#We even made a wind chime from those shells

[coralinnii]

Hey hey! Congrats on the milestone! Now on to the request.

Neige

Lilia

Ruggie

Jamil

What would a beach date be like with them? Also please keep it as gn neutral as possible.

- 💚 Anon

❋ It’s a Beach Episode ❋

↳ Beach date with him

feat: Neige ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Ruggie ⭑ Jamil

genre: fluff

note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, reader is wearing swimwear but style is unspecified,

I’m an advocate for sunscreen in daily skincare. It doesn’t matter where you are, when it is, or how resilient your skin is, protecting your beautiful face and body is a must. Also, having grown up near a beach, I have may have lost the hype for beach outings ^_^” But I hope you still enjoy~

2.7K followers writing event

Due to Neige’s rising fame, having an intimate moment with you was not as easy as one would hope. Fortunately, Sage’s Island is a fairly remote area where inhabitants live a peaceful, secluded life which gave the sweet man an idea; a picnic date on the quiet beach.

Neige would be punctual to the meet-up, perhaps even 15 minutes early just so he doesn’t make you wait. Imagine a shy but excited little gentleman would stand alone with a basket of goodies to share, eager to see you.

Whether you chose to wear a swimsuit or something easy to wear by the waters, Neige would be immediately starstruck by your casual beauty. Seeing you glow under the sun while a gentle sea breeze wave through, you looked straight out from a fairytale to him. He specifically chose a time and area where there were little people roaming around, but even if it was as crowded as a summer festival, you were the apple of his eye and everything else would fade into the background.

Neige is very easy-going, willing to go with the flow. If you wanted to splash around in the ocean, he would enthusiastically jump and start a playful play fight in the cooling waters. If not, he’s just as happy to just sit down on a blanket, sharing the sweet treats he made while chatting away about everything and anything.

No matter what the two of you did, the young starlet never felt more at peace than he was with you. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his fans and he’s proud of all the work he put to bring recognition to his name, but there’s just something about spending the day just watching you smile and laugh washes the hidden burdens on his shoulders.

The day ends with the two of you watching the sun set beneath the horizon, Neige’s head laying atop of yours as you listen to the waves and the sounds of your heartbeat.

“I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve been really looking forward to this day! I almost couldn’t sleep last night, because I was just so excited to see you.”

A day at the beach with Lilia would be less of a date and more of an adventure (unless that is your ideal date). Lilia lives in the moment with great vigour so be prepared for a date filled with activities and games.

Lilia would not be shy about complimenting your swimwear, you would be absolutely darling, just like him. The cheeky fae would be confident enough to say the two of you would be the most adorable couple on the beach by far. No matter how you choose to dress, he would be proud to show you off and would bluntly say with no shame, especially so if he knows you get flustered about it.

“Hehe, my dear is particularly captivating today, much like a joyful summer day.”

Expect lots of fun with Lilia as the two of you go around the beach making the most of the day. Swimming, surfing, tubing, trying out the dessert stands, there is not a boring moment with the outgoing senior.

Lilia would be receptive if you were to tell him if you were uncomfortable with some of the activities but at the same time, he would want to encourage you to break out of your comfort zone and live without regrets. He hopes that you would be unafraid to try new things with him, knowing that you can wholeheartedly trust him.

As I say that, I don’t think Lilia would pass up the chance to scare you just a little bit. He can’t help himself if he gets somewhat giddy to feel you hold him just a little tighter as you explored the hidden caves, or when he somehow convinced you to surf with him…on the same board.

You’d probably be exhausted by the end of the day but you can bet that it would be just like every day with Lilia, memorable.

“Oh, let us get a pair of matching shirts as a souvenir. Hmm, those shirts are a little too eccentric, you say? Nonsense! It screams major summer vibes, wouldn’t you say?”

Not gonna lie, you’re probably gonna have to try and convince Ruggie to go on a date like this with you. Afterall, time is money and he ain’t got a lot of the latter. But, give him a pout and ask really nicely and he’ll probably crack. He’s honestly just too weak for his lover, he’ll just pick up some extra shifts later.

He’d try to not be too obvious, but when he first saw you once you changed, he couldn’t stop glancing at you. You were attractive already but seeing you out of the school uniform, it was like a new side of you he hasn’t seen before.

His territorial instincts kicked in as he sensed gazes on the beach towards his direction. Then, he realized it wasn’t towards the hyena beastman… Suddenly, he was shamelessly clinging to you with an arm constantly around you. It isn’t necessarily because Ruggie is jealous, but rather he’s too greedy to share his lover, in any way.

Aside from perhaps some summer shifts, Ruggie didn’t have the time to hang around beaches for fun so he wasn’t sure what to do. However, if you mentioned that sometimes people would collect sea creatures to eat, Ruggie’s scruffy tail started to wag. Oh, tell him more.

You and Ruggie would stroll by the low tides while you went seashell collecting (among other shell “varieties”). While it may not be the date you were expecting, how could you not smile fondly watching your boyfriend looking so cute while foraging for clams and mussels?

But your heart skipped a beat when Ruggie, with a cheeky grin but flushed cheeks, gave you a handful of beautiful shells of various shapes and colors. With his signature laugh, he said that he thought of you when he saw them, thinking you would like them.

Now sitting on a table in your bedroom is a cute little jar filled with those same shells.

“Shyehehe, they may not be fancy jewels or anythin’, but I could at least do somethin’ like this”

Jamil is another workaholic to convince. You would need Kalim with you to convince him that no, the Scarabia dorm will not burn down in the hours he will be gone.

Once you finally convinced him, then Jamil would start immediately packing essentials (and nonessentials) to what was supposed to be a simple date by the beach. Sunscreen, shades, blankets, spare swimwear, chargers, bandaids, umbrellas… you would think the two of you were around to leave the island instead. Even Jamil knew he might be going overboard but he doesn't want to risk anything on this rare day off with you.

The moment he saw you in your swimwear, there was a rush of nerves in his body. There was something about seeing you on this day, where it’s just the two of you, felt intimate and something that was only for him. That compelled him to naturally hide under his hoodie, embarrassed to feel this happy over seeing a new side of you.

Like Ruggie, Jamil has keen eyes and he could tell when eyes were following them. The long-haired man is quick to hand you his hoodie, telling you with ease that the sun is especially harsh that day.

Which leads to how you two decided to put on sunscreen while you can. One of Jamil’s love languages is acts of service so he was already pulling you close to apply sunscreen generously on your skin (wherever you were comfortable with).

The vice housewarden was gentler with your face, cradling your cheeks as he used his fingers to ease the product on your skin. The warmth of his hands distracted you from the coldness of the sunscreen, or could it actually be the burn in your cheeks.

Jamil may not be any better, though. Even after applying the sunscreen, Jamil did not let go of your face, seemingly lost in your eyes. His charcoal eyes drank in your attention, a satisfying sensation filled him as he only sees himself reflected in your lovely eyes as he was sure his eyes reflected only you, As though nothing else was more important.

Eventually, Jamil released your face as he stood up. He offered his hand to you, with a softer look in his eyes. He was here as your boyfriend, after all. No duties, no stressful obligations, just a young man free to share a day with his beloved.

“What should we do, you ask? Hm, would you follow what I say today? Heh, no need to panic, it’s a day for us to enjoy, afterall.”

[kedsandtubesocks]

drive ╏ roll-a-trope fic challenge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: An early birthday celebration trip for Joel arrives & you’re excited to tag along… there’s just something you’ve been meaning to tell him about

prompt: #2 - road trip

warnings/tags: no explicit warnings but all my writing is 18+ only so MDNI, no use of y/n, pre-outbreak canon, established relationship, brief pov switch, light gendered language usage, Sarah Miller being the best, thoughts of marriage & children, hidden/surprise pregnancy, fluff & then ending angst (I’m sorry)

word count: 2k

a/n: thank you so much to @burntheedges for putting on this challenge for us, I’m so grateful to be a part of this thanks again Kate! Divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics (thank you & ily) & to you, if you’re reading this - thank you so much ♡

The drive from Austin to Corpus Christi was not one Joel took often, but this time it’s special.

This is first road trip with his girls, you and Sarah. It’s an early birthday week celebration for him. And honestly? He could just be on the road, driving around all day with no destination, and he wouldn’t mind a damn minute.

You by his side, Sarah in the back singing along to the radio - he never thought he’d ever find this slice of heaven before him.

He knew how nervous you were about the trip, knowing this would be another big step in the relationship. But with how effortlessly natural it was seeing you wake up in his bed, help pack the truck, even make breakfast for Sarah… a settling sensation filled his chest like you were always meant to be here, like realizing you were a finishing stitch into Joel’s life.

It’s a perfect early birthday treat he wants to savor forever.

With the windows rolled down, the traces of the morning sunlight illuminating the air, the beat of the radio, and you laughing at something Sarah said, Joel Miller is beyond content. The scenery from the Austin city limits blurs into soft hills that turn into stunning stretches of green. Then the towering palm trees arrive.

The few benefits of the Texas heat is still getting beach days in mid September.

The shimmer of the ocean already in sight perks Sarah up, and Joel beams.

“Dad, we have to go to those beach shops first please.” She urges, then eagerly explains to you the lure of the way too ridiculous tourist trap spots.

“Some even have these huge fake sharks in front you can take pictures with.” Sarah paints the image with brilliant excitement.

You’re glancing back at Sarah, hanging on her every word with graced patience, and Joel thinks his heart might melt out of his ribs.

He’s found something special here with you. He almost feels selfish at how badly he wants to hold onto it tight, never let you go.

As promised, before heading to the shoreline, Joel stops by a tourist shop that has a very large plastic shark wide with its teeth open before the door.

You laugh, twinkling and brilliant seeing it.

“See I told ya!” Sarah laughs happily.

“Oh we gotta take all the pictures with it.” You eagerly suggest and Joel wonders…

If maybe inside he grabs one of those ridiculous sea shell rings and propose to you right here and now.

-

The shop stands coated in a unique type of plastic over coated painted wonder. There’s a painted mural of seagulls flying over a bright pink sky on the wall. Another wall is coated top to bottom in various t-shirts that make you and Sarah giggle. So many wind chimes made of seashells hang from above.

You can’t believe your eyes trying to soak it all in.

“They even have hermit crabs here?” You’re a bit surprised at the rows of take home creatures that crawl around in their containers.

“Yes, ugh I’ve been trying to convince dad to let me get one for years.” Sarah sighs slightly pouting. “But he isn’t a fan.”

“Say it’s his birthday present.” You joke, and Sarah snickers.

You adore Joel’s daughter. Sarah is bright, incredibly clever and sweet, a pure wonder you’re grateful has allowed you into her and her dad’s life.

She even has been secretly telling you what she might be getting Joel for his birthday.

“I think I’m gonna just end up fixing his watch for him. I know he won’t ever do it himself.” She’s a considerate and deeply caring soul. Something she takes after her dad beautifully.

“Well if you need me to cover for you or take you, I can help.” You offer.

Sarah turns to you wearing the kindest smile and thanks you for the offer.

“But I think I got a plan. If it doesn’t work out though, trust me you’re my first alibi.” She nods firm.

“I’m honored, just don’t have me breaking you out of jail just yet.” You grin, and she playfully nudges you.

It’s affectionate. You learned fast the Millers love to tease, love showing their affection with quick wit and deep bonding. You’re grateful to be a part of that now.

Sarah eventually wanders back to Joel. You wonder if she’s really going to try and persuade him to get a hermit crab.

Wandering on your own now, you stumble across more clothing.

Specifically, you find yourself gravitated to the baby clothes section.

The small little onesies with dolphins on them, and the few cute shirts that say my first beach trip, all tug at your heart.

It takes everything in you not to grab one.

But you don’t want to spoil your birthday gift to Joel, not yet. You just found out earlier this week after all.

You just had to wait a little longer. You hope it will be worth it.

Before Joel or Sarah can spot you, you try finding one of the Millers first. Sarah of course chats with one of the cashiers at the hermit crab counter, and you snicker walking towards Joel. He stands surveying the kitschy fish wall decorations.

“I think we’re going to be going home with an extra little crawling critter. Sarah’s persistent.” You smirk.

Joel rolls his eyes.

“She can try all she want, but we ain’t taking a damn crab home.” He drawls out with a classical grumpy Joel pout. “Unless it’s fried.”

You snicker moving to lean against his side while an indescribable affection, a cotton candy delicate sweetness, blooms in you and you haven’t even gotten to the beach yet.

Joel must sense it too. His arms immediately draw you into him more, and he kisses the top of your head.

“Glad we took this road trip.” He mutters soft.

“Me too.” You agree rubbing his back.

“Sarah said we should make it yearly thing.” He adds.

“We should. Good way to celebrate your birthday early.” You fondly say.

He huffs. “Don’t want any crazy celebration I told ya. Just my girls, Tommy, and maybe a cake, that’s all I need.”

“Nothing crazy huh?” You tease soft.

“Baby, haven’t had a crazy birthday since I was twenty and ain’t wanted one since.” He snorts.

Now slight fear tugs at you. Maybe you should tell him your surprise now, or sooner than expected.

“Hey,” Joel’s soft warm hand moves to your face letting his thumb softly rub your jaw. “Y’okay, darlin’?”

You swallow hard, but nod with a smile.

“Yup just ready to get to the beach.” You half lie.

“Me too,” then he leans down closer to your ear. “Can’t wait to see how fuckin’ sexy you’ll be in that swim suit of yours-”

“Joel Miller.” You cry playfully aghast and swat his chest.

Joel rolls his eyes, yet a smile tugs at his lips.

Soon enough Sarah calls out for her dad causing you and him to slowly pull away.

The beach is calling too after all.

-

The rain patters a soft steady melody against the truck. You’re thankful everyone got in a few good hours in the waves, soaking in the nice weather, before the rain drops began. A downfall to Texas weather is its unpredictability.

Sarah sleeps soundly in the back tired out from enjoying the beach.

Sitting in the passengers detached in the cozy warmth of the truck, you even catch your eyes dropping shut every now and then.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. We still got a few hours on the road.” Joel, ever considerate, softly says over the radio.

You decide to maybe just rest for a little bit, settling into the seat more.

“Sorry we didn’t get to spend a full day at the beach.” You mutter, closing your eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, honey,” Joel reassures warm. His hand slides over to squeeze your knee closest to him across the counsel.

“Today was great.” His voice is thick, earnest in the buried emotions waiting for you to sink into. Now opening your eyes again, you glance over to Joel.

The soft stormy lighting coats him dreamy and cozy. His hair is even still fluffed up from the sand and sea, the picture perfect dreamy vacation man or possibly a mythical sea god you’ve luckily caught onto land. He’s incredibly handsome, your Joel.

“Thanks for coming.” He adds above a soft whisper.

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” You reply back just as soft, delicate.

“Of course,” his eyes flicker to you briefly. “Here’s hopin’ to many more trips together.”

Your heart swells, and you wonder if you might just get swept into the current of Joel Miller forever.

“Here’s to more trips together.” You repeat, solidifying his words into your soul.

