turned the corner and was right in front of you, pushing you against the tree. His knife was out but once he realized it was you he made sure not to have it too close.

“Oh, it’s just the general’s daughter. Why are you out here so late?” He spoke to you in his usual gruff voice.

You couldn’t say anything since you were so excited that he actually spoke to you. You stared up at him all stupid-like but with eyes filled with awe. Reiko was very confused but he backed away from you once he realized he was way too close. He put his knife away and was thinking of just leaving you be before thinking for a second. If somehow you got hurt while out here alone his ass could be on the line. The last thing he wants is for the general to see that his daughter got hurt and find out that his loyal lieutenant let her walk away all alone in the night. Yeah, no, not willing to risk it.

“Come on, let me get you back home. Your father won’t like this.” He warned you but you didn’t care.

He yanked on your arm and dragged you away, gently though cause he can’t hurt you in the slightest. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his arm. He flinched and was about to push you away but he stopped himself.

Don’t hurt the general’s daughter. Don’t hurt the general’s daughter.

He groaned but kept walking while you clung onto him. You kept staring up at him all starry eyed. He looks even more handsome up close. He felt your eyes on him and he had no idea what was up with you. Actually everyone’s eyes were on him and you. The general’s daughter was clinging onto a man? Impossible! Reiko was letting a woman cling onto him? That’s even more impossible! It was so frustrating to him to be in this position but he had a task and he had to finish it.

The moment he brought you to the door of your home and the door opened you were off him immediately. That dazed expression was gone and you looked focused as you looked up at your dad. Reiko was confused but carried on as he explained that he was just bringing you home. Shao thanked Reiko for bringing you back home safe and before he could scold you, you gave him those sad puppy dog eyes that get you out of most situations. And then the excuses came about how you lost track of time, you got separated from your friends, some of them bailed on you, blah, blah, blah. Shao just took all that you said as a fact. His sweet girl could never do wrong. You walked inside your home, giving Reiko a wave goodbye before closing the door. That smile on your face was full of joy. You were up in your room kicking your feet and thinking about your moment with Reiko. You’re definitely doing this again.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

It’s like every week at this point. You go out with friends, you sneak off to see Reiko training, he catches you and brings you home, you make up your excuses, rinse and repeat.

Reiko caught on that this was definitely intentional. He started letting you stay with him for a bit, not wanting to cut his training time just for you. Then y’all started talking. You talked about your home life, what you like to do, your hobbies, your friends, etcétera etcétera. He first ignored you but the moment you seemed hurt by the fact he wasn’t listening he got his act together and started listening. Once he did he realized you weren’t that bad. You weren’t annoying or stupid. In fact you were even kind of cute when you told him about your life. Woah, did he just find someone cute?

He started opening up to you, speaking about his past and his present. It actually made him feel better to have someone listen to what happened to him other than Shao. He was surprised that even when he said something negative about your dad you wouldn’t judge him or having him punished for speaking his mind. Even he who is loyal to Shao can get upset by the things he does.

You and Reiko grew closer and closer to the point you guys would forget how late it was getting. He would immediately rush you home, holding your hand to guide you back. At this point Shao was getting highly suspicious of you. Why were you coming back so late and never coming back with your friends? You just shrugged it off and told him he was getting too worked up. You pushed your way inside and the moment your dad turned his back to you, you swiftly turned around, grabbed Reiko’s face, and placed a light kiss on his lips. He was stunned but couldn’t say anything in that moment. You just waved goodbye like usual and closed the door. So you just gonna leave a man hanging like that?

Alright clearly there was much more going on between you two. You made it clear to Reiko that you wanted to be something more. That explained your strange behavior from the beginning. You just had a mega crush on him. You got him hooked he won’t deny that. He’s never loved someone and he didn’t know how. All he knows is fighting and war. But you can teach him, and teach him you did. You both were learning and you found out what felt right for you two. The kissing, the touching, the love language. It slowly became clearer and you two were compatible. You were over the moon. Finally, you had a boyfriend. A man you can trust and felt safe with. Hopefully whenever your dad finds out he won’t kill Reiko. He can’t kill his best lieutenant, right?

Oh just remembering it all gives you butterflies. Sigh

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Did you have a good time going down memory lane? Good! Cause someone is knocking on your window. Go open it!

You yank the curtains away and see Reiko at your windowsill. You quickly open the window and he leaps in. You are surprise by the fact he managed to climb all that way up to your window just to see you again. It was risky since you should be asleep at this time but you were up thinking about Reiko nonstop.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have already left.” You whisper to him.

“How could I stay away from my woman. We just can’t get caught.” He picks you up in his strong arms and starts to kiss you.

He was much more rough in every sort of way. That means his kisses are too. You don’t mind at all. You like it. You like how rough he can get considering you were always treated so delicately.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms wrap around his neck while you two keep kissing. Your hands hold his face, letting your fingers feel his stubble. He walks over to your bed and places you down on it. You look up at him with the same sense of awe you got when you first saw him training.

“I think I’ll stay for the night. I did put in the effort to sneak in here, I think I deserve to stay.” He whispers in your ear.

You don’t say anything, you just smile and nod your head frantically to say yes. You two have done this before but you always get super happy to get the chance to have him sleep in your bed.

You know what makes it even better? Skin to skin contact!

He starts to take his armor off and places it down gently on the floor. Too much metal on there, it’s gonna freaking wake up your parents if it hits the floor. You take off your clothes as well. You thought you would be more nervous to get naked in front of somebody. You can’t even talk to other guys how are you gonna strip in front of them. But seeing how Reiko shows off his body with little shame since his armor exposes him quite a bit you felt that there was nothing to be worried about. If guys can have their chest out why can’t girls? Same thing, different structure.

Once you two were both naked you guys got into your bed, the sheets being the only thing to cover you both. He brings you in closer, his rough skin contrasting with your soft skin. His hands wander as he goes back to kissing you. Your hands went up to his head let down his hair. Your fingers rake through the thick strands. You wish he could always have his hair down. He looks so hot when he has it down.

You spend the rest of the time talking to each other, whispering to prevent anyone from hearing you. The close contact combined with the loving eye contact made you realize how lucky you are. Though Reiko is not perfect when it comes to love he does his best for you.

At the end of the night you two slowly succumb to the tiredness. He holds you close to him while he lays his head on your chest. It’s like his own personal pillow. He listens to your heartbeat as it slows down. Your arms are wrapped around his head as you caress him to sleep. Before you fall asleep yourself you have one more thing to say to him.

“I love you.” One more kiss to his forehead and you’re out like a light.

After notes: I want that man. I want that scary man. I wanna lick him. My fiancé pointed out that his nipples are too dark I don’t know why he ever pointed that out. It sent me into a spiral and I asked him who else got dark nipples and he said all of them. Fucking…really?! Anyways yeah I just wanted to switch it up cause I was doing SO MUCH when it came to the Lin Kuei brothers. I have no issue writing for them but it’s like I gotta do something else or I’ll start hating it. Not anyone’s fault that’s just how I am. Hope y’all can enjoy this. Adiós!

