#magnificently terrifying and beautiful at the same time

[heavenly-kazee]

WTF AM I EVEN WATCHING 😭😭💀💀💀

English added by me :)

[munson-blurbs]

Rockstar!Eddie x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie's got a new girlfriend, which means you get put on the back burner indefinitely. But there's only so much you can take.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, rockstar!Eddie, takes place around 1989, drinking/tipsiness, Eddie is an idiot, kinda insecure!Reader

--

Lena was beautiful. 

There was no denying that. You’d seen how beautiful she was the night Eddie had picked her from the crowd, dark makeup and denim miniskirt that ended mid-thigh. She walked backstage like she owned the place, with a confidence you could only envy from afar. 

You were used to it: Eddie would find a groupie, they’d hook up for the night, and then she was all but forgotten as Corroded Coffin moved to their next tour destination.

But not Lena. She’d been around for the last six months. Always touching Eddie, kissing him, drawing him in with her gorgeous eyes. She was everything he wanted, and she knew it.

You tried to get along with her and get to know her; after all, she was your best friend’s girlfriend. You asked her to grab a cup of coffee, to hang out at the mall, to get your nails done at the salon. All three times, she’d turned you down with some half-hearted excuse. 

And now she was here, at your birthday party. Her legs were draped over Eddie’s as they sat on the couch, his arm around her and her fingers in his hair. All you could focus on was his smile, that same dopey grin he used to give to Chrissy Cunningham whenever she’d give him an iota of attention back in high school. 

Eddie Munson was smitten, and he had no intention of hiding his feelings.

You downed your drink, the harsh taste of vodka burning your throat, and quickly poured yourself another one. What was the saying? It’s my party, and I’ll drink myself into a stupor if I want to? Something like that.

“Hey, Birthday Girl. You okay?” Gareth spoke up, yanking you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized he was beside you. “I haven’t seen you drink this much since the Grammys afterparty.”

You nodded, your head heavy with tears and liquor and lies. “Fine. Just…tired.”

Gareth scoffed. “Tired of watching Eddie and Lena tonguing each other, you mean?” Your wince betrayed your indifferent facade, and Gareth laughed softly. “Yeah, me, too.” He took a swig of his own drink and continued. “I mean, I get it. She’s hot as hell, but she’s also kinda–”

“Bitchy?” The word escaped you before you could stop it, another effect of the booze.

“You said it, not me.” Gareth raised his cup in a pseudo-toast. “But, yeah. Tour went from being about the band to being the Lena Show. And if you try to push back even a little, she just pouts and whines to Eddie that we’re being mean to her.”

You rolled your eyes. There was a freedom that came with confiding in Gareth, with no longer having to keep your feelings to yourself. “He used to call me at least once a week,” you say of Eddie, “and I figured that would change once he got a girlfriend. But the last time he called me was…two months ago.”

Could you even count that? It was just Eddie saying that the tour was good and that he’d be at your party–with Lena, of course. No silly stories from the road, no play-by-play of the shows, no begging for you to come see them again soon. It was as if you’d been a temporary placeholder until a better option came along.

And now, here she was, leaving red lipstick marks on his cheek. Staking her claim.

Eddie was never yours–not like that. Not in the way you wanted him to be yours. You’d been best friends since high school, and your crush had only blossomed from there. You were drawn to him the moment you saw him command the room during Hellfire, crafting and weaving a tale of a fantastical world with magnificent and terrifying creatures. It was as though you could see it right in front of you.

That storytelling talent extended to his songwriting. Sure, some of the songs were about the heartbreak that comes with being a teenager, but so many others were rooted in big problems: war, poverty, and the general injustices of the world. You were in awe of the way his eyes saw beyond the tiny borders of Hawkins.

Gareth slung an arm around you and pulled you close. Though you’d never told him about your crush on Eddie, he knew. All of Corroded Coffin knew—and probably all of the old Hellfire crew, too. Everyone but Eddie. 

“It’ll be okay,” Gareth murmured. “He’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot, but with her, it’s amped up. Stupidity on steroids.”

You laughed at that despite the sadness brewing within you.

“Go enjoy your party. You deserve it.”

Heeding his advice, you pried yourself from the kitchen counter and over to some of the other guests. You managed to have fun, pushing away the nagging reminder of heartbreak just feet away. It got easier as the night went on—until it didn’t. 

“Baby,” you heard Lena whine. “This party sucks. I wanna go back to the hotel.”

Say no, you silently willed Eddie. Tell her that you want to stay. Tell her that she can leave, but you’re going to stick around and—

“Yeah, babe. We can go.”

Five words that anchored a pit in your stomach. He didn’t even consider an alternative option. Lena was his only priority. 

You blinked back the tears in your eyes as he said his half-hearted goodbye. Lena stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Super fun party,” she drawled, donning a saccharine smile. “So sorry we have to leave early.” With that, she grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him out of your apartment. 

The rest of the night was a blur. Even as you ate birthday cake and talked with other guests, your focus stayed on the remnants of your friendship with Eddie. Of course dynamics changed when friends got partners. But to be completely iced out? That couldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be normal.

You decided that night that you were done. The friendship was already beyond repair. It wasn’t Lena’s fault, though it would be much easier to blame her and keep pretending that Eddie was still the same thoughtful guy from Hawkins High. No, Eddie was the problem, and the solution was letting him go.

Weeks went by, then months, with no word from Eddie. The first few days hurt, your heart still convinced that he’d call and apologize for bailing on the rest of your party. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ that might spark a flicker of hope.

It got easier after a while. You filled your days with work and friends. When you heard a Corroded Coffin song on the radio, you simply changed the station without tears falling. And when Entertainment Tonight declared that “a young woman previously linked to Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson was spotting cozying up to a more popular band’s lead singer,” you only chuckled and snapped off the TV.

The first call came a week later when you were at work. Your answering machine button flashed red, and you pressed play to hear the new message.

Hey, um, it’s me.

You froze, your blood icing over in your veins.

I know it’s been a while, but…a lot has happened. And I’ve been thinking, and I really wanna see you. Talk to you. I miss you. Um, the tour just finished, so I’ll be back in Hawkins. Let me know when you’re around.

Absolutely not. There was no way you’d talk to him again, and you finalized that decision by erasing the message.

But two days later, there was another one.

Hey, it’s me again. I was talking to Gareth, and he told me that I royally fucked up. Which I kinda knew, but hearing it from him…yeah.

Anyway, um, I don’t wanna just hang out–I mean, I do, but I wanna apologize first. In person, i-if that’s okay. I think my first message made it sound like, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a drink and bullshit around,’ but I want to say that I’m sorry. Shit, I’m rambling. Okay, I’m gonna go now. Bye.

And then another the day after that.

Okay, so, you don’t wanna meet up in person, and I get that. But I still want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll just say it here, I guess. I never should have pushed you aside like that. I got caught up in everything with the band and the tour and…and her, and…y’know. That’s not an excuse or anything, just…explaining my series of fuck-ups. I miss you so much, and I wish we could just be friends again. I know it’s not that easy, but…fuck, I fucked this up. I’m really sorry, and you don’t have to forgive me–shit, Wayne’s home. I’ll talk to you later. Or, um, talk to your voicemail, I guess.

Wayne was home. That meant that Eddie was twenty minutes away from you, leaving voicemails from his uncle’s trailer. You grabbed your jacket, willing yourself to stay focused on the road as you drove to Forest Hills. That asshole wanted to talk to you in person, but couldn’t even stammer out a genuine apology over the phone?

You knocked on the trailer door so hard that your knuckles ached by the time Eddie opened it.

“Wha–did you get my messages?” His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing before him.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You mean the ones with your half-assed apologies? Yeah, I got ‘em.”

Eddie took a step back. “No, no, I meant them. I really am sorry.”

“Convenient how you found time to be sorry once your girlfriend started fucking someone else,” you seethed. “Couldn’t squeeze out a minute to call after you ditched me on my birthday, but you’ve got plenty of time to grovel now.”

“That’s not–she wasn’t good for me,” he supplied lamely.

You couldn’t help the snort you let out. “What, did she hold the phone hostage? Did she pick you up and carry you out of my party? You,” you jabbed your forefinger into his chest, “are the reason we don’t talk. Not her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” You snapped. “Because I have a feeling that you think this is on Lena. And maybe she didn’t help, but she certainly didn’t force you to be a shitty friend.”

Eddie rubbed his palm over his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, the frustration evident in his tone. “I…I was a shitty friend. I never should have left your party early, and I should’ve stayed in touch with you. I should’ve listened to the guys when they warned me that you wouldn’t keep putting up with my bullshit for much longer.”

You felt a spark of reassurance that the other band members had stood up for you, but you kept your attention on what you needed to say. What you needed him to hear.

“And now what? You’re back in Hawkins, no groupies around to keep you company, so you figure it’s a good time to reach out to me?” You stepped closer to him as you spoke. “I’m not your back-up plan when your life comes crashing down. I’m a goddamn person, Eddie! And you just threw me away like our friendship meant nothing to you.”

He was silent for a few moments, his sweat sock-covered foot grinding into the carpet. His hair fell in front of his face, but you could still see him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered his next words.

“Gareth told me…he told me that you liked me,” Eddie said softly. “Like…more than just a friend.” With trepidation, he looked into your eyes, tears forming in his own. “And he said I’m an idiot for not seeing what was in front of my face the whole time. A really beautiful woman who has always been there for me. Who never gave up on me, whether I was playing to five drunks at the Hideout or to sold-out stadium crowds.”

“Right. All of the things I’ve done for you. But what have you done for me? How have you been my friend?” You waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. “Exactly. I was just a groupie you never fucked.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over you at his utter shock. “I’m–”

“I know you’re sorry. I got it.” You pivoted on one heel and turned your back to him, starting towards your car. Before you got there, you called out over your shoulder. “And if you leave me another pathetic voicemail, I’ll throw my answering machine through your window.”

Then you drove off, leaving him standing where you left him, just as alone as you’d felt all this time.

--

[mirohlayo]

Your writing is so beautiful and amazing! I reread it everyday and spend hours smiling! May I please make a request for either Charles Leclerc or whoever you want! Can it be getting married but it is a planned elopement (no guests, just the two of you)? I am very shy and the thought of getting married in front of a crowd makes me want to cry from fear. Please and thank you!

First of all it's you who's gonna make me cry like omgg love youu so much it's so sweet 🥹💕 I took a little time (I'm genuinely sorry), but here it is! I'm not the best at writing about weddings but I tried my best. Hope you are going to like it !!

"I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH TOO, CHARLES"

( what if running away from your marriage was ultimately the best idea? )

warning : mentions of stress/anxiety, fear of crowd, all fluffly

note : i wrote this in like 45min so it's not the best thing i've written. i also used some french words but it's just affectionate surnames.

word count : 1.3k

It was finally the big day. This day that you were waiting for so much, this day that made you smile in an absolutely exceptional way. It was the promise of a new chapter, of the exchange of your heart with that of your soul mate. It was the promise that you were going to spend the rest of your days with the one who makes your heart beat a little harder every day.

Everything was planned. Absolutely everything. The ceremony, the vows exchanged, the alliances, the witnesses and therefore of course the guests. However, although the guests were all intended to participate in your wedding ceremony, you were not of the same mind about sharing this moment so important and precious to you with a crowd.

You weren't the most comfortable with people. Being very shy and reserved, the simple idea of having to present yourself hand in hand with your partner in front of all these people made you nauseous, and you also found yourself holding back a few tears of anxiety and stress from rolling down your cheeks. , when your maid of honor was doing your makeup.

Charles knew this very well. He was aware that his fiancée, and soon to be his wife, had problems with crowds and feeling comfortable in front of so many people. And for him, there was no question of this magnificent and wonderful moment being ruined by the fear that the looks of others provoke in you.

He wanted everything to be perfect. May you feel comfortable, happy and filled with happiness and love. It was his role, and it always will be, he would do anything just for you.

So, while all the guests had gathered in front of the aisle that you were going to go down in a few seconds, while all these witnesses were exchanging laughter, secret conversations, Charles approached you, hidden behind a magnificent and large tree .

