#maybe father dark sun :0?

[yourstrulynobody]

This was originally suppose to be Nexus and Sun (different scene ofc), but as soon as I drew the dragon, all I could think of was Dark Sun... so I swapped it :)!

There is really no proper context for this aside from "Dark Sun comforting Sunrise" (which I just think is a neat idea—Suns bonding are my favorite :3)

(Also: the dragon was oddly easy to draw! I expected a struggle tbh but nope)

(background appreciation because it actually looks okay for something rushed)

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

I think that the whole gang, if put into a seemingly inescapable situation, would want to go out together like the toys prepare to do in the furnace scene of Toy Story 3.

Anon why did you do this to me... Now I have to write this.

Goodbye, forever this time

Warnings: Major angst, major character death, unhappy ending, everyone dies in the end, gore, blood, fire, explosions. Notes: Not canon to Poppy Worldwide! That AU has a happy ending.

So, this was it.

This was how they would die.

Dogday wasn't expecting things to go like this. Not after everything they went through, not after all the work they put into their new lives, not after finally escaping that nightmare. He had a taste of freedom and the Sun to look up to every morning. He could take long walks in the woods, could say hello to every single one of the friends he thought had died. He had everything.

And now, his mother was dead, his father was gone, and they had nowhere else to run.

He stared at his bloody hands. The last thing Angel told him was to live. Not survive, live. "You are everything I have", they choked on their own blood. "So please, try to live without me".

"This is it", Dogday muttered, still feeling the ghost of his parent holding his hand. "No way out".

"Quit whining", Long Legs groaned, spread on a corner, trembling and now without one of her legs. How ironic. "This can't be it".

"But it is".

He had to control his tone so he wouldn't break down in tears. At any moment, the fire would find them, and once it did, it would be over. And if it wasn't the fire, then it would be Pierre.

"What did mom tell you?", Marie added. They all heard it. It was a stupid, stupid rethorical question. Dogday took a step towards her:

"What do you want me to do?"

"Think of a way out of this! We can't let them down again!"

"Mom is dead!"

"I saw that, do you think I'm blind?"

"Quit it, you two!"

Dogday lowered his ears. Kissy and Poppy were hugging each other, the tiny doll, now partially broken, speaking up only loud enough for the group to hear.

"Please", she cleaned her own tears. "Please, just stop".

"I'm sorry", he muttered. "It's just..."

He could still hear Elliot throwing them away from the room that started the fire, using whatever was left of his strenght to end Sawyer's life once and for all.

Dogday felt a hug. He closed his eyes, feeling Catnap purr. "I'm sorry".

The feline held him closer. Dogday sobbed. The fire was getting closer as well.

He heard a sigh; Marie then hugged him. Her way of apologizing, he knew it, and that was the only reason he was still able to reciprocate the hug.

Then, the others joined. The entire family of 88, now 86, soon enough to be 0. They smelt like ash and dried blood, just like before Angel found them.

Dogday wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Not like this, not in this situation. So when they all stopped hugging each other, he merely pressed his head against Catnap's, holding him close, and watched in silence as a scream echoed in the background.

"It's Pierre", Craftycorn muttered. "I-it's him", she hid her face, Huggy trying to comfort her. "What should we do...?"

Delight got up.

"Mother told us to live", she spoke up. "So let's do that one more time, shall we? When he comes over there, he will be weak enough for us to kill him. And then, we can dance one last time".

"We will pass out before the fire is able to do much damage", Bubba muttered. "This may be for the best".

The other critters agreed. And, although a bit later, the others nodded along.

Dogday pretended Angel was still alive for them. He tried to wipe Catnap's tears, but only left their mother's blood on his face.

"I love you", the orange dog was able to whisper.

"I love you too", the other whispered back.

They were robbed of everything once again. But this time, at least this one time, they wouldn't die alone in a dark and empty factory, but a burning laboratory next to each other.

Maybe things were meant to be this way. Maybe they were never meant to live. Maybe this was what took Angel's life.

"Goodbye".

[bear-cubs-art-things]

yo part 1 of musical mages au??? :0 no way!!!!

DISCLAIMER!! ALL THE MONSTERS ARE HUMANIZED ANTHROMORPHS!!

Also ima just have this on my main- it's easier than way XD

A cool, calm, ocean breeze. Grass swaying in the valleys. Snow glistening atop the peak of the Horizon Mountains. Cacti soaking up the beaming sun. A fish swims along the coast of the Rocky Plain. A light grey plume of smoke and volcanic gas seeping upwards into the clear blue sky, bright and cheery.

This was Jasper's home. At least, the Valley was.

Starwell was busy, as it always was. Monsters walking down the cobblestone roads, quickly passing by the shabbily put up stalls on the sides of the roads. Carts and carriages rolled along in the thun thun of wheels and clip clop of the maorse (mantis horse) buggies. Shouts of the newsboys waving paper pamphlets could be heard, as well as conversations in outdoor cafés and trading stalls that were aforementioned on the sides of the roads.

All of this could be faintly heard in Jasper's dark, cool bedroom.

It was a neat, organized bedroom; papers stacked and clipped neatly on a desk, pens and pencils in a opaque black tin, little wooden carvings and photos lined neatly atop a shelf above a clothes dresser, books tucked away in a bookshelf, and clothes hung up neatly on a rack in a shallow walk-in closet, with small boxes tucked neatly into corners inside that closet.

The only unorganized item in the room was the bed - roughly queen sized, maybe a bit larger. The blankets were sideways and hanging off the bed, and underneath those blankets was a slumbering, snoring Jasper.

A fist from downstairs banged on the wall.

"Jasper! Wake up, it's breakfast!" A female voice called.

"Hnnnnmmh... five more minutes..." he turned over.

A few moments of silence. A fist banged on the wall again, with more assertiveness this time.

"Jasper!!"

"I'm coming!"

With some reluctance, Jasper turned back over to roll out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thump. He wasn't exactly graceful, you see, being the giant he is.

He opened the window and light flooded the room. A brilliant blue-violet, with remnants of pink-orange along the horizon. It was early morning, sure, but monsters were walking about. He definitely had slept in a little too much, he was usually up at sunrise.

Maybe it had to do with some late night wood carving the previous night.

Jasper got day clothes, now with a small sense of urgency, and got himself together.

His routine was usually something like this: wake up, get clothes. Brush hair and teeth, get dressed, head downstairs. From then, eat breakfast and help open shop.

He did just that, just with more urgency.

Jasper was a big and handsome guy- he had a broad chest, like a barrel, and was tall. His arms and legs were thick all the way around, and his hands about the size of small melons. And, of course, he had small green horns protruding from the top of his head, with even more vibrant green curling around his horns and face. A goatee of the same shade of green provided the only pop of color on his grey-hued skin, aside from his brilliant violet-grey eyes.

Jasper hurried down the stairs, buttoning the last few buttons on his white shirt, turning the corner to see his family in the middle of eating breakfast.

"Ah, there you are!" A slightly tall female smiled at him, welcoming him to the room. "I was starting to worry you fell back asleep."

The female was his mother, Carlee Rhondischite. She was smaller in build, but still tall. Her light green hair was pulled tightly back in a knot. Her small gemstone green horns glittered a little bit as she moved her head and they caught the light.

She sat at the far side of the table, right next to Jasper's father, Falspar, who was sitting at the head of the table. His food was mostly eaten, and he was reading the day's paper. On the other side of Carlee was Jasper's brother Howie. Howie was a year younger than Jasper, and they too were so similar in appearance, one could've mistaken them for twins. They even had similar personalities (Howie was more bold and outspoken than Jasper, somewhat rebellious too. But they got along perfectly).

Next to Howie (on his right) was Peridot, one of Jasper's sisters. She was 2 years younger than Howie, making her three years younger than Jasper. Peri was a quiet, reserved monster, not really talking much. Her hair was long and silky, similar in color to her dad's deep emerald hair.

On Peri's right was the next sister Juliette, 2 years younger than Peri (5 years younger than Jasper). Juli was the complete opposite of Peri; talkative, social, and bubbly. When Jasper was coming down the stairs, he could hear Juli talking about something that she did in school a few days prior with friends. And Juli being Juli, she had a lot of friends.

Across from Juli was the youngest brother, Rudy (a year younger than Juli, 6 years from Jasper). He's always getting in trouble, and he's broken horn proves it. Rudy's right horn was snapped clean in half during some stunt that involved a maorse cart, some pumpkin puree, and a soapy water puddle. Rudy turned out fine, but that horn isn't gonna grow much more when he turns 18 (He's 15 currently).

Next to her, on her right, was an empty seat- Jasper's seat. And a plate of warm breakfast was awaiting Jasper's arrival.

"How come you didn't wake me sooner?" Jasper asked as he took a seat.

"Figured you needed the sleep," his dad answered. "I mean, between all the work you put in-" Falspar stares at Jasper in the eyes "and all that late night carving you do."

Jasper exhaled a laugh out of his nose, blushing a little at the comment. How embarrassing! He was supposed to be the example for his siblings, and staying up late is not great exemplary action.

"He's just trying to impress that one chick that comes by every now and then," Howie chimed, giving a mischievous grin. "What was her name again? Valeria?"

"Minevera," Jasper answered, "and were just acquaintances. Not even friends. Acquaintances."

"And? Doesn't mean that you don't want to pull her."

"Howie!" Their mother hissed. Jasper flushed with embarrassment and some frustration. He bent his head down and shoveled his food in.

"Whaaat? I was joking! It was a joke," Howie turned back to Jasper, hiding his somewhat obvious pink face. "I know you two only mean business."

Without a comment, Jasper stood and left the table, his plate empty.

The younger siblings were busy chatting away about whatever they chatted about nowadays. Jasper and his dad left to open shop.

The Rhondischite house was a three story home. The shop was the first floor, the main floor. The second floor was the kitchen, the living room, the primary bedroom where the parents slept, and a secondary bedroom where Juliette and Amethyst slept. A bathroom was also on the second floor. The third floor consisted of three rooms (which are bedrooms- Jasper's, Peri's and Howie and Rudy's shared bedroom). Another bathroom was on the third floor, along with a study room.

It wasn't really huge, but only seemed so because of its three floors.

So Jasper and Falspar headed downstairs, prepping the wares for the day's customers. For the most part, everything was in place. It was just dusting everything off, getting the old register a check for functionality, and setting put any new wares that needed a display... such as the wooden carvings that Jasper had spent the last couple of nights doing.

The Rhondischite General Store was just another practical wares store. They sold all sorts of home practical equipment and furnishes, from furniture frames to thread. It was, in the most basic sense, a home crafts store (although Falspar didn't particularly liked that term).

Jasper was nearly done with his wooden arts display when Falspar unlocked the front door and flipped the sign hanging on said door from "Sorry! We're CLOSED" to "Welcome! We're OPEN"

"Ready for another day?" Falspar asked his eldest son enthusiastically, rubbing his melon-sized hands together.

"Always," Jasper responded, stepping away from the display he was attending to, giving it a satisfied nod.

"Perfect!" Falspar headed back upstairs. "I left some paperwork upstairs, I'll be right back.

"Alright," Jasper headed to the register, sorting through drawers filled with already unorganized paperwork. It needed to be organized, and the first customers usually didn't walk in til 20 minutes after the shop opens.

Jasper took out the endless paper stacks from the drawers. He never really realized that there were so many- why would they have that many stacks of papers?

Probably bills and business stuff.

Ding!

Jasper looked up from what he was doing and saw a petite figure walk through the door.

A regular.

She was small in stature, and a little short. Her extremely curly brown hair was kept back by a natural headband of crystal shards, like a crown almost. Similar crown-style crystals wrapped around her wrists, like natural bracelets. Said crystals were a coral pink (or orange? Jasper honestly couldn't tell), which complemented the terracotta tones of her skin. Her eyes were a dazzling green-blue, like gemstones.

She visited the shop often, and Jasper got to know her as Minevera the seamstress/tailor. No surprise she was the first customer

"Mornin' Minnie," Jasper smiled at her.

"Good morning, Jasper," She returned the smile, walking towards the sewing and fabric section of the shop.