You hope he’ll be happy with the news you have. You’re still hesitant about it, but right now, simple tender peace envelopes you right now in this moment.

“Love you, Miller. Happy early birthday.” You say half asleep as the exhaustion creeps in.

“Thanks baby, love y’too.” His voice floats in with the rain drops, and it's beautiful.

Your eyes glance out at the misty road blurring before you and how the rain paints the world in a water color soaked dream. Closing your eyes, you decide to get some sleep on this drive.

Maybe you will tell him about your surprise when you get home.

Then Joel’s phone buzzes.

From what you catch, it’s Tommy. Must be something about work because Joel’s voice low takes on his contractor big brother boss tone.

“Yeah, I’ll check it out when I get home.” He sighs annoyed, tired.

Joel’s been so busy this month. You even know how much it took for him to take time for this trip.

A heaviness weighs you down, and a slight edge of guilt follows. Maybe you’ll wait to tell him on his actual birthday. Surprise him with the little longhorn onesie you bought ready to show him and of course Sarah.

In the truck, you simply slip into the cocoon of crystalized peace here. You already dream of another beach trip, the next time maybe with a baby car seat in the back and Sarah happily cooing over her sibling…

And your hand holding Joel’s staring out at the road ahead, hopeful for this new path with him.

-

Sarah’s morning knock jolts you and Joel up wearily out of bed.

“Didn’t know we slept in so late.” Joel mutters, dragging you closer into his sleepy hold.

“Mhm, early birthday sex would do that to ya.” You reply with a grin.

Today’s the day.

“Happy birthday baby.” You whisper adoringly, pressing your lips to his, basking in this moment with him.

“Thanks sweetheart.” His warm sleepy voice drips molten sin, and it’s hard fighting the urge to call into work today and begging Joel to do the same.

The morning is eased, perfectly Joel. Sarah even cooks eggs for everyone and soon enough Tommy joins.

A part of you wants to blurt out your announcement now with all the Millers here, but then contract work again takes over the focus of the conversation. Then the weird news announcement about Jakarta shifted the conversation. But you try not to worry about it.

Today would be a good day.

It’s Joel’s day after all.

As Joel talks to his neighbors, Sarah makes an excuse about forgetting something then drags you off to the side.

“Dad’s gonna forget a cake, I just know it.” She sighs knowingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick one up.” You reassure her warm.

She beams warm then hugs you tight.

Normally Joel drives you to work, but now with the mission of picking up the cake, you use the excuse of needing to stay late as to why you take your car.

Joel pouts but gives you a sweet see you later kiss.

Tommy almost seems to know something is up cause he winks knowingly at you.

It’s a soft morning, a rare beautiful day already with Austin traffic being somewhat manageable.

You happily reassure yourself you’ll tell Joel about the baby when you get home from work. You hope to

surprise him with a cake and then the little extra sweet announcement with it.

Still sitting in Austin traffic, the radio again discusses the news of Jakarta now going on lockdown. The somber tone sends a chill up your spine. You simply change the radio to another station.

You let your mind return to that possible dream of the road trips to come, and of the little onesie sitting in your work bag waiting.

Today is going to be a good day. You just know it.

[salixsociety]

Wind Chimes, Witch Ladders / the Evil in Stillness

A folk grimoire of destagnation.

Those of us with European parents are undoubtedly familiar with the feeling of coming home from some trip, where your parents urge you to run through the house and open all the windows: "air out the house!" You speed around, kicking up dust, moving the air, slowly washing away the strange feeling of stillness that has contaminated your home. Air out the house. "Don't catch the draft," your parent yells up the stairs at you. The draft, of course, is never explicitly acknowledged to contain some ill-wishing spirit that will give you the flu, but everybody knows it does. And the same can be said for that stagnant air in the house, the silence permeating the walls.

The Evil in Stillness

Stillness is not good. Stillness has never been good - we have feared it since before we knew how to make fire. The land going silent, going motionless, going truly still; that spells disaster. Even now, with flashlights and the safety of our home, we are not spared the fear of stillness. None of us are comfortable in quiet forests. But even under our own roof we are not safe: when all is dark and everybody is motionless in their beds, ill-wishes, scary spirits and night-mares roam. And it would seem we can invite them into our homes, purely by leaving it unattended for long enough.

The stillness that comes about a home when it has been without inhabitants for long enough can only be solved by one thing: the return of the living. Whether that is people or animals coming by, or the house falling into decay and plants finding their way in. This seems inherent human knowledge - we feel more comfortable in houses that are or were recently occupied. Abandoned houses covered in ivy or inhabited by rodents are far less eerie than abandoned urban structures still perfectly as they were when they were left. Horror movies show little creatures scuttling about in still places when they want to give us a break from the terror.

So, it seems we all know the terrible feeling of stuffy air, stagnant energy, stillness, however you may know it. We all know the vulnerability of being motionless in the dark. To some of us it may seem more relevant than others: those of us who get goosebumps from silence, those of us who experience the fear of stillness in our cultures every day. But we all feel it. To those who fear it as much as I, I dedicate the following magic to alleviate and prevent stillness.

Preventing Stillness / Keeping the Evil at Bay

The universal key to life in a house seems to be moving air. Airing out the house is a great remedy, but it can also be your preventative measure - if safe, keep a window cracked and let the air flow through your house while you are gone. However, sometimes the air moving is just not possible. Sometimes you have to close up the whole house, and trap all the air inside of it. What then?

A popular method that appears across cultures is to have charms in and around the house that are very prone to moving. The movement would scare off the evils and spirits, because it would disrupt the stillness they are trying to inhabit. And the kicker about these charms is that they do not need air to move when they're being used against stillness, because the spirits who come to inhabit the stillness will also make the charms move as they invite themselves in. Silly trolls.

One charm I personally very much enjoy is an adaptation of the Cornish witch ladder. I like to make them as is traditional, but with only feathers going in opposite directions, no stones. In my home region of Low Saxony it was also common to use both snail shells and egg shells, which are light but associated with magic and protection, in charms. Whether you used them on a string, made a garland, or any other type of charm that moves easy and can be suspended from the ceiling. Other materials that would lend themselves incredibly well to such charms, the type you hang from the ceiling and let sway in the wind, would be sea shells, small twigs, hollowed sticks and straw, origami pieces, paper spirit crafts, sea sponge, dried flowers, etc.

Houseplants and flowers are another excellent method to keep some of the living present. Especially plants that move throughout the day: those that follow the sun, or whose flowers open and close depending on the light. But any living plants will really do. They will not completely spare you from the stuffy air, but they will certainly lessen the effects of stillness.

A different way to cut through stagnant air is sound. Something that is always producing sound (or only silent when you're not there to see it being silent... supposedly...) is a great way to stop the spirits of silence creeping into your dwelling. That is where a wind chime of any sort may often come in, but there are different ways to do this, such as pipes fastened to catch the wind, so that they howl, or even always leaving the radio softly playing in the background, set to a classical station, like was often done by the richer families I knew in my childhood. This sort of precaution, an auditory one, lends itself extremely well to being outside the house, where the wind enables them to be in near perpetual function. A house that has music coming from it, that appears almost as though it were truly fully alive of its own right, independent of having residents, will always scare away the stillness.

Remedying the Stillness / Scaring Away the Evil

For the most part, chasing away the scary things in the stillness comes naturally to us. We even chase it away, though less effectively, purely by coming home and making our house our own again. But if you are sensitive to it, you don't like it, and you want to get rid of that stagnant feeling as fast as possible, here's some effective methods, to combine or use separately.

Open all the windows, or enough windows/doors to allow air to flow through your house effectively. Both doors on opposite ends of the house are a great option, but so are more-or-less opposite windows, or windows that are directly connected through hallways and open doors.

Play sounds, out loud. Not necessarily loudly, but loud enough that it carries through the house and makes it feel alive again. Music from a speaker, the TV, a laptop with a YouTube video. Even just your own voice singing or talking. If you have no neighbors to annoy you can even bang pots or play an instrument.

Run around, dance, frolic. Visit every room, see how it's doing, move some things around. Shake up pillows and duvets. Fill all the spaces with your presence again.

Make a meal. Cooking will fill the air with the busyness of food preparation and the smell of inhabitants and labor.

Light incense or smoke cleanse your house. Smoke always moves through the air and gives it life back. Smoke is also a great indicator of stagnant air, as in rooms with stagnant air, smoke hangs around, suspended almost motionlessly.

Clean. Sweeping, especially, is a very effective manner of removing stagnation. Some people also like to sprinkle salt and then sweep that from the furthest point of the door, going toward the door, until they have swept all the salt out. A common folk spell to chase spirits off and not have them come back is to sweep toward the door, making sure to get every room, and when you have swept a room and are in the door, say: 'shoo! I'm cleaning here, out of my way! And you had better not track dirt in here!'

There are also those things that you may want to do for safety. Some houses with less modern running water should have the faucets on for a while so the stagnant water is out of the system before you consume it. Things like that often also double as great ways to bring some life back.

However you do it, the life will always come back to a place as long as there are people there. And let us never learn to loathe the stillness: as scary as it is, we can also learn a lot from the spirits contained in it. For some people, a completely still space may be just what they need to talk to spirits, to do divination, to decompress for just a bit. Eerie does not mean inherently bad; 'eerie' is only a symptom of our survival instinct.

I hope you feel inspired to think about the spirits around you, and the role they play both when you can sense them and when you cannot. ---- If you enjoy my work, please consider purchasing or commissioning some of my written resarch, ordering a reading, or commissioning my art. Click here to see the options. Thank you!

[sapphicswph]

Can you write teen van with a really REALLY fem reader pink everything, always putting things in her hair, they’re hut is DEFINITELY the most decorated like even in the middle of the forest she’s mushing berries together to make blush..and ofc get to it when you can babes -🎀

pairing: van palmer x reader

warnings: just a lot of fluff, mentions of spider, suggestive themes if you squint, mention of knife

your shared hut is not just the the coziest and most well-maintained, but it's the little details that make it stand out. the wildflowers you insist on picking and weaving into garlands to hang on the walls, the shells you've found and strung up as wind chimes, and the way you've sewn together scraps of cloth to make colorful blankets and cushions. you didn’t have many chores other than washing clothes and dishes, so this is mostly what you did when you were bored or waiting for van to come back.

van watching you from the doorway of your hut, a small smile playing on her lips as she takes in the scene before her. you're sitting cross-legged on one of your colorful blankets, surrounded by berries and leaves as you carefully mash them together to make some sort of blush. "you know, if someone didn't know we were stranded in the wilderness, they might think we were living in some kind of fairy tale with you as the witch, brewing potions." she tease and steps inside.

"it's not a potion, it's blush," you mutter under your breath, not looking up from your task as you continue to mix the berries together. you've always been particular about your appearance, even out here in the middle of nowhere. you like to put little flowers or leaves in your hair, and you've even managed to make a simple necklace out of some pretty shells you found by the river. your brows are furrowed in concentration as you work on the blush.

van wandering around, reaching out to gently touch one of the delicate wind chimes you made, her fingers reaching out to touch the shells. before she can even make contact, you quickly interject. "van, don't touch that, you'll break it." you say softly but firmly, "i spent hours making those. they're fragile." she smiles softly, “it’s pretty.” she comments, you just smile and finish your blush. “all done!” you announce and stand up straight to apply it to your cheekbones in front of the dirty mirror that you can barely see in.

she watches you apply the blush, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles. she loves how you take care of yourself, even out here. your cheeks are naturally rosy, but the blush makes them pop even more. your hair is up in a messy bun with some wildflowers stuck in it, you're wearing one of her old flannel shirts that's way too big on you, and now your cheeks are flushed from the blush. "you look pretty."

you smile at her compliment, “thank you baby.” turning slightly to face her as you fiddle with the collar of her oversized shirt. she notices how the makeshift tie you've knotted at your waist emphasizes your figure, and how the wildflowers in your hair make your features seem softer. she reaches out to gently pluck a small yellow flower from your hair, examining it closely before tucking it back behind your ear. "i like the flowers in your hair," she murmurs, her thumb gently stroking your cheek as she looks at you. you giggle softly, leaning into her touch. "stop touching my hair," you warn, swatting her hand away.

van chuckles, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "okay, i won't touch your hair or your precious, pretty wind chimes." she teases, stepping closer but keeping her hands to herself this time. "but can i at least... kiss my girlfriend?" she asks softly, her voice taking on that gentle, loving tone she gets when she's being sweet and flirtatious. you bite your lip, trying not to smile too big. "mhm." you answer softly.

she gently cups your face with both hands, being careful not to mess up your hair or blush. she leans down, pressing her soft lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss. she pulls back just an inch to smile against your mouth before pecking you again.

you hum contentedly against her lips, your hands coming up to rest on her chest as she kisses you. she loves how affectionate you are. she kisses you one more time before pulling back completely. "i’m gonna go check on the others." she murmurs softly. “mhm” you hum back, your fingers trailing down to her collar to fiddle with it. “be safe baby.”

