#Am I being daft in the above?

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 Concerns *some spoilers for what's been teased so far*

So I'm concerned about Season 4. I want to be hopeful, but I am concerned. C o n c e r n e d.

It's short. There's bits in TUA that I don't personally enjoy as much and skip, there's bits that could have been taken out and nothing would have changed... but I like having that bit of room for more: did we need the Ikea Mafia's viking foot funeral? No. But did we need it? Yes.

The ball pit. The ball pit concerns me on a number of levels, and I'm sure it will be funny, I hope it will be funny, I just hope it's relevant enough why they're in that setting to not be too gimmicky, e.g. it made sense they ended up in the bowling alley; they probably snuck out there as kids and so it was one location they would all know, but man that ball pit worries me like a sleep paralysis demon.

The potential for germaphobe Klaus (sorry that's probs not the correct term but I can't think of what it might be). I can see why he'd be afraid of death now, but is it germ/cleanliness specific? If so why? Klaus has been one of the least concerned about hygiene up to this point so they're laying a whole new framework that I hope they give sufficient depth to. I'm an OCD sufferer myself, about death anxiety in fact, and I haven't resonated OCD with Klaus before if that is what they go for - I'm open to it, just not a cheap OCD gimmick. There's So Much trauma in all these characters at this point, my worry isn't them exploring new avenues as much as not bothering to look into the trauma they've already heaped on and doing something new for the sake of it. If it's done well, I'm all for it, but there's some previous with trauma getting forgotten on TUA so...

The Jennifer Incident. Please, please let this be more interesting than a romance story.

Lila's baby. I love Lila, I don't have a problem with her being preggo etc, I worry a little that TUA tends to speed run life so what is this actually going to look like? Parenthood is such a big life changing deal that I'm curious / cautious about what they'll have done with the characters here.

Viktor. His schtick is that He's Mr Apocalypse, sadly that limits his character coming to a place of peace in some ways. But mostly just let him have an actual conversation? Please? He'll have had 6 years this time skip, if they bullshit that 'oh no one's really seen each other in 6 years' lazy ass nonsense I'll be fuming.

As above, there's been 6 YEARS here, I want to watch the characters and feel that time has passed, that they've interacted, have in jokes now, shared history, maybe not all of them but that makes it even better; have Diego and Klaus have a cleaning routine together to help Diego understand Klaus and trying to be supportive if brusque, but then defending this to his other siblings. Have Luther share some actually positive moments with his other siblings and not just have been in Sloane-hunting solitude, make him always be trying to host awkward family BBQs that the others force (or pretend to force) themselves to go to. Have literally any of the siblings be on the look out or Five's triggers for him - and better yet actually give him some now that he's had time for the PTSD to swell. I want the small nitty gritty details, I want the filling, I want to feel the expanse of time not just 'oh shit another week and there's an apocalypse and we haven't seen each other hey ho oh look a ball pit!'

Anyway, I'm hopeful, but concerned, and I'm sure I'll love it and don't intend to be negative, it just helps me to voice them. Either way, I pray for the fan fiction that follows the series most of all, the rising of the crowd to give us more of what the series does deliver and flesh out what it does not. Is it weird to almost be more excited for that?

#tua #the umbrella academy #Season 4 Speculation #Anyone else have concerns? #Am I being daft in the above? #Is anyone else worried about the ball pit? #Don't get me wrong I love a ball pit #I support a ball pit #I'm just concerned about that god damn ball pit okay

[mokulule]

A Pinch of Salt - Part 4

First | Masterpost

The final part of the first installment of the Salt in the Bones series which is a project co-created with @clockwayswrites, you can see the other stuff written for it in the masterpost link above or go to the first part.

-

John looked at the kid, who just stepped inside the fucking binding circle. His mouth fell open in shock.

“What is wrong with you!?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an exclamation, and John didn’t wait for any answer. “Of all the sodding, daft, goddamn tossers - what were you bloody thinking? No, you weren’t thinking. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fucking done that. You DO NOT go into the blasted circle!”

“Are you done?”

“Am I-“ John spluttered.

Are you done? He asked, as if John was the unreasonable one here! “Oh you’re right chuffed, aren’t you mate? Well, you cocked up, you’re about to be banished right alongside the storm, you little git!”

“Then stop the banishing or banish us both. It’s your choice.” Kid stood, back straight, jaw clenched stubbornly and a frown over those wide blue eyes. His hair and clothes whipped violently from the storm, but he didn’t care, just kept his eyes on John.

John raised his hands in frustration, words dying on his tongue. It would serve him right!

It would serve him right; he stepped into the bloody circle. It wasn’t John’s fault. Everything was going fine for once and maybe that should have been John’s warning. Whatever was up with the kid he apparently had a soft spot for ghosts - even after John had told him several times that the spirit was gone. It’d gone nova. No coming back. The end. It would continue it’s rampage until it burned out. It would hurt and destroy indiscriminately.

And yet he still-

It would serve him right to get sent to Hell alongside it. It wouldn’t even be the first time someone John worked with got sent to Hell for their trouble. John Constantine was bad luck for everyone around him. It happened.

But it was different when John held the reins of the spell that did it, when he had the choice to stop it.

Still John was at his wits end. If he stopped the banishing, the kid was still trapped in the circle with the spectral storm. If he broke the circle they were back at square one except they were in the center of the storm’s power and it was even angrier.

It was easier, safer, to just continue the banishing. Kid had made his stupid arse decision. John wasn’t a good person. He did what was necessary. Ends and means and all that.

But he was a bloody kid - a teenager - they were basically obligated to do stupid shit. Didn’t mean he deserved to get sent to Hell for it. John had seen and done a lot of shit, but when it came right down to it he didn’t want to add sending a kid to Hell.

John had seen enough dead kids to last him a lifetime.

“Oh bollocks.” John let his arms fall and cut the feed to the banishing spell, wincing slightly at the backlash. “You better have a plan kid.”

The kid had to have some sort of abilities with that aura, maybe all hope was not lost? The kid grimaced and John’s forced optimism crumbled like so much sand.

“I-“ the kid winced as something in the storm hit the back of his head. He rubbed the spot, and looked almost apologetic, “I figured I’d try talking to them.”

John stared.

And stared.

“Or-“ the kid backtracked, “just calm them down somehow?”

“You cannot ‘calm down’ a spectral storm!” John felt like a broken record on repeat. “It’s impossible.”

He threw up his hands and walked exactly three steps away counting his breaths all the while wracking his brain for a different solution. There weren’t any good ones. Heck it was a miracle the kid hadn’t already been torn to pieces being inside the circle.

“We’re dead,” he lamented dramatically.

“Half-dead.”

John’s head snapped around at the weird response.

“I mean,” the kid tried for a smile, “I’m the only one in the circle.”

John stared in despair. The kid’s sense of humor needed serious work.

“I’m not gonna leave you in the bloody circle, kid.”

Danny stood struck wide eyed at the admission. That was- He didn’t know how to deal with that. There was a pang in his chest. He felt too open, too vulnerable. He swallowed before finding his voice.

“Just let me try something, okay?”

Danny turned around to face the center of the storm, he instantly had to squeeze his eyes near shut, from all the dust. Instinctively he took a breath and coughed. Okay breathing not good. Too bad he was human right now.

He had to get closer, closer to that screaming grief. He might be human right now, but he was also a ghost and the anger from earlier was just a thin veneer on top of grief on top of a cry for help. He felt it in his core like scrabbling hands desperately looking for purchase.

He took a step forward, hands up to shield his face, pushing against the wind. Another step. Then another.

How was he gonna calm them down?

Danny didn’t know. He knew fighting. He’d even sometimes recently had luck with talking. But this? It was way beyond talking, until they were calm there would be no such thing. Danny didn’t know what to do. He could only press on and hope an idea came to him.

The grief was stronger the closer he got to the center, it tore into him. Tears trickled down his cheeks and turned into gunk from the dust. Something sharp cut into his bare arms. Danny frowned, kept his head down and pushed forward.

Another step and the grief sunk sharp claws into his core. He screamed clutching his chest and gasping for breath that would do nothing. But the claws were gone as soon as they’d come, retreated as if they’d touched fire.

“Are you alright kid?!”

Danny spared a quick glance back to Trenchcoat who stood all the way up to the edge of the circle, face white as if he’d seen a ghost. Danny couldn’t help smiling at that. Something that alarmed Trenchcoat even further.

“I’m breaking the circle.”

“Don’t,” Danny coughed clearing his throat.

Danny looked back up, squinting through the swirling dust. It may not be visible, but something had changed. There was still the anger and grief, but something else too. A sense of waiting. Waiting to see what Danny would do. They had tried tearing him, the trespasser, apart down to his core, but in doing so they had felt him. They had felt his intention to help and retreated.

Trenchcoat was wrong, there was still a sentience there. Danny found himself grinning in triumph.

But even better Danny had an idea. His core vibrated giddily in his chest. He was a bit sore, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He just needed to reach out and connect with the ghost, he felt sure he could calm them. He just he needed a distraction, he didn’t need Trenchcoat to realize he was the one doing anything ghostly. He wracked his brain, something that made noise, drew attention, was maybe a bit ridiculous, but didn’t take much of his attention from the real work-

That was it!

“Twinkle-“ his voice broke on the first word but gained strength as he continued- “twinkle little star,” Danny sang. He didn’t need to look back to see the incredulous look on Trenchcoat’s face.

He kept singing, he knew that song by heart. His mom used to sing it to him, back when she actually put him to bed. There was a stab of melancholy, but Danny clutched on to the positive aspect of the memory and reached out with his core, its hum getting stronger.

It’s okay, he told the ghost, help. Safe. Peace. Calm.

He took step by step further into the calming storm. And all the while he sung them a lullaby.

John stared.

Then he stared some more. He was doing a lot of staring today.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing.

The kid was was singing a lullaby to the spectral storm. And that wasn’t even the most baffling thing. No, the kid was singing a lullaby to the spectral storm and it was bloody working.

The storm gradually calmed until suddenly it was gone. The silence was loud in the sudden emotional void. John staggered from the sudden lack of pressure. All that malice gone in an instant. All that was left was a gently cupped ball of light in the kids hands.

“There you are,” the kid said softly in a slightly scratchy voice.

John couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. It was impossible and yet here they were.

There was a flash of light and suddenly they stood in a house. Built brick by brick by two pairs of hands. Children ran through the rooms. They grew up. They had kids of their own, who had kids of their own. They lived and they loved and they were protected.

Then they were gone.

The door shut for the last time. The house was empty.

A large metal ball slammed through the walls, spreading dust and splintering the doorframe that had measured the growth of generations. It was torn down.

It had stood here, right in what would be the plaza.

The translucent shade of an old women, bent and bony from a life of hard work, hovered in front of the kid. She warbled sadly at him. John couldn’t understand anything but the deep sadness, but it seemed the kid did.

“It’s okay,” he said embracing the spirit, somehow managing to do so despite her definitely not being solid. “You’ve done your best, nobody could ask more of you.”

He paused and his voice softened further, “it’s time to let go.”

The old lady looked over at John and gave him a stern look that had him frozen in place. She was the type of grandma that would wack his fingers if she caught him going for the cookie jar. He wasn’t entirely sure what the look he got meant. Only that it felt like an admonishment.

She looked back on the kid and her features softened, smoothed and in the next moment she turned to mist in his arms, dispersing in the waning light coming from the overhead windows.

John couldn’t entirely believe what he’d just witnessed. Calling a spirit back once they’d gone nova, it was impossible. Unheard of. Banishment was how you dealt with spirits like that. It was a tried and tested method. Yet-

John shivered.

Death magic. It was the only explanation.

The kid reeked of it, to the point John had thought he was the ghost he was here to deal with. He’d thought he was some kind of creature, but he was just a kid. A kid with a very specific magical affinity who’d just done the impossible. He was filled with a sense of awe and dread he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He felt shaken. Like he’d stood right next to a bell who’d been rung to herald change.

John was no prophet, at most he’d get vague premonitions and he far preferred to be in the moment rather then dwell on the future or the past. He most definitely did not want to even contemplate this kid’s future. He swallowed.

Magic, in John’s experience, always came with a cost.

The kid promptly sat down on his butt. John had broken the circle and was running over before he even realized.

“You okay, kid?” He asked breathlessly.

The kid looked up, eyes a bit dazed as he blinked at John. John couldn’t really tell if his complexion was grey or it was just the dust covering every inch of him. Several places, particularly his hands, the dust was dark from blood where he’d been cut in the storm. He looked unfocused.

“How many occult detectives are you seeing?” He asked unable to hide the note of worry.

“Too many,” Kid said tiredly with a shake of his head that had cement dust falling all over. Then he looked back up and elaborated with a smirk, “one.”

John huffed a laugh. If he could joke he couldn’t be that bad off.

“How does burgers and fries sound?”

-

The kid now dusted off to the point where you could almost tell his hair was black rather than grey sunk his teeth into the burger with a pleased hum. He chewed and swallowed.

“This is almost as good as Nasty Burger.”

John paused fry halfway to his mouth. “That sounds disgusting.”

Kid laughed. “I forget how it sounds to outsiders. It used to be Tasty Burger way back when they first opened, but someone vandalized the sign and it kinda stuck.”

