#precious beautiful haunted characters

[stormravenart]

This trilogy holds a special place in my heart. Like a blooming flower.

[shesacrified]

tag dump: updating tags & new verses!

[the-original-skipps]

|| A Heart Left Behind. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

*smacks lips* it was getting a little too fluffy around here lol

please read PART 1 first before this one!

CW: angst. mentions of violence, injury, blood, suicide, hallucinations. character death.

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Endo Yamato.

"We are sorry to inform you, but the patient has unfortunately passed away."

❥ Sakura could feel his entire world crumbling, with each fragment a piece of you. The voices of the doctor, the people around him fading away like distant noise. His vision blurs, confused; Sakura reaches to lightly brush over his surprisingly wet cheek. Oh, they're tears. The doctor could only look at the poor boy sympathetically, before being jerked forward in surprise. As tears flow endlessly, Sakura grabs a fist full of the doctor's pristine white coat. He shouts in confusion and anger - unbelieving of the words just uttered. You couldn't possibly be gone. You promised that you'd take him to the aquarium next week, you promised him you'd let him taste the cookies you tried to bake. Despite all the promises made you’re gone now; forever out of his reach and it was all his fault. With realization, regrets start bubbling within him as his arms fall limply to his side. Thinking about all the times he could have spent with you. He should have hugged you more, told you that you were truly beautiful and kissed you each time like it was going to be the last. It should have been him. Just as you’ve given him a reason to live, now you’ve gone and taken it with you.

“T-Tell me, how am I supposed to live w-without you...?”

❥ Suo remembers the vivid moment, when the doctor told him the news that changed everything. He remembers smiling and thanking the doctor for trying their best, even though his heart felt like it had just been ripped out and his mind sank into darkness. He also remembers when he stood amongst a sea of blood and bodies as the darkness fully consumed him. Sakura and Nirei look onwards with shock and despair, powerless in trying to stop him. The ones who've hurt you in a state of near death but why didn't he feel satisfied? Only when Nirei screamed that you'd never be happy seeing him like this, does the realization hit. When you've left, you've left a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be that could never be filled again. Now, he stands in front of your grave - a bouquet of flowers he arranged personally for you. A bouquet of purple lilies, anemones and white chrysanthemums which symbolizes grief and eternal love. He promises for as long as he still lives, he'll atone for the fact he couldn't save you. When he sees you again, does he still deserve to be hugged like you used to?

"Until we meet again, my love."

❥ Nirei doesn't remember the last time he left his room. A room filled with mountains of rubbish, discarded ramen cups, empty water bottles and other miscellaneous trash and he sits in the middle of it. His precious notebook is forgotten beneath everything. Ever since you died, Nirei couldn't find the passion nor the will to live. Suo, Sakura and all his classmates tried their best to pull him back up but it was all worthless. If it isn't your hand that pulls him back up. Your memory haunts him in this empty room, with each one bringing him to tears - his chest unbearably tight. He rocks himself from side to side as tears flood his eyes, clutching his head in his hands whispering assurances to himself. The weight of your death prevented him from rising, after all it was his fault it happened. Sometimes he swears he could hear you in this very room, belittling him and spitting insults. Most of all blaming him for the reason behind your death. It's unbearable, when will it stop? A thought flashes in his mind that has him briefly smiling. Maybe there is a solution to forever escape from the pain.

"I-If I die, will you forgive me...?"

❥ Umemiya smiles as he looks down at his work. A patch of broccolis growing big and green, he reaches over and lightly touches them. Imagine the look of excitement you'd have at seeing your favorite vegetables. Until a grim thought crosses his mind that sets a frown on his face. You’ve passed away. The memory has his fists clenched and eyes burning in trying to hold back tears that threaten to spill. Only when he hears Hiragi clear his throat from behind him, does Umemiya snap out of his thoughts. Pulling himself together, he brightly smiles at his trusted friend - thanking him for coming but what he says next has Hiragi in utter shock. With his eyes fixed on your favorite vegetables and a sad smile on his face. Umemiya states that he will no longer hold the position of Bofurin's leader and the position will be passed onto Hiragi instead. Shocked and enraged Hiragi pulls Umemiya forward with a fist full of his white shirt, demanding he take back his words but the longer Hiragi stares at his friend he realizes. That the once bright eyes no longer shined, only reflecting emptiness back to him.

"I couldn't protect (Y/N), I can longer be trusted to protect everyone."

❥ Kaji stands, leaning casually against a chain fence with his usual headphones to his ears, a song playing - a blank stare on his face. Enomoto comes running panting with Kusumi following close behind. Enomoto's eyes widen in shock at the scene in front of him. His class leader sitting, his fists bloodied - a spread of unconscious bodies surrounding him. Kaji doesn't even look at his friends, ignoring them as he properly stands - brushing past them to walk away until Enomoto stops him with a hand to his shoulder. As the hand touches Kaji's shoulder, a switch happens - he angrily swats his friend's hand away. Enomoto and Kusumi stood in shock, the look on Kaji's face was the same face he used to have years ago. His usual blue eyes swirling with sadness and rage. A deep emptiness infixed within him. Ever since you died, he no longer knew he was or who to be anymore. Your guiding hand no longer extended towards him. Enomoto tries talk some sense into his friend that what he was doing was wrong but Kaji answers back with only shouts colored in anger. The sudden movement knocks Kaji's headphones from his head. A familiar song played from the device, Enomoto and Kasumi knew it well. It was your favorite song.

"Don't you get it?! T-This is the only way I can feel something!"

❥ Endo stares up into the bright full moon, as he sits on a swing. The deserted playground he's at is quiet, with only the whispers of the wind. He looks to a swing beside him. He can see the ghost of your figure sitting on it, asking him if he could push you. At the vision, a smile creeps upon Endo's face - you look so happy and beautiful calling out to him. Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out towards you, only to brush against nothing. The image of you disappearing like sand to the wind. It often happens, a memory of you attached to everything around him - that's how much he sees you even when you’re gone. He believes that he sees you but only to meet with disappointment and a blank space where you used to be. On nights where he's left to his own thoughts, the image of you becomes clearer as if you were really there. He swears you spoke to him with your usual sweet voice and he happily replied back. He doesn't want to accept that you're gone, his entire being rejecting the notion but deep down inside he knows that you’re truly gone from this world. Even if he knows that they're only illusions created by his own mind, it's the only way he won't succumb to the loneliness of your absence. Maybe one day, when he reaches out to you he’ll actually get to touch your soft skin again. Until then he’ll keep reaching out to you.

"When will you come to see me again, (Y/N)?"

[chillinglyadventurous]

Spooktober Day 31 - “[Y/N]’s dead. You know that? I killed her.”

Finally, Spooktober is over…

Tags: Character death

The sky was a swirling, unnatural orange, the air thick with chaos and the haunting cries of Bill Cipher’s minions. Ford stood his ground amidst the destruction of Gravity Falls, gripping his makeshift weapon tightly. He’d been through a lot, countless dimensions and endless battles, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of Bill Cipher hovering before him, looking like a cat who had devoured an entire flock of canaries.

“Fordsy!” Bill chimed, the sing-song quality of his voice undercut by something dark, something poisonous. “You really think you’re going to stand up against me? After all we’ve been through? Oh, let’s be honest, you could be so much more if you’d just let go of these limitations.”

Ford narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched. “I’d rather die than join forces with you, Bill.”

Bill floated closer, his eye narrowing. “Oh, come on, Ford! Think about the possibilities! With that mind of yours, the things we could create together.”

Ford’s silence was answer enough.

A flicker of irritation crossed Bill’s face before he shrugged it off with a chuckle. Then his voice dropped lower, laced with malice. “Well, you know, maybe you need a little incentive.” His grin grew impossibly wide. “Ever wonder where your precious [Y/N] has been all this time? Guess what? She’s dead. You know that? I killed her.”

