#imagine this

[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #8 - Orc pt2 🌶

This is an extension of the orc imagine! -> Pt 1

The orc chief thinks you're a toy. How is he supposed to take you seriously when you can't hunt, split wood, or even stand up to his men? Despite this, he's gotten quite fond of you over the first day. He is used to fighting off enemy tribes and hunting beasts with sharp teeth and thick hides. In the midst of all this, you are like a little slice of heaven.

"Gorlach protects," he promises, thumping his fist against his chest.

You eat together by the fire. He watches you finish the first serving of stew and immediately refills the bowl.

"T-thank you," you stammer.

Despite the fire, you're still cold, and he notices. You were always told orcs were brutal and small-minded barbarians, but Gorlach's actions say otherwise. He gives you the cloak off his shoulders and pats your head.

"I bring warmth," he says, before he tromps into his tent.

As soon as he's gone, his men crowd around you, grunting and commenting, touching your hair and poking your cheeks, getting a little worked up if the loincloths jutting away from their bodies are any indication. One of them gets too close, and Gorlach storms out of his tent shouting something in Orcish, slamming him over the head with his club so hard that the sound echoes around the camp. You squeak and leap backward as the orc falls onto his knees. Gorlach gathers you into his arms.

"I always protect," he says, nuzzling into your hair. "I bring warmth. See?"

He tucks a flask into your hands.

"Drink. Warm." He instructs.

You sniff at the mouth of the flask, your eyes watering at the sharp scent. You take a hesitant sip and sputter as it fills your mouth, spicy and sweet, the strongest thing you have ever tasted. Gorlach covers your mouth with two of his fingers and strokes your hair, waiting until you finally manage to swallow. The orcs laugh and nudge each other.

The drink sits on your stomach like a small fire, warming you up and flushing your cheeks. You lean into Gorlach, a little dazed. He carries you into his tent, crooning softly. He lays you on his furs, his thick fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. His brows furrow until he finally gets them open and he pulls your shirt off. He shuffles closer, careful not to crush you. His large hands smooth down your ribs and rub your belly. His curious fingers explore your chest.

He pulls off your pants with a rumbling sound of discovery. He looks down at you for a second and then removes his loincloth. As his cock springs free you're pushing yourself up on your elbows, your eyes going wide. Not even the drink is enough to calm your nerves. You shake your head fearfully and try to tell him that he's too big, he won't fit. Feebly, you try to push him away.

He's so strong that your hands do nothing against him. He grabs your thighs and drags you closer, tossing your legs over his thighs as he crouches on the furs.

"Gorlach sees," he says quietly. "Gentle with you."

You whimper in response as he spits into his palm and smooths it over his cock, groaning. As he strokes back up, precum drips onto your stomach like hot wax. The size of him against your stomach is terrifying. You close your eyes and do your best to relax. True to his word, he is gentle. But foreplay is not a word he knows. Orcish women are built to handle his size and he doesn't realise it isn't the same for you. He presses into your hole with a grunt and you cry a little, clinging helplessly to him.

No, no, you tell him. It won't fit.

His eyes gleam with determination and he brusquely kisses your tears away.

"Gentle," he insists. "Gorlach be careful with you."

Outside the tent, orcs shuffle and strain to hear your pitiful moans, their hands on their eager cocks, each one wishing it was them you were striving to take.

#imagine this #exophilia #terato #orc #monster x reader #orc x reader #monster x human #monster fucker #monster lover

[ghostbsuter]

They may feel it, but never witness it.

Bart does not explain his impromptu leaves in the speedforce, nor how and why the speedforce seems to only take him and spit him back out few hours later.

Well, bart can't really explain it without sounding ridiculous.

How else do you explain to your family and teammates that grandma speedy keeps bringing him to playdates with some god of times grandson?

At least they're the same age! Danny's very crash, honestly. Got the speedster appetite and running together ensures even faster speed with no obstacles in front of them!

Man, he loves intangibility.

Now how does he explain this to uncle max?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #danny and bart are besties #my agenda #I LOVE BART #the speedforce is just a lovely lady #imagine this #time is a river that clockwork over sees #theyre mutliple rivers #streams #lady speedforce is the giant wave that once occurs when the moon is at a certain position #when she arrives at a time stream she overfloods the whole thing and passes on like nothing #surfing her own time stream in a bigger time stream #clockwork is so fond of her in the annoyed little sibking way #so whats better than having their grandsons bond throigh food and chaos #dc impulse #this is a bart and danny collab folks

