#It is as fresh in saying it to me now as it ever was when Solomon put ink to paper

[readychilledwine]

Odd One Out pt 2

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner Circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - 10 year time jump, groveling, Fluff, reader forgives Azriel, loosely edited (Liz will fix and check for mistakes she and her friend missed with fresh eyes 💕)

A/N - forgive the name picked for Kal and Vivienne's daughter. So many of you are playing with Disney princess themes I couldn't shake it.

Odd One Out pt 1

✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Dawn was beautiful. In the past 10 years, as you had toured the Realm performing, you had realized that quickly. Every court always brought you back to Dawn. Every High Lord brought you back to Thesan. Thesan had allowed you to build home here, welcoming you and your talent with open arms, and tonight was a true testimony of his love for you and your music as he paid you a high honor.  

Thesan had spent the day hosting the quarterly High Lord's Meeting, and tonight, his gift of relaxation to the other High Lords was you, your orchestra, and a night of candle lit music, champagne, and food. 

You smoothed out the dress Thesan had commissioned for you tonight. An off the shoulder tulle number with long sleeves. It was soft and buttery, flowing with every step. The top hugged you perfectly, and two long slits sat on each leg, exposing them and the heels you were wearing. The fabric was a soft white color, a stark opposite to your conducting gowns in the Night Court. Jewels were sewn into the fabric, dripping down your body like you had been wrapped and bathed in starlight. The only sign of your home was that star-like glow and the earrings Azriel had bought you many years ago. The rough diamonds set in rose gold had backs that dropped on delicate chains with another diamond sitting at the bottom. “something delicate for my gentle girl,” he had whispered that sentence to you, letting it sink into your skin and mind. 

How odd it truly felt to compare that moment to when Azriel sat there in silence as Elain lashed out against all you had built, all your hard work, studying, you're very being. 

You took a deep breath, silencing your nerves as the theater went quiet. Dinner had been served, drinks flowing left and right, and now it was time. You watched as you musicians took their places, sitting and preparing themselves as well. Most had followed you from Night, and last you tragically heard, the Rainbow had grown silent in your absence. The new musicians ranged from every court, every walk of life. You smiled fondly at what you had remade, at their outfits so finely crafted of black fabric and silks. 

Thesan took the stage next, doing something Rhysand never had, “High Lords and Ladies, faithful emissaries, friends. After a long day of tense negotiations, words said in anger and frustration, and Rhysand's horrible father jokes,” a loud “hey” came from the audience making you laugh softly, “I could not think of a more enchanting way to end our night. A decade ago, a talented female came to me, offering to exchange a week of shelter and security for her playing music nightly for my court.” 

Thesan looked so softly towards you, “An offer many of you would go in to receive as well as she traveled our lands studying our music and history. Her talent had touched my fae and myself so deeply that when the time for her to make a home base came, I was honored when she approached me and built this theater to her exact wants and needs.”

He continued after a long breath, “Tonight is her first performance and opening night. I felt it would be wrong for anyone besides all of us to see her newest pieces first. Pieces inspired by every court, by all of our stories, of our fae’s stories. She wrote a collection of 7 songs, for us, about us.”

Silence refell over the room, a quiet appreciation for what they were about to see. “Without further ado, y/n.”

Clapping began as the faelights turned off, and candles took their place, glowing and reflecting off your gown. You bowed gracefully before turning and raising your hands as soon as Thesan took his seat. You began the concert in Tamlin's court, playing a piece inspired by his own love of music and the sounds of a spring storm. The music rose before a gentle fall where everything became more gentle as if it was quiet after a hard rain. You couldn't see as Briar took his hand at the swell, the soft moment where the violin went from the jig of a fiddle to the formality was a reflection of the moment Tamlin's dreams were lost to him, but new dreams began.

Summer was a symphony to the magic of bioluminescence. The sound was heavily inspired by the night of laughter and fun you had watched Varian and Amren enjoy. It had been the ancient female's first time seeing the ocean turn to waves of stars, and Varian had hired you to play for them that night. She cried as a familiar harp solo came, one that she had turned to Varian on one knee as you played it. 

Autumn was the sound of battle and passion. Eris's rise as high lord was captured in every note, every building drum. The high lord openly smiled during the peak. The moment where drums of war faded to the sounds of peace. The sound of peace after war was shown through a soft wood flute playing. An instrument that was born in Autumn's halls.

