#but that is simply NOT Timmy's blood!!!!

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

It will never stop being funny to me that the Titan's Tower incident between Jason and Tim happened right after fucking Jericho did the exact same thing but was way, WAY scarier about it.

JERICHO repeatedly attacks them, endangers civilians, possesses multiple people, is out of his head with rage and sorrow at feeling expendable and feeling like teen vigilantism was what got him and Donna killed. Hell he even shoots Bart through the leg, which fucks him up so bad he has to go through unanesthetized surgery and that trauma prompts a whole ass character growth spurt! Jericho both while possessing Slade and when they fight him in Raven's mind trap thing is like seriously bad news! He's playing for keeps and intent on really hurting them! It takes a full team effort over multiple comics to trap the guy

Then fucking JASON sneaks in ever so carefully, knocks a few of them out, feels a bit bad about even doing that, and has like a waffle house parking lot fist fight with Tim in a party city Robin costume. And what's he do afterwards? He just fucking leaves and never bothers them again! He doesn't wanna kill any of them! He's just a sad wet sack who doesn't know what he's doing with himself

The Teen Titans really do gather around Timmy after their fight lookin at that wall like, "Fucking seriously?? This is the second time this week!"

#Bartholomew Impulse did NOT go through all that just to have us pretend like Jason was an equivalent threat here! #“but he wrote his name in BLOOD” have you people never heard of RED PAINT??? #Tim was barely even bleeding #so like... WHOSE BLOOD WOULD IT HAVE BEEN??? #I will accept the explanation that Jason blood banked himself for months prior #because that's funny as hell and Jason is def crazy enough for it #but that is simply NOT Timmy's blood!!!! #also like... did Jason Know? #did he know he was gonna be the second resurrected dead kid to do this to this group? #cause I feel like he didn't and that is just so pathetic lmaooo #my poor poor sad wet murder meow meow wasn't even half as effective or murderous as the first guy #jason todd #tim drake #damian's tomfoolery

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

This devotion of yours is misplaced (but this love, perhaps, is not)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: reader is like vaguely injured, timmy is so in love and sooo crazy abt it, they sorta both are, idk this one's kinda intense guys there's a lot of love in it kinda felt like I was intruding when I wrote it

a/n: I'm so sorry but we're fast-forwarding to established relationship but I promise I'll get back to the pining of the past I just have the intense need to jump around timelines like a rabbit

There's a bulb in the light fixture above your bathroom sink that flickers, the yellow light hazing in and out while the others shine bright. You sit on the counter, leaning your back against your mirror as you cup a hand to your ribs protectively, watching Tim with hooded, lazy eyes. There's a set to his jaw, the muscles clenching as he moves around, pulling your first-aid kit out from under your sink.

You think back to the day he realized you didn't have one, his eyes wide as he spluttered out something about you needing one because what if you get hurt? You'd shot back that you'd always managed without one. He'd accused you of suffering for the sake of it - forsaking softness for the show of it. 

That had cut a bit too deep. He didn't apologize, but you didn't ask him to. The next morning, there was a first-aid kit sitting on your bathroom counter.

Tim's hands ghosting over your sides pulls you from the memory as you suck in a sharp breath. He winces apologetically and hooks a forefinger under your chin, tilting your head to wipe a disinfectant wipe over the cut on your cheek.

"You need to relax," you huff quietly. He shoots you a look.

"I don't like seeing you hurt."

"Then go somewhere else," you shoot back. You feel something that reminds you of a concussion you once had hazing through your mind - maybe if you hadn't, you'd have noticed the way he pulls back from you. You would've kept your mouth shut.

"You know that's not what I mean." There's a strain in Tim's voice that he only gets when he's trying to be good to you - when you're not letting him.

"I never know what you mean," you respond, and there's a tiredness in your voice that shouldn't be there. Tim's shoulders drop, his stance shifting as he looks at you. He's trying, you realize, to let himself be read. But acts of love like that are so often impossible for things like you and him.

"I would rather…" he begins slowly, eyes flitting around while he searches for the words. "I would rather, if you're hurting, that you do it right here where I can help you. I don't want you to do it alone."

"This is part of the job - and I did it alone for a long time," you point out. He fixes you with a frustrated stare.

"But you don't have to now. I'm here now," he insists.

"Are you?" Tim huffs through his nose, fixing a butterfly strip over the cut on your cheek.

"If you'll let me," he says. There's a gentleness there that you're not sure you deserve.

"I don't know if I can." A warble cuts through your voice in a way that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Tim smoothes his hands up your thighs, parting your legs so that he can stand closer to you between them. His thumbs dig into your muscles gently, rubbing circles into your skin.

"Explain that to me," he prompts. You sigh and tilt your head back to lean it against the mirror, eyeing him through your lashes.

"I don't think I'm any good at being helped," you say simply before leaning forward enough to cup his cheek in your hand, smoothing the furrow between his brows out with your thumb. "And I'm not sure you're any good at helping. You're going to give yourself a headache."

"It's worth it," Tim says, but his response is too quick, a jumbled rush of breath leaving his lungs. You fix him with a knowing, warning sort of look as his devotion to you rings through you and thumps against your heart. 

"Careful," you warn, but the hand you use to grip the back of his neck and bring him closer to you betrays you. "You can't lose yourself in this, Red. You can't love me enough that it makes you whole." His fingers tense on your thighs, pressing in, but he lets you pull him closer.

"No calling me that when I'm not wearing the mask," he murmurs, a shoddy sort of diversion. A smile twitches on your lips.

"But you are red," you say, smoothing your thumbs over the blushing apples of his cheeks. "Right here. And there's no one here to hear me… no one but you." Tim gives you a pained sort of look, his shoulders bunching in embarrassment, but you throw him a lazy smile and lean forward to place a quick kiss to his lips. He doesn't miss your wince when you do.

"Let me see your side," he asks gently.

"Nothing's broken," you respond quickly. He shoots you a look and reaches anyway, pulling your shirt up to reveal mottled purple and blue bruising over your ribs. A gentle hand is placed over it as he murmurs for you to breathe deeply. You try to, but the softness of it all is making you dizzy, making your chest ache for an entirely different reason.

"I don't think anything's broken," Tim assures as he pulls your shirt back down, his hands then finding their home on your waist.

"I told you that," you remind him dryly. There's a stubborn set to his jaw.

"I wanted to check."

"You need to have faith in me."

"Do you have faith in me?" He doesn't say it like an accusation, but you pull back like it is. He looks at you hard, the light flickering over his face and the furrow of his brows. It's a determination that you should be used to by now - one that's born of a desperate devotion to you, a need to get on his knees and pray.

You think he might do it now, just for a second, as he tenses to pull away from you. But you make a panicked, needy sort of sound as you reach for him and it's enough to bring him back to you, some kind of innate pull he has that draws him to your aid. His hands cup your face delicately and he smoothes his thumbs over your cheeks as you close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe.

"I'm not a… I'm not a faithful kind of person, Red. There's a devotion in you that's misplaced." You try to say it gently, the words pulling at your vocal cords as you speak, everything coming out painfully. Tim leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

"You don't get to choose who I worship," he offers. Your shoulders tense slightly.

"Do you worship me? Or do you love me?" You ask. He doesn't pull away, keeping his eyes closed as his forehead rests against yours.

"What's the difference?"

"There's a gap there, Tim. The difference between devotion and worship. It's - it's love that separates the two," you explain, squeezing your eyes shut.

"I love you." He says it like it's easy.

"Are you sure?" He pulls away at the question, thumbing over your cheeks until you open your eyes to look at him. He's still close enough that you can feel his breath on yours.

"There is a part of you that knows how to be loved," he says - like it's simple. "I'm going to stay here until you find it."

"And then?"

"And then I'll stay to love you." Your hands reach for him at his words, bunching the front of his shirt in your fingers.

"What if that never happens?" You ask, looking anywhere but him, anywhere but straight into the love shining in his eyes.

"Then I'll pray to you," a kiss is pressed to the corner of your mouth. "Like I always have."

"I'm not an idol to obsess over," you protest weakly. More kisses are pressed up your cheek, over your eyelids once they flutter closed, and down the bridge of your nose.

"No," Tim acknowledges easily. "You're someone to be loved. But you haven't figured out how to do that yet, and I… I haven't figured out how to do this yet, either." Your hands move from his shirt to tangle in his hair as you pull him impossibly closer.

"Maybe we'll never learn," your voice is hushed as his lips hover over yours. "Maybe we'll be these things forever."

"Then we'll be them together," is Tim's immediate answer, his lips brushing against your own. "And maybe that's all we need."

#smsn.writes #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fic #tim drake fluff #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine

[bruciemilf]

Diana grows up learning the spirit of Themyscira lives in every Amazon. In whatever shape, in whatever form they come.

She's there for every clay forging. She blesses the adorable lump of clay, slowly starting to take shape of something close to a person.

She thinks of Mother's tapestries, the pictures in her books. Of Ares and Zeus, fathers of all fathers. And she thinks who needs Gods when you have sisters?

Sisters accept you and protect you. Sisters are your blood that walks and breaths and laughs. And Diana knows there's tribes that don't accept certain Amazons.

Just because you're born among them doesn't mean you belong.

But for her, it's different. "If they're on the island, they're one of ours. Amazons don't forget their own."

There's a man on the beach shore, with eyes full of sand.

Diana's more curiosity than woman. When her sisters poke at the strange figure with their feet, trying to wake him, or check for life, she simply turns him him to check.

He's young; Hair as darks as nightsky. His face is pale, almost pearly. It reminds her of moonlight, softly spilling down the ocean when it's completely dark.

Her hands wipe away salty water from long, elegant lashes, and looks for a heartbeat down his chest. There's a strange symbol on it. Diana's hands feel like ice.

The Bat makes a noise, a whine, too fragile for a man. But maybe he's more. " We must take him in."

" This is not a place for men."

