#I AM HERE TO STAND ON THIS HILL AND I WILL DIE ON IT IF I HAD TO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

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bandgie · 7 months

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Agora Hills

Changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: You thought breaking up with Changbin was for the best, but he's here to remind you that's completely and utterly wrong.

warnings: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes, exes-to-lovers, rich!changbin, he's an asshole but means well, some angst mostly fluff, thats it lol

1.5k words

It's not as though you hated Changbin, quite the opposite actually.

He's caring, sweet, and would rip the shirt off his back if you asked. He would treat you well, spoil you like a baby. He's really the whole package...all for one thing.

As sweet as he is to you, he's too snobby with other people. You knew he had money, lots of it. Anyone with that amount to their name can let it get to their head, but Changbin loved showing off how much he had. You couldn't do it anymore.

The final straw was when you were out on a double date with your friends. The restaurant wasn't up to Changbin's taste, and he made it very clear he did not like it to everyone. You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but it was hard not to when he said, "This is why I don't like hanging out with the middle class, no offense. You guys just have no taste."

You saw red. Here was your boyfriend belittling the class your family has had to work their way into. With clenched teeth you apologized to your friends, broke up with Changbin, and had your friends drive you home.

It's been two weeks, and he's been calling you nonstop. Text after text, call after call, voicemail after voicemail. When you weren't picking up, he started sending gifts to your door. Jewelry, bouquets of flowers, clothes you knew cost more than your rent. Changbin had a habit of showing his love through materialistic ways, but it was getting annoying having to return them back to his address.

"You should ask for a car," your roommate chirps.

You only rolled your eyes and groaned in return. You slumped further into the couch before burying your face in your hands.

"You're supposed to be helping me," you say frustratingly.

"I am," she protests. "Your shit car is breaking down, again, and you and I both know damn well your little sugar daddy would love to buy you a better one."

Angrily, you place your hands on the sides of the couch and sit up. "He's not my sugar daddy! Don't call him that."

Your roommate tsks and shakes her head, "Whatever. Have you called him at least?"

You shake your head back, "I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"Well, maybe you should," she reasons. "Some guys need to hear it more than once, especially if you just up and left him like that. Who knows, maybe you can work things out too."

"I have," you stress. "He's just so...ignorant sometimes. And plus, I can't take him back after what he said to you."

Rather than seeming upset, your roommate shrugs. "I've heard worse. Plus I don't think he meant it in a bad way, like you said, he's just a little ignorant."

Her aloofness makes you both on edge and at ease. It's good to hear that she wasn't as offended as you thought she'd be, but her being so nonchalant about your situation is irritating.

In times like these, you wish someone could just tell you what to do.

"I say you call him," she answers your prayers. "If he's an ass, it only proves that you were right to dump him. If he's not, then you either owe him a better breakup or another chance."

Finding resolution, you stand to your feet and grab your phone from the coffee table. "You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is."

Changbin picks up on the first ring. Not that it should surprise you, but the rehearsed words die in your throat when he answers with an overly excited hello?

When you don't answer he prompts you again, "Baby...are you there?"

You can feel the way your heart clenches at the pet name. It's only been a mere two weeks since you've heard his voice and you're already wanting to cry.

"Don't call me that," your voice is small.

"Why not?" He asks. You can hear how shaky his voice is, but you convince yourself it's the static. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have said that in the first place. "Are you not my baby anymore?"

You have to chew on your bottom lip and look up to the ceiling of your room to keep yourself from crying. A few seconds pass before you speak, "I dunno...Changbin you really...you really messed up."

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm stupid. I hurt you and embarrassed you in front of your friends. I would do it over again if I could, baby believe me. We can fix this, I can be better. I love you, you know that."

He's right, you do know that. There wasn't a moment in your relationship where you doubted his love for you. Changbin has been a little snobby before, but that doesn't compare to his overwhelming adoration for you.

"I love you too Binnie," you sniff. "I wanna fix this too."

You swear you can hear him smile behind the phone. "That's all I need to hear baby. You mean so much to me that I can't even explain it, you know that?"

Despite the tears on your waterline you laugh, "Yeah I do Binnie. You mean a lot to me too."

Changbin laughs with you. "I miss you baby...it's so lonely in my mansion."

Whatever tenderness you had filling your heart dissipates and is replaced with agitation. "Jesus this is exactly what I mean! It's those little stupid fucking remarks that-"

"No! Baby baby I didn't mean it like that! It's a Doja Cat song-"

"-and here I was really wanting to make things work and you just-"

The two of you begin to talk over one another, the previous confessions nearly forgotten. It takes Changbin profusely apologizing and begging for you to stop arguing.

"Over the phone isn't gonna cut it. I'll send a limo and you can come over. Please baby, we can fix this."

You sigh heavily and collapse on your bed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Okay."

No matter how many times you enter Changbin's house, if you can call it that, it always leaves you breathless. Polished floors, high ceilings, with chandeliers dangling up above you. It's clean, not a speck of dust in sight, most likely thanks to the many invisible housemaids.

He had ushered you to his room, sitting you on his couch as he remained standing.

It felt good to see him, even if you were pissed. He was as muscular as ever, a black tank top showing his pecs and arms deliciously. He must've worked out before you came, he tended to use the gym as a stress reliever.

"There's really no excuse I have other than I'm stupid." Changbin starts.

You let a small breath of air out that mimics laughter, "You don't have to tell me that.

Changbin smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He pauses. "At the dinner, I really don't know why I even said that. I didn't mean to hurt you, or your friends. It's was inappropriate and fucked up of me. We can go and I can apologize to them. Anything you want me to do, just name it."

Timidly, he gets on his knees between your legs and takes your hands into his own. "I love you. I love everything about you even if I complain like an idiot. I'm just not used to...some things, but I don't want that to be the end of us. I can learn, and I can change. Just don't leave me. Please."

God, if there's one thing Changbin is good at, it's begging. His hot breath fans over your bare legs, sending chills up your body. You can feel the heat of his body rolling off onto yours. He looks beautiful. His dark, messy curls that sit at the top of his head, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips pout.