John hummed thoughtfully, he could appreciate the joke. Kid’s use of the phrase outsiders made it sound like he came from an insular town. Probably best for him if he stayed there.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Instantly the blue eyes narrowed on him in suspicion.

“What’s yours, Trenchcoat?” He challenged.

John huffed at the nickname and reached a hand across the table. “John Constantine.”

The kid looked suspiciously at the offered hand, then reached out and took it. “Nightingale.”

John nodded and shook his hand before letting go. Smart of him to give him a codename, he wasn’t apparently completely without sense. “Because of the singing.”

For a moment the kid looked confused to the point where John actually thought maybe he’d given him his real name.

“Singing? Ah-“ He blushed looking down and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “No, that just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

John shook his head, fuck it if he didn’t like the kid. He picked up his milkshake and raised it. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“If it works…”

The kid, Nightingale, grinned ferally and raised his own shake to clink it against John’s.

“If it works.”

-

After filling up the near bottomless stomach of the teenager, they parted ways in an alley. John’s mind was already on his next case - people going missing in a forest in Germany that had a distinct this-is-not-just-a-GPS-dead-zone flavor to it - so he only absently noted the strange look on the kid’s face when he opened the portal. It was morning in Germany, he could start looking into things before calling the House for a proper sleep.

“Take care, kid.”

With those words he stepped into the portal and let it close behind him.

Danny was left looking at the portal. He shook his head, jaw tight. With real magic apparently portals were just easy. It didn’t do him any good to think about. He glanced around and when he found the alley just as empty as before he jumped into the air transforming as he went.

There were better things to think about, like the concept of an occult detective, he thought as he flew in the direction of Amity. It sounded like it could almost be an acceptable profession in his parents’ eyes.

And it probably didn’t require good high school grades either, he thought with a grimace as he remembered he had an essay due tomorrow.

-

Hope you enjoyed this story which explored how Danny and Constantine first met in this AU. Next step is letting it sit for a while, then do a thorough editing and putting it up on ao3 as a oneshot. (And then maybe talk to Clock about starting writing on the main story proper? We'll see). Comments are greatly appreciated :D

Another link to the masterpost if you wanna see the other bits of writing and/or subscribe to the series

#a pinch of salt #salt in the bones #danny and constantine #dysfunctional found family FTW #dp x dc

[martyfive]

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

[emeritus-fuckers]

I’d like to formally request a young papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader

Bonus points if one of his songs plays in his head and he just associates that song with that person

I am more than happy to write this :D - Nyx

♡ Papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader ♡

Papa Nihil wandered through darkened corridors of the Ministry, it was a bleak time of year. The lights of the winter solstice celebrations had been extinguished and the Ministry lacked a certain something. Then again it had lacked something from the day Sister had left him.

Still tonight would be different, tonight was a party to welcome the new members.

He straightened out the collar of his tailored black shirt then tugged on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Perfect.

He smiled to himself, tonight he'd finally found some slither of happiness in being single. He'd thrown himself into his role as Papa and the Clergy was in the best state it had ever been. Perhaps Sister would let him sing again!

“You’ve been playing” he sang to an invisible audience as he strutted down the corridor.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Around with magic that is black” his gaze fell on you.

You smiled at him and he was drawn in, he fell for you faster than the Dark lord fell from Heaven. You were perfect, some enchantress sent to tempt him.

He flashed you his irresistible grin as he sang "But all the powerful magical mysteries never give a single thing back." Solely to you, and you alone.

When he was finished you gave him a round of applause, and he bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Papa." You say with another perfect smile. "I love your songs, I'm happy to hear you still sing them."

"I’m glad you like them." He said lightly. Nihil wanted to add something else but his entire being was entranced by the sight of you, words abandoned him.

You gave him another seductive smile, bowed slightly and taking his silence as a cue to leave, walked off.

He watched you go, the daft grin still plastered across his face. How nice it was to meet someone so genuine as you.

He tried to focus on his duties that evening, he had to make a speech that night. He needed to, at the very least, rehearse it once.

He pulled the paper out of his pocket and stood in front of the mirror practicing each word.

But he couldn't shake the image of you, the way your eyes glimmered in the faint light, the beauty of your smile and the way you just seemed to see him.

This was pointless, he'd just improvise. He shoved it back in his pocket and continued on his way.

He strolled into the main hall at the Ministry, it looked spectacular, the perfect gothic party. The chatter of voices quietened as he made his entrance, everyone did a little bow to their Papa.

He smiled at them all and then the party continued. Some siblings were already dancing together, others talking happily amongst themselves, laughter echoed off the vaulted ceiling. A place where Ghouls lurk in the beams watching the revellers below.

Nihil pressed on through the crowd making polite conversation where he could. But he didn't really hear a word anyone said to him. Could he open his bruised heart up again to someone? It's not like he'd even asked you on a date but he knew where this was going.

Nihil sighed and walked over to the opulent bar, no one stopped him going behind it, who would? He ran his fingers over the tops of the bottles and chewed his bottom lip. Finally, he clasped the top of a bottle of bourbon, pulled it out of the rack with a little flourish and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile. He plucked a short glass from above the bar and began his work.

When he was done, he added the final touch a twist of orange peel, the fragrance of it reminding him of his youth. Of days spent studying for Clergy exams in the orange grove at the Ministry, sat back-to-back with his friend.

He looked up from the glass to see you standing across the bar from him, head cocked to the side eyebrow slightly raised. "That looks good, what is it?"

"It's an old fashioned, but I put my own spin on it" His heart actually fluttered, what in the Dark Lord's name was wrong with him? No one has had this effect on him in years, not since Sister. He slide the glass across to you. "Try it, if you want?"

You took a sip considering for a moment. "It's good." then pushed the glass back across the bar. "But Papa what would you make for me?"

Nihil thought carefully his eyes scanning the drinks behind the bar. He was careful, took his time, before coming up with something completely new. "Try this" He past you a martini glass your fingers brushed against his.

Kiss the go goat started playing softly in his mind, that song becoming more and more entwined with you.

***

You tasted it and your eyes lit up, it's perfect. "How did you know?" You stammer, for the first time taken by surprise. You had always assumed Nihil to be some kind of shallow hedonist. Charismatic and charming but nothing more than that. Yet the way he smiled when you took another sip, it was so genuine, so happy.

"I just know." He said with a flirty wink. Okay, there was the man you expected.

"Thank you for the drink, Papa" You give a polite nod.

"Wait, would you like to dance with me?" Nihil stepped out from behind the bar and offered you his hand. That look again...

You pause but then accepted lacing your fingers with his.

His skin was soft and warm. He walked you towards the dance floor before releasing your hand and starting to move to the music. You already missed his touch. Nihil kept a respectful distance, but his dance moves, were just... the movement of his hips was almost hypnotic.

You found yourself drawn to him, like someone ready to fall from grace into sin and lust. You took a step towards him and he closed the space further. Your bodies separated by only a thin slice of air, it was harder to breath, was he teasing you?

"I need a break" You blurt out suddenly aware of the pain in your feet, the burn in your legs.

Nihil nods and leads you to the side of the dance floor where you both settle on a large sofa.

You found yourself settling into an easy conversation with him. It was surprising just how much you both had in common.

As he talked you started to really look at him, the strong defined jaw, the way his shoulder length hair swept over his handsome features. He was even better looking close up than he'd appeared on stage and those eyes, his dazzling blue eyes.

"Babe?" he asked waiting for you to reply.

"Sorry, what?" You shook your head, trying to clear it.

"Do you want to meet tomorrow?" He took your hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the back of it. His touch was light but sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sure, why not." You said with a slightly tipsy smile and then jumped up. "One more dance"

You pulled him to his feet and he stumbled slightly with a giggle.

This time you danced closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you close to him, this time your bodies were pressed together. You could hardly think straight, it was utterly intoxicating the feel of him against you. As you let you gaze drift higher you met his eyes, they were filled with such a look of desire, you gasped. You could smell the incense on him, it lingered on his hair from all those days spent in the chapel giving dark mess. Such a heady smell you lost yourself in him further.

You danced like this, utterly unaware of your surroundings. He pressed his lips to yours and you could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, the smokiness of it. You deepen the kiss with a soft sigh as his hands drop to your waist. It's utterly addictive, you don't think you can stop yourself and then you realise... it's gone so quiet.

He broke away with one last soft kiss. He looked just as entranced, just gazing at you. Then he looked around to see the black candles on the tables being extinguished by Ghouls.

***

He walked you back to your room, you tried to hide it but the shoes you were wearing were too uncomfortable for your already sore feet. You winced and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You were about to admit that you didn’t think you could walk another step, when he swept you up in his arms and carried you bridal style the rest of the way. You smiled to yourself, and let your head rest against his chest.

He carefully put you down outside your room. Your heart sank, you didn’t want him to go. You considered inviting him in, but your mind was foggy from the late night and alcohol.

He gave you a deep bow and kissed the back of your hand. "Until tomorrow"

With that he left you, stood there barely able to catch your breath, what the fuck had just happened. You had said to your friends you would never be so foolish as to get swept up by Nihil, but here you were utterly under his spell.

What you didn’t expect was for him to glance back over his shoulder as he walked off, he saw you still looking and that genuine smile returned to his lips. Perhaps Nihil was falling just as hard as you.

~

written by Nyx

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @ouijaboardemo

#Nihil #Young Nihil #papanihilsimper #young papa nihil #young papa nihil x reader #papa nihil #papa nihil x reader #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader

[pinkalmondcake]

See you again

Young!oot Link x reader (oneshot, platonic)

masterlist

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I'm just posting an old work of my wattpad that I haven't posted here yet! I was kind of afraid to post this one seeing I'm still insecure about the writing of it but I hope you enjoy it!! ^.^

Thank you for choosing to read this!

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warnings: fluff, comfort, touch of angst

‧͙⁺-ˋˏ See you againˎˊ˚⁺‧͙

2.8k+ words

Soft splatter could be heard through the warmth of your house as you knitted in front of the twirling flames of your hearth, weaving the pink through the blue in a lyrical rhythm that echoed the sizzling fire - the wood beneath crackling under its intense heat that kissed your cozy skin.

The rain plummeted down to the earth while the grey clouds slowly drifted by, signalling that it soon shall pass- unfortunately, you thought. With a sigh, you reached down into the woven basket that obediently laid beside you, only to feel nothing but the sharpness of the aged grass that it was made of.

Your eyebrows rose, causing you to quickly glance down and see nothing there besides the nearly finished pink ball of wool and some strands of random colours spread out in different corners. A pout now laced your lips before casting your eyes to the window where droplets of water drooled down the misted glass, 'As much as I love the rain, I really need more of the blue to finish off my scarf...' And with that, you stood up, neatly placing the incomplete scarf upon the chair and dusting off your waist-tied apron while a content smile spread across your face, '...maybe it won't be so bad once I go outside.'

You glanced up at the cloudy sky, squinting your eyes from the drops that dared to fall upon them. You sighed, pulling your hood further down towards your eyes, the thought of there not being too many people in Castle Town - meaning that buying the wool would only take a few seconds - made a proudful grin sneak its way across your lips as you treaded your way down the cobblestone of the alleyways, seeking somewhat of a shelter along the extending roofs of the stone houses and buildings.

You came to a stop in front of an aged house where golden, curved writing lay engraved above upon a wooden beam, 'Wool of Hyrule', while the catch of the day laid beside the door, painted in white, says, 'Feeling a bit sheepish? Then you better get inside and buy some more wool to thicken your coat!' A bit daft, but a little funny, causing a silent chuckle to edge its way through your mind before you pulled down the golden hand - the coldness icy against your fingertips as the bell above your head rang away in sign of your arrival. "And who dare comes in such weather to my humble abode!", a voice called from within the warmth while you slid off your hood, "It's always a pleasure to see you, Hassan."

You smiled at the young man dressed in a purple cloak and a fine tunic as he leans against the wooden counter of his little shop stacked with wool of every colour and a few antiques here and there. Hassan gave you a playful scoff, rolling his eyes before he leaned back against the wall which contains a shelf filled with some aged technological items, "I should've known it was you and your little vixen fingers." You laughed, strolling towards your destined shelf containing the colour you need, "Well, what can I say, if I am a vixen then you must be a minx, dear Hassan."

He folded his arms across his chest, studying the way you picked up the wool and twirled it around your fingers, "Perhaps. But it is good to see you - even though you were in here just the other day. Still working on that scarf I suppose?" You hummed in answer, turning your head to glance at him with a smile, "I am, I don't have a reason to make it but I've been enjoying doing so, especially during weathers like this." You placed the wool upon the counter and reached into the pouch strapped to your belt, grabbing out a red ruppee, "it's rather calming." Hassan hummed, strands of his long, lucious hazel hair now drooling in front his darkened irises, "I very much agree with you, though I prefer to find myself in an inn and drinking all the ale I can get - it warms you up quite a bit you know."

You gave him a playful huff, "Oh, I know alright but you should've known better than to drag me with you that time. You're a loud man you know, scaring off all the customers." He scoffed, a daring grin spreading across his lips, "Like you're any better." And with that, you slid the rupee towards him and bid him goodbye, only for him to yell afterwards that both of you must go to the inn sometime again - to which you half-heartedly agreed to. The ringing bell now following behind you as you treaded along through the street, hiding the wool beneath your dampened cloak.