His eyes softened at the sight of you, and his hand gently caressed your cheek. “It’s time, mon amour.” Your eyes were bright, because a few tears of joy were already threatening to fall on your face. You nodded quickly while smiling, your heart at peace. "You're just...perfect. You look so beautiful in that dress. I'm the luckiest man alive." He added, your beauty never ceased to give him the impression of admiring a divine being.

“But where have the bride and groom gone??” A voice louder than the others came to tear through the incessant conversations of the guests, giving way to panic because you were not present to walk down the aisle. People were panting, panicked by your absence. Everyone seemed to be looking for you everywhere, and footsteps were getting closer to the tree.

Charles’ eyes widened as a wave of stress suddenly hit you. Your future husband noticed this, and his eyes were terrified that you would feel bad and anxious during this day. Then he intertwined his hand in yours, and just this gesture soothed the irregular beating of your heart. "It's okay, mon coeur. I've got you, don't worry. Breathe with me."

He took a deep breath and encouraged you to do the same. The air that infiltrated your lungs made you more peaceful. A fairly close sound of a leaf suddenly came to tickle your ears. And without you having time to react, Charles dragged you with him, hand in hand, far from all these people.

“W-wait Charles!!” His hand in yours pulled you towards him as he ran, under the cherry blossom petals that were falling again. And it's as if time seemed to stand still, during that moment. As the sun's rays came to rock your faces, a big smile appeared on your lips as you continued to run to keep up with your fiancé.

Guests would run up to the tree to catch up with you. But it was already too late. All they could see was the magnificent scene unfolding before their eyes. As the gentle breeze caressed their hair, they saw in the distance two young engaged couples madly in love with each other, escaping their wedding ceremony, hand in hand, a huge smile on Charles' face as 'they heard the sweetness of your laughter.

They looked like two children, but two children who were simply happy and completely in love.

You couldn't help but feel light. Light and free. You were running away from your own wedding ceremony with your lover and it seemed so unreal that you felt like you were living in a romantic movie. But the look that Charles gave you during this flight warmed your heart. Because you could see tears forming there, and quite simply all the love he has for you. So you too could no longer.

You couldn't hold back those tears of happiness anymore, as they fell freely down your face.

-

“It suits you so well, mon amour” Charles brushed against your fingers, where his engagement ring was on. This ring was simply sublime. It highlighted you, just like Charles's.

Sitting next to your husband, your head resting on his shoulders, you enjoyed the sunset and the breeze that made you shiver. You still had your wedding outfits on, and you really looked like two crazy people who had escaped an arranged and predestined marriage. However, it was the opposite. It was the romantic elopement of two people who wanted to do as they pleased.

Still, you couldn't help but be torn. What if your husband wanted a real, traditional wedding ceremony, celebrated with all the guests? You sighed deeply and Charles noticed it. He looked at you questioningly, and you lowered your head, somewhat ashamed.

"I'm sorry. We eloped from our wedding and it's just... maybe you would have preferred that we didn't elope and had a traditional wedding. With all the witnesses and guests." Some tears threatened to flow down your cheeks again. Not because of your words. But by the gentleness with which Charles entwined his hand in yours, and gently lifted your chin so that he could admire you.

All his gestures were fluid and full of love. Just like his gaze, which admired you in an absolutely exceptional way. As if you were the most beautiful wonder in the world. "Don't apologize, y/n. I'm so happy, you have no idea how much. So happy to have run away to your side, to have left this wedding ceremony behind us." He blinked away the few tears on your pink cheeks. "I just want you to be happy. To see you smile, to laugh. And you did it today, thanks to this escape. I'm so happy that we ran like two idiots, and especially to have given you this ring on my finger. If I had the chance, I wouldn't change this day in any way, because it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. The most beautiful day of my life."

You nodded rigorously, a big smile plastered on your face. Your heart melted at his words. "I'm finally going to be able to spend the rest of my life by your side, and you have no idea how much I can't wait. I love you deeply and sincerely, my heart. I love you so much."

“I love you very much too, Charles” You happily said.

This beautiful day, this beautiful wedding ended with Charles kissing you as if it was the last one he had the right to do, as if nothing mattered anymore. His lips desperately sought yours, as this kiss sealed the promise of a bright future filled with love and hope. A future where Charles will end up living his life by your side, and a future where you will remember this incredible memory of your marriage union.

[houserautha]

I desperately need to know how Feyd handles his wife going into labor, and how he is during it! I feel like he would be so out of his realm, and in aw of his strong wife but also very distraught

I need to bear this man’s children

Same

I think you’re exactly right! In my head, at first, he’s totally cool about it. Like if his wife’s water breaks or contractions start, he’s holding her hand and coaching her through it.

But then labor really kicks in.

Honestly I think Feyd would feel so fucking helpless and that would frustrate him to no end. There is no enemy for him to vanquish. He can’t solve his wife’s problems with his blade or with his wealth or through intimidation. He just has to endure this with her as she’s doubled over in pain and crying out and cursing his name. And her labor seems to go on and on and on.

And as a result he would snap and bark at anyone who came near her. On a normal day everyone is afraid of Feyd, but now they’re absolutely terrified. It makes it hard for his wife to receive treatment because he glowers at the physician and the servants who bring his wife ice chips. Eventually his wife has to send him out on a walk or an errand or something — anything for him to relieve his molten-hot anger.

And, of course, he would be a good little soldier and obey. Feyd would stew the whole time and probably reflect about his wife’s pregnancy and his upcoming role as a father. And right as he’s wondering what the hell he just got himself into, a servant fetches him to let him know that his wife has started pushing and the baby will arrive sooner rather than later.

Harkonnens know well that labor is just as taxing as battle, so the physicians allow Feyd’s wife to labor however she pleases. His anger would transform into absolute awe and admiration, watching as his wife works through each contraction, body shuddering, covered in sweat and reddened in the face. And he would think that his wife has never looked more beautiful, that all of his victories pale in comparison to the slick thud of his child sliding into the physician’s hands, his wife’s resulting cry of exultation.

Feyd has never felt so many things all at once, or so deeply. It crashes into him like a fucking sucker punch. He uses a ceremonial blade to sever the umbilical cord, the tether between his wife and his son — who sucks in his first breath and releases it with tumultuous fury, bloodied and bruised from his own battle.

And then the physician is handing his wife the infant and Feyd’s entire world shifts. There is nothing more magnificent as his wife, smiling despite her prior agony, holding the babe to her chest as he squirms and writhes and wails. Feyd realizes with dizzying certainty how his family had failed him, had looked at him as a helpless babe and still wreaked havoc upon his life — and how he would never allow the same fate to befall his son. No, Feyd would do anything for his new family and, as far as he was concerned, his only family.

[reiyldx]

Imagining Lilia Vanrouge looking out into the morning sky on waking up, as the distant pinks slowly fade into blues and mix into the mesmerizing shades that characterize dawn. How he feels so empty inside on seeing something so brilliant, something considered so beautiful and magnificent to most but he feels nothing of the sort when watching it due to dawn being the reminder of Meleanor's death. Of her defeat, the dawn that brought him many hardships and made him struggle so much that it felt he might break many a time.

As the dawn slowly comes into play, he lets out a quiet sigh, one that has gone unheard many a time in his life of being downplayed and not paid enough attention to by the ones around him. The numbness in his heart makes him close the curtains and curl up in bed yet again. He knows Silver might scold him for it, yet he cannot help himself.

He just wishes to forget about the dawn for a moment, about the significance of it in his life for a second. Each dawn leads him closer to his impending end. Each dawn leads to him getting weaker and weaker. Each dawn reminds him of that fateful day of the past, the day he truly lost everything. Yet for each dawn he must rise in order to keep what he has gained. For each dawn he wishes to rise until he cannot open his eyes to greet its grisly face anymore. Dark and uncertain, terrifying and lonesome. Yet he must tread this path alone. He knows there are others willing to help him, but he wishes to spare them the trouble.

A lone tear travels down his cheek as he convulses in his bed, the pain in his heart overwhelming and strong. He inhales and exhales repeatedly so as to not get noticed by his lover who sleeps beside him. Yet it is quite impossible for him to do so as his lover wakes up and pulls him closer into a cuddle, making him feel safe and alive, loved even, as his lover presses a kiss to his forehead.

And Lilia wishes desperately that he had more time. He wishes he did. He would face a thousand terrifying and heart-wrenching dawns if he could. Yet he knows, this is the end. He forces a smile on his lips as tears fall from his eyes. Its alright. He'll say goodbye to everyone with a dazzling, cheerful smile. He'll let no one feel the same pain he does. He'll never let his memories hurt anyone. He'll never let anyone see him weak.

Because he is the strongest.

[babyblue711]

Little Dragonseed

Sister Story to Loyalty Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Handmaiden - Part 2 Summary: The young maid tries to remain discreet while in the Prince Regent's presence, but her curiosity regarding her ancestry compels her to sneak a visit to his formidable dragon. Words: 1.7K Chapter Warnings: Mild threat of violence

<<<< Part 1

The air buzzes with tension as Aemond surveys the stronghold, his violet eye reflecting a cold determination of a man driven by duty. The One-Eyed Prince is equally, if not more, striking in appearance than his uncle; his long mane of blond hair is tied neatly away from his face, a leather eyepatch secured over his left eye, his dark green jerkin is neat and tidy. Despite such a long journey, his appearance isn’t the least bit disheveled.

As like Daemon before him, she is summoned to attend this royal subject for the duration of his stay. Aemond barely spares her a glance, treating her with the same indifference that Daemon had initially shown. Her heart pounds in her chest as goes about her duties around him, always keeping her eyes downcast, terrified to meet his gaze, fearing he will notice that she is different. 

Unlike her curiosity for the Rogue Prince and secret willingness to be discovered by him, there is an arrogance about the Prince Regent that unsettles her. His demeanor exudes unyielding rigidity coupled with an air of superiority, as if everyone is beneath him. Truthfully, he terrifies her more than Daemon ever had and, moreover, her heart belongs to the black faction as she fervently believes in Queen Rhaenyra's cause. 

So, in the haunted halls of Harrenhal, she moves like a ghost, trying to remain invisible to the new master of the castle. Every time Aemond’s cold, violet eye fixes on her, she feels exposed and vulnerable, as if he could see straight through her feigned obedience to the loyalties she harbored within. Blessedly, he ignores her just as he does for many of the castle’s inhabitants, except for a certain witch. 

The young maid has always kept a wide berth around Alys Rivers, despite the fact that she has never been unkind or cruel towards her. There is something about the enchantress that feels unsettling and unnatural, and the young maid can’t shake her distrust. As time passes, she notices that the witch is spending almost every evening with Aemond and the young maid fervently hopes she is keeping him preoccupied. 

But as the days melt together, the young maid’s curiosity begins to get the better of her. If she truly is the Blood of Old Valyria, did that mean she could become a dragon rider as well? The thought consumes her as she finds herself watching Vhagar from a distance, enthralled by the dragon's immense size and ancient beauty. She longs to know more about her heritage and the dragons that symbolize the power of the Targaryens.

One day, while Aemond is engaged in a lengthy war counsel, Vhagar lay next to the large lake adjacent to the castle, peacefully asleep as the sun dips toward the horizon. The young handmaid knows it is foolish to approach this fearsome giant, but an irresistible sense of curiosity has possessed her mind, gripped her soul; she’s bound by an inexplicable need to get closer to Vhagar and can’t explain why. 

While high up in one of the castle’s towers, she leans on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the distant figure curled by the lake, admiring the way the dragon's scales glint in the fading light. Out of nowhere, a cool voice breaks the silence from behind her, making her jump.

“She is magnificent, isn’t she?” says Alys as the young maid whirls to face her. They have only spoken a few times prior, when duty demanded it, yet here is the witch addressing her as if they are old friends.

“She is,” admits the young maid as Alys comes to stand beside her, both of them gazing out the window. 

“War counsel is still in session, the prince is rather occupied at the moment,” the witch muses lazily. “I think, perhaps, you should pay her a visit?” she suggests airily, arching an eyebrow. 

“Do you think I could?” the young maid asks, captivated by the idea, but sure she would get caught or worse, would her Targaryen blood keep her safe from dragonfire? Alys seems to be able to read her mind.

“I believe you’ll be perfectly fine, child, and I won’t tell the prince. Your secret is safe with me,” she assures her with a sly smile. “Go now, and I’ll stall him if he finishes the counsel session early,” she coaxes in an almost motherly tone.

