#now how often are these names *actually* spoken aloud?

[emry-stars-art]

↖️ Andrew needs some way to make the spurned and eavesdropping nearby noble even more angry, and if he can do it by being sweet with his guard/consort? What a shame 👀

So Abram returns the favor in a slightly different manner ↘️

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

[seijorhi]

Etched in Red: Ruby (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Hinata Shoyo x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.3k

tw: stalking, yandere themes, implied dub/non-con.

“I… have to go,” Kenma sighs. “Bye, Shoyo.” The last part’s tacked on like an afterthought, his attention already drawn over his shoulder, fixed on something Hinata can’t see. The source, no doubt, of those two loud thumps. 

Hinata doesn’t bother hiding his smile, signing off with a wave. It’s not the first time their video chats have ended this way, he’d wager it won’t be the last. Come to think of it, he had mentioned something about a stray a few weeks back. Maybe…

He shakes himself free of the thought, glancing down at the time on his open laptop and– shit. He’s gonna be late. 

It takes all of fifteen minutes for him to throw on some half decent clothes and bike across town. These days, with the sponsorships and all, he doesn’t have to work so hard, riding over town delivering food all night. 

He doesn’t have to, but he chooses to. 

On Friday nights, at least. Usually around six-thirty. He waits on the sidewalk, flicking through the app, declining, declining, declining, until he spots an all too familiar order. His face lights up. 

Accept. 

Being that he’s already parked out front of the restaurant, it means he’s got a little time to kill, but that’s cool, too. The staff know him by name, share knowing, vaguely amused looks when he pokes a head in to see where everything’s at. 

“Won’t be long, Shoyo,” one of them tells him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he walks on by. They never actually ask which order he’s there to pick up.

And it’s habit, more than anything else, that has him checking said order when it’s called. Normally, a quick glance is all it needs, but… his smile fades, head tilting a little. There’s too much food. Almost twice the usual. 

The girl at the counter shrugs before he can even ask. “That’s the order we got. Girl’s probably got a friend coming for dinner.” Her eyebrows waggle, telling Hinata exactly what kind of friend she’s thinking of. “Either that or she’s real hungry.”

A wave of unpleasantness creeps under his skin, his insides twisting. He thanks her all the same, quick to bundle the food in the carry case and settle on his bike. By now, he knows the route like the back of his hand, he’s ridden it so often. He could do it blindfolded, in the dark–

… Were you having friends over? 

You don’t usually, not on Fridays. Sometimes you come back to the apartment tipsy and late, but you haven’t ever brought anyone back with you – aside from that one time, with the tall, loud girl who wouldn’t stop trying to drag you into impromptu karaoke. He’s never seen anyone else though. You’re like him, aren’t you? A creature of habit, routine. Six-thirty every Friday, the same order. 

Is it the tall girl again? Another of your girlfriends? 

Someone… else?

That uncomfortable feeling returns. Would it make a difference if it really was just a friend?

Before he knows it, Hinata’s out the front of your apartment, heart thudding away like his chest’s full of lead. Normally, you’re already there on the steps, waiting for him, because he knows you watch the tracking app like a hawk, because that’s what you do. That’s the routine – your routine; six-thirty, Friday night, you and him, on these steps. It’s his.

Hinata doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he goes to grab your food.

“Shoyo?”

He whirls, expression bright. There you are. Lovely and beautiful in the golden light of dusk, smiling back at him like nothing’s wrong. The sight alone should ease the static beneath his skin, loosen the knots in his stomach, but it doesn’t. His smile feels too tight, his cheeks aching with it. 

Who are you having dinner with?

He doesn’t realise he’s actually spoken the words aloud until you blink at him, offering a somewhat sheepish reply. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?” How could he not? “A friend from back home. She’s staying with me for a few days, and since I apparently never shut up about this place, and it is a Friday night tradition…” you trail off, shrugging easily. “Here we are.”

Right. A friend from back home. Robotically his arm jerks forward, holding out the food for you to take. 

“Thanks for this,” you continue, blissfully unaware of the absolute, chaotic mess currently wreaking havoc inside of him. “It’s kinda weird, right, how you’re always the one picking up the order? They should really just cut out the middleman and hire you on retainer.” You’re joking, of course, the giggle tells him that much, and Hinata forces himself to chuckle along with you. 

“Same time next week, then?”

Do you hear the same faint tinge of desperation he does? He really, really hopes not. 

“You betcha,” you shoot back with a wink that seizes his heart with an invisible fist, already turning to make your way back inside to the warmth of your apartment. To the friend from back home who’s no doubt waiting for you.

From up above, a shadow moves across the window he knows is yours.

Not a date, Hinata reminds himself, just some nameless, faceless girl she used to know. One who’ll be gone soon enough. Back home, away from you. 

Honestly, it should be a relief. 

So why does it feel like his blood’s about to boil? Like the floor just opened up beneath him and everything’s falling apart? Standing on the sidewalk, hands flexed at his sides, his breath comes out in short, choppy pants. 

On wooden legs, he stumbles back to his bike. Kicks a leg over the frame and settles himself down, hands wrapped around the handlebars in a white knuckled grip. And still, he doesn’t move.

He can’t even think over the deafening roar in his head. 

This – Fridays – they’re his. Yours, yes, but his, too. And this girl, she’s… she’s intruding. She doesn’t belong. She shouldn’t be there.

And if she’s up there, what’s to stop others from stealing as well? 

Across the street, there’s a sudden banging noise, and Hinata turns just in time to see a scrawny looking tabby dart through the mouth of an alleyway. A stray.

For a while, longer than he’d probably like to admit, Hinata stares after it, his brain ticking over.

With one last, lingering glance up at your window, he huffs out a sigh and pushes off.

—

One thing Hinata learned during his stint as a delivery driver is that if you buzz the wrong apartment and someone’s home, more often than not they’ll let you in anyway. 

It’s only Wednesday. He’d been good, waited the four agonising nights while your friend took up space in your apartment. But she left today, and Hinata knows you, knows that you’re probably exhausted from having to put up with her, that you don’t have any plans tonight other than curling up on your couch and watching TV. 

You won’t mind him showing up instead, even if he maybe – probably – should’ve waited ‘til Friday. 

The food he’s got isn’t from your favourite restaurant, either, it’s from his, and he’s pretty confident you’re gonna love it. He brought flowers, too. Just in case. 

Excitement thrums through his veins, jittery and bright, and, unable to help himself, he bounces on his toes.

You answer the door wearing pyjama shorts and an worn, faded tee and Hinata beams because you’ve never looked prettier, even when that cute little crinkle scrunches between your eyebrows, “Shoyo, what–”

Right now, he’s supposed to say something charming, or funny, maybe. Something to smooth out the confused expression he doesn’t wanna call a frown. He should be a gentleman – he got the flowers and the food, he even went out and bought the fancy, expensive cologne Heitor recommended because Nice goes nuts for it. 

There was a plan. Or, sort of a plan.

It didn’t involve him dropping the flowers and the food on the floor, lurching forward like a man possessed to haul you into a scorching, life-altering kiss, pushing you back into your apartment and kicking the door shut behind him, but holy shit–

It absolutely should’ve.

[reve-writes]

—pining in anticipation; gepard landau.

ʚ gepard landau x singer! reader | honkai: star rail | 1,7k words. ʚ gepard admits his feelings for you. ʚ friends-to-lovers; just fluff and clichés; pre-captain gepard. ʚ a/n — the part in taylor swift's dress where she sang "say my name and everything just stops i don't want you like a best friend." inspired this whole thing.

Gepard is transfixed at the stage—at your nearly ethereal form, darting from one side to the other, a noticeable bounce on your steps. You look like a star; you are a star. A star with your microphone tightly clutched in one hand, a custom-painted guitar slung over your shoulder, and that smile.

You are smiling with a degree of carefreeness he doesn't think possible for one to possess.

He is gawking at you; eyes unblinking, jaw slack. It's an incredible effect only you can inflict upon the rising star of the Silvermane Guard. As you strum your guitar one last time, letting the final note echo alongside the cheering before giddily expressing a ‘thank you’ into the microphone, he finally shakes himself out of the trance.

As the crowd disperses, they talk. It fills Gepard with pride as he hears them converse about your performance: how melodious your voice is, how confident your presence is on the stage, how beautiful you are. It suddenly spirals into your attractiveness and how they desire to know you personally.

He frowns when he walks past the group of people wondering aloud whether or not you're spoken for.

You are already waiting by the exit behind the stage, guitar case slung over one shoulder when he arrives. You flash him a grin; he automatically returns it.

“You were amazing,” he says, prying the guitar case off of you, slinging it over his shoulder. You let him. You've had one too many arguments about him carrying your things for you—guitar cases, shopping bags, satchels and backpacks. If he has a free hand, he'll immediately take them off of you. “You have absolutely hypnotised everyone with your performance.”

You chuckle. “What about you? Are you also 'absolutely hypnotised'?”

Before he can stop himself, he answers. “Always.”

You give him a shy smile, eyes blinking widely. For a moment, the air is charged with possibility, like every what-ifs in his daydreams may actually come to reality, but you shake your head, snickering, before lightly punching his shoulder. “Don't flatter me too much, Landau. Let's go.”

He sighs, shaking his head as he trails after you to catch up as you walk through the streets of Belobog. The cobblestone path is uneven under your boots, the evening chill engulfs you comfortably. After years of constantly living in snow, your body acclimated itself to the low temperatures.

“Serval wants you to join her band,” he says, pushing the falling strap of your guitar case back up his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I am rather intimidated by their large and growing fanbase,” you answer. “Besides, the Mechanical Fever is perfect the way it is, I think. I'll just upset their balance. I'm very honoured that she thought of me, though. I've talked to her about it.”

His brow furrows. “You have?”

“We hang out often,” you shrug. “Where are you thinking for dinner?”

“You hang out with my sister now?” He asks. “Since when? And we can go to the usual place.”

The usual place refers to a small café called The Fireplace that opens in the evening to the early crack of dawn, down the street of your residence. You found it just before Gepard went off to the Silvermane guard academy and you, music academy. Ever since then, you've frequented the place and marked every table with at least a memory.

“Since you've been busy with your duties.” You are only half-serious. “Usual place it is. My treat.”

“My treat,” he protests. “Besides, I have not been that busy.”

“It was your treat last time.”

“So?”

“And the last last time.”

“Yes, and?”

“It's my treat now,” you insist.

“Only if you tell me what you and Serval talk about,” he offers.

You roll your eyes. “What happens in the workshop, stay in the workshop.”

He feigns hurt, pressing a hand over his chest and gasping dramatically. “Am I not exempt from the rule? I thought I meant something to you.”

“I have no idea you Landaus are so good at theatrics.” You smile, despite yourself. The Fireplace is just behind the corner. “If you're that curious, we talk about music a lot. She helps me with composing.” You look away. “Sometimes we talk about Lynx, or your family, or you.”

You downplay how much you actually talk about Gepard by a lot. Still, it catches his attention. “Me?”

The chimes by the door sounds softly as you enter the Fireplace. Its interior is a mix of dark wood and ceramic pots with plants and ivy growing out of it. The place is cozy, like the hearth at one's own home. You remember falling asleep with Gepard during cramming study sessions here—that's how comfortable the place is. It helps, too, for running away. Both of you are young and your family names can sometimes be too heavy of burdens to shoulder.

“You,” you confirm, settling into a corner booth. Gepard sits across from you, poring over the menu, but he always orders the same thing—deep-fried rock crabs. To make up for it, you order different things every time, and each time—without fail—he'll end up trading half the portion of his order for half of yours.

“What about me?” He asks curiously.

The waiter approaches and you make your orders first before answering him. “Just, you know, the usual.”

“Elaborate, please.” He says, staring at you attentively.

“How you're doing as a guard, embarrassing childhood memories. Along the lines of that,” you settle on an answer.

Gepard is only asking because he often confides about you to Serval. He is wondering if you know how much he rattles on about you; how 'hopelessly in love' he is, according to his older sister. If you ever find out, he may just bury himself in a pile of snow out in the outlying snow plains.

“You can ask me directly,” he says. “I've never kept anything from you.”

Well, except for one thing.

“You would never tell me embarrassing stories about yourself,” you retort. “Besides—”

Someone stops by your table, and it's not the waiter. The two of you turn to look at the stranger when he says your name with a mixture of shock and fondness. Gepard immediately recognises him—brown hair, black-framed glasses. It is the same person within the group who was concerned on your availability; on whether or not you have someone waiting on you.

“Hello,” you greet the stranger, who introduces himself as Altan. “Nice to meet you.”

The man gives Gepard a brief, disapproving glance, before turning back to look at you with admiration. Gepard wants to scoff. An uncomfortable, unpleasant feeling is growing in his chest.

“Are you on a ... date?” Altan asks sheepishly.

Gepard frowns as you laugh. Do you find the idea of going on a date with him laughable?

“No, no,” you answer. “We are childhood friends. We wouldn't ....”

You trail off. Gepard doesn't think when he reaches across the table, grasping your hand. Now you actually look like you're on a date. If you're bothered, you don't show it, even letting him stroke your knuckles with his thumb.

“I'm a huge fan,” says Altan. “If you're not... on a date—” He sounds doubtful, but he continues. “—would you consider going on one with me?”

“I don't think so.” To your surprise, Gepard answers. Altan looks somewhat disappointed, but gracefully accepts the answer, before turning to leave after telling you he appreciates your music a lot. After he disappears into his booth, all the way on the other side of the café, you finally turn to look at Gepard.

“I can answer for myself.” You give him a pointed look. “And what is this?”

You tug on your hand, trying to shake it loose, but his grip tightens. You send him a quizzical stare.

“What? Were you going to say yes?” You seem taken aback by his accusatory tone. His lips are pulled into a frown.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I won't allow it.”

“Your permission isn't really necessary.”

“For Qlipoth's sake,” he curses. “Take a hint. What were you saying, anyway? We are childhood friends and we wouldn't... What? I can tell you that I certainly would, without a doubt.”

“You certainly would—what?”

“Go on a date with you. Or two. Or ten. Had you not found the idea so laughable,” he sighs, pulling his hand away. You immediately feel colder all of a sudden, despite the heater running perfectly in the café. He swipes a hand over his face. “Apologies. I didn't mean for it to—I shouldn't have worded it that way. You are entitled to your feelings. I'm just sorry that you don't share my sentiments towards you.”

You stare at him, mouth agape.

“I completely understand,” he continues. “However, I hope we can remain friends. We'll always be friends first. Whatever my feelings beyond that are come second.”

You blink once.

“I'm extremely sorry,” he adds again. “Say something.” He sighs. “Please.”

“I... Why would you assume I don't share the same sentiments?”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“What do you think?”

“That you are willing to go on a date with me?” He asks tentatively, cobalt blue-eyes fixed on you, studying your every move and gesture, trying to gauge your reactions.

“Or two.” You smile. “Or ten. Though, I would prefer it if our dates aren't numbered.”

That smile.

Gepard feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He lets out a soft laugh. “You're serious?”

