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mindshelter · 2 years

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for your consideration: kon sleep-floats—and not only does he take the whole damn blanket with him, but it's often laid over his entire body like a corpse found at the scene of a tragic accident. only his feet are sticking out (he's very tall).

more than once, tim has woken up—shivering, rubbing away the goosebumps on his arms. kon's missing from his usual spot to tim's left; he looks around the room, but finds nothing. that's odd, tim thinks. kon's no night owl; he rises with the sun, and is dead as a rock until then.

tim looks up.

and there he is. kon isn't totally still—he's a wraith, tucked where the wall meets the ceiling. the blanket covers his face, torso and legs while the rest spills over the sides, fluttering with the slight sway of kon's body. he's midair, rocking lightly like the tides move with the moon.

"kon," tim says. "you look like you're possessed."

no response.

"kon," he says, louder, "they announced a wendy reboot."

no response.

"it's horrible. that's me as a werewolf?" tim says, casting bait.

if kon were awake, he'd perk up immediately, clear his throat, and finish the line: i'm so evil, and skanky... and i think i'm kinda gay.

"i still can't believe that's how you decided to come out to me," he mutters. kon had looked so serious that day, asking tim if they could speak privately, too. "get down, jackass. i'm cold."

the winds outside get more forceful, easing its way through the half-opened window. the breeze rustles the bedsheet, and the dim light that limns the folds of the fabric and kon's silhouette shift, white migrating over blue-grey. tim's fingers feel like ice.

"ignoring me? are you dead?" dead as a rock. dead as a corpse. dead as his dad, or something. "booster gold made a soundcloud. his first track is, um... get your boost on? parenthesis, let me show y'all how it's done, parenthesis. it's rap."

no response. he might as well be sleeping through the end of the world.

tim throws benny beluga at him (his boyfriend won it for him during a strength tester game at a date to the fair). benny hits what might be kon's butt, and tim's head a moment later. kon does not stir. tim rubs his arms again.

tim would had worn more clothes to sleep, but had figured a t-shirt and boxers would have been enough. kon runs warm, after all—heat always radiates from his hands, his sternum, and the crook of his neck where he lets tim bury himself. sometimes it's the only indication he's alive; during daylight hours, kon's chest rises and falls with what is both a steady, natural rhythm and completely fabricated—but he's unnervingly still while asleep, forgoing all the extra adjustments he normally makes to blend in and make the people around him more comfortable. tim sometimes checks his pulse just to be sure kon is fine. it's slow, but the ten-beats-per-minute he counts by placing a finger under kon's jaw is enough for tim to be sure kon is just resting.

the mattress springs creak and whine as tim stands, grabbing the blanket on either side. it's an exercise in futility; tim pulls—with all his might, mind you, but kon remains lodged in the corner above him. tim is faintly reminded of aerial silks when he lets his feet lift off the bed, holding himself midair with fabric wrapped around his elbows.

up this close, tim can more clearly see kon's arms dangling underneath the sheet.

when he drops back down to his feet, tim extends his own to find it again, pawing clumsily until his fingers brush what must be kon's wrist. a forceful tug does not get tim any closer to bringing kon down, but if tim is anything at all, he's a problem solver.

the next option—lacing their fingers together, and giving kon's hand a firm squeeze before tim pulls—brings him down a few inches. for a moment, tim stares at where their joined hands are hidden underneath the bedsheet, and gets on his toes to brush his lips against kon's knuckles.

he pulls again, and kon sinks another few inches. the scoff tim lets out is incredulous. you big baby.

another press of the lips against the knuckles, then the wrist. then the lower half of kon's bicep. with kon following tim's touches in his sleep, tim nudges his body until he's hovering just above his usual half of their bed, and finally uncovers kon's face.

you gigantic baby, tim thinks, brushing his fingers against kon's cheek. kon turns to it. "what are you dreaming about, you weirdo?"

kon leans into tim's cold fingers. he rolls his eyes before leaning down to leave a soft, lingering kiss against kon's lips.

and just like that—the mattress creases under kon's full weight. he still doesn't stir.

tim breathes a sigh of relief when he gets back under the blanket—his teeth stop chattering, and he tucks his legs further inward to leach off kon's body heat.

the fabric over them rustles again, the tiny adjustments tucking tim in more snugly as kon shifts closer, an arm sliding between tim's arm and ribs, sliding down to his lower back to settle—

"kon," tim says, because there's no way this fucker isn't awake, right? "that's my butt."

no response.

he sighs—kon is nearby, keeping the cold at bay, and he can feel himself sink rapidly back into sleep. interrogation tomorrow.

tim closes his eyes.

#timkon #my writing #dc #um. idk. have this thing i wrote on mobile in an hour

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jennay · 6 months

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Come Back Home

Jolly x reader

An: Random idea I had that I got stuck on and required way too much help from @a-villain-vying-for-attention then decided to make her a character since she basically came up with the ideas and I wrote it. Lol thanks for being my shadow writer for times when my brain decides it's done thinking.

Words 2200

Jolly Master List

This is chunked into four sections bear with me. I hate transitional writing 😂

"Please don't tell them. They'll just worry, and next thing you know, they'll be at my door, and it's just not the right timing for me to come back. I need to finish my work here, and it's not completely horrible. I think I just miss everyone, and I feel isolated." You admit over Facetime to your best friend, Kayla. "It just wasn't supposed to be like this. “Moving away from you guys was literally one of the worst decisions I've made."

Kayla sighs, "I don't mean to say I told you so, but I did." She laughs, "But the worst part is, Noah told you, Jolly told you, and you still just said bye bitches. Do you know how sad it is not to have you here? I have to deal with them all the time, by MYSELF."

You peel yourself off the couch, dragging your feet through the dining room and to the back door.

You brace yourself for the inevitable assault of the sun, but it still hurts like hell when you open the door and get blasted by its rays. "Fuck." You groan. "It's bright." You squint your eyes and cover them with your hand as you stumble to the camping chair you set up on your porch for such occasions. You hated the daylight. You wished you could be a nocturnal creature, but sadly, you had to pretend to be a responsible adult, even if you sucked at it.

"Wow, look at you, Dracula." She mocks you from the other side of the video call. "You look like you're about to die over there, paler than a ghost and skinnier than a twig. Do I need to come over and feed you some blood? I know it's only been six months, but I will literally come over and mother you to death. I'll bring Noah too, and we'll play house. God knows we need some practice." She flashes a big smile. "You know, for the future and all that jazz."

You laugh, shaking your head, "This is new for you!"

"Yeah, well, now I'm just working on convincing Noah that it's a good idea." She tucks her hair behind her ears. "So I need you to come back because I'm not raising these imaginary kids without their badass aunt."

You roll your eyes at her, "These kids don't even exist yet, so I think we have some time, and besides, I don't know if I'll feel any better moving back. If I have to watch HIM date other people and it not be me…well, I'd rather stay here and suffer in silence."

"Well, he's miserable without you, and why are we not using his name?" She laughs again. "Mopping and shit, constantly.”

You shrug, "I think he's probably fine. I basically threw myself at him and got no reaction. I literally slept in his bed the night before I left." You pause, growing frustrated. "Maybe we're just supposed to be friends; maybe he only sees me as a friend. That's OK. I can't be mad about that, but it always felt like there was something more, you know?"

Kayla groans loudly, "You both suck. If you would've just let me meddle, I could've set you two up."

"I don't want you to set me up! I wanted something natural." You say with all seriousness. "I wanted him to say it."

From behind Kayla, Noah pokes his head into the view, "He's dumb...guys are dumb." He gives you a face that says, duh.

"Well, now I'm here, and I can just say fuck it. I'll find someone here."

Noah's laughter rings through the speaker, "And then break up because all you're gonna do is fucking compare the two and be a whiny baby about how he's not Jolly, so you had to break up? Fuck off, y/n." He chuckles again. "Just come home."

You shake your head, "No. You will have to come to drag my dead body home before I willingly come back."

Noah grabs the phone from Kayla's hand, and you meet with wide eyes. And in a serious tone, Noah says, "Dead or not, at least you'll be home where you belong."

Kayla, Noah, and Jolly were lounging on the couch, munching on some greasy take-out that Noah had ordered from the nearest pizza place. While Jolly was engrossed in the latest episode of Bob's Burgers, Kayla was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

She couldn't stand the sight of him, acting like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't the reason her best friend wasn't living with them anymore.

Noah noticed his girlfriend's glare and chuckled softly, nudging her elbow with his. "Chill," he whispered in her ear.

"NO!" Kayla shouted, startling both Noah and Jolly. She slammed her food on the coffee table and turned to face Jolly with a furious expression. "I'm sick and tired of pretending like everything is fine. I want my friend back, and if this is what it takes to make you use your brain, then so be it!" She pointed an accusing finger at Jolly, who looked confused and scared. "You need to go get y/n back right now or get on the next flight to Sweden because I can't stand having you around. You make me so mad, both of you, pretending you don't care about each other. She's depressed as shit living there with her fuckin awful family, but she'd rather stay there than come home because of you!" She roughly gets off the couch and storms out of the room, heading for the stairs. "You're such an idiot," she yelled over her shoulder at Jolly.

Noah raised his eyebrows and bit his lip to stop laughing as he saw Jolly's dumbfounded face. Jolly put down his food and looked at Noah with a puzzled expression. "What did I do?" he asked innocently.

Noah shrugs and says, "I think it's more of what you didn't do…"

Kayla comes back down the stairs, holding her food in her hands. She glared at Jolly one more time and flipped him off, then walked out of the room. "Buy the damn ticket!" she screamed from the hallway.

Noah heard the door slam and shook his head. "Well," he said, standing up and grabbing his food. "There's your answer. Bring y/n home."

"How am I supposed to do that?" He loudly asks.

"I don't know but you need to figure it out, Kayla might actually kill you in your sleep."

You grab your coat and head for the door, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for the day ahead. You were going hiking with your sister and her husband, and you couldn't wait to explore the great outdoors with them. As you glance at the clock, you groan in annoyance, realizing you're running late again. You can't help but wonder why you're always so disorganized and frazzled.

You pull the door open, taking a deep breath of fresh air as you step outside. Suddenly, you're nearly choking on air as you see a familiar face staring back at you. Jolly stands there with a backpack over his shoulder, his long hair draped over his shoulders, and a black backward hat covering the top of his head. He's dressed in black skin jeans and a deep red plaided flannel, looking effortlessly stylish and cool.

Your shock disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by annoyance at the sight of Jolly. You can't help but feel irritated that he's here, disrupting your plans for the day. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little bitter still.

