#My dad had to kill one with a bow and arrow

[ibetittering]

WHY CAN'T HE EVER BE HAPPY 😭😭😭

[neo-nomatrix]

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

[gothamite-rambler]

What if Lian Harper was used more in DC

I've always felt that if Jon, Damian, and later a daughter of Wonder Woman get to team up and be heroes, why not Lian Harper? She's been killed off and brought back, the daughter of a villain and a recovering drug addict (Roy Harper).

We stan an unproblematic single dad, and her grandfather, instead of being a villain like Damian's, is a superhero. So, yeah, this is the story I'm working on; she has a crossbow!

Robin: Since you all have archers, including Red Robin. Seems unfair but I'll let it slide.

Red Robin (sarcastically): Feels like you're not.

Robin: I've moved passed it regardless of the fact I'm the one related to Batman by blood—

Batman: Robin, stop acting childish and get to the point.

Robin: We can discuss who your favorite child is later. Anyways, I have an archer on my team.

The group of heroes waited for the archer to appear, but she did not. Having hidden behind a tree, the young archeress missed her cue due to a wardrobe malfunction.

Lian (whispering): I should've added more bows to my costume.

Robin (raising his voice so they can hear his cue): I said I have an archer as well!

A few seconds passed. Superboy coughed, but the archer had missed that cue as well. Robin shrugged, unsure why Lian hadn't appeared yet.

Robin: Can she not hear me?

Superboy shrugged.

Superboy: I told you to let me introduce her.

Robin: I'm the leader.

Superboy: Says who?

Robin: My father is the leader of the Justice League! Which means I am the leader of any team I'm on.

Superboy: That's not— Dad, is Batman the leader!

Superman: Not that I'm aware of.

Batman: Don't play dumb when you already are.

Red Robin: Robin, can you speed this up? We have to leave this lot soon.

Robin: Right. Hold on. For the third time, I have an archer! ARCHER!

Silence as Lian adjusted her hair bows behind her hiding spot.

Robin (raise his voice with anger): I SAID I HAVE AN ARCHER!

Lian (hidden behind a tree, fixing her hair bows): Huh? Now? One second, almost ready!

Robin (exhausted): God give me patience.

Arsenal: Why did that voice sound familiar?

Lian: Okay ready, say my hero name!

Robin: Marian!

Lian (peeking from her hiding spot): Superboy, play my theme song!

Robin: Theme song?

Superboy (pressing play on Spotify): She said it was required for this. It's a good one.

As the song "Feel It" by d4vd played, Lian stepped out from her hiding spot, wearing a purple eye mask, a girl's version of a Robin Hood costume, and her crossbow.

Arsenal nearly fainted seeing his daughter, being caught by Red Hood.

Lian spun around like a ballerina making her way over to the group.

Lian: Hello, I'm the Maid Marian, crossbow archeress.

Arsenal: The hell you are!

Arsenal stormed over and dragged Lian away to scold her for being a crime fighter. Batman chuckled, pretending to sniffle.

Green Arrow: I blame you for this.

Green Arrow walked away to where Arsenal took Lian. Batman could not hold back and laughed harder. Superman and Wonder Woman stared at him, surprised, then shared the same exasperated eye roll.

Robin: Should we give them a minute?

Red Hood: A minute-

Lian (shouting): YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU WERE SPEEDY AS A KID AND UNCLE J WAS A ROBIN AT 12!

Arsenal and Green Arrow (in unison): THOSE AREN'T GOOD EXAMPLES AND WHY YOU SHOULD NOT BE A SUPERHERO!

Nightwing: Maybe five minutes. Batman, stop laughing!

Batman (resting his head on Superman's shoulder, corpsing): I can't! This is hilarious!

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. homemade love.

about. katsuki takes the pain of his middle-born daughter to heart, and does anything he can to fix it.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up, bakugou is a girl dad of three, reader is referred to as ‘ma’, their daughter is quirkless like deku lol, he makes her pasta, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader, … a draft from a long time ago!! enjoy please <3

katsuki who cooks and makes his middle daughter her favourite pasta recipe whenever she’s down.

she comes home from middle school with scraped palms and knees, teary eyed and with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“they don’t like me ‘cause ‘m quirkless.” she says as soon as she’s through the door — the authentic bakugou twang thick in her shaky voice. her face is pressed into your torso when you make eye contact with katsuki, who’s emerged from the kitchen down the hall and to your left.

you see it all flash before his eyes — his childhood, his high school career and the day he died. the way he treated the number one, uncle izuku, for so many years. it’s all reflected in the familiar red of his middle child’s eyes and it kills him.

“c’mere squirt,” katsuki calls to her, drying off his hands with the red riot tea towel slung lazily over his shoulder. he’d been washing dishes before she got home. “we’re makin’ dinner together.”

“but i—“

“i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” the older blonde nudges his head towards the kitchen, reaching a hand out for his daughter which she tenderly takes. when she sniffles, bakugou tucks her into his side as if to protect her from the horrors of the world. you let them go without interrupting, knowing the importance of this moment for the two.

it’s not easy, being a bakugou when you’ve got dynamight’s reputation to live up to. he’s fearsome and fiery, confident and calculated. your husband and the father of your three beautiful daughters is one of the main reasons why japan is safe today. the burden and weight of his reputation that your children carry is unimaginable — only made worse by the fact that your middle is quirkless.

and yet, dynamight’s love for her doesn’t falter. since the moment he first held his baby girl she’s been his entire world, his moon along with his sun and now his stars. he’s adored her before she even became a twinkle in his eye — no amount of power or special ability would change that for him.

she’s katsuki’s girl, not just dynamight’s daughter. he’d tear the world apart to find anyone who ever hurt her.

“hold the knife properly. you cut your finger off ‘n yer ma will have my head.” his gruff voice, holding no malice, makes your sweet girl snort with laughter — a change from her earlier wobbly bottom lip and teary eyes. “we’re tryna mince garlic for the sauce, not yer little hands, squirt.”

she sticks her tongue out at him, bright blonde curls bouncing when she narrowly misses a playful swat from her father. “i’m trying,” your middle child wails with faux upset — her nose scrunches all too similarly to how yours and it sends an arrow of love straight through katsuki’s chest. for a moment, the kitchen falls to silence and the elder of the two turns his attention to the pasta dough in his large floured hands — focusing on shaping them into little bow ties just how his daughter likes, on occasion adding them to a boiling pot of water.

“i’m trying,” she says again, but quieter. “but daddy, everythin’s so hard.”

and like pot simmering away on the stove, her emotions start to boil over — tiny hiccups forming a sad symphony with the sounds of a working kitchen.

bakugou instantly springs into dad mode, dropping everything that he had been doing to take your daughter’s hand in his. despite how messy it may be. “hey now gorgeous, don’t cry…tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”

“i-i don’t want to disappoint you by not havin’ a quirk n not bein’ a hero…” she manages to get out through her blubbering — digging the heal of her palm into wet eyes. “i jus’ wanna make you proud!”

katsuki’s face softens, everything except for love for his daughter melting away. “‘nd i am proud. fiercely fuckin’ so…ah, shit, don’t tell yer ma i cursed, kay?” he stumbles over his words, he’s never been the best at comforting people but when bakugou’s child needs him, he’ll be damned if he leaves her in any pain. “from the moment y’first came into this shitty — i mean — crappy world, i’ve been proud of you. you’ve always pushed yourself beyond anythin’ i could achieve, you’re kind to people when they don’t deserve it, you smile whenever things get tough…”

taking a moment from his passionate rant, katsuki slows his breathing and composed himself — squeezing his little girl close. “yer the best thing that’s ever happened t’me ‘n yer ma. my proudest moment… i love ya so much. you’d never disappoint me.”

“really, daddy?” your baby sniffles, rubbing at her snotty nose.

bakugou nods with a gentle smile, cupping her face between his two floury hands before kissing her forehead z “really.” he affirms. “now get yer choppin’ skills together, this pasta sauce ain’t gonna make itself.”

the two blonde’s return to cooking, a comfortable silence settling in your family kitchen, also full of love. that night, your family of five sit together munching on homemade pasta bow ties in a sauce that your middle daughter had worked so hard to make. she grins brightly between her sisters, staring at her father with her shining red eyes thankfully.

in that moment, she knows that she is loved no matter what the status of her quirk is.

you link your fingers with bakugou’s under the table. “you did good, dad.” you whisper to him, stabbing through your pasta with your fork. “

“so did you, ma.” he whispers back gruffly, thumb running over your wedding band as he eats his pasta too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[that-one-i-think]

Fun Garorth Headcanons for my fic cause he deserves some love

- Garroth grew a beard after coming back from the Irene Dimension. With Aphmau pregnant, the threat of shadow knights, and rebuilding the Phoenix Alliance, he had no time to properly shave

- The reason why Garroth still has the beard is due to the fact that the one time he shaved, Alina and Lilith couldn't tell who he was and panicked

- Radiates body heat like a fireplace

- In my fic he is bigger than Aaron. They are the same height but Garroth is built like a strong man while Aaron is built like every 8-pack fantasy man in unrealistic media. (Shad is taller though)

- The man is hairy. Chest, arms, legs, everywhere (but he takes care of himself)

- Despite having some stomach, running into him is like running into a brick wall.