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Levan."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Levan.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Levan? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Levan returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Levan. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Levan lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Levan shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Levan. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Levan differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Levan.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Levan. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Levan. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Levan smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Levan suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Levan would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Levan, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Levan back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Levan…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Levan.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Levan, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Levan, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Levan do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Levan too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Levan?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Levan… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Lilia Vanrouge #Meleanor Draconia #Malleus Draconia #Silver #Levan Draconia #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #angst #tw // war #Bal Zigvolt #Baul Zigvolt #Baal Zigvolt

[hisbucky]

Chimney: Well this is a bust... any idea where we might go from here? Albert: Maybe Buck could help? Chimney, chuckling: That's a good one. Chimney: ...Oh, you're being serious. Albert: Who else has been through this exact scenario, brother? Buck could help us! Chimney: Yeah, maybe, and then my wife will kill the both of us for involving her little brother - not to mention Eddie. Or Athena. Or Bobby. Brrr. Albert, shudders: I suppose that's true.

#911 show #incorrect 911 quotes #incorrect quotes #buddie #chimney han #albert han #han siblings #imagine this #what if buck han and han had a goofy scene #like bobby michael and david did #madney #chim and maddie are married already in this one

[mah-o-daryaa]

ATLA Headcanons: Nations Edition

Water Tribes:

Despite the might of the Fire Navy during the war, around 1000-500 BG (Before Genocide), the Water Tribes were known for producing the best sailors and navigators around the world.

The NWT (Northern Water Tribe) traditions greatly emphasized the Moon Spirit, Tui, whereas the SWT (Southern Water Tribe) traditions preferred the Ocean Spirit, La.

Water Tribesmen were known for being innovative, the greatest example being Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, who invented modern airships and submarines. The first pair of sunglasses, for example, were invented by a Water Tribe immigrant in Republic City. It was an innovation from snow goggles, which were worn frequently in the NWT capital, Agna Qel'a, to prevent snow blindness, and later by Sokka and the Mechanist during the Black Sun invasion in 100 AG (After Genocide).

The people of the Water Tribes were known for migrating to various lands to sustain their population. The first great example was Northerners migrating to the South Pole, circa 4000 BG, followed by the Foggy Swamp, Yokoya (present-day Kyoshi Island), and even had a small Fire Nation diaspora (who were all exiled by Firelord Sozin and later Azulon during the Hundred Years War).

Similar to the stereotype of Fire Nationals being obsessed with honour, common Water Tribe stereotypes included being present-moment oriented (going with the flow), being family-oriented, laziness and never being on time, and (unfortunately) living a hedonistic lifestyle, such as alcoholism and doing the "thing". It didn't help that actual examples existed in the form of Avatar Kuruk.

Earth Kingdom:

The Earth Kingdom was often mistaken for a group of nations rather than a single nation. It didn't help that the various provinces were very dissimilar to one another in language, architecture, customs, and (in the case of Omashu) governmental affairs.

The Earth Kingdom consisted of various diasporas from the other nations, including (but not limited to) Fire Nation colonists in the FN colonies (and later the United Republic of Nations), the Northern Air Temple and surrounding locations, and the aformentioned Water Tribe immigrants in the southeastern Earth Kingdom, the most prominent being the Foggy Swamp tribe, Kyoshi Island, and even the Si Wong Desert.

Common stereotypes for the Earth Kingdom as a whole were rare due to the sheer size and diversity of the nation. For individual nations, Ba Sing Se was seen as complacent and corrupt, Gaoling was opulent but arrogant, whereas Omashu was basically that weird kid nobody wanted to associate with. The sandbenders were seen as rogue criminals, and the swampbenders were mistaken for polar waterbenders.

Related to the above, diaspora groups were given common stereotypes related to their homeland; for example, Kyoshi Islanders were mistaken for Water Tribesmen, the Fire Nation colonists were stereotyped similarly to their countrymen back home, etc.

The Earth Kingdom had a long history of stonework and masonry due to the power of earthbenders. The Northern Air Temple, for example, was built mostly by earthbenders, and stone and marble statues were often built as gifts to foreign diplomats and the crowning of royalty in other nations.

Fire Nation:

The Fire Nation was known for its traditional dances for hundreds of years before dancing was forbidden by Firelord Sozin during the Hundred Year War. During the modern era, the greatest dancers were notably from the Fire Nation, relearning their pre-war culture.

The Fire Nation were also known for glassmaking and metalwork due to their control over fire. These were often sent as gifts or means of trade.

During Firelord Zuko's rule, efforts were made to preserve pre-war Fire Nation traditions including singing, dancing, and dragons.

Pre-centralized Fire Nation had many regional dialects that varied by clan; some examples include the Keohso, the Saowon speaking the Ma'inka dialect, and the Sei'naka speaking the Southern dialect of FN language. Later on, the dialect spoken in the FN capital city was made the official language of the Fire Nation.