"i will," she promises, leaning down to press one last soft kiss to your forehead before turning to leave the hut. she glances back at you over her shoulder. you're still standing by the mirror, fiddling with her collar and admiring your reflection with the blush on. van smiles to herself as she exits the hut, heading off to check on the rest of the group.

you spend the entire afternoon experimenting with different muds and ashes, trying to create some sort of makeshift mascara and bronzer. you're sitting cross-legged on your blanket, surrounded by various bowls of muddy concoctions and burnt ashes. you keep testing them on your arm, trying to find the perfect shade and consistency with a few huffs.

the two of you are out collecting firewood for the winter. the forest floor is covered in a thick layer of snow, and the trees are bare and leafless. you're bundled up in multiple layers, a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck and a knit cap pulled low over your ears. van is dressed similarly, she’s lifting and stacking all the logs she finds. as you walk, you stumble over a root, falling forward with a yelp. van turns around at the sound of your yelp, seeing you face-planted in the snow. she rushes over, her boots crunching in the snow as she reaches you. she kneels down beside you, brushing the snow off your face and checking to make sure you're not hurt. "you okay?" she asks, helping you sit up. you blink snow out of your eyes, rubbing your nose which is now red from the cold. van chuckles, pulling you into her arms to warm you up. “that was quite the fall.” she teased. you just huffed and stood there - arms on either side and a frown on your face. “i hate winters,” you whine.

van chuckles and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you walk back to the others. "i don't blame you, it's a lot colder than i'm used to," she admits, her breath misting in the frigid air. as you approach the other’s, you see them huddled around the fire pit, eating some deer meat and chatting.

as you both approach the fire, the warmth envelops you, and you can feel your cheeks starting to thaw. the other girls look up and smile, making room for you both by the fire. you sit down on a log, snuggling closer to van as she wraps an arm around your shoulders. shauna hands you a piece of roasted meat, and you take it gratefully.

you much prefer the warmer months. you love summer - the sun on your skin, dresses that are flowy and light, your hair down and wavy, makeup done perfectly. gou hate being cold, you hate layering clothes, you hate snow. winter means tights, boots, scarves, hats, big coats. you'd much rather be in a bikini than a parka.

the snow has melted away, and the trees are green and lush again. the air is warm and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. you can finally wear your light dresses. you're sitting outside the hut, a small mirror propped up in front of you as you carefully apply your homemade makeup - blush, mascara, and even a bit of lip stain made from berries. van is sitting nearby, sharpening a knife and occasionally glancing at you.

you also love seeing van in the summer. her strong arms on display in t-shirts as she helps build new structures. you love how her hair is always a bit messy and sweaty from working in the heat. you love how her muscles flex and move under her skin when she's active. you love how she looks when she's just sitting nearby in a simple white t-shirt, the fabric worn.

one particularly hot afternoon, she's repairing the roof of your hut. her t-shirt is slightly damp with sweat, clinging to her arms as she works. she catches you watching from the doorway, a small smirk playing on her lips. she's got a smudge of dirt on her cheek and sweat dripping down her neck, but you think she's never looked sexier. you lean against the doorframe, watching her with a soft smile.

she finishes and hops down from the log, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. she walks over to you, a big grin on her face. "what are you staring at?" she teases, poking you gently in the side. you giggle and step closer, wrapping your arms around her waist. "just you," you admit, pressing a kiss to her neck. "you're kind of hot when you're being all handy and shit."

you love how van always takes care of you, how she always makes sure you're comfortable and happy. van loves taking care of you, whether it's fixing something around the hut, killing an insect for you or simply making sure your hair isn't a mess. van loves coming back from gathering firewood with a small bouquet of wildflowers just to see that happy look on your face.

van makes it a habit to always pick a few wildflowers whenever she goes out, seeing your face light up each time makes it worth stopping in her tracks to gather some. she knows you love having fresh flowers around the hut. she'll often weave them into garlands to hang on the walls or make simple bouquets to place on the small table. she loves seeing you smile and coo over the flowers. sometimes it's just a few daisies, other times it might be some vibrant poppies or delicate lilies.

one evening as you're settling into bed, you suddenly spot a small spider scurrying across your pillow. you let out a yelp and jump back, pressing yourself against the wall in the corner of the hut. "oh my god… van, kill it! kill it!" you shriek. van chuckles from where she's sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed, watching your dramatic reaction. she quickly captures it in her hands and walks outside. "it's gone, baby,"

you peek out the doorway to see van gently setting the spider down outside, allowing it to scurry off into the woods. you watch with your arms wrapped around yourself, feeling relieved but also slightly annoyed that van didn't just squish it. "why didn't you just kill it?" you ask, pouting slightly. van shrugs, walking back inside. "it's just a little spider, it wasn't doing any harm," she explains softly, climbing back into bed and pulling the blanket over you both. "it was in our bed!"

again, you absolutely love decorating the hut. you weave more wildflowers into garlands and hang them around the ‘door’. you hang your homemade wind chimes back up, making the hut tinkle softly in the breeze. you even manage to make some simple curtains using old cloth.

you place the curtains over the makeshift door, stepping back to admire your work. the hut looks even more cozier and more like a proper home now, even though it’s already very decorated by you. you hum to yourself as you work, putting small vases you spent hours making with on the table with pretty flowers in. even carving simple designs into a piece of wood to hang on the wall.

gahh, i’m not confident in my writing when it comes to van sorry 😞 tried my best ofc, hope it’s to your liking, 🎀 anon !!

[seafavoured]

just wait until we're alone... (blackrose, gods, first time ed returns to the underworld is made into a big spectacle, like a dramatic goodbye ceremony, so blackrose is together but /not really yet/ - ned is five seconds from actually stealing ed like everyone thinks he did). @pyratezlife / ned.

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐑. a celebration of the spring god themself, to rival and surpass all others. the gods were in high spirits, drinking and dancing and laughing, dining with one another amicably. or, as amicably as could be expected, for some. for most, that is, who looked upon ned as a shadow marring the bright vibrancy of their mountain sanctuary. a hub for all the splendor of the living, infiltrated by death himself.

edward, however, was showered upon with gifts and affection, fawned over by all those who basked within his presence. dark glances to the one whose arm he so clutched were lost on him. these were all friends, after all. surely the whole pantheon would share in their happiness ; for they did look happy indeed. arm wound through ned's own, clutching to him like a maiden being led through a ballroom. clad in sheer lavender swaths with a plunging neckline and a slit up the thigh, much bare skin left displayed. golden shimmer at their chest and high cheekbones, adorned in fine gold chains and jeweled baubles, they caught the eye of all.

laughter, soft and musical as wind chimes. ❛ oh? about to whisk me off and have your way with me? ❜ spoken hushed beneath his breath against the shell of ned's ear. a grin, broad upon his lips. ❛ patience is a virtue, you know. and we haven't even spoken to my father yet ... oh, there he is ! play nice. ❜

hornigold was, in fact, approaching as though he'd been looking all over for the two of them. for edward, at least. his gaze flit to the dead king's only briefly with what could only be described as vile disdain, ere all attention fell to his son. ❛ are you having fun, daddy? thank you for the party, everything is perfect. ❜ they released ned only to mirror that same grip upon their father instead, draped against him. head dipped, a kiss pressed to the god king's cheek, radiating warmth save for the crown's chill. ❛ i know you'll miss me terribly, but i won't be far ! i'm sure ned would be more than happy to have you visit. ❜ lilted, with an expectant glance to their lover.

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Queen’s Hand

(Part II: Curse of Harrenhal)

Summary: Y/N Targaryen is Princess of the seven realms. First born daughter of, Viserys I and Aemma Targaryen. Heir to the iron throne, forced to make impossible decisions to ensure peace amongst the land and the safety of those she holds most dear.

Prologue | Part I

The decision to move their family to Harrenhal did not come lightly. Y/N grappled with the thought of leaving her father to Alicent. But with Rhaenyra and Laenor setting sail to Dragon Stone with their children, to stay is a fool’s errand.

Harwin was right after all, they are happy as Lord and Lady. It has only been a few days since they’ve made the journey. The children have found themselves well at home. Y/N finds more joy in the title gained through marriage than the one she was born into. It is odd, without Rhaenyra and the rest of their family, but they will make the best of it.

The five of them are seated round the supper table. Harwin and Y/N at the head and foot, their children on either side.

“I would like to raise a toast. To your mother,” Harwin lifts his chalice, “my beautiful bride. And to you, our well mannered children. Without all of you this castle would not be a home.”

“Cheers,” Y/N raises her cup with a smile. “To you, my ever loving husband and our wonderful children.”

“Even mother thought well mannered a stretch.” Viserus chuckles, “cheers, never the less.”

“I said no such thing!” Y/N gapes at him.

“We needn’t hear the words, mother. Your face betrays you.” Aemmia cuts in, “cheers to us.”

“To us.” Geniysa says finally. “May we give you half the hell.”

“Geniysa,” Y/N attempts to fight back her smile. “Do not speak that way, it is unbecoming.” Her children are spitfires, just as she had been. The dragon blood courses strong through their veins. That’s what their grand sire, Viserys, had to say on the manner, anyway. The older they get, the more Y/N fears it may be true. Their sharp tongues and whit may truly out do her.

“Your mother loves you.” Harwin tells his children.

“As we love her, father. It’s just a bit of good fun. She’s been gloomy as of late, surely she misses her squabbles with Aunt Rhaenyra.” Viserus tells Harwin.

“Tis true,” Geniysa chimes in, “we thought a bit of back and forth might please her.”

“We wish only to make you proud.”

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, I do miss my sister. As I’m sure you all miss your cousins. However the void is not yours to fill. As you live and breathe you have done enough, my dear children. We have made this decision with all of you in mind, we will be sure to visit our family in Dragon Stone soon.” Y/N lowers her gaze to the plate of food before her.

“Let’s eat.”

————————————🌱———————————

The children settle into their rooms after bathing. Tomorrow Viserus will begin training with his father. A kindly step up from the likes of Criston Cole. The plans have been laid on a pit to house the family dragons. As of now, they remain in King’s Landing.

Y/N drifts to sleep with thoughts of flying free, on the back of her beloved dragon, Atara. If only all her dreams were so sweet.

The princess wakes in a cold sweat, her chest heaving for breath she can’t seem to find.

“What is it, my darling?” Harwin springs to action, arms winding around her, voice still rough with sleep.

“There was a fire. I can still smell the flames.” Y/N chokes out.

“Was only a dream.” He assures her.

Y/N brings a hand up to scrub at her aching forehead. “I need to see the children.”

“It is the middle of the night.”

“I need to see them safe, please?”

Harwin presses a series of kisses to the side of her face, behind the shell of the ear. “Very well.”

They stumble about the dimly lit corridors, visiting Aemmia and Viserus’ rooms without waking them.

As the door creaks open to their youngest daughter’s room, she wakes. Blinking slowly at the figures in the entryway “Mother? Father? Is something the matter?”

“Fear not, sweetheart. Your mother wishes only to watch you sleep.”

Geniysa huffs a laugh. “Where I would be in this world if you did not love me so, Mama? Whatever troubles you will keep til morning. We are all well tended.”

Y/N nods, “sorry to wake you.”

“I love you,” Y/N’s daughter calls. “And I will love you more on the morrow.”

“More on the morrow.” Harwin smiles at her, easing the door shut behind his wife. “Are you yet pleased, Y/N? All accounted for. Not a danger in sight.”

Y/N sighs, “back to bed with you,” she waves a hand at him.

“Will you be able to find sleep?”

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Y/N quirks a brow.

Harwin chuckles. “Trouble through and through, you are.”

“I do apologize.” Y/N murmurs, all teasing aside. “For rousing the house.”

“If this is the cost of loving you I will pay it, gratefully. You are not a bother.”

Y/N shakes her head. “My father was nearly driven out of his mind over the song of ice and fire.”

“That is different, my love.”

“These dreams cannot rule my hand.” She mustn’t allow them to govern her as they had the king.

Harwin sighs, “I will let no harm come to our family. I swear this to you.”

————————————🌱———————————

“Y/N! Y/N!” The incessant shaking of her shoulders is what finally wakes her.

“Harwin?” Y/N squints into the darkness. Surely it is not yet morning.

“Let me help you dress.” Harwin all but drags her from the bed. Forcing her gown up over her shoulders. “Remember what I’ve sworn to you? No harm will come to our family.”

“I remember.” Y/N breathes out.

“You mustn’t panic, the maids are gathering the children. We need to leave, now.”

“What’s happened?”

“There’s a fire, started in the east wing. Traveling toward us quickly. We’ve safe passage out, but we must make haste.”

Y/N rushes to the door.

“Your grace.” Y/N’s handmaiden, Angette, waits just outside, with the Princess’s daughters.

“Where’s Viserus?”

“The door is blocked and it will not budge, we have all tried Princess.”

“Out of the way.” Harwin moves swiftly past them to his son’s room. “Viserus!”

“Father! The door has sealed itself shut.”

“Stand away from the door, I’m going to bring it down.” Harwin tells him. And he does try, time and time again. Ramming his shoulder into the wood for what feels like an eternity, before he finally stops. “Give me a moment.”

“Do not leave me!” Viserus cries.

“I will not leave you,” Y/N assures her son. Cheek pressed to the door between them, desperately. “I will never leave you. Your father went to find something to pry the door open.”

“It’s hard to breathe, mother.”

“I know, my sweet, only a moment more.” Y/N coughs, the smoke clouds looming around them.

“Here we are.” Harwin returns with the fire pick, wedging it into the door closure…again it will not move.

Y/N turns to her husband, eyes wet with fear and ash. “What will we do?”

Harwin inhales deeply. “We have to go outside.”

“What?” Y/N demands, grabbing his arm.

“Viserus, I need you to listen carefully.”

“I am.”

“Steal yourself, my boy. The door is lost, we must find another way.”

“But father the window…tis too high up.”

“I know you are afraid, but we are going to fight. Will you fight with me?”

“Yes, father.” The boy agrees.

“Go to the window, open it, let the fresh air in.” Harwin instructs, aware of Y/N fingers restlessly clutching his back. “Take to your bed, grab the thickest coverlet and toss it down.”

“It’s done.” Viserus calls.

“Well done, son.” Harwin tells him. “Now tie the bottom and top sheets together, taut as you can. Bring the bed frame to the window and anchor the fitted sheet to the post.”

“Now what?”

“Toss the loose end out the window and await my instruction.”

“I am frightened.”

“You are brave,” Harwin corrects him.

————————————🌱———————————

“Princess…you are injured.” Angette nods to the ruins of her dress.

“Mother!” Aemmia rushes to her side.

Y/N shakes her head, “it’s nothing.” She knows not of her injuries, nor does she care.

“Gather beneath the window. Each of us must hold a corner. Keep your grasp tight, leave only a bit of give, lest he tear straight through.” Harwin locks eyes with Aemmia as he speaks.

His daughter nods, taking stance with her mother and sister.

“Viserus, now is the time! You must scale down the wall using the sheet. Let go when you reach the bottom and we will catch you.”

“I can’t.”

“My darling, you must!” Y/N calls. “You will not fall, I swear it. Trust in us, we are your family.”

On trembling legs, their only son steps out onto the window sill. Clutching fast to his bedding.

“There we are.” Harwin encourages. “That is the way.”

“Magnificent job, brother.”

“You’re nearly there.”

The praises sound until Viserus is at the end of his line. Dangling no more than a few feet overhead. When he finally lets go, the feeling is no different than flying.

The material of the blanket shifts under his weight, drawing the four corners together and those manning them by proxy. But he is free and he is safe.

————————————🌱———————————

The journey home takes several days. They have two horses, but the carriage was burned to ash. Most of the trek is made on foot, kind people along the way offer aide and safe passage. A kindness to be rewarded handsomely.

The guards behave oddly when Y/N arrives back at the castle. She reasons it is because they are not expecting her back so soon. The family is escorted to the grand hall, though none are dressed accordingly.

Y/N can see her father and Alicent at the forefront, absolutely beside themselves.

The guardsman announces their presence to the crowded room. “The princess, Y/N Targaryen and prince consort Ser Harwin Strong, with their children, Prince Viserus Strong, Princesses Aemmia and Geniysa Strong.”

Y/N makes haste to her father, desperate to know why all the long faces. Viserys meets her half way, fussing endlessly about her face, her hair. “Father,” she stills his hands. “What is the matter?”

“My girl. I thought you…I saw the remains of the castle myself. They told us you were…” Viserys chokes up, “there was nothing left.”

“I am here, father.” Y/N embraces him, watching Alicent’s expression over his shoulder. Even she looks relieved, one hand held briefly over her heart. “I am here.”

“We must have the Maester.” Alicent murmurs to her servant.

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Stay put this time, will you?” The king pleads. He cannot stand this or anything of the sort.

“We shall see.” Y/N agrees, perhaps things will be different now. “There is something else you need know.”

“Then speak it,” Viserys insists.

“We all know the curse of Harrenhal. How it passes judgment.”

“Y/N-”

“I do not think the house set fire to itself. Viserus’ door was jammed shut, sealed in a way we could not open.”

Viserys’ eyes widen a fraction, then his gaze turns from his daughter, to the masses. “My Daughter, Princess Y/N, and her family have been viciously attacked.”