Ford’s heart stopped. For a moment, the world around him fell silent, the chaos receding as those words sank in. “You’re lying,” his mind whispered desperately, but Bill’s twisted grin said otherwise.

“You, you monster,” Ford’s voice cracked, his composure slipping as he imagined you, his wife, caught in this nightmare. The pain of your absence had gnawed at him, but this, this truth was a jagged blade tearing him apart.

“Oh, monster? Me?” Bill laughed, floating backward with a smug satisfaction. “It was easy. Just a snap of my fingers and she was gone.” He sighed. Bill’s laugh was deafening, ringing through Ford’s head. “I think you’re the real monster, Sixer! You should have heard her begging for you to come save her.” Bill laughed again, kicking his feet like a large child on his throne of mineralized townsfolk. “And where were you, hmm? Too busy worried about this stupid, hick town to wonder where your beautiful wife had run off to.”

[creedslove]

BABY BLISS 🍼

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Tommy's daughter was born a couple of months ago but Joel can't bring himself to be around the baby as painful memories of his late daughter continue to haunt him and you try your best to support him

(This can be read as a continuation of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧 and MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙 or as a stand alone, it's up to you)

Warnings: established relationship, age gap, fluff, angst, hurt, anxiety attack, talks of pregnancy, as usual, out of character Joel as always lol

A/N: I LOVE JOEL MILLER 🥺😔

2k words

You thought Joel was indestructible. He was fearless, courageous, when needed, he was violent, brutal, mercilessly. You'd seen him take down men and creatures without flinching.

Nothing seemed to faze him, and you were sure he feared nothing in his life.

So watching Joel Miller being scared of a baby was actually pretty funny. At first.

Ever since Maria's and Tommy's baby was born, you'd been to their place a lot of times. You just loved helping them out with the baby, it wasn't the smartest idea to have one during the apocalypse, but then, they were married, in love, safe in a community and who were you to judge after all? Babies represented a new life, a wind of change, so when you saw that beautiful little thing for the first time, your heart melted.

She was an adorable baby, so quiet and small and you loved holding her whenever Maria would let you to.

Her sweet precious Flora smelled really good, you had heard of people talking about how babies smelled good but you didn't think it was true until you held her. You just couldn't get enough of your niece.

Niece.

That made you giggle.

You and Joel finally made things official after he took you on a date. You had been in love with each other for long, but you were both too scared to admit it.

Looking back at things now, you realized how silly it was because of how obvious your feelings for each other were, and you could swear you were the happiest woman in Jackson, as you could be with the man you loved.

But when you saw how happy Maria was with her baby, you realized maybe you were the second happiest woman in town.

The only thing that felt off was Joel's reaction. He never seemed very enthusiastic about the news his brother was going to be a dad, and when Maria finally delivered the baby, he was just in a weird mood. He kept to him, didn't say much, congratulated his brother and took him out for a drink, but he declined when Tommy offered him to hold Flora.

And since then, he kept his distance from the baby. He glanced at her from afar and that was it.

At first you didn't give it much thought, but you began finding it weird, especially after the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the room whenever Joel didn't actually acknowledge his niece.

Tommy didn't pressure him into holding Flora or anything like that, he had an idea why his brother was distant, so he'd rather not go there and make him uncomfortable.

You'd spent the whole after at Maria's while the men were out in town working and doing other tasks. Very often Tommy and Joel went back to some construction jobs, just as before everything went to shit.

He knew you'd stay at his brother's so he'd told you he'd stop by later and you two could walk home together.

Joel was hoping that you'd be good to go once he got there with Tommy, but of course you had to be inside, he sighed and looked around, trying to come up with an excuse so he wouldn't get in, but his brother was already holding the door open for him with a dumb smile and he could hear your voice inside.

The house was silent, the only thing they could hear was your voice, but you weren't speaking, you were humming.

Maria was in a comfortable slumber, she lay on the couch and ended up falling asleep once she saw her baby girl was safe in your arms. She'd spent most nights awake and it was a relief to have you around helping her. She didn't even know how to thank you, but to you, it was such a bliss to take care of Flora.

Joel stepped inside, he swallowed hard the moment he saw you holding the baby. You hummed a lullaby but she wouldn't close her little eyes. Flora was smart and curious, always looking around and cooing at people. He knew you'd already told him he should be a little warmer to her, of course she was a small baby and didn't understand things, but you reminded him maybe Tommy and Maria could be offended if he didn't show any interest in their daughter, after all, she'd been born a couple of months ago and Joel had barely looked at her.

But he didn't want to look at her, because if he did, he would recognize the features he used to love so much and he lost. He didn't want to hold her, because he knew her smell would remind him of the smell of the one he lost for good.

He couldn't do that to himself, he didn't want to live through that pain again, now he was happy and though he would never forget what happened, some days it hurt a little less, because he had you in his life and you made it all easier. But when he saw you holding Flora, he didn't feel strong enough. The way she cooed in your arms and blinked curiously and the way you pecked her forehead so gently, it gutted him.

"Hey princess, that's uncle Joel" you cooed at her and saw her fussing a little before giving him a gummy smile.

You chuckled and got closer "do you wanna hold her?" You offered gently. He saw your eyes sparkling and he wondered if you ever wanted to be a mom, you were a natural with kids, they always seemed to love you and sometimes he closed his eyes and wondered what things would be like if you ended up pregnant, but he dismissed this thought as soon as it appeared.

He could see how happy you were to be holding Flora, and how comfortable you were with a small baby in your arms.

He hadn't told you why he didn't want anything to do with the baby, he knew he was kind of a jerk, but since his brother never brought it up, then he didn't feel the need to explain it.

But when you looked at him that way, it melted his heart, he couldn't bring himself to say no to you. He heard a small coo and looked down onto your eyes, taking a deep breath and extending his.

You didn't think Joel would be willing to pick Flora up, and if he weren't you wouldn't insist it at all, but there he was, surprising you after all. Little Flora settled comfortably in her uncle's arms, her small nose nuzzled his chest as she began closing her eyes feeling sleepy. She looked curiously at him, but he was so warm she couldn't fight sleep for much longer.

Joel was in awe at his niece. She didn't even know him, and yet she trusted him enough to fall asleep, silly little princess, he thought to himself and smiled. She was so soft and small and the warmth in his arms brought him back so many memories he thought they were buried deep.

He didn't know why he was blushing, but he still avoided looking at you or Tommy, wanting to focus only on the beautiful little girl he had in his arms. He scanned her features and smiled at her, closing his eyes as he inhaled her characteristic baby scent.

His heart skipped a beat and his smile died as a lump formed in his throat. He was enjoying the moment, he really was but then everything came back, all at once and the moment he opened his eyes again he didn't see Flora anymore, all he saw was Sarah.

His sweet baby Sarah, it'd been so long and yet there she was in his arms. He felt a pang in his chest, thinking he'd gone crazy. The first time he held her in his arms, her first word which was also the first time she called him dada, the first time she scraped her knee and called for him, the movie nights they had together and finally how he held her limp body against his, the smell of her fresh blood invading his nostrils and how cold she got in his arms.

Joel let out a sob and opened his eyes again, Flora was still asleep but Tommy quickly picked her up from him "I got this" he said in a concerned way as Joel walked out the backdoor.

The lump in his throat was making it impossible for Joel to breath, he placed his hand in his chest, trying to reach for air but his heart hammered faster and faster in his chest. He looked around hoping he could find something to focus and calm down, but it seemed impossible. Tears ran down his cheek as he fought for control but felt he got to a dead end.

You ran to Joel as fast as you could, he was anxious and tense and you didn't know exactly how to help him, your eyes glistened with tears as you saw his own.

Your arms wrapped around his body.

"I'm here Joel, I'm here" you whispered to him and felt him fall onto his knees, you followed him and felt him burying his face into the crook of your neck. You pressed it, caressing his hair so gently, reminding him you were there for him.

"Breath honey, breath" you said as calmly as you could. Joel's grip was tight around your waist and you lost track of how long you stayed there.