Without hesitation, the young maid turns and sprints down the tower steps and walks briskly through the castle, her heart pounding in her chest with excitement. She knows a secret way outside that bypasses the main gate and leads closest to where Vhagar lay.

Conflicting thoughts assail her mind—she knows this was foolish, dangerous, something she shouldn’t do—but the possibility of seeing Vhagar up close, maybe even touching her, drives her feet faster as she slips out the side gate.

Down on the ground with the almighty dragon is quite different than viewing her from the height of the tower. She hardly dares to breathe as she creeps closer to the resting giant, her heart pounds so hard she fears Vhagar may hear it. 

Yet, a sense of calmness settles over her, blotting everything else out except the dragon before her. Almost as if her arm has a will of its own, she pulls off the scarf covering her hair, reasoning that maybe Vhagar would not think her so edible if she awakens and sees her Targaryen hair. Night is falling fast now and she depends on the cover of darkness to hide her appearance from the other castle inhabitants.

Still sound asleep, the dragon’s deep breaths are slow and rhythmic; it sounds like a mountain is breathing. The young maid inches closer, feeling transfixed as she gazes upon this ethereal beast, in awe that something so mystical and powerful could be real. 

Vhagar’s wingtip is closest and easiest to reach while still maintaining a bit of distance from her fire-breathing mouth. Tentatively, the young maid reaches out, fingertips barely brushing her wing, marveling at the leathery feel beneath her fingers, softer than she expected. Taking another tentative step, she smoothly runs her hand along Vhagar’s wing without the dragon’s notice. Suddenly, a strong hand comes out of nowhere, yanking her away from Vhagar while firmly covering her mouth with another large hand.

Her shriek of surprise is muffled by his hand, but it’s too late; Vhagar’s large eyes snap open, clearly disturbed. Terrified, the young maid’s eyes dart to see who her assailant is and her heart nearly stops as the Prince Regent returns her gaze. His single eye blazes with fiery disapproval and every sharp feature of his face is etched with fury.

Vhagar rumbles, a low, threatening sound that reverberates through the ground. Aemond raises his voice over her growls and speaks to her in an ancient language that the young maid does not understand, his tone gentle yet commanding. Vhagar settles again, acknowledging her rider’s presence, but continues to watch them with a fearsome, slit-pupiled eye.

“You stupid little girl, were you trying to get yourself killed?” Aemond hisses furiously into her ear, giving her a little shake. His arm is gripped so tightly across her chest that she is starting to feel lightheaded and all she can manage is a small whimper, his hand still clapped on her mouth.

“Come, idiot girl, let’s see what the Queen of Dragons makes of you then,” he releases his hold and painfully grips her upper arm, marching her straight at Vhagar’s face. 

The young maid’s mouth pops open in a silent scream, feet dragging the ground; she has gotten as close to Vhagar as she liked. But fighting against Aemond is like fighting against an immovable stone wall as he stops right in front of the ancient dragon’s nose, releasing his grip on her arm and taking a step back as Vhagar lifts her massive head from the earth. The young maid freezes in place and trembles in terror, convinced that any sudden movement will surely mean her imminent death. Vhagar seems to consider the small form in front of her, blowing a smokey gust of air into her face. After a moment, the dragon turns away, seeming disinterested, and sets her heavy head back down on the ground before them, but keeping a watchful eye trained upon the pair.

Still not daring to breathe, the maid’s gaze flicks toward the One Eyed Prince, where she sees a look of grim satisfaction on his face. 

“I knew she would not eat you,” he says menacingly, voice laced with dark amusement, as if he almost wishes Vhagar had, “But do not ever approach my dragon again, or I shall kill you myself instead.” He growls, deep and menacing, his threat cuts through her like a razor sharp blade.

He steps closer to her, his lone eye darting around her face and lingering on her hair. She had completely forgotten she had removed her scarf for Vhagar, but certainly not for him. The realization strikes her as his expression sours, his lip curling in disdain.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know who you are,” his voice is dangerously low, barely above a whisper. “Alys told me, surely she’s mentioned it to you over the years?” 

“N-no…” her voice quivers as she tries to lie, convinced he is referring to her parentage, but confused by his comment about Alys, did the witch know about her bloodline all along? 

“Dragonseed,” he practically spits the word at her and then starts to chuckle, a humorless laugh that further ignites her terror as her heart leaps into her throat. He knows then, knows that she must have Targaryen blood, royal blood, that she is most likely a bastard and Aemond hates bastards, especially those sired by his greatest nemesis, the Rogue Prince.

“Oh, how much fun I am going to have with you,” his breath fans her face as he leers over her, standing almost nose to nose. 

“Daemon deserves to have a little taste of his own medicine, I think.” He pauses for a moment and she sees resolution form in his eye and the next second he is shoving her roughly back towards the castle.

“Put that scarf back on, so no one else can see your hair,” he commands gruffly, “you’re going to accompany me to my chambers, little one.” Fear spikes in her chest as he uses the nickname Daemon had given to her and she can’t help but wonder:

“How does he know?”

>>> Part 3

[starshower1215]

A Few Thoughts on Hange's Death

CW: pretty depressing content, extreme bummer behavior

Though it was immensely upsetting for the audience of Attack on Titan, I think, despite everything, choosing to face death was somehow fitting for Hange's character. Life and death are two sides of the same coin, and Hange spent their time on Earth loving life, and perpetuating their faith in hopes of finding out what more it had to offer than what was set out before them. "What we can see and the true nature of what actually exists are totally different things." Death was an essential part of life that they had yet to discover. It was the side of it which was always shrouded in the dark. It makes sense for them to give themself over into death's arms rather than be stolen away.

And being afraid to die probably meets everyone as a feeling at some point in their lives. There's no doubt that Hange was terrified, in fact, it's obvious by the way they try not to look terrified. Yet the fact that they rise to meet death anyway is fitting. Even if I'm still heartbroken that they died, I'm glad that they were able to die as themself.

However, another thought which I've had for a while regards their last words. When Hange goes out to fight the titans, they give a wistful sort of sigh and say, "Titans truly are magnificent." This is a semblance of their former self, of their mad, eccentric nature showing through one last time. Then as they're fighting and see no signs of the airplane taking off, they exclaim to themself, "Still nothing?!" or "They need more time?!" This is, to some extent, indicating the heroism of their sacrifice, because if these had been their last words, it would've clearly stated, "They died to give their comrades more time."

(Haha, hold on, I did not read the manga correctly. Switching to an anime-only analysis, which is less credible, but oh well). So, neither of these were their last words [in the anime]. It had simply been "hot." While it's still clear that they died a hero to their comrades from looking at the context of the situation, I had been ruminating for a while on the fact that the sole word "hot" had been pain-related. It had been physically related. There's nothing related to Hange's incredible intellect or skill or love for life in having that as a last word, and I just think it shows that, no matter how heroically Hange may have died... they died. No matter how heroic, no matter how beautiful a death may look, death is still death. No matter how amazing they may have been, the pain of the fire could still strip them down to their primal instincts and mind.

I think this especially broke my heart about it, because it brought about such a sense of realism to their death. Hange's was the first fictional death which brought me to the brink of tears, lol. I resonate with them deeply, so of course, I must isolate my own bias to be taken into account, but I think since Hange was one of the most lively characters, or perhaps one of the most positive characters (along with Armin and Erwin, all of whom had that same look in their eyes which Levi recognised), seeing that their last words [in the anime only, lol] reflected none of their internal character is like a reminder to the audience: "This shouldn't have happened." Indeed, it happened, and indeed as the audience, we can't stop it, but nevertheless... genocide is wrong. War is not good. That's always been a message, it isn't as though Isayama has ever advocated for those things, contrary to what it seems some people believe. I took the adjustment from their last words in the manga to the new one in the anime as a more subtle way of spreading the message: "Look how spilling blood takes a beautiful, vivacious life and reduces them to a corpse."

[astarionsilverbough]

“Darling.”

And it’s Different, when it’s for him.

Because, you see - Astarion calls everyone ‘darling.’ Even Shadowheart (though for a while that one is a bit… cruel).

And everyone gets a different version of the word, of course - and variations of it for different circumstances and events. So far, Gale has the most variations of the term - Halsin’s kept count. They range from affectionate and fond to absolutely poisonous and sometimes dangerous. There are, by Halsin’s count, thirteen versions of ‘darling,’ for Gale (who, again, is Astarion’s best and most steadfast friend - though Astarion would wrinkle his nose at the term).

But when it comes to him?

When it comes to him, there are three. Three variations of ‘darling’ that no one else - not even Gale - gets.

1.) Utterly and absolutely… soft. Oh, but it’s so soft. Often it’s used only in private - in moments when Astarion can cup his jaw or slide into his lap and murmur it against his lips. Halsin can think of two times Astarion has used that ‘darling’ in front of everyone else: the first?

When they (‘they’ being Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Wyll) had found Halsin broken and alone in the Underdark after he’d carved through the goblins alone.

It was the first time the two elves had seen each other in two hundred years and five months. Through the haze of drow poison and blood loss, Halsin had heard the sun.

“Halsin. Darling.”

Achingly soft and so beautiful. A calloused but gentle hand cupped his chin and Astarion - older and more magnificent than Halsin remembered - had swum into focus above him.

Oh, but how he’d fallen in love with the man all over again in that moment… The thrill of it had been just as intense as it had been the first time, when they were younger and more afraid.

That was the first time he’d ever heard the soft variation of ‘darling’. Two hundred years and five months after the last time he’d seen Astarion Ancunín, who was more magnificent than he remembered but smelled exactly the same and could outburn the sun.

The second had been -

“I have to do this alone, Astarion.”

The darkness was like ash clinging to his skin. Karlach had been throwing stones into the abyssal waters; Gale was pointedly trying not to listen while Shadowheart was watching them like a vulture about to clean a carcass.

And oh, how he’d been terrified. To wander the Shadowfell, nothing to go on but a glimmer of vengeful hope and the scent of lavender… would he ever see the sun again?

Would he forget what gold sounded like?

But then -

Astarion’s plush lips part and his brow creases, brilliant sunset eyes big and glistening. For a moment, Halsin expects - well. Nothing good, that’s for certain.

A foolish thing, to try and predict the heat of the sun.

A nimble hand slides over his chest and catches his chin. The next thing he knows, he’s being kissed with tongue and fang. Solar flares explode in his lungs and Astarion thumbs over his cheek.

“Come back to me, darling,” he says.

It is a command, gentle and easy. Soft in the way that inspires hope somewhere inside his bones.

Not a hint of worry. Trust him - he knows what the worried variant of ‘darling’ sounds like.

Speaking of which:

2.) Astarion trusts Halsin in a way he isn’t sure how to hold; he feels a bit like a child cradling a bird with a wounded wing in his palms. One wrong move and that wing could shatter and leave the little bird he seeks to protect incapable of flight.

He doesn’t use the worried variant of ‘darling’ when Halsin is about to or has already attempted something foolish or heroic (see: ‘darling’ variant no. 1).

Astarion’s concerned and slightly lilting “darling,” comes when they’re in situations and he needs Halsin to look exactly where he’s looking at that very moment. It is a precise and hard-learned code, one that Halsin is more tuned into than even the method by which nature forms the reality around them.

It starts immediately: they’re in the Underdark and Halsin is still aching from the effects of the drow poison and the blood loss, and he can feel Astarion’s presence like sunbeams on his skin.

But even as he’s so acutely focused on Astarion’s presence, he’s still aching from the effects of drow poison and the blood loss, and so when Astarion’s sharp and tense “darling,” comes, he looks around just a little too late.

The Spectator catches them by surprise. Somehow, they survive the fight.

Halsin is looking at Astarion with every snapping “darling” he utters, now.

But even as the worried variant of ‘darling’ is the command he exists by and the soft variant is the one that sends heat through his bones and burns them gold, the variant of ‘darling’ that Halsin adores the most is -

3.) Sheer, raw fury.

It has only been used with such enchantment once. So far, at least. Who knows what the rest of the eternity he intends to spend beside the moon-kissed elf will bring, but so far…

So far it’s just been -

“Be well, then, darling.”

And oh, the way it had seared across Halsin like a lash of flame! How it had made his soul twist and his heart stop, commanded still by the sheer weight of the viscerally vitriolic venom in the word.