"Hi." He quietly says, looking from you to the ground, feeling awkward. He hadn't planned what he was going to tell you.

"Can I come in?" he quietly asks.

You nod your head, stepping aside. "I was leaving, but I guess this kind of changes my plans," you say, rolling your eyes. "What are you even doing here?" You say as you follow him to the living room. "I've tried so hard not to think about you; I moved states, Jolly, and now you're at my house. Are you trying to make my life hard?" You don't sit down knowing you're too heated to stay in one place.

Jolly doesn't sit on the couch either. Instead, he sits on the armrest, staring at you with confusion and annoyance; he folds his hands in his lap and allows you to continue. Why was everyone so irritated with him? He didn't know what he did in the first place. "What did I do?" He questions.

You're eyes dart back to him. "You treated me like I was special, OK? I thought I was special to you…then, you go and date other people." You say, running out of breath. "Then I dated other people because I thought you didn't want me and I was right, you didn't care at all, but then I dumped them because all I could think about was you!" You dramatically cover your face with your hands, pacing back and forth. You enter your kitchen and stare out the sliding glass door. Your back facing Jolly as he observes you. "I stayed in your bed the night before I left, and you still let me go."

"I thought you were leaving for a job! I didn't want to be the reason you didn't go!" He whines. "You told me you were leaving for a job."

You still don't turn around to look at him, knowing he was right, "I just thought you'd ask me to stay if you really wanted me."

He stands straight, walking toward you; you feel his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. His dark eyes scan your face, wishing he wasn't the reason you were upset.

He leans in close, his breath warm on your face. "You were always special to me," he whispers, his voice low and sincere. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just confused and scared. I didn't know how to handle my feelings for you. I was afraid of losing you, so I pushed you away. I never stopped thinking about you. I came here to tell you that. To tell you that I'm sorry. To tell you I need you."

Jolly pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. He gently cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He smiles softly, his eyes shining with hope. "Can you give me another chance?" he asks, his voice pleading.

You feel a surge of emotion, a mix of anger, pain, and love. You want to scream at him, to push him away. But you also want to hug him, to kiss him, to hold him close. You're torn between your head and your heart. You look into his eyes, and you see the sincerity and the regret.

You see the man you fell in love with, the man who made you laugh, the man who made you feel alive. You feel your resolve weakening, your walls crumbling. You lean in and press your lips to his, answering his question with a kiss.

"So I'm bringing you home." He smiles against your lips. Pulling back, his brown eyes search yours, "This long distance thing isn't how I want to start this." he gently kisses your forehead.

You nod knowingly, "I guess we should start packing."

Jolly smiles, running his hand through your hair, "I'm pretty sure Kayla has a timer set."

You giggle. "She is absolutely crazy." You lean up, kissing Jolly again. "But it's why we love her."

He nods in agreement, "Plus she's Noah's problem."

With a cautious glance, you gently push the front door open, hoping no one will notice your arrival and ambush you as soon as you enter the house.

You sneak into the living room on your tiptoes, holding Jolly's hand.

Noah and Kayla are so engrossed in the TV show that they don't even look at you.

You pretend to be nonchalant and sit down on the recliner next to them, giving them a hard stare.

Her eyes widen as she realizes who you are, and she jumps off the couch and runs toward you. You're home! This is fucking amazing!" She screams in your ear. "I was expecting you guys to take more time, to be honest…you both suck at directions. I don't know how you managed to drive all the way back here." She laughs as she releases you from her hug and embraces Jolly instead, "Look at you. I can finally be in the same room as you without being pissed off. I'm so proud of you." She jokes with him. "Wow," She scans the room and sees the three of you together. "So, is it official now? Can we all just admit how stupid the two of you were? I mean, come on, you could have just moved down the street instead of moving two states away." She snuggles up to Noah on the couch. "I'm not going through this again. You guys have to sort things out by yourselves from now on." She says and acts like she's dismissing you.

Jolly chuckles, sitting in the recliner; he grabs you and makes you sit on his lap, catching you off guard.

You shake your head light laughter falling from your lips, "Well, I missed you too, dick."

You lean into Jolly's chest and wrap your arms around him, feeling his warmth and heartbeat. You sigh in contentment and happiness, glad to be home with the people who loved you the most.

#jolly karlsson x y/n #jolly karlsson x you #jolly karlsson one shot #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly Karlsson fluff #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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25!!!!! with your angel hubbies!!!! 💕

i'm biting you, you could not have known but "look at me" is a Thing in this fandom and it drives me insane

Despite not having to sleep, Crowley has a lot of bad nights. Mostly because sleep is the only time he gets an opportunity to escape the memories chasing him during his waking hours, yet it also brings the danger of them catching up to him. Sometimes the nightmares sinking their claws into his consciousness are familiar, faceless figures watching as he burns alive and his ethereal essence melts away. Other times they're nothing but fragments of fear and pain taking the shape of licking flames or Aziraphale's dead features crumbling within his hands.

No matter what has him shooting upright at three in the morning with sweat-soaked sheets and shallow, panicked breaths, it sticks to him for the rest of the day. If he can, he spends the daylight hours curled up in his flat with the television quietly keeping him company in the background, but today is Tuesday, and he promised to spend the day at his bookshop while he takes inventory.

Sure, technically he could simply call him up and cancel, but the angel would worry and fret until Crowley gave in and agreed to him coming over, and he would gladly take the chance to escape the stretching concrete walls of his flat.

The drive is quick and quiet, yet even in the comfortable confines of the bookshop, he finds himself unable to shake the paranoia blanketing him like a cloak, fear one unfortunate stray thought away.

Crowley keeps on his glasses, and at first Aziraphale is satisfied with glancing at him more than usual, chattering away despite his lack of response. The hours tick by, and his anxiety continues to keep him tense and corned on the couch, his eyes flicking between the entrance and Aziraphale, waiting for an attack that (likely) won't come or hints of smoke drifting up from between the shelves. Nightmares drain him, and fatigue scratches on his bones with increasing urgency until a dropped paperweight almost makes him jump out of his skin, his heart immediately racing as his blood pumps in expectation of a fight.

"Alright, that's it," Aziraphale says, bending down to pick it up. "What's wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing," he presses out between gritted teeth, the lie so unconvincing that he immediately drops any pretence of being alright. Aziraphale nudges his legs to the side and sinks down next to him, their thighs touching, and turns towards him.

"Just a bad night, angel, I'm worried, is all."

"About?"

"You," Crowley admits, his voice slipping into a whisper, and heat creeps up his cheeks until he cannot tell whether it is the fear or shame making him lightheaded. His eyes are anywhere but on Aziraphale.

A cool hand lands on his cheek, and he swallows the urge to flinch, allowing him to gently nudge his cheek to the side. Even in the low light of the bookshop, his eyes are a sparkling blue, worry etching lines between his brows that he yearns to smooth out.

"Look at me, darling."

Crowley does, pressing his face into his palm and taking his glasses off with a defeated sigh. The smile Aziraphale gives him in return finally makes some of the fear in the back of his neck bleed away.

"There you are," he says softly, tipping forward so their foreheads lean against each other, "and here I am, completely fine and safe. Nothing will happen to me."

Breathing in the familiar smell of his angel, old books, and tea, a hint of vanilla, and something electric and ethereal, Crowley's eyes flutter shut. Trusting Aziraphale comes as easily to him as breathing and feels even more natural, and although there is no logical reason for him to accept his assurance as the truth, the anxious spark inside his chest fades to a low glow.

"There we are."

#alex answers asks #alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #half-tempted to put this on ao3

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blimbo-buddy · 2 months

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The idea of a bug killing a bird the same way they slay a bat.

The idea of one of these bugs (I'm gonna use my snowberry clearwing moth character as an example) outmaneuvering them into an accidental trap and killing them. Accidental being that Snowbelly ran straight into burrow or fall log and something above just crushes the bird. Possible a large branch.

Snowbelly crawls out of their hiding place when they hear muttering and looks under them. The pooling red liquid. The unmoving body and the still feathers.

The bird is dead. and they killed it.

Bugs crawling out of their hiding places, witnessing what happened. They began crowding Snowbelly, this lad is in so much shock they're dragged away to news began to be spread.

"Hail the birdslayer! Terror of the skies vanquished by brave moth!"

brings good and bad attention. This was an accident. Snowbelly didn't mean for the bird to die. They didn't want die themselves. They tried to explain it but no matter how they try to bring their explanation. It wasn't heard.

He's a hero.

Snowbelly doesn't want to be a hero. They want to go home and drink nectar in their bush.

What were they given as the token of a gift for their great deed?

The same bloodied feather in their stained claws.

(I realized too late I misspelled Snowberry's species as Snowbelly so this guy's name is just Snowbelly because I can't take it back now and I actually like this name because their belly does look like it's coated with soft snow lol)

I also wanna note the feather is clean. Snowbelly is clean of blood. There is no blood actually on them but they only see that red liquid staining their legs. The splash of blood on their face when the bird was crushed. The bird no longer making a sound..

The blood on them is meant to be what Snowbelly sees themselves as. Just a cold-blooded murderer.

Soo... what'd ya think? :D

Okay first off:

I fucking dig the idea of a "heroic" birdslaying bug feeling immense guilt over taking a life

Yes, the life tried to kill them, but was it worth shedding innocent blood over? They try to pin the blame on the stupid animal; why couldn't that dumb bird just given up the chase?!

But then guilt comes back up; No, they shouldn't blame the animal for acting on their instincts, they were so hungry. What if the bird had babies, god, they're just awful! They should have let themselves die!

This idea does actually inspire me with some rough ideas for Butterfly and Moth culture (If what you also would like to go for is an identity crisis for the character: Are they a moth? A butterfly? Who do they belong to, what culture is theirs?!)

Butterflies value a bird's life, seeing intense beauty in the avians. Even the most bland looking bird holds extreme worth to a butterfly

Butterfly culture greatly shuns the killing of any bird if it is to happen

If a dead bird is found, many butterflies will flock to the corpse to mourn it. Chasing off any fly nomads while doing this (Until they leave the body for nature)

Moth culture on the other hand despises a moth killing another creature

Moth society consists of pacifists

This very much causes lots of holes in the law to be exploited, "But it was in self defense!" "It was an accident!"