You nod.

“I feel like I may explode.”

“Gepard,” you warn. “Don't you dare—”

“Say that again,” he says, eyes fluttering close. “My name.”

“But I say it all the time.”

“Not like this. Say it again,” he says, holding both of your hands in his. “Please.”

“Gepard.”

Time seems to come to a halt all around him when he blinks his eyes open. The ambience of the café, the sounds of silverware in the kitchen and the rowdiness of Altan's table seem to melt and disappear. There are only your eyes, almost glittering as they stare back at him. He sees that you're flustered and it makes him flustered to realise he is the cause of it.

He says your name softly. “I may be hopelessly in love with you.”

He confesses breathlessly, gently. His voice feels like a breeze caressing your cheeks. You're warm all over, tingling with anticipation, excitement—wondering where you will go from here.

For now, you'll settle for a date. Or two.

“Likewise, Geppie. Likewise.”

[ ]

[yerbamansa]

Writing Patterns - First & Last Sentences

Tagged by @thetragicallynerdy - thanks for the tag! This was fun! You got me to make a tumblr post for the first time in a thousand years!

Editing to add @petrichorca for tagging me in the first part of the game - consider yourself tagged back for corresponding last lines?

I’m just combining two things because that seems handy.

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! Then list the last line of the same 10 fics you shared opening lines for and see if there's a pattern!

1. the secret middle-aged sad-sack mostly bad vibes I can sing along to playlist

First: Some things don’t change.

Last (most recent): Why the fuck, then, do they start sobbing?

2. the way things are going

First: Since things started falling apart, Oluwande learned the hard way to be careful about who to trust.

Last (most recent): Once he got it open, he read aloud: “‘Dear community and/or individuals, my name is Stede Bonnet…’”

3. Welcome to Jeff’s Inn by the Sea | Innkeeper Roleplay ASMR | Personal Attention | Realistic | Soft Spoken Male Voice

First: When Stede Bonnet’s boyfriend casually mentioned wanting to try making ASMR videos, he was all in.

Last: “I’ll have to think about that one, dearest,” he decided.

4. Rock On To The Oceanside

First: Ed Teach wasn’t built for sitting idle.

Last (most recent): And Ed felt ready.

5. Plus Ones

First: “So how did you two meet?”

Last: “Probably even better luck if we do it again.”

6. you can move in light divine

First: Oluwande had always loved Jim, probably from the moment they met.

Last: So many more conversations to come.

7. due to a controllable irregularity

First: It had been a good week, but Stede was looking forward to going home.

Last: He’d tell him. Soon.

8. an atypical emotional response to common sounds

First: Stede Bonnet had a complicated relationship with sounds.

Last: Stede couldn’t wait for Saturday.

9. Stede has started shopping for your order

First:  “Your GetMeGroceries shopper Stede has arrived at Jenkins Market!” the app informed Ed.

Last: For the moment, however, he had far more compelling priorities.

10. I Think I See The Light

First: Jackie’s traded her usual vivid reds for somber black, but she still looks every bit the part of the intimidating pirate queen.

Last: And they start humming a now-familiar tune as they scan the docks for a recognizable face: If you want to sing out, sing out…

NB: skipped one that’s a mostly abandoned group collab smau because that doesn’t seem indicative of my style, and there’s one here that needed the preceding sentence because otherwise it’s just one word.

Hmmm, so, self-analysis: I start with some kind of place-setting thesis statement. Sometimes it’s maybe a little in medias res, but not usually, I guess. The POV character is named more often than not. And I end on the edge of some kind of decision or change. That’s by design—I don’t like writing pat endings and happily ever afters (even if they are pretty happy). This is especially true for mid-fic chapters, I suppose, but it’s definitely how I approach endings in general! (There’s one fic I can think of that has a final sentence I fucking hate for reasons related to this but I don’t wanna go rewrite it because I am not sure what to change it to, and I’m really quite pleased with the rest of the fic!)

One thing that strikes me is that I can’t really tell from any of these firsts and lasts whether the fic is more funny or serious. It’s just a lot of interior monologue, really.I’m not sure if there’s anything here I specifically want to work on. Maybe experimenting more with diving right into the action?

ANYHOO. If you see this because you're still actually looking at your tumblr dash regularly (sorry sorry) and you wanna play, please do!! I won't stumble out of the woodwork and tag but I love you all ok byeee

[p5x-theories]

FAQ

(last updated 11/10/24)

Q1: "Have you seen that the wiki/this streamer/etc. says this character's name is [X]?" / "Why don't you call [X] by their name?"

A1: To help avoid confusion (and save me from potentially needing to repeatedly rewrite and retag posts), this blog only considers a character's name confirmed when it has been spoken aloud.

Japanese names can often be read in multiple ways, and while usually fan guesses have been more or less correct, they aren't always, and it can cause problems when the wrong name catches on. For this reason, characters will be referred to by codename only, or a nickname if they're not a teammate, until their name is confirmed, though info posts specifically may mention a likely reading of their name as well.

Q2: "Which region version are you playing?"

A2: The Hong Kong/Taiwan/Macau one! This does mean my updates are about a week behind the mainland one, though, so I may not always be able to post info on updates immediately.

Q3: "Who are your favorite characters?"

A3: Overall, my favorites are Tomoko and Kiyoshi! Right now Motoha is specifically my favorite story teammate, and Riko is my favorite navigator. My favorite thief designs are Moko, Key, Rin, Yuki, and Bui, and my favorite Persona designs are Awilda, Leucothea, Prosymna, Nemertes, Gorgyra, and Calliope.

On that note, my favorite P5 characters are Akechi and Sumire, heh! I also really like Ann and Yusuke.

Q4: "Do you play other gacha games?" / "Are you familiar with [X] gacha mechanic?"

A4: Haha, nope! I actually hate gacha systems, refuse to play any other gacha games, and am only putting up with this one because I'm otherwise very curious about the game and enjoy the characters. The gacha's still driving me crazy, though. I hate having to worry about getting a character before their banner ends, especially since I refuse to spend any money on the game.

That said, I do have friends who play gacha games, so I sometimes ask them about game mechanics if I'm not familiar with them. I also do at least pay attention to how people describe this game in relation to other gacha games, with the hopes of more thoroughly understanding the things I'm explaining here.

Q5: "Do you think the P5 Collab will be updated at the same time as the story?"/ "Do you think this P5 character will be added with the next update?"

A5: The game developers have said that the game updates will follow a loose pattern of: story update -> event update -> gameplay update. Story updates include things like new Palaces and story teammates (for instance, when Miyazawa's Palace and Soy were added in Version 1.1), whereas so far event updates have mostly added new parts of the P5 Collab (for instance, the Museum Chapter and Yusuke were added in Version 1.3.1, and the Bank Chapter and Makoto were added in Version 1.3.3), with the exception of the summer event (Versions 2.1.1 and 2.1.2). Gameplay updates add onto side quests, Confidants, plus other existing content, and generally include gameplay fixes.

For this reason, it seems very unlikely that a new part of the P5 Collab will be added at the same time as a new part of story, and this also goes for adding P5 characters and story teammates. I may be proven wrong in the future, but I'm just going off of what the devs have said so far; I'd expect a new story teammate with a story update, while event updates and gameplay updates have only ever added new Phantom Idols.

Q6: "Is there somewhere I can download this character 3D model you posted about/another model I've been looking for?"

A6: Yes, send me a message off anon (so I can reply privately) and I'll send you a link to a zip folder with whatever you need! The only reason I don't post the folder publicly is because I only update the folder when someone's asking for it, and not everyone wants all the same models, so this way I don't have to send them a massive folder for just one thing.

Q6.5: "What about this particular outfit for Wonder? Can you post screenshots of the model/send it to me?"

A6.5: Unfortunately, those are just named with numbers in the files (either wonder_normal_01, 02, etc. or wonder_autumn_01, 02, etc. for pajamas), which makes them a lot more trouble to dig up! If you ask during the update that added them to the files- I'll always post the icon for the outfit set- that makes it a lot easier, so I may be able to get it for you, but otherwise the answer's usually going to be no. I'm sorry for the inconvenience!

I can usually get screenshots of the outfit in-game, so that's an alternative option, but there are some cases where the outfit hasn't been added to the game yet. Feel free to ask, though! Just check out the tag for wonder outfits first to make sure I haven't already posted it.

Q7: "How do you datamine P5X? I want to try it myself!"

A7: I explained my process here, though feel free to ask any follow-up questions about it if you have them, and I'll do my best to help! I actually learned everything I know about datamining just for this game, so I try to make the tools and steps as accessible as possible for anyone else who's interested, heh.

And if you ever happen to spot anything I missed in the files, please, send it my way! I'm just one person, I sometimes miss a thing or two. The more people looking, the better!

Q8: "Do you have a list of all the combat roles? I see they're individually explained on the character info posts, but I was hoping to read all of them in one list!"

A8: Say no more, here you go:

Resist: good at targeting single enemies (Wonder (Janosik), Fleuret, Mont, Bui, Sepia, Messa, Skull, Queen). This tends to manifest as followup attacks that hit one target, or status effects/damage buffs that apply against specific targets.

Control: good at dealing with groups of enemies (Closer, Summer Motoha, Joker, Panther, Fox, Noir). This tends to manifest as lots of multi-target attacks, and bonuses for using those attacks in certain ways.

Surrender: focused around applying debuffs to gain an advantage (Key, Rin, Vino). This tends to manifest as a focus on a particular status effect, and the ability to do extra damage/effects to enemies once they're inflicted with it.

Rescue: focuses on healing companions (Cattle, Summer Tomoko, Marian, Mona). This has so far always included at least one healing skill, but often other healing abilities can be triggered as well.

Superior: good at buffing teammates and improving their effectiveness (Moko, Leon, Riddle, Chord). This has so far always manifested as unique buffs/status effects, sometimes becoming fully triggered by additional conditions.

Defense: good at protecting teammates and keeping them alive (Soy, Yuki, Cherish). This tends to manifest as shield-focused abilities, but Soy instead draws fire to himself, and buffs the team's max health temporarily.

Elucidation: the designation used for navigators (Wind, Okyann, Puppet, Phoebe, Oracle). This obviously has a wide array of specific applications, but tends to revolve around unique buffs or debuffs that the navigator can grant/inflict, and obviously each navigator has their own fights/team compositions they're most suited for.

[More questions may be added as they get, uh, frequently asked, haha!]

[addictedtostorytelling]

hi aj! i'm still on that csi rewatch (just venturing into season 7 now... so good) and i was thinking about how csi was different with naming their characters. i.e. sara instead of traditional sarah, nick and warrick having (nick)names that rhyme, super dave and hodges having the same first name, hank the paramedic + hank the dog. do you think this is all on purpose or it's just stuff that happened? i actually like those details because it's stuff we rarely see on tv and we know it happens in real life. thanks 🤍 have a great week!

hi, rewatch anon!

good to hear from you again!

re: your question:

unfortunately, the only bit of trivia i have ever encountered regarding character naming decisions on csi is that anthony zuiker originally intended to call gil grissom "gil sheinbaum," but billy petersen dissuaded him from doing so. zuiker then selected the replacement surname "grissom" as a tribute to real life nasa astronaut gus grissom, one of billy's heroes.

—which is to say i don't know why csi so often breaks the "one-steve limit" rule most other tv shows tend to as a matter of course adhere to.

the sara instead of sarah thing i can understand, as "sara without an h" was at least a somewhat popular spelling variant for american gen x babies born in the 70s and 80s, but having nick and rick, dave and dave, and hank and hank—to say nothing of gilbert and albert, dr. jane gilbert and dr. gilbert grissom and the gilbert institute for the deaf, lou vartann and lou gedda, sam vega and sam braun and sam the dog, and all of the recycled oddly-specific surnames of perps and victims (e.g., the name "kessler" crops up a lot, and not just for people related to lady heather)—is a somewhat more eyebrow-raising choice, i admit.

while of course in real life, one will often find people who share names or whose names happen to rhyme with each other or otherwise sound alike in most sufficiently large groups—case in point: i currently have three students with the same name in one of my classes, and they all choose to sit next to each other every day; two of them even have last names that begin with the same letter—in fiction, that kind of "doubling up" is usually avoided for the sake of clarity (i.e., so both the characters within the universe of the show and the audience outside of it don't have to constantly keep asking, "okay, but which one do you mean—the asshole boyfriend or the dog?").

whether the csi writing staff actively chose to forgo that particular storytelling convention for the sake of veritas or just stumbled into the name reuse thing more accidentally—as, after all, theirs was a "rotating writing room" which saw dozens of scriptwriters come and go over the years, not all of them equally well-versed in the "show bible"—i can't really say, though i somewhat suspect the latter option.

after all, the nick/rick thing would be easy enough not to notice at the time when those characters were first being named. "nicholas" and "warrick" aren't similar to each other either graphically or phonetically, and even "nick" and "warrick" have different syllable counts despite the end-sounds being the same when spoken aloud, so the "nick" and "rick" thing might just have slid by them, particularly before they were at a point when they really knew the characters or had an idea that "rick" might be a nickname warrick would occasionally go by.

hell, "rick" might not have even been a nickname the writers came up with themselves—it very easily could have been an on-set ad-lib (perhaps a paul guilfoyle innovation, as brass is the first character to refer to warrick that way back in s1).

so that one, i can very much see being unintentional—something that just wasn't really on the writers' radars during the character creation phase.

as for the issue of two daves, i do know that shows will sometimes supply minor characters with the same given names as their actors in order to keep things simple on set (particularly when the minor character in question may or may not ever end up becoming a recurring one), which is very much the case with "david phillips" and "david berman."

why the csi writers would take that tack with super dave but then name a second character david/dave later on—particularly when that actor's name is wallace and he goes by "wally"—i can't say for sure, but i have a sneaking suspicion that timing played a role, as three seasons elapse between the introduction of the first character and the introduction of the second (i.e., super dave first appears in episode 01x05 "friends & lovers;" hodges first appears in episode 03x11 “recipe for murder").

especially since super dave does not appear in episode 03x11 "recipe for murder," methinks the episode's writers, ann donahue and anthony zuiker—who is notorious for not knowing a damn thing about his own show—just forgot that super dave phillips was already in existence when they originated david hodges.

the fact that hodges is most usually referred to by his surname may have also contributed to the doubling, as they may not have been thinking about him as "dave" when they first set the concept of him down on paper.

as a side note: i cannot imagine how confusing it must have been on set filming episodes written by david rambo in which david berman playing david phillips appears alongside robert david hall—whom i believe also often goes by "david"—playing albert robbins and then david hodges played by wallace langham is also there. all i can say is it's a good thing hodges seldom makes trips to the morgue.

i'm disposed to believe something similar may have happened in the case of hank peddigrew and hank the dog, though on an even larger scale.

bad boyfriend hank gets written out of the show mid-s3 and is never seen or heard from again.

goodest boy hank doesn't get his official name on the show until episode 08x06 "who & what" when sara is the first character to say it.

between s3 and s8, the vast majority of the csi writing staff had turned over.

that so, i tend to suspect "that one shithead sara used to date all those years ago" wasn't really on anyone's minds when they were deciding what to name her dog—particularly since richard catalani, the writer who penned the episode, hadn't even begun working on the show until s4.