- The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Katelyn. Nicole comes close and so does Aaron

- Given the fact that he almost constantly wears heavy metal armor, out of it he is the designated pack mule. Got strength and stamina for days

- The only person he has ever been able to consistently win against in a race is Zane.

- During guard training he had a few close "friends" but it never happened more than once because he would feel bad.

- Either the most awkward hugs or the warmest and most comforting bone crushing hugs. No imbetween.

- The reason why he stuck with Garroth was due to the fact that the 3 years after his birth it was one of the most popular names in O'khasis so he didn't feel like he needed to change it while on the run.

- Light sleeper while in bed alone, heavy sleeper when with another person. Mastered the art of dad naps whenever Lilith would cuddle with him as a toddler

- Has a really high alcohol tolerance and did pay for a new shield with bet money once.

- Great at carrying heavy things and mining, a horrible carpenter and builder.

- His mother taught him weaving and calligraphy, and it is why he is so dexterous.

- Can not fire a bow to save his life. A lot better at taking arrows then firing them

- He is more scared of dolphins than sharks

- As a child, Zane convinced Garroth that he was a vampire and Garroth believed it until he was 11. Even now, he has a hard time believing that Zane wasn't a vampire at times.

- He can read fast and enjoys reading out loud. He read to both Zane and Vylad as children.

- Has a sweet tooth but would kill a man for a soft pretzel.

[nikashuffle]

𐙚 “I can’t help but wonder”

This was written with the song “I can’t help but wonder” from Epic in mind. It features dual points of views and includes both angst and fluff! (Ody, Tele, and Athena) other songs are referenced in this too:)!! Not my proudest work..

TELEMACHUS:

At the dinner table, in the quiet of his bed, amidst the vibrant blooms of the garden, and even in the solitude of the bathroom—everywhere he turned, the incessant chatter of the suitors echoed in his ears. They spoke endlessly of the legendary Odysseus, weaving tales that danced between admiration and mockery. Yet, their words served as one of the few threads connecting him to his father, allowing him a glimpse of the man he had never truly known.

And in the stillness of his heart, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Were they alike, him and his father?

Were they similar in strength? … No, Telemachus wasn’t as strong as his dad he was just a little wolf who needed help from the likes of Athena. The voice in his mind cautioned him. You are just a little wolf, still in need of Athena's guidance. He shook his head, attempting to dispel those lingering thoughts, but they clung stubbornly to him.

I can’t help but wonder… what your embrace is like?

Do you long to see me too?

To be a family once more?

Are you mythical like the gods in the sky, or perhaps you’re just an ordinary man, lost to time?

“Little wolf~!” came the teasing voice of Antonius, jarring him from his reverie. In that instant, clarity washed over him—he could no longer remain in this stagnant place. He had to venture forth, to seek the truth. He needed to discover if his father still drew breath if he still walked the earth… if he was still Odysseus.

ODYSSEUS:

The venerable king sat in quiet contemplation, his heart swelling with the warmth of camaraderie as he listened to the lively chatter of his crew. Their words flowed with tender affection for their families, but what resonated most deeply with him were the joyful musings about their children. Each mention of a child's name tugged at his heartstrings, igniting a poignant longing within him for his son, Telemachus. The thought of never laying eyes on his beloved boy was a weight heavier than the war or the raft of all the gods combined.

As he gazed into the refreshing depths of the midnight blue waters.

He couldn’t help but wonder

what do you look like, my boy? I hope your mother tells you about my love, how I said “I would capture the wind and sky for you, make the storm clouds cry for you” and how I held you close in my arms, ready to die for you, my precious Telemachus…my beloved Penelope.

With an unexpected surge of emotion, he cried out, “I’m coming home!” His voice rang with a conviction that echoed through the air, though his crew merely shrugged, accustomed as they were to his whimsical outbursts.

In the stillness that followed, he softly whispered, “I can’t help but wonder if that stubborn owl is watching over you.”

𐙚

His adventure to see his father failed. He must be gone…I’ll have to keep wondering, Telemachus pessimistically thought.

He was sure he was dead until he saw the palace covered in red. Full of men who believed his father was dead, and a man who was haunting…

A man with a trail of bodies.

The horrifying king turns around with his bow and arrow in a position that shows his readiness to kill. But his eyes softened immediately when he saw the smaller man who was a perfect mixture of his and Penelope’s genetics.

“My son I’m finally home!” He screams with his arms opened wide for a hug

“…You really are mythical” Telemachus whispers as he enters his father’s embrace.

BONUS, ATHENA:

Odysseus shooed his clingy son away after he felt her presence

“Show yourself…I know you’re watching me, show yourself” he sighs due to his confrontation not working. “You were never one for hellos”

“I can’t help but wonder” in that instant a tall owl like goddess appeared—Athena.

He smirks happy to see his friend mentor turned foe but possibly friend again.

“What this word could be,” she starts again “If we all held each other with a bit more empathy” she starts telling Odysseus his old philosophy that he tried preaching onto her at one point.

Her face gets sour as she starts speaking again “I can’t help but feel like I led you astray”, she admits “What if there’s a world where we don’t have to live this way?” She holds out the option of becoming a warrior of the mind again in a silent way, but he knew what that would mean if he agreed.

“If that one world exists, it’s far away from here, it’s one I’ll have to miss, it’s far beyond my years” Odysseus explains.

“You might live forever, so you can make it. But I’ve got one endeavor, there’s this girl I’ve got to see.” He explains with soft and lovesick eyes to the patron goddess of Athens.

“Very well.” She disappears once more leaving him isolated again.

“Father? She’s waiting for you.” Telemachus speaks up referring to Odysseus’s sweet Penelope.

[ysabelmystic]

Can you elaborate on almost killing a guy?

Yeah sure.

Some of you have heard this story before but this is definitely one of the most unhinged things I've ever done, so I enjoy telling it.

It was my sophomore year of high school. I was living in Florida, and having the time of my life. Both of my parents worked, I had a phone, and I'd made friends with a boy in my neighborhood, and therefore found a suitable chaperone to protect my weak, innocent, girl-self (a depressed egg with messy hair who alternated between oversized hoodies with converse and a trench coat with combat boots) from any potential dangers. This meant that I finally had actual proper freedom to do whatever I wanted as long as I was home by 9pm and kept in touch with my mom. My friend was in a similar situation, having helicopter parents that had been forced to roll back their micromanaging in order to pay the bills. So naturally, when a suspicious car with tinted windows started hanging around outside the bus stop after school and never picked anyone up, my friend and I did not tell our parents. Instead, we would stand outside at the bus stop, chatting and watching the car, until the driver got bored and left.

This went on for a couple of months, almost every day. Unfortunately, my friend and I also had unmedicated ADHD. One day I was carrying home this giant art project -a candy sculpture of St Basil's Cathedral. This break in routine and the fact that the sculpture was edible, melting, and fucking heavy, caused us to completely forget about the car. We went straight back to his place, and the driver did what we'd always feared he would do, and followed us.

We were just digging into the cathedral when my friend's dogs went ballistic. We walked into the entry way to see what they were freaking out about, and saw a sunburnt man with a scraggly beard, blue t-shirt, and cargo shorts walking up the sidewalk, and behind him, was the car with tinted windows.

We made eye contact. We both froze, and then the intruder took off around the side of the house, where the garage entrance was. My friend and I ran to the garage entrance as well because we hadn't locked it when we came inside. A moment after we locked it, the doorknob jiggled violently, and the man began pounding on the door.

This is the point where we should've called the police. But this is Florida. In the garage was my friend's dad's hunting gear, which included several guns, a hatchet, various knives, and a bow, and some arrows. And like an American does in a stand-your-ground state when a man tries to break into your house, we devised a plan to kill him.

This was a relatively calm discussion. We considered using the guns, but we weren't experienced with anything stronger than a BB gun, so in the name of gun safety, we went for the weapons we were experienced with. My friend chose a hatchet and a baseball bat. I took the bow and arrow, which I knew how to use because another friend of mine lived in a rural area, and we liked to climb trees and shoot rubber turkeys like we were Katniss Everdeen or something. The idea was to go outside with our weapons and act super excited to commit our very first murder. Ideally we'd scare him off, but if he continued his attempted assault, then we would kill him. What about his screams? The neighborhood was almost empty because the snowbirds had gone north, and everyone else was at work. The blood on the concrete? Nothing a little peroxide and elbow grease can't fix. To dispose of the body? Our neighborhood didn't have real blocks. Most houses were built around ponds. Where there's water, there are gators, which two burglars had learned a few months prior when they jumped in the water to escape the cops. All the police recovered was a shirt, an arm, and a chunk of a torso. We figured the gators would take care of what we assumed would be the hardest part of this crime. And as for the car? We'd just say how strange it was. We'd never seen it before.