[leezlelatch]

Secondo x F!Reader - first meetings, brooding, flirting, Secondo's POV. Next in the snippet series...Secondo visits Italia for unpleasant business. Could his stay be the change he needs? @writingjourney

Dark sunglasses cover his eyes, and his expression is blank as the pallbearers walk his mother’s casket down the long aisle. It had been many, many years since Secondo had been in a Catholic Church, and this, his mother’s funeral, would be the last. A procession follows, faces he’s never seen before, and he vaguely wonders if they are cousins, or even siblings. Do they wonder who he is? The long lost son of a woman left in shame after Nihil left his wicked touch on her. Secondo hopes she lived a good life. He thinks she did, quietly watching when he was old enough to handle his own affairs, a silent benefactor. He stands when the last of them leave, his eyes staring scornfully at Jesus on the cross. Where was his grace, when all was broken?

He gets back to the abbey nestled in the hills of the Italian countryside long after dark, having spent several hours wandering the small village of his youth. With a glass of wine in hand, he steps out onto the balcony of his room, looking out over the olive grove the Siblings tend to. The Italian branch of the Ministry sells their own olive oil, a lucrative business that has kept them afloat since he was a boy. It gave him a deeper appreciation for his country, and the beauty that can be grown from the ground and used in their food.

Secondo checks his phone, his thumb scrolling past updates from Sweden, a “me me” his brother sent, deleted, and of his particular interest, the latest on the restoration of a first edition of The Discoverie of Witchcraft by Reginald Scot, a book for his personal collection. He isn’t eager to get back. Tensions are high amongst the Clergy, their dissatisfaction with his younger brother apparent. They simply do not like that Terzo doesn’t bow.

Secondo’s time as Papa is well remembered, and bitterly ended. Too many parties, too many nights trying to drink his life away. Underappreciating what he had until it was gone. He gave Terzo the papacy knowing his brother carries a vision, and he is eager to see it realized. But like a true Emeritus, tragedy is never far. Secondo looks up at the sky and finds the North Star, and he wonders if Primo is in his observatory, looking at the same star. Italy may be where he was born, but Secondo isn’t home. Not when home are three men that in equal parts infuriate him, and make him fight harder every day. He tosses the wine over the edge, setting the glass on the ledge.

“Satan Christ on a stick!” A voice shouts from below. Secondo leans over the balcony railing, looking down in shock at the Sister of Sin now covered in his spilled red wine. She shakes her hands, droplets flying from her fingertips and she looks up, her brow furrowing as she spots him. “Papa,” she says. “I’m wet.”

Well, that’s not the first time he’s heard those words, but not necessarily in this context. Secondo’s mind works a mile a minute to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last few seconds, and he huffs out a small laugh. “Satan Christ?” He asks. 

“It’s a creative way to swear, but I think appropriate,” she answers, looking down at her light sweater now stained red. “I hope this was cheap.” 

Amusement is quickly replaced by regret, and Secondo glances around as if a rag would appear out of thin air. “A moment, Suora. I will be down,” he calls, hurrying into his room and wrenching open the linen closet. He pulls out a towel, grimacing at the light shade. That will be two things he will have to get a burgundy stain out of. He grunts, putting a hand on his back on his way to the front door. Far too much running around for his age, especially so late into the night. 

Secondo steps outside into the night time air, his eyes scanning the place near his balcony where the wine covered sister had been standing. “Suora?”

“Here,” she says, coming around the corner, her sweater removed and in her hands. Secondo pauses, his eyes quickly taking in the sight of her cream colored camisole. He clears his throat, offering her the towel, and he watches with a small frown as she squeezes the sweater between it. 

“Do you have something to say, Papa?” She asks, watching him with an amused quirk of her eyebrow. 

Secondo straightens, his frown deepening, and he tilts his head in atonement. “Forgive me, Suora. I should not be so careless in disposing of my beverages.” He glances away, an uncomfortable itch climbing up his spine. Today has not improved, and here he is, middle-aged man, and her superior, making a fool of himself. 

“I didn’t mean that, although the apology is appreciated. You were looking at me like I was doing something wrong.” She clenches the fabric of her sweater between the edges of the towel, and he waves his hands, reaching for it. 

“You are doing something wrong,” he says gruffly. “Do not squeeze. Blot. We will have to get this under a cold tap.” She laughs, and he glances at her, blowing a breath between his teeth as he begs Lucifer for patience. 

“You seem familiar with…stains,” she says, circling around him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair is rustled by the evening breeze, and Secondo pauses, staring at it fluttering and catching between her lips. She blows it away, and he swallows.

“Red stains in particular,” he murmurs, returning to the task at hand.

“That’s something a murderer would say,” she responds, her lips curled at the corners, her smile mysterious. It reminds him of the Mona Lisa.

“There are plenty of rumors about my family, Suora. Choose one,” he says with a flash of teeth. She tilts her head in response, and they stare at each other for a moment. Secondo is used to intimidating people. He doesn’t want to intimidate people. His looks, his demeanor, something somewhere went wrong, and he is paying for it. He gets to watch his brothers be treated like gold by the Siblings where he is dulled copper, dented and used. Secondo garners more fear than respect, and that is acceptable. Or so he tells himself.

“I like the one where you’re all vampires,” she says.

He laughs. A real, genuine laugh, and it makes her smile. He’s caught in that smile, so sweet and full of joy, and it makes him warm. She isn’t intimidated, she’s silly, she cusses in the strangest ways. Is it childish to think this woman is a gift from his mother? Someone real, someone who isn’t afraid.

“Come inside,” he says, holding her wrinkled sweater with a long-suffering sigh. “We shall see if we can save it. I am sorry for drenching you. And tell me about this vampire rumor, will you?”

She follows after him, passing through the open double doors into a hallway lit by old, metal chandeliers that cast a soft yellow glow. “I’ll tell you plenty if you tell me what compelled you to throw your wine off the balcony,” she says.

Secondo leads her up a flight of stairs, his hand gripping the railing, his knees aching from all the walking he did earlier that day. “It displeased me,” he says, unwilling to unload his inner turmoil on a woman he just met. 

“Remind me to stay in your good graces then,” she says, snickering a laugh. He joins her. It feels good to laugh. 

“Ah, do not worry,” he says. “My knees cannot take another trip down the stairs.”

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (12)

a/n: this has to be one of the most fun parts of this story I've written so far. hehehe, all to say... enjoy! <3333

azriel x magic!fem!reader

You can feel all your emotions boiling over. Like a wicked storm about to strike everything in it's path. You have to get out. You have to leave.

You get up on your feet and grab your sword. You start running. Running down the hall and to the front door. You feel like you can’t breathe correctly.

Your legs take you past the door, you go down the marble steps and the two pillars that designate the entrance. Once you leave the gate you stop and barrel over, your hands on your knees.

