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soapoet · 8 months

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A letter from your future spouse

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Hello,

You must be up to something, because I cannot get you off my mind. Day and night you haunt me. I type away on my computer, answer phone calls, and I could swear I saw you in the corner of my eyes. At night as I begin to drift, I hear your voice and jolt up, only to be met with an empty room entirely void of you. When you're really here with me in the flesh, I look at you only when you look away. Will I be punished for these stolen glances? You and I, are we forbidden, and if so, who will be the judge?

I thought my life was stable, and in many ways it was. Though it was painted grey, dull. I lived dreary mondays every day of the week. I chased after new experiences, new achievements, new opportunities, new things. New, new, new, new. But it was not until you walked into my life that I truly felt the warmth of the sun and the rain on my skin. Was I colour blind all along? Because you show me colours I never even knew existed. You were truly new. A new light in my life that shines so brightly, but never hurts my eyes. Still I look away. It's not proper, is it? I've been caught up in the crossfire, amidst a battle between head and heart. You're in my heart, you have it in your hands, but didn't I say you are constantly on my mind too? It seems then, my dear, that this battle has a victor, and now I must prcoeed to gather up the courage to speak what I've so carefully kept hidden.

Oh, but you're so observant. You already know. You knew all along, didn't you? You so innocently sat there, knowing I'm a moth to the flame, and that come hail or shine I would find my way to you. You're a mastermind. An architect, the keeper of the blueprint to our tale. I am in awe of you. You were supposed to be a problem, a silly crush I could get over and never act upon, but now I'm thinking of things borrowed and blue. The first day that I saw you lightning struck. It marked the beginning of the end for many things in my life which I had kept around because it was fine. Not perfect, just fine. Suddenly I saw all the cracks and flaws, saw that which I would tolerate, go along with, even when I really didn't want to. You shook me to my core. In many ways, you ruined my life. For the better, I am sure. But for a moment there I wondered what horrors you had unleashed upon me. With your face so sweet and innocent I thought surely you would be unable to trigger earthquakes. And that even if you could, surely you were much too sweet and much too kind to do such thing.

Yet here I stand, amidst the rubble of what I used to call my life. Everything came crashing down because none of it was as stable as it should've been. I'm rebuilding, slowly, and could use some guidance or inspiration. What's your favourite colour? Would you like these tiles for the kitchen? I want to build my life up to look like the perfect home for you. I wish to keep you safe. You've weathered storms just as I have. Had to grow quickly, like dandelions through concrete. You're tired, and I don't want to see you quitting so I am building you a shelter. I promise to keep watch while you get some rest in my arms. When you're healed and strong enough I will provide you the space and time so you can chase your dreams in peace. You can use our home as the foundation for your castle. I know the power you hold, and I will be there to help you wield it.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

02.

Hello,

Coincidentally that is exactly when I knew. "You had me at hello" is such a cliché, but I swear that it is true. I always know trouble when I see it, and you are quite the nightmare indeed. I hope you take no offence to my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. That typically results in problems, but to me it's another one to toss onto the existing pile. I have a lot of baggage, but if you don't mind, I won't mind yours. Maybe we could get a big storage locker and shove all our baggage in there, lock the door and toss the keys, skip town and never return. It'll all be auctioned off one day for somebody else to deal with. Wouldn't that be nice?

Where was I? Right. Hello. That's when I knew. I always do. I fall very quickly and passionately. Really I leap off into free fall all by my own judgement, sometimes perhaps lack thereof. I know a pretty thing when I see it, though pretty isn't enough, is it? I've learned that the hard way. As I've learned most things. Behind me lays a trail of burnt bridges and broken hearts, though most of those pieces are my own. Most people are unable to tell. I have a reputation, but I think the judgement is unjust. Wholly unfair. I have developed trust issues. Betrayal cuts deep. You know that, don't you? I keep people at bay, and guard my territory fiercly. I am very loyal and I am known for my equal bark and bite. I want to be your guard dog. I swear I will lunge for the jugular if anybody dares cross you. I am protective, albeit a little reckless. I have a lot of scars to prove it.

Little birdies may warn you of me. Tell twisted tales of my exploits. I've been called toxic. Perhaps there is truth to some of it. My love burns bright and hot, but it never wavers. I crave closeness, and wish to crawl into the heart and mind of my target of affections like a spider trespassing into your home to weave its webs in the darkest corners. I want to know you better than anybody else. Know your body, mind, heart, and your soul like it is my own. You will never be left wanting reassurance, because I have known doubt, and doubt is my enemy and I will fight it on sight. You will always know that I am yours. With me you have nothing to fear. Least of all me or my commitment to you and us.

Perhaps we both had to scrape our knees as we crawled through painful loves before we found each other. Together we'll be powerful. A dynamic duo, partners in crime. Those closest to me would come forward as witnesses to my ride or die nature, and you as my life partner will be my biggest testament to this part of my character. You're not too different, are you? You would die for your people, fight with your bare hands if you had to. Together we will face the world. I'll have your back and you'll have mine, a 360° of the battlefield. We can tear down and build up whatever we want. We can build an empire, or bring them down. With you by my side, everything is possible. I would move mountains and part seas for you. Your love is an enchanted rose and I am a beast, and I will wait for you. Come to me quickly.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

03.

Hello,

I hope my words don't bore you with their simplicity. I also hope that you've been well. I have so many questions, but let us not rush. There is no finish line in love, correct? I've been alright. Y'know, ups and downs. I've kept to myself a lot. Self improvement has become akin to an occupation. I always strive to do and be better. I may not seem the kind, but I have a soft heart which I guard closely. I like old timey romance and watch sappy things when I am down. Please don't tell anybody! I am a rock, but for a long time I was but a pebble, kicked around and misplaced. I have moved around a lot and all I want is to grow roots. Would you mind sparing a little spot in your garden? I just need a little sunlight and a fall of rain to grow. I promise I won't waste your time and do my all to never disappoint you.

My affections build slowly. Too slow for many, but I hate accidents and mistakes, at least my own. I strive for perfection, though people tell me it does not exist. I see it in you, though, so they must be wrong. Sure, you have your flaws, but the glue between your cracks glisten in the light and are still beautiful to me. I really do enjoy the simple things. Do you stop to smell the roses too? I have a gentle love to offer. A kitchen bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of pancakes in the air. I'll eat the first pancakes, because the ones I bring to you in bed should be perfect, and the first one never is. You deserve so much good, and I really hope I can provide a lot of that good to you by my own hands.

I am shy, and don't always have a way with words. I will tell you through music how I feel, or paint you on a canvas in all your favourite colours. I'll help you sculpt your dreams and wishes. I'd make a great assistant. I would love to follow you on your way up ladders and mountains. I believe in you like some believe in a higher power. You can put your faith in me too. Love is a choice, and I will make the choice to love you every morning when I rise. You are the kind of fun that doesn't make me ill. The adventure I am unafraid to embark on. We can play our own roles and support each other. I'll be of service to you at every step if you need me. In return I only ask that you hold me close and never let me go.

I fear abandonment, and have known a life without guidance. I've become rigid, and hope that you'll help me bend without snapping and show me the wonders of the unknown. With you by my side I won't be afraid. My skepticism will not be a hindrance because you lead me into uncharted territory as though you have a map, and I trust that you know where we're going. And should uncertainty rise, well, I have dealt with that beast plenty, and I can tame it and send it on its way should it bother you. I will always stand by you so that never again will you need to face challenges alone. You are a promise I will keep forever if you let me.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

04.

Hello,

Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Keep yourself hydrated. Take even just a sip. I apologise if I'm fussing, but I've always been a caregiver. People depend on me. At home, at work, even my friends. I get taken advantage of pretty easily, and I try my best to keep my boundaries. Though I am admittededly prone to a bit of a saviour complex. It's not so much that I don't think others cannot get up on their own, I just think they shouldn't have to. A helping hand is often rare these days. For many, even just the day to day grind is unbearable, so any chance to take the load off another's shoulders and let them rest and catch their breath I'll happily take.

I try my best to be fair, but often lose sight of what's best for me. I want to help and support everyone who needs it, but in my quest to save everyone, I have often abandoned myself. My care is often expected and thus taken for granted. Nobody seems to understand how much it hurts. Well, until I met you anyway. You're a little fire cracker. You have a great presence despite your size. You're honest and so very clever. I was instantly in awe by your radiance, your willpower, your resilience and your strength. You taught me important lessons. I'm older than you but sometimes I feel like a student listening to my teacher preach. You're opinionated and steadfast, and have such a strong sense of justice. You call it like it is, and have called me out aplenty. Always well-intentioned. You get worked up easily, and I find it rather cute. You scold me like a parent their child when I don't take up enough space, don't hold my head high, or when I give away too much for free. You are objective and fair, never tell me I'm right or wrong unless I really am. It's refreshing. You're like a breath of fresh air.

It pains me to hear of your past. How you've been to hell and back. You face struggles even when you really can't or feel like giving up. You always get back up again, always try to find another way around when an obstacle sits in the way of where you're going. You've lived life on hardmode, and now I yearn to make things easier for you. You if anyone deserves my devotion. I know you are much too just to take advantage of my kindness and return my love in earnest. I trust you, and that says a lot as I've only ever been able to trust myself.

Would you let me be your safe space? We can build you a nest and make sure you have the nicest, softest things and plenty of snacks. I wish to provide you the space and time to really relax and let your guard down. You can safely get in touch with your inner child and heal them from all their past wounds. I will guard your sanctuary and let you be free and able to go wherever your heart desires. Let your curiosity guide you, and I will follow and keep bandaids in my pocket should you stumble and fall. You don't need to be strong all the time, and you need not be ready for battle at all hours of the day. I will take the wheel and take us in the direction of your choice whilst you rest safe and sound for as long and as much as you want and need.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

05.

Hello,

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ay? Am I late, or were you just early? It seems as though you've been waiting a long time. Wasted your time kissing a whole lot of frogs, huh? Settled for good enough? Jumped from ship to ship like a pirate looking for the best loot? Well, congratulations! You made it. I'm here now! I'm just kidding, but I am, in fact, very happy now that you found me. Lots of hurdles to get over, had to crumple up many plans and ideas and kick yourself into gear on the career front. I'm far from your finish line, I am merely a little prize for a job well done. And now you'll have me by your side for the next chapters. Oh, the adventures we will have! How exciting, I can hardly wait.

Something important you had to learn before you got here is beating the status quo to the curb. You always did struggle with fitting into a neat little box and following orders, didn't you? Yet so many fools tried to bend your will and make you follow a nice little step by step pre-determined program. Hah, as if you'd ever be happy giving up your freedom like that. And I adore that about you. To hell with the status quo. I never do what is expected of me unless I myself set or agreed to those expectations. This is my life, and your life is yours. Wanna dance? Because I'll choose to court you on sight, and I hope you don't make me look like yet another fool because truly, I tell you, our dance will be an exhilarating one. We can both lead, because screw the rules!

Do not mistake my arrogance and my eleutheromania as purely egoic and a sign of wavering commitment. Though I have my admirers and my comrades, I am fiercly loyal. I do intend to flaunt you, because you are a dream come true worthy of the spotlight. I hope you're not shy, and if you are, then well, it'll be that much more entertaining for me to see you flustered by all the attention and applause. So learn to take a compliment, kiddo, because you just hit the jackpot and the prize includes a lifetime supply of praise. Along with a steadfast support system, as not only will I be at your beck and call, I fully intend to introduce you to my network of friends in higher places. Fret not, because your wildest dreams will soon appear mundane as together with some found family we will get where you are going so much faster than you've been going before.

Speaking of family, I'm not very close with mine. Perhaps neither are you, so you will understand the feeling of always having to do everything yourself and not having the kind of safety net that a family can provide. This is why I have collected friends over the years to whom I serve as family and they the same for me in return. In my anxieties of abandonment and neglect, I do everything in my power to help and support my loved ones because I know what it feels like to be without as much as encouragement on this journey of life. If you ever need some kind words, I'll be sure to whisper them in your ear and shout your name from the rooftops. You deserve the world, so pack your bags. We have tickets to explore it all.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

06.