All in all, it was a perfect plan. We'd finally be able to walk home without possibly being followed, we wouldn't go to jail, and most importantly, our parents would never, ever know the danger we were in without their suffocating supervision, and we would be free to roam wherever we pleased.

We took our weapons, went back to the front door, and I prepared a performance worthy of Creepypasta. We ran out onto the sidewalk, smiling, giggling, "Come out, come out wherever you are. I have a bow and arrow. I haven't gotten to use it on a real person before! I want to see what color your blood is when it dries on the sidewalk." Good and proper evil villain serial killer shit. I went all out for this.

We did that for a few minutes, and the man never appeared, so we circled the house, and then went back inside through the back door. When we went back to the entry way, through the window, we saw the man run out onto the front lawn, jump in his car, and speed away.

We never did see that car again, but a few weeks later, my homeroom teacher had the local news playing on the TV. They were covering a story about a man who had kidnapped a woman for ransom. He was caught on the same day, and his mugshot looked very, very, very familiar...

I honestly believe that if the man had decided to confront us, he would not have left the house alive. I also learned a very important lesson; if you act giddy and violent (and make unnecessary eye contact), men will usually leave you the fuck alone. This method has never failed me.

So yeah. That's the story of how my friend and I almost killed a guy. And no, I do not feel bad at all.

[thedelicatearcher]

do you have any headcannons for dad!haymitch???

also i love ur writing smmmmm<<<<<<3333

yess!!! also thank you so much, really appreciate it <33

dad!haymitch abernathy headcanons

• being a dad was incredibly hard for haymitch at first. he had spent his entire life afraid of forming real connections, terrified that the capitol would kill them off as they had done before. the first time he held his baby in his arms, he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, suppressing his sobs as his newborn daughter wrapped her tiny hand around the tip of his finger.

• haymitch spent many nights in the nursery, staring protectively at the baby while she slept. his anxiety constantly warned him that if he looked away, even for a second, something terrible would happen to her. you often woke up to find haymitch asleep in the rocking chair you use to help the baby fall asleep, in such an awkward position that you knew he would be grumbling all day about a sore neck.

• the warm sensation in his chest at the sight of his baby looking at him with adoring eyes was unforgettable. that is the mental image he tries to focus on whenever he has a nightmare and tries to ground himself back to reality. closing his eyes tightly, inhaling and exhaling consciously, he tries to stop himself from hyperventilating. finally feeling calm, though still weary, he quietly enters the nursery and, with great gentleness, caresses his daughter’s cheek with his finger, careful not to wake her.

• haymitch absolutely despised changing the baby’s diaper. ever since his daughter peed on his face, he had been reluctant to do it again. he used his persuasion skills to negotiate his way out of diaper duty. ‘look, sweetheart,’ he started to bargain, trying to hide the desperation in his eyes, ‘if i never have to change the baby again, i promise the house will be spotless. no more of my dirty clothes lying around, and no more toys on the floor.’ when you lovingly laughed at his face, his businessman facade immediately dropped, realizing he had to overcome his distaste.

• eventually, he did it again. haymitch mastered the art of temporarily blocking his sense of smell. he focused on his daughter’s infectious laughter and the pleasant scent of baby powder, rather than the lingering odor of diapers that haunted his nightmares.

• with no experience in carpentry whatsoever and never having built anything in his life, haymitch so innocently decided to make some toys. ‘it shouldn’t be that hard,’ he thought, envisioning a wooden rocking horse in his mind. his calloused hands were clumsy, and he ended up with cuts from the small knife he attempted to was a mini, weird-looking horse that resembled more of a whale. he huffed dramatically before standing up and heading to the market, where a perfectly crafted  wooden horse seemed to call his name to be bought.

• HE IS A GIRL DAD!!! he has three girls, and he learned how to braid hair so he could brush and delicately braid theirs. most of the time, however, he found himself being the one getting his hair braided rather than doing the braiding. his daughters absolutely adore playing with his locks. one day, one of them suggested they start a braid train, and he spent the entire hour trying not to let out any sounds of discomfort as his 7-year-old daughter pulled on his hair, clumsily trying to make a ponytail.

• he frequently invites katniss and peeta over. his girls adore baking sweet treats with peeta and enjoy playing with the small wooden bow and arrow toys gifted by katniss. she mentions that when they are old enough, she can teach them how to hunt. his heart almost leaps out of his chest at the thought of his children venturing into the woods, vulnerable to the dangerous flora and fauna. 

• his little family is what he holds dearest to his heart. they are what keeps him going after a tumultuous life. some days, he questions whether he deserves them, asking the gods the reason for blessing him with a beautiful family. yet, the grounded part of his mind silences those thoughts, reminding him to do his best to be a fully present father, and ensuring his kids don’t miss out on anything.

[raayllum]

Was rewatching the scene under Avizandum's grave in 3x06 for another meta, but stumbled across something I was interesting, re: the broyals.

For Callum, as he says, "I hate him. He's the one who took my mother. Looking at him, seeing him, it makes me sad and angry and... confused." Meanwhile Ezran is clearly less affected, too busy playing and being happy in his reunion with Zym; and judging by his closeness with Zubeia and defense of Avizandum to Rex in S4, it doesn't seem as though Ezran harbours the same messy storm of emotions regarding the former Dragon King that Callum does, even as Callum still settles on, "But that was Zym's dad."

On the one hand, this makes sense; Ezran, as he says, lost his mother before he ever really got to know her. That doesn't make his grief any lesser, but it would mean holding onto anger for a different kind of transgression and one where the alternative - a life where his mother lived - would be infinitely harder for him to conceptualize than for Callum, who can and does remember.

And we see Callum struggle a little in the instances he's first presented with Runaan's bow in both his short story Inheritance and in 5x01, but ultimately he's able to handle it and give it to Rayla happily and has no real reservations about it. Yes, "It was the weapon that killed his father" but it is also "the weapon of someone Rayla had loved" and the latter is what clearly wins out, since upon seeing Runaan again... He has a decidedly different reaction than he did upon seeing Avizandum.

But given Ezran's anger in his short story...

That Moonshadow elf upon the castle ramparts, skulking toward his father’s chambers. The blood upon those exquisite elven blades. The red-tailed arrow armed with a mission declared by Zubeia herself— [...] Ezran felt a coldness twist its way around his heart. It took his lungs, too, and for a long moment he could not breathe, could not feel anything but an unfamiliar anger so potent it seized the whole of him, inside and out. Ezran stepped towards the arrow— —and stomped down on it as hard as he could. He wished he were bigger, stronger, he wished his boots were made of iron and not something soft. Still, it was enough. When he pulled his foot away, Ezran glared down at the arrow’s hawkish head, flattened and broken.

It makes me wonder if Runaan's presence / freedom will force Ezran to contend with all his big feelings much the way Avizandum's resting place forced Callum to. If Ezran's comparatively lack of negative reaction with Avizandum was the trade off for Callum having a more positive one with Runaan, and hence the brothers are going to be Switching, accordingly.

Either way, I think it's an interesting potential parallel for the brothers, and I'm excited to see where it's taken in S6/7.

[gojosatoruhumper]

Kinktober day 6

Gojo Satoru x reader | Sadism

Promt: You were a new teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu high, but meet your old rival from high school - Satoru Gojo himself.

Warnings: choking, sadism, edging kind of, crying, dacryphylia, slaping, violence, NSFW

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You were a new teacher at Jujutsu high, everyone liked you, the students and teachers were nice. Well except for the asshole Gojo Satoru.

You and him were enemies from the start. In high school he would always tease you, make fun of you and stuff like that. At first it was just silly impractical jokes until it got serious. You would always be arguing with each other over nothing. It got so bad that at one point you just had to move schools. Being the proud asshole he never once thought of saying sorry or anything, he was just happy you were out of his presence.

You had an important mission today, getting your weapon ready, which was your lucky bow and arrow. It was truly important to you, your dad had made it for you, engraving your and his names on the side of it. Your dad was a good sorcerer, always helping people as he could until an unidentified cursed spirit ended him.

You loved your father so much and that bow was the only thing left from him, you cherished it a lot. As you were leaving Jujutsu high, you felt a sudden change of aura, already sensing whose aura it is you felt your eyebrows twisting together.

“Can I help you?” You asked, not even looking up at him. “I’m afraid no, but we are going on this mission together” he said unbothered, hands in his pockets. You suddenly stopped “Huh? No way, I can handle myself” you reply, finally looking up at him. He had his stupid smile with his pearly whites glued to his face. “Yeah yeah sure princess” he said, continuing to walk in-front of you, whistling to himself.

‘When did he get so hot?’ you thought to yourself, watching him walk with this snow white hair over his face, he was feeling fancy today, ditching his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses, uniform tidy.

“Stop staring Y/n” he said turning back to you, with a smirk. “Why would i be staring at someone like you” you say acting disgusted, when in reality you really were staring at him.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The mission was going good so far, until the spirit took your bow out your hands and pushing you to the ground. Satoru was unbothered, even yawning. “Hey asshole” you yell, getting his attention “thought you can handle yourself, huh?” he said, knocking the cursed spirit over, killing it instantly, letting the bow fall to the ground, breaking it.