As big as he is, he's still a baby.

Your baby.

Gently, you untangle your hands from his, and his face drops for a moment. You quickly place them on his face, pulling him forward until his lips meet your own.

Changbin squeaks at the feel of your kiss, but his initial shock turns into passion. He grips the side of your face with one hand while the other steadies himself on your knee. It's gentle, the way he pulls back for a moment before diving back in.

There’s nothing but love in his featherlight lips enveloping yours. All you can feel is him, his passion, his devotion to you. All the things he wants to say- no, he needs to say is conveyed through the kiss.

His hands snakes to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. It doesn't take long before his lips don't feel like enough, and you're both opening your mouths to taste each other.

It makes your heart swoon to know that he tastes the same. Familiar. Safe.

Changbin grows bold, the hand on your knee moving up to grip the plushness of your thighs.

"So, you forgive me?" He asks between kisses.

You pull back and pretend to think, "I don't know. Why should I?"

This makes Changbin smile, fully. "I can show you. Would that be better?"

The hand on your thigh inches to the hem of your shorts. The way his warm fingers caress your skin makes you involuntarily open your legs a little wider.

"I guess that'll do for now."

a/n: this is a little different from what I usually post, but I like it. hope you do too! thank you @then-make-me for editing/proofreading!

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zonigiri · 1 year

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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing: gojo x f!reader

summary: inspired by this post by @gojoest and tags/addition by @kagelun. i have nothing to say for myself (sorry)

wc: 1.2k

cw: fluff, gojo being gojo & divider credits to @saradika!

a/n: wrote the outline for this fic in my 20mins break at work and finished it mostly on bus rides to and from work. felt like i needed that to be mentioned somewhere

"I hate when you do that," Gojo whined from his place on the bed, lying with his limbs spread out. He had a habit of making the queen sized bed look like a single whenever he was even partially horizontal on it.

"Do what?" you ask absentmindedly, in the middle of putting your clothes back on.

"That."

"Toru we've been over this, I'm not moving in with you. Living with you would drive me actually insane."

You're facing away but you can feel his pout deepen. You hear the tell tale sounds of the bed squeaking and you know the menace you call your boyfriend, is making his way over to you with an impassioned defense. He might as well have flashcards with him and sometimes you wonder how if he wasn't a man-child with such ridiculous hills to die on, or the strongest sorcerer in this world, in an alternate universe he would've made a decent lawyer.

"That's not what I was talking about but now that you've brought it up, I can think of at least 5 reasons why-"

"Gojo," you turn to face him with a pointed stare. He withers under your gaze and your use of his formal name and you go back trying to get the clasps of your bra to get to stick to the intended hooks, instead of the one above or the one below. After a few moments of fiddling, you give up fighting a losing battle.

"Can you do my clasps?"

You look over your shoulder at Gojo, glance at your hands and look back at him expectantly. He shifts to stand behind you, fingers gentle and unsure as you feel them on your back. You let go of the straps in your hand and wait patiently.

"This is what I meant, you know."

You tilt your head to the side a little and because over months Gojo has learned to read your little gestures like a book, he knows that despite your silence that's a sign for him to continue. Not that he ever needed one anyway.

"Why do you need to wear when you have all the support you need right here?"

Gojo cups your breasts with his large hands. You lightly smack his hands with yours but all that makes him do is give them a little squeeze.

"Look at how much better I am at this! I can hold them exactly the way you want them to!"

Like a child at a science fair demonstrating his beloved project, Gojo proceeds to squeeze your breasts closer together along with his words. You let out a sigh and a little shake of your head, and you decide to humour him to try and beat him at his game.

"...plus my hands are so much warmer! And they're definitely more comfortable than some of these godawful ones."

He glares dirtily at your open lingerie drawer.

"That's not what you called them when I wore them for you last Friday."

"You're not playing fair," he mumbles into your neck.

You give it some time, basking momentarily in the warmth of Gojo's body so close to yours, before you place your hands over the ones covering your breasts and kiss his fingertips.

"Toru, I'm going to miss my bus, will you please do my clasps?"

"Hai," he says in a drained monotone like a school child being asked to do something dreadfully boring.

Satoru keeps his word this time and you hear the little click of the hooks attaching in place. Tugging your bra to make yourself comfortable, you turn around in his arms to place a sweet kiss on Gojo's lips, "Thank you baby."

Leaving him standing, you walk over to pick up your jumper and you quickly slip into it. While pulling up your jeans you noticed Gojo's attention had shifted and he was now inspecting the contents of your drawer. Picking up the straps of cloth and lace and trying to figure them out with the face of someone trying to solve a nuclear equation with utmost concentration.

You don't have to wait for long to know what he's thinking, you hardly do. Gojo never shies away from voicing his opinions. All of them, no matter how inane or inappropriate.

"You know, I think I'd be better at designing these."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean you keep saying the wire hurts and…" you hear bits and pieces of what he says , his voice full of robust conviction while you finish getting ready. In the meantime, Gojo appears to have taken a serious interest in the construction of female lingerie. You didn't have the heart to explain the intricacies of women's fashion and how since ages, pain and discomfort was woven into the very fabric and principle. Not right now anyway, while you were already running late for a bus with a temperamental schedule and a history of not following it. You looked into the mirror for a last quick check to make sure everything was in place and you walked over to your boyfriend, still somewhat lost in thought. You took his face between your hands, squished him gently and kissed him after letting go.

"Bye baby, love you!"

As always Gojo's lips stay on yours for a little longer, even after you pull away. Ending kisses is not something Gojo excels at, especially not when they're with you. He pulls away reluctantly and with that, you're gone. The door behind you shuts with a little click and Gojo's left to his own devices for the day.

Later that night you're cuddled in bed with him, his limbs wrapped around you like a blanket, the only way he knows how. Gojo's voice pipes up in the dark, "You know, I think I've figured out how to make it work."

"Hm?"

"How to make the bras work without hurting. I even came up with designs, I think you'd like them."