There was to be no doubt, then. A mate he was, and a mate he would always be. Some part of Halsin was snatched away in that moment. It fused with Astarion’s shadow, and there it would stay until he was led back to the young elfling.

The compass to lead him home.

Because this variant of ‘darling’ - this horrible, wrenching barb of a thing - had been shot at Halsin after he had told a twenty-year-old Astarion that:

“I cannot give you what you seek,” after a quiet and heartbreaking:

“I love you. I’m - Halsin, I’m… in love with you.”

And he’s over a hundred and Astarion is twenty and even if he’s everything Halsin wants, it’s not time. Not yet. The seasons need more time to show Astarion what the world can offer. He needs to taste the fruits of many before he settles on his favorite.

So:

“Oh, my little star,” Halsin had said in elvish; “I cannot give you what you seek.”

It was like watching the winter freeze settle in. It was seeing the sea go black before a storm; it was the flicker of divinity in the pit of Halsin’s belly and the hunt at the height of the season. It was every perfect and horrible thing all at once and Halsin loved this creature more than the earth beneath his feet.

“You are so young - there is so much you’ve yet to witness, experience.” He’d taken one of Astarion’s hands. It had been limp, cold. He’d kissed it anyway and stepped back. “And I must go my own way for now. Don’t worry. You’ll see me again, little star.”

And it was silent then, the kind of silent that made Halsin’s skin pebble with gooseflesh.

Until:

“Be well, then, darling.”

A dismissal. Inelegant and so wrathful. A blessing lain on the path beneath his boots. The sun blazed so hot it carved itself into his soul and stole a piece of him away.

It has not rejoined him. That’s alright; he feels it whenever Astarion is near, and these days it’s rare when he isn’t. Halsin is his sword and shield, the crown on his head and the throne beneath him.

And when the word comes this time - “darling,” - it’s just for him, spoken against the shell of Halsin’s ear as a damp, fresh-from-the-bath Astarion settles over his thighs and slides his arms around Halsin’s neck. Heat lunges up Halsin’s spine and he frames Astarion’s slender waist with keeping hands. So lost in the taste of the man’s skin, Halsin barely notices he’s been talking at him until Astarion gently tugs at his hair.

“Halsin, darling.”

His ears perk up. That’s a new one - slightly exasperated, clipped and somewhat offended in a small, quiet way. A vulnerable way.

“Were you even listening to a thing I said?”

Stomach clenching, Halsin slides his keeping hands over Astarion’s flanks and scans his face. He’s pouting. This is a new face, a new variant. Halsin’s nerves align and he cups Astarion’s chin.

“Forgive me,” he says soberly. “I was lost in thought. Tell me what I missed - speak to me, lover.”

He jostles Astarion a bit and the elf’s expression softens just before he arches a brow and tips back with a shrewd, playful glare. Halsin keeps him supported with a big hand at the base of his spine and chases a hopeless kiss he doesn’t get on a whim.

“And what, pray tell, was so important it stole you away from me?” Astarion demands, fingertips guarding Halsin’s lips.

Halsin smiles against his touch. “You.”

And when Astarion’s expression changes, it makes Halsin feel like spring. Those sunset eyes go dewy and Astarion’s body melts against the strong plain of his own.

“You,” he mutters against Halsin’s lips, “are a menace, darling.”

And he’ll never tire of it - never tire of learning every cadence this man can shape. Maybe one day he’ll earn more variants than Gale - for now, he’ll settle on keeping the Different ones, the ones no one else gets to hold.

There is no greater honor.

[millylotus]

I See All of You & You Are Magnificent

Monster x Monster

When Duke and Danny first met they could see through eachothers glamor and were immediately taken by each other's true form. Both of their forms are inconceivable to most people, and they both have a deep want to be known and loved for their true selves.

Duke’s form is very bright, the light he generates is blinding, under it he is like a bird, the Grey Crowned Crane to be specific. But he doesn’t really look like one, kind of like those angels with a bunch of eyes and wings, he’s got a bird neck/head and a pair of his wings are connected to his arms like bat wings. The golden rings of eyes are around his head, torso and legs. He’s got a giant pair of wings on his back and a set on his heels. His bird head and his human head exist at the same time kinda like those holographic drawings where you see it depending on how you look at it.

Danny is kinda like a black hole he produces no light but a slight rim of light going into him. Under all of that he’s got long thin and sharp limbs. His suit looks like it’s just a pattern on his skin, and the symbol has kinda faded away. He's got these big antlers on his head and his mouth is filled with fangs, to the point where it doesn’t seem like he should be able to close his mouth. His hands are sharp and slaw like, and his eyes blink sideways. His tongue is uncomfortably long.

They both look disturbingly uncanny without their glamorous, and some of their true form traits can peek through. Like Duke’s extra eyes being able to see the future are visible over where the rings would be. Or Danny’s fangs and claws accidentally ripping into things.

DUKE

No you don’t understand he sees me and I can see him and he’s perfect. I’m not all that human and I’ve never been and when Danny looks at me he doesn’t just see some random human boy he sees me. He sees the blinding light of my existence and he can perceive me and he loves me. And I love him, in all his eldritch horror he is perfect to me and I love him. Because he’s him and he understands me to my core. I love him.

DANNY

It’s just- he just gets me. He can see me for me and he always has. And Jazz the first time Duke looked at me he seemed so enamored by me, so taken by me, and he saw me for me every time he saw me. He wants me even though I’m an ugly and horrific being. And I love him even though he deserves so much more than me. He is so bright and beautiful and he is the sun and I love him.

When Gnomon and Duke first fought the light bomb went off and the glamor that Elaine had put over Duke was forcefully removed by the explosion. Bruce and Duke were terrified and Gnomon took his chance to make a deal with Duke. Duke comes to the archives with him and learns how to make his own glamor and adapt to his true form.

Duke is able to convince him to just bring the proper information to Gotham so he doesn’t have to leave. Bruce offores up Wayne Manor as a place where Duke could learn.

It takes a couple of months and Gnomon gets a bit of a redemption arc in that time, but he is unable to properly heal Elaine and Doug.

Now Duke can make his own glamor and knows some things about Gnomon’s side of the family. He’s gone back to living a relatively normal life if you don’t count the vigilante and ethereal being stuff.

Duke being born of an archivist and being of light is kind of weird. He speaks/writes all languages and knows far too much. While also being able to manipulate light and the lack of light, along with seeing where all light was/is/will be. Combined those last two abilities give him future visions, which are underdeveloped because of his age and inexperience.

-

The Batfam’s reaction to Duke not being a regular meta and actually being a high caliber ethereal being was better than it could have been. They all had already gotten close to Duke and were accepting of his weaker powers, but the knowledge that Duke was so much more than they could ever be was daunting.

Duke was scared that they may never want him back, Cass was the first to notice Duke shrinking into himself and she quickly made sure the others knew how their less than stellar reactions. They all go out of their way to make sure Duke knows he’s loved even though he’s different. Duke really appreciates their new attitude.

When Duke is feeding into his archivist habits he spends his time in the Wayne Library, letting some of his inhuman traits come through.

Duke keeps going to Middletown South with Izzy, Troy, Dre & Riko, and lives between his cousin Jay’s home and Wayne Manor.

---

As Danny gets older as a ghost his ghostly form becomes more and eldritch, he’s been instinctively making a secondary glamor to go over his ghostly form so nobody goes mad because of it. When he defeats Pariah, Clockwork and Frostbite take him aside and explain that his true form needs to start dropping the glamor more and learn how to take care of himself in that aspect.

So Danny spends the rest of Sophomore year figuring out himself and what it means to be him, as both a person and a ghost. Over this time he sets up some truces with the other ghosts so he doesn't have to stress every second.

Before Danny’s Junior year the Fenton parents decided to move to Gotham because of all the spooky shit that happens over there. Jazz is already living there for college and even though Danny is against it they end up dragging him to Jersey.

Danny is enrolled in Middletown South, which is thankfully similar enough to Casper High that Danny doesn’t have too much of a culture shock.

DUKE

I’d noticed a sort of void that whole day really, I hadn’t thought much of them until they started looking my way.

And when I took a peak at them and saw them for their truth, I could barely even breath.

He’s magnificent, gorgeous, in an eldritch way that just fits him. His antlers were bigger than the regular kid, spiraling out of control. His claws are so sharp I swear they could cut through space itself.

And he was looking at me, he saw me.

DANNY

It was like seeing a bright light right on your peripherals. I just had to look over, see what I couldn’t quite see.

He was so painfully bright I had to blink a couple dozen times before I could see him properly.

He’s magnificent, wonderful, ethereal even. His largest wings seemed to lay all around him, his eyes glancing this way and that way.

Until they settled on me and saw me.

Duke and Danny first say to each other on the first day of school, second period math class. They’d both been able to feel each other's presence, but neither went out of their way to really look at each other until then.

Danny was the first to take a peak, what with Duke being a literal beacon of light he wasn’t easy to ignore. Duke saw him second, noticing the staring and truly focused on Danny and saw him. They both fell for each other right then and there.

Neither really realized the whole love thing and just wanted to get to know each other. Duke ends up inviting Danny to come and sit with him and his friends for lunch. Izzy, and Dre catch on quickly to Duke’s semi crush on Danny, and get Troy and Riko in on the whole setting the two up. They exchanged numbers and Danny agrees to meet with them again tomorrow. Btws Dax goes to another school.

-

When the Fentons moved to Gotham they did so to try and learn more about the Gotham specific ghosts they think exist there. They ended up choosing Crime Alley “Park Row” as a place to stay in because of the higher levels of ectoplasm and the Red Hood being known to be kinda ghostly. Jack and Maddie spend most of the first month they’re in Gotham setting up shop in the basement of the building they’ve moved into.

Jazz and Danny are basically living out of Jazz’s dorm at Gotham University. Jazz’s roommate hasn’t moved in yet so the two get the place to themselves. Danny doesn’t want to listen to their parents prepare for their ghost hunting bullshit. And Jazz would much rather have her brother around instead of being alone for the two weeks before college.

Danny isn’t doing the whole Phantom thing anymore cause 1) isn't really needed with all the heroes in Gotham, 1.5) he doesn’t want to encroach on the bat’s terf, 2) he really needs this break, and 3) it’s better if his parents assume Phantom didn’t follow them all the way to Jersey.

Jack and Maddie do stake outs after they’re ready, at this point it’s a week into the school year. They pick up a very weak ectoplasmic signature from Jason, but he’s similar to Vlad in intensity so they aren’t sure if he’s dead or if he got infected by some pure ectoplasm. They run after him at one point, but then Jason shoots at them with very real guns and they decide to just back off for now.

-

As the weeks go by Danny gets closer to the WR group, he and Riko have third and fourth period, Izzy and him share sixth period with Duke, and Troy and Dre have first period together with Danny. Danny doesn’t really talk much about his family besides his sister going to GU and his parents deciding to move to Gotham as well because it had better opportunities for their work.

One day after school, when Danny’s walking to Jazz’s place, Danny almost gets mugged and Duke comes down and saves him. They recognize each other on sight and just kinda stare, before Danny says something stupid like, “I knew you were an angel the moment I saw you, just didn’t think you’d be the guardian type.” Then Duke laughs and says something equally dumb like, “Well the most lovely of beings always deserve a guardian angel don’t they?”

Of course then Danny has to swear he’ll keep the whole Duke is Signal thing. This is when the two start actually flirting with each other, and like falling for eachother.

-

After their retreat from Red Hood, the Fentons decide to go after a new vigilante, Black Bat. Because obviously if nobody can ever sense, hear, or really see them, then they have to be a ghost.

Cass being Cass is basically impossible to track, but she has enough ectoplasm in her system that they get small pings from her. Eventually Maddie and Jack corner Cass, she mainly lets them do so out of curiosity. They tried to attack or pin her down, but Cass just led them on a wild goose chase across Gotham.

They lose her, and end up just deciding to head back home, it’s dawn and Signal is still out on the town. Jack and Maddie get a weird alert, and follow it to him. They see Signal using his powers a little. Because Duke isn’t really a ghost he ticks off the Fentons’ general supernatural being detector. Now the Fentons have someone else to hunt down.