Similarly to the Water Tribes, the Fire Nation was known for being innovative and technologically advanced, to the point where Fn engineers were often brought to other nations to improve infrastructure. After the Hundred Years War came to an end, Sokka worked with several such engineers to invent new technology introduced in Republic City.

Air Nomads:

Each Air Temple has its own regional dialect with loanwords from their closest nation. Avatar Yangchen, for example, spoke with the Western dialect, with loanwords from the Fire Nation syntax, whereas Avatar Aang spoke the Southern dialect, with loanwards from the Southern Water Tribe. The Northern and Eastern dialects included Earth Kingdom syntax.

The Air Nomads were known for their traditional songs. Before the war, Air Nomad singers and Fire Nation dancers and musicians often travelled together to performances around the world.

The notion that all Air Nomads were airbenders was actually Fire Nation propaganda. However, Air Nomads who were born airbenders were sent to the Air Temples to train under the monks and nuns while nonbenders were left with other families, hence the misconception.

Every year, male Air Nomads from the Northern and Southern Air Temples travel to the Eastern and Western Air Temples to meet female Air Nomads there. Yes, that's how Air Nomads are born.

Similar to the Water Tribes, the Air Nomads often travelled around various nations, forming diasporas around the world, most commonly in the Earth Kingdom. People forgot about that because of (again) Fire Nation propaganda.

Miscellaneous:

Each Avatar wears an item of clothing that separates him or her from their fellow countrymen (technically canon). Kuruk has his polar bear-dog headress, Kyoshi is pretty self-explanatory, Roku has Sozin's headpiece, Aang immediately stands out too as an Air Nomad, and Korra has a pretty recognizable physicality.

#atla #atla headcanons #water tribe #earth kingdom #fire nation #air nomads #imagine this #hey guys #uhhh #I'm back now #I'm on holiday atm #visiting my relatives and all #so the schedule is a little out of control #I'll be back in a few days

[verysilenciorn]

IMAGINE THIS:

- Mattheo giving & showing you his charcoal or normal sketches of your face and body with full proudness & pride

- Tom pounding in you with no mercy, handcuffing your hands so-so tightly & his nails digging into your hips that they bleed so deep and sting like hell (so bbg)

- Theodore showing off his Italian spices/recipes & giving you a long description on each and one of them because he can & he loves them

- Enzo giving you his unused sweaters to you because he knows you secretly wear them without him knowing before

- Regulus clinging onto you since he couldn't swim well & would accidentally slip and fall into the water if he made a wrong move (also screaming like a kid)

- Draco paying almost everything that you touch and look because he loves to spoil you rotten (like actually)

- Blaise with hot tea in his hands to hear your HOT TEA about your day when you're gone w/your friends (he ends up being so invested for DAYS)

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #tom riddle #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #regulus black #draco malfoy #imagine this #harry potter

[esaesis]

if I were to write some sort of bloodweave fanfiction I'd want to explore their relationship if there were no mindflayers

Imagine that Astarion was kidnapped by Gur (just after he stole their children) but was able to escape. Let's say they gave him some artifact so Cazador couldn’t track him in their camp, and he went off with this artifact. Just run away from everything and everyone.

and it wasn't so simple for him

The pressing reality was this: Cazador's absence was but a temporary reprieve. Traces of his control still touched Astarion's mind, causing shaky hands and quiet, unsettling thoughts, maddening whispers that murmured commands. If he faltered, if he yielded to weakness, his brief taste of freedom would become his deepest regret. Cazador would not suffer a stray hound for long. He would find him, and their reunion would be something that he liked to call a symphony of suffering.

Astarion couldn't go far (hello, sun), so he hid in Underdark. It was far from ideal, teeming with perils that soon wore on his nerves. Yet, it was... something.

And then he almost stumbled upon Aracane Tower.

Astarion hated it all — the circumstances that led him here, the choices he was forced to make, the very world that seemed so intent on tormenting him. Yet, in that forsaken hall, he found a space that mirrored his own emptiness, and it brought him a bizarre sense of comfort. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he was alone in his desolation.

Until he was not because it wasn't a forsaken wizard tower. With and actual wizard in it.

Well. Not a wizard at first glance.

The elevator doors parted and outlumbered an automaton—a towering construct of metal and magics, brandishing a spear that dwarfed Astarion's lithe frame. Gods above, Astarion though. If the creature had been mortal, his charisma might have won it over; if it had been alive, his vampiric powers could have tipped the scales. But the automaton was neither.

"Welcome," the automaton's voice resonated, metallic yet oddly dignified. "Introduce yourself."

Astarion quirked an eyebrow. "Who's asking?"

"Welcome," the automaton reiterated. "Introduce yourself."

"You're quite the conversationalist, aren't you?"

"Welcome. Intro—"

"Astarion," he interjected, keen to halt the mechanical monologue.