The room is silent, save for gasps of surprise.

“Let it be known, that any attack on my daughters or their houses is a direct attack on your king. Offenders will be punished to the fullest extent of the law!”

Part III

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[witch-hazels-musings]

Angst in coming. Diluc Zhongli and your pick being haunted by the SO they couldnt save.

Lingering Regret

Warning -> Only Angst (there isn’t a happy ending here, the reader is dead, all interactions are memories*, mentions of Kaeya (D), illness non-specific (Zh)) 

( i made myself cry ) 

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Dainsleif, Diluc, Zhongli 

The ghosts of the past cling to our shadows and seep into our memories when we least expect them to. For some they can move on, they can be healed by the passing of time, but for others, it becomes a festering wound that will never seal. 

Dainsleif

He was no stranger to regret, absolutely everything in his life was a torturous experience. From the day he became the Bough Keeper to the night he failed them all, it was a memory burned in his mind for all eternity and as if he bore the weight of all of Teyvats karma he wove it into the fabric of his being 

There was nothing he thought could break him more, could lower himself further into the sinking sandpit that was his life - that was until the day he met you

Just how many years ago was it now. With the curse of immortality like a chain to a world he was obligated to avenge, it was growing harder and harder to remember you - but there were moments when he could see and those were the ones he longed to hold onto 

“Dainsleif, are you ready?” Your voice called down to him, his eyes flooded by the bright light that surrounded you as you patiently waited for him to climb the dark stairs. You followed him everywhere, much to his disagreement, but he had grown warm to your company. “The day won’t wait for us, you know.” 

The light was so bright, why was it hiding your face? Wait -- let me see your face, I can’t remember. Don’t … don’t leave. 

He blamed himself for your death - there was no one else who could have stopped it but him and, on the day you left this world to a place he had no way of reaching, was the day he stopped caring 

There were rumors of a man who took little to no payment for almost any job - 300 mora and he’d handle your issue. They called him “The soulless vessel” for he was void of any and all emotions 

How could he hold onto something that he didn’t understand anymore, how was he capable of experiencing a sensation that had no more purpose - he was nothing but a shell without you 

“Psst, Daini. Hey sleepy, wake up.” The sound of your laughter, let me hear it again.

“Silly, we can’t sleep forever, wake up.” The touch of your hands, oh I remember them now … were they always this small. 

“I guess we can rest a bit longer, you know I won’t mind.” Your lips, how could I have forgotten their warmth; I’ll let you remind me. 

“Dainsleif, I love you.” 

The birds pulled him from his dream, their chirping calls to each other a playful and carefree tune. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, how it cast its glow across his lips but as the memory of his dream began to fade away he covered his eyes with his hand to hide the tears that disappeared into his hair.

“Forgive me …” 

 Diluc

Lingering ghosts loved to slip into the darkness that was Diluc Ragnvindr - when they fit so perfectly there, why wouldn’t they make him their home 

He had countless people close to him perish and each one was a direct result of his actions - his father, a slash of a blade, his brother, a clash of opposing elements, his values, a single dismiss of a hand, his friends, the darkness of the abyss and the hands of the Fatui -- there was nothing he let get close anymore because it was only a matter of time before he brought it crumbling to the pit of his existence 

How could he have been so naive - what was hope but a debilitating disease and yet you purged all of that from his mind every time you entered his space, every time you pushed your way past the walls he so expertly crafted -- you were the last thing he clung to, the last light he vowed to protect 

“You know, you don’t have to worry about me all the time, I’m more capable than you think.” You crossed your arms and gave him a cocky smirk, the bag of supplies resting at your feet as they waited for you to pick them back up again. It was only because of his hesitancy that they were there in the first place. 

“I have seen your capabilities many times, yes.” 

“So, what, you don’t trust me.” 

“That is far from the truth.” He looked at you for a moment before sighing in defeat. His hand reached for the bag and lifted it to your hands. “Do be careful, is all that I ask.” 

“You know I will.” With a bright smile, you took the pack and slung it over your shoulder. In your excitement, you turned toward the door before pausing as if you forgot something and when you hurled yourself back to him only to place a kiss on his lips, he felt the heat from his pounding heart rise into his cheeks. “See you soon, handsome.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

The distant and closed-off winery owner turned into a being of rage the day of your death. No matter how hard those closest to him tried to quell the wildfire that was his fury, they could only stand back and deal with the aftermath - The flame of Diluc’s devastation was so great that it left a permanent scar in Mondstadt and to this day the earth has yet to heal 

It was on him to protect you and he couldn’t, he wasn’t even there to try and he wasn’t sure what was worse - but one was for sure, the anguish he felt knowing you called out for him but he never came to save you ate him up inside. He wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore, he was no-one 

“Diluc! Come back!” Kaeya shouted but he couldn’t hear over the sound of the violent crashing and eerie nothingness in front of him. 

“Kaeya, don’t!” Another voice joined the noise but Diluc didn’t turn around. In front of him was the only answer to his shattered and empty heart. 

“Diluc please, they wouldn’t want this!” Kaeya reached for Diluc’s arm but the pressure and wind from the opening were so great it felt like a thousand anchors were strapped to his body. “Diluc!” 

Suddenly, there was silence. No noise, no sound but the world continued to whip around like a violent storm. Kaeya’s fingers touched the fabric of his brother's coat and, as Diluc turned his head to look back, tears were streaming down his face. It was strange to see Diluc’s lips moving as if he were saying something but there was nothing, an unbearable amount of nothing.

Riddled with fear, Kaeya extended his hand toward the rip in space and as soon as he felt the pulse of his vision escape his fingers, his others curled around Diluc’s jacket and flung him backward. In the settling explosion, the sound of the world slipped back in and as those who cared deeply for the man who no longer knew his name drew closer, the first thing they saw was his hunched-over body guarded by blue and the sound of his painful cries. 

Zhongli

To know suffering, to know loss was nothing new to the Geo Archon. For six thousand years he watched those close to him rise in greatness and fall in agony - for some they were thrust into death by a number of means and for others, well, his hands have never been clean 

Still, even if he had known what it was like to lose someone he loved, it was never easy and while he always knew the day would come when you left this world to walk a path he’d never know, it wasn’t something he expected so soon 

There were endless memories he couldn’t wait to make with you - the engraving your life into the notches of his soul, to be reminded of your face by simply turning around, to recall your wit with banter of his own, to be inspired by you every single day he stepped out the door -- why didn’t you stay 

“Welcome home, Zhongli.” You were already preparing the table with the teacups by the time he entered your home. It was elegant incarnate to watch you move around the room, to place everything so perfectly and properly that he wondered if you hadn’t been a spirit in another life. 

“I am home.” He reached for your waist and pulled you close, his smile setting yours off, and as the kettle began to sound he first greeted you with a heartwarming kiss. 

There are many things he can circumvent - his capabilities are endless but he found that no matter how strong a person is, there is one thing strength cannot beat 

To watch you slowly suffer was a torturous thing. Every day you grew weaker and weaker, your skin changed but the kindness of your smile outweighed it all until the day finally came ... 

A ceremony to send someone off is a beautiful thing, a celebration of their life while they kept it their own, a remembrance and blessing to hold strong every impact they made - but to Zhongli that day was laced with bitterness 

He made the arduous steps up the hillside. His legs carried him on even when nothing else of him felt the desire to do so. When he finally reached the peak, he prepared everything so skillfully as if he’d practiced this a thousand times, and it's possible he did for there was no end to his life even if he wished for it. 

“My dear, the flowers are blooming splendidly.” He set the burning incense by the weathered tombstone. It had faded and eroded over the years, but as he brushed the engraving with his fingers, he could still make out its marks. 

The chimes in the tree rang out as he poured a glass of tea before setting it against the small offering before you. “Ah, I can only hope you are able to see them from beyond the veil.” As he gazed out over the vast field, the sun illuminated the thousands of flowers that surrounded your grave, and, as he took a sip of his tea, he sighed contentedly before continuing, “Never worry, I shall cultivate more until you do. I know how fond you were of flowers.”

--

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[lil-kissy]

[ @terroreigns ]

A dream was sometimes not merely a dream.

Especially to those who bore within their spirits such horrid and magnificent things. And especially if Wonderland was involved in any way, shape or form.

One of the many reasons it was known under that name - painting the vivid picture of a faraway realm of magic and miracles. Here, anything was possible. And that often included the worst things.

The dream began with a sea of an endless silvery sheen. A figure, emerging from the waters, surrounded by the alabaster shell of a majestic winged beast. A goddess, or perhaps an apparition of an almost alien, pale beauty, her hair and eyes the very same colors as those of the sleeping child. Her dress, blending into the luxurious silks and myriad decorations adorning the insides of the massive oyster.

Her eyes, like infinite sadness and infinite love at the very same time. The worry of a mother, even when she was often considered Mother to all. No longer blessed with a mortal coil, and thus she had chosen to reside within this organic machine bent entirely to her command.

"My lost child, a great evil seeks you." A melodic voice spoke, a hand extending from underneath the woman's robe. Resting upon an orb of flawless crystal.

And within it... was a shape that dwarfed the very galaxies.

"Trust in me and allow me to guide you through this time of peril. The Destruction and the Salvation, known as the Unlimited, will be there to protect you. Remember their names, my child, for they are the only ones that will shield you from Wonderland's darkest night."

The image within the scrying orb shifted, malleable as the rippling surface of water. Showing the visages of two familiar warriors.

"White Cloud, the Salvation." She began, flickering light upon the crystal forming the shape of a knight clad in white. "And Black Wind, the Destruction." A stark contrast to his counterpart; A fearsome man shrouded in a black cape, with a harsh and unrelenting gaze of blue.

"And.."

The voice no longer belonged to the motherly figure, her aquatic steed gone in a blink. Instead, her image morphed into something half-feminine, half-masculine, and it was hard to determine to whom such a sound may belong. Indeed, the entity that stepped forward could well be a man, but also a woman, their features delicately smooth and perfectly misleading. A pleasant, welcoming smile stretched out upon pale skin. Where the Guide's complexion was a thing of ethereal beauty, the newcomer's was almost unhealthy, painted white like the skin of some frozen cadaver. Their head was one of wild pink locks, cascading down their gilded, thorned shoulderpads.

"...The equalizer, for things can never be as black and white." They chimed, a humorous wink to try and ease the tension. "She sure talks in contrivancies. I would not expect a little one like you to understand a word. Well?"

The figure leaned against a wall which seemed to simply pop into existence. It was only a dream, after all. "Dear little Kisara... I have been made aware of your arrival here. How, you may ask? We are both creatures of emotion." The magician's smile widened, icy blues filled with a casual amity. What a contrast it was - to dress entirely in warm hues, yet have one's visage embody such a bitter chill. Even with all their friendliness, there was something profoundly cold about their presence. Like a biting wind that had only just picked up.

"I know what you are. I know why you were rejected. And always will be. But you can come to me, and I promise that I will take care of you, for the world is simply too dull to appreciate the infinite light within you."

Their voice became a low whisper. "They don't deserve you. Never have and never will. So, think on it, yes? I trust we will be seeing one another soon, my kindred dear."

And with that same pop, the dream came undone, unraveling like yarn into inky blackness.

There was a very basic thing about dreams - one hardly remembered them upon waking.

But the impressions persisted. Especially when Wonderland was involved. And there they remained, inscribed in the subconscious, left to fester in the dark like weeds.

Despite having never seen the ocean before, not even in pictures she somehow simply knew what it was upon seeing it. Dreams were funny that way, even the unfamiliar could seem familiar.

Two people walked along side her, recognizable as her parents only in her dreams. If she tried to think back when she was a wake any images of them grew hazy and clear but she knew it was them in her heart and her mind.

Laughter filled her dreams for the first time in awhile as she excitedly ran ahead.

That was when the figure appeared out of the water, hardly the strangest thing she'd had happen in a dream. As she looked to call back to her parents they vanished leaving only her and the woman alone, water lapping the shore and across her feet as she stared up at them.

Who are you?

She tried to ask but no voice came out, the strange woman simply continued to speak, telling her of White Cloud and Black Wind. The figures created before her the very image of the two men she'd already become quite acquainted with.

A smile spread and eyes lit up with excitement.

Questions buzzed. How did she know them? What did she mean by Salvation and Destruction? Why would they leave her alone, unprotected if they were the only ones who could?

So many questions but no answers.

Without warning the woman changed,both in voice and appearance. Someone new took their place in her stead, just one more oddity that could only truly make sense within the realm of dreams.

Slowly she took a step back, uncertain, as they to encouraged her to trust them as the woman had prior although they didn't carry nearly the same comforting warmth as she.

They seemed to speak strait to her fears and concerns, she'd never belong anywhere. Unwanted, rejected. While also offering a promise of comfort, someone she could depend on- making her all the more conflicted. After all how could she even trust that they wouldn't abandon her too one day?

Unfortunately things lasted only long enough for the thoughts to start and the seed be planted but not enough to truly linger (for now) as she awoke.

The only lingering thought for the moment was how truly bizarre a dream it was. Perhaps it was the recent time she'd spent with Kaze and Kumo that brought it on.

Spending time with them could always be so bitter sweet, a joy while it lasted but always knowing it couldn't remain and eventually they would be parted again before long. Their time together never quite feeling long enough to her.

A long with an odd lingering sensation, unbeknownst to her caused by magic connecting with magic, a more curious thought was the name of which the one woman referred to her friends as White Cloud and Black Wind.

She had not heard her friends called such before- as far as her memory could recall anyway. So why would they be called such in her own dream? Could what have happened been real?

Should she tell Kaze about it? Or Kumo?

Kisara pulled her knees to her chest, it had to have been just a dream it had to.

So why did it feel so real?

[kieraelieson]

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

[jvwhyte]

SJM's pinterest board. ACOTAR 6/7.

(No conclusion just suspicious stuff lmao)

Here's a photo i found on SJM's ACOTAR pinterest board:

THE MOIRAI (Moirae) were the three goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man (and women). The role of the Moirai was to ensure that every being, mortal and divine, lived out their destiny as it was assigned to them by the laws of the universe.

In nearly all mythologies the three Fates, rulers of the past, present and future, are represented and many believe they symbolize the Triple Goddess, Virgin, Mother and Crone (Creator, Preserver and Destroyer).

In Greek mythology, the Moirai—often known in English as the Fates—were the white-robed incarnations of destiny.

“There were at least three dozen priestesses who worked and researched and healed here, though it was nearly impossible to count them when they all wore the same pale robes and so many kept the hoods over their faces.”

Clotho (/ˈkloʊθoʊ/, Greek Κλωθώ, [klɔːtʰɔ̌ː], "spinner") spun the thread of life from her distaff onto her spindle.

(Clotho: the mute priestess at the library)

Lachesis (/ˈlækɪsɪs/, Greek Λάχεσις, [lákʰesis], "allotter" or drawer of lots) measured the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod.