Duke isn’t a ghost or ectoplasmic being, he’s more of a different thing. A hybrid between the Ichor Beings of Light[Gnomon], and the Archivists[Elaine] who are a branch species from the Ichor Beings. Elaine was an Archivist of Light before she gave up that power running away from Gnomon. So the Fenton tech doesn’t affect him.

Jason was the first to mention the Fentons hunting him down, Cass said later that they had started tailing her, and when they actually kept up with her the rest of the family got a tad curious. Then a month in the school year they shot at Signal in broad daylight. Now everybody is worried, the shot didn’t do much besides push Duke back, kinda like a bb gun.

Duke immediately up and dipped because he was not about to deal with that, but tagged the Fentons with a tracker/bug to find out who they are. Duke does some digging into the Fentons with Cass and Jason, when they find out about Danny and Jazz, Duke is stunned, scared a little even.

-

Duke ends up telling the rest of the Batfam about Danny and that he knows about the whole Duke is Signal thing. Of course they all can tell that Duke is crushing hard on the eldritch son of two mad scientists. Bruce’s first reaction is holy shit please god why. Because all his children end up with people that he knows probably aren't the best idea. Cass asks him if Danny can come over for a visit [interrogation]. Duke agrees to ask Danny to come round, but as long as the bats promise not to overwhelm him.

Because the W Robins already know about the whole bat thing it's just Danny who's kind of out of the loop.

At this point Duke and Danny kinda got a situationship going on, they're not really dating but they're kinda also flirting with each other. It's basically a matter of time until they get together at this point, so getting Danny to agree to come over to Wayne manor was relatively easy.

-

The next day over the phone Duke tells Danny that his parents shot at him while Duke was Signal, and Danny is so embarrassed and concerned. He apologizes for his parents and what they did. Duke convinces Danny to come over to his foster family's place, the batfamily, so they could talk about it more, and what the colony could do to prevent the Fentons from becoming a problem.

Danny agrees to come over, the next day around dawn near the end of Signal’s patrol, Duke takes his bike and goes to pick up Danny and drive him to the batcave through the underground tunnels.

Danny spends the first few minutes in the batcave just ogling all the new things, then the bats go out of their way to scare the shit out of him before they get the meeting underway.

Danny explains that his parents came to Gotham to investigate the ectoplasm levels and the stories about the bats being inhuman. They went after Red Hood and Black Bat because they have enough levels of ectoplasm to be traced with Fenton tech.

After Danny agrees to help them bypass the sensors, Bruce asks about Danny’s own inhuman nature he gets a bit clammy about it, but explains that he was basically conceived, born and raised in a home with high levels of ectoplasm floating around, it just took one accident to really strip him of his humanity fully.

Duke drives Danny home a little after that, they end up talking outside Jazz’s dorm building, a minor confession occurs but they’re both stupid and don’t realize what happened. Jazz immediately teases Danny about him hanging out with Signal, Danny denies that anything is happening between them.

Okay so Duke and Danny, when they first meet each other it was more in the sense of “Wow they are so cool and pretty I wanna be their friend”. Then when they meet as Signal and Danny it’s kinda like “Holy heck did not know you were so beautiful/hot”. Now they’re kinda flirty with each other, but neither think that the other actually likes them.

So it’s this dumb will they won't they kinda think, and everyone around them is so done with them about it.

DEADLIGHTS MASTERPOST, GENERAL NOTES, MEMES, AO3

[mgnifique-tion]

— worlds apart.

summary || ``sometimes, genuine love isn’t enough for two to let things stay the same.``

pairing: 2012-2013!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: love you with all my heart – crush lowercase is intended… » part 1 | part 2

— themes and warning/s: angst yet slightly happy ending (?) somewhere in the middle, forbidden love, thorki happy ending (brotherly,, i can't believe i have to put brotherly in this one)

— a/n: finally, the last part is finished! this took me a while to post bc haha, i graduated and got a job (GOAT fr) 🎓 and idk, i'm not really awesome w the time management (un-GOATified) and i also wasn't happy with my first draft of this so i had to write a whole new second half 😭 but ig if you guys want the other - much happier ending, you can boost this up to 20 reblogs (that would be very great!! thx!! 🤘) and i'll post it right away bc it's already written anyway!!

— edit: check out the song rec,,, it’s magnificent. idk what koreans ate to make good OST 😭 + there's a noticeable timeskip from when loki returned to asgard and his imprisonment there + it was also before frigga's passing :(

[ total words: 2.5k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

loki left...

but at what cost?

now, you were standing in front of him while he was locked away in the cell provided by s.h.i.e.l.d. and he glared at you coldly, just like how he looked at you the first time. but right now, loki’s mind couldn’t unwrap around the fact that you had turned him in… or at least, that’s what he thought happened since he’s known betrayal far worse than everyone else, not even thor.

“loki.” you placed your palm against the glass as he looked away, a frown plastered over his face as a scowl escaped his lips. he really thought you were set apart from all the humans who were terrified of him, the humans who had surrounded him, and the humans who fired weapons stronger than bullets at him.

but in the end, you were still human… and he hated it badly. “you betrayed me,” loki spoke out, “... you don’t know the extent of your power, do you?”

and those first three words he uttered broke you. how could he think you betrayed him? for god’s sake, you’ve kissed him without thinking twice! you’ve followed his rules without complaining! you’ve eaten a midnight meal with him on the top of a mountain and talked to him about the little girl you failed to save… your little sister.

why on earth would he think that you, out of all people, have turned into a traitor?

“loki,” you said his name once more but in a softer manner, “look, you’re not seeing this right. i would never turn you in–”

“i am seeing it clearly.” he grunted, still not looking at you. he couldn’t dare to look at you after that godforsaken kiss; so heavenly to feel but so hellish to remember. “y/n, i–,” he had to cut himself off, knowing that he’s just called you by your name. the name that every friend would address you by. the name that would remind him that there was this closeness between both of you at one point.

for a short amount of time, he’d want to spend more with you but the universe had told him it was too big of a risk. “... i shouldn’t have set you free… i never expected you to be in front of me right now,” he solemnly whispered, now knowing the consequences of falling for a human. after all, how unethical would it be for a god to fall for some earthly creature? 

he found you beautiful in so many ways that he just couldn’t let himself not feel your lips, his mind overly consumed by the imagination of just taking you, claiming his place in you, and turning you as the right hand to his throne.

having you by his side; that was his fantasy. an everlasting one. 

and this fueled his rage even more against his older brother, who could love a human while he had to be kept in this cage, desperately reaching his hands out to you while the windows shielded you from him as if he was some beast; only allowed to watch but never touch. “you’re mine!” he growled loudly, now staring into your eyes while his fist banged against the glass, making you flinch. “... you were supposed to be mine.” 

as selfish and ridiculous as he may have sounded, saying those words broke him. it shattered him. the truth will always shatter the wall of lies he’s made for himself.

when you thought this situation couldn’t get any worse, you heard thundering footsteps from behind, almost as if it was approaching you. on the other side of the glass, loki’s eyes darkened, a familiar smirk creeping up his face like he’s worn a mask. “... so, you’ve taken l/n away from me as well? how generous.” the god of mischief’s voice was mixed with bitterness and disguised wrath as you turned around and saw the storm’s mighty warrior. 

“listen, brother,” thor called his name with a hint of hope, “that doctor did not turn you in, they just wanted to pay you a visit.”

of course loki didn’t believe him. in fact, loki couldn't; the god of mischief had been lied to many times before he turned his back against those same liars. “if they hadn’t turn me in, then why am i here? why are they not with me? why are they standing next to you outside of this room!?” jealousy seeped into the cracks of his mask, the reality of his emotions destroying himself.

he couldn’t bear seeing his brother standing next to you. “because you’re a criminal,” you spoke up, breaking the silence after loki just shouted at thor’s face. taking another step closer to the glass, you stated, “loki, you’ve taken me hostage and you kissed me–”

“no, you kissed me,” loki claimed.

“because you told me to!” you clarified.

“and you desired it.” he insisted.

while both of you fought, thor stood right beside you with a rather awkward stance, forced to listen to his younger, fucked in the head brother express how much he wanted you to be his. needless to say, it was an unpleasant discussion to witness all in real-time. “enough!” roared the mighty god of thunder, catching both of your attention at the speed of lightning.

but the argument didn’t stop there. “you tell me that i left an effect on you but you’re so full of yourself that you wouldn’t let this go.” and anger found you at that moment, showing loki all the consequences of his actions; what world domination led him to. 

“... my god, loki,” you uttered hopelessly, “you know you don’t have to do this. it never had to be like this.”

in those hours you’ve been around him, you knew that you weren’t the only one controlled by such power. his every move had to be right – had to make the plan progress or else, all things fail and by now, you’ve already noticed that loki so despised it.

loki so desperately didn’t want to bring the whole order down.

“please, your brother is willing to give us a chance–”

“if this is an attempt to persuade me to stop, you’re not doing so well at all.”

of course loki wasn’t quite fond on hearing about what his brother thought about the two of you. he couldn’t care less about him anymore; whether he truly wanted it or not, the plan will push through. 

this world will be molded in his hands and his horns will be everyone’s crucifix. 

so, you tried one more time. “... you already have power over me,” you admitted, your voice trembling in shame and pride. thor, who now stood behind you, couldn’t bear listening to this but he couldn’t help but think that his brother was turning you down over his ruling despite needing clarity that all he needed was love. “is that not enough?”

and there was coldness after the fire, filling in the entire room as you waited. there wasn’t enough patience for loki anymore but you kept on holding on because you had to. if this was the only way you could persuade him to stop all of this, then you had to do it.

if you couldn’t save her before, maybe you could save the people she’s left behind.

but there was no response as the alarms had gone off. agents from around the area had already told the rest of the avengers that dr. banner had turned into the emerald beast and you just had to be kept away from loki’s cell to prevent further damage yet what they didn’t know was that loki had given you a promise: that not even a finger from him would leave a bruise on your skin.

a promise that he continued to stand by even if it’s too late.

“forgive me, doctor.” he closed his eyes for a moment, letting his sorrow sink deeper into his hardened heart. soon, his irises stared into his open palm, determination floating above his guilt. 

“but this can’t be stopped.”

not even an hour later, his cell opened and chaos ensued in the rest of manhattan. creatures from other worlds led, buildings – new and old – fell, and the six were united and formed to defend the planet while the people genuinely thought that the end of the world had come for them; all because of the god with that damn scepter.

unfortunately, he ended up receiving a sentence from his father.

“you have a visitor.” the gentle voice of the woman who stood next to you called onto him. the god was facing away from the window, which exposed him to the other prisoners. those who have been imprisoned just like him no longer treated him with respect; after all, how could the son of odin do such a thing?

yet that was the entire problem: he was not odin’s son. not anymore. “a visitor?” he laughed at the idea of it, believing that no one would dare to visit him at this point. even for him, it was a surprise that his mother was doing that exact thing now after everything that happened.

he never meant to make it this far.

all he wanted was to end his pain but in return, he brought it to everyone.

“and who would that be, mother?”

“... a friend of yours. from midgard.”

the moment that damned planet was mentioned, he lifted his head from the floor, slowly turning around. his pupils dilated at the sight of you standing next to his mother as hundreds of questions broke into his mind. but one question remained unanswered: how on earth did you reach asgard?

“... you.” his gaze, voice, and demeanor softened. the idea of you visiting him in an outer space prison was weakening his cold heart on the spot. 

his mother stared at her son before shifting her gaze at you, giving you a small nod. “i’ll leave you both alone. thank you for visiting him…” she thanked you, taking the steps further away from you, the glass, and her imprisoned son after you returned her with a smile. it was the first time in months that loki had actually looked at someone with vulnerability showing in every crevice of his whole being.

carefully, you went up the short steps of the stairs in front of the glass, walking closer to him as you watched him do the same. “... your brother allowed me to pay you a visit,” you spoke, earning yet another one of those sarcastic laughs he always had. 

“oh, i don’t believe you,” he stated blatantly, “thor would never allow such a thing–”

“it was because he found me crying… about you.” you interrupted him, which silenced him right away. after his sentence had been announced around the headquarters, it felt as if a piece of your heart went missing, a void just forming right there. you never planned to visit him; what he did to manhattan was horrible, the entire world could’ve been put at stake if the black order continued.

but thor insisted after hearing you cry alone in your respective office.