"I am Bernard," said the automaton, pausing as if it were processing new data. "I have no records of an individual named Astarion. What is the purpose of your visit?"

Astarion's thoughts whirred into action. The construct before him was undoubtedly dangerous, a sentinel programmed to defend its master's domain. But the fact that it hadn't attacked him outright suggested that diplomacy was still a viable strategy.

"Survival," Astarion ventured cautiously. "I was pursued by a creature. This tower seemed a sanctuary."

Bernard stood in contemplative stillness for a beat, its gears audibly churning as if in deep thought.

"I am not programmed to handle such types of visits. I must consult my master."

"Your master?" Astarion seized upon the opportunity. "Yes, I would very much like to meet them. What is their name?"

Bernard's gears seemed to jam for a moment, a dissonance vibrating through its mechanical core.

"Lenore. No. Gale of Waterdeep. No. Lenore? No. Gale of Waterdeep? No. Lenore?"

Astarion couldn't help but smirk. He'd managed to befuddle a magical automaton. Whether it was a bug in Bernard's programming or a testament to his own unpredictable nature, the situation was oddly delightful.

————

so that is how it started

Astarion and Gale in the tower in Underdark; both damaged but not broken, managed to help each other in a way they didn't think was possible

Beauty and the Beast , but you cannot actually tell who’s Beauty and who's the Beast given all circumstanses

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #gale dekarios #astarion/gale #bloodweave #gale x astarion #imagine this

[spaciebabie]

i love you lamb cotl i love youuuuu silly goober!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#ouuuuu #imagine this #lamb cotl is right in fronmst of me. im staring at that fuckin thang with enough force 2 kill multiple gods (and did so) #im lfuicng LOOKING at THEMK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 #OUUUUUU #spacie spoinks #man im tired #its only 7:40 tho #i just had dinner liiike #i cant nap until 2 hour later b/c of my Stomach Probmel #continues 2 play cotl for the next few hours #im goin until my battery on the controller gives out or until my brain does

[forgottenpeakywriter]

An oldie horror edit with Tommy that involves Jason Voorhees.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #horror #october #friday the 13th #photo edit #jason voorhees #interesting #thriller #cillianmurphy #art #imagine this #scary #scary movies

[starryficsfinishwen]

HAPPY ACTIVATION CHROME MY LOVE (IM SORRY I AM LATE IN POSTING UR GIFT)

I-

SCREAMING CRYING IN PUBLIC WITH EARPHONES ON READING THIS LETTERRRRR

also-

👁️👄👁️ you are giving me to many thoughts chrome

#pgr #punishing gray raven #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr commandant #pgr global #pgr cn #pgr chrome #pgr chrome glory #chrome??? giving me the keys to their home??? #and his room??? #brb going to sneak in there and arrange his bed #with matching pretty clothes and red sheets #and scented candles #“I've been waiting” said I #when chrome comes in #imagine this #HAPPY ACTIVATION DAY CHROME

[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #4 - Orc

You're just a puny human who gets caught in the crossfire of a battle between an orc tribe and a human tribe. Your tribe decides you will make the perfect peace treaty offering. When they present you to the orc leader, it is clear he has never seen a human before and is quite confused.  He squeezes your soft thighs and pokes your cheek with brutish but careful hands.

"Why so soft?" He asks.

"Good for breeding," is the sly, enthusiastic response.

That interests him. He sizes up your small body and puts his hands on your hips, calculating. Maybe he'll fit. A peace treaty is agreed upon and will continue to hold, provided you obey the leader's every command and desire. He has a lot of desires...

Part 2 is -> Here

#exophilia #terato #monster x reader #monster x human #orc #imagine this

[0lympian-c0uncil]

Demeter,*in her winter form*: I love you!

Hecate,*flustered*: Obviously... you don't know me.

Demeter: Oh, I love you so much~

Hecate,*very much also in love*: Thank you, and I will take that as a feeling of comfortability... You have with me...

Demeter,*deadpan*: It's more than comfortability, heh heh. I fucking love you~

Hecate,*overwhelmed with love for this woman*: .... Ok.

#winter demeter is a titan and is really big #hecate is small #imagine this #demeter x hecate #hecate #demeter #greek gods #greek mythology #incorrect greek gods #incorrect greek mythology #incorrect greek god quotes #incorrect greek quotes #also Deo is very open with her love for hecate in this form

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Cat in the Kitchen

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Ready for a short supplementary cooking class?🌟 A day in the life of Prefect Gordon and his familiar Grim, told in three parts: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After all, food is tastier when it's shared with friends and family~

Imagine this…

Gordon Ramsay stirred before the rats and the ghosts of Ramshackle dorm did. He was up by 5 am most days, first exercising and then rustling around in the kitchen fighting the gas stove to light (and stay that way!) and taking inventory of the dwindling ingredients in the pantry. At 7 am, the delicious smells would start up, rousing his housemates from their slumber.