Minnie was not just any regular customer or seamstress; she was a nobleman's daughter who got commissioned by the duchesses in the castle to craft their dresses. Her shop is small, but it works on a job-by-job basis, so often it's closed (whether she'd be at home or working in the castle). And with all the commission work she does in the castle, and with all the satisfied duchesses after the fact, her work has gotten quite reputable.

Which is a long, winded way of saying Minnie is out of place at the Rhondischite shop.

You'd expect a higher class monster to go to a high-end shop for their goods, especially if you're a seamstress looking for high quality thread and such. Yes, the wares at Rhondischite's is good, but what nobleman in their right mind would want their clothes made of "poor man's wool"?

Apparently Minnie's clients.

"How's the shop?" Japser asked, trying for a casual conversation.

"Same as always," Minnie picked out a few fabrics and plenty of thread, "on the inside its vacant, but I'm still runnin' around town. Sewing and such."

"Does it ever get tiring? Running around and making dresses?"

"Not particularly." Minnie walked over to the counter with the goods in her arms. Fabric and thread, and a whole lot of it. A couple square yards at least.

Jasper knew this routine like his own palmprint, and starting tallying the total. Somewhere around 600 gold coins.

Then Minnie noticed the display next to her.

"Ooooo, what's this?" She focused her attention on the intricate wooden carvings displayed neatly before her.

Jasper felt his face warm up at the cheeks.

"Oh, uh, those are my wood carvings," Jasper rubbed the back of his next nervously. Minnie, though familiar, was the first non-family monster to look at his carvings.

Minnie picked one up - a carving of a majestic Strombonin - and observed every last detail of it.

It was a beautiful carving, made of Everblue wood. Every last scale, every last brush of fur was included. The expression was flawlessly expressive, the proportions very close to perfect. Clearly, Jasper had spent a while carving this piece exactly right.

"You made these?" Minnie looked back at Jasper in slight disbelief. "You're VERY talented."

"Not really," Jasper gave a nervous smile. "They're kinda just what I do on the side."

"You should sell more of these, they're beautiful," Minnie went back at looking at the wooden Strombonin.

"I think I'll get one of these, too."

Jasper blushed even more. His first carving sale!

"Aw, are you embarrassed?" Minnie laughed a bit.

"Maybe," Jasper couldn't hide his happiness behind his smile. If anything, he was overjoyed. Slightly nervous, but overjoyed.

"Adorable," Minnie placed the carving on the counter. "This is all I'll get for today."

"650 coins is your total," Jasper announced, placing the items in a cloth bag.

Minnie searched her pocket for two seconds before retrieving a bag of coins. She placed it on the counter.

"Erm-"

"Keep it. Whatever's in there, keep it," Minnie grabbed the bag, and started for the door. "Invest in some better wood. Maybe better tools, who knows."

She smiled one last time at him before leaving the store.

Jasper stared at the door for a long time, trying to remember Minnie's warm smile. Howie's words came back to him.

"He's just trying to impress that one chick that comes by every now and then..."

Jasper shook off the thought, disgusted with himself. They barely knew each other! Why would Jasper want to impress her?

Maybe...

"Um, excuse me sir," a voice interrupted Jasper's thought. An older gentleman, and from his snow-white curly hair and stronger build, Jasper guessed the man was a Mammott sort. He was on the other side of the room, looking at wood samples.

"How may I help you?" Jasper walked over to the man, grateful that his thought was interrupted. He couldn't be thinking like that, especially towards an upper class monster.

No matter.

"Ah, yes, I need your professional advice on these wood samples," the Mammott gave a shy smile, then looked back to the samples.

"Well, what are you looking for?"

"I just need to know the difference between this Walnut wood and the Everblue wood..."

The Mammott rambled about how he didn't know which one had better attributes to his fence project, and how he knew he wanted a dark wood, but didn't know which kind of wood to get. The usual "He's my situation, now you tell me what is best."

"Erm, let me go get my boss, he's more of an expert on these things," Jasper headed towards the stairs at the back of the shop. "I'll be right back."

"Excuse me sir!" Another customer. Younger, a female, seemed to be of a Ethereal kind. A Whisp, Jasper thought.

"One moment, please!"

He ran up the stairs, wondering why his father was taking so long. By the time he was at the top of the stairs, Falspar was about to head down, carrying a stack of papers in his arm.

"There's a customer- a Mammott- that needs some tips on which wood he needs," Jasper explained in a slight rush.

His father nodded and the two went back down the stairs. Falspar set down his papers and headed to the Mammott gentleman, while Jasper headed to the Whisp lady.

By then, the shop was busy. Jasper hoped Howie would be back soon- he was busy walking the younglings to the school. Their mother already gone to work at the bakery (she worked part time there).

"How may I help you, miss?" Jasper greeted the Whisp with a smile.

And she explained why she called Jasper over, he could already see a line forming at the register. Not a long one yet, but still. Goes to show that today's gonna be a busy day.

A very busy day.

[zoydraft]

Pink Sleeves Pride Draft

June 15, 2024 | list: cubecobra.com/c/pink | deck pics | 4 drafters, 5 packs of 15, discard last 7

Sponsored by Super Nibs.

A beautiful Pride month night, just days before the heat gets unbearable. Sitting on my patio talking about traumatic work stories and Katy Perry impersonating Zooey Deschanel. "She ran the world at the time!" Drink a queer- or else gamer-girl coded energy drink so you don't die when the Kit-Cat clock strikes 10 on Father's Day eve.

I draft Bug Zombies: Brood Tyrant, Field of the Dead, Grave Titan. Dark Confidant, Phyrexian Arena, Painlands. I'm losing life, I'm tossing cards, I'm hoping to win before I fall to pieces.

To my right, on the dining chair, GL drafts Orzhov Wipes, with the dream of Massacre Wurm triggering for lethal.

Seated on the couch to my left, ML assembles all of Judith's friends across Red, White and Black, and a casual 5 one-drops.

Demanding to sit on the chaise, CC once again tried spells matter, commenting afterward that seeing more cards made it feel easier.

We'll all face each other in a round robin.

ML finishes me in 3 games, with Judith pumping out unreasonable damage. At the coffee table CC seals the 2-0 against GL, keeping Ral busy with the Mystery Booster recursive sorcery. CC is elated to finally get a match win with spells. With the draft format we each got to see over 70% of the cube, and credit is given to that.

Spotify Jam doesn't really work super well, at least not with Google Home. Still, the queer hits persist.

In round 2 my own card harm me too much. Luckily, I have lots of them. In game 3 GL dekes through my Army of Darkness (all three zombie generators online) with Exalted Archangel pumping unblockable Gingerbrute.

ML takes out CC in 3. Butcher of the Horde does whatever it needs to, and then Falkenrath Aristocrats swoops in to end the game a turn early.

I didn't see ML's 2-0 win at the dining table over GL, but it secured the 3-0 on the night. I was too busy burying CC in zombies. Persist isn't in the cube anymore, but Exhuming Grave Titan on turn 4 is also good.

I never care about winning, but usually I want to play as well as I can. On this night though, enjoying canned cocktails, back and ribs aching from improper toddler hoisting, neighbourhood denizens screaming on the street four storeys below, I wanted to see how close I could get to the sun.

In most games I took more damage from my own cards than my opponents, and in most games I was far ahead with cards, from both the copious draw and token generation. With all my cards that asked me to discard, choices got interesting fast once I'd discarded my reanimation targets.

In retail limited, a lot of discard decisions are resolved by identifying which card is the worst. In constructed, your gameplan is a lot more scripted. Here, it often felt like card evaluation didn't offer much guidance. i needed to think about the next few turns, with that decision extremely sensitive to both game state and the matchup. I loved it, even if I didn't navigate it well.

I adore the beauty of seeing whether Dark Confidant is ending my game. I love Banishing Light exiling my Phyrexian Arena. I love chump attacking with Bob, and forcing my opponent to think about the cost of taking two damage, versus the opportunity to slow my card advantage, versus the life loss that goes along with it.

I've had a pleasant recovery in my conversational skills recently, maybe imagined, maybe not. A core goal for my evening was enjoying myself. For a long time Magic was a form of mental escapism. Not into fantasy, but in the way it's mentally all consuming. I think that's still available, but I really wanted to enjoy a beautiful evening with my beautiful friends playing a beautiful game, and I got it.

[thedivineart]

PICK A CARD: PHYSICAL DESCRIPTORS OF YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE [ future spouse series reading #03 ]

♡︎ M A S T E R L I S T ♡︎

ᵖ ᵃ ⁱ ᵈ ʳ ᵉ ᵃ ᵈ ⁱ ⁿ ᵍ ˢ ᵉ ʳ ᵛ ⁱ ᶜ ᵉ ˢ

ᵒ ⁿ ᵉ ᵗ ʷ ᵒ ᵗ ʰ ʳ ᵉ ᵉ

PILE ONE

they looks hot and sexy or looks sick or have an illness, can be a foreigner or they just typically looks foreigner or they just new in your life or a foreign born or they are good at words. elegant and beautiful vibes they are, probably smile alot or happy person/vibes. big ears? or have small height, if male he will have a masculine body while if female they are pretty or beautiful. a red hair, can be natural or dye the population of red hair are rare so that doesn't apply to all, light skin or their skin is more lighter than you, a famous or popular - sociable or friendly. half of people who pick this pile got olive to fair skin(light skin) while others are tan or brown skin, something unique about this person. maybe this person will suddenly pop out in your life. if this guy they may have short hair or clean cut while if woman she got nice hair. loud individual or a talkative one or they have a good voice or good at singing.

P I C K A C A R D

PILE TWO

If your expecting a male spouse he got a mascular body or a chubby one and a facial hair while if woman they got a curvy body, they got brown hair or black hair or chestnut/blonde hair color-natural or dye it is, they look younger than their actual age or they are childish person or have a playboy/girl look. some here got serious look or shy or loyal looking, if male they look a father figure, can look like a intellegent person or they wear some eye glassess or sun glasses often. If this is a woman she likes to braid her hair alot. They got a sharp eyes or teeth like a vampire, can be a deep sensual individual inside but won't show it. Tall height or way more taller than you, white skin? or fair skin, strong build whether it is a woman or man and they have a nice hands can be smooth or it looks beautiful.

P I C K A C A R D

PILE THREE

sharp gaze or likes to observe people, might have also a sharp teeth or ear like dwarf, have some prominent scars or just a simply tattoo, maybe a curvy or slim individual. a mature face, or looks older, hair and skin colours is in darker side while some here got lighter skin and hair colour, have nice nose and nice voice or just talkative or good at singing. a pretty/ good looking individual, can be a attractive too, specially if you prefer a woman she is so beautiful and she will got a lighter skin and hair colour - can be taller too, if you prefer a man he is a attractive one, tall or someone who is taller than you and he got a very mature looks or he is older than you specially if you are someone who is below of 30 year old. for eyes i see green, hazel or brown but i think mostly who pick up this pile got brown eyes colour of future spouse. I'm getting a water energy so maybe they got a water face like round face, soft cheeks, a under-defined cheeckbones and brows, maybe a dark and think eyelashes , bright eyes, smooth facial structure.