" No. But it can be a place for brothers."

He's almost frail, wrapped in furs and skins and blankets. His whole body is tense, even in this state of vulnerability. As if he's burdened even in sleep.

But there's names whispered to Diana at night, when she changes sweat soaked shirts, when she tinkers with the belt laid next to him. " Jay. Timmy. Dick. Cass. Duke. Dami."

Perhaps they're his Gods. Or maybe something more important.

When the Bat wakes, he doesn't remember much of anything. He looks at Diana with such wounded eyes, like a beloved deer waiting to feed the tribe and be celebrated for her sacrifice.

The sisters avoid him. Mother knows telling Diana to stay in line would be useless. Besides, she might not be aware of it, but her gaze does soften when he shyly asks for something to read.

He doesn't speak much. Diana does, thought. " Jason, Cass, Dick," she tests the name. So very strange sounding, but comfortable in her tongue. " Are they your lovers?"

The Bat's eyes widened slightly. The mango she brought him fill up his cheeks, making his face round, and her chest warm. " ...No. I don't know what they are but, -- but they're in my heart. They're my loves."

A random flicker of hope passes through her chest.

"Maybe we could go look for them someday. Bring them here."

"Yes," he let's her hand fall in his. They're almost like hers, if not a big broader. Scarred and beaten and cracking. The labor of love. " Maybe we will."

♡♡♡

Jason's body is restless. It's been restless for a year, like a beast getting hunted. Hoping while dying. He's no stranger to that.

" Dick."

His brother's pure sunshine, usually. Or pretends to be. He's got no strength to act anymore. No more power. Gotham is missing its heart.

"I found him."

" Jay, you're upset. I know you are, but,--"

" Dick," He breaths, hard, lungs pumping adrenaline, " When Bruce dies, I'll feel it. I'll bleed all over Gotham again. He's alive. I know he is. And we're going after him."

Dick's voice collapses, in a rare, painful moment of truth. He's not Nightwing, or Batman, or Robin. He's Jason's big brother. He's a legacy of ruin. " You're not the only one who loved him."

"Maybe. But I'm the only one who'll find him. Even if I have to burn my path."

#diana of themyscira #could be read as #wonderbat #but theyre more besties here in my head #bruce wayne #diana prince #amnesia au #dick grayson #amazonian!bruce au #in my mind MAYBE superbat is established #on the other hand. the thought of amazonians beefing with kryptonians because they mistake them for very powerful alien warriors is cool #too bad their prince is dead set on courting one. #text #my writing

[thedickgraysonrp]

The shadows feel... off tonight. Winding around Nightwing's fingers like always when he returned to Gotham but somehow slower. Almost sluggish. It's usually fluid like smoke. They don't gather into a solid form tonight, simply drift back to the ground, choosing instead to curl up by his ankles. Even its little chittering sounds have a sleepy tinge to them tonight. Can shadows get sleepy? -arobinwithoutbatman ((have a cryptid Timmy))

A step in the dark, a clattering of lids as some cat escaped a trash bin. It was eerily quiet in the streets of Gotham tonight, but Dick hasn't been afraid of the dark for a long time now.

He stepped through shadow, feeling the thickness of it wrap around its fingers as he marched the dark alleyways of Gotham, clad in his vigilante attire. He could almost feel the dark mist's drowsiness as it gathered around by his ankles, how tired the gloom felt.

He reached up, cleaning a speck of blood that had persistently stuck to his chin. He feasted not too long ago, the pair of razor sharp fangs glinting in the dim street lights protruding from the main street, noticeable for only a moment as he opened his mouth to run a finger across his lower lip before his tongue passed over it as well.

"Come out, Timothy." Dick's voice lulled across the alleyway, satiated by his last meal, feeling the presence of his brother. The pulsating shadows, the caressing flow of the darkness. "I know you're there. I know it's been a while, but you didn't really think I can forget the embrace of my own sibling?"

@arobinwithoutbatman

#arobinwithoutbatman #text-rp #( cryptid tim meets sanguine dick ) #( spooky season is great )

[redtyn]

Martyn’s pissed.

He thinks he has good reason to be, frankly. Nothing has particularly gone his way. He tries to get some credit for killing a dragon, dead. He tries to kill the wither, whiffs. At least he still has his good buddy Timmy to keep him company, right?

Oh. Yeah.

Is it normal to be this upset over a death? I mean, Jimmy had tried to shove him into lava earlier. He probably should be glad Tim’s gone out early, as per usual. A wry, imperceptible smile crosses Martyn’s face. He wasn’t first to go this time. For all the good that did him.

Martyn falls flat on the bed he had been hunched over on, staring up at the ceiling. There had been life here. It felt so empty. Out of his peripherals, he could see the chests filled with bones- trophies of success, tributes to the work of men who no longer walked and fought. At least the last time he had worked alongside Mumbo and Jimmy the base had been too blown to hell to reminisce about. Now, he was painfully aware of just how alone in the world he was.

And it pissed him off.

He wanted to hunt. He wanted to kill. He wanted to lash out and hurt every single person left in this stupid world. Just get to the next game, already. He was sick of this one.

When did it get like that?

Martyn’s brows creased. When did he get so immune to it all? He can remember a time where he stood over corpses and wept for what he had done, holding on to another as they wailed about the blood that blinded them both. And here he is now- spitting and gnashing his teeth and bearing his fangs and cursing the world and promising to make everyone’s life a living hell.

How long did it take for him to change? It couldn’t have been until recently- he had wanted to live as a Southlander, and he was the last to fall into being a red life. He still had some semblance of innocence, then.

Later? Maybe it was the soulbound fiasco? Being rejected by Cleo was awful. She could never see that he was trying to be a supplier. Can’t get rewards without a few risks, after all. He felt betrayed by her. Was that the moment he broke? Or was it being the betrayer?

The Coral Isles were beautiful. It was paradise in a timebomb. Martyn brought trouble to it, affixing a crown of red to his head and tying a matching crimson banner to his waist. A literal walking red flag, Martyn thought, and then snorted at his own joke. Scott would have known how it was going to end. He must have known. They both knew. Yet his partner never mentioned the new fashion choices, never gave him an apprehensive look. All the way until the very end. He won, if that meant anything. He killed, and he gained, and it felt good.

There.

That’s when it happened. He killed and burned and ranted and soaked in the blood he had spilled and he felt the best he ever had. The games had broken him then. He stopped thinking about the blood he shed and simply took the chances he could. Scott has been nothing but kind to him throughout this go of things, but as soon as the excuse came to hurt, he took it.

Martyn turns over on his side. He can see the chests in full view now. He isn’t going to avenge them, he thinks. There’s nobody to avenge. They all spurned him in the end. He’s simply going to kill for the thrill of it all.

Maybe he’ll try to make a friend again. Just to break their heart.

#tbh i dunno what this is i just read one too many fanfics and got in the writing mood #inthelittlewood

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 14: All for you

One of these days, Dean is going to break the Good Guy Code and straight-up murder the Angel.

“You can’t kill him,” Sam says wearily as he takes pieces of Dean’s body armor to pack away in its special case.

“Just watch me.”

Sam rolls his eyes, frowning as Dean hands him the chestplate. “Is this a bullet hole?”

“It’s a dent from a bullet.”

“You said it didn’t get you!”

“I said I wasn’t hurt, which is true.” Dean sits on the couch in Sam’s home office to wrestle off his combat boots. He straightens up just to get hit with bitchface #5.

“Vigilantism has no room for semantics,” Sam says, also very bitchily.

Dean grimaces. “Are we done here?”

Sam waves him off, and Dean stalks up to his room. 

The old Winchester mansion shows its age in the creaky stairs, dusty corners, and windows permanently fogged over with grime. 

To the rest of the world, the Winchester heirs gave up their fortune to various charities (not that their millions-bordering-on-a-billion did enough). Sam, the youngest, went to medical school to become a stand up member of society. The oldest, though, he squandered the rest they had left on extravagant vacations and lavish parties. 

Dean flops down on his bed with a groan. Only three years as a vigilante, and he feels thirty years older. Sammy’s going to have to replace both his knees soon. And maybe a hip. 

Maybe Sammy should just take all his bones out at this point and replace them with titanium. Dean would finally be able to keep up with the Angel, at least.

He rolls over, staring up at the mahogany ceiling of his bedroom. 

The Angel blew into Lawrence a year ago, packed full of super strength and badass feathered wings, making cryptic remarks about divine plans for humanity and shit. Within a month, he got a fanclub/religious cult to follow him around and give the guy a complex the size of Niagara Falls. 

Dean simply added him to his villain-of-the-week list – until the Angel blinded fifteen fishermen in the harbor. He said it was the work of “demons”, but all Dean knew was that the crew went out to sea with all their eyeballs intact and came back with 20/infinity vision.

Six months ago, the psycho escalated to setting an entire neighborhood on fire to kill an apparent “witch”.

Dean stopped him in time, but it was a close fucking call.

This year, though, the Angel abruptly changed his tune. Dean used to catch him kidnapping random civilians and the occasional assault. Now, he’s far more likely to find him rescuing cats from trees and Timmy from down the well. It makes Dean’s blood boil. 

What the hell is he up to?

The question has been circling Dean’s brain for far too long.

* * *

Dean ducks out of the gala, checking his phone for police alerts. 

“Mr. Winchester!”

Dean swiftly pockets his phone and turns, plastering a bland smile on his face before he sees the newcomer. “Oh, it’s you,” he says sourly.

Cas hurries up the marble stairs, dodging other departing patrons, sticking out like a sore thumb in his boxy trench coat and off-the-rack suit among all the tuxedos and designer gowns. “Do you have a comment about tonight’s fundraiser?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Can’t you make one up?”

Cas bristles, all offended like he gets every time Dean tells him to get lost or pass off someone else’s words as Dean’s. “That would violate my journalistic integrity.” 

“Dude, you cover human interest puff pieces,” Dean says scornfully. “Nobody cares.”