Hello,

I pray you did not hear me talking to myself. I cry out into the void often. My mind, always abuzz with what ifs and wonder, has its way of driving me mad. Often I feel like a mad scientist, fixated on something so long I fail to take care of all my human needs. Before I know it, the sun has set and made way for the night. I recognise the passing of time only when I notice it is dark and the only source of light is the screen right on front of me. I have so many tabs open in my head I don't always notice what goes on around me. But you startled me. Admittededly I did not notice right away, but when I did I was shocked. It must've been weeks before I zoned out, watching your face as I thought of absolutely nothing. I waited for you to finish whatever it was that you were occupied with, and then it hit me. You're beautiful and I like you.

It feels easy to be around you. I can't say the same for many people, if any. I have had plenty of offers, but competing against my solitude is difficult. A race few finish, and none truly come out of as the victor. I get bored easily, and I must be honest and admit that though I may be quickly intrigued and glue myself to my newest interest, my attention is hard to keep. I enjoy the rush of newness, and yearn for a love that stays fresh and full of intrigue. And I found that in you. For you lead your own life, explore your own paths, then report back to me your newest finds. We pick apart things and situations like mechanics figuring out all the parts of a new machine. Then we go and find new things to inevitably share, and sometimes we journey together too. There is always something. I no longer feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going. No longer the one in charge of every who and what and how and why and when and where. You pull your own weight. For once I, too, feel fascinating. And not only do I feel interesting, I find you equally interesting. It didn't drop for either of us.

Some may look at us strangely, but good heavens, are some people so easily lulled into a boring and mundane routine. Every time I would cry out my woes, I was called childish. Told that love will and should settle into a comfortable and steady routine. That it is normal for the excitement of newness to fade as you get to know someone. I refused to believe every relationship was doomed to become such a snooze. And I am glad you did too, because you keep growing as I grow and our vines they intertwine and part ways and cross again in this intricate web of possibilities. To know you is to be a student of law or medicine. Doctors and lawyers practice their craft, they're not fixed by a mere degree because neither law or medicine is fixed. It is ever-changing and developing. I pinch myself because I can hardly believe I found another student like me.

Never fear I will leave you feeling stupid. I am aware of my own merit, but never wield it against anyone, unless needed. You are very clever and you have strengths and skills that I do not. I promise to be there to listen, especially in times when nobody else will. I have known loneliness and neglect. My curiosity is a form of escapism as I run away from the eldritch horrors of my past. Please be direct with me. Within me lives a tired old hopeless romantic, whom I locked away in shame as I was told it never plays out like in the movies. But you've proved to me that it actually does. And for you I'll do anything. Though you sometimes leave me tongue tied and flustered, you stabilize me. As thanks you'll have my loyalty and devotion. I'm used to taking care of others, and I know my care won't be misplaced on you. I read people easily already, but please allow me to study your face and note down every micro-expression so that I will always be able to tell how you are feeling even when you feel unable to put it into words.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

#pac reading #tarot reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #love reading #love pac #tarotblr #soapy.post

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amelie-isnt-french · 3 months

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I'll bite.

I need to know about the red string conspiracy doc.

Sounds very fun

I have been WAITING for this. Get ready for the combined brainrot of @alice-apparently and I, you poor soul. Now, listen up, 'cause we’ve got a labrynthine twisted task of a tale to tell, and if you don’t keep up, you might get lost :)

And obviously: spoilers for tmagp. don't keep reading if you're behind 🫵🏼

First things first: anyone currently descending into paranoia? we're already there, poster children of paranoia-land, that's us. May I present the title of the wonderful conspiracy doc -

There's also a TMA conspiracy doc Ali made, fully colour- episode- and entity-coordinated. It's like 24k words and not even fully done. don't worry about it.

Which is why we're going to be super normal and low-key about the Protocol red string doc right?

of course.

As you can see above, our collaboration relies on Ali's colour coding and her making nice, structured observations of possibly important things, while I provide the Latin and cheer her on. Balance is important in a marriage.

Also included in this all-round package: character info, quotes, etc.

I've since moved on from my "Gwen is evil" theory because I simply love socially awkward, abrasive characters who are good at their job a little too much (nervously shuffles Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, further behind my back). Still the hottest bitch at the OIAR, don't @ me.

Also also, in this house we love Alice Dyer and don't trust her any further than we can throw her. what is UP with all your comments Alice? What do you know???

Anyway.

But Ames, you say, didn't you promise quotes? I did, and I'll do you one better: tmagp quotes with additional obnoxious commentary from yours truly and Ali

If you'd like to see Ali lose her shit over the red canary implications (which I fully support), hop over to her tumblr @alice-apparently and give it a read. It's delightful.

Right. Moving on from the random screenshots. Basic outline of part one of the paranoia board is a section for every episode. Ali is listening to ep7 as I write this and having a great time (not), so there's not much in the ep7 section, except for this:

Thoughts and prayers, love, thoughts and prayers.

And FINALLY, my favourite section.

This is the speculation part, time line puzzle and colour coding reference, but my current favourite is this:

She's trying to reverse-engineer the case coding in tmagp, a noble cause. Godspeed, Ali, bc that is too many numbers for my silly little brain. I only excel at criticising stupid horror protagonists aka Personal Screening:

That's all for now.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, and to send you all off, one last silly comment from me to you and the universe:

Bye!

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #red string conspiracy doc #attention ali #first shift #personal screening #alice dyer #sam khalid #gwendolyn bouchard #colin becher #tma jmart #jonmartin #spoilers #tmagp spoilers

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noneorother · 23 days

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The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 2

Part 1 l Part 2

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... here's where we left off last time:

Onwards and upwards, as they say. 11. International paperbacks, Goda Omen

It is inexplicable to me but I LOVE this cover art. It's so sweet and innocent, the colours are contrasty and fun, and the layout leaves enough room for the text. Maybe I would call it slightly inaccurate to have our boys dancing on Greenland while the UK has drowned in a great flood, but hey. It's charming. The international cover gets a thwack with a ruler for trying to fit "creator of Discworld" in between the two wings like that, though. Tier: Great

12. Italian Cover, Buona Apocalisse à tutti!

The Italian translation of Good Omens into "Happy Apocalypse to All!" really tickles my funny bone. Unlike this cover which is trying to scrape at it with a dull knife until I'm screaming on the floor. I know demons can only dance badly, but does Crowley *really* have to fracture both ankles while trying? Aziraphale pelvic thrusting his way into heaven is a visual I didn't think I'd ever want. Minus so many points for random murder alley where this is all occurring. At least the designer managed to wrangle the type into one of the best proportional layouts I've seen thus far? Tier: Bad

13. Italian Cover, Good Omens

A truly valiant attempt here to rectify a terrifying situation with that earlier Italian version. While this one actually seems much more interesting at a glance, the details kinda get to me. The Bentley's steering being on the wrong side, the word Omens kindasortanotfquite fitting on the black wing, the motorcycles with no drivers... TIMES NEW ROMAN FOR THE AUTHORS NAMES. I don't think it can even be redeemed by the most powerfully rendered Sacred Heart/Cardi B W.A.P. imagery I've ever seen. Tier: Good (Omens)

14. Japanese cover, Good Omens

Look, this designer GETS IT. Crowley and Aziraphale are a pair, a group of the two of us. Do not separate. It's also the only cover I've seen that uses shades of grey! The woodcut vibes are STRONG AND POWERFUL. The type is well placed! I should love this, except the end result kinda looks like a manual for clinical depression in the workplace? It's ending up higher on the list than it deserves, frankly.

Tier: Good (Omens)

15. Japanese cover, Good Omens

This cover might as well be an Ethereal/Occult firemen's calendar. Someone wanted teens to cut off this cover and tape it to their bedroom wall. I can't even judge the typography or the symbolism because I'm just getting hit with waves of pheromones and angst. I can't even tell if it's good but it's going in the Good pile because I can't look at it anymore...

Tier: Good (Omens)

16. Japanese covers, Good Omens

Other people have assured me that this is, in fact, a dual Good omens cover. Alas, I cannot tell. I don't possess compound eyes or even an exoskeleton, and as such lack the ability to decipher these decisions.

Tier: WTF

16. Japanese cover, Good Omens

Holy overlap, Batman! I can’t fault this designer for wanting to reuse the wonderful dual illustrations in a Ying-Yang layout, all the elements are there, but there’s a clinginess to the type and positioning that makes me feel like someone is trying to hurt the letters? Is this designer okay? Do they need a hug?

Tier: Does the Job

18. Chinese cover, Good Omens

Can I say how charming it is they’ve managed to conserve the halo and devils tale on the Chinese title, as well as the woodcut detailing? However, the simplicity of the cute, contrasting wing design is sadly swallowed by the intense, New-York taxi cab vibes coming off the yellow and checkerboard text block. It could have been so good! Chinese readers: I am mad on your behalf!

Tier: Not so good (Omens)

19. UK 1991 paperback, Good Omens

What are we doing here, people. I think I've stepped into a Jungian analysis of what it feels like to have read Good Omens. It's dreamy yet unsettling. Right yet very wrong. And Ol' "Tiny Hands" Aziraphale up there is really judging me for what they found inside my mind. In less upsetting news, we've kept the improved typography and layout of the authors and book title. All is not lost to the nightmare.

Tier: Not so good (Omens)

20. 50 Shades of Gray rip-off cover, Good Omens

*panic* WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE, PEOPLE...?! Bonus : the guardian quote is almost as much of a mystery as the cover it’s on.

Tier: WTF

End of round 2.

#good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #tier list #good omens #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley and aziraphale #book omens #book cover #go2

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 years

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How do I get myself to stop getting stuck on the little things when writing fics? I'll have everything planned out and ready to go, but the second I start actually writing I end up redoing each paragraph up to 6 times each, and I spend probably a good 20 minutes focusing on whether to put the word 'to' instead of 'of', or 'and' instead of 'but'. It makes short fics sometimes months long projects and it's so annoying! I end up getting so frustrated over these teeny tiny things that I have to just stop writing altogether cause it ruins my mood. Any tips? Words of encouragement? I just have so many wips I want to finish and am constantly burning myself out from obsessing over things that don't matter...

(Lmfao, even typing this up I rewrote it twice and changed a bunch of words!! I can't stop!!)

Oof! That sounds rough, anon. I can give you a couple of tips for getting over it in the moment, but you might want to dig a bit deeper into why you're doing this. Is this level of perfectionism and scrupulosity something that you have in other areas of your life? What is it about writing that sends you into this state?

I think one thing you might want to try is writing with no plan to post. If no one else will see it, perhaps you'll be able to relax a little bit. So often, our desire to make everything just right is more about escaping the shame of being wrong than it is about wanting something to turn out well. If you're worried that someone else will notice an error that you didn't, you'll spend all of your time focusing on not making a mistake and less and less time focusing on telling a story or having fun.

Another thing you could try is working in a digital medium like google docs and changing the text colour to match the page colour. Force yourself to just type for a certain number of pages or a certain period of time and only then switch the font colour back so that you're able to read back what you wrote.

Editing sentence by sentence or word by word is definitely a situation where you're looking at the trees and ignoring the entire forest. Try to get yourself back to thinking about the story instead of the words you're using to tell it. That might mean stepping back from writing anything down at all. Think the story. Tell the story. Voice record it and play it back, even. Whatever you need to do to let go of the individual words so that you can find the whole tale.

Have any of you been in a similar spot before? How did you deal with it?

#asks and answers

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radioactivesweet · 11 months

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hi, hope you’re having a womdering day!

is it ok to have jack the ripper, beelzebub and hermes with a tsundere reader (i hate everyone but you kinda thing) that is also very motherly towards them? if that’s ok?

thank you for your hard work. 🖤

I hope you have a good day too!! I hope you like it^^

off topic but I was listening to Last Night in Soho soundtrack while writing this, which is completely unrelated hahahah, 10/10 would recommend that movie tho, I liked it a lot

Jack is good at recognising people's true natue trough the colours they emanate, so when he once saw you answering rudely to an acquaintance of yours, he was quite confused. There was a clear dissonance between your colour and the way you were acting which intrigued him. Despite how hard it was, he managed, trough his gentleman-like ways, to get you act friendly - even though he was the only one you changed your attitude towards. It was a huge step forward anyway. But the way you behaved when you were with him... it was something never believed he could experience himself. He had heard tales about love, which he stopped believing in after his own mother had betrayed him, but you made him reconsider his beliefs. You were protective of him, showing in your own way your affection. It had some motherly traits too, a reminescence of his childhood, of that apparent love he received from his mother. Yours was genuine though, there was something so innocent in the way you'd caress his head that he would never believe it could be false. The same colour you would towards him only was of the purest shade he had ever seen.

