#will solace has seasonal depression

[bleep-bloop-boo]

guys what if i hc will's birthday in the winter?

You know the hc of him having seasonal depression? What if i hc him hating celebrating his bday bcuz he never sees the point of celebrating by the time it rolls around and he never has enough spoons to deal with a party? what then??

[wandering-winchesters]

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Darkest Night- The reader loses someone close to her, Dean is close for comfort

Hunt Gone Wrong - The reader is injured while on a hunt, but doesn’t want the boys to know. Considering it should have been an easy hunt.

Not A Demon In Hell - The reader is taken by a Djinn, follows Dean as he does everything in his power to get her back. 

If this is how I go, it’s worth it - the reader is injured saving Dean. 

Please don’t shut me out  - the reader deals with depression and anxiety, Dean seeks to help her. 

Crossroads, Crossroads II, Crossroads III- (SPOILERS) Based around the time period of Season 2, when Dean makes a deal with the crossroads demon. The reader finds out that he made a deal, and what follows.

Nightmares-The reader has a nightmare and Dean is there to wake her. After, he questions what caused the nightmare. 

A Million Times More- The reader and Dean make a pit stop on the way back from a hunt, will their true feelings finally be revealed? 

Bad Feeling-The reader has a bad feeling about a hunt, the boys ignore it and she gets hurt.

Burning Up - the reader is sick and Dean takes care of her. Lots of fluff. 

The Mark Of Cain - Dean has the mark of cain, and Y/N is normally the one who can calm him. However, this time things go too far. 

Down Range- The reader is new to hunting and Dean takes her to learn how to shoot.

Premonitions- The reader has always had visions, but now they’re changing and causing her physical harm.

Not Yourself- The reader has been feeling off, ever since a nasty encounter with a demon.

Who Did This To You? -Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out?

Tragedy -The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured.

Hopeless - The reader can feel her depression creeping back in and eventually seeks comfort from Dean, who greets her with open arms.

When the Storm Clouds Rolls in- On a particularly hard day, the reader relies on Dean for comfort.

Haunted- the reader gets ghost sickness

Do It- The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Don't Push Your Luck- After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Grief- The reader loses her grandfather and eventually seeks comfort from Dean.

Take Me Back- Based on the song, The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Letters- Love Letter from Dean

A Calm in the Storm- When the world feels like it’s closing in, Dean is there to pull you back from the edge.

Steady Hands- When the weight of the world becomes too much, Dean is there to hold you together.

Breaking the Walls- Dean struggles with his growing feelings for you, battling the fear of letting you in while also being terrified of losing you.

The Weight of Darkness- In the midst of depression's grip, Dean's presence offers a glimmer of hope and the promise that you don't have to face it alone.

Under the Stars- you share a quiet, intimate moment in the woods, where a simple hand-holding leads to a deeper connection under the starry night sky.

A Moment too Late - A hunt goes wrong, leaving you seriously injured and Dean grappling with guilt. But through it all, the bond you share only grows stronger as you both fight through the pain and recovery together.

Comfort in the Dark- Dean Winchester seeks solace in your embrace during a vulnerable night.

Reunited - After days of fear and separation, you reunite with Dean.

When the Line is Crossed-What was supposed to be a simple night at the bar turns dangerous, but Dean steps in to protect you when it matters most.

A Cold Night's Warmth -On a freezing night after a hunt gone wrong, Dean Winchester quietly offers comfort

After the Battle - After a grueling hunt, you and Dean share a rare moment of closeness.

No Room for Blame- After a hunt leaves you injured saving Sam, a tense and emotional ride back to the motel forces Dean to confront his fear, anger, and the unbreakable bond between the three of you.

Unspoken Feelings - What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

A Desperate Moment I, A Desperate Moment II -After a life-threatening hunt, Dean, overwhelmed by fear and desperation.

Sleepless Confessions- In the stillness of the bunker’s kitchen, a sleepless night turns into a tense, unspoken confession between you and Dean.

Wreckage- The things you see as Dean is taken by the hell hounds.

[shunnedmorlock]

ok i'll say it: i'm tired of everyone being miserable in house of the dragon. it makes the show and the characters worse when everyone is so grim and somber and depressed ALL the fucking time. it makes the tragedies that happen in the Dance less impactful because we dont have any context for what these characters would be like if they were enjoying themselves.

do you want to know why aegon has been the standout character this season: because we saw him smile. we saw him happy. which means that his tragedy and trauma actually has some impact, because we know that he is capable of enjoying life. none of the tragedies that alicent face have the same impact because she is ALWAYS frowning. she never smiles or seems to be enjoying herself, even when she's with criston.

both D&D and GRRM knew that to truly relate to a character and sympathize with them, you had to show the full breadth of their emotions. it's why GOT starts with the Starks being a happy, normal family in Winterfell. it's why even in the middle of the Riverlands, Arya has moments of humor and love and safety, because without those moments, her story wouldn't have any meaning!

why dont we see Jace and Baela awkwardly exploring the very odd position they're in (stepsiblings, cousins, and fiancees)? why dont we see what gives alicent joy, what gives her solace?

[perseephoneee]

Okay, so I was thinking Hope Mikaleson x Reader. Where they are in a relationship. Where Hope was fighting and kill supernatural people and I forgot to mention that she turned off her humanity. Season 4. She left Salvador school and now she came back to surprised everyone but she sees Reader who was depressed because she was mad at Hope for leaving her and she expected her to be happy but no she was angry at her. Reader walked out not caring and Hope followed her. When Reader screamed at her for leaving, Hope turn her humanity back on and she broke down.

Fluff at the end but angst at the start.

cruelty (hope mikaelson x reader)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

omg i hope this is kinda what you wanted?? i wrote this during class.

It felt unfair for the outside to be sunny and for the fall leaves to twinkle in the light. The sounds of children's laughter echoing, or even the footsteps in the hallway with hushed conversation. You bury your head deeper into your pillow, letting the covers hide you away. Your bed has become a cave of solace. Your mind was a prison of your own design. 

You need to scream. You yearn to be heard. But no one can soothe you; no one bothers. Your heart feels perpetually heavy, this anchor dragging it deeper into your soul. You can't remember the last time you woke up without screaming, your voice raw and scratchy. Any psychologist would say you're depressed. You know what the other feeling is, though— guilt.

You couldn't stop it. You couldn't save her. The woman who changed every ounce of your being, who altered the course of your life in a single smile. She left. You were alone.

Everyone had tried to console you. They brought you meals and whispered niceties. They gave you time to process and to heal. But underneath that sorrow was a boiling, glistening anger.  You rolled over to scream at your ceiling.

"Fuck your, Hope Mikaelson."

"Is that really the welcome I get?"

You sat up, believing the phantom at the door to your bedroom to be exactly that— a ghost. Except the way she leaned against your doorframe, all ego, that was corporeal.

"Hope," you say, brows furrowed. She smiles, no humanity in her eyes.

"I was going for some more fanfare," she stepped into the room. You forced yourself to not recoil. Or to launch yourself out of bed and hold her close. "This, my dear, is wholly disappointing." 

"Disappointing welcome for a disappointing person," you respond. No reaction. You wonder how deep you'd have to swim to find where her soul is.

"Venom doesn't suit you."

"I grew up," you tilt your head, taking her in. All black, every part of a viper and not the warm individual you initially fell in love with. "You should leave."

"But I just got here," she mopes. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Hope, leave," you roll your eyes, getting out of bed and standing your ground. 

"I have things to do, so no, I won't leave."

"Oh really?" You scoff. "All you do is leave; it's what you're best at."

You see a flicker of…something. You wonder if you imagined it. You must've; there's no way she feels anything at all.

"I was trying to be kind, coming to say hello; I guess you don't want that." She pushes off the door, mannerisms presenting an aura of boredom.

"I don't want excuses from a snake," you chortle. "Especially one like you."

"A snake?" She laughs. That laughter doesn't reach her eyes. "That's pathetic."

"Pathetic isn't the half of it," you match her stance. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You feel an inexplicable anger. "Pathetic is running away the second things get hard. Pretending to be anything but Klaus Mikaelson's daughter, as if you aren't the product of the cruelest man in history. When you look in the mirror, do you see any of your mother? Or has she run away from the woman you've become?"

You don't remember feeling angry before, but you feel this anger now.

"I loved you, and that was a mistake. Cruelty suits you. Your heroism was nothing but a facade to hide the coward within. When you snapped Lizzie's neck— was it because you started to realize she was better than you? Did you feel threatened by the fact that you mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? Are you really still that insecure?"

You realize you're being cruel. But god, she's been cruel. And you are so so tired of pretending to be okay with it.

"I am happy you are the devil. It makes it easier to leave," you step towards her, standing face to face. There's that flicker again. "I'm done with you. Now…get the fuck out of my room."

You shove past her, marching down the hall in nothing but a ratty t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. You look like a mess (you feel like a mess), but standing in the same space as Hope was too hard to bear. Being cruel felt good…it felt like a release. 

The world is spinning as you stumble into the bathroom. The tile is cold beneath your feet, and your hands brace the sink as you suck in deep breaths. You have no clue when you started crying. You turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, trying to steady the sobs that are consuming your entire being. It's so hard to breathe. You don't remember how to.

You sink to the floor, curling up into yourself as you bury your head in your knees. You feel a hand on your shoulder, someone pulling you close, and you let them. You are so, so lonely. The scent of roses and vanilla is a familiar one, and you inhale as if it's the last time you'll ever be able to. 

Hope holds you until you're done crying, and when you finally pull away, you narrow your eyes in hesitation. 

"I never expected you to call me cruel," she whispers, and she seems different. She looks like the Hope you knew. The one you fell in love with, that was your best friend before she became more. The light in her eyes reflects her humanity. "I didn't realize how much it would hurt."

"I didn't mean—"

"You did," she sighs. You wish she could be more angry with you. "I don't blame you."

"I was just so angry—"

"And I was mean," Hope laughs as a tear drops from her eye. You rarely see her cry. "It was easier to hide than it was to be strong. I'm…sorry for hurting you because of it."

You wipe her tears with your thumb, cradling her face. Her skin is smooth to the touch. 

"Are you back?" You whisper. She looks at you, brows furrowed, before nodding slowly. Almost as if she's afraid to admit it. You let out a choking laugh, kissing her with all the love you'd held in for the months she'd been gone. You kiss her cheeks, nose, lips again, everything you can touch. She laughs, something light and airy that you didn't realize how much you missed. You pull back, holding her at arm's length. "Don't you ever fucking do that again."

"I won't," she says, kissing your cheek. "I promise."

[iwannakisskissyoureyesagain]

will solace headcanon time i love my boy

- casual stoner. when he gets breaks from the infirmary, he and drew get weed from behind the dionysus cabin and smoke together. they like to do it on the big house porch because dionysus couldn’t care less—the only reason he doesn’t do it with them is because he’s not sure if it goes against his punishment from zeus—or behind the apollo cabin when chiron’s around. piper has a cart and the two of them take hits from it and talk shit whenever she comes to visit. he doesn’t really smoke around nico though, just because he’s said he doesn’t like the smell (nico doesn’t really care otherwise, since it helps with will’s anxiety), and definitely not around percy because of everything that happened with gabe

- he’s started talking to dionysus about his anxiety, imposter syndrome, and seasonal depression. dionysus wants to talk to him about testing him for mild ocd

- his hair looks like a renaissance painting of patroclus, just blond

- loves his friends so much. he’s their biggest supporter in the entire world and if they didn’t all live at camp, he’d probably try to convince them to all live in a giant house together

- he’s very casually affectionate. he says i love you a lot, but he always means it. hugs and kisses his friends on the cheek. physical touch is his giving love language (he always makes sure he has consent, first, obviously)

- his receiving love language, however, are words of affirmation. he needs to verbally hear that he’s doing a good job—as a friend, as a boyfriend, as a healer, as a son, just in life

- he’s trained himself to be a light sleeper after years of working in the infirmary and becoming head counselor. sometimes his body just wakes himself up in the middle of the night and he has to sit in the infirmary until he’s positive that everything and everyone is fine and he’s literally the only one awake

- similarly, he has a crazy sixth sense of knowing when his stop is if he ever dozes off on public transport, and always wakes up two stops before. he thinks it stems from spending his a lot of his formative years traveling around with his mom while she toured, constantly waking up in new cities

- he iris messages his mom every night and tells her every single detail of his day

- being both a true crime junkie and a medic at a demigod camp, gore has absolutely no affect on him. this boy delivered a baby and has reattached countless limbs; he falls asleep listening to podcasts where twenty-something women talk about serial killers so notorious they have to give a content warning. a Saw trap isn’t going to faze him

- he met maren morris when he was younger and his mom opened for her. he got her signature and is still planning on getting it tattooed, he just hasn’t had a chance

- he has a very high pain tolerance and has a lot of stick-n-pokes, some of which he did himself, including a wonky-looking star that he let nico do and woobeewoo from Adventure Time

- his favorite music artists include kasey musgraves, taylor swift, leith ross, baby fisher, gracie abrams, fiona apple, fleetwood mac, dolly parton, carrie underwood, and troye sivan

- “ribs” by lorde makes him cry

- so does “the bug collector” by haley heynderickx

- he’s terrified of spiders

- he cries when anything at all happens to a dog in a movie. he watched All Dogs Go to Heaven with nico and was a such disaster by the time the credits rolled that the two of them had to sit there for half an hour until he calmed down. he has a core memory of watching Bolt with his mom when he was little and sobbing into her arms at the end. his siblings have expressly forbidden him from ever watching A Dog’s Purpose, for fear that it would literally send him into a deep depression

- kayla literally bought him cargo pants because she was so sick of him wearing shorts in the middle of winter. he’ll never admit it, but they’re his favorite pants he owns

- his fictional crushes are rodrick heffley, both marceline and marshall lee, jennifer check, edward cullen, alice cullen, ella of frell, prince char, nefara de nile, and jade west

- his mom took him to to see a free, outdoors production of Romeo and Juliet when he was twelve and he really liked it. he hates reading, and the combination of dyslexia and shakespeare is interesting to say the least, but he woke up one night missing his mom a lot, and found a copy of the play on one of his siblings’ nightstands, and decided to try reading it for nostalgia’s sake. that lasted about ten minutes. kayla woke up at the crack of dawn to go practice archery alone and found him in the empty infirmary, where he went so he wouldn’t wake anyone up with his glowing, sound asleep in a chair with the book still open in his lap

- it’s easy to forget he’s from texas when you hear his voice after years of living at camp, but a soft southern drawl slips out when he says certain words, and especially when he sings

- his favorite taylor swift eras are debut, fearless, and lover

- he knows how to shoot a gun and has insane aim, much better than when he shoots a bow and arrow. because of this, he feels very strongly about mandating gun laws and safety regulations because he knows firsthand just how dangerous they are. nico has no idea and will’s just waiting for the moment he can surprise him with it

- he has perfect pitch and lowkey doesn’t even realize it

- his handwriting is so atrocious he can’t even read it himself. one time he enlisted nico to take notes for him in the infirmary, but nico’s cursive was almost harder to read than will’s chicken-scratches

- caffeine has almost no affect on him, except maybe spiking his anxiety, but he’s gaslit himself into thinking it keeps him alert

- he’s extremely empathetic, just knows how to put on a brave face

- he has literally no idea how to ask for help. my boy is so used to taking care of everyone that people have to literally beg him to let them help him with work or console him

- he desperately wants a cat

[decagondice]

༓ The Land of Tears ༓

༓ 'I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more. It is such a secret place, the land of tears.' [The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry]

༓ Pairing. Pilot!Sukuna x F!Reader

༓ Synopsis. Stranded in an unforgiving desert after a failed landing, Sukuna—a seasoned pilot with a reputation for resilience—struggles against dwindling water, searing heat, and the relentless toll of survival. Each day, he labours to repair his plane, but as his strength fades, so does his grip on reality. Haunted by mirages of his beloved wife, Sukuna finds solace in her ethereal presence that grows clearer as his body weakens. She appears by his side, her touch gentle and soothing, guiding him through each agonising day. Unaware that her image is easing him toward death, Sukuna clings to the hope of returning home.

༓ Content. 'The Little Prince' inspired, sfw, F!Reader, Pilot!Sukuna, Angst no comfort, Normal AU, Sukuna is weak and slowly dying, Reader (his wife) appears as a mirage, Slightly depressed Sukuna, Emotional distress, Loneliness, Mentions of death, Mentions of sickness (?), Main character death, Not proofread.

༓ Word Count. 1.7k

༓ A.N. 'The Little Prince' has always been a favourite of mine and never fails to make me cry, I was inspired by the Pilot's allegory in the desert. I was torn between three endings, but in the end I went with this one (though it did give me a sense of grief reading and writing this piece). Adding to the pot of disaster, I was listening to 'Forward Beckon Rebound' by Adrianne Lenker (which I highly recommend!), so it made this whole piece even more depressing.

[Artwork by Luc-Olivier Merson - 'Rest on the Flight into Egypt', 1880]

The desert stretched like an endless golden sea beneath the bleached sky, each wave of sand a blurred horizon that offered no promise of shade. Sukuna, once known for his indomitable spirit and steady hands in the cockpit, now stumbled through that unforgiving expanse. His eyes, bloodshot and raw, strained against the blinding light, and his cracked lips whispered prayers to nothing. He could still taste the dust in his mouth, dry and metallic, and feel the slow, punishing weight of the sun pressing against him.

The engine, a faithful beast that had carried him over oceans and deserts alike, lay dead and silent beneath a gaping sky. He spent that day trying to fix it, his gaze blurring over bolts and wires. Hours passed as he turned each screw, checked each wire, and cursed his luck until his voice grew hoarse. But as the sun dipped into a pool of red along the horizon, Sukuna knew. He knew he was stuck in a vast stretch of sand and silence with no one but himself and the sun’s unforgiving fire.

When the stars finally broke through the blackness of the sky, he lay on his back beside the plane. The sand still radiated warmth, but the night was soft, a balm compared to the blistering day. Exhaustion pulled at him, and he let himself drift, lulled by a steady, familiar ache, thinking of her.

He pictured her asleep at home, backlit by a sliver of moonlight, her hand stretched to his side of the bed. His chest tightened at the thought of it—the long, tender fingers that would sometimes trace his jaw in the early morning hours, her hair spread across the pillow, her faint jasmine scent clinging to the sheets. He closed his eyes and imagined her there, waiting for him, until sleep claimed him.

༓ ༓ ༓

The mirage came to him first on the second day, or perhaps it was the third—time had begun to melt like wax under a flame.

He awoke with his mouth as dry as the sand beneath him, and each step felt heavier than the last. Beneath his feet, the sand sifted, unsteady and shifting, refusing to hold him. He squinted at the sun, already harsh and fierce in the sky, and knew he’d need water soon. Sukuna scanned his supplies—a few rationed tins, a handful of hard biscuits, and a single canteen of water. It wouldn’t last. Nothing did in a place like this.

He worked on the plane again that day, but his hands were slower. His mind wandered, drifting away to images of her—his wife, the light in his life, the very anchor that had kept him steady through every storm he had faced. She appeared as she always did in his memories: poised, eyes bright with laughter, and a kindness that softened even the harshest edges of his mind. He saw her just out of reach, flickering in the haze, her silhouette almost shimmering as if woven from the light itself. At times, he almost saw her beside him, her image dancing on the edge of his vision. But when he turned, she was gone, and he was left to the desolation.

As dusk fell, the mirage came, clearer than before.

This time, she wasn’t a distant blur. She was close enough that he could see her hair, tied back loosely the way she always wore it around the house, a faint smile at the corners of her lips. She knelt beside him as he sat on the sand, her face soft in the evening glow. Sukuna swallowed hard, ignoring the painful scratch in his throat, and closed his eyes, fighting the strange urge to reach out.

When he opened them again, she was still there, watching him.

���Are you real?” he asked, his voice rough as gravel, searching her eyes for an answer. 

She smiled, but her eyes were quiet, unreadable. Her hand hovered near his cheek, fingers curling in a faint, unfulfilled promise of comfort.

“Sukuna,” she whispered, her voice like a breeze drifting across his ear, delicate and full of warmth, calling him back to her as though he could turn around and leave the sands behind.

It was enough to make his heart skip, enough to bring a dull ache to his chest. He blinked, and when his vision cleared, she was gone, leaving him with nothing but the whisper of her name hanging in the air.

༓ ༓ ༓

The next day was crueler. 

He barely touched the plane. Each movement was agony, the sun an unrelenting hammer against his skin. His water was almost finished, and he could feel the fatigue sinking deeper, winding itself around his bones. The world around him swayed with the heat, sand blurring into the sky, twisting in strange, undulating shapes.

And then, as he struggled to stay conscious, he saw her again.

This time, she was walking through the desert as though she belonged to it, each step steady, her expression soft, serene. She was closer than before, her outline vivid, almost solid. He reached out, but his hands closed around empty air, the warmth of the mirage fading beneath his fingers like grains of sand.

“You can’t be here,” he said, his voice hoarse and low.

She only smiled, a sad, gentle smile, and knelt before him, close enough that he could see the line of her jaw, the soft curve of her lips. Her fingers reached out as though to cup his face, and this time, he swore he felt the faintest brush of her skin against his cheek, cool and soothing against the raw heat lulling his pain to rest. When he pressed his face into his hand, trying to wipe the grit from his eyes, he swore he smelled her—lavender and faint jasmine—mingling with the wind. It made his heart ache and pulse faster all at once, a memory wrapped in the cruelty of desire.

He wanted to ask her how the garden was, whether the roses were blooming, if she had been wearing his old jacket the way she liked to on rainy days. But his voice grew fainter, and his mind cloudier. His vision dulled, and he wondered if he was truly seeing her, or if she was simply a memory that came to haunt him, waiting in the sands to guide him somewhere he could not return from.

“Rest, Sukuna,” she murmured, her voice echoing softly in his ears. “I’ll be here.”

༓ ༓ ༓

Each day grew harder. His water ran out. His food dwindled to crumbs. His strength waned, but still, he kept trying, his hands shaking as he attempted to repair the engine. But his vision blurred, his focus fading in and out, and by the fifth day, he was no longer certain what was real.

She came to him more often now, her presence both a comfort and a torment. She was always just there, always just out of reach, her eyes filled with a sorrow he couldn’t understand. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to tell her everything he’d kept buried—the love he’d never spoken, the quiet dreams of a life they’d planned together. But the desert held him back, binding him to the sand and heat.

On the sixth day, he gave up on the plane. His hands were too weak, his mind too clouded. He spent the day lying in the shade of the wing, watching her as she hovered by his side. Her eyes traced his face, lingering over every line, every scar. He could feel her love, her sorrow, as though she were laying it across him like a shroud.

“Sukuna,” she said softly, her voice thick with a sorrow that struck something deep within him. He wanted to answer her, to tell her to hold on, that he was almost home. But the words caught in his throat, and he could only close his eyes, feeling her presence settle over him, soft and warm.

As the seventh day dawned, he knew he wouldn’t see another. He could feel it in the weight of his limbs, in the hollow ache of his chest. The desert was silent, the world still, and he was lying on his back beneath the wide, endless sky streaked with the faintest touch of pink.

She was there again, kneeling beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. In the desert silence, he could feel her fingers, solid and warm, tracing gentle patterns against his skin, leading him away from the pain, from the hunger gnawing at him. It was as though her presence was a balm for his tired bones, her touch a whisper from a life that grew ever more distant. His eyes flickered open, and he found himself staring up at her, his heart swelling with a strange, quiet peace.

“I’m almost home,” he whispered raggedly, his voice barely more than a breath. And though the words felt empty on his lips, she only nodded as if they were true, her gentle expression never faltering. “Stay.”

She didn’t answer, but her hand moved to his cheek, her touch soft, soothing. And as his eyes drifted shut, he felt her lean closer, felt the press of her lips against his forehead, a final, tender goodbye. 

The desert was a fading haze around him, dissolving in the softness of her presence. Her shoulders trembled as she wept. He wanted to reach for her, to soothe her as she had soothed him, but his limbs were too heavy, his voice gone. 

In his last moments, he thought of her waiting at home, her hand stretched across the bed, her eyes filled with hope as she looked out into the night. He wanted to tell her not to wait, that he was finally at peace. But the words were lost, and all he could do was let go, his final breath a soft murmur of her name. A quiet relief filled him like a river, washing away the endless sand, the thirst, and the ache.

When he opened his eyes again, he was home.

A.N. Sometimes....Sometimes, I do this to myself. (¬_¬") Anyways, in this piece, reader is still alive and waiting for Sukuna at home, whether she figures out/hears about what happened is for you to decide. However, if you like feeling pain, she might just never find out what happened to him and stays waiting and yearning.

I was not planning to release this today, however I saw it in my drafts and started working on the cover image which slowly motivated me to release it. I was very, very close into making reader dead, but another time in a different setting. I have that planned, whether a shorter piece or a lengthier piece I don't know yet (I had an idea of one but it slipped my mind...). My other ending was a happier one, where Sukuna survives and returns home safely. Unfortunately, I wanted to feel pain so I chose this ending -_-

Thank you for reading!!

[sassy-sofia]

Here is a not so comprehensive list of characters Aneurin Barnard has played and how I feel about them:

Boris Pavlikosky (the goldfinch): An icon, can do no wrong, a menace to society but rights his wrongs (mostly). Unreliable narrator (positive)

David Bailey (we’ll take manhattan): surprisingly I liked this man. Low key a little shit/terror. Totally a cheater and open about it. But hilarious. Bonus: a happy Aneurin character which is rare.

William (dead in a week): hella depressed, needs a hug. So polite and sweet to literally everyone. A Baby.

Gibson (dunkirk): trying to survive. Helpful. Doesn’t leave his fellow soldiers behind. Screw Harry styles, he deserved better.

Davey (hunky dory): singing Aneurin! His hair is cute. He is SO young.

Danial Solace (1899): stressed. Wet all the time. Unfortunately knows everything. Trying his best for his family.

Tommy (citadel): constantly going through it. Seriously, this man is stressed and needs help. Father Aneurin!

Richard III (the white queen): hella loyal to his own detriment. Lots of screen time. Loved him at first but then I remembered history. Costumes! Falls for his niece 🤢

Wolfgang Mozart (interlude in Prague): international playboy. Got that 1700s rizz. Cheats on his wife then has the audacity to be sad when his mistress doesn’t want to commit.

Dr Dylan Pearce (men up): doctor Aneurin. Not much screen time but oh boy is he passionate about diabetes linked impotence. Not all heroes wear capes

(Currently watching peaky blinders. I haven’t gotten to Aneurin’s role in season 6 but I can’t wait.)

[thestupidhelmet]

How would you have written the Jay and Leia's first time storyline? You talked about how there was no emotional impact and it basically just fell flat, so how would you have handled it?

Hi! 😃

Within the context of T9S as it is, that's a tough question to answer. Jay and Leia's first time storyline fits the overall lighter, more superficial tone of T9S vs. T7S.

I would've rewritten Jay and Leia's whole storyline, tbh. I would've given both characters different core characterizations, particularly Jay. Leia's malaise and unhappiness at her Chicago life would remain the same; the cause for it would be deeper.

The foundation of their relationship would've built on depth rather than the superficiality of a Kelso clone who's capable of lasting growth and a Leia whose unhappiness is portrayed as significantly deeper than the reasons the show gives for it.

Like Eric/Donna and Jackie/Hyde before them in T7S, Jay and Leia would've connected with each other through finding solace from their woes in each other as well as joy.

Donna is Eric freedom from his (perceived and actual) suffocating and hyper-controlled home life. Eric is Donna's emotional stability and safety that she doesn't have at home.

Jackie is Hyde's challenger to face his fears of abandonment and his teacher that he's not unlovable. Hyde is Jackie's teacher that love isn't shiny presents and obedience but acts of love, like sacrificing what makes him happy to cheer her up, going to jail in her stead, becoming homeless (almost) to protect her reputation, and so much more.

Jay and Leia's relationship lacks depth because the characters do. As I've written previously, Jay in actuality would not be a Kelso clone with his upbringing by two ever-divorcing, ever-remarrying parents who are in a toxic relationship. He'd have a lot of emotional baggage and, hopefully, be a thoughtful kid rather than being a relatively carefree womanizer who overuses the word bro.

Leia is raised by two loving parents in a healthy relationship yet suffers from a sadness that is portrayed (intentionally or not) as mild depression. Finding joy and freedom in Point Place starts with her discovering Gwen, who is her real force of change. T9S would've needed Leia to stumble upon Jay, not Gwen, letting loose in his room to forge that bond.

Like Eric and Donna, their relationship would've begun platonically. Their first attraction to each other would be emotional, not aesthetic or sexual. In season 1, we would've seen their bond develop and grow, connecting Leia to Jay's friend group and -- perhaps -- causing some insecurity-jealousy-resentment from Jay's best friend, Nate. At the end of season 1, Jay and Leia's emotional bond has transformed into a romantic one, and they kiss.

In season 2, Part 1, Jay and Leia would navigate figuring out whether they want to "sacrifice" their friendship for a romance. Leia might be idealistic about it because of her parents' relationship while Jay is more cautious because his parents' relationship sucks. He'd rather keep a healthy friendship with Leia than risk a potentially toxic romance with her.

But with guidance from his friends and Red and Kitty, he realizes he and Leia don't have to be Jackie and Kelso or Eric and Donna. They can be Jay and Leia. Part 1 ends with Jay and Leia officiallybin a romantic relationship.

In season 2, Part 2, Leia is sex-positive and ready to have that connection with Jay. Jay, however, has witnessed how sex tears his family apart. He's afraid that having sex might turn him into his dad, and he'd never want to hurt Leia the way his dad hurts his mom. This would be a nice parallel and reversal of Eric and Donna's storyline in T7S.

Leia, and perhaps other characters, help Jay understand that he's nothing like his dad. He's not selfish or narcissistic. That he worries about hurting Leia proves this fact (as does so much more). Betsy, too, could've been used as an ally rather than an antagonistic. She and Jay could've bonded over and validated their dad's awfulness to their mothers.

Jay and Leia connecting sexually, having their first time, would be an affirmation of the freedom and joy they've found in each other. The actual act could've been awkward, although Donna prepared Leia how to make it less awkward. Sexually-experienced Nate could've given Jay good advice: 1) jerking off earlier in the day so that he'd last longer with Leia and 2) all about foreplay being important (although it might've been an hilarious callback to T7S had Kitty told him this information).

The scene itself, with all the emotional build up of season 1 through much of season 2, would've allowed for Jay and Leia's first time to have a similar emotional impact for the audience as Eric and Donna's.

In the aftermath, Leia is blissful and shares TMI with her friends. Jay, though, is happy but anxious. He still thinks he's got a ticking time bomb of his dad's infidelity in him. So he proposes he and Leia not have sex again for a while. In his mind, this will prove he doesn't need sex to be happy.

Leia: You mean like a week?

Jay: More like a month, maybe two. Three at the most.

Leia: I might be in Chicago or California by then if my mom doesn't let me stay in Point Place.

To Leia's mind, she thinks Jay hated having sex with her.

This conflict is resolved swiftly, however (in an episode). Jay admits enthusiastically that he loved having sex with Leia. He felt super close to her. He's just afraid he'll sleep with another girl.

Leia: Do you was to sleep with another girl?

Jay: No! But what if it's instinct, like salmon returning to where they were born to spawn?

Leia grasps his shoulders gently and kisses him. Afterward, she says, "Were you thinking another girl then?"

Jay: I wasn't thinking at all! I just --

Jay kisses Leia back, passionately. This leads to them making love again.

As they hold each other in bed, Leia says, "Still scared?"

Jay: Of what?

Leia: Cheating on me with other girls.

Jay (deadpan): What is cheating? Or other girls? I don't understand these alien concepts.

He and Leia grin at each other then make out.

***

The deeper the characters, the deeper the storylines. T9S's writing isn't deep. It's easy. It's funny but nowhere near as funny as T7S because -- at its best -- T7S's humor rose organically from the deeper characters and their deeper storylines.

T9S is another case of having a great opportunity, a great cast, and squandering it by writing toward the middle to satisfy nostalgic T7S fans and appeal to new ones. T7S didn't have the pressure of being a sequel to another show. Its creators were free to be fully original.

[broomsick]

Herbalism and personal gnosis regarding Freyr

Herbs I've come to associate with him, and which I now incorporate in my practice surrounding him

I hope you all are having a good winter season! I pray that those who experience seasonal depression at this time may soon find solace in the return of the sun. As for me, I'm quite excited to plant my garden again, and begin the cycle anew! Although, it is still far from the right time. It's still around -10 to -20 degrees Celsius here at this time of year, and the windows are still halfway barricaded with snow. And yet I feel the King of Kings' presence nonetheless! For this reason, I've gathered up a few quick pieces of UPG related to herbs and Freyr.

Pine! Not a herb, I know, but I simply couldn't leave it unmentioned. It is a strong and solid tree, but one which inspires tranquility and peace of mind. In my area, it grows high on mountains! Seeing it gently sway in the wind brings Freyr to mind. In fact, one of the first devotional items I owned was a bundle of pine-scented incense sticks, which I used in his worship.

Fern! This plant was pointed out to me by Freyr, or so I believe, as one that he held in high regard. It is so ancient that it predates seeds in the natural world, and its lore overlaps a lot with Freyr’s general domain: it’s said to help with acquiring wealth and luck, and its often used by modern witches to summon rain! For this reason, I often incorporate it in rituals to ask Freyr to help my garden grow.

Flowers, all of them! I love to decorate for May Eve using flowers. Crafting flower wreathes, going wildflower picking and making bouquets and garlands are personal favorites. These crafts are more often than not done in honor of Freyr and Freyja, the Lord and Lady of spring.

Rosemary! Much like pine, its particular gentle smell has always reminded me of him. Its a herb I personally associate with protection and safety, as well as spiritual matters in general. When I use it in rituals, it feels like I’m acknowledging Freyr’s protection.

Moss! In the wild, it's proof of a rich, healthy soil, and of clean air. To me, it's the very symbol of the beauty that the earth has to offer. There are so many different varieties of moss, and its very individuals are as diverse as humans themselves. Moss reflects the many gifts of Freyr, all in one go!

[grey-and-lavender]

Good morning good morning!

July truly is my least favourite month of the year. Every July is when I once again look up symptoms of seasonal depression, and every year I take solace in other people who feel the same way about an otherwise beloved season. In order to go out with a bang, July ended with a spectacularly bad brain day.

And today it is hot. While it's hopefully the last day of the current heat wave, I cannot get over the heat. August has come in with a sweltering, humid middle finger to those of us who prefer our weather cool. In response, @niphradel and I have cloistered ourselves away in a corner of the library basement, where we are attempting to move as little as possible.

But it is a new month! And so I am about to set down my goals for the month, review my calendar, and then get myself into reading. I have books to pick up and notes to take. While yesterday I was feeling overwhelmed about the amount of work, today I am viewing it as so much I could potentially learn!

How are you folks doing today?

[filmofhybe]

taking care of you from afar

🫶 pairing : Nishimura Riki x oc 💌 GENRE : Angst 907 wc

Warning : break up , cold Christmas

; AUTHORS NOTE : mixed up mixed up up up

Masterlist to my other works

"Y/n, I can't just stop caring for you," he insisted, his eyes reflecting the conflict within.

I sighed, realizing the complexity of our emotions. "Niki, it's going to be harder for both of us if we keep holding on. We need to move forward separately." We know we both don’t want this. But if only you knew why..

Two months before Christmas, Niki and I decided to part ways. We knew it was for the best, but the pain lingered in our hearts. I told him he should let me go, that holding on would only hurt him more with each passing day. Yet, Niki, stubborn and caring as ever, couldn't bring himself to release his grip on our relationship. It has very much affected my way on moving on from him because of his kind and caring gesture till this day. But nothing would ever change him or even stop him caring for me.

Christmas approached, and the bitter chill in the air mirrored the frostiness between us. I knew he couldn't stand seeing me suffer during the cold holiday season, especially knowing how much my seasonal depression intensified without him.

One day, as I sat alone in my room, I received an unexpected package. Inside were heat pads to keep me warm, some havd cream and lipbalm. With accompanied by a note that simply read, "Stay cozy and warm." Confused, I wondered who could have sent such a thoughtful gift.

Days passed, and the surprises continued. Warm, comforting meals arrived at my doorstep, sometimes even health care products and medicines, bringing a strange mix of gratitude and confusion - Niki, despite our breakup, was orchestrating these gestures from afar. He understood my struggles, even when I tried to convince him otherwise.

“I’m not struggling from my little seasonal depression..”

“Y/n i know you long enough to know you are.”

“Just stop sending stuff over.”

“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.”

Then came the day when I opened the door to find a box labeled "Snakes." My heart raced with anxiety until I noticed it was a typo – the intended word was "snacks." I chuckled at the mix-up, realizing Niki's efforts were not without their share of mishaps. Remember how he somehow can’t seem to spill snacks correctly makes my heart swell.

It became a routine. Each day of December, a new surprise arrived, is like a little advent calendar, ranging from handwritten notes to carefully chosen gifts that catered to my needs. I was touched by his unspoken care, yet torn by the knowledge that we had chosen separate paths. Was it really worth it?

One evening, unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I sent him a text. "Why are you doing this, Niki? We're not together anymore." His response was simple, yet it carried the weight of sincerity. "I care about you, Y/n. I can't stop that, even if we're not together anymore. I’ll never break the promise I made with your mother.”

I pondered his words, conflicted between appreciating his gestures and urging him to let go. I replied, "You need to move on, Niki. We both do.", “fine. I’ll stop soon.” His messages became more sporadic, but the surprises persisted. I found solace in his warmth, even if it was delivered from a distance. It was as if he aimed to heal the wounds he couldn't see.

As Christmas neared, I felt a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Gratitude for the kindness he continued to show, as he continues to deliver gifts to my front door despite telling him not to, and guilt for allowing him to hold on to a love that no longer had a place in our lives. I knew I had to confront him, for both our sakes.

One evening, I called him, the familiar sound of his voice stirring a whirlwind of emotions. "Niki, we can't keep going on like this. It's not healthy for either of us." He sighed on the other end of the line. "I know, Y/n. But I can't help it. I still believe in us, and I can't bear to see you suffer. Especially during this time. I know and we both know your struggling and I can’t stand that.. To me your still my precious Angel that i care for everyday..”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I whispered, "You have to let me go, Niki. It's the only way we can truly heal." He fell silent for a moment, then reluctantly agreed. "I'll try, Y/n. But promise me you'll take care of yourself."

As Christmas Eve arrived, I braced myself for the solitude that awaited. To my surprise, a final package arrived, adorned with a ribbon and a note that read, "Merry Christmas, Y/n. Take care of yourself, that’s all I ask for.”

Inside was a beautifully pink crafted blanket, a symbol of warmth and comfort. Despite the pain, I couldn't help but appreciate the bittersweet beauty of his gesture. As I wrapped myself in the blanket, I whispered a silent thank you to the universe for the love that had once been, and the strength to move forward into a new year, alone but not entirely lonely.

“thank you for the gift. Take care.”

“Your welcome, and I’ll always take care of you from afar.”

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 9 (Epilogue)

Chapter 9 (Epilogue): There’s Some Kind Of Heaven Just Around The Corner

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 2k

A/N:  After many months of not writing, I present to you the epilogue of S1 for TLOU. Thank you for sticking by me with my silly little stories, I can never express how grateful I am to have you all. I’m horrified and excited at the thought of S2, maybe the reader could change the important ending… who knows. Stay safe everyone <3

Song: Intermission by Sleeping At Last

Previous Chapter -> Season 2 | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – A FEW WEEKS LATER…

The cool breeze of the evening brushes against your face as you sit on the porch of the farmhouse, strumming the strings of the guitar Joel now treasures. The people of Jackson have embraced you warmly, welcoming you back into their community. The topic of the Fireflies remains unspoken, a shared understanding between you and Joel. It lingers in the background, a memory that only surfaces when necessary.

Life in Jackson has brought a sense of normalcy, a semblance of the life you had before the chaos consumed the world. But this time, it's different. This time, you feel like you belong, like you are loved. The little family you've formed with Joel and Ellie has found solace within the walls of this farmhouse. As the seasons pass by, a routine settles in, and the farmhouse pulses with life, as if it has its own heartbeat.

The bugs begin to retreat once again, signaling the transition from summer to autumn. You find yourself on the porch, the guitar resting gently on your lap. It was a gift for Joel, a token of appreciation and love, but it also earned you a playful scolding. Joel made it clear that you should never leave Jackson without informing him first. It was a testament to his protectiveness, a reminder of the bond that has grown between you.

At this moment, the world seems so simple. The rush of blood through your veins transports you back to your youth, when fear and uncertainty were distant notions. Seventeen again, you find yourself unafraid of death, daring to dream once more. The curve of the valley before you holds a profound meaning. Happiness emanates from within as you gaze at the serene surroundings.

As the words echo in your mind, they bring a smile to your face. Joel's voice resounds in your memory, "I'll never let you go." Those five words hold a depth of emotion, a promise that transcends the hardships you've endured. In this tranquil moment, you realize that you have found a home, a place where love and safety intertwine. You are content, knowing that Joel is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come.

The future may hold uncertainties, but for now, you bask in the stillness, cherishing the connection that binds you and Joel together. The world may be broken, but within the embrace of this farmhouse, you have found solace, love, and a renewed sense of purpose. And as you continue to strum the guitar, the notes reverberate through the air, carrying the harmony of your newfound happiness into the world.

Lost in the nostalgic melody, you find yourself humming a tune that holds a special place in your heart. The tranquility of the moment is interrupted by the gentle reminder that you're wearing one of Joel's shirts, two sizes too big. It's a simple gesture, a symbol of the closeness you share, but it also serves as a reminder that nothing is certain in this world. Doubts linger, even as you begin to feel at home.

The passing year has been arduous, and its weight lingers in your mind. The slow progress makes you question if you're truly moving forward. Trust is a scarce commodity, earned by only a select few. The scars etched upon your bodies, remnants of battles fought in your youth, serve as a constant reminder of the dangers that persist. And yet, the revelation of a collapsing sun and rising seas, of crumbling buildings, brought about a new understanding of the fragility of existence.

As you continue strumming and humming, Joel stands by the door, captivated by the beauty that radiates from you. The sun begins its descent on the southern horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Unable to resist any longer, Joel quietly approaches, his footsteps barely audible. He wraps his arms around your waist, his presence causing you to giggle. His lips press against the side of your neck, the scruff of his chin tickling your skin.

"Joel!" you playfully chide, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice. He responds with a hum, his voice filled with affection, "My sweet Birdie..."

You quickly place the guitar on the side, and in that tender moment, you realize that despite the uncertainties and doubts that surround you, you have found a sanctuary in each other. Joel's embrace offers a sense of security, a refuge from the storms that rage outside. You feel a rush of gratitude for the love you've found amidst the chaos, and a renewed determination to protect what you hold dear.

Basking in the warmth of Joel's affection, you turn your head to meet his gaze, curiosity tugging at your thoughts. "How was the patrol today?" you inquire, wanting to know about the world beyond the safety of Jackson's walls. 

Joel plants gentle kisses on the side of your head, your cheek, and finally on your lips, his love conveyed through each tender touch. His gaze locks with yours, his southern accent subtly peeking through as he responds, "Today was good, darlin'. Nothin' for your pretty head to worry about."

A sense of relief washes over you, knowing that for at least one day, the dangers that loom outside haven't posed a threat. But your thoughts naturally drift to Ellie, the young woman who has become an integral part of your lives. You can't help but bring her up, knowing that Joel's bond with her is unbreakable.

"What about Ellie? How's she doing?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your words. Ellie's resilience and determination have become a source of inspiration, even amidst the darkest of times.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Joel's lips as he replies, his voice filled with fondness, "Ellie's holdin' up. Been keepin' busy, learnin' new skills, and takin' care of herself. She's got that fire in her, just like you."

The mention of Ellie's fiery spirit brings a wave of admiration. You can't help but feel proud of her growth, of the strength she embodies. In this broken world, the relationships you've forged hold immense importance, anchoring you to hope and reminding you of the enduring power of love.

Nestling closer to Joel, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby. "I'm glad she's finding her way," you murmur softly, your voice filled with genuine affection. "We're lucky to have her in our lives."

Joel's arms tighten around you, his voice brimming with tenderness as he responds, "Ain't that the truth, darlin'. We're blessed to have each other, and no matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

Feeling a surge of love for Joel, you lift your head from his chest to meet his gaze. The twinkle in his eyes tells a story of unwavering devotion, and a mischievous grin plays upon his lips. You can't help but become enveloped in his warmth, finding solace in his presence.

"I don't tell you enough, Joel," you begin, your voice filled with sincerity, "but you mean the world to me. I love you.”

Joel's expression softens, his gaze locked with yours. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You know, darlin'," he replies, his voice slightly husky, "you mean the world to me too. There ain't a day that goes by where I don't thank my lucky stars for bringin' you into my life."

The vulnerability in Joel's words tugs at your heartstrings, and you lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips. It's a gentle affirmation of the love that binds you together, a silent promise of forever.

As you pull back, a playful glimmer dances in Joel's eyes. "You know," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I reckon I'm the luckiest man alive. Not only do I have the most beautiful person by my side, but I've also got a hell of a good kisser."

His words elicit a giggle from you, the sound filling the air with pure joy. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Miller."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, relishing the closeness and the unspoken language of love that flows between you. With each passing moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth and tenderness of this intimate connection.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, the delicate dance of foliage creating a symphony of nature. Your fingers entwined with Joel's, each touch a testament to the warmth and tenderness that envelops you in this serene moment.

In the ambient glow of the evening, the air pulses with an almost tangible affection. The space between you and Joel becomes a canvas painted with an unspoken promise that transcends the limitations of words. In the delicate interplay of shared vulnerabilities and profound love, you find a sanctuary where the concept of time fades, replaced by the eternal embrace of this connection.

In this fleeting instance, bathed in the gentle twilight, you take solace in the richness of your conversation. Despite the shadows that loom from past events and the uncertainties that await, the presence of Joel beside you becomes a steadfast beacon, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors of life.

The embrace continues, a dance of shared whispers and laughter, a rhythmic exchange that weaves together the tapestry of your lives. Amidst the harshness of the world, the cocoon of your love becomes a refuge, a source of strength, and a testament to the formidable power of unity.

Yet, beneath the surface of this idyllic scene, a quiet ache persists, a shadow that lingers in the corners of your consciousness. There are nights when Joel lies peacefully asleep beside you, unaware of the storm that rages within your mind. In those quiet hours, memories materialize, hazy and elusive, casting a spectral glow on the canvas of your thoughts.

You can see him on the porch, the soft strains of a guitar accompanying the melancholic melody of your recollections. The air is charged with the bittersweet echoes of a past that refuses to be forgotten. There are nights when tears silently trace the contours of your face, the weight of remembered endings pressing upon your heart.

Joel, the silent guardian at your side, remains oblivious to the tempest within. His presence is a comfort, but the specter of a different ending, an alternate narrative, leaves you restless in the quiet hours of the night. The story, once written in ink, now seems to bleed into the realm of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

And so, in the embrace of the night, you grapple with the dichotomy of love and loss, finding solace in the tangible warmth of Joel's presence, even as the ghosts of untold stories linger in the shadows.

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale  @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa @mando-bix @lunatic1012 @davosmymaster

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you knew a fic where Muriel and Crowley are just like,, hanging out? Or if the soho gang (nina and maggie) comfort crowley or something? I really liked their dynamic in season two so I was wondering if there were any fics like that. thanks so much!!

Hello! We have a #crowley & muriel tag with a couple of posts. Here are some fics to add where Crowley spends time with Muriel, Nina, and Maggie...

The recovery of a bog body by Joseph_Amadeus (G)

On the third day of sitting in his car at the bottom of the Border Mires Crowley receives a prophetic vision — Dorothy Zbornak of The Golden Girls appears next to him, all gray curls and no-shit-taking attitude, and reminds him, as kindly as she can, that one shouldn't turn mourning into a way of life

Muriel And The Art Of Bookshop Maintenance by cosmic_day (G)

Muriel has taken over the bookshop, and is doing their best to run it, with helpful advice from Maggie and Nina, and occasional visits from the depressed demon who seems to come in a package deal with the bookshop. And for the first time in their life, they’re reading a book, a book called The Crow Road. All of it is new, and exciting, and wonderful, but it is quite a lot for one 37th class scrivener to handle.

Angels Like These by slapsticks (T)

They shifted back as Crowley stood up, smiling, "You know what? Forget about–all of this, Constable, I think I'll be going now." He declared, shoving the teacup into the startled officer's hands. "You know me, I've got errands, that terrible demon-y stuff," The cup and saucer clanked together as Muriel struggled to hold them. "But – you just arrived," They protested, almost sadly. "I'm..." The words died on their tongue. "Mhm, yeah-huh," Replied Crowley, hardly listening, or at least trying not to, sauntering towards the doors. "Nice seeing you – now, goodbye, for the forseeable future." "The forseeable future?" "For the forseeable future, Inspector!" in which crowley begins to form an unlikely bond with nina, maggie, and muriel ! birthday gift for my good buddy pal bro frank who basically wrote the last couple interactions with me and inspired the whole fic . i might be too dedicated. I Dont Care. happy birthday bro

In Nothing Else So Happy by Ducks Have Ears (NR)

"I count myself in nothing else so happy, as in a soul remembering my good friends." Richard II, Act 2, Scene 3 - Shakespeare Crowley had only ever had one friend and he was beginning to realise that maybe one friend simply wasn't enough. (Part two of the Crowley & Friends series)

That's What Friends Do by Barbarian_MP (NR)

Nina had found him, coming around the corner on her bicycle and at first not being at all surprised to see the car parked in front of her shop. The car seemed to be in that very spot on the daily. Little early for it to be there, sure, but maybe it had been there all night. She wasn’t all that worried about it until she noticed the car’s owner was inside, unmoving.

The F-Word by haleinedelail (T)

Post Series 2, how the living f**k is Crowley ever going to find solace or comfort? Whiskey? Coffee? Cursing? Antisocial behavior? Yes, all of the above. But HOPE is a puzzle that we all must put back together multiple times throughout our lives, and demons are no different. He will find it again, but it might take a village to get all the pieces together.

- Mod D

[occulthours]

what extracurriculars could you see bonnie and elena doing? i liked the one you did for hope and realized we rarely saw the tvd girls do school related things except from caroline.

Oooh I love this!

Bonnie

I'd keep the cheerleading for Bonnie. Kat is a trained dancer, and I know she'd devour any cheer routine thrown her way. In a similar sense, I would also have Bonnie join the dance team during basketball season. Junior/Senior year Bonnie would obviously be the captain and choreograph all of the teams routines. (Colorguard is another sport in the dance field that I could see Bonnie doing, but that would interfere with cheerleading.) Bonnie was said to be a lifeguard in s3, so the swim team is another sport that I could see her doing.

Often times when Bonnie was off-screen she was off traveling (Caroline and Elena thought she was on an across-the-state road trip in s5 and she went to Paris in s8) so she would definitely want to do a deep dive into other languages and cultures before traveling to them. Plus, as a witch having that knowledge would be beneficial to her as she comes across spells and rituals from other geographical locations.

Witches love nature and I've always headcanoned that Bonnie has an extremely extensive garden wherever she ends up making her permanent home, but starts off with a smaller version at Grams home. Learning about different plans and what they require to thrive, even from a human standpoint would interest her.

Bonnie was voted prom queen! She was clearly loved by her peers enough to beat out the other girls competing, so she had to be interacting with them quite often off-screen. A community service club would be the perfect chance for her to do that. As we've seen with the car wash in s1 and her Christmas donations to children with terminal illnesses in s7, Bonnie loves giving back to the community and goes out of her way to do so.

Elena

While Elena seemed to not have much interest in school-related stuff due to her depression after her parent's death, I'd like to think that she was able to get back into school outside of all the Salvatore/Doppelganger drama.

I wouldn't keep cheerleading for Elena. It didn't feel like she was as into it as Caroline and Bonnie were honestly. The two sports I could see Elena doing are track and combat/self-defense. Her training scenes with Alaric in s3 were some of my favorite Elena moments. She really felt in her element when she was boxing or had a crossbow in her hands. We also see her doing a lot of running during her training.

Elena, to me, is the most artsy TVDU girl aside from Hope. Writing club, literature club, yearbook, and photography are all things I think Elena would be into. I always imagine Elena finding solace in art after her parents die, and using it as an outlet. We already see her doing so with her journaling, but I can see her branching out into other art forms.

Thanks for the ask (sorry this took a month to get to lol)!

[moonperil6]

I remember I saw a headcanon about cabin 7 getting sick when winter starts and I kinda would like a fic about it? Feel free to reject this idea

Sorry about the delay, but I absolutely love this idea!

Pairing: Child!of!Apollo!Reader x Cabin Seven

Warnings: Reader has depression, if that counts.

Requested?: Yep!

This is Why I Hate the 'Winter Wonder Land'

Poor Will.

You felt bad for your brother; he was the only child of Apollo not sick because of the shift in seasons. 

He bustled around the Apollo Cabin, where Chiron had let him stay to take care of all of his sick siblings. 

You desperately wanted to help him, you were pretty much only mentally ill anyway (and I mean depressed), but every time you tried to even get up to hand him something, Will would glare at you and scold you into sitting down. Your only response was always an exasperated sigh paired with an eye roll before humoring him. 

This was one of those cases. You were sitting up, drinking a small cup of iced tea (or coffee. Whatever is your comfort drink.) Will stumbled past your bed, and he dropped a box of kleenex.

He didn’t seem to notice, but you did.

You reached down and swiped the box off of the floor quickly- you didn’t want a valuable tool getting contaminated on the dirty floor where Will had tracked in slush from outside.

“Will!” You called.

He didn’t even glance at you, instead checking your sister’s temperature.

You sighed, but it was half hearted. You couldn’t really be annoyed with your brother, especially when Will had dark circles under his eyes and sweat dripping down the back of his neck. 

You stood, making your way to your sister’s bed. You looked over Will’s shoulder to see that her temperature was 106.6 Fahrenheit.

Your audible gasp alerted Will of your presence, and he jumped, nearly causing his shoulder to collide with your head. You probably would have ended up with a concussion if you weren’t so quick.

“Oh, my bad, Y/N,” he mumbled, gaze unfocused.

You frowned and snapped your fingers in between his eyes, startling his attention back to you.

You snorted a laugh before handing him the box of tissues. When Will didn’t take it, you shoved it into his hands.

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at the box in his hands before glancing back up at you. “Why are you out of bed?” Will asked.

You scoffed. “I’ve told you before. I’m only depressed and have a bit of a sore throat.”

“Y/N-”

“William Andrew Solace,” you snapped, not seeing another way to get him to listen. “I barely even classify as sick, and you look half-dead. Don’t try to deny it: you need sleep.” You gave him a worried look. “I can at least help. Tell me what to do.”

Will huffed, crossing his arms while trying to avoid your gaze; you had always been able to get him to do anything by giving him puppy eyes.

It didn’t work. Will felt himself giving in and scowled even harder, furrowing his brow. 

“Fine,” he muttered before stomping off. 

He paused in between two bunk beds and looked back at you over his shoulder. “Give Liv some nectar,” he ordered, gesturing to your feverish sister you had nearly forgotten was there. 

“And, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“If this gets you any more sick, you have to take care of yourself.”

[michaelveyswaffles]

will solace.

i have this little theory that will solace DEFINITELY has some sort of seasonal depression. winter is when we are the furthest form the sun, and we know how will gets without sunlight. this i give you: will solace all huddled up in blankets and refusing to get out of bed because it's cold and he's tired, and nico awkwardly doing his best to try and cheer him up by bringing him hot chocolate.