“I care,” Cas says, stung.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “For fifteen grand a plate, the shrimp was dry.” He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

Cas makes a face like Dean personally force fed him a dozen dry-ass shrimp. “That’s hardly a –”

“That’s all you’re getting,” Dean says sternly. 

Cas – Castiel – Carpenter has been a pain in his ass since he caught up with Dean outside Dick Roman’s last New Years Eve party. He hounded Dean for a quote, following him all the way from Roman’s lobby to the street, waiting with Dean for his car to arrive. He kept asking about Roman’s plans to scrap affordable housing developments near the river in favor of luxury condos.

Dean, with a few too many drinks in his stomach, told him Roman could learn a thing or two from the Scooby Gang. Real estate scams never seem to end well in Carver City. 

The Winchesters, of course, already had a plan for Roman. Top lawyers, paid through a shell company owned by a shell company based in the Caymans, were already compiling environmental impact reports, and Dean had plans to visit Roman’s penthouse and perhaps dangle him off it, if he didn’t see things Dean's way.

Cas, the sly son of a bitch, hadn’t even printed a word of their discussion, and Dean only found out Cas covered the goddamn gossip pages the next weekend as he scanned the paper for Cas’s byline at two in the morning after a late night run-in with the Angel.

“Mr. Winchester –”

“I’m a busy man,” Dean says coldly as he shoulders past Cas. “If you need to talk to me, you know my PR number.” 

Cas falls back, scowling fiercely. “I know you have something to say, Dean!” he calls to his back. 

“Get your clickbait somewhere else!”

Dean has places to be and ass to kick, no matter how many times Cas bats those baby blues his way.

* * *

Dean groans, since when did Crowley have the kind of funds to hire these goons? The last he heard, Crowley's mayoral campaign was hemorrhaging money, and Crowley was spending every cent on voter suppression and scare tactics to get his base to the voting booths.

Dean staggers into the storage unit warehouse, clutching a hand to his side where a lucky knife got between the plates of his body armor. He stays alert – a dozen of Crowley’s henchmen tried to take him out and failed, but that doesn’t mean another dozen aren’t waiting in the shadows.

Charlie’s algorithm traced vast amounts of Crowley’s remaining cash to holding five storage units, paying top dollar for quality and security.

Whatever the hell Crowley is keeping here, it’s valuable.

And valuable to Crowley means indispensable to anyone else.

Dean slumps towards the first locker, breathing heavily. His head pounds, and the overhead lights flare as he glances around, trying to get his bearings.

He mentally adds a concussion to his tally of injuries. Sam’s going to have his work cut out for him tonight, if Dean gets home at all.

He reaches into his toolbelt, and his fingers scramble for his set of lockpicks for too long. How the hell he’ll be able to manipulate the delicate tools – well, that’s a bridge to cross when the lock itself stops swaying in front of his eyes.

The blow from behind hits him out of nowhere.

Dean falls forward with a grunt, his ears ringing.

“The vigilante himself,” an unfamiliar voice sneers. “What an honor.”

The next hit cracks the side of Dean’s reinforced cowl, and his ears ring with the force of it. He scrabbles back to his feet, widening his stance on an instinct honed from years of practice. He’s still as wobbly as a newborn kitten, but at least he doesn’t look it.

The man wears a uniform of the warehouse staff, but there’s nothing minimum wage security guard about the way he fights hand-to-hand.

A flurry of blows rain down on Dean, his head, his neck, his chest. The body armor in his suit can only absorb so much of the impact, and Dean’s losing ground, quickly, backed up against a concrete wall.

He has one taser left, though. At his next opening, he dodges a right hook and jams the metal disk against the goon’s neck. 

He spasms with a crackle of electricity, and falls to the floor to reveal –

“Fuck,” Dean swears loudly, swinging his fists up to protect his face, not that they’ll do much against superstrength. 

But it takes his sluggish brain a soupy moment to realize the Angel's hands aren't raised in fists gunning for his face.

The Angel’s palms reach up to cup his cheeks, and Dean winces, squeezing his eyes shut against the harsh light that always pours out of the Angel’s eye sockets, obscuring his entire face.

“You’re injured,” the Angel murmurs in his otherworldly voice that makes Dean’s chest vibrate with an uncomfortable resonance.

“Nothin’ slips by you, does it?” Dean forces out because, even when he has nothing left, he still has his pride.

The Angel pulls back Dean's cowl, and Dean tries to push the Angel off him, but he might as well be trying to wrestle with a concrete wall. The Angel intones, “This might feel strange.”

“No…” Dean protests, and, god, if these are his last words, they sound pathetic.

“Shh, Dean,” the Angel says, and he doesn’t sound at all surprised by the sight of Dean’s face. Two fingers press against his bare forehead, and Dean jerks away instinctively, but can’t move a hair in the Angel’s firm grip.

A cool, almost rain-like sensation trickles out from the point of contact.

Dean opens his eyes.

Is the light pouring out from the Angel dimming?

Dean’s definitely seeing more clearly now, and the pounding in his head has disappeared. With mounting confusion, he watches as the Angel’s high beam eyes flicker like a bad television signal.

His face – Dean only sees a flash or two, but he would swear – 

The Angel stumbles back a step, and Dean straightens, inhaling a painless lungful of air. “What the hell just happened?” he demands.

The Angel shakes his head, and his wings flicker next. They pop back into existence in the space of a blink. Like a lamp on it’s last legs, the beams of light emitting from his eyes give a few weak flares before dying out completely.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes.

Cas sags against the opposite wall, his wings disappearing for good with a silent breath of air. Whatever he'd done to Dean had drained him.

“You –”

Cas stares up at him. “Me,” he agrees quietly.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Dean demands. “You’re – you’re –” He can’t say it.

Cas pushes himself to his feet, his face pallid and eyes weary. “I’m an angel of the lord.”

Dean can’t help his loud snort. “You’re still sticking with that?”

“It’s the truth.”

Dean lays a hand on his utility belt, eyeing Cas warily. He might look as threatening as a belly-up hedgehog, but experience has taught Dean that some opponents are never more dangerous than when they’re cornered.

“If you’re a real angel,” Dean says stiffly, “why are you here? Why now?”

“I was sent here to start the apocalypse,” Cas says.

Dean narrows his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

Dean steps closer, scanning Cas for any sign of an impending fight. “You wanna give me a reason not to end you right here and now?” 

But Cas stays right where he is. “Those were my orders. But when I arrived on Earth, I had my doubts.”

“It was you – the blind fishermen,” Dean says coldly, “that incident on Halloween.”

Cas nods miserably. “Mistakes, all of them.”

“I couldn’t figure out what was up with you,” Dean admits. “You went from nabbing Patty Hearst in December to landing broken planes in the river in January.”

Cas tilts his head. “Because of you.”

Dean can’t have heard that right. But as Dean lets the silence drag on, Cas doesn’t take it back or explain. Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You showed me humanity is worth saving,” Cas says, his voice almost painfully sincere. “So I disobeyed my orders. I turned my back on Heaven. I followed in your footsteps.” He meets Dean’s stunned gaze squarely. “I did it all for you.”

“I – what?”

“You care so much for this city, for your people,” Cas continues, and Dean, torn between telling him to keep going or shut the hell up, stays silent. Cas goes on, “You regularly put yourself in harm’s way to protect them, usually from themselves. You donate enormous sums of money and manipulate an extremely complicated political machine to make sure they have safe water to drink and places to rest.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, muttering, “Somebody’s gotta.” He jerks his head up. “Hold on, you knew it was me? The whole time?”

“Why do you think I was so hellbent on talking to you?” Cas asks dryly, the faintest of blushes dusting his cheeks.

“And I always thought it was because of my perky nipples,” Dean says distractedly. All those times Cas hollered questions about the latest government developments; where his next grant was going; who he was backing in the mayoral race. That was the Angel.

“I’m, uh, sure they’re very perky,” Cas says awkwardly.

Dean narrows his eyes. “How’d you find out?”

Cas cocks his head, his blue eyes intense as they study Dean’s face. “Your soul. It’s unlike any other I’ve encountered in the way it shines.”

Dean swallows, embarrassed of all things. “You can see souls?”

Cas nods. “Yours as well as the five people behind these storage locker doors.”

Dean freezes. “What the fuck?” He stares, horrified at the closest one, his hand already pulling out his set of lockpicks. “You’re serious?” At Cas’s confused nod, Dean swears colorfully. “And you kept talkin’ like we’re on a Sunday drive?”

As Dean ducks down to get to work on the first lock, Cas says matter-of-factly, “None of Crowley’s victims are near death. They’ve all been fed and watered recently, and eleven more minutes won’t have a great effect on their physical or mental health.”

“Alright, Patrick Bateman,” Dean says, but the accusation lacks any heat, “Superhero Rule Number One: you always get the damsels out of distress first.”

“I understand.”

Dean glances up at him as the lock clicks open. “After this, you and me, we’re gonna have a long talk.” He huffs a laugh as he pulls his cowl back up. “You want to know what I think about this city? I’ll give you enough quotes to fill a bible.”

“I might hold you to that,” Cas murmurs as Dean heaves the metal door open.

Read the sequel here!

#suptober22 #destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #superhero au #superhero dean #superhero castiel #doctor sam #rich dean #journalist castiel #enemies to lovers #rae writes fic

[zvdvdlvr]

bloody hands, hospital kisses

z.david

summary: ziva gets hurt on a case.

warnings: bullet wound, smooching, so much uncanoness smfh, blood, passing out, violence, shy ziva omg, LONG ASS ONESHOT, angst to fluff ur welcome 🤧❤

reader's pronouns: she/her

"you take left, i got right." y/n murmured, panting as she quickly reloaded her gun. ziva nodded, slowly moving to a position that would make it easier for her to weave past the insane amount of crate between her and their perp.

pivoting her head, ziva made eye contact with y/n and when they both nodded, the bolted away from each other in the direction of the murderer of petty officer Kayleigh James. bullets quickly followed in the agents' trail, but the two were fast.

now safely sheltered roughly ten and a half feet away from the killer and her 'goons,' as tony likes to call them, the killer, Avon Presley, started to talk.