P I C K A C A R D

D I V I N E A R T E M I S

2 0 2 2

[nightly-ruse]

ask and ye shall recieve … please draw my girlie squirrelflight

Maybe one of my odder designs but I actually love how Squilf came out. I came up with the heart mask idea in a sketch while playing with her design and then had to do it! Also the smaller less scarred version is Squirrelpaw just to really see the difference as she grew up

-She is very red of course but with some orange form her father sorts referencing a sun rising though not too much. Her one floppy ear and white from Fire as well, but her shorter tail, leg fluff, and fluffy ears from her mom Sand

-Heavily scarred. The one down her back is from Brashstar, her leg from the rockslide (it’s usable but hurts if too much weight is on it), tail from rockslide as well, chest from ashfur in tbc, and her belly scar from wherever she got it (can’t remember lol)

-Lots of heart shapes. Clear as her own fur how much she cares for others and the diamond on her heart for her leadership qualities (and that she is leader in my head like she should be)

-The two leaves on her are for Leafpool and Hollyleaf

-Hc wise Squilf is unlabeled using she/her though she doesn’t feel fully like a molly. She’s bisexual tho doesn’t share it just passing her fleeting feelings towards a few cats as mistakes, and Ace since I think she loved caring for kits but not having them. My fave ships are none but if I had to choose it’d be SquirrelJessy or SquirrelMoonlight. I prefer her just divorcing Bramble and being leader with no mate but 0% shade to her many ships

(ID- Squirrelflight is a fluffy very scarred red cat with a blunt tail and lots of white. She is standing to the left with her back front paw up and front hind paw up, her expression unsure and shaded as she stares off to the top right. Her fur is red with lighter red on her front leg and chest, orange on her front paw, nose, inner ear fluff, and over her cheeks in three freckles. A wine red is down her tail back, and legs with a darker on on her tail, back, paws, front toes, and under her eyes. The darkest red is on her tail tip, back paws, eyebrows, and ears. White is on her toes, front paw, belly, down her chest with a diamond shape in her middle, over her face in a heart mask, tail tip, and ears in two heart shapes with one extra spot. Her left ear is chipped with scars across her chest, belly, lifted leg, back, and on her tail. Two leaves are on her tail, on bigger and lighter and the other spiky and dark. At the bottom right is Squirrelpaw who is similar but with less dark markings, no scars, no under eye shadows, and brighter greener eyes. At the top right is the colors used and over her mane is the faint signature “Nightly Ruse”. End ID)

[cheekygreenty]

Hii, I have literally spent all day reading your darling fics. I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING! I was wondering if you were comfortable, if you could do Aleks and reader as parents with a little boy who could summon shadows too. Just something soft with a proud and protective Aleksander. If you aren't comfortable with that then I am soooo sorry for asking and making you uncomfortable. Again I really love your writing!

My boy - The Darkling x Reader

Thank you!!!! 💓💓💓 I hope you like this. It may be written very badly, but it got me out of my writers block so count your blessings lmao 😂 very fluffy btw 🥰

'Again Papa again!' the little boy was fascinated, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the newfound trick he had just seen his father procure. Little Mikhail had seen his papa summon shadows many times, often trying to catch onto the smooth black tendrils, but never like this. Aleksander on the other hand, stood still, the shock and endearment freezing his actions. What in Saint's name was that I did not do that- his head was running at a million thoughts per second.

The child however was insistent and quickly growing frustrated, his little fingers grasping onto Aleksander's hands in plea. 'Papa!! please!!'

Ever since the boy graced the earth, questions surrounding his power were constant. Although he was a Morozova, the only family line which could possess shadows, you were a Sun-Summoner of not one but two Morozova amplifiers, quite possibly the most powerful Grisha in all of history. Aleksander always thought his lineage would be overpowered by you and your Grisha nature, but he never really cared. To add to it, even though Aleksander was a living amplifier, he could never access his child's power, at once even settling that he was an otkazat'sya. But this. Oh my. This charming little boy was a shadow-summoner.

'Mikki let's bring you to mommy'

Aleksander scooped up the small child in his arms and raced to your office, practically sprinting through the gardens. The boy was not having it, writhing and thrashing in his father's arms, still throwing a tantrum about what he'd just seen. If Aleksander was right, Mikhail had just summoned for the very first time at the age of 4 and didn't realize he did it, and not his papa. He truly was a sight to behold, still dressed in his intimidating black kefta with a screaming child in his hands, running through the Little Palace like a mad man. He yanked open your door, shouting your name.

'Y/N!'

You had told Aleksander to take Mikhail while you tended to your mounds of paperwork, even the famous Sankta Y/N had tedious tasks. It had been piling up for days now and the constant distractions did nothing to aid you.

With your head stuck into reading a proposed trade agreement with the Zemini about jurda, your head snapped up to the sound of an opening door, the panic in Aleksander's voice and Mikhail's shrewd cries activating your fight or flight, automatically making dread fill your guts. Mikhail. You didn't hesitate in whipping out of your seat and inspecting the scene in the foyer.

'What is it? Why is he cryi-' You reached for your boy, his whimpers dying out as his hands grabbed for you. Aleksander's hand stopped you.

'Guess what?' a small smile made its way to his face. What is he smiling about when his child was crying? You stayed silent, simply letting your eyes check for any sign of injury to your son, nothing.

'What?' you were confused. You could faintly make out a slight sheen to Aleksander's eyes, was he crying?

'He summoned'

Your eyes grew as wide as saucers. My son is a Grisha. You too had been worried that he was an otkazat'sya. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

You had been anticipating him to show his small-science earlier, plainly due to you and Aleksander's pure power and also down to being constantly surrounded by Grisha. But now you understood that didn't matter, everybody is different, even the son of the two most powerful Grisha to ever live. But wait, what did he summon.

You looked at him and then back to your dear husband who now had a tiny tear trailing its way down his cheek.

'I'm assuming I have two shadow-summoners to take care of now?'

You reflected his smile and hugged your boy closely. Aleksander's arms embraced the two of you in a tight embrace.

'That's my boy. Right, Mikki?'

He looked to his son, the same onyx eyes looking back into his. The boy nodded absentmindedly, more focused on your black kefta button than to the emotional fiasco going on around him.

'Mikki?'

'Yes Mama'

'Do you want to show me your trick?'

'What trick?'

Aleksander took him from your arms and settled him on the ground, kneeling by his side. He took his small hands into his own and felt for that taste of power he looked for as a human amplifier. As if on queue, the room started to envelop in complete darkness, small shoots of pillowy black crawling over the books on the bookshelves, shutting out any light from the outside.

You conjured up a small orb in your hand and shot it forward to where Mikki was, suddenly remembering he was scared of the dark but the minute it settled to hover over his head, a shadow pierced through it, sending a trickle of star-like rain over the room.

Aleksander gently disconnected his hands from Mikhail's, who surprisingly enough showed no sign of fear. You stared at him in awe, your little four-year-old, who cried when you stepped on a flower, had immense power, just like his father.

'That's my boy' Aleksander whispered as he approached you. You stood on your toes to reach up and kiss him passionately.

'That is your boy' You smiled against his lips. His hands came to settle over your stomach, a minuscule bump, not visible to the naked eye.

'Maybe this one will be yours' He laughed and in his head, counted the blessings you had given him, quickly realizing it was a never-ending list.

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

[impyssadobsessions]

“Static.” Cass stated as the comms went down. Dick nodding, “We must be getting close, everyone keep an eye out for anything glowing or green, or both. Tim keep a look on the levels.” “Power levels are high, you’d think we entered a nuclear bombing zone.” Tim frowning. Jason gritted his teeth as the area made him uneasy. Something didn’t settle right with him. Damian had his face pressed again the glass, trying to look. “Tt. It sure doesn’t look special.” Dick was flying low, keeping an eye out for openings encase he had to make an emergency landing. He was prepared not to- “Crash!”

Dick flinched, taking his eyes off in front of him for a moment to gaze at what his siblings were piling at the window to see. Signs of wreckage were visible. “Father couldn’t have gotten more than a scratch. He’s escaped worse.” Damian glaring at the remains of the plane. “He isn’t invincible. He couldn’t have predicted this.” Tim then groaned at the realization that this will only increase Bruce’s paranoia. “Now he will.” Dick chuckling weakly, “Maybe our new ghost hunting crew will help keep him from over doing it?” “Nah, it’ll just make him worse.” Jason huffed. Cass patted Tim’s shoulder, but then the plane started to stutter. It caused her to accidentally smack Tim instead, as they fell to their knees. “ow!” Alarms blared and flashed. Dick wasn’t going to take the chance and decided to land, they should be close enough to where Batman and the teens set up camp. “Everyone buckle in!” Jason yanked Damian by his cape and dropped him into his seat. Damian grumbling but buckling nonetheless. Cass took up Jason’s seat and Tim strapped back into his own. Jason took up space beside Dick, keeping low instead of buckling up himself. Dick frowned at Jason, receiving a cheeky grin back. Flash of green darted through the cab, and another. Dick was determined not to crash, his siblings were with him. There wasn’t enough time to land in a large enough clearing, so he had to make due. Trees cracking and crashing as the plane landed. They’ll have to do some repairs before leaving, but that wouldn’t be a problem. All the bat kids let out a sigh of relief as the plane stopped moving. Dick’s arms were shaking from holding the controls so tight. “I see something green.” “And glowing.” “And... animal?” Dick glanced over to what they were looking at, giving a half-smile. “What are the chances they’re domesticated?” Jason huffed, “Big fat 0.” ----

Batman sighed as the comms went to static. They were close, his eyes squinting at the sky. It was still too dark to see anything besides the stars and moon, but it wouldn’t be much longer before the sun rises. Bruce glanced down at the weight that pressed against his leg. Jazz was asleep and leaning against him. Her hair tied in a messy bun, using her own hair to tie it. Danny had helped, reason it was messier than it would have been if she had done it. Yet, Jazz wasn’t worried about the knotting mess her hair was becoming. He glanced down at Danny, who unlike his sister, was laying on the ground instead of sitting up. He was sleeping, using his sister’s lap as a pillow, while Jazz’s hand rested on his hair. The young teen had fallen asleep, due to Jazz’s persistence that he get some rest. At least, Batman hoped he was sleeping. His breaths, if he took any, were so shallow that he couldn’t hear it at all. It made his stomach turn as the idea popped into his head, remembering the information that his kids had shared. “Electrical burns and hypothermia.. don’t know what happen to the kid, but it sounds like he’s lucky to be alive.” Lucky to be alive, or more like.. he wasn’t. Batman shook his head, he didn’t want to dismiss the possibility, but it wasn’t an easy concept to handle. Maybe he was more like Jason, or at least he had hoped. If he was a ghost and his parents were- He cursed at himself having already gotten so attached to them. They weren’t his kids, but he’ll look out for them. They needed someone. Batman had been busy talking and listening to the bat family, to converse with Jazz and Danny after they successfully tested the repellent with the mask. He wanted to ask them more about the GIW, Amity Park, and Plasmius, but he saw the exhaustion wear on them long before they passed out. They needed to rest, so he felt relieved when he looked over and found them asleep. Batman will ask more, when the time came. For now, they could rest and wait. After all, he had a feeling that Amity Park’s mystery may take months to tackle, even with their help. He rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the flames. He was trying to make sense of all the pieces of information he had discovered, filing each away in his head. Danny had powers, had been in a terrible accident, and was contaminated with enough ectoplasm that made him able to handle the substance with his bare hands. They both were confident enough in combat, has knowledge of high tech gear, have in depth knowledge about ghosts, and has scientists/ghost hunters as parents. Amity Park was being blacklisted on the internet and kept a secret. No one outside of the town knows whats going on in it. Ghost attacks are common occurrence. GIW is an unknown “government” organization that deals with ghosts.- It was a lot to unpack at once, and it seems to just keep growing. To think something that’s on this scale would be missed, just made him wonder what else had he missed? What else escaped their notice? Batman glanced at the kids again, wondering how many were like them? It wasn’t something he should dabble on. He’ll handle each problem at a time. For now, rescuing their parents was the goal. If by Jazz’s and Danny’s impressions of them, they might be very happy to help, though they’ll need to work on their bias about ghosts. Though, That might have to be held off until later too. Unless Danny was- -GASSSSP- Batman jolted out of his thoughts, looking towards the gasp, to find Danny scrambling out of his sister’s lap to his feet. He furrowed his brows, judging by Danny’s alertness, this could be bad. Danny was having a very pleasant dream about hanging out with his friends and his sister at Nasty Burger, until he was awoken by his ghost sense, eyes snapping open. His brain barely registering where he was, while he pushed to his feet. The crackling of the fire reminded him as the feeling sunk in. He scanned the sky in worry as his skin crawled. Jazz let out an “Oomph!”, coughing as her brother pushed off of her. She rubbed her eyes, trying to regain alertness.