Winter had been the most unique to compose. Kallias and Vivienne's story was so well known, but their daughter, their darling Elsa, the 10 year old princess, was an unknown and protected factor. You took a deep breath before beginning this piece and looked to the white-haired girl, “For you,” you said softly to her bright grin. Elsa had written on sheet music for you during your stay there, lyrics to accompany the notes on your page, you held out your hand, welcoming your only singer for the night. The song was a desperate plea, a singer begging to be noticed for who she was, for her talent to be noticed before her beauty. You had picked the singer based on how young and fragile her voice sounded, the way it truly felt like a cry as she begged to be looked at for who she was. 

Dawn's turn came and the music felt like taking flight, it encompassed the thrill of the air, of an early morning sunrise adventure. The piece left you breathless due to the amount of movements it took. It was intricately layered and as lively as Thesan's court while maintaining an air of class. 

The Day Court was music of love and sex. Tender moments mixed with playful notes and chords that screamed sensuality. The tone was overall seduction, but moments of tenderness came through as well. It was a tribute to the biggest flirt you knew. The biggest flirt who became the most faithful husband. 

You were left with one court. You turned to begin your thank you and took a deep breath, “Over the past several years, you all have welcomed me into your courts and homes with open arms. You allowed me to study the music of your homes, your culture, and learn to play them to perfection. For that, I will always be grateful and so humbled by the generosity and kindness shown to me.”

You took a deep breath, stilling the last of your nerves. “My story begins in Night, though. My childhood began a long friendship between myself and someone who pushed me towards my dreams. This last song is dedicated to him.”

Azriel heard as Rhysand held his breath. He watched as his brother laced his fingers with Feyre. Feyre began to cry immediately. Of all the songs you composed, this one held the most strings, a clear call to Rhysand and your humble beginnings in the streets of the Rainbow playing. Azriel watched you in awe. 

You turned and a voice you had heard countless times played through magic. It was the moment they had met and a soft purr of, “There you are. I've been looking for you," echoed before the music began.

10 years, 10 years without even so much as a whisper or note. He watched you move with grace, watched as a violin sang softly. The tune was a call to the Inner Circle, and before Azriel could stop them, his shadows began to dance. 

Every movement of your arms and body was like watching liquid starlight sparkle and gleam to the fantasy inducing tune you had created. As your hands fell to indicate the end, Azriel felt his heart stopping. 

It was the bond that drew him to you. 

It was the years of friendship, of quiet nights listening to you play for just him, or long hours with you hands over his, so soft and warm, teaching him to play piano. 

It was the fact that he was in love with you. And he realized he had been for a very long time. 

Kind, talented, beautiful, you. 

He watched as you wiped a few quick tears as you and Rhysand held eye contact. He felt his breath hitch as you bowed during your queue before walking out. 

The orchestra played a familiar tune as everyone stood to leave and feyre began to cry. You had played this song during Feyre's first Starfall, hoping the romantic tune would have been enough to make the high lord and his mate kiss. It became a song they begged you to play every second they could. Rhysand held Feyre while looking at Azriel. 

“Get. Her. Back.”

You did not attend the after party. Seeing the Inner Circle had been too much. You had hoped that after all these years, that pain would be gone. You leaned against your balcony, humming a new tune you wanted to write. A shadow caressed your skin as you moved inside and sat at your harp. “I know you want me to play your song.” The shadow swirled and began to dance as you plucked the taunt strings. 

“You spoil them.” Your breath hitched at that familiar voice. “Don't stop,” Azriel sat down in the corner of the room. “They've missed dancing for you.”

You let out a shaking breath and began again, watching with a soft smile as the shadows weaved and played. The sight always memorized you. They always memorized you. These beautiful shadows were more like children than darkness. Each had a personality, a voice, a preference in instrument. You finished and lowered your hands.

“Elain is probably wondering where you are.”

Azriel rose a brow, “Elain and Lucien are on their honeymoon, sailing the world.” 

You knit your brows. “I'm sorry. I know you loved her.”

“Not the way I love you.” Silence fell over the room, “I have loved you for so long and been blind to it. I will never get back the time I wasted in my stupidity. I will never be able to take back the hurt Elain caused you.” 

You went to open your mouth and speak, “No. I want you just to listen to me, y/n.” You nodded and looked at him. “I love you,” he stated it like a finality. “The bond snapped for me the night you left, but in your absence, I have realized I loved you long before that blessing and that I would love you long after.”

He paused and continued, “I was silent when Elain spoke to you because I was in shock, but that isn't a good enough excuse. She hurt you, and I stayed silent. I will never forgive myself for that, so I do not expect you to. I'm not even worthy of asking you for a chance to make things right, but I am here as a desperate male. A male who wants nothing more than his mate, his love.”