Atropos (/ˈætrəpɒs/, Greek Ἄτροπος, [átropos], "inexorable" or "inevitable", literally "unturning",[13] sometimes called Aisa) was the cutter of the thread of life. She chose the manner of each person's death; and when their time was come, she cut their life-thread with "her abhorred shears". The figure who came to be known as Atropos had her origins in the pre-Greek Mycenaean religion as a daemon or spirit called Aisa. Another important Mycenaean philosophy stressed the subjugation of all events or actions to destiny and the acceptance of the inevitability of the natural order of things; today this is known as fatalism.

The Morrígan or Mórrígan, also known as Morrígu, is a figure from Irish mythology. The name is Mór-Ríoghain in Modern Irish, and it has been translated as "great queen" or "phantom queen".

The Morrígan is mainly associated with war and fate, especially with foretelling doom, death or victory in battle. In this role she often appears as a crow, the badb.[1] She incites warriors to battle and can help bring about victory over their enemies. The Morrígan encourages warriors to do brave deeds, strikes fear into their enemies, and is portrayed washing the bloodstained clothes of those fated to die.[2][3] She is most frequently seen as a goddess of battle and war and has also been seen as a manifestation of the earth- and sovereignty-goddess,[4][5] chiefly representing the goddess's role as guardian of the territory and its people.[6][7]

Mor may derive from an Indo-European root connoting terror, monstrousness cognate with the Old English maere (which survives in the modern English word "nightmare") and the Scandinavian mara and the Old East Slavic "mara" ("nightmare");[14] while rígan translates as "queen".[15][16] This etymological sequence can be reconstructed in the Proto-Celtic language as *Moro-rīganī-s.[17][18] Accordingly, Morrígan is often translated as "Phantom Queen".[16] This is the derivation generally favoured in current scholarship.[19]

The Morrígan is often considered a triple goddess, but this triple nature is ambiguous and inconsistent. The triple appearances are partially due to the Celtic significance of threeness.

(Three is a VERY common number in acotar (might make a whole other post on that))

Could Mor be one of the fates or even something more powerful than them, could she have a bigger part than we thought in the next story with Koschei ?

In the Republic of Plato, the three Moirai sing in unison with the music of the Seirenes. The term "siren song" refers to an appeal that is hard to resist but that, if heeded, will lead to a bad conclusion.

In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Ancient Greek: plural: Seirênes) were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. It is also said that they can even charm the winds.

i bet your thinking where tf is this looney going with this....well,

i also found this photo:

Celtic Mythology The GWRAGEDD ANNWN [wives of the underworld]were lake-sirens in Wales. These lovely creatures are known to choose mortal men as their husbands. One legend has it that they live in a sunken city in one of the many lakes in Wales. People claim to have seen towers under water and heard the chiming of bells. In earlier times, there used to be a door in a rock and those who dared enter through it came into a beautiful garden situated on an island in the middle of a lake. In this garden there were luscious fruits, beautiful flowers and the loveliest music, besides many other wonders. Those brave enough to enter were welcomed by the Gwragedd Annwn and were invited to stay as long as they wanted, on the condition that they never took anything back from the garden. One visitor ignored the rule and took a flower home with him. As soon as he left the island, the flower disappeared and he fell unconscious to the ground. From that day on, the door has been firmly closed and none has ever passed through it again.

“My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court.”

Gwyn believes her grandmother to be a river-nymph. Is it possible that she was not but instead a lake siren? We know that Gwyn and Catrin's names are welsh (Lake-Sirens are found in wales) and the spring court has many ties to welsh mythology so is it really that far fetched?

In Celtic and Norse mythology, selkies (also spelled silkies, sylkies, selchies) or selkie folk (Scots: selkie fowk) meaning "seal folk"[a] are mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin. They are found in folktales and mythology originating from the Northern Isles of Scotland.

To further back up this, here is another photo of a Selkie woman on SJM's pinterest.

In David Thomson's book The People of the Sea, which chronicles the extensive legends surrounding the Grey Seal within the folklore of rural Scottish and Irish communities, it is the children of male selkies and human women that have webbed toes and fingers. When the webbing is cut, a rough and rigid growth takes its place.

Children born between man and seal-folk may have webbed hands, as in the case of the Shetland mermaid whose children had "a sort of web between their fingers",[25] or "Ursilla" rumoured to have children sired by a male selkie, such that the children had to have the webbing between their fingers and toes made of horny material clipped away intermittently.

“My twin had the webbed fingers of the nymphs—I don’t.”

Once again we see that Catrin posses traits of these water-creatures.

Keep in mind SJM has this on her board - The cover of Celtic folktales which has one story in particular of a 'sea-maiden' whom makes a deal with a mortal man.

I proceeded to continue searching through the board and found this:

Sathariel (Hebrew סתריאל, Greek: Σαθιήλ) is one of the Qliphoth, corresponding to the Sephirah Binah on the kabbalistic Tree of life. It represents the Concealment of God, which hides the face of Mercy. The form of the demons attached to this Qliphah are of black veiled heads with horns, with hideous eyes seen through the veil, followed by evil centaurs.

'veiled heads with horns'

The Qliphoth are the shadow of the Sephirot, the chaotic force that exists when the Sephirah is unbalanced. Binah is the Sephirah that gives birth to form, the great mother of the cosmos, the eternal womb. Through her, the spiritual energy of Keter and Chokmah are woven into the matrix that eventually becomes matter.

In Jewish Kabbalistic cosmology of Isaac Luria, the qlippot are metaphorical "shells" surrounding holiness. They are spiritual obstacles receiving their existence from God only in an external, rather than internal manner.

Quiphoth (shadow of sephriot) = Shadowsinger

"shells" surrounding holiness = The shadows protected Azriel

They emerge in the descending seder hishtalshelus (Chain of Being) through Tzimtzum (contraction of the Divine Ohr), as part of the purpose of Creation.

Sathariel had black feathers on his wings and his body was shrouded in darkness.

Honestly idk where tf im going with this 😩���

I've put in far too much effort to delete it so i apologise if you've gotten all this way to be disappointed but

Conclusion:

Mor =/≠ Three fates

Gwyn = Heritage is sus? could be related to some interesting people

Azriel = Sathariel ?

If anyone has ideas to add pleaseeee tell me lol

i'll probably update this when i can be bothered

(FYI i love Gwyn and i'm not saying she's a siren or luring anyone but you've got to admit her grandmother is a sus lmao, especially with half the shit on SJM's pinterest.)

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Questions to Help World Build

I’ve realized I have a big problem with my writing. I am awful at world-building. Like, I just start writing without thinking about the world. And since I write fantasy. Well. That’s pretty no bueno and leads to all kinds of problems down the road. So I did some brainstorming with my friends and we created a list of over 100 questions to help think about our stories’ worlds and make them more concrete. Thanks to everyone who chimed in and gave me a hand! 

A traditional Japanese clock, wadokei, that counted hours from 9 to 4, starting from sunrise, and then starting once again from sunset. (1-3 were not used for religious purposes.) They’re super interesting and confusing. You should definitely check them out.

Temporal

Is your story set in the past, present, or future?

Specifically, what year(s), month(s), day(s)?

Are days 24 hours? Or does time pass differently in this world?

How many months are there in a year? Is it a seven day weekday? Does the concept of weekends exist?

Have most existing societies developed a timekeeping device?

Is there a way to communicate across long distances?

The concept of time zones is still relatively new to our world. Prior to the late nineteenth century, timekeeping was a purely local phenomenon. Each town would set their clocks to noon when the sun reached its zenith each day. Do standardized time zones exist across the world?

Geographical

From a planet perspective, is it Earth? If it is not Earth, or an alternative version of Earth, what is it like? Is gravity the same? Does it have a moon or multiple moons? Can you see other planets? Is it closer or further from the sun? If so, what impact does that have on the climate and passage of time?

What town, state, region, country, continent, planet does this story take place in? What are its bordering/nearest neighbors? Draw a world map if you want.

What kind of land is it? Landlocked? Mountainous? Along the sea? Desert? Tundra? Tropical forest? Plains? Agricultural? Industrial?

What kind of plants and animals are common to the area? Are there any that do not exist in the real world?

What are the most common crops and livestock in various regions? What geographic features influence certain regions ability to grow/raise their crops and livestock (positively and negatively)? Are the regions diets strongly influenced by what they are able to grow themselves, or do other circumstances (like strong international trade) allow them to have more varied selections? How does religion influence what is considered ‘normal’ to eat?

What, if any, natural disasters are common to the region? Earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, monsoons, blizzards?

How many seasons does it have? Are any longer than others?

What is the typical weather like for those seasons?

Does the region have any unusual geographical features that set it apart? Perhaps there is some weird thing like Devil’s Tower just chilling out. Or hot springs because of volcanic activity?

Is it easy to travel from place to place within the area? Is it difficult to travel because of terrain/technology issues, or because travel is strictly regulated?

Main Locations: Cities

Many stories take place within one city. In Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, a character remarks, “So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams.” What personality does this city have? What soul does it have? What does it dream of when it slumbers? If your story takes place within a settlement, town, or city, give these questions some thought.

Exactly where is it located within the lands you conjured up in the above Geography questions? Does it have a bay? A river? Does it butt up against mountains? Draw a map of the city.

How big is the city? Is it compact, or sprawling?

How old is the city?

What is the history of the city? How did it come to be? What tumults and triumphs has it seen?

What is the population? Is it currently increasing, decreasing, or remaining the same?

Does the town have any claim to fame? Any tourist attractions? What are they? What’s the story behind them?

If it’s a big enough city, how many and what kind of districts does it have? Residential, Commercial, Industrial, etc. Where are they?

Are there any areas that are deemed unsafe? If so, where are they and why are they unsafe?

Is there public transportation? What kind, bus, tram, train, subway, monorail? Is it good?

How do people get around this city if not by public transportation?

Are the roads narrow or wide? Crisscrossing in a methodical grid or higgledy-piggledy?

What are the buildings like? What materials are they made of? If they’re wooden, are they new wood, old wood? If they’re painted, what colors? If they’re stone, what stone? If they’re brick, is it new red brick or blackened, crumbling brick? If they’re glass and metal, are they sparkling with new hope or dull and jaded?

Are there many skyscrapers? Or are most buildings 1-3 stories tall? What does the skyline look like?

Are there many parks?

How is the city powered? Coal? Hydroelectric? Wind? Nuclear? Has it always been so?

What is the city’s main source of revenue? Agriculture? Tourism? Manufacturing? Mining? Something else? A combination? Dive deeper into this. If it’s agriculture, what do they grow? Tourism–what is famous? etc. This will help to determine what a lot of people do for a living.

What are the demographics? Ethnicity, age distribution, distribution of upper, middle, and lower class, etc.

How many schools are there? Universities? Are any of them good? Do they specialize in anything? Do schools even exist? Perhaps there are clans that teach their children everything they need, for example, or education isn’t viewed as important.

Are there any particular landmarks within the city that standout?

How many and what kind of restaurants are there?

Are there supermarkets, open air markets, or both?

Where do young people go to spend time? What about adults?

Do people there bustle or do they amble?

What are the nights like? Does the city grow quiet, or does it grow rowdy?

What does the city smell like?

If you had to give your town a color, one that represented its personality, what color would it be?

Main Locations: Houses (or buildings, but mainly houses)

There are many stories that have a house or headquarters or hospital or some sort of building as their main setting. These questions will mostly be geared towards helping you figure out a house, but you can apply these to other buildings too probably.

Exactly where is the house located within the city or outside the city? How does your character usually get there? Draw a map. 

What year was the house built?

Was this house built by the current family or their ancestors? Who else lived in the house before the current dwellers? What were they like? Did they leave their mark on the house somehow?

What style is the house? Bungalow? Cabin? A shed? A cave? (makes the following questions mostly useless if so lol)

How many stories is it?

What is it made of? Wood? Brick? What color is it?

Does it have a lot of windows?

Are the curtains usually open or drawn? Are thee curtains at all?

What does the front door look like? 

Is there a porch?

You enter the front door. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you use the side door because the front door is for show or something. Anyways. You enter the house. What room do you step foot into?

Draw out the floor plans for each floor. How many rooms are there? Where are they? How big are they? How are they connected? What color are they? What style of decor?

Is there a basement? Is it used or is it just a home for spiders and darkness and unwanted things? How about an attic? Crawlspace?

How many bathrooms? 

Are there any rooms that only certain people are allowed to enter? If so, why? 

What is the flooring? Carpet? Wood? Tile? Linoleum? 

What does the house smell like?

Government/Military/Economy

In other words, “the boring stuff,” if you ask me. But this is a very important aspect of any world. 

What sort of government is in place? Democracy, oligarchy, etc? Is it a just or corrupt government?

How are goods exchanged? Bartering? Money? Coins and bills? Credit cards? A specific kind of sea shell? Lol

What are the police like? Strict? Lax? Is there a curfew?

Do taxes exist? If so, do the people feel as though they are heavily or unduly taxed?

Where is the intersection between theology and law? Is it common to have religious leaders in positions of power? Are laws based around religious ideology, or is there an effort to keep them separate?

Is there an organised structure devoted to halting criminal acts? Are they corrupt? Who runs the organisation? How does their reputation change based on demographic? What is the history of the organisation, and how does that history influence how it operates today?

Regarding potentially criminal acts, what is the elgality of prostitution, sex work, ect.?

What about drugs and other illicit substances? Alcohol, illicit drugs, recreational use. Legality, festivity, age limits, etc.

Underbelly. How prevalent is crime, what sort of crime (scaled from pickpocketing to human trafficking) is there? Are there areas that have bad reputations because of it?

Regarding war, are there currently conflicts in the world? Are they international or civil wars? How common is it to have an active war? What is the history of war? What does current warfare look like (Is it dudes in metal suits swinging swords? Have longbows been invented? Gunpowder? Tanks? Missiles?) Is military service mandatory or voluntary? How is the military seen? Is there a sense of patriotism for the military, or does the common man fear it?

Is there stigma around certain genders entering the military? Are come genders regarded as better recruits than others? Is it illegal for some genders to enter the military? Does a person's sexuality affect their ability to serve?

How has religion influenced war? Have there been holy wars in the past? Do any religious institutions hold their own military forces?

Cultural/Historical

I’ve put these together because events in history lead to cultural change. You can apply these questions not only to the world/country, but also the city or even the neighborhood, workplace, or school that your story takes place in.

What is the history of the region? Who was it settled by? Was another group of people displaced? After that, did any new cultures come in? Did they get along?

Were there ever any wars or serious conflicts in the region? What was the cause and what was the outcome of the war if there was one?

In our world, the internet, social media, and film/tv are massive cultural drivers. They determine the latest fashions, jokes, topics, and expressions. What are the big cultural drivers in your world? Books? Plays? Radio? Oral tradition?

Is it a collectivistic or individualistic society?

What languages are spoken by your characters? Is multilingualism common?

What sorts of cultures can be seen? Do any clash? Do any mesh?

What sort of foods are most common?

What superstitions do people hold? Is there a version of “knock on wood” or throwing salt over your shoulder after a funeral? What are the roots of these superstitions?

Are there religions? If so, what are they? Do any conflict with each other? Are zealots or extremists an issue?

Does slavery or indentured servitude exist?