Beelzebub is used to everyone hate nobody but him - so it's quite surprising when you do the exact opposite. He doesn't know how to react at first, are you perhaps trying to use him for some obscure reason? He can't quite grasp it. Yet, somehow, it really looks like you took a liking to him. You don't reply annoyed when he is the one to speak - and actually listen to what he has to say - you ask him how he is and other chit chat, which was unusual of you, and would often seek him out. At first he doesn't really know how to behave: should he act like he does towards anybody else or try to be more friendly too? In the end, despite his first attempt to keep you at a distance, he realised that, after all, he missed someone looking after him. At first, things weren't always easy and sometimes you both would end up snapping at each other - but going back to being on good terms immediately after. Most of the time though, everything went smooth, with you complaining about everything but him. It kinda pleased him. You couldn't tell, since Beelzebub would always mantain the same apathetic expression, but he really was glad to have someone so attached to him. In particular, there were those moments when you would just sit beside him, maybe your head leaning on his shoulder, mostly in silent, sometimes speaking some gentle words, which he loved the most. It made him feel so nostalgic, but loved it anyway.

Hermes is used to act politely towards others, given his status as the messenger of the gods, it kind of is his duty. Even though he often has to deal with tons of unsufferable and rude deities - which, at first, he thought you were too, seeing the way you'd treat those you spoke with. He was ready to ignore any of you remarks if he had to... but you didn't give him the chance, acting unexpectedly nice towards him only. After that surprisingly nice first meeting, you kept being quite friendly during your exchanges with Hermes, which occured more and more often. He didn't really understand why you'd act so differently just to him but didn't ponder about it too much - he just considered himself to be lucky for once, instead of having to deal with another goddess mad at his father because of one of his many affairs. You weren't mad at him, which greatly relieved him. Actually, you were one of the few decent deities he could deal with. Not prone to anger (towards him, at least), amicable and pleasing when you wanted to, ready to comfort him and listen to his complains after a long day of wandering trough the realms and dealing with absurd requests and demands. His life was tiring, but fortunately for him, you were making it much more bearable. Ares is also scared of you, like many other deities, which comes in his favour when he is sick of dealing with them.

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chaotic-nick · 1 year

Text

✨️Boyfriend Ichigo Headcanons✨️

Note: unedited/ college to working adults au

Bleach headcanon suggestions are open

Boyfriend Ichigo who doesn't make fun of the height difference the two of you have. In the first few months of your relationship you catch him staring at you as you try to reach for the item on the highest shelf.

"Usually I get a step stool from the people . . ."

Boyfriend Ichigo who feels stupid after that and just grabs it in silence. Ever since then he's been doing it quitly.

Boyfriend Ichigo who throws Renji a glare when he laughs at your height difference.

Boyfriend Ichigo who uses you as an armrest as you order in front of the machine, eyes narrowed.

Boyfriend Ichigo who sits with his back against yours when you work on your schoolwork together. A shared playlist playing from one of your laptops.

Boyfriend Ichigo whose hand finds yours and gives it a squeeze before going back to work.

Boyfriend Ichigo who tells Isshin to actually behave when you come over for the first time.

Boyfriend Ichigo who's nervous because how you act/ talk to his sisters is his test. Depending on that it's either he breaks up with you.

Boyfriend Ichigo who's relieved when your nervous demeanour turns happy at the sight of his sisters.

"ICHI, YOU HAVE SISTERS?" "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I've always wanted sisters, mom only gave me brothers. Three of them"

Boyfriend Ichigo who sits quiet at the table allowing Karin and Yuzu ask you all the questions they have. Even if it embarrasses him.

Boyfriend Ichigo who wears a gummy smile when he walks you home as you tell him, "Next you should bring them here. Meet my brothers. It'll be cute."

Boyfriend Ichigo who tells you that one day he'll get you presents that you deserve when he gives you a plastic bag of sweets from the convenience store across your university.

Boyfriend Ichigo always being teased by Keigo and the others when he tells them that he's got a girlfriend studying in another university. At first he's angry, irritated even. Overtime he gets used to it.

Boyfriend Ichigo who takes you to his university's event week, holding your hand. He feels all so cool having everyone look at you and then at him. He loves the wide eyes stared they have on you two.

Boyfriend Ichigo who realises that you never have a picture together on his Instagram feed. One that was full of sports tournaments [he's an athlete in my non-soul reaper au] restaurant dinners with Renji and Ikkaku.

Boyfriend Ichigo who watches the likes on your first photo on his Instagram together. It's your hand wrapped around his, walking across the corridors of his university with the caption, 'showing her my world'.

Boyfriend Ichigo who stands embarrassed as you tale pictures of him in his interview outfit, eyes casted down on the ground and a red hue colouring his cheeks.

Boyfriend Ichigo who got his first job and suddenly he's excited with the amount of money in his hold.

"Don't," you tell him, hand hovering above his that held the cash he wanted to give you. "Treat your sisters first. Then your dad."

"But . . ."

"And then your mom to a beautiful bouquet."

Boyfriend Ichigo who falls in love with you more in that moment.

Boyfriend Ichigo who slowly saves from every paycheck to buy you a ring you deserve. One that wasn't for marriage. But to celebrate the growth the two of you went through, the milestones you two achieved.

Boyfriend Ichigo who went from waiting for you at your university's gates to waiting at the ground floor of where you work, work bag slung over his shoulders and sleeves rolled up.

Bonus:

Boyfriend Ichigo and you winning an oversized plush at an arcade and calling it your child.

Boyfriend Ichigo who thinks it's a 'y/n thing' to do. Dressing it up, sparying your perfume on it, etc. And suddenly he's punching Renji to shut up as he puts an old hoodie over it.

#nick headcanons #ichigo kurosaki x y/n #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki headcanons #bleach fanfiction #bleach headcanons

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 3 months

Text

Oceans of time

One night, Laddie asks David how he became a vampire. The tale that he tells is one of love and betrayal and a hurt he could never quite overcome.

A Dracula A/U

Part 2 Part 3

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

"How did you become a vampire?"

Laddie laid in his bed, his old stuffed teddybear held tightly in his arms. David looked up from where he was sitting, not responding. The cave was silent. Dwayne, Marko, and Paul had gone out to feed, leaving David with what he called 'baby-sitting duties'. Not that he truly minded it, no. Laddie was - as far as kids go - a good one. He listened, he didn't lie, and he obeyed the rules. Now, however, Laddie had decided not to. Maybe it was because of the warmth of the cave, the summer-heat still caught in its walls. Maybe it was because he had too much sugar that evening, or maybe it was because he was just not tired. No matter the why, David needed to answer, or else the kid might never shut up.

"Why do you ask?"

Laddie shrugged. "I'm just curious."

David couldn't help but grin, shaking his head. "You need to sleep."

"I won't be able to until you tell me. Please, David? Please!"

David sighed, looking at the kid. "Fine. But don't expect a happy story. It isn't."

Still, Laddie smiled. He moved over, laying closer to the wall so there was enough space for David to sit comfortably. "If it gets too sad, Mr. Teddy will cheer you up. He always cheers me up when I'm sad."

"No need," David looked at the stuffed animal - or what was left of it. He supposed the bear was once a light brown colour, but now it was closer to grey. He really had no desire to come close to that thing. "It was a long time ago. There were six of us."

"Who are the other two?"

"Don't interrupt me, or I won't tell you a thing."

Laddie nodded, zipping his mouth close.

July 1897, Santa Carla

"Will you be careful out there?" The young girl asked, sitting next to a phonograph. The song - well, it was hardly that, it was more white noise than music - played quietly. David looked at the girl. Her glasses lay on the table, and just by the way she held her head in her arms, he could tell she was dealing with yet another headache.

"You know I will be. I've got a reason to come back. You wouldn't last a day without me."

A small smile played on the girls lips. "It's not my fault that we can't afford the right glasses."

"Nor is it mine. I'll try and bring some fruit with me today, alright? And if possibke ill try and get some new glasses to try. Maybe we'll be lucky this time. "

"David? Please tell your boys to be careful too - and tell them to come home? I do miss their company."

He sighed, giving his sister a soft kiss on her forehead. What she called home was nothing more than a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom, and just a single bedroom. There was hardly enough space for the two of them, but somehow, she swore she could make it work for their little makeshift family.

"No need to worry about that, Mia. I'll be back before dark."

With those words, David left the house. The sun was still rising. He knew it would be a long day. His - no matter if you called them friends, gang, crew or something else, it never felt quite right - brothers and he had taken to a life of petty crime. Sure, a couple years back, they had tried to do honest work, working in the factory or the coal mines, but eventually, they all realised that they did shitty work for even shittier pay. So now they stole, gambled a bit here and there. They had a benefactor, a man willing to pay them for their crimes. Steal some papers from the governor, plant some evidence at the pub - whatever Mr. Max demanded, they'd do. He paid well, and that's exactly what they needed. They did what they could to survive, and this definitely helped.

They were good at that, surviving. Quick on their feet, changing plans on the spot, being able to predict outcomes - they were good. They'd managed to stay out of the hands of law enforcement, and the one time they did end up in jail, their good friend Lucinda was quick to break them out. She called it paying bail, but they didn't really care about the technicalities,

"Have you heard? There's a shipwreck down by the beach. If we're quick, we can see if there's some loot." Paul grinned as he showed that mornings newspaper. They'd met up down the harbour. Marko had stolen some bread and shared it with the boys. David sat on one of the crates while Dwayne scanned the crowds. Early mornings meant drunk people stumbling over the docks, trying to make their way home. They were easy targets and often wouldn't even remember what they'd been robbed off.

"What kind of ship?" Marko took the paper, looking at the photograph. "Seems quite big. Could be something." He showed the picture to the others, not bothering with the specifics of the article.

"Won't any survivors come knocking?" Dwayne looked at Paul, who just grinned. "Nope! There were no survivors. That's what they say anyway. Only a dog that ran off, the second the ship stranded."

"We should check it out," David nodded, following Paul to the beach. It wasn't often that a shipwreck ended up on their beach. Ships like these would carry cargo, and possibly something that was worth a fortune.

As promised, there was a shipwreck on the beach. The whole thing was broken apart, as if something unnatural had ripped the wooden boards away from each other. If they hadn't been told that it had been a ship, David was certain they would not have recognised it as such. As they moved through the ship, exploring what was left of the now empty rooms, they came to two conclusions.

One: There was nothing to loot. Two: There were some very strange marks on the doors and walls. As if someone had tried to fight something off.

"There's nothing here," Marko spoke up after they sweeped the place. "We should go, maybe Max has something for us."

With the uneasiness they felt on the ship, none of the boys were too saddened to leave. There was something off with this place, and none of them wanted to find out what it was exactly.

As they met up with Max, outside the hospital, David realised that this was indeed going to be a long day.

"Sorry boys, nothing new today." Max was about to turn around, entering the hospital again, when David spoke up.

"Seriously? It's been six days. We need some fucking money."

"You better watch your tone," the man gave him a stern look, "there many that would kill to work for me."

Knowing this would get them nowhere, they decided to try their luck on the streets. That's how they spent their day, trying to figure out who they could steel from and, most often, succeeding. At the end of the day, they had made three pounds stealing from the rich. It was enough to pay rent for another week and to buy food for the next couple of days. David grinned - Mia would be happy.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" Mia opened the door, noticing that her brother had brought home the others. "I've got so much to tell you!"

"What happened?" Dwayne sat down at the kitchen table, opening a bottle of gin. Marko had grabbed five glasses, while Paul helped Mia to a chair. She was still not wearing her glasses and had in the five steps it took to get from the front door to the kitchen already bumped into something twice.