“Azriel-” 

“Listen,” he moved to you, getting in his knees before you and taking you hands in his. He placed one on his face and smiled. “I dream of this gentle hands, of the joy they bring. I dream of you. Of your love and light. Your heart. When I sleep, I pretend I can hear your heart dancing for me, luring me like a siren spell.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and a tear fell, his love for you poured down that neglected bond, warming every inch of your being. “Azriel..” 

“Y/n, I am so sorry I wasted so much of your time, of our time.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight as he continued. “I beg you to allow me to try to make this right. To show you how special you are to me, to our home, to our family. I am begging you for just a chance.” 

His words left like a healing and soothing balm on unseen wounds. “Our family is at a party just below you. Waiting for me to either come back with you or to mourn the loss of you forever. Tell me what I am doing. If I have failed us.”

The party was in full swing as Rhysand watched Nyx and Feyre dance. He held his empty whiskey glass, debating on another one when perfectly manicured hands grabbed his empty glass and placed a full one in his grasp. He grabbed that soft hand instantly, “y/n darling.”

“Rhysand,” He turned and kissed your palm, violet eyes on yours. You continued the greeting softly. “Your presence makes my mind sing the most beautiful song.”

Rhysand held back tears as he answered, “And my heart longs to hear you play it.” He nuzzled your hand. “Come home to us.”

You sighed happily as Azriel rested his hand on your back, “I believe we can negotiate that." 

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp

Odd One Out Taglist:

@gabbiskylar01 @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @blacktreacle22 @buttermilktea11 @heartless-tate @nerdy4itall @eep500 @tele86 @cleverzonkwombatsludge

[satorisoup]

YOUR NUMBER, TO GO .ᐟ

ft. kento nanami

cw : fluff. bakery owner! reader. nanami being absolutely smitten with you.

wc : 897

nanami absolutely despised work environments. he didn’t like the exhausting feeling of sitting in an office, day to day, with nothing but papers and an annoying ring of the telephone to keep him company. he didn’t enjoy the daily routine of work, eat, work again, sleep, repeat. it was getting far too repetitive, and quite frankly, boring. how could he enjoy anything when work was always in the way?

that was until he spotted the cute little bakery on the corner during his lunch one day, practically calling his name to come inside.

as fate would have it, he entered through the dainty doors out of pure curiosity, and with the “—ding!” of a bell, he was greeted with the brightest, cheery smile he thinks he’s ever come across. the excited “ welcome! ” and delicious pastries reeled him in like a fish on a hook, met with a sweet girl dressed in an apron behind the counter. nanami believes he may have just found a gold mine.

he browsed the desserts from behind the glass case, unsure of what to decide on. the strawberry scones? maybe tiramisu? wait, there’s chocolate chip cookies too? he was stuck in his thoughts, options seemingly endless.

and you, an angel sent down to earth, began to speak again, tone sweet like honey, “ first time here? i can recommend you a few things if you’d like, sir. ”

nanami left with an entire box of pastries that day, and he didn’t have one single regret.

the next day, the same situation followed. and the day after, and again after that. his own legs began to betray him, automatically leading him straight down the path to your beloved bakery every time the clock hit 11:15. soon enough, he became one of your most loyal regulars.

you were incredibly warm and inviting. a breath of fresh air, giving him the push he needed to continue through his primitive work day. lunch time was his secret guilty pleasure, which was getting to buy some sweet desserts from an even sweeter girl, who called him “ mister nanami ” as she welcomed him in with a honeyed hello. over time, nanami started to realize that not only were you a pleasant person, but you were also incredibly endearing.

that now leads nanami to his latest predicament, which was how to ask for your phone number without looking like an idiot.

it starts with him showing up to your shop, dressed in his usual work atire, you looking in his direction at the sound of the bell. he makes his way to the display case, mind still whirring with what he should say.

“ oh! mister nanami, i have a new treat today! would you like to try one? ”

nanami is snapped out of his churring decisions, turning to you as you hold out a tray of what you had decided to make today. ah, strawberry sundaes.

“ oh, i’d love to. ” is what he responds with, smiling as you nod your head, taking one to neatly package up for him.

nanami watched your soft, delicate hands wrap his dessert in a pretty cellaphane, all the while you hum to yourself in content as you tie a bow to close it off. your soft humming to the tune that plays like a melody is all too enticing, and— oh, he’s staring. you’ve really got him wrapped around your sugar coated fingers, without a single idea of it. nanami curses himself, really, for not being man enough to grab your phone number before this. hm, how improper and cowardly of him.

“ here you are ! please, tell me how it tastes. i tried a new recipe ! ”

nanami is about to hit his thirties and yet, he feels like a child with the way his heart rate picks up at the sound of your voice. he shovels the comically tiny spoon into the sundae before taking a bite with everything on it.

you’re beautiful and you surely can make a mean sundae. that’s one thing for certain.