You witnessed it all in slow motion, gasping instantly. You quickly got up pushing Satoru by the shoulders. Hot tears were swelling up in your eyes. “Why did you have to do that?” you screamed at him, pushing him.

“Do what?” he asked rudely, but also confused. “My bow, it’s your fault” you became angry. He laughed. “Don’t worry princess i’ll get you a new one” he calmly said, closing his eyes smiling. That didn’t last long, a harsh slap meeting his face.

He opened his eyes again, glasses falling lower on his nose, exposing them. “You sure you wanna do that, princess?” he asked, just above a whisper. His long slender hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

He felt himself getting aroused, seeing you in this vulnerable state, in his hands, tears running down your cheeks. He couldn’t lie to himself, he always thought you were hot. Always walking around with your mini skirts in high school, shirts buttoned up a little too low.

“Maybe i’ll say sorry in a different way” he said smirking, turning your head up to face him and connecting your lips together. He started choking you harder, causing you to moan.

It was started to get really hard to breathe, new tears forming in your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself but moan once again. “Hm? you enjoying this?” he asked, loosening his grip on your throat, bot quite releasing it yet.

You were getting weirdly aroused by all this, feel like you’re completely in Satoru’s hands. You stayed silent, not knowing what to reply until a slap landed on your now. “Answer princess” he smirked once again but all you could reply with was a simple nod.

Another slap landed, this time harsher. “I said answer, is that clear?” he asked once again, grip tightening. “Y-yes Satoru”

Another slap. “That’s Mr. Gojo for you” he said, even tho he was only a year older than you. “Yes, Mr. Gojo” you said, moaning.

He quickly pressed you against a wall, legs wrapped around your waist, hands now on your thighs, gripping hard. “Gojo it hurts” you cried, his nails digging into your flesh. “Bet you like it” he whispered, lips now harshly on your neck, leaving dark bruises.

Satorus bulge was rubbing against your clothed pussy, him intentionally pressing it harder. More tears rolled down your cheeks, them mixing with the mascara you wore, tightly gripping Satorus biceps for support.

“S-satoru” you gasped, choking on your own tears by now. “Hm?” he purred in your ear, tickling you. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Your dick” you answered, hands wrapping around his neck. “Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow and in a second your uniform pants and panties were ripped off and thrown on the ground, while Satoru continued teasing you with his bulge.

His hand slid over to your now bare ass, gripping till his knuckles turned white. Your head was now resting on his shoulders, staining his blue uniform with tears.

With no warning Gojo pushed his cock into your pussy, stretching you out instantly. “Gojo!” you screamed, pain washing over you. He started thrusting, skin slapping could be heard 3 blocks down. Good thing you were in an abandoned alley.

As tears kept streaming down he was getting closer to his climax. He usually lasted pretty long, but with you and your pretty face made that hard. His head fell over his shoulders, mouth agape. “Princess you feel so good” he moaned, picking up his pace.

You felt like you were getting ripped open by him, your long nails clinging into his neck. You could feel his cock twitching in you, hitting a new spot making you once again moan loudly.

He finally came, hot strings of cum shooting inside of you, making your toes curl. As you were about to reach your orgasm he suddenly pulled out. “Huh?” you quickly got mad.

“That’s what you get for slapping me princess” he walked away fixing himself up. You pulled your bottoms up quickly, picking up a rock throwing it at his head, his limitless technique dodging it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Next day morning you heard a knock on your dorm room, as you opened the door half asleep, hair messy you saw your bow intact, flowing with more cursed energy with a little note beside it.

“Hope I made it good as new Princess. And I hope you behave better next time ♡ -S.G.”

[a-french-coconut]

Part 1 (Will Solace)

Will's dad, Apollo, is the god of a lot of things.

Music, archery, poetry, masculine beauty, knowledge, arts, medicine, sun, light, prophecy, logic and the list goes on.

He has mostly inherited the healing part with some musical and light abilities like his supersonic wisthle and light tricks. He's not good with bows and arrows, he is average with any instruments or singing, does not have prophetic dreams and does not have the same artistic sensibility as his siblings.

He deems himself a healer and only a healer (Aren't you cute ? Trying to deny my very existence ?). His role on the battlefield is not to shed blood but to prevent it from happening. His hands are made for knitting skin back together and glow golden when he sings hymns to his father (oh but they could do so much more...) .

"Shut up".

Will is really happy he's alone right now. Even for demigods, talking to no one is strange. Granted, being alone when he is deep in the woods with no weapon and maybe a little lost is not the best situation he's ever been in, but it is the one he prefers when she decides to invade his mind again.

"I don't understand why you keep trying to convince me."

(Well, there is not much to do except bothering you Will. And who knows ? One day your patience will be running thin and that day...)

"Not happening."

(Ugh, can you at least get me out of your mind ?)

He hesitates. As good as it sounds to have her out of him, he is still wary of letting her roam free. Last time he lost control...

(Oh Will, there is nothing of interest here.)

He is still hesitating, his control slips a little and he feels her getting out, materialising in front of him.

Should any dryad melt from their tree at this instant, they would see a tall blond boy looking sternly at a little girl.

"Gods I had forgotten my Lord's touch on my skin ! How much time did you keep me prisoner in your mind ?" asks the girl basking in the sun.

"Ten years, more or less." Will answers curtly, advancing deeper in the woods. It's not wise but he is not going to take the chance of meeting a camper and explaining why he is talking to a five years old girl.

"I remember when you were five ! Such a cute little child, bright blue eyes, golden locks... well you didn't change that much."

"Just go wander in the woods or something. I didn't let you out of my mind just for you to stay with me."

"As you command."

She disappears quickly, enjoying her short liberty.

Once again alone, Will sits behind a tree and close his eyes, enjoying this rare moment of silence. She had been with him ever since he created her when he was five. Every little child has his imaginary friend that vanish as they grow out of childhood. Except Will's friend who just wormed a place in his mind and became tangible. Her name is Raz. He still loves Rapunzel as much as when he was a kid.

But where Rapunzel heals with her hair, Raz wilts with a touch of her hand.

See, Apollo is the god of many good things but he is a pharmakon, both healer and destroyer. As he is the one who heals, he is also the one who strikes sickness and plague.

And maybe that Will isn't just a healer. Maybe he's a little more than that. Maybe he is as his father is, medicine in one hand and poison in the other.

He doesn't exactly know how it works but he thinks that Raz is the physical representation of his plague powers. When she walks the earth, Will doesn't feel that part of him anymore. Maybe he could do the same with his healing powers ? Manifest them in a human form or something else.

Well for that he'll have to remember how he created Raz in the first place. It surely has to do with what happened after she appeared for the first time but Will isn't very fond of remembering what happened that night.

Giving pneumonia to his very mortal uncle, almost killing him in the process, because he let Raz "have fun" is not something he thinks about with a smile on his face.

Especially when she won't explain why she did it. Since then, Kaz mostly stayed in Will's mind without too much complaints.

He always wondered if his uncle did something to him or those he cares about. It's the only explanation he has. That or he is a sociopath who lashed out under the form of a little girl a deadly sickness on his uncle for fun.

He is going to stick to the former hypothesis.

There have been times where Raz begged him to unleash her if not without restraints, at least through him and he refused, scared of what she would do, of what he would do.

When Lee's head was caved in.

When his siblings died one by one in Manhattan.

Could he have save them ?

Better not dwell on what ifs too long.

Point is, Raz is an everlasting reminder of the monster inside him, a wretched creature who could kill anyone with a simple touch.

He is afraid of her, he is afraid of himself .

Will hears branch snapping and the crunching sound of someone walking on leaves. Raz must have gotten bored.

He sighes, goodbye beloved peace, you will be missed, and gets up. The sun is setting and if he doesn't get back quickly, he'll have to run from the harpies again. He does not want to run right now.

Raz still haven't show her face.

"Come on I know you're there, I heard you."

More rustling but still no little girl.

"Please Raz, I have to get back-"

His words die when from the bushes emerge a hellhound as big as Mrs O'Leary but definitely not as cute as her.

Running doesn't so bad after all.

Branches slap him in the face as he runs in what he thinks is the general direction of Camp. He just have to reach the border and Peleus will protect him. He just need to outpace the hellhound until then, not attract any other monsters on the way back and find Raz.

He hears the growling beast getting closer and forces his legs to go even faster. He'll have to thank his father for beating the god of speed at racing and passing him those godly genes.

Raz, I don't where you are but you need to come back right now !

He never tried contacting her by telepathy before, never wanted to, but this a desperate situation that requires a desperate solution. It's not that he particularly want to hear her whispering in his head again but Will has come to learn that he can't ignore her for too long without feeling like there's a hole, a void waiting to be fill again. It's very hard to function when your very being is incomplete.

A branch hits him hard in the face, causing to fall on the ground. Demigods reflexes mixed with years of training save his life, Will shifting just in time for the hellhound to claw the ground he was laying on a second ago.