"Lucinda stepped by today. She's back in town," Mia explained. Lucinda had always been a friend to the boys. They had met a long time ago when she had saved them from a prison sentence. Ever since they had been close, even if she was richer than they could ever dream of being. "She said that a European doctor had arrived and that he's trained in anything to do with the eyes."

"Mi, love, we can't afford new glasses." Paul ran his hand through her hair.

"I know - but that's not the point! She is engaged to him, and she's going to ask him to see if he can do something about my eyes as a favour. Isn't that just great?"

"It sounds too good to be true," Marko said, and Mia noticed his tone immediately. She quieted down a bit.

"You think it's a scam?"

"Dangerous, at least. I wouldn't trust him."

"Lucy also offered to talk to him about maybe getting eye surgery, if that's possible in my case." She said it softly, already guessing how her brothers would react.

"That'd be experimental then, right?" Dwayne looked at her as she nodded.

"Absolutely not!" David slammed his cup down on the table. "You will not get fucking surgery of we already think this whole thing is sketchy in the first place."

Mia sighed. "I know. It would just be nice to also help out, you know? Before I got fired-"

"You were hurt every single day by your boss. Don't worry about it," Paul pulled her close, letting her lean against him.

David looked at his sister. "Sorry, kid." He grabbed the money they'd collected today out of his pocket. "We can afford some food the next couple of days, though."

And with that, the whole conversation was forgotten. Mia and the boys made plans for dinner, and David went off to pay the rent.

1987, Santa Carla

"Where's Mia now?"

Laddie looked at David, who sighed as he lit a cigarette. "She's gone."

"Oh. Why did she want that eye surgery? It sounds scary."

"It is, especially back then, She was nearsighted. She couldn't see for shit. The glasses she had weren't right, and we couldn't afford better ones. She got headaches, so she never wore them. She was always bumping into things," he smiled at the memory, "So, after a while, she began looking into other things that could help restore her sight."

"Could they?"

"God no. Glasses were what she needed. We stole them quite often, but none of them were right for her."

"What happened next?"

"Lucinda stepped by. And then both she and Mia got sick."

August 1897, Santa Carla

"He is so perfect," Lucinda giggled as she poured Mia some tea. They were sitting in the garden of Lucinda's estate. Well, her parents' estate. "Just last night, he said he'd be with me forever. Isn't that romantic?"

"Quite so!" Mia smiled. "When will you get married? Will you get married? You also had an offer from the governors son, did you not?"

"In a fortnight, obviously you and your brothers will have to be there - I simply won't get married without them there. And yes, I did - but honestly, Wolfram is an idiot. He wouldn't know how to open a letter if I didn't instruct him. So, I have decided that Doctor Holmwood was the best match."

"Why? So you can show how much richer you're getting?" Dwayne walked in, a teasing grin on his face. He grabbed a chair and moved to sit at the table.

"Absolutely!" She smiled. "It is weird, though.."

"What is?" Mia reached for her teacup, cursing under her breath as some hot tea spilt over her fingers when she hit the cup too hard. She knew she should have worn her glasses - things would still be fuzzy, but not as much as they were now. But then she had to deal with headaches - and those were worse.

"Ever since I got engaged to him, I have been having nightmares. The strangest dreams, really."

"Aren't you just worried about the wedding?" Mia offered, while Dwayne asked what the dreams were about.

"I'm always sleep walking, all the way to the cemetery. And once there, I'm being haunted and hunted, taunted. It's horrifying. And just yesterday, I had the exact same dream, but this time, some monster grabbed me by the throat and actually bit me."

They were silent for a moment. "When did they start?"

"When we arrived in London, I think. I just hoped they'd stop once we were back home."

"How about you sleep at our place tonight?" Dwayne looked at Lucinda. "Maybe it will stop the nightmares."

"That would be lovely." Lucinda smiled brightly. "I'll go home and grab some stuff, and I'll be there before dinner." She smiled at Mia, taking her hand as she was about to speak up. "I'll make sure to bring some food along, don't worry."

That night, after dinner, Mia and Lucinda went off to bed. They'd listened to the stories the boys told, about running from the cops and getting a new assignment from Max - apparently there was a new Lord in town, and they needed to figure out who he was. The girls stepped into the bed, after making sure that the boys would be alright.

"We'll manage," David looked at Mapia. "Just make sure the two of you get some sleep, alright?"

Mia nodded, and after chatting for a bit, both girls fell asleep quickly. Only a few hojrs later, the boys did the same. The house was quiet. No one moved. No one spoke.

So, they didn't notice that they'd forgotten to lock the window. They didn't notice how it slammed open, a dark figure standing on the windowsill. They didn't notice how that same dark figure moved forward, bending over both girls. They didn't notice that the dark figure only had eyes for Mia, longingly stroking her arm, but deciding to leave her untouched for now. He could always claim her later. Now, it was time for his first conquest. It was time for her to join him.

It wasn't until early morning that Mia awoke. "Luce?" She asked sleepily as she felt a heavy weight on her stomach. She blinked, sitting up. As she moved closer, she couldn't help but scream. The body next to her was ice cold. The throat was ripped open. The whole bed was covered in blood. Lucinda had been killed. Brutally murdered. And she just slept through it, not able to help one of her dearest friends.

"Mia, what -" David pulled his sister away from the bed, holding her tight as she cried, upon seeing the massacre on the sheets. The other boys entered the room just as quickly, immediately moving to see if they could figure out who had entered the room. They needed to know who had done this.

"You're alright, love," David led Mia to the small bathroom, making sure that all the blood was washed off of her body.

"Is she - is she dead?"

David nodded. Mia closed her eyes, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, trying to even her breathing. "How did I - how could I sleep through that? She - "

"Mia, look at me," David kneeled down so he was at eye level with her. "There was nothing you could have done."

Mia nodded quietly. He knew she didn't believe him, but he'd repeat it over and over until it got through.

The rest of the day was chaos. They had to call the police, Lucinda's family, her fiancé. People came and went. Pictures were taken of the crime scene, and every one of them was questioned. At the end of the day, Mia had no tears left to cry, and the boys felt just the same. That night, the house was quiet, them softly talking about their times with Lucinda. How she helped them out when they got in trouble with the law. How she was the first and only person to ever catch them red-handed - they had tried to pickpocket from her after all, even after she had saved them from jail. She had smiled and just given them some money. She had always been like an older sister to them, taking care of them when needed and always being there for both the good and the bad. She had brought humour, charm, and insights into how to best steal from the rich - and now she was gone.

1987, Santa Carla

"So, was she killed by a vampire?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"That's how he changed her. We just didn't know that at the time. We also didn't know what we would become eventually, or we would have never done what we had done."

"What did you do?"

David shook his head. His cigarette had turned into ashes, and he heard the other boys returning. "I'll tell you tomorrow. You need to go to sleep now."

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #lost boys #dracula au

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ghcstao3 · 6 months

Note

oh my god i literally just checked a second ago and they were not, but thank god i have notifs on hehe. ok for starters im so sorry abt the absolute spam i just gave you. second as i was going thru literally everything i was thinking abt ghoap and narcissus and echo, but like happy ending... bc it really is a tragic tale and ghoap deserve better :')

the happy-ending, ghoap-ifying of greek myths is so real honestly

Maybe John hadn't been completely blameless, but it wasn't—he wasn't at fault for someone else's advances. He wasn't—he didn't deserve this.

To have his own voice stolen. His own expression. John never meant so much harm as to be cursed with such a cruel punishment.

Forced to only ever be able to speak when spoken to, and even then only to repeat those words back. For John, it's a worse fate than death—particularly when he finds himself having fallen for a mortal man.

Of course, the man—Simon, as John has overheard in spying on a group of hunters, as John has repeated quietly to himself every chance he had gotten—doesn't know of his existence. So when he gets separated from his group, lost in an endless forest, John wants to feel bad, but he doesn't.

Because it means just maybe he'd finally have a chance. If Simon could love him back...

"Hello?" John hears Simon call out. "Is anyone there?"

Unable to help himself, John calls out with the same words. He still hides, has to—but he'll call attention to himself anyway, in the hopes Simon might pursue him.

There's a drawn out pause. John thinks Simon has already caught on.

"Show yourself!" Simon shouts, and John parrots.

The crunch of foliage beneath Simon's steps gradually sounds closer to John, but not close enough. John wills Simon to speak again, and before long, he says,

"Whoever you are, come with me this way."

It's the final pull for John. With Simon's words on his lips he reveals himself to the man, a bright smile on his face.

Simon startles with John's appearance, but he doesn't back away, or go on the defensive. He just stands with his head tilted in curiosity, brow furrowed with a confusion John wishes he could smooth out with his thumb.

"Who are you?" Simon asks.

John hates that all he can do is pose the same question.

Simon's frown deepens. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

His smile all but fallen, John shakes his head. He's beginning to realize with great anguish how foolish he'd been to believe Simon could love him back at all, let alone with his affliction.

But Simon steps forward, toward John.

"Has it been this way for a long time?"

John nods. "...a long time," he sighs. He hangs his head, gaze falling to the forest floor—but not for long, as Simon grows ever closer and tilts his chin up with a hooked finger.

This close, John can see just how pleasantly warm Simon's eyes are, as dark in colour as they may be.

"Could I possibly help?"

John blinks up at Simon, wide-eyed. He'd never known mortals to be so generous, not to a complete stranger. "...help?"

Simon nods.

John gapes. After a moment he shrugs, then pauses—nods back.

The corners of Simon's lips twitch upward. He shrinks away from John, but takes John's hand as he steps back.

"Help me return to the group first," Simon says. "Then we'll... we'll see what we can do."

Simon begins walking, John trailing along beside him, but suddenly stops in his tracks to turn to John for just a moment.

"Thank you," he says.

And as John repeats the words, he knows the sentiment isn't from Simon—it's for John to use.

It may not be reciprocated love just yet, but... it's a better start than John has had in a while. He'll gladly follow Simon anywhere, even if he's never relieved from his hex, because despite his frustration at not being able to form his own words—it's the first time he's felt properly heard, properly understood since he'd been cursed.

#ask #a little communication goes a long way #so many problems solved just like that #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year

Text

cara mia

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

summary: Enid spends the holidays with her girlfriend's family to avoid her owns.

warnings; implications of homophobia from enid's mother.

requested by @crazyshipper67

°°°

She knew, the moment she step foot in her hometown, she'll be dragged straight to conversion therapy. Being in the comforting protection of the school didn't help much when a certain holiday lurked by the corner.

She remembered the fear drowning her as she scroll down through her mother's text messages.

disappointment,

abomination,

a lone wolf forever.

There were more of course, but as her eyes became blurry from tears and her lover had snatched her phone from her she saw nothing else.

Now as she sits next to Wednesday and opposites the infamous Addams family on the dinner table, she tries to convince herself that she's having fun.

Her uncle Fester, going in full detail of his adventures involving feeding on girl scouts, was making it a tad hard though.

She could feel Wednesdays evil, evil smile, burning through her sides.

Of course she enjoyed watching her squirming and uncomfortable.

Morticia, thank the heavens, immediately intervenes and changes the topic.

"Perhaps another time, for the tales of your endeavors, Fester."

He gets the hunt and laughs casually, "Hope I didn't scare ya kid! Don't worry, I usually avoid kids with dyed hair, too much chemicals, nggh." He laughs again and Enid forces herself to go along awkwardly, though her eyes evident with fear.

"Uncle Fester.." Wednesday's tone, a warning as he shakes his head and waves her off.

"Oh fine, fine."

The food, thankfully wasn't anything weird or some sort of dead corpse, she quite enjoys them and Wednesday looks satisfies when she finishes her plate.

Immediately after, Morticia has pulled her to the living room and brought out old photo albums of Wednesday's.

She was exactly the same was she is now besides the obvious age difference, black clothes, glaring at everyone, odd weapons as an accessory.

A specific picture of her holding a shovel in front of an open grave made Enid frown at her.

She only raised an eyebrow.