“ it’s delicious, as always. how much do i owe you ? let me grab my wallet— ”

“ it’s on the house ! ”

and another thing, you were just so damn generous.

“ i couldn’t possibly— ”

“ mister nanami, i insist ! you’re here almost every day, it’s the least i can do for my favorite customer ! ”

oh ?

nanami thinks all of his logistics may have been thrown out of the window, because the second he heard the implication of him being your favorite customer, accompanied by the precious blush that covers your cheeks, he really doesn’t mind being bold for once in his life.

“ ah. well i don’t want to be greedy, but i wouldn’t mind having something else on the house… ”

“ of course ! anything at all really, what would you like ? ” you innocently asked.

“ is your phone number on the menu ? ”

not a day in nanami’s life would he of ever expected himself to use such a cheesy pick up line on the sweetest girl, but when he sees that same old smile that drew him to you in the first place, he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“ for here or to go, mister nanami ? ”

[thebunnednun]

Good neighbors Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Part 1)

64.media.tumblr.com

AHHHH! Special thanks to @bakugotrashpanda for the prompt/drabble. Freaking love their works!

Okay, fangirling done.

Art is done by: This lovely user here!

I made the Reader come off as so thirsty in this.

_________________________________________________

Every morning, without fail, Farmer Bakugou stops by your cottage with a basket of fresh produce or a dozen eggs in hand. He strides up the path, his rugged frame silhouetted against the morning sun, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with every step. His voice is a low, familiar rumble as he hands over the goods. "Had too many," he grumbles, his tone almost gruff. "What’s a single guy like me going to do with that much food?"

You smile, accepting the gift with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Bakugou. You're too kind." As you speak, your eyes can't help but linger on his sun-kissed skin, admiring the way it glows under the morning light. His hair, tousled and wild, adds to his rugged charm, and you find yourself looking forward to these visits more than you'd care to admit.

"Hmph," he mutters, looking away slightly as if embarrassed by your gratitude. "Just don't let it go to waste, alright?"

The best part of your morning routine, however, comes later. After he leaves, you settle into your favorite chair by the window, sipping on a cup of tea as you watch Bakugou get to work in the fields. He moves with a confident, easy grace, each action purposeful and efficient.

Every now and then, he pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow, using the bottom of his shirt. The fabric lifts, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his chiseled abs, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

When the sun is high and the heat becomes almost unbearable, you decide it’s time to bring him some lemonade. You carefully prepare a pitcher of the cool, refreshing drink, knowing that Bakugou will appreciate it.

As you approach him, you notice that his shirt has come off entirely, his bare torso glistening with sweat. The sight of his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles highlighted by the sunlight makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Hey, Bakugou," you call out, trying to keep your voice steady. "I brought you some lemonade."

He turns, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as he sees you. "Thanks," he says, taking the glass you offer. His fingers brush yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. As he drinks, you can't help but admire the way his throat works, the strong lines of his jaw and neck, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

"You’re always so thoughtful," he says, setting the glass down. His voice is softer now, almost tender. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words. "Just returning the favor. You’re always bringing me fresh produce, after all."

Bakugou chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Guess we make a good team, then."

As you stand there, sharing a moment of quiet companionship in the middle of the sunlit fields, you can’t help but wonder if there might be something more to your relationship than just neighborly kindness. The way his eyes linger on you, the way his smile softens when he looks your way—there’s a warmth there, a connection that goes beyond words.

"How's the farm been treating you?" you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Busy, as always," he replies, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "But I don't mind. It's good, honest work. Keeps me fit."

You glance at his well-toned physique, unable to disagree. "Well, if you ever need an extra hand, you know where to find me."

Bakugou's eyes light up with amusement. "You? In the fields? I'd pay to see that."

You laugh, feeling a flutter in your chest at his playful teasing. "Hey, I can be tough when I need to be."

"I don’t doubt it," he says, his voice serious again. "You're tougher than you look. And smarter too. That shitty garden of yours would've died by now, otherwise."

The awkward compliment catches you off guard, and you find yourself looking away, suddenly shy. "Thanks, Bakugou."

"Anytime," he replies, his voice soft and sincere. "And I mean that."

As you stand there, the sun beating down and the cicadas buzzing in the distance, you realize that these quiet moments with Bakugou are what you cherish most about your day. There’s a comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before. you know its crazy, but you can’t help but hope that he feels the same way.