They believe that the light of the moon goes back to the sun, to which the sun exposes the moonlight sin to the daylight world, drawing in more enemies for vengeance

So depending on if this character has an identity crisis, as far as they're concerned: They're now shunned from both of their presumed cultures. Butterflies for killing a bird and Moths for killing at all. They are socially outcasted now. No sense of purpose. The other bugs will see them as a hero, but those two? They see them as a blood-stained monster

Just the fact that Snowbelly views their newfound status as a birdslayer as a burden and curse is so cool, I love it when characters try so hard to avoid the curse of fame, but by running away from it, they fail to notice that they've actually been running towards it. [Insert that one quote from Kung Fu Panda about how running from one's destiny leads them to confront it]

And the feather gift? Wooh boy, Snowbelly trying their hardest to get rid of it, throwing it in the water, burying it, anything. It keeps coming back to them somehow. Is the feather mocking them? Is this some sick joke? God I can't get over Snowbelly's character, their spiral downwards from the fame and infamy is amazing. Bravo Kit, bra-fucking-vo

#blimbo rambles #ask #bug world no mercy #blood tw

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kai-atlantis · 8 months

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I'm late 😬 but I broke my ankle again so JUST PLEASE ACCEPT MY LATE ENTRIES OKI.

CW: grief, language

Artwork by @irunaki who graciously allowed me to borrow her work

FowlFest Day 2 - Diary Day

A Glimpse in Time

Holly ShOrt!!!

1953

HI DIARY!!! Today is MaY 3! It's my bIRTHDAY! I'M 32 today and at skool my class sang to me and gave me kandy! Escept for Riles Ross, cause he stole my space bar and ate iT in fronT of ME! >:( so i hit him in his face and all the kids laughed and Miss Persimmon sent me home. :( bUT I CAME HOME WITH CAKE! and its carrot. Mommy says it looks like our hair! :D cause we have orange hair! Daddy gave me a bow n arrow after cake and said I was a natural! Daddy is so strong he could hold me AND MY CAKE TOGETHER! :D then i got in trouble for hitting Riles Ross, but daddy told me later in secret that he was proud of me. :)

Anyway Diary, did you have a good day today? I sure hope so cause I did! I would share my cake with you but i dont wanna get cake on your pages :( sorry. BUT YOU CAN SLEEP WITH ME AND FOXY TONITE! we are having a secret sleep over under the bed. Foxy is so CUTEEE. sHH! Dont tell mommy or daddy. It's only for us :)

See ya there!

Holly Short

1983

Today was fucking bullshit. It was so fucking stupid, I almost don't want to make an entry about it, but my therapist claims it's good for my grief to vent my feelings, so, here I am. Venting my fucking feelings. And no. I don't feel better.

So, you want to know why today sucked. Today was my second day at the Academy. The LEP Academy.

I've always known I was going to be an officer, but lately, I've been compelled to do something more than LEPtraffic, or Immigration. Yesterday was already weird enough because I got tons of looks from all the beefheads, but then today, in my Criminal Investigations class, the professor asked us what our goals in the LEP were. Anyone that knows anything knows girls who join the LEP are destined for traffic, or some bullshit area of "policing". We never go further than that… Unless you're Wing Commander Vinyáya. And nobody is as cool as Wing Commander Vinyáya. She's a total babe. Definitely not me.

But anyway, I have other aspirations. Dad was Internal Affairs. Mom's LEPmarine. It's my destiny to be in the force, and if I'm gonna go in, it's go big or go home. So, I answer that I want to be in Recon. And I shit you not - everyone laughed, even the professor. The FUCKING professor.

Fuck.

Why can't a girl be Recon? We're not all airheads. Some of us are actually capable of handling ourselves. Mom always says my aim is deadlier than a stink worm too, so those townies don't know what they've got coming.

Shit. Said, not says. Mom is dead. Stupid mistake.

Whatever.

The only plus side to today was that I ran into Trouble Kelp. He's the hot Kelp brother. An idiot, but he has a good heart. He's a junior, and super famous for his scores. Everyone knows who he is, so you'd expect him to be a total glow slug, right? But he's actually really kind. Some guy tried to trip me in the hall, and before I could punch the daylights outta him, Kelp shoved him into the trash can and swore him off. It was totally cool. He'd make a good partner someday, I think.

OH! Back to Recon. Adding onto today's bullshit, I overheard some rookies going on and on about Commander Root. Apparently he's a tough nut to crack and hasn't ever had a girl in his unit, and he intends for it to stay that way. Well, too bad for him, because I've got my sights on Recon. I work alone, and fly alone. Nobody to bother me, no stinky males and their gross ear cheese. Just me, the wind, and the surface sky.

It's what mom and dad would want.

I hope they're proud.

Oh yeah, one last thing: it's my birthday today. I'm 62 today. Is it super lame that I put up pictures of mom and dad on the table with me? Just so, you know… I'm not alone?

Fuck. Duh. That's super lame.

Hey. I'm back. Don't mind the weird gap between pages. Didn't feel like writing for a bit so I took a nap. But I'm back.

Honestly? I'm a bit mad. And before you ask me in the session: about everything?

Being a girl is hard enough, right? 'cause I'm stuck in this gnarly place of not being pretty enough yet also not being "tough" enough to be accepted by the guys. And I just started. Why should my appearance fucking matter? I'm a fucking hotshot. I'm resilient. I already know how to pilot a shuttle. That's more than these maggots can do.

My dad would've known what to say. I didn't know him that long, really. But still, when I'd spaz out and tussle with other kids, he'd always have my back, and he always knew the right things to say. I wish I had that now, you know? I miss him.

I miss mom. But I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about her death and I won't be forced into it either, k?

Oh yeah, duh. My original point. It's my 62nd birthday, and I'm all alone. There's supposed to be some junior thing at a pub in the city. Juniors. Not rookies like these dorks. Mom would kill me if I went.

Hah. Guess I should rebel and go make some friends then? Maybe Trouble will be there? Not that I'm into him or anything. Just a friend or two would be nice.

Anyway. I've got basics in the morning.

Night, journal. See ya.

#fowlfest2023 #holly short #artemis fowl #oops im late but hey it's VIRGO SEASON #grief journal

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songsofbloodandwater · 1 month

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Hey, how’re you? 13 and 12 for the asks

Hello! All good here, deeply enjoying the beginning of autumn and the much lower temperatures, how have you been?

12) what do you think your practice would taste like? If one could taste a magico-religious practice

Honestly, blood. Whatever blood can taste like. I've had moments where it's just metallic and asphyxiating, and others when it's pungent but peppery, almost floral.

I really wanted to say something normal, like bread, or milk, or some herbal tea. Or a passed down family recipe. I also thought of water and all that it represents to us. But realistically, it's just blood. I'm sorry if that answer is kind of predictable coming from me!

13) How does your craft feel in the spring vs in the darker months?

In my experience, the most tangible difference comes from the differences between Day Spirits, and Night Spirits. Traditionally, in my family, there's specific workings that we cannot do at night, the lack of sunlight means the Spirits that would be called are not the kind of spirits you'd want to call at all. This type of belief extends to seasons. Seasons stem from the natural changes in daylight hours available on Earth, and we see it as not just the plant life adapting to the colder months, but the spirits associated with the Land also adapting, hibernating, migrating (within this Realm or to other realms), or being in whatever way less available to us. Some, entirely unreachable.

In my opinion it's not that the Day and Night courts are "rotating" and one season or the other belongs entirely to one or the other court. It's simply that in the darker months the tangible presence of the Night Court becomes most prevalent, dominant, due to the absence of most of the Day Court, and viceversa. But they're always coexisting to varying degrees.

In my family that means we begin the warm months in August-September, awakening and feeding the earth and then slowly welcoming back the different allies and relatives of my spirit family throughout the next spring and summer months, as they come and as we get to spend time with them. It reaches a peak in December, with Solar festivities. Then starts to decline again throughout the next months, until we reach the "Lunar" peak, and the weakest moment of the Sun and Day court, in June with the Longest Night of the year. My seasonal calendar isn't just depending on daylight hours, but also on the apparent cycles of certain sacred constellations across the sky, so throughout the year I'm paying attention to Them and working with each as they come and go aswell, for example, the Southern Cross's rotation marks some special dates for me in regards to the fertility of the Land and to the Beloved Dead, or the Pleiades appearing and disappearing, carrying messages and omens, bringing with them certain Spirits and their influence, and taking them away as they go.

It feels like a family reunion that lasts months instead of hours. When people just start arriving, when there's feast and stories and sharing and warmth, and then everyone starts saying their goodbyes again, until next year. Summer is the height of the party. Winter is the only time of the year that reflects what you'd normally imagine from everyday family life, when it's just me and the Spirits that walk with me, that "live with me in that house", so to speak. In practicality, that means more outwards work during the warmer months (in relation to the Land and Spirits that are tied to different kinds of cyclical natures), more inwards work and "housekeeping" of my own courts during the cold dark months. There's still some work to do with perennial spirits during the winter (for example, La Dolorosa and The Wild King, and their respective courts, are mostly unaffected by the seasons) but it's still a smaller workload in general when in comparison to the warm months.

Hope that makes sense! thanks for asking these were fun!

#ask #asks #Blood and Water #my notes #Regina Mundi

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plushii-gutz · 9 months

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Yep, part 9 of RnR. I'm not sure what to put here, lmao

ֶ֢︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

Daylight began to roll back into the distant trees, the sun laying cozy in their deep green leaves. How had the time passed so quickly? Lunch didn't seem that long ago. Hell, Attmoz still carried the bag of chips everyone shared. It was as big as a pillow when they first got it - definitely party-size!

He rested in the grass of the front yard now, still munching on the snack and wiping his fingers clean on his scarf, Syncopite nearby occasionally stealing a chips for themself. Glaishur laid on his back, watching the clouds pass as his partner shifted their shapes into critters and familiar faces. The group has been at this for at least an hour now, enjoying the fresh air and cozy light, but Glaishur wasn't sure what a few of the shapes were. Some sort of reptilian monster? His partner said it was a stogg - a monster he saw while on Amber. Glaishur wondered if he would ever be able to travel like they had. The circumstances have certainly changed. Furnoss sat with them, seeming impressed by Attmoz's work.

"This is neat," the fire monster commented, looking past Glaishur. "How long have you been able to do this?"

"Um.. dunno," he shrugged.

"Oh.. well, what about the wing-thing you did back on Amber Island?"

"The what?'

"You made like.. wings out of clouds and use them to fly. Do you not remember?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He can't remember," Glaishur chimed in.

"The thing that happened with Galvana? Oh yeah, not a clue what happened. I was all kinds of fucked up, man."

"We know, 'moz."

Furnoss tilted his head, looking back to the sky.

"Monsters are weird," the cold celestial spoke again.