There's silence, but he knows you're awake and you're listening. He knows the rhythm of the way your chest rises and falls when you're asleep in his arms.

"I even came up with the name of the company."

You shuffle a little in his hold to turn to face him. Even when lying down, his face is a whole head above yours.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Gojo's secret."

It takes a while for it to sink in and then your laughter rings out in the dead of the night. A genuine, hearty outburst at his very earnest response. It gets you an offended, "Hey! It's a good name! I mean I might run into copyright issues but I…" and Gojo pulls you closer to him in efforts to get you to listen to him seriously but you don't hear the rest of it very clearly over the sound of your own laugh. With every next word that comes out of his mouth you collapse into a fresh fit of giggles and Gojo complains that you're not listening to his flawless 7-step-plan to take over the whole industry that he spent all day thinking up. Pouty that you're not taking him seriously, despite the fact that you almost never do, Gojo untangles you (gently) from his grasp and turns around to face the other way.

" 'm not talking to you."

You're used to his antics by now so you turn to spoon him, throwing your leg over his with abandon and slipping your hand over his chest. You hear a little "hmph" uttered under his breath without any real malice but all it does is make you squeeze him a little tighter (lovingly).

"Goodnight Toru, love you."

You press a kiss to his shoulder and shuffle in closer to him to make yourself comfortable to go to sleep. The next morning when you wake up, and you wake up earlier than Gojo does, you realize the two of you are in exactly the opposite position from when you went to bed. You're curled up against Gojo, back to his chest, and one of his hands has somehow made its way through the night to loosely cup your left breast in his large hand.

#gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x yn #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x fluff #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru fluff #t.writes #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

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deeply-unserious-fellow · 3 months

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Did that Hazbin shipping chart Ive seen floating around cuz like why not lmao

And here are all the layers individually cuz this ended up being kind of a mess-

I will DIE on the Serapent hill I don't CARE!!!!!!! Also Sera wasn't close enough to the other 2 for me to make any marks abt it but CherriSeraPent has my attention and the more I consider it the more I like it tbh.

Guitarspear has a little heart next to it cuz they're my favorite <3

I have weird feelings abt shipping Valentino. I firmly believe the only characters that are really. Okay to ship with him are the other Vees and maybe Niffty. Like Im not gonna go around attacking other ppl abt it, rlly if you see content you don't like the best thing you can do is block and move on, but I still don't like the idea of him in a relationship to the point where even the ships involving him I DO support are on thin ice(hence why Velval and Staticmoth individually are so low). That being said I am nothing if not a sucker for dysfunctional polycules(I will DIE ON THE POLYVEES HILL TOO, FUCK YOU!!!!!!), and the idea of Niffty terrorizing Val and being kinda like his horrible purse dog(thanks @/kibbles-bits lmfao) is funny asf, so I am willing to make exceptions on my no shipping Val stance lmfao.

Velmilla is in the NOTP section because the theory that Velvette is one of Carmilla's daughters is compelling enough to me that I don't feel comfortable shipping them at all, but I did stripe it w/ "maybe?/neutral" bcuz if that theory ends up being undeniably disproven next season then there's probably some potential there Idk

Husk x Alastor is a NOTP bcuz I think enough parallels between Val and Alastor have been pulled that the ship is iffy at BEST. Like it's not an immediate block if you ship it but it is kind of a red flag to me. Dont feel as much vitriolic disgust towards it as I do other NOTPs tho so it's also in the not for me section.

I forgot to draw friend lines between Niffty and Charlie/Vaggie smh... I also forgot to draw one between Pentious and Vaggie/Husk wtf- WAIT I ALSO FORGOT TO PUT ONE BETWEEN HUSK AND VAGGIE FUCK-

Also once again they weren't close enough for me to make any marks abt it but STATICRADIOROSE MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!!!! ALSO STATICRADIOROSE + VELVETTE!!!!!!!!!! I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I STAND ON VELVETTE/ALASTOR OR VELVETTE/ROSIE INDIVIDUALLY THO IM GONNA NEED TO THINK ON THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!

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mortal-song · 2 years

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thinking about hill house, “no live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed by some to dream,” and the way this became the foundation of every mike flanagan series since. these characters exist under conditions of grief in all its forms. that’s their reality. grief for the dead, grief for the living, grief for themselves, for the dreams laid to rest, the hopes never realized… in hill house, every sibling dreams of something better. they dream of a life — or a death — in which they are unburdened. the shape of this wish is different for each of them, but the wish itself is omnipresent. as kids it manifested in each variation of the red room, something they could “live” in. as adults it manifested as the ghosts they choose to ignore, the ghosts that heal them once they’re seen.

then you have bly manor, where the dream remains the same but the angle and approach are new. hannah dreams just so she can be seen in death. she dreams of the life she could have had with owen, of the love that life left unfulfilled so she plays it out as a ghost. and this tethers her to the physical realm until her ghost, her wish, is acknowledged. rebecca regrets. rebecca is an outlier. she regrets the nature of her death and the life that was stolen from her, but in her death she dreams for those she can push away from her own fate. dani and jamie dream of a life in which they are together, unharmed, and they get to revel in this for a while, and it’s good and it’s peaceful until fate rears its head. but the wish was seen, and so the regret doesn’t exist. hill house says “you have to live / there is no without, i am not gone.” and bly manor says “here is how to live again, even though our roads will meet at the same place.”

and then in the midnight club, this theme persists. and it persists. these kids all exist with the knowledge that they soon won’t. so they dream, they tell stories every night and live out their hopes, put pieces of themselves into the world just so that these pieces can stick around after they’re gone. hill house says “a ghost is a wish / we are all stories in the end,” and the midnight club responds with “a story never dies.” and that’s just how these shows are now. hill house laid the foundations, and every show of mike’s now stands on them. these narratives all haunt each other. if one character starts a thought, a character in a different story will finish it. if one character can’t remain within a dream, a character in another story will live and die in it. the dreams are always different, the grief is always different, but the foundations are the same and the end result is, too: live — choose love and live until your soul is taken. despite, despite, despite.

nobody can exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality, so they dream instead,

#hill house #bly manor #the midnight club #i never watched midnight mass im sorry #mike flanagan #the haunting of hill house #the haunting of bly manor

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melinoelliones · 1 year

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Meliodas - NSFW ALPHABET

Imma probably do this with a few of the SDS’s characters but imma start with my man <3 If you have any requests drop them in my inbox or comment!!

Our opinions may be different so don’t jump me LMAO! There are x Fem Reader and X GN Reader

This has been queued for Saturday the 3rd of June n I’ve never done this queue thing before so I pray it works. I am currently super sick from con so bare with me ya’ll.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Meliodas is veryyy touchy feely as we know so he defo wants to be close to you. Probably wraps you up in a blanket and holds you as close to him as physically possible. Wants to make sure you are comfy and feelin okay. Covers you with kisses and tells you how well you did and he’s proud of you. If you’re not too tired he’d defo run you a bath and help bathe you, making sure to be super gentle with you.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part on himself is probably his torso and above. He’s got an impressive set of muscles so I can see him showin em off now and then. Probably loves to show you how easily he can move you wink wink

His favourite body part of yours would be chest, ass and thighs. We all know he’s a titty person but I know for a FACT he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have his head between your thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I wanna say he’d love to see it on that pretty face of yours along with in your mouth. Seeing it drip down the sides of your mouth as you attempt to take every drop.

I also think on your breasts, seeing it run down them is a sight he’d never want to forget.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Barely a secret but he loves to fuck you in public, especially in risky places. Like during rush hour at the Boar Hat he slips you into the closet downstairs, or he’ll have you standing behind the bar while he eats you out on his knees, you struggling to take orders as he does it. Defo likes to play with you under the table at the Sins meeting too, 98% sure everyone knows what he’s doing but acts oblivious.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You was his first and vice versa. He defo knows what he’s doing and is always down for experimenting.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl is one of them, he loves to see himself sliding in and out of you along with your ass

Us riding him, he’s a tits guy so having them bounce in his face while you’re taking him all in is like a 2 in one. Bonus points if he gets one in his mouth, he loves to suck on them while you struggle to keep going.

Doggy, especially after a rough day. He wants nothing more than to see how you moan and tear up as he pounds into you with absolutely zero remorse. Seeing how you desperately cry out for him to be rougher with you is a sight to see

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Helloooo its Meliodas we are talking about. It wouldn’t be Meli if he didn’t crack a joke here and there. Loves to make you laugh regardless so if he can while fucking you why wouldn’t he?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I will die on this hill but I think he keeps himself trimmed pretty good! He ain’t naked or anything but keeps it nice.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends. Most of the time he’s superrrr intimate, showering you will kisses and sweet talking you. But other times not so much but there is a BALANCE!! He will always show you a sweet side though, even during the roughest of sessions.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He can defo jack off to just the thought of you alone. I don’t wanna say its often as he’s around you 24/7 and would prefer to do it with you/in you than alone, but if he’s super pent up then aye, gotta do what ya gotta do.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

THIS IS MY OPINION BUT

Breeding kink for sure. Dude wants nothing more than to breed you, to fill you up to the brim and see you pregnant. The thought of you holding his child is one that sits in his mind constantly.

Dumbification, fucking you till you can’t even form a thought in your mind. The only thing you can do is cry out for more of him.

Restraints, this is pretty canon anyway but yeah. He loves to be tied up while you get full control to do whatever you please with his body, wether that be for his satisfaction or yours he does not care as long as you’re happy. He also likes to tie you up and watch your body twitch as he plays with you.

Somnophilia, he thinks you look so pretty and innocent while you sleep. On more than one occasion he has defo eaten you out whilst you slept, waking you up with the mother of all orgasms. When he’s come home late from being with the sins he has used your body to help him relieve some stress. ALL 100% CONSENSUAL BETWEEN YOU TWO!

Uniforms, he loves to fuck you in your Boar Hat uniform. He designed it so of course yours is a tiny bit smaller than the others, along with extra openings for easy access. He has several different versions of the uniform so you get to test them all.

Breast fucking for sureeeee. He loves your tits, so having his cock between them is a dream come true.

Also the thought of being seen turns him on to the MAX! Having people see how good he fucks you and how he makes you feel.

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

He loves anywhere in the Boar Hat; over the tables, on the counter, against the door. Eating you out on the tables or counter is his favourite pastime. He also loves the bedroom, your face full of pillow n tears while he rams into you, loves it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, just you. Anything you do honestly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I feel like he’s down for almost anything but doesn’t want anything to do with like knives or blood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give than receive but he loves to receive. Would give anything to have you sit on his face after a long day, he’d gladly eat you out while you tell him all about it. You are his favourite meal.

“What’s up, why the long face? Come sit on my face while you tell me”

He likes to receive too but it’s not a necessity, seeing you attempt to make him feel good is a major turn on though. You on your knees, his cock down your throat with tears in your eyes, he adores it. He gives you all the praise as you suck him off.

“Look at you, you're doing such a good job”, he’d coo as he’d stroke the side of your face whilst deepthroating him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

All of the above.

Sometimes he’ll be super rough, demon mark showing and all while he pounds into you to the point where you’re almost drooling. No thoughts in your mind, only his name ringing through. Dirty talk all the way.

Other times he’s super slow and intimate, taking his time so you can enjoy every feeling, every movement. Smothering you in love bites and comments as he pulls in and out of you.

During quickies it's a mix of both.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

HE LIVESSSS FOR A QUICKIE! Especially since the sins are always on the go, they need to be able to do it anywhere and FAST. I wanna say y'all have them several times a week, he’s always up for em.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is the definition of risk taker. The sins are coming back and there's like 5 minutes till they get back? Okay lets fuck right here on this table before they make it. Oh the King is coming downstairs? Let's have a quickie before he gets here. Like he does not CAREEEEEEE!

He also loves to experiment. Anything you wanna try he will do and if he has an idea he will always bring it up to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Demon Kings first born, dude has stamina for days. He could go like 4 rounds without breakin a sweat. You are his weakness though so sometimes he won’t last very long in you, like if you’re begging and whining out for him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has toys for you, for when he is gone and can’t bring you. He also loves to edge you with a vibrator then take over. He lets you have free reign when it comes to toys for him, whatever you want him to try he’s open.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s a teaser! Sometimes he can be super mean and leave you for a considerable amount of time until you lose your orgasm before going back. But only sometimes, regardless he does love to see you beg for him to let you come or beg for him to touch you and make you feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t super loud unless like you’re sucking him off, he defo whimpers and whines a little when you do it, a few hisses and curses too.

He loves when you’re super loud though, he wants everyone to know how well he fucks you. He legit does not care who can hear as long as they can hear. Wants to hear you moan out his name through the tavern.

The sins hate it but then they invested in soundproof walls LMAO.

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

Okay this one is kinda random and i’m 50/50 on it but he wants to see Ban fuck you. He wants to watch it. Watch how Ban attempts to outdo him but knows he could never as you shoot him a wink or a moan he knows is fake. That or a threesome with you and Ban. He’d take front to see your pretty little face while Ban takes back.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Meli is big, don’t care what anyone says. He is girthy and veiny. Maybe not super long but trust me, the girth alone will have you on cloud 9. Let's say 6/7 inches ish.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Crazy high. Ya’ll are defo fucking almost everyday, wether that be quickies or long sessions, its pretty much everyday.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He will always wait for you to be in a deep sleep before even thinking about passing out. He will hold you close to him on his chest until he hears your soft snores, gives you a kiss on the top of your head and THEN falls asleep. He can’t sleep unless he knows you feel safe and comfortable.

#meliodas #meliodas smut #sds meliodas #sds meliodas smut #nnt meliodas #nnt meliodas smut #nnt smut #meliodas x reader #meliodas x reader smut #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai smut #nanatsu no taizai x reader #nanatsu no taizai x reader smut #Seven Deadly Sins #seven deadly sins smut #seven deadly sins x reader #seven deadly sins x reader smut #meli noel work's

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bestanimatedmovie · 1 year

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Choose your favorite!

Vote in the other polls!

What fans say:

Kung Fu Panda:

Honestly iconic. The progression of story, the message, the acting.

The way this movie balances tone is nothing less than astonishing to me. It's funny and lighthearted but also intense and dramatic and neither ever take away from the other. Every joke and emotional beat lands excellently. Not to mention. The fight scenes SLAP. And so does the score!!

It's just GOOD. I love how all of them were insanely genuine. Po genuinely wanted to be a Kung Fu master. The Furious Five genuinely wanted to be the very best like no one ever was. And Tai Lung genuinely wanted to kick the shit out of anyone that even looked at that dragon scroll. But seriously one of the best movies.

Treasure Planet:

The setting and focal relationship!

WHALES IN SPACE. Second best treasure island adaptation (#1 is muppets). The song The Song!!

Where do I begin with this movie? It blends CG and hand drawn animation beautifully. All of the backgrounds are gorgeous. There are so many cool alien designs. The score is absolutely perfect. The amount of detail put into the design and worldbuilding shines through. All of the characters are so much fun to watch, especially Long John Silver and Captain Amelia. This movie takes at least partial responsibility for my love of space/sky pirates. Also it was actively sabotaged by Disney so I need to vouch for it at every chance.

Space pirates in a classic novel. It's gorgeously animated with a blend of 2d and 3d. Also, LONG JOHN SILVER HAS A 3D HAND thats hecking impressive for a main character to be a blend of the two in 2002. Did I mention the twink protagonist and malewife for the rich halfwit son? The aliens are beautifully unique, and a mantis guy floats off into space. from a pirate ship. because they aren't just space pirates, they're aliens and cyborgs on pirate ships going through space. Which fucking rocks.

It's a genuinely creative adaptation of Treasure Island that has so much heart and incredible animation. It helped pioneer 3D animationa nd it was the first feature animated film to utilize both 2 and 3 D animation

The animation is so good, and the way that the antogonist isn't black and white, he genuinely cares for the protagonist <3

Pirate ships in space!

Watched this on loop as a kid, gave me solace for not growing up with a dad

It fucks

The ☆A n i m a t i o n☆!! And captain Amelia

It's so fun looking, cool character design. It's funny, it's emotional. I love it so very much please aaaaaaa

How this movie looks is absolutely amazing. A space-steampunk pirate story with fantastic visuals and (mostly) great characters. The vibes this movie has are off the charts. Jim is the bad-boy-good-heart kid, the doctor is a silly-goofy-but-oddly-competent support and Silver is a complex father-figure-who's-made-mistakes. Also MORT the cute little jelly that won me over in 0.5 seconds flat. I am also a slut for a good soundtrack and this one SLAPS. I will stand by my opinion that the Russian version of the song I'm Still Here did a better job of fitting the montage and the mood. That's a hill I will die on.

#Kung Fu Panda #Treasure Planet #best animated movie #round 2 #tournament poll #tumblr's favorite

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bless-my-demons · 1 year

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Redamancy: Chapter Four

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Almost-car accident? Talk of getting smushed by a car.

Notes: Finally, a little something-something! I’m trying to post on the weekends to have some sort of schedule, but I have zero impulse control… so here it is a day early!

Word Count: 2146

Series Masterlist

• January 25th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Jasper

Not only am I lucky enough to spend lunch with Y/n, but some godly force must be watching out for me in that today’s history assignment allowed me to team up with her and learn more about her.

Her energy is absolutely fascinating and it almost worries me that I’m internally compelled to want to spend even more time in her presence. Two days and I’m already a goner, Emmett is going to have a field day interrogating me tonight.

Which leads me to now, after completing our history assignment with only a few minutes to spare, I’m escorting her to her car in an effort to prolong this addiction to her attention.

“Where are you from?” I ask, curious to know anything about her.

“Texas. Well, Dallas more specifically.” She’s still watching the ground as we walk, nervousness pouring from her.

“Why Forks? You couldn’t of picked a more completely opposite environment.” I miss my home state, and if it weren’t for my adversion to the sun - I would return.

“My parents divorced.” She continues before I could apologize for the intrusive question, “Happily divorced and I protested the whole ‘stay together until she graduates’ bullshit.” Fingers gesturing around the air quotations.

She trails off after that, circling back to our history assignment that no doubt has her still worked up. The Civil War, I cringe internally at today's topic since it’s a sore one for myself - having lived through it and fought in it.

“All I’m saying is, maybe history class should be more focused on the lessons learned, than just the events themselves.” She states rather passionately while inserting the key into the lock on the driver’s door of her car.

“To recognize and avoid in the future.” I respond, leaning my back against the rear of the small vehicle as I scan the wet parking lot packed with kids.

“Exactly!” She pops her head up, an excited smile in place as she garners my gaze again.

But just over her shoulder my eyes flick up to catch the sight of a blue van headed our direction a little too quickly for such a busy spot. A car horn blaring has her turning in its direction and the gasp I hear across the parking lot from Alice sends me into action. I grab Y/n by the waist and spin her against her car, so that my back might take the brunt of the hit, but it never comes as the rear of the van just barely slides past us. I relax the grip I have on her and tear my eyes from hers as I spin my head in the direction of the vehicle, ready to yell at the driver for being so reckless. The words die in my throat as I see where it’s headed - straight for Isabella Swan.

“Bella!” Y/n screams, but it’s lost in the screech of tires and the headphones in her ears that are keeping the outside world out.

Just as I’m about to damn us all to save another girl from this idiot driver, Edward flashes past to stop the van from crushing the Sheriff’s daughter.

“Fuck.” I whisper, glancing back to where my other adopted siblings are standing next to their own vehicles - faces unreadable, but emotions blaring alarm.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Please be safe getting home?” I ask her urgently as I peel my fingers from where they want to stay gripping her, safe and close to me.

“But Jas-“ she starts, a little shell shocked at my quick action of saving her and the close call with her friend.

A whistle from Emmett interrupts her before she can interrogate me, so I flash her an apologetic smile before jogging at a normal human pace to the familiar silver Jeep. My hands flex in my lap the entire tense ride home, warm and tingly from when I gripped Y/n to protect her fragile little human body.

If we weren’t vampires already, this family meeting about to take place would definitely give Carlisle a full head of gray hair.

• January 26th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Hey, mind catching me up on what that was yesterday?” I immediately bombard Jasper as I sit across from him at what I’ve mentally deemed ‘our table’ at lunch.

He glances up from his sketchbook with a look that says he wasn’t prepared for my blunt line of questioning.

“The saving you from certain death part, or?” He leaves open ended for me to clarify.

“The part where Bella was alone next to her truck, but your brother teleported to her side AND somehow the van skidded to a stop right before turning them both into pancakes?” I’m not pulling my punches with my queries, after having spent last night stewing over what I had seen.

“He wasn’t that far from her when I moved you out of the way, I must’ve distracted you enough that you didn’t see him walking to her after he got out of class. Plus, the van wasn’t going that fast, maybe when it hit the back of her truck the tires got traction and he could brake properly.” He answers, turning his gaze back to his sketch and resuming his work.

I don’t really buy it, but I mull over my recount of yesterday afternoon as I pull my lunch from my bag. Was I so focused on Jasper the moment he put his hands on me? Was I so soda-strawed in on Bella being in the way of the van that I missed Edward?

No, something isn’t adding up. I know that van was hauling ass in the parking lot, I was going to yell as much at the idiot driving before I saw it headed for Bella. But I can also tell I won’t be getting the answers I want from Jasper. I can tell from the rigidity of his spine that he’s worried I’ll ask more questions. I mean, his recount of the accident isn’t out-landish, but I know what I saw!

I need to talk to Bella.

“Yeah I guess that makes sense.” I acquiesce. I see him deflate a little with relief as I pick at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.” I add nervously, a little heat working it’s way onto my cheeks.

Jasper glances up to my face and with a small smile, “Anytime Y/l/n, anytime.”

• January 27th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Bella!” I yell down the hallway, catching her as she slams her locker shut. I jog over to her as she turns towards the exit, everyone that has Mr. Banner for Biology is going on a field trip today.

“Hey Y/n, what’s up?” She questions, seeing the look on my face.

“Tuesday, parking lot, what the hell happened?” I jump right into it.

“Tyler must’ve lost traction-“

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Edward was nowhere near you.” Cutting off her redirection. “Jasper won’t budge, he insists I was distracted and didn’t see his brother before the accident.”

Bella glances around the hallway and decides to pull me into the empty female bathroom for some privacy.

“Edward is avoiding me, I was asking him the same questions when I was at the hospital and he refused to answer.” She answers nervously.

“It’s weird, right? I mean, one second I’m unlocking the door to my car, and the next Jasper spins me around to protect my body with his. And then I see Edward jump over the tailgate of your truck when I thought Tyler’s van was going to end you.” I’m just rambling the thoughts that have been pinging around the last two days.

I can see her hesitate, “You can talk to me, you know? I kinda don’t have any friends besides you, I mean - if you want to be friends?” I tack on the last part, worried I’d over stepped.

“Yeah no, of course - I um, I could use a friend to vent to.” Bella glances down at her shoes, picking at the sleeves of her sweater as the both of us exit the bathroom. “He’s coming on today’s class trip, I’ll talk to him then and see what I can find out.”

“Perfect, want to sit with me on the bus?” I ask, walking out of the building for the student parking lot where the buses are waiting.

“As if I’d risk getting stuck sitting with Mike Newton, absolutely.” She jokes back. “I’m going to grab my book from my truck, I’ll be there in a sec - save us a seat!” She yells as she jogs to her vehicle across the parking lot.

As I board the first bus I can hear Mr Banner yell at everyone loitering in the parking lot, “Yo yo yo, hey guys c’mon! We gotta go, we gotta go! Green is what? Good, let’s go!”

A few moments later Bella joins me in our claimed seat, book in hand looking a little frazzled. I see Mike pass us with a forlorn expression on his face, “Oh God, what happened?” I ask.

“He asked me to prom and I told him to ask Jessica, please don’t make me talk about it.” She answers with what I assume is a shiver of discomfort.

I want to laugh, but I just grin instead. “Your not-so-secret admirer fumble is safe with me, Bells.” I knock my shoulder into hers to tease her a little as I crack open my own book I brought for the bus ride.

• Community College Greenhouse •

Reader

Walking alone in line through the greenhouse, my hands drift over the different sprouting vegetables. Behind me I can hear Mr. Banner giving a spiel on “compost tea” and how its derived from table scraps and other organic waste. Every now and then my fingers float over the soft petals of flowers placed sporadically through the hundreds of food-producing plants; earlier it was explained that they encourage pollinators to visit.

Even though I’m a smidge lonely since Bella is hanging back with Edward, I’m glad to be surrounded by greenery instead of stuck in a stuffy classroom.

Just as Tyler Crowley pushes past with a clear mug of what looks like poop/dirt water, I spot Alice just ahead standing to the side of the isle with Jasper to allow students to flow by. When I get within arms reach, Alice loops her elbow through mine, almost like she could sense my loneliness.

“So,” she drags out the word cheerfully, “Enjoying the plants? Fresh air? Freedom from school?”

“Oh absolutely,” I glance over my shoulder at Jasper following behind us silently. “I’m surprised you’re not off in a corner doodling flowers, Hale.” I catch him duck his head and chuckle under his breath as Alice watches our interaction, surprised.

“And isolate myself away from your commentary? Never, Y/l/n.”

“Oh, Emmett’s opinions on your drawings are too much, but mine aren’t?” I smile as I turn to look at new plants as we pass them in our slow walk through the final greenhouse.

“My brother isn’t nearly as interesting.” His response catches me off guard and if it weren’t for Alice’s grip on my arm I would’ve stumbled on the wet concrete.

“As I live and breathe, Jasper Hale flirting-“ but Alice doesn’t finish her sentence due to Jasper snaking out a pinch to her ribs, her flinch forcing our hold to separate. Before I could chide Alice for teasing her brother for just being nice, Edward storms up to the three of us.

“Ready to leave?” He glances between his siblings, pointedly ignoring me so that I wouldn’t feel the obligation to join them.

“Edward-“ Alice says disapprovingly, but he pushes past us without waiting for an answer. She looks at me apologetically before skipping after him.

“Sorry about my brother, he’s insufferable when he’s in a mood.” Jasper offers as explanation as we watch the two of them exit the greenhouse.

“I get the feeling he’s always in a ‘mood’.” My fingers emphasize the last word with air quotations and it draws another chuckle from the gorgeous boy at my side.

“Touché.” He says with a grin. “I better catch up before they ditch me, see ya around darlin’.” He weaves his way through the crowded isle and out of sight before the heat settles in my cheeks.

I manage to file outside and towards the buses with the rest of my class after I gather my wits. I spot Bella already in our shared bus seat with a sad expression. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask as I sit.

“Not right now.” She answers, turning to look out of the window.

#twilight #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #redamancy series #bless-my-demons #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #female reader insert #jasper hale twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #slow burn #romance

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gaykneecaps · 5 months

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i feel so sad for people who hear the word love and only think of romantic love. they cage themselves into boxes. when i hear the word love, i think of staring out the car window, looking at the steep dives of the hilly countryside, knowing in that moment that i would never be able to remember the exact way the hills and mountains curved, but knowing i would always remember the love i felt for them and the land that i grew up on. when i hear the word love, i think of the dark music classroom under the stairs, deep underground in the music department. i think of leaving that music room, and looking up through the sky window to see a black sky and rain falling down onto the glass as the fairy lights on the roof reflect off of the ice cold panes. when i hear the word love, i think of standing with the wind tugging at my hair like a child with its plaything as i stare out at the ocean, knowing that it has existed long before me and will exist long after me, that my love for it will never be acknowledged because it has had so many love it before and so many will love it after, and knowing that there are other people out there staring at the same, endless blue sea of love and memories that i am. When i hear the word love, i think of the patch my sibling's partner gave me from one of their gigs, sewn into my pants with my other sister's embroidery thread. When i hear the word love, i think of craning my neck through the pain to stare up at the cloudy sky. When i hear the word love, i think of sitting under the green canopy of a tree, watching the rain fall in buckets and waves, and the feeling of the stray raindrops that find their way to me through the thick green leaves. When i hear the word love, i think of messaging my friends at 3am just to make sure they know how much i love them. When i hear the word love, i think of the pair of boots i got from the opp shop, kept together with various different shades of duct tape. When i hear the word love, i think of the memories i have of friends long past, of staying up until 1am with them to play minecraft on our glitchy, shitty computers. When i hear the word love, i think of the rain against my window as i listen to calming music, of hearing the beep of my headphones as i turn them off so i can listen carefully to the sound of the raindrops hitting the glass panes. When i hear the word love, i think of the old rusting spoon, hidden behind trees and thorns in the very back of the old paddock our family owns, the spoon having been there decades before we bought it, and knowing that it will be there decades after i die. When i hear the word love, i think of all the moments that have led me here. When i hear the word love, i think of the chickens in the back of my grandma's home that she hand-made a home for. When i hear the word love, i think of the pieces of my favourite wikipedia article that i have pinned up against my wall. When i hear the word love, i think of the shoes my sibling gave me, laced with the mud-tracked rainbow laces they handed me with a smile. When i hear the word love, i think of my sister's growing collection of sewing machines of various ages, of her collection of metal bits and bobs she finds in the side of the road. I think of watching her eye light up as she spots something glinting on the sidewalk, of bending down and picking up the piece of metal like a prize. When i hear the word love, i think of taking the train to school having had no meds, coffee or food just so that i could see my friend who had an exam that day, even though i was under no obligation to go to school. When i hear the word love, i think of the amount of love that i hold for the world that fostered everything that i love. I think of how much love i hold for the soil underneath me and the trees that grew out of it, the rain that falls from the sky, i think of staring up at the moon as a child and considering it my friend, watching how it followed me wherever i went. To convince yourself that love means nothing but an empty kiss and sorrowful promises sounds hollow and miserable.

#aro positivity #arospec #asexual #asexuality #aromanticism #aspec #aromantic #aroace

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greenfinchwriter · 29 days

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Okay so I debated posting this for a long time but it won't stop bothering me. Before you come for me,all I ask is that you hear me out, and that my intention with this post is NOT to not to attack anyone.

Here we go: Alana Bloom is not a good person. That is pre-moral-decay arc.

Why am I saying this?

It is NOT because:

She's a woman

queer

Female professional in a male dominated field

Somehow "standing between Hannigram"

It IS because,in my very subjective opinion as 1 autistic person, she is a prime example of a self-righteous "Autism Speaks/Facebook Autism Mom" with a degree.

Personally the most insidious kind of allistic ableist to encounter. It took me a long time to recognize that this kind of person is not any less harmful,or bigoted,and they are by far the most difficult to call out. Why? Because they are what neurotypical people see as "nice,well-intentioned,altruistic,allies, compassionate,self-sacrificing" etc, this goes double if you have a degree to cement your authority. Trying to even gently explain to them how and why their behavior is not okay from an actual neurodivergent point of view will always be met with more outrage by other neurotypicals than calling out someone who is outright,loud and proud hostile in their ableism. A similar concept to other subtle, covert forms of bigotry.

Alana is a worse therapist than Hannibal, and hell,even Bedelia. She's on par with Chilton.

Because she is "normal", "nice", and "sweet" it is easily overlooked just how not only ableist but emotionally manipulative she is. She is just as bad as Sutcliffe,or any other professional who sees Will as an exotic case study,and her "fascination" with Will echoes Freddie's. I don't doubt that she genuinely thinks of herself as a "good person who cares about/for Will", and that she firmly believes to be "well-intentioned",and "morally surperior". But she really isn't. Her behavior towards Will is NOT okay. She did and does use,and infantilize him,she does manipulate him,be that consciously or subconsciously. But whereas we make "excuses" for Hannibal, and don't really expect him to act differently because of his pathology,his "nature",his way of thinking etc. We do not hold the "normal" people like Alana to the same measure.

That's why I get angry when people regurgitate Chilton's talking points about Will,and demonize him.

It is far more nuanced,and complex than that.

Imho, in this show (apart from the dogs) there are no "pure" characters. And to deny Alana is not fundamentally flawed,and yes ableist character because "feminism!" could in and of itself be misogynistic. A person can be a bigot regardless of gender,race/ethnicity/culture,religion etc. They can be so without actively meaning harm,or even being really all that aware that their 'good intentions' are destructive. If such a person is willing to learn and change,than that's good. No such thing as doomed. But most of her "with a degree" types will die on their hills,and be affronted by the accusation that their oh so "noble" attitudes might actually be anything but.

I am NOT bird app accusing anyone who likes her character of being any of those terms,to stop liking her,or that she is "worse" but I am saying that just as we acknowledge Hannibal's flaws,can (meta) decry his actions,and still call him Blorbo and fiercely ship Hannigram,we should also be able to do so with Alana.

The "normal" ones aren't always the "good ones".

That is why I dislike Alana,and I just don't like being accused of merely disliking her for being a queer woman,or the infantile notion that she was "in the way of Hannigram". I have my HIGHLY PERSONAL,SUBJECTIVE BUT TO ME VALID,UNRELATED REASONS I dislike her. Not because she read a weird book to Abigail. Or anything else that has recently come up in the fandom.

You don't have to dislike her. It's okay if you like her. It's okay if she's your favorite,your obsession,or you just find her sexy. It's perfectly fine if you ship Marlana,or ship her with Hannibal. I'm not posting this to lecture,or convert anyone. I couldn't be happier for you if you like her and/or find comfort in her character.

What I do have issues with is seeing her idealized without legitimate discourse about her character.

No,I don't think of Will or Hannibal as pure cherubs without fault but I have had enough about the angel-ification of Alana,and reimagining of Will as darker/more monstrous/misanthropic than he is.

That is my perspective. You don't have to agree with it - not if you are autistic/neurodivergent as well,or if you are neurotypical. You really don't have to. That's okay! I respect that,and you!

So respectfully,gently,please let one autistic person of many explain her discomfort with her character,or maybe offer food for thought to some.

There is more I could say but I'll leave it at that.

Sorry if I upset anyone,and for not being more eloquent about this,I hope what I was trying to express came across well enough.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal meta #alana bloom #text post #im sorry #actually autistic #autistic experiences

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chernabogs · 29 days

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ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed.

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass.

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move.

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest.

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him.

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will.

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery.

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend.

Naturally, it didn’t last.

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response.

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.”

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell.

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions.

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg.

“Always,�� was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia.

But the empty seat felt an ill omen.

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well.

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose.

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had.

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all.

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development.

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again.

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself.

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something.

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands.

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more.

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling.

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white.

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach.

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body.

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope.

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her.

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will.

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far.

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind.

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more.

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?”

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands.

“And this is mother?”

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble.

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?”

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.”

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now.

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers.

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe.

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this.

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book.

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress.

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

“Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included.

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection.

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?”

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.”

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees.

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.”

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.”

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.”

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away.

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

#twst #twst fanfiction #maleficia draconia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #meleanor draconia #levan draconia #40 min spent on deciding a header alone #'hey amy she hasnt even been in the game yet' and?#listen maleficia may be 0% in-game but she is 100% in my brain thank u #obviously some flexibility with the facts here idk who malleus' grandpa is or what maleficias thoughts were during malleus' upbringing #but AAAAAAA listen... her.#lian i hope i did u proud i even made it a happy ending LMAO

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