“... well.” he shrugged, chuckling at the thought of it. “it’s unsurprising that he wanted you to see me like this,” he expressed as he looked at how much of a mess he was already, his palms resting against each other before placing them both behind his back. “... was it to embarrass me? in front of you?”

you shook your head and told him sternly, “no.”

he was yet taken aback once more, tilting his head to the side in confusion. he’s always believed his brother would only allow things to interact with him if it’ll shame him to the fullest. shame him for all the things he’s done. all the harm he’s caused.

“are you…” he paused, his throat drying up in anxiety. “... are you ashamed of me?”

it was rare for the god to ever ask someone that question. loki’s already made up his mind: he’s unloved, uncared for. a cunning, manipulative being who played with his subjects, leaving no room for regret in his heart.

but for the first time, he felt afraid of what you felt about him.

because all he wanted to be was to be next to you. to feel you. 

to hold the soft palms of your hands in his and never let them go ever again.

and again, you shook your head and placed your palm over the glass. “i could never be ashamed of you even if i wanted to,” you responded softly as loki’s breath hitched. “... but the things you did– they are… just… wrong...” you didn’t dare to say more as you watched how despair filled his gaze, his approaching hand further away from the glass as if he couldn’t see himself being with you. loki, in this very moment, was forced to swallow and embrace the truth – that the idea of you and him will always remain an idea because of what he did.

so, you’ve lowered your palm, too.

loki turned his back and walked away, his mind taken over by regret. if only he had met you differently, things wouldn’t have been like this. if only he hadn’t been so angry at his known family for keeping such a secret from him, you would’ve been his. if only things had been different, you could’ve been in his embrace right at this very moment.

but he knew that none of those would matter. “you should go.” the god denied himself of this privilege, which was something you didn’t want as you shook your head. you swore to never leave him; not in this state at least.

“and please,” he begged breathlessly as he kept his head down. “... live happily for me.” 

and the entire hall fell silent again. even the others seemed tense, listening to the words exchanged by both you and the god. 

“but i want to stay… i still love you.” those were the only words that could come out of your mouth at the moment, protesting hopelessly. 

“... it’s too late.” his voice trembled at the mention of it and before you could say anything back, his brother entered, catching your attention. with a single nod from him, you knew that it was best to follow the avenger instead of staying longer. after all, you were not part of their world… and neither should loki be a part of yours.

the god’s gaze lingered on you as the moment you were gone, he closed his eyes shut for a while until he realized that thor watched him. “what? are you glad that this happened? glad that i pushed them away for them to be finally free from this? for them to be happy?” loki snapped, scoffing at his brother’s observant glare. in response, thor just sighed deeply, slightly leaning against the glass.

“you do truly love them… if you want, i'll watch them for you. i’ve never expected you to love a human since you weren’t fond of the idea.” it took loki a long pause before he knew that his older brother really was willing to protect you from danger as long as he’s in prison because somehow, they both knew that he’ll escape someday. 

and for the first time, his lips curled into a tiny smile. “thank you… brother.”

[annymaght]

The Animation: Review

My god, they were really able to step up their game with the animation in this show compared to Camp Cretaceous.

In Camp Cretaceous, while the characters were a tad clunky at times, the dinosaurs were beautifully animated.

In Chaos Theory, we get the best of both worlds. The dinosaurs are still gorgeous, highlights being the atrociraptors and the Allosaurus. I mean, look at this shot...

Honestly I think it is the best shot in the whole show, animation-wise. The allosaurus was stunning to watch. It looked magnificent and beautiful yet terrifying to look at at the same time, which perfectly balances awe and wonder with horror that Jurassic Park is based around.

As for the characters, they just felt so much more dynamic and alive. They had a wider range of expressions that felt so real, and generally they were more interesting to look at. That being mostly down to the extra movements in the characters' hair and clothes.

Scenes with just the characters felt alive because they were always doing something, and that's what I mean by them being more dynamic. Very rarely they were just standing around talking to each other as in a lot of other animated TV shows. But to be honest this is something Camp Cretaceous has always been able to pull off. I just think Chaos Theory does it a lot better.

[valentinesdaydate98]

Sunshine Boy III

Word count: 2.5k

Fandom: Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing: William James Moriarty x Reader, Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Warning(s): Slightly suggestive in the beginning

To my one true love,

I waited for your return, night and day, to confess a terrifying secret. I’m certain you figured out what my secret is—knowing your gifted mind. However, I have to get it out of my system. I’m sorry; I never confessed while you were still alive. But this is my opportunity, and I won’t let it go to waste.

“Elizabeth, it’s been a while,” Louis said before he choked on his saliva. He opened the door to reveal a beautiful woman in a revealing nightgown, resembling close to a porcelain doll. But not just any woman; it’s Elizabeth, his Elizabeth. “I apologize. I should’ve been more cautious,” Louis stuttered as he covered his eyes and his cheeks produced a hot pink blush.

Elizabeth giggled at his reaction. Despite his involvement with his brothers’ crimes, he still clings to his humanity, and part of his humanity is his innocence. It was captivating to see him diminish into a bashful, stumbling individual.

“It has been a while, Louis. You’ve changed quite a bit since we last spoke. I’m happy you’re no longer wearing your spectacles,” Elizabeth said as she crossed her legs and exposed her ankle to her upper thigh.

“Were you not fond of them?” Louis asked.

“My problem was that they hid your magnificent eyes. Although, they did make you look more serious. I liked it,” Elizabeth said as she caressed the scar on his right cheek.

“I’m flattered, Elizabeth,” Louis said, clearing his throat. “So, did you need to speak to me about something? When I received your telegram, I rushed over here because I thought it was an emergency,” Louis explained while trying to remain confident. However, it was difficult to concentrate on their conversation when Elizabeth was leaving gentle touches on his sensitive scar.

“In a sense, this meeting is an emergency. I need something from you, Louis,” Elizabeth said as she stood up from her chair and walked towards him. She cradled his head as her thumbs caressed his cheeks.

“You know I’m always here for you, Elizabeth. What do you need?” Louis asked.

Elizabeth embraced Louis as she laid her head on his shoulder. She later pressed her hand against his stomach before slipping up to his chest, as if she were trying to reach his heart. But his heart wasn’t enough to exorcise this lonesome feeling Elizabeth kept all these years. She knew, but she needed a distraction. Her head tilted to glance at Louis before she leaned closer to his ear.

“Louis, indulge me. Just tonight or many nights if you enjoyed our time.” Elizabeth whispered. Her hot breath sent shivers down Louis’ spine. “Let our worries and stress go, and be free,” Elizabeth said before kissing his scar. “Would you like that?”

What a tempting offer! To lie in bed with the woman Louis had been eyeing for years. From feeling and tasting her warm and soft skin, to decorating her body with his marks, to smelling her vanilla perfume that once suffocated him but now comforts Louis. And as she said it, letting out their frustrations, and deepened their relationship. His soul can calm hers down. It’s his chance to express his profound love for Elizabeth.

Alas, he couldn’t accept her offer. Elizabeth’s heart went away with William.

Her demeanor changed when William disappeared. It was like someone had possessed Elizabeth. Every day, she wore long black dresses with a matching fascinator hat and gloves. Even with the harsh, strong winds or the heaviest rain, her clothes remained the same. Because of her attire, she was easy to spot in a crowd, and Elizabeth became a target for relentless harassment. Rumors spread throughout the country, from Elizabeth being involved with the crimes committed by the Moriarty family to her having an affair with William while knowing he was the Lord of Crime. Because of the speculations, people sent hundreds of letters to her mailbox, with many containing death threats, causing her to be paranoid. Unfortunately, her explanations have fallen on deaf ears. So, she always asked Louis to accompany her wherever she went on the off chance someone would attack her. Her eye bags enlarge, her lively and long hair turned brittle, and her skin turn pale as she copes with the passing of William with cigarettes and alcohol. She resembled more like a living, dead girl.

It wasn’t until now that she was back to her old self. Thanks to Louis’ intervention, she developed healthier coping mechanisms. However, her grief never went away, and she had moments of relapse, like right now.

“Elizabeth,” Louis said, gently pushing her away. “I am flattered by your offer. But I’m afraid I must decline. I believe the incident is still haunting you.”

Despite her tainted reputation, she courted other gentlemen. Though some gentlemen offered marriage, Elizabeth was not interested. Instead, she escaped by having multiple one-night stands. So Louis, who was an important figure and friend in her life, rejecting her offer, was a blow to her ego and frail heart. She couldn’t help but tear up at his rejection.

“Elizabeth, please understand,” Louis said as he kneeled in front of her while holding both of her hands.

“But you’ve fallen for me, no?” Elizabeth asked between sniffles. “Surely you want to do this with me?”

Louis gasped at her comment. He intended to never reveal his feelings until the timing was right. In the three years since the final act, he remained quiet about his romantic attraction to Elizabeth. Especially when she went through a downward spiral. It still isn’t. However, he didn’t have a choice, she wasn’t the same naive little girl. So he finally let his secret out of his chest.

“I must confess, Elizabeth, I love you. I’ve loved you since childhood. Admittedly, it upset me that you longed for my brother. However, you truly brought color into his life. That beautiful smile you showed my brother made me happy. But I never wanted to step in the way of my brother’s happiness.”

A loud, wet cough echoed as Louis lay on his bed. His health has deteriorated, not with his coughs increasing but with the unsuspecting muscle spasms, an annoying chill despite his battle with the burning fever, and his inability to breathe. Fortunately, someone made a prayer, and an angel appeared. Elizabeth rushed towards his side with a tray full of food, making footsteps that sounded like stomps, not wanting to waste any time to help Louis.

“Lou-Lou, everything will be alright. I made you some lunch. It’s not much, just fish and chips with your afternoon tea and a cup of fruit,” Elizabeth said as she laid the tray on his night table.

Louis blushed at the nickname, but before he could protest, he had another coughing session.

“Lou-Lou!” Elizabeth rushed to his side before she lifted him and patted his back. “Everything will be alright. You’ll recover from this illness soon. I’ve been praying for a miracle, and it’s here. You’re scheduled for surgery soon, and you’ll be free,” Elizabeth said as she continued her light patting.

“Elizabeth?” Louis called in a groggy voice. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to visit the orphanage with Albert soon?” He asked.

“I am, but I noticed you were running a fever, so I told Albert that I would stay and help take care of you. It’s alright; the children will understand, and Albert isn’t upset,” Elizabeth said as she rubbed his back.

“Thank you. I’m grateful for your support,” Louis said.

“I’ll be here for you, Lou-Lou, always,” Elizabeth said. “If I have your attention, Lou-Lou, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I was speaking to William, and I mentioned that you’re more quiet around me. Why is that? Have I done something wrong?” Elizabeth asked as she took the plate of fish and chips. She sat down on a chair near Louis’ bed.

His heart was running a marathon. The sweat pouring down his face was more noticeable. His body felt heavy. At this moment, he would rather drop dead than confess.

“Well, you see, Elizabeth,” Before he could explain, he had another coughing fit.

“Never mind all that nonsense, Lou-Lou. You should rest. I’m sorry I put you through stress. Please forgive me,” Elizabeth said in a panic. “Let me hand you your tea. Be careful; it’s hot! Oh, let me get you another blanket. I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth said before kissing his forehead without thinking.

As she hurried out of his room, Louis stared at the ceiling and became lost in his train of thought. At the start, he thought of her as a sister figure. That’s how he initially rationalized his feelings. A kind-hearted yet naive girl who always looked after him and William. Who also likes to give kisses to him? He always had to remind himself that they were platonic kisses. A rather perky and polite girl, almost to an annoying level. A girl with a big complexion. She comes from a lower class, however; she doesn’t resent the noble people. Not even to the Moriarty family, who practically took turns to antagonize her. Instead, she looks at the bright side of things. Even when her body is decorated with black and blue bruises, she maintains the same shining smile. Speaking of which, the sun always brightens her eyes, and when it’s night, she shines brighter than any candle. She was his angel.

It wasn’t until he heard Elizabeth scream William’s name in joy that his dream bubble popped. William has returned home. Louis slowly gets up from his bed and looks through the window, only to be crushed by the sight of Elizabeth hugging William.