With a sigh, your buried yourself deeper into the warmth, wrapping your arms around yourself, but only for you to come to a stop at the sound of a sniffle and whimper. Your ears twitched, causing your head to glance to your left and into the shadows of an alley. Concern and curiosity filled your eyes, only to hear another sniff and groan, '...A child?'

Quickly and without hesitation, you treaded along the puddles that filled the cracks of the stone floor as your voice echoed along the walls, "Hello? Are you alright?" Silence. You sighed, frowning in worry before picking up your pace, but only to spot a blotch of green curled up on the floor - your heart clenching at the sight in front of you.

You lowered yourself down onto your haunches, watching the shivering boy covered in mud whimper, his eyes opening to glance up at you - confusion and fear lacing them. Slowly, you reached your hand outward towards him, urging him to take it in his own, "It's alright, you're going to be okay." His cerulean eyes stared into your own, searching for any sign of deceit, only to find none.

Quietly, he placed his small hands into your own, firmly holding onto your palm as you brought him up to his legs - noticing how they shook beneath his weight. "Are you alright? Can you walk?", your questions struck confusion to slither across his face, his golden hair brushing against his lashes while he side glanced you in question, his voice hoarse from crying, "Yes. I just needed somewhere to be...on my own."

The way his words were well pronounced and rounded for someone deemed to be either nine or ten struck you for a second, because unlike your younger brother, his words were calculated. 'He must have been through a lot to make him so...timid', you quickly shook away the thought in order to bring your attention back to the current situation, "You'll get sick out here you know, and by the looks of it - you've been out here for a while." He slightly winced at that, his fingers sliding off your palm before you brought yourself up to your height, staring down at him with a soft smile as he turned to face you, awkwardly rubbing his elbow, "...I didn't feel like heading to the castle." Your brow rose, "The castle? But-" "I shouldn't have said that, will you please excuse me miss", his eyes sharp and calculated, quickly walking past you.

"Wait", you called, turning around to face him in concern, "Do you have a place to stay? And your parents?" The child could only glance down into the puddle in front of him, staring at his reflection - strands of hair falling before his shadowy eyes, "No. I don't have parents." You smile wavered and placed a hand upon his shoulder in a form of comfort, "Then you're welcome to stay at my place for a bit, until you're ready to go to the...castle. Your clothes will need a wash too, I don't think the Royals would appreciate you stumbling upon their fancy jeweled halls all clad in mud, now would they?"

He frowned, his lips turning downwards at the mentions of the royals - which didn't go unnoticed by you. But what brought a grin to your lips was the words he said, "Fine...but I cannot stay long." You hummed, your other hand tightly wrapped around the wool beneath your cloak, "That's fine, just until I clean the mud off your wear and for you to clean yourself up. My hearth should still be lit when we get there. Now come along." And with that, you grabbed his small hand into your own and dragged him along, his eyes wide at the sudden action, but he could only softly smile at your back, appreciating the kindness you spared him.

"Alright, this is it", you pushed open the door, allowing the swirling warmth to envelope you as you stood aside for him to enter, watching the young child carefully tread along your creaking, wooden floor. You closed the door, shivering at the coolness that escaped inside before you shed your coat from your shoulders and placed the wool into the basket beside your chair in a satisfied hum, feeling the eyes of your guest watch you in curiosity. You turned around on the heel of your foot, bringing your attention to the side door, "The bath is there, you can leave your clothes within the basket. But before you go, I'll hand you my brother's clothes that I always keep a spare of in case he and mother visits - he looks around your age and size." He softly nodded before stroking the softness of the scarf that awaits you on your chair.

You returned from scratching through the clothes filled wardrobe of the guest room, returning with something similar in colour to the brightened green he wears. He quickly sat up from the dining table, wincing at the sound of the chair that scraped against the wood from his hastiness, "...Sorry." You dismissed him with a wave of a hand, placing the clothes onto the table, "There's a bucket on the side of the tub that I filled, it should be warm by now." The young boy gave a soft smile, glancing down at the wooden floor before bringing them back to stare into your own, "I never got the chance to say thank you...especially for not treating me like a child...like almost everyone does."

You frowned, rubbing away some dried mud from his cheeks, '..but he is a child?' You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile, "Don't worry about it. By the way you talk, you sound like you've seen a few things for a child your age. But hurry along and bathe, I'll be here if you need anything." He grinned, swatting away your hand that messed with his locks after he removed his cap and placed it onto the table before gathering the clothes you handed him.

Soon you found yourself upon the chair again, twirling the needle through the blue of the wool with your tongue slithering over your bottom lip in concentration - a frown edging its way across your features. But only for a soft voice to break you from your silent mind, causing you to look up at the young boy, a smile breaking away the downturn of your lips, "I'm finished. Thank you madam." You grinned, waving your hand to dismiss the word madam, "Please, I am no madam. In fact,  that makes me feel way older than I am. My name is y/n." You proudly and playfully extended your hand towards him, waiting for him to shake it - but instead, he wrapped his fingers around your palm and lowered himself, placing his lips against the back of your hand in curtsy, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance...y/n."

You chuckled, playfully rolling your eyes as you slipped your hand out of his grasp, "You have more manners than the men my age, it's quite disturbing." You notice him frown from the corner of your eyes while you glanced down to your work, grabbing the wooden needle between your fingers. "I'm...nevermind", he sighed, running a hand through his wet locks in frustration. Your eyes widened in realisation, "Oh my goodness! Why didn't you say anything! You must be hungry!" His eyes widened at your sudden outburst from the misinterpretation of his forming words, watching the way you frantically scurried about, the clanging of pots following after you while he watched you with amusement adorning his childlike features.

Eventually you both had plates filled to the brim, eating and discussing the matters that would only concern a child, but often he'd bring up the matters of politics and places you've never been to, your curiosity only edging him as your questions flew past your lips in excitement - as though you were the child and he the young adult in the situation.

But not much later, he found himself drained from todays events, causing you to lead him through the small corridors to the guest room. And once he was in, you placed the covers over him like a mother would a child, your candle placed on the small bedside table as stroked his hair, his smile was soft and warm, filled with admiration for you while you kissed his cheek, the words goodnight slipping past your smile. His cheeks could only burn at the action before his cheeky grin spread across his face.

You could only playfully roll your eyes at him, ruffling his locks before taking your candle and walking out of the room, waving to him before slipping into the darkness of your corridors. The silence comfortable as you washed his clothes in the bucket before the hearth, leaving them there in front of the heat in hopes for them to dry before morning - sleep following you, the memory of your motherly exchange you just had replaying through your mind, 'The scarf...I'll give it to him, to remind him that he'll always have a place here to stay...heh, is this what it's look to be a mother?' Those being the last thoughts you had before succumbing to your dreams.

Sadly, morning came too soon for you both, and luckily for him, you had been awake a few hours prior to him - working your way through the scarf in hopes to finish it before dawn falls upon the nightened sky.

And with a sad smile, you wrapped the scarf around his neck - sticking out like a sore thumb against his freshly cleaned green and white, his smile slightely wavering at the thought of saying goodbye to you - his heart clenching at the thought of never seeing you again, even though you may view him as a child, he'd slightly hope that one day you would maybe change your views on that.

And so he said, with a glint of happiness shinning through his crystalline eyes, "This isn't a goodbye, I'll visit you again soon! Sooner than you know it!" He gave you a close eyed smile, causing one to spread across your lips, your fingers wrapped around themselves. But only for you to frown, shaking your head before lowering yourself and wrapping your arms around his shoulders - pressing him tight against your chest, "You bet. Even though you actually never told me your name, you'd always be welcome back."

His eyes widened as he stood back, still leaning on your haunches to match his eye level, "I never told you my name?" You laughed, shaking your head with a grin, "It slipped my mind to ask as well." He smiled, placing a small hand upon your cheek before giving it a soft kiss, whispering his name, "Link. My name is Link."

And with that, you watched him run through the busy streets of Castle Town, the golden rays of the sun reflecting upon the left over puddles as you watched him cheekily turn back with a grin, waving at you before dashing off again...leaving you with yourself again, your house empty of the sounds of his childish laughter. Empty of the true happiness you finally felt - a bitterness lacing through your heart as you watched the crowd with a smile.

'Don't worry, y/n, I'll see you again', he thought.

The end.

#link x reader #link x you #almondwrites #young link x reader platonic #young hero of time x reader platonic #PLATONIC #enjoy sweetlings! #link x y/n

[mcubuckyxlokisbitch]

OUT OF ALL THE TIMELINES

Short Series !

Female Asgardian reader (now avenger) X TVA Loki

Chapter 1: Avengers I need your help (done)

Chapter 2: Interrogations and proclamations (done)

Chapter 3: Even Asgardians have myths (done)

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5: -

Chapter 6: -

Surprise !!!!

Chapter 7: Chapter 8: Chapter 9 Chapter 10:

Warnings: Alot of angst <3, somebody kissed but im not saying who, mentions of blood, injury,

Summary: After your Lokis death and have moved on and joined the Avengers. After the aftermath of Endgame you and the other remaining Avengers all seek shelter in the new Avengers Warehouse Pepper Potts bought as a temporary replacement while the Avengers mansion is being renovated. What happened after a very tired mission. Well, you're speechless, to say the least.

a/n: I added a few more chapters because you know dreams lmao so enjoy this one !! Tell me if yall want smut soon. CuZ ye im feeling a smut scene some time soon.

You walked around the Avengers warehouse and got to the medic bay. The push the doors open, "How are her vitals."

"Well for one thin they don't make any sense."

"Ive been trying to heal her but, I can't get a signature on the dark magic... I need your magic to track it." Wanda says as her hands float above the blonde girl.

"She really does look like Loki its scary.... Like put a blonde wig make her shorter and put some eyelashes boom you got blondie here."

You rolled your eyes as your eyes traveled towards Ivars dark matter dagger. A strong dark force gutted your stomach, you could feel the evil from a mile away. You saw the veins around the stab wound as they turned black and spreaded around her stomach.

The only thing that could kill an Asgardian God. With its rusted blade and messily bandanged handle. Just as the myths say, the dagger was made for Odin the allfather but Ivar and his dagger were defetead and casted away before he could use it on him.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe to cast a simple healing spell.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, enchantments are more than just casting especially when your doing a healing spell." Loki circled around you. You closed your book as you groaned, bored of slow paced lessons set by the prince.

"A healing spell I think we can do something more challenging than that Loki."

Loki stopped in his steps as he brought out his dagger and striked your leg.

"LOKI... AARGH.... YOU MISBIGOTTEN SON OF A LEPPERS GOAT. YOU DAFT ARSE" YOU SCREAMED AT HIM. He chuckled and tipped your chin to look at him with the bloodied dagger.

"Careful, if we go on legal terms thats treason against the prince and queen..." He grinned. "On more serious terms you need to learn how to cast the spell on yourself, this way casting it on others will come naturally."

You tried to hold the cut on your thigh, blood was seeping out continously as you winced when you tried to move your leg. "How am I to focus when im bleeding to death." the words gritting through your teeth.

"Close your eyes and breathe..." Loki sat behind you whispering to your ear. He placed his hands on yours and led them to your wound. "The spell only works when your calm." You took a deep breath and out as your shaky hand lay above your wound. "Feel the energy from your body, allow it to flow through your to your hands down to your wound."

You did as he said. Your enchantments extended to the wound as the blood started to lessen but the wound didn't close. "Now the difficult part. Closing the wound, you can't just imagine it to close, you know the spell."

You said aloud through your teeth holding in your pain. "Rense helbrede såret." Nothing happened, the blood lessen but the wound was still wide open. You were confused and irritated to say the least.

Loki nudged his nose towards the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "A spells power is through its whisper, to be a true master you must not only say it but think it."

Relaxing your hands as Loki slithered his to your shoulders, you casted in a whisper focusing on the spell imagining the wound closing and the energy flowing towards your wound. "Rense helbrede såret." your eyes glew orange as your enchantment casted on your leg closed the wound slowly from one end to the other. The stinging pain you felt a few seconds ago was gone. There was no mark no scar where there was once blood and torn muscle. You laughed aloud and jumped up from your seat cheering.

"I- I did it no way, I just casted a healing spell on my first try... Loki you are magnificent." You turned to the man who raised an eye brow. The unimpressed look which gutted you stomach and stopped yur cheering as you felt shameful.

"Are you proud of such a small spell I mastered long before I was 16 years old." You blushed in shame as you brough your head down. Looking away from him, you could still feel him walk closer to you. "Charms are not something you can play aroudn on the side either you take it seriously and master it or I never teach you again. Do you wish to be great or nothing...."

He was now merely inches from your as he pinched your chin and brought him to look towards him, "So tell me little girl..." At this point you could feel your heart about to jump out your heart at any moment.

"Great or nothing." he whispered

"Great..." you mumbled.

"Perfect." he leaned down as he placed your lips on yours.

--------------------------------------

"Perfect-

You snap back to reality.