"Ah yes, her first digging kit, the perfect outlet for her growing obsessions with death at the moment." Morticia explains.

"She got started almost immediately! I think it's safe to say Wednesday's got her red thumb from me!"

Enid leans and whispers to Wednesday; "I don't even want to know what that means."

Wednesday only smirks and places a kiss on her temple.

As the collection of pictures starts to grow more ridiculous and embarassing for her, Wednesday dressed as a tree for school plays and forced into pink dresses for pageant shows her teachers signed up for.

Try as she might to pull the album from her lover's grasp, the werewolf strength always wins.

"Are you done now?" She questions as Enid finally calms down from her fits of giggles over Wednesday dressed as a shark for a costume party.

"Now, yes. But you'll be sure to know I'll be using this againts you in the future." She teases with a proud face as her girlfriend nods. "I expect nothing less."

Morticia, doubtful of the colourful girl at first, immediately softens at seeing her daughter's love for her, she had never seen Wednesday as infatuated with anyone, though it might not be obvious to anyone else. But a mother's eyes always sees.

She and Gomez has taken it to themselves to take Enid for a tour of their weaponry room.

Axes, swords, chains and even stink bombs used by ancestors of the Addams family hang from walls. Gomez had a splendid time explaining the histories and details of them.

A lot of Fester's creations also hangs there. In fact, he even has his own section.

From uncomfortableness, she grew more intrigued by the house and it's inhabitants. The peculiarity of her girl's family had interested her and had her in awe of the family legacy. They were truly one of a kind.

Her brother Pugsley, reveled in Enid's kind and sweet demeanor, a different treatment he usually gets from his sister. Wednesday was however, quick to insult his sensitivity and was immediately cut off by Enid scolding her.

Like a child being chastised by a mother, she sulks as Pugsley cheers over his newfound guardian angel.

By the end of the night she didn't need to convince herself she was gratefully for coming, she was sure of it.

Lying in the dark with her face facing Wednesday's, she feels her hand brush a hair behind her hear.

"What are you thinking about, cara mia?"

the roll of the r's send shivers down her spine, it always does when she calls her that, her rare little nickname for moments of intimacy and adoration when they're alone.

"nothing, I'm just glad I'm here, with you, and your family." Her hand goes to hold Wednesday's, their fingers intertwining.

"So am I." The monotonous girl speaks with a hint of softness only reserved for her love.

Enid let's herself fall into the comforting embrace of sleep as she leans into Wednesday's chest, automatically the dark haired girl's arms moves to wrap around her.

"Good night, cara mia."

#wednesday netflix #wenclair fanfic #wenclair #wenid fanfic #wednesday addams x enid sinclair #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #addams family #the addams family #Wednesday addams fanfic

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darksaiyangoku · 7 months

Text

RWBY: Grim Tales

The Hunt

Blake walked forward to the castle gates. Surrounding them were several skeletons, hissing and rattling their bones. She couldn't help but smirk. It had been a long time since she had some fun. Drawing Gambol Shroud, Blake leaped into action. The skeletons raised their bone weapons and tried to attack her, but Blake was too fast. She dodged each of their strikes with graceful speed, her jet-black hair flowing.

Blake: Hah! *slices two skeletons in half*

The skeletons stood their ground to continus their attacks on Huntress to little success. Blake was easily reducing these grunts into piles of worthless bones, not even bothering to shift Gambol Shroud into its gun form. With fhe last skeleton falling, the castle gates had finally opened. Blake walked inside the courtyard, still keeping a firm grip on her sword. Cold laughter could be heard all around her.

???: You seemed to have made quick work of my undead army, dear faunus. I must say that I'm impressed.

Blake: If that's what I call impressive, then I feel let down. Your army of rattling bones didn't put up much of a fight. Hell, Ruby could beat them. No gargoyles? No ghosts? Ghouls? Not even any giant bats?

???: *laughing* You think they were here to stop you? Oh no, they were merely a distraction. The one who is going to end yoir life tonight is me!

Purple smoke appeared in the center of the courtyard followed by tremors. The smoke melded into large, purple robes and standing before Blake was a large, hooded, skeletal figure with burning red eyes. Blake backed away slightly.

Blake: Lich.

Lich: Long time, no see my dear Blake. You're looking ravishing tonight.

Blake: How are you still alive? I destroyed your soul-container years ago!

Lich: Oh that? *laughs* A clever decoy that my dear sorcereress provided to lure you into a false sense of security. I used what little magic I had to create an illusion and used my time to grow stronger. Now that I've returned, let's continue our battle from lobg ago! *snaps fingers*

A circle of black mist surrounded them, staggering Blake slightly. The Lich wasn't messing around, he really had improved. The undead monstrosity lunged its large hands towards Blake in an attempt to crush her. Luckliy, she managed to dodge in time. She tried to parry his second blow, but got knocked to the ground almost immidiately.

Blake: *grunts*

Blake stood up, determined not to lose to the Lich. She parried several more of his punches, but she could not find the perfect opening to land a strike of her own and Gambol Shroud was beginning to chip away. It seemed like all hope was lost. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a wolf's howl and looked up. Above the rook was a blonde-coloured werewolf. He leaped down and clawed onto the Lich's back, making him scream in pain. The Lich shook himself wildly until he threw the beast off. In a weakened state, he reverted to his human form.

Blake: *sighs* Jaune, what took you so long?

Jaune: *stands up and chuckles nervously* Sorry I'm late, I had to get you something. *picks up spellbook* You left this back at my house.

Blake: Oh... *blushes* whoops.

Jaune: It's alright, sweetie. I hope you weren't having too muvh fun without me. *turns to the Lich* Who's this creep?

Blake: No one of consequence. So what's the play?

Jaune: I'll block his strikes and you attack with Gambol Shroud. That should weaken him a little. Know any spells that can take him down?

Blake: Holy Light, but it's weaker at nighttime. Still, it should causw him a bit of pain.

Jaune: That's what I like to hear! Okay, I'm going in!

Blake: Wait!

Jaune: Hm?

Blake: *kisses Jaune's cheek* Good luck, babe.

Jaune: *smiles and blushes* Alright, YAAAAAAH!!! *leaps into action*

#rwby #rwby grim tales #halloween #blake belladonna #jaune arc #knightshade #rwby knightshade #knightshade rwby #blake x jaune #jaune x blake #blake belladonna x jaune arc #jaune arc x blake belladonna

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summermoonshine · 9 months

Text

It was late August ;

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader.

Click HERE for the AO3 version. Synopsis: the tale of a summer... and its end. Content: angst; romantic; bit of fluff; slice of life; GhostxReader; Note: I cried, bye.

It was late August ;

But before that, it was a peaceful May night that turned into June when your eyes met for the first time, and with June came the bright stars, the clean skies, the colourful flowers, the heat that turned into warmth on his torn and tattooed skin, the fresh nocturnal wind and birds chirping a less harsh dawn than the winter one.

A dawn shared, after so many years, with someone by his side.

His shoulder dropping its weight lightly on yours, and that crisp, new feeling of possibility.

In mid-June his first laugh; a real laugh, not a smile, not a smirk: a sincere laugh that made his eyes shape like two crescents.

Your heart skipped the first of many more beats, and when your hands found each other for the first time – when you two were sitting on the hood of his SUV looking at the lights of the sleeping city – you knew not to have been born by chance, and that you didn't want to spend that night alone.

After that one, many others followed.

Your clasped hands were enough, though; there was no need for anything else if you had each other.

His insomnia, always present, had become almost a gift: your profile illuminated by the first summer moon, your hair ruffled by the silk pillowcase, your little kissable nose; his arms around your little body.

''Get away from me, doll. There's still time'' - he whispered in the crook of your neck at the end of June.

Each night, every night; softly.

''Go, get away from me. You know I don't deserve you.'' He held you tight, kissed your round cheeks, full of life and sweet as juicy peaches.

''Run away, hurry, I don't have to see you…” He used to say.

“But how, how can I do it if – even if I wish you would leave me – I don't want to lose you?'', and he held you tight and close again, like no one had ever done, kissing your back.

Again, again, again.

''I'm not what you believe me to be, forgive me, doll. I didn't fall from the sky: I re-emerged from the underworld. I'm only capable of losing the ones I love the most'' – he said one night in mid-July.

His perfume, his big body curled up and sweaty stuck to yours, so gentle, healthy and clean compared to his, full of scars, cuts, history: was he sobbing?

Your long, black eyelashes, your big eyes, your relaxed face.

They were the only things that kept alive that man who had been believed dead for years, perhaps since ever, during these months.

Your delicate hands, so tiny, soft – healings, were saving him with every touch of yours.

"Touch me only with your eyes" he had whispered one evening on your doorstep with his camo still on and the tiredness of a day spent in the barracks written in the eyes, but you knew well that what he meant was something else.

So your sweet and full lips had touched his above the mask fabric and it had slipped away, his shampoo-scented dark blond curls had welcomed your hands as if it were natural, and his skin, when you began to taste it in every corner of his body, had become your favourite flavour in this universe.

"I only know how to deceive, make people suffer and make them cry. Stop before it's too late, doll", but you wanted him; and he wanted you.

You knew it and he knew it too.

That strong pain in the centre of his chest suggested it to him whenever he looked at you, whenever he loved you at night, between the creaks of an old creaky bed and a distant, barely lit, strawberry and mint scented candle; lit just like that small - but still alive - flame that lit up the big broken heart of that so big, so sad, but so damn good man for, to and with you.

The first nights of August were a continuous fire.

And there was no sun that could compare with what you and he had created: you were explosive.

Your lips spoke a sweeter and warmer tongue; the pain you didn't know was now infinite pleasure, and his kisses cured everything you thought your body couldn't handle - but in the end you always made it, and this ending was the most delicious ever. Your moans were the fuel of that tireless man and his coaxing sweet, pillow talk.

“I have no eyes, no heart for anyone. None but you, you…” and a warm tear ran down his cheeks and settled on your abdomen. He remained embraced by your hips, your pale hands in his now freshly buzzed hair for the upcoming mission.

It was almost, but his 100 kg resting on your lap reminded you that it wasn't time yet, that it wasn't the time yet, that he was still talking to you.

Because yes, he talked, he always used to talk to you at night. He thought you were asleep, but you were not.

But how? How do you do such a thing? What do you say back and why? The sunlight hardened him, pushed him away from you; the night joined your paths and his heart seemed able to beat, to come back to life. And so you had always kept silence in those moments just to hear his voice, even though you were the real chatterbox - his favourite one. A real relentless talker, always with something to say and that bright smile ready to pain his heart.

He, collector of your speeches, your words, your fears, weighed the words as if they were dangerous, but how many times would he have wanted to tell you that you were his truth, his tranquillity and his cure; that you were saving him, that there was only you, that he had placed his destiny in your hands; because he knew it would all end - that it would have to end, that he had to save you, that all this was an illusion, a delirium, the most difficult torture he would have had to face at the moment of saying goodbye, because he knew he didn't have much time left in his favour.

“Before time runs out, I want you to know that you’re the love of my life. I owe you this, I owe you everything, my doll’’ –

Simon would have wanted to tell you this each and every time that you were next to him, that you were away from him, that you crossed his mind, that he smelt your smell or just imagined it, but nothing like that had ever crossed his lips.

Too hardened as he was by the life itself, he did not feel worthy to speak of love, nor to be worthy of being loved.

It was late August when you, the girl with her head on the moon and up in the clouds, were hit by the biggest pain bomb you've ever experienced and which - you were sure - you would never get over.

Silence had stolen all your words, and that strawberry and mint candle went out at the exact moment in which the house intercom had rung and that man in a uniform, who was not YOUR man in uniform, had handed you the box that now – at this precise moment – you have in front of you, on the low wooden table in the living room crafted by none other than the man you’ve been missing for the past 3 weeks; the table where you lean as if under anaesthesia in search of support; your heavy eyes wear out at the sight of those objects rigorously placed next to each other, as if by keeping them close you could piece together a puzzle whose pieces are burning in front of you.

A crumpled, bloodstained envelope.

Inside of it: a small photo of you and a yellowed sheet: just a couple of short sentences written on it.