She frowned, noticing her brother’s stance. He looked like a small animal ready to fight or to flee. “Danny?” Jazz shifting to try and stand, wobbling. Batman kept her from falling by placing a hand on her back, helping stabilize her balance. She uttered a soft ‘Thank you’. “There’s.. more of them.” Danny glaring at a specific direction. “Ghost? But... we should be fine under the shield, right? Or.. is it Plasmius?” Danny never took his eyes off the sky. “We’re safe.” Batman frowned, then it clicked. “They’re not.” Jazz’s eyes widened, as they heard sound of engines roaring and trees cracking in the distance. Danny scooped up any weapons he could fit in his arms and ran towards the sound. Jazz attempting to follow, picking up the remaining weapons. “Jazz, stay! Protect Batman.” Danny disappearing into the tree line. “What-Danny no! You can’t just- UGH” Jazz glad she tied her hair up again or she would be ripping it out. “We’ll go after him.” Batman stumbled as he stood up, his legs were stiffed from him not moving much. “But your hurt-” Jazz bit her lip, watching Batman stand. “And they are my- allies.” Jazz caught the short pause. The realization dawned on her. She tried to think of what to do-catching sight of the ghost shield. Reaching down to pick it up, so Batman wouldn’t have to. “I was really hoping you’d be less reckless than Danny,” She teased, giving Batman a grin as she passed him the square device. “We’ll bring camp to them.” She couldn’t blame them for being reckless, she was guilty of it too. Jazz stayed to make sure Batman could walk fine on his own, before running up ahead after Danny, once satisfied that the Dark Knight would be fine. Batman frowned as he walked, definitely feeling the humiliation of the situation. -- Ok, this was not ideal. The bats stood back to back, weapons drawn as the mutated animal ghosts stalk closer. They had tried everything they could think of, but nothing had worked against the ghosts. “I know B said they were hard to hit, but for some reason I didn’t think that meant they hit hard either!” “Incoming to your right-” “Thanks.” “Is no one else going to talk about how Jay can just suplex a two headed GHOST deer?” “Jealous-SHIT. Little fuck-” Jason was bit by a gopher with fangs on his ankles while he was flexing. He kicked the gopher into a small flock of boney birds. “No one could be jealous of being bit by a rodent.” Jason was the only one that could hit the ghost, they had found that out during initial combat. Since then, he was the one keeping them at bay. The others had to dodge attacks. Their weapons didn’t work, and Damian’s sword seem to have an opposite effect. His sword managed to slice apart a badger with wings, only to make it double in size. Tim eyes had widened at what this could mean about the ghosts and kryptonite. But They didn’t really dwell on it, there was no time to. That was when they had found out Jason could hit the ghost. Jason had punched the badger out of the air when it swooped in to attack Damien. “Ungrateful-” Jason grumbled as he sent another rolling kick at a pouncing mountain lion with a snake tail, sending it right into a group of ghosts. He huffed under his red helmet. Cassandra was the only one not with them, she managed to sneak away, planning to alert Batman and the Fenton kids where they were. Since they were the only ones with weapons that could fight ghosts. Dick was hoping the rest of them could get a moment to escape, but as they pressed their backs against the plane, he knew they just had to bide their time. He wished Jason didn’t have to fight them alone. Tim wished he had that ecto-battery. Batman had briefly talked about as to why the Fenton’s weaponry worked against ghosts, but he obviously didn’t know specifics. Tim wanted to rig something up. Was there really nothing they could do? Jason vaulted himself up onto the two headed deer’s back, doing a flip and smashing his boot into a bear’s face. He stumbled back, assessing what mutated animal to tackle next. They weren’t predictable and fighting

felt chaotic. He only had a short moment, not the hardest thing but it was annoying. The mountain lion pounced at him first, but missed going into the ground. It took Jason a confused second to realize it wasn't going after him. On que, it popped back out of the ground from behind Jason, attack his brothers instead. Jason whipped around trying to grab it by the snake tail. A blast of green shot from the forest, straight into the side of the cougar (Just another name for Mountain Lion). Sending it into the forest, with a terrifyingly womanly shriek. Jason blinked staring at where the mountain lion was moments ago, then followed where the beam of green came from. A teenage boy with black hair, and icy blue eyes that pierced through the shadows stood, aiming a white scifi looking handgun. He then shot remainder of the animals, not missing a single one. Some of the ghostly animals fled as the sight of him, the larger and more aggressive ones stayed, but they were pushed back. “Would you call that being late or on time?” Danny pushed out a weakly chuckle. Whatever demanding aura he had gave, seem to be a farce. Dick was the first one to break the awkward tension giving a laugh, “Right on time. Danny, right? Those for us?” Danny looked at what he carried under his arm, as if he forgot he was holding anything. “Oh right, here! You can fight with these.” Danny tossing over the weapons, letting Dick distribute them. Danny shooting down the two headed deer before it could charge again. “Fuck yea! Now we’re packing, who wants to keep score, eh?” Jason catching the Ecto-ray Dick tossed him, twirling it around in his hand to get a good feel of it. Despite the bulky scifi design, it felt light than a gun. “If we’re keeping score, then you might want to get to shooting. Danny already got 10 on you. Sorry, 12.” Tim grinned as he examined his ecto-ray, briefly. “Doesn’t count! I didn’t have a gun, until now.” Jason shooting at the bear. Damian frowned as he held up the handle to the Anti-ghost roasting stick. “This can’t seriously be a weapon.” “You’re right. Its not. Its suppose to roast marshmallows.” Danny grinned as he shot at the badger that flew in. “That be 6 then to your 4?” Damian looked at the stick with more confusion, as it sparked with green energy. Trying to decipher if this new teen was messing with him or not. Jason cursing, at the mocking teen, grinning underneath the helmet. He shot down 5 ghost with one shot. “Make that 9.” “This ones a dud.” Dick tossed the broken ecto-ray to the ground. Danny shooting 3 more ghosts, trying to catch up to Red Hood. He looked over at Dick, “Oh-sorry. Was in a rush. Uh... here.” Danny tossing Dick his gun. Dick caught it, opening his mouth to refuse, not liking the idea of Danny being weaponless, when the boy pulled out a lipstick from his pocket. “Is that lipstick?” “Yeah, wouldn’t recommend using it on your face though.” Danny aiming and shooting down a giant rabbit. Dick shrugged, with a shake of his head. With weapons in hand, the animals started to flee one by one. They started tag teaming the animals that chose to stay. Damian had begun to love his stick, using it much like his sword, zapping the flying badger that had wronged him earlier. The others would switch tag team partners. Sometimes Tim and Jason shot a ghost down, then it be Danny and Jason, and so on. Danny stopped as the bear and puma finally fled. The bat brothers high fiving each other. Dick was about to get Danny to join in the high five, until he noticed the young teen’s expression. “What’s with that face?” ”.....Nothing! Er.. well.. I can’t explain it.” Danny frowned, he didn’t feel like the ghosts had left. Honestly, thinking about it, he isn’t sure why they attacked. They didn’t act like any ghostly animals he knew of. He had assumed Vlad was manipulating them, like he had in the past. But they weren’t behaving like before. Perhaps he made it so they couldn’t turn on him? Even so, he didn’t like the churning feeling in his gut. Jason had stopped in his celebration, as he felt the

Lazarus Pit swish. It felt power, something was growing. He motioned with his hand towards the others, as he stared out into the trees. A gangling terrifying screech of different animal cries echoed from the dark. Danny frowned as the sound seemed eerily similar to his wail, sending chills down his spine.

He didn’t even notice Nightwing having pulled him and the other bats close together. --- Cassandra was very skilled at not being seen. She was a master of sneak, and yet there was a ghostly moose-wolf chasing after her. It didn’t matter if she took to the trees or the ground, the moose was hot on her tail. Her only hope was to out run it.

That is until she had smacked head first into someone with red-hair. Jazz let out an oomph! Groaning as she fell back onto the ground. She had to admit, she was bad at directions. She didn’t have Danny to help use the stars as reference. She also had forgotten her flashlight within her rush. Which led her to blindly trying to chase after her brother. Fully recognizing her hypocrisy of having just teased Batman for being reckless, then proceeding to be reckless.. Way to be a big help to your brother, Jazz. Can’t even follow after him, without running into a.. Jazz blinked, whatever hit her was soft. She looked up, seeing a masked face looking down, startling her a bit. “Oh-oh! you must be one of-” She froze as the sound of the moose-wolf’s howl. Cass swung around, arms held out protectively in front of Jazz. The moose-wolf was charging straight at them. Jazz flashing back to the fight at the camp, before snapping out of it. She dropped the rest of the stuff she was holding, fumbling to hit the button on her specter deflector. The shield flung around her and Cass, just as the moose-wolf was a hair from Cass. The shield glitched and frizzed when it made contact with the ghost. It wouldn’t last many hits. The ghost seem to know that, having shook off the pain from the shield. The moose-wolf circled getting ready to run them down again. Cass seemed to be in awe as the shield pulled around them. She turned back to Jazz, “Jazz, weapons?” Jazz was shaken from her stun at the call of her name. She took a minute to understand and then moved to get back on her feet, “Ah! Yes! Here, this is an ecto-ray. Basically a gun for ghosts.” Cass took the blaster gratefully, eyeing it down for a moment to get a good look at it. It seemed to function much like a regular gun, so she took aim and fired at the moose-wolf. It seemed to stutter, but wasn’t affected by one shot. If anything, it made it mad. Cass was confused. “That ghost is difficult. It took Batman, Danny and I to hurt it. Shoot, Danny has the thermos too!” Jazz huffed, as she shuffled her hand through the items she brought. Cass nodded, deciding she needed multiple and precise shots. She aimed again as the moose charged. She shot in succession, hitting each knee until they buckled. The Moose skid towards them, Cass reaching out to try and pull Jazz out the way. But Jazz was standing, with a metal bat in hand. She whacked hard at the moose-wolf when it neared, changing the course of its direction into a tree. Cass having to duck from being hit. “S-sorry. Heh.” Jazz rubbing the back of her neck, she felt embarrassed about almost hitting some one in the cross fire. Seems she was aware only if Danny was present, more in likely because of her subconscious to keep him safe. That older sister complex of hers. Cass just nodded, standing up. She pointed at the blaster on Jazz’s hip, “Mind if I have two?” The moose-wolf stood up again, a gnarly growl. Jazz wasted no time in handing Cassandra her blaster. Cass moved outside of Jazz’s shield range, preparing to tango with the moose. The moose-wolf then disappeared. Causing Cass to frown, glancing at Jazz. “Ghost can turn invisible, animal ghosts usually don’t but doesn’t mean they can’t-AH!” Jazz screamed as she stumbled back, the shield popped around her. It glitched and frizzed. The moose-wolf reappeared as the shock caused its form to show. Cass didn’t loose the chance to shoot at it. The Moose-wolf howled and turned to charge towards Cass. She leaped into the trees, grabbing onto the lowest branch, swinging up onto it. The ghost followed her up, when a bat flew into the air and struck the moose-wolf back down. Jazz had flung her bat to keep the ghost from following. Cass took the chance to shoot again. This time the angle didn’t allow her to hit vulnerable points. She kept moving in the branches, hoping her constant shooting would still do the trick. The moose-ghost was getting agitated. It stomped and dug into the dirt, before phasing into the ground to avoid the ecto beams. Cass frowned, watching Jazz collect