Bakugou notices your lingering gaze and, for once, doesn't bark at you to stop staring. Instead, he shifts closer, his usual scowl softening just a touch. "You know," he begins, his voice lower, more intimate, "if you ever get tired of being cooped up in that cottage of yours, you're always welcome to come by the farm. Could use someone to keep me company."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. "I might just take you up on that," you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

He nods, satisfied with your answer. "Good. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you," he adds, his smirk returning.

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you say, laughing softly.

Bakugou gives you one last look, his eyes warm and intense. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t want you getting sick or something."

"I will," you promise, touched by his concern.

With that, he turns back to his work, and you head back to your cottage, a newfound warmth in your chest. As you glance back one last time, you see him watching you, a small, secret smile playing on his lips. There’s a comfort in his presence, and for now, you're content with this little exchange you've developed.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, that was my first mha fanfic! Lemme know what y'all think!

Part 2: Link here

[outromoony]

Love confession

@wolfstarmicrofic | Soulmate AU | Word Count: 683

"Do you believe in soulmates?" The moment those words escaped Sirius's lips, he knew he must have said something wrong. Remus was looking at him with an expression of surprise, his eyes wider than usual. He tried to take back his words. "I mean... of course soulmates exist. Look at James and Lily. They are soulmates, without a doubt."

"Why question the existence of soulmates when you've already found yours?" Remus finally spoke, clearly swallowing the emotions that had gripped him just moments before.

"It's just... I don't know. Aren't soulmates supposed to be reciprocal? If someone matches your soul, aren't you supposed to match theirs as well?"

"You don't think you match Mary's soul?" Remus was looking at him with something like a mix of confusion and pity. "And... no. Soulmates are not always reciprocal. Souls aren't perfect, just like their owners. Nothing in the world is perfect—not magic, not humans, not wizards, and certainly not souls."

"I found my soulmate, but they haven't found me."

"What are you talking about? You've had your tattoo since first year. And then dated the one who caused it years later. You broke up with her, yeah, so what? That doesn't mean she isn't the one for you. Just like soulmates, time isn't perfect either. You will find the right time, Sirius; you always do."

Why was Remus always so good with words? It only made him feel even guiltier when he spoke again.

"Mary... she isn't my soulmate."

"What?" Remus's eyes widened, as if he were just looking at him properly for the very first time. "What do you mean?"

"Mary isn't my soulmate; she isn't my permanent tattoo."

"I-" Remus had to shake the surprise out of his face. "But why would you lie about something like that?"

"Maybe because I barely knew you lot at that time?" Sirius laughed with obvious sarcasm. "I just saw the first pretty girl and said it was her. But it wasn't; I never even spoke to her once all first year."

"Then your tattoo..." Remus began, but Sirius cut him off.

"I didn't lie about that. I did get my tattoo at eleven."

"Then why lie about who it was?" Remus was waiting for an answer, and Sirius wanted to give it to him, he always had. But fuck, it was so hard, to look at him in those gorgeous brown eyes and say the words he should have said a long time ago.

So he didn't; instead, he just lifted the sleeve of his shirt until the black ink was exposed.

Sirius could still remember it as if it were yesterday—the first time he met Remus Lupin. The quiet boy had been annoyed with him and James for causing a rampage on the train. He never said anything, but he would shoot them annoyed glances from behind the book he was reading every five minutes.

When all of them were sorted into Gryffindor, Remus was the last one to join them at the table. There was something about him, from the very first moment, that made Sirius want to be close to him forever. He recalled shoving James out of the chair next to him, making it the only available seat so Remus would have to sit beside him.

The first time Remus ever spoke to him was when he realized where and with whom he had ended up. He sat next to Sirius, avoiding eye contact at first. But then he smirked—a malicious, playful smirk that left Sirius feeling breathless and weak. Then he spoke.

"Ah, the universe has a sense of humor, I see."

Those were the exact same words that were now tattooed on his skin. The same words that had been there since the moment Remus met his gaze for the very first time. Sirius looked up to see Remus's reaction after seeing the tattoo. It was one of shock and disbelief, but as he recovered, Remus rolled up his own sleeve as well, revealing a fresh tattoo still red around the edges:

Do you believe in soulmates?

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part v of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[isa-ghost]

In honor of phil confirming that (most) rp phils are the same, maybe some headcanons about q!phil with some of the ex-dsmp members? Or veterans/smpearth?

For the sake of keeping tons of opportunity for more Phil/DSMP member headcanons in the future, I'll focus one duo! And it'd be a fucking crime if I didn't start with Emduo >:)

I WILL say here for anyone thinking of sending more Phil/DSMP requests: I will not be doing Dream Team or Wilbur & Phil. Even though the latter had a huge impact on cPhil. Might change my mind in the future and just gag through it (/lh) but,, for now, no. Fuck that guy.

These might be more general Emduo than DSMP Era specific but hey, that leaves room for more requests too. :D

Dear god these are reminding me I should rewatch Phil's DSMP vods, I'm so rusty on this shit. Apologies in advance if suddenly I get insane about cPhil in the future LMAO.

qPhil headcanons masterlist

First off, I personally don't ship them romantically. I'm not even sure about shipping them as a QPR, that's a maybe. But I do know they were ride or die brothers in arms. The unstoppable force to the other's immovable object. A duo that's down in history in every realm Phil's been in so far.

Even so, just bc he had no feelings of that kind for Techno specifically, spending so much time with him as just the two of them still contributed to him going "Hm. Yknow what, I think I could see myself having a male life partner maybe." So thanks Techno for still playing SOME part in Phil's journey into being fruity.

Techno was one of the first immortals Phil ever encountered, at least the first one he befriended and stayed around long term. It.. was a breath of fresh air to say the least. To know he had eternity with Techno if all things went well, to never have to fear being alone again, knowing there'd always be a when I see you again.

But Techno was immortal, not invulnerable. Same as Phil. Phil was shattered when he lost him. It's by far the worst instance of being reminded he's permanently fated to lose any and all attachments he makes.

Techno found endless entertainment in Phil basically playing Get Off My Lawn with every other member ever whenever they'd come bother the two in their tundra home. He'd purposely go without additional measures to keep people out and away just because he loved watching Phil deal with it or hearing him rant about how many times he had to while Techno was asleep or away.

Phil personally did NOT like some of the "allyships" Techno chose to make, but he was still ride or die with him, so he tolerated them and helped him. And he trusts Techno. He knows in the end, Techno saw some kind of benefit for them. Or the two of them mutually agreed that the destruction entailed in the task was worth it.

Though that changed throughout their time in DSMP. Repeatedly being used and weaponized or crawled to out of desperation rather than genuine desire. It made Phil HATE people for a while, especially mortals. It's why QSMP has him so fucked up present day. For an entire year he was wanted by people, for him. He encouraged Techno to go as ballistic as he did. Even if it was a means to someone else's ends, if they were brutal then at least it demonstrated that the two of them were NOT to be fucked with or taken for granted.

The fucking house arrest and "festival." GOD. That was the first time in a long time Emduo had endured some kind of trauma together. It kicked Phil while he was already down. The fact that none of them cared how he felt or thought in the wake of putting his son out of his misery, now they were giving him a front row seat to the execution of the only person close to him he had left in this realm. Techno felt like the only tangible thing he had left, and they had the audacity to force him to watch them attempt to rip that thing away as if he hadn't lost enough or didn't care that he did. The attempt made Phil EXTREMELY protective of Techno, even though Techno was extremely able to handle himself.

The Syndicate was Emduo's attempt at a found family of their own. What L'Manberg had going was solid minus the government part, it wasn't the community that was the problem. As two immortals who didn't have much besides each other, it was nice to take in a couple people who'd been wronged or forsaken just like them and give them a place to belong and hopefully find some peace. Besides, Phil LOVED being a mentor for them, showing them how to fight & such. Training them alongside Techno,, 🤩 That was his happy place, teaching others to be as strong as them.

Phil's always been more of a Support role guy. He's said it himself plenty of times. That went for Techno especially. He let Techno call the shots, and he'd be at his side no matter what. There's something to be said about how in the same way Etoiles said "I am your arms, just tell me who needs to die," Phil was very much the same way for Techno.

God, honestly, aside from the whole being used repeatedly thing, DSMP gave Phil so much nostalgia for SMPE. Him and Techno vs everything else. He'd missed wearing those antarctic outfits.

When he arrived in DSMP, he didn't expect Techno to be there. He was ELATED, even though he was nowhere near in the emotional state to show it.

I am OBLIGATED to mention the oopsie with the creeper in Techno's cabin. Phil was so bad at playing dumb about it and pretending it never happened. Techno would've never let him live it down.

Phil often falls into mentor roles whenever he's among people. He did no differently in DSMP. But not for Techno. He always appreciated how Techno didn't need him, he wanted him. Now that he's gone, Phil really hopes he finds that kind of companionship again. It's not quite the same as what he has with Kristin or Rose.

After Techno left DSMP, Phil grew even more protective of the tundra. He viciously forbid anyone outside of the Syndicate from coming around unless they had a damn good reason. He'd sooner throw his friendship emerald in lava than let something happen to the cabins while Techno was gone, no matter how long that might've been.

[inuhalfdemon]

Lucifer and Alastor x Reader

Prompt via ask from @nyx91

Reader w/ health issue involving heart

________________________________________________

"She should get up and walk. Some fresh air might do her good." Lucifer suggests.

"Walking is what made her get so dizzy that she collapsed, you ass." Alastor tells him; he is carefully laying you down on the couch in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel.

"I just thought it might help!" Lucifer is defensive. "I don't know... I've never been sick! Lilith's never been sick...Hell, Charlie was never sick!"

"Tough love is hardly the balm she needs..." Alastor is knelt by the couch beside you, he brushes the bangs from your eyes, tucking the hair back. "And, she's not sick... she has a heart condition. She just had an attack. She told us about it when she first arrived; you don't recall?"

"I don't know...I thought it was something that was supposed to make finding redemption harder for her...like, she couldn't feel love or...her heart was two sizes too small, or-"

"You thought she was The Grinch?" Alastor hissed at him, adjusting the pillows underneath your head now. Alastor notices you are clenching your hands; that you are pale and have a slick sheen of sweat across your face and forehead.

"Make yourself useful and come over here. Fresh air isn't a bad idea; fan her with your wings." Alastor tells Lucifer.

Lucifer quickly brings his wings out, stepping back, he creates a wafting wind that is cool against your heated skin and somehow eases the tightness in your chest.

"Is she running a fever!? We could shock her system...dunk her in ice water. Or do we need leeches?" Lucifer wondered, still waving his wings.

"Luci, if I'm ever ailing and there's only you to take care of me...stay the fuck away from me." Alastor growled.

"She's in pain."

Alastor thinks of something, and he asks you, "Do you take medication, dear? Would it help now?" You nod, but the thought of having to make it up the stairs to your hotel room is too overwhelming. Alastor nods back, understanding the worried look in your eyes. "I can fetch it for you. If you don't mind, of course." You tell him in what room, where it is and he stands up.

"Don't try to help while I'm gone. Just keep doing that." Alastor directed him, quickly disappearing into shadow.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, still moving his wings and folding his arms.

He's grumbling but you manage to catch, "....bossy motherfucker..."

Alastor is back right away; finding just what you needed. He manifests a glass of water for you, conjuring it smoothly with a snap of his fingers and a puff of green. He hands everything to you. 

"I'm really not good with this sort of...stuff." Lucifer confesses, feeling awkward with not having helped much.

"Why would you be?" Alastor asked him and you think the next thing he says will be coated in snark but, "You've never had ailments...neither did Lilith. Charlie is Hellborn. You've never had to really think about it... I, myself, was often sick as a child. I know what something like this feels like..."

After awhile, you start to feel a little bit better. Your chest isn't as tight and the pain is subsiding. You're no longer pale or sweating so you tell Lucifer that he's ok to stop fanning you now.

"Are you hungry? Or do you need anything else?" Alastor asks you, noting that you are improving. You tell them no... you're still dizzy, disoriented and feeling nauseous...but, you'd appreciate their company.

Lucifer smiles, folding his wings away he comes to sit beside the couch next to Alastor. "That I can do. You know, I've got loads of stories... there's one where I went down to Georgia, and I was looking for a soul to steal..."

Alastor rolls his eyes.

You know this one, of course, but Lucifer is happy to tell it and you're glad for the distraction...and the companionship.

[tgcg]

ive been a tgcg fan ever since the earlyish days of the blog and i cant believe only now im going to send in an ask despite enjoying your work for a while now, going to fix that now i guess.. ahem.. i know you probably get dis alot but i jst wanna say i love love love your art, writing, playlists, comics & your interpretation of davekat as a whole, its a breath of fresh air and feels very 'in character' and comforting to me in a way? very silly and natural.. esp the dialogue in ur comix, it feels.. real,, i could reread your stuff for hours and stare at your pretty colour choices as well, vry awesum 😁 its been sooo cooool to see this blog improve &grow over time, i love going back here every now n again when i remember so i can like all the posts.. one of my fave piecez of yours is def the big dk week one, i love all of them actually but that one is spechul 2 me

..sorry if this is too long and/or annoying, i just had to gush over this blog cause its ceritified AWESOME. anyway, have a good day for the rest of ur days randy of tgcg 🍀🍀

hehe hey hell ya i recognise ur url from quite a while back!

thank u so so much. i rly have come a long way w my ms paint mouse skillz since i started this blog, which honestly wasnt even the point of the blog remotely, but i just got so into doing it. its gotten 2 a point where i get a lil embarrassed looking @ some of my earlier stuff, but i just think abt how much fun i had doing it & that it made ppl happy, & it goes away. this blog has always been abt fun

not annoying at all, im always blown away by the kindness of my fwlrs, u guys r rlly rlly lovely ppl & its smthing i never wouldve expected out of making this blog. U R certified AWESOMESAUC !