"i think we all know how this will end up," she started. "you are both severely outnumbered and outgunned. it would be wise to simply give up."

in the moment of silence that followed, ziva foumd y/n eyes already on her. silently communicating through the facial expressions, there was a silent agreement about what would happen next. gibbs and mcgee went dark just before the two entered the warehouse, and there was no sign of tony anywhere.

Avon sighed, the sound resonating. "i really dont want to kill you. you both would be great additions to my little... team." the end word was puncuated with the sound of pride, a disgusting sound.

ziva, still looking at y/n, started the countdown with the nodding of her head, and the raise of her finger.

five.

"if you're waiting for me to explain why I killed that petty officer, i'll tell you."

team gibbs already had Avon's motive.

four.

"she owed me. Kayleigh James owed me money.  she was so in debt-"

three.

"that no matter how much money she made in her life, it wouldn't be enough to pay me back."

two.

"so i arranged for her to be executed, as you already know, and we knew that outcome for tha-"

one.

ziva and y/n stood up and immediately took down bodies left and right, dodging between stacks of crates. in her peripherals, y/n saw Avon yank a gun from one of her goons and flee.

two minutes and many body thuds later, y/n and ziva reload and make their way cautiously to find Avon.

opening the steel door, the agents slink out, looking around. there are no more hiding places.

Avon, in all her glory, is standing with ger gun poised in her hands, ready to shoot if necessary.

"put the gun down, Presley!" y/n calls over the rushing wind.

"let me go!" she responds, desperation seeping into her voice.

ziva squints at her target, head low, ready to take the shot beside y/n. "you know that we cannot do that."

Avon's eyes gleam. "then i'll make you."

before the last word reaches the air, Avon pulled the trigger twice.

then ziva hits the ground, hard.

Avon starts to make a run for it, but y/n shoot her in the upper body, most likely hitting the heart, knowing her aim.

throwing herself to the ground beside ziva, y/n gasps. blood bloomed from ziva's thigh and stomach, somehow puncturing the bulletproof vests gibbs was adamant about wearing.

ripping ziva' jacket and vest off, she pulled the short up just enough to see the wound.

"gibbs," ziva wheezes.

"i know, zee, i know," y/n says, frantically pressing into ziva's stomach wound, turning to tend to her thigh.

with her bloody hand, ziva struggles for her phone. with little grip, she presses it into y/n's hand.

pressing gibbs's number, she presses the phone into her ear with her shoulder and takes her pocket knife to cut into ziva' pants in the area around the gunshot

gibbs doesn't answer. cussing quietly, y/n looks for mcgee's number.

he luckily picks up on the first ring.

"where are you?" he asks immediately.

"We're still by the warehouse, ziva's shot, get here. now."

"okay. stay on the line, we're tracking you and sending tony. he'll be there in-" mcgoo continues.

"timmy i need to talk to gibbs." y/n commands when she sees ziva start to writhe on the ground after pressing on her thigh.

"y/n what the status?" gibbs.

"status is, boss, if tony doesn't pull up quickly, ill beat his ass. david's bleeding out, and i'm not sure i can dig out this bullet." y/n snaps.

"get- get it out." ziva gasps, bloody hand grasping y/n's arm.

"hold on ziver. y/n has ya." gibbs says in the most sympathetic tone the team has ever heard. 

"y/n, put the phone down and get those bullets."

"copy that." in a rush, y/n puts the phone down next to ziva, and looks straight into her eyes.

"this is gonna hurt like a bitch, darlin'. bite this." y/n slips the arm of ziva's discarded jacket into her mouth. "i'm gonna get the bullet in your thigh."

slipping her pointer finger and thumb into the bullet hole, ziva let out a muffled scream. closing her eyes and screaming again, she claws at the ground while y/n closes her fingers around the bullet and slowly pulls it out of ziva's body. gagging at the amount of blood pooling on the ground, y/n tosses the bullet on the ground.

"hey hey hey, breathe. you're doing great. breathe, ziva." y/n soothes as best she can.

y/n almost thinks she hears a car screech, but it's too faint to tell for sure.

"l/n." y/n hears from the phone.

bringing it up to her ear, y/n hears mcgee telling her tony should be there soon, if not now.

"tony!" y/n screams, ziva below her was probably delirious with the amount of blood she was loosing, from her stomach and her thigh. "tony please hurry up!" y/n called again. y/n did not like ziva looking like this; pale and bloody and falling unconscious.

all at once, y/n felt tears in her eyes, and she cursed herself for crying when ziva was in more physical pain than y/n was.

left hand pressed against ziva's bloody thigh, she grabbed ziva's hand. "c'mon darlin', you gotta stay awake for me, okay? gotta wait for the ambulance timmy called." or rather the ambulance she hope tim called.

the sound of footsteps broke her out of her train of thought. tony, gibbs, and mcgee all rushed up with a flurry of questions, statements, and arguments.

gibbs eased y/n away from ziva's lower body and led her away, though her eyes were still trained on ziva.

"y/n."

she looked up. "i didn't- boss i-"

"tim saw the footage," gibbs explained, pointing to the security camera, positioned in just the right angle to see everything that went down withing the past ten minutes. "ambulance is on it's way. you did good l/n." gibbs praised, scanning y/n. she had turned to look back at limp-bodied ziva.

gibbs pulled her side into him, and she finally cried. her bloody hands wrapped around gibbs as the reality of what happened hit her. "you did good." he repeated into her ear. "but you really need to tell ziva you're in love with her."

y/n pulled away and looked at her annoyingly red hands. "i dont know what-"

"yes you do." gibbs said with a side eye and a smirk. "lets go." he led y/n to the frint of the warehouse, into the ambulance that arrived, and to the hospital.

♤

ziva was in surgery for hours. after hour one ticked by, y/n was taken home by gibbs to get cleaned up, fed, and then drove her back to the hospital.

"gibbs what do you mean that i'm in love with ziva?" y/n asked quietly.

"you know what that means."

"no i don't." y/n answered.

"i mean, l/n, that she likes you, and you like her." gibbs stated, like everyone knew.

y/n's brows furrowed. "she... likes me? really? are you sure, boss?"

gibbs chuckled, a sound only a select few heard. "yeah, y/n, i'm sure. it physically hurts us to watch you guys frolick around each other. so if i dont see any undying love confessions i'm going to fire you both."

y/n gaped at her boss. "i've never heard you talk that much." gibbs looked at her with a glare as he pulled into the parking lot. "but," she continued, "what do you mean 'us'?"

gibbs stopped the truck, and blinked. "abs, mcgee, dinozzo, ducky, hell even leon said something to me. point is, make a move."

y/n turned the words over in her mind as they entered the building. settling back down in the chair beside ducky and abby, y/n rested her head on abby's shoulder and closed her eyes.

two hours later y/n was woken by ducky. "she's awake my dear."

walking through the hallway to ziva's room was one of the longest hallways y/n ever walked through.

the team crowded into the room, completely disregarding the stares of others.

ziva turned jer head and made eye contact with y/n and she smiled weakly. y/n quickly took the chair right beside ziva.

when everyone got their affections over with, y/n was watching ziva talk to ducky about tips on healing.

"lunch, anyone?" tony asked abruptly. catching gibbs' eye, he motions with his head to y/n who was still all heart eyes over ziva. one by one, the entire team minus y/n left to go pick up food.

ziva looked at y/n and smiled a real smile. "hi."

y/n picked up ziva's hand and kissed her knuckles and laced their fingers. "hi ziva." she replied.

ziva looked into y/n's eyes like she was searching for something, anything. an answer maybe, an apology. an apology for scaring the shit out of y/n, and thanking her for saving her life.

"ziva." y/n asked, suddenly looking away.

the mossad agent exhaled. "yes?"

y/n bit her lip. "look, i know that you almsot died in front of me and whatever, but apparently vance thinks we're dating and gibbs said something so i was, y'know, wondering if, at some point, you'd want to go on a date or something?" it all rushed out in an uncalculated ramble that y/n was not proud of.

"i'd love to date you, y/n. i'd absolutely love to." ziva replied instantly.

y/n's heart genuinely felt like it was flying. "really?"

"yes, really."

y/n beamed and stood up and spun around. "holy shit you just made me so happy!" she laughed, making ziva laugh along with her.

when y/n sat down again, smile still on her face, ziva murmured, "my lips hurt... can you kiss them and make them feel better?" she asked shyly.

"don't have to ask darling." y/n ehispered against the beautiful woman as y/n pressed her lips against ziva's. ziva brought her hands up to tangle her fingers in y/n's hair. y/n pressed her hands into the spaces between ziva's head so she didn't topple onto the woman and hurt her.

at some point though, the team came back.

"finally!" tony shouted, causing y/n to fall into ziva's chest, making him laugh.

pecking ziva' neck y/n stood up and smoothed her hair, guiltily with a large smile. ziva turned her back on her team and bit her swollen lips. looking up at y/n, she smiled gently.

"i think we agreed on twenty dollars, tim." ducky said, cheerful as ever, collecting his bet money.

"i personally am not surprised they bet on us." ziva said to y/n.

"neither am i, honestly." y/n replied.

y/n looked over at gibbs. he smiled at her and shook his head.

"well, now that i have my money, i shall go see to making my favorite agents some food." ducky explained with a wink at ziva and y/n both.

"ducky's my ride. bye ziva! i'll be back tomorrow!" abby said excitedly.

"i guess i'll head home too... use protection.'' tony warned, wagging his finger at y/n.

"tony, ziva's in a hospital bed." she laughed, flipping him the bird.