He knew he had zero chances with Elizabeth. He could never bring out the same smile, sparkling eyes, and flushed cheeks as his brother did. They’re dedicated to one another; they’re perfect for each other. But he understood that it was not about him; it was about them.

“As long as she’s happy, I’ll be alright,” Louis said as Elizabeth and William walked back inside the mansion.

“Maybe one day I’d like to court you or spend the night together. But only once you direct your life in the right direction. You’re still in a vulnerable place, and I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Louis said.

That’s not what she wanted—not another lecture.

“Louis, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she kneeled and covered her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I promise to clean up my act. Please don’t leave. You can hate me all you want, but don’t go. It’s bad enough that I hardly see Albert since he is imprisoned. I don’t want you to leave me, too.” Elizabeth begged as she clung to his suit.

“Elizabeth, I could never hate you. Like I said before, I’m not saying no because I don’t want you. I do, but I want you to desire me. A genuine desire. My heart aches knowing you only desire me because I remind you of William,” Louis said.

She gasped at his last statement. She understood his reasoning. Even if they spend the night together, William will still plague her mind. How exhausting everything was! Even in recovery, she can’t forget or forgive William. But more importantly, she was using Louis for some sick pleasure. He was right. Sometimes Elizabeth looks at Louis, and she sees William. The same hair color, similar scarlet eyes, similar mannerisms—everything. This madness needs to end. She could’ve hurt Louis. No, she was hurting him. Throughout the years, he was essentially her caretaker. He made sure she was safe, eating nutritious meals, and convinced her to stop abusing drugs. He saved her life, yet this is how she thanked him.

“I’m sorry, Louis. I’ve become so selfish. I’ve been a horrible person.” Elizabeth said in between sniffles. “You essentially gave up your life to take care of me. Look what I succumbed to—a pathetic woman who is still in mourning for someone who would never reciprocate her love. I’m so sorry.” Her bloodshot eyes, her ghostly skin stained with her makeup mixed with her tears, and her sobbing clouded Louis’ mind. He took out his handkerchief to wipe the makeup off.

“There’s no need to apologize, Elizabeth. He was my brother. I was in an agonizing mourning period as well. You just needed more time and support than others. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Then a lightbulb lit up above his head. “I have an idea,” Louis said with much enthusiasm in his voice. “It’s rather simple, but I think it can help.”

By your side, I am comforted by our silence. But it was frightening to know the reason for your silence. It’s because you’re no longer here with me. But I know when I look up, you are looking down, watching over me. I know I’ve made many mistakes in my life, some ridiculous, some risky. I suppose you were trying to protect me, but I ignored you. I started smoking because it reminded me of you. How ridiculous. But the biggest mistake was falling in love with you, William James Moriarty. Loving you has consumed my life. But I held so much hatred because of the secret life you kept. Sometimes I blame you for the harassment I’ve received because of my association with you. Yet, I held so much hope for your return. However, it’s been three years now, and my patience is running thin. I have to set myself free because this sick love has imprisoned me for too long. Maybe if we met in different circumstances, we would’ve been married with children. Maybe I could’ve cured that ache in your sensitive heart. I’m sorry. I must cut my sunflowers to make room for new flowers. Until we meet again, William.

“Is that all you want to say?” Louis asked with a gentle tone after he finished reading her letter.

“That’s all, yes,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, what would you like to do with this letter?” Louis asked.

There was a pregnant pause before she stared back at Louis, hoping he would give her the answer. But that won’t help. This was something she had to do herself. She took the letter and a match, setting the letter on fire. This moment dumbfounded Louis as she stomped on the burned letter. She took a shaky, deep breath before a small smile appeared.

“That was ecstatic,” she said before she embraced Louis. “Thank you. I’ve never felt this magnificent in a long time. I owe you my life, Lou-Lou.” She said as she glanced at her night table, which had a picture of William and a dead sunflower near the picture.

The once lively sunflower, with petals as soft as William’s hands, has a gentle stem that reminds her of William’s delicate heart. The color was almost the same shade as William’s hair. Her sunshine boy is gone, but she lived through the tragedy, and she is ready to move on.

 

“I need to organize my room,” she said with a chuckle. “Thank you for everything, Lou-Lou.”

[daydreamgoddess14]

Salvation pt. 3

Full Masterlist

Roy Kent Masterlist

Roy Kent / Reader - general rating for now... set to increase 😏

Meet the woman who stole Roy Kent's watch... We finally get to some Roy x Reader deep conversation and messy history... This one is ALL OF THE ANGST guys! But the reward in part 4.... whooooo boy! The spoils (🔥) are coming lads, fear not!

This also helpfully covers one of the prompts from my 200 Followers Celebration 🎉! From a lovely Anon who requested Roy and "I won't let anything bad happen to you".

~~~~~~~~

You pick Sammy up. It’s an excuse really to see Nia, your mother/sister/best friend stand in of the last few years. Even if she is practically the same age. If Sammy’s the one who gave you a job and some semblance of financial security, Nia’s the one who recognised the dark hole you were in and lowered down the ladder to you. You hadn’t realised how close you could feel with someone in only three years, but she’d become your ‘person’ almost immediately.

“Darling, morning.”

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Like my ribs have become a xylophone.” You grimace at that. The human body is a magnificent and terrifying thing. When she’d shown you in her baby book how her organs shifted to make space for her growing baby, you’d declared auntie duty would be just fine, thanks. There would be no babies moving your organs around. 

“Nice. Brought you breakfast.” You pass her a bag of pastries. “Is he ready yet?”

“Nearly. Must have changed either his tie or his turban about four times trying to find the perfect combination,” you both roll your eyes and laugh at his commitment to the flawless matching pair. You both knew the answer already - 

“Blue floral.” You confirm together with a nod.

“The fabric is just beautiful. I do feel sorry for the poor bugger who has to make a matching tie for every turban though.” You muse, knowing it’s his mother in law who takes up that mantle.

“I know, right? And he complains that I buy too many books? I think not, pal.” She sniggers.

“You show him who’s boss. Cos if you don’t, then a certain someone else will.” You point at her growing belly. 

“Come on, Sam. You’re going to be late!” She shouts up the stairs. “Dinner tonight?” She asks you, she knows you might need company after the day ahead of you. You’ve disclosed a lot more of your past to her than Sam so she’s already up to speed on the last few days. You nod gratefully. “You’ll be fine. You need to talk to him though, apologise properly - explain what was going on back then.”

“I know. I will.” You hug her tightly and pester Sam out of the door.

Rebecca Welton is a gracious host. Warm, welcoming… you knew the lies the tabloids liked to spread so you knew the whole ‘cold, old Rebecca’ name tag was a load of crap.

“So, I think if it suits you both, I’ll have a cup of tea with Sam and we can get caught up while I get Roy to give you a tour and then we can arrange some smaller interviews with key staff and players?” Sam is beside himself,

“Sounds perfect Ms. Welton.”

“Yep, I’d love a tour.” You accept with a tight smile. 

“Wonderful! Here’s Roy now,” he steps through the open door and is clearly not expecting to see you.

“Thought we had reporters coming?” He grunts.

“We do, Sammy’s here from the Gazette. This is his… apprentice?” Rebecca tells him, “Something like that.” Sam laughs. You take a deep breath before holding your hand out,

“Nice to meet you again.”

“Hmm.” His warm hand engulfs yours and shakes it. The feel of his skin against yours is enough to trigger memories through your brain at top speed - his hand in yours, his hands on your face, your legs, in your hair. You snatch your hand away. “Come on, tour.” You follow him down the stairs and through mazes of rooms, “ticket office, finance,” then out into a wide corridor, “hall of fame.” You stop to look at the collection of memorabilia, making your way slowly past each piece and reading the accompanying cards. You stop fully at the couple of shelves dedicated to him, fingertips resting lightly on the glass. He clears his throat and you follow him deeper into the building. “Locker room, physio, boot room.” He pauses at the boot room. More memories come flooding back. “Remember when we -”

“Yeahhh,” you breathed, “I remember every single time.” You turn away to avoid his gaze.

“We were good together?”

“The best.” You reply quietly, a little sadness creeping in. He pushes the door open and holds it for you to follow. You sit shoulder to shoulder on the bench, both looking straight ahead.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly.

“Better recently. You?”

“Well no one has stolen my fucking watch lately.” He bumps you slightly, there’s the barest hint of amusement in his voice that you latch onto.

“They haven’t tried hard enough then,” you reply with a wry smile. He lets out a breathy laugh that he can’t quite disguise as anything else.

“I wish I could be more fucking angry with you than I am.”

“You have every right to be angry with me. I fucked up. I’ve been angry with myself for as long as I can remember.”

“You really fucked up. I just can’t understand why. I’ve spent this whole time trying to understand why. Because we were good together.”

“I know.” You agree, again. You were good together. You’ve been single since the day you walked out on him, haven’t even kissed anyone else in all that time. He’s the one you think of when you’re alone - he’s the only one you need to think of when you can’t sleep and you let your memories guide your hand down your body. These are obviously things you can’t say aloud, illicit memories you shouldn’t lean on but do. You sigh, he’s so expectant beside you, “How are you so… calm?” you wonder aloud. 

“Therapy,” he mutters with a short laugh.

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah, you?”

“No. Not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, it helps.”

“Do you remember when you were angling for an invite to Christmas at my mums?” You ask, he frowns a little at the sudden change of subject. You feel him nod next to you.

“That’s when it started, that’s when you started to pull away. I never met any of your family.”

“My brother. You never met him, I never wanted you to meet him. He was there… he’s an addict. He has been for a really long time and we’ve tried everything to help him, everything. He told me that he was in some money trouble with some blokes he brought off. I didn’t have much but I gave him everything I had saved. Then he needed more. And more, and more and I just didn’t know where I was going to get it from, or how to help him. I took the watch, changed my phone number and left.” You pause for a minute to take stock of what you’ve said, you can tell he wants to ask questions but he waits patiently instead. “He was a fucking mess. I made him tell me who he owed and went to see them on my own, told them I’d pay them back myself if they never went near him again. Worked about three jobs, moved back in with mum so I wouldn’t have to pay rent as well, and spent the next year and a half paying them back. I worked 18 hour days, 7 days a week. I literally kept back, like, a tenner a week for myself. I kept a record of how much I paid and when. When we were done I told them so and told them to never come near us again.”

“And?”

“They still turn up occasionally to try and get more out of me, they claim it’s interest.”

“And your brother?”

“We sent him to my uncle’s house up in the North West, he’s been there ever since but he’s clean now. Too scared to come home though.” Roy is quiet for the longest time.

“He must have owed…”

“About 130k. Maybe a bit more than that. I was pretty fucking knackered. I was doing early mornings 4-8am at Maccys, then 8.30-5 with Sammy at the paper and then bar shifts til about 10 or 11 pm most nights. Sam saved me, let me get an hour's kip at lunchtime, and brought extra food every day for me to share with him.”

“Fuuuuuck.” He slumps where he’s sat next to you.

“There is something else.” He looks over in disbelief. You reach into your bag, pull out a sleek, matt black box and put it in his hands. 

“Fuck off?” He slides open the box to find his Rolex, in pristine condition - still ticking. “Fuck off.”

“I went to hand it over to them and… I couldn’t. I didn’t want them to have something of yours. I didn’t want to know that I’d done that, sunk that low.” Your voice gets even smaller, “they tried to suggest other methods of payment but…” you feel his shoulders tense, see his fists ball tightly in his lap, “I told them to give me a couple of months and see that I was good for the money, and if I ever missed a payment then we’d have that conversation.” He wants to know if you ever had the conversation, you can feel it in the air between you both,

“You never have to justify yourself to me.” He says firmly.

“I didn’t do it. Never missed a payment. Had to borrow a bit from Sam occasionally when I fell short, but I was never going to have that conversation with them. Never.” The air feels weighty with the tension, like it's risen up from your shoulders where it’s weighed you down for the last three years and is now hovering around you both. You’re amazed you got through it without tears. It’s been so easy to fall into the trap of feeling sorry for yourself over the years and wallow in the self pity of it all. Roy on the other hand is still visibly tense, his knuckles white. You tentatively reach your hand across to cover his, using your fingers to unball his hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds worse than he had when he asked the same question a few days ago. His voice is hoarse and tight,

“I couldn’t let them know about you. They’d have ruined you. I had to protect you.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I would never have let anything happen to you. We could have sorted it together.” You turn to face him, bringing your other hand to his cheek,

“No love, it was never your problem to fix.”

“If all of this was over eighteen months ago -”

“Don’t ask me why I didn’t come back, Roy. It’s never really over, I couldn’t bring this shit to your doorstep and these dickheads just turn up whenever they think they might get a bit of extra cash out of me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I took your watch and I’m sorry I walked out on us.” You can hear voices in the corridor outside, your times up and now you both have to be the epitome of professionalism while Roy is interviewed. “I’ll get Sam to interview the team and other staff first, give you some time.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been living with this for three years, I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I’ve got some happy memories of this place,” you admit, looking around the familiar boot room. “I had the best sex of my life in this very room.” He lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I would never expect you to forgive me, Roy, but I truly thank you for giving me the chance to explain.” You pat his hand gently and leave a cool space beside him when you slip through the door to meet up with Sam and Rebecca.