i hope u also have a lovely 4ever & thank u for sticking with me 🧡

[l7tee]

flowers﹕adam — hazbin hotel (541 w.c)

content﹕ fluff ⋮ fruit and flower picking ⋮ light language use ⋮ gn!reader

synopsis﹕ you and adam are in eden, and he picks you these things he calls 'flowers' !

you and adam were the first humans, living in the paradise god had called eden.

you two had everything a human could ever want and more. fresh water, beautiful animals, fresh food, and each other. what could anyone else ever long for that wasn't already in eden?

everything was perfect. adam was happy, you were happy.

you two were living the perfect life together.

"look at these things." adam said, walking up to you with a smile on his face, holding a group of beautiful plants in his hand.

"do you wanna name them with me? i'm going to call them flowers, but i might need help from you naming them each."

the man said, a gentle breeze blowing against his back, making his fluffy brown hair wave in the wind ever so perfectly.

"these are so fucking pretty, kind of like youing to call them flowers, but i might need help from you naming them each." adam whispered, chuckling at himself afterwards. "god, that's so corny. come on, get out of the water and name this shit with me."

that's right, he told you to get out of the water.

you were bathing in the large pool of water god had left for you two, fresh, clean water.

adam was practically watching you bathe as he talked about these things he named flowers.

eventually when you came out of the water, he smiled and put a crown he had weaved with sticks and plants on his head, offering one he had made for you out of flowers and sticks.

"i'm gonna name this one daisy, and this one rose." adam said, motioning for you to sit next to him as he pointed to a white flower, and then a red flower.

"and this one.. hm." he began, his lips pursing.

for a moment, it seemed like the first man himself was at a loss of words for the flower's beauty.

"i might name it after you." adam said, picking up the flower in between his pointer and middle finger and placing it behind your ear, his touch was gentle.

yet his hands were rough, he had nice hands to say the least.

"look, don't think i'm weird or anything but.. you look nice. you look pretty, even."

woah. did the first man just call you pretty?

apparently, he did.

"don't take it too personal though, don't let it get to your head. i was the first one here and without me, you'd be nothing. i fucking rock, got that?" adam asked, a smirk spread on his lips as he twirled a flower inbetween his fingers.

"look, i call this a bouquet." adam said, holding a bunch of flowers in his hand, he was holding his hand out to you.

he was giving you flowers.

he may have been a complete and total asshole, but you had to admit, he had his moments where he could be nice.

"the sun is lowering, we have to make food soon. you go rinse off some of those fruits over there, i'll go pick some more fruit off of those trees while you do that. don't fuck it up, or i'll kill you myself."

adam said, he had a smile on his face now.

and though he'd never admit it, he never regretted naming that flower after you.

[paintedvanilla]

I feel really sick and ill about the guy at work who won’t take the hint actually like I’m home now sitting in my room and I feel Terrible. physically nauseous.

[claitea]

i restarted my pkmn black file a while ago and just beat the elite four and i am feeling. so normal about n harmonia i swear. i just need a minute though going in his room shattered me

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Felt some kind of a way and cried out to the Lord; "Lord!" It may have sounded like an expletive to other ears, but immediately his Word came to my mind, and he spoke to me, and said, "in every thing acknowledge Him, and he shall direct thy paths."

[lace-chocolate]

🤍

[heyitslapis]

I hate being digestible

[neverendingford]

.

[cupcakeshakesnake]

It took me too long to realize that not all the world is my enemy

[ID: A comic done mostly in black and white. A hound with a broken chain around its neck flees a cage and runs into two reaching hands. The hound bites one hand, drawing blood. Narration says, "When I fled my cage / I bit the hands that took me in / Because the only hand I'd ever known / was a bad one."

The hands, now with fresh bite marks, still reach out gently to the hound. ""We're not him." they said / and I knew what they meant / but I didn't understand."

Floating in white space: "Now I understand / but the damage is done."

A person enters a door, rolling a suitcase, saying "Hi" to two people on a couch, who look up from their newspapers and phones to say "Hey" and "Hi" back. The shadow of the person who entered the room stretches out before them-- a hound's, not a person's. Narration: "I'm so sorry / I couldn't help it / I couldn't help myself."

We see the hands of the people on the couch. Both have faded bite marks on them. "I was so blind, I forgot / that not all hands are made of iron." End ID]

(ID by @princess-of-purple-prose)