"alright then, lets go tim. we'llbe outside y/n." gibbs said, ushering the crowd out the door.

turning to ziva with a smile, y/n leaned over to press a kiss to her head, but ziva pulled her collar down to kiss her on the lips.

"i'm going to be doing that so much." ziva sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

"i'll be back soon, darling."

"i'll miss you." ziva teased.

rolling her eyes, y/n walked out of the hospital with a wide smile on her face, despite having to sit in the back.

#ncis #ncis x reader #ziva david #ziva #ziva david imagine #ziva david x reader #ziva david x fem reader #x female reader #fem reader #she her #angst #fluff #x reader #cote de pablo #federal agent #jules writes 📓🖊

[shinsukeee]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ, ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴏɴ..."

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐭, 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦

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Prim wakes up as the sun attempts to blind her eyes, she noticed herself laying on the grass while she still feels that emptiness trying to claw her back to the dark thoughts in her mind.

Atleast I touched some grass

Prim checks her surroundings, it looked familiar - was she dreaming? Hopefully not, she just changed the time to 00:00 as what the quest had stated before being blinded by her screen which was funny. Considering she wasn't even at the blinding loading screen whenever you load the game.

"Hm, did I manage to be isekai'd at the worst time possible? Yes"

She says, clearly not giving a fuck as she may have realized she probably died in the real world.

Yet my friends were planning on cheering me up, then I died. They'd think I committed suicide over that.

Prim sighs and gets up, noticing herself wearing her supposed-to-be outside outfit.

Hm, how wonderful.

She sets her eyes on Mondstadt and sighs.

If this were those Impostor AU, my combat alone won't save myself. Nor should I know if I'm even in that AU

She pulls out her pocket knife in her shoulder bag, as she attempts to make a little cut in her finger.

If I bleed gold, then I'd know if I truly am in those SAGAU's I've read.

She gives herself a little cut, wincing a little before seeing it drip gold.

Huh, nice drip—

Does this mean I can sell my blood?

If I sell it, do I die from blood loss?

Prim licks the blood off and tastes gold at some point gave up trying to know what it tastes like after tasting it and hides her pocket knife, cleaning the wound and placing a band aid on it before heading to Mondstadt.

She hums a familiar tune as the emptiness comes back as she remembers the message she last saw before her 'death'.

"Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much"

Though the lyrics her lips slip out hurt, it's the only way for her to express her pain. She couldn't cry, there weren't any tears nor deep sadness making her feel like crying.

Maybe it was a time where they just needed someone but feelings got involved. A right person, wrong time? Or simply fate's way of telling her that maybe this is her lesson in love, maybe she needs to heal and know.

Yet I hope we can be friends just like when we were younger before the feelings happened.

"But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up"

It truly was a masterpiece even if feelings got involved and they slowly fell out of love and realized that maybe, it was just a moment of needing someone to understand and lean onto. Quarantine surely had us feel those feelings we call 'Love'.

"Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well~"

She stops as she finally reaches the bridge.

If anyone were to tell me that I look like the creator or I'm an impostor, what do I do?

She sighs, touching her cheek before realizing she has a face mask on.

Do they even have COVID here-

She shakes her head and heads to Mondstadt, waving at Timmie who's with his pigeon friends as father left (?) who went out to get milk but never came back before bowing to the guards.

She's used to being told to be friendly, proper and gentle. It's what they always teach her or better yet, force her to do. Always needing to be lady-like.

She hears the whispers of the citizens but paid no mind, after all, gossips are also a thing in the real world. What's the difference in that?

You don't care about any gossip, it just drains you. Heck, people drain you. Crowds, emotions, energies. Everything drains you.

Yet she was your safe haven, one you can lean to and one you truly loved and treasured. Yet fate had told you that the feelings are fading, it's okay to just be friends.

Does she even want to be just friends?

Oh, but she's also the reason why you chose to shut those emotions which comes to the conclusion why you're losing emotions now, why you feel like pre-quarantine self all over again.

Prim shakes the voice in her head and those thoughts before getting pulled into Angel's Share. If she remembers correctly, Diluc owns this place.

A hand covers her mouth, she feels a breath tickle her ear.

Am I getting harassed-?!

"My, my. You descended to Teyvat and you didn't wait until I can find you, Your Grace"

I know that smooth talker

She tilts her head and looks up to see Kaeya Alberich, her first Genshin Crush and her main that she still tries to farm for a proper build.

"Kaeya?"

He smiles.

"Welcome to Teyvat"

Oh, she feels her heartbeat increase. No, it's not falling in love, she feels overwhelmed. She wants to breakdown. All the things she couldn't feel in the real world, it's coming back to her.

Kaeya noticed the change of the rise and fall of her chest, how her eyes switched to panic at the same time relieved. How her hands started shaking as she falls on the floor, feeling the voices haunt her once more.

She buries her hands on her face as she feels her anxiety getting worse.

Oh, this is all real. Huh?

What happened to not feeling anything?

Why am I suddenly crying?

Am I happy?

Am I upset that I really died?

That I...left?

I left my family...my mother...

My brothers...

My grandparents...

My friends...

Her...

My responsibilities...

My baby cats and my baby dog...

She feels a body's warmth embrace her, it was Kaeya.

It's real, he's real...

She breaks down, hugging him as she grips his clothing tight. Diluc is glad he and Kaeya shooed away some people before kidnapping taking Prim here, though the red head is behind the counter as usual.

"You're really here...it's really you..."

Prim whispers as she tries to stop her tears, Kaeya felt something stir inside him. How he felt how happy and relieved she is that he's there infront of her, he hands her a handkerchief and she thanks him.

"Sorry. I didn't know you could unlock these emotions I've lost"

She chuckles as she wipes her tears, Kaeya softly smiles and helps her sit on the stool.

These stools so goddamn tall-

"Your Grace, I apologize for interrupting your interaction but would you like a drink?"

Prim turns to Diluc Ragnvindr, the Darknight hero and another one of her genshin crush. Maybe her type consists of gentlemen.

Now that I realized it, I'm surrounded by the two hot bachelors-

"Um, water is fine"

"Coming right up"

She then turns to Kaeya who's looking at her, eyes filled with warmth and adoration. Prim feels warm with that gaze.

Why do I feel so loved?

It's as if all I ever craved for in the real world is here...except these blessings and privileges are being experienced without my family who deserve to feel it as well, my friends and her as well.

Then she remembers that in some sagau, there's yanderes and cults.

Just don't be a yandere and we're fine-

"Well, shall we fix our introduction?"

Kaeya stands up from the stool and holds Prim's unoccupied hand, kneeling down and kissing the back of her hand.

"It's an honor to be blessed with your presence, Your Grace. I'm Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius"

Prim chuckles and tells him to stand up before she gets off the stool and bows to him in a masculine way.

"Well, Sir Alberich. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, though I am curious. How did you know it's me?"

Kaeya hums, she notices him go back to his usual antics. That sly smirk and the playful glint in his eyes, it truly is him.

"Well, keeping you company during your journey left a big impression on me. I instantly felt your warmth and was prepared to meet you, until you beat me to it"

Prim looks at him, a playful glint in her eyes appear as she's quite known to be a teaser. She, of all people back down when she could tease someone? How unsightly of her.

"Oh, but if I do remember correctly. Didn't you kidnap me here, dear sir? My, my. I didn't know the Cavalry Captain has the guts to do such act"

Instead of Prim getting flustered, it was Kaeya. He isn't used to people flirting back or teasing back at him without being snarky and mean or having bad intentions, yet he feels warmth.

Prim chuckles, feeling satisfied with what she had done to the Alberich before seeing Diluc come back with water.

"Ah, thank you"

He hands her the glass, she pulls her face mask down before drinking. Feeling the stares before putting the glass down and pulling her face mask up.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer"

She mumbles, causing the two to cough. Embarrassed that they were caught staring.

"Apologies, we didn't mean to stare"

Diluc says, covering the lower part of his face with the back of his hand, obviously flustered.

How adorable, even the Ragnvindr gets flustered

Prim hums at the sight.

"That's alright. I'd like to apologize as well for suddenly coming here even if someone kidnapped me here and making your customers wait"

"Oh, there's no need. Angel's Share is closed for today"

"What"

Prim stares at them in the eyes, Diluc looks at Kaeya who whistles.

"This Idiot man actually had the idea of shooing away my customers, but do not worry. I don't mind having you here, Your Grace"

"Oh, how you flatter me"

Prim says, clearly teasing the Ragnvindr once more.

"Well, I guess people will start to crowd the outside of this place, yes? Rumors probably spread like wildfire ever since I walked in. If you gentlemen have the time, mind accompanying this lady?"

"Absolutely, Your Grace"

She hooks her left arm with Kaeya's and her right arm to Diluc's as they leave Angel's Share and head to the knights.

"I must say, you indeed have a different taste in fashion, Your Grace"

"Why? Perhaps you have something else in mind?"

Prim teases Kaeya who gets flustered.

"That would be rude of me, Your Grace"

He mumbles. Diluc on the other hand is occupied with his thoughts.

The Grace chose me to accompany her

That's what's being repeated in his head all over. Kind of like a fanboy thought.

"Say, Mister Diluc. Are you alright with us heading to the Knights? I believe I have to speak with Miss Jean"

Prim asks, worried if he's alright since everyone's aware that he despises the knights.

"Yes, I'm alright. Wherever her grace goes, I shall follow"

"How sweet of you, Master Diluc"

Kaeya teases, causing the two to have a glaring contest.

The privilege of watching this up close like that interaction during the first golden apple archipelago is such a gift

I may have religion trauma but thank you, God or Celestia or Archons. Whatever

"Settle down, we're here"

Prim says and the two obeys, the knights bow at the sight of the Creator. Prim smiles at them and softly says 'Thank you for your hard work' even if they don't and heads inside the headquarters.

"Big Brother Kaeya!"

