#might add more magical boys if I can find/remember any

[link-alou]

I (maybe) know what the people want. Somewhat-magical brainrot boys be upon ye

[thegirlwhowrites642]

do you think ginny’s loneliness is what pushed her to trust tom so easily ?

I don't think so, it is like that canonically.

"The diary," said Riddle. `My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how" -Riddle's eyes glinted "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. . ."

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom…. I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in…. It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket. . .

-- Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Loneliness is a defining part of Ginny's story.

What we know about Ginny's childhood is a perfect backstory for the diary bussiness.

Ginny grows up surrounded by brothers who exclude her because she is the youngest and a girl. To add to this, the Weasleys grew up fundamentally without any real relationships with other kids outside of the family (neither Ron nor Ginny have friends when they arrive at Hogwarts despite being purebloods in the main magic school in the British wizarding world, they never mention anyone else, no one is around in the summers at the Burrow, and they also don't seem to have ever significantly interacted with muggles). What this means is that Ginny doesn't have any alternative friends to compensate for the isolation. It's a lot worse than a random little sister whose older brothers don't want around. She doesn't have any other social settings but her home to develop those bonds.

So when Ginny arrives at Hogwarts her brothers keep up the whole excluding her thing, but this time around Ginny is in a completely new environment and not the comfort of her home.

A very relevant trait of Ginny's personality to take into consideration is her romanticism. She had dreamed for years of going to Hogwarts just like her brothers and probably had built up that experience a lot in her mind due to her romantic inclinations. So the fall is even stronger when she arrives in this new overwhelming environment. She finds herself having to deal for the first time in such a direct way with the judgment of her economic condition (middle school kids are brutal little shits). And she has to once again observe the lack of support from her brothers. It's realistic to assume this might be the first time Ginny truly processes her brothers' tendency to not want her around, she is only eleven after all, and not being in a family setting would highlight their behaviour.

All of this goes to create a reasonably very strong sense of isolation.

Then of course there's also Harry. The fun outgoing Ginny we meet in the later books is not someone Ginny learned to be, but someone Ginny had to learn how to come back to. That's Ginny's natural personality, as we know from Ron but even from what we see of her in the first book. Consequently, we also know that her being a bit of a mess in front of Harry is an atypical reaction, one that makes her feel ashamed of herself in front of a boy she likes, a figure she grew up admiring through stories (again, I can't stress enough how important it is to remember Ginny's romantic heart). So the more she feels ashamed, the more she acts like an idiot, and the more she acts like an idiot the more she feels ashamed. This of course does absolutely nothing to increase her self-esteem, quite the opposite really. And this as her initial condition when she arrives at Hogwarts is not exactly ideal.

Of course, for such a lonely little girl Tom's diary is a perfect island to refuge herself in.

But it's also a bit of dog-that-bites-its-tail kind of situation. Tom takes all the insecurities of an eleven-year-old girl and amplifies them to isolate her even more and enslave her.

A Ginny without the diary would have grown out of that situation organically and quite fast. She is funny, clever, and very good-looking. She just needed a moment to open herself up to this new world and let people get to know her. Instead, because of what happens it takes her a year and a half after the Chamber to get to that point, and due to very unfortunate timing, she will still have to maintain a degree of isolation from her classmates because only six months later Voldemort will come back, therefore the Order too and all the secrets that come with it.

Ginny is someone whose need for others was used to make her the victim of insane horrors and spent the rest of the series learning to not need anyone, turning that independence into her strength (the contrast between Ginny being on the ground of the Chamber and Ginny taking care of the girl on the ground during the Battle says it all).

It's not really surprising that Ginny spends two books (the fourth and fifth) actively avoiding becoming a constant in Harry's everyday life even if she has hundreds of opportunities to do so (in the third she couldn't speak in front of him). As we learned in CoS, Harry is very dangerous, he makes her vulnerabilities shine like no one else. However, contrary to the fourth book, in the fifth, as much as Ginny may try to stay away from Harry, she can't. He looks like a lost puppy for most of the year and what is she supposed to do, honestly? Not help him? I don't think she would be physically able to. After all, the fact that she has her confidence back has already taken away the stronger barrier there was between Ginny and Harry (she has also convinced herself she is totally over him).

By the end of the sixth book, Ginny has already made a lot of progress in making her peace with the fact that Harry brings up her vulnerabilities, as shown in probably the most masochist dialogue ever written: Ginny telling Harry she has never given up on him and basically implying she never will while he breaks up with her.

That said, once again, Ginny's progress gets mutilated by good old Tom and his bloody war.

Don't get me wrong, by the end of the series Ginny has completed her circular main arc that follows the same structure of the story just like Harry's. She has grown into who she was always supposed to be, she knows who she is and what she wants.

But after the books, starts Harry and Ginny's story.

And in between Ginny wanting to rely on Harry and actually fully doing it, there's some angst and a future husband who can read her like a book and has decided her lone wolf days have come to an end.

Sorry Weasley, now you have someone you can rely on for the rest of your days. I know, it must suck.

But again, as we've already seen, if there's a person who can make Ginny go back to relying on someone else that's our homeboy Harry, resident Lover Boy.

All of this is to say that not only loneliness was absolutely a central element of what happened with the diary but it's an essential piece of Ginny's entire story.

[heartbreakincident]

64 or 70 for the whump prompts?

(prompt from here)

70. Pacing.

(cw dog bite, but no animals are harmed)

steelstep, oc: eden. 1331 words.

It was always a little funny when he got hurt outside the suit. You'd think with all the daring stunts he pulled as Crux that that would be when he got hurt—and he did, sometimes. But the thing about the suit was that it was armoured and padded, with built-in airbags and all sorts of tech that minimized damage to the body inside.

A thin long-sleeved shirt and hoodie didn't quite have the same stopping power.

It's a comedy of errors, altogether. Spoon was muzzled, the other dog wasn't, and when the play fighting turned too rough, Eden's instincts had put him between the dogs with his body instead of his mind. Spoon backed off fast, but the other dog was big and disoriented and its teeth wrapped clean around Eden's forearm hard enough that he's pretty sure there was a crack.

At least he doesn't need to pretend he feels the pain. With his gate gone, the sharp gasp and panicked wrench of his arm to try to get it out of the dog's maw is all too genuine, and it takes him longer than it should to remember he's a fucking telepath. The mental shove at the dog's mind is in the shape of the words DROP IT, and the dog shies away with a whine at about the same time Chen makes it to Eden's side.

"I'm so fucking sorry," the other dog's owner is saying. "He's a good boy, he doesn't usually—"

"I won't press charges," Eden mumbles, mostly because he can't and partially because it's his fault, not that the owner would know that. He was the idiot who forgot he had access to a magic stop button in a dog's brain.

He's a little dizzy and he can feel the blood dripping down his numb wrist, so he hugs his arm close to his chest and lets Chen haul him to his feet.

"You look pale, let me call you an ambulance," they say, and Eden is shaking his head before they even finish getting the words out.

"I just need to go home," Eden says, more to Chen than to them. "No ambulance."

"No ambulance," he agrees, though he doesn't exactly seem pleased at the prospect, if the way he glances down at Eden's arm is any indication. "My place is close," he adds, and Eden knows it to mean I'm not letting you go home by yourself, so he lets himself be tugged along.

Spoon whines and nudges his nose into Eden's hip the whole way to Chen's apartment, and as soon as they're through the door Eden sprints to the bathroom, locking himself in and throwing drawers open until he can find the first aid kit.

"Eden," Chen calls through the door. "Let me in."

"I've got it," Eden insists, unzipping the red bag of medical supplies with one hand. Of course Chen had the good stuff—this was the sort of kit a paramedic might carry, and it was surprisingly similar to the bag Eden had at home. Though this one had seen a lot less use. Most of the supplies had been untouched, which was to Eden's benefit right now.

The door handle jiggles, and then there's a soft thud before footsteps start traveling back and forth in front of the door. He's resorted to pacing, heavy footsteps creating a steady rhythm.

"You shouldn't have to deal with it yourself," he says as Eden shrugs his hoodie off his shoulder and gingerly removes it, dropping it on the floor next to him.

"I'm used to it," he replies, before hissing as he tries to push the mangled sleeve of his shirt up. Not happening. The fibres are dried into the shallower punctures that have already started clotting. He grabs the little pair of scissors in the kit and cuts the sleeve open from wrist to elbow, before running his arm under lukewarm water and gingerly peeling the fabric away. He stays awkwardly leaned over the sink as he cuts the soaked fabric off and leaves it in the basin, before he sits back down on the edge of the tub to poke through the kit again.

"It's nothing I haven't seen," Chen says through the door, his voice carrying oddly as he paces back and forth in the hallway, closer at the start of his sentence and then further away by the end. Thump thump thump. His footsteps are quick but even, like a forward march.

And he's right. He has seen it before. Both the bloody punctures and ripped flesh of Eden's arm and the bright orange tattoos that curl around his elbow. The secret is out, at least to him—the whole reason behind this song and dance is already null and void. If there is anybody on earth Eden could get help from right now, it's the very worried man on the other side of the door, wearing down his floorboards with his back and forth.

But the thing is, these sorts of habits die hard, and Eden is used to licking his wounds in private. Hide the pain until he could crawl back to his den and take care of it. Shrug off the lingering worry the next time he saw anyone. Grin and bear it, but without the grin, because Eden didn't smile terribly easy, anyway. It was safer. Easier, too.

So he plucks the fibres still stuck in his bloody arm out by himself, and the door stays locked. And when it's as good as he's going to get it, he goes back to the sink to wash the whole thing off. God bless Chen and his boring ass, because the hand soap he has on the counter is unscented and gentle enough that he can use it to wash these cuts out without resorting to the bottle of alcohol in the med kit.

With most of the blood off, he's finally able to do a proper assessment. The dog had latched on unevenly, with the punctures deeper the further up his arm they went. Near the wrist they were shallower and already clotting nicely on their own, but something definitely compressed a nerve because his hand felt weirdly tingly and numb. Not good. It wasn't broken though, he could tell that much. Maybe cracked, but he'd dealt with worse than that before.

The deeper punctures were still bleeding enough that it was concerning. He bandages the lower half of the bite and then wraps the rest with a preliminary layer of gauze, applying pressure to the worst of it as he uses his numb hand to poke around the kit. "You don't have sutures," he comments.

The pacing stops abruptly. "Do you need stitches?"

Good question. Does he need them? He looks up at the ceiling, weighing his options. There's hemostatic bandages in there. If pressure slows down the bleeding, then he can probably get away without them.

"Probably not," he answers, thinking that's a nice, diplomatic answer.

"Eden." There's that thump on the door again. "Please let me in."

He glances around. Chen's formerly pristine bathroom is now a mess of water, little drips of blood, bandage wrappers, and scattered supplies. Peeking under the gauze, he can see the bleeding has slowed down enough that he's willing to tentatively say he could try to get away with not doing stitches, but his arm was still numb and applying the sticky bandage with only one hand would be annoying.

"If I unlock the door," Eden starts. "You're not allowed to say anything stupid like you need to see a doctor or this is really bad. You're just going to come in here and help me bandage it, and that'll be it."

A slight pause. "Is it really bad?"

"I've had worse."

And because he knows this is the best deal he's going to get, Chen doesn't even counter-offer. "Fine. Please just let me help."

Eden leans over and flicks open the lock.

[krisyona1994]

I have a few prompt fic ideas for Klarion x Witch!Reader. Here's one. (If anyone wants to add on to this and use it, please tag me. I'd love to read them.)

Reader is able to dimension hope, and adapt to the dimention they land in. I see them coming to the DC universe on the hunt for an underling/someone in their circle. Not to really stop them, unless it's needed, just see why they came here.

They are a chaos Magic user with a black cat. Called Pumpkin. I see it with a burnt orange pumpkin shaped tag.

Their chaos magic is different from Klarion and Child's, because they aren't from this universe. "Different universe, different rules" they'd say.

(They don't need a familiar for a physical form, it's just something as a companion. Like a support animal. )

Not all of them live full immortal lives either. Reader can live without aging, but they can die like any human. They chose to have reincarnation, to remember the other lives, and take on the original form again. 

I feel both Klarion and reader might find the other interesting at first, because they feel the similar magic they have.

Laid back and neutral, doesn't enjoy the same type of chaos as Klarion. They are just as sassy as the witch boy. They pull pranks or switch things around to be weird, but not harm people. They might like to play with Klarion a bit, by pulling small pranks on him or around him.

They have a more mature personality and not easily emotional, showing that they have been around a while. Maybe getting along with Dr. Fate because of this.

[theadventurerslog]

Quest For Glory III: Wages of War | Part 1

The Adventurer's Log

Release Date: 1992

We saved Spielburg and we saved Shapeir. Now it's time to move to a new place in a game that wasn't originally supposed to exist, but they weren't ready for what they wanted to do in IV yet, so here go: Quest for Glory III time. What fate will befall Cinder Win this time? It's VGA graphics and point and click interface time.

Once again, not a blind play as I've watched it played, but anything wizard-specific will be new to me and I don't remember how to do everything.

Starting up I imported my character and had the option to be a Paladin thanks to my actions in 2, or stay a Wizard. After dithering I decided to stay a pure Wizard; that just stays closer to what I envision for Cinder. He is a Wizard dammit. Sorry, Rakeesh.

So these were my stats from last game:

Look at this fancy character sheet.

And after spending my available 50 points:

It opened up in Aziza's chamber. She summoned me and Rakeesh to see her.

She rehashed the end of the last game.

Slightly incorrectly I might add. I did not bounce my spell off the wall. I just moved around to a good angle to knock the brazier over. And where's the statue, huh? Anyway I got to see Ad Avis fall again and this time he got the Graham falling scream from King's Quest V, so that was quite something.

When Ad Avis died his magic was unleashed which meant she and other magic users could feel it and know the moment of his death. However, I guess things can never be simple because no one could find his body, and if there's one thing to learn from various media it's that a missing body is never a good thing. Even she couldn't determine who or what removed his body with her spells. The unleashing of his power might have darker results.

In the meantime she received a message from Rakeesh's partner, the Sorceress Kreesha, in Tarna in...Fricana. We're going African theming this time. There was talk of war there and she believed only Rakeesh could bring peace now. She thinks there's more to this and that a Demon has broken into the land and does what any demon does, and seeks to destroy them all.

In three days there'll be a portal to take us there.

So, three days later it was time to gather in the Sultan's palace where he saw me, Rakeesh and Uhura who wants to go home too, off.

And he had a gift for me from Keapon Laffin! My gnome friend!

Then a hug which was sweet.

I'm a sap, I'm a sap.

Then we arrived in Tarna where we were met by Kreesha. Uhura headed out. So some introductory stuff and a warning:

Booo, when can I use magic safely in a town dammit.

I needed some time to explore and adjust to the new interface though it is very similar to King's Quest V and VI. And I had to check out Keapon's lovely wrapped gift!

Sure did explode in my face.

I was left with the wrapping paper... "The wrapping paper is all that remains of Keapon Laffin's gift. He certainly has a strange sense of humor." Maybe that'll have a use. Silly gnome.

As for the rest of my inventory: I had 200 dinars and some of my inventory carried over: the sapphire pin from the Katta, my pills, a waterskin, and my dagger. I had a note from Shema to deliver to Shallah. I had some Spim which is rations. I'm pretty sure the reward for saving the Emir was supposed to be 1000 dinars though. Hmph, where's the rest of my money? Actually I do wonder how long our hero got to stay in Shapeir between QFG 2 and 3.

I had to start doing all the looking around.

Then it was time to chat with Rakeesh and Kreesha (their names are anagrams of each other...). You can also do the talk icon on yourself to greet and tell about stuff. But talking pulls up a dialogue tree of options.

The city and land around it is called Tarna and ruled by the Liontaurs. Uhura and her baby boy, Simba, have returned to her home, the Simbani village and we'll be going there in a few days to learn more about the war between the Simbani and the Leopardmen. In two days Rakeesh wants me to come with him to the Council of Judgement to attempt speaking to them of peace.

Rakeesh and Kreesha are lifemates. Kreesha is the magic council member in the Council of Judgement. Rakeesh's brother Rajah, is the King of Tarna and he's pretty hot-headed.

I could ask her about magic too and she said could teach me a spell that would allow me to channel my energy...! But not yet.

In the meantime it was time to explore Tarna, and leave Rakeesh and Kreesha to have some alone time together. Kreesha also had a room reserved for me at the inn.

Here, there's the King's Chambers up the stairs and on this level, the Apothecary and the Inn.

I went to the Apothecary first...

His name is Salim. Before I talked to him I had to look around as always.

That was the main highlight.

I tried the use icon on him:

Then I talked to this groovy...guy...radical, maaan. Just trying to get his vibe across here. So, it is the Apothecary, but he calls it Salim's Holistic Health and Happiness Eclectic Energy Emporium. He carries crystals and promotes peace and pyramid power...

He can't sell healing pills right now though. He needs the feather of a honey bird which I have to get non-violently or it won't work. That's one quest to add to the to-do list I suppose.

I could also ask about potions and lo and behold what should come up but a Dispel Potion. He was, of course, missing some ingredients: water from the Pool of Peace, a gift from the Heart of the World, and the fruit of a venomous vine. I guess Dispel Potions are just a tradition and staple of the series but they're made differently everywhere. Regional recipes I guess.

I could ask him about each, and in regards to the fruit of the venomous vine, got the best thing he's said yet:

One of the conversation topics was plants which led him to talking about a dream he had of being in a desert place and he was dancing with this tree when it changed. Suddenly the tree was like a woman and beautiful and it was magical. That gave me the option tell him about Julanar and how I'd helped her regain some hope. He was thrilled; the girl of his dreams was real! He planned to leave for Shapeir on the next caravan.

I... can't say he'd be my first choice to send to her, but hopefully for her sake it somehow works out? Whether or not anything further comes of it, the continuity is nice at any rate.

I tried to make a purchase just to see my options, but I needed to change my money first.

I popped by the inn just to see it for now.

Welcome Inn...

There was a bulletin board that had The Laws of Tarna:

Thou shalt harm none Thou shalt not use magic upon the streets of Tarna (booo and it won't even let me try) Thou shalt not take that which is not thine Thou shalt behave with honor

I also found...

A silly clown!

I chatted with the welcome woman, whose name turned out to be Janna Jamil, and learned that before I came the rulers of Tarna had sent out a party of diplomats to the Leopardmen, but only one person returned, Kharib, and he's not well now.

Kreesha's paying for my room, but I have to pay for meals... once I have the right currency. For now it just got added to my room charge. Thanks Kreesha!

It was time to poke into the bazaar.

Good ol' traditional moose head.

We've got a honey seller.

I could also ask about the honey bird. The bird gets people to follow it to a hive and then waits for the person to take honey from it and leave some for the bird. Maybe if I bought honey I could just use that as a lure to get a feather? I needed the right money though. There was also a rumour that Leopardmen are killing the Simbani people.

There was an oil salesman selling virgin olive oil. There was a rumour that the king of Tarna wants them to go to war in order drive all the humans away from city forever. A lot of liontaurs still don't get on with humans, but I don't think that particular rumour is exactly true. Or at least if the war was to be against the leopardmen that wouldn't be against the humans here.

Carrying on to the Junk salesmen, who are straight up a reference to Sanford and Son, which is a sitcom I'm not really familiar with, but looking it up, yeah that's basically just them.

There was a very enthusiastic weapon seller who tried to advertise his wares when I got close without my even talking to him. I didn't need weapons right now though.

I headed into the next area and ran into an altercation.

I chased after him into the next screen where a guard caught him and took us both to the Hall of Judgement.

The Council determined the thief, Harami, broke the laws and showed himself without honor. He was just scornful and then named honorless and sent away.

I was thanked for aiding the guards and was sent with Rakeesh to see the king, Rajah Sah Tarna.

I cannot for the life me figure out what's going on withe liontaur lady on the right. You can see where the other has her leg bent but this one is like serpent liontaur. Very strange. Anyway.

Rajah was very prickly and unimpressed with me. "Kreesha is the magic user of this land. Do you think you can out-enchant her?" And he was not too happy with Rakeesh either.

Rakeesh's daughter, Reeshaka, had led the peace mission that only had one survivor, so she's presumed dead. Rakeesh pointed out they still don't know exactly what happened and doesn't want to start a war and take more lives over this. I had the opportunity to defend Rakeesh. Rajah continued to not be particularly impressed, and I was told to leave them to their discussions.

Reeshaka would be Rajah's niece so he certainly has the right to be angry. He was still being a dick though. And war mongering isn't gonna help things.

But, there was nothing more for me to do there, so it was back out to continue exploring the bazaar. So, while my day is dwindling away next time it's time to get money changed and if there's time go shopping. Otherwise, bed time then shopping. Shopping will happen.

[iamthecomet]

cooommmeeeettttt

i’m starting this off by asking how are you? (because this might be one of the more unhinged things i’ve said and also i’m not here often and feel like i need to get niceties out of the way before i go feral 😅)

but anyways into the insanity-

in the interest of self exploration (wink wink) i have inflicted some pretty decent bruises/cuts/scrapes

sometimes it freaks me out but at the same time i almost find looking at the marks is hotter than inflicting them

but now i’m stuck thinking about how the ghoul/ettes would each feel about the marks left by their partners the next day. like who flaunts them, who uses them as inspiration for some self love, who can’t stop looking at them?

-yours in filth, 🦷

Hiiiiiiiii I'm goooodd. I hope you're doing well too! God I have so many thoughts about this, let me try to corral them.

Ghoul/ette mark appreciation/habits/something under the cut.

Dew: for sure gets off on any marks that get left on him over and over again. Pressing down hard on the place in his belly he can still feel Mountain's cock. Curling his own fingers around his throat and pressing down on the fingerprints pressed to his skin by Rain's fingers. Rain: likes to look. He already loves to look at himself. It's made even better when he's painted in bruises, marks from Dew's fangs, or Swiss' fingers. Welts from Cirrus' riding crop. Whatever he can. He always asks for them in places he can look at later. Especially loves to see his ribs and thighs decorated. Aether: Doesn't think much about them after the fact. Lives very in the moment. Looking at them doesn't get him off--the bite of pain they provide doesn't either. But sometimes, when he's alone and horned up. He'll dig his fingers into a scabbing slice and use his quintessence magic to put him back into that moment. Sometimes it's even better the second time. Cirrus: Does not let just anyone mark her. And she doesn't mark particularly easily. So any marks on Cirrus' body are sacred, reserved only for her and the person who made them. There are ghouls in the abbey who have never seen a love bite on Cirrus' skin. She cherishes the ones she allows, loves them. Wears them proudly for whoever gave them to her (but no one else). Cumulus: Bruises like a peach. Almost always seems to have hickies on her neck and collarbones, and tits. Not shy about showing them off. Loves to slip her skirt a little higher on her skirt so she can press her fingers into the dark ones on her thighs, into the deep bites made by fangs. Likes to show them off to other pack members as an invitation to do their worst--to see what they can add to the canvas that is her body. Sunshine: Heals super fast, hates it. Doesn't get to hold onto any sex injuries for very long. But that doesn't stop her from trying. When they do stay for longer than twenty-four hours she has to show them off. Likes to talk about them, much like Cumulus. Will say things like "Well, Cirrus did this one and I've had it for two days! You can't compete" (because she really wants them to compete about it.) Aeon: Strangely shy about marks left on him. Really really loves being marked up by someone's mouth. But likes to keep those things close to him. Those marks are gifts to him, because he was a good boy. No one else needs to see them or know how bad they are. But when he's alone he definitely takes himself apart by closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them and telling himself how good he's been.

Aurora: Somewhere between Aeon and Rain. Loves to be marked, loves that little ache of pain. But doesn't really want to show them off to anyone but herself. She'll stand in front of her mirror the day after a rough session and run her fingers over all her bruises, cataloging them all, remembering the exact moments they were made. Then (after a brief distraction) will go about her day like they're not even there and nothing happened. Those are for her pleasure. No on else's. Mountain: Doesn't particularly care about looking at them, doesn't use them as a way to get off necessarily. But definitely gets a little jolt of want when he accidentally aggravates it. When he sits down after a night bent over Dew's knee he has to bite back a whine as the ache pours through him. Swiss: Likes to show them off--has to. Will go shirtless after a particularly rough session with Cirrus. If Rain has flayed his back open with his claws, everyone has to see it. Always wears v-neck t-shirts when his neck is fucked up.

[daemion]

Hi! :)

I'm daemion (he/it 20s) literally a cat in real life unfortunately sorry

trans (T💉since 3/21/23) and bi lol

I post art sometimes and make nonsense posts.

if i tag something with a name (ex. "david") its about one of my characters, not a fandom tag or a real person.

My interests/hobbies: Writing, drawing, comics/manga, and Video games (splatoon, balatro, slay the spire, minecraft, terraria, etc.).

dni: terfs, transphobes, etc. i block people !

My projects:

+: My main project. Currently on my tenth draft of it that makes pretty significant changes to the plot, structure, and characters. It's about a group of young adults trying to find out what happened to two of their friends who went missing.

I really like + and i enjoy talking about it more than any other project. I've been working on it since late 2015 so there are a lot of different versions of it. The most important drafts (ones I talk about the most) are draft 2, 7, 8, 9 and the most current one 10. Draft 6 is also relevant because it is the worst version that has written content. Drafts 1, 3, 4, and 5 most exist as notes and art, draft 1 is entirely physical comics I drew in 2015, so I don't have much to say about them.

If you're curious about any specifics about the project, please feel free to ask questions about it! I'm currently trying to motivate myself to write out comprehensive character information and make full designs for a lot of the characters.

When talking about specific aspects of + drafts I try to tag the draft (example: draft 9 +) and any characters discussed. This is mainly for me and a lot of them are contextualized fully because they're for me, but if you wanna look you can :)

Characters: David, Chris, Valentine, Eli, Clementine, Madi, Olive, Jay, Jaxson, Evan, Vincent, Vanessa, and a few more, but the main ones you'll be hearing about on my blog are the first 5 listed.

She Saw: My comic based on an old draft of +, draft 2. A 3 and half part long story about a lesbian who finds the dead body of one of her best friend's boyfriends and gets sucked into a conflict involving that, all the while experiencing high school and seeing horrific visions. What is complete of it is posted on tumblr and DA as well as a few other comic sites? I believe. If you're interested its @shesawcomic, I haven't worked on completing it since 2019.

If your curious about the + connection, every character in She Saw has a direct analog in draft 2 + character. The main character, who's name isn't revealed until the end of the current part, is Veronica (now Madi) from +, Faith is Valentine, the unnamed boy is Daemion (now David), Terrance is Chris (arguably also Eli, they are interchangeable in draft 2), Mary is Mary, Kate is Kathy. There was an additional character who was not revealed at the time I stopped writing, and was the only character without a + analog, though her situation could be based on a number of characters I've written before. Everything I write is derivative of itself.

Characters: Her (shesaw), him (shesaw), Terrance, Faith, Mary, Kate. (All of them got finished refs this summer :D)

WWW: New project. A comic based on an old draft of +, draft 2, 3, and 4. Unlike She Saw, which sought to recreate the high school segment of draft 2 (a, if I am remembering correctly, 16 page long section) WWW seeks to replicate and add on to the main plot of draft 2, taking into consideration traits added to the characters after that draft. The comic is about Cici who lives in the middle of nowhere on a dairy farm separated from the rest of society until a woman named Juliet comes and helps him escape. Juliet, a woman obsessed with obscure religious groups, practices, and magic, convinces Cici help her work towards her goal of achieving immortality. Unfortunately, when they do achieve something, it's not a glamorous as Juliet described it to be. - WWW is an abbreviation of a test/temporary name that might not stick.

Similar to She Saw, WWW characters also has connections to + characters, but they're really obvious in my mind so i'm just choosing to have that be a funny thing that people who know + characters would notice.

Characters: Cici, Juliet, Sammy.

Seagull: Another newer project. A comic/short story about a half wolf half human man who's sent to work and live on a "lighthouse" in the middle of the ocean to keep watch for "something in the water". He quickly discovers that his lighthouse has attracted a strange angel that resembles the seagulls.

Characters: Jupiter, Seagull (haven't named him yet), Coral

For the 3 projects that are not + listed above, I'm happy to answer any questions! WWW is my main focus aside from +, She Saw is in limbo, and Seagull is kind of a side project.

[taimio]

Unlock the Secret to Disease-Free Seedlings: Harness the Power of Cinnamon Powder!

Discover the magic of cinnamon beyond its culinary use! Our article "Use Cinnamon Powder on Seedlings to Prevent Diseases" uncovers the hidden garden benefits of this common spice. Start improving your garden's health today by incorporating cinnamon into your care routine. Commonly known for its fragrant aroma and warm flavor, cinnamon is also a potent remedy to safeguard your young plants against numerous diseases. This widely available and cost-effective ingredient acts as a natural and organic option for keeping your seedlings strong and disease-free. Having a flourishing and healthy garden has never been this simple. Our step-by-step guide will walk you through this process, making it an easy addition to your gardening routine. Get your cinnamon ready, and dive in to uncover its gardening secrets and more!

Use Cinnamon Powder On Seedlings To Prevent Diseases

So you've taken up gardening, huh? Congrats on joining the club of plant enthusiasts! But now that you have your little seedlings sprouting, you may encounter some pesky diseases that can wreak havoc on your tiny green babies. Fear not! I have a secret weapon for you: cinnamon powder. Yes, you heard that right, the sweet and aromatic spice that adds deliciousness to your morning coffee can also work wonders in your garden.

When I first heard about using cinnamon on seedlings, I was skeptical. How could a kitchen staple possibly protect my precious plants from diseases? But after a few experiments and discussions with fellow gardeners, I decided to give it a shot. And boy, was I pleasantly surprised! Cinnamon acts as a natural antifungal, antimicrobial, and antiviral agent, making it a powerful ally in the war against plant diseases.

So, how does it work? Well, when you sprinkle a bit of cinnamon powder on the soil around your seedlings, it forms a protective barrier against harmful pathogens. It creates an environment that discourages the growth of fungi and other disease-causing microorganisms, giving your seedlings a fighting chance to grow healthy and strong. Plus, cinnamon also stimulates the plant's natural defense mechanisms, like boosting its immune system.

Remember, prevention is better than cure, and cinnamon is your plant's best friend in this battle against diseases.

Not only does cinnamon powder prevent diseases, but it also aids in root development. By applying a light dusting of cinnamon on the cuttings or seeds before planting, you can stimulate root growth and increase the chances of successful propagation. This versatile spice also has the added benefit of repelling insects, such as ants, that might harm your precious plants.

Now, I know you might be wondering: How should I apply cinnamon powder to my seedlings? Well, it's as easy as pie! Simply sprinkle a thin layer around the base of your seedlings, making sure not to bury them. Remember, a little goes a long way, so don't overdo it. And if you're worried about the cinnamon affecting the taste of your herbs or veggies, fear not! It won't interfere with the flavor or harm your taste buds in any way.

While cinnamon is a fantastic natural remedy, it's important to note that it's not a magical cure for all plant ailments. If your seedlings are already suffering from a severe disease, it's best to consult a garden expert or do some research to find a more suitable solution. However, for preventive measures and boosting overall plant health, cinnamon is a fantastic tool to have in your gardening arsenal.

So, fellow gardeners, next time you notice your precious seedlings under attack from diseases, reach for that trusty cinnamon powder. Your plants will thank you, and you'll witness the power of this humble spice firsthand. Happy gardening!

Curious to learn more about the wonders of cinnamon powder in the garden? Check out this article for a deeper dive into the topic.

Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!

[s0lar-ch3ri]

incorrect im gay and have foamed at the mouth tryna talk about gay pirates since i have no body whos listening to me about them ill do more rambling about them here (again spoilers because i cant bring up these gay as fuck boys without them)

i truly believe chips behaviors arent just connected to expereinces hes shared with the black rose and gillion, but to gillion himself. he sees gillion as a pretty good idea of a hero so he must take a lot of inspo from him (and arlin). however, because hes lived in shadows for so long (and fromn what ive seen really is connected to emotions), i dont think he knows too well on how to not let it fully take over (like a kid whos basing their entire personality on the main character in the movie they just watched). his idealation is not a very good one to say the least and it just adds so much more considering how each of the magic objects they got (the bandana, spyglass, and one other thing i cant remember rn) fit the characters perfectly, but hit way too hard for chip.

not to mention, chips character is built apon every experience he has. the non-violnce until ollie was harmed, his pain during the nightmares being nightmarishly (best descriptor word) real, all he does and says comes from how hes experienced the world, because chip the bastard is a bastard from the experiences he hadnt recieved yet. while i havent gotten past ep 86, it scares me how much in play the memory chip lost actually is. by losing an experience, chip might lose a part of him (tbh the genius play would be to lose the memories of the ship burning nightmare because while relevant chip has had other nightmares so yeah).

i feel that no matter how you see chip and gill's relationship, they are intertwined. theyve lived such different lives yet they act so similar and different that you cant catagorize their characters into one trait or word because you get rid of the other necessary parts. gillion, a champion and hero to the people, one whos loved and hated by all, one who had/has everything and nothing at once and yet still chooses to smile proudly where others weep and turn to the darkness, letting the learning of the world arround him be embraced into his views and morals. chip, a kid who doesnt have any legal last name, one who probably didnt expect any sort of hope, a child who faced so much against the world yet clinged to the hope he made for himself because the world was unkind and took that shit away normally. but chip and gillion? two boys who refuse to stop seeing light in a world where darkness tries to consume them every waking moment, turning the odds of their childhood into a tool, letting those they hang around change them for what they believe is the better.

i just hope chip finds himself some form of better that doesnt result in such negative type emotions because i want him to know that not everything has to be his (and/or gills) fault and that some mess ups you just cant fucking predict or stop because destiny can be a little bitch.

anyways should i do jay next because omfg i can talk about her and gill but mostly her and how much their crew has changed her for the best (aka tune in next time for more gay pirates!)

thinking about him (spoilers for jrwi)

thinking about how in atleast 2 scenarios chip has blamed himself more then needed, first with ollie ("i took him from his home") then with gillion ("i gave him the card") and each time he tried to put on a confident face but really it ate away at him inside.

thinking about how gillion is constantly taking on responsibility and chip canonically sees gillion as inspiration (humble beginnings, bizly says the inspo from the future is from gillion tidestrider) and its not like he only takes some blame but usually its all the blame because gillion knows how to acknowledge his faults somewhat.

thinking about how chip takes promises ever so seriously (ie, not even doing simple lies after promising gill that he wouldnt) yet hes such an example of "change doesnt happen overnight" and how he acts can be directly or indirectly related to past adventures and/or trauma (probably even how he copes is atleast somewhat connected to the guy he killed under price).

thinking about how chip grew up looking up to arlin and seeing what a great example of pirates the black rose were and trying to be something atleast somewhat great and feeling like he failed when hes the only one on deck with somewhat an idea of what a pirate is.

thinking about how chip would lie to protect his friends yes but became a lying machine to protect himself before and hid his intents because while he can absolutely trust his crew his instinct is too not because he got used to being on his own and putting himself first and now hes around people (mostly gill) who put themselves before him to help protect him.

thinking about how easily gillion made friends with people on islands and eventually it rubbed onto chip too (ie: gryffin, felipe, etc) as he unlearned the idea that hes alone in a cruel world that only exists to make him suffer and theres a light in everyones life that makes it even just slightly better, no matter the background (main example is gill again).

thinking about how much gillion is willing to sacrifice for his friends and when felipe wanted to stab him every night, it was chip who tried to talk sense into gill because he cares for gillion and (most likely) was worried that felipe may be lying about healing and may full on kill him.

and all these thoughts (and more) make me feel so much when they found the empty rowboat with nothing but ashes and a fiendish smell and gillion starts blaming himself so chip grabs his shoulders and says "its not your fault, you werent the one who made him grab the card" because somewhere in my heart it feels like maybe chip isnt just talking to gill but to the part of himself that keeps on trying to hold onto every wrong hes done, every sin that keeps him up at night, every lie that is amplified in his skull, that he deserves forgiveness and not everything in the world lays on his shoulders.

and with these thoughts, one more comes to mind: chip and gillion are so similar in backgrounds and morals and thats why theyre the ones that break each others walls and misunderstand each other and fight because they probably dont even fucking see it.

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[elysianslove]

ay yo? lmao haiiiii any chance we can get some haikyuu boys and nicknames they'd call their s/o? a lil deprived of kageyama, so if possible can you pls include him?? i hope you're doing well :)

omg wait i remember seeing this in my inbox and planning on answering it but i ,,, i forgot :( im sorry :( but here it is lovely <3 

HAIKYUU BOYS AND NICKNAMES 

ANGEL ! — 

akaashi; out of all his nicknames for you, this is his favorite!! he just thinks it’s very fitting for you, because you’re nothing short of ethereal for him. loves to say it when he’s first greeting you or as he kisses you gn or!!! when he says thank you :) 

osamu; it slips sometimes with him!! not his go-to but it’s very familiar on his tongue when it comes to you, and that’s very endearing :,) just slips casually when he’s asking you a question like, “angel, do we need milk?”  

daichi; omg he usually adds to it and it ends up being some cheesy stuff like “angel-face” and it makes you all flustered because wtf man :( and he always says it while laughing teasingly too ugh :( 

suna; suna has the cheesiest nicknames for you and you cannot convince me otherwise, and you can never tell if it’s genuine or ironic but,,, it doesn’t matter. he sounds so sweet calling you “angel” so whatever :) 

aran; this man. this man. he says it cause he knows it has you weak. he says it so lovingly, so sweetly, so casually, so suave and relaxed and his voice is so smooth and deep. who wouldn’t be swooning over him??? 

aone; AONE AONE PLS AONE PLEASE. he’d just think it’s such a sweet and kind and soft nickname and he likes the way it sounds when it’s whispered and he thinks nothing is more perfect than nicknaming you angel and he says it all the time like “ok, angel,” and “see you tomorrow, angel,” and, “love you, angel,” and it’s so quiet but so sweet hwbwjsjd 

oikawa; he’s about to be in 90% of these cause he’ll be calling you anything but your name. is it because he wants to be annoying and to get on your nerves? or is it because he genuinely means it? the world will never know. you’re not even sure he himself does. 

DOLL ! — 

matsukawa; are you kidding me this is his. it’s HIS. he sounds so hot saying it and he looks so hot saying it and he’s so charming and it’s so like easy on his tongue. and he has a slight drawl to it too and he always says it with this aura of relaxation and ease it’s so hot. he just. he loves it. he loves you. you love it. the world is a better place. 

atsumu; he thinks he’s way cooler than he is when he says it. you suppose he is pretty hot when he calls you doll but you’re not gonna tell him that!!! it’s not his go-to but you can catch it slipping off his tongue every once in a while. 

kuroo; yesyesyes he loves it. only ever says it when he’s so up close and personal with you like cups your cheeks and hovers his lips against yours like, “heya, doll,” and he’s just so handsome. ugh. 

kageyama; at the start of your relationship, kageyama called you by your name and nothing else!! but then he had like this talk w someone and they asked him what he calls you and he realized like,,, am i supposed to be doing it differently??? spent so long just searching up “cute nicknames for my s/o” and then he found “doll” and was like ok. i’ll try. and he tried!! and it stuck!! plus timeskip kags calling you doll??? that’s so hot bye

oikawa; this might be the only sincere nickname he has for you cause everything else is either to provoke you or to be cringy and annoying. and i’m sure you prefer doll over sweet cheeks and pumpkin pie and cinnamon whatever like you hungry tōru?? anyways he loves loves loves calling you doll cause he thinks it’s such a ? smooth and serene nickname? and his voice always gets deeper and quiet when he says it so!!!! 

SUNSHINE ! — 

hinata; please he is all the sunshine, but he always claims that you’re the true sun in his life. idk hinata would be so lame yet so cute like that :( and he always says it with such a big grin he’s so cute pls :( 

tendō; he’s so cute he’s so cute he’s so cute !!!!! your contact name is “my sunshine” definitely definitely definitely. he is literally in love with you and wants the whole world to know it. he loves screaming it out for everyone to hear but also absolutely adores like hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear as he kisses your cheek, “hey, sunshine.” :(((((

kenma; kenma doesn’t wanna think too hard on the whole nicknames thing but he also does kind of sort of really wants to call you something special and the first thing that pops in his head is sunshine. first time he used it you were Shocked but he was acting nonchalant about it (read: freaking out on the inside) and you were like “ok guess im sunshine now.” and you are his sunshine to this day. 

BABY/BABE ! — 

atsumu; it’s easy and it’s endearing!! he personally loves being called babe but he loves hugging you close to him after a long day and just sighing, “hey, baby,” like. he loves it okay. he thinks it’s perfect cause it fits and cause it’s like kinda traditional yk!! 

bokuto; he loves calling you baby cause he just cannot fathom that you’re his like he loves to always say it!!! and he loves how casual it is too like he can just call you that?? that’s so cool?? 

iwaizumi; again with the traditional but endearing and fitting. he doesn’t have to think too hard on it, but also it still means something and is more than just your name or a shorter version of it. also he sounds so hot calling you baby or babe idk i just know it. 

hanamaki; king of “babe! babe :( babeeee! babee. babe come on! babe! baby :(” you’re 99% sure he’s just provoking you at this point. like say babe one more time. but he actually loves resorting to baby, especially when you’re upset and he wants to be as endearing and kind as he can to you. 

daichi; very traditional too tbh. honestly when you two first started dating it was all he could think of saying without feeling awkward or feeling like he was trying too hard. later on when he started to feel more comfortable and more secure he got more creative. 

nishinoya; he has been waiting for this moment his whole life. the moment he can actually call someone his baby or babe. it’s his favorite and possibly only nickname (aside calling you pretty or gorgeous or handsome) and it will always be. 

MY LOVE ! —

akaashi; definitely definitely definitely calls you “my love” like i am 100% sure of this. akaashi is just so. he’s just so romantic but it’s also so unintentional? he says it because it feels natural and it feels right like you are his love after all, aren’t you? 

sakusa; he’s not one for elaborate nicknames honestly, and he feels like “my love” is the right balance of sweet, kind, fitting, and subtle and serene. it’s not doing too much but it’s also doing more than enough yk? also people that look like they would wear a trench coat/blazer and a turtleneck beneath also look like they would use the term “my love” hence sakusa and akaashi. 

tendō; i am telling you guys he is a simp. the loveliest simp ever. he says it so sweetly too like it genuinely makes your tummy twist and heart backflip when you hear him say it cause you can hear how genuine he is in his words oh my god. 

kita; he just !!! he is just husband material okay!!! he is so endearing and he says it in the softest most genuine voice ever and it’s literally his go to because yes you are his love you’re his entire world!!! he loves you!! he wants you to know it every time he calls out to you!! 

BUNNY/PUPPY ! —

bokuto; ARE YOU KIDDING ME. HE LOVES IT. he. loves it. he just finds it so cute and like. he loves the way he associates it with you now. prefers puppy over bunny but like. he loves both. he adores both. 

matsukawa; calls you bunny all the time. not more than doll, but it’s definitely so common. he won’t use it around others not because it’s embarrassing but more because he kinda wants it to be just a thing between the two of you, honestly. 

kenma; IT SLIPPED ONCE AND HE WAS LIKE. A DEER CAUGHT IN THE HEADLIGHTS. he calls you bunny!! sometimes, not always. when he wants something from you mostly. “pass me the water.” “no.” “bunny please :(” it works like magic every time. 

oikawa; oh my god can you imagine??? he loves it so much because one, he thinks it’s such a cute nickname props to whoever decided let’s use pets as literal pet names, but also two, he thinks nothing describes you or fits you better. you are just his bunny :( his puppy :( he loves you :( 

kageyama; timeskip kageyama calls you puppy. i have nothing more to say.

hinata; timeskip hinata calls you puppy. again, i shall say no more. 

suna; hello !!! he loves to call you bunny and/or puppy. the feel of satisfaction he gets when he calls you that like ,,, he feels like you’re properly his yk? yk.

KITTEN ! — 

kuroo; this one is for him and only him. 

LOVELY ! — (maybe sweetheart too) 

osamu; is there anything more beautiful than a tired osamu snuggling up to yoi and with a deep gravely voice saying, “missed you, lovely,” ? no there is not. it’s his favorite nickname for you, and he uses it all the time!! kisses your forehead as he leaves and tells you, “have a good day, lovely,” and comes back home and says, “hiya, lovely,” and tilts his head when you wanna talk to him about something like, “what’s up lovely?” cause you are his lovely, you’re his loveliest. 

sugawara; i have no other explanation other than i can picture it perfectly. he thinks it’s the best choice of a pet name he’s ever chosen and thought of. and he loves the smile on your face whenever he says it, he thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever <3 

BAE ! —

hanamaki; is it a joke? is it not? both. 

okay im sure i missed so many boys but i can’t think of any rn bc it’s like. hella late :( but i wanted to put something out for you guys!! point is, if i didnt mention a boy and you want to know, send me an ask!! and if i didn’t mention a nickname and you want to know that too? send me an ask well!! ill be happy to answer it <3 

love u all mwah <3 

[harfanfare]

How to win a heart of Leona Kingscholar?

1.       Be able to make braids.

“Don’t move” you switched the left strand of chestnut hair with the one in the center and swapped the right strand with the current center. “You should brush your hair more often. If not, it will get more knotted…”

Leona mumbled something about naturally tangling hair, but stood still. He watched sleepily your hands that played with his hair while you were trying to create solid plait.

His braids got destroyed after lessons with sir Vargas, so you suggested that you will do them again. In this way, he could lay on his cozy bed and with some kind of amusement and pleasure, watching you so closely…

 2.       Be kind and obedient pillow.

“Hey, w-wait! I have lessons in a minute..!” you tried to get out of Leona’s embrace, who drew you towards his bed, hugged you, and didn’t move since then.

“Pillows do not talk” he covered your mouth with his hand and cocked his head a bit. The gaze he send you wasn’t as annoying it should look right now as inexplicably appealing. You suddenly got quiet. “Sleep has a great impact on our health, don’t you know, herbivore? As it’s said… you can’t put school before your health”

“You say that because you just don’t want to listen to professor Trein”

“I'd fall asleep anyway. Then why not pick someplace more comfortable?”

 3.       Try new things.

“But why don’t we add this… and this?” you picked up two vials, pink and lime, and swung them a bit. Small water tornadoes formed in the vessels. “In textbook, they didn’t write anything that they shouldn’t be mixed”.

“Every idiot knows, that these two cannot be combined” Leona accented every word. “Unless you want to blow up a lab”.

You laughed, but put the vials back on the self and stepped back. Leona sighed as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to the other side of the alchemy room.

“Come on, let's make this elixir quickly and finish this circus for today. From what I can see, some people are just inspired by... your previous color choices in vials.”

 4.       Eat vegetables.

With a fork, you separated the peas from the carrots as you waited for Leona to get out of the queue for the buffet and return to your table. And the queue was great.

"Herbivore," appeared in front of you a dark-haired boy who sat in front of you with his tray full of meat and some other additives, such as bread, paste, or sauce. "How can I call you an herbivore if you don't eat vegetables?"

"Plants aren’t only vegetables," you said, putting your plate aside.

"But some are," Leona gently grabbed your wrist. He took his fork, punched a mixture of peas and carrots from your plate, and gave you a cutlery. "Eat it. In our dorm it is difficult to find anything other than meat, so you should eat at least so much. You get sick without all these vitamins... or something like that.”

 5.       Be able to fight for yours

You took the scales when you knocked an unknown guy in your face. He took a step back and grabbed his cheek, but quickly jumped up to you and grabbed the collar.

"Ha, Leona's girlfriend is much weaker than I expected," the boy laughed in your face as you yanked and tried to kick him solidly. "What a disappointment.”

"The only disappointment is your respect for women," you fell to the ground when Kingscholar threw himself just to the guy's throat. Both fell to the ground; Leona sat on the boy grounded by his weight and just before his eyes held his hand, which shimmered black and gray sand - his activated unique magic. "Or rather, the lack of its existence.”

At an incredible rate, the man's face went from shock to horror. With a smothered cry, he did his best to break out of Leona's grip before he escaped from your two with vivid desperation.

"This one--" he growled, then walked up to you and helped you get up. "We take you to the nurse. And you have to sleep there or I'll put you to sleep” here he scooped up a few strands in front of your face.”...You fought valiantly. Many would envy you such courage, herbivore.”

 6.       Don’t let him do everything he wants.

He pulled you on the sofa and hugged his face in your hair. Still a moment and you would literally fall on top of pillows that have recently been washed out.

"I can't fall asleep now," you took hhands off and moved a few steps away. Leona seemed slightly confused and partly annoyed. You sent him an apologetic look. "I have agreed that today I will be doing a project and-”

"Is it so important that we have to take our traditional nap?" he interrupted you.

"Unless you want the guy I'm doing the project to come here and pick me up personally," you replied. Leona raised his eyebrows and your mouth bent in a smile. "Rook”

"You can go," he spat. He wouldn’t react at almost anyone else, but Rook would have just fallen into his room or looked at you through the window and watched you calmly nap. Leona shuddered at this thought.

He licked his mouth when you left and fell on his bed. Ah, he will wait until you come back to just make you sleep twice as long.

7.       Smell nice.

“Were you baking?” Leona asked when you entered his room. The scent of warm cocoa hadn’t leave you yet.

"Yes. Ruggie and I made some chocolate biscuits,” you wiped off your flour blouse. "Do you want some?"

"Not really," he replied, approaching you. He took your hand and put it on his cheek, inhaling the smell of pastries even more.

The scent was truly alluring.

He had much more sensitive senses than the average person, especially the senses of smell and hearing, so when he found himself closer to you, he sensed more notes of ingredients: besides chocolate, he recognized honey, nuts, and cinnamon.

He will get drunk with this aroma, which, according to him (but he wouldn’t admit it), was strangely sweeter.

 8.        Don't get along too well with Malleus.

"You're not going to him," you couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at his words.

“Would you like to join our tea meeting?” You looked up at him from under your lashes as Leona pulled you away from the main corridor. “If you really want to, I'm sure Malleus won't mind-“

"But I will," he replied. “He can't take my free time with you because he suddenly decided that he wanted to play... chess with you?” He tried to remember what it was about, but soon he shook his head, clearing the thoughts.

You smiled weakly.

"You'll be the one to explain to Sebek of my,” here you cleared your throat “lack of respect and waste of Lord Malleus' precious time. "

"I will go to him personally and complain about ‘wasting precious time’ of mine and yours.”

 9.       Have a side of your personality that only shows up to the closest people.

Problem with school? Leona won't necessarily teach you everything the textbook says, but he'll find a way to help you or calm you down, assuring you that it will be fine.

Any conflicts in the family or with their lives? Maybe he could solve them for you somehow? - after all, he is a prince, even if the second one, he is still a very influential man.

Maybe at night, your joyful personality disappears? You are becoming closed to everyone?

Each problem will be an important problem for him. He might not take it as seriously as you, but every time you confide in something to him, you can be sure that he will take your secrets with him to his grave. And search for a solution.

…And every time you think about what to do, he will feel a warmth in his heart that you have decided to reveal something to him that others do not have access to. Even if the problem is troublesome and doesn’t fit in the list of things that are nice to spend free time on.

 10.       Give him your heart.

By far the most difficult and demanding, the most important of the other subsections

For this very difficult to give a concrete example

Because in fact each of these stages could give him a fragment of your heart

Or at least his heart was stolen

By each of these moments

And not only these

[ddarker-dreams]

Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

i.

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

[hanafubukki]

Wait...

Wait.....

WAIT!!!!!

WHERE IS MY CAT TANUKI MONSTER TUNA LOVER CHILD !? IS HE DEAD OR SOMETHING ???

*gasp*

IS HE THE EVIL MAGIC FORCE THING FOR THE SAKE OF ANGST!?!?!?

Avery: I am sorry about her,or if she missed some things.We're pretty slow to catch on skme things

Little: Hush you

(Sorry jf you find this cringe,i tend to talk in my persona's *screech*)

[In reference to this AU]

Hello Anonie, 🌸☺️

Ah yes, Grim. Our partner. Our two-in-one. Poor, poor Grim. Whatever could have happened to him that lead to his...unfortunate events?

...I would like to know as well. lololol 😂😂😂😂

Honestly, I did not know what to do with Grim. He was one of my choices for the Great Force in the beginning. But seeing as how, in canon he is the chimera they all face after the overblots, I didn't want to go that route. I wanted the boys to grow a bit and some years to pass. I wanted Grim to also change and become more mature.

But then reading your ask gave me several scenarios and roles Grim can play in this AU

Grim becoming the chimera was just part of the plan. Unknown Forces used Grim as a way to experiment on what the true potential of those OverBlot crystals. While Grim was save, after becoming the chimera. He was never the same again. He was more frail and his magic was not what it is used to be. It will take time for this tanuki cat to become himself again if he ever does.

I feel like F!Grim would risk his life for MC. As years go on, Grim matured and learned to value MC more. After the chimera incident, and after realizing that MC was his first true friend and partner who never gave up on him, you could tell that Grim became protective over MC. they are practically siblings. They are family. MC has no powers before the time travel. MC needed defending, and it came tot he point where Grim died protecting MC. It would rock MC to their core. What is MC without Grim? What is MC without their family?  This is the time when the first-years would really stick close to MC and be their shoulder to cry on. Be their support while dealign with his passing. After all, Grim was family to the first years too, when no one else believed in him, the first-years did. 

Grim could also have been the sacrificed used to travel back in time. If we are going to go in a dark angle, time travel magic is not easy and requires a lot of power. Maybe Grim was one of the items needed for the magic to work? After all, we don't know much about him and we have seen how much magic that little body can hold. While his sacrifice helped them all  reverse time, he is still a part of MC. His bond/mark is on MC. You can vaguely see the outline of a flaming cat head with a bow on MC. And if you listen...really really listen. You might hear the voice of your partner. Now it could be grief or the will to hear him once again getting to you...but maybe, just maybe, it might be a sign of hope. Maybe he is there, but who knows? Time will tell.

On a happier note, F!Grim could also be one of the voices that will help MC to stop the Great Force. But would you really want Grin in your head? lol I imagine he will add more chaos than help, but he has his own insights I guess you can say.

 OR  F!Grim could have traveled back in time with MC. Like MC, Grim remembers what happened in the future and he will help MC stop the Great Force. Imagine the TW!Boys being surprised with this changed Grim? He is not what they are used to. Who is this Grim and what had led to such changes? He is another support pillar for MC. Someone who knows what it's like to know the future and what they had to go through. It will be a great help to MC, especially until MC gathers enough power for the F!boys to make an appearance.

This was really fun to explore Anonie 😊😊🌻🌻👏👏👏 I hope it answered your question. 

I really ended up liking all these scenarios, but I guess my favorite ones would have to be 2, 3, and 5. Do you like any off these? Do you have any headcanons?  I would love to hear your ideas. ☺️☺️☺️🌸🌸

[No worries about the personas, I find it cute. ☺️ You are welcome to speak in anyway you are comfortable.]

[chasingpj]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

"Bye, for now, puddles."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 6,220

warnings: a little angst, missing a meal, death of a parent, i believe that is all.

timeline: post sea of monsters

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a/n: hi hi! I'm so excited to finally get this chapter to you guys. I'm sorry this literally took a month. i was taking two writing-intensive courses this summer and i was just burnt out. i hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

A grunt escapes you; your contorted body weighs down the top of your suitcase as your damp fingers slip off the metal zipper. The unforgivingly humid weather provokes the heat of your efforts, adding to your discomfort. There’s urgency in your fingers, your frustration growing at each failed attempt to close your suitcase.

“Y/n! Hurry up!” Atticus shouts from outside of the Hermes cabin. As the zipper slips out of your grasp once again, you throw your head back in annoyance, hand coming up to push away wisps of hair that fall on your face. A familiar chuckle comes from the corner of the room, grabbing your attention from the wooden ceiling. Connor sits on the side of his bed; his comic book forgotten beside him as you fussing over your suitcase seems to be more interesting to him.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, sitting onto your heels.

Connor rises from his bed, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. He kneels by your suitcase, “It’s kinda funny.”

The corners of your mouth almost curve up, but you stop yourself, opting for a roll of your eyes instead.

“What the hades do you have in here?” The tips of his fingers turn white as he pulls on the little piece of metal. You shift your weight to the corner he works on, but it helps him as much as it helped you earlier.

“My brother’s left a bunch of books behind, so Lou Ellen and I split them up. She’s taking half, and I take the rest. We’ll study them and then exchange notes.” A hum of acknowledgment comes from Connor’s lips as he inches the suitcase closed.

“You guys are a bunch of nerds.” You squint at the other with a playful offense, and he laughs at your hardened features. “I bet you guys study more than the Athena Kids,” he teases.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you say simply, watching as he brings the zipper to the end. He leans back on his heels, and you move to take in the half-empty cabin.

The sight of the Hermes cabin being this tidy was foreign. There aren’t any sleeping bags on the floor; the belongings of your many cabin mates didn’t clutter the walls or the corners of the room as they usually do. It’s funny. There are always complaints of the cabin being too small, but it appears bigger without the mess.

“Will you and Atticus visit throughout the year?” Connor’s expression is hopeful. As the last day of camp approached, Connor’s wishes of a full cabin all year round became more apparent. The shift from a max-capacity cabin to a half-empty one must be a tough transition for social people like Stoll Brothers. If it were you, you’d be counting down the days of everyone’s departure.

You ruffle his brown locks, “we’ll probably stop by for, maybe, spring break?” Connor’s hopefulness begins to sag, and you frown. Spring break is pretty far from now, huh? “Depending on how mortal life treats us. You know, we might be back soon,” you add on quickly, hoping to lift his smile.

Though you wish to go home, you’re dreading all the supernatural activity you’ll have to deal with once you leave. Your father works tirelessly to protect the house, but entities always manage to get in. And if they can’t, they don’t mind hanging outside.

The hopefulness that faded from Connor’s face restores, and he gives you that famous mischievous smirk. “Well, I hope the ghosts bother you guys enough to come to visit early.” His tone is playful, but you can tell he meant some of his words. You laugh hesitantly and nod, rising from your suitcase.

“I’m glad you’re that eager to see us again.”

You thank him as he leans down, lifting the heavy suitcase from the ground for you.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” You tug on the handle, glancing at Connor. “The year will go by fast, and soon this cabin will be bursting at the nails with new unclaimed people. Atticus, Lou, and I included. Anyways, you have your brother. You guys will find something to entertain yourselves.” You nudge him as you make your way outside.

“Yeah, you’re right. You will write to me, yeah?” Connor asks.

“Of course. I’ll send you snacks that you can’t buy at the gas station.” Connor’s arm pumps back to his side, hand in a fist as he hisses a “yes.”

The corners up your mouth hesitantly pull up as you push open the cabin door, finding Atticus and Travis talking on the porch. For the past week, the anticipation of your departure was killing you, but now that it was time to leave, you feel gloomy.

You knew the cause of your heavy heart was the uneasy tone of your going. Living day by day with the intention of moving on was hard. Because every time you look at their newly occupied beds, the sinking feeling in your chest returns. Every time you find yourself wandering in the forest, the memories of your often chaotic magic lessons flood your mind. You remember when Alice misaimed her wind spell, shooting Alabaster far into the trees. While you all rushed to check on him, Alice burst into tears because she was convinced she killed him only to approach a laughing Alabaster who shouted, “Right on!”

Every time you were in the Arts and Crafts center, you remember how you, Sage, and Lou would do Tarot Readings for the campers and how you would argue with the Apollo kids when they insisted your tarot cards are as honest as fortune cookies.

At the armory, you remember how Ambrose ran into James so hard, he stumbled and knocked down half of the shelves of weapons.

In the courtyard, you remember how Ernest, horrified by heights, produced the highest pitch scream he possibly could as he rode a pegasus for the first time under the persuasion of Alabaster.

All these memories, whether hilarious like your spell mishaps or bittersweet like when you and your sibling’s group hugged around Sage when she cried about her abusive stepmother, held a special place in your heart. Because the times where you laughed and cried together reminded you of the genuine bond, the family that was ripped away from you overnight.

“We'll see you guys soon. We should go. Argus will leave without us," Atticus says, relieved that Argus is still waiting for you on top of Half-Blood Hill.

“Have a safe trip, guys,” Travis says, patting Atticus’s shoulder before reaching out his arm and giving you a short side hug. You grab your things, hastily saying a final goodbye, and soon, you and Atticus are trudging up the hill.

Your free hand pats the pocket of your shorts, calming your worry of forgetting the necklace at the cabin. What rests in your pocket is a raw tourmaline crystal, now smooth with the help of Beckendorf, encased in a silver spiral cage.

You and Atticus carry protection crystals all the time, and they help with staying out of the radar of monsters and entities. After hearing Percy’s many stories of monsters bothering him, you figured he couldn’t be too cautious. Then after finding a spell in Alabaster’s many books that can dim down a demigod scent for a while, you decided to make him an enchanted necklace to wear.

You pack into the truck with Atticus right on time. Atticus sits in front of you, chatting away with Cecil as you make yourself comfortable in the back row with Ambrose. You frown; among the three other campers in the van with you, Percy isn’t one of them. Argus peeks into the back, doing a rough headcount. Great, now you’ll have to wait until next summer to give it to him.

Right, when you were going to chastise yourself for not giving him the necklace yesterday when you were done with it, a distant voice shouts, "wait!"

Argus halts in the middle of closing the sliding down and turns around. He shakes his head with disapproval while opening the door all the way, revealing out of breath Percy.

A smile widens across your face as he gets into the back seat with you, and you nudge Atticus’s seat.

"See, I told you we wouldn't be the last ones here.” You side-eye Percy, seeing the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement.

“Some people just don’t know how to get to places on time, huh?” Atticus says, and his eyes flicker to Percy before giving you a wide grin.

“Didn’t sleep in today, firefly?” There is a playfulness in Percy’s voice, and you smile proudly,

“Nope, not today.”

“It’s a miracle,” Percy mutters, loud enough for you to hear, and you scoff. Atticus snickers and nods in agreement.

“We were supposed to gang up on him, not you two on me.” You stick your tongue out at Atticus, and he returns the action.

“It’s more fun making fun of you,” Atticus teases.

“Rude,” you mumble with a slight smile on your face. The two boys chuckle, Atticus turning more into his seat to tell Percy something about a new Marvel movie. Excited voices fill the van as the other boys join in the conversation, and soon they are debating if Batman is really a superhero or just a rich guy in a suit.

You had to admit, as the conversation became more passionate, you were pretty entertained, but as you catch sight of Camp Half-Blood growing farther in the distance, you’re reminded of the ache in your chest. It’s only a temporary leave, but when you return, things will never be the same, and the false hope of your siblings returning has been proven to be foolish.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Following a ghost dog while weaving through the hustle and bustle of Grand Central is almost impossible. Atticus’s hand is latched to the straps of your bookbag as you move through people, trying not to roll your eyes at the way Ambrose turns to bark as if he was reprimanding you for being too slow. Easy for him to say when he can walk through walls and people.

“Track 28,” Atticus reminds you as your eyes find the number written on the tan bricks of the high walls. You make a sharp left towards the entrance of another hallway, ignoring the groans of a grouchy bystander that you may have cut off. The next hallway you enter is a lot less crowded than the main floor, and you slow down your pace.

“Where do you guys live again?” Percy asks as he jogs up beside you. He had insisted on walking you guys since his train departs in the same station.

“Sleepy Hollow.” Percy scrunches his face as if he recalls something, and you smile, waiting for the question everyone asks when you say you live there.

“Have you seen the headless horsemen?” Percy asks, half-joking. A snort leaves your throat, and you look at Atticus, who’s equally amused.

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.”

“Really?” Percy asks, his eyes wide with surprise, and you laugh.

“No.” Your response makes his face drop comedically fast, and Atticus bursts into laughter. “It’s just a story, but there’s a lot of history there, so the place is crawling with ghosts. We’ve met the guy who wrote the story, though,” you mention.

“No way,” Percy squints his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Atticus and I take walks in the cemetery sometimes. We leave drachmas on the graves of newly passed people, so their venture into the underworld is smooth, but some people like to wander.” You shrug. “Washington Irving is one of those people.”

“Cool,” Percy says with such enthusiasm that it makes you smile. Ambrose turns around and barks again, standing at the golden entrance that leads to the grey tunnel lit with fluorescent white lights where your train waits beside the concrete platform.

“He always rushes us,” Atticus complains, and Harvey lets out a coo that sounded close to a groan as if he agreed with him.

The marble floors turn to concrete as you enter the tunnel. The blue and silver train on your left hums as it sits dormant in its station. Ambrose trots ahead, peaking into the doors and windows to find an empty cart to occupy.

As you follow a few feet behind him, your fingers fiddle with the necklace resting in your pocket. You’re regretting not giving it to Percy earlier because, for some reason, the idea of giving it to him now was more intimidating than if you had done it earlier on the bus.

Ambrose decides on a cart, and Harvey jumps off Atticus’s shoulder, squealing happily as he follows the hound while completely ignoring a worried Atticus trailing close behind.

"I, uh, made this for you," you sputter, the words coming out fast like vomit. Your fingers pull out the crystal necklace abruptly, and you put it in the palm of his hand. "It's black tourmaline. It has protective qualities; good at keeping negative energy, negative auras, things like that. I put a spell on it to dim down your demigod scent for a while, so you catch a little bit of a break. It'll last for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if the spell caught on well."

You bite your lip as Percy studies the necklace resting in his hand. "Wow, really? Thank you, Y/n. This is great.”

Nervous, you shift on your feet under his bright, smiling orbs. "It's no problem. After everything that happened at camp, I think it’ll be good for you to have one.”

Percy nods, his features softening all of a sudden, and he shifts. “Thanks for protecting me,” he says, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Getting rid of that thing became more than you expected. I felt bad that I couldn’t help. Swords aren’t really useful when it comes to demons, huh?”

A small laugh of agreement leaves your lips. “It was nothing. I wasn’t going to let you be tormented by that thing if I could help it.”

An announcement echoes in the hall, reporting the departure of your train in a few minutes. You glance over, catching Atticus, Ambrose, and Harvey with their noses practically pressed against the window as they witness your interaction with Percy. The amused smirk on Atticus’s face makes you roll your eyes; he’s definitely going to tease you when you get on the train.

"I should go.” You face Percy again, catching him securing the necklace around his neck. The stone rests a few inches under his camp half-blood necklace. "Thanks for walking us here. Be careful getting home."

"You too…” he trails off, noticing your brother looking out the window. For a second, he seems as embarrassed as you do and a nervous chuckle leaves his lips. “Your brother is waiting."

“He’s so annoying,” you complain, and Percy’s next chuckle doesn’t sound as hesitant this time. "Well, uh, bye, for now, puddles,” you tease, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Bye, for now, firefly."

You both awkwardly wave at each other before you turn around, getting on the train with Atticus. With your gaze fixed on the floor, you plop into the seat next to him. You don’t even need to look to know he is smiling teasingly at you.

"How cute,” he teases, nudging your shoulder repeatedly with his own.

"Ew, shut up.” You shove at his shoulder, your nose scrunching as he flails his arms against yours as if you were fighting. Atticus chuckles and a string of sounds come from your familiars as they join in to tease you, and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The suburban streets of your neighborhood are filled with the chirps of birds and bugs and the sounds of cars that pass every once in a while. There isn’t much conversation between you and Atticus as you trudge up the hill leading to your dead-end street.

“Gods, I hope we can get inside without being seen,” you manage to say through your heavy breaths, lazily holding on to the handle of your suitcase as it rolls behind you. Ambrose’s nose nudges the back of your knees as if to encourage you, but it’s more cute than helpful.

“There’s no way that we are. Janie and Celia are always sitting on the neighbor’s porch.” You grunt in acknowledgment, knowing that Atticus is right. The neighborhood ghosts are friendly enough, but their company can be annoying.

As if on cue, you hear a delighted squeal from ahead the moment you reach the top of the hill. Two ladies wave their handkerchiefs in the air a handful of houses away.

Celia, the tallest of the two, wears a steel blue dress with a high neckline and a big bow tied on the base of her neck. She has a jacket button closed over her corset with a frill at the end of her sleeves. Her skirt is floor-length and complete, with ruffles cascading down its entirety. And, of course, no one can miss the high-crowned hat decorated with fake flowers, bows, and crimped fabric as it all sits on top of her blonde hair in an intricate updo. Janie, her sister, wears the same style of dress and headpiece only in a burgundy red. The resemblance between the two makes it clear that they’re siblings close in age. They have the same high pinched noses that jut in the air; both of their faces are regal like those in renaissance paintings.

You’ve seen them around for as long as you can remember. They were two sisters who died of scarlet fever a year before their first courting season, which was a big deal according to their constant moaning and groaning about it.

You look ahead, your expression blank as if their high-pitched voices didn’t fill the streets and they weren't racing toward you with their skirts in their hands.

“My word! It’s the end of summer already?”

“Atticus, you’ve grown taller!”

“What a handsome boy! Y/n, your shorts are too short, don’t you think?”

“It’s quite bizarre how such clothing is acceptable these days.”

“How beautiful you’d look in a gown like ours!”

“Where’s Alabaster?” Janie asks, attempting to circle her arm around Atticus’s, but he raises his arm to push back his damp hair to avoid the contact. She scoffs at his rejection and sighs.

“Alabaster was sweeter to us than you guys!” Celia pouts. Your heart sinks a little at the mention of him. Of course, they’d ask about him, and of course, your father will ask too.

Gods! Your father will ask about him.

You had forgotten you’d have to break the news today. These past few weeks, you debated whether or not you should do it by letter, but it felt wrong. It was only right that he’d find out in person.

“We know you can hear us,” Janie huffs.

“I hope dad doesn’t work late tonight. Do you think Grandma will be waiting for us?” You ask. As annoying as it was having spirits follow you, it was a little fun ignoring them when convenient for you. Atticus nods,

“Probably-”

“No one’s home,” Celia cuts in, and Atticus pretends to shoo a bug away to conceal that he paused from her interruption.

“But I don’t think dad is going to take long. He said his last lecture ended at three,” Atticus continues, and you nod.

‘I hope grandma came by to visit. I missed her.”

“I just said no one’s home.” Celia snaps, and you press your lips together to hide your smile.

Atticus sighs. “I know, I’m dying for those moon cookies she makes us.” At the mention of those cookies, your stomach grumbles. You hope Celia was wrong because you’re suddenly craving your grandmother’s cooking and her company. Her funny stories and voice that’s always a little too loud for the indoors never fails to cheer you up. As short and frail as she is, her voice and personality could fill a room.

“Me too,” you say shortly.

“Hello?!” Celia waves her handkerchief in your face, and you persisted in ignoring her. Suddenly, a sound of disgust comes from Janie as she brushes off her skirt.

“Y/n, retrieve this monster of yours!” She squeals as Ambrose bites the fabric of her dress, tugging on it with a growl.

“Damn this dog,” Celia shouts, attempting to shoo him away, but yelps in surprise as Ambrose snaps his jaw shut near her hand. “Get this thing under control! Y/n!”

Your hand comes up to cover your smile even though the two are shuffling behind you and a stifled chuckle comes from Atticus. The sound of Janie’s heels on the concrete becomes louder as she rushes beside Atticus again, and your smiles drop. The sight of your house comes into view, and you tilt your head confused; your father’s car is parked in the driveway.

“You said no one was home?” You say out loud, and Celia gasps beside you,

“Now you speak to me?” She snaps, halting as you approach the fence. She stands tall, hands folded in front of her elegantly as Janie’s expression is gleaming like a child on Christmas. “Your father requested to keep it a secret, so I obliged his wishes. He canceled his last lecture today to make you both a meal. What a lovely man.”

Your hand finds the latch for the white picket fence as you smile at the familiar narrow victorian-style house ahead of you. A path of cobblestone leads you to the brick steps of the small porch.

Your home sticks out from the more modern American houses that surround the area. It’s an antique, a snippet of history, as your father likes to say. The house is a russet brown only because the bricks are so old they’ve darkened in color. The house accents such as the window trims, porch overhang, and columns are copper, and the hipped roof has brown tiles that look like fish scales. Beside the porch, the bay windows from both stories stack on top of each other, and above the porch roof is the dormer that’s a part of your bedroom.

Gods, you’re yearning to be in your room. You just want to pull out your Murphy bed from the wall and bury yourself in your sheets. The idea of being in bed puts a pep in your step, and you are careful to avoid the salt ring that surrounds your house.

A butterfly passes by your face, flying to the bunchberry bushes your father has planted in the front garden. Among the grass, there are various flowers and herbs that your father grows in the summer. You’ve inherited many things from your father, but his green thumb isn’t one of them. He takes his gardening seriously while you can barely keep the cacti in your room alive.

“Enjoy your meal! Come talk to us one of these days. We missed you two!” Janie shouts after you as you make your way up the stairs. You turn around, Atticus smiling at them.

“We missed you, girls, too,” he says as if he didn’t want to admit it. Janie squeals something about how handsome his smile is, and you scoff, amused as you grab the doorknob.

Once you push the door open, you're hit with a rush of deja vu. The history channel plays faintly in the next room as you take in the home you’ve missed dearly.

There are two bookshelves against the wall on your right, a wide ledge with pillows under the bay windows. A messy coffee table filled with letters and stacked with books sits in front of the comfy reading nook, letting you know that your father was recently hanging out there.

There is a brown mahogany staircase that ascends upstairs to your left, and right beside it is the altar for your mother. A statue of her rests in the middle of the rectangle table covered in a black table cloth. On top of it lies the many offerings for your mom. Herb-dressed candles burn beside bowls of fruit, bouquets, a crystal enamel wine glass filled with alcohol, feathers, and other things. You ignore the altar as you put down your stuff beside the door, following Atticus as he takes off his shoes.

“Kids?” You hear your father call enthusiastically from beyond the foyer, and you persist forward into the entryway ahead of you.

“We’re home!” Atticus announces as he enters beside you. Ambrose barks making a beeline to the right and behind the kitchen counter. He jumps on your father with so much force he stumbles back.

“Gods! Why does he look even bigger?” Your father exclaims through a laugh, fixing the round glasses that threaten to slip off his nose as his other hand grips Ambrose’s paw. He yelps in surprise as Harvey's claws rest on top of his head, clinging to his hair to steady himself.

The warmth and smell of home fill your senses as you catch your dad’s gaze. “Well, come here! Are you going to hug your pops or what?”

You rush over with Atticus. Both of you hug your dad tightly on either side of him, and you smile as he presses a kiss on your temples. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too!” The smile on your face falters as he looks up, scanning the archway as if he was waiting for someone else. You shift, not ready to be faced with the question, and you peer around his body to look at the food on the stove behind him.

Your father notices your interest, and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s eat. You guys came right on time.”

You shuffle through the kitchen with Atticus, making your way to the rounded table at the end of the kitchen.

“Dad, what have you been up to?” Atticus asks teasingly, and your father perks up.

“I've done a lot of things to keep me busy. I volunteered to teach summer classes while you were gone. I’m reading this book with a fascinating perspective of the shift from Paganism to Christianity in Rome. It’s an amazing read; I highly recommend it. Though, I don’t quite agree with it.” Your father hums thoughtfully. “Oh! And I bought gnomes for our garden! And the thrift store had this little house and this old lady figurine! I put it on the porch. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but she’s the official guard of the door," he declares proudly. "And…” He twists and turns before heading to the bookshelves in the living room area. He grabs something from the shelf then he showcases a cartoon Dobby bobblehead with wide arms. A high-pitched cackle leaves his lips. “It completes our collection!”

“Woah! Where did you get it? We went to three different places for it, and we couldn’t find it.” Atticus matches your father’s excitement, and you snort at the two.

“I went to a mythology convention in Boston a few weeks ago. There was a game stop across the street from the center, and I thought, ‘why not?’ I went in, and I saw this little guy by the register.” Your father is giddy as he nudges the head and watches it jiggle in his hands.

You think of what your grandmother’s reaction would be if she saw all the things he bought on his trip to the thrift store. She’d definitely complain. She always said that even growing up, your father had a liking for knickknacks. On your shelves and counters, there are always little trinkets lying around. It even extends to the walls, a variety of paintings and diagrams are neatly hung beside each other. From the state of your house, it’s clear your father is a maximalist in its purest definition.

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Atticus reaches out his hand for it as your father brings over his entire collection of Harry Potter bobbleheads, the toys huddled in his chest before he places them on the dining table. “The whole gang can hang out with us for dinner.”

“I hope they like pasta,” Atticus comments, lining them up as your dad retrieves the pan of food.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight, and you’re quick to serve yourself as Atticus and your Dad talk about anything and everything. You guys discuss what your grandmother has been up to, how your father’s classes were going, which led your father to ramble so much he formed a tangent on top of another. The conversation was going so well that you were sure he wouldn’t ask about your summer, but you had assumed too soon.

“So enough about me! How was Camp?” Your father chirps, and you shift in your seat.

You smile with confidence to hide the wariness you felt. “It was great!” You figured if you keep your answer short, you could move past it quickly.

“Yeah, the usual. Fun as always,” Atticus adds.

Your father’s eyes flicker between the two of you, and the first thing he notices is the way your smiles don’t reach the rest of your face.

The clanging of metal utensils on glass plates fills the room as the both of you fixate on your food but neither take a bite. The camp was never a touchy subject. The sudden unwillingness to speak about it makes his eyebrow cock up in suspicion. His eye averts to the empty dining chair beside you and the dinner place settings that remained untouched. Alabaster was supposed to join your return home. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

“Did Alabaster decide to stay at his foster home?” There’s caution in his tone, and he’s taken aback at how both you and Atticus tense up. The clings of metal halt abruptly, and slowly, you move to glance at your father.

“Dad, something happened at camp this summer.” Now, it was your turn to have a tone laced with caution. Alabaster lived with you for months and quickly became a part of the family. Your father saw him as his second son, and you were afraid to break the news that he may never see him again.

“What happened? Did he get into trouble?” You frown at the sudden edge in his voice. Atticus shifts beside you,

“He took the others to go fight for the Titan Lord.”

“What?”

“Mother came to speak to him and told him that it was best to fight for the other side since their chances are better,” you say slowly. “They left at the end of July. Only Atticus, Lou Ellen, and I stayed at camp.”

Your father’s expression darkens, grief written all over his face. “And you haven’t seen them since?”

You shake your head, not wanting to delve into the details. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again in a while and not in the best circumstances.” Your father nods, understanding the implication in your words. “Mother promised that she’d take care of them if they fight for the other side. I didn’t want to go; it wasn’t right.”

“That must be why everything is rotting,” your father mutters more to himself. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Rotting? What’s rotting?”

“Our offerings to your mother,” he clarifies. “All the fruit I leave on her altar goes bad in a few days. The flowers wither quickly too. The garden, in general, hasn’t been doing well either. I didn’t understand why.”

Your focus returns to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t that hungry anymore.

She must be angry, you think to yourself. A part of you wanted a sign from her to let you know if she was bothered you didn’t join. When the sign didn’t come, you assumed she didn’t care; that, in a way, you were dead to her. It didn’t dawn on you to ask how the altar or the garden your father dedicated to her was doing.

“Can I be excused?” You strain, your face a little hot, and you’re not sure if it was from your anger or from the tears you’re blinking away.

“Of course.” The warm smile on your father’s face fails to budge the dread you’re feeling. “You can be excused as well, Atticus.”

You miss the way your father and Atticus exchange looks as you stood up. There wasn’t a verbal agreement, but Atticus stands up tall, determined to make you feel better. He trails behind you, and suddenly, he slings his arm across your shoulders. “You know what’s one of the things I missed at camp?”

“What?” You ask, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Beating you at Tekken,” Atticus teases. Your lips curve slightly; his playful nature manages to brighten up your mood a little bit. “Let’s play. I’ll go easy on you, but I’m sure you’ll still lose regardless.”

“You’re on,” you nudge him, and Atticus chuckles, walking ahead of you and up the stairs. Your hand grips the railing, and you walk up a few steps before halting, and your eyes find the front door.

“You don’t get it!”

“I don’t.” You shrugged, amused at the way Atticus’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. He ignored you, grabbed the remote, and played the Star Wars movie again. You groaned, seeing the slanted letters move up the TV screen. “Atticus! I can’t watch this!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, first off, my dyslexia won’t let me read that quickly, and if a physically written prologue is needed before a movie… it’s not a good movie!”

“How dare you!” You threw your head back as a laugh bubbled in your throat. The exasperated look on his face was too funny. You had no desire to watch these movies, and you figured if you bothered him enough, he’d give up trying to show them to you. The shrug of your shoulders made him scoff. “Just watch it!”

A huff left your lips, and unwillingly, you returned your gaze to the screen. Suddenly, a hollow knock came from the front door.

“It’s late,” you said, but Atticus was too caught up in the beginning battle of the movie to pay any mind to you. Rarely did you get visitors, definitely not past midnight on a Friday. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved toward the door.

Rain erratically hit against your curtain-covered windows; the wind and cold made the walls around you creak as they adjusted. Whatever waited for you at the door, you just wished it was a person, not a weird ghost or monster. Your finger latched on the side of the curtain, allowing you to peek through the glass of your front door.

A gasp left your lips. Alabaster, soaked from the ruthless rain outside, was the last person you expected to see. But even though you didn’t expect him, you had an inkling as to why he was here.

Hastily, you unlocked the door and flung it open. “Al?” You sputtered; his green orbs were surrounded by tired eyes and puffy skin.

“He died this morning,” he strained. Your expression softened, and before you could say anything, Alabaster stepped forward and hugged your shoulders tightly. The raggedness of his breath, the shutter of his body, sent your chest a weight of sorrow. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and losing your father to a long battle with cancer at 14. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes; the person you looked up to the most was breaking down. You never thought he would need your help for anything, but it seems that you were wrong. “I’m sorry. You guys live the closest to me, and I didn’t know where to go-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked, hands rubbed his back as a sob left his lips. A creak of a floorboard caught your attention, and you turned to see a confused Atticus emerging from the living room. With a sad look, he understood what happened, and soon his expression was mimicking yours.

“I’ll wake dad and get clothes,” he said, then rushed upstairs.

Your father didn’t even hesitate to help Alabaster, opening the doors of your house to him. In his greatest time of need, the three of you stood beside him, and overnight, he had a place in your home and in your heart. The three of you spent so much time playing video games, getting into trouble around town, learning magic. All the good times you and Atticus shared with him, were they really worth throwing away to fight with Kronos? You realize now that his departure was never only a betrayal to the camp but to you, Atticus, and your father, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps, you guys didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to you.

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth at the thoughts persistent to ruin your mood. The desire to leave camp was to avoid all the things that reminded you of your siblings, but now that you returned home, you realize that running away isn’t as easy as you thought.

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[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”