A well-aimed kick in the ribs allows him a few more seconds to get up but there isn't time to flee. Here he is, the woods getting darker and darker, battling a monster without weapon because he evidently inherited the logic side of his dad.

As Will readies himself to dodge, the hellhound stars to whimper and blood erupts from his eyes and nose until he is covered in the red liquid. The beast gives one last painful cry before exploding in golden dust.

Behind him stand a proud and smiling Raz, eyes glowing green and tendrils of dark smoke swirling around her.

The way the creature suffered... Will shivers.

He really really does not like that part of himself. He is meant to heal not to butcher.

(Raz's smile disappears, sadness glaze her eyes now a normal brown and with a flick of the wrist, the smoke evaporates.)

Without a word, she goes back to Will's mind, nesting herself in a corner and doesn't utter a word.

Will just shrugs and hastily return to his cabin.

(Do you hate me Will ?)

Her voice is small, insecure, not the arrogant and easygoing one he is used to. The question makes him freeze in his bed.

Does he hates himself ?

"No." he murmurs in the silence of Cabin 7.

There's a legend that says that no lie can be pronounced within walls of the one who does not lie.

Will used to believe it until now.

part 2, 3 and 4 posted !

[buckybarnesss]

We always talk about super serious shit. Do you have any headcanons that are based on absolutely nothing and are light-hearted?

I think Derek is left-handed. Why? Idk, it's just what is in my heart.

sharing our inconsequential headcanons yes please

scott and stiles are each other's first kiss. they don't talk about it.

corrine was supposed to have killed peter but ended up fucking him instead. truly a fuck around and find out.

laura looked more like their dad, cora looks the most like talia but it's derek that has her eyes. peter would never admit to having feelings about that.

talia and duecalion totally fucked

maybe not exactly a happy headcanon but after allison died lydia kept one of her bows and the sweater she'd left at her house, stiles has her ring knives and scott has a small box in his closet still full of the notes they passed and arrow heads she'd left in his room.

peter would pay laura, cora and derek to lie for him. never big lies. ones like if a woman came to the house looking for "that peter hale" than he'd send them out to deflect them off. the more dramatic the more they'd get paid. cora was the best at it.

cora, laura and derek's father is from whatever south american country cora fled to and she's been living with that side of the family.

derek still owns the place he and laura lived at in new york.

claudia stilinski couldn't cook very well early her and noah's marriage. noah still can't eat meatloaf.

claudia and natalie were best friends in high school but after they drifted apart but when claudia was sick natalie visited as much as she could.

the upstairs of loft is basically a library where derek (and peter) collected the books they recovered from the hale house.

derek gave stiles the keys to the loft before he parted ways in mexico. derek said it was so they could access the small library if needed but really derek wanted to assure stiles he'd be back eventually. derek trusting stiles to look after his place while he was gone. stiles had Feelings about it.

speaking of derek and stiles. texting. all the time. it's embarrassing.

eli shares laura's birthday.

i have like a billon of these.

[waterfire1848]

What about Sokkla as olympic athletes AU? Not necessarily competing in the same sport.

Hello, anon!!

Azula is the best archer in her nation. She's been training since she was a child under her father's teachings. When she was five, she was taken to her first archery lesson and fell in love with the sport. Since then, she's gotten an archery range, new bow and arrows for her to practice with. As time went on, Azula grew stronger and stronger in the sport until, when she was twenty two, her father tells her that she will compete for a spot in the olympics. Azula always did fantasize about possibly competing but learning that she actually had a shot was insane to her. (Ozai: The email is here from the board saying if you got in or not. Azula: And? Ozai:.... Ursa: Ozai, tell the poor girl. Azula is going to have a heart attack from waiting so long. Ozai: She got in. Azula: I'M GOING TO BE IN THE OLYMPICS!)

Sokka grew up with his sister as a higher skilled swimmer. Wherever she went, Katara was the best swimmer on the team and it won her plenty of awards and praise. While she was beating swimming scores left and right, Sokka decided to go sailing for time away from his awesome sister. Now, that isn't to say Sokka dislikes his sister or is incredibly jealous, he just can't always stand everyone praising her and sometimes calling him the little brother, especially when Katara laughs at their mistake. He just needs time out on their family's little sailboat and he gets incredibly good at it. He doesn't compete himself but his father does start to notice how skilled he is and encourages him to compete. (Sokka: But dad...I...I don't even know if I want to be in the olympics. That's for the best athletes in the world. I just sail for fun. Hakoda: Don't sell yourself short. You put in the practice, time, and you have skills. I've never seen someone so confident in their skills. You should at least try. If you don't get in then at least you'll know. Sokka: Okay. I'll try.) A couple months later, Sokka gets a letter saying he's been accepted to join the USA sailing team for the summer olympics.

Azula and Sokka arrive Beijing a couple months later for the summer olympics. While they don't interact much in the first few days, only seeing one another because they're both part of the USA team, they do find one another before Sokka does not know where sailing is supposed to meet up. Basically, one day, before their events take place, Sokka accidentally wanders into the archery range and almost gets shot but Azula screams and stops the other archers. (Azula: Watch it! These arrows aren't for show! Sokka: Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm looking for the sailing crew. Azula: Look around. Does this look like sailing? Sokka: You don't have to be a jerk about it. Azula: I do when you're being an idiot and almost got yourself shot and me put in front of a judge for involuntary manslaughter. Sokka: Point taken. Sorry about that. I'm Sokka. Azula: Azula. Sokka: You're here for archery? Azula, holding up her arrows: What do you think? Sokka: Fair..... Azula: Are you going to move away from the target at any point or....? Sokka: Oh! Yeah! Yeah! *He moves behind her so she can practice* But umm...if you're not too busy would you maybe want you...get some dinner. It'll be an apology from me for almost getting shot. Azula: A dinner? Sokka: Yeah. Azula:....Sounds like fun. Come by my room later. I'm in A6 in the USA section. Sokka: You got it).

Azula and Sokka meet up that night and quickly discover that they do have a lot in common. Both of them are incredibly competitive, they have similar families, they both love anime and they both desperately want to win. They aren’t competing on the same team so they don’t get to spend too much time together. Plus, they are in the Olympics. (It’s not like there’s a lot of downtime). The most they get to do is text each other between practices but it’s enough. (Azula: I’m going to kill my partner if she doesn’t learn how to shoot straight soon. Sokka: Come on. It can’t be that bad. Azula: She flips her hair around like she’s Merida from Brave. It’s ridiculous. Sokka: Is she hitting the target? Also was that a Pixar reference? Azula: She’s hitting but she’s not hitting center which is what she needs to start doing. Sokka: She wouldn’t have made it this far without some skill. Azula: I suppose that’s fair. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought her way into the games. Sokka: Good luck to you. Azula: Thank you. Sokka: Why didn’t you respond to my Pixar question? Azula: *Read*) Sokka does take the time to go to her event though and watch her win gold for the USA team. Her partner definitely isn’t as good as her, but she’s decent enough to get them a win. Sokka goes to find her after the event and they kiss. It would have been nice though if someone told them a reporter saw them.

Azula is asleep in Sokka’s room (they celebrated her win the night before and got pretty drunk) when she gets a FaceTime from her father. Disoriented, she doesn’t even try to hide Sokka’s body when she answers the call. Ozai is beyond pissed about the article when she’s supposed to be there to win. Azula tries to argue that she did win (she won freaking gold) but Ozai isn’t hearing it and tries to order her to return but Azula says she can’t and has to remain for the closing ceremonies. Ozai’s solution? He’s coming there. Whenever Sokka isn’t practicing, he’s comforting a very freaked out Azula (she can’t even enjoy the Olympic village chocolate muffins) (and Sokka does find it kind funny that Azula was less freaked out when she was performing in the literal Olympics vs hearing that her father is coming to the games. Azula doesn’t find the comparison as funny). When Ozai arrives, he argues with Azula not only about her not taking the event seriously but also being involved with someone so far below her status level. Somehow, Sokka also gets involved in the argument and it all comes to a head when Ozai says that he will leave and never say a word about Azula and Sokka’s relationship if Sokka can win gold in his competition. (Sokka: This is the weirdest thing even but I accept.) Azula, same as Sokka, is in the crowd when he performs. Since he’s out on the water he can’t see her as well but he still knows she’s there. It’s incredibly close, had Sokka been only a couple moments slower he could have come in second, but he does win. He goes back to shore where Azula is waiting for him and the two kiss again. This time not caring or checking for press.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Way Down We Go (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N and Daryl follow a dead end that leads them to wash up on the shores of France. While their daughter takes an impromptu trip to the big city, in hopes of saving her childhood friend. Warning: cannon typical violence and Dead City/Walking Dead/Daryl Dixon spoilers.

Part 1

“Where ya rushin’ off to?” Bryan smirks, his knife held at Y/N’s throat.

He seemed like an alright guy when they first started traveling with his group. Not so much now.

“We don’t want no trouble. Just lookin’ for our friends.” Daryl says, calmly. His crossbow is aimed, poised and ready, he might make the shot. But he won’t risk it, not with her standing right there.