"Life is weird," Furnoss added.

"Yeah.. I can't believe we ended up here."

"Hm?"

"Like.. here. On Plant Island. Gettin' out of that old cramped castle, the old island. It just doesn't feel.. right."

"It's a big change. We did meet a lot of very nice monsters, though, and there's plenty more space."

Attmoz hopped to his feet, saying he'll be back. The chip bag was empty, and he'd be damned if he were to litter. Syncopite tagged along, the two joking as they walked off into the distance.

"I know," Glaishur spoke up again, "but.. I can't really explain. I think there's somethin' wrong with my mind."

Furnoss inched closer, intending on listening to the others words.

"I don't mean t' sound.. rude or nothin'.. but when we lived back on our old island, I would always wish for a better home. I'd wish for Lood' to be happier, for you to be happier, for everyone t' just.. stop fighting all th' time. And now no one fights, and it feels.. wrong."

"Wrong?" Furnoss repeated.

"It isn't wrong - I know it's better! Everyone is better. I think.. it's me who feels wrong. Furnoss, Can I tell you somethin' weird?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"When I died in that fire.. I don' think I died. I mean, I did, but I wasn't.. dead. I was in some sorta.. waiting room. There was snow everywhere. Trees faded when I got too close. The moon was always out - it was real blue, too. The snow was deep. It cut my skin when I walked. I couldn't feel anything but hurt."

Glaishur sat up, plucking blades of grass and leaves from his hair. Hopefully, there weren't any bugs crawling around in it. The other monster with him was visibly riddled with worry.

"And I didn't feel dead. Just.. dissociated. It scares me 'cause I kinda feel like that now. And.. it makes me feel like you're not really here. That Attmoz's isn't here. The kids aren't here either. I know they are, but.. I don' feel like you are. Furnoss.. is that where monsters go when they die?"

"I.. I don't know," he answered honestly.

Furnoss helped Glaishur to his feet, helping clean off a few more bits of the nature that tangled itself within his fur.

"I wish I could tell you. I really do. But we're not like the other monsters - we're Celestials. Everything we do is different than what's 'normal' for everyone else, even death. At least, I would assume such. You can ask Strombonin. I'm sure they would have an answer if anyone else. But.. I'm here. You're here, too. I don't know how much my words help, but even a little bit would be an accomplishment."

The purple monster held a small, yellow dandelion in his hands, looking over its soft petals and green stem. He noticed the very, very light weight it had and its bare scent. Maybe it is real. He placed the flower in his hair along with the many others that Scaratar or Blasoom had already added, soon hearing the grass nearby crunching with approaching steps. It was Attmoz, no longer accompanied by Syncopite but instead Torrt. The little monster carried a box of graham crackers, visibly excited.

"Hey, Frosty! G'joob wanted to show us a couple tricks - something about camping? I wasn't paying too much attention, heh. Wanna tag along? You too, Smokey."

Furnoss gave a small grin at the new nickname. Glaishur gladly accepted, marching through the grass with his friends by his side.

Yawstrich and Strombonin had gathered a plentiful of large rocks, creating a short cylinder shape with them on the grass and lining the bottom with a decent amount of smaller stones. G'joob came into sight not long after the four arrived, followed by the remaining monsterlings, who each carried three or four sticks. They're instructed to drop them within the pit the other Mythicals had made, which they promptly do with Yawstrich assisting proper placement.

"Alright," G'joob said with a wheeze, worn out from the simple task of keeping the many kids in one group. "This part is dangerous.. ugh. Strombonin, ya mind takin' over?"

"You must promise never to do this unassisted by an older monster," the cold Mythical stepped forward. "I'm sure you are aware of its dangers, but I would like to reinforce that it is not a toy to be played with."

Attmoz bit his lip to keep himself from commenting. Glaishur's quick look probably shut him up, too. Strombonin looked through the many fallen branches, taking one with dried, gray leaves and holding it under a lighter provided by Yawstrich. The flame spread onto the leaves, the branch. Strombonin rested it within the pit they had built, allowing the fire to grow and spiral upwards. Then it settled. A healthy medium had been met, its fierceness being kept within the set barriers.

The mythical looked to his celestial counterpart, acknowledging his expression and body language. Glaishur seemed a bit off but not afraid. Attmoz moved his hand a bit as an offering to his partner, who took it. Assured by Attmoz's actions, Strombonin continued.

"One of ya got the Graham crackers, right?" G'joob took back the lead.

"Me!" Torrt answered. They hopped forward, offering the box of goods. The other took this, adding it to the marshmallows and chocolate that sat to the side.

"Alright, now we need.. sharper sticks. Yawstrich and I can do this part."

"We can?" The feathered monster asked. "Oh! We can!"

Furnoss offered his assistance, which is gladly accepted. The three look through the remaining branches, using blades to clean and sharpen the ends of each. Glaishur left Attmoz behind, pulling Strombonin aside to speak. Furnoss gives them space, encouraging Attmoz to do the same. As much as he wanted to follow, he agreed.

The two left for the other side of the castle. Glaishur wasn't exactly sure where he was walking, but he hoped it was far enough that no one would hear.

"Uh. Strombonin?"

"How can I help, Glaishur?"

"I have questions 'bout.. s-some really weird stuff, and I don't know who else t' go to."

With a shaky breath, the celestial went on to explain what he had prior to Furnoss. He spoke of the increasingly cold snow, the purple tinted sky, everlasting night, and disappearing trees. They nodded along to every word, almost as if they connected every dot.

"You described it as a waiting room - that is technically correct. However, not every monster experiences these after death. Only Celestials, as far as im aware. Though, I do think Wublins, another species of monster, experience a similar dormancy. This room is where your spirit resides until your body is able to sustain itself once again."

The mythical settled himself down, having Glaishur do the same.

"Life and death in the monster world is.. complicated. It saddens me to know you had to experience it yourself. Let's see.. if a monster within the mortal category dies, their spirit lives past their body. That spirit can wander the living world depending on its.. situation. But typically, they move on."

"To where?" Glaishur asked.

"An afterlife. We don't know what's on the other side, as it varies among monsters' beliefs. We do know for certain that there is a middle - a sort of gateway."

Strombonin seemed a bit worried with the topic in his mind.

"It's known as The Muted Area, In between life and death and acting as a doorway. Though, if I recall correctly, it was held up by energy provided by the spark of life - Galvana's elemental ability. Their powers are strong, and I have no doubts that the relm is easily accessible, but from your experience, I dont believe celestials have that.. but I'm getting off the topic at hand. The way you celestials live and die is vastly different from anyone else. Your fear is understandable, and your worry for other monsters is appreciated as usual, but I promise you there is nothing to fear. If anything is to happen to you or the other celestials, we have the resources to correct everything."

"What about other monsters? Can 'Vana bring them back, too?"

"That is.. different. Yes, one may have the ability to, but it isn't to be used unethically. The world runs along a circular path of day and night. There's many other properties to this, but I think it would be best to discuss it when you're older."

Glaishur nodded. He had more questions than answers but felt as if he had spoken enough. The mythical helped him to his feet, leading the way back to the playing group.

The younger of the monsters held marshmallows on sticks over the edge of the flaming pit, Furnoss making sure none caught fire and helping them put together a new treat. Attmoz hopped back, shaking around a burning marshmallow until it fell onto the grass. Syncopite stomped it out, laughing at his misfortune.

"Ya gotta work on timing, cloud man!"

"Ok, well, It looked undercooked."

"It.. it was on fire for a solid minute."

"Oh look, Glaishur's back!"

Attmoz, whether it was an attempt to change the subject or simply an odd expression of affection, scooped Glaishur off his feet and dropped him over with the rest of the monsters. As shocked as the cold celestial was at the sudden lift, he didn't mind it all too much. He did question where the strength came from, though not out loud.

Attmoz began to explain to Glaishur how to make a s'more. It was relatively simple, just toasting the marshmallow over the fire and sandwiching it between some graham crackers and chocolate. Vhamp and Blasoom ran past the two, trying to start up a game. Glaishur promised to join in eventually.

The edge of the purple monster's marshmallow had only started to turn a soft gold before he pulled back, shaking himself off. Furnoss moved closer, worried.

"Is something wrong?" He asked. He knew fire wasn't something the other was all too fond of.

"No," Glaishur sighed. "It's.. It's just a bit hot. I don' think I can stand too close to it."

It seems to be the truth. What remained of Glaishur's thick fur kept him a bit too warm in general, but the addition of his hoodie added just too much padding on certain parts. He stepped back, having to cool off. Vhamp trotted to his side, offering to start up the game of pretend - pretend camping! Unfortunately, they didn't want to stray too far from the light source - it was getting darker by the minute.

"Maybe tomorrow," Glaishur sighed. Disappointed, the mech monsterling left to begin the game with someone else. He felt bad, but even the younger of the Celestials understood. He was a bit lost in thought, though watching them run off with Furnoss was a bit sweet. It wasn't long until he was joined by another monster. He was surprised to see Scaratar instead of Attmoz.

"Are you ok, Glaishur?" She asked. "Why did you leave?"

"I'm alright, Scar'. Just needed t' step back."

"Oh. Can I ask why?"

"It's jus' too hot around th' fire with everyone else. I guess the hoodie's a bit too thick."

Scaratar circled Glaishur for a moment, looking him over.

"You could take it off," she suggested. Glaishur paused.

"I don' really want to," he spoke softly.

"Why not?"

"I.. You know the incident back at th' castle left me really.. patchy. And my fur ain't gunna grow back. It doesn't look all too good."

"Says who?" She said with a bit of sass.

"..says me. I can't fix it, either."

"There isn't anything to fix, Glaishur! I mean, yeah, the hoodie and sweaters look nice, but I like you."

The poison monster had Glaishur crouch to her height, making sure he listened.

"You know.. You're more than what happened back at our old home - and you're definitely more than your patches! They just remind us how much you cared about everyone, and I think they're nice."

The cold monsters eye searched for something to say. How had Scaratar seen through everything?

"It's ok if you aren't ready yet," she assured. "I can't do a lot to change how you see yourself, but I can let you know how everyone else does - we love you the same."

Glaishur looked between her and himself. He nodded, letting her know he would think about it. After a quick hug, Scaratar left to join the others. She carried a few twigs back with her, adding them to the fire and asking if she could make another s'more. Attmoz offered his help, chatting a bit as he did so.

"I'm guessing you talked with Glaish?" He would ask.

"Yeah. He just needs time. Why didn't you talk to him?"