her bat. She didn’t see a sign of the ghost, until Jazz’s eyes widened and pointed behind her. It wasn’t a quick enough warning. She felt the antlers dig into her back and toss her up into the air. She grunted as branches whacked her face and she spun in the air. She twisted to turn the momentum into her court. Aiming the blasters, she shot at the ghost before it phased into the ground again. Landing like a cat back on her feet. “Are you ok-Ah!” Jazz was running towards her, when her shield activated again. The moose-wolf attacked from below, sending Jazz in a bubble up into the air. The shield phasing out once the ghost was out of range. Cass used her grappling hook, on a high branch, pulling herself up into the air to catch Jazz in her arms. The red-haired teen clung to her, eyes wide, body shaking. Jazz was trying to repeat a mantra to herself, but she clearly felt unprepared for this. She was out of her element, and watching this ally of Batman’s, made her feel really out of her league. Danny didn’t need her, he needed people like them. Doubt swelling in her mind, as fear consumed her. Cass swung them around, preparing to land when the ghost appeared above them ready to charge. She gritted her teeth, unhooking the grappling hook. She wrapped her arms tightly around Jazz, as the ghost made contact slamming them into the ground. The shield shattered upon impact with the ground and the belt buckle burst, going from a bright glowing green to pitch black. Cass tumbled protecting Jazz from the majority of the fall. They rolled several feet. The moose-wolf dug its hoof into the ground, ready to charge. Cass reached to grab a blaster, struggling to move. Jazz rolled herself up onto her hands and knees. She was in better condition, but still shook from shock. She fumbled with the other blaster, aiming with shaky hands. Cursing herself for being consumed with pity, and self-doubt at a time like this. Didn’t matter what they needed, she is what they had. She fired repeatedly at the moose-wolf, remembering Danny’s previous advice. She rapid fired at the knees and the eyes, switching targets, while she played back in her mind how Cass had fought. The moose-wolf hybrid ghost didn’t stop in its charge, even as it stumbled and tripped from the shots. Jazz having shifted her body in front of Cass, preparing to take the brunt this time. Cass had grabbed the blaster she was reaching for, and aimed through the small opening that Jazz’s side gave her. They repeatedly shot at the ghost as it neared, causing it to tumble. The momentum of the ghost will cause it to roll right on top of them. Or it would have, if a large green shield didn’t encase them, sending the moose-wolf off in a direction like a ball. Jazz and Cass panted, lowering their weapons. A voice startled them both, whipping their heads back to see Batman standing there, with the ghost shield in his hands. “Are you both alright?” Batman glanced between the disheveled Jazz and the grounded Cass. They nodded in response, Cass moving to get up. Jazz jumping at the chance to help her. Once they were both standing and dusting each other off, they let out a relieved laugh. Batman walked closer, glancing over to make sure they weren’t injured. “Where are the others?” “At the plane. We were ambushed after landing.” “Did you see Danny?” Cass shook her head, but she could have missed him while running away from the ghost. Jazz pursed her lips in concern, but dismissed her worry. “I’m sure he made it to them. He has the knack for popping up at the right time.” Jazz convinced herself, gathering up what she dropped. Getting a good look at the shards on the ground and her specter deflector’s busted buckle. Jazz hated that it was busted, after Danny spent so long working on it too, but it had full filled its purpose. It kept them safe. They all froze, hearing the terrifying wail echo through the forest. “That’s.. where I came from.” Cass informed. All three of them felt the surge of urgency and ran towards the echo.

[lunar-if]

Project 0 is a 16+ romance-focused survival game in which your choices matter. You play as a troubled human in the seemingly abandoned city of Wennbury.

It is currently in development, and new chapters will be released as i finish them.

DEMO TBA

For ten years the world has been plunged into darkness. The why and the how don’t matter, all that does is surviving. The darkness brings monsters, creatures, demons out, and they’re bloodthirsty. The shadows are a sickness that spread like wildfire, and the only respite comes once a month. You’ve lived- struggled- this far and you don’t know how much more you can take. Life seems bleak and existence seems futile, there’s no silver lining and no light at the end of the tunnel.

You can only trust yourself and your long-time friend, the one who’s always been there for you. Maybe together you will find purpose in the world. But maybe together you’ll doom yourselves.

- Play as male, female or nonbinary.

- Choose between 5 different gender-flippable characters to romance.

- Fight off monsters with a handgun, nailed bat, axe, or even a machete.

- Discover the dark truths about your world, and yourself in the meanwhile.

- Avoid death for as long as you can.

Content warnings: Depictions of violence, injuries and blood, death, trauma, and murder. Please be cautious.

THE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND

LUKAS/LISA SANTOS is your childhood best friend and the person you’ve lived with for the last decade. L is sweet and kind, getting along with everyone they come across. Although their personality is as bright as the Sun, something much darker is hidden inside.

THE SCIENTIST

EVAN/ERIN BAILEY is a scientist, making do with whatever they can - chemistry equipment stolen from nearby abandoned high schools, old gadgets stolen from abandoned electronic stores. E is stoic, and seeing any type of emotion - other than pain - on their face is a miracle. But maybe their heart isn't completely made of stone.

THE GUITARIST

MARK/MAYA SHAE ARNETTE is a guitarist and also a part-time older sibling. M is kind and calm, and every bit protective of the ones they care for. But M puts others first, not caring for their wellbeing. Will they learn to love themselves?

THE BIRDKEEPER

RAMIEL/RUBY CHERNEV is an animal enthusiast, but more specifically interested in birds. R is a bookworm, going out even when it’s dark outside to find abandoned libraries and bookstores from which they can find a new book to entertain with. They are expressive and nice, but also calculated in their actions.

?????????

CYRIL/CORA is a mysterious person, their motives and past unknown - lost to time. C is eccentric, playful, and quite possessive of you. Anything that gets in their path does not live to see another day. Behind their eccentric, bizarre mask hides something you don't want to know.

AADIL BAYRAK is a loving father and husband. He takes care of everyone in the house. He's particularly talented in cooking.

EVA BAYRAK is the houses mom, but also surprisingly snarky. She, along with Ramiel, home schools the kids.

DOMINIK BAYRAK is Eva and Aadil’s child, having been born right before when Daylight wasn't a special occasion. He has a passion for hunting, but Dominik finds himself easily disturbed by the Creatures.

GINA ARNETTE is M’s little sister. She is quite young, and her passion for art is as big as her heart. Gina has trouble expressing her emotions, but she gets excited over anything.

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤���� 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags!

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, here is my buy me a coffee! If you enjoy my writing, tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

[luminnara]

God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags:  @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much. 

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face. 

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting. 

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean. 

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin. 

“...a little.” 

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled. 

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled. 

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her. 

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked. 

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly. 

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked. 

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately. 

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne. 

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked. 

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound. 

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was. 

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul. 

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind. 

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk. 

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm. 

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back. 

“Relax,” Marko purred. 

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care. 

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous. 

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand. 

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined. 

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched. 

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked. 

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him. 

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge. 

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway. 

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well. 

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in. 

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed. 

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal. 

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin. 

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others. 

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh. 

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor. 

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her. 

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak. 

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat. 

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food. 

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened. 

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said. 

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other. 

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them. 

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

[alicee1]

Finally back

Revived! Wilbur x Reader

Warnings: talk of death, grieving, character death (Wilbur), reunion

Word count: 1.7K

Synopsis: After Wilbur got revived by Dream he first rushes off to find you, right in the place where you had spent the night before L’manburg got blown up together with you. Angst followed by fluff/comfort

Request:

what if revived wilbur returning to a (he/him or they/them) reader and the reader who was with wilbur the night before l'manberg went boom being like super over emotional and stuff because they hadnt seen their lover in a while and just good ole comfort coming out of the reunion :0 (please the wilbur revival has had me craving wilbur content </3)

A/n: Not gonna lie, this was really hard to write at first cause of the pure angst, but i figured out a way! I really hope you enjoy it and it was really fun to write actually. Thank you for requesting!

Rules, Masterlist

"I'll come back to you."

Maybe you had been a fool to believe his words. Both you and him knew the chance was small that he would come back unscathed yet in that moment, those promising words that left his mouth were all that mattered.

The night before the bombing of L'manburg you had spent together with Wilbur. It had been calm and comfortable, spending the night in each other's arms and reminiscencing past memories. Neither of you had spoken a word of what would happen the next day.

He had built a small cabin in the woods where he stayed with you, his little escape from the outside world and all the problems that came with it.

For a while you had seen Wilbur start to slip, his sanity slowly seeping away under the pressure and responsibilities he carried.

He didn't speak to you often about L'manburg and Pogtopia, wanting to keep you seperated from his work and worries.

You had been his escape.

No matter what had happened outside the walls of your small comfortable cabin, it was as if a switch was flicked as soon as he stepped inside.

Even if it was just for a moment, he could leave all his worries and problems behind and seek comfort in your arms.

You were his cliff against the stormy sea that were his thoughts and problems, an unrelenting barrier he could escape to.

But as the day crept nearer he had explained to you what his plan was, sitting down with you as he explained what could happen.

You had known where he was when you awoke to an empty bed that morning. His warmth lingered in the blankets and his scent in the air. Leaving behind his promise to return to you from the night before.

His words were believable, you truly believed he would return to you. For the past days he had made up his mind, through cracks you thought you could see glimpses of the Wilbur you had once known.

Nothing could have prepared you for the news that Phil brought with him.

It felt as if you were torn apart piece by piece before getting out back together, yet his death left a gaping hole behind.

You had etched his name into the large builder that laid in your back garden, without a body to bury it was the most you could do as memorial.

Desperately you had clung onto the traces that he had left behind in your cabin. The pack of cigarettes left on the table, his spare beanie that hung discarded on a chair. A small pile of crumpled up papers discarded as he attempted to write letters to his father.

He never send the majority of them. After everything had gone south and he had retreated to the woods and Pogtopia it just seemed like he couldnt keep up the lies anymore.

You never touched anything he held left behind, afraid it would get rid of his last traces in the cabin. The objects were cleaned often but other than that remained untouched.

It was a few months until a see through apparition had found its way to the small cabin. It was one of the first times you had left the comforting space after Wilbur's death only to be faced with someone, something, that looked so much like him.

It had made you curl up under the protective blankets of your bed as tears streamed down your face as you grieved.

Although it had taken a long time, you learned to move on. Despite that his last traces in the cabin stayed untouched, but you healed. Slowly, step by step, but it happened.

You returned to the way you lived before. Besides the crater in your heart that you weren't sure would ever heal, you picked up your activities one by one.

You started gathering wood again, hunting for meat and gardening in your back garden where you had started a small vegetable farm beside the memorial builder.

Each time you passed it you traced your hand over the stone, lingering for a few seconds as you remembered him before moving on with what you were doing. Although you would always make sure there was a small bouquet of fresh, hand picked, wild flower laid on the stone.

The apparition didn't appear again, making you believe you had imagined the entire ordeal in the first place.

The fireplace was lit again when you were at the cabin, the windows opened to let in fresh air. Due to the secluded nature of the woods you could easily leave the windows and doors open as you gathered for materials.

Wilbur hurried away from the crater where L'manburg once stood. He left Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo, who he had just met, behind there. Plans and ideas shot through his mind although he needed to figure something out first.

He reached the cabin in the woods, he didn't even have to think to remember the way, his body leading him down the path automatically despite it having been 13 years.

The small clearing was still exactly the same as he remembered, the cabin stood peacefully in the middle of it.

Wilbur could see a new vegetable garden beside it, surrounded my fences with lanterns attached to light it up in the dark.

The windows and doors stood open, making his entrance effortless as he entered.

The place still looked exactly the same, although he could see the small changes that had occured over time. But in general, it looked as if time had stopped flowing inside.

The pack of cigarettes laid unmoving on the bedside table that stood on his side of the bed. His spare beanie hung from the side of the clothing chair that stood in the same corner it had been in 13 years ago. The fireplace that always spread warmth and a soft golden glow when he returned to you was reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes, indicating you hadn't been gone for too long.

A small hand drawn map hung from the wall that hadn't been there before.

The only thing missing was you.

Today you had chosen to go fishing, something you had enjoyed doing before but a hobby you had left neglected for a long time.

The ripples in the water were calming as you breathed out, instantly you knew why you had always enjoyed it. There was something peaceful in watching the sun's reflexion in the small ripples the water created as the red and white striped ball floated gently along the stream.

You stayed by the river for most of the day, only returning at the end of the afternoon, satisfied with the catch of today.

As you returned home, you were caught of guard by the steady smoke that gently rose from the chimney. You could see it from a little distance away, making you question if you had checked that the fire had died before you left.

The sack you had stored the fish in hung from your hand as you gently opened the door with the other, the setting of the sun had allowed the fire to cast it's golden glow through the cabin.

That wasn't however what caught your attention. Instead the cloaked figure in the middle of the room did.

A dark cloak you could recognize between any other, paired with a beanie similar to the one you saw every day as it hung from, what had once been your shared, clothing chair. Underneath messy brown hair could be seen.

It was an appearance you could recognize in a heartbeat as tears gathered in your eyes, the sack slipping from your grasp as Wilbur turned around at the sound of the door opening.

He didn't say anything, just opened his arms invitingly as you stumbled forward, crashing into him and burying your head in his shoulder.

His hold on you was tight, he breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling your scent as his arms squeezed harder around your form.

He had missed you so much. In those 13 years spent at the station, all he wanted was to see you one last time, to apologize for leaving you behind.

There had not been a single moment where he hadn’ t longed for your touch, for your presence, in comfort.