While searching what Klee calls Kaeya, I found in JP she calls him 'Big Brother' so I decided to do that. Yet if it's needed to be corrected, please inform me and I shall correct my mistake.

Klee, the adorable spark knight runs up to them and spots the Cavalry Captain and the Weird Grown up - Klee's words, not mine alongside someone who she feels warmth with.

"And the Weird Grown up is here as well!"

Prim and Kaeya snicker at what Klee calls Diluc by, which the red-head didn't mind.

"Hi, Klee. Just came out of solitary confinement?"

"Mhm! Who's the big sister with you?"

"Hello, it's unusual to see you two come in here together with no quarrel"

Albedo, the Chief Alchemist, approaches them before feeling a pull towards Prim, his eyes widen and he bows. Klee is confused of her brother's actions yet she proceeds to follow his actions.

The moment she saw Albedo, she was reminded of 'her' again. 'She' simps for Albedo and Prim is aware, even supporting it since Prim as well simps for fictional characters.

"Your Grace, it's truly an honor to meet you. What brings you here?"

Prim tells them to stand up and Klee looks at the lady with curiosity as she and Albedo converse.

"Oh, I just wanted to have a talk with Miss Jean. Is she busy?"

"Master Jean is in her office, can Klee come with you, Your Grace, pretty please?"

Prim feels an invisible arrow shoot through her heart as she watches Klee pull a puppy eyes look at her.

Oh, you adorable elf

"Alright, I don't think it'll hurt anyone"

"Yay! Then big brother Albedo can come too!"

Albedo panics.

"Klee-"

He then freezes as Prim chuckles.

"Of course, he can come too as well"

"Thank you, Your Excellency"

"No worries. I believe you all need to be in there too, even Mister Diluc"

- - - - - - >

Oh shit, they're pretty

Prim, currently having a bi panic, suddenly sees Jean and Lisa bow.

"Your Grace!"

She snaps out of it and tells them to stand.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Jean shakes her head.

"It's an honor to meet you, may I ask what's the sudden meeting?"

I forgot about that-

"Oh, I just wanted to know if Mondstadt's alright. There's no need for me to worry knowing its in good hands"

Jean gets flustered and Lisa finds it amusing.

Oh, the power I hold

"If you may allow, Your Grace. Shall we hold a festival for your arrival?"

Does this involve social interaction-

"If that's alright. Will the paperwork be added?"

"It's alright, Your Grace. I can handle-"

"No, let's split the paperwork. We can't have you more overworked, do we?"

Seeing you drown yourself with work reminds me of myself

- - - -

While the others are planning, Jean and Prim are still talking about the event.

Kaeya is bugging Diluc, Albedo and Lisa talking about the charities in the event.

"Thank you for letting me accompany you on your journey, Your Grace"

Prim just smiles.

"Since it's getting dark. I think it's best if you go and rest first, Your Grace."

"Don't worry, she'll be staying in the Dawn Winery"

Do I get a say in this-

"Oh, Jean. Please don't overwork yourself, okay?"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't"

"Thank you, Lisa"

"Can we play tomorrow, Your Grace?"

"Sure, Klee"

And soon they leave to get to Dawn Winery, yes, Kaeya's there by request.

Will the brothers reconcile?

Prim wonders as they walk there, it sure is a long walk.

"Your Grace, I think I can only drop you off from there"

Kaeya says, Prim recognizes the tone and actions. It's like in the Weinlefest (if I spelled it correctly) event where he immediately tries to leave Dawn Winery cause he didn't want to make things awkward or he just...was overwhelmed with the feeling of nostalgia.

"Don't you want to stay there?"

To Prim's surprise, Diluc suggested it. Kaeya's surprised as well and the walk became quiet but not awkward, more like a comfortable silence.

"Well-"

Prim sees Dawn Winery then looks at the brothers.

I feel like they should talk this out without me

"Your Grace!"

Prim squeaks in shock and hides behind Kaeya while the maids bow.

Oh, that was just them-

Prim quickly tells them to stand up and Diluc talks to Adelinde.

"Prepare the food since her grace hasn't eaten yet"

Prim quietly slips and goes to them.

"Pardon my intrusion but Adelinde, yes? Can you, um, show me where I can stay for the meantime?"

"Oh, yes. It's an honor to have you stay here, Your Grace!"

Prim whispers to Adelinde.

"I believe the brothers have something to talk about, let's go, shall we?"

Adelinde chuckles and hooks her arm with Prim as the other maids follow them inside.

"We shall"

A bit rushed and pardon if others are ooc. Shall we wait for Chapter Two to find out if they'll reconcile or not? Why Prim is taking the Your Grace/Creator thing easily with no hesitations?

#genshin impact sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin impact kaeya #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x oc #creator #jean gunnhildr #lisa minci #genshin klee #albedo kreideprinz

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

Part 6 of my 'motorsport number ones' post. This time it's the random bunch of drivers edition

Sebastien Loeb - (26th February 1974) - Suzi Quatro - Devil Gate Drive

Juan Pablo Montoya - (20th September 1975) - Rod Stewart - Sailing

Mark Webber - (27th August 1976) - Elton John & Kiki Dee - Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Jenson Button - (19th January 1980) - The Pretenders - Brass In Pocket

Felipe Massa - (25th April 1981) - Bucks Fizz - Making Your Mind Up

Heikki Kovalainen - (19th October 1981) - Dave Stewart & Barbara Gaskin - It's My Party

Pippa Mann - (11th August 1983) - KC & The Sunshine Band - Give It Up

Robert Kubica - (7th December 1984) - Frankie Goes To Hollywood - The Power Of Love

Nico Rosberg - (27th June 1985) - Sister Sledge - Frankie

Jerome D'Ambrosio - (27th December 1985) - Shakin' Stevens - Merry Christmas Everyone

James Hinchcliffe - (5th December 1986) - Europe - The Final Countdown

Oliver Turvey - (1st April 1987) - Ferry Aid - Let It Be

Sebastian Vettel - (3rd July 1987) - Pet Shop Boys - It's A Sin

Alexander Sims - (15th March 1988) - Kylie Minogue - I Should Be So Lucky

Molly Taylor - (6th May 1988) - S'Express - Theme From S'Express

James Calado - (13th June 1989) - Jason Donovan - Sealed With A Kiss

Daniel Ricciardo - (1st July 1989) - Soul II Soul & Caron Wheeler - Back To Life

Simona De Silvestro - (1st September 1988) - Yazz & Plastic Population - The Only Way Is Up

Brendon Hartley - (10th November 1989) - Lisa Stansfield - All Around The World

Cristina Gutierrez - (24th July 1991) - Bryan Adams - (Everything I Do) I Do It For You

Abbie Eaton - (2nd January 1992) - Queen - These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Reema Juffali - (18th January 1992) - Wet Wet Wet - Goodnight Girl

Timmy Hansen - (21st May 1992) - K.W.S - Please Don't Go

Daniel Abt - (3rd December 1992) & Alice Powell - (26th January 1993) - Whitney Houston - I Will Always Love You

Christine GZ - (22nd July 1993) - Take That - Pray

Alex Lynn - (17th September 1993) - Culture Beat - Mr Vain

Bubba Wallace - (8th October 1993) - Take That & Lulu - Relight My Fire

Naomi Schiff - (18th May 1994) - Manchester United Football Squad - Come On You Reds

Jessica Hawkins - (16th February 1995) & Beitske Visser - (10th March 1995) - Celine Dion - Think Twice

Nicholas Latifi - (29th June 1995) - Robson & Jerome - Unchained Melody

Jack Aitken - (23rd September 1995) - Simply Red - Fairground

Oliver Askew - (12th December 1996) - Boyzone - A Different Beat

Louis Deletraz - (22nd April 1997) - Michael Jackson - Blood On The Dance Floor

Catie Munnings - (15th November 1997) - Aqua - Barbie Girl

Cem Bolukbasi - (9th February 1998) - Aqua - Dr Jones

Jamie Chadwick - (20th May 1998) - All Saints - Under The Bridge

Kevin Hansen - (28th May 1998) - The Tamperer & Maya - Feel It

Mick Schumacher - (22nd March 1999) - B*witched - Blame It On The Weatherman

Max Fewtrell - (29th July 1999) - Ricky Martin - Livin' La Vida Loca

Robert Shwartzman - (16th September 1999) - Vengaboys - We're Going To Ibiza!

Bent Viscaal - (18th September 1999) - Eiffel 65 - Blue (Da Ba Dee)

Felipe Drugovich - (23rd May 2000) - Billie Piper - Day & Night

Marta Garcia - (9th August 2000) - Robbie Williams - Rock DJ

Liam Lawson - (11th February 2002) - Enrique Iglesias - Hero

Olli Caldwell - (11th June 2002) - Will Young - Light My Fire

Doriane Pin - (6th January 2004) - Michael Andrews & Gary Jules - Mad World

Bianca Bustamante - (19th January 2005) - Elvis Presley - One Night

All added to this playlist 😊

#music #songs #f1 #fe #super formula #extreme e #jenson button #nico rosberg #sebastian vettel #daniel ricciardo #jack aitken #louis deletraz #mick schumacher #felipe drugovich #liam lawson #motorsport number ones

[msfbgraves]

I can't think of a single other male actor who had what Ralph Macchio had. He was that absolute perfect combination of sweet and sultry, sassy and innocent. Street-tough and vulnerable. Cute and cuddly, but also bratty and defiant. And those looks! He really was the prettiest thing. No wonder he got all the girls (and the guys, lol). If they couldn't be obsessed with him one way, they could only be another. I can't think of anyone else who instilled the feeling of wanting to protect, yet totally bully at the same time. A news article once called young Brooke Shields a virgin and a whore because of her looks and even demeanor. I almost want to use that for Macchio when he was young. That face--those eyes! That mouth! The hair! Oh yeah. He looked like a fucking Italian painting. 