“I thought we were friends, pretty.” He cooes, into Y/N’s ear.

Friends don’t creep around each other’s tents in the middle of the night to spy on them. “We appreciate your hospitality, but we really need to keep moving.” Y/N tells him.

“No.” The man shakes his head. “Take off your shoes. Stay a while.”

Daryl keeps his eyes trained on his mark. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s a real shame it had to end this way.” The other man clicks his tongue. “I really did like ya.”

“Please, just let us go.” Y/N pleads.

“Tell your boyfriend to drop his bow.” The man demands. “Then we’ll talk about this. I’m sure you can be very persuasive.”

Y/N huffs, “he’s not my boyfriend.” Stomping down on his foot as her elbow lands in his gut. Knocking the wind from him.

Bryan loses his balance and the knife comes down, slicing her leg in the process.

“Get ta tha boat.” Daryl says, holding Bryan at the point of his arrow.

They need to be out of here before his real friends show up.

“Bon Voyage, asshole.” Y/N growls, pulling herself upright.

————————————————————————

They leave the girl, Ginny, back at Hilltop. She’ll be safe there. She doesn’t speak, not since her father was killed, Negan took her in.

Then Maggie, Carol, Negan and Sophie high tail it up towards Manhattan. Stealing a guy’s boat and taking him hostage to sail it. Turns out, he’s one of those Marshals, looking for Negan. Together they broach the entrance of the dead city.

“Never thought I’d get this close to seeing Lady Liberty in the flesh.” Negan huffs, staring out at the ruins.

“Not from ‘round here?” The girl, trailing behind him, inquires. Not that she really cares, but there’s not enough history between them for her to hate him the way Maggie does. And the silence is deafening.

“Virginia, born and raised. You?”

“I was born in a prison.” Sophie raises a shoulder, her Y/H/C hair shifting in it’s ponytail.

“Ain’t that some shit, kid.” Negan remarks.

“It was hardly a prison by then, try compound.” Carol interjects.

“It was a prison, Grandma.” Her parents used to tell her stories about it. How she was named after her mother’s little sister, who didn’t live long enough to see it. Sophie was the second baby born there, almost a year after Judith. They’re both grown now. Adults by all accounts of the old world. Still, when she wants to do anything even remotely dangerous, Carol follows…or her mom…or her dad. “But tomato, tomoto I guess.”

Y/N and Daryl are…different. As parents, they were fair, never came down too hard on her. Her father is an outdoor cat who learned to survive indoors. Her mother is the opposite.

They met at the first camp Rick’s group ever had and the rest is history. To this day they grumble when people ask what they are to each other, or assume that they are together, or worse; married.

They are Y/N and Daryl. That’s all.

Growing up, Sophie always thought they were in love. At least in the way she perceived love to be. Her father would come home after a long day and cling to her mother like it was the first and last time he’d see her for years. Sometimes her mother would cling. But it was rare and often meant that something was wrong.

He let Y/N drive his bike on occasion, hollering all the while, “watch where ya goin’, girl!”

Otherwise her father is a quiet man, her mother is more outspoken. And though Daryl Dixon is more than capable, Y/N Peletier never hesitates to put anyone who messes with him in their place.

They each lost two siblings to this world. One by blood, another forged in the fires of the apocalypse. Merle and Sophia both turned, a pain Y/N and Daryl both understood.

When Y/N lost Glenn, there was something to bury. A way to lay him to rest, with the promise of caring for the family he left behind. Daryl still blames himself for it, even though Y/N never did.

When Daryl lost Rick there was nothing left. No body, no closure…he spent weeks, months, years looking for him. Trying to get back a piece of what he lost. Daryl blames himself for that too.

Leaving their only child behind was not a decision they made lightly. But Sophie is old enough to make her own choices and she’s never been a risk taker. Staying in a place that’s familiar, versus abandoning it for the great unknown was a no brainer.

Which only adds to the irony of her current situation. Sophie and Carol on a mission with Maggie and Negan himself, to rescue Hershel from some guy called the Croat.

Sophie knows that without Hershel, Maggie will lose herself and her mother will lose them both. Severing the final tie between Y/N and Glenn that she’s clung to for all this time.

She would start chasing ghosts too.

————————————————————————

Aaron told Daryl a long time ago, that he could tell a good person from a bad one. Daryl doesn’t know if that’s true anymore, but this last group was not good people.

“I ain’t yer boyfriend, huh?” Daryl attempts to distract Y/N as he tends her wound.

“Boyfriends and girlfriends break up,” she bites out.

“Could marry me.”

“Daryl…” Y/N balls her hands into fists. Fighting the urge to push him away, as he applies pressure to her thigh, to stop the bleeding.

“Damnit, girl, stop movin’.” Daryl growls.

“Fuck,” she shakes her head. “We’re fucked.” There goes any chance of getting home.

“Why don’t ya say it a little louder, maybe it’ll help.” He lets up slightly when her hand rests over his.

Her lips pressed together to contain the sound of her suffering.

“Lemme see.”

Y/N removes her hand and his. The muscles of her afflicted leg spasming of their own accord. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yer gonna live.” Daryl murmurs, prodding around the gash. “Needs stitches though.”

Thunder cracks down, booming behind dark clouds in the overcast sky.

Y/N can’t help but laugh as the first drops of rain hit her upturned cheek. There’s a storm brewing and they’re stuck bobbing in the middle of nowhere.

“Now we’re fucked.” Daryl grumbles, under his breath.

“Did you mean it?” Y/N wonders. “What you said?”

“Ya want me ta beg?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked her to marry him.

“No,” she decides.

“No?” He rears back. She always reasons her way around it, that’s never bothered him. There was some understanding that they’d spend the rest of their lives together.

“No, to the begging,” Y/N clarifies, “yes, to…the other thing.”

Daryl huffs a laugh, “took ya long enough.”

“Shut up,” Y/N scoffs.

Twenty years well spent.

————————————————————————

Bang!

The sound is odd, too loud to be a gunshot, too quiet to be an explosion.

“Tha hell?”

A walker, then another. Hitting empty cars that litter the streets beside them.

“This way!” Maggie calls as they run for cover.

“Walkers are falling from the sky now?” Negan roars, in disbelief.

“The high rise buildings…they must’ve heard us and walked right off the edge.” Carol reason, following the others to safety.

There’s more walkers, piling up at the glass doors behind them. They need to move. There’s an opening with a scaffolding, just across the way. They’ll have to make a run for it.

“We should go now,” Sophie insists. “Clear the bottom floor, can’t just stand here with our asses hangin’ out.”

Part 3

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Five.

Thank you for your continued interest, my darlings, and happy Friday! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,537

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

“Catherine, you are fucking mental. Put it down.” 

“No, we’re playing William Tell. Put the apple on your head, Sean.” 

He staggered, snorting with laughter, moving quickly around the gigantic kitchen island, lifting the bottle to his lips as he raised a middle finger at her. “Fucking put it down, young lady.” 

“Nope,” she chirped, “shan’t do it! Trust me, I’m a mean shot.” Once again, the arrow was aimed.  

“You’re also half pissed and squinting,” he tried to reason as he walked backwards into the corridor, holding out his hands. “Seriously, put it down.”  

He might have been laughing, but a tiny piece of him was steeped in trepidation, being stalked by a slightly drunken young woman holding a bow, loaded with a very real, very sharp arrow. One miss and he’d go the same way as King Harold II at the Battle of Hastings. “Rin, stop. Look, I’m standing in front of priceless artwork. You can’t, or you’ll hit the Bellini!”  

“How did you even know that was Bellini?” 

“Because I attended a fucking good school and paid attention. Now seriously, put that down!” 

He breathed a sigh of relief when finally, the bow was lowered, Rin placing it as well as the arrow onto the table beside her, snorting with laughter. “Your face was a fucking picture, I swear!”  

What was meant to be a simple viewing of her father’s collection of antique weaponry had descended into full blown, drunken shenanigans, Sean finding himself and the bottle of vodka he grasped chased through the house, around the kitchen a couple of times, an apple thrown in his direction along with the suggestion of playing William Tell.  

There was no way he’d have placed it upon his head. Not with what he’d seen her drink so far that evening. Still though, it had been an adrenaline pump, he supposed. In Sean’s world, he rarely made room for fun. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been drunk, probably at some point with his dad and brother, although goodness knows when that actually was.  

He’d spent the years since his wild time at university making work his number one priority; but there within the walls of Mulford Hall, it felt good to take a weekend off from life, let off a little steam. In more ways than one. 

To put it bluntly, he’d never had so much sex in such a short space of time in all of his life. He’d been there for twenty-five hours, slept for seven of them and the rest? Pretty much exclusively sexual between long bouts of talking. Very long, very detailed bouts of talking, about a life that truly, only the other really understood. 

“It isn’t normal, it really fucking isn’t,” she began, sitting beside him on one of the very large, very plush outdoor sofas, fingers idly stroking his inner forearm as she reached for her vodka and grapefruit juice. Sean was drinking his over ice, after stating he’d rather eat nettles than have anything relating to grapefruit near his mouth. “I mean, people can throw out the threat of ‘I’ll fucking kill you’ if angered enough, but they don’t mean it. We say it, and we bloody mean it.” 