All that time he had thought he truly wanted to die, that this world wasn't for him. All that time you had been his deciding factor without even knowing.

But now that he had experienced it, was there and seen what it was like, he was sure of the truth, his truth.

Ha had a new lease on life and this time, he wouldn't throw it away. He had learned.

He melted into your touch as you leaned back, cupping his cheek and wiping away the stray tears he hadn't even realized that flew down his cheeks.

In your eyes he could still see the same love for him as he had seen that night. You still looked exactly like you then.

He pulled you closer, inhaling your scent as he realized he was holding you, the real, physical you, in his arms once more. You smelt like water, grass and the forest. It was a scent he would burn into his mind of he could.

You pulled him towards the bed gently, forgetting what you had been doing before entering the house and tackled him onto the bed in your hold.

His voice was rough as he spoke, pulling you closer against him as he mumbled against your skin. It may have taken him 13 years to do it, but he did it.

"I promised you I'd come back to you."

[raineydays411]

That’s so fucking cool.

Steve Harrington x powers!reader part 1

Master list

Summary: You are 000. The first child Brenner ever experimented on and El’s big sister. After being found by Hopper freezing in the forest, you and El become tired of hiding. So you sneak out one day just to see what your missing. That’s when you meet the only and only Steve Harrington.

The soft drone of the tv in the living room hits your ears as you wake up . Another dreamless night, you honestly don’t know if you prefer them to the nightmares. You’re tired of staring into the dark. You want a normal life. One where you don’t have to worry about evil scientists who want to make you into a weapon or giant monsters from other dimensions. You want to be able to leave this damn cabin. And even though you’re grateful for Hopper taking you and El in, you wanna see the world you were deprived of, not be hidden away again.

“Hey double 0, if you don’t wake up soon El and I are gonna eat all the waffles”

“I’m coming” you grunt as you push yourself out of bed. You sigh as you go into your closet, quickly changing before heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Finally you make it to the little table that acts as the dining room.

“Oh look who’s finally graced us with her presence” Hopper said sarcastically looking up from his coffee to raise an eyebrow at you. El doesn’t bother looking at you as she continues to munch on her waffles.

“Good morning” you grunt as you take a seat at the table. There’s barely enough for all of your plates and it wobbles as you cut into your meal.

“How did you sleep?” Hopper asked awkwardly. He always asked the same questions and you always had the same answers.

“Okay. No dreams again.” You say quietly. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Till 5:45”

“Will you let me know if you’re going to be late”

“Of course”

Really everything was the same. You were tired of it. You can’t even go into the backyard. You get it really. There are rules, we don’t break the rules, breaking the rules is stupid. But you’d kill for a conversation that consisted of more than three syllables. And you’re not talking about El.

El. She’s the light in your life. She was back when you were in the lab, back when you were forced to do unspeakable things to people. She was when you both escaped, running through the forest hand in hand as sticks and stone dug into your feet. And she was when you both got sucked into the upside down and spit out in the middle of the forest. Now, she’s the light as you try and teach her how to read,write, and all the basic things someone her age should know.

“Okay El, read this out loud to me.”

“I do-o-o n-noT lll-ike g-gr-gree-ee-N eggs and HaM”

“Hey you’re getting better! Just a bit more practice and you’ll be reading like me.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah El”

“Good”

“Good.”

Of course there are things you don’t know. You were in that lab for as long as you can remember. You hardly remember your parents, only that your mother was beautiful. She had dark curls that she twisted in the night time, beautiful brown skin that glowed in the sun, and beautiful brown eyes that were kind. You didn’t know your father. You can’t remember him at all. Only Brenner. His cold eyes and false smile tainted your memory.

As the first child they experimented on, you were his pride and joy. He found a sick pleasure in making you become what he called his “little helper”. You helped keep people under his control. Your powers consisted of mental manipulation, telekinesis,and emotional manipulation. You were powerful, and he knew that. He craved the power you had, to wield it with an iron grip. At first, you lived for his approval. You were so young, the thought of pleasing the man who claimed to e your father was a no brainer. But when you saw all the other kids, who died painful and horrific deaths, your faith in Brenner slowly dwindled. You hadn’t met El before, you both were kept separate after the failure of the other children and after one managed to escape. That’s when he became stricter, refusing to let you roam the facilities, stopped the private lessons, and only let you read kids books. The only time you were allowed to leave your room was when he needed someone to comply or...be disposed of.

Then that’s when you met her.

El was being removed from a testing room when you were being taken to it. You both made eye contact and an immediate urge to protect her formed inside of you. That very night you persuaded a guard to leave the door open and broke out, taking El with you. You both split up for a while, you stayed in the junkyard while El met Mike and his friends. Then you were sucked into the Upside Down. Way before El though, managing to meet Will and help him hide from the Demagorgon. After El was sucked into the Upside Down, you both reunited and found a way out. Ending up in the middle of the forest, freezing when Hopper found you.

He took you both in and from then on it’s been you, El, and Hopper. You were grateful of course. You learned a lot from him, but you want to see the world.

“Maybe I can” you think to yourself. You have a plan.

[thegeminisage]

birthday meta for the birthday boy <3

[this version of the meta is behind a cut. if you’d prefer the no-cut version, it’s here.]

a fun little fanon from Ye Olde Days of spn (when seasons 1-5 were airing) was that sam always had the absolute worst birthdays. a big part of this is because sam’s birthday is in may. supernatural tends to align itself with “real time,” meaning that they like to use either the date the episode was filmed or the date it aired as the in-universe date, even when two canon dates conflict each other. (they’re so intent on doing this that they pretended the gap years between s5 & s6 and s7 & s8 right out of existence - season openers also usually tend to pick up right after season finales in-universe but still somehow be set several months later.) that means sam’s birthday tends to line up with the airdates on either season finales or episodes right before the finales, which means that every time sam gets a year old, shit hits the fan. 

here’s a list of things that did happen or could have happened on some of sam's birthdays:

0-22: we don’t have much in the way as far as concrete dates go for preseries stuff, but it’s perfectly possible sam walked out all that bullshit the day he turned 18, even if i prefer to think he left at age 19 as that aligns rather tragically with some adam-related canon.

23: we don’t have any dates for the end of s1/opening of s2 either, but it’s likely that sam’s birthday took place between 1.20 (dead man’s blood) and 2.01 (in my time of dying). he could have been doing anything from hunting vampires to saving one of YED’s special children to almost shooting his possessed father to getting hit by a semi to using a ouija board to talk to his not-quite-dead brother.

24: here’s where the real fun starts >:) sam died in cold oak in 2.21 (all breaks loose pt 1) and in the episode he says he’s 23. but according to the lore (extra-canonical material), dean made the deal to bring him back on his 24th birthday...

25: ...which means that on his 25th birthday, he was forced to watch dean get dragged to hell...

25b: ...except that sam had TWO 25th birthdays, because mystery spot took place in february, and sam lived in an alternate timeline where dean stayed dead for 6 months, putting him well past may 2nd. which meant that the first time he turned 25, he was actually getting tortured by gabriel. while his brother was getting tortured (or torturing someone else) in hell.

26: 4.20 (the rapture) took place in very late april/very early may (the wiki says may 3, but that’s just a guess), and 4.21 (when the levee breaks) picks up immediately where it left off. so it’s not only plausible but EXTREMELY LIKELY that sam was locked up in the panic room suffering withdrawals when he turned 26, dude

26b: ...except that in 11.17 (safe house), bobby and rufus’s half of the episode presumably takes place at the same time during season 4, and he mentions sam and dean are in reno?? so you know they could have been doing that instead.

27: we have no hard and fast dates for the end of season 5, but it’s my personal headcanon that sam’s birthday took place during 5.22 (swan song), and he beat the devil and leapt into hell on the day he turned 27 - because at this point, why not. however, his birthday could also have taken place during either 5.20 (the devil you know) or 5.21 (two minutes to midnight), meaning he was reconfronting his old college pal who turned out to be a demon brady, or helping bobby and a human cas destroy the factory with the croatoan virus.

28: there’s a gap year between s5 and s6, so sam’s 28th birthday took place while he was soulless, hunting with the campbell family...

28b: ...except spn likes to say “a year passed” without adding one to the calendar, so sam ALSO had a 28th birthday during the airing of s6. there’s some conflicting information about s6′s timeline, so this could have happened anywhere from 6.18 (frontierland) to 6.21 (let it bleed). sam could have been doing anything from time traveling to fighting eve to grappling with cas going dark side to rescuing lisa and ben.

29: sam’s 29th birthday almost definitely took place during 7.20 (the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo), during which he met charlie. in case you’ve forgotten, that was actually a great day for him - in a moment of true little brother antics and justifiable homophobia, he got to laugh at dean gay flirting with the security guard.

30: there was another gap year between s7 and s8, which means that sam spent the big three-oh with amelia richardson while dean and cas were in purgatory. he got to have a picnic!

30b: ...but since spn ignores gap years, sam ALSO had a 30th birthday during s8 (a big season for him). there isn’t an exact date for the episodes leading up to the finale, which takes place in late may, after sam’s birthday, so his birthday could have taken place in either 8.21 (the great escapist), where he nearly died of his trial-induced fever and confessed to dean that he always felt unclean, or during 8.22 (clip show), where he met sarah blake again after nearly a decade, only to have her die right in front of him.

31: the s9 timeline is pretty vague, but the best guess for this one is 9.18 (meta fiction), in which sam finally gets to confront gadreel, the angel who possessed him and killed kevin with his hands

32: the s10 timeline is also short on dates, so sam’s birthday could have taken place anywhere between 10.16 (paint it black) and 10.21 (dark dynasty). a few possible things sam could have been doing: dealing with a hunt involving soulless people, helping cas and bobby break metatron out of heaven’s prison, catching up with charlie and giving rowena the book of the damned, battling the cursed werther house (don’t click that unless you’ve seen the episode, the twist is TOO good), reuniting claire with her mom, or building charlie’s pyre.

33: the last quarter or so of s11 happens really quickly sequentially, every episode picking up soon after the last one left off, which means that sam’s birthday either took place at the very end of the season or the beginning of s12. it’s most likely he turned 33 either the day dean saved the sun and sam himself got shot and kidnapped by toni bevell, or a few days later when he was being held captive and tortured in her basement.

34: unfortunately, sam’s 34th birthday almost definitely took place during 12.21 (there’s something about mary). i was really hoping it’d be 12.22 so he could be kicking the bmol’s asses, learning lucifer was back, and hugging mary, but no...instead he was mostly likely learning that ketch had had eileen killed. 

35: because of some weird canon, the timeline for season 13 is actually batshit insane and makes no sense whatsoever, which means sam’s birthday is really early this season - either during 13.17 (the thing) where he rescues his brother from a frisky tentacle monster or 13.18 (bring ‘em back alive) where he hangs out with gabriel and cas in the bunker. since that’s garbage, you’d be forgiven for ignoring canon and pretending sam’s birthday fell on one of the following episodes - 13.19 (funeralia) is very touching, as he and rowena clash and then make up with each other; 13.21 (beat the devil) has sam capturing lucifer, then dying and getting revived and captured by him; 13.22 has sam getting a little revenge by leaving lucifer for dead; 13.23, of course, has lucifer finally dying for good.

36: there’s no dates whatsoever on the back half of s14, so theoretically sam’s birthday could take place in any episode after 14.13 (lebanon). the likeliest and COOLEST candidate is for sam to turn 36 during 14.20, in which he shoots god himself point blank. other admittedly inferior  scenarios include his stint as justin the 50s househusband, mary’s death, or putting jack in the ma’lak box.

37: we saw this birthday happen onscreen during 15.14 (last holiday) at a party thrown by mrs. butters. unfortunately, not too long after that, she wound up torturing him by pulling out his fingernails.

38: that’s this year! because the timeline of s15 is also so weird and vague, partially fucked up by covid changing the shooting/airing times, and because sam’s birthday is SO early in s15, it’s possible that he has another one this season, right at the end, or maybe post-canon, which means............................................

...................................................that he’s spending it with dean and jack and the newly revived eileen and cas, in the bunker or somewhere else he feels safe and loved :)

happy birthday, sam winchester <3 after all the unhappy ones...u deserve it

[spn masterpost]

[cardsbizarreadventure]

Cards please, more info on pretty lady Yaxkin

Yaxkin is Joelle and Jericho's (Nicte and Yunuen's ) Mother and Kars's wife.