On the table, next to this letter-like hurtful bomb, a plastic bag with a metal plate with some letters engraved on it: a military dog tags.

''Lieutenant Simon Riley ''Ghost'', RH+, 237509, Unknown, other''.

You re-read the sentences written in black ink on the blood-stained sheet of the letter: the endearing handwriting that you loved so much and that will never again be able to hatch words, and yet another hot, stinging tear scratches your face and breaks your soul into dust:

"I know you've always been awake. I will come back to hug you every night. I promise, doll.

I am sorry, thank you and… I love you.

Yours forever,

Simon."

It was late August when silence devoured your life, when the wind turned cold and life became a distant diary memory;

It was late August when his heart stopped beating – and so did yours.

It was just late August…

🥀

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babeilovemonsters · 3 months

Text

Imagining a big tree monster right now, honestly. One limited by movement. They used to be human, you know, now fused with a giant tree, spending their days peacefully in the warm sun. Sure, it's kind of tough for them to move, and they can only lean over so far before their bark aches, but it's not so bad, really. People are nice. They were even transported to a botanical garden for safety, where they can relax, bathing in golden rays of sunlight, feeling the warmth in their very core as they watch over the colours of the park. It's calming just watching them, you find. The fact they're plenty friendly to the people around them is all the more welcoming.

You weren't sure about them, at first. I mean, a conscious tree person was quite unnerving, especially knowing how they came to be this way. But you find yourself almost drawn to them. It's almost hypnotic. Intoxicating, even, just to be around them. With every day, you arrived at work, needing to check their mental health. It didn't take long before you both began to get acquainted with one another. Then it escalated, with you spending your lunch breaks resting in their shade, just needing to be around them.

Until one day. You're about to clock out when you hear your usually calm friend whining in a stressed manner. Upon questioning, they explain how tired they truly are, feeling like they aren't human anymore. How much they worry about being stuck for eternity, never being able to live the life of romance and company they always dreamed of. You sit with them as they confide in you, speaking their tales and dreams of falling in love, of spending eternity with their beloved, feeling their partner next to them as they wake up. Pitying the poor, lonely creature, you climb their branches to plant a soft kiss on their cheek as reassurance, telling them you're sure they'll find someone willing to bathe in the sun with them.

There's a pause. Electricity. You can both see the cogs turning in each other's brains. They cough awkwardly, going to lean down to place you back on the ground. But you don't want to get down yet. You kiss them again, soft but eager, on their mouth this time, making them stop in place. With little hesitation, the tree creature gives in, and holds you tight and close as they kiss back at you, gently wrapping their branches around you in a protective hug. It feels warm. Safe. Good. You could stay here forever, tasting the sweet yet tangy sap in their mouth, and they certainly don't feel like letting you go either, having waited too long for such tender affection. It feels like an lifetime goes by, in your own pink protective bubble, just you and them.

The kiss is only broken when you shift a bit to sit more comfortably, and one of the clumsy plant's branches brushes against your hole in an attempt to shift with you, making you moan out in pleasure. They try to apologise, embarrassed by their error, but you shut them up with another kiss, this one more passionate and heated. You tell them not to apologise. To keep going, if they like. After all, toy tentacles can only so much, and you're filled with the excitement of wondering what the real thing feels like. Your tree shyly obliges, softly rubbing a small mossy branch against the fabric of your pants, making you moan out more before they slide one into your mouth, panicked at being discovered by the night staff.

They had only meant to keep you quiet, but you definitely know what to do next. Their concern for being found out quickly turns to confusion as you suck and lick at the appendage in your mouth, and that confusion soon turns to guilty pleasure, until they finally relax with you, whining and whimpering affectionately. They decide to return the favour, pulling off the fabric separating you both. You shudder in the coldness of the evening, but they soon cover you with mossy and leafy limbs, wrapping you up as warmly as they can, still interested in your wellbeing. Besides, wrapping you up so tightly just makes your hole easier to find, and soon enough, your cold body heats up as their now sticky plant member slides into you.

It's nothing like you ever imagined, it's so much better. To feel all their limbs swarming your body, to hear their deprived and loving noises, to taste their addicting sap, it's truly an absolute pleasure. You make sure they definitely don't feel alone, as they release load after load into you, flooding you with sticky sap, each new wave better than the last, until they're finally drained, and you're finally stuffed full. The two of you pant and groan as you watch the sun rise, exhausted from your passionate night of enthusiastic reassurance. They snuggle up to you, still tightly coiled, and ask if you'll be okay doing that again another time. You accept, definitely planning on fulfilling the tree's wish of having someone for eternity.

Night after night of messy, sticky, sweet writhing with your soft, kind monster, then getting to watch the sun rise over field after field of different flowers? Oh, what could be better?

#mlm nsft #wlw nsft #nblm nsft #nblw nsft #nsft #ftm nsft #nonbinary nsft #mtf nsft #monsterfucking #plant monster #plant fucking #teratophillia #terato #tentacles #kinda #aphrodisiac

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one-piece-aus · 7 months

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i really love how you write the strawhat pirates <33 i swear everytime i see your works on my feed, it never ceases to makes my day ﾟ+.ﾟ(*´∀`)bﾟ+.ﾟ

i saw your request is open, can i request for an usopp x reader where reader's feelings are unrequited?

thank u for always bringing joy to the feed with your amazing works ﾟ+.ﾟ

Ahoy! I'm happy you love my works for the Strawhats, and I'm happy to fulfill this angst request! ^-^ I hope you don't mind me using it for Whumptober :3

Whumptober Day 14

Usopp x Reader

"You guys are going to be real sorry for messing with us!" Usopp said to the pirates who captured the two of you. "For I, Commander Usopp, command an army of ten thousand men!"

Even in a situation like this, you can't help but smile at Usopp's antics. On the other hand, the pirates didn't pay any mind to him.

"Separate them."

As you were dragged away, Usopp called out to you. "Don't worry [Y/n], I'll get us out of here. Just hold on!"

You smile at him, displaying your sign of trust in him. Soon enough you were taken to the cellar while you heard Usopp getting slapped and told to shut up. It'd take more than that to keep him quiet, you knew all too well.

Quite the journey it's been since you joined the strawhats, yet quite the silent pain you had to bear.

You knew Usopp only had his eyes for Kaya, you admired his determination to protect her and the village when you, Luffy, and the crew met him back in Syrup village. That's all it had been, admiration, then it changed, and you can't recall when it started.

Perhaps it's his bravery in fighting despite being terrified. Maybe all those funny tales he told amused you enough to start feeling warmer around him. You only realized it when you were training for the two years the crew took to get stronger, you found yourself doodling him in your downtime. When it hit, you cursed yourself and called yourself a fool.

Seeing him again your heart could hardly take it, on top of that he got ripped like Zoro. You couldn't even look at him without a blush colouring your cheeks, luckily Sanji distracted everyone from your odd behaviour, and with all the events the crew has gotten into since getting into the New World, you've managed to avoid being noticed.

With all the adventures, another thought came to your mind, maybe Usopp forgot about Kaya. However, as soon as the thought came to mind, it dispersed once you overheard Usopp talking to Nami about home in the East Blue, more specifically, Usopp was talking about Kaya...

The pirates left the area outside the cellar, slithered your hands to make work of the lock and opened it up with a pin in your hair. Pays off to be underrated, the enemy makes dumb mistakes like this. You ran out of the room and began looking for an escape out of the place when you bumped into someone.

"Oof- [Y/n]?" His surprise shifted to a teasing smirk. "What are you doing, I'm supposed to rescue you."

You turned around, not letting him see the pink on your cheeks. "As much as I'd love that, we'd be wasting time if I sat around waiting, let's find the exit-" You moved to continue searching when Usopp grabbed your arm.

"Wait a minute."

"Usopp, we got no time for this, come on." You tried pulling your arm out of his grasp but he only tightened his hold.

"Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"You being distant."

"What are you talking about?" You stopped tugging your arm and half turned to him.

"[Y/n], this is the first time we've had a full conversation in two years."

"Heh, well it's been kinda hard since our captain has us running around almost every second of the day," you tried playing it off, even adding a smile.

"We could've chatted at the banquets."

"Hard to find you in a crowd," you lied with a shrug.

"Apparently it is, I couldn't find you anywhere near me." Usopp frowned. "The rest of the crew have no problem though."

Silence strikes through as the facade begins to fall. You go to speak when Usopp's expression shifts and he pulls you into a small closet, and you are smacked right at his chest. You try to protest when Usopp shushes you.

"They're coming," He whispers.

Sure enough, you heard footsteps and men barking. You tried focusing on what they were saying but your senses only screamed in your mind when you felt Usopp put his hand on your shoulderblade and held you closer. Rationality told you he was just doing this in a protective manner, yet your face burned from the contact. With what little room you had in the closet, you stepped back and removed his hand from your back, he glanced at you in questioning and just stared at the door.

"They're gone," Usopp said and instantly you opened the door, hopping out.

"Let's get going, we don't wanna worry the crew." You began running along the halls, and thanks to you adding urgency, Usopp followed behind.

You didn't think he'd noticed, at least not with all the chaotic events, but he did. If you didn't know better, your heart would've fluttered with joy, but you knew better, and your heart weighed heavier because of it.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

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running-with-the-feels · 5 months

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Johnny Cage starts giving people birthday presents (possibly making up birthdays when they don't know or won't tell him.) What does he get everyone, and what does everyone bring to the surprise party they have when it's his birthday? (Of course they let him think they forgot/ don't know/ don't care)

ooooooo, I like how you think

Kuai Liang: A snow cone machine (Johnny is prepared to run for his life only to be terrified when Kuai Liang starts laughing and genuinely thanks him for it) Kuai Liang also doesn't remember his birthday (yet) so Johnny makes one up for him.

Hanzo: Johnny managed to track down a sword that had famously belonged to the Shirai Ryu and bought it off a collector, returning it to Hanzo privately rather than putting on a show like he normally does. Had to get Hanzo's bday from Takeda

Sonya: when they're married, all the kisses she wants along with her favorite type of coffee grounds, in a year's supply. After the divorce, just the coffee.

Jax: Fancy metal polish for his arms, Johnny thinks he's funny (Jax actually really likes it tho bc it does actually work and helps keep the scratches on his prosthetics from showing, and the fact that Johnny doesn't get all squeamish about the prosthetics like most people do is an added bonus)

Liu Kang: A new headband embroidered with flames at the ends. Liu Kang actually really likes it as his old one was getting worn out and it's easier to accept a practical gift than a frivolous one.

Kung Lao: Also metal polish for his hat, as well as a copy of the screenplay he wrote about Kung Lao's family legacy. Kung Lao expects it to be terrible, so he ends up shocked to find that it is a heart wrenching and emotional tale about the weight of such a family legacy and how hard every last one of his ancestors fought to defend their realm, ending with him (bc he didn't die NRS fu, or at least, he and all the other revenants get brought back with Jax Scorpion and Sub-Zero also bc fu nrs) and the acknowledgement of his skill and the pressure he's always been under nearly brings him to tears. When he gives Johnny the greenlight to make the movie, Kung Lao gets the leading role.

Kitana: A collection of Earthrealm snacks and beverages from around the world so that she can get a chance to experience it.

Jade: A jaguar carved from jade that she treasures, as it reminds her of Kotal

Kotal: Another jaguar carved from jade so that he and his girlfriend can match

Bi-Han: a nightlight, bc again, he thinks he's funny, along with all the kisses Bi-Han wants (which is a lot of them the man is Tactile)

Sareena: A bunch of Earthrealm movies bc she wants to explore the world and all the kisses she wants

Raiden: A trip to the spa in the hopes it will get the god to relax

Fujin: Also a trip to the spa, as thanks for dealing with his brother

Nightwolf: Tracks down a couple of stolen Matoka artifacts and "convinces" the collectors to return them to their rightful owners (he does this year round tho, so he also gives Nightwolf a new whetstone for his axes, just to make it a proper b-day gift)

Smoke: Smoke also doesn't remember his birthday, only that his name is Czech and he was found in Prague. Johnny gives him a book on the Czech language and offers to fly him to prague whenever he wants.