" 'cuz he already knows what I'd say. Maybe I'm looking into it too much, but he'd probably think I'm biased - and yeah, a little bit, but I wanted him to hear someone besides me remind him that he's-"

"It's on fire."

"Fuck!"

G'joob came along, putting out the flaming marshmallow in time for it to still be relatively edible and mushing it between some graham crackers and chocolate. Scaratar munched away, having enjoyed the little show she got with her treat. Practice makes perfect, Attmoz reminded himself. Again, with the marshmallows. He tries again. Hopefully, they'll have another bag to spare.

Hornacle joined the air monster's side, having a hard time keeping up with the rest as they ran in circles. He didn't mind, of course, asking if there was anything they would like to do instead.

"We could go inside if ya want. Maybe pick out some of the coloring books you got not too long ago, yeah?"

Hornacle hopped up, running off.

"Well damn, I didn't think you'd hate the idea that much."

They didn't run far, hopping in one spot. Attmoz walked to their side, noticing Glaishur coming into view.

He had his hoodie tossed over his shoulder, no longer using it to cover himself. He stood still for a moment, waiting for Hornacle's response. The monsterling quit the jumping, giving Glaishur a look over. Then they began to hop again, excited. Glaishur was back!

The rest began to turn up, having similar reactions. They didn't seem to really notice. Attmoz couldn't help but grin, taking off his scarf and tossing it aside.

"Welcome back, Snowball. Want a s'more?"

"Yeah, but I'm makin' it. I see ya burnin' everything!"

"It's artistic liberty."

"What does that mean?"

"I dunno."

Strombonin gave a nod of approval as the two finally managed to melt the marshmallows and not set anything on fire. Furnoss seemed rather proud as well, though as to what specifically can not be told.

Hours of play pass as the sun finally disappeared. Most of the Mythicals had left for the night, Strombonin remaining as he always had. They made sure to put the fire out, also cleaning up any trash that had fallen into the grass. A handful of the monsterlings had to be carried in and sorted into their designated rooms, having stood up far past their usual schedule and lacked their constant energy. Of course, Galvana protested as always, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle.

Glaishur had slipped his hoodie back on. It wasn't out of fear of being seen, but simply because it was comfortable. He already chewed one of the strings to a threaded mess, though, so hopefully, they'll find a way to replace that.

Strombonin settled with Strombone in the living room, having drifted off to sleep already. The rest of the castle joined shortly, tired after the long day.

ֶ֢︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪

Furnoss shifted uncomfortably. Something was making noise outside. Attmoz better not be sneaking out again. As much as he didn't want to, the fire celestial left his slumber to check.

The hallway was empty. As far as he could tell, no one had left their rooms. Furnoss moved to the door, listening carefully to the outside world. He was sent back, scared by a knock. Why would anyone be here so late? Perhaps one of the Mythicals returned. Furnoss opened the door, taking a look put before opening it all the way.

"Oh!" He gasped, moving back.

"It's..it's been a while," Furnoss stuttered. He already felt a chilling in his chest.

"It has been, hasn't it?" Loodvigg muttered.

The silence felt awful. The environment felt awful. Before him stood the very monster he feared most.

"Furnoss, we need to talk."

"Oh, do we."

The shadow monster stood aside, allowing Furnoss to exit the door. His eyes flickered between the castle and Loodvigg. The kids were safe. Strombonin made sure of that. He and Loodvigg would be away from their home. Everything should be ok. Furnoss agreed to leave. If anything were to happen, he is assured it wouldn't be anyone but himself. Furnoss left the castle.

They walked alongside one another, following the same trail through the woods that led up to the old building. He had forgotten how awful the exterior looked. At least it kept most monsters away. Most. The two walked the stone path, following it down to a paved sidewalk. It was incredibly late, and it seemed that most of Plant Islands residents have left to their homes to sleep. Maybe the walk would be ever so slightly easier.

The sky was painted with speckled white stars across an ink black canvas, a few deep gray clouds still visible. The grass almost seemed orange against the streetlights. The air smelled fresh, and the island still sung of the critters chattering. If only Furnoss could feel calm. Loodvigg walked with its arms behind its back, silver eyes to the ground. They drew in a long breath.

"Furnoss. I had been.. terrible. Horrid. Vile. I have no proper words to describe my actions. I will never be able to fix what I had broken. It took death itself to make me aware."

They turned to make eye contact with the fire monster, who seemed to be riddled with questions. It was expected.

"During the fire, all that time ago. I lost my life in the wreckage. We as celestials are unable to die - we just fall dormant. Our consciousness move to.. a world between life and death. A limbo, I may say."

Loodvigg remembered the relm very well. It could recall the missing ground, only walking on smoke. The sky had been gray, the moon a deep red, the many yellowed webs he was able to rest upon that dangled from twisted trees.

"It was an odd world to step into. I wasn't anywhere, but I was everywhere. It wasn't long until I realized I hadn't been alone. I encountered a.. strange being, to say the least. They were simply known as Ghazt. During my stay, Ghazt had spoken with me. They told me that they were a monster of interdimensional powers. An Ethereal, to be exact. Similar to the Mythicals, whom they taught me of, they had been unaware of our survival after the fall of Starhenge. They had suspicions, however, as they visited these 'waiting rooms' often in an attempt to find our departed souls."

"I'd say I don't believe you," Furnoss shook his head, "But stranger things have happened."

"Indeed they have. During my time there, Ghazt spoke to me of many things. They learned quickly of my.. mistakes. They intervened quickly, too. Initially, I had wanted nothing to do with it, being the monster I was, but we had until the end of time itself to talk. And so we did. Days upon days of talking. I had been so stubborn, but they dug into me like stone. Chipped away at who I was."

Loodvigg stopped to pull Furnoss's attention back to itself.

"I'll get to the point. After having been revived, knowingly by accident, I had entered myself into a multi-step program for monsters like.. me. I want to be a better monster for myself and for others. I have been attending for only a week, but I plan to continue until I am suitable for your environment."

"My- my environment?" Furnoss stuttered. "What do you mean by that?"

Their walking came to a stop, Furnoss barely visible in the night apart from the glowing embers within his body. Loodvigg reached forward, cupping the fire celestials hand in his.

"Furnoss.. I want for us to be as we had been before. I miss those years so, so much. I'm willing to do anything to bring them back. You deserve help. The others deserve help. How else could I ever repay you?"

The fire celestial ripped his hand back with a sharp "no!" To Loodvigg's words.

"..no?" They echoed.

"I.. I didn't mean to yell.. but no."

Furnoss cleaned the fur of his face, carefully choosing his next words with a deep breath. It was hard to see anyone but the monster he once loved before him, but he knew It was just a monster now. A once horrible monster. But maybe a better one.

"I know you're working on yourself. I know you're trying to change. But our relationship is no longer my priority. The kids are."

Their eyes met once more. He held a stern gaze that had been missing for so long.

"They're beginning to recognize everything that had happened. Everything I say, everything I do - it will all affect them. They're realizing what we had gone through, and they know what you have done, too. Loodvigg, I would love to give everything a second chance, but I need to protect them."

The shadow monster's eyes held little words as they pondered their reaction. It made sense for the kids to be their priority, any monster would. It was Furnoss's choice, and he knew to respect it.

"Alright," it spoke. "I will continue attending the meetings. I promise not to interfere with you or the little ones anymore."

"I'm not saying never."

Furnoss moved himself back into Loodvigg's field of vision.

"Just.. we'll see. Ok? We'll see."

Something deep inside those silver eyes had come back. Furnoss held the side of Loodvigg's head, letting himself relax.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, dear."

"How.. how did you find us?"

Loodvigg opened its mouth to speak, only to be cut off by another voice.

"I told hiiiiim!" The voice sung. A ghostly figure came into view, having shielded itself in invisibility. It seemed to be the same purple creature that had passed them within the hospital.

"That.. that is Ghazt," the shadow monster sighed. They were annoyed, clearly.

"That's the name!"

"You told me this would be private," Loodvigg spoke with a hiss.

"Well, it seemed like it, didn't it? No, no, I'm required to be by your side as an emotional support friend and to monitor your behavior! I'd say you did excellent just now!"

"Marvelous. Furnoss, this is Ghazt. Ghazt, Furnoss."

Ghazt circled the two, joking about their height and ages. Did today mark their billions of years alive? Who knows!

Loodvigg offered a hand, which Furnoss was yet to accept. He didn't want to. Loodvigg lowered it.

"I'll have you home by morning," They promised.

"I'll give you an hour at most. This is.. a lot to take in. I don't know if I can trust you yet. I'll give you this chance, but only once more."

"It's more than I deserve, really."

"It is. Don't mess up."

Now, with Ghazt spectating the two, Furnoss and Loodvigg continued on their walking, talking trip down a new road. Neither knew where it would lead, but they knew it were someplace new. Only time would tell.

#fallen stars msm #my singing monsters #fallen stars au #msm #fanfiction #msm au #the last bit with Glaishur was a bit personal 🤭

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darylscrossbowtwd · 2 years

Text

Revelations (Daryl x reader)

warnings : slight angst (happy ending), injury description, near death experience, sh*ne walsh, shitty writing

Not proof read, let me know if you spot any mistakes!

Constructive criticism welcome!

pairings : Daryl x reader

summary : When you go out to search for Sophia on your own, things don't go quite as planned, Daryl quickly notices your gone and makes quick work in looking for you, when he does he realizes just how much you truly mean to him.

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You were done,

The only people truly looking for The missing girl were you and Daryl. Recently it was the only thing occupying your time, seeing Daryl so on edge and genuinely worried all the time only made you want to look harder and more often.

Since arriving at the Greene's farm, you hadn't really even had the chance to get to know Hershel's daughters- who were around your age and seemed really kind- but finding Sophia was the number one priority. So, besides ; eating, sleeping and other things such as going to the bathroom, all your time was spent on the young little girl.

The constant searching brought you and the archer closer, you no longer only received nods of conformation and hums of agreement, words and small sentences were also used, full conversations still not quite a thing yet. Putting it down to his reserved personality, you were happy to accept what he was putting on the table, not wanting to push him out of his comfort zone.

Daryl really appreciated the fact you didn't push and pry for more than he was willing to give. At first his lack of conversation was indeed down to his natural solo style, soon that reason just became an excuse, covering the actual reason.

You made him nervous.

All the time he spent with you caused a small 'crush' to develop, of course, the redneck would never admit that because that's what he was- a redneck- he didn't think you would ever reciprocate his feelings. So he kept them hidden, trying not to talk as much as possible so he didn't say something stupid.

He didn't plan on telling you, ever, that was until he almost lost you.