Her tribe ( ancestors ) has been known to be guardians of the sacred stones (Because of their history with them) and where the stone of Aja originated from officially.

Yaxkin was next in line to guard the red stone of Aja and knew well of the risks she was taking and what would happen if she fails to protect it , her making a family was very frowned upon because the guardians of the sacred gems had a big responsibility to basically protect humanity from destruction.

Regardless of the big risk she took upon staring a family , she promised to herself and her tribe that she will never disobey the big responsibility she was given.

Before actually becoming Kars's wife she was in an arrange marriage because her father regardless of their 'guardian traditions' he understood his daughter that she wanted the taste of life and wanted to be a mother herself , she was arranged to marry a Sun pillar (Which later Kars's had to go against because of ancient traditions if you want to marry the Sun's daughter you have to show that you deserve her) . When ever a Sun and a Moon would fall in love there was always a complication because in their traditions it was foretold that only a Sun can marry a Sun and only a Moon can marry a Moon. However there was a special occasion in ancient stories that when a Sun falls in love with a Moon and vise versa something galactic will be brought upon this world that will shine brighter than any star combined , however there is also a bad side that a corruption will occur and this might lead to something very dangerous , a possible birth or an invasion of the Blood Moon that will get in the way of the Sun and Moon's happiness .

Yaxkin's ancestors have been battling against the ancient cults that were known to worship Hearteater as a God of Salvation that will finally bring the rebirth of the universe and all evil will be purged from earth . They are dark forces that have a weakness against the Sun so that's why they want to completely destroy their race so that a new God will be born and rule all and 'save humanity' .

Yaxkin was specialized into learning Hamon because it was a powerful ancient technique that can battle against the dark creatures that roamed the earth during that time and protect the sacred gems from falling into the dark one's hands.

Yaxkin is a very kind and gentle being , she has always had a kind approach when ever facing a problem because she believes that kindness can pierce through any kind of heart and give it a new meaning.

Yaxkin also has a special power which allows her to create glowing flowers that can heal a wound completely or at least ease the pain of it. Thank you for the ask! Maybe one day I can sit and actually get her story going because there is still a whole lot about this character that I have yet to figure out since she will be featured in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Season 0 arc that will explain a while lot about the origin of my own story and how I basically display pillars in my own stories. A have a bunch load of headcanons and mini stories that I can't wait to show! <3. - Cards

[louiseleblancdiggory]

okay but what about a 'The Way I Loved You' by TS Au for Rowaelin with Punk!Rowan?? pretty please??

A/N: The way I rushed to post this. I have a bunch of fanfics to write before October is over, and now that I’m finally not sick anymore, I’ve been trying to rush and write them but this prompt.....

The Way I Loved You

--

“So I’ll pick you up at seven, right?”

Aelin smiled, nodding. “Yeah, seven is perfect.”

Chaol smiled back, putting a hand on her back as he bent down to kiss her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Aelin tensed slightly. She had been dating Chaol for three months now, and it wasn’t that kissing him made her uncomfortable, it was just different.

For two and a half years, she had been used to kissing a different guy.

A guy she could feel the stare at the back of her head.

Chaol withdrew, still smiling at her. Aelin forced a smile to appear on her lips, giving him a quick peck on the lips before taking a step back. She needed to go to her class, and even though she didn’t let herself turn around to confirm, she knew Rowan was still staring at her.

Part of her could understand the staring. They had broken up four months ago, and Aelin rushed to find someone new. Not to throw it at his face that she could, but just because she had felt so fucking bad at the end of their relationship, that she figured that the best cure was to jump right back at another one. It kinda worked most of the time. The other part of her, the part that felt like the solution wasn’t working out perfectly, wished he would just start ignoring her existence. Would stop looking at her, being in the same room that she was.

Preferably, stop being in the same continent that she was.

As she left the senior lounge— pointedly not looking back— she let her mind wander to months and months back when all this tension didn’t exist. Aelin had known Rowan since forever. He had been at her class from elementary school until high school, and she knew that they were also going to the same college when they graduated in two months. Until sophomore year of high school, though, Aelin had never exchanged more than three words with him. They had been different at everything their entire lives, and so both never showed any interest in having a single conversation with one another. In elementary school, while Aelin focused on the art classes, Rowan only ever showed a human reaction during music class. In middle school while she was part of every single club she could find, Rowan had been too busy avoiding every club that could find him. In high school, while Aelin dedicated her life to her grades, being cheer captain and part of the volleyball team, Rowan simply worked towards paying off his motorcycle, working at Lorcan’s dad’s mechanic shop, and almost getting arrested every now and then.

Honestly, it had been a miracle that they even knew about each other’s existence.

The only reason they actually met was because of Chemistry. Aelin had absolute no interest in the subject, but since her mother had been bothering her to take it, she relented during her second year of high school. As she had chosen to take it in advanced placement, they had a whole period of the normal class plus the addition of half a period of laboratory. To her chagrin at the time, she got paired up for the labs with the single person in the whole class she wasn’t friends with.

Rowan fucking Whitethorn.

She found some comfort in realizing that he was just as excited to work with her as she was to work with him, but since he was always polite during the labs, she didn’t find a reason to dislike him. He was coldly neutral, and, surprisingly, a fucking genius. If it hadn’t been for him, Aelin would have bombed every single lab, quiz and test they had in that godforsaken class.

Despite both of their reputations, Aelin found out that she had more in common with him than it looked, and that she also liked him a lot more than she would have ever thought. When comfortable around people, he was actually pretty chill and funny. One of the biggest things that made her befriend him, though, was the fact that he didn’t fucking care about anything that didn’t concern him. Rumors? He was too busy for that. Reputations? Nope. Social status? Couldn’t care less.

While so many people in the school saw her as an athletic bimbo, Rowan met her with absolute 0 preconceptions because he never fucking cared about them. Since the beginning, he met Aelin for who she really was, and not the person everyone at the school had a different perception of.

Maybe this was one of the reasons she fell so deeply in love with him.

Things had been normalish. They didn’t know about each other, they met, became friends and then started dating. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

The dating though.

Dating Rowan had been… wild. Not in the bad sense, no. It had been like a roller-coaster all the time. Like driving down an empty highway at 150 per hour, windows open, and screaming your lungs out. It had been fun, and it had made her feel so alive that she could still feel it when she closed her eyes. It had made her blood boil, every single nerve jump. And yet, at the same time, being with him never made her feel so calm, so comfortable. Rowan was what shook her world, but also what made her feel steady.

Loving Rowan Whitethorn had been the biggest adventure of her life.

Their relationship had been the perfect mixture of actual love and burning passion.

The passion was sometimes almost blinding, and it made her do things she would have never though she’d have the courage to do. Rowan encouraged her to push her limits— always safely, he’d make sure of that—, and Aelin enjoyed her life to the maximum. They went on a trip across the east coast on his motorcycle during the summer, went bungee jumping at the neighboring state to celebrate his birthday, and skydiving to celebrate hers. Aelin had asked her dad once, at two in the morning, to take her to the police station to bail Rowan out after he punched someone hard enough to make the other guy black out. The fact Aelin’s dad hadn’t killed her and Rowan after it had been a miracle.

The love, though, the love was her favorite part. Loving Rowan was so easy and so different from what she thought loving someone would be. She always thought that love was that blinding emotion, that easy thing that made you burn from inside out, but no. That was passion, and while it was good, love was… more. Loving him had been like sitting at a beach in the end of the afternoon, the wind on her face and the disappearing sun still warming your skin. Loving hadn’t make her feel like combusting, it had made her feel like home. It wasn’t always easy to be in love all the time, but she also found out that the hardships made part of loving.

Love, she learned, was choosing someone every day, the good and the bad, even when you didn’t feel like it. Love wasn’t always perfect, but it was always worth it.

But they fought. Oh, they fought a lot. Despite Rowan’s careless behavior, he was just as stubborn as she was. Their fights had always been filled with screaming, always making her blood boil in a different way. Even when fighting with him, Aelin had never felt more alive. In the end, however, most of their fights were stupid. They never fought about serious shit, and the screaming matches were usually about fucking nothing. They both had been too stubborn to see this, too stubborn to admit that both were usually wrong

The denial was what broke everything.

Aelin didn’t think Rowan would actually think they were breaking up. It was another one of their stupid screaming matches, and Aelin blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. She had been too proud to say she didn’t mean it, and so things ended because of nothing.

She could still see the whole scene. Could still see Rowan going still, narrowing his eyes and then shrugging as if it was nothing. Could still see him leaving. Could still hear her heart breaking. She knew since that instant that she should have gone after him.

She didn’t. He should have known.

And now he would be staring at her every now and then, would be like a fucking buzzard over her life.

“Hello, Earth to Aelin.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand snapping its fingers in front of her face. She snapped back to reality, raising her head to stare at her cousin’s face. Her best friend, Lysandra, was by his side, staring at her with as much concern as Aedion was. “You ok?”

Aelin shook away from his grip, forcing a smile to her lips. “Never been better.”

————

Aelin waved Chaol goodbye, waiting until his car left her driveway to get inside the house.

She sighed, dropping her shoes down as she walked quietly to the kitchen. It was almost two in the morning, and she didn’t want to wake her parents.

Despite her efforts to keep quiet, she couldn’t help the scream that left her mouth when she turned on one of the kitchen lights and saw her father sitting there.

She put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “What the hell?”

“Was that necessary?” Rhoe asked, a smirk on his face.

Aelin scowled. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Makes it all more dramatic.” Her dad shrugged, and Aelin rolled her eyes. She walked to one of the cabinets, taking out a bottle of water. “Aelin.”

She turned at her father’s tone, frowning when she saw his expression. “You’re the one that said no curfew.”

Rhoe shook his head, patting the seat by his side. “Come here, firefly.”

Aelin set the bottle down, cautiously sitting by her father’s side. He had a strange expression on his face, body somewhat tense. “What happened?”

“You like Chaol?”

Aelin frowned at the question, scoffing a little. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

“You used to have a different boyfriend.” Her dad said, and Aelin understood what the conversation was about.

“Seriously, dad?” She went on the defensive immediately, crossing her arms. “That was months ago. And I thought you didn’t even like Rowan.”

Rhoe actually laughed, a serene smile on his face. “Nah, I actually liked the kid. Despite the motorcycle, the black clothes, constant scowl, and the criminal record, he was a nice guy. And he made you happy. What else a father could wish?”

“Someone who doesn’t have a criminal record?”

Rhoe shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t agree with him that time I had to take you to bail him out. Some guy harassed Lysandra, Rowan punched them.”

“You sound almost appreciative.” Aelin said, still on the defensive even though a small part of her smiled internally.

Rhoe smiled knowingly. “I am.”

Aelin scoffed, but didn’t say nothing in return. Her father let her gather her thoughts, and both sat in silence for a few minutes before Aelin said quietly. “Chaol is a nice guy.”

Her dad nodded. “He is.”

“He seems easy to love.”

Rhoe got up, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s hair. “No one is easy to love, firefly. That’s one of the main points of loving. We value it so much because it is hard to find, because it is hard to keep.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad, and he smiled at her. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re grown enough to take your own decisions. I’m also not telling you to go to a bad relationship, not in the slightest. If I thought something was harmful to you, I’d be the first intervening. But have in mind that people fight sometimes. Gods, me and your mother when we were younger? Like fucking cat and dog.”

Aelin huffed a laugh, vaguely remembering the stories her parents told her.

“But,” Rhoe continued. “It gets better with time, and I think you know that. You get more mature, learn to admit when you’re wrong. I remember when you and Rowan were younger and fought about everything, and yet it got better and better with time. The two of you barely argued during the last year.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered, resting her face against her father’s chest. He hugged her, rubbing her back like he used to when she was younger. She knew that he was right. Despite the fact that she argued a lot with Rowan, Aelin also knew that it had gotten much better. They fought less, and the reason of the arguments never got worse. It was usually childish and they’d laugh about it in the following morning. “I didn’t mean to actually break up with him. I never though he’d think I would break up with him over something so stupid.”

Even though she was whispering, Rhoe heard her. “I know.”