Kung Jin: A collection of Outworld delicacies bc he knows the archer misses them

Cassie: Anything she wants, she's his little princess and she Will be pampered.

Takeda: A copy of Carrie signed by steven king as it's Takeda's fav book (sudden telepathy and telekinesis + parental issues, sign him up)

Jacqui: A display case for all the medals she's earned in kombat, so that she can show them off and be proud of her accomplishments, even if Jax can't face them.

Frost: a set of throwing knives that she can terrorize people with, all in bright colours that have Kuai Liang groaning bc they're not stealthy but she is going to refuse to use anything else. Frost is Delighted by this

Lemme know if I missed anyone and I'll add them in.

#johnny cage #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat 11

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philliamwrites · 10 months

Text

SWYAATL 18: Rise from the Ashes

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Warnings: canon-divergence, canon-typical violence,

Summary: No one dares to move; no one but Armin, the missing piece and he joins them, intertwines his pale fingers with Eren’s tanned ones, and for a moment almost too brief to matter, this makes sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, make something like the word family.

Notes: [01] || [17] | [19]

A/N: heads up, this isn't beta-read but i just didn't want to let you guys wait any longer ;;

18: Rise from the Ashes

Another window breaks open and three shadowy figures drop through the entrance, landing just behind Reiner and Bertholdt. The first you see with a bright shock of relief is Mikasa, falling through the air like an arrow shot from a bow, sure of its target. She hits the floor with an assured lightness. Connie and Armin follow shortly behind, tumbling through the window in a jumble of limbs and gas canisters clunking on the floor.

The noise in the room doubles—voices overlapping each other, inquiring, shouting, demanding; boots beating on the wooden floor as everyone crowds around Mikasa.

You are still staring outside the giant hole from where you can hear the tell-tale sound of flesh hitting flesh and the blood-churning roar of a Titan. It is still unbelievable what you just witnessed, and the rational part of your mind is adamant that you have died sometime during the last hours and this is just Hell, a never ending battle against the Titans where anything can happen. Even something as crazy as a Titan killing another Titan.

“Hey, are you listening?” Jean appears by your side. Some colour has returned to his face, his eyes a brighter shade. Hopeful, even. “We’re going to take back the supply room.”

“What is that thing?” You shimmy towards the gaping hole, careful the floor doesn’t give away under your feet.

“Isn’t that crazy?” Connie joins you, nowhere near as careful as you. Some rubble crumbles away under his feet, falling a long way down, and you instinctively reach out and take hold of the back of his jacket. “That monster came outta nowhere and started going haywire on other Titans!”

“Looks to me it’s just getting warm for the real deal.” Jean scowls. “Us.”

“I don’t think that’s it … “ Armin rubs grime from his face with the back of his sleeve. His eyes are a striking blue, clear and undisturbed from grief and loss. It is a good sight on him; it means the cogs of his brain are turning, constructing a plan that will hopefully get you all out of here alive. “It didn’t care about us at all. I don’t think it’s after humans.”

“You must be tripping if you think a Titan could ever be on our side.” Jean’s tone is listless. He has obviously neither curiosity nor interest to spare in why that Titan seems different. “Now stop gawking, we’ve got a job to do.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to kill Titans without our gear?” Connie looks worse than on the roof—visibly exhausted, hollow-cheeked and whittled down to a sharp, lean core.

“What about these?”

Your heads turn towards Reiner’s voice on the other side of the room. He’s wiggling a rifle in the air and nods towards a small pile abandoned by the support squad in a corner.

“Either you know secrets about Titans we don’t,” Jean starts, moving towards him across the room, “or I missed out on any other weak point they got except their neck.”

Reiner gives Jean a lopsided grin. “If worst comes to worst, we could just shove it up their asses and try killing them like that.”

“Great, Reiner. That could be your last words.”

Despite everything, you bark out a laugh. From across the room, Marco joins you. You feel the tension loosen slightly, notice the weary smiles on everyone’s face. Strange, that despite everything you can still laugh. As though even in the darkest night there is nothing to be scared of as long as one single star shines and casts light.

Yes, everyone is smiling. Except Mikasa.

She is still gazing outside the hole in the wall, her usually impassive expression turned pensive.

“Mikasa?”

She doesn’t hear you.

“Mikasa.” You gently tug her sleeve, making her start in surprise. “Mikasa, we’re moving out.”

She blinks at you as though trying to free her mind from a haze, then nods and follows the others. With Armin and Marco’s instructions, you build a plan on how to retake the supply room. Have the best of your year finish them off while the rest draws them in as decoys, trying to deal as much damage as possible with the rifles. Working with a plan feels good. It shuts off your mind for the time while you load the rifle, check the barrel isn’t jammed, that the trigger gives under our finger. As you get ready for the operation, Armin pressed against your side amidst the other cadets, you wish Eren were here. You don’t know if you have the capacity to mourn both him and Emil; whatever part of your heart has regrown during your cadet times has been carved out now as well, leaving a vacant space inside your chest.

That won’t do. As if Eren would allow you to go out quietly, unheard of and written off as less than worthless. Wash your rage and grief clean into purpose, temper your will in the fire of anger and hone it into a sharp weapon, a crimson arrow. Deep in your soul there is no more hesitation.

It’s a miracle how everything works out for a change. After the Titans lie slain, the heavy weight of your replenished supplies feels good. You make sure everybody is good and ready to go, moving back up to the roof of the building to see how things look outside.

Titan carcasses block the streets like upheaved mountains, like gods emerging from mould. The smell of blood and iron is heavy in the air, tastes like copper on your tongue as you take in the havoc—caused by one of their own.

Jean holds his hands behind his head, his fingers crossed, expelling air very, very slowly as he observes the city. “Fucking hell, look at what that monster did to all those Titans.”

“It cleared a path,” says Connie in awe as though he’s managed his pet dog to perform an outstanding trick. “We can easily make it over the Wall and join everyone else.”

Marco squints at the far wall with narrowed eyes. “I can see them. They’re watching, I think. Waiting for the right time to join us for support.”

“There is no right time,” Reiner says. “We either go now or we miss another chance.”

“Wait.” You turn towards Armin’s voice. He and Mikasa have moved to the other side of the roof. “Something’s happening to that strange Titan.”

He’s right. After killing the remaining Titans, its knees give out as though he is incapable of holding himself upright any longer. Like any other Titan incapacitated, it drops dead. Steam rises from its nape, though you must have missed when it got hurt.

As you watch the steam rise, Jean’s voice sounds from your right. “See, it’s done for as well. Something like that will never be our companion. Titans will always be Titans.”

But nobody is listening to him because you’re all staring at the Titan lying on the ground as more steam rises from its neck. And even more steam. A lot of steam billows into the sky in thick, white clouds until it begins to dissolve, showing the silhouette of a dark figure sticking out from the Titan’s neck. Now that draws everyone’s attention.

As the steam dissolves and the skies clear, even from this distance, you recognise the boy—broad-shouldered, unruly brown hair sticking to his forehead.

Mikasa makes a little gasping sound, and before anyone can move, she is already lowering herself to the ground. You’re frozen for a moment, heart beating in your throat. Standing this still, the world cannot touch you and all depends on how immobile you are against the turning world—just in case that this moment might shatter at your slightest movement and reveal this is all but a dream, an imagination of your mind.

For it cannot be that Eren has emerged from the Titan’s neck, alive and breathing.

You’ve lost Emil once and he didn’t return; and then the same thing happened to Eren but he has returned. You’ve always know Eren is different, someone so rarely existing in mankind’s history that his name will be eternal, but this—this is not how you expected it to be.

Eren looks as though he is sleeping. His closed eyes are fringed with black lashes the shade of ink. His head is drooping slightly, his face relaxed and vulnerable in sleep, softer and less angular than when he is awake. It feels … unfamiliar.

After Mikasa pulls him out of his flesh-stringed chains, she holds him like … well, like she has lost him once already and would move Hell and challenge Heaven if anyone dare take him away again. Her cries fill the street, raw and heart breaking as though pulled out of her with a sharp hook—and you understand it better than anyone; you feel as if your heart is made of cracked glass, and the shards are like tiny knives inside your chest when you breathe.

No one dares to move; no one but Armin, the missing piece and he joins them, intertwines his pale fingers with Eren’s tanned ones, and for a moment almost too brief to matter, this makes sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, make something like the word family.

“How…” His voice is thick with tears, with hope, with love. But also wonder. “How can this be…”

You feel as if someone has reached inside your chest and unlocked a box that holds your heart, spilling tenderness like new blood through your veins. Never have you felt such an overwhelming urge to fiercely protect a group of people, to wrap your arms around them and curl up tightly with them, alone and from the rest of the world.

The silence that follows is deafening. Jean turns slightly, overlooking the destroyed streets filled with Titan corpses. You barely recognise his voice. “This . . . Eren did this?”

Ironic, isn’t it? That all of you knew Eren would slay hundreds of Titans with his hate for them burning hotter than the sun, but nobody expected it to happen like this. He didn’t take an axe to a tree—he clear-cut the forest with gasoline and everything is still burning.

The moment doesn’t last long. Voices echo from down the streets, followed by the sound of wires zipping through the air, gas cylinders, scraping blades against metal. The roof vibrates with heavy boots stomping towards you. By ingrained training you salute, fist against your heart that beats hard against your ribcage, trying to break out and go where? Outside the walls? To Eren?

One Garrison soldier tackles Reiner and Marco for answers—screaming and shouting as if it is their fault, all an elaborate hoax by the current graduates to pay back three years of slaving away under their seniors. A tall man with a fairly muscular build and hazel eyes draws closer, his dark blond hair tamed into a low ponytail. Team leader Ian Dietrich barks orders, to gather, to give status reports, to rattle off HQ’s inventory. When his eyes cut a way in your direction, he points at you and Jean. “You two, get down there and take their weapons.”

Nobody moves, the question marks evident on your faces. Connie finds his voice first. “Take their weapons? They—they saved us.”

“Oh yeah?” Dietrich steps closer to Connie, easily towering over him. “All I see is a guy who just got out of a Titan’s neck. You wanna explain that?”

Silence. There are no words to explain this.

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbles before raising his voice loud enough Connie reels back. “MOVE IT!!”

Jean and you scramble off the roof. He’s muttering under his breath, but all you can think of is that you can see Eren up closer, all that matters is that he is all right, all that matters is that he’s here—

Sensing something is off like a hound scenting danger, Mikasa steps forward, her hand jerking towards her blades, making you realise what a frightening reality it would be with her as your enemy.

Luckily, Jean finds the fitting words right away. “What the fuck is happening?”

“We need to get Eren away from here,” Mikasa says, her voice colder than steel. “The senior soldiers, what did they say?”

“No, I mean what the fuck is going on with Eren?” Jean snaps—snaps at Mikasa. She opens her mouth, closes it. Shakes her head.

“You mean even you didn’t know?” Jean sounds doubtful. “That he’s a Titan?”

Mikasa’s usual impassive expression shatters into honest puzzlement. You look at Armin, but even he seems at a loss for words, still holding onto Eren.

“We’re here to take your weapons,” you explain. It feels wrong. “I don’t think the Garrison soldiers trust you.”

“Not that they can be blamed,” Jean adds, and flinches away at the scathing glare Mikasa throws at him.

“If they touch Eren—” she starts and it seems for a moment she’s ready to cut your heads off for it first, but Armin bolts forward, grabbing her arm.

“We’ll surrender them,” he says quickly, ignoring Mikasa’s betrayed expression. “Working with the military right now is the best—the only option we have.”

You lean into Armin, lowering your voice, aware that your neck lies bare for Mikasa to make her threat come true. “Do you have a plan, Armin?”

His eyes are big, blue, bright and he is so frightened, but Armin’s always been the one whose brain works the best under pressure. “No,” he whispers, voice shaking. “But I—I’ll think of something.”

Of course. He always thinks of something, bright-minded Armin, soft-hearted Armin. His shoulders are shaking. You see him standing on that roof, shortly after declaring Eren has perished, right between Jean and you and remembering the fierce feeling: you would lay down your life for him, for Jean, for Mikasa. For Eren.