Noticing Daryl over work him self, and not get enough sleep to make up for it, you decided to search for Sophia alone today. You really cared about him, so you gave him a rest. Everyone in your group saw the longing glances you gave him, all the times you spoke on how amazing you thought he was (his tracking and hunting skills, and in general).

Everyone but him.

So when you told Lori what you were going out to do, she thought it was adorable.

"Be careful though, make sure you come back before it gets dark." She spoke while placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, I've been out plenty of times supervising Daryl," You looked over to his small camp, separate from the other, "god knows if he would would come back until he found her if it weren't for someone telling him."

Lori let out a small chuckle, "Your right, but still, don't make me have to come lookin' for you."

Now it was your turn to laugh, "I won't, I'll see you when i'm back." You gave her hand a pat, the one still on your shoulder, and headed of to grab a map.

You and Daryl had areas yet to search marked down, deciding to choose a smart option, you went for the closest location to the farm, seeing as you would be alone.

You grabbed your gun and pocket knife and quickly headed for the tree line, trying to make the most of the daylight as possible. Unfortunately for you, your rushed state forgot to check if you had a full round in the gun, and surprise surprise, you didn't...

Daryl was discussing with Rick and Shane about conducting searches for young Sophia, obviously Shane had to voice his opinion on the matter, how he thought she was already dead and they were wasting time. Rick had a more civilised approach to it, still wanting to look for the little girl, having his own child making his sympathise a lot more.

Daryl was at his wits end with Shane and all the insensitive bullshit spewing out of his mouth, “Y’know what, imma go find (y/n), search with someone who actually cares, that way we actualy have a shot at findin’ the girl.” He grabbed his crossbow from the hood of the car they were talking around an headed to look for you.

First he ran into Carol, “Hey, ya’ seen (y/n) aroun’, gonna look for ya’ girl a lil’ more.” He spoke.

“Yes, i just saw her speaking with Lori over in the camp.” A tight smile tugging at her lips.

Daryl gave a small nod, starting toward the camp, before he could get to far he heard Carol shout over to him,

“Thank you.”

Daryl turned, a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“For looking for my little girl, it means a lot.” She smiled at the younger Dixon, to which he replied with a nod of acknowledgement. Continuing his walk over to the small yet cosy camp, his eyes latched onto Lori, but you weren’t there.

“Lori, was (y/n) with ya?” He questioned.

Without looking away from what she was doing, she replied, “Mhm, said she was gonna look for Sophia, give you a break.” Turning around to face the archer, she gave a friendly smile.

It took a minute before it registered in Daryl’s mind,

“Alone?”

“Yeah, figured with how much she went with you, she would know the woods pretty well.” A flash of concern took over Loris features for a moment.

“Dammit! Woman can’t read directions for shit,” He ran a hand over his face, “I’ll go out and track the damn woman before she gets lost, she tell you were she was headin’?”

Lori shook her head,

“No, sorry.” Sympathy was written all over her face, she wasn’t worried, you could handle yourself, but seeing Daryl get slightly worried, a man who is usually- what some people would call- emotionless, didn’t sit right with Lori.

You weren’t to deep into the woods, maybe far enough to consider thinking about heading back. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky, temping you to stay out just a bit longer, the good news was that you hadn’t seen many walkers, only the odd few, slow and weak enough to take down with your pocket knife. The bad news however, was that the lack of walkers was being made up by the considerably large herd heading your way.

“Shit.” You cursed, seeing the cluster of the undead seek its way from behind a large bush.

Managing to take out the first few, who were closer than the rest, with your pocket knife, made you think you had it under control, that was until your knife was tossed when your arm was jerked forward by a very handsy walker.

Fumbling backwards, your hands went straight to your belt pulling out the gun, quickly checking the safety was of, you cocked the gun, aiming for the head of the closest walker. Hitting the targeted area perfectly, you broke out into a small smile, gaining some confidence.

Doing this a few more times, still slowly backing up away from the advancing herd, you gun started to click instead of firing bullets.

“No, no ,no, shit !” Panic set in, realising you were being backed up by a frightful amount of walkers with no weapons, while also alone.

Continuing to put as much space between you and them as possible, you didn’t realise the small cliff edge you were approaching, your attention was drawn away from the walkers when you heard your name being yelled.

“(Y/n)! Watch out!” The person yelled.

Looking to the right you saw Daryl.

“Daryl, thank god!” The feeling of relief caused by Daryl making quick work of all the walkers was short lived when you felt the earth beneath you disappear.

You didn’t even have time to scream as you fell down the small cliff, hitting every sharp rock and wandering branch on the way down.

“Fuck,” Daryl yanked one of the arrows out of the nearest eliminated walker and got ready to fire the final shot, aiming for in between what was left of the decaying monsters eyes, he fired. Not bothering to retrieve the arrow he made a bee-line toward were you had fallen, trying to get a glimpse of you, “Shit, shit, god damn!” He couldn’t see you.

Eyes darting to find a possible, safe, way down, he managed to spot a path that rounded down. Not even sparing a second he dashed for the downhill slope, dodging low hanging branches and protruding bushes.

“Stupid woman, comin’ out by her damn self.” He muttered rather angrily, hints of worry and impatience slipping through his tough demeanour.

Coming to a halt when he reached the bottom of the path, he scanned the area for you, that’s when he landed on you.

Unconscious, sprawled out on the dirty ground. Rushing to your side he immediately checked for a pulse, letting out a breathy laugh when he found one, it wasn’t strong but it was there.

Slinging his crossbow onto his back, he scooped you into his arms, the archer cursed himself for not keeping an eye on you, of course you would take the task of finding Sophia into your own hands, that’s how you were. Always determined to get a task done, especially when a little girls life was in danger.

That was another reason he had fallen for you, your caring nature and thoughtfulness toward anyone and everyone that needed your help, you would risk it all to make sure the people you cared bout were safe and sound, always putting others comfort before your own.

Due to spending the majority of the walk (more like run) back to the camp keeping an eye on the rise and fall of your chest to make sure you were still with him, he hadn’t noticed that he was already back, crossing through the field that separated the woods and the farm.

His head snapped up and he instantly started yelling out to the rest of the group,

“Help! Get Hershel over here damnit!”

Back at the camp, the distant yelling of a very distressed Daryl, alerted everyone. Lori instantly put two and two together and listened to the trackers demands, running to the house to get the veterinarian.

Upon entering Lori began shouting for him,

“Hershel! Somethings happened, (y/n)’s hurt!”

He emerged from the living area, concern written across his features,

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I don’t know, Daryl’s coming with her now, i think she got hurt while she was out looking for Sophia.”

Hershel nodded at Lori, heading out onto the porch, were he saw Daryl already making his way up to the house rather quickly.

“Bring her in,” He said to Daryl, guiding him through the house to the spare bedroom were Carl had also spent some time, “Place her on the bed.”

Daryl put you down carefully, making sure not to knock you or move you to fast. He was glancing down at you looking over all the small cuts and scratches adorning your arms, eyes fluttering over to an alarmingly big wound on your head.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Hershel asked.

“Ye’, bunch of walkers backed her up, she fell down a pretty steep hill, sorta’ jus’ tumbled down it.”

“Do you know if she was bit?”

“Nah, she’s fine.”

“That’s good.”

Daryl just grunted in response,

“It’s a good job you got there when you did, any longer and the head injury she had could have been fatal,” Hershel glanced over at Daryl, taking note of the way he was biting on his nail whilst slightly pacing back and forth, “She’s a tough girl she’ll be fine, I’m just gonna clean the wound and stitch it up an’ then I’ll take a look at her minor wounds, feel free to stay if you want.” The old man offered.

The way your state was concerning the archer was clear for everyone to see and Hershel felt as though it would put him at ease to be able to be with you and know how you were doing. In all honesty he didn’t expect him to say yes, with his cold demeanour making him not really seem like the type to over worry about someone he new was i good hands.

However you weren’t just someone.

So he said yes.

You woke up with a pounding feeling in your head, instantly moving your hand to the source of pain, you winced when your fingers made contact with what felt like a bandage rapped around your head.

“Hey take it easy, it’s like you wanna get yerself hurt woman.” Daryl’s voice rang from the side of you, grinning you slowly opened your eyes allowing them to adjust to the light.

“Shut it, my head hurts, the hell happened?” Daryl raised his brow, looking at you with a look you couldn’t quite read.

“Damn near almost got yerslef killed that’s what, found ya’ backed up by a bunch a walkers an’ ya’ fell down a lil’ cliff tryna’ get away.” Was that concern you were seeing?

“Thank you,” He looked over at you puzzled, the man could never take a damn compliment. “ For saving me dumbass.”

“Ain’t got no reason to thank me, if ya’ weren’t so fucked up righ’ now, I would be kickin’ yer’ ass myself for bein’ so damned stupid.”

“I just wanted to give you a break,” Once again that look of confusion returned, you looked away slightly flustered, he was so cute with that look on his face, “Yano, your always lookin’ for Sophia and you never get any time to rest, you work so hard for everyone an’ you deserve a break.”

When you looked back over to him he was already staring at you, he looked as if he was processing your words, like no one had ever said a single nice thing to him and he didn’t know how to take it.

The second the words left your mouth he was in shock, you really thought that?

He didn’t quite know how to respond, him receiving compliments alone was something that never happened, but to hear it from you?

He was frozen.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins from the prior events that made him make the rash decision to say what he did, or the genuine positivity you spoke about him with that made him think you could even have the slightest bit of interest in him. If it wasn’t the words you said it was most definitely the red tint he could have swear to have seen when you spoke about him.

So he took a leap of faith, not wanting to keep it from you anymore, god knows what he would do if next time you were in trouble and he wasn’t there. He corrected himself, there would be no next time because he was never letting you out of his sight again, that is if what he was about to do didn’t actually ruin everything between you.

“I really like ya’ n’ I ain’t lettin’ you do some stupid shit like this again, ain’t loosin’ ya’ too.” He spoke, the last few words especially quite. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, what if he had just ruined your entire friendship by giving you the burden of knowing his sorry ass liked you? He half expected you to laugh in his face, but you weren’t like that so you’d probably let him down easily.

What you said next he did not expect.

“I like you too, Daryl Dixon.”

That was when he looked up, seeing your red tinted cheeks and shy smile, compelling him to walk over and make another bold move.

The closer he got, the faster you heart went, you could of swore if it wasn’t your injury’s that took you it would be the heart attack you were moments away from having.