“And I should have told him that.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“I’m not going back to him, though.” Aelin said, some stubbornness still in her. Rowan had absolutely left that day, and didn’t give her the chance to explain afterwards. They were apart for her fault, yes, but he wasn’t the saint in all this.

Rhoe groaned. “Really, Ace?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “He was very comfortable with the breakup. Why should I bother?”

“This whole conversation was for nothing?” Her dad crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Not for nothing. I know now that I need to stop things with Chaol. I shouldn’t have even started dating him if I wasn’t going to commit completely.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad. “Gosh, I’m a terrible person.”

“No, you’re young. Young people fuck up sometimes.” Rhoe kissed her head one more time before he started to walk out of the kitchen. He didn’t try to bring up going back to Rowan again, knowing that it would only make her more keen on not doing so. “But now that you recognize this, I hope you fix it. I didn’t raise you to be a liar, let that be by lying to others or to yourself.”

“Gods, you could have ended this conversation a little more lightly.”

Rhoe turned his face around, smiling at her. “Fix it, firefly.”

————

“Aelin? What happened? I left you at your house twenty minutes ago.” Chaol said, rubbing his eyes. He obviously was going to sleep already, and Aelin felt bad about doing this in the middle of the night but she had to get everything done already.

“I can’t do this.” She blurted out, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

“This. Us.” She signaled in between them. “I juts can’t.”

Chaol took a step forward, a frown on his face. “We’re going too fast? I can go in whatever pace you want but—“

“I know this is gonna sound like a shit excuse but it’s really not you, it’s me.” She said, cringing. It was terrible that she used the oldest breaking up method in the book, but it was true.

“Really, Aelin?” He crossed his arms, face morphing into anger. “This bullshit excuse?”

“I understand you’re mad, but I’m really, really sorry. I don’t want to lead you on, and you’re so nice and deserves someone who is completely willing to make the relationship work.” Aelin said pleadingly. “It’s not anything you did or didn’t do, I’m just—“

She wanted to feel as if her heart was breaking, but not even that. Instead, she was feeling relieved. The feeling angered her to no end. She should have been able to fall in love with a perfectly nice and calm guy, but Rowan’s presence had become like a ghost in her life and not even that was possible anymore.

“Not interested.” He finished, voice full of scorn. “If I’m oh so nice, why are you breaking up with me?”

“I—“ Aelin hesitated, not wanting to even mention Rowan. “I just can’t. I can’t be with you.”

“With me specifically.” Chaol said, grounding his jaw. After a second of silence, he let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, I should have expected that. I’m the very nice guy, and yet you prefer the fucking asshole that Whitethorn is.”

Aelin felt a pang of anger. Of course Cahol would think that. “I’m really sorry. You are a nice guy, it’s really nothing with you.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Chaol said, already closing the door. “And stay away from me.”

Aelin had the feeling that he didn’t want to hear to any more excuses, and so she just gave him another apologetic look before turning around and going back to her car.

Although breaking up with Chaol had been bad, she knew it wasn’t gonna be the worst part of her night because at that moment, Aelin was pissed enough to want to pick a fight.

And she knew exactly who she was going to pick it with.

As she drove to the apartment Rowan shared with Lorcan and his dad, Aelin went over and over what she was going to say when she got there. Knowing both her personality and Rowan’s, she knew that things would go south very quickly.

Her hands were sweating as she went up the stairs of the four stories building, fingers flexing over and over again as she gathered courage to knock on the door.

Part to her relief, part to her disappointment, no one answered. She knocked again. And again. And again.

On the sixth knock, the door opened violently, and Aelin found herself staring up at Lorcan Salvaterre.

His pissed off face quickly morphed into confusion, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “Bimbo?”

Even being all pissed, Aelin rolled her eyes. Lorcan hadn’t like her in the beginning, but now both were actually close friends. Breaking up with Rowan made them separate a little, but good to know that he still liked her enough to use that stupid nickname. “Bully boy.”

Lorcan scoffed. “What have I done to deserve such visit at two in the morning?”

“Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan tried to contain a smirk. “Why should I tell you?”

“Cause I’m your friend.”

“Nah, not good enough.” He said, letting the smirk appear. Aelin let out a breath, crossing her arms impatiently. “What do you want with him?”

“To talk.”

“You mean scream.”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

Lorcan’s sarcastic smirk was widening more and more. “What stuff?”

“You’re fucking insufferable. Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan let out a half cruel laugh. “ Don’t spew fire, baby. He’s in the shop, moping around while you go out with your jock boyfriend.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Thanks, could have said that a minute ago.”

“Nah.” Lorcan said, already closing the door. “Fix this mess. Rowan already has a shit mood, and it has only been worse for three months now.”

“You’re one to talk about bad mood.”

“Fuck off, Galathynius.” Lorcan said through the closed door, but Aelin was already rushing down the steps. The mechanic shop was by the end of the street, and she almost ran there.

The storefront was all dark, but the garage door was slightly open, light filtering through the opening. Without further thinking, Aelin crouched, entering through the opened bottom.

“Rowan.” Aelin said, crossing her arms.

Rowan immediately whipped his head around to look at her, eyes narrowing when he noticed her expression. “Why do I feel like you think I did something wrong?”

Despite all the planning, Aelin’s mind was blank. It was the first time she spoke to him in months. “I hate that we dated.”

Rowan let out a laugh, resting against the hood of a car. “You came all the way here, at two in the morning, to tell me that? The dedication is on point, Ace. But shouldn’t you have someone else to talk?”

Oh, he was jealous. Aelin could feel it in his voice. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot?” Rowan crossed his arms. “If so, you should really get back to Prince Charming.”

“He’s nice.” Aelin said for some reason. When Rowan raised his eyebrows in mocked interest, she felt her blood boiling. It was because of this fucking asshole she couldn’t date anyone else. “He’s sensible and incredible.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. All your single friends must be swooning over your relationship.” Although he was smiling, Aelin didn’t think he was finding any of that funny.

“And he calls me when he says he will. My mom thinks he’s nice, and today when he came to pick me up, he even talked to dad about business.”

“Really? I’m sure Rhoe and Evalin adore him.”

“He respects my space and limits, never asks me to wait. I, comfortable and I literally couldn’t ask for anything better.” The last lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take anything back.

“Wow, that sounds... fucking boring.” Rowan said, simply and with a smile. “And I bet anything you want that you’re fucking bored.”

“Fuck off, Rowan.”

“No, you fuck off, Aelin.” Rowan said, getting up. “You break up with me, you move on, you come here. And for fucking what?”

“You seemed very content in me breaking up with you, so don’t play the high moral ground card.” She replied defensively. “You wanna know what I just did, Rowan? I broke up with my amazingly normal boyfriend because of you.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, letting out a laugh. “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you!”

“The girl I have loved for years just came here to tell me she broke up with her boyfriend because she still likes me. I’m so very sorry if I’m not currently crying.”

“You left.” Aelin screamed, and Rowan’s smile disappeared. She pointed a finger at him, taking a step forward. “You fucking left me after the stupidest fight we ever had. You fucking shrugged as if dating me wasn’t that important and you. Fucking. Left.”

“You broke up with me, Aelin. What the hell was I supposed to do?” Rowan spread his arms, shouting back at her.

“I don’t fucking know, but you could have showed any emotion that didn’t seem like satisfaction. You could have picked up my calls the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Could have asked me if I was serious when I shouted something stupid during a stupid argument.” Aelin’s voice was normal again. “And then Chaol comes and you’re right. I’m fucking bored. He opens the door for me, says all the right things and I’m fucking bored. Even when I feel perfectly fine, I’m fucking bored. I’m bored because I’m hung up over a guy who fucking shrugged when I broke a relationship of years. You shrugged, left and ignored me for days. So you don’t get to be happy about all this.”

“Aelin—“

“No. No, I’m talking now because you didn’t let me do it. I loved you so fucking much and you knew it. Loving you was a goddamn roller coaster and you knew I enjoyed it. And that’s the whole point. You knew the way I loved you and you didn’t let me explain. You knew it and you left, and then ignored me. I’m not saying this is your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have screamed that I wanted to break up with you because I fucking didn’t, ok? I was fucking wrong, and we’re apart because of me. All I wanted was the chance to apologize. So now that you’re finally listening to me, you’re gonna let me apologize like it was the following morning.”

Aelin felt her heart beating fast, and when Rowan just stared at her in silence, she continued.

“I am so sorry I broke up with you. Of course I don’t mean it, and you’re acting like an idiot if you think I was for real. An absolute idiot because you should know I love you. You should know that I’d never break up with you over that. I’m so sorry that I even said that. I shouldn’t have, I let my temper get the best of me and shouted the first hurtful thing that came to my mind.” Aelin breathed in and out, trying to make her heart beat normally. “I’m sorry I even made you believe for a second I was for real. I never wanted to hurt you, and even though I hate the way you left, I understand. Please, please, forgive me and let’s go back to our normal.”

“Ace…”

“That was all I wanted to tell you when I called you a million times, Ro.” Aelin felt her throat twisting, the feeling of missing him for months hitting her straight to the chest. She knew she had been the wrong one in the situation, and even though she despised the way he left, Aelin knew Rowan enough to know that it was just a defense mechanism. “I didn’t even need you to accept me back, I just needed you to know that I was sorry and that I loved you. But you left and acted like everything was fine.”

“I’m sorry, Ace, I—“

“Gods, no. I don’t want you to apologize!” Aelin shook her head. Part of her wanted to hear it, the part that had been infuriated when ignored. The other part, however, the bigger part, didn’t want any apology. “I want you to accept the apology. And if you can’t do it, just say it and let me move on with my fucking life. Because if you can’t and this is it, I’ll have to move on with my fucking life. And I won’t bother you anymore.”

The whole room was silent, and Aelin was staring at Rowan as intently as he was staring right back at her. She could feel her heart beating, not fast anymore but so strongly she could hear it. Her palms were sweaty and, despite the fact that she hadn’t looked for Rowan with that intent in mind, she was hoping he’d accept the apology. That they’d talk and go back to being a normal fucking couple. A couple that no one really understood how it worked— Aelin being cheer captain, in the volleyball team, and every single club she’d find while Rowan was one step away from biting someone’s arm off if they talked to him.

“I was hurt.” Rowan started.

“I know.”

“And angry. And I wasn’t thinking.”

Aelin nodded hope and fear mixing inside her chest. “I guessed.”

“For two years I was waiting for the day you decided to break up with him after you realized I just wasn’t it.”

Aelin frowned, confusion clouding her mind. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Ace.” Rowan scoffed. “We both know you can do better.”

Aelin crossed her arms, eye narrowing. “No.”

“That’s a shit response.”

“Why the fuck do you mean by do better? Dating is not a sport or subject, Ro.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I mean it, tho. There’s no doing better. I love you and it is what it is. Nowhere to improve, you’re the maximum for me already.”

Rowan stared at her in silence, and Aelin wanted to say something else, wanted to maybe hug him. But he hadn’t said everything was fine, so she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. She hadn’t been lying, though. She never imagined there could be anyone better for her, Rowan was just… perfect. What she not only wanted, but also needed. He had never been a missing part of her, but always someone who added up to who she already was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.” Rowan said quietly.

“I said I didn’t want an apology.”

Rowan nodded, taking a hesitant step forward. “I love you. Have for years, you know that.”

Aelin nodded, face neutral even though she could feel her whole body relaxing. Worry slowly left her veins, relief and happiness substituting it. “And I love you too. Have for years, you know that.”

Rowan walked slowly up to her, hesitating again before raising his hands to cup her face. Aelin almost sighed in relief. “I should have listened to you.”

Aelin nodded, hope washing her whole expression. “So we’re fine? You forgive me, and we’re like before?”

Rowan bushed his thumb against her cheek, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, we’re fine and there’s nothing to forgive.”

Aelin felt her chest bursting when he said that. She threw her arms around his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. Kissing Rowan after months was like coming back home, his warm and soft lips moving against her almost hungrily. Aelin opened her mouth, letting Rowan deepen the kiss as she hugged him more tightly. Rowan’s hands hugged Aelin by her waist, pressing her body against his as his mouth moved gently and yet hurriedly against hers.

Against his mouth, Aelin half sighed, half moaned in sheer happiness. 

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004