—though, of course, all of the above is just conjecture on my part, which i have no way to actually substantiate, and i could very well be wrong.

as for why no one consulted the show bible regarding this stuff—i mean, maybe they did and just decided the repetitions weren't that big a deal?

however, again, i tend to suppose that most of the time, they just didn't care to.

some writers are more fastidious about maintaining continuity and internal narrative coherence than others are, and, honestly, the csi writing staff (and especially zuiker) were never, even in their heyday, particularly careful in that regard; they typically cared more about case details than character biographies.

in any case, like you say, regardless of why it happened, the fact that there are so many characters on csi who share names does lend it a touch of realism that not all primetime tv dramas have.

fwiw, per the us social security administration, "david" was the second most popular name for american boys of the 60s (when hodges likely was born) and the fourth most popular name for american boys of the 70s (when super dave likely was born), so the statistical likelihood of there being two davids working in the same lab in the early 2000s would have been very high.

anyway, sorry i can't give you a more definitive answer! thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

and enjoy your rewatch!

[cozymerchant]

The merchant nods along in agreement as the warrior muses aloud on the gods and their lack of attentiveness. He can't help but let out an immature, albeit innocently surprised, chuckle at how bluntly she mentions a good lay. What a boorish woman, to speak as such! He likes her.

When she points out that women are just as unlikely to be answered by the gods, however, he looks to her curiously. Something passes through her eyes, but she withholds it from leaving her lips, and he knows not to question it. Few in these lands may ever preserve themselves from the tragic horrors cast from the chaos of the Shattering... it is to the point that the jaded would see normalcy in it. He hopes he won't lose his heart like that... but then, caring is often what leads him to trouble...

Just like right now. He should have turned the woman away as soon as she mentioned shackles... but he cannot. He doesn't have much in this world, but holding himself to a sense of duty has always given him something to focus on and strive towards, even in his solitude.

What's more is the way that the woman now fixes her gaze on him, and he does not think he could act against her wants even if he wished to. He looks down at the floor, shying from her eyes, not used to actually being looked at by any who come by his shack; even his mask fails to make him feel distanced from such eyes as hers.

She begins to state her reasons for needing the aforementioned relic, but upon her speaking the title of her pursuer, the merchant gasps and turns his head away as his hands flitter erratically across his masked face in a moment of unadulterated horror. Holding a shaky finger over his hidden mouth in gesture, he quietly pleads for the woman to keep her voice down, "Sh-Shhh... Names, when spoken... are enough to summon the spirits on which they are branded in these lands..."

He goes quiet for a long pause, contemplating his decision, glancing only slightly at the coin pouch that's presented. Finally, he gives in to her wish, and begins in a hushed tone, "... Tales I have heard... and while tales may be gilded in fantastic falsities, you will begin to uncover what truths they contain when you hear them told by ten different tellers... the truth is at the core from which the tales are spun, I have learned...

As you say, the gods will allow a farmer's crop to shrivel under the sun... just as they would let their own children rot where there is no sun at all... so it is said..." For a moment, he is nearly unheard, "... Flesh and blood, stinking beneath a golden city, far, far below the earth, where there is no sun..." A pale hand slips beneath his mask to touch his face. "The one who hunts you was among those cast into this place the tales speak of... but he was too strong. They--his wardens--could not keep him there, and so shackles were made that could contain even his strength..."

Lifting his head, he manages to bring his eyes onto the woman again, continuing, "Cursed by golden light that spurns even the most faithful, these shackles were... They worked for a while, perhaps... but as you know, the hunter now walks the earth again. He broke through the gods' curse, and when he did, the shackles were ruined." He takes a moment to look around, the many holes in the walls allowing him a good view of the space beyond the shack. "Somehow... pieces of these shackles escaped from beneath the ground and were dispersed across the Lands Between. It is said that some of these relics may yet bear remnants of divine power... and it is possible that your hunter may yet be held down by its golden wrath..."

Returning his focus onto the woman, he leans forward a bit, to be sure that she is likewise focused on his next words, "I ask you, Tarnished... who do you believe might possess a cursed relic of this kind...? Who might be so brazen as to plunder the terrible place that these tales speak of? Would you be prepared to face this manner of men in seeking the object you desire?"

The woman paused in her grooming, quirking her brow at the figgetness of the merchant, but said nothing of it. He wasn’t the first merchant she’d crossed paths with that happened to be a little on the jumpy side. And from what she’d heard of the trials they all faced, she could hardly fault him.

“Can’t say I’ve got that much faith in the gods,” the warrior mused aloud. “A farmer in the midst of a drout could spend weeks praying for rain; but as the days roll by, there wouldn’t be a single cloud in sight. Folk could be spending their time devoting themselves to prayer, wishing for luck or good fortune, or maybe a good lay, but when have the gods ever listened to the prayers of man? Or women for that matter...”

There was a certain gloom to her last words. A fleeting moment in blue eyes recalling memories of a painful sort. But to dwell on such grievences would do her no good in the Lands Between.

Her braiding came to a pause as the merchant spoke of the shackles...

A good thing she needn’t be specific on what kind of shackles she was in search of.

Reaching the end of her braid, Schel reached down for her tie, making sure that it was nice and snug at the bottom.

Her gaze fixed upon the merchant, the warrior sitting cross-legged, her hands came to a rest upon both her knees.

“It’s not just Godrick’s soldiers that are out on the hunt for Tarnished like myself,” the warrior said in a hushed voice. “It’s the Fell Omen, as he calls himself... You seem to know a bit about these shackles I’m in search of.”

Reaching down to her belt, the warrior procured a leather pouch from her side, holding it aloft for the merchant to see.

“I can pay you for whatever you can tell me.”

[chericarlisle]

hi love, could i request the reader being Aro’s daughter and he sends her to live with the cullen’s for extra safety measures and so she wouldn’t be in the way of the volturi’s work? and she ends up getting really close to carlisle? please and ty

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

𝐚/𝐧: hi babe! i thought this idea was quite fun and i hope you enjoy :)

Being Aro’s daughter was not all glitter and gold. Actually, it was far from that. You’d think that being related to the man who was head of the Volturi would have its benefits, but instead it made your life more problematic.

Your father, not so much of a family man, found it easier to do his work if you weren’t an “interference”. After he voiced that conclusion aloud, you decided to distance yourself from him and his work. It hurt to be shunned away from the only family you knew. It was only until you were shown what it was like to actually have people care about you. Deep down some part of you realized that Aro’s intentions ran good-hearted somewhere along the line, yet it was just hard to see.

Aro had spoken highly of a man named Carlisle Cullen for as long as you could remember, so when the name was brought up in the conversation of your leaving, you assumed you’d be in good hands.

About a week later, you were being shipped off via first class to the Cullens house. You had known little about them aside from the words of praise that left your father’s mouth about the man, Carlisle. It seemed that he took in a few people along the years and ultimately created the family that was so widely known.

Arriving in Forks was an experience for sure. Especially the comparison of the weather and atmosphere to that of Italy which had been home for so many years. You were thankful for the sweater that already clothed your shoulder. The original intention of the wooly black was to hide your skin from the sun, but as for now it served its actual purpose.

The Cullen's house, at first, was intimidating nonetheless. You knew zilch about these people and you felt like nothing but a burden to them and their clearly lavish lifestyles. Luckily, a constant reminder in the back of your mind told you that this family would be different from that of the one back home. These people truly wanted you in their home.

The cab you had received from the airport parked out front their gorgeous (and noticeably glassy) home, the same look of astonishment painted on the driver’s face. He quickly shook it off before running to the back of the car and grabbing your luggage from the trunk. You thanked him while handing over some cash to which he returned with a giddy smile.

Taking the luggage in hand, you carefully approached the front door. It looked even more intimidating now than it did before, and to think that it was just a door.

You figured that now would be a better time than ever to run the opposite way and after the taxi. Only hoping that he could drive you far away from this mess, the front door opened and you were awakened from your daydream and forced into what you thought would be a harsh reality.

The man who opened the door was absolutely far from anything you expected. He looked to be in his 20’s with his perfectly styled hair and crisp grey button down. You knew that Carlisle had some family so this had to be one of his sons.

Extending your own hand, you reached out to shake his hand. He smiled softly at the act and held out his arm to welcome you in the front door.

“So I assume that you must be Aro's daughter?” Closing the front door, the man in question had his back turned towards you.

“Yes, I’m (y/n), and you are?”

He spun back around to face you, bright golden eyes holding nothing but hospitality.

“I’m Carlisle Cullen. It’s very nice to have you here, (y/n).”

You tried your best to fight your widening eyes and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no warmth in your cheeks to present a blush.

“C’mon, let’s go meet the rest.” Carlisle reached forward to grab your luggage. Using his free hand, he gently guided you into the kitchen where you would meet the people who would become your family.

-

A few months passed and life in Italy felt like a lifetime ago. The Cullen “sons” were exactly what you imagined they'd be like and you had imagined them as eccentric. The three of them had completely different personalities which made for all the more fun. As for Alice and Rosalie, the two were polar opposites. It took practically nothing for Alice to warm up to you, while it took Rosalie a month or two to see that you’d be around for some time and that she should be used to it.

Most importantly, you grew closer to Carlisle, but in a way that differed from the other Cullens. Things like little touches and silly yet borderline flirtatious comments made you realize that there was more.

Carlisle had felt exactly as you had, except neither of you wanted to voice it.

-

One night, you sat on the couch, seemingly alone as the others were off doing their own things. You tried to immerse yourself in the tv show that was playing, but it seemed to be complete garbage.

You weren’t expecting any company until the garage door opened and in walked Carlisle, changed from his scrubs into comfortable clothes. It made you curious as to why he had changed when he normally came home in his usual white lab coat.

“You look comfortable, Dr. Cullen.”

Carlisle shook his head and let out a tiny, exhausted laugh. He walked over to join you on the couch. Sitting down comfortably on the cushion next to you, Carlisle outstretched his hand to go around the backing and ultimately on your shoulders.

“A pediatric patient unfortunately had a bit of a stomach bug, so I had to clean up using the hospital showers.”

You nodded, scooting closer so you could lay your head on Carlisle’s shoulder. The two of you had made this a routine now. You’d often wait for Carlisle to arrive home from his late shifts and both of you would relax on the couch for the time that you could.

Months ago you couldn’t even imagine stepping foot into the Cullen’s house without being an inconvenience, however you were now sitting on their couch and snuggled up with a man who intimidated you so.

Carlisle could see that you were deep in thought and not focused on the tv that was running in the back.

“Is everything alright, darling?”

It was a name Carlisle had coined only for you, and oh how you loved it.

You looked up at him, a sweet and appreciative beam on your lips.

“More than alright.”

Carlisle found your response comforting as he settled back into the couch, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

It looked like your living situation with the Cullens was most definitely about to become permanent.

[thestalkerbunny]

When I’m sad and stressed and it feels like the world is falling apart around me in slow motion; I manic create. Which seems like I’m creating all the time so I guess that says something about me.

These are some Shop Keeper NPCS I made for Shadow Oaks, please look at them. There’s a lot of love here.

Auntie Yuan-Ti’s is a sort of fill in for that ‘small town chinese place that is family owned and it’s absolutely BANGING’ run by 3 generations of Yuan-Ti woman, Mama Hissha, Ssssarah and Ssssarah’s daughter, Hissaffany. Hissaffany runs the social media page, Ssssarah handles a lot of the store face stuff and Mama Hissha INSISTS that she be the one to cook everything lest they catch the wooden spoon. Yuan-ti cooking can be described as weird mix between Chinese, Indian and Mexican Cooking. A lot of spice, a lot of rice and a whole lotta nice flavors.

UnderSun is a tanning and nail salon run by two elves of the woodland and drow variety. They claim they’re sisters, but legally and biologically that claim holds water like a leaky pot. They have ALL the gossip tho. Tanya runs the tanning beds while Brittany does nails most of the time.

Spirits of the Wine is run by Raymond; an old school medium. He does pretty well for himself since a lot of people in town love just be raging alcoholics. He sounds like Moe from the Simpsons but he’s a lot prettier and a little more well adjusted....sorta. Rumor has it, he’s the son of a hag and one time someone saw him turn into a horned owl and fly off into the woods. But that’s silly. Hags don’t have BOY children.....right?

Evermore is a Raven Kenku (not a CROW) who runs the bookstore. He isn’t as well spoken as most Kenku but is working on picking up new words by letting the Ladies Book Club have their meetings there and listening to read aloud story time for the little kid. Evermore apparently is a sort of town legacy-his ancestor was one of the founding party members of the town. But you never hear him brag about it.

Something Familiar is the pinnacle pet store for all your critter supplies. Jaque is it’s sole employee as of now and he’s going to collage 40 minutes away to learn to be a vet. He loves all kinds of animals from cats and dogs to ferrets and fish-but the EXOTIC things make him nervous as they often bite him (like domestic griffin cats, Mini owl bears and Jewlery Box Mimics.) Mr. Muffins is his employer and actually a very important zoologist in the creature community. He’s always dragging in something new and weird for Jaque to deal with. He owns the store as a way for steady local income for his wife and kids so they can stay in one place and not hop all over the country like he does. His wife’s name is Felice-but he affectionately calls her Fleas.

Audrey’s Flowers is run by a Fey named Audrey and her druid husband Seymour. They seem like an idyllicly wed sort of couple and it’s not a strange sight to see Audrey milling around town doing mundane things like shopping or book club. It’s unsure how a 3 like Seymour is wed to a 11 like Audrey; what is known is that apparently Audrey used to have a very ‘unpleasent beau’ that was very mean to her that she tolerated until she met Seymour in the woods one evening. They have two children, Orchid and Audrey jr.

Short and Stout is exactly run by who you’d think it’d be run by. Brightglass the Halfling and his Dwarven Wife and business partner, Shirley. Their little boutique is the only one in town that hasn’t eaten absolute SHIT during the first year; mainly because they sell a diverse range of things and Brightglass knows how to operate an online store.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Reverse batfam headcanons please centred on dickiee

i think about this entirely too often but yes yes of course.

languages were simultaneously the most simple and most complex thing dick had ever encountered in his long nine years of living. everyone in circ d’caleé spoke multiple different languages, and they'd lived in each other's shoes for so long that the travelling troupe developed their own little language, a mixture of everything and anything that could be understood. in addition to that, everywhere they went, dick picked up local dialects and accents with a tip of a hat and flip of his feet. of course, that made it a bit difficult to properly communicate when he had to live with the waynes. while bruce, tim, and jason could speak a smattering of other languages, english was what they defaulted to first and foremost. damian was fluent in both arabic and nepali first and formost, those just happened to be two languages that dick didn't speak very fluently. cassandra was just now getting the hang of spoken language with a bit of sign language thrown in. so the first few months of dick's shiny new home in wayne manor, everyone fumbled around words and phrases and vague gestures until they settled into hesitantly speaking french and attempting to convince dick to learn fluent english.

jason didn't like having a younger brother, he didn't. especially since that little brother was dick grayson. after all of the heartbreak and loss and weight of malediction bruce had lived with his entire life, jason could almost proudly say that he was one of the few people in the world to drive bruce out of his head, to get him to smile while taking jason out for ice cream, to sit him down and watch football with him, to make him laugh. and then here comes this upstart little brat who couldn't keep both feet on the ground for the life of him and thought football was actually soccer and who could make bruce laugh like it was fuckin' easy. who could so easily clamber up bruce's shoulders for a hug and beam as bruce ruffled his hair and sob into bruce's chest in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. jason had spent years coaxing bruce out of his shell, step by painful step, and dick made it happen with two backflips and a cheeky pun. it made jason's blood boil, the way dick never appreciated what he had, what he could do. the brat had taken to following him around, both in the cave, staring with awe as jason went through training routines, and in the manor, hopping into an armchair and asking jason to read a book aloud for him. it was irritating, just like it was irritating when dick popped jason's latest baking experiment into his mouth and loudly exclaimed how utterly delicious it was, just like it was irritating when dick dragged him to the aerial set bruce had installed in the batcave and asked him to watch his new routine. no matter what the rest of jason's stupid family said, dick was definitely not growing on jason. they could take their smiles and coos over the two "babies of the family" and shove them up their asses.

dick didn't understand why exactly bruce was so overprotective over the smallest things. he never let dick travel anywhere alone, regardless if it was as far away as france or as close as the one gelato place left in gotham. it was so unfair, because dick heard that bruce let jason run off to ethiopia of all places, and only went after him because cass had told bruce about it the minute jason left. he never let dick hang out with his friends, no matter how much dick asked to have a sleepover at wally's or go hang out with donna. on the rare occasions he said yes, they were only allowed to come to the manor. it was unreasonable, because bruce let tim run wild with young justice, despite the stories of tim going crazy after everyone in his team had died. tim wasn't crazy, as far as dick could tell, just a little paranoid and high-strung. also everyone on his team was alive, so dick didn't know what roy was talking about. cass didn't really want to go out anywhere, preferring to stick in gotham with her and tim's friend stephanie, but she had free reign over the city! and dick wasn't allowed to fight any major threats by himself at all. damian had battled deathstroke at his age, and dick was pretty sure damian was still in contact with the league of assassins, but dick couldn't even fight penguin with bruce insisting he be there for backup. he was so overprotective it made dick's blood boil.

being around dick physically hurt tim sometimes. not the crass (yet still somehow funny?) jokes jason made about dick jumping into body-slamming hugs and crash landing into laps so fiercely that even tim could feel it. but it hurt,,,,emotionally, so to speak. dick was just,,,,,dick was so much like stephanie, it ached. to be more specific, stephanie before. steph before she'd desperately bid for bruce's attention and landed herself at black mask's feet for her troubles. steph before the power tools dug her life away bit by bit until she was just gone. steph before she'd come back with green eyes and rage splitting at the seams of her scarred skin. steph before she realized that black mask had killed her and put tim in a wheelchair for the rest of his life for trying to avenge his best friend, and bruce had done next to nothing. tim would sit in his clocktower and force a smile onto his face as dick rambled on and on about the most meaningful of meaningless things, as dick shoved new foods he'd never tried before into his face, as dick laughed loud and bright and clear, trying to forget a time when steph would do the same. she smiles now, grabs lunch with him and cass, wakes up on days when there isn't any green in her vision, but she'll never be who she used to. and tim prays that there never comes a day when dick ends up like her.

dick feels,,,,,isolated sometimes, compared to the rest of his new family. or no, maybe isolated isn't the right word. set apart, maybe, or differentiated. both damian and cass had spent their lives being beat and broken and put back together supposedly stronger than before until they were almost wiped away entirely. steph and jason had both grown up poor and hungry and flinching back from their fathers, bending under gotham's merciless weight. (then steph had died, and come back worse than ever imagined.) tim had grown up lonely, had learned to fend for himself, had turned his name into a half-revered, half-feared whisper even when his legs were taken from him. maybe dick could have related a bit to bruce, but bruce had put himself through so much hardship and so much suffering in an attempt to keep himself from ever being hurt again. in contrast, dick hadn't gone through nearly as much. he'd been happy before the circus came to gotham, happy and cared for and loved. but that didn't mean he couldn't still help. he could sit and listen as they raged, because their anger couldn't touch him; he had no part in it. he could coax out smiles from their stone walls and laugh enough for all of them put together. he could take a name that had previously only been associated with death and heartache and turn it into the light and joy of gotham. he could dust the stillness from the curtains and breathe life back into wayne manor. and that, for him, was enough.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer

[bakugohoex]

Hi! I saw requests were open so I have one :] can you do a levi x marley nurse reader? Maybe she meets him when the scouts are undercover and they meet again when she finds out he's from Paradis? But the reader still helps Levi and both gain feelings with each other over time. Thank you and sorry this is specific sounding 😅💕

“i’d become a traitor just to be with you”

pairing: levi ackerman x female reader

cw: fluff, swearing 

word count: 2400+

a/n: i’m so sorry for this coming out so late, idk why i’ve been unmotivated to write requests, but i swear all i have now is requests and my event on my list, also yeah check my 1k event out its the pinned post

summary:  in which you’re a marley nurse having befriended levi without knowing his identity with the raid of liberio dawning on the survey corps having been followed by you, levi’s truth is revealed and a confession of your own, maybe there is happiness for you two

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The sound of the bells rang through the city, the medical facility had gotten their fair share of injuries after the win against the Mid-East a couple weeks ago. You had helped the injured to beds, wrapping the bandages around their blood-filled scars, after a long day of helping you were finally able to leave, not to your home, however. You stood against the brick wall, your nurse’s uniform clinging onto you, having seen the injured Eldians, the way the Marleyan soldiers shouted and taunted the weak made you sick to the stomach. 

“Y/n.” The familiar voice came from the side, his dull eyes softer at the sight of how you had waited for him. “You waited.”

“I wasn’t going to just leave you.” You had met the man a few weeks back, he'd often come past the medical facility and had caught your eye, even having asked your name. He was sweet with his black undercut and suit, handsome even. But those eyes, those emotionless eyes had a past, you didn't know what it was, but you wanted to know.

He had asked you to go on a walk with him, even after every day of seeing the man he wanted to spend alone time together. By being an Eldian yourself you understood the pains of being one but being subjected by the Marleyans weren’t that bad, well that’s what you’d repeatedly say. It was all a lie, your parents having been sent to Paradis, having been sent to their deaths, sent to become titans.

The man put his hand out, you softly laced your fingers in his, for such a mysterious man his little touches the past weeks had grown. Now seeing him almost every day, this time it felt different, it felt like he was fearful. “The festivals tomorrow.” You smile out trying to make conversation with him.

His grip tightened as he looked down at your smaller figure, “I heard, you going?”

“Yeah, Falco that boy I told you about invited me to tag along with him and his friends.” You smiled out, in a matter of minutes the hand that had encased your own fell, you felt lonely almost. It was bad enough to have fallen for a man so mysterious, you never did know why he came to the medical facility. He was always so quiet yet spoke so much but now it seemed he was distant for another reason.

“You should stay home tomorrow.” You tilted your head in confusion, it wasn't an event that you could really miss. Having promised Falco that you'd go after he'd come to visit the long-haired man.

“Oh, I was going to invite you to come along.” You let out a heavy breath, you had thought something could come between the two of you. The long looks he’d give you as you tended to patients he looked down into the dark, taking a corner as you followed. You didn't even realise where you were going until it was just the two of you into a narrow alleyway. 

He stops in his tracks looking at you, he doesn't meet your gaze, “get out of Liberio.”

“Levi.” You were even more confused than before, “what’s going on?” 

He takes a few steps back, continuing to think about his choice right now. He knew from the first day he had met you, he needed to stay as far away as possible. He saw how you came up to him with that smile, oh god the smile that melted his heart. For the first time in years he had smiled back, a genuine smile at the way you helped the Eldians, how you secured their bandages, talked to the dying. How could he have not liked you and now the threat of you dying tomorrow. The threat that something would happen stayed with him until he met your worried gaze. 

Your eyes glossed over, confusion filling you, the distance between the two of you making it harder to even see him properly. You remembered the conversation from this morning, how he had come up to you with haste. 

“Hey Levi, this is earlier than usual?” You smiled brightly, the papers in your hand as you let him follow you around. His steps felt too cautious like he had more to say but couldn't instead he kept silent until your gaze fully went onto the black-haired boy. 

He looks down not meeting your gaze, “can we meet after you finish work?”

“Umm sure why?” You pass the papers to the other nurses, he looks at how perfect you looked, how your hair set perfectly across your face. 

Looking out the window, he notices the boy he had known you have called Falco run off with a letter. Before turning back to face you, “I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay I finish at 9.” He nods taking steps away.

How had you not realised, the way he walked away without even a goodbye. The way he hadn't cared to ask for your day, was this the end of whatever you could call this, was it even a friendship. 

“Levi…” You repeated his name waiting for a response, he looked down at you wary of what to say. If he should even tell you, he knew your feelings to those in Paradis how your parents had been sent there. How you didn’t have the same hatred as the others but were wary instead. Would that wariness become something more, would it become disgust for him?

“Forget me.” He mutters about to walk away, walk out of your life. He hoped you’d listen to his words and hoped that you wouldn't go to the festival tomorrow. 

You watched him walk away, how could he do this? Leave without an explanation, how could he say the simple two words, forget me you weren't some animal that could forget someone who had impacted your life. You stood there in silence watching as his figure disappeared, you heard the sadness that washed over you and did something you might have regretted. 

Following the man, you wanted a reason at least. A reason for this coming out tonight, what had changed and what was so special about the festival, it was supposed to be joyous seeing the stalls with your friends. But the way he spoke, the way he wanted you to not go, it had an undertone of worry, he knew more than he was letting off. 

You watched him walking into one of the abandoned buildings, the way he opened the door as if he’d done it a million times. You crept past going to the windows, you looked through, glad that the curtains were closed, and a gap was evident. Watching how Levi sat on the chair surrounded by other men and women, one with glasses looking at the man with confusion. There was talking, quiet talking until the woman spoke loudly making everyone shudder. 

“Eren’s letters have told us what’s going on?” She paused; your fingers perched on top of the window sill. It was intrusive, but he left you with nothing, you deserved something. Well that's what you kept saying to yourself. The question at hand was who was this Eren, you only knew one Eren and that was the man who was with Falco. The memory of Falco with a letter sprung into your mind. It couldn't be, there couldn't be a link between these people and the injured man. “The Warhammer titan will be there tomorrow, that’s when we strike.” 

“Are we sure Eren will be able to get Reiner?” A man spoke with long brown hair, he was tall, much taller than Levi and stood leaning against the wall. 

“He better.” Is all Levi said, all conversation regarding Eren’s capability had ended and had turned to the plan at hand. Your mind going through what you had just heard, what was there interest in the Warhammer titan, or even worse how did they know Reiner?

The woman continued talking, having been in your own mind you heard the last bit, a shock running through your veins, “...we bring Eren back to Paradise.”

You clamped your hand to your mouth, falling against the wall in shock. Paradis, they said Paradis, Levi, he couldn’t be, but he was. Your Levi, the man who was always wary about his past, was always dismissing your questions of his past was from Paradis and even worse that means he was the Levi Ackerman that Porco had spoken about. Trying to suppress the worry that flew over you, you looked down to the soil, the way you breathed heavily against your palm and then the sound of a gun to your head. 

“Who the hell are you?” It was the same boy from inside, you hadn't realised he had come outside, but with the gun cocked to your skull. You could barely speak, “Hanje, Levi.”

At the sound of the boys shout the two came out, Levi’s eyes widening at the sight of you on the ground. The sight of fear that ran through you, he knew you heard it all and all he could think about was if you wanted him to die. “Put the gun down Jean.” Jean confusingly complied as Levi stepped towards you, those inside having come to see what the commotion was.��

“Y/n.” Levi bent down to meet your face, you refused to make eye contact.

Hanje spoke aloud, “you know her?”

He ignored the question, trying to meet your eyes, “Y/n…”

“You could’ve told me.” It was a whisper, but a shock filled him at your voice, “why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

You didn't care if he was from Paradis, you hated the Marleyans, all of them for what they did to your parents. Both sides were the same, but meeting someone actually from Paradis, falling for someone from Paradis how could you ever join the Marleyans now. 

“Your people hate us.” He was blunt about it which was the obvious answer. 

You looked at his face, “I fucking hate you…” His face fell, “for not telling me, Levi after everything I told you about with my parents, you really think I’d ever be on Marley’s side.”

He hadn't thought of that, only thinking that the sides had been determined. He hadn’t meant to come and see you every day for weeks, he hadn’t meant to ask about your day and your past. He hadn’t meant to fall for you, but he did and you, you stared at him with all the love you had.

“Is nobody going to explain what’s happening, or are we shooting her?” Levi glared at Jean as you looked down at your scathed fingers. 

Helping you up, you looked at the group from Paradis, your history books had spoken about the devils beyond the sea but looking at the men and women. Those at home felt more devilish than these people, “this is Y/n, she works at the hospital Eren’s at.” So the Eren at your hospital was the Eren Yeager with the truths of how you both knew each other coming out. 

One question stayed on everybody's minds, “can we trust her?” Hanje spoke what everybody was thinking.

Levi looked at you, his hand skimming your fingers that were to the side of your body, “i had nobody…” You turn back to Levi, meeting his eyes for the first time this night, “you can trust me.”

“How can we trust her word?” Jean questioned looking at the closeness between you and Levi.

Levi had be relieved but needed to settle the peace some way, “i trust her and she can help us, she’s a nurse.”

“One wrong move and we’ll take her hostage.” Hanje spoke happily, you didn't know if it was out of her wanting to experiment on you or she was always this happy but whatever it was you didn’t dare say another word. 

The group had dispersed back into the abandoned building. Levi looked at you with a soft look, “let me walk you home.”

You nod, as he puts his hand out, taking it you smile at him. It was soft and Levi had thought it to be the last one he’d get from you. “We intend to go home afterwards.”

“Oh…” You trail off.

“If you really have nobody than you could come with us?” Your eyes light up at the sound of his words, he was wary of your acceptance, wary that his confession was all for nothing. 

“Really? You’d want me to come with you.”

He looked up into the dark sky, home had been a faraway place. But in this moment with you he felt at home, after the losses he’d experienced, he knew he had met someone special. He had to keep you by his side even if his prior words were to keep you safe, he could keep you safe in Paradis. “Levi, I don't have anybody here.”

He doesn't question it, his grip tightening, taking you to your house, he had spent countless times dropping you home. But this time, the walk seemed different, the questions running through his head, “why?”