"Perfect, I have the signature of the spell.... You can take the spear out whenever your ready Y/N..." Wanda smiled.

You blanked out as you saw the wound still corrupted but not as bloodied as it was before.

"Careful, won't asgardians burn or disintegrate when you touch the handle or something." Peter stopped your hand.

"It is merely a myth Peter." You held his. "It'll sting slightly but I'll be fine."

"Wow even asgardians have myths. It's like inception a myth in a myth." Ant man said chewing on his chips in the corner of the med bay on a spare bed.

You hold the dagger and it burned your hand the moment you wrapped your hand around it. You winced and pulled back your hand and shook off the heat. Everyone had their eyes on you as you tried again. You wrapped your fingers around the handle, the burning sensation started as you focused on absorbing the heat but it didn't work.

"Teya, your hand it's turning the same colour as the wound." Sam pointed out

Your hand was corrupted. You casted a healing spell on your hand as you held the dagger handle tighter ignoring the warnings from your teamates.

Only one of asgardian strength can pull out the dagger. But anyone who lays in the hand on the dagger, will meet death.

It was a phrase, a warning actually, you remembered like the back of your hand from your favourite tale.

You pulled the dagger out with some force as the wound on the body closed. You dropped the dagger on the ground as you did too.

You were on your knees as your hand turned black and you wrapped your other hand on it trying to heal it. The room felt like it was a million degrees as you felt the darkness travel through your veins.

"Y/N whats going on..." Sam said kneeling down beside you. "FRIDAY RADIO STRANGE FOR AN SOS."

"Yelena, get Thor, Parker make sure Barnes does not know about this make sure they stay with Loki."

"Don't tell James." You whispered to Sam

"Not a chance princess."

"Wanda hows the wound." You looked up in pain.

"Closing in. But old Asgardian magic is complicated, I need time to find a way for it to not spread."

"Sam, I'm fine." you groaned through the pain still trying to cast the healing spell on your arm.

"Ya say that to your black hand. And..... woah." Sam started to let your hand go when your hand to elbow was turning black

"I'm here..." Stephen walked through a portal.

"Her eyes." Sam said concerened as there was no white left in your eyes just pitch black.

You forced yourself to stand up. Your shaking right hand corrupted as you projected your powers towards the dagger on the ground. Focusing the dark energy to leave your body. You groaned as you saw Stephen observe the situation and walk towards your arm.

"Keep focusing project any corrupted magic into the dagger."

Strange got to position and casted a cleansing spell on you. Helping to slip the dark energy off you. You felt your powers slipping away from you as the dark matter did.

When you felt no more corrupted magic you stopped as there was no more magic to give. Your knees felt weak and you tried to walk towards the closest bed but crumble and fell like a new born baby giraffe.

"I got you gurl." Sam caught you before you hit the ground.

"That was very stupid of you..." Strange said as he walked towards the sword glowing red and black. He formed a shield around it as it levitated towards you. "Here this won't get your hand burnt."

"Y/N, your hand. It.... it, that looks like a raisin." Thor winced.

"Thank you Thor, for that obvious comment." your groaned standing up, carrying the bubble with the dagger with your undwounded hand you walked towards the blonde girl. Who seemed to be breathing better as her vitals improved. You took a deep breathe to feel her aura and her health. Which was improving slowly, slower than it must, you looked up towards the body 2 beds down. "Strange what can be evaluated of this mans vitals..."

Strange walked over to the white haired man and hovered over him. Levitating his file to his hands and read through it. "This man is, hm...."

"Check the jacket , TVA ever heard of anything like it." Sam said tossing the jacket towards Strange. Strange looked at the jacket spread wide open hovering infront of him. "Yes the TVA, yes...... I- I actually never heard of them is this made up?"

"Well there goes our backup." Sam groaned plopping himself back on the bed.

"Well there isn't anything we can do. I'll take the dagger back to my room and we'll recon with Loki tomorow... Everyone eat, the food is here get some sleep, meet up first thing tomorow morning 7 am." You said walking out the medbay. "Friday keep an eye on our guest... update us if anything."

"Yes boss." the loud speaker said before the doors closed.

"A bit random but shes can be very attractive when she gets all demanding and stern." Yelena smirked.

----------------------------------------------------

You placed the sphere down on your tv table plopping down on your bed. You winced as your injured hand grazed against the sheets, clenching it with your other hand forcing down another healing spell, nothing, the redness seemed to fade away for a moment but it still looked bad.

There came a sudden knock on the door. "Y/N??" "Go away strange..."

"Actually." Thor opened the door and gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Thor... Hows-

"Your hand, does it hurt- is it corrupted- how are you do you feel well?" Thor rushed over to your side and sat down on your bed. "Let me see maybe I can be of an assistance.'

"If I remembered correctly you failed enchantment and healing lessons set by your own mother." you pulled your hand away.

"I have improved..." Thor said crossing his arms.

"Of course you have." You stood up and walked to your closet to change into something more comfortable.

"I'm sorry..."

"What?"

"I can't go through this again."

"No one is forcing you to be on this assingment. You may return to new asgard and take a break."

"You should be as well."

"Thor the team needs atleast 1 person who knows Loki."

"What if they didn't." Thor said plainly. You turned towards him confused, but you knew where he was getting to. " What if but for one moment we were selfish , what if we were not heroes, mere asgardians who simply needs to be born, live, then die."

"Thor-."

"You were right..." Thor sobbed, tears forming around his eyes. "It's just like Ragnarok all over again." He stared at the ground.

You walk towards Thor and lifted his chin up. "What can I say to the brother who has been my strength for centuries ..." You sighed "I know with Asgard gone, our duties blur with the destinies we thought we could have lived. For once... I really have nothing to say."

"He looks so much like him." Thor laid his head against your stomach. "I couldn't bear myself to get to know him."

You sighed and stroked his hair back. "You need not talk to him unless absolutely necesarry."

"Falling inlove with him... Loving my brother seems to be the one thing I cannot prevent myself from doing." Thor choked out. "Even though I know the outcome I can't help a part of myself to hope."

"Lets eat... you always feel better after we eat. We shouldn't think about this right now." You brought Thor up. As he leaned forward and embraced you.

"I miss him."

"Me too."

"It's been hard..."

"I know." You sniffled as you stopped the moment and stared out your window. You looked up to him. "Shall we join the others for dinner? "

"We shall." he smiled down as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

#marvel #loki #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #thor #loki fanfic #thor odinson #y/n #avengers endgame #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #peterparker #sam wilsom #bucky fic #thor angst #light angst #marvelfic #marvel pov #yn #asgardian #warriors oc #stephen strange #wanda maximov #ant man

[kagedbird]

Kaidan: Oi, Taliesin. Do you have a moment? Taliesin: Oh? I suppose... Kaidan: Seen you talking with Allora a lot lately. Taliesin: *snorts* Oh, are you here to intimidate me away? Do I sense... jealousy~? Kaidan: ?? No. What? Taliesin: *frowns* If you aren't here to try and threaten me, what could you possibly want to know about our time together? Kaidan: ...Right. We don't have the time to... unpack all that, as Allora says. But look, I just wanted to know, has she said anything strange t'ya lately? Taliesin: Strange? No, I don't believe so. Kaidan: *hums, scratching his neck* Lucien says she's been actin' odd around him lately. Keeps gettin' all pink in the face but won't elaborate why. Taliesin: ...Excuse me. Taliesin: *turns and walks away to find Allora in her room, writing in her notebook; takes her charcoal from her hand and hisses as he leans in* I am not interested in the Imperial boy. Allora: *squeaks in fear, flushing bright red and squishing down into the bed to lean away* How am I supposed to know?! You said you liked blonds! Taliesin: *stands tall and pinches his nose; equally thanking the stars above and cursing them for her being daft*

#ajshdgajds #I wanted something goofy after that sad one okay? #LMAO #Taliesin Skyrim #Kaidan Khim #Kaidan Skyrim #Lucien Flavius #Lucien Skyrim #Skyrim #tesblr #Allora #Dragonborn oc

[rebouks]

Previous | Next

Transcript:

Oscar: What the fuck have you done to her?! Kian: Wha-.. who? Oscar: [scoffs] Where is he-… Never mind. Kian: What’s your problem?

…

Alea: Erm. Kian: [tuts] Don’t ask. I have no idea. Alea: He’s really goin’ t’town… Aren’t you supposed t’stop him? Kian: He most likely deserves it. Oscar: What the fuck have you done?! Wyatt: Elaborate a little? Oscar: Courtney! Where is she? Wyatt: [laughs] Ahh, you finally noticed! Well, you’re a tad slow off the mark. She could be anywhere by now… Ivan: I thought he was just being paranoid, but apparently not. Did you have anythin’ t’do with thi-… Bruno: Seriously? You think I was involved?! Ivan: Seems like somethin’ you’d understand… You’re pretty close t’the top, I figured you’d be in the loop. Bruno: Well, I wasn’t. [SPLASHING – CHOKING] Oscar: Where. Is. She?! Wyatt: [splutters] I don-… Oscar: BULLSHIT! [FRANTIC SPLASHING] Oscar: START TALKING, OR DROWN! Wyatt: [gasping] Del Sol! Arturo: What is the meaning of this?! Oscar: Bastards! All of you! Arturo: I’m not above a fist fight, Oscar. Oscar: C’mon then, fight me! You son of a fucking whore! Arturo: Whatever’s going on here; I suggest you return once you’ve calmed down, before you do or say anything else you’ll regret. [COUGHING – RETCHING] Oscar: If you think I’m coming back before I’ve found her, you’ve got another thing coming. Arturo: Found who? Oscar: [scoffs] Who?! Fuck you and this shit stain you call a family! Ivan: Oscar-… Arturo: Wherever he’s going, do not follow. Do you hear me, Ivan? Ivan: But-… Arturo: Stay put. Bruno: Hang on a second! Oscar: Get the hell away from me. Bruno: Did he tell you anything? Oscar: Del Sol… Bruno: He’s not going to let Ivan go with you… Take Leah, she knows the Valley. Oscar: No! I don’t trust any of you! Bruno: It’s not a good idea to go alone, especially not in this state. Oscar: I’m hardly gonna fucking stay here, am I?! Kian: Bruno’s right, you should help him… Go! Before father stops you. Alea: Really? Kian: Really. Make sure he doesn’t do anything daft, and that you both come back… Stay safe, okay? Alea: Alright.

#somnium #sims 4 #storytelling #ts4 story #sims story #simblr #oscar finch #ivan harper #bruno clarke #alea #kian flanagan #arturo flanagan #wyatt shaw #twstrangling #twdrowning #artie pls.. let oscar drown your son 😒 #oscar's poppin off.. we love to see it #😌

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2023: #20 - #19

20. AZERBAIJAN TuranTuralX - "Tell me more" 34th place

Decade Ranking: 58/116 [Above Achille, below Anxela]

lmfao, the twins made my top 20?! I mean, yeah 2023. Of course they made my top 20. [AlexaVoice] PLEASE LEAVE A VOICE MESSAGE WITH YOUR COMPLAINT FOR VERTICAL CLASSIFICATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW. [/AlexaVoice]

Now here's an entry that serves as a physical embodiment of the "Presence That Was Liked". Yeah it was mid, but a pleasant mid. The twins were never leaving the semifinal alive. They were always going to be the sacrificial lambs of the newly invented "No Jurors During Semi's rule" which specifically targeted Azerbaijan (and... props to Azer for accepting their fate? lol) Turan and Tural were never being more than passengers along for a ride, which they took to heart.

"Tell me more" was all it needed to be. An inconspicuous NQ that was still cute and endearing in its own sort of way. The dreamy and drawly vibe

The imitation 70s aesthetic that convincingly sells the 90s softrock.

Add in a rap verse during minute one, a couple of fashionable scarfs, good camera cuts,...

Yeah "Tell me more" had zero televote appeal (this 100% dies even with juries being in), but as an entry it's refreshingly unpretentious and especially from Azerbaijan, wtf? Usually Azer pick some shitty Swedish pop track and force it on a conventionally attractive jazz muppet who then can't be bothered to do preparties or interviews. This year, their rep was a pair of homely deer-in-headlight twinkbeasts operating under a myspace name who were actually happy to be there and actively mingled with the fans. There some delicious irony and melodramatic twang to be found in the knowledge that by effectively throwing their 2023 qualification, Azer have shown more respect to the contest than they'd ever done before.

--------------------------------------------

19. FRANCE La Zarra - "Évidemment" 16th place

Decade ranking: 56/116 [Above Anxela, below El Diablo]

Yes I know what you're here for;

But you'll have to wait because I am here to rate the performance first. Yep, slightly ahead of the MySpace Twinks on my list seems just about right for a La Zarra. "Évidemment" represent the other side of "mid", the one where the promise is large and the delivery not quite as large. As a song "Évidemment" was kind of a blueballer: Sure, it had a lot of poise, flair, drama, a wee bit of camp and yet...barely any substance. It was The French Entry, like that was its entire identity, almost to a point of parody. And well, France competes every year and is usually better than "LES POISSONS LES POISSONS HI HI HI HÔN HÔN HÔN". donc, pleurez-moi une rivière de pute. I'm having a laugh but seriously, not picking a lane between serious attempt and self-deprecating satire that was the difference between a sixth place and a sixteenth place.