No...I can't think of a single other actor who had "it" the way he did. Some say Timothy Chalamet does, but I highly disagree. While good looking in a model-esque way, he's too sharp and pointy, he lacks that softness, that tenderness and (let's be real here) "omeganess" Ralphie had without even trying. Even in his older age there's something still so boyish and charming about him. Maybe it's the large doe-eyes, maybe it's the expression. But he has it, still. 

Ralph Macchio models for Omega. Indeed, how much clearer do you want it. He was an omega before omegas were coined.

Timmy Chalamet depends on context. With Armie Hammer he has that omegan vibe, maybe, but Ralph is simply more hot blooded. Nîmes vs Naples, very different vibes. Though I personally feel that Ralphie could have done whatever Chalamet is doing and would have looked sexier doing it. Coquette and punk in one, and he will still whip it out when he wants over sixty! Quite something indeed...!

[faiirytalcs]

DOROTEA HERNANDEZ is based on TOOTIE from Fairly Odd Parents. She is a 21 year old HUMAN, THEATRE STUDENT, and uses she/her pronouns. She has NO POWERS.

Important History

where to start with tootie? maybe with the fact that she chooses to be called a weird nickname instead of her actual name because it feels like something that is so inherently hers

there wasn't much in her life growing up that felt like it hadn't been tainted in some way by vicky or fully destroyed simply because her older sister didn't want her to have it. but that was fine. there were ways she found to cope with her home life being less than stellar

evermore wasn't exactly the kind of place that made sense for someone like tootie - it was much too small for her much too large personality

not that she thought there was anything wrong with herself, on the contrary she was convinced that she was the best thing after sliced bread ( and whichever celebrity she had decided to dedicate herself to that month )

dramatic doesn't even begin to cover tootie hernandez. drama and passion are the blood that runs through her veins and it's no surprise that she feels everything so much, that she can be over the top and obsessive but if you don't have things that make you want to get out of bed in the morning, what's the point??

there are some people who claim that she needs to calm down, not to come on so strongly, but tootie never listened to such horrible advice. in her mind, they were just scared that she was so upfront with her intentions and her drive to get what she wanted but that was their problem, not hers!

family has always been a sore spot for her - her parents were less than absent and her sister was a nightmare. spending time away from home has been so engrained in her that she's often out until the wee hours of the morning to avoid seeing them at all

tootie fully believes she was meant for more in this world - either with an epic love or her face on the silver screen. she is in fact the main character!!

one day, someone will realize that tootie being in love with them is a gift and they will respond to her intensity at an equal level....one day

sometimes obsession comes in handy when it comes to uncovering information. could she be a private detective? sure but the only people she cares about digging into are the ones on posters covering her walls

falls in love a little too easily and sometimes ( most of the time ) that love is very much verging on mania but to be fair, it can only last a night. she's fickle with most of her love affairs.

real love is reserved for only a select few people who might not reciprocate it but she doesn't mind spending her time with people she knows she might not call again

the theatre is practically her second home. life in the hernandez household has never been that great and the community theatre has always been a place of comfort and safety for her, a place where people understood her and didn't judge her

has never set her mind on something that she hasn't been able to accomplish ( besides the whole timmy thing ). she has a scary sense of determination and once she's decided she wants to do something, there isn't much out there that can stop her

APPEARANCE

Face Claim: martina cariddi

Height: 5'1

Build: petite

Eye Color: hazel

Hair Color: dark brown

Piercings: ears, nose

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: creative, passionate, open-minded, determined

Negative Traits: impulsive, quixotic, obsessive, insecure

Likes: plaid skirts, mixing patterns that somehow work, statement glasses, doodling hearts on every surface, community theatre, spending time in the greenroom, the spotlight

Dislikes: being ignored, forgetting lines, having to spend any time with her sister, parsley, someone getting more attention, being told she can't do something, the love of her life ( whoever she's into at the moment ) choosing someone else

Phobias: ecophobia

Hobbies: fantasizing, writing, researching

Aesthetic: living a million lives that will never come to fruition, falling in love with every person you meet, parasocial relationships, the second sister destined to be forgotten, the feeling of velvet theatre curtains, fighting tooth and claw to make a name for yourself, daydreaming at the most inopportune time, the smell of fresh roses

FAMILY

Mother: nicola 'nicky' hernandez

Father: diego hernandez

Sibling(s): victoria 'vicky' hernandez ( older sister )

Pet(s): chipper ( orange tabby cat )

#𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ;; dorotea hernandez

[randomluck-ofthe-universe]

I’m going to direct this ask to you as I feel maybe you will understand, and maybe share my opinion. If not I’m sorry, and feel free to ignore me.

Anyway, I keep seeing charmie anons on different charmie blogs talking about other ships involving Tim in a very negative and even mocking manner, and I don’t like it. What happened to ship and let ship?

Now, I’ve blocked any and all charmie antis and rarely visit tags, so I don’t see what’s going on at the other side, but that makes it all the more jarring. I hate any kind of fandom policing so wish I didn’t have to see it at all. There will always be ships we don’t like, and often involving one half of a ship we do like. Different dynamics resonates with different people. There is no use in being possesive and trying to change people’s minds or argue, as it will most often only create hate for the thing you’re trying to push. Simply block and curate your experience.

Timmy is one of the most popular actors working right now, and people will see chemistry in different relationships he’s part of, always. It will make everyone deeply unhappy to try and fight against this. Complaining can act as blood in the water for antis, and it certainly creates negativity in a space that could be positive. So, I urge everyone to ignore and enjoy the ship you like in peace. Fandoms grow through sharing enjoyment, and shrinks or dies through policing and negativity, and I would truly hate for that to happen.

I don’t feel to add anything else to your message, anon. I totally share your thoughts.

Except one thing though, I don’t live the love and relationship between Timmy and Armie like a ship. They're something real, solid and much deeper for me.

And I don't feel at all threatened or annoyed and neither I don’t want to make judgments about who believes in other ships involving Timmy, I feel confident what I believe firmly in and to me this is enough.

Thank you for this meaningful message, anon.

#anons

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 33

Hayffie Post-mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. Chapter 33 Clouds on the horizon Mrs. Pluckrose had a silver door knocker shaped like a wolf’s head. It shone with moist after the latest rain. Empty eyes stared into Effie’s when she lifted the heavy ring between its jaws and knocked three times. The November wind whispered in the apple tree and she wrapped her cardigan, Haymitch’s cardigan that was, tighter around herself as she waited. Almost a full minute passed and right when she thought they would simply ignore her, the door swung open. Mrs. Pluckrose’s ten year old looked back at her, startled and big-eyed, standing there in his stocking feet and red knitted sweater with blue dots on it. Then his face closed shut and he stared her down, defiantly and suspicious. “Hello, Timothy. Is your mother home?” But she needn’t ask for now Mrs. Pluckrose herself appeared in the doorway, next to her son. “Something I can help you with, Ms. Trinket?” Effie’s gaze flitted to Timothy who remained behind his mother’s skirts. “Do you want to tell her, Timothy or shall I?”