•••

The walk home was silent, Joel didn't say anything and you didn't ask. He was embarrassed after what happened, to him it was a sign of weakness and he was sure that changed how you viewed him. He would rather be alone than be with you if you pitied him.

You, on the other hand, didn't want to leave his side at all, you didn't feel sorry for him, you felt love. You felt a burning ache, longing for him. You had seen the most human portrait of Joel someone could ever witness.

He wasn't a murderer, he wasn't cold blooded, he was a wounded man. A man who lost all but somehow made his way back to being happy with you.

Once at home, Joel went to his room and stayed there, complete silence filled the house and though you wanted to give him all the time he needed, at the same time you felt a need to be next to him.

You knocked on his door, and opened it, Joel was sitting on the bed, watching old pictures of Sarah.

You smiled sadly as he hid them quickly. They were his and he never let anyone see them, not even you. And you respected that.

You sat next to him and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his arm pulling you by the waist as he let his heavy body lay comfortably in bed and pull you closer to him.

"We don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to… but I want you to know I'm proud of you, proud of how strong you are, Joel" you told him and kissed his lips gently.

You wanted to tell him so many things, you wanted to tell him that you were proud he managed to hold his niece, you wanted to tell him you were sure she was as beautiful as Sarah was and you wanted to tell him if the world wasn't going to shit you would be more than glad in carry his baby, or you would never get pregnant at all, you wanted to tell him you would do anything he wanted you to, because you loved him.

So those were the only words you let it out.

"I love you, Joel"

He looked at you completely silent and pulled you even closer, kissing your forehead and closing his eyes, he wasn't there yet, he wasn't ready to tell you those three words, it could've been superstition, as he lost everyone he's ever loved, so you didn't mind, you respected his silence, because you loved enough for the two of you.

_____

A/N: I love Joel so much

[sourpeachsayshi]

omg peach if you could write a little something for me and sukuna in a garden 🌺 thank you!!

༺tags༻ virgin!princess reader; demon king sukuna; haunting au; reader is watched; suggestive; describes the reader's hair "sukuna plays with he strand"; size difference; all characters are 21+

༺notes: I want to write more of this!! thank you for sending this ask in!! ༻

your palace is cursed by the being who originally built it. countless of stories have been shared between the maids and workers. as a result keeping staff was difficult, but as the princess you had nowhere else to run.

this is your home.

you’ve never thought much of it until recently, when you began spotting a pair of red eyes in the shadows. when you started hearing the echo of a dark laugh through the empty hallways. feel the tickle of hot air against your neck whenever you undress, before catching a tall, broad figure in the reflection of your mirror.

you were being watched.

your heart flutters wearily in your chest, while you hold the lantern in your hand. you're light on your feet, careful not to make a sound. "momo?" you whisper, your eyes squinting in search for the warm fur of your beloved kitten. you don't know what possessed her to bound out of your bedroom and run down the hallways so erratically. but here you are now, all alone on the massive palace grounds trying to find her.

the wind brushes against your cheek, making you spin on your heels nervously, but you see nothing and can only hear the soft rustle of the leaves from the trees. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, swallowing your fear as you continue trudging between the bushes and flowers.

you don't want to leave her out here all by herself.

"momo?" you repeat, speaking a little louder this time even though there's a crack in your voice.

you just can't stop thinking about those red eyes.

you stand in place for a few seconds, slumping your shoulders in defeat. you're unable to shake off the eerie feeling despite the peaceful scene around you. you've moved deeper into the garden now, the beautiful grounds bathing underneath the glow of the soft moon. your bare feet cold against the earth.

you sniffle quietly to yourself, rubbing the tip of your icy nose. you conclude that you'll just have to ask the guards to find her in the morning, and as you take a step back to turn around and return to your quarters, you feel yourself hit a tree.

your heart quivers. your robe is caught within it's sharp branches, but as you drop your guard to try and untangle yourself, you freeze when you notice the figure behind you move.

"shouldn't you be in bed, your highness?"

the blood drains from your face, your ears ring out of fear at the sound of the low, gruff voice.

you slowly drop your hands by your side. your fingers relaxing uneasily before letting go of the lantern.

it lands on the ground perfectly with a tiny thump.

the catch tightens against your waist, only then do you recognize the touch of a hand.

"you're usually asleep at this hour," he adds on.

the shadow moves, circling around you like a predator whose finally caught it's prey. your eyes draw up at the presence of his daunting height, your lips parting in awe identifying those familiar irises.

there was a heavy aura surrounding him, the crisp air now thick and making it harder for you to breathe. he's wearing a black robe, most of his chest exposed to reveal the intricate tattoos on his body. his hair reminded you of autumn, the fiery change of the leaves just before they turned a muted brown. he looked human, just like you, but the chill seizing your spine was a staunch reminder that he isn't.

he's not of this world. he's nothing like you.

"looking for something?" he teases, bringing forward the hand hidden behind his back.

he slightly unfurls his fingers, revealing your precious kitten in his palm. she somehow looks even smaller, her paws latched to his finger as she nips her small fangs into his skin.

you tremble as you reach for her, but the being moves his hand behind his back.

he clicks his tongue, curling his spine forward to meet your face. "not even a thank you, your highness?" he remarks with disapproval, feigning his distaste by pinching his brow.

"please," you whisper quietly, fully consumed by fear.

"remembered your manners, I see..." he chuckles, his free hand moving to touch the strands of your hair. his eyes fall to the lock between his fingers, which he twirls with playful ease. "my wife had a pet too. a white cat named yuki..."

your chest rises and falls heavily when you notice the distance in his eyes. the red deepens as memories bleed through but he is quick to blink back into the present.

"please don't hurt her...or-or me..." you beg, remembering your old maiden stating that if you show respect to the ancient demon king, then he may spare your life.

the being quirks his brow. "I've had my eyes on you this whole time, princess. have I hurt you yet?"

your heart drops to the pit of the stomach at his confirmation, affirming what you've been suspicious of this whole time.

you shake your head no.

he releases your hair, his fingers curling carefully around your throat. "thank me properly," he commands, using his thumb to outline the curve of your bottom lip.

your cheeks burn. no man has ever touched you this intimately before. but your move on instinct, submitting to his will in the hopes to leave his clutches. you stand on your tiptoes to meet him halfway, pressing your lips into the corner of his mouth where you leave a chaste peck.

you drop back on your heels but he doesn't loosen his hold just yet. your pulse skips over itself when he tightens his fingers instead, his eyes boring into your own.

they looked somber.

"you look so much like her," he whispers, the gentle tone of his voice catching you off guard as everything else around you goes still.

seconds pass until he unravels himself. taking your shaking hands into his own where he carefully hands off your kitten. you curl the tiny animal into your chest, your body tingling unexpectedly.

"you better run back before they notice that you're gone,"he warns, the timbre of his voice rough and unsettling. "or before I decide to keep you here for good."

you squeeze you legs unexpectedly as you nod your head, then dash back towards the palace, and leaving your lantern behind.

[bookishfreedom]

For anyone who loved The Raven Cycle, but thought, "that could've been scarier": This book is for you.

Don't Let the Forest In follows Andrew Perrault, returning to the elite Wickwood Academy for his senior year. And although high school has never been easy for Andrew, from the start, this year is different. His twin sister, Dove, is keeping him at arms length, and his best friend Thomas is acting strangely, disappearing into the forest behind the school at night. One night, Andrew follows him, to find Thomas fighting off horrifying creatures. But there's something familiar about these creatures: they look exactly like the ones from Thomas's drawings.

I absolutely devoured this book. It had me up way too late reading, and even though I finished at 3am, I wanted to turn to the beginning and start all over again. (And, at the cost of precious sleep, I did in fact reread the first chapter.)