“We do,” he agreed, resting his head back, reaching to place a hand upon her bare knee. “Truthfully, we wouldn’t even need to go that far. We can simply have somebody else do it for us.”  

“No, no but really, really,” she stated emphatically, grasping his arm and shaking it with wide eyes.  

He returned the gesture. “What? What?” 

“Piss taker!” 

He snorted softly. “Sarcastic piss taker, I’ll have you know.” 

“That too!” She smiled, shaking her head, her fingers going back to touring his inner arm, tracing lines from freckle to freckle. “Oh blimey. I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.” They both began to laugh softly. “That’s your fault, you knob.” 

“Guilty as charged,” he spoke, placing his drink back down.  

She remained thoughtful for a few moments before her synapses fired, her eyes widening again. “Yes, I’ve remembered! It’s like, this girl in my year at sixth form threatened to beat me up because I’d made the alleged mistake of giving my number to this lad who she was after, because fancying someone equals they’re yours already in her eyes, apparently. Apart from it all being so fucking childish, I just thought to myself, “I could stab you and have your body thrown in a vat of acid, and nobody would ever know.” And I really, really could! It’s half the reason dad bought that chemical plant over by Walthamstow. If you fuck with him, that’s where you end up.” 

That particular revelation sent a shiver right through Sean, a remembrance of Kevin’s favourite method of dispatch. He’d even heard that sometimes, his adversaries had still been alive when they’d taken their acid bath. Pulling his thoughts back, he focused again on her, Rin continuing. 

“No one would ever know, as I say, and that’s not normal, is it? And the others around me all the way through school, they’ve never even known just how close they’ve been to the kind of danger that’s just fucking regular life for us! For us, it’s entirely normal! Sorry, I know I’m rambling on.” 

His hand squeezed upon her knee, Sean crunching an ice cube between his back teeth with a loud crack. “No, no. You’re fine. I remember looking at other students in my class and thinking how they didn’t have the slightest clue either, how far removed their existences were from mine. They all led these safe, mundane little lives, and often I’d find myself wondering what mine would be like if it had matched theirs. Would it even fit, though, I sometimes pondered.” 

Her nails left his arm momentarily to comb through her hair, returning after she’d pushed it away from her face. “It would be like attempting to wear shoes upon the wrong feet. Not a good fit, because they weren’t made and moulded for them.” 

His eyebrows raised a fraction. “That’s a damned accurate analogy, Rin.”  

“It’s how I’ve always felt at even considering walking into any other life than the one I was born into. You hear about it, don’t you, all these people saying criminals such as us have a choice, but we don’t. I wouldn’t know how to act outside of the life I’ve always lived, even though I suppose that’s somewhat of a cop out, my age considered. I can’t say though, for example, if somebody irritated me enough that I wouldn’t hurt them egregiously for it, if I did walk away from the life. That isn’t really walking away though, to take that kind of mindset along.” 

He reached for her, thumb skimming her cupid’s bow. “No, because it’s the only one you know.” The wicked world they lived in, Sean got it. He knew it, breathed it, was bred for it. Just like her. The only person she’d ever been involved with in the past who’d understood was Kel, her first boyfriend, the son of a mutual associate of her father and Sean’s, their relationship lasting for just over a year before she’d moved on. Sean had been correct when he’d branded him a prick. He was. 

“It’ll only become greater too, the further we both rise. One day, we shall both sit at the head of two powerful criminal families, and then life will change exponentially even more. I sometimes wonder already who the hell I am at times, and I’ll wonder even more then. Do your thoughts ever wander there?”  

She watched him, seeming to coil into himself a little more, crossing one arm over his chest to rest it on his shoulder, eyes flitting uncomfortably. Being vulnerable with someone did not come easily to him. “What, how I will be moulded into an image even further removed just to survive a life that seats me upon a throne made of heavy artillery and blocks of heroin? All the time.” 

He laughed quietly at the comic face of trepidation she pulled in response to his statement, leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “I’ve never met anyone who gets it like you do.”  

“Yeah,” she confirmed, turning to stroke his face. “Same.”  

As they fell into kisses, his head swimming a little from the five very large drinks he’d already had (not being much of a vodka fan, but that was all Rin had) his brain began to scream at him once again. “Delete the fucking video. Find another source to wash the cash through. It doesn’t have to be that building, and it doesn’t have to be her who gets hurt.” 

But if it wasn’t, his father would be enraged. He would lose the approval he felt he was finally beginning to earn from him. Before it could gnaw at him too much, he recovered himself, hardening again as he sat up. He truly couldn’t deviate, and he supposed he really should think about leaving... 

Reaching for his vodka glass, the reason why he couldn’t was brought to his lips and sunk in its entirety. He was about four times over the legal limit at that point and very much stuck exactly where he was.  

“It scares me too, you know.” Reaching for him, she rested her hand to his shoulder, squeezing the muscle softly. “Our father’s shadows offer the kind of safe shade we will be stripped of one day.”  

He shrugged her hand away lightly. “I’m not scared of a single fucking thing.” Damn her and the accuracy of her analogies, how astute she was, how such a wise head sat upon her shoulders. She was only eighteen, and already so much more emotionally steady than he. Also, Rin seemed to accept her eventuality in life much more willingly than he did. She was ready, poised for it. Him? He still felt like he had to prove himself within the proverbial shark tank his father was dangling him over. 

“Liar.”  

He turned with a frown, but Rin could see it was as fake as the very statement he’d made about not being afraid. He opened his mouth, hesitating for a second, studying her. She saw right through him, saw right into him. It was unnerving. At last, though. He’d found someone who did. “You were right, you know. You are a gobby little twat.”  

Merely grinning, she picked up their glasses as she stood. “Time for a refill.” Sauntering back across the patio area, she heard him follow. While slicing the pink grapefruit that accompanied her drink, she felt his arms slide around her, the sublimity of his mouth meeting her neck a second later. 

“I haven’t been balls deep in your for at least three or more hours,” he began, teeth nipping at her earlobe as she refilled the glasses before her. “I feel this should be rectified.”  

She was a little cock sore from the unfettered railing she’d received already that day from him, as well as what had been enjoyed the evening before, but as Rin placed the knife down on the large chopping board to her side, she could not resist the promise of having Sean inside her again.  

Rather than agreeing right away, though, she kept him waiting, letting him burn while scooping up the bits of grapefruit rind and carrying them to the bin, Sean melding himself to her. She was hampered by him, giggling at his refusal to cease, but didn’t give in while wiping the counter down and moving the drinks across the island out of the way, rinsing her hands in the nearby sink as his delved into her pants.  

“Don’t leave me waiting on this, darling,” he groaned, fingers sinking into her folds, his other hand emerging to grasp one of her tits. “I want to feel you around me, watch you dripping all over my dick, hear those beautiful little moans as I’m fucking you.”  

His words shook her, any tentative resolve crumbling, his desire acting like quick erosion upon her as she turned, meeting his mouth with heat and need. He lifted her to the island, slotting himself between her thighs while removing the huge t shirt she’d been wearing, hands kneading her bare breasts, descending hungrily. 

“Are you particularly fond of these undies?” he panted, grasping the pink lace in a tight grip. 

“Not especially.” They were only a Victoria’s Secret multipack pair; if he tore them from her, they wouldn’t especially be missed. What he did, though. God. She wasn’t expecting him to pick up the knife to her side, push the blade beneath the waistband and literally cut them from her, stabbing the knife back down onto the chopping board before plunging two fingers into her slick.  

White heat streaked through her, yearning for him, yanking his t shirt over his head as he kicked off his jeans. The heat of his cock radiated against her inner thigh, fingers burrowed in her deep. As usual, even mere kisses had left her soaking, Sean moaning against her tongue as he grasped his cock and stroked it through her glistening folds. 

The gasp that fell from her mouth as he rucked into her hard made his skin prickle, his heart skipping on a beat as he stared at her with intense focus, his hand coming to cup her cheek. Her eyes pulled him into a vortex of emotions he didn’t truly know how to deal with, stirring, yanking him under. It would feel uncomfortable if it didn’t feel so right, but that was a notion that didn’t sit well with him either, closing his eyes and pressing his mouth to the junction of her neck. 

Burying himself in the hot clutch of her cunt again and again, it was urgency unmatched, fast, hot and wild as they clutched and grasped at each other. The heat of it burned beneath her skin, the grind of his body tight against her clit making pleasure fall through her like a shooting star, holding his face in her hands and kissing him, all honey and sin, her nails then once again adding to the brandings of lust already present on his back.   

He felt immense, so heavy within her tender walls, cock scraping sparks through her, spearing her hard, watching her face contort with the ecstasy from taking the storm that was his fuck inside her. His arm tightened around the narrow of her waist, lifting her from the island, her thighs squeezing around him as she held on around his neck, a shocked exclamation filling the air when he used his free hand to begin spanking her arse with hard, unrelenting slaps.  