“Why what?” You stepped closer to your house door, the last time you’d see it in its glory before the destruction of tomorrow occurred. 

He looked at you, “why are you helping us?”

“You…” You trail off, opening the door as you walk inside, Levi following and shutting the door behind him. He had never seen the inside of your place, the photo frames across the mantel piece, the books lying across the room. “I’d become a traitor just to be with you.”

Your words got him out of his gaze, he watched how you started around the place, it was never home. You knew what home was and he stood directly in front of you, he walked towards you, eyes becoming softer before he brought his hand to your cheek, “I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.”

You nod his hand still on your cheek, he looks down at your lips watching you lick them before bringing your face to his own. His warm lips against your own, a softness coming from the kiss, before your hands went to his hair bringing him down to your height, making the kiss faster, filled with love and lust built up from the weeks. His hands moved to cup your face, his tongue gliding across your tongue, the sounds of your moans filled the room. His body was comfortable, was home and you were never going to let that go.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[myboiparkerimagines]

4:28 - Tony Stark x Reader

Prompt: 19 and 34 with Tony Stark

34: “You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?” 19:  “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You picked up your phone to check the time - 4:28. It was clear you would be getting no more sleep tonight. You sat up, contemplating your options. You could wake up Tony and spend a few more hours with him before the mission or try to fall asleep. 

You made up your mind pretty quickly.

His room was only three doors down but you often found it hard to go there at night. He told you that you were always welcome, but you still wanted to respect him and allow him his sleep. Sleep came so rarely for him and you always did your best not to disturb him. But, tonight was different. 

You rapped on his door three times, before he answered. “Can I come in?” you whispered.  “Yes.”

His room was mostly dark, only illuminated by a small desk lamp and the floor lights installed under his bed. His skin glowed faintly, reflecting the soft rays. “What do you want?” he asks, jokingly crossing his arms.  “Well, I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight so I thought I’d come in here and spend some time with you,” you smiled, crawling into bed beside him.  “Oh, really?” he asked, before you wrapped your arms around him, cuddling into him. “You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?” “Yes I did,” you respond. He sighs, wrapping his arms around you. “You and I have very different ideas of what’s supposed to happen at 4 am.” “Ha ha,” you mock, before looking up at him and busting into actual giggles. 

“Why are you really here?” “I’m worried about tomorrow.” “You’re going to be in and out in five minutes flat. I promise you’ll be fine. There’s really nothing to worry about.” “I’m not worried about me, Tony. I’m worried about you,” you say, pushing yourself up to look at him. “I’m always worried about you.”  “Hey, I’m gonna be fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” he says, wrapping both arms around you.  “I do though. You mean everything to me.”  “Trust me, I know how you feel. I’m always worried that whoever’s after me will go through you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.” “I think that’s an exaggeration.”  “Trust me, it isn’t.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully.  “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.” 

You heart flutters in your chest. “I love you, Tony.” While the words had never been spoken aloud by the two of you, you had been aware of them for a while now. You portrayed your love through action, but tonight everything was spelled out. The word ‘love’ was able to do funny things to your heart. 

Tony pulled you closer to him, kissing you on the forehead. “Get some sleep, and I’ll try to, as well. Everything will be fine tomorrow.” “I know it will. Just be careful.”  “I’m always careful.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. woke you up only 3 hours later. “Good morning, boss. The plane leaves in thirty minutes.” That was your cue to leave. You got ready quickly, meeting the rest of the team on the roof to board the aircraft. Today’s mission would be much more difficult than usual. You were only ever called in as backup as Tony hated the idea of you actually on the ground. With telekinesis you could often complete the mission from base, but this time was different. You needed to be close to control them. They were different, stronger, than anything you’d fought before.  “It’s gonna be okay,” Tony said as you loaded into the carrier. “I promise,” he said before gently kissing your forehead. 

You claimed the copilot’s seat, which was reserved only for you. Tony sat in the pilot’s seat, effortlessly navigating the jet until it was safe to go into autopilot. Upon doing so, he reached and grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll be there in ten. You better suit up.” Tony stood. “And that goes for all of you, not just the sexy one in the front.” 

Cap dropped in first, scanning the primary defenses. Nat, Clint, and Thor went next, with Bruce dropping shortly after. Last were you and Tony - set to go straight into the threshold and disable from within. That was mainly your job, but Tony would never let you go without backup. Like he said, you would be in and out within five minutes. A piece of cake, really. 

“What are we dealing with?” Tony asked as you scanned the area.  “I’m not sure. I think it’s a hive mind. No wonder I had trouble reading it before. It’s incredibly strong, but interconnected.”  “So they’re out there fighting-” “Aliens,” you finished for him. “They’re fighting a system of interconnected aliens.”  “Beautiful. Go ahead and shut ‘em down.”  “Okay, but once they feel me in their mind, they’re going to attack. Every single one of them is going to come straight to us.” 

“Well, then, I guess we better be fast,” Tony said, closing his helmet. “Alright team, you all need to make your way back to us. And you better beat the aliens.”  “Aliens?” Nat asked.  “What do you mean, ‘aliens’?” Cap added.  “Alright, go ahead,” Tony said, giving you the all clear.

Your middle and pointer finger on your left hand connected to your temple, while you placed your right hand onto the ground, sinking your energy into the core. It was tiring and painful, and it’s affects were deadly. You were only ever called on scene to capture or kill, and both took a hefty physical and mental toll on you. When your waves connected to the hive, you could feel its pain. It crept into you the way your powers crept into it. The pain and anger boiled in you, ripping a scream from your throat. You could hear commotion surrounding you, but it was blurry and undecipherable. Every ounce of strength you had surged out of you, until, finally, it was calm. 

You collapsed onto the cool ground, aching for sleep, but your mind stayed conscious - slowly allowing your surroundings to sharpen.  “Come on, you’ll be okay,” you heard Nat say in the distance.  “We need a med team to our current location. Quickly,” Steve added. 

For who?

You tried to sit up, but your vision blurred and mind ached. “You just need to rest,” Clint said, clearly to you this time.  “Who’s hurt?” you ask, squeezing your eyes shut in order to numb the incessant throbbing.   “Everyone’s fine. You just need to rest now. We’re getting out of here soon.” 

You opened your eyes quickly, fighting off the pain that was building in your head. At the other side of the room, Tony sat against the wall with something metal lodged in the right side of his stomach. “Tony,” you called out weakly.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he responds, voice as weak as yours. “Are you okay?” Your head is getting light and the room begins to darken around you. “I’m okay.” You begin to slump over, but Clint catches you and lifts you into his arms. “Tony, I-” you say, before losing all consciousness. 

You’re in the medical ward of the Avengers facility when you finally wake up. Your head and arms have multiple cords attached to them, hooked up to a variety of machines. They all beep at different times, further disorienting you. “Where’s Tony?” you ask one of the nurses writing down your vitals.  “He’s in another ward.”  “Can I see him?” “He’s recovering now, miss.”  The machines beep rapidly as you begin to raise your fingers to your temple. You had sworn long ago never to use your powers like this, but you were desperate. 

Desperate and stupid. 

The nurse looked at you for only a moment before sticking a needle in your arm, immediately returning you to sleep. When you wake next, Tony is at your side. You cry out his name and reach out for him, aching to be in his arms. “Everything’s okay,” he says, holding you tightly.  “I shouldn’t have tried to control that nurse. I was just scared. I’m really sorry,” you cried into his shoulder.  “I know. They expected you to react like that. That’s why she was ready with the tranquilizer.”  “I don’t know what came over me.”  Tony pulled you away for a moment to look you in the eyes. “If I could’ve made someone let me see you, I would’ve in a heartbeat. Don’t feel bad. Everything’s fine.”  You sink back into his chest, a sense of calm washing over you that hadn’t for ages prior. “I love you.” 

[dindjarinbae]

All my Love (Din Djarin x Reader)

request from @buckythewhitewolfx :  Hi there! I love your writing! I saw that you are taking requests, so would you like to write a one shot of the mandalorian x reader where they have sex for the first time and Din is all shy, clumsy but also touch starved? You can decide the level of smut, nothing that will make you uncomfortable ❤ Thank you!

hi just a little warning, this is the first smut i’ve written in ages, so it is not the best. anyways this fic is 18+, so keep that in mind. it is part two to my previous din fic, so i’ll leave the link to part one below. anyways, i love soft din, i loved this. i am so sorry it took so long, i kept getting distracted, lol.

PART ONE

TW: brief fem!receiving oral, vaginal intercourse so it is fem!reader. this is 18+, so plese don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable.