Are there any class or caste systems? If so, what are they, and what does an average day look like for a member of each class/caste?

How does a person's appearance change from country to country? Do certain countries have very distinct fashions? If so, are the fashions influenced by religion, surrounding countries, the cultural majority or international trade partners?

How does a person's clothing relate to their social standing? Is it very easy to assume someone's roll by appearance alone? Are there punishments for dressing above or below your social standing?

Does the society place a great deal of importance on a person's presentation, or is the society more lenient on such things?

Is there an emphasis on conformity to a dress code, or is individuality encouraged? How strictly is clothing regulated by gender binary? Is it commonplace to see a man and a woman walking down the street in the same cut of clothes? Is there a social stigma when a person does not conform to the most common form of dress for their gender?

How are sexual rights viewed? Does the LGBTQ community have the same rights as people outside the community? How are sex acts between people of the same sex viewed? Is it legal? Taboo? Are there cultures that encourage those relationships in some circumstances (like how the romans were down with guys with guys in the military)?

Are there any groups of people that are victims of prejudice? If so, who are they, who holds these views against them, and what views specifically are they?

In regards to gender, do certain societies hold differing beliefs? Is there a commonly accepted number of gender identities or does it change regionally? Is the most common gender spectrum a binary, or do certain racial and cultural differences allow for a wider range to be seen as the baseline?

Are children raised by their biological parents or are children considered to be in the care of the wider community? Is it common/acceptable for extended family to raise children, such as parents needing to study, work, or serve time in the military? Is adoption a common thing in society? Is there a stigma around adoption/being adopted? Do cultural or religious views impact how adoption is seen by the wider community? What is adoption like for a single perspective parent? When adopting, is interracial adoption accepted/common, or is it seen in a negative light? Are some societies more open to adopting children outside of their own race?

How is sex and virginity viewed? Does religion influence it? What is the age of consent? What is appropriate on a first, second, third date? Is sex something that is talked about openly, or something taboo? Are you supposed to wait until marriage? Do couples stay monogamous while dating? Do some regions place higher importance on virginity than others? Do some place higher importance on one gender’s virginity than others?

How is marriage viewed? Are arranged marriages a big thing, or are people free to choose? Is monogamy common? How is a marriage symbolized? A wedding ring, or something different?

How is divorce viewed? What is the divorce rate? Can people remarry?

Magic and the Supernatural

If magic or spooky stuff doesn’t exist in your story, disregard this section.

Does magic exist? If so, who can use it? What are the limitations to their magic? What things are they capable of using their magic to do? What things are they incapable of doing?

Are there laws against what kind of magic can/cannot be used? What sort of laws? Who enforces them? What are the punishments for breaking said laws if they exist?

How does the existence of magic affect religion? Are there religious institutions that infuse magic into their worship? Are there religious sects that see magic as immoral and in direct opposition to their faith? Have there been conflicts in recent or ancient history between religion and the supernatural? Do some sects employ people to hunt and/or enforce law over the supernatural?

Assuming that magic does exist, is it taught? Are there different schools of magic? Is there a system of ranking for magic users based on their skill level?

Do non-magic users look towards magic users with respect or fear?

What role does magic play in this world? Has technology not advanced because magic solves many problems? Or has technology advanced and the use of some magics has become unnecessary?

Are there any mythological creatures/monsters, such as vampires, demons, skinwalkers, dragons, or other creatures of your own creation? Are they common? Do people believe in their existence? Do people worship them? Where can they be found? Do they interact with humans? Do humans fear them or try to put up with them as they do nature?

Do the dead continue to exist in some form, such as ghosts or zombies or the like? Can the dead be summoned or brought back to life?

Are there human/supernatural hybrids? Perhaps a half-demon half-human, for example? How are these people viewed by their peoples, and by society as a whole?

How has the supernatural influenced war? Do armies tend to have a mix of regular and supernatural soldiers/weapons? Have there been wars between the supernatural/magical and those without? How does magic influence a person standing in a mixed army? Is it more likely for a magical being to be promoted than a non-magical being? Conversely, are supernatural being forced into service and seen as pawns?

The End!

Please feel free to reblog and share, and add on any questions you think should be added!

[spilledkauffie]

In Your Dreams

Repost from an old account I deleted!!!

Pairing: Charles Xavier x reader (mutant) AU: first class era Word Count: 2.0k T/W: a little flirty A/N: the reader’s power is controlling water! 

A hazy start, first a bright light then… a calm. Shifting onto your back, you groaned a little while squinting your eyes at the illumination flooding your pupils. It didn’t take long for you to sit up, curious as to where you were instantly. You felt your hands almost sink, only ever so slightly though you were quick to retreat them. Observing the terrain beneath you, you picked up a handful and watched it slip through your fingers. Beautiful pure sand, falling from your palm. The sound of distant seagulls came next, until it was quiet. Quiet enough to hear your own breathing. Momentarily you felt alone. Picking yourself up, you stood slowly, still unsure of your surroundings. It wasn’t a familiar place and it didn’t seem dangerous, you drew obvious speculations. Making the decision to walk around, you found several sporadically placed seashells along the path your foot prints made in the moldable sand.

“Oh,” you gasped, happily stepping toward a gorgeously coloured shell.

Taking it gently in your hands, you rubbed your thumbs across the surface, revealing a chrome-like coat to the shell. Smiling, you rather enjoyed the peacefulness of, well, wherever you were. Continuing your collection, you lost track of time, never really sure what time it had been to begin with. A breeze came about, fluffing your hair and rosing your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you breathed deeply. Such a calm had long escaped your life. Always on the run, hiding, being scared of what would happen… all those thoughts faded, as if they never even existed. A graceful smile spread across your lips, simply standing happily with the sand between your toes and seashells in hand. The sun was warm, but not too hot. The trees that were rustling in the wind provided shade. And the ocean’s waves-

Stopping your cleansing inhale, you opened your eyes ploddingly, “oh...”

Another bright, soft light and you found yourself batting your eyelashes. Adjusting to a morning glow of sunlight. This time you knew exactly where you were. Glass windows, a dark wooden room, soft sheets and careful, tender circles being stroked against the temple of your forehead by loving fingertips. Shifting onto your opposite side, you opened your eyes, the loss of physical contact wasn’t ideal, but now you could see him. Sitting next to you in bed, book in hand and back against the headboard, his hand hovered over your temple. Gazing upward, you waited until his mind told him you were up before he glanced downward.

“Good morning,” Charles smiled, voice as tranquil as ever, while he took to stroking your hair, “sleep alright, Love?”

“You know,” you sighed, shifting, “I’ve never had a dream about water, despite being able to control it.”

Raising an eyebrow, you were telling him just how aware you were of him giving you a good dream the very night after you told him you often had nightmares. You heard a soft chuckle, watching him bite his lip and furrow his eyebrows next, as he looked you over. In cases like these you desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. Instead you met his insatiable blue eyes, adoring how they reminded you of crystal clear water, a calm you seldom saw within yourself.

“Wait, so, you’re-are you telling me that you’ve never dreamt of water, in any case at all?” Charles closed the book in his hand and turned to see you better.

“Never,” you admitted, observing how he smiled widely following your answer.

Though unsure why he was so happy, you smiled back. Leaning in, closer to you, Charles shook his head with amazement, slipping his hand down from your hair to rest against the side of your neck endearingly.

“Do you realise that your subconscious not acknowledging your conscious power directly could be able to explain where specific mutations lay in the chambers of the mind?”

He trailed off on some scientific explanation and you tried your best to listen, but when he talked so excitedly and intelligently, it was difficult to pay attention. There was something terribly attractive about it. The placement of his hand wasn’t helping either, you felt his finger tips move when he began explaining certain terms excitedly, sending a shiver throughout your skin.

“Insanely informational and so very fascinating. A very groovy mutation,” Charles said with a pause and a look that could stop your heart. He straightening up to lean back against the headboard, “I wonder.”

Removing his hands from you, he picked up another book from the pile he always kept on his side of the bed. Dropping your shoulders, you were hoping he’d pick up on your thoughts. He wasn’t the very best with romance, but you really weren’t asking for much, just a little flirting maybe a kiss, anything. Being so busy with the X-men training, you wanted some form of affection to take place. Knowing you might have to be the first to engage, you did. He’d catch on the instant he grasped the concept it just took a push when he was preoccupied.

“You know I love it when you talk like that,” you smiled, musing your voice.

“Talk like what?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the pages he flipped through.

“I think you know,” you tilted your head, lifting yourself up, allowing the sheets to gracefully cascade down your body, folding at your waist, exposing the beauty of your skin.

“I- what, when,” he stuttered, taking a few looks up from his book, attempting to subtly scan your frame.

“Though I’m sure you’re much too busy with work and the team,” you sighed playfully, hoping to draw his attention in, “I know you don’t have much time for, well, other things.”

Combing your hands through your hair, you worked out the tangles, carefully. Charles watched as your perfectly messied hair fell smoothly. It lead his eyes to your bare neck and shoulders, temptingly. The way your skin managed to slightly glisten from the morning sunlight dancing about the room was undeniably stunning.Your eyelashes fluffed with every seductive bat you gave them.

“Depends on what sort of things,” he placed the book aside, noting the smile that spread across your lips and the thought that ran through your mind.

Biting your lip and containing a giggle, you drug your hand up his thigh teasingly, while closing the distance between the two of you, “why don’t you read my mind?”

A polite smirk and chuckle was all you received before feeling his hand grace your skin, making you blush at the softness he always touched you with. Batting your eyelashes, you closed your eyes again, this time lips finally being met by his. It was gentle, yet deep and oh so adoring. It amazed you at truly how talented he was at making you swoon so easily. Rather enjoying the kiss, you leaned forward when he pulled back, in hopes of bringing him back into the kiss.

“Oh, Darling,” Charles whispered almost empathetically, lips moving against the corner of yours, “I’ve pictured that so many times.”

Your lips parted subconsciously, he truly was diving into your thoughts, even those thoughts. The stroke of his fingertips against your temple soon turned to him spreading his fingers through your hair. Breath hitching, you felt your heartbeat increase. His other hand ghosted down your rib cage, to your navel, settling at your hips.

“Except, how about this time you call me Professor?”

Biting your lip again and curling your toes a little you smiled, happy with the direction the situation was headed, “hmm, Ch-“

“Kinky,” a voice from the doorway chimed in, making you grab the sheets to hold tightly against your body, “and of all people I least expected you.”

“Well, we all have learning to do about each other,” Charles played it off calmly, sure to erase the memory from Erik’s mind at a later time, “you most of all should know kinky.”

Seeing a slight flinch in Erik, you smirked.

“And this is something I suggest you don’t get between,” you glared towards Erik.

“What’re you going to do?” Erik raised an eyebrow with a quiet scoff, “drain my bath water?”

“No,” you perked an annoyed eyebrow yourself, “but humans are sixty percent water...I’m sure I could think of something creative.”

Dipping his head Charles refrained from showing his amusement, not wanting to aggravate anyone: he opted to play the peacekeeper as per usual. Reaching to hold your hand, he looked over to Erik, who was now clearly unamused with the whole situation.

“We’ll be down in a few minutes, I promise,” he nodded, “kindly make sure everyone else is down, please, Erik?”

A reluctant, but accepting nod was returned before Erik left. Still staring the direction of the doorway, you were brought back to the prior mood by a hand rubbing up and down your arm. Tilting your head, you sighed, proceeding to straddle his lap. Charles set his hand on either side of your hips, looking up curious as to what you were playing at. Setting your arms atop his shoulders you got lost for a moment in his ocean eyes.

“Are we ever going to get a moment alone in this place?” You asked seriously, aware of the school he wanted to create from the mansion.

“Of course,” he chuckled in response, before noticing your demeanour.

You didn’t smile or laugh, you just looked away and dropped your shoulders. You knew he would ask, so you spoke.

“I just feel like we never have time,” you shrugged, “we can’t stay in bed, or go to dinner by ourselves, or...other things. Not without other people constantly being around us here.”

Bouncing you slightly, he drew back your attention with a smile and his hands studying the curve of your back. He loved how romantic you were trying to be, and that you were expressing emotions with him, no mind telepathy involved. But you were right, it was going to be very busy and very taxing soon with the team and future students. He always pictured you by his side through it all though. The chance of losing you always frightened him, even though he could see there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in your mind for your love.

He stayed silent, keen to listen to you continue, “I just- I just want a moment. One moment, just with you.”

“We’ll have several more,” he said sincerely, “I promise you that, Love.”

Filing through your thoughts subtly, he found images and ideas of the two of you in the future that you had thought up, even with the school he wanted. You were by his side and he by yours, always. There were several different versions where you wore a sparkling ring on your left hand in those ideas, which he much appreciated; a smile pulling at his lips when he saw those images, every time.

Seeing how your iris’ sparkled in the sunlight, as you looked toward the window made him fall more in love with you by the moment. It wasn’t something he was used to, but now he never wanted to lose it. You were the one person that let him in completely, you didn’t want to hide anything, as most people did. You wanted him to feel free to use his power just as much as he encouraged you to. His heart practically stopped the moment you turned back to him.

“I swear you are ethereal,” Charles whispered, brushing his fingertips against your cheek, watching your smile reappear.

“Stop using fancy words I don’t know to turn me on,” you raised an eyebrow, happy with the intimate proximity, “especially when you’ve just made a promise.”

A soft chuckle came before his explanation, “it’s an adjective, of which means delicate to the point of appearing not to be of this world, in other words: heavenly.”

Rolling your eyes, you hardly thought of yourself as heavenly, but you smile nonetheless just hearing him call you that, “maybe in my dreams you could make me.”

“I can make a lot happen in your dreams,” Charles winked with a charming expression, “and...I’ll make them come true. That’s a promise.”

[nxrthmizu]

#28 with Daminette, please! Also I love your works!

Prompt: ‘Pretending to be a couple and this is a huge mistake AU’ 

Pairing: Daminette

Words: 2904 words 

Note: I kind of changed up the idea a little, hope you don’t mind... 

[Thank you so much for the request hun, I’m so sorry it took be so long...

Enjoy! 💖💖💖]

- Cady

---

Damian had always thought that turning eighteen was a privilege. Boy, was he wrong. It was, in fact, a nuisance.

“Mr. Wayne! Do you have a special someone yet?”

“Mr. Wayne, my daughter is 18 and single, would you like to-”

"Mr. Wayne-"

Galas became a swarming mass of reporters and fathers seeking marriage for their daughters. He could constantly feel chills along his back as women stared at him shamelessly as if he were a prize, their predatorial gaze piercing through his soul. Annoyance tainted every aspect of his features at galas, his siblings constantly reminding him to not scowl so much. But honestly, could you blame him? He couldn’t go anywhere without being pestered by twenty reporters about his love life.

Heck, if he wanted to get a cup of coffee by himself, he had to dress up like a criminal avoiding attention. Lucky for him, there was one special cafe that was out of the way and always offered a little quiet for him- As quiet as it could get, anyway.

The Lucky Bug Cafe.