The second he cupped your cheek with his hand your breath caught in your throat, he slowly brought his face closer, you could sense the hesitation so you were the one to close the gap, confirming to him that you did indeed feel the same way.

It was a meaningful kiss, not fast and hungry but delicate and loving. When you both separated for air there was a moment of silence, you pressed your head against his.

“If this is now what I have In my life, I wouldn’t risk being stupid enough to lose it.”

#daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd fandom #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #angst #fluff #twd

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sleepy-wyvern · 1 year

Text

Welcome to the Wyvern Den!

Little horny goblin Tumblr writer ✍🏼 💙

Hi there! My name is Wyvern, a pen name just for privacy reasons. You can call me Wyvern, Wy, Wyv (she/her) 💙 I'm demisexual & biromantic, and am in my mid 20s. I intend to use this blog as a den for my obsessions and hyper fixations! Feel free to say hello I’d love to chat! :) messages and requests open but please only interact if 18+

Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Ghostface (I can fix him), Daemon Targ (I can’t fix him), The Red Viper (he’s perfect already)

SCREAM/HORROR WRITING BLOG HERE (ghost-Wyvern)

My fics are only of characters 18+! please only interact if 18+, minors DNI!

REQUESTS: Open for both blurbs and sketches ♡ more info in FAQ

My Fan Fic master list/post directory

Tag Pages: My Fan Fiction || My Fan Art

Read more for PERMISSIONS & FAQ

💙💙💙💙

Tags I Use- Feel free to block the content you don’t want to see from me if you use a tumblr extension! #wyv rambles #wyv fan art #wyv fan fics #stranger things spoilers #hotd spoilers #scream 6 spoilers

Permissions

You can repost any of my fan art linking back to me for credit. When used as profile pictures and icons you do not need to link back but it’s appreciated. Tracing and editing is allowed so long as you link back to me in the post stating it was a trace/edit of my work. You can use my artwork as a reference to make your own, and so long as many aspects are changed and aren't traced/copied you do not need to provide credit but it is appreciated. My only other no-no is using my artwork for monetary gain!

Requests

Art requests: Stranger things, ghostface and house of the dragon (and generic features viewer). If you would like you or your oc drawn please message me about commissions <3 The only things that I refuse to draw are illegal sexual themes, gore/violence (love choking is fine), bodily fluids other than spit and fe/male love juices. Note I am not very interested in drawing: guns (knives are ok for my ghosty fans , just as a prop!), cars, mech, intricate architecture/background. I’m not an experienced 🌽 artist but I draw a lot of romance

Writing requests: I will respond to whatever prompts I can, I enjoy doing them for inspo! These will generally be blurbs. I currently only write for the scream franchise, ST Eddie, Steve, Billy, Robin (fem!reader only for her) and only fem or gender neutral reader (please specify! <3). I do not write anything that’s illegal in a sexual nature except (soft) public stuff. CNC is fine. No gore/vomit, I'm a bit squeamish- spit, period, and love juices are fine!

FAQ

Can I message you?

to prevent spam my inbox is mutuals only, feel free to send an ask if you would like to get in contact 💙💙💙

Drawing tools?

2.0/0.7mm 2b lead pencil, gum/rubber eraser, moleskine journal, iPad pro 2020, apple pencil, procreate

Why do you draw with a grey canvas?

White backgrounds while drawing give me migraines!

Other Socials?

Just my AO3 for fanfictions here! I have a main tumblr/instagram account that's kept completely private and separate not fandom related and under a different name. I kindly ask to keep these accounts separate (if you happen upon it!) but feel free to message me here if you want to be friends!! This is just for privacy reasons if we become friends I’ll share other socials (I don’t want my family to find this tumblr 😅)

What does your sexuality mean?

I identify as demisexual biromantic as I feel this is the label that fits me best! I do not form a sexual attraction to someone until I have made a connection with them (yep, including fictional characters!) and this can happen with males or females 💕 and this doesn’t happen all the time I make a connection with someone

Other fandoms?

House of the dragon ♡ a song of ice and fire, ghost face, hazbin hotel/helluva boss, corpse party

What games do you play?

Animal crossing, story of seasons, dead by daylight, huniepop, valorant, ffxiv 💙

———

Have a great day my lovely reader

💙💙💙💙

-Wyv

#wyvs about me

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faelliely · 9 months

Text

Relationship: Gabriel Soma/Renato Lyra

Rating: E

It's not something he even knew he had a thing for, honestly can't imagine it being a turn on for him if it was anyone except Renato. It took him by surprise how it shot through him when he overheard Renato and his sister animatedly chatting. Gabriel has no idea what they’re talking about, but the way his Portuguese rolls so naturally, well-practiced and fluid. It’s a beautiful language, and he’s breathtaking delivering it.

Renato is so expressive, so passionate when he doesn't have to think as much before he speaks. Reminds Gabriel of just how smart the other is, effortlessly multilingual and exceedingly competent.

They’re tucked away someplace private together, whatever this is between them that reached boiling point a few weeks ago still burning strongly, yet with increasing familiarity. They steal any moments they can with each other in between their harrowing Trials, a chance to unwind and share.

Gabriel’s memorized everything he can about Renato in this time, needs to know how he works far more than any machine he’s learned the ins and outs of. He already knows just where to press his lips beneath his jawline, confident that the drag of his teeth across his fluttering pulse point will reward him with a satisfied hum deep in his chest. Renato’s got his fingers wound in Gabriel's well-manicured buzzcut, tugging him back gently and pushing him down urgently with hands and lips until his shoulders meet the worn mattress. The younger seems to be feeling more dominant today, and Gabriel is more than happy to let himself go with his flow, encourages the other to undress and explore him to his heart’s content.

Gabriel feels the heat in the room rise as Renato works a third thread-worn finger into him, baritone voice cracking on a whine as the engineer lets his head drop forwards onto his forearms, pushes back against the other to tell him he’s more than ready. Renato gently turns him over, replaces the warm curl of his fingers with the blunt press of his cock, and Gabriel imprints his fingernails into those sun-kissed shoulders, breath hitched as Renato dips his tongue past his teeth.

Sex with Renato is always incredible, methodical and thorough, intense and exciting. He’s certain the other was not experienced when they met, but he’s an intuitive and focused study, has learned Gabriel’s tells just as quickly as he has Renato’s. He pushes one of Gabriel’s knees up and out, lets him feel the stretch as he drives himself home, so much yet everything Gabriel craves, making the engineer keen and shudder.

As the younger bottoms out he breathes out an expletive in his native tongue. Gabriel feels it spark through him, feels his cock twitch in keen interest as Renato rests his forehead against Gabriel’s muscled shoulder. He needs to hear more.

"Talk to me."

Renato lifts his head and smiles at Gabriel fondly, tilts his head quizzically. “But I am talking to you.”

Gabriel wets his lips nervously. “Not… Not in English.”

Renato furrows his brow, confused but not unwilling. "In Portuguese? But you won't understand...?"

"No, I won’t.” Gabriel shakes his head softly before reaching to tuck a lock of Renato’s hair gently behind his ear, trailing his hand across freckled cheeks to reverently caress his lips. “Please?"

Renato looks adorably bewildered, gazing at him with eyes wide, like Gabriel has grown a second head or something. Shaking his head slightly, Renato bites his lip before starting dubiously "Uh... Você é um idiota?"

Gabriel glowers at the other, "I don't need to know Portuguese to guess what that means."

Renato huffs a fond laugh through his nose, eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'm sorry. How about... Você é gostoso."

That works for Gabriel. The smooth lilt of his voice, the roll of his sweet words. Gabriel gives a low moan, running his hands to rest on the jut of Renato’s hips and squeezing encouragingly, urging him to move.

This seems to give Renato some confidence. “Você me deixa louco.” He gives a thoughtful hum, angling his hips to drive himself right where Gabriel needs him before continuing. “E eu quero saber mais acerca de ti...”

“Fuck, yeah...” Gabriel gasps, hardly as eloquent, but blows the younger’s pupils wide regardless. He seeks out one of Renato’s hands and threads their fingers together, squeezes reassuringly. “You’re so perfect, keep going…”

Renato’s blush is almost glowing in the filtered light. He swallows before purring, “Você é lindo.” Gabriel’s eyes are scrunched shut, the pressure and heat of their coupling combined with Renato’s rich accent causing him to feel. “Eu tenho tanta sorte.”

He’s certain Renato can hear his thundering heartbeat, Gabriel arches into him and utters a curse like a prayer. The way Renato shifts his hips and serenades him with his voice, Gabriel’s not certain he’d be able to understand English at this point. He sorely wishes he knew what the other was saying, whether it’s as achingly hot as it sounds.

He’s certain he’s never been this turned on before, mind hazy and panting between moans, having the breath punched out of him on every thrust. It feels like he’s drowning, blinded with their pleasure, all his worries and problems forgotten in this perfect moment together. Wants to kiss Renato senseless, but doesn’t want to quiet him. Knows it’s too early in what they have to fall, certain he’s doing so anyway.

He cradles Renato’s face tenderly with his hand, turns his head to murmur hotly in his ear. “God, you’re so beautiful.” Cants his hips up into Renato’s rhythm, pushes all of his desire and unspoken feelings into it as they chase their completion. “Ah, c’mon, I’m so close…”

Renato doubles down his efforts, leans his full weight onto Gabriel’s hips and slams into that perfect spot that has stars sparking across his vision. Mindless pleas escape Gabriel’s lips, his entire world narrowed to the beautiful man inside of him; his pretty face, his perfect cock, and his breathtaking voice.

“Eu acho que estou apaixonado por você.”

Gabriel’s world whites out as he comes untouched, gasps a soundless scream into Renato’s mouth as he feels the warmth of his partner following him with a long moan. They catch their breaths together, trading lazy open-mouthed kisses as they shake through their afterglow.

Once his heart rate has slowed and Renato’s head is cushioned comfortably on Gabriel’s broad chest, the engineer can’t help himself, taking one of Renato’s hands and pressing his lips to his knuckles, smiling warmly at the other as Renato gazes up at him questioningly. “So, what were you telling me?”

Renato flushes, averting his eyes and smiling softly to himself. “Oh, nothing important.”

Disclaimer: I do not know Portuguese, I did a lot of reading before picking simple-ish phrases to include in this, but my sincere apologies if something isn't quite right. Please let me know if there's anything I can change :)

#renabriel #renato x gabriel #gabriel x renato #gabriel soma #renato lyra #dead by daylight #dbd #my writing

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justin-hammers · 2 years

Text

October/Early November Story Prompt 3: Crying and Grief with Minor Revenge

Warning: This story contains Death and Sadness

Words: 786

Ship: Rick Flag/F!OC

Before reading this story, I just wanna say that this story introduces a certain character that I've been wanting to do for a while now, and I'm glad to announce that this character is in this story. 😍

And here's the actual story down below 👇🏽

They'd come in late while staying in the back under the shadows of the trees like a vampire during the daylight as the service progressed.