~~~~~~

[arosspeaksnonsense]

So... I had a like, one shot fic type story idea

I probs won't be able to write it since I require full focus/dedication/attention to something when i want it to come into fruition (which is already difficult as is) and also since I have too much going on in my head and I want to do all of it, but instead I find myself doing nothing all day please god help me idk what this is called (my guess is laziness)

BUT anyways, onto the story idea

You know how ink's vials and I guess livelihood depends entirely on the creators/fandom? (Ok I guess not ENTIRE but his vials do depend on it, which is the things that essentially makes him alive.)

Well, since the fandom is not very active as it was when it was like, 2016-2017 (not saying its dead)

What if the fandom, just, dies? I mean duh its inevitable and Ink is silently pleading that the last creators hopefully won't leave but he knows its inevitable, no matter how hard he tries to make them stay, some of them already starting to give up.

The others notice ink's change in behavior and ink tells them the entire the thing and how he has only a few more time left to be alive I guess.

The others obviously distraught about this, but ink reassures them its fine, but the others weren't convinced

And then they find ink maybe sobbing or terrified as he tells them that the creators all left and are all gone and that he's probably going to go soon too.

This makes the others panic and desperately asks ink if there is another way for his vials to work, in which he sadly answers no.

they then dedicate the next few days into making sure ink is enjoying every second of the very little time he has left.

As they slowly looses all his colors one by one, eventually he looses all of them completely, which leaves them being the same emotionless, soulless skeleton he started as before.

Everyone is left in distraught and sadness

All his friends all sobbed and cried, some silently and/or internally crying, as their once lively, creative and cheerful friend, now nothing more than an empty shell of what he once were.

A hollow husk, with an emotionless and empty expression.

A painful reminder hit all of them, that they will never get that face to smile ever again. the same face that used to grin and laugh all the time.

The cheerful smile that he let out as he pranks and greets others, the lively motivations he loved giving to everyone.

The Laughs and snorts he gave out whenever he got someone in a prank, or from a joke not many understand, if any one did at all. And how when he becomes too flustered, or when too much euphoria and happiness comes flooding his feelings, he will starting to float in the air and continuously go up until the euphoria ends and they eventually go back down.

His Lips(?) Now closed and sealed shut

No sign of a tone or a voice to speak

The hands that used to paint with such freedom and care, the hands that used to make such magnificent and beautiful paintings, that gorgeously and perfectly replicate reality as if though it was reality itself. The fingers that used to dance around the flute as it made music, the hands that sew not only fabrics of clothing but also the fabrics of reality.

Gone is the passion in his hands that once were, the hands that moved freely, stuck in place.

His feet that loved to dance and move wherever it goes, exposed out to the world, lacking of any visible footwear, lacking any care where it stepped and what it was on, representing freedom and free of chains.

Both now rigid and unmoving.

His eyes, oh dear his eyes. The eyes that used to express themselves so much. So expressive that it almost made you forget he lacked the very base of every being, a soul. The eyes that so greatly showed its differing and unique shapes and colors that expressed whatever emotion they were feeling.

Now reduced into an empty and pitiful circles of white, indicating emotionless and lifelessness, no more is the eyes that burst with colors and shape, only a blank stare is what remains.

He was so empty.

It terrified and saddened everyone.

The Multiverse Was filled with sobs and cries, Silence in some

The Multiverse was crying and mourning its guardian.

Dream, Distraught, knew what he had to do.

He had only known about ink's dads when Dream had been frantically looking for Ink as he had seemingly Disappeared, only to find said skeleton in the garden with a Gaster, this one had wings.

He has watched and approached carefully, but was stopped by a loud yelled by the short skeleton

He didn't know how to respond but he only walked closer, the expression on the gaster seemed..pleasantly surprised.

Not long after, dream had found out about how he isn't the only gaster in the house but two were sharing it, and how said two are married and fathers to his short friend

It was a pleasant surprise to dream

But...this surprise..

Will not be so pleasant.

As Dream was about to grab and carry Ink, The hands that intertwined on eachother, that hands being of Inks and Errors

Speaking of the glitch, Hes...probably not going to be well after this, after all besides blue, Ink was the only one that really took the time and Effort to Understand and Befriend Error, they had a very close relationship.

Error had not let go of Ink's Hand ever since the news of his depleting life. His haphephobia suddenly gone during doing so, (or is it?? I can't tell.) But now, he doesn't seem to react, only tightening his grip and continuing to look and stare into nothingness, finally Dream spoke

"Error..?, can you..let go?? Of Ink, I feel like his father's need to see this."

"...why can't they just..come here..."

" I'm afraid Aster cannot step outside of their AU"

"...fine. But I'll with you."

"Of course."

Dream opened a portal, he slowly walks through with error, who's carrying ink bridal style.

Aster and Top has not spoken over the past few days, worry littered their mind, as the news of their little star burning itself out soon had reached their non existant ears.

They spent Time with their little star, they made sure he enjoyed and had fun every second of the time they had left with him.

Eye bags shows prominent under their eyes, they hear a knock at the door, their eyes grows surprised, wishfully hoping their little hat had come to visit them again

Aster stands up and walked towards the door, a smile on his face, as he opens the door, his smile drops,

He sees the three Skeletons, and he sees especially the star that had burnt out.

Aster simply stares and does not respond, his eyes widened.

His hands slowly reaches for Ink

And Error though hesitant, give Ink to Aster.

Aster, felt like he couldn't breathe, the little star that always shined bright, so much so it didn't seem like they were ever going to die down, and yet here he is, no longer shining, his smile and laughs and snorts gone forever.

As he holds ink, he holds his hands, tears starts to flow down his face, he remembers when he held those small hands, guide them through the dirt, when Aster was teaching ink about gardening, when Aster saw the glimmer in his eyes (oh god, he will never get to see that ever again will he?) When he was watching Aster show him around the Garden, offering to show him how to grow beautiful flowers. He so excitedly followed every step so cautiously, contradicting Aster's Expectation of many mess up.

As he held into ink's tiny hands, the hands that he teached to learn many things, that he teached to not used his power so much.

He cried, he cried for ink, he cried for his child, his baby, his star.

And behind Aster, walks Top.

Eyes widened, eyes filled with tears.

There he saw his son, the little outcode that slithered their way into his life and affection, on the arms of his beloved, dead and empty,

Memories flashed as Top slowly made his way to his family. The tiny sans that laughed, smiled and cheered everyone around him, The tiny sans that was so tiny, Top's hat almost covered over half of their face, the tiny face that loved to tell stories and show paintings to their parents. His son, Ink, Dead and Empty in the Arms of his Husband.

It hit them, Ink is an outcode, he never belonged to a Universe, not in any AU, they can't just reset and reverse this like with aster or with any other sans, he truly and utterly gone.

The screams and cries of the Two Fathers, The Guardian of the Positivity, and the God of Destruction could be heard and felt throughout the entire Multiverse.

The Multiverse will never be the same.

But, at least Ink died happily with family, friends that cared for him, that stayed with him no matter his ways, his condition.

That will never forget him.

And to him it is enough.

The Multiverse Felt Empty.

[letters-from-dekarios]

My dear Gale,

I write to you in hopes of finding comfort in your words. If I have never told you before, our conversations have always been a quick way for me to cheer up in the most dire of situations. Now while we are apart, I hope writing to you will have the same effect.

I cherish you dearly. I am afraid to put a name to my feelings because I have been burned once by my heart already. I loved someone - a beautiful companionship that brought light into my life for several years but I was terrified of not being enough. That I might mess up and ruin everything. That all the sweet words I heard every day could be lies to just soothe my anxious and insecure heart. In my fear of losing my love, I unintentionally drove my love away, left alone to now deal with my own broken heart.

And just shortly after that, I found myself recovering from a crashed mind flayer nautiloid and meeting you. In awe of you. Inspired by you. Adoring you. Cherishing you. I never thought I would be capable of feeling such emotions again but my heart betrays my mind, and I find that familiar fear creeping up on me once more.

I am suffering from nightmares - memories of my past. Memories of being loved. Memories of being left alone. While when we were close together I could simply wave them off by having our conversations I cherished so dearly, now while we are apart I am haunted by them once again.

I am terrified to feel again. I am terrified of even writing this letter, but it has been slowly and silently consuming my waking thoughts and I long to hear from you again. Hoping your words could soothe me. Hoping I could experience some semblance of normalcy again.

I do apologize that this is how I confess my emerging feelings for you. If I were more myself - before loss, before tadpoles, before demons - I might have done this better but alas this is all I can do as I am now.

I anxiously but eagerly await your response,

Stelle

Beloved Stelle,

It’s with the most honor and respect I give my thanks to you for your compliments. I know my words can be full of themselves, and oftentimes run-on sentences get the best of me. But, alas, I do try to bring some joy with my speech and it pleases me to know I can accomplish that with you.

Trust not in your fears, I know exactly what you mean and I understand. You well know of my own folly with my Goddess and the pain it caused me. It leaves a horrid taste in your mouth that is not quickly washed away. Only through time does the feeling dissipate, and you can enjoy other things once more. All of us have been through a considerable amount, especially you. It’s only right to attempt to hide the things that scare you in this day and age when those apprehensions can easily be turned against you.

Believe me when I say that I would have your confession no other way. While the anxieties of our pasts may bring us to a low, they also make us who we are. No one wants to relive trauma, but it shapes us and forms us into the magnificent creatures we are now. It’s only through lived experiences do we understand ourselves and grow. You are no exception to that.

I know what it’s like to be hurt in such a way by someone you trusted. I know the aching feeling you find in the pit of your heart. I know the nightmarish horrors that attack when you’re most vulnerable, like thieves in the night attempting to steal your peace. What you experience is no stranger to me.

I would be foolish to underestimate my feelings for you, as new and as exciting as they are. I want to do right by you, even with the emerging threats around us. I can’t say I haven’t adored you either, or been inspired by your strong faith in the face of our perilous journey. Time and time again you have proven to be strong, wise, and honestly quite convincing. I don’t know how you do it, but I’d like to.

You’ve no reason to apologize. I should be the one apologizing for not being the first to admit feelings. Perhaps that would make you feel less awkward if you knew I shared them all the same.

I am more than thrilled to know your regard for me is more than a surface-level distinction of my general attributes. I’d love to explore these feelings with you, if you’ll have me. And if you’d join me tonight, I’d like to show you something within the Weave that may make my feelings seem clearer to you.

With all my love,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[stjohnstarling]

I love the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Those massive medieval cathedrals they spent 500 years building? They’re still building one of those, they started in 1882, and it’s insane. It is magnificently beautiful and lumpy and hideous and completely terrifying all at the same time. From above it looks like a cake covered in dirt or a weird party hat. It’s tacky! They’re planning to cover the front of it with goofy words in comic dialogue bubbles (I can’t find any high res photos of this - I think they’re embarrassed). The plans for the building were destroyed by anarchists in the Spanish Civil War (support) when the thing was half-built and now they have to guess what the architect designed and get in big fights over it. They don’t even know what the fucking cathedral is supposed to look like! And to top it all off they’ve been building it illegally this entire time!! They only got a building permit in 2019!

The Catholic Church isn’t paying for this cathedral, by the way, they did not ask for this. Construction is being funded mostly by ticket sales to tourists.