It was quiet and tucked behind a little street, often filled with just one or two students studying quietly and an old couple casually relaxing by the corner. The Lucky Bug Cafe was run by a single, dark-haired woman who looked at him and thought: ‘Ah, he needs somewhere to lay low for a while’ instead of ‘It’s the heir of the Wayne Enterprises, the Damian Wayne’.

It was another casual morning, and Damian needed his fix of coffee before heading to the office, where he would oversee his father’s (And soon to be his) employees while self-studying his business course. A long day lay in wait ahead of him, and Damian would appreciate and nice, aromatic cup of brewed coffee before he had to survive on the machine-made coffee for the rest of the day.

“Good morning.” The dark-haired woman greeted him with a warm smile, her bluebell eyes twinkling under the glow of the yellow lightbulbs. “The usual?”

“The usual.” Damian nodded, hoodie covering his face.

Leaning against the counter, he watched as she bustled around the area, turning on the machine, humming a song to herself as she headed over to the fridge for fresh milk. He glanced at the glass display case under the counter, eyes flitting over the batches of pastries that she had made for the day.

“Could I get five mint-flavoured macarons, please?” He asked as she set his coffee on the collection counter.

“Oh, of course.” She smiled brightly, already grabbing a paper bag. “They’re my new recipe! Do tell me what you think of them tomorrow.”

Damian smiled, his features softening at the woman’s words. “Sure. Oh, and how’s your website holding up?”

Perhaps one of the reasons they clicked so well together was because they were both... Well, famous. Except that he was the future boss of the Wayne Enterprises and she was the anonymous designer of Nette’s Design and Clothing. Articles concerning the identity of the anonymous designer popped up occasionally on Gotham’s magazines, not to mention that the celebrities that wore her work often ended up on the front page of fashion magazines.

“Good. It’s getting a little flooded these days, but I think I’ll manage.” She said with a giggle, winking at him. To anyone else, it would seem like they were talking about a small, by-the-side online clothing commission business, but both of them knew the true value of their conversation. “Need me to make you a new suit for the gala?”

It was then the idea struck him.

He processed it, and a fierce blush erupted on his cheeks, the said man nearly dropping his paper bag of macarons in the process as he fully understood his idea.

“Are- Are you okay?” She asked instantly, worry clouding her features.

“Yea-Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll... Get back to you on that.” He stammered, knowing that if he stayed a second longer, he was going to blurt out his crazy, stupid idea, and everything was going to be over.

Except that he couldn’t get the idea out of his head as he stared at the ceiling, sleep refusing to overtake him. The idea wouldn’t even leave him alone as he leapt across the streets of Gotham, keeping an eye out for crime.

If he brought Marinette to the gala with him, all the reporters would get off his back.

But then again, Marinette would never have peace again, and he couldn’t do that to her... Right...?

“Morning.” Damian greeted her the next day, dressed in a dark green hoodie. To anyone else, it would seem like a normal hoodie, but in reality, it was his favourite hoodie. ‘NDC’ was stitched in with golden thread on the inside of the sweater- The work of his favourite coffee shop owner. She had gave it to him after two months of their discreet friendship, and it was one of his most valued possessions.

"Morning," She replied with a gentle smile, her eyes morphing into little crescents as she did so. "The usual?" Her fingers never stopped moving, constantly wiping the counter clean or preparing a cup of warm milk. It was just one of the things he found adorable admirable.

"Yeah."

Before he could think, his mouth acted on its own. “Do you think you could be my date for the gala?” He blurted out suddenly, freezing when her movements came to an abrupt stop. Bluebell eyes slowly flicked up to his emerald ones, his heart jumping out of his ribs when those soft orbs stared into his. “You don’t have to say yes, I was just wondering-”

“Okay.”

He could feel his heart fluttering happily as she smiled, her eyes twinkling in bluebell crescents and her lips a soft curve.

“If you don’t mind, could I maybe go as... You know.” She asked shyly, brushing one of her hair strands behind her ears. “I know you want a date because... Well.” She laughed. “The attention, but I was hoping I could go as... Nette instead of... Well, plain ol’ Mari.”

“You’re not plain.” He responded instantly like a reflex action, tone cutting but soft at the same time. “But if you want to go as... It’s your choice. And... Thank you. For understanding.”

The smile she returned him was worth more than a thousand dollars, he thought.

---

Slicking his hair into a neat, presentable style, Damian checked his appearance in the mirror for the last time. The day of the gala had arrived, and they had already discussed all the details of the night over text. They would pretend to be a couple so that the reporters would finally get off Damian’s back, and ‘Nette’ would get her first appearance in public- They had both agreed that Marinette would wear a mask in order to preserve her identity, so that she could stay in a quiet world for just a little longer before she planned her official debut to the world.

The suit felt soft to the touch, a silk moisture across the shiny surface of the dark fabric. Gold threads wrapped around the jade green that Marinette had chosen as the accent of the suit. A jade tie with the same golden embroidery accompanied the suit and the dark-moss green dress-shirt that he had on underneath. ‘NDC’ was stitched carefully in the same cursive lettering that it was on the corner of the suit, the trademark of the designer’s handiwork.

Not wanting to answer his family’s pestering questions, Damian slipped out of the house, acknowledging and thanking whatever deity out there for the wonderful man named Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred gave Damian a knowing smile, handing him the keys to his new car. “Thank you.” The youngest Wayne thanked the butler, the keys jingling in his hands.

“Treat her like the lady she is.” Alfred advised him, stepping forward to adjust the emerald-eyed man’s tie. There was a quiet, lingering thought inside the older man’s head, but after one more glance at the nervous young adult with a cold outer shell, he decided against the remark.

The car engine rumbled to life with a purr, pulling out of the garage. Alfred watched as the tail lights disappeared into the evening, the thought still clear in his mind.

He’s in love and he doesn’t even realise it.

---

“Hey.”

She opened the door with a smile- God, she never stopped smiling, did she? A little twirl showed off her dress, made in the same palette as his suit. Jade green and moss green strips of thick fabric made the dress blossom into a flower shape around her ankles. The top half of the dress hugged her curves in all the right ways, a braided rope going over her neck to hold the dress up. The sleeveless-ness of the dress showed off the smooth skin of the designer, not to mention her striking, sharp collarbones that were on full display.

“You look beautiful.” He managed, knowing full well it was a lie that he had just uttered. She wasn’t beautiful, god, no. She was absolutely stunning and gorgeous, and he would give anything to keep that smile on her lips. He had to mutter up all of his resistance and self-control to prevent himself from reaching out to stroke her soft, dark hair.

“Thank you.” The smile would’ve made him melt into a Damian-shaped puddle, except he had a date and he would have to wait until the night was over to melt into a puddle. “Shall we?”

He offered her his arm, like the gentleman his dad butler had taught and raised him to be. The feeling of her soft skin in his hands made roses flower over his cheeks, his heart beat a little louder, and the affectionate feeling in his chest double in size.

The drive to the gala was the most interesting car ride he ever had. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he listened to her sing to the songs on the radio, occasionally joining in shyly, both their voices dancing in an intricate dance of harmony. Her laugh tinkled like wind chimes; her smile glowed like the moon on a clear night; her voice soothed his soul like a warm bowl of soup. There was absolutely nothing on his mind but her and her only.

“Are you ready?” He asked, pulling up in front of the gala’s entrance. Reaching for the mask on her lap, he placed in on her gently, careful not to tug on her hair as he adjusted it.

“For our fake date?” She giggled. “As I’ll ever be.”

A smile danced on his lips as he pushed the car door open, for once, not annoyed by the bright flashes of the cameras. He wanted the world to know how amazing Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, and he wanted her to rise to top of the fashion world and beyond. There was nothing that would make him feel more honoured than the fact that he would be the one that introduced her to the world, watching as she took over the rest of the fashion kingdom like the queen she was.

“M’lady.” He whispered, pulling her car door open as he offered his hand for her, bowing slightly. Whispers clouded the air, quickly replaced by gasps as Marinette took it gracefully, stepping out with the aura of a goddess. He planted a light kiss on her palm, emerald eyes bright and soft in the dying light of the evening.

“Thank you. Shall we?” She smiled in return, never removing her hand from his grasp.

He nodded to her, gesturing for the valet to take his car away, tossing the man the keys. He normally wouldn’t trust anyone else with his car, but at the moment, escorting to beautiful bluenette was the only priority in his mind.

Because she was the only thing that mattered, after all.

---

Funnily enough, he didn’t feel triumphant at all.

Damian had thought that if he got a woman to pretend to be his girlfriend, well, he would enjoy the disappointed looks on the fathers’ faces and the burning anger in the girls’ eyes. Well, it wasn’t the case at all.

He was absolutely mesmerised with the designer next to him, who was talking gracefully to the CEO of one of Gotham’s fashion magazines. She was the definition of grace, beauty, and poise. Everything about her said goddess. She practically radiated power into the room, even when she didn’t realise it. There was a calm to her that made her seem like a cool-headed queen, and boy he would be willing to be her knight any day.

“I’m going to go get some wine.” He whispered to her, arm looping around her waist naturally. They truly did give off the ‘dating’ vibe, but he was too absorbed in her to notice.

“Okay.” She smiled, only this time it made him feel something else. No, not just a little flutter of his stomach, or a resounding thump of his heart. In fact, the first thought going through his head was that he wished, hoped, prayed that he could wake up to that smile for the rest of his life. He could picture it in his mind- Her, curled in his arms, her dark hair spreading into an intricate net behind her, eyes closed softly.

He could see her eyes fluttering open, see her yawn and stretch before nestling back into his embrace, only this time her eyes were open and there was a loving smile on her lips, and she was speaking.

“Morning, love.”

It took him a moment to realise that he had been stupidly standing there after stating that he was going to get them some drinks. Both the CEO and Marinette stared at him expectantly, wondering why he had suddenly got into a daze.

He found a waiter, easily plucking two wine glasses from the man’s tray before making his way through the crowd, who parted for him like the red sea parted for Moses. It was infuriating; He couldn’t get the picture out of his head. Her, nestled into his arms... No, they were on a fake date, and it was only for one sole purpose... It wasn’t as if he liked her... Right?

Wrong.

---

He made a mistake.

It wasn’t until after the night ended that he begin to feel the pain. His heart ached when she left, thanking him for the night. For the next few days, photos of Damian Wayne and the mysterious, masked Nette clouded the cover pages of magazines, reminding him over and over of that one night that he got to live.

His family hadn’t stopped pestering him about what in the world happened, Damian, and after Tim had found out Nette’s identity through the batcomputer’s wide database, it didn’t take long for the rest of the family to piece ‘Damian-might’ve-fell-in-love-with-a-cafe-shop-owner-who-happens-to-be-a-world-wide-famous-designer’ together. 

“You should ask her on a real date sometime soon, Master Wayne.” Alfred told him offhandedly as Damian strolled into the kitchen. The butler was busy polishing wine glasses, placing them neatly back onto the shelf when he was done.

“It’s kind of too late.” He muttered quietly, sinking onto the chair, the soft fabric of the dark green sweater comforting him.

Alfred sighed, placing down the glass with a sonorous clink. “It’s never too late for anything, Master Wayne. Not if you take the chance and make a move.” Damian met the older man’s eyes for a second, realising what he needed to do. It was as if someone had took a lighter and relit the candle in his heart.

“I’m going out, Alfred.” He said abruptly, never pausing to see the proud smile on the older man’s face. “I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Noted, Master Wayne. Your car keys are on the counter in the living room.”

---

He didn’t bother to pull on his hoodie, barging through the back door of the Lucky Cat Cafe before turning back on second thought, closing the door gently, muttering a sorry to the poor door that just got kicked open in the heat of the moment.

“Why are you apologising to a door?” Her laugh sounded behind her, the woman giving him an amused look.

“I... Kicked it open.” He admitted, before remembering what he had come to do. “Marinette.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?”

“I know the gala was a fake date, and we did it because it benefitted the both of us, but-!” He caught himself, realising that for once he was doing something without a plan. “But I don’t want that.”

She stared at him blankly. “Um... That’s fine. We didn’t tell the media we were dating, it could’ve been a one-time thing...”

“No!” He burst out, his heart nearly overflowing with emotions. “It took me a long time, but I-! I want to date you. For real. And take you out. And do the sappy things that Grayson does with his girlfriend. And take care of you. I want to date you for real.”

Her mouth was open in an ‘o’, and he wondered briefly if he broke her. Then a smile slipped across her lips, and he could see it again- Both of them, sharing a home, sharing a life, and then a child with dark blue hair and emerald eyes-

“Okay.”

---

sjskjsks I was so worried about the plot!!! Was it choppy? And in the words of my ninth grade english teacher, did it lack fLoW??? I’m so sorry if it didn’t live up to expectations, I lost where I was going with this- 

On another note I have this headcannon that the two students and old couple always knew that he was Damian Wayne, they were just ‘oh he’s totally in love with Mari, this is really sweet and we’re going to stick around and watch’ and when he asked her out for the gala he was actually being really loud and they were all just legit eavesdropping and the two students going ‘jskjskjkjkjs he finally asked her out oh my god the ship is sailing’ and the old couple going ‘aww how sweet’ and ‘my boy finally got his courage together, so proud of him even tho im not his dad but still’. 

Anyways I was thinking of another way to get around the MDC nickname for Mari as a designer and I thought Nette would be a cool name for her, and DC stands for Design and Clothing. 

Once again thanks for sending in the request, sorry that it took so long bby <3 

Requests are open, just head over to my blog, check out the rules and specifications, then shoot your request right into my inbox, I’ll be waiting. 

Also I’m watching Haikyu and I am IN LOVE with those babies, gonna start writing fics and opening up requests for the Haikyu fandom once I get a better grip on the characters’ personality. 

Okay, I’ve been talking too much. Bye and thanks for sticking around to the very end, lol. I can be quite talkative when I’m typing anddd I’m just going to stop now before I write another paragraph 

- Cady

[jessiebanethedragon]

Can we get a fic where the bad batch is on a mission and they find a SUPER shy 16 year old girl (the reader) who lost her parents in the war. The men take the reader with them and take care of her. But they don’t know that the reader has been trained in advanced martial arts her entire life and they find this out when the reader takes out a bunch of droids by herself. The bad batch take the reader in as their little sister in the end.

kinda long, i hope thats okay, and as always i really hope you enjoy it! 

You’re found underneath a mountain made of rumble, mud, water and ash. The Bad Batch takes hours moving debris for Wrecker to pull you out of a still smoking room that was once your family's apartment. 

Your people were an interesting folk, training their young in intense forms of defensive combat. You could speak more languages than you could count on your fingers, and years of being taught anything and everything, one could consider you to be a perfect soldier. Except for the fact that your people dedicated themselves to the natural wonders of the universe and were neutral in every notable war the republic had ever seen. 

The separatists did not see it that way. 

“What do we do with it?” Crosshair asked when they returned to the camp, you haven't said a word. And clone force 99 was starting to wonder if you even spoke basic. So far you had only moved when necessary and they only realized you were even human once the dust, mud and blood had been cleared from your face. 

“I think the ‘it’ is actually a ‘she’.” Tech corrects side-eyeing you from where you sit close to their fire. 