“I could bounce you on my fucking dick all day long and you’d still crave more, wouldn’t you? Mmm, yes. Such a fuck hungry, dirty girl.”  

“Mmm,” she purred, running her tongue up his cheek. “Guilty as charged, and you wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” 

His hand pounded her bum again before turning, shunting her straight into the massive, brushed steel fridge door. “Absolutely fucking not. You are complete sexual perfection.” 

Complete sexual perfection was exactly what he gave her, fucking her so hard every single bottle within the fridge door rattled as her body pounded against it, crying out as she felt his cock throb and swell within her. Little strikes of light illuminated her walls, fluttering around him madly as he came, her tide crashing against his shore as she came with a feral shriek.  

“Oh god,” she panted, still clutching his shoulders for dear life. “You are such a fucking beast!” 

“Mm.” 

She frowned curiously, lifting his chin. “Are you alright?” 

He smiled, laughing softly through his nose. “Cunt drunk.” 

Her giggles filled the kitchen, drowning out his deep, blissed-out hum. “Well, you did say you wouldn’t settle for anything less than delirium.” 

“Mm.” 

Oh, how hard his orgasm had crashed through him, unable to speak, his heart still hammering strongly while he enjoyed the little slick flutters of her walls around his cock. God, she was truly incredible. He eventually regained the power of speech, his brain engaging again, placing her down onto wobbly legs.  

“Steady there, darling.” 

“Fuck, you’ve wrecked me,” she exclaimed, picking up her underwear off the floor with snort, placing them into the bin. “I need food and a lie down, in that order.” Forty minutes later, and with a plethora of Chinese delights laid out on trays between them, they sat in the large cinema room on the top level of the house, watching Rin’s Goodfellas, favourite film. It happened to be one of his, too.  

“Would you?” she began, dunking a spring roll into a pot of sweet chili sauce while pointing at the screen.  

“Would I what, grass on my associates to secure more leniency for my own punishment?” She nodded, Sean taking a few moments to consider the question while chewing through a mouthful of salt and pepper squid. “It would depend on how much I liked the associates.” 

“What if you were sworn not to, like the mafioso guys?” 

He shrugged, reaching for the bowl of rice. “I’m very much a fan of self-preservation, but equally I do not relish in the idea of being known as a grass. How about you?” 

“Simple,” she began, licking sauce from the corner of her mouth, “I wouldn’t get caught in the first place.”  

Her statement was either incredibly arrogant, or very naive, he couldn’t help but think. Before he could take it too seriously, she began to laugh softly, nudging him with a soft elbow. “In truth, I don’t think I’d know, you know, until I was in that situation. If it meant fucking over someone I was fond of, then I doubt I’d do it. I know what it means to be loyal.” 

An uncomfortable sting stabbed his insides, knowing what still existed on his phone, realising that he was still on course to do that very thing. In just a day, he’d become fond of her, a girl he was ultimately going to fuck over. Or at least threaten with such.  

Was this really the price he’d pay to gain the funds, as well as his father’s approval? Wielding power over those directly involved in business by nefarious means was one thing, but involving someone only on the fringes of it truly was another. She’d spoken about the absence of choice to him before, and in this instance, he did have one. He either had to hurt her or himself in whatever he chose.  

After they’d finished eating, there was still plenty of the long film yet to view, Rin grabbing one of the blankets from the back of the large sofa they were sitting on, swathing herself in it. He followed suit.  

“Does it always get so cold up here?” he asked, fully bundled in buttery soft fleece.  

She shuddered right on cue. “It does, yeah. There’s someone coming out to look at the heating as it isn’t pushing through from the boiler properly, meaning the top floor is like a fucking fridge, even now it’s getting a little warmer.” He perished to think just what the heating bill was in winter, heating a house so vast.  

He watched her continue to dither, opening the blanket he was wrapped in. “Come on. Get in.” She moved to curl against him, both warming quickly for one another’s body heat beneath the nest of blankets, continuing to watch the film.  

On any other Saturday, he’d either be home with his family, or out with his father, Ed and Alex, whether socially or for business. Not sitting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in London and instead, doing something low key away from the polarised world of either his family or work, it was very different for him. Maybe, different could be good. Probably, when he thought on the reality of it, it wouldn’t be.  

After the film had ended, they stayed up there talking, bundled in the blankets as they shared much about themselves. Sean found himself talking of events and opinions he didn’t even tell those closest to him, like his brother or Alex. With Rin, he felt something that so seldom happened for him. He felt heard. She understood him on a level few others did, and what’s more, did not judge him for it, or make expectations. She just listened. 

It was a valuable commodity in a person. 

“Ugh, I have that terrible internal juxtapose,” she spoke as they climbed down a floor at just gone midnight. “I’m both sleepy and horny.”  

She tried to stifle the large yawn, Sean laughing softly. “If you want to sleep then don’t worry, I’m sure your horny shan’t be gone in the morning, and neither will I.”  

After washing and brushing her teeth, Rin left the bathroom for him to use, feeling his weight dip the mattress behind her a few minutes after. He remained on the left of the bed for a while, but shortly before sleep pulled her into its embrace, so did he.  

They remained entwined all night long.  

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interview Tag

Thanks for the tag, @willtheweaver (here)!

I'll go with Renn Atrius from Song of Thorns.

Were you named after anyone?

"I'm not sure. My parents weren't that close to their respective relatives, due to a myriad of reasons - the main one being that my maternal grandparents are vampire hunters, and my father was a vampire. You can imagine how uncomfortable the family meetings were. Dad said my name means 'honesty, love or benevolence' - I think it's a pretty great name."

When was the last time you cried?

"Hmm. I'm not sure to be honest. It was probably a while ago - I occasionally have nightmares about... well an incident, in my past. Those dreams do make me cry most times, but they have been few and far between lately, which is good."

Do you have any kids?

"None. I'm pretty young still for a dhampir - my current age is equivalent to 18 in human years, so I'm basically still a kid myself - and regardless, I've been too busy not being hunted by the people who want me dead and trying to rebel against the King to even consider something like that. I probably won't for a long time."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Yes, all the time! Especially when I'm trying to annoy that fancypants asshat of a prince I have to travel with. That is priceless."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

"Let's see (starts listing the following with his fingers): if they're a Hunter, if they work for my psychopath of a grandfather, if they're another stupid villager ready to call a mob with torches and pitchforks to go after yours truly, and so on and so forth... There's a lot to consider when you're in my shoes. Other than that, I guess I try to notice their demeanor, a bit of their personality, and whether or not I'd like to waste my time talking to them."

What is your eye color?

"Light greyish brown, like my mother's. When I use my vampiric powers, my eyes glow a bright red, like blood but glowing like two little lanterns."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings. I don't like the feeling of fear that much and the world is already horrifying enough for me to subject myself to more scares while reading fiction. Ha, if I wanted to endure something scary, I'd just have to tell a random villager I'm half-vampire or go out into the cursed woods alone. Happy endings are honestly my favorite thing about some books - they show us that no matter how bleak things may seem, there can be a brighter future ahead."

Any special talents?

"It depends. I'm a great swordfighter, have perfect aim with my bow and arrow, and am very agile - after my family was betrayed I survived mostly as a thief stealing from corrupt humans, so I had to learn how to climb things and be silent, which are also talents I consider special. Oh, and I can turn into either a giant bat or a really tiny one - transforming into a giant bat is easier and lasts for a longer period of time! My Dad taught me how to."

Where were you born?

"I was born in my family's manor in the vampiric lands, where I lived with my Dad until he was killed by a Hunter when I was around five years old, during a diplomatic visit to my human grandfather's lands."

Do you have any pets?

"Yes, I have a pet raven called Cornelius. I call him Corn for short! He's a little crazy bastard of a bird and I love his chaotic energy, haha."

What sort of sports do you play?

"I'm pretty active. I'm constantly running, climbing things, and fighting people who try to hurt me, so I guess that counts, plus I often fly around in my bat form, which is a great exercise for the arms (as they're my wings when I'm in my bat form). I also practice archery and sword fighting quite frequently!"

How tall are you?

"I'm honestly not sure. Probably 5.9ft. So around 179 centimeters? I think. I haven't had time to really measure my height if I'm being honest, haha."

What was your favorite subject in school?

"I was born a noble, so I would have had private tutors teach me instead of going to a traditional school like humans do - fey don't really do institutions like that, and learning from tutors and parents is the custom in vampiric and fey lands. But my Dad died when I was five - so I was orphaned and had to learn to survive on the run since the Hunters also wanted to kill me. I didn't really have that chance. Before that, it was my father who taught me how to read, write, and draw. He also used to teach me a lot about vampiric history and botany. When we visited my mother in the human lands she taught me a bit about sewing."

What is your dream job?

"I'm not sure. I would love to be an adventurer and help people whom the kingdom has forsaken, but I'm not sure if that counts as a job traditionally. If I manage to aid others during my lifetime in any way and make the world a better place than it was before, even if just a little bit, then that's enough for me."

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG