#Query Deserves Freshness

[the-rankon]

Query Deserves Freshness

Query Deserves Freshness (QDF) is a vital SEO principle that helps websites rank higher for time-sensitive or trending topics by ensuring search engines return the freshest, most up-to-date content. By aligning with user intent and updating content regularly, QDF enhances search rankings, boosts traffic, and improves user experience, ensuring that a website stays competitive in a fast-paced digital environment.

[inqnest]

Mastering Query Deserves Freshness (QDF): Your Key to SEO Success

In the ever-evolving world of SEO, staying ahead means understanding the strategies that make search engines tick. One such crucial concept is Query Deserves Freshness (QDF) — a game-changer for ranking in search results. Whether you’re an SEO beginner or a seasoned marketer, grasping QDF can significantly impact your strategy. So, what is QDF, and how can it shape your approach to search engine optimization? Let’s break it down.

What is Query Deserves Freshness (QDF)?

Query Deserves Freshness (QDF) is a concept introduced by search engines to prioritize fresh, relevant content for specific queries. It recognizes that some searches — like those related to current events, trends, or rapidly changing topics — demand up-to-date information. By leveraging QDF, businesses can improve their chances of appearing in top search results, delivering timely value to their audiences.

For instance, when users search for “new iPhone launch,” Google’s algorithm ensures that the latest, most relevant content takes center stage. This dynamic approach helps users access accurate information while offering businesses a unique opportunity to capture attention through fresh content.

Why is Query Deserves Freshness Important?

Search engines aim to satisfy user intent, and QDF is a key tool for delivering real-time relevance. Whether your niche is technology, finance, or healthcare, QDF ensures your content aligns with what’s trending in your industry.

By prioritizing fresh and timely content, search engines reward businesses that stay on top of emerging topics. This is especially critical for businesses targeting trending keywords or localized searches where up-to-date information is essential to engage users.

How Does Query Deserves Freshness Work?

The QDF mechanism evaluates various freshness signals to rank content. Here’s how it works:

Freshness Signals: Google considers factors like publish date, content updates, and user engagement to assess how current the content is.

Timely Content Ranking: Newly created or updated content that aligns with a trending topic gets preference in search results.

User Intent Alignment: QDF prioritizes content that directly satisfies search intent, ensuring users receive valuable insights promptly.

Why QDF is a Must-Have for Your SEO Strategy

For businesses in dynamic industries, QDF can be a goldmine. Regularly publishing fresh content or updating existing posts boosts your visibility for queries requiring the latest information. This not only drives traffic but positions your website as an authoritative source.

Whether you’re focused on national SEO or local SEO, leveraging QDF