Still, I at first thought France were headed towards a disastrous bottom five result, especially after that rehearsal clip implied LaZarra was on the same Vocal Rest Tonics as Mae Muller. I WAS GONNA BE PROVEN RIGHT AND VINDICATED!!! and well, I was but not about her. (ty Blanca Paloma, we'll rank you soon enough)

When it mattered most, La Zarra got it together, and NAILED that epic big note.

No complaints from me about that live. It was a good live and did what it needed to do. I like it when the headliners deliver what they're supposed to (see also: Azer delivering a pleasant NQ) because it makes the show better overall. Obviously that doesn't erase the fact that (1) the song was mid as fuck (2) the staging was daft at best. ("MON DIEUX I WEAR HAUTE COUTURE, ACT LIKE A DIVA, AM THE EIFFEL TOWER, SOUND LIKE PIAF, LOOK THERE'S A TRICOLORE I AM SOOOO FRENCH!!" um no ur not, ur from Montréal stfu).

Okay so now we address this:

Sure, an uproarious voting moment and it was sooooo stank, but was it fun stank? 🤔 idk.

On one hand, LMFAO WHAT AN ENTITLED FUCKING SOW. 😍😍😍😍😍. The Xwitter trolls immediately began spinning their fanfictions all "WELL ACTUALLY what she did was a secret gesture of respect in Maghrebian cultures" like bitch, she's (1) a QUEBECOIS (2) who cosplayed as the Eiffel Tower and a disco ball unironically, how hinged do you think she is? Her gesture definitely was the sort of melodramatic Egomaniac reaction I'd expect from someone who deliberately caused a pre-show stir by posting an Insta Story all "It's getting to me!!! I'm QUITTING 😭😭 // Cigarettes: "Eurovision?! 😨" // La Zarra: ".... non i meant the gluten, mdrrrr!!!!! 😆". So yes, the moment itself was pretty funnay 2 me, esp since she got twice points I thought's she'd get.

On the other hand, um take a seat you entitled fucking sow. There is serving cunt and then there is straight up being a cunt. The difference is that you have to earn your glamourcunt label and you, madame, were always in "Good but not Great" territory. Be grateful there were any scraps left for you after Käärijä and Loreen gobbled.

In conclusion, lmfao i kinda dislike her as a person (but better she show the world how rude and misguided she is after losing than after getting a top ten) and I genuinely enjoy thinking about her messiness more than listening to her music. 🙂 (so I guess that makes her Taylor Swift.)

Besides, around 16th is where France usually ends up at anyway, so I think they got precisely what they were aiming for, GJ France. 🙂 Now let's not think about this country until the end of March, when it becomes semi-important for me to remember what their entrant's (who?) song (what?) sounds like again.

THE RANKING

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #ESC #ESC 2023 #Eurovision 2023 #Liverpool 2023 #BorisBubbles #France #La Zarra #Evidemment #Azerbaijan #TuranTuralX #Tell Me More #Youtube

[feyhunter78]

Hold My Heart (Between Your Teeth) Ch 1/?

Description: She would not be queen; she would not watch her husband destroy the continent over a senile old man’s dying whispers. Not when he ignored and belittled her, tossing her aside whenever someone new crossed his path.

Seraphine flees her husband's coronation, and wakes up ten and eight again on the very day her and Aegon first met. Bracing herself to be met with the same dismal fate as before, she finds things have changed and Aegon is not the same man she knows. Armed with new knowledge and a changed Aegon by her side, she faces the ever nearing war with renewed determination. She would live, Aegon would not be king, and perhaps this time around they can be happy.

She stands beside her husband as he crowned king. Watches as he grows prideful, as the cheers of the smallfolk fill his ears and drive out any sense he had left. He shakes off her hand, striding forward, his footsteps are swallowed by the noise of the crowd, and it hits her. This is not the man who saved her from Fleabottom ages ago, he hadn’t been that man for years. How had she never noticed? Was she that blind, that caught up in the fantasy of him she created in her head?

He was no hero, no great protector of hers. He was just a man, weak and easily swayed by false flattery. He’d never intended to save her that night, never meant to become her protector.

Seraphine turned and fled. She would not be queen; she would not watch her husband destroy the continent over a senile old man’s dying whispers. She raced to their chambers, ignoring the guards who called out to her. A flash of brown caught her eyes and she felt something catch her ankle, then she was falling. Down, down, down the stone steps bite into her skin, and then it all goes dark.

She awoke in darkness. The sheets beneath her were scratchy, and old, she reached for Aegon, but her hand met nothing but air. Rising from the bed, she threw open the curtains and her stomach began to churn uncomfortably, nausea rising in her throat. She dove for the nearest wastebasket and hurled, one hand collecting her hair and holding it back, wisps of crimson hairs still finding their way into her vision.

“You can’t be with child, you haven’t even made a sale yet, why you wasting good food?” Danica, the madame of the Golden Lady, hovers above her, lips twisted in a scowl.

“Where am I?” Seraphine croaks, reaching for the bucket of water and rinsing her mouth.

“Where are you? You wake up with a case of daft? You’re in my establishment, where your aunt and uncle dumped you, because they couldn’t stand your yapping.”

No, that’s not right. My aunt and uncle sold me to the brothel after my parents died. They needed the money and didn’t want me. “What day is it?”

“It’s your selling day, I waited till you’d bleed, and then since the laws changed, I waited till you’d grown, out of the goodness of me heart, but now you have to join the rest of the girls.” She yanks Seraphine up and brushes her off. “Get some breakfast in you, then put something other than these rags on.”

Seraphine wants to hurl again, but there’s nothing left, so she swallows hard and nods. Danica was not a patron saint of patience.

She brushes past the madame and wanders down to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. Wild red hair, tired green eyes, fading freckles from being denied the sun, and a lack of grief that comes with your husband ignoring you night after night. Not that being back in the brothel at ten and eight is any better. She swipes a meager meal from the kitchen and trudges back up to her room, the bread is dry, and the jam has gone hard. A far cry from the delicacies she’s been eating since Aegon found her, to the time of her death.

She racks her brain, this isn’t a dream, it’s too realistic to be a dream, and there’s no magic that she’s aware of that can create such elaborate illusions. Concentrating hard, she tries to remember her last moments. Then it hits her, the remaining Lord Strong, the master of whispers who always had an unkind word for her. He must have sent her down the stairs with his cane. Her hands curl into fists. Once she returns to the Keep, she’s going to kill him.

“Sera, Danica wants you.” Jayne, a dark haired girl with sweet brown eyes, knocks on her doorframe. Seraphine’s always had a soft spot for the older girl, she was kind, and defended her from lechers when Seraphine had to fill in as barmaid. This time she’d have to beg Aegon to buy Jayne’s freedom as well, she doesn’t remember why she didn’t in her previous life.

Oh gods, was I a royal asshole like the rest of them?

Shaking off the thought, she stands, shoving the rest of her breakfast in her mouth. “Yeah, I know, she’s been in my ear all morning.” She groans, pulling on the nicest dress she owns and giving Jayne a quick squeeze before making her way to Danica’s office.

I swear I’ll come back for you. She internally promises the girl.

“You’re up for auction tonight, I want you standing pretty, and keeping your mouth shut. We make a shitload of money off maidenhood auctions, and I can’t have you ruining it.”

“Of course, I won’t say a word.”

Danica raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Did the gods grant you some sense as you slept? I think that’s the first time you haven’t mouthed off to me since you got here.”

“I’ve been ungrateful for your help, I’m sorry.” As much as it pained her to apologize to Danica, she knew it was her sharp tongue that got her beat more time than she could count.

Danica crossed her arms and nodded, “you’re right, I’ve been plenty generous. You know how many customers I had asking for you before your ten and eighth nameday? But I told them no, that little firecracker is going to auction. I saved you from those pervs, ya hear?”

“I hear, thank you.”

Danica dismissed her and Seraphine wrapped her arms around herself, that nauseous feeling rising once more.

Night fell and Seraphine tried to quell her nerves, yes this would be a horrible night, and she would have nightmares for moons to come, but it was also the night she first met Aegon. She would not let him toss her aside this time, she was either blessed or cursed with the knowledge of their whole life together. Aegon would fall to his knees and beg for her touch, for her to say a kind word to him before he ever thought about becoming king.

“Down you go girl, you know where to stand.” Danica said, pushing past her to take her place behind the bar.

Seraphine wished she had gotten to choose her dress, she would have worn green, Aegon’s favorite color when they were ten and eight. Instead, she stood in a white shift up on a short round pedestal. As customers started to trickle in, she began to count in Valyrian in her head, her eyes vacant as she retreated into her mind. The jeers and unwanted touches only increased as the night deepened, and she was starting to worry. Aegon had been here by this time of night, she was sure of it.

Her silver haired boy, never one to miss the opportunity to make an entrance, burst through the door, and she felt tears of relief prick her eyes.

“I heard there’s an auction tonight.” He called out, swaying as he walked. She'd forgotten how much he drank before they met.

“You heard correct, Prince Aegon, our newest beauty has finally come of age.” Danica said, leading him over to her.

Her heart began to race, he hadn’t wanted her at first, too distracted by his favored ladies. It was only when he’d accidently open the door and interrupted her near assault, did he claim her.

But then he did something strange, he took her hand and held it to his cheek. “My nameday was a fortnight ago, and my family did not say a word.”

He was so vulnerable like this, so soft, she missed this Aegon. She cupped his cheek and his eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that, my prince, every nameday should be celebrated.”

He looked up at her with that lavender gaze that kept her enthralled for years. “When is your nameday?”

“Today, my prince.” She glanced at Danica wanting to confirm she was allowed to speak this much to him and Aegon caught her chin gently.

“Do not remove your eyes from me, I need—” He cut himself off and looked at Danica. “The auction is finished; the girl is mine.” He shoved a large coin purse in Danica’s hand and helped her down from the pedestal.

“Apologies, my prince, but that isn’t how the auction works.” Danica protested.

“Collect your things, I will wait for you here.” Aegon told her, pressing a kiss to her palm before releasing it from his grip.

Seraphine dashed upstairs, heart pounding against her chest. This was not how their first encounter occurred, it had taken him moons to show her that kind of vulnerability. Had something happened to him as well?

Chapter Two here!!!!

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon x reader #aged up characters #non-noble MC #prince aegon #aegon ii #meg's writing #hotd #hotd fanfic #HMH Fic #aegon ii x oc #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii angst #time skips #second life au #hotd fanfics #hotd au

[x-zho]

(i am having VIOLENT ideas lately i’m so sorry 😭 warnings: graphic injury descriptions)

gn!reader

but imagine kaeya planning to propose to you, his lifelong companion, except he doesn’t manage to pop the big question.

why? because of the raging war between teyvat and the abyss.

war ravages; it takes and steals and pillages to its heart’s content without any semblance of remorse.

the pair of you are unfortunately no exception to this primordial rule.

every able-bodied soldier was required to lend their strength and, as the cavalry captain, he had no choice but to oblige no matter how earnestly he wanted to remain by your side and protect you.

however, it wasn’t you who needed protecting, no… it was kaeya who had found himself caught in the direst of situations.

it was one of his greatest regrets at the time, realising that his duty to protect mond would ultimately end with you being all alone.

in another life perhaps, kaeya ponders with an aching heart, he would be with you and running away from the final calamity instead of participating in its cruel games.

a large gaping wound found its home in his torso, a sight so grievous that diluc had to fight to keep the bile from rising in his throat and spewing onto the blood-soaked ground. his infamous eyepatch lay torn a few metres away from his body, the crystalline earring ripped from its usual place on his ear.

as for his eye… well, it seemed to have been missing from its socket, a heavy trail of blood leaking from beneath the man’s right lid.

it was a grisly sight, simply put.

immediately diluc sinks to his knees beside his fallen brother, shakily sweeping him up into his burly arms. diluc thinks he’s long gone but the quietest of whispers takes him by surprise, and to both his absolute relief and horror, kaeya lives.

it’s simultaneously a blessing and a curse to be breathing after receiving such a fatal blow.

“kaeya!”

the young alberich manages to give his brother a delirious smile.

“—et.”

diluc’s eyes are frantic as he tries to hone in on kaeya’s words, leaning in to aid the process. he can barely hear over the roaring of his pounding heart.

kaeya sounds like he’s choking.

choking on his own blood.

“pocket,” the captain struggles to repeat. it’s an arduous battle to project his voice above a whisper. it hurts, terribly so. he chooses his words wisely- he doesn’t have enough breath to spare. “my p-pocket.”

a trembling hand fumbles with the buckles of kaeya’s attire, carmine eyes hyper-fixated on his brother’s heaving chest, until diluc feels a small lump in the inner left breast-pocket of kaeya’s outer layer. a quick nod from the captain is enough to confirm the ragnvindr’s silent question.

taking the object out with as much delicacy as he could muster, the young master finds what seems to be a small velvet box.

diluc feels sick to his stomach.

this couldn’t be happening. diluc wasn’t daft- he knew what this was. knew what this meant.

he wants to hurl the precious item far away, throw it back into kaeya’s possession, he shouldn’t be holding such an intimate thing, but his fingers refuse to lessen their firm grip.

it felt like he was holding the weight of kaeya’s heart in his palm.

the world is blurry.