I would recommend this book to anyone, and it's got me super excited to tackle CG Drews' backlist. The characters leap off the page and sink claws into your heart (in a good way). They're complex and messy and in need of a good hug. Andrew and Thomas are just two kids trying their best to figure out the world, and each other. My heart ached for them both, even when I wanted to shout at them. This story also has some of the best ace rep I've ever read. Andrew's identity is central to the story, and woven into all of his choices seamlessly, in a way that feels natural without distracting from the story.

I was on the edge of my seat the whole time and came away from the story thoroughly haunted. (It was maybe a mistake to read this in the middle of the night.... walking to the bathroom after was a terrifying experience.) Drews' prose is evocative, equal parts beautiful and macabre.

Thanks so much to Netgalley & Macmillan for the free review copy. Happy to say that I ordered my own copy before I even finished the ARC🖤

and thank goodness I did because do you SEE the barnes & noble special edition??? the DRAWINGS. and the @paperfury annotated chapter?? I’m obsessed

[milkb0nny]

Hello. I saw the open request box and I didn’t know if you would be open to write something for Bjorn? Is he a character that you like? Do you have a favourite character from Series Vikings? I read a lot of your work and it’s so beautiful. Would you be able to write something about and obsessed Bjorn with reader and maybe some smuttyness ✨✨✨Mybe she joins him on the first trip to the Mediterranean 😍😍Andhe can see her from the ship across speaking to Floki and Helga ?

loyal dishonesty

Björn x neutral!reader

Björn: A man obsessing over you

Summary: Björn, who is known to be an adventurous and lustful lover, finally caught an endless desire: you. Though, how is he to portray his passion and admiration towards you?

Note: Thank you for your request! Björn is an... okay character. I rewatched the series so many times and with every rewatch I'm able to like him more. Still, he's far away from being a favorite. 😭 I love Ivar and Floki, as well as Helga and Torvi. Also - the smüt might be a little... Well, I usually don't write smüt. 🫠

Warnings: a little smüt, lustful behavior

Word Count: -

♡....━━━━━━━........ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ........━━━━━━━....♡

⚜️ When Björn fell for you, his attention became laser-focused on you. The first spark emerged just like with other women, though with you he felt he couldn't reach you. You were different - hard to get yet playful. He's known for his ambition and drive, but when he's in love, that intensity is redirected towards his beloved. His mind desired you, his body burned for your touch and his eyes were always glued on your very beautiful features. Every decision he made was influenced by thoughts of you.

⚜️ He kindly offered you drinks, a lovely chat or a sweet tease to make him seem interesting. Your personality was not only captivating but making him obsessive. Björn's love manifested as a fierce protectiveness - and an unhealthy obsession with you. He was almost obsessive about keeping you safe, especially on the way to the Mediterranean Sea. He secretly checked on you - your health, your daily activities and your bonds with others.

⚜️ Although his history with cheating is well known, he's also a jealous person. He despised to view you with other men or women who glared at you with lust. Björn felt entitled to you as if he had owned the right to you. No one should come too close, no one should touch your precious body without his permission. Though you weren't his, he still kept barging in whenever a person insisted perverted intentions.

⚜️ Björn is not one who opens up. He prefers to be viewed as the strong provider, a fearless man and a good soldier. However everyone is vulnerable. Björn found himself in a difficult position: he wanted to be vulnerable to show you his honest love though he didn't want to lose his identity as a powerful man. Throughout your time together you watched the thick wall break into pieces little by little. You learned about his flaws, his emotional struggles and especially about his insufferable self esteem. Deep inside he was more insecure than you ever had anticipated. Nevertheless you loved him for sharing that with you which was another reason to never let you go. You knew things no one else was supposed to know. In order to keep his secrets hidden, he needed to make you his. His only.

⚜️ As Björn's love deepens, so does his desperation to hold onto it. Emotions crept up his mind he had never encountered before with anyone else. A strange feeling, robbing his thoughts at night. He fears losing you, his passion, more than anything else and is willing to go to extreme lengths to keep you by his side, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness or ambitions. You did not only entertain him, you showed him how true love looked like. The feeling of your warmth was unique and too worthy to ever let go of. Your embrace motivated him to fight for his ambitions but you also scared him. You could not only pass away during battle, but sicknesses also haunt people's lives. A constant bitter taste - one that made him into a loyal husband.

⚜️ His care showed through intimate times as well. Whenever you begged him for nightly adventures, he was more than ready to fulfill your desires. However, in the back of his foggy mind, he would always make sure you're comfortable. Scaring you or hurting you during such vulnerable actions frightened him. Even if his thrusts were rough and heavy, his hands kept softly petting your shoulders.

⚜️ His obsession with you came so far, that he never engages in positions where he can't see your face. Oh, how he adores your flushed red face, your closed eyes and the messy hair of yours. Björn was convinced he would miss out on your heavenly being if the two of you would not see each other during the deed.

⚜️ Björn is a master of seduction, and he loves to show his affection through physical intimacy. Whatever he lays his eyes on isn't safe from his flirtatious attempts. Especially with you he loved to take his time. Playfulness was a form of embracing his love: he would tease you, give you soft pecks and would tickle you only to hear you laugh. From tender caresses to steamy embraces, every touch is filled with desire and longing. He'll tease and flirt shamelessly, always keeping you on your toes with his witty banter and mischievous grin. After all, you were the one for him.

♡....━━━━━━━........ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ........━━━━━━━....♡

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Things I Think Of:

Me thinking of MC plotting a surprise Disneyland trip with Barbatos for Diavolo. Dia's been having a very hard month and deserves to have some fun

So they go. Via flight because MC wants Dia to experience the joys of an airport in the human world. MC and Barbatos keep Disneyland a surprise so Diavolo's incessantly asking 'where are we going' the entire trip

They arrive at Disney. Diavolo bursts into tears and tells MC and Barbatos about how beautiful everything is. Barbatos is like: "Young Master, we're still at the check-in gate." MC's dying the entire time

So they check-in. Diavolo's insanely energetic the moment they set foot into the park. He says hi to every Cast Member and character. He has a dance off with Goofy and MC takes pictures of it

A little girl runs up to him and says 'look Mommy, a prince'. MC takes Dia's arm and proudly says 'yeah, he's my prince, from a faraway kingdom'. Other kids hear and see and soon there's a crowd around them. Barbatos too because he's the cool butler. Disney staff apologizes to them

Diavolo wants to buy all of the food. Like, all of it. He wants to take a bunch of it back to Beel but MC tells him it won't last that long

Their rest periods are only 5 minutes long because Diavolo wants to see everything

So they stand in line at Radiator Springs, where there's a two hour wait. Despite having bounced off the walls the ENTIRE MORNING and flight, Diavolo's talking ten miles a minute. And it's hot. Barbatos is re-evaluating his life choices

Diavolo squees the entire ride and immediately wants to ride it again. There's still a two hour wait. Barbatos threatens to end their friendship but MC promises to buy him a big lemonade

Dia's favorite ride turns out to be Haunted Mansion

They actually make it back to the hotel MC booked to rest. Diavolo excitedly talks about what he wants to do next and is gently snoring within minutes. MC admits to Barbatos that they're sad because Diavolo's acting as though he'll never have fun again, and maybe Disneyland was a bad idea

Barbatos tells MC that giving the Young Master precious memories is never a bad idea. He'll remember the happy trip forever and that's a wonderful thing

Barbatos then says 'just don't make me visit Radiator Springs again. I'd rather deal with a rat'. He and MC laugh

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Hiya Mo! Congrats on such an amazing achievement! If it's not too much trouble, may I request something for Alfie Solomons using the following prompts please?

"Can you please just shut up for once?" + “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.”

Thank you (no pressure though)! And congrats again ♥️♥️

Hi my darling V!! This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it my love!!!

100 Follower Celebration:

Evenings at Home

Alfie Solomons x Reader, Warnings: Language

Some people may think that a regular routine is something to be avoided. That the repetitive rhythm of life is synonymous to the shackles of a boring life which must broken as soon as it is noticed. But this isn't how you and Alfie saw your evenings together much less your life together.

The life as the King of Camden brought too many uncertainties. The business moved far too quickly in various directions, and the threats on Alfie's life were too numerous and too far reaching. The life of the King of Camden was anything but normal and ordinary and routine. Which is why Alfie craved and yearned for normalcy in his private life, and why he clung to your with all 10 of his bejewled fingers. You brought a sense of peace to his life. You brought an outlet where Alfie wasn't the Mad Baker, a ferocious man to be feared. With you he could simply be your husband. With you he could simply be Alfie. With you he could simply be a man coming home to his spouse and his dog after a day at the office. The tranquility and predictability of a warm home and loving kisses did more in mending his soul than any amount of riches and power and drink could ever do in a thousand years.

It was so that at 6pm on the dot that Alfie shut down the office and made his way to you, ensuring that no one would interrrupt any precious time with you. Dinner would be set, a fire would be going, and only candles would be lit to warm Alfie's bones and spirit. After dinner Alfie would drag you to the sitting room, with the radio softly humming in the corner, and your angelic voice reading from a book you both were working through. Alfie allowed himself the luxury of laying his head across your soft thighs, interrupting every so often to chastise the characters in the novel for being stupid.

This evening's reading was Wurthering Heights, a torrid and haunting love affair that expanded through the decades destroying the broken soul of a hardened man. The burning words on the page took your breath away, and you found yourself lost in the poetic and scorching story. Alfie however was lost in the way you breath hitched, and the dreamy way your voice wove the images into an ornate tapestry before his eyes. The voice of his angel and the feelings of your cool fingers through his soft thick hair was gently sending him off into a sweet sleep.

It wasn't until you heard the rumbling snores of your beloved below you did you realize that Alfie had actually fallen asleep in your lap. You smile softly, biting your lip to keep yourself from chuckling. He hates falling asleep in front of you like this. He would much rather kiss you to sleep in bed It's my duty as a husband sweet. The man doesn't fall asleep before his sweet heart and before he gives her a proper evening of affection.

But oh how you cherished these moments. You worried about him. Constantly. You wished he didn't have so much on his shoulders and on his brow. In the waking hours you did whatever you could to make his home sweet and comfortable and easy, anything to help alleviate the stress. But in sleep you could see the pay off. The softness of his face. The firm set of his mouth relaxed as melodic snores fall out of his lips. Those long lashes carressing his scarred cheek. You softly pet and carded your fingers through his hair and his beard, taking in his beautiful features. This in of itself was a treasure. No one else got to see him like this. No one else got to see Alfie Solomons as you did.

All too suddenly Alfie started awake, and you cursed yourself inwardly for possibly awaking him. With a quick inhale Alfie stuttered, "What happened? Did I fall asleep on ya?"

You bit your cheek, attempting to settle him back down in your lap, "Mmhmm. You fell asleep in my arms. It was kind of adorable really."

Alfie drug himself off your lap, "Adorable? Nah nah fuck no. Men are not adorable. Solomons are not adorable they are ferocious and and... handsome!"

You laughed at the sudden reddening of his cheeks. "While all that is true my love, the fact remains that it was sweet! You're very sweet in sleep."

Like a pouting child Alfie strongly disagreed, "You are out of line. Letting me fall asleep like that. Betrayer. What do I always say? You sleep first, then me. I'm the man yeah? I kiss your pretty head stupid and I fall asleep second. Now look at yeah. Completely changing the order of things. I mean is nothing sacred anymore? Next you'll want to run the rum house too eh?"

His rambling and ranting sent you into a fit of laughter. Because truly no one could be more ridiculous and ludicrous than your husband. As he was still raving you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his heated neck, "Can you please just shut up for once?"

You pressed your lips to his, immediately silencing him, and feeling his strong and thick arms wrap around you, bringing you closer against his chest. Only when your body was begging for air did you pull away, seeing Alfie's eyes closed and chasing you for your lips again. You hummed in pleasure, resting your hand on his cheek again. Alfie's eyes opened to reveal all the softness and love in the world. All yours. He patted your thigh before instructing, "Why don't you head upstairs for me sweet? I'll clean up and meet you in the bedroom?"

With a shy smile you nodded, kissing his nose to seal your deal. He scoffed and shook his head, as if shaking off the kiss. You merely chuckled, skipping upstairs, excited to spend another evening in peaceful paradise with your love.

[joelmillerlover123]

A Gentlemen’s Burden - A romantic regency era Joel Miller story - Part 3

Part One | Part Two

Description : Mr. Miller haunts your thoughts. Oh, and you have to attend a ball. 

Warnings : Um idek if this would be considered a pre/no outbreak AU but I guess it is?? Sarah is a pretty prominent character. Female reader. No use of y/n. Age gap (Joel is older and reader is pretty young). Regency!Joel? Tried to keep Joel's character pretty consistent but you know... creative liberties were taken for the point of story telling.

Word count : 3.3k

Let me know if you like it!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

You find yourself standing in the middle of the ballroom, a beautiful white dress adorning your body. Pearls drip from your neck and your hair. You feel the buzz of the ballroom and yet there is no one around you. Only Mr. Miller. Joel Miller. 

He turns to face you, his beautiful dark curls swishing slightly with the movement as his brown eyes meet yours. He reaches up a hand to join you together and the music starts. 

A swirling assortment of melodic notes fill the air around you as you two begin to twirl and move about the dancefloor. You feel no one’s presence as your senses are completely filled with him. The smell of him, an earthy, musky scent fills your nostrils. You feel his rough, callused hands, no doubt from years of working with lumber. You are overly aware of his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into perfect synchronization with him as he carries you as you both dance around the room. In his arms you feel safe, light as air, and perfectly happy. 

You allow yourself to drift farther into the moment, perfectly giving into him and the dance. 

You wake with a start. A thin sheen of sweat coating you. Your eyes, already flung open, adjust to the light spilling in through your window. The book you had retrieved from the library the night before lay open on your bed, surrounded by a ruffled blanket. 

Last night. 

The moments and embarrassment of the night before come rushing back to you. 

What have you done?

You flung your sheets back and stood, your feet hitting the wooden floor a little harder than you had intended. You begin to pace, reaching a hand up to place on your forehead, still sticky with sweat. 

The ball. The ball is today. 

Mr. Miller was here. Joel. 

How you so craved for it to be just moments ago, a beautiful dream feeling so real. 

But the dream was false, and with Mr. Miller. Why couldn’t you find anything wrong with him? Why did he interest you so? Why couldn’t you just forget about his eyes that haunted your thoughts? 

You heard a gentle knock at the door and moments later your dressing maids flooded in.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

“Hello, sister,” Julia said with a smile as you entered the dining room, the table full with an opulent breakfast assortment. 

You returned her greeting with a smile, your head still thick with fog and confusion from your dream. Even you could tell you looked tired. 

“Auntie, are you excited for this evening?” You could tell your precious niece was trying to pull you from your state by distracting you. However, you wanted to think of anything other than the ball. Or Mr. Miller, who was conveniently seated as far away from you as possible. 

“I’m excited for you,” You manage to say, sitting down at your chair next to Julia, “And your Mama.” 

Julia looks at you like you have three heads and places a gentle hand on your knee under the table, no doubt asking if you were alright. You give her a nod and a forced smile and pick up your fork. Your food feels a million miles away and you can’t even stomach the idea of eating right now. You use your fork to push your egg around, slumping into your chair. 

The table was silent as they all looked to you like an animal had come to breakfast. 

“What?” You finally looked up, addressing the table. 

They averted their eyes quickly, all except your sister. And Mr. Miller. Who just narrowed them at you, no doubt trying to figure you out. 

In truth, no, your interaction the night before had not caused all of this weary. What truly was causing you such exhaustion was the incessant thoughts of him. You were being driven quite mad. In two days, he had consumed your every waking thought. And now, he was haunting your dreams. Even in sleep you couldn’t escape those beautiful eyes and that broad frame, those dark curls, that-

“Sister,” Julia called to you, looking at you as if you’d just used the bathroom in her dining room, “What do you think?” 

You had been so consumed in your thoughts that you hadn’t even heard your sister’s prattling. 

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” You said, trying to wave some sleep from your head, “I’m just so consumed by thoughts of the ball, I can hardly focus on eating.” 

You look to your sister, silently begging her to take the sorry excuse. She just cuts her eyes at you and sighs, turning back toward the table. 

Breakfast trudges on, your sister babbling to the table about festivities and dances she hopes to dance. Your nieces and nephews and Sarah are quite excited. You can’t find anything in your body to be excited about what you would come to experience this evening. 

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

The rest of the day it’s as if you’re waiting for Mr. Miller to come out from around the corner. You want to catch him and talk to him. But nothing. You even go to the library to just sit there and wait. You find yourself craving his presence and his conversation. You find yourself thinking of what the conversation may feel like and what his response may be to your honest feelings about the ball tonight. You just want to talk to him, desperately. You want to hear his opinions and his thoughts. 

But why?

Your mind drifts to your first season, your dance card had been full every ball. You remember the stench of boredom and exhaustion hanging over you at all times. You remember the tight dresses, the uncomfortable shoes, and the men circling you like wolves. 

You ached for a man who would make you feel safe, seen, and heard. Your mind drifts again to the one sided conversations you would have with bachelors, often rambling on about something that he himself brought up, leaving you to listen. 

The embarrassment, the shame of not having a husband after your first season was still a dark cloud that you carried with you in society’s eyes. You silently thanked your sister once more for rescuing you from society’s claws after your third unsuccessful season, still remembering all too well the sting of the disgusted looks on everyone’s faces when you had a dance card for a third year. 

If that is what love is, if that is what courting is, you never want any part of it. 

The estate is a flurry of activity and so when you all gather for dinner, you excuse his total absence from your day as a simple inconvenient coincidence. That is, until he is again sitting as far away from you as possible at the table. 

You sit, eyeing the table of people but no one seems to even notice the rigidity in your shoulders. Only your sister is the one to notice your strange behavior. 

“Sister,” Julia whispers to you, “What is going on with you today? I’m sorry I haven’t had ample opportunity to pull you aside, I’ve been quite busy,” Her face is colored with apology, her sincere and tender eyes capturing yours. Guilt washed over you. You and your sister may have had completely different lives and ideas of fun, but she was always going to take care of you. She was always going to solve your problems to the best of her ability. She reached a gentle hand to your knee under the table, comforting you. 

“It’s alright,” You offer a smile, “Any of my problems can wait until tomorrow,” You hold her hand in yours under the table, pressing your head to hers in an almost hug. 

Her forehead creases with worry and yet she still offers a small smile and nods, knowing she can’t pry at the table and certainly not as the evening nears. 

Mr. Miller looks at you once during dinner. Once. He practically refuses to look at you and when he does even speak in your general direction, it is extremely curt and short. You’ve got to be kidding. At one point during dinner, you become so frustrated with his standoffish behavior you feel yourself scoff. It escapes you and you feel yourself flush with embarrassment as your sister looks at you, no doubt you interrupted some point of the conversation. But, she is ever considerate and graceful as she just pats your knee and moves on with the conversation. 

Finally, you get to leave the dinner table, the drastic shift in energy between you and Mr. Miller pushing you out of the room quicker than you intended. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once you finally escaped the stuffy dining room, inhaling deep breaths and exhaling slowly. 

Mr. Miller’s cold presence loomed as the dressing maids prepared you, their chatter fading into the mirror’s reflection. You watch as they pin up your hair with pearls and adorned your neck with an amethyst necklace to match an amethyst bracelet clasped at your wrist. The dress itself was white with light purple embroidered details, just dusting over the skirts and bodice, perfectly matching the amethyst. You felt positively poked and prodded, a perfect contestant for the pageant. 

You couldn’t find an excited cell in your body. 

Even as you looked in the mirror and a smile naturally pulled at your lips, your gloved hands touching your hair. 

“You look beautiful, Miss,” One of the maids commented as they all started to file out.

“Thank you, ladies,” You call out to them, stopping them before they reach the door, “Well done. I look like a proper lady.”

The maids giggle at your joke and nod to you, curtsying and leaving the room. 

You take a minute to take a few deep breaths, pushing Mr. Miller out of your head. Soon, you join your family in the foyer, where Julia and your nieces are chattering away, squealing with excitement. 

The pins become all too sharp and the dress becomes all too tight when you spot Mr. Miller in the foyer with your family, talking to Matthew. 

“Sister,” Julia says in a breath, “You look,” Julia looks at you, taking in your appearance, struggling to find the words. 

“Breathtaking,” Mr. Miller’s deep voice called out, finishing Julia’s sentence. This garnered a pleased smile from Julia and a slightly shocked look from Mr. Miller, as if he hadn’t intended to say it. Nonetheless, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, regaining his confident composure. 

You saw red. 

He wants to practically ignore you all day, avoid you all day and then say you are ‘breathtaking’? How dare he? How could you be expected to respond to that? 

In an act of utter defiance, you locked eyes with Mr. Miller and kept your face as stony as possible and then muttered a small thank you in your sister’s direction, trying to keep your voice even. 

You turn on your heels out of the foyer and walk anywhere but in there, deciding to ready yourself for the ball by your lonesome. 

 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

The ball room is absolutely lush with life as couples swim about and people laugh, eating and drinking. 

You find yourself near the wall, your wrist free of a dance card, which was a small relief. You find it better to watch people from the wall, taking in all of the guests, observing them and laughing to yourself about things that you were the only one to notice. 

“Miss?” A deep voice enters your head and you don’t even have to look to know who it is. 

Should you be polite and turn and fake smile and offer up polite conversation or should you do what you feel and confront him about his odd behavior?

“I’m sorry,” He says, his words sliding from your ears straight to your heart, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You feel your whole body set ablaze, finally allowing yourself to revel in his all-consuming presence. You swear the ballroom’s colors brighten just a bit, the clouds of self pity parting above you. But he wasn’t going to get off that easily. 

“For what, pray tell?” You turn to him, looking up into those chocolate brown eyes that enchant your thoughts, still holding your arms over your chest and thus meeting his very open stance. He’s leaning down toward you, leaning on the wall a bit. If anyone noticed the two of you, rumors would surely swirl, but your sister is a master party planner and no one is bored enough to look toward you for entertainment. 

“For interrupting your moment in the library,” Shame colors his face, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, “I didn’t know you were in there.”

Oh. 

“You thought I was angry with you for that?” You feel the words slip out of your mouth. 

He stiffens, watching your reaction, calculating his next move, “Yes.”

“Well,” You turn back to the party, your back hitting the cool wall once more, “I wasn’t.”

“Miss?” He says again, his voice lowering, “Can I be frank?”

Your ears perk up, you craved his honesty. You turned your head to look at him, “Of course.” 

“I missed you today,” His voice lowered even more, “I missed our conversations. I was reading a sonnet and wanted to find you and talk to you about it,” He stopped himself from rambling and cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual tone, “I’m sorry.”

What to do? What to do? 

You struggled to find a response. 

Should you just give in and be honest, admitting that you, too, missed him today? Or, should you play a game? 

“Mr. Miller,” You said, slowly, allowing the words to convey no emotion. “Joel,” He corrected. 

Your head began to spin. 

You turned to face him again, your face and his in perfect line. 

You began to remember all of the beautiful words you’ve read. 

Never have you ever been this enthralled with a man. You’ve never had one conversation with a man and then continued to want to speak to him at all. 

“Dance with me,” Not a question, a plea from his perfect lips. 

You face the ballroom again. 

“Can I be frank?” You say, echoing his words. 

“Always,” He says, his eyes still filled with desperation but his face was stoic as stone. 

“I don’t,” You feel the walls of the ballroom closing in on you, the words leaving your mouth. Is this really the place to have this conversation? You look around, immediately knowing the nearest exit and push yourself off the wall, “Come with me.” 

You lead him through the sea of people, out the back door and the cool air hits you like a wall. You feel your lungs expanding once more as your senses calm inside you. 

“I don’t do this,” You explain, looking to him and picking up your conversation from earlier, “I don’t court men,” You say, holding out a finger, “I don’t even really talk to men, I find them quite boring, in fact,” You feel yourself starting to ramble, those polite walls crashing down, “But,” You say, finally, “I have never met a man like you.”

“I think you are extraordinary,” The words left Joel’s lips in a breath, as if he didn’t mean to say them, “I want to know everything in your head, I want to hear every thought, every feeling, everything. I’ve never felt that, either, you must know.” 

“No,” You say, shaking the fog from your head, “I don’t know that, Mr. Miller,” You say, throwing your hands up, “I don’t know anything about you!”

“Joel,” He corrected, placing a hand on his hip, “And yes you do, you know plenty about me! More than most people know about each other when they are married!”

“Well,” You throw your hands in the air and look away from his beautiful face to give your mind a break, “I don’t care! I don’t do this! I don’t want to do this!”

“I don’t, either!” He kept his tone even but you could hear the emotion, “I’m a father, I haven’t been married or with a woman since Sarah’s mother died, I don’t want this!”

You’re taken aback, feeling the anger and assumptions you made about him leave your veins. 

Here you were, looking at this absolutely gorgeous man thinking that he was some sort of womanizer, that only makes sense, right? 

“You haven’t?” You ask, your tone softening. 

“No,” He says, breathless, letting his hands fall back to his sides, “Not one.”

“Why?” You ask, the question leaving your lips before you can catch it. 

The question takes him aback and he thinks for a moment, still looking at you, “Sarah was just a baby,” He says softly, “I couldn’t,” He thinks for a moment, “Wouldn’t,” He corrects himself, “Bring in a new woman just to bring in a new woman. People kept saying she needed a mother but she has a mother, just,” He hesitates, “I didn’t want to court or marry just to court or marry I wanted to do it because I loved the woman, I haven’t found one that I could love.”

His words leave you breathless, his honesty hitting you in the heart with force behind it. It is like he had stolen the words from your very soul.

You feel your feet moving to him and you reach out a hand to touch his jacket sleeve, feeling the hard muscle beneath, “That’s,” You falter, your words failing you, “That’s extremely admirable.”

His head turns to where your hand is lingering on his arm and he turns his face to you, “We don’t have to do whatever they do,” He motions to the ballroom, “We can do anything however we please. If we don’t do what society deems courting, we can do what we deem courting.”

You feel your lips pull up into a smile and you see him visibly relax, “Mr. Miller,” A coy smile playing on your lips, “Are you courting me?”

He returns your smile, “I pray for the day I hear my name leave your lips.” 

You pull your hand back from his arm and clasp your hands, “If I remember correctly,” You start, walking to the ballroom, “You owe me a dance.” 

“Oh,” He smiles, walking with you and offering his arm, which you take, “I better get on that, then.”

Your feet feel light as feathers as he whisks you around the dance floor, laughing and keeping perfect time. You feel the ballroom’s eyes on you and his lips lower to the shell of your ear, “You really do look absolutely breathtaking,” He smiles, noting the eyes watching you two. 

You smile, allowing him to dance with you as much as he wants, feeling the weight of the room’s social implications fall at your feet. 

Free. You feel free.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

Let me know if you like it!

Taglist:

@gayfiretruck

[oraclereadsandreviews]

comics i’ve read and loved lately:

- batman: the killing joke

this was the first batman comic i picked up as a tween, and it blew my mind. the gritty, scary style was right up my alley and completely changed what i thought comics were. the final page lives in my mind always, and the final joke + batman laughing haunts me. also, the injury of barbara gordon! what a pivotal moment for her (i am deeply disappointed by the decision to not have her stay as oracle). a great standalone read, a great read with the context of batman, a great read if you are just an enjoyer of great writing. 100% recommend.

- DCeased

this was a more recent read, but i love elseworld comic stories. this comic especially was heartfelt and showed the empathy that the heroes have for each other and for the earth in crisis. it’s a bleak storyline, but there is still hope throughout and that’s the beauty of the characters. before i read this comic, damian al-ghul wayne was probably the least on-my-radar robin. however, his characterization in this run is fantastic and i was torn to shreds by him over and over again. his and jon’s relationship is precious (as always (why is jon aged up again?)). definitely would recommend.

- batman & robin: batman reborn!

the story of dick grayson taking up the mantle of batman, essential reading for a massive change in the batfam. damian and dick’s early relationship, learning together, and some jason thrown in there, it’s a great read.

- superman: son of kal-el

jon kent as superman (unfortunately after his aging up, but still great), a really nice art style by john timms. some crossover with nightwing by tom taylor, a wholesome comic. not the most interesting of stories per se, but it’s really the only glimpse into jon as the main character we get, and he’s just such a sweet boy. the art is the best part of this for me!

- detective comics #833-#834

the backstory of bruce wayne and zatanna’s friendship. a great team up between them too with a crazy trick by joker. love the bat and zat’s relationship in this, and it shows bruce’s willingness to see his errors and his care for his friends(some comic writers do not understand this aspect of him). the first comic that got me into zatanna!

[theweightofyesterday-if]

The Weight of Yesterday [DEMO TBA] [CW LIST]

TWOY is an upcoming IF intended for 18+ players and older.

[...] and so, let the weight of yesterday be a reminder to cherish every moment and to hold onto the beauty of today, for tomorrow is but a fleeting dream that may never come to pass. And so, attempt to hold onto the beauty of the memories you've lost, cherish them like precious gems in the recesses of your heart.

You are confined to a cell, and you've been there for centuries. The walls of this prison are the only constant you know, a steady reminder of everything you don't. What you do know is that you were -are-considered a monster, a terror of unimaginable power, and the world trembled in fear at your very name: Belva. But why? What heinous deeds did you commit to warrant such a punishment? And why can't you remember them?

No one will tell you, and most of your memories are lost to the mists of time. But amidst the complexity and confusion of your past, glimpses of fond memories flicker in your mind, filling you with hope and yearning for what might have been. Some nights you're haunted, or blessed, by vague recollections that you can't trust, wondering if they're memories or nothing more than fever dreams.

The past is a shadow that never fades, a constant companion on the journey of life. It clings to you like a heavy cloak, reminding you of the choices you've made and the things you've lost.

As you strive to shape your future, the burden of your past will always be present, weighing you down like an anchor, even as you try to chart a new course for your future. Can you find the strength to confront the ghosts of yesterday and set yourself free?

Features

Customise your appearance in all your forms: demon, human, and demi; and customise your gender

Choose your opinion and attitude towards your past, do you stand by it? Miss it? Or perhaps regret it?

Pick what goddess your mother was, changing your appearance, the nature of your powers and abilities, and the reason people might request your assistance. 

Form an opinion on humanity and have it impact the story: do you feel hate, love, indifference, maybe even envy?

Romance one of five gender-customisable ROs, and have your genders impact your romance.

Choose what kind of (maybe romantic?) past you might’ve had with 2 ROs. 

Play as a character who’s had a great impact on the world, see yourself and your actions from other’s perspectives and in folk tales.

How will you cope with your amnesia?

Embrace the power of choice - whether to change or remain the same

Synopsis

In TWOY, you take on the role of Belva, a powerful demon god who has been trapped for centuries, with no memory of why. As you'll get released from prison and confined in exile to the celestial city of Divumia, you'll meet a wide cast of characters -including potential love interests and acquaintances from your past- and make decisions that will determine your future and your journey within the city. Will you be driven by the desire for redemption, the longing to return to what once was, or even the thirst for truth and the memories that come with it? Regardless, it won't be easy, not when the Celestial Council is determined to hinder you. Do you think you can overcome the odds and reach your goals? Find out in The Weight of Yesterday !!!

Belva, you: As Belva, you are a mystery even to yourself. Your past is shrouded in secrecy, locked away in a part of your mind that refuses to yield its secrets. You have glimpses of memories that flicker in and out of your consciousness like fireflies in the night, but they are disjointed, incomplete.

[RO] The Loyal Hand, Nita (M/F): Nita has been with you since you were little. You’ve seen each other in your worst and most embarrassing moments, but you’re still only acquaintances. 

[RO] The Stranger From Your Past, Dorian/Delilah (M/F): Some of your memories/dreams include them. You know you have some kind of past together, but you’ve no idea who this person really is. 

[RO] The Human, Kiello/Keta (M/F): A human who lives in the city of Divumia and surprisingly controls a big part of the city. You may need their help, but can you really trust them? Could your past actions, or your current attitude towards humanity hinder your relationship, or will one of you manage to change the other?

[RO] The Watcher, Samu/Selena (M/F): You’ve heard whispers from fellow prisoners about watchers. You don't know this yet, but you'll have your own after your release from prison and consequent exile in Divumia. Will you be able to get behind their stoic barrier and discover the warm and caring person within? Or will their enigmatic nature keep you at bay, forever wondering what lies beneath their watchful gaze? [intro post here]

[RO] ?

The Bessa (M): Your father, and the current Lord of your home domain. He was the one who sent you on Earth in the first place, why? Did he ask you to commit those awful acts? Or is that just what you hope?

[More info and char descriptions to be added, everything here could change]

[paquerettexx]

edward hart — valentine

vampire thinks it's so pitiful to be cursed by a human with this thing called love.

pairing: edward hart / reader, m/f

tags: slight angst, it's ed missing you hours, major character death bc ure dead lol

words: 581

[cross posted from ao3]

edward knew exactly why he was feeling reminiscent. it started with the box rui found under his bed, something they got into an argument over which caused rui to grumble and huff, leaving his captain alone. if edward was going to be difficult while rui's cleaning the bedroom then fine! he'll just return later! that's precisely how edward ended up alone again in his bedroom, heaving a sigh as his hands fiddled with the box's contents.

for a proud, powerful vampire, he was feeling nothing but the opposite of that. he was sick- rather, cursed was more befitting of a term. never in his centuries old age would he think a human would curse him, that a mere human would cause him so much pain and anguish. it was all too much even for someone of his stature. this curse was dangerous- it was affecting his heart and making him feel as if it was being ripped into two when his eyes focused in on the photograph in his hands.

it was a photograph, black and white in color, the edged tattered and folded. it looked old, a century or two old, yet it was well preserved for its age. it was amusing how a simple photograph can hold so many memories; to think such a simple non-anomalous thing invented by humans would become so precious to him later down the line– he must be growing old and senile if he's reminiscing about her like this all of a sudden.

it took three years worth of his savings from his measly salary to surprise her. living in western europe as a commoner was a daily struggle, often times earning shillings that aren't enough to live off comfortably- even so, he took a cut of his pay just to prepare this birthday gift for you.

you, who on your twenty third birthday, he took to a photo studio to get your photographs taken. he made sure to dress up better than usual just as he advised you to do the same. it was awkward, staying still in the same pose for a long time yet he reveled in how his hand was snaked around your waist, holding you close to him for an extended period.

he could smell your cheap perfume which he didn't mind, in fact, it brought him some sense of comfort every time knowing that it's you. still, even the vial of your perfume he kept had its scent faded, becoming a useless relic of his devotion to you when you were still breathing the same air as him.

all these love for you- it was suffocating him, choking the air out of his lungs. it was a curse to love a human. it was a curse to love- one that eats away at him for the rest of his eternity. you were the love of his lifetime, yet his lifetime was just a prolonged agony of misery from missing you. he misses you, yet he wishes that sometimes he could forget you. he wonders at times, would he miss missing you?

like a ghost, you were haunting his waking hours. the ghost of you was watching over his decline, his downfall, his spiral of torment. he felt as if you were watching his fall with those beautiful eyes of yours he adores so much, as he plunged into hell alone, the mess that he is now.

oh, his valentine... his decline would be so, so much better with you.

[malfack]

i hate people who see sasuke as a hot anime boy. ofc he's insanely handsome, but it really doesn't matter at all when he has such a traumatic and complicated character story. why is there so much talk about how sexy sasuke is, but so little about the immense pain and loss he went through. sasuke's childhood is literally the worst in the whole anime, but that's not even the point. other characters have gotten happier over the years, gained something important and precious. but not sasuke. the childhood trauma haunted him for half of his life, and even after the goal of revenge was accomplished, there was a new trauma - the loss of a brother. just imagine how difficult and painful it was for sasuke to kill the last member of his family, who was once the closest person to him. especially considering all the new information sasuke had known

and it’s also one of the reasons i hate sasusaku. open your eyes sakura never understood sasuke. and she’ll never be. sakura only see how beautiful and mysterious he is. okay she also sympathizes with sasuke. but still doesn't understand so -

it hurts so fucking much that i have no more words - sorry - cause i’m crying again

[angelinasnotebooks]

Hate that my form of hyperfixation is consuming and not creating.

I think I've been falling in love with ideas my whole life. I see colors and concepts and characters, and I want every part of the illusion to play around my body and immerse my mind and soul. I thought growing up I would be an artist. When that mentally shattered, I moved on to thinking I would become an author. Now, however, I don't know what or who I'll be. All I know is that my brain never stops coming up with ideas. 

Yet, with all these ideas comes the possibility of creation. It's what I want, isn't it? I want to create these pictures and stories and share them with the world. So, why am I motionless in my pursuit to bring my mind to life? I have a library in my head. There's a girl in there. Her favorite color is blue. She doesn't know if life is worth living. I have an art museum there too. There's a portrait of a dying renegade, and a demon alter ego desiring joy. Then there's the realm of fandoms. The endless multiverse of continuations and alternatives.  

There's a lot going on inside my brain and imagination. Chemicals I do not understand and signals I cannot control. An abundance of beauty only an individual can conjure with their subjectivity. With no outlet for these thoughts and images, I find it all to be too much at times. Wings heavy on my back and flightless under the pressure. The ability to soar is there, but the weight within is burdensome.  

Every day I come up with something new. Some ideas are fresh while others are another line on the loom, but that is all they are. Thoughts. Ideas. Invisible whisps, webs, and wishes. It's as if the only part of my frontal lobe that works is that of imagination and complex thinking. I attempt short stories, painting, studying, chores, school projects, craft projects and I never get them done. Planning, time management, logical reasoning, and decision-making have all taken a backseat. I can't get any of them done, so I turn to what has already been done. 

I rewatch a favorite show. I read another fanfic. I click on a YouTube video and another. I scroll Tumblr. I read character analysis. I try on the clothes in my closet. I add shit to my wish list. I post photos from two months ago on my Instagram. I relate to autistic ADHD tiktokers. I pretend Pinterest will help me get my life together. I think about the MCU. I watch another comfort, crime, haunted, mythical series. I visit my AO3 bookmarks. I doom scroll whatever app I can get my eyes on. I turn thirteen again and either spiral into a depressive state or become infatuated with the Hunger Games--again.

The point is, I can't force my brain to work on the original ideas. Sitting at a desk with supplies doesn't get my hands moving. I fall numb waiting for my body and mind to comply with my intentions. So, I end up here again. Hitting a heart button to let other people know that their commentary and hard work have reached me, and I liked it.  

I don’t want all my ideas and universes to end where they are. I don’t want to minimize or invalidate my existence, or the experiences of others like me, by remaining artistically stagnant. I want my mind to be a visual tangible galaxy free to be roamed and explored. I want to have my heart in my hands, and I want to give it to every single person that I can. I want these thoughts, these precious ideas out of my head and into yours, dear reader. I don't want to consume; I want to create. If I'm going to go down the rabbit hole, I want to be the rabbit. The entrance maker. Not the lost girl I am right now.