This was the magic of a human incapable of spellcasting or sorcery.

"Mm... You're up super early again," Grim muttered from the doorway as he rubbed at his eyes. He yawned, still struggling to shake off the last remnants of sleep that clung to him. "I dunno how you do it."

"Not so hard once you've got the hang of it," he grunted in response. Gordon wiped his hands off on a dish towel before sliding a plate toward Grim. "Eat up now, we don't have much time before classes start."

"I dunno, I'm not too hungry."

"You? Not hungry?" Gordon's brows raised. "That's new. You feeling under the weather?"

Grim leapt, looking as though he had been caught with his entire body stuffed into a cookie jar. "N-No, I'm not! Yup, there's my hunger comin' back to me!"

He hurriedly yoinked a tuna sandwich and chowed down.

"See?! Ah'm jus' fine," Grim insisted, cheeks stuffed.

"Hmm, alright." Gordon tucked into a small bowl of oatmeal--prepared with baked bananas, almond milk, and dried cranberries.

"You got class today too or what?"

"Yup. Ashengrotto and the smaller Shroud this time."

“Think they’ll drive ya mad like the rest of them did?”

“I’ll hold my tongue until I’ve seen how they are in the kitchen for myself.”

“Keh, you’re no fun.”

The beast’s ears flattened. The blue fire that burned so brightly seemed to dim. Something weighed on his mind—of that, Gordon was certain.

“That means you'll abandon me before lunchtime again..." Between chews, Grim complained, "How come I gotta be just a student and you get to be a teacher too? The great Grim-sama oughta be showin' these newbies a thing or two!"

"I only teach what I know. I'm still a student in some ways, learning new things about food every day." Gordon shrugged, giving his friend a rough ruffle on the head. "You can be a teacher when you've mastered everything there is to master--neither of us is quite there yet."

"Why can't it be? I wanna fast forward to the part where I become an archmage already!!"

"Don't be impatient about making progress. I’ve made hundreds of dumplings in a day and still came nowhere near the level of perfection of a dim sum master.“

“Tsk, that sucks. Didja at least get to eat the bad dumplings?”

“It was all I had that day. They weren’t fit to serve to customers.” Gordon shook his head. “My point is, you’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He spooned up the remainder of his oatmeal, then deposited his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. Gordon plucked up Grim, who still had a mouth full of tuna, and tucked him under one arm.

“M-Myah?!“

“Right then, let’s head out. Brisk morning jog to wake up the senses—it’s a brand new day!”

“Lemme finish my breakfast first, sheesh!!”

Three classes before lunch, and they all went about as well as Gordon had expected them to. (That was to say, not well at all.)

During first period Alchemy, Grim had earned the ire of Crewel by disregarding the potion recipe. In spite of Gordon's reminders and warnings, Grim had taken one too many missteps. The wrong ingredient, the incorrect amount, the temperature too low or too high, the stirring too much or not enough.

He was then caught catnapping during Magic History and extensively told off by both Trein and Lucius. (The meowing had gotten very intense.) Gordon had apologized profusely in Grim's place.

Flying had not fared any better--Grim struggled to concentrate, his unsteady magic causing his broom to wildly buck, attempting to chuck him off. Gordon had to stop his rep of 100 push-ups to fetch his friend out from a shrub. Twigs poked at him, leaves caught in his fur.

By the time they were dismissed back to the locker rooms, Grim had melted into a furry puddle on Gordon's shoulder. "Maaan, I'm beat!! That was rough!"

"Rougher than usual." Gordon crunched on an apple. He had taken to the habit of eating small platters or snacks throughout the day over whole meals—it was more efficient for his lifestyle. “Something you want to tell me, or…?”

“N-Nothing’s up!” Grim snapped. "Quit worryin' about me. It's the boss's job to do that for their minion."

The chef rolled his eyes as he set Grim down on the floor beside him. He handed off a boxed lunch wrapped in a checkered cloth. "I'm off to teach. You'll be fine on your own, right? Find Trappola and Spade, settle down with your food, and don't cause trouble."

"I got it already!" Grim huffed. "Catch ya after...?"

"Always." His smile was strained, a bit tired but true. "Maybe I'll bring back some disastrous stories to share with you over dinner."

One last pat on the head, and then he was gone. Hustling down the hall, the white of his pristine chef’s jacket vanishing behind a corner.

Grim managed the rest of the hike to the cafeteria, balancing his lunch in his paws. He squeezed past the legs of various mob students, emerging safely on the other side. They rushed to line up for trays of food.

Suckers, Grim thought, paying in cash for food. Luckily for me, I’ve got something way better than whatever they’re serving.

“Oiiii, Grim! Over here!!” someone called to him. He looked—and there they were, the duo of troublemakers, marked by a heart and a spade upon their faces.

“Ace! Deuce!”

He scampered over to the two Heartslabyul freshmen. They had already secured their lunches, as well as an open seat for him.

“Hard night? Looks like you didn't get much sleep," Deuce commented. A fluffy omelet wobbled atop a mountain of ketchup fried rice on his plate.

“He's right, you really do look awful," Ace added cheerily--blunt as ever. He had opted for a slice of some savory pie, vegetables and meat oozing out from a buttery crust.

"Sh-Shuddap! The great Grim-sama was up all night cookin' up something big!" He slammed a paw down on the table. "Just look at your sorry lunches. They can't compare to what I have!"

"Did Prefect make your meal again? You should try to not trouble him too much.”

"’S not like I tell’m to! He does it on his own!” Grim snickered to himself. "He takes all these cheap ingredients and throws'm together to make these tasty dishes."

"Well, don't keep us waiting in suspense," Ace groaned. "Show us what you have already."

“Let’s see, let’s see!”

Grim undid the fabric knot that held his lunch in a swathe. The checkered pattern peeled back and the lid, once removed, yielded a creamy, cheesy bed of tuna bake.

Gordon had taken his beloved canned tuna and fried it down into flakes. It was then combined with a special mixture of seasonings, pasta shells, melted cheeses, onions and broccoli, and topped with bread crumbs. After a generous bake in their ancient oven, the dish had come out golden brown and bubbling.

“Whoooa, smells delish!!” all three of them drooled.

“Lucky bastard,” Ace muttered. He quickly put on a cheeky grin, his spoon prepared. “Ne, ne~ Lemme try some, Grim!“

“D-Don’t be cheeky, Ace! You can’t demand to mooch off of someone else’s lunch,” Deuce scolded his peer. “… Even if it does look really good.”

“Paws off!!” Grim shielded the box with his body. “My minion made this for me and me only!”

“Tch.” Ace’s expression dropped. “You get to eat like a king for free while the rest of us have to shell out and make do with whatever’s on the school’s menu.”

“It’s not that bad,” Deuce pointed out. “It’d be nice to be able to eat for free but I’m happy with the quality of food we get for the price.”

“This comin’ from the guy who was running low on pocket money for a snack the other day?” he smirked.

“H-Hey, I need to budget, okay?!”

While the duo bickered, Grim had started to shove his face into the box (silverware was too difficult to maneuver) and wolf down his meal. Cheese sauce painted his fur, bits of broccoli and tuna dotting his jaw.

It was heaven—or as close to heaven as he could get on the earth.

He licked his lips appreciatively, mopping up what was left on his face. Not even a little could go to waste. Grim was determined.

As he went back in for another mouthful, he felt a phantom hand cascade across his head, his back. Advice from that morning filled his mind.

“You’ll get there one day. Nose to the grindstone, Grim. You've got to work hard to earn it."

He shut his eyes, making a silent vow.

I’ll definitely… definitely pay ya back for all the hard work you’ve been puttin’ in too, partner.

Gordon bid farewell to the ghost chefs on his way out of the kitchen. The day’s leftovers and unused ingredients overflowed from his arms—a perk of the teaching gig, which helped to feed him and his feline roommate. He mentally parsed through what was available, dreaming up new dishes for the days to come.

There was a nice chunk of fresh tuna (Grim would love it) in his brown paper bag. Perhaps he’d sear it with a sesame crust, then drizzle the seafood in a yuzu-lime dressing to brighten it. He’s plate it with a microgreens salad. Chives, arugula, celery, radish, and ruby sorrel to encourage Grim to eat a variety of vegetables.

He made his way out of the school building and down the long, winding path to Ramshackle dorm. The sun was still out, warming the worn Prefect.

On the front porch, he rustled around in his pants for the keys. When he finally fished it out and inserted the teeth into the lock, Gordon swore he heard a series of suppressed giggles from beyond the door.

Odd.

The door swung open, and he was immediately accosted.

"Welcome baaack," the Ramshackle Ghosts chirped. One ushered him in from behind, another too his groceries off of his hands, and a third tugged him along by the arm.

"Come this way! Grimmy's got a treat for ya!"

"He's been working hard on it the second he got back from his last class."

"Oooh, you're gonna LOVE it!"

"What about dinner?" Gordon protested, watching his beloved ingredients sail off.

He was thrusted into their dingy kitchen--which doubled as the dining room, thanks to the table and chairs set up in one cobwebbed corner. The same old Ramshackle he woke up to every day. Rusty knobs and hinges, chipped cupboards, electricity and running water that blinked in and out.

But there, set on a table with uneven legs and splintered wood, was something extraordinary.

It was a stout cake, iced in light blue with a layer of dripping white and several lit candles stuck into the top. Black frosting formed the vague shape of a fish, TUNA piped over it in white. A single lollipop--pale blue, and in the shape of a paw--casually rested against the cake, as if it had been tossed on top for an extra flair.

A furry mass tackled and hugged Gordon's leg.

"Grim?!"

He was suited up in his own little chef's uniform. It was deep gray, verging on black, his apron tied with a striped-purple ribbon. A tiny toque--a chef's hat-- sat between his ears, a bandage over the bridge of his nose. A smear of white icing decorated his left cheek, and he carried with him a telltale piping bag squeezed thin.

Gordon blinked. "You did this?"

"Nyahahah! Were you surprised?"

"You told me you couldn't cook to save your life."

"He can't," a ghost piped up as he deposited the groceries onto a counter. "He's worse than I was when I was alive!"

"That's why Grimmy's been getting up in the dead of night lately. Been, what? Gotta be a few weeks now."

"He's been practicing his baking and then cleaning up the traces of his crime before you get up."

"What..."

"I wanted to pay ya back, yanno! For all the cookin' and cleanin' and whatever," Grim mumbled shyly, kicking at the ground. "So I figured I'd treat ya for once! I was thinking of a sticky toffee pudding at first since that's your favorite, but... it gets so sticky, it was hard to work with!"

He patted his stomach. "I couldn't put my stuff in the trash can or else you'd notice, so I had to eat up all my mistakes too! It was a lotta effort and way harder than it looked, so you'd better be grateful!!”

Grim looked away, rubbing at his bandage.

“… It helped me better understand and appreciate all the things you do on the daily.”

It clicked.

Everything suddenly made sense. Grim's tiredness, lack of focus, decreased appetite, defensiveness—it was all for this very moment.

"... I see." Gordon bent down, a smile taking shape on his mouth. A steady kindling in his chest. “This is your way of saying ‘thank you’.”

“M-Maybe! An archmage has gotta take good care of his minion,” Grim muttered.

The prefect laughed softly. “And you’re doing a great job at it. Hang tight, I'll get the stove going and whip us up some seared tuna to go with the cake."

“Myah?! Y-You’ve got tuna? Like, the real stuff?!” Grim’s eyes were wide and sparkling. A line of drool ran down his chin. "Fancy tuna...!!"

"Yeah. We can plate some for the ghosts too--so they can join us for a meal in spirit." Gordon nodded at their other roommates. Their pale faces brightened with excitement.

"Can we really?"

"It's been so long since I was last invited to a celebration like this!!"

"Oh, but we can't eat... Ghosts don't have digestive systems. The tune would pass right through us."

"... Grim, you have eat their shares. More importantly, it's being together for the occasion that matters, right?"

"Whoo-hoo!! You're the best minion an archmage could ask for!!" Grim cheered, leaping into the air, furry fist pumping.

“Let's get this dinner party started…!”

#htwst #twisted wonderland #Grim #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Gordon Ramsay #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ramshackle Ghosts #Divus Crewel #Mozus Trein #Sam #Ashton Vargas

[dilfscvm]

PEACEFUL MORNING - JIMMY DONALDSON | MR BEAST

[ Hi! I'm, Joanna💕 I'm new here on this app. I still have no idea how to use this but I have seen some blogs/posts like this and I just based this on some of them. I hope I'm doing this right💀 This one shot just pop out in my head out of no where. I LOVE, Jimmy, AKA Mr Beast. He's one of my ray of sunshine<33 Might do some smut sooooon👀 ]

Pairing: Jimmy x ¡Reader

Warning: Fluff!! Minor typos, grammatical error. Didn't proofread!

Credits to the owner of the gif<33

A giggling sound of familiar people woke you up, groaning, you buried your face to the man beside you. Snuggling closer to you, his voice vibrates in his chest. Wrapping his arms around your frame, rubbing your back slowly drifting you back to sleep, but another fit of laughter startle you.

Your eyes snap shot, annoyingly look at your boyfriends lunatic friends.

“Chandler, Karl! I've told you two to keep your voice down.” Jimmy's acting annoyed while you heard him laugh a while ago with his idiotic friends.

“Why are you two here anyway? It's just—it's just five in the morning,” Your voice were hoarse, you cleared your throat.

Chandler snorts and give you a playful glare, “Y/N, we know you're not a morning person, but stop the attitude, girl. We'll do vlog later, right, Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, babe, they just barged in. I don't want to shoo them away. That's rude.” Jimmy rub your cheeks, he leans down and give your forehead a peck. You sigh and nodded, wrapping your arms tight around his waist.

“Yeah, yeah cute... Ew.” Karl's voice interrupts.

“Shut up, both of you, if you don't want your butts to get kick outside.” you threatened, rolling your eyes at them.

You might look mean, but in four years in a relationship with Jimmy, they should know how you despise waking up in the morning with noises everywhere, you've been trying to get used to it but you can't.

Jimmy is a very understanding lover, he understands you even sometimes he's been dealing with your attitude. His love for you were beyond, uncomparable. He definitely loves it when you apologise at him after few hours of waking up, you will cuddle with him and tell him what you've dreamed of, kiss him affectionately, telling him how much you love him. That's the thing he loves about you. It's like a morning routine for him.

“Babe, do you want me to prepare your breakfast? Hm?” he hums when he didn't receive any response from you. He noticed that you slowly drifting back to sleep, with a smile, he slowly lay back down facing you, hugging your closer to his chest as he pull the duvet to cover your body's.

“You know we're still here, right?” chandler says. Jimmy shush at him.

“She's sleeping, get out of here you two. Chandler, go eat, leave us alone, in peace.”

“No need to be told twice.” chandler sprinted out the bedroom, with Karl trailing from his behind. They close the door making Jimmy sigh.

“They're gone now, babe. I love you.” he whisper leaning down, he press his lips to yours multiple times, getting addicted to your soft red lips.

A smile formed his lips as he sees your lips turn up a little before snuggling closer to his chest. He would do anything just to stay here forever if he could.

Minutes past, Jimmy found himself scrolling through his Instagram. He also put his earpods to maintain the silence for you to rest longer. But his other hand still on your head, brushing your hair, soothing your sculp for some time.

He click on your story on Instagram, liking all your stories; Your lovely face, specially. Then a picture of both of you, taken last night. You both went on a date, were partially because his friends were present there. Being the third, fourth, fifth... Wheel. He giggle to your story, which is chandler making face not knowing it was zoomed in to his face.

After almost an hour, his time just circulate there, just laying down scrolling through Instagram, tiktok, twitter. Then finally you wake up, with a soft smile on your face. Jimmy, smiled back at you, immediately dropping his phone to the bed to cuddle with you.

“Good morning, baby.” he greets giving you a loving peck on lips. You pout your lips, wanting more kisses, he giggle and granted your wish. Giving you more kisses.

“Good morning, babe.” you whisper, began kissing his neck. A quiet whimper scape his throat.

“Babeee, stop that, the lunatics are outside.” Jimmy sadly sigh. He know he can't do anything right know to make you feel good, as his friends were just outside their shared room.

“I know, and I should apologise to, chandler, and Karl.”

“Hm, you don't have to because it's their fault anyways, but it'll make you feel better then, you should.” he softly whispered. You swore to God, his voice were therapeutic, you can listle to him all day.

“I will, thank you for your understanding, Jimmy, I love you so much.” you stare back at his lovely eyes, staring at yours.

“And I love you, always, and forever, my love.” As soon as you two pull away at the passionate kiss the door flung open revealing Jimmy's lunatic but loving friend holding a McDonald's in chandler's hand while Starbucks coffee on Karl's—oh and there's Chris.

“Good morning, suckers. Breakfast in bed!” Chandler said putting the foods in the night stand along with the coffee's.

You smile at them, pulling away from Jimmy's warmth.

“So you replaced me with foods, you don't want to cuddle anymore?” Jimmy playfully pout. You giggle and pull him up to sat beside you.

“Enough for that, love birds, time for breakfast!” Chris happily said taking the food one by one and gave it to us.

It's not that bad morning at all. You thought to yourself.

#mrbeast #jimmy donaldson #chandler hallow #chris tyson #mrbeastxreader #youtube #y/n #karl jacobs #youtuber #imagines #oneshot #imagine this #short one shot #wattpad #reading #romance #my fic

[mah-o-daryaa]

ATLA AU

OK guys hear me out:

ATLA AU where everything is the same, except everytime Aang plays Pai Sho, Kuruk takes over his body.

Also bonus hot take:

Remember the theory that the Avatar reincarnates with the face of the person they loved the most in their past life? Imo, Kyoshi looks nothing like Kuruk's wife Ummi. To me, she looks more like Kuruk himself.

(Please ignore the subtitles)

If I'm being honest, Yun looks more like Ummi than Kyoshi does.

In a Modern Avatar AU, because of their similar appearances, Kuruk would definitely pretend to be Kyoshi's (or Korra's) father whenever either one gets arrested by the police.

#atla #atla au #past avatars #kuruk #kyoshi #aang #korra #both were mentioned #so they count #imagine this

[lilybug-02]

Scrapbooking

#imagine this #deltarune #mini comic #Kris #the player