“give it… to— them.” kaeya’s words chill the ragnvindr’s spine, each strenuous pause a pang to his already-breaking heart. “please.”

it wasn’t a question, wasn’t a request. it was a demand- a desperate one. the final wishes of a dying man.

kaeya feels the way diluc’s chest rises and falls with each hysterical huff that escapes his lips. it seems like he’s trying to formulate sentences but is unable to find the right words. unable to force them out.

he doesn’t know what’s more painful: the severity of his injury or watching his once-estranged brother, a man known for his steely composure, breaking down right in front of him.

is this how master crep— is this how father must have felt that day…? the day it all fell apart?

but diluc finds them, although he regrets not having thought them out thoroughly.

diluc wants to smack himself for putting on such a weak front for his dying family. he should’ve offered words of comfort, of reassurance that yes, of course he’d give this to you, but all that comes out are accusations and hopeless questions.

“this is your job,” is what kaeya thinks he hears. he can’t really tell, what with the ringing in his ears. “what am i supposed to say, damn it…? what do i— what do i tell them? please, kae—”

the last alberich had already left the plains of teyvat long before diluc could finish his sentence. a single faded eye stares up at the only other soul left in the decrepit wasteland.

kaeya would like to believe that what he heard last was the nickname diluc had given him when they were just children who knew not the meaning of war, would like to believe that he didn’t manage to catch the final cries of “don’t leave me.”

kaeya would like to believe that the final expression he saw of his brother was a happy one, even if what he caught was the face of a broken man.

diluc screams, his brother’s heart clasped tightly in his hand.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya angst #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #apologies for my behaviour #ragbros brainrot amirite #with a touch of x reader #just a smidge- #mainly ragbros tho i think

[grogusmum]

Seven Tears part 5

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

W/C: 2800ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pearl and Ezra move to Rón Inis. Pearl learns there that her selkie love has his own past.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, mentions of spouse abandonment,though set in Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse and his family are white, church nonsense and fisticuffs, food, reader is pregnant, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning. Excessive use of pet names.

(as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

NOTES: I thought that we were coming to he end of our story, but I was surprised to find out I was wrong. There is more to tell, and more selkie myth I really wanted to include. So I hope you are interested in several more chapters. Happy birthday, Kindred! Enjoy💚

Swept Away

Part 1

Part 4

M'fhíorghrá my true love

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá love

Sláinte health or cheers

A stór my treasure

Rón Inis Island of Seals

Deirdre and Felicia are in the kitchen, Thomas and Patrick in the back bringing wood in when Ezra gives a knock as he walks in the door. Hugh, your younger brother was on the couch with you, both seemingly occupied by the crossword puzzle in the evening paper. Hugh looks very much like an Irish setter who sits on their owner's feet when feeling protective. Ezra smiles at the scene in the parlor, the smells of a roast and potatoes, the fire crackling. He, of course, brings with him the smell of the sea.

You look up and extract yourself from the afghan on your lap and Hugh, handing him the paper. You pull Ezra by his jacket toward the fire to warm him up. 

“Alright, Ezra?” Hugh asks.

“Just so,” Ezra smiles and then wraps his arms around you, quietly in your ear, “are you alright, moonbeam?” 

“I am,” you murmur, “now.”

“Suppers on the table,” Felica calls.

While everyone eats, you tell them what happened, Ezra squeezes your hand under the table occasionally, then Deirdre and Patrick tell their tales of the visit to St Bridget's and with Colin. 

The stories are interrupted periodically by different members of the Brennan Clan when emotions run high.

“But he is not an actual selkie!” Cries Hugh.

“Don be daft, of course he is, lookit him,” Thomas says, tossing a roll at him. Thus earning a glare from their father.

It seems everyone at once knew and did not know that Ezra is truly a selkie. 

"Don tell me everyone knew but me?" Hugh wailed.

Deirdre, of course, nods, being the only one who was told outright. Then comes a murmuring of the rumors and guesses. Your hands shake as you confirm it, looking at Ezra for help. He just raises his glass, winks-

 "Sláinte" (slawn-cha)

Your family laughs and raises their glasses, once over the shock, the relief you feel stings the corners of your eyes.

“It was only a matter of time before the seal people mixed with the Brennans!” Patrick proclaims above the din.

In the past, they had chosen not to talk about Colin since his desertion, speaking of him only if you wished it. He has shown his colors, was what your Mam would say. But the notion that he would return after all this time and why set everyone's blood to boil anew. Whenever he is mentioned this night, they practically hiss at his name. Muttering curses.

You chose to keep the story of becoming sick to yourself, and of Jamie and Colin fairly brief, being more interested in the part you did not know, like Deirdre’s trip to see Father O'Brien-

“How could he talk to you like that, Mam?” Hugh says scandalized.

“What about annulment?” Felicia asks.

“Oh I am going to the Bishop next, this is not over.”

You sigh, and Ezra puts an arm around you.

Then Patrick’s conversation with Colin-

“Did you pan him out, Da?” Hugh asks.

“Someone beat me to it.” Patrick winks at the pair of you.

You smile a little here and cock your thumb at Ezra, and your brothers erupt. Thomas who is next to him claps his shoulder. Felicia smiles into her lap and sneaks a look at you.

“To my way of thinking, it is my pearl here who truly deserves that honor.” Ezra calls over the pleased chatter and kisses your forehead.

Hugh agrees and surprisingly so does Deirdre.

After a moment everyone settles down.

“So what'll you do now?” Felicia asks. Diedre starts clearing plates, her nervous energy needing to be harnessed for something.

“Well, That of course depends on Moonbeam here. But I’ve spoken with Tilda, from the pub? She is sort of a cousin of mine. She has offered us one of the cottages on Rón Inis (Roan Inish).”

“Wait, she is a Conneely?” You say in wonder, “How did I not know that.”

“You’ve only known her by her married name, love,” Deirdre says over her shoulder  from the sink.

It is a commonly held belief that the Conneelys were well mixed with seal folk, no more so than by the Conneely's themselves, so no one questions Ezra’s claim, they just exchange looks.

Your Da looks down at the table.

“It’s not far, a row boat will do”, you assure him.

“I know,” he says with a sad smile, “ I know, darlin’ we would just miss seeing ye everyday.”

 “I know.”

Ezra squeezes your knee, and looks at you, his eyebrows lifted in question.

“So, you would come with me?”

You nod. Then a smile breaks wide-

“Yes, Ezra. I would.”

Deidre comes back to the table, the iron skillet in her hand, and smile on her face. She does not hide the tears in her eyes. You jump up from the table and hug her.

“Tis not far, Mam, just a row.” 

“You are right, tis just a row!” She shakes off her thoughts of being lonesome for you and puts down the skillet of fresh apple cake on a trivet. “Plates, Hugh.”

Your younger brother pops out of his seat to pull the dessert plates down from the shelf above the sideboard, the ching of silver means he remembers the forks.

“There is much to plan, but for now, let us enjoy some of your mother’s fine cake,” Patrick says, sending a wink your way.

The preparation was swift and quiet. You parents worked on the annulment, deciding you can come to the mainland when needed instead of waiting as it can take months. Your family helped you pack and loaded everything on his fishing boat, you’d have to row a curragh (cah-ra) as well, so you had means to get to and fro as needed. 

When the early morning of your departure arrived, you both looked at the somewhat bare little house you had shared. You had decided to only take what was indisputably yours. Which meant anything you brought with you, wedding gifts given to you from your family (thankfully that included the bed, which was a gift from your parents), and anything  you bought or made after Colin left. Only months ago you would have left this house without a backward glance, but now, it was the home you had made with Ezra, where you fell in love with him. 

Ezra finds you in the bedroom folding some linens. He looks at them, then you. Searching. You look up from the laundry and smile.

“Never let it be said I left a mess behind.”

“We should go, Moonbeam”, Ezra says it like a question. His head cocked to the side, searching your face, for reservations, for fear, for regret. 

“We should.” You say looking at him with nary a sign of trebiation. He smiles a huff and bumps his head to yours. You folded the wedding ring quilt and laid it on a blanket rack that rested by the wood stove. Neither had come from your side.  

You open the door to find Tilda and Fergus. Fergus carries a large basket filled to the brim. Tilda, a large something, wrapped in a sea green blanket.

“Just want to keep you fed while you settle in,” she smiles, kissing you both on the cheek. 

“Wanted to see you off,” Fergus explains, giving Ezra a squeeze on the arm.

The four of you walk together to the dock, your siblings and parents are already there. Not that you can see them in the half light, but dark heads bob in the water. Ezra’s family has come too. He watches the water, with a lopsided smile. 

“Do you mind two more,” asks Fergus amiably.

“More hands make lighter work!” Patrick says, shaking his hand.

Your father explains that they would have to use the curragh and jon boat to bring everything to the shore. As the sun rises in earnest and you become anxious to set off. 

You and Ezra get in currah, a funny round wicker boat, your two brothers in the flat bottomed jon, the rest board the fishing boat.

"Are you ready, a stòr?"

"I am ready, m'fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah) ."

The sun told you it was mid morning when the island was in full view, and by this time Ezra’s family had made their presence known to all of you. They gamboled, rolled and ducked under the boats. Their excitement growing.

While most of the seal were curious of all three vessels, there was one, small light colored seal, that stuck close to your boat. Eying you occasionally, but watching Ezra. 

“Who is this,” you ask. 

“This lovely pup is my-” Ezra looks down at her, giving her such a warm look you should have guessed the answer,. “She is my daughter, Cee.”

Ezra looks to you, wondering if this will make a difference. 

“Your… daughter?” you say a smile slowing growing. You look down at her, leaning down close. “Hello Cee! Why, aren’t you wonderful!” 

Cee rolls in agreement, Ezra gives his hearty laugh and you just beam at the two.

For a time, you let your mind wonder at the life Ezra had known before you, in the sea and out of it. Would it be inappropriate to ask? You know the reputation of selkie men. Some have been confirmed and some debunked with your time with Ezra. Do you want to know?

“How old is she? Cee?”

“Fourteen.” Ezra says, still looking at his seal daughter.

Two sevens, you think. Two possible visits, two possible other lovers. You can not change a selkies nature, and you surely do not want to change Ezra’s so you sit with this, settling yourself with the knowledge, that you knew in abstract but…

“A ghrá? I can see the wheels whirling,” he smiles kindly, he nods to Cee and she dips into the sea and visits another seal beside your fathers fishing boat. “You can ask me anything, I am but an open book to you, to be perused in your good time.”

“Where is her mother?”

Ezra eyes softened still, your question was matter of fact, though not cold, he could see you trying. He smiled. 

“She is no longer with us, she passed many, many years ago. Cee was on land with her mother, she would not part from her. But when she fell ill, she brought Cee to the waters edge and introduced us properly and I helped Cee transform, so she could join me when it was time. She was 7. The fates were looking favorably upon us. I could leave the water and help her.”

There was so much more to this story you want to know but there is something more pressing-

“I, we…” you look down at your belly, that is still not giving away the secret of the life growing within. 

“Yes,” Ezra eyes shine and his face radiating adoration.

“Ours?” You ask rhetorically, smiling eyes wet, a hiccup of a laugh.

“Ours.” Ezra repeats.

Oh, he wants to close the distance and wrap himself around you, blasted boat… later, he reminds himself. We have all the time in the world, especially if-

“Did you love her very much?”

“I did, though I must admit, there was another. I could not have her so I tried to put her out of my mind. Move on and find something for myself.” 

“Oh,” you say your voice sounding small, and Ezra looks at you. His eyebrows drifting up. “Oh,” you say again. Your face warms, both in embarrassment and pleasure. 

“Oh,” he repeats playfully.

“Was there anyone else,” you say feeling more confident. You looked at your seal man, he could have had one hundred lovers. It does not matter. He loves you, and he always has. You were having his baby. 

“One other, a fellow,” Ezra says grunting into the oars. “Before I ever laid eyes one you.”

You are only taking by surprise momentarily.

“Did he summon you?” 

“A stór, I am not avoiding your inquiry indefinitely, but we are to come ashore momentarily.” Ezra settles the oars in the boat. “I will regale you the tale of my first love, if you wish it, at a more opportune time. Perhaps not in front of your family.” 

“Well, it would be a fine how do you do, to be accepting of us and not you and your fellow.” 

“Truly, my Moonbeam, I heartily agree, but you would be surprised. Regardless, it would perhaps be unseemly to speak of any past sweethearts with your parents, at all. 

“Can’t argue with that,” you laugh and the jolt as the curragh beaches. 

The fishing boat stayed in the deeper waters, and the small boats were loaded running back and forth. The many hands did make swift work. Soon, your sister, Felicia, was busy sweeping the sand out of the cottages. Your father was up on the roof of the largest cottage, inspecting the thatch. While your mother hollered for him to get his fool self down before he fell off and let one of his sons do it. 

“Get up there, Thomas!” Deirdre shouts. “Hugh help your sister.”

Inside, you were getting an impromptu lesson in seaweed soup and how to use it in seafood chowder, from Tilda. Ezra and Fergus were shuttling back and forth from the strand with the last of the furniture, baskets and creates.