No council. No brother. No family.

You’re no longer next in line for the throne. You are the throne.

“About those wards…” 

You look back up and see Azriel standing there. 

“What are you—you’re stuck.” you say.

If he was still here, there was only one reason. You doubt he would stick around for the fun of it. This was just the cherry on top. You ruined someone else’s life too.

Azriel nods his head, “No way out. And there’s no way in.” 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper.

You don’t feel it, but you plop down onto the ground. You don’t feel it, but you only know it happens because Azriel comes rushing towards you. He looks concerned. You didn’t think he could feel that towards you.

He’s saying something but your hearing is muffled now. A ringing in your ears. You can’t hear him. All you can hear is your heartbeat and the blood flowing in your body. 

Everything is starting to become blurry around you. You can make out Azriel who is getting closer. He’s talking to you but you can’t hear him, and your tongue feels so heavy that you can’t talk. Your eyes flutter once, twice.

The third time your eyes flutter closed, they don’t open.

-

Azriel cradles your head from falling to the ground. He curses to himself and looks around. Your sword has turned back into just the hilt. He picks it up and puts it in one of his holsters. 

No one was coming to help. It’s just you and him.

The thought scared him. Ever since that match in front of the inner circle, things changed. Being alone with you, being near you, possibly having to touch you just lit his soul on fire. 

He’ll admit when Nesta sent him your way he was intrigued. You were like a beautiful puzzle. Completely put together but he still didn’t know what to make of you. You weren’t fae but you weren’t human either he could tell right off the bat.

He wanted to solve the mystery of you. At first. Yes, Nesta kept asking and asking about you. And he felt like he wasn’t the greatest spymaster when all he could tell her was he was working on it and to give him time.

He couldn’t deny the attraction towards you. He’d be an idiot to do so. But that didn’t mean he could act on it. It was obvious you didn’t think of him that way, and that you only liked a handful of fae—that being limited to Thesan and his lover.

But then you came to visit his court. And more eyes were on him. 

His brothers picked up on his little crush on you very quickly. Rhys put it together when Azriel came home after he brought you to the night court the first night. It was a simple action.

He talked about how frustrating you were, and then he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. Rhys obviously gave him so much shit for it. He was supposed to be trying to figure you out not figuring out a way into your bed.

Of course Azriel denied it. 

There was no denying it when almost the whole group, you included, landed at Rita’s. It felt good. It felt right. But he couldn’t stand how uncomfortable you looked after being poked and prodded with questions.

His shadow worked on it’s own though. He couldn’t believe that it just took your hilt. He managed to find a way out of it. Sort of. The match was harmless, but when you held out your hand to make a deal with him and he accepted without a second thought that’s when he knew he was fucked.

Cassian drilled into him later that night. Azriel never made bargains with anyone. His brother could tell that you were different to Azriel, you weren’t just anyone.

Later that night he found himself obsessing with the hilt that his shadow stole from your ankle. Amongst other tings. He kept the hilt by his bedside. 

If you were anyone else you would have lost that match. But you weren’t anyone else. No, as you two were fighting he felt it. The pull in his stomach. 

It should have been impossible but, somehow, around you a lot of things aren’t. He felt the thread that connected him to you and gave himself a shock. That’s why he leaped away from you. He didn’t know what to do or to say.

A mating bond between a fae and non-fae? That was unheard of, at least for him it was. 

He left as quickly as he could as soon as he got his bearings together. But it didn’t matter. The whole group had seen his response and smelt it on him right there. All but one of them didn’t bring it up at family dinner.

Amren.

Of course she wanted to talk about it. She was your close friend. 

She asked him straight up if he was going to tell you. He grunted and left the table. No one else said a word.

He didn’t know what to do or how to be around you now. There was this thing connecting you two and only he could feel it. He could feel your emotions coming down the bond but you couldn’t feel his. You didn’t have a bond with him.

He couldn’t look you in the eye after that. Too scared that he’d fess up. Or, that he’s mess up more like it. It was better to say nothing until you were gone back to the dawn court. 

That was supposed to be the end of it. Azriel was willing to ignore the bond and try to go on with his life. Or give it a couple of years and try to reach out to you to start fresh. But fate is tricky.

All of a sudden he was in the tea room of the dawn court. Something about a ball in the winter court. Of course Cassian didn’t tell him that you’d be joining them. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you at the ball. He tried, he really tried. He talked to Mor, he shifted his body so that he wasn't in your direct line of sight. He tried. He just couldn’t stop looking for you, or at you.

Seeing you chat with Elias did feel like a pinch to the heart. He had no room to be jealous. You didn’t know about the bond. And he had a feeling that even if you did, you still wouldn’t like him in that way.

What shocked him the most was seeing you heal that young boy. It was like witnessing that type of magic he only heard about in children’s stories. You were more than a question, you are an impossible woman.

If this were a perfect would, he could love you.

But this isn't a perfect world.

And here you lay on the ground.

Azriel carefully wrangles your body into his arms. He looks down at you, worried and still just as confused about you as the day he first saw you. He walks back towards the palace with you in tow.

[smokersjourney]

WHY I GAVE MY LIFE TO MARLBORO

The simple answer is, I always wanted to. When I was a kid, I began to notice those beautiful red packs of cigarettes in Marlboro ads. I was drawn to the pack somehow, couldn't stop looking. I liked the Marlboro Man and his look with a Red in his mouth, but it was the cigarettes themselves, a few sticking up from the pack, their white filters revealed, that really had my attention. I wanted them. There was another detail that I always looked for, the listing of the tar content at the bottom of the ad that appeared here in the United States. This was before puberty, before my understanding of men, before any of that, I just loved that Reds had a very high tar content for some reason. No one in my immediate family smoked, I was never really around it, but I started to want it. When puberty hit, I began to stare at Marlboro and other cigarette ads while I masturbated. Just the presence of the cigarettes turned me on. Then in health class at school that year, the teacher showed a pair of dark tar filled smokers lungs as a warning to us all. I had a complete boner right there, squirming in my desk. I knew what I wanted in life. I knew I wanted Marlboro in me, I knew I wanted to be a fully addicted heavy smoker and I knew I wanted those tar filled Reds lungs in my chest when I became a man. I masturbated about this constantly. It was my first addiction to Marlboro, even before one of its beautiful cigarettes touched my lips, and I was fantasizing about Marlboro with my cock in hand three or four times a day, absolutely beyond control. That same year, I began to smell smoke on some of the other boys when they came from school. Then I began to see a few of them smoking after class. I was beyond excited, almost too excited. There was no way for me to talk to them in such a state. And then one day it just happened. I found half a pack of Reds hidden in a hollowed out tree trunk near the edge of a park. I picked it out and held my very first Reds pack in my hands. It was so lucky that they were Reds as opposed to another brand. I took them back to the house in my jeans pocket. Felt so good to walk with them. And then, back at the house, went behind the shed, put one in my mouth and lit up with some matches from the kitchen. I could barely do anything, my hands were shaking, this was such a moment. My cock was rock hard. And that's when I had my first puff. The tar hit my virgin pink lungs for the first time and my cock immediately erupted. I couldn't smoke much, like most first timers. That Reds nic made me woozy and the desire for my Reds being fulfilled was overwhelming. But it became a regular thing. I finished the pack in the coming days, then had to strategize at finding more. I couldn't become a regular smoker for a few more years. But really I was a regular heavy smoker long before that puff. I was a boy who wanted to give his lungs to Marlboro and I did. After a lifetime of heavy smoking, I now have the tar filled lungs I saw in the health book in class that many years ago. I love every breath I take with them, their feeling of fullness, their sometimes wheezing, the cough that calms after lighting up. For all you young smokers that can relate, Marlboro has a beautiful life planned for you, you just need to let in. It will completely transform you from the inside out. Over time, your lungs will no longer belong to you, Marlboro will be inside your chest every day, all the time, never letting go of you. I'm grateful for my Marlboro life. I always wanted it. Thanks Marlboro, I love you very much.

[beigetiger]

Ok, LISTEN. I’ve been putting off talking about China in phase 2 for ages now because the words weren’t finding a good way to fit together, but I swear I can do it now.

I’ve seen a few people talking about how they didn’t like the development at the end of phase 2 that China got artificially aged up, and while I kinda agree with that, I also understand the reason why that would’ve been written in.

At the very start of the series, two things are immediately established about China. One, she’s beautiful and has a magical charm that she uses to convince people to give her what she wants. And two, she’s incredibly selfish and will throw those around her under the bus if it benefits her. And these repeated themes stick around throughout the series, it is always hammered down on us that China is magically beautiful but also incredibly manipulative and self-serving. It should also probably be noted as well that there are points in the series where China almost seems to resent her status as selfish, even if she feels that it’s an accurate label. It more reflects a sort of dislike about herself more than anything.

But another thing that gets established as the series goes on is that Valkyrie has a tendency to inspire those around her to be better, the most notable example of this being Skulduggery. But this also applies to China, as shown in places such as Mortal Coil when China allows a man to escape with one of her books because Valkyrie is watching her.

And so when China gives Cadaver the bomb that he eventually aims at a group of innocent people, China has the opportunity to stand by and let it happen, at no real cost to her. But instead, she demonstrates fifteen books worth of character development and goes to save those people, with the process taking away her youth and, by extension, the magic charm that she uses to manipulate people. Her unnatural beauty represented her selfishness, and so committing a selfless act then removed that beauty. This is also reflected in Seasons of War in a way, where Valkyrie talks about how Ghastly was born with bizarre scarring and was an incredibly sweet and loving person, while China, the most beautiful person in the world, was selfish and made Valkyrie want to throttle her on a semi-regular basis. It’s the whole “beauty on the inside versus beauty on the outside” trope.

And again, being selfless stripped that beauty away from China even as she, on the inside, became a better person for it. Valkyrie was a force of good in her life who taught her that sacrifice was worth it. Her whole arc is learning to face the consequences of her many, many mistakes and learning how to overcome her reputation to save innocent people from yet another one of her mistakes. One that she still has the power to fix.

Another thing I want to point out is that future China (the one who’s head is ripped off by Malice) also has scarring that she’s learned to love, but her scars represent something slightly different. Future China’s scars are a mark to forever remind her that she tried and failed to save Valkyrie, whereas current China’s aging is a physical representation of a selfless act.

I know that this is probably a relatively skin-deep analysis and there’s much more to talk about regarding China, but this has been bouncing around my head for a frankly ridiculous amount of time and I wanted to get it out. Phase 2 is honestly when China’s character took off for me as well. I liked her before (albeit with mixed feelings), but phase 2 is when she actually became an appealing character that I had significant emotional investment in because seeing her relationship with Valkyrie and seeing Valkyrie eventually inspire her to give up something that has defined her life for centuries hit hard.

[elfbitches]

hi :) an update and reintroduction to myself, since its been a long time and things are different now

a lot of very big life-changing things have happened to me since i've been away, some very bad, some very good, all very hard stuff to go through. i moved to another country(!), got married to my partner and best friend of 7 years (!!), and im currently in the process of filing for immigration(!!!). ive also been grappling with mental and physical health issues that, for now at least, need to be managed without professional help which makes the challenging things even harder. but im here, im alive. imperfect, with a lot i need to work on, but im still trying and my life is several lightyears away from what it used to be. ive finally landed where im gonna stay, and now i can finally recover with the stable ground ive been without for my entire life.

ive been wanting to find a way to come back to social media after abstaining for over a year now aside from checking in now and then, and i had this sort of self-imposed pressure to make it something Significant with beautiful artwork to announce my return and signify how hard ive been working on recovering mentally emotionally physically and artistically. so i kept delaying it because nothing ive been making seemed amazing or groundbreaking enough to warrant all the fuss, and in the process depriving myself of basic human interaction because i didnt feel good enough about myself to show up empty-handed. however i now realise that that impulse was the same sort of mentality that got me so catastrophically burnt out so many times before, that my creativity and artistic output is a commodity that needs to meet a certain level of quality to justify it's existence to others, and all i could do was pray that people like it enough to keep paying attention to me. im trying to break out of that, and as such i have nothing to give you other than myself. im not a content creator, i am simply a person who creates.

ive done a lot of reflection on what is important to me this past year, and currently im in a state of flux and change and adjustment in all aspects of my life. ive basically restarted my entire artistic journey and im starting over from scratch in order to make my art something I both love to look at and love making, and neither of those things have been true for many years now. the same goes for how I presented myself and interacted with others during my time on social media, and I understand now what it means when people say "you teach people how to treat you"; it took me a long time to realise that I was unhappy with how people treated me, and that was a direct result of me constantly enabling specific behavior simply because it gave me positive attention (even if it was at my expense most of the time, people-pleasing habits die hard). from now on going forward, i want to give myself the respect i deserve, and be better about establishing healthy boundaries without being the isolated recluse ive become in the past year.

so all that said, hi! you can call me abel or blue :) i work as a remote graphic designer/illustrator for a tea shop in seattle, and live in canada with my husband will and our cat mango cheesecake! im a weird gay stoner with AuDHD and my current obsession and all-encompassing special interest is my multimedia art therapy project called ELFWOOD, and im always working on it in some capacity at any given time. im also a nsfw artist that loves drawing queer porn and doing drugs so suggestive stuff and things relating to weed and psychedelics will be a big thing here. i hope to be brave enough to post art and project updates someday soon, but i want to make sure its something i want for myself and not because i want to rely on external validation. thank u for reading and sticking around if u choose to! if not, thats okay and i hope u have a lovely day anyway :)

[alpydk]

Desperate (RuganxReader)

He has a choke hold on me right now - So here is some hastily written smut (1300 words or so of it...)as a break from all the angst I've made recently - I will say although this is awesome, as all fanfic is, smut is not my go-to writing choice. But I needed this, desperate for it, you might say.

For a few weeks, you’ve been travelling with your party along the Sword Coast in search of a healer for your tadpole problem. A few weeks of dirt, blood, cold washes in the river and hands kept to yourself. As much as you hate to admit it in such low-class terms; you’re horny, desperate to ride someone, but unfortunately picky with your tastes. 

The vampire, Astarion had appeared the obvious choice with his flirty remarks and pristine good looks, but he wasn’t your type. Too pretty, not to mention he couldn’t handle the banter you gave back at him. Typical elf you thought to yourself. Then there was sweet Gale, a good age, good-looking but too much of a romantic, a bit too good for your liking. You ask yourself; why have red wine when there is ale on tap? Gale was more the type to lovingly caress your inner thigh and build up to some gentle foreplay for an age rather than just fuck you like an animal against the wall, the floor, or anywhere you really wanted so he was out of the running. And then there were the others; Wyll was too young, Shadowheart too distant, Karlach on fire. Lae’zel… just no. Desperate but picky…

***

Fucking gnolls and their stupid giggling. Great, now you’ve got blood on you again and the whole area is up in flames. Who in the hells was the genius to start throwing alchemist's fire? Well, at least the beasts have been taken care of. You’ve expected nothing but corpses, empty crates, and maybe the odd trip wire; Rugan is not what you’re expecting to come across. Slightly taller than you, older, weathered from a few too many fights, and most likely a few too many stiff drinks as well; and shit, when he speaks you feel that desperate hunger come back to you full force. You would happily be fucked by him against the wall, the floor, the back of this bloody cave if left alone with him. 

Ah, a Zhentarim. Typical. You’d had run-ins with them back in the city. The word around was that they were trying to take over The Guild; a few gold misplaced and a skirmish or two down by the docks, but it wasn’t your place to get involved. Leave that to Nine-Fingers to deal with. Your job was to simply keep the books in order at the keep, whilst playing both sides to keep your lifestyle comfortable, of course. Well, maybe now this could play to your advantage as well; make a little gold and if you meet up with him again then you could see what would happen. At least now you have something to think of during those lonely nights of tent life. 

You’ve always been one for voices as stupid as the concept sounds and his sticks with you. …Tighter than a Duke’s purse strings… You bite the inside of your lip thinking of other things usually construed as tight. When did your mind become so crude? Why did everyone else have to be here right now? Why can’t you just push him against that wall and have your way with him? You see him looking at you as Gale speaks; maybe he’s thinking the same thing, or maybe he’s recognised you from the keep. What does it all matter though? Desperate…

***

You both plan to make some gold selling the chest he’s transporting. You figure, what harm could it do? You find out soon after though exactly what harm; with the death of the poor lad that was with him, the death of the Zhents that had him tied and beaten to a chair, and an awakening to something you’ve never really thought about before. You beautiful bastard. Gods, what you’d give to keep him tied to that chair, to suck his cock knowing his arms are bound behind him and there’s nothing he can do but let out deep moans from your touch. That fantasy will keep you going for a few nights, that's for sure, and then maybe if you’re lucky that drink he’s promised you could turn into more, a desperate touch-starved reality.  

***

Baldur’s Gate. It’s been a long time having to make do with the odd night with Astarion, with some drow, with your own thoughts to keep you going, but you know you’ll soon be at the Elfsong Tavern and can get that sweet release you’ve been craving. Yeah, the tadpole is still slithering away in your mind, yeah there are all the other problems, like saving the world and a stone lord that had suddenly become your issue to deal with, but none of it matters in comparison to what, who you’ve been craving. Rugan…

He stands at the bar, a pint in hand. Finally, someone with a real taste in alcohol. He recognises you even out of the armour, hopefully out of the clothes later too. Things have gone to shit for him since the day in the caves, but he doesn’t want to talk about it much and you’re grateful after carrying the emotional baggage of your travelling companions. You watch as he downs the last bit of his drink before placing his hand on your thigh. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you for your reaction. You can already feel the warmth in your face, and you want to say it’s the drink but you both know that’s a complete lie. 

You can’t tell who booked the room or even how you’ve both reached this point as you push through a door, hands already exploring one another’s bodies, tongues entwined in a frantic effort to make up for lost time. The door is kicked shut to keep your hands placed on his body and as you make your way to what you hope is the bed, you both leave behind a trail of clothing, a light cotton shirt and leather trousers with ridiculous ties. On any other day, you might tease, pulling at them with your teeth but that will not happen tonight. Tonight, you want him, you need him inside you. 

Desperate longing leads to desperate touches. Your hand is wrapped around his shaft, though it takes little to wind him up. His grabs are as eager as yours as you feel him wrap a strong arm around your leg pulling you in closer, onto him. Did you even make it to the bed? You don’t seem to care as you feel him thrust inside you, deeper than you expected after seeing how tight his trousers were, a pleasant yet welcome surprise. Shit, it’s been so long and you wanted to draw this night out, to have it build up to some enchanted moment and see fireworks but right now, you are in that cave, you are on that floor, you are up against that wall, and you are being given what you have hungered after for so long. By the gods, he is everything and more than you could possibly have ever wanted. 

You hear his breath grow heavy against your neck as he jolts into you mercilessly. You grip him feeling your heart racing and your muscles tightening, wanting to give him everything, wanting this night to last forever but you know it won’t be much longer for either of you. You feel your release building and you try to hold it off, try to think of anything else but the throbbing inside of you and just as you think you’ve regained some control you hear his growled whisper in your ear; Your name spoken from those thirsting lips.   

***

The next morning you wake up alone amongst the creased sheets of the bed you’d both shared. The trail of your clothing leads to what appears to be a sofa and you smile to yourself now knowing the full story of the night. You’ve no idea where he’s gone or even if you’ll see him again but right now you don’t care as your head rests on the pillow and the events of last night flood your brain. That beautiful bastard, Rugan, once again leaving you desperate…

[colonelpancakes]

Watching the dragon prince season six episode four: The Starscraper. Under the cut as usual.

I love Callum but how is he not frozen solid. Those fingerless gloves may be stylish but they are NOT insulating. Give my boy a coat.

Ooh that’s a beautiful building. It does look a tad like a Minecraft beacon but, it's a very pretty Minecraft beacon

Callum, why would you just stick your hand in? For all you know it’s like a forcefield or something and it zaps you!

Okay, my question is what is the benefit of an elevator partially activating once you’ve read half the runes? That seems like a real safety hazard, like that seems like a magic bug that needs to be fixed.

Woah, wait a minute! Interesting, some of the Celestial Elves seem to have wings that aren’t bird wings. That one in the back looks like they have bug wings. Can that happen with skywing elves? I guess bugs are also flying creatures that inhabit the sky so that would make sense. Hmm… I wonder if you can get Mage Wing bug wings…

Aww. The leaflynx kitten is adorable but also the music is giving major flashbacks to the baby deer at the end of season two. Claudia. Claudia don’t you dare.

Also, glowing butterfly motif!

CLAUDIA NO.

Okay good. It seemed like her hand was almost acting out of her control, I wonder if this much dark magic is starting to like, impact her reflexes? Like she instinctively reaches for things even if she doesn’t consciously want to? Or maybe she’s just snapping herself out of it who knows.

“Are you feeling alright?” “No, I’m not. I’m so messed up, Terry. I’ve been stuck, just staring, for over an hour now.” Oughhh Claudia, honey. Its good that she’s at least able to admit she’s not okay, that’s a good start.

Oh, hey is Claudia starting to lean away from dark magic? Or, like, recognize that it’s not a good thing? That’s interesting, previously she’s been very adamant that dark magic is a good and useful invention, but now she seems to be realizing the negative effects it’s had on her? …Claudia redemption arc? 👀

Skjslkajfdkl that is the exact same face that she made at Zym when she first met him. Some things never change.

I love the little pose Callum does when he’s introducing him and Rayla, he’s so dorky I love him.

Oh my God that escalated quickly. Not a friendly lot got it.

No! Gosh dangit pearl stop rolling around!

CLAUDIA REDEMPTION ARC?! Let’s GO! YES GIRL! SELF-IMPROVEMENT!

I find it interesting how after losing her dad, Claudia turns to Terry, her only present loved one, for instruction. She needs someone to tell her what to do, she needs someone to do things FOR. She went from following her dad's orders to working to save his life and now she doesn't have him to give her direction, she looks to Terry. When was the last time she did something for herself without someone's instructions?

“Only you can decide the path you’re going to walk. You won’t be alone. I’ll clear out the thorny brambles if I see them, I’ll hold your hand as we trudge through wet, mucky leaves. But… you have to choose the way.” I love Terry so much he’s such a sweetheart. He clearly loves Claudia so much and he’s willing to stick with her through everything and anything, whatever happens.

Claudia... Again, it's interesting, how, because she doesn’t know what she wants for herself, she defaults back to finding what her dad wants, thinking that if she looks at him, she’ll find some clarity and she’ll suddenly know what to do. She doesn't know what to do without her family because she's been doing things for them for her whole life.

Aww. Okay, the leaflynx kitten is adorable but. Was I the only one alarmed by how big it is? Something about the perspective in earlier shots made me think it was a lot smaller somehow.

Also, I love the butterfly landing in Claudia's hair in the previous shot.

No, I think Callum has a point here. They did just drop you from the top of the tower.

Oh, hey! Kosmo has vitiligo! That’s cool, yay representation!

Also, I haven’t mentioned it yet but I love Sneezle’s hanging out in Callum’s scarf it’s so cute.

I love Sol Regem’s design he’s so big and menacing. Plus the lighting in this location is so beautiful, the way it illuminates him from behind like a dusky backlight is *mwah*

Sooo, what are we thinking Sunseeds smell like? ‘Cause personally, I’m thinking freshly popped popcorn.

Karim, man, he literally told you that his sight was unrelated to his lack of hope. I don’t know how you are surprised by this.

Sksjlfakj poor Rayla.

Ohh wow. This episode is really going off with the gorgeous scenery and lighting. The Starlooms are so beautiful and I love the name "starweaver spider".

Oh! So that’s what the bug wings are! That’s really cool and such neat worldbuilding.

Hey! It's the intro galaxy!

Okay, that sounds cool in theory but I feel like in practice being Timeblind would kinda suck. I feel like that would just be like. Too much information at any given time it’d be hard to make connections with other people or like, enjoy day to day life.

Continued in reblogs as per usual!

[cheezeybread]

Hello, I'm new to the blog and may I make a few requests? It's okay if you don't want to do all of them or even none of them. I just hope they comply with the request rules.

My first suggestion is a Twisted Wonderland x LP! Athanasia! Reader. The reader is EXTREMELY beautiful since she takes after her mother, Diana, and has her father's beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly jewel eyes. However, she was executed unjustly by said father due to being framed for poisoning her "lovely" older sister Jeanette whom she was always in the shadow of.

My second suggestion is a Twisted Wonderland x WMMAP! Athanasia! Reader. Again, the reader is gorgeous and has jeweled eyes, but this time, she is adored by all, including her father, who is SUPER protective of her.

My third suggestion in a Yandere! Diasomnia x Reader who wears iron to avoid them. The reader knows they're a psycho yandere and wears iron to protect themselves.

Again, it's okay if you don't want to do all or any of them, I just hope I've complied with the rules, I've followed good requesting etiquette, and that I haven't been a bother. Have a great day!

You haven't been a bother at all! I appreciate your effort into looking at the rules and everything! ^^

I saw the first idea and IMMEDIATELY thought of the reader being a mysterious ghost that haunts NRC, so I took it and ran with it, I'm sorry if that's not what you were looking for! But the Yandere Diasomnia is something that I'm definitely gonna have to write once I finish their book, eheheh~

Tws// Mentions of death (murder, specifically), spooky ghosts, too oooh

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There were tales of ghosts and ghouls, all being passed down to the freshmen late at night in their dorms. Tales that they eventually grew out of, but for their first year, it was terrifying.

There were evidence of ghosts all around school, of course. Some of the staff were deceased, and there were even ghosts infesting the old Ramshackle of a building just on campus. But those ghosts were all good and well, and didn't bother anybody who didn't bother them. These tales were more...horrifying ones. Ghosts that would stick around for centuries after their death for revenge. And once they got revenge on their killer, they'd still lash out in rage at anybody who happened to pass by...ghosts with no eyes, ghosts who could only scream...ghosts that could and would kill.

But the story that everyone collectively feared and loved the most was that of the Jeweled Lady.

Born to a wealthy family, Jeweled Lady (often called "Jewel" by those telling the story) was exceptionally beautiful. Her mother's heavenly looks, and her father's ethereal eyes combining to create a woman who had been receiving offers of marriage from a young age. As kind as she was lovely, Jewel was beloved by the entire kingdom she lived in...but one day her sister, Jeanette, died.

Jeanette was no one of note. She was average-looking, had nothing of interest to say, and did nothing to make people view her in the same lovely light that they did her younger sister. Yet despite all of this, Jeanette was her father's favorite daughter. So once she died, the father claimed that Jewel had poisoned her, and forced a court to execute her.

It was a terrible thing, and soon after her execution, the kingdom fell into a deep, dark depression without her light. Her father and most mysteriously vanished one day, either running away to a new land, or murdered by vengeful folks.

As the story goes, Jewel haunts NRC because the students remind her of better times, times when she had so much to look forward to in life. The students give her hope, it was said, and she hoped that one day she might receive justice for her terrible demise. It was said that one could stumble upon Jewel's ghost early into the morning, just before the sun rose. She liked to hang around the courtyard the most, under blooming trees. But, of course, one could also find her in the halls or the library, longingly looking at all of the stories she couldn't read.

It wasn't uncommon for students to go out and hunt for her, especially the freshmen (despite claiming they didn't believe in fairy-tales, a good many of them fell in love with the mere idea of her). Those who claimed to see her remarked on how lovely her eyes truly were....like jewels sparkling in the moonlight. Which is why, most likely, she was nicknamed "Jewel". Her true name might never be known, lost to the passage of time....

The Beloved Ghost of NRC

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Jazzy's writing!

Socials: @jazzythursday (Tumblr) | Jazzythursday (AO3)

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Part One: Author Interview

Q: What do you consider your strengths as a writer?

A: I love writing dialogue, and I take a lot of pride in being able to create scenes where there are authentic conversations happening. For me that goes hand in hand with good characterisation, which I try really hard to stay true to. Nailing a character’s voice, their gestures, the way they think and overall spirit and being able to make it come through on the page is probably the thing that I’m always trying the hardest to do, and I’m really proud when I’m able to pull it off. I also would like to think I’m good at incorporating metaphor and poetic imagery into my writing. 

Q: Who is your favourite character? What do you love about them?

A: It’s not really a secret that my favourite character is Wylan. I started watching SAB already knowing that I’d love him from spoilers I saw online, but I really couldn’t have predicted how much he’d come to mean to me.  I tend to fixate on characters I see myself in, that I can relate to and also find aspirational, and so much of Wylan’s character speaks to me in that way. He’s anxious and scared most of the time, unsure of where he fits in or how to act, which is honestly how I feel most of the time too. One of my favourite things that I think sometimes gets overlooked about him is his bravery. To me, Wylan is the embodiment of the phrase “do it scared”. Even with everything he struggles with, he always tries, and that’s something I’ve been trying to take with me in my own life. I think of him a lot when I’m trying to hype myself up for things I don’t feel equipped for. I also really love Wylan’s kindness—the way he refuses to let his experiences make him cruel or stop seeing how much beauty there is in the world. He sees so much in his environment and the people around him. He has so much compassion, and even though it makes him vulnerable, I think there’s so much strength in him choosing to often lead with it instead of hiding it away. 

Q: Have you had a chance to interact with the SAB cast? Tell us about your experience(s). 

A: I have had too many experiences with them to properly articulate. I was able to go to multiple conventions this year where the cast were guests, as well as see Next to Normal in London and meet Jack at stagedoor. Meeting Jack is always surreal. They really are such a lovely human. The one moment that sticks out to me the most is when I got soc and ck signed at Into The Fold. I remember I’d gotten to meet him briefly before that but not been able to talk much because of nerves, so I had planned and written down this whole Thing I wanted to say about how much he inspires me as a performer and as someone who is studying musical theatre. He was really kind about it, and seemed genuinely excited to talk about theatre for a bit. Then at the end after he’d signed the books I blanked out mentally and said something like “ah—words, yes, those are— those are a thing… and I can use them… correctly… :)” and he was just nodding supportively (and I think trying not to laugh) saying “Mhm. Yeah, they are :)”  At MagicCon a few weeks ago I managed to give him a blue butterfly as well (not a real one. I have fake plastic sparkly ones on clips) which I’ve been wanting to do since Into The Fold. I started carrying them around with me as part of my Wylan cosplay, and have recently started keeping one on me whenever I feel like I need some extra luck. I don’t know if they really are lucky or not, but they feel lucky to me. 

Q: What are some recurring themes you’ve noticed in your writing? 

A: I place a lot of weight on feelings over plot, so a lot of my fics centre on an emotional journey of some kind, i.e: a character feeling displaced, and then more secure by the end; a character experiencing something awful, and having to deal with carrying on in the aftermath—Coping and trauma both come up a lot, because I find that fascinating and cathartic to write. It’s one of the things I wonder about the most: How does this character cope with their trauma? How do they feel about it and what makes their days easier? What makes them harder? Who do they lean on for support? Wesper calls to me as a ship so much because a major function of their relationship is how they help and support each other without judgement. Nurodivergence also comes up a lot. There’s a section I go back to a lot in Every Day, Just a Little or a Little Bit that goes into detail about Jesper’s adhd and how Wylan both relates and doesn’t relate to it through his own experience with dyslexia and autism. 

Q: What is one of your favourite scenes from the source material (book or show)?

A: I love all the wesper scenes in the book, so that’s just too hard to even begin to narrow down. As for the show, I looooove the wesper scene at the end of episode 4. It’s so beautifully well done. They have a very honest conversation, which is rare to see in this type of media. Wylan talks to Jesper candidly about the reasons why he left and how he felt, and Jesper sees that honestly and gives it back to him by sharing his own feelings. They’re both so vulnerable with each other and not used to that kind of honesty, and they treat that with more gentleness than I usually expect from shows—and I love that that’s the catalyst for their kiss.  I genuinely believe it’s one of the best scenes I’ve ever seen. From an acting perspective, Kit and Jack are perfect, and the music and cinematography just adds so much romance and significance that it really stands out as a Big Moment™. On the soundtrack, the song that plays under the scene is called The Night We Met, and it does a really great job of heightening the emotions in it. In the beginning, Wylan and Jesper are feeling each other out, not quite sure of where they stand, and so the score starts with only singular notes on the harp. The more the conversation progresses, closer they get to each other, the more music we hear. I don’t know if it’s strings or wind instruments (I can’t tell by ear), but the chords are held out, which creates this feeling of waiting and suspense—you want the song to go somewhere, to relieve that tension, and it does. Violin gets added slowly at first, soft with hope as they approach understanding, and then only once Wylan and Jesper kiss do we hear the music really take off. The tempo, the energy, it all swells with excitement. It really just takes my breath away, honestly. The violin is sometimes considered the closest instrument to the human voice, which feels very poignant for the instrument that takes over in this moment. They aren't talking anymore, but they are still communicating—physically, with their eyes and with their bodies, the kissing is a conversation—it reminds me of how in musical theatre it’s said that the songs start when the character’s emotions are too big for simply speaking them, and so they sing. That’s what the violin is doing at the end of the scene, it’s singing for them in a moment where emotions are too big for words.  I didn’t mean to write that much for this question, but there it is. 😅 I also love their scene the next morning because it’s soft and domestic, but I’ll leave it at that for now, otherwise this would be a 10 page essay about all of their scenes in the books and the show instead of an author spotlight.

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Part Two: Selected Works

Everyday, Just a Little or a Little Bit

Teen | 42.8K | Post-Season/Series 02, Character Study, Van Eck Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Wylan keeps waiting for it all to go wrong. Ever since that first night, after they beat Pekka Rollins, ever since the night after that, when it wasn’t over. Every morning since, when it still wasn’t. Happiness isn’t reliable. Peace is not permanent. People do not stay. This is what Wylan knows; it’s the only proven hypothesis he has any reason to trust. And every day, he wonders how long he has left before everything good that’s happened over the last month is inevitably whisked away. Or: the scenic route to the Van Eck reveal. Wylan Van Eck, in the months following the Crow’s return to Ketterdam. Struggling with his past, relearning love in its many forms, and worrying an awful lot about how to keep it.

Cutting Loses

Teen And Up | 1.2K | Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Light Angst, Pre-Season/Series 02

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go. Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

No Right Way for the Blue or Black Days

Teen And Up | 4K | Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jesper Fahey's Gambling Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Wylan wakes up alone. He knows, immediately, that something is wrong. The only disturbance of the covers has been made by himself; the other side of the bed is untouched, except for where his hand had landed on Jesper's pillow during the night. The rest is left unruffled and empty. He hadn’t come back. Jesper has a run in with some debt collectors after a solo job, and comes back to the Slat bruised, bloody, embarrassed and, despite all insistence to the contrary, not fine. Neither of them take it well.

I Need to Leave (Please Stay)

Teen And Up | 1.6K | Wylan Van Eck-centric, Pre-Canon, First Meetings, Getting Together, Light Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, exploration of trauma

People leave, it is a theory proven time and time again. Tried and tested and true. People leave, so Wylan always, always leaves first. It’s the better way, the only way, to keep on with whatever semblance of life he’s living. In which Wylan struggles through his first year in the Barrel, and tests a theory which garners surprising results.

Heart Of The Country

Teen And Up | 24.1K | Slice of Life, Character Study, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom

It’s a funny thought: the house beside the old jurda farm as home. It isn’t, really. It hasn’t been for a long, long time. Home became, at some point, his room above the Crow Club, where he could hear Kaz pacing around his office at night above him and the rowdy, boisterous noise from the club below. Home became his and Wylan’s shared room at the Slat. The one with the paint chipped walls and the leaky pipes and the brassy, artless key Wylan still wears around his neck, long after they’ve moved out. And after, slowly but surely, it became the Van Eck mansion; all the towered ceilings and too many rooms of it. But the farm will always be home to him too, he supposes. The way the place you grew up will always be. Or, a series of happenings at the Fahey family farm, one year post-Crooked Kingdom.

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Part Three: Author's Recs

out of the forest (into a home)

Mature | 89.2K | Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Laundromat, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Social Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

The first time they meet, it’s closing in on five thirty in the morning, and Wylan is elbow-deep in the back of one of the washing machines trying to repair a leaky inlet hose. The door buzzes, signalling the arrival of a customer. “Hey,” someone says in a rich baritone. “Can I get some change?” --- Wylan is adrift in the city; Jesper and the rest of the Crows take him in.

counterclockwise

Mature | 12.1K | Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon 

“Wylan?” Jesper asked, uncertain. There was so much trust wrapped into his name, and all Wylan could taste was fear without courage. He couldn’t breathe. “What did you do?” -------------- Or, the one in which Wylan’s never defused an explosive before, Jesper prepares for a mercher ball, and Kaz and Inej snag an invitation.

Forgiveness of Debts

Teen And Up | 35.3 | Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Wylan Van Eck Whump, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

They lie on the edge of the roof, watching the guests arrive at the Ice Court, dignitaries, performers, the workers from the West Stave houses. In the midst of the glittering crowds one group stands out, a blot of darkness among the gaudy frocks and suits. Inej inhales sharply. She’s looking down at the man in the centre of the group, whose reddish hair is going sparse on top. “Isn’t that–” Beside Jesper, Wylan stills, his body a tense line. “Van Eck,” Kaz confirms. His face turns grimmer than usual.  Wylan’s secret is revealed at the worst time, and in the worst way. Everything afterwards happens a little differently.

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[newlacesleeves]

*slams this fic on the counter* Okay, look. I've been thinking about the parallels between Sam/Tory and Daniel/Johnny for far too long now. And then then season 6 trailer dropped and my brain would not let me know peace until I wrote this fic so I wrote it over a 48-hour period until I could finally get it all out. Enjoy.

AFTERBURNER | Lawrusso, Samtory, Johnny Lawrence & Samantha LaRusso | T | 8,634 words | non-linear narrative & parallels all the way down

The thing about history is we're doomed to repeat it. That's what Mr. Murray says on Sam's first day of AP World History. It's human nature, he says, to make the mistakes of our ancestors. The only way to anticipate these mistakes is to learn of them, learn from them, and hope we can use what we've learned to avoid the same pitfalls as our predecessors.  --- A fic about patterns, trusting, and how history is always just repeating itself.

The inciting incident, like most things in Johnny's life, is a punch to the face. 

Before the twerp manages to land it — right into Johnny's mouth pow! right in the kisser! — it's just a game to Johnny. Here's this skinny kid moving in on his girl, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, like a gnat in the sand just buzzing around. And Johnny, sure, he toys with him. Dances around him and lets him try to land one. But it's only when he manages to get a good one in there that Johnny sees red and nothing else. Because who does this kid think he is? Who does this kid think Johnny is? Doesn't he know who he's dealing with here? He can hear Kreese’s voice in his head: the enemy deserves no mercy. And Johnny doesn’t know who this kid is by name but he knows he’s just made a new enemy.

So Johnny shows him. With fists and kicks and a hard landing with a mouthful of sand. Forces him to cover up the dark bruise around his eye with a pair of aviators on his first day of school. Hide those Bambi soft brown eyes from Johnny's field of vision before he can even think about losing himself in them. 

That one punch sets each of them forward on a trajectory they are powerless to change. Their moves are now set in motion, each one preordained: LaRusso ducks left and Johnny swings right, LaRusso runs and Johnny chases. The interference by deus ex sensei only prolongs the inevitable moment: the pivotal accident that the tournament is only a few weeks away. That Kreese will do anything to win, even asking Bobby to fight dirty and deliver that crushing blow to the knee: it’s all a set up for the perfect storm that ends with Johnny’s face getting kicked by what shouldn’t be a long graceful leg but somehow it is. A beautiful kick. And if Johnny’s going to get kicked like that, it had better be a beautiful one. 

Johnny finds himself wondering what would have happened if that fist never swung his way. How different 1984 would have ended. First ever three-time All Valley Champ. Would Daniel LaRusso have found karate without punching Johnny Lawrence first? Would Johnny have found Daniel some other way? 

It's useless to wonder what could have been but Johnny does it anyway. He wastes years on it until one day he’s forced to walk into LaRusso Auto and sees the smug, charming, ageless face that’s plagued him all this time. Another hit, this time a hit and run, that resets the board and puts them in motion again. 

Three and a half decades later, LaRusso swaps a punch for a kiss — another pow! another pop in the mouth! — and just like that first night, Johnny doesn’t see it coming until it’s already happened.

He doesn’t see red but he does strike back. Uses his hands to tell LaRusso just what Johnny thinks about that, one with a grip on his jaw, the other threading through his stupidly soft, dark hair. Pushes him up against the wall of the dojo because this is just another fight that Johnny’s going to win.

LaRusso pulls back with puffed up lips and heavy dark eyes. His hair’s a mess and his grin is infectious. 

Another inciting incident.