“What are we going to do with she?” Crosshair repeated, annoyed. But enjoying the mumbling from his brother about ‘grammatical insolence.’ Wrecker and Tech both shrugged as Hunter sighed and took a plate of rations over to you. 

“Hey, you need to eat.” He said pushing the plate towards you, watching as you watched the plate, but made no move towards it. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Hunter asked, trying his hardest to sound not like a hardened military sergeant. He sees your lips move but can barely make out the sound that travels past them. “Can you just be a bit louder maybe?” He asks for the first time ever, given his enhanced hearing. He catches your name as it wisps by him, repeating it to make sure he’s got it right.  

“Do you have anyone? Anyone off-world or that might still be…” He stops himself before the word ‘alive’. And you shake your head ‘no’ anyways. It’s only after Hunter gets up to leave that you slowly reach for the plate of food. 

“She has to come with us.” Hunter relays to the group, who are keeping their distance from the shy young girl they’ve found. Each member nods, none of them seem to know what to do with you, but they know you’re safest with the Bad Batch. 

It takes weeks before any of them hear your voice, your real voice. So far you’ve stuck to mumbles, nods and hand gestures. No one seems to mind, except for when you make Wrecker jump out of his skin when you seemingly appear out of nowhere. 

“Crosshair you di'kut!” Tech shouts one morning running into the main area of the Havoc Marauder. Everyone has to suppress a chuckle at the sound of Huttese coming from his helmet. “How in the kriff am I supposed to fix this?” Tech throws his hands in the air, slamming his bucket on the table. 

“Would you like me to fix it?” You offer from your corner of the ship. Stunning everyone into silence. “I am fluent in huttese.” You explain reaching for Tech's helmet, and matching holopad. No one says anything as you tap a few things and place it back down. 

“Thank you, mirdala.” Tech says in awe. Opting to compliment you in mando’a rather than basic as to not make you uncomfortable. 

“I also speak mando’a.” You add, looking at him with a smile. 

“Kandosii'la!” He exclaims happily, “nice to finally have some more brains around here.” Tech smiles at you while his brothers come over the shock of hearing your voice properly for the first time. 

After that morning things begin to shift a little bit. The batch takes to calling you mirdala as a nickname and constant compliment. (And to try and get you out of the sarlacc pit of shyness you live in.) And you slowly start to chat rather than just talk with the men you find yourself in the company of. Yet you still don’t talk about your home at all, eventually they stop asking. Until one day Hunter presses a small blaster into your hands while the five of you are standing on the ramp of the marauder. 

“Just a precaution, this place shouldn't be  dangerous. But I'd rather you have it and not need it then need it and not have it.” He tells you, and places a hand on your shoulder. “Know how to use it?” You nod, flipping it around in your hand, it’s foreign and familiar all at once. The click of the safety sounds a bit janky and the hilt is slightly off kilter. Hunter watches you inspect the blaster with the precision of a GAR clone. 

“Thank you.” You say to him, tucking it away, and following the group off the ramp and into the market. 

It takes all of one half of an hour for all hell to break loose. One battalion of droids verses one bad batch’s Wrecker didn’t exactly go well, the two of you attacked from behind unsuspectingly leading him into throwing you onto the nearest roof and going through the droids one by one. You hear the whir of commando droids before you see them and take off, launching yourself onto the next roof as blaster bolts rush by. Running through the second market that rests on the rooftops of the one below you dash between stalls, people and droids as you scramble away. One last jump into what you think is the side of a building but is actually air covered by a mass of cloth sends you into the  ground below winding you. 

“Mirdala!” Crosshair shouts in surprise as you seem to literally fall from the sky above him. This brief distraction allows for a droid to take a shot at him and you know he’s too preoccupied to save you. 

That's fine, you don’t need saying anyways. 

Falling into a fighting stance is so familiar to your muscles, you could close your eyes and you’d be back in your training centre. It feels so real you can almost smell it. Elbows and feet fly, echoes of advice ring in your ears. ‘Your elbows carry power, your feet are the most important weapons, stance is everything.” At this point the blaster is basically useless, you’re the weapon Hunter wished you didn’t need. And so when Crosshair barrels into you, throwing the two of you behind a crate as a detonator goes off, you both face plant into the ground. 

“You okay Mirdala?” Tech asks pulling you off the ground, dusting your shoulders off.  

“Where is everyone?” You ask worriedly looking around for everyone, once you see Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair near you, you begin to calm down. Wrecker comes over to you looking far too happy for a man who was just in battle. 

“That was amazing Mirdala! Shoulda seen ‘er Sarge!” He says nudging Hunter harshly. You can’t help but blush as Wrecker rentals how you flew from building to building. Letting Crosshair summarize your skills with ‘she fights well.’ (Before taking over and gushing about you again.)

You’re sitting outside as the sunsets, being alone is preferable right now. Today was, for lack of a better term, a lot. But of course, naturally, the Batch joins you. 

“You ever gunna open up to us mirdala?” Hunter bluntly asks, looking scared and worried. You nod but stop yourself, pushing the shyness for a verbal answer. 

“Yes, just not used to it.” it's a short answer, much shorter than it should be. But it’s a small win and Hunter is happy for it. 

“I researched your home world, were you going to tell us about your skills?” Tech asks, eyes meeting yours. 

“I thought it was normal.” You explain, looking around for others before sighing. “I’ve never been off-world before, not even outside of my city. This is very unusual for me.” You say trying to explain that your people keep to themselves even where they're around those they trust. 

“What else can you do?” Wrecker chimes in, curious as ever. But adds “never mind” when Crosshair elbows him. 

“You’re trained like us...” The sniper says, catching the curves of a small smile beginning when he says this. “Vod’ika.” He adds slowly, careful to watch your face to make sure he didn't upset you.

“Come out of your shell vod’ika, our shell most certainly has room for one more.” Hunter says, looking not at you but at the setting suns of the planet. 

“I always wanted a little sister!” Wrecker encourages with an excited hop. You turn to Tech waiting for his take on the situation. 

“Makes logical sense.” He teases, putting his helmet over your head. “Fits well, looks good vod’ika.” The helmet doesn't fit at all, flopping from side to side as you look around. 

“Sounds good to me ori'vod.” you say with a lopsided smile on your face. As the suns finally start to  turn into stars. 

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din” Hunter says, prompting his brother to repeat it after him. 

“Family is more than blood.” You translate to basic stunning at the touching words. 

“Come lil’ sister. It’s kriffing cold out here.” Crosshair says getting up off the ground, Wrecker immediately scrambles to piggyback you to the ship. The five of you teasing each other and laughing all the way.

[bowieandqueen11]

Remember When / Hargreeves Imagine

Request: Love ur writing btw!! I have a Great idea for a Diego fic! Can u do his siblings somehow finding tapes/videos from the mental asylum Diego was in and seeing how badly he was tortured and abused. Then he has a panic attack or something at the end and they comfort him. 

I-ugh anon omg - my heart <3

Warning, some strong language, and also some descriptions of abuse, so please don’t read if it will make you uncomfortable!

Comments and reblogs are so so so appreciated, as this took me honestly way to long XD! Thank you!!

‘Way to go. Real Team Zero back there.’

‘Diego, we’ve already been through this. Dad’s a stubborn prick, as he has been, all our sad lives, yada yada, we’re sorry, okay? We should have known he’d still be the same condescending asshole’, Klaus replies, waving his hands in the air as he climbs the stairs back up to Elliot’s apartment. Rubbing his left eye with his hello tattoo, he uses his right to try and fumble a blunt out of his pocket, clenching it between his teeth. As he feels Luther’s footsteps pound up the rest of the way and jog past him to the landing, he can’t quite seem to light it - his fingers are still trembling too hard from the pain of Ben stealing his body in the way he did.

Running up the stairs after him, Diego leaves behind the rest of his shell shocked siblings. Instead he focuses on tucking in the corners of his shirt back into his pants, trying to do anything to stop himself focusing on Reginald and the tears that still threaten to prick at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t even notice when he walks head first into Klaus, until he has put a hand out and gripped onto his shoulder to stop them both from tumbling back down the stairs like bowling balls and straight into Allison.

‘You, brother, are an idiot. And a fat lot of help’, he smirks, sadly, gently slapping Klaus on his cheek.

‘Rude’, Klaus shrugs, winding his way towards the kitchen and kicking off his shoes in the process, looking for some Vodka to steal.

Allison hops quickly out of the way of the incoming shoes, used to his antics by now, and instead comes to settle next to where Vanya has plodded herself down on the sofa. Fiddling with her oversized jumper, a far away look on her face, Allison places a comforting hand on her bicep and gives her a sorrowful smile.

‘What do we do now?’, Vanya murmurs out as Luther squirms uncomfortably on one of Elliott’s wooden chairs. He ignores the beeping of the machines behind his head, instead swallowing thickly.

‘We, uh... wait for Five, I guess.’

‘No no no, right now, the most important thing we can do to try and change the world, is save JFK.’

‘Ughh we’ve been through this a million times! That’s not how it works Diego!’, Klaus calls from the kitchen, only a cloud of smoke trailing out from behind the wall and filling the room with both a stagnant smell of weed, and a light fog that seems to dampen the small amount of sunlight filtering through the askew blinds, which Elliott had been taking photos through earlier this morning.

‘Look, I get that you’re on some big crusade to prove something to dad, but this is not helpful right now.’

‘We all need to stick together and stop this thing’, Allison chimes in, desperation in her voice.

Luther’s interrupted from his continuing thoughts by a small squeak out of Vanya, following her eyes from where they are trained to a spot on the rug.

‘Oh my god... is that blood? Is someone bleeding?’

‘Holy shit.’

He gets up then, following the trail, beckoning his sisters to stay behind him with his hands until he reaches the dentistry chair at the edge of the landing, grimacing slightly as he turns to swivel it towards him with a squeak. He feels Klaus bump into one side of him, and Diego hit onto his other elbow, a rusty kitchen knife raised and ready, and a look of almost determination on his face, as if he had just been waiting for something awful to happen, just another chain of bad events so he knew his life was back onto its normal tracks.

‘Oh noooo’, Klaus groans, cupping his hands over his mouth as Elliott’s body turns to face them, a knife planted firmly in his eye.

Turning away from the tortured body of his friend, Diego swallows thickly, dropping his knife to the floor and placing an arm over his stomach. None of his siblings really notice, all of them looking over the dead body aghast, wondering, pained that they were the ones who caused something like this. None of them noticed the shake in his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the bile back down his throat again. 

Klaus, however, did notice something. However, sadly for Diego, it was not the right thing - not the signs of shock, anxiety, or guilt that flashed over his brother’s face - the signs of PTSD he would have been the most adapt at noticing in the room. No, instead Klaus looked past poor Elliot’s head, towards a blinking static screen that kept flashing blue and black on a nearby desk, left abandoned underneath the shutter shots of the rest of them by Five.

‘Hello there, what might you be?’

Leaving the rest of them, he fumbled with the buttons on the old TV, trying to shake it out of his head how eerily familiar this seemed to dear old dad’s surveillance system. Hitting any button he can find in vain, he throws his blunt out of his mouth and flicks it across the room, slamming the control panel with the fist of his palm, until his pointer finger somehow managed to falter and hit play on the tape left inside.

Never before had Klaus noticed how much time is like water, that it can drip by in front of his eyes so slowly, or even freeze with each new frame. The past few minutes had passed by as if he had watched a thousand frames per second, too slow to be normal, so unusual. He turns to try and point to his siblings, but his jaw is still so slack and he finds he can’t move his fingers properly. Shock, that’s what they call it, shock, he thinks to himself, fighting to get his words out so they don’t trail out.

There is a sadness in his eyes, the glass green too glossy when he finally turns to his siblings and manages only to feebly point at the screen.

For the first time, since his mouth had been wired shut as a teenager, Klaus was at a loss of words.

This grabbed the attention of his siblings, who crowded over to join him and peer intently at the screen - all except foe Diego, who stayed hovering at the edge of the group.

The screen lights up again, showing an empty room, one without proper handles, only sheets of smooth metal as makeshift windows for staff to peer through. There’s no bed, no mattress on the cold floor, just emptiness, isolation, silence, for the man who sits in the centre of the floor in pure white. They recognise from the shaggy hair and the wild beard that it’s there brother almost immediately.

'You were in an Asylum? What for?’, Vanya asks.

‘For trying to save the President’, Diego manages to mutter, unable to look any of them in the eye. ‘For doing what needed to be done.’

He’s interrupted by himself, the small version of him on the tape muttering to himself, rocking back and forth. ‘I am not enough, I can’t do it, I’m not good enough. You’ll never be number one, never.’  

The door swings open then. In his intense silence, Diego somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile as the doctor approached him with the needle.  

‘Please! Not the needle!’, he begs and cries. ‘Please!’

Luther’s the first to turn round and look at his brother. The first to finally look, to finally see him, how defeated he looks, for the first time since they all landed in that alleyway.  It's the look that he gives Diego. Those pale blue eyes, probing into his soul, desperately wanting to see what's going on in there. That look, it just tore Diego apart, piece by piece, and although it wasn’t his fault, he found himself deeply unsettled, deeply angry at him, at all of them, so suddenly.

‘W-w-what? What are you looking at a-a-ss-’

An invisible hand clasps over his mouth and stops his words from escaping, an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline piercing his heart, making it contort and expand until it feels just about ready to burst. His ribs heave uneasily, and Allison’s afraid he’s about to pass out, Klaus rushing forward, biting his lips. Diego only wants to run, but needs to freeze. All he can do, instead, is fall to his knees, and allow four pairs of hands to catch him before his face hits the floor.

A single tear slides down from his warm, butterscotch eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it's way down his cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of him for all this time but still he did not make a sound. His siblings made the noise for him, warm, comforting little nothings, telling him it was going to be okay, he didn’t have to go back, they were going to do it, save the world. Save themselves.

The hand appeared from nowhere and tightened on his wrist, white knuckled, strong, until Luther had pulled him against his chest, and the others had gently fallen to their knees too and placed their arms around his back as best as they could. Klaus was half leaning over Allison’s leg, and Vanya in turn was completely squished, face first, against his chest, but somehow they made it work.

There is the hug of gentle arms that still gives you the space to breathe, like the ones Grace used to give Diego after a mission. Shutting his eyes, he realises he isn’t used to this type, the kind of hug with strong arms that tells everything that your are - body, brain and soul - that they are with you. 

They stay like that for a while, the five - well, the six of them, as Ben places his arms around his siblings as well, even if they can’t feel him. The six of them, battered, afraid, neglected, and yet, not alone. They huddle there together, embracing each other and crying and just allowing themselves to be open, to be vulnerable with each other, to realise their dad wasn’t there and they didn’t have to go through this alone anymore. 

Tears were wiped and sobbing laughs were shared, and even Five, when he blipped back into the room, saw the set of his siblings hugging on the floor and felt a pang of loneliness and love for his crazy family ring out in his heart that he joined them, if only for a second.

From then they weren’t numbers anymore. They weren’t even siblings. They were more, Diego said with a smile. They were Team Zero.