It was a beautiful funeral after all.

All the chatter and praises among families and military officials are very well deserved.

She, on the other hand, wouldn't like it regardless of how much attention she received, and how deeply protected she was with the country. She wouldn't feel it was worth it after getting murder by another traitor in Task Force X. She had to protect her boss/secret admirer from that back-stabber who was planning on assassinating him, especially after Waller found out that he miraculously survived his fatal stabbing in Jotunheim. Nobody knew how he came back to life with only him knowing what happened.

Now, it was time for him to mourn for her.

His vision is still blurry from his tears as he wanders into her apartment. The place looked pretty clean with the expectation of gifts and "We Will Miss You" cards scattered in the living room.

He enters her bedroom as he begins to sob uncontrollably. He sinks down to her bed as he weeps his heart out.

"Why do you continue to mourn her?"

The Enchanter questions from the reflection in the bedroom mirror. He still had that sexy charming "sweetheart" vibe on as he still dons that white loincloth that shows off his thick body.

"Why bring us here? Making our hurt worse.You don't even know the girl."

The warlock prods are more curious than truly annoyed.

"Fuck off," Rick snapped as he takes out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes and nose.

He then goes to her closet to find that uniform she always wear. He needed to smell that Lavender scent she had. Or was it Japanese Cherry Blossom? Either way he needed that scent of hers for remembrance. The scent was smelling faint as he tried his hardest to catch that faint aroma.

Maybe he was right. He doesn't know her.

I mean, there are some things he remembers about her like her favorite coffee being White Chocolate, her love of dark colors, her habit of holding people's hands while walking, her loving the smell of cologne, or her nice little hugs she gives to him in any mood. He remembers how she gives him food that looks so unhealthy for him yet it was his secret weakness, and personally appreciates it. She was the nicest girl he has ever met, and now she's gone.

He needed to remember her, even if it's the littlest things he could remember like her natural smell.

He could feel the Enchanter growing restless in the back of his mind, but he pushed his 'other half' away for now as he once more buried his face in his dead admirer's uniform to hide his tears. He recalled that last hug being so warm and necessary that he knew that she loved him without needing to say it.

"She took her from us."

It was the first time the Enchanter had shown anything other than disgust, anger, and feared curiosity when it came to Rick Flag's secret admirer. Was he really caring about Rick's own love for her?

"She had wanted to help me, and I can't believe I took the bait again," he recalls with a broken sob. "I'm so fucking stupid."

Enchanter sighs at him.

"So what? We take our revenge on them," the warlock insisted. "They took what was ours. They deserve to feel our pain."

Rick looks up, catching the reflection of his other half in the mirror. Enchanter put his muscular arms around his chest which is an odd yet surprising show of attempted comfort from a Warlock.

"She wouldn't want that," Rick admitted.

"She'd want those responsible to be held accountable for what they did," Enchanter growled as he reminded him.

His reflected hand smoothing down Rick's dirty blonde hair as they held eye contact through the help of the mirror's reflection.

He nods once in quiet agreement as the comforting scent he'd thought he'd lost tickled his nose once more. It was Japanese Cherry Blossom.

"You know you're making me jealous with your good looks," Enchanter admitted.

"Oh please," Rick responded. "I wish I had your body and looks. You look more shredded than me."

Enchanter giggled as he replied, "Well, maybe I could eat a bunch of bodies, and souls to make me fat and sloppy, and you look more stunning."

"Maybe we could bond some more soon?"

Enchanter nodded as he promised, "Yes, we should. It'll be fun."

Rick smiled as he nodded.

"You should rest now, Colonel," Enchanter coaxes. "Tomorrow we take our revenge."

#joel kinnaman #fanfiction #au story #rick flag #colonel rick flag #tw depression #tw dead mention #warlock

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br4inr0tx · 2 years

Note

Greetings and Salutations ♡ meant to do this awhile back, but if you're still doing matchups I'd like to request a hazbin hotel matchup, if not that's okay feel free to ignore

My pronouns are She/Him and I’m Pansexual. I'm an INFP, sign being Scorpio. Im a 5'4 Hispanic female with a pear shaped figure and am a bit chubby. I have shoulder length dyed red hair thats messy constantly and gets in my face all the time which others tend fix for me for some reason. I’m an extroverted introvert, though it's really hard to speak to people or make friends as I suffer from paranoia and have scopophobia (I also have depression, and PTSD. I tend to dissociate/ feel as I'm not real) so it's rather intimidating to be around those who are new and I'm not comfortable with, I can be considered a non people person due to the fact I'm hard to approach thanks to my resting bitch face and keep my distance. It leads to many making assumptions about me / not liking me. My style consists of Goth/Grunge, and my interests align with my style as I love true crime, horror movies, gore, analog horror, induldge in the splatterpunk genre of books and love junji ito and have a few of his manga. I love finding and collecting little things for my friends and give it to them as a gift no matter what it is to the point my friends call me crow as a joke. When I finally become comfortable with someone I become very talkative and speak in a rather fast paced manner and tend to speak in both English and Spanish. I love to joke around with them and banter. Most of my humor comes off as rude or just fucked up, though I'll never joke in a manner that actually hurts the person and will apologize if I've overstepped. I’m not good with my temper however and can be pretty mean, or just go very quiet. If pushed far enough I’ll snap at anything and everything to the point I'm nothing but numb and the goal is to hurt the person. My favorite things to do for comfort / hobbies are drawing, reading, writing, playing video games (overwatch, dead by daylight, hollow knight) and or blasting music ( MCR, Get Scared, Deftones, Pierce the Veil, Souixie and the banshees, Mother Mother ). I’m a little clingy and possessive with those I love / am romantically involved with due to a lot of issues I need reassurance in any form of way it doesn't matter how big or small. I enjoy doing things for others and speak rather romantically and call them pet names. Dealing with insomnia I'm definitely awake most hours and am happy if someone is a night owl and spends that time up with me as night is likely my favorite time always having adored the moon and stars . I’m definitely a masochist and a switch though am guilty of leaning more towards submissive,,, ♡ - Cherri

you omg I remember you. thank you for the matchup on my end, I really appreciated it. :)

Your Hazbin Hotel matchup is.. Alastor !!

• This might be biased because you’re his wife, however, I just feel like the two of you would click. Husk would find you way too soft emotionally, Niffty wants someone more dominant, Angel is well..not attracted to any sort of femininity.. and Charlie and Vaggie find your gruesome interests frightening. Another person I thought about was Pentious,, but I think any parter would grow tired of his naivety and arrogant nature. And I just genuinely can’t picture you keeping up with Cherri-Bomb, light heartedly.

• So, that left me with this fucker. He has softer spots for certain people (as seen with Niffty and maybe Charlie) and when it comes to you he treats you somewhat like a..cherished pet? Trust me, you most likely would want to be put at that level than be on his shit-list.

• You’re so small and fragile..how could a tiny thing like you fall for him so easily- and not be intimidated? He teases you about it often, using you as an arm rest, or just by grabbing something atop the shelf just to show how bigger he is to you.

• Deep down, he loves you for you. He wouldn’t change a thing about you even if things about you he wishes you to get stronger from or at. Everyone has flaws, and he knows that. Learning from those flaws is something he wants to teach you. Perhaps you could do the same.

• For example, he finds some of your fears pathetic. As a high and mighty figure there isn’t much for him to fear, so its understandable. Though he might tell you to suck it up if he’s running low on patience. Other times he’s more forgiving.

• His style is more of a gothic Victorian thing. Or as Angel says; a pimp. With his New Orleans background I’d like to think he would dress similar to Dr Facilier from The Princess and The Frog.

• Point is, he enjoys a good dark toned style. Dress in something more of his style, and his jaw will DROP.

• He’s kind of tough,, he won’t watch movies with you, or watch anything really TV related. Though if theirs a live projection screening, or talk show on horror movies or true crime, he’ll watch or listen that way. I think he makes his rivalry with Vox really clear that way imo.

• Alastor doesn’t get this manga you read. The visuals are impressive-sure-but why do you read it backwards? And why is it all mostly pictures? Ironically, I see him reading them anyway just to understand them. He loves to learn if it partains to him.

• He takes the nickname "crow" to seriously, symbolism wise. Crow’s are related to death, bad luck, revenge, and most importantly..pride. Really anytime he sees one it compels him to think about you, and in return maybe even get you a thoughtful gift. In his prideful way he changed it into a nickname you should be proud of. He tends to just call you “my crow.”

• Fast or slow talking, Alastor is very quick witted and usually understands every word you’re saying. He has very fucked up humor and would gladly join you in bickering about morbid things.

• As a overlord, he doesn’t really have time for insults. All "water off a ducks back" n stuff. He makes an effort to teach that to you as well. Though that effort quickly becomes slightly hypocritical when someone says something to you while he’s right next to you. I mean, the audacity, right?

• Again, being an overlord he can’t show any sense of vulnerability. That being said the only way you can see him even close to being cuddly is in your shared bed, shortly before the two of you fall asleep. He might settle for slight hand holding, but even then only with a limited amount of people.

• Alastor is a healthy man, physically, and makes and effort to get a proper sleep schedule. He’s going to help you do the same, even if he has to use one of his spells or sing you to sleep. Those times are the times you’d see him cuddle you the most.

• Most of the pet names he uses are “dear”, “love”, “darling”, and “sweetheart”. Simple, yet with his charming and smooth voice, very effective.

• Imagine the two of you dancing to Arm Tonite by Mother Mother. He admits it’s not his type of music, but something about the lyrics pulls at his heart strings.

• Or even imagine a cute date night with the two of you..first he takes you out to dinner at a VERY expensive restaurant, and then takes you out stargazing. It’s all different from what it used to be with the red sky and all..but he hopes it’s just as enjoyable.

• I know it’s canonical he’s asexual, but I think he’s still romantic? Especially in the additional comic where he somewhat flirts with some ladies. Though the fandom, per usual, throws that out the window.

• Still, he gives more dominant vibes for any relationship. He’s used to being at the top for most things, so why should it just stop at power?

• The two of you are peas in a pod. Your own little twisted fairy tail. Whatever I could use to describe to cheesy romance- you get it. A match made for in hell. <3

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