WC: 4798

To say you were cold was an extreme understatement. You weren’t used to the coldness that came with hyperspace. It was a complete absence of heat, and while the Crest was temperature controlled, it wasn’t comfortably temperature controlled. Just enough to keep everyone on board alive. Now Din, ever so stoic, was unfazed by the cooler temperature, and the kid was tucked away in his little pod, bundled up warmly. And you? Freezing. Absolutely freezing while you sat on top of your bunk, a blanket draped around your shoulders while you shivered. The tip of your nose had turned adorably pink and the tips of your fingers as well. About twenty minutes more of the temperature making you freeze, you’d had enough. You kicked your legs over the side of the cot and you trudged your way up to the cockpit, making sure the blanket stayed with you at all times. You walked inside and stood there for a moment while the stars made streaks of light through hyperspace. Mando- or Din, you had to remind yourself- did not turn around or acknowledge your presence in any way. Typical. You huffed and brought your hand down on his chair once before moving it to clap down on the top of his helmet, but his hand was much faster and he gently caught your wrist between his fingers. “Is there something you came up here for or are you going to huff and puff like the kid?” He asked, his voice thick with annoyance, but you could tell it wasn’t real annoyance, even through the modulator. “Yes actually. It’s freezing cold and I guess I don’t know what I want you to do about it, but is there like... heat somewhere on this panel?” You asked and motioned towards the stretch of buttons in front of you. Din released your wrist and you pulled it back towards your chest, your cheeks turning pink from him this time instead of the cold hull. He shook his head and tilted it backwards just slightly. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they were on you, “No. Y/n, this is an old ship. There’s not heating,” he said, and you could hear the amusement in his tone. “Extra blankets? Clothes? Jackets? Coats? Cloaks? Anything?” You asked and sat down on the co-pilot seat next to him. Din just shrugged and was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “There’s probably a few extra blankets in the storage compartment by the door,” he finally answered before turning back towards the window. You stayed there for a moment, watching the streaks of starlight glint off of his helmet and get endlessly replaced with new dashes of light. “Do you take it off up here? When you’re alone?” You asked without thinking. This question seemed to catch him off guard by the way he stiffened and held still for a long time before he gave one nod, “When you and the kid are asleep,” he answered and relaxed once again. “Do you like having it off?” He took his time answering this before sighing, the tail-end of it just catching through his modulator, “It’s... bittersweet. What’s got you so curious tonight?” He asked, turning his head towards you. “Oh. I was just wondering I guess. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. Din just shook his head, taking notice of your pink nose, “Go get those blankets. If you want to come back up here, you’re welcome to. It’s warmer,” he stated and turned forward once more. Truth be told, he silently hoped you’d come back up to keep him company. He’d never admit aloud that he’d come to adore your constant talking. You nodded and shuffled out of the cockpit, only to return (to his absolute delight) a few moments later with the blankets wrapped around your body. You sunk back down into the co-pilot chair and draped some of a blanket over your head like a hood before letting out a relived sigh. Din took this opportunity to turn his chair towards you and he folded his arms over his chest while he watched you, and he did take note that the red on your cheeks was not from the cold this time, and this made him smirk just slightly under his helmet, “I take it you didn’t travel hyperspace until you came along with me.” You nodded once and kept your eyes on where his should be, “I hadn’t even been off of Naboo. I’m still not used to how cold it gets up here. How did you get used to it?” You asked softly and he gave you a shrug while he motioned towards himself. “Layers.” That was a dumb question. Of course he was fine underneath his thick layers and beskar armor. He shifted just slightly and sighed again, “You might not get used to it entirely. I guess you just figure out how to handle it. Like the blankets. Or like how the kid hunkers down in his pram. Adaptation,” He went on to explain while slowly drumming his fingers over the side of his arm. You nodded to his response and raised your eyebrows, “Did you have to adapt? To your armor, I mean.” Din could only nod to reply to your question and you leaned your head back against the seat, your eyes growing heavy. He noticed this and turned back to his original position while you let the lights of hyperspace against his helmet lull you to sleep. This was not a warm sleep. In fact, it was colder this time than you had ever remembered hyperspace being. And though you were asleep, Din could not help but take notice of you shivering just to the right of him. He looked over at you and his heart nearly swelled in his chest. Ever since he had revealed his name to you in a flowered field back on Naboo and you had spoken it then fallen asleep on his shoulder, he had steadily been falling in love with you. From watching over you as you slept, to leaving secret kisses against your head when you weren’t awake (or at least to his knowledge), he could not stop the feelings he continuously received for you. And he wanted to, he really did. Falling in love was undeniably unfavorable for a Mandalorian for the reasons that were painstakingly obvious, and to this, Din was no exception. He grew tired of watching you shiver and he also grew tired of the longing to be close to you, so he set the ship to autopilot and he stood up. He lifted you easily upwards and made his way carefully down into the hull. You stirred, but did not wake. He was grateful for that. Din laid you ever so gently onto your bunk and tucked the blankets tightly around you before he sat down on a crate opposite of your bunk. Still, you shivered and shifted to find warmth in a new position before he finally wanted to yell. He stood up and walked to a panel of buttons by the door and he pushed the vast majority of them down, every light in the hull snapping off, so nothing- and that means absolutely nothing- was visible. Din made his way back to your bedside and swallowed down the anxiety in his throat caused by the sheer magnitude of his next set of actions. He silently began to strip himself of his armor and other layers until he was just as clothed as you were underneath all those blankets. Last to go was his helmet, which he removed with shaking hands. To say he wasn’t used to this was an understatement. The most skin you had ever seen on this man was his hands or wrists. Nothing more, but certainly less. He lifted the helmet from his head and the cold air in the hull surrounded his face instantly, and he realized how cold it really was. Maybe he’d have to invest in getting a heat source of some sort equipped in the Razor Crest. He couldn’t see you, but he could hear you. And all he could think of right then was ‘poor thing’. Your breathing was mirroring your shivers and your teeth chattered every so often. He’d lay with you just to warm you up, he told himself, as if he was not convincing himself that underneath this “for warmth” ruse was not just the simple want (need?) to be as physically close to you as he could. Din finally bit back doubts and he climbed onto the bunk right behind you, sliding silently into your pile of blankets. His arms awkwardly fumbled around your torso until he found a place for them that didn’t seem so awkward. He drew you backwards into his chest and let out a relieved sigh. The sudden presence of warmth was enough to pull you from your light slumber and you gasped quietly, squirming around before calling out to him in fear that someone unidentified was pressed up against you. “Shh, shh, y/n, I’m right here. You were shivering,” Din said and tightened his arms which had circled your waist. You almost didn’t question it. And was a hard almost. You gasped again, but this time it was because the voice behind you was unfamiliar, but certainly not unrecognizable. It was Din. Of course it was Din, that much you knew. But it lacked the metallic graininess, the barely there static that stood background to his voice. He did not have his helmet on. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t completely intimidate you, but it would also be false to say you weren’t highly intrigued at the same time, “Din... Your creed,” you stuttered lamely and he only snorted in reply. “Tell me, then. What are you worried about seeing right now?” He asked and in your flustered state, you had to take in the fact that the hull was completely dark. You sighed in shaky relief and then shook your head, “I guess nothing,” you replied. A few more moments of shock passed before you began to really appreciate the gesture, despite the risks he was taking with such a grey colored loophole. How many times had you thought of being this close to Din? The answer was far too many, and this was probably something you wouldn’t admit. Whether this was real or some cruel dream your mind spun, you decided to take full advantage of it and you grabbed his wrists and you pushed his sleeves up just slightly so that you could rest your palms against his warm skin. If Din had any reservations or any nervousness left in his body about holding you, they went out the window with the simple skin-to-skin contact. He sucked in a breath of air and pulled you towards him so that your back was flush against his firm chest. He was impossibly warm for the temperature around the two of you, and you relaxed gratefully into him. It was silent for a long while, and every so often, you’d push his sleeves up a little more absentmindedly to feel more of his skin. It was truthfully just as you had imagined many times before, the skin of a warrior. It was soft, warm, and there were dips and ridges of scars, some deep, some shallow, and each one of them was so uniquely Din. It had been almost two months since he had revealed his name to you, and you could recall from that night forward, almost every night, the near-silent hiss of his helmet being removed and then the soft, gentle kiss that was always placed in the center of your forehead. His kisses were meticulous, cautious, just as he was, and you wondered if he’d ever kissed anyone before, and of course this thought led sequentially to the thought of his lips against yours. Had he ever kissed anyone like THAT before? You rolled around in his arms a bit until you faced him and he clutched the material of your shirt, almost desperately, like he was desperate to have you close to him. You stretched your arms out in front of you and you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders, and you swore that you heard Din let out the quietest of gasps. Your fingers slowly moved along the back of his neck and into his hair. Oh, his hair. You don’t know what you expected of his hair, but you weren’t expecting for it to be so soft and shaggy, curling softly at the ends. He shivered under your wandering fingers and you slid them around to rest right underneath his jaw. He quickly caught your wrists and he was silent, his grip feather light. “Din... can I touch your face?” You found yourself asking, your voice sounding far away, “Has anyone ever touched your face since you were a child?” Din lifted your hands up by your wrists until they rested upon his cheeks, a light sheet of facial hair brushing against your palms, “No. Not since The Mandalorians saved me,” he answered, his voice low. His answers were concise and short, you expected nothing less of Din. Your fingers had a mind of their own and they traced along his sharp cheekbones and mapped out each little scar on his face. You moved them along his forehead and over his strong nose and you were pleasantly surprised to find a neatly trimmed mustache outlining his upper lip. Your fingers stilled at the corners of his lips and you could feel the soft, warm breaths he released rhythmically. Your own breath was caught in your throat as you very slowly inched your fingertips towards his lips. Perhaps you were moving too slow or perhaps Din had his own desires in that moment, but he grabbed your wrists once again and he pulled your left hand to his lips. In the dark, you stared into blackness and you felt the warmest kiss fall upon your fingertips. HIS kiss. His lips were also not what you were expecting, but then again, what could you expect, truly? They were warm, plush, and perhaps the only unscarred part of his body. He took perfect care to make sure each fingertip was kissed with the same gentleness and amount of affection. Oh, the affection in each kiss. It made your heart flutter in your chest, and you wondered when he had time to pick up such affection for you. And Din, on the other hand, he had suspected early on that you had grown too fond of him, but he never addressed it, and until this second, he never planned to. You weren’t the hardest to read, in fact, you were practically an open book, and each emotion you had, you wore written on your face. Any and all question about being in love with you dispersed now within his mind, because right now with your touches and with each kiss he planted on your fingers, he became more convinced that he’d never be able to go without you again. Not now. He had lived almost all of his life deprived of moments like this, moments to fall in love with. Moments where he could truly be close to someone. The closest thing he’d ever had to closeness was meaningless sex for an emotionless release between jobs, and even then, he didn’t take his armor off, much less his helmet. But you invoked the strongest feelings he had ever felt for anyone, ever. When he finally had kissed each finger upon your left hand, he raised your right to his lips and replaced your left with it. You laid in awe as his lips travelled your fingers, and you waited until he finished to brush your thumb across his bottom lip, and you bit yours, wanting nothing more than to kiss him right then. But out of nerves and respect of how far he wanted to go, you waited for him to make any kind of move to indicate that he wanted to kiss you. And that didn’t take long. One second your thumb was against his lip, and the next second his nose was bumping delicately against yours, “Y/n,” Din breathed, his words falling against your parted lips, “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and it nearly took you aback. Din Djarin, a rugged bounty hunter with more scars than anyone else you knew, who could take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, who held himself with so much confidence, it could be considered cockiness, had a slight tremble in his voice, a flicker of unsureness. So you replied in the best way you knew how to. You pressed your lips fully against his, your hands sliding ever so stealthily into his soft, thick tangle of hair. No hesitation was shown on his part, and he returned the kiss just as soon as your lips were on his own. The kiss was sweet and clumsy, nothing like the man with the hard exterior who seemed to be good at everything he did. His nose pressed against yours as he squeezed your waist just slightly and he brushed the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip, and you eagerly parted your lips to grant his tongue access to your own. He pulled his lips away from yours all too soon, and you would have objected if it weren’t for the instantaneous relocation of his lips onto your throat. You closed your eyes and left your fingers within his hair, allowing his lips to explore each inch of the cold skin on your neck. Each kiss sent a rush of warmth through your body, and you were finding it much easier to be adequately warm now. You moved your hands out of his hair absentmindedly and slid them underneath the collar of his shirt, his lean back noticeably releasing tenseness underneath your touch. Din pulled away from your neck, and for the first time, you actually heard him try and catch his breath. The next few moments were wordless and almost blurry, but you know for sure that you were able to rid him of his shirt and he was able to rid you of yours. Both of you moved your hands along each other’s skin. Arms, chest, torso, back... anything you could reach. He seemed to be so comforted by your wandering hands, and his quiet, content sighs confirmed that. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, six simple words rolling anxiously off of his tongue: “i love you, i want you.” The silence after his words swirled around your head as you tried to comprehend what it was he had just said, and your lips fumbled to respond to him. When you finally chased down your voice, you reached for his hands which laid against your sides and you let out a shaky breath, “i love you, too. I want you, too,” and if there were lights on at this moment, he would’ve seen the dark pink blush that had crept up your cheeks, but thank god that he couldn’t. “Have you ever-“ he began, but you cut him off promptly. “I have. Have you?” You asked and bit down on the the tip of your tongue, not sure what to expect his answer to be. A quiet yes left his lips and you pressed your own together tightly, wondering if he had more to add to that. He didn’t. Instead, Din located the center of your chest and he brushed his fingertips downwards in an invisible line down your stomach and to the waistband of your pants. Your breath hitched embarrassingly loud in your throat and he seemed to notice this because he stilled his fingers, “Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice softer and more timid than you had ever heard it. Though this time was unfamiliar with him, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. It was so nice to know that he wasn’t so stern all of the time, and you realized in a hurry that you wanted this side of Din all the time. You nodded in response to his question, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the pitch blackness. “Yes. Please,” you whispered, not able to help the desperate tone your voice took at the end, and you prayed silently Din didn’t notice. You fool, of course he noticed, the chuckle that left his lips confirmed that. Stupid, meticulous Mandalorian Din carefully pulled your pants down over your legs and when he pulled away from you and you heard shuffling, you imagined that he was doing the exact same. From that moment on, the entire mood shifted. The cold hull was nearly sweltering now, and you could feel a thin layer of sweat veil your face, and it only got impossibly hotter when you felt his mouth press right against the center of your chest. He began to trail slow kisses down your stomach and just down past the waistband of your underwear. He stopped there and didn’t move for a long moment. Impatience clouded your mind and you whined before reaching down to yank your underwear off. Something about him was making you desperate for friction, for touch. his touch, specifically. He seemed to find this amusing, because he let out a scoff that sounded an awful lot like a muffled laugh. You felt his nose brush up against your navel and your breath hitched in your throat just before his lips came down to make contact with your skin. This was enough for a calamitous gasp to escape your lips, and your hands fumbled around to find his hair, but he caught your wrists mid-reach, and he rested them in his hair. He liked that, you concluded. The heat of the moment blurred each second almost deliriously, and the only thing that brought you back to focus, was the warm, open mouthed, blissful kiss Din left against your clit. You attempted to throw your hips upward, but his he seemed to predict this, and as he always was two steps ahead of you, he held your hips down to the mattress with one of his hands. Excitement crackled within your stomach and you had to remind yourself to stay quiet as to not wake the sleeping child on the opposite side of the hull. Din’s hand held you down tighter and you anticipated he’d make another move. And you were correct. His lips moved downward ever so slightly to leave another hot kiss against your folds, which were increasing in wetness by the millisecond now, it seemed, and this didn’t go unnoticed by Din, who let out a groan against your core. He eased his tongue out from between his lips to lick a stripe up to your clit, when you yanked his hair, growing impatient. “Din. Please, I need you. I’m sure there will be other times for this,” you whimpered, your breath a frantic indication of your sudden desperation. He paused and you were afraid he wasn’t going to oblige, but after a moment, he was pulling away from you. The sound of clothing being taken off excited you even further, and you reached around for him giddily. Your hand caught his shoulder and you gave it a soft tug, trying to get him to come down closer to you. He (thankfully) obliged and moved down so that the two of you were chest to chest, one of his arms resting beside you to hold himself up. “When did you fall for me?” He asked, breaking the silence around you two. His question made you blink a few times and you waited a moment before answering him, “I guess when you came and saved me and the baby that one time... I don’t know. After that I just... saw you differently I suppose,” you replied quietly and reached up to find his face in the dark. You rested your hand on his cheek and brushed your thumb over his cheekbone, to which he leaned into, “What about you?” You asked, biting your lip. “The day I took you back to Naboo, in the flowers. You fell asleep on me,” he responded, quick as lightning, and that was the first immediate vocal response you’d gotten out of him almost all night. You remembered this night clearly, as it was the first time he’d kissed your head. “You know, I’ve been awake each time you’ve kissed my forehead. I stay awake for it,” you whispered softly and closed your eyes, waiting for a response that never came. At least, it wasn’t a spoken response. His lips once again captured your own and he kissed you deeply; passionately. He took this opportunity to gently lift one of your legs up over his waist and you were quick to tighten it. Everything went fast from there, and clumsily so. You messily wrapped your arms around his back and he shifted around for a moment before finding a position above you to align your hips. You clung to him tightly and twisted your fingers within his hair as he carefully eased his cock inside of you. Of course the very few times that you’d fucked anyone before had nothing on Din. The size of his length stretched you, leaving you stinging blissfully in his wake. You let out a quiet gasp and gently pulled his hair, invoking a deep groan to unfold from the center of his chest, “Din, please.. m-move,” you stuttered and he gave a gentle nod, giving in to your request. He started almost aggravatingly slow, carefully pumping inside of you fully before slowly sliding himself almost completely out before doing it again. Either he sensed your frustration or he grew frustrated himself, but whatever the case was, he quickly began to pick up speed with his thrusts, his hips jerking backwards and forwards. You moaned, quietly at first, but soon after, another one tumbled from your lips, louder. He tossed his head backwards immediately following your moan and he drove his cock into you just a little bit faster, “Fuck. Do that again,” he groaned in reference to your moan. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped for a moment before letting out another one of those moans he seemed to adore. The more moans that left your lips seemed to encourage him to increase the speed of his thrusts, and they became harder and faster, causing your eyes to roll back. You didn’t even feel his arm move before he pressed his thumb down over your clit and rolled it in a slow circle. You sucked in a harsh mouthful of air before nearly choking out his name, and you heard him swear underneath his breath. He timed the movements on your clit with his deep thrusts and truly, just when you believed you’d plateaued in your pleasure, his cock hit a glorious spot inside of you, and you yanked at his hair, which had him grunting out a series of foreign words which you figured to be Mando’a, but you couldn’t be sure. And really at the moment, it was the last thing on your mind as you were seeing white flashes underneath your eyelids as he hit that spot, over and over and over and over until you were just barely breathing to try and hold your orgasm back. Din leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, and the quality of his thrusts became that of his kiss. He was close. But it was you that came first. You arched your back high off of the mattress and wailed his name into his mouth as you came around him, becoming impossibly tight around his cock. He gave a few more hard thrusts before he was releasing inside of you as well, his lips moving lazily against yours. He moved his thumb slowly over your clit as to guide you down from your orgasm. His thumb came to a stop after a while and he dropped his head down to your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and played with the hair on the back of his head, feeling warm within your post-coital intoxication. “You stay awake for my kisses?” Din asked after a while and you giggled softly, holding him just a bit tighter now. “I do. And I’ll keep doing so if I can get a few of them on my lips from now on.” “As you wish, Cyar’ika.”

[exquisitley-obsessed]

The Dinosaur and the Vampire Part Two (carlisle cullen x reader)

Request: hi can you do a one shot for Twilight where the reader is best friends with Bella and is there at the car crash in the first movie, they go to hospital and that’s where the reader meets Carlisle, really fluffy, thanks

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: nothing

A/N: This is part two of this request because it was so highly requested!! Thank you so much for the love and support!! I’m back re-reading the twilight series so if you have any requests just send them my way<3

MASTLERLIST

“I’ll see if we can sort this thing out.”

It was the last thing he had said to her with a small and yet reassuring smile before he turned and walked through those pale doors and apparently, y/n’s life. She hadn’t seen Dr Cullen since the day of the accident. Hell, she had barely seen his adopted children. Spring was warming into summer, the sun glittering down through the immense greenery and the Cullens were never around when it was sunny. 

Bella and Edward were getting closer with every passing day. He had taken over their morning ride together, stopping by in his silver Volvo to pick Bella up, every so often flashing a smile at y/n as she climbed into her own less flashy car. Edward was kind enough to leave Bella to y/n after school, considering they both finished with gym. It was precious time for the pair as they recounted their day and filled each other in on gossip, none of it proving to be that interesting. Well, apart from the budding romance between Bella and Edward.

Despite y/n’s secret complaints every time Bella disappeared from a study session or cancelled a trip to Port Angeles, she knew her prejudice came from no genuine malice toward Edward. After all, he was lovely. Since the day of the accident his attitude towards y/n had done a 180, before he had never so much as spared her a glance and now he smiled at her in the corridor, even sat next to her in English, the only class they shared together. He made little conversation, most of it was inquiring after Bella but it was nice to have made a new friend.

It just seemed unfair. They way he had spoken in the hospital made it seem as if something would happen, perhaps an apology gift or an invitation to their mansion up in the woods. Something. Edward’s cordial behaviour was pleasant but in no way satisfactory. Y/n wished in every spare moment to see the doctor again, and when she wasn’t wishing to see him she was imagining what it would be like to see him. Maybe he’d pick the Cullen’s up after school or maybe there would be some big event in town which everyone went to. It was a silly thought since the Cullens were rarely grouped with ‘everyone’. So her mind of drifted to the idea of herself being injured, dragged into hospital only to have his face, angelic and flushed in light hovering above her.

“Stupid.” She muttered under her breath, dismissing the thought instantly. Bella threw her a glance, “Forgot to carry the one.” Y/n lied as she smiled and looked back down at her barely touched maths homework. All this pining and obsessive thinking made her feel so little and insignificant. She felt like a student with a crush on their teacher, and in many ways she was. Every time his name or ivory face rolled into her mind a small voice in her head protested.

She hated that voice. It was the one that reminded her she was only a junior in high school. The one that mocked her, told her that he was an adult with a job, a medical job that must have demanded a couple of years of study pushing him into his late twenties. What doctor has time for a high school student with a crush. A crush that was so overt she couldn’t even talk to Bella about it. Bella who had quickly grown into becoming her best friend, Bella who was dating Carlisle’s adopted son, Bella who was currently packing her things into her bag with haste.

“Where are you going?” Y/n hated the small whine in her voice and tried to play it off with a smile. She wanted to be happy for Bella and Edward and deep down she was, they were just a reminder that she was getting nowhere with her own crush and, most likely, never would.

“I’m running up to Edward’s to pick up his Bio questions. I forgot about them and he offered to help.” She smiled, oblivious to y/n’s anguish.

They were camped out in Bella’s room, a strange sounding CD playing in the background as they finished off their schoolwork. It had become a bit of a ritual to spend time with each other doing insignificant things. Bella was nice like that, never desperate to go anywhere or really do anything, happy to stay inside. Plus Charlie liked having y/n in the house, he was always asking her questions about her parents, grateful Bella was able to make such a good friend so soon.

“M’kay.” Y/n followed in suit, shoving her unfinished problems into her bag. This was her cue to leave. “How is Edward by the way?”

“He’s...fine?” Bella smiled wryly through her lashes, “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, it’s just, you always fill me in on your gossip but never actually tell me how he is.” Y/n smiled back as they both padded down the stairs.

“He’s fine. I think. His family’s a bit nervous about us actually.”

“Oh.” Y/n tried to make her voice sound as inconspicuous as possible, hiding her feral craving for more information on the Cullens.

“Well...it’s mostly just Rosaline, you know the blonde one.”

“The gorgeous one.”

“They’re all gorgeous.” Bella sighed.

“You got that right.” Y/n muttered under her breath. Pale hair melting into pale skin - the human equivalent of snow.

“Anyways,” Bella sighed not hearing her, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yup!” Y/n called over her shoulder as she hopped the fence between their two houses, pulling the keys out of her pocket.

A loud engine revved distantly followed by the squealing of car tires as a silver blur flashed down the street before halting in front of them. Edward. He was out of the car quickly, a broad grin stretched across his cheeks. He was smiling at Bella, of course. Y/n was happy for them, smiling to herself as she pushed her keys into the door.

“Hey y/n!” His voice was both silken and broad.

“Hey!” Y/n spun around shooting him a grin, “How are you, I haven’t seen you for a while.” It was nice now that she was able to actually carry a conversation with him, that they weren’t just strangers.

“Yeah weather’s been nice, Carlisle took us up this trail in the mountains. It was beautiful.” Edward said his name so casually and yet the word stunned her for a minute. It had been so long since she had actually heard it said aloud.

“Oh,” She murmured, her breath somewhat stuck in her throat. His eyes were careful, assessing her despite his broad welcoming smile. “Well you owe me,” Y/n relaxed back into the conversation, “I’ve been taking over Bella runs to school.” His laugh was loud and rare.

“Hey!” Bella half-protested tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “I didn’t realise I was such a burden to you guys.”

“Aw, it’s okay.” Y/n smiled, her keys feeling slippery in her fingers, “You make up for it with good conversation.” Y/n turned back to the door, mentally preparing for her night of microwaved meals and algebra.

“Y/n,” Edward’s voice surprisingly called out, “I’m running Bella up to mine for some biology questions but I wouldn’t mind if you came. I’ve got that first edition Hardy I was telling you about in English.”

The offer was most shocking to Bella who turned, utterly stunned, to gawk at her boyfriend. Y/n felt as though she had just been slapped as her heart lurched, sure her and Edward were chatty but the fact he was now inviting her to his house - the Cullens house. She did a quick mental calculation. On one hand she was invading Bella’s privacy with Edward but it was him who offered the invitation, on the other hand, well she might just see him. If it were anyone else y/n would have politely declined and been happy with soggy potatoes and Pythagoras, but she felt completely and utterly compelled to accept. The mere chance that he might be there in that house was enough for y/n to waltz her way into the back of Edward’s silver Volvo.

***

Edward drove like a maniac and somehow, that made sense. Y/n gripped the edge of her seat as she glanced out the window focusing on the never ending blur of blue and green. The conversation was casual and somewhat stilted but y/n couldn’t even try to care, her mind was already there in the Cullens house. She pictured popping into Edward’s room to grab the book and bumping into him, or the scenario where he was in the kitchen, or what about seeing him as he comes home from work, wearing the same pale shirt and tie.

Y/n hated how obsessive her mind was. But it genuinely felt as though she couldn’t help it, as though she had no control over her thoughts whatsoever. A small knot had twisted its way into existence in her gut and what was worse, they had already arrived.

“You guys can stay for a bit,” Edward got out the car heading into what can only be described as a mansion. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s out.” These seemed to ease something in Bella but had the opposite effect on y/n. Trying not to think about it y/n was quick behind Edward and Bella who had loosely interlocked their fingers as they walked in.

Taking her time, y/n absorbed what was probably the most beautiful house she had ever seen. Wood and glass flowing from wall to wall in eccentric shapes and patterns. Artwork y/n would never understand slung across the walls. A grand piano, smooth like silk displayed in the corner

“Oh, y/n.” Edward called her back to reality, “I’m pretty sure I left the book in the kitchen, I was going to bring it to you tomorrow.” Y/n was taken aback.

“Wow, thanks Edward. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, “You’re free to get it, Kitchen’s just up the stairs and to the right.” Y/n smiled at him gratefully before heading up the stairs. Partly to leave Bella and Edward in peace, partly to admire the home interrupted. She took her time going to the kitchen, admiring the way the Cullens lived. Of course they lived somewhere like this.

Once in the kitchen, y/n spotted a worn copy of ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’ waiting for her. Picking it up she thumbed through the first few pages noticing small faded scribbles in pencil - it would be nice to have a look in Edward’s mind.

“Y/n.” 

All he said was her name and yet she knew in an instant who it was. Snapping the book shut and spinning around, there he was. His trousers were dark and tucked into them was a crisp shirt, white as skin and unbuttoned slightly, the sleeves rolled up to display his forearms. They looked like marble, pale and stony and completely solid. His silver hair was swept away from his face, his eyes a golden brown similar to Edward’s. “How did you...” he trailed off, his voice soft and distant, not a hint of anger.

“Sorry Carlisle,” Edward appeared out of thin air behind her. She took note of how he never called him ‘dad’. “I thought everyone was out. I brought y/n and Bella up to collect some things for school.” The two Cullen’s stared intensely at each other, something passing between them in that look.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n blurted after a moment, feeling as though she had intruded, “I’ve got what I came for,” She held up the book, “I can head back now.” She attempted a half-smile not meeting Carlisle’s eyes.

“It’s fine.” He said almost too quickly. His voice quiet, meditated. “You’re no bother to me.” The way he spoke, it was so elegant and unlike anyone in town. “I see you two are friends now after the accident.” Edward and y/n shared a glance.

“It was no big problem really.” Y/n felt herself melting into his presence, now more confident to steal looks at his unwavering eyes, fixed on her. “Just a scratch.”

“Still,” A smile had warmed into his stony cheeks, evidently comfortable himself as he busied himself with a folder already fanned out on the counter top, “Edward’s behaviour was unacceptable. He did apologise?” Carlisle leaned on his forearms, his smile widening.

“Yes...I did.” Edward groaned, y/n couldn’t help but giggle. He then turned to her, “You should’ve heard the verbal lashing I got when I came home.”

“Edward.” Carlisle warned, his smile dropping disapprovingly. Edward held y/n’s gaze for a moment before slowly reaching Carlisle's stare, again something seemed to pass between the two. “Did you say Bella was here?” Carlisle swiftly changed the topic.

“Yeah, I best go find her.” Edward added, the two easing the tension with expertise. “Before she falls down two flights of stairs and through a window or something.” He muttered.

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Y/n agreed.

“Me neither.” Carlisle added distantly causing y/n to flash a smile at him. Edward bounded out of the room, distantly calling Bella’s name as he began his search. “Good book.” Carlisle commented.

“Yeah when Edward said I could borrow his first edition I was in shock to be honest.” Making conversation was disturbingly easy.

“You can take anything you want from our library, it’s full of first editions.” Carlisle said without thinking, “It’s sort of a...hobby. For us.” The way he said ‘us’ made y/n shiver, he knew that him and his family were exclusive, outsiders. Us and them, and y/n couldn’t figure out what side she was on.

“I have a feeling this one will take me a while but thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.” She smiled without thinking.

“It’s nice to see Edward’s making friends. We’ve been here a few years now and he’s only just branching out.”

“Well, ‘making friends’ is a bit of an overstatement,” She leaned back against the counter top, comfortable, “Technically me and Bella are the only two people he’s talked to outside of his own family. And I’m pretty sure he’s only putting up with me because I live next to Bella, that and your...verbal lashing.”

“It wasn’t that bad, honestly.” Carlisle chuckled to himself.

“Thank you though, nonetheless.” He eyed her carefully, his golden orbs flitting across her face and, unless she was mistaken, for a moment they glanced down her body.

“Your cut cleaned up perfectly.” He spoke into the silence, “No scarring at all.”

“I don’t think I would’ve minded a scar. At least it would be a conversation starter.” He laughed, it was softer than Edward’s, more rounded and from deep within his chest.

“Ah yes, then you could tell everyone about the time you walked into a car door.”

“Technically, I think the car door walked into me.” He laughed again and y/n’s chest swelled with pride. She was doing it, holding a conversation with him at ease. “It feels like ages ago now,” She pondered aloud, “And it’s really how Edward and Bella met. Funny that.”

“Yes.” He agreed, his eyes holding hers a second too long before he turned back to his paperwork. “Well,” He cleared his throat, “Best get back to business.” Almost like clockwork Edward and Bella appeared at the stairs, giggling to themselves about some inside joke.

“Yeah uh, I’ll see you around.” Y/n shot him a tentative smile. He didn’t say anything in response but his eyes were conveying an emotion she couldn’t quite comprehend. She already knew that look was going to stick with her.

“You ready to head back y/n?” Edward asked as he sidled into the kitchen. From behind him Bella shot y/n an apologetic look as if she were sorry for leaving her with Carlisle. How little she knew.

“Of course.” Y/n smiled at Edward.

“Okay, just head down to the car I’ll be down in a sec.” With one last smile at Carlisle y/n skipped a little to meet up with Bella before the pair headed downstairs. It wasn’t until they were far out the house and near the car that Bella started a conversation.

“Sorry for leaving you there.” She half-smiled.

“Don’t be.” Y/n tried not to smile too much.

“Carlisle’s lovely isn’t he?” The question caught y/n off-guard, it took her a minute to realise Bella was speaking of him as a fatherly-figure.

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n stammered, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. Bella noticed and went to say something when she realised.

“Y/n, your book?”

“What?” Y/n was confused again before realising, looking down her lap was empty. Completely devoid of all 19th century classical text. “Shit, be back in a sec.”

And with that she was out, jumping up the house steps two at a time. When she was in the house though she slowed down again, afraid of the mere thought of falling and damaging anything within the house. As she moved through the house she became aware of somewhat raised voices.

“What game are you playing?” It was Carlisle’s voice, not angry, not anything. It was completely monotonous. It was wrong to eavesdrop but it felt like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand it was rude to eavesdrop, on the other she was already stuck behind the corner of the kitchen and had no idea how to walk into the kitchen naturally, especially since the conversation had already begun and the Cullens would know that she must’ve heard some of it.

“I’m not doing anything.” Edward’s voice was soft as well. The pair arguing without arguing.

“What you’re doing is dangerous.”

“You’re so happy for me and Bella. Every time I enter a room all I can hear it you’re praise of approval. Why can’t you let yourself be happy.”

“Edward-”

“I’m being serious.”

“I don’t need this right now I’ve got paperwork.”

“If we were to live life your way you’d quite literally be doing paperwork for eternity.”

“The smell Edward. Even I have only so much restraint.” Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. Y/n was brutally offended. Surely, surely he wasn’t talking about her. Mortified, y/n tugged her shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelt like her mother’s washing detergent and y/n’s cheap perfume from Christmas. The statement had knocked her so off balance she wasn’t quite aware of Edward stalking in her direction. Hurriedly, she paced down three steps before walking up them as if it were the first time.

“Y/n.” Edward exclaimed loud enough for Carlisle to hear. Y/n looked at him, trying to mask whatever emotion she was feeling.

“Sorry. I forgot the book.” She smiled, hoping her eyes didn’t give her away. Edward said nothing, just disappeared and returned with the Hardy, gently passing it to her before leading her downstairs. Did he know she was listening?

The drive home was silent.

next part

requests open <3

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[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 1: The Void

A/N: An alt ending/fix-it fic. Because we and they deserved better--so I made it happen.

83 hours and 37 minutes. Not that he'd kept a count exactly. Just that his eidetic mind knew the exact moment Abbie had left this world, taking his heart with her and leaving him hollow, and his quick thoughts often calculated the duration he'd kept breathing without her. He'd spent the first 6 hours and 24 minutes working with Miss Jenny and Master Mills—and ultimately, ironically, his old pal the Horseman—to try to defeat Pandora and force her to release his Lieutenant, only to learn she'd actually expired. The dreams he'd had, sweet and aching moments with Abbie reflecting on their meet cute, time in the Archives, relaxing on their front porch where she'd tried to explain why he should let her go, would never suffice. He hadn't said the things he'd wanted—needed—to, hadn't explained how she'd helped save him: from roaming lost in this world, from imprisonment and institutionalization, from his son and the myriad monsters they'd encountered, from a wife who'd never truly been honest with him. And yes more important matters: from going mad, drowning in loneliness, feeling isolated, floating adrift in a world that still confounded him sometimes. And at times even saving him from himself. No, he hadn't said any of those things. And now he never could. Which is why he'd spent the next 49 hours and 52 minutes drowning his sorrows, his hollowed out chest, and his overactive mind in rivers of alcohol. He hadn't gotten smashed or wallowed in oblivion. No, he'd needed it to last, so he'd drunk just enough as the hours passed to keep the clawing ache in his empty ribcage from swallowing him whole. Miss Jenny had come by sometime around hour 32, banging on the door so hard he thought the roof would cave in. If he'd cared at all, he might feel concerned about her waking the neighbors in the dead of night, but he couldn't muster enough decency to. He'd ignored her at first, thinking she'd take a hint, or at least think him not home, but her insistent knocking continued. "I know you're in there, Crane." More banging. "Let me in there, or get out of my sister's house." It was a low blow, but one he deserved, for Miss Jenny had lost just as much as he had. If anyone had earned the right to drown her demons with liquor right next to him, it was her.

He'd stumbled to the door—okay, maybe he had gotten smashed, for he felt her knocking vibrate through his brain—bottle in hand, and unlocked it, turning the knob and walking away before he'd even seen her face. The slam of the door rattled the house but not him, and he shuffled back to his couch cushion, dropping down onto it, sipping from the bottle, and staring into the fireplace embers. Jenny said not a word, simply restarted the fire and plopped down on the other end of the couch, gazing at the vibrant blaze as it danced shadows around the room. After a few minutes, he threw out his arm towards her, bottle in hand, and she took it from him, downing a few gulps to try to silence the ache. She tried to return it to him, but he waved her off, waiting another 30 minutes before slowly rising—why did simply existing hurt so much?—and  retrieving a few more bottles, which he'd purchased on his way home from that graveyard, from the stash in the kitchen. He placed them on the cushion between them, an open bar for them to sink into. Another few hours dragged by, and he felt more than heard Jenny crying at some point, the room changing from desperation, anger, and pain to grief and mourning, and he joined her, tears cascading down his face unabashedly. Their silence made their shared sorrow all the more palpable, exchanging emotions they couldn't speak aloud, the shroud around them sucking the whimpering breaths out of them as easily as it'd done to their partners. How could he have kept silent all this time, holding in and swallowing down the words that'd desperately begged for release? He'd tried to ignore them, the burgeoning affection, passion—now that it mattered no longer, he could admit it, cowardly fiend that he was—and love he'd harbored for Abbie since long before proprietary permitted it. He'd killed his wife for her, for Heaven's sake! And while he pretended mere friendship, ignored everything that screamed at him to make his feelings known, he hadn't hidden a damn thing. Miss Corinth, Betsy, even Pandora had seen his love for her. What an abominable fool he'd been. And now the one person who needed to know, who should've heard it from his own lips a thousand times over, never would. He let the tears burn down his face, though they washed none of his self-recriminations away. He deserved every horrid thought he had about himself. They ripped through his mind, scathing him, leaving him more raw and aching than he could ever remember feeling before. His entire body ached, joints, marrow, muscles, head, chest. And still he sipped on, needing the numb, refusing the full onslaught of trauma a clear mind would force him to face. He'd lost before, lost battles and comrades and his dignity. Lost loves and his homeland and best friend and life. His world and his wife and his son and the dreams he'd had and held and hoped for. Hell, he'd even lost Abbie a few times. But never where he couldn't get her back. Never where he couldn't find a way to follow, to find, to free her. And Master Corbin too. To lose both within hours of each other...they could shrivel into oblivion right now and it'd feel better than this. Master Joe had become his compatriot, his comrade in arms against the monsters and the daily dose of estrogen floating around the Archives—not that he'd trade the Mills sister or Agent Foster for ten regiments of men—not to mention a brother and friend. And Abbie...the ache in his chest seized him anew, and his shoulders hunched in against the black hole of despair threatening his breath. He couldn't begin to enumerate all the things she'd become to him. Partner, secret-keeper, fellow Witness, best friend, confidant, companion, roommate, voice of reason, inspiration, keeper of his heart. He thought he'd been in love once, had been in fact, but losing her had felt nothing like this. He'd sat in pain, suffered with the guilt that he'd not devoted enough to her, hadn't held tightly enough to a union that hadn't been what he'd agreed to, despaired that she'd died by his own hand in an effort to save Abbie. He'd had to—it hadn't even been a choice by then. Now, though, without Abbie...he didn't know how to keep breathing, wasn't sure he wanted to. Couldn't see beyond the bottom of the bottle. How could he walk through the world, the Archives, the town, this house, with memories of her around every corner, breathing down his neck, invading his mind, shredding the broken pieces of his heart into shavings? How could he solve the mysteries of the supernatural without her intellect, expertise, and help? What was one Witness to do without his other half, the best part of him, his anchor to this era? He couldn't sit still with himself and his maudlin ruminations another second. Without thinking, Ichabod hefted himself off the couch and shuffled down the hallway, making a pit stop before grabbing a box of tissues from the hall closet. He set them down on the cushion between them and took his seat again. Jenny had stayed until the sun was well into the sky, barely any words spoken but sharing the pain of their losses just the same. She'd stretched her hand out towards him, bridging the empty spaces around them with a simple reach of her arm across the cushion. He looked at her hand, open and alone in the expanse between them, and he slid his hand into hers, both of them holding on and squeezing tightly, attempting to convey all the things they couldn't speak with words. A moment later, she slipped quietly out of the house, the finality of the door clicking closed somehow louder than the slam she'd entered it with, sealing him into a solitude he'd never comprehend. More hours passed as he'd slept off the nasty hangover he wouldn't admit he had, as he sat in the bathtub letting the hot water steam over him until it cooled off and had him shivering, as he roamed aimlessly from room to room, gazing longingly at all the remnants of Agent Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills: her hairbrush, those heeled boots that still left her a foot shorter than him, the cappuccino she'd just started drinking again at his behest, her pea coat with the faux-fur hood that made her look adoringly like a diminutive Eskimo. Now, just over 84 hours had passed, and he still didn't have a sweet clue as to how to get through the next one, still sat in this one corner of the couch, only this time without a drink in his hand. Without so many things... Without a case to work, without his partner in crime and, he'd begun to hope, in life from here until the end, without a purpose, he might as well lay back down in that cave he'd emerged from and sleep for a few more centuries. "Crane." Her voice, soft and lilting and perfect, floated to him, a haunting sound he both craved and feared. He'd thought he might have imagined her during his indulgent consumption of alcohol, but no...it was here in his lucid moments that he'd conjured the sound of her, the voice he'd long to hear until the day he drew his last breath. "Crane." She sounded hesitantly happy, guardedly optimistic, a smile coming through her tone. Exactly how he heard her in his mind, same as he'd done when she'd been lost in the catacombs. He shook his head slightly to escape from her, not ready for conversations with her yet, everything about him still too raw to face all of the things he needed to apologize for, all of the things he'd never had the audacity to tell her when she'd stood by him, encouraged him, spurred him on. "Ichabod." She accompanied her insistent tone and the rare use of his first name with a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling up from the couch to face whatever ghoul had come to destroy his feeble, battered mind. And his jaw dropped. There she stood...Abbie. In one piece, small in stature but large in presence, beautiful and strong and...breathing. How could this be? "Abbie...?" His whispered question sounded more like a squeak, but he didn't dare try again, wasn't sure what devilry was at work here, arriving to destroy him when he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and apology, a small smile of hesitation and hope playing on her face. "Hi."

[wtfsaidthefox]

Can’t sleep?

Duskwood - Jake x MC - 1779 words - Spoilers for Ep7!

Starts out with MC (who I randomly decided to name Sam) struggling after the events of Ep7, and Jake wanting to comfort her. Ends in self-indulgence fluff, because apparently that's the only way I can imagine Jake.

Under „read more" due to length~

Middle of the Night. She could hear rain coming down, beating against the open window of her bedroom. It wasn't all that cold, but she felt cold, even with her blanket pulled up halfway over her head. There was just a shiver going through her she couldn't shake. By now, she must have been lying in bed for a few hours, trying to find some sleep but dreading it all the same.

It had only been yesterday. Someone she had come to call a friend and care about in these last days… killed, right in front of her. It still didn't feel real. Then again, it felt like the only reality she had left. The pictures didn't leave her. Richy, coughing up blood. Richy, his face slowly growing still and lifeless. The panic taking over her, her heartbeat too loud and too fast in her own ears, that one thought hammering in her head, „do something, do something, do something".

If she'd try to recall her own actions right now, she barely could. She told the others. Desperate, incoherent syllabyles and half sentences. They went through disbelief, shock and denial all in a few seconds, but one of them managed to call the police. They had barely spoken since Richy's body was found, and on her end, she couldn't blame anything but guilt. Maybe they had pushed too much. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe she could have done something.

With a small, low groan she reached for her phone. Sleep wouldn’t come, and if, it would come with the same nightmares of last night, so she was tired of fighting for it. Anything else would do.

Opening her phone, she realized that she had an unread message.

Jake.

Between everything falling apart and coming undone, Jake had tried his best to stay calm. But it was even hard for him. ‚He must be so worried‘, she thought, ‚what this could mean for Hannah. Is Hannah dead already too, after all? Will everyone abandon the search for his sister?‘. In truth, he was worried for her.

„Hello Sam. You're probably asleep by now, at least I hope so. I just wanted to ask if you were alright. I mean, whenever you wake up. Please just let me know.“

A slight smile ghosted over her lips. Had someone told her after that first voice distorted phone call that the man under that hoodie would turn out to be such a sweetheart, she'd have laughed at them. But there was really no other word more fitting for Jake. Going through the best, most convincing „I'm all good" standard responses in her head, she noticed the little green dot next to his name. He was online. And just a few seconds later, another message popped up, he had seen her being online too.

„Can't sleep?“

„No. Do you ever sleep?“

„Some times?“

There was a bit of a break. She didn't know what to say, her thoughts a mess and her fingers shaky. Jake started typing. Stopped. Erased the Text. Then again.

„If you can't sleep Sam, I'm here for you.“

„You're sweet Jake.“

This was bittersweet, if she was honest. His care for her made her feel warm for the first time since she crawled under her blanket. But she was also at a loss for words. Shouldn't he focus on Hannah? Did she really deserve his support now? And most of all… how? How could he help her, far way, at some place she didn't even know. But she’d bite her tongue off before admitting to that thought.

„Do you want to talk?“

„You mean Smalltalk? 🤭“

Well, this sounded familiar.

„I would love to Jake, it's just…. I don't even know about what. Anything else would do, but I'm only coming up blank.“

„I'd know something.“

Oh? Now this was new. Curious, she asked him to go ahead.

„While I was in hiding, the only thing I could think of was you. How much I missed you. All the things I wanted to tell you. All the things you didn't know about me yet, but that I wanted to share. Even if I never shared them before, or couldn't even say why it suddenly meant so much to me to tell you. And more then that, all the things I didn‘t yet know about you. All the things I wanted to ask for no other reason then that I want to know you.“

He straightened up in front of his PC. Close to 2 in the night, he hadn't even moved away from his desk yet. Sleep, especially good sleep, had been a stranger to him for so long now, he had given up trying. There was always something on his mind, something to be done, one potential mistake to double check, one preparation more to make. If he was honest, most often, it was pointless. Nothing but his own ghosts from these last months on the run from the governement keeping him awake.

But this time was different. This time, the reason was right.

„You can ask me anything you want Jake“

„What makes you happy?“

Unexpected. Again. She furrowed her brows as she pondered the answer to his question.

„That's a hard one to answer"

„I know. I don't think I could have answered it myself just a short time ago.“

The implication was obvious enough, but still, she needed to hear it. Hear it spelled out.

„But you do now?“

„I do. You. You make me happy.“

She read those words a few times, with a smile on her face, aloud, or in her head in what she imagined his voice to sound like. Jake was normally not too good at reading other peoples emotions, but she couldn't help wondering if he knew how much she had needed to hear that. What those words meant, especially now, when all she was capable of was blaming and doubting herself.

„You make me happy too Jake“

„And that means more to me then I can say. But still, I'd love to hear what else does.“

„Are you planing to use that information against me?“

„Yes. Repeatedly and without fail :)“

How cute could he get? Laughing, she shoke her head and decided to just list everything randomly that would spring to mind.

„Well…. My neighbours, they have this little dog, and every time it sees me in the hallway it's all excited and overjoyed and adorable. That's just infectious. And the first flowers coming out in spring. Every year. Getting to sleep in on Sundays. Getting to hug my friends and family, especially if I haven't seen them for a long time. And seeing them smile. Oh, and you know what? Giving them a present that was just right. You know this horrible feeling of anxiety and impending failure every time you fret over what best to get a loved one for their birthday or on christmas? But then when you hit the nail on the head, and they love it – that has to be one of the best feelings in the world!“

„Of course you would", he answered to the last bit, before she could go on.

„I would what?“

„List giving others presents over receiving them.“

„Well, I'm not complaining about that either 😛 oh, and before I forget to add: parks, forest, beaches – just taking a walk through any of those. Or sitting down for a picnic and just watching the sky. It’s been way too long since I did that last. Have you done that before?“

„No, at least not for a very long time. But I would love to do that with you.“

„As a warning: I will tell you how every single cloud looks like a bunny, or a duck, or my old angry math teacher"

„What if I can identify those clouds first?“

„Then I'm impressed and you get points"

„And what do I get if I have more points then you and win?“

„An actual cloud. So cotton candy.“

She really was the only person that could still make him smile. Just like she was the only one that still made him feel like one day, he could be genuinely happy again himself. That there were people in this world he could trust, no second guessing, no double checking, no constant overthinking every word he said. Talking to her was easy. It made him feel weightless and light-headed, and he had no idea anymore how he had managed to fight those feelings for one second in the beginning.

He had started to tell her, trying to write down just what she meant to him, but in the most unfair contradiction, finding the right words for that was impossibly hard. And given what had just happened, was this really the right time?

Before he could finish debating on hitting send or not, another message popped up.

„Jake…. Is there really a chance for that? Can I really meet you, one day? Because… I wished you were here"

„I know. I wished that too. So I could be with you and support you, more then just with a few words. But I promise you, once this is all over, I'll find a way.“

Yes, he would. He had started to think about how while he had been on the run, and he knew he could make it happen. There was simply no other choice.

Realizing this again, he had deleted his previous attempt at telling her just what exactly she meant to him. Maybe the time wasn't wrong, but the how was. He’d tell her in person. He’d tell her in his own voice, looking into her eyes and seeing her reaction on his face after every single word. And then he‘d tell her again, until she was tired of hearing it.

Which she would probably never be. She felt herself exhaling, letting go of a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding in, as she read his answer to the question she had been so afraid to ask. Which she should have asked sooner, because his answer brought her more relief then she could have hoped. It was exactly how he could help her, more then anyone else, no matter where he was right now.

„Thank you Jake"

„:)“

„I'll reserve all the prettiest picnic places in all the nearby parks 😉“

„Well I hope there are a lot, so we get to spent a lot of time together.“

„There are! Though at some point we will probably also have to think of something else 🤭“

„Looking back at your previous reply, I guess I’d get you flowers next. Or hugs. Or a dog. I'll decide spontaneously :P“