They surrender their weapons without complaint, Armin more willingly than Mikasa. Before she can relinquish her last blade, you catch her hands, feeling her stiffen under your touch.

“Keep it.” All eyes rivet on you. “You might need it.”

Mikasa’s lips part, but Jean is quicker. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

“I don’t know!” Your hands shake as you make sure her blade holsters hold and the last one is sharp and unused. The answer is pretty obvious though. “Helping our friends?”

Jean groans, throwing his head back. Drops of sweat roll down his jaw. “This can’t be happening…”

And then he’s right beside you, fumbling with Mikasa’s gas cylinders. “I know you spent yours more down in the cellar. Give them to me.” Mikasa blinks, but quickly follows his instructions. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not doing this for—for whatever the fuck Jaeger is; I’m doing this for you.”

“Eren is still Eren,” Mikasa immediately replies. When you glance at Armin, he remains silent.

Jean doesn’t look at her. “That remains to be seen.” When he’s done, he takes a step back, carrying Armin’s blades. He turns to you. “Come on, let’s go.”

With a last, desperate look, you squeeze Mikasa’s hand. She squeezes back. “Don’t stop fighting,” you tell her. “And don’t stop thinking,” you say to Armin. They both nod. When you cast your eyes to Eren, still unconscious, still breathing, it takes every ounce of self-restraint to not drape your body over his just to keep him away from harm.

If you all make it … when you all make it, you will have your answers, no matter the consequences.

You find Daz in the courtyard with the other soldiers, all who have just written off their lives to the absurd plan that somehow, Eren will seal the hole in the Wall and everything has been an elaborate experiment by the government to see if man can turn into Titan and fight them with their own weapons.

It sounds like a pile of horse-shit. You don’t believe it. Your cadet corpse doesn’t believe it. But like flies you gravitate towards it because right now it seems the only way of winning this.

But if Daz thinks he should be only scared of Titans, he’s wrong.

Jean, trailing behind you, reads you like an open book. His instinct kicks in and he grabs for your arm as you lash out to punch Daz in the face. He’s too slow. Your fist connects with Daz’s jaw and there’s a satisfying crack.

“You disgusting, pathetic roach,” you seethe as he tumbles to the ground, holding his jaw as tears spring to his eyes. “You abandoned us.”

Daz whimpers. Lips trembling, he opens his mouth—and tries to scurry away on all fours. You trip him up, moving to kick him in the head but this time Jean gets a hold of you, strong arms hook under your armpits and he lifts you up as though you weigh nothing. It doesn’t stop you from kicking out, and when you manage to hit Daz’s side, you bark a triumphant shout.

“I—I didn’t know what else to do!” Daz screams back with tears and snot on his face, turning it into an ugly, revolting grimace. “L-look, you’re here, how—how bad could it have—”

You see red. “They died because of you!” You fight against Jean’s hold, he must be saying something but you can’t hear it against the rushing blood in your ears, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. “Karl and Franz, they’re dead because you’re a fucking coward!”

“They’re dead because we. Can’t. Win. Against. Titans!” he screams back, spit flying. “This—this all is just a plan to get rid of us! Eren Jaeger is a Titan fighting on our side? They’re all lying! We’re just here so they have time to save their own asses! Don’t you get it? The Inner Wall doesn’t give a shit about us! But I am wrong? I am the problem?! I’m just trying to survive this! What is wrong with wanting to life?” Daz jumps to his feet, maybe trying to shove you back in his anger, maybe trying to grab your shoulders and plead that he did nothing wrong, that he alone is the sane one for trying to save his own hide.

Jean swiftly moves you out of the way by taking a step to the side and dragging your with him. Daz trips over his own feet and this time when he falls, he remains on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut off. Sobs wreck his body. You can hear him mumble faintly, words like “I didn’t mean for them to die.”

You stop struggling in Jean’s grasp. He waits for a moment, judges from your body language if you’ll lunge at Daz again. You’re very still, and finally, he releases you.

“Hope that your new squad members aren’t as scared as you are. For your own sake,” you say quietly. “I’ll go standing somewhere you’re fucking not.”

You stomp past him, relishing in how he flinches when your boots barely miss his outstretched fingers digging into the ground. Jean follows after you, keeping a small distance from you as you wind through groups of soldiers waiting for further orders from their squad leaders.

In a quiet corner, you finally stop, willing your racing heart to calm down. Daz isn’t worth it. He doesn’t understand what is at stake. Especially after Commander Pixis’s speech—you’re all fighting for a greater cause, to save more people at the cost of a few sacrifices.

“What’s wrong with wanting to protect yourself? To stay alive?” Jean’s voice sounds distant, mirroring Daz’s words. You whirl around, glare up at his grim face—and step back from the accusation you find in his expression.

“We don’t get to make that choice anymore.” You shake your head. Your pulse thunders in your ears. “Not after today. You see what’s at stake, we can’t just sit by.”

“We can’t go into this fight without thinking either,” Jean snaps, voice barbed wire that grates against your spine. “Haven’t we lost enough already?”

“Which is exactly why we need to fight!” Frustration raises your voice, as if just by speaking the notion loudly into existence Jean might adopt it. “I thought you cared. About our friends, about me.” Your voice turns hard like ice. “About Marco.”

Jean’s face goes slack; wiped clean as a slate: beautiful yet terrible to behold, like a night without stars and you have caused this. It dissolves the anger, allowing a hot-prickling shame to bloom in your chest.

Steeling yourself against Jean’s outburst, you’re surprised his voice is calm—calm but tempered in determination. “I do care. But I’ve got a brain I can use instead of just running ahead without thinking. You think Eren is the solution to everything; if anything, he’s a barrel of gunpowder about to explode any time. In a way, he did.”

“I think I understand why you hate him,” you say quietly. “You’re jealous. Because he does all the things you’re afraid of.”

His gaze flicks to you, the warning in their tawny depths clear as a length of exposed steel. “If I’m a coward for fearing death, what does your overzealousness make you?” He looks as if he’s one argument away from a scream. “Turning into another suicidal maniac won’t change anything. And I will not—” Jean inhales sharply, his chest heaving with the force. His voice turns so quiet you have to take a step forward to hear him. “I will not suffer your loss.”

His words land like a blow. You take a deep breath, nearly choke on it as you swallow a lot of sadness.

“Jaeger calls me selfish,” Jean continues. “If wanting a life where you and I are happy is me being selfish, then I guess I am.” He studies your face, taking apart every muscle twitch, every twist of your lips. He puts so much time into handling you, your Jeanie.

All the tension leaves from your body as you take the first step towards him. Jean moves in tandem, already embracing you before you lift your arms. It feels like home. He smells like home.

For a moment you stand still in the circle of his arms, hearing his heartbeat, his hands patting half-awkwardly up and down your back, your hair. “All I want is for you to be careful,” he mumbles. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’m always careful. ‘S like my middle name.”

He snorts. “You said the same thing when you jumped into the river when we were thirteen.”

“And I was fine.”

“You broke your ankle.”

“It made me the toughest kid in the neighbourhood. It was worth it.”

Jean tugs gently at your hair. It reminds you of the years when you used to wear your hair in braids and Jean would yank on them, with considerably less gentleness than he is showing now.

“You should be careful too. And what I said earlier—I know you care. You always care and worry, about me, about Marco—”

“Marco is with Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie, it doesn’t get safer than that, so no, I’m not worried about Marco,” Jean says, but you can hear the nerves under his flippant tone. Instead of shushing him, you reach down and take his hand, winding your fingers through his cold ones. His hand is clammy, but he returns the pressure with a grateful squeeze.

“I know it’s dangerous,” you say quietly, “but you just have to go along with me. Trust me.”

Jean’s amber eyes are serious. “I trust you,” he says. “I don’t trust someone who happens to be able to turn into a Titan.” He cuts his glance toward the Wall, to somewhere up there where Eren is currently with Commander Pixis.

“Well, try,” you say. “We don’t really have any other choice, do we? He’s all we have to stand a chance against them.”

A little shudder passes over Jean. “How did it come to this? I should be on my way to the Inner Wall. We—we were supposed to be prepared for shit like this, and now, there are fucking Titans everywhere and our friends are dead and I don’t even know if we’ll live to see tomorrow—”

“You don’t have to stay here,” you say quietly. Since Pixis has declared deserting will not be punished, the ranks have noticeably thinned.

“Yes,” Jean says, squeezing your hand. “I do.”

You stand like this for a moment, leaning close together, the way you always do when you share a moment, curving into each other when you speak, in your own contained universe. That is until the sound of a horn rips into your quiet bubble and drags you back to the present.

Jean’s face falls. “It’s starting. We’re really trying to make a Titan close the hole in the wall for us.”

“Eren,” you provide quietly. “It’s still Eren. He’ll do it somehow.”

“Yeah, well. Looked as dumb as a pile of shit up there, so yeah, it’s Eren no doubt,” Jean mumbles. He leads the way back to the Main Courtyard, to your friends who are sorted into squad teams assigned a task each. A map of golden hair catches your eye, and with great relief you fling your arms around Armin and squeeze him hard enough he turns blue.

“I knew you’d think of something,” you mumble into his mud-caked hair, not caring that he smells of sweat and blood and dirt. You’re sure you don’t smell pleasant either.

Armin sputters something, but his lithe fingers press into your sides, hard, as though convincing himself you’re really there.

“Let’s just hope Eren can really pull it off,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck before letting you go.

“Everything Commander Pixis said about … about Eren being a human experiment. How much about that is true?” It’s been nagging you ever since Pixis’s grand speech, like a splinter sitting in your brain. “Did you know? Did Mikasa now?”

“I’m sure Commander Pixis came up with that on the spot just to have some sort of explanation. I don’t want to imagine the mass panic breaking loose if people think the military doesn’t have it under control.”

“But—what is really going on then?”

Armin’s eyes look too big for his face, fearful and uncertain. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know?” Jean snaps, having listened into the conversation. “What are we supposed to do if you don't even know what’s going on.”

Armin opens his mouth, but from the corner a squad leader barks Jean’s name, ordering him to join the squad. Jean storms off, not looking back, and for a moment Armin tenses as if moving to follow after him.

You grab his arm. “It’s okay. He’s not really pissed, he’s just—just confused.” Like everyone. ”We’ll talk later to him, okay?” As if later is a possibility you don’t have to fear being ripped away by the absurdity of this mission. “Don’t worry, he won’t tell. He gets it, Armin.”

Armin trots after you, an anxious, jittery mess, gnawing at this nibbled-down fingernails until they bleed and leave red smears around his mouth. You take Armin’s hand and hold it all the way to where you take position up on the wall to draw the Titans off Eren’s path. Armin squeezes your hand hard enough your bones ache under the pressure.

“I promised Eren … that I wouldn’t die here,” he says quietly. His free hand, balled into a fist, shakes. He’s so scared, but that’s the thing. You’re all scared. And still, you have to fight. You have to move forward.

You stand close to him and wrap your other hand around his shaking wrist. “Don’t worry about that. Because I won’t let you.” Not you, not anyone else. To save one is to save the world.

It is naive, but it burns so strongly within you, this conviction that no one else from your 104th Cadet Corps will die. That somehow, you can prevent it and protect them all. Armin bows his head in your direction, presses his shoulder into yours. And then he meets your eyes and nods. In his face you see all your friends who won’t return ever again. Franz, Hannah, Thomas. Mina.

You have to try. You have to try for their sake or else their deaths were for nothing.

“The goal for now is easy.” Armin’s expression steels into courage. “We keep the Titans away from Eren’s path, he seals the hole. The leader of Alpha Squad, Rico Brzenska, will notify us with a smoke signal about the operation’s status. She’s shot the green smoke flare, which means the operation’s started. Should anything go wrong, she’ll signal with a—”

His voice breaks off as his eyes stare off at something behind your shoulder. You turn around, tiny stones crunching under your boots while you brace against the sudden gust of warm wind hitting you like a solid wall as though summer has suddenly fallen upon the city.

There, just off the Market Square, Eren’s Titan rises with an ear-shattering roar, and right behind him, cutting through the azure-blue sky, red smoke rises upward like a smear of blood.

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