“I should help,” you look at them apologetically.

“You need to learn this recipe handed down from the seal people in my family. And you will have plenty of work once we leave. Rest, you are doing so for two.”

You look at her thunderstruck.

“Cousin Ezra confided in me, when he was looking for advice on what to do with, when your-”

“Colin.”

“Yes that,” she says as though finding something distasteful stuck to her shoe. You can not help but smile.

“Thank you,” you suddenly wrap your arms around the older woman, “Thank you for this. We can never truly repay you.”

“You can,” Tilda says, and she walks over to the large basket,beside it is the large something. Tilda set it down and unwrapped it reverently.  

“Use this cradle for your babe.”

Your eyes were saucers, it was a tiny boat, encrusted with shells and carved with intricate design.

“Carved from the mast of a sunken ship. Been in my family for generations.”

“Tis beautiful, Tilda! I will use it with honor.”

You placed it next to the fireplace, next to Ezra’s pelt awaiting it’s new home and then turned back to the cauldron Tilda was filling with seaweed.

Once the bed was restrung and made up, and Patrick was satisfied with the state of the thatch, your family bid you farewell. It was tearful, but there were many reminders that you would have to go to the mainland weekly for supplies and that they were welcome on the island whenever they wished. Soon it was just you and Ezra. You smiled, and the you made your way into the cottage closed the door on a very long day. Settled into the two chairs by the fire, you put your feet up thankfully on a small stool. Then you opened you eyes wide and sat up-

“Where is Cee?” you cry.

“Cee will come and go, my pearl. She is quite independent having spent the lion's share of her remembered life in the water.” 

“Oh,” you then add quietly. “I didn't know I was taking you from someone, Ezra.” 

“Oh Moonbeam,” Ezra takes your hand, looks around, “I will miss our settee, come-”

You stand, and he brings you onto his lap, tucking you into him. 

“Is she okay, does she prefer being in seal form?” 

“Yes, most Selkies, yearn for the sea. Though, this island feels different. Liminal. A place between. She may be of a mind to come and stay for a spell and then be on her way. So long as she has control over her coat, she will feel at ease.”

“And you?”

“I, a chuisle mo chroí (ah coo-shil mu cree), am at ease where ever you are and yearn but for one thing. You know what that is?”

You look down, playing with the buttons of his shirt-

“Me?” You look at him, bashfully.

“You,” he says. “And soon there will be a little one.”

“Will- what-”

“Someday the child will enter the sea, and will not want to return to land. It is different for every one. We, you will have to be ready. My own, do you think you can do this?”

Ezra watches you closely, you are struggling. Trying. 

“Not so little that as a pup or babe that they still need their mama. But no one can stop the march of time anymore than the ebb and flow of the sea.”

“What if I want us all to be together?”

Ezra looks you in the eye. You wait patiently.

“There is one thing, but you would need to want it with your whole being.” 

“What is that?” You say quickly.

“You would have to become a selkie yourself.”

PART 6

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my writing here MASTERLIST and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#selkie ezra #selkie #ezra prospect #selkie ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) #selkie!ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect au) #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #selkie au

[savage-rhi]

Idk if you write for these characters but Regis and clarus go on a road trip with

getting back from the trip, and some friends are there to welcome them back, but something seems..different and one mf cant help but say “what happened did you guys fuck or something” (…they did)

I never wrote for Regis or Clarus before, but I am now! Hope you like it! 💙

Weskham couldn't help but side eye Regis as they both ventured down one of the main palace halls. Since the prince arrived home from his trip with Clarus, there had been something different about him. Regis looked more exhausted than when he first left. As if another issue at hand was gripping his mind. This troubled Weskham a great deal. The whole point of the trip--that both he and Clarus arranged--was to ensure Regis had time to rest. Gods above knew Regis needed it before he and his team would venture to Accordo to build up alliances.

The weight of the world was literally upon the crown that Regis would wear. Weskham knew that better than anyone. Being the hand of the king, it was his duty and honor to help the monarch keep the peace and also take care of himself. To see Regis look so tired after having a peaceful vacation, felt like a failure on Weskham's part. He felt foolish for not pulling Clarus to the side to ask what had happened.

Weskham stared at the coronation ring that was snug against Regis's right index finger, knowing one day the Ring of the Lucii would take its place. Furrowing his brows, Weskham could feel the competent adviser he knew himself to be pave way to the best friend: wanting to know what was ailing his pal besides the unfair sacrifices his bloodline carried.

"A pardon, highness." Weskham cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Regis stopped in his tracks and turned his attention in full to Weskham. His eyes glanced up and down his form, noting he looked concerned.

"You only ever look like you've seen a ghost when something terrible is on the horizon, my friend."

Weskham couldn't help but laugh. He shook his head. "Fortunately, you are wrong there. However, I have to say that as your friend you have me worried. You haven't looked well since you left the Regalia."

"Oh," Regis made a face. He turned his gaze elsewhere down the hall, as if making sure no one else was within the vicinity. "I can assure you there is nothing amiss on my part. However, the trip with Clarus was...an experience to say the least. Let's resume our walk."

Weskham gave a bow with his head and pressed on. While staying at Regis's right side, he couldn't help but grin.

Regis raised a brow. "What's so amusing?"

"Oh nothing but an immature thought." Weskham chuckled.

"Enlighten me." Regis smiled awkwardly, shaking his head.

"If I didn't know better," Weskham began, trying to keep his composure in check. "I'd say you and Clarus finally gave into that tension that's been with us since youth."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Don't be daft, Regis." Weskham huffed with amusement. "I mean what exactly happened between you and Clarus that was an experience? Did you two fuck or something?"

Regis's eyes bulged from his skull at the accusation. His body and posture tensed and an awkward silence fell between both his long time friend and himself. He blinked a few times after Weskham did a double take.

"Reg?"

"I'm good," Regis coughed. "I'm good."

The faint blush to Regis's pale skin and his response was enough to tell Weskham everything. He parted his mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted.

"May we both respectfully pretend this conversation didn't transpire."

Weskham could feel his own face growing warm now. What began as a jest to an inside joke between himself, Regis, and Clarus was now heading into territory Weskham himself wasn't sure he was ready for. Both as a friend of the prince and his future adviser.

"I agree," Weskham finally responded, not before smirking. "Was he good at least?"

"That meeting with the Niflheim councilman, I need you to get it rescheduled ASAP." Regis all but bulldozed through the question Weskham asked. He glared at hearing the suppressed chuckles escaped Weskham's mouth.

"I'll ensure it happens," Weskham nodded. "By the way, Reg, nice dodge."

"Oh shut up."

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

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#drabbles #regis lucis caelum #clarus amicitia #regis x clarus #weskham armaugh #ffxv regis #ffxv clarus #ffxv weskham #ffxv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #before the road trip

[ellienettie]

Enemies to Allies to Lovers

Villain x Villain Timinette imagine how fun that would be

"You don't trust me?" He asks Marinette, who was warily looking at her own glass of wine. She looked at him and felt a shiver run down her back. "I don't have a reason to yet." 

Tim rolled his eyes at her. "While your paranoia is what rightfully kept you alive, it'll be the death of you. Know who you can trust." Marinette's brow arched at that. "I know who I can trust, and I can assure you that you're not in that miniscule list." 

Tim moved forward to delicately pluck her glass from her hand but she kept a steady hold on it. He raised a brow at her. "What are you doing?" 

"What are you doing?" 

"Proving that you can trust me, obviously." She pulled back the glass, stood up and walked over to the side. Tim watched her with a curious gaze. "Now what are you doing?" 

"Proving that I can trust you, obviously." She lifts Tim's chin up and pushes his head onto the back of the couch. 

"What, are you going to kiss me?" He asks, a smirk on his face. 

"Do you think I'm that daft to offer you a kiss? No." She steadies the glass above Tim, tilting it to readily pour wine. 

"Open your mouth, you're going to finish my glass ‘til the last drop."

...

Why is it that Tim often finds himself at the bottom of her shoes? Literally, in this case. Tim sits still on the couch underneath the weight of her high heeled shoes, a glass of champagne in his hand delicately carried by the stem of the tulip glass. Her piercing stare seemed to burn his soul while her shoes stain his black button up shirt. “...is there anything I can help you with, my dear?” 

“Fix my shoes for me.”

It should irritate him, being told what to do once again, but with her all he wants to do tease her and do it anyway. “Am I your servant? Should I call you master, Marinette?”

She shrugs, pushing her right foot harder. Tim cringes internally at the stain his cleaner would complain about. “If you want to, I won’t complain. I just want you do fix my shoes.”

“And tell me,” Tim says, pausing to sip at his champagne. “Why should I do that? Especially when you didn’t even say please. Has your mother never taught you manners?”

“Of course she did, it’s just that you’re not worthy of them.” She lifts her foot higher right over his neck and Tim’s breath hitches. “I don’t think a lady should lift their leg so high, especially when she’s wearing a dress.” Her dress leaves only a scrap for the imagination, skin tight and red as bright as his old costume, sleeve-less heart shaped-dip dress that flows down to a skirt that sways with the heavy weight of literal colored metal. She was dressed like a flame on top of burnt wood, ready to rise up and burn whatever else she wants to.

“And I don’t think we’d be in this position if you’ve followed my command.” Tim tuts at her and hands her his glass, shaking his head as he ties the black high heeled lace shoe properly. “Do I have to kneel down on my own floor or would you prefer to step on me again?” 

She smiles like a nightmare in the night before it scares you, shakes you and wakes you up terrified. “Good boy for asking.” She puts her foot down and steps on him again, this time with her left foot. “I’ll have you kneeling some other day instead.”

#timinette #romantic timinette #steamy timinette #timari #Tim x Marinette #Marinette x Tim #romantic timari #maribat tim drake wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat marinette #maribat tim drake #enemies to lovers timinette #will I write this? Probably not #Villain!Marinette #Villain!Tim Drake #Dark!Marinette #dark!TimDrake #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x ml #batfam x mlb #mlb x batfam #ml x batfam #batfam x ml

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

It is only 9AM and today is already wretched.

Woke up at 5:50AM, exhausted. Stomach hurts. Tried for an hour to fall back asleep but couldn't. And of course, the mystery bone that appeared on the porch of the house is still there. The bone materialized two days ago. Probably a chicken bone. Neatly arranged on our porch railing. At least I hope it's a chicken bone. That's probably the least unsettling type of bone it could be.

My housemates say they didn't put it there and I believe them. We don't even eat chicken generally. Or... other things that could have produced a bone of those dimensions. So who else? Raccoons? The Planks*? A serial killer? (a chicken serial killer???)

The night before last the bone was moved from one side of the porch to the other. Still neatly placed. Roughly parallel to the wood grain.

The bone is attracting yellowjackets. I do not like yellowjackets. Well this is untrue- I like yellowjackets quite a lot actually. They're fun to learn about. They're important to the ecosystem. But I am wildly spheksophobic and I cannot leave the house while they are There. On the bone. On the porch. Right. By. The Door.

I am trapped and it is a problem. I am missing a math TA meeting. It's an optional TA meeting, but I feel bad because the professor is bringing food. Probably food I can't eat. My stomach hurts. But it's a nice thought and I feel impolite.

Maybe I should make an excuse. How should the email go? "dear professor I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting there's a BUG on a BONE and I do not know how it got there. The bone, I mean. The bug presumably flew sincerely Svet PS the bug is a yellowjacket** that's why it can fly

PPS Did you know adult yellowjackets primarily consume plant sugars? It's actually the larvae that need the protein in meat. It's a sweet, that the yellowjacket is on the bone specifically in effort to feed its own. I hope it gets enough protein. Still scared of it though

PPPS Yellowjackets are in fact the most eusocial of all wasp species! That's why they're so aggressive, they have something bigger than themselves to protect. unlike me I'm just scared for my own skin. And I'm not aggressive at all in fact I'm rather passive and pathetic. I wish I was more like a yellowjacket "

yeahh maybe I should not write an email it sounds daft when I put it in words. The yellowjacket is minding its own business. I should just be able to leave. But I can't make myself get through the front door. Stupid brain. Stupid bone. Why is the bone where it shouldn't be??

so- guess I'll just watch the bone in hopes the yellowjacket is kind enough to give me an opening to leave before my class starts at 11AM :/. Hope the chicken serial killer menacing the house doesn't get me first. Because I do fit the victim profile, given that I'm being rather chicken right now

*I named all the squirrels in our yard Max Plank because he's my favorite physicist. Collectively they're The Planks, naturally

**actually scientifically yellowjackets are order Hymenoptera while bug scientifically only refers to order Hemiptera so it would be inaccurate to call the yellowjacket a bug even for alliterative reasons, which is another reason I probably shouldn't send the above email. Can't have the math professor I work for knowing I don't have my insect orders straight. what a mortifying thought

#It's really funny in a surreal way. Local spheksophobe defeated by bone. #This was very entertaining to write and cathartic but I cannot emphasize enough how accurate it is to how I'm actually feeling right now #It's so frustrating having a fear that every fiber of my rational being knows is overblown but I'm too paralyzed to actually do anything #vent #Svet rambles #also yellowjackets are legit really cool I do recommend reading up on them

[jossambird]

In the moon’s light 🌕 P6

Ingo x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Adaman being angry, Melli being Melli

Ao3 for all parts!

-

(Day of the gathering)

Ingo stood outside of this tent, thinking, staring absentmindedly at the brightening sky. He knew not of another sky to compare it to but felt deep within himself that it was just as beautiful as the sky he once knew. Had known, had seen. The sky he once shared with… the other man.

Ever since Lady Irida had come by the day before to inform him of the gathering there would be later today, Ingo had felt a certain kind of nervousness roiling in his gut, occupying his mind with easy success.

A gathering between the Pearl and Diamond Clans… for you.

Oh how far away his conversation with Lord Adaman now felt, but nothing could change how frighteningly fresh it remained in his mind. Sleep had been hard to come by since, paralyzing dreams and nightmares plaguing him as he’d imagine what Volo could have done to you, could still do to you, would have done to you-

“Keep your brows like that any longer and they might remain so.” A voice spoke behind him, startling Ingo as he registered the woman’s sudden clipped words.

“Lady Calaba, good morning!” Ingo greeted her, turning away from the orange and pink sky above that reminded him of your flushed cheeks after winning a battle against him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today, Lady Calaba?”

“I am here to prepare you for the gathering, of course.” She spoke after a moment of observing him, as if to assertain if he was stupid.

“This is a formal gathering, Warden Ingo, and to my knowledge, you do not know how a formal gathering works, correct?” The elder woman asked, a devious twinkle in her eyes as she continued to watch him but a frown occupying her aged lips.

“I apologize, Lady Calaba, I do not.” Ingo answered instead of enquiring any more questions, not wanting to garner the woman’s ire this early in the morning.

“That’s what I thought. Now, follow me, I must take your measurements.” Calaba spoke, already halfway towards his tent.

.

..

.

“Why do you appear nervous, Warden? Are you not a people’s person?” She quipped after a quiet moment had passed, eyes just as sharp as she continued her work in adjusting the hakama in her hands. Ingo cleared his throat, wondering just how deadly Warden Calaba had been in her young age, watching her skillfully work the needle in her hand.

“I…” He tried, mind muddled as he tried to find a way how to explain to her just how-

“You are nervous about the young woman, Y/N, correct?” Calaba cut him off, never removing her eyes from the fabric laid before her, continuing her work as if she had said nothing.

“Formidable, is she not? Be it taming Pokemon Deities or unknowingly attracting suitors, she has done both with surprising ease since she arrived. That poor Captain Cyllene of hers…” She trailed off, side eyeing Ingo as he stiffened beside her. His aire of nonchalance felt far too forced as he cleared his throat again, but it couldn’t amount to just how damning his icy voice incriminated him.

“Suitors, you say?” He quietly said, meaning for it to sound rhetorical but Calaba continued, eyes watching him.

“Hm, yes. Lady Irida told me that Y/N’s Commander and Captain have received a few letters some days ago from varying suitors, asking if they may court her. So far, none have been accepted by that father figure of hers or that daft boy that sees her as his sister and I don’t blame them.” Calaba honestly replied back, pretending not to notice the way Ingo gripped his cap closer to his visage.

Ingo felt his thoughts swirl, felt how his insides burned at the elder woman’s words. He knew he shouldn’t simply sit here and imagine you calling out his name again, imagining you under him or above him, thighs swung over his shoulders or held around his waist.

Though, neither fantasies helped ease the molten hot jealousy that now coursed within him, trying to dash away the new images of your thighs wrapped around another man's body instead, lips moaning someone else’s name.

“Do not be nervous of being in her presence, Warden Ingo, I doubt she will pay much attention to you.”

Ingo cringed, heart beating erratically as her words struck fear into his heart.

.

..

.

To say you had barely slept during the night was an understatement. Excitement and nervous fear had coursed through your veins the whole time but luckily you had been able to pass out, sleeping the remainder of the time until Rei knocked on your door as promised.

Lord Wyrdeer stood dutifully beside Rei, as if he were supposed to be there.

“I have no idea why Lord Wyrdeer is here, he was actually already outside of your door when I started making my way here.” Rei commented at your confused gaze, petting the Lord as it stood before the both of you. It seemed to wait for something, turning its eyes back towards you.

“Lord Wyrdeer, are you here to accompany me to the gathering because Adaman could not make it?” You asked after a moment of searching your brain, watching as the Noble pushed its head down in a nod before looking at you once more.

“Thank you Lord Wyrdeer. I have a few stops to make and then we can depart.” You finished, smiling at Pokemon as it nodded once more, laying down infront of your abode as if to wait for you there.

You instructed Rei to go to Anthe’s shop and retrieve your kimono whilst you moved towards the Galaxy Hall, seeking Cyllene out.

There she stood dutifully as ever in her office, waiting as if she were waiting only for you, a small tilt of her lips letting you know she was delighted to see you.

“Good morning Y/N. I trust you were able to sleep?” She asked as she motioned to the chair behind her, smiling wider as you groaned.

“If by sleep you mean paralyzing nervousness until I passed out, then yes, exactly.” You answered with a sigh but you couldn’t keep your frown, smiling along with the woman as she seemed to chuckle at your comment.

“Yes, love does that to one when nervous.”

You choked on the gasp that silently left your body, coughing as you tried to breathe once more. How had she-

Cyllene simply smiled a sad smile, watching you for a moment before speaking again.

“I feel like I must apologize, Y/N, for many a things. Once more have our actions robbed you of happiness, and you have my deepest apology.”

What actions? Instead of voicing your thought outloud, you remained silent, watching the way Cyllene silently ran her fingers over her desk as if she of all people were nervous.

“I was glad when you had promised me to stay in the village and recuperate, instead of throwing yourself left and right on that broken knee of yours…” She continued with a sigh, hands moving to her desk drawers and retrieving what seemed to be an antique comb before combing through your locks slowly.

“I had heard the rumors, bits and pieces and… it was not my place to ask you of such things, so I didn’t.”

“Why did you inform Irida and Adaman about the rumor?” You asked, voice cracking as you finally asked the question that had plagued you.

If she hadn’t informed Irida and Adaman, would Ingo have perhaps come back to the village?

To you?

“Commander Kamado believed it was the right thing to do due to Warden Ingo’s position as a Pearl Clan Warden, after seeing as the rumor had already spread throughout the whole village in a matter of hours… I hadn't fathomed that the Warden would no longer show up..”

It now made sense, as you listened to her pained words and sighs, watching the way the normally serious woman chewed at her bottom lip: Cyllene regretted having informed Irida and Adaman of the rumor, feeling that it was her fault that Ingo had never returned to Jubilife, to you.

You turned in her chair, eyes connecting with her vulnerable gaze as she tried to get out her next words.

“I understand now what my actions have cost you, and I apologize Y/N-“

You cut her off, hugging her from where you still sat, face against her clothed stomach just like a child would to their mother, equally seeking comfort and to comfort their mother.

“It’s alright Cyllene, you did what you thought was right. I understand that and I'm not cross with you.”

The regularly stoic woman held you just as tightly as a comfortable silence enveloped the both of you. She held you, hand stroking down your back as if you were the one on the verge of crying, but you didn’t dare mention that out loud. You weren't sure how much time had passed but you continued to embraced eachother a moment longer, enjoying the comfortable hug.

“Now, let’s get that hair of yours ready for an… active night.” Cyllene softly said with a light smirk, eyes sparkling as you groaned at her words.

Rei had quickly returned to your side, talking along with you and Cyllene as the woman combed and styled your hair. It hadn't been too long after that you found yourself once again in your small lodgings, packing items you thought you would need.

Your eyes drifted to the package Anthe had wrapped for you, cheeks flaming red as you were reminded of the unorthodox request you had asked of the woman.

You could only commend her though; She had taken the whole thing in strides, how you had showed up at her shop a week before, asking her to replicate the bundle of cloth you’d firmly held hidden in your pockets.

“What would the item be?” She had asked, suspicious as to why you hid the item in your pockets so fiercely.

“Uh… a type of uh… undergarment, from where I am from. I wanted to know if you could replicate it for me.” You had fumblingly answered. You knew that it was illogial; regardless of who might accidentally see your panties, they would most likely not know what they were, and would in turn not shame you out loud for having panties out in the open like this but the fear had remained nonetheless.

For a moment, you silently thanked Arceus you hadn’t fallen into Hisui with panties written “Daddy” on them.

You were especially glad that Anthe had not mentioned anything whilst Rei was there with you yesterday, knowing that you would never have lived down the humiliation.

You moved towards the bundle and opened the cloth, staring down at the multiple pairs of panties that Anthe had crafted you. Sure they didn’t quite resemble the pair you currently were wearing that you had been sent here in but you didn’t mind, simply happy to have other pairs to wear. Your fingers slowly picked up the lavender pair she had crafted for you and held them, mind wandering.

You hadn’t specified what colors you wanted, but her knowingly smug gaze had been too knowing.

Would Ingo like these? Would he adore them, kneading your behind and loving the feeling of your new panties against his hands? Would he notice that they were the same shade as his Warden uniform, wondering if you had planned this all along?

You hoped he would love them, smiling as you stuffed them into the packsack you had decided to bring along with you and headed outside to greet Lord Wyrdeer once more.

.

..

.

Calaba smiled as she finally stood up, placing the fabric softly onto the Warden’s bed to admire her own handywork.

“There you go, Warden Ingo, it is ready for you to wear to the Gathering.”

Ingo followed to where the woman’s outstretched hand motioned, silver-gray eyes landing on the beautiful ensemble laid out for him to see.

“Lady Calaba, I thank you, I am indebted to you. If I may ask, to whom does this Gathering attire belong to, so that I may thank them as well?” Ingo asked, fingers trailing over the newly done seams as if to verify them- Had he done that in his previous life, with the smiling man? Had he always checked the man’s work, going over it all in search of errors?

“To my late husband.” Calaba softly said, eyes trailed onto the haori before them both, pulling Ingo out of his faraway thoughts.

Ingo balked, eyes shooting back to the woman, throat tight at her words. Why was Lady Calaba-

“Stop looking at me so, Warden. If I was not comfortable giving you my husband's Gathering attire, I would not have brought it all the way here for you to try and wear.” Calaba spoke back, sharp eyes cutting through him in an instant, effectively killing any words he had been prepared to speak. He nodded, turning towards the elder woman once more and bowing, a chuckle exiting her at his manners.

A silence reigned within the tent as Ingo silently stared down at the garments. Calaba wondered what he was thinking, his silver-gray eyes seeming far far away-

“I-If I may, how do courting rituals work for members of the Pearl Clan?” Ingo asked, voice not even over a whisper, as if he feared being heard, as if he feared having his words mocked.

“F-For you and your husband I mean!” He quickly added, cheeks far too dark for someone asking such a question.

Calaba smiled inwardly, eyes closed as she listened to the man panic beside her.

.

..

.

Melli stared across Lord Electrode’s home, hands held tightly behind his back as he pondered.

Adaman confiding to him was nothing new, they had been eachothers confidantes since forever, but something about Adaman’s words yesterday had struck him…

“Melli, I need you to listen to me-“

“Adaman, can you not see that the Great Melli is busy?” He’d replied, busy doing absolutely nothing, watching Lord Electrode play with its children instead of listening to his leader’s plies.

“Melli I’m serious, I need you-“

But he hadn't listened, cutting the man off once more, determined to shut up his friend and instead pass a displeased face at his leader’s choices.

“Whatever it is, it surely cant be as important as your dumb little Gathering with the Pearl Clan-“

“MELLI!” Adaman yelled, face red with anger for what seemed to be the first time in his life, hands roughly grabbing at the taller man’s uniform. Silence reigned over them now, Melli startlingly staring into his friend’s eyes.

“You’ve been blowing me off left and right, ever since I announced the Gathering! You didn't even stay to hear the why!” Adaman barked, eyes reflecting more anger and pain than Melli had thought, startling the Warden further, regret coiling hotly in his gut at the sight of his friend and leader in distress. Oh, he had fucked up.

“I-“

“NO! You are going to shut up and listen to me for just one moment in your life!” The Diamond Clan leader cried out, tears beginning to leak down his cheeks.

Nothing could have ever prepared Melli for the words Adaman spoke next, whispered between them like a promise.

“I think Volo’s been trying to kill Y/N.”

He sighed, frustration coursing through his veins as his fingernails cut into his palms. Melli didn't even know what he was supposed to do to help; it's not like he was the best of friends with you. He had constantly blown you off for the past month since Adaman had brazenly told him how enamoured he was with you.

Electrode’s Warden had been so scared that you would somehow sniff out his own crush on you and call him out on it that he had done the only thing he knew to do: hide it under his rough words and attitude.

Maybe all of this was Karma for him pushing you away so much, acting like you weren't important, acting like you were beneath him… and yet, that's where he constantly dreamed of you being.

Melli cringed as he refocused his eyes, catching sight of the man who had captured your heart instead of him

#jossambird fic #pokemon legends arceus ingo #submas ingo #pla ingo #ingo x reader #subway boss ingo #pokemon ingo x reader #jossambird writes #warden ingo #in the moons light fic