When there was no response her attention returned to Mrs. Pluckrose. “Your son has been harassing my children. Calling them names.” “I didn’t! I just…” “Today wasn’t the first time either and I will not stand for it.” Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her son. “Have you said anything inappropriate, Timmy?” Timothy worried his bottom lip. Looked surly from Effie to his mother. “No. I only said what you…” “In!” Mrs Pluckrose snapped, pointing. “Go to your room!” The boy shot one last glance at Effie and walked off. With him gone Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her neighbor again, smiling a smile sweet as a lemon. “I’m sure this is nothing but a big misunderstanding. You probably just heard him wrong, that’s all. I know how tiresome the baby years can be.” “I heard him perfectly clear, Mrs. Pluckrose.” “Our Timmy is a good boy. And this is a good neighborhood. Nothing like what you said has ever happened before. Not until you moved here.” “Oh, my dear Mrs. Pluckrose,” said Effie and shook her head. “If you are bent on playing this obtuse, then can I at least talk to Timothy?” The neighbor flashed another sweet-sour smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That is never going to happen, Ms. Trinket. Pardon me for being so frank but if you feel like the Capitol isn’t agreeing with you then there’s always the option of moving. Why don’t you just heed my advice and take your family back to District 12. You’ll be happier for it.” xXx “I should’ve gone.” More rain tapped against the glass ceiling of the roof terrace while Effie poured coffee for them both. “Goodness no.” She checked on Amy sleeping in her baby bouncer before settling into the sofa with her cup, her feet tucked underneath her. “I’m way too exhausted to wipe that woman’s blood off the walls.” Ian moved sleepily against his father’s chest but with the rocking of the old hammock he didn’t wake up. Haymitch rubbed his free hand against his aching eyes. Felt like someone had poured sand into them. Effie was probably right. A few weeks ago she wanted fresh tulips to celebrate the fact that the house was now hers. Later, when they pushed the stroller out of the flower shop they crossed paths with an elderly couple. 80 years old or more. Him leaning heavily against a cane and dressed in a pearl gray suit and matching hat. Her, petite and viciously laced up with a dead Eastern bluebird on top of her elegant hairdo. “Oh, don’t mind about them, dear,” the old lady said and patted her husband’s arm. But the man had halted to a stop and when Effie met his frosty stare with her head high he spat on the ground. “Filthy half-breeds!” “Hey, pal!” Haymitch shouted after them. “If you don’t want me to knock those false teeth out you’ll keep your opinions to yourself!” So yeah. Haymitch had always fancied himself a level-headed man. Someone who could keep his cool under pressure. Even be diplomatic when the situation called for it. But with Amy and Ian… If something threatened them, he saw red every time. “Do you want me to take him?” Effie asked when Ian let out a long whine and bumped his mouth into Haymitch’s shoulder. “No, it’s alright.” He kissed the top of his son’s head. “Boy’s just determined to have his father jump off the fire escape. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” In response, Ian hiccupped and the next moment something warm ran down Haymitch’s shoulder. Effie burst out laughing and covered her mouth with her hand. Haymitch shot her a look. “You gonna do that every time they spit up on me?” Effie cleared her throat to try and contain herself but her eyes glittered with mirth as she helped him with the paper towels. “At least you have a burp cloth,” she said. “If you could just remember wearing it. That’s more than I had when you puked on me during the Games.” Down bellow, the door bell suddenly rang in a fury, followed by a thunder of feet and distant laughter. Haymitch sighed. In the weeks and months that followed their first visit, they’d spent a lot of time in the Fountains of Youth. Other places too. The river Theseus, Cupid’s Garden. Always in the morning when the least people were up and about, giving them a hard time. But it was only kids who advanced like this. Who dared more than looks and whispers. And Timothy Pluckrose wasn’t the only one. Far from it. It got so bad that Haymitch and Effie would probably have kept to the roof terrace with its bullet proof glass as much as possible, if it was all up to them. It wasn’t a bad place for someone who needed a break from the world. If not a safe haven, then at least a quiet, peaceful hideout, overflowing with potted plants. A comfy couch, armchairs. Soft carpets. A small book case stood in the corner filled with children’s books and glossy magazines and a family of Effie’s origami frogs. In here they fed and changed and cuddled the twins. Read them bedtime stories and played records for them on their grandfather’s old gramophone. Even enjoyed a good lunch or a catnap, when given the chance. It was a good house. No matter what his feelings were toward the rest of the Capitol, he had to accept that it really was. The rooms, the roof terrace, the little garden with the tree and the wishing pond. A good place for children. And with each memory built that included them, the more it became their house. Amy and Ian’s. And that made it the one place in the Capitol he could actually stand. But Amy and Ian loved being outdoors. They loved riding in the stroller. Especially through the Fountains of Youth. Haymitch didn’t know if it was the sound of water or the wind chimes or simply the soft bumps and bounces of the stroller itself but it was the single best way to make them fall asleep and sleep hard. Overall, their sleep cycle was out of whack, despite Effie’s careful planning. When she was still pregnant, it had seemed like a non-issue – staying up with a newborn at three in the morning – since he’d be awake anyway. But what he didn’t take into account was the fact that Amy and Ian needed him just as much during the day. Every day. 24 hours a day. No wonder sleep deprivation was used as a torture method. He’d confess anything at this point. The crying was another matter. Effie said it was all normal but he’d be damned if her genes hadn’t given them a head-start in the voice department. Because how else could someone so small be so fucking loud? He’d be deaf in one ear before their first birthday. His entire existence had narrowed down to just recognizing what the twins needed and give it to them. Course, his life hadn’t exactly been chockfull of ambition prior to them either. Or any kind of meaning, for that matter. xXx ”Tattletale! District breeder! Twelve Whore!” Hands banged on the windows and the twins shrieked, startled awake just minutes before being put down. “Goddamn punks!” Haymitch hauled himself out of bed. Seeing him coming, the kids fled, giggling hysterically. He slammed the window open. “Come back here, you ignoramuses!” Their laughs echoed as they all scattered to the wind. “Go back to District 12, traitor!” one of them piped. ”It’s OK. It’s OK, baby girl. I’m here. Mama’s here.” Amy wailed in Effie’s arms. Ian too, alone in the crib. That’s what finally moved Haymitch from the window. “Come here. Don’t cry, little ‘un.” He lifted his son up, holding him close. “I ain’t never gonna let anyone hurt you. Not ever.” Haymitch knew his children’s cries. Had heard plenty of it since the moment they were born. He’d even started to recognize some of them, able to tell what cry meant what, with Effie’s help. But he had never heard anything like this and he never wanted to again. The wrong cries. Frightened cries. Like they were scared out of their minds. He cradled Ian close to his chest, rocking him. With his hands clutched into fists the baby wailed from the top of his lungs. Amy did too and all they could do was waiting for it to pass. Ian calmed down first. With his little face buried in his father’s sweater, the safe and familiar smell comforted him. Amy had a worse time. Sometimes there was a pause in her cries with nothing but the occasional whimper but then it was like she remembered it anew and it set her off all over again. Effie rocked her and kissed her and whispered a soft lullaby. Wonderfully out of tune, yes, but the sound lit an idea in Haymitch’s head. “Come. Imma try something.” Holding the twins, they headed for the living room. Haymitch laid Ian down on the couch and Effie had a seat next to him with a crying Amy to her chest. June and Annabel’s piano went with all the rest of the furniture when the moving van rolled out of the Capitol but Effie had one herself. One that belonged to her parents, though not nearly as fancy. Now Haymitch pulled out the music stool in front of it and had a seat. With his fingers on top of the ivories, slow and sweet music filled the air. His first performance since before they were born. It was one of her absolute favorites. Haymitch had played it to her as many times as she liked during the pregnancy. Baby Mine. That’s right. Or Babies Mine as Effie’d come to call it. A mountain air as old as the hills. Haymitch even taught her the lyrics when asked. She heard the words in her mind now, just as clearly as she did the music. Amy quieted down as the music registered. With tears shining on her cheeks her cries turned to sniffles and then nothing at all. Ian nibbled on his knuckles, blinking up at the ceiling. Both the twins listened, in wonderment over the sounds. Then, almost immediately, their eyelids started drooping. “Oh,” said Effie in a hushed voice. “I think they remember.” Haymitch’s dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes as he kept playing the soft lullaby. Effie kissed Amy’s temple, holding her with one arm; her other hand rested against Ian, throughout the rest of the song. xXx “You should’ve let a Capitolian knock you up instead of me.” Haymitch lay on his side, watching Amy and Ian’s chests rise and fall with each breath. They slept soundly now, lying in the middle of the bed, safe between their parents. Effie met his gaze from the other side, caressing their hair. “What kind of rubbish is that?” “I’m serious. You wouldn’t be having this problem if they weren’t my blood.” “Don’t start that again. I don’t care what people think. Amy and Ian are yours and it’s exactly how it should be. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. You know that.” “OK,” he said. “What about them? What will their lives be like?” An hour later the cab pulled up to the curb. The glowing sun was on its way down, setting the world ablaze. Just the kind of orange Peeta loved. Mrs. Pluckrose stood in her doorway, watching them lift the last of their bags into the car. So giddy she was practically flying on her feet. “We’ll be sorry to see you go,” she thrilled. “Oh, just let it be, Effs,” said Haymitch but Effie had already turned around and left him there with the twins, slumbering in their child safety seats. “We’re not moving, Mrs. Pluckrose,” she said, coming face to face with the neighbor. ”We’re going to District 12 to visit our other children.” Mrs. Pluckrose snorted a laugh. “Your children?” “That’s right. And while we’re being this neighborly, let me just inform you that if you don’t teach your son some decent manners until I get back I might just tell your darling husband about the gentlemen you enjoy spending time with while Timothy’s at school.” Mrs. Pluckrose’s face turned an ugly red. “That’s a filthy lie! And even if it wasn’t, my Carl would never believe the words of a fallen woman like yourself!” “Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. Do you really want to take the chance?” Mrs. Pluckrose’s teeth were clutched so tightly it was a miracle they didn’t shatter like dinner plates at a tourist attraction. Her pale eyes stared into Effie’s who looked straight back, steadfast and unwavering. ”Twelve Whore,” she murmured through pressed lips. “Capitol cunt,” said Effie, loud and clear. Mrs. Pluckrose gasped, gaping like she couldn’t even believe the words. “You!” was all she got out. “You… you!” Effie didn’t stay to hear the rest. She turned on her heel, back to Haymitch and their children. Mrs. Pluckrose wasn’t the only one who stared. Haymitch looked at Effie like he’d never seen anything so magnificent in all of his 40 odd years. “Did you just…?” “Oh, shut up, Haymitch!” She lifted Ian into the car. “Let’s go.” Author’s note: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Effie is boss! Baby Mine is from the movie “Dumbo” of course. The 2019 version. You can listen to it on Youtube: “Disney Piano – Dumbo Baby Mine – Relaxing piano.” I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Leave a review if you wanna make my day and make for faster updates.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie twins #the hunger games

[mrchalamet-mrstyles]

Taylor walking for Loewe on Friday in Paris and Timmy in Paris on Saturday for no apparent reason is a bit sus ngl. Y'all better prepare yourselves, just in case. Don't wanna burst a blood vessel. 🤭

Do you really not read the comments? No one here will be upset if they are dating. I'm simply not gonna say they are until we have absolute proof beyond promo. So no need to worry about any burst blood vessels because I will be ecstatic to see them as a couple 👋

[twipsai]

a post about Tempus, and what it means in Dream On!

by now, it’s probably obvious that Timmy and Eight are the same person, just in a different time. It’s also clear that Eight (Timmy) works for the TSF (Tempus Space Force). so what does this mean— what is Tempus? well, to answer that, im gonna have to dive into specifically what kind of universe this takes place in.

more under the cut!

the ahit headcanonverse that most of my aus take place in (something that i call Ahit Deluxe Edition) takes place in a universe that isn’t… the kindest to magic users. Tempus is one of the more extreme examples on this. in a society run by zero magic-born (beings born with magic in their blood). and, of course, nothing can ever be simple… creatures that arent Tempean (Hat Kid species) usually have to hide from anyone associated with the government if they want to survive on any of the Tempus colonies. T-12, a planet ive referred to in the fic once or twice, is simply a planet in the Tempus colonies (“T” standing for “Tempus,” and “12” being the number given to the planet (in order that each Tempus planet was found)). the Tempus government may own the most planets in the Milky Way, but word is hard to get around, so who knows…

“well,” i hear you asking, “why did Hat leave T-12?” which is a perfectly valid question! though, it may be a bit spoiler-y. to put it simply, what do misfits do when theyre discriminated against? they rebel, of course.

now, where does Eight fit into this? how did he, a magic-born, become part of the TSF?

some questions are best left unanswered… for now, at least.

#ahit dream on au