#like that was a formative moment in my childhood

[ajlockwood]

one of the most powerful things about arcane in my opinion is that it managed to capture so many forms of love, so please bear with me while we delve into this analysis.

[SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ARCANE!]

vander’s love for vi and jinx was the one of a good father; he raised them like he promised their mother, and for as long as his consciousness lived, he was determined to protect them. silco also grew to love jinx like a daughter, in his own way. she wasn’t just one of his most prized assets: while he was ruthless to most, he had a tendency of going “softer” on her, and was desperate to save her when he thought she was gone. singed loved his daughter so much that he was willing to go to unspeakable lengths to bring her back. and despite everything, ambessa and mel were still mother and daughter, and in the moment of death, they recognised how much they meant to each other. a mother stabbed by her own daughter, and yet, with her final breath, she expressed how proud she was of who mel had became — quite similar to silco’s death.

caitlyn and vi have always been romantic, this third act showing the passionate kind of love they had. ekko loved jinx in a most pure way, a love he carried with him since childhood and somehow persisted. mel and jayce had their troubles in the beginning, but they grew to trust each other and became very significant to one another with time.

vi and jinx were one of the most important of all, because they clashed and fell apart, and even through it all, even with so much hatred and hurt and grief, they never let go. they loved each other beyond words. their love was powerful enough to bring forgiveness. with isha, jinx showed all this love that was still inside her, the love for a sister she thought she had lost. silco and vander too clashed and nearly killed each other (silco succeeded) and yet their love persisted.

and then it concluded with jayce and viktor. their love was transcendental, beyond simply romantic or platonic bonds even. ever since they first met, without their knowledge, their lives had always been intertwined. it all started with them, and it ended with them. they clashed to near death, but jayce didn’t let go, and viktor couldn’t either. “it was affection that held us together”, viktor said. they were both alive because of each other. they owed each other so much. it was their love’s power that saved the universe of its collapse. again, a love powerful enough to forgive and leave everything behind.

so yes, I am very emotional and may have many conflicting thoughts about some aspects of these last acts, but the portrayal of love was something that I felt deeply throughout the entire series and can’t go unnoticed. all in all, the message of the show can be summarized in silco’s line: “the greatest thing you can do in life is find the power to forgive”.

[jo-harrington]

Blueberry Muffin (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie notices you're good at sharing your food. A little too good.

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Food/Eating, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Brief mention of financial concerns, Discussion of trauma from previous relationships

Note: This is something entirely personal to me, it was something my ex did one-upon-a-time ago. But, like with everything else, Eddie Munson is a powerful tool to help you get over some of your issues. This fic might not be the best, but it helped me work through some old issues. And I'm pretty proud of that.

Shoutout to @undead-supernova who inspired me to write this while we were chatting about her excellent fic We Are Going To Be Friends, and @dr-aculaaa who is one of my lifetime mutual trauma ride-or-dies and told me my ex was actually trash (and they were trash).

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If there was one thing that was the key to yours and Eddie's relationship, it was food.

Before there even had been a relationship, food had been one of the keystones of your friendship. You met at a friend's thanksgiving potluck, you always planned your outings around where you'd eat and the snacks you’d get, and during the group road trip up to Milwaukee for Mac and Cheese Fest, he'd finally gotten the courage to ask you out.

Food was life. You both agreed.

You were always good about sharing your food.

You, as in the two of you, sure. But specifically you.

It wasn't until the two of you were together and spent more time alone with each other that Eddie realized just how good you were at sharing.

Actually, good wasn't the right word.

Meticulous was more accurate.

If you took a bite of his burger when you went out for dinner, he had to have a bite of your pasta.

If you bought a pint of ice cream to share during movie night, you matched each bite spoon for spoon. However, if after a certain point of sharing he insisted that you could have the rest of the pint because it was your favorite flavor, the pint would inevitably make it back into the freezer without another spoonful taken.

On and on it went.

He tried to ignore it, but once he noticed it, it was hard not to.

At first, he thought that it was some relic of a less-than well-off childhood. Like Eddie, you'd grown up with a single parent and were occasionally foisted off on well-intentioned relatives to watch you while your mom worked. Thankfully, food was never scarce for either of you, but the fact that you'd been forced to grow up quicker than the others made you aware of generic-branded groceries and your mothers stretching their dollars and the pursing of lips when the bills came for special occasion meals out.

After a while, though, that reasoning disappeared. Yes, there were still habits that you formed from your mother's frugality but never to the point of anxiety.

This was something else.

And it all came to a head the day you brought home a bag of leftovers from work.

"Tom always orders too much when the execs visit the warehouse," you explained excitedly as you proudly showed off a plastic container of some gourmet salad and a few wax paper-wrapped sandwiches.

Then came the pastries.

A cherry danish you grabbed for Eddie specifically, and a pistachio-cream filled croissant that Eddie had heard you gush about a million times over. A few tiny cream puffs that both of you eagerly popped into your mouths.

And one blueberry muffin.

"Oh!" You faltered at the sight of it and then looked back into the obviously empty paper bag. "I thought there had been two."

"That's ok," Eddie shrugged. "We can just split it."

"No!" you snapped at him, your eyes wide. "You can have it."

"Sweetheart, I know you love muffins as much as I do," Eddie scoffed. "We'll just split it. No big deal. It's a pretty big muffin."

He watched as you worried at your lower lip for a long, drawn out moment before you nodded.

He kissed the side of your head and turned to grab plates and drinks. He carried as much as he could out to the living room so you could eat dinner in front of the TV. When he returned to your side to grab the food and start plating up your plunder, he stopped in his tracks at what he found.

Splitting a muffin was a no-brainer, typically. Or so Eddie thought. Just peel the paper lining and split that sucker in half. But there you stood, knife held in a shaky hand, shifting back and forth a few millimeters every so often, trying to find the exact equator of the confection before you so it could be cut in equal halves.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as gently as he could, but you still flinched, and when you looked up at him, your eyes looked glassy.

"Just cutting the muffin in half," you tried to laugh and play it off, but Eddie could see through the facade.

"It's just a muffin," he tried to offer, as though reminding you that it was, indeed, just a muffin would break you from this fit.

"It is," you looked down again, almost in shame. "Isn't it?"

He let you have a second, let you put the knife down and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. When you nodded and held yourself a little more confidently, Eddie closed the distance and split the muffin in half by hand, right down the middle along the score line you had started.

And he pretended that he didn't notice the way you'd held your breath while he did it.

"Let's have dinner then," he suggested.

---

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Eddie asked once dinner was almost over, his mouth full of cherry danish, crumbs spewing from his lips as he spoke.

You ignored him for a second, picked at your own laminated pastry, until he continued.

"You know I always thought your mom really hammered the sharing is caring thing with you. But you went full King Solomon on that muffin and...I know that look in your eyes because I've seen it in the mirror a ton of times. That was fear. That was pain. So, are we gonna talk about it?"

You sighed and considered telling him no, you wouldn't be telling him jack shit, but...how many times had you pried into things that you really had no place asking about and he still told you anyway. That's how communication worked; that's how a relationship worked.

And that was how you got into this mess wasn't it?

"You remember my shitty ex?" you began tentatively, with a question.

"Shitty ex Number 1," Eddie scoffed. "Or shitty ex Number 2?"

"Number two."

"Should've known," he said under his breath but nodded for you to continue. "Alright, so what else did they do?"

Because the list had been...extensive already, you were loath to admit.

But you were with Eddie now, and things were infinitely better. You could work through these hurdles with him.

"It all started when we still worked at the mall together," you began. "Before we even started dating, actually. We'd meet on breaks and shoot the shit and one day, the little bakery only had one blueberry muffin."

You glared at the split muffin sitting on a plate on the coffee table, as though it was at fault, and not your ex.

"We decided to split it. Nothing wrong with that. We only had a fifteen, it was just a snack. But when they went to split the muffin...they took the muffin top, and left me with the stump."

"The...stump?" Eddie asked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," you leaned forward and tapped on the base of the muffin that had previously been encased in paper. "The stump."

"That's...only assholes split a muffin that way." He paused and considered it. "But it's Shitty Ex Number Two. So I shouldn't expect anything less."

"I didn't think anything of it then," you continued. "Or the next hundred times we split a blueberry muffin on breaks, even when we started dating. They would always get the delicious, crispy, sugary muffin top, and I would always get the stump. Half-clinging to the wrapper, maybe a blueberry burned on the bottom. Never an equal half, always less-than!

"Until one day, there was this especially delicious looking muffin. It wasn't even at the mall, we were on a real date! At a real, nice bakery. With blueberry muffins, because that was our thing, and I made the mistake of asking if I could have the muffin top. Just once. And they looked at me like...like I just asked them to sacrifice their mother or something."

You felt your lip tremble, and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

That sense of loathing that you always felt when you thought of that moment, or really any time you got a blueberry muffin.

You took a breath and said, "they just told me that if I really loved them, I would let them have the damn muffin top. Because it was their favorite."

"That's bullshit!" Eddie got to his feet, arms thrown up in the air. "Sorry sweetheart, that's bullshit and, I'm sorry but, you deserved so much better. You deserve to have half a muffin. Half of the whole muffin, not just the stump. Fuck, you deserve the whole damn muffin yourself! It’s just a muffin!"

"I know!" You shouted back at him, causing him to stop his ranting and raving. "Don't you think I know that? It’s just a muffin and I shouldn’t have had to make myself accept less than what I deserved but it was the first in a long line of things where they made me feel like I wasn’t worth half. I wasn’t worth anything. And if I tried to prove that I was, to them and to myself, I would look crazy. Because it’s just a muffin.

“That's why I started...that's why I started taking what I deserved. I started taking half, instead of giving everything Eddie. If you get a bite, I get a bite. With everything. Because I deserve it!"

You thought of the way you had to meticulously tried to split the blueberry muffin earlier.

"Maybe...maybe I take it a little too far sometimes," you muttered, letting the tears finally fall. "Because I don't want to be selfish like they were, and take more from you than you deserve."

"Baby," Eddie dropped back onto the couch and corralled you into his embrace, pecking kisses to the side of your head. "Who fucking cares? Don't worry about me. Shit, I'll give you anything you want. I'll take anything you leave behind. I'll give you my whole cheeseburger at Benny's, if only you asked for it. And if you left me one singular pickle chip, I'd take it without complaint."

"I would never ask you," you laughed wetly.

“No, but you could ask, that’s the point. And I would give it to you.”

"I know I could. And I know you would...I just...I can't break myself from the habit. Not yet, at least."

"I get it," Eddie said into your hair as he continued dropping kisses. "The shitty exes leave their scars and you do your best to keep from opening the wounds up again. I get it."

You knew. You both had your fair share of scars.

---

It took a few minutes, as you basked in one another's comforting presence, before you inevitably shared the damn muffin you brought home. Eddie insisted on letting you take an extra bit off his muffin top, even when you rolled your eyes and told him to stop.

Neither of you brought it up again for a few days, but you both were a little more conscientious when you shared food.

You made nachos for his Friday night DnD session with the guys and he left you the core nacho that held everything together; it was extra gooey with cheese, and loaded with jalapeños. You made sure to take an extra big bite of his pint of rocky road when he offered, even if he didn't want a single bite of your rum raisin. And when it was his turn to take bites of your food, you didn't pay attention to how much or how little he took.

It still felt a little wrong, but it was insanely healing. You didn't need to worry about keeping things fair and equal with Eddie; your relationship was already fair and you were equals.

And of course, Eddie kept your revelation at the forefront of his mind to hold you accountable to your own bullshit. He noticed when you fell into old habits before you could and even came up with a form of punishment if you subconsciously made sure to take the same number of bites off a shared plate as he did:

He would give you a vegetable off his plate.

"I'm not a fan of broccoli anyway," he grinned cheekily, waving his fork with the aforementioned green in front of your face one night at dinner.

"You're an idiot," you shook your head, but took the bite regardless.

It was slow and steady, but you were getting over the hurdle together.

Then one day, the unexpected happened.

You were at work, doing your little mindless computer work as you did, when your coworker called your name from the front of the office.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Jill laughed as she hauled something through the sea of cubicles.

"No, did someone get me flowers or something?" you asked and stood from your desk to meet her halfway.

"You can't eat flowers," she said as she turned the corner, holding a massive basket.

Full of blueberry muffins.

You didn't need to read the card tied to the cellophane-wrapped basket full of baked goods to know who it was from, but you did anyway to satisfy your coworkers' curiosity.

And they didn't quite understand it, but it made your heart melt.

I didn't ask if they sold a basket of only the tops, because I didn't want them to think either of us were sociopaths. It’s just a blueberry muffin. But you're worth every muffin in this damn basket, sweetheart. Never forget that. Love, Eddie

[taesanrot]

[songs for women] anton x reader | 0.6k words drabble, musician!anton, best friends to ???, childhood friends au, implied college au, mutual pining note. a short lil thing i found from a few months ago in my drafts <3 wrote it for the beginning of fall. may turn this into a full length fic but i wanted to put this out for now bc i really like it.

now playing: songs for women by frank ocean

"don't even listen to the songs i record, but she be bangin' that drake in my car ... all damn day long, it's like she never heard of me, heard of me."

turning his key in the ignition, anton hears his car engine thrum as it comes alive. the fall air is warm and balmy and you’re sitting in the passenger seat, head propped on your hand as you gaze out the window.

“wanna roll it down?” anton’s soft voice coaxes you back to reality and you turn to look at him with a grin on your face, nodding excitedly. he smiles softly as he watches you turn the handle and let the fresh air into anton’s old four door sedan.

plugging the aux cord into the his phone, anton bumps your shoulder, handing you the glowing screen.

you gingerly take the phone out of his hands, fingers typing away in the search bar of his spotify app to queue a song.

turning towards the road, anton finally eases his foot onto the pedal, and the car’s wheels squeal slightly as he turns out of his driveway into the neighborhood’s winding roads.

the citrus colored leaves bring a fond smile to his face, and the breeze from your open window tickles his face and ruffles his hair.

old memories play through anton’s mind, flashes of long bike rides and pool days with you. you’re weaved into all of the moments he holds close to his heart, and he thinks it’ll always feel this way.

anton doesn’t think the jumps and twists in his stomach when he’s around you will ever fade. not when you smile so brightly at him, or laugh so prettily at his dumb jokes.

the two of you aren’t kids anymore, you’ve outgrown your bicycle helmets and kiddie pools. anton is an upcoming singer and you’re about to graduate college. but somehow whenever you end up in your hometown again, it’s like you’re teenagers again. you spend hours in the old coffee shop that was your favorite studying spot for finals, and you go to the same drive in ice cream parlor.

the song that you handpicked floods anton’s ears as his hand glides across the steering wheel. with a sigh and roll of his eyes, he looks over at you.

“park wonbin again? seriously?” you laugh at his dismay, fingers turning the dial to increase the volume. anton groans in response, his adam’s apple moving under the skin of his neck. your eyes catch it for a second, brain forming an unusually erotic thought at the sight. you’re brought back to earth by the sound of anton’s voice again.

“i’m starting to think you don’t listen to anything else.” tucking some hair behind your eyes, you grin at your best friend.

“what else do i need besides wonbin?”

“you know, other people would kill to be driven around by me, and you refuse to even listen to my songs.” it’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you do so with another cheerful laugh.

“someone’s gotta keep you humble.” you chide, shoving anton’s shoulder playfully.

as anton trains his focus back to the road, he looks over at you one more time, just for him. you’re laying your cheek against the car door and watching the trees pass. the wind sweeps your hair into something of a halo, and the setting sun makes you look like an angel glowing in the sky.

a familiar thought plagues the boy’s mind again. anton wonders if you’ll ever sit down and listen to some of his songs, like really listen to them. maybe one day you’ll see past the playful melodies and soft guitar and hear his songs for what they really are:

love letters to you.

[finnbin]

Kyborg headcanons because he has lived in my brain for over a year like a nasty little parasite. Casual warning that most of these will be pretty depressing cus that's just how my brain works LOL enjoy ;)

there's a lot have fun

- Gum-Gum reminds him of his cousins. He actually does keep up that offer from when they were in Evirwinter and teaches him how to shoot a bow. It was seen as a familial tradition back home, but Kyborg is more than happy at being able to share this.

- The first kill with your bow was a rite of passage, followed by gutting and cooking the meat, before preparing the pelt for the child. The meat was cooked, and presented to those most respected by the child. He gave it to his parents. It's up to the child what they make with it, but Kyborg chose to make his bracer (arm-guard) from the dire wolf pelt he gained. He made gloves with the rest of it, and gave it to his sister.

- Feels a crushing amount of pressure to preserve his culture, but he isn't very practiced in common. He can write in elven, but it's a dialect from his own village: Evirish, so no-one but him can clearly read it. He finds it hard to remember traditions, without the pressure of being unable to transcribe them anyway.

- The idea that his heritage, and bloodline will die with him eats him up at night.

- Instead of writing them down, Kyborg enlists Bart's help, with the halfling transcribing for him. Bart also decides to help teach him common, and in exchange Kyborg teaches Bart Evirish. They both look back on these lessons warmly.

- He hates silence. Like, he hates silence, so much so that he finds it really hard to sit in a quiet room, or to try and sleep. It reminds him of the solitude of his childhood. He rambles and talks a lot of shit to compensate for this. Dr Ahem made him a little clock that ticks to fill the silence.

- Found Mudd the hardest to bond with, because of his opposite view of quiet. Mudd relishes in the quiet, enjoying just sitting and thinking about life. This led to the two having a tense relationship until they understood how the other felt.

- Always smells of pine wood.

- He loves baths so much, but if asked, he'd say he prefers showers. No-one believes him.

- Absurdly clingy, and hates being consciously by himself with nothing to focus on. He sticks like glue to people he trusts, always making sure they're in his eye-line, or that he knows where they are 24/7. Some find this annoying, so he tries to limit physical closeness, but does keep a mental tracker on their position.

- Despite this, he usually fucks off to 'patrol the area' or scavenge for supplies because he's been conditioned into believing that where he lives cannot be safe without constant surveillance. This causes no small amount of panic for the others when their stupid elf man randomly disappears. Kyborg is confused about people being concerned about him.

- Cuts his hair as soon as he can after the Massacre. Hair was seen as a form of honour, reputation and respect. He didn't think he deserved any of that anymore. He can't bring himself to fully cut it again, after that, but sometimes - if he believes he's screwed something up - he'll trim handfuls to his skull.

- Hoards food. Rations food. Has a terrible relationship with food. There's not much to eat in a frozen wasteland, so the overwhelming amount of food that is available to him is so weird. His stomach literally cannot handle how much he eats when he first finds the infinight's pantry. He feels so so guilty at wasting it, and hides any evidence. He doesn't eat big meals after that moment.

- Keeps an absurd amount of rations, and other provisions on him at any possible time, just in case something bad happens.

- So many scars. So so many.

- Unconsciously slips back into 'feral mode' and doesn't speak, or actually like himself. Usually happens after he is injured, especially on his shoulders or arm. Churs and growls, and is overly protective of his found family during these moments, often a concerning amount. Locks them all in a room with him and paces around, checking for danger. Usually doesn't respond to talking, and can't easily distinguish friend from foe. Bites. He is humiliated every time this happens and usually hides away somewhere for the next couple of hours before acting like nothing happened.

- Has horribly graphic fantasies about Quadron. That thirst to avenge had been his only motivation to stay alive. Revenge burns hot in his veins, and he never wanted that drive to keep moving to leave. Secretly fears that, when he gets his revenge, that he won't be able to keep living.

- Has chronic, and phantom, pain in shoulder and 'arm'. Usually ignores it, until Mudd catches him curled in on himself and practically forces Kyborg to let him help.

- Doesn't actually hate Brink. He is freaked out by his short hair, though. What had he done to deserve such constant haircuts?

- Felt a horrible kind of empty after Quadron died. Was secretly jealous that Mudd killed him.

- Never fully forgave Dr Ahem for what he did. Feels terrible, because he's dead, but can't find it in him. Still feels anxious around the robot assistants.

- He eventually finds Quadron's prototype blueprints as he's preparing the infinight hall for his hospital. Can't feel angry at him. There's messy markings over odd, old papers near the prototype, and memories of the man Quadron had been before he went insane; of the relationship between him and Ahem. Kyborg burns them all.

- Scared of bugs. They don't really exist in a winter forest, so they really freak him out.

- After he gained the Source Diagem, he saw glimpses of his family out of the corner of his eyes. No matter how much he hoped, they never fully showed themselves like they had on the blood moon.

- After he lost the gem, again, it was like opening an infected, raw wound again. He grieved for them.

- Had a pet fox before joining the infinights. Fred reminds him of her.

- Terrified of commitment, because of how much the first death hurt. Despite this, he can't help but get attached to the party. Hates himself for it.

- Saw his own family, when he died in the finale. They gave him that hug he craved for so many years.

yeah I have so many more but this is already so long but thank you and congrats if you made it to the bottom, have an arrow 🏹

[nerdee-blondee]

i haven't stopped thinking about this deleted raunchy scene with lucanis ever since i saw it ☠️

if i was a fanfic writer i would be BUSTING out a one shot but ALAS i am not SO here i will give you my description on how this scene would go with my rook Valeria ✨

the premise is, my LOF valeria will be traveling to tevinter and isabela gives her a little side mission since she's in the area to find a relic that is submerged in water. (this will also take place after the almost-kiss scene in the pantry so valeria and lucanis are a WEE BIT awkward atm)

(WE ARE ALSO retconning that at least my rook can't swim. there is NO WAY IN HELL that my PIRATE LORD OF FORTUNE rook can't swim.)

SO valeria will bring lucanis and neve on this excursion. but neve will have gotten a lead on a tip and have to leave this outing to head for dock town, so it just leaves lucanis and valeria.

they get to this place where the information they have to go off says it is and see it's a beautiful little oasis area. and valeria starts to strip off her armor so she can swim down and grab the relic. lucanis, who is DESPERATELY trying not to stare at her undressing form, makes a snide comment about "not being able to swim" and valeria will get defensive like "I'LL HAVE U KNOW i most definitely CAN swim but you try swimming with all that armor and gold that i wear" "well maybe all that armor and gold is a restriction in battle?" "YOU try being a treasure seeking pirate WITHOUT all the gold"

and the tension from their previous NOT kiss will dissipate. than valeria will be like "this would go a lot faster if you came in and helped me find the damn thing". and so lucanis, after a beat, would start stripping down as well and both would go into the crisp clear waters. fully focused on finding this relic, they are all business for a time. until eventually they find it and all is well and good with their side mission. until lucanis gets out and looks back to valeria and asks "are you getting out?". as valeria is now floating in the waters says "have you ever dreamed about being a fish?" and this would stir a whole conversation about valeria's childhood as lucanis takes a seat on the edge of the water to listen.

"i miss when my life was simple and all i had to worry about was why i couldn't be a fish and be able to swim in the seas forever. not have to constantly worry about 2 ancient elven gods and the whole state of the world crumbling around me..." after this moment of vulnerability valeria would sit up and, like the little shit she is, send water careening over at him. and lucanis, now wet again, shakes his head and jumps in to splash her himself. and they have a really nice "battle" where valeria will use some magic to accurately get him in the face. and then lucanis will dive under water to grab her ankles and pull her under the water's surface. after this they would both remerge and laugh in a way that haven't been able to since all of this god-hunting started. their laughter dies down as they are just looking at each other and then they both realize they are a little too close. and they have too little clothes on. both of them just look at each other. not wanting to break whatever is happening in this moment between them. then very slowly, not wanting to scare him off, valeria goes to reach for a stray piece of hair that is stuck on lucanis' forehead. she wipes it away and slowly brings that hand to cup his cheek. he full on melts into her touch as both of their breathing seems to pick up a little. he opens his eyes that he didn't realize he closed and looks into her eyes and sees deep in her eyes that same desire from back in the pantry. and this time, he cannot find it in himself to ignore it.

he surges forward and kisses her. their first kiss. it's literally wet. and kind of clumsy as first kisses go. a small squeak leaves valeria's mouth as it happens and now, she finds herself melting into his brief touch. the kiss is over as quickly as it began. and they are both staring at each other and panting as if they had just run a marathon. they again stare into each other's eyes and both notice that the other's irises are being swallowed up by their pupils. one kiss has set both of them off. neither of them knows who started this next round of kisses but they know they neither of them want to stop. they are hungrily grabbing at each other and their lips don't leave each other. as if the others lips have all the answers to all the questions in the universe. her hands are caressing his beard and his face while his one hand is rooted at the base of her neck and in her hair while the other has a death grip on her hip.

than after a few of the best minutes of just savoring each other's kisses, lucanis brings his lips to all over her face. a kiss on the nose. on the forehead. on both cheeks. on the corners of her mouth. all, he hopes, conveys his apologies to not being able to show his love attraction for her sooner. and, as if she understood this sentiment, valeria gently places her hand on the back of his head while he indulges. as he feels her hand on the back of his head he groans and brings his lips down to her neck. when he gets to her neck, she lets out a gasp. she already has a sensitive neck but his beard there makes her squirm in the most delicious way. after hearing her gasp, he lets out another groan that turns more into a growl and he starts to lavish her neck with his tongue and small bites....

AAAAND THAT'S WHERE WE GET THE CUT IMAGE. after finishing typing ALL THAT i realized i basically wrote a fanfic LOLOL. but YEA this is how my valeria and lucanis would have their first kiss and almost immediately fuck but they are able to restrain themselves.

their FIRST TIME would probably be right after murder of crows, and after the deleted gondola scene! WE ARE DESCREATING VILA DELAMORTE BABY 😏😏

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Chapter 5

Days in the sun when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done will I ever leave you. Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. Will you now forever remain. Out of reach of my arms. Oh, those days in the sun. What I’d give to just relive one. Undo what's done. And bring back the light. Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark days bring. The spell we are under. Still is the wonder of us I sing of tonight. How, in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love, endure. I was innocent and certain, now I'm wise but unsure. Days in the past, I can't go back into my childhood. Oh, those precious days couldn't last. One that my father made secure. I can feel a change in me. Oh, hold me closer. I'm stronger now, but still not free. Days in the sun, will return. We must believe as others do. That days in the sun. Will come shinning through.

Flashback

The woods always felt alive, even in their stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. A young Mausi skipped over roots and around trees, her worn shoes crunching against the earthy path. This was her sanctuary, a place where rules didn’t matter, where she could dream endlessly and imagine a world beyond her small village.

As she wandered deeper, a muffled sound stopped her in her tracks. A soft, hiccupping sniffle.

Curiosity, tinged with concern, bubbled inside her. Who could be crying here, in her woods? The sound pulled her forward, her little feet quiet now, as if afraid to disturb the sadness lingering in the air.

And there he was—a boy, crouched by the base of an ancient oak tree, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. His clothes, though finer than hers, were dirtied from the forest floor. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell. His form was curled in on itself, as if he wanted to disappear, to fold himself into the shadows of the woods and never come out.

Mausi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know why, but seeing him like that hurt her in a way she couldn’t name. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ignore someone in pain—especially not when that someone seemed so lost.

She took a cautious step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Why are you crying?”

The boy stiffened but didn’t look up. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice raw and shaky.

Mausi frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. She wasn’t the type to be scared off easily, not by a little grumpiness.

“I’m Mausi,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was softer than usual, as if she knew not to push too hard.

Silence.

“My dad calls me that. It means ‘little mouse.’” She paused, glancing at him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’ll just call you ‘grumpy boy’ then,” Mausi said, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

At that, he finally looked up, his tear-streaked face partially hidden by unruly blonde hair. His green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a connection neither could fully understand.

“I don’t need friends,” he said, his tone defensive but weak.

“That’s fine. I don’t need another friend either,” Mausi replied, shrugging. “But I’m not going anywhere. You look like you need someone.”

The boy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was a nuisance or a lifeline. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he let out a sigh.

They sat there in silence, two small figures against the vastness of the woods. The weight in the air began to lift, little by little, as the boy’s sniffles faded into the rustling of leaves.

From that day on, the two became an unlikely pair, their connection forged in the quiet corners of the forest where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them. The boy never told Mausi his name, and though curiosity burned within her, she never pushed him to share it. Somehow, she understood that names held power, and his reluctance was less about hiding and more about protecting something fragile within himself.

Instead, they created a world of their own, one where names didn’t matter, and labels were irrelevant. They met in the same secluded spot beneath the ancient oak tree, the one whose roots snaked into the earth like veins carrying the lifeblood of the forest. It was their sanctuary—a place where laughter, exploration, and quiet companionship thrived, untainted by the weight of expectations.

The boy was guarded, his words often clipped and his demeanour prickly. He had a way of snapping when he felt too exposed, a defence mechanism Mausi came to recognize as fear rather than anger. But she had a gift for disarming him. Her chatter filled the silences he carried like armour, and though he’d roll his eyes or let out exaggerated sighs, Mausi noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She talked about anything and everything:how her father was always building something; how she didn't have a mother, how she loves adventures and reading, hoping one day she'll get an adventure of her own, how in her village they made fun of her for being different. Her words painted vibrant pictures, filling their little world with light and warmth.

At first, the boy didn’t respond much beyond a grunt or a sarcastic comment, but slowly, the cracks in his shield began to show. In stolen moments of vulnerability, he shared pieces of himself—little glimpses into the life he kept hidden.

As the weeks turned into months, the boy’s edges softened further. He taught Mausi how to skip stones across the surface of the creek, laughing when her first attempts sent the rocks plunging straight to the bottom. In return, she showed him how to whistle using a blade of grass, their giggles echoing through the forest as they competed to see who could make the loudest sound.

Yet, no matter how much they shared, there was always a heaviness in the boy’s eyes, a weight Mausi couldn’t quite name. 

One day, as they sat side by side on the bank of the creek, Mausi noticed a scar running along the inside of his wrist. It was faint, almost hidden by the dirt smudging his skin, but unmistakable. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against it before she realized what she was doing.

The boy jerked his arm away, his expression darkening. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” Mausi stammered, pulling her hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, his tone firm. But the way he turned away from her, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists, told a different story.

Mausi didn’t say anything else, afraid that if she pushed too hard, he might disappear again. But the scar stayed with her, a silent reminder that the boy she called her friend carried more pain than she could see.

Even in their happiest moments, the shadow lingered. It was in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if he were reliving something he couldn’t escape. It was in the way he flinched at sudden noises, his head snapping around as though expecting danger.

Mausi wished she could take that shadow from him, to make him laugh so hard it disappeared forever. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Some hurts ran too deep to be erased by kind words or shared laughter.

Still, she stayed. Because even if she couldn’t heal him, she could be there—to listen, to laugh, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

And in return, the boy gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. For all his guardedness and sharp edges, he made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. When he looked at her, it was as though she mattered—not as the village’s ‘little mouse’ but as Mausi, a girl who could climb trees and weave daisy chains and bring light into the darkest corners of the forest.

Together, they carved out a space where the weight of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was theirs. And for a while, that was enough.

The rain came suddenly, drenching the forest in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky hung low and gray, casting the woods in a shadowy gloom.

Mausi clutched a bundle of wildflowers in her hands as she raced toward their spot, her heart pounding with a strange urgency she couldn’t explain. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t care. Something felt wrong—terribly wrong.

When she reached the clearing, she saw him.

He was curled up at the base of their tree, just as he’d been the first day they met. But this time, his sobs were not muffled. They tore through the air, raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of sound that made the world feel heavier.

Mausi dropped the flowers and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head, his hands clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together.

Mausi hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she did the only thing that felt right—she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know if it was. “You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he stiffened in her embrace, as though the kindness was too much to bear. But then he broke, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I can’t—” he choked out between gasps. “It’s gone. They’re gone. Everything’s gone.”

Mausi didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t need to. She just held him tighter, her own tears mixing with the rain as she tried to absorb some of his pain.

For weeks, he didn’t come back.

Mausi visited their spot every day, her heart sinking a little more each time she found it empty. She left little gifts for him—wildflowers, pebbles, even a tiny carved mouse she’d made from a piece of wood. But they remained untouched.

She began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

When he finally did, he wasn’t alone.

Mausi’s face lit up when she saw him, but the joy was short-lived. The boy she knew was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. He stood with a group of older boys, their laughter sharp and cruel.

“You’re here!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was so worried. Are you okay?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What, are you some kind of puppy?” he sneered. “I don’t need you following me around.”

The words stung, but Mausi refused to let him see. “That’s all you have to say?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After disappearing for so long?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “I’m not your friend. We’re not even on the same level.”

The boys around him laughed, their jeers echoing in the clearing.

Mausi blinked back tears, her heartbreaking in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I cared.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the flowers she’d brought for him lying on the ground.

The boy watched her go, his fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to call her back, to apologize, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“She’s better off without me,” he told himself. “Everything I care about gets taken away. It’s better this way.”

But as her figure disappeared into the shadows of the woods, he felt the weight of his words crushing him. For the first time in his young life, he wondered if pushing someone away hurt more than losing them.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. Thank you so much for the love and support this story has gained. We got a flashback, wonder who that boy is. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for the love and support on this story again. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. I think that's all. Thanks for reading <3

[pu-butt]

As we near the end of season 1 of the percy jackson series, i feel it is time to start asking an increasingly urgent question: when will we finally see grover take a diet coke can and straight up munch down the whole thing?

[troutsoup]

I think it's really cool that Gale is so insistent on taking you into the weave to make love for the first time. It's so romantic and personal and probably has nothing to do with putting himself directly in Mystra's line of sight because of his pathetic desperation for her attention

[tomatoluvr69]

Sitting down to floss and brush my teeth has been lifechanging. On a completely unrelated note how the fuck am I supposed to have this skeleton for several more decades. It’s all over for me lads 😔

[andromedasummer]

fun fact once youve worked at a daycare/preschool the instincts it gives you never leave. i hear a baby crying and my brain muscle memories me into standing up until i can stop and remind myself that most people understandably do not want a stranger to walk over and pick up and soothe their infant. not my job anymore.

[widevibratobitch]

so turns out i had a pretty fucked up childhood??? insane. gotta love therapy

[sassmill]

Hate that I’m having a huge fucking freak out after a really nice day

[orcelito]

As a certified Akechi lover i probably should have more love for Legato. But it is just not the same.

Probably the level of cruelty involved + the fact that Akechi's ultimately a kid with a vendetta & too much power whereas Legato is someone who had no will to live so he filled that hole with the will of someone actively pursuing genocide.

Fantastic antagonist! Compelling narrative purpose! I love Legato as a character. I still want to drop kick him anytime I see him.

[arolesbianism]

Hi guys guess who's literally shaking rn from excitement

[schwarzeneggr]

this is how i learned to draw kisses. worse than a "learn to draw manga" book written by a white guy. this guy is going to eat the other guys face. despite everything it still is the yaoi that made me smile when i was facing unrelentless childhood violence and trauma and it still makes me smile unironically. Im not even mocking it. pointing the obvious flaws with all the love in my heart still intact

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

happy April <3

once again for the bargain price of $6.66 i will present to you a Top 5 Childhood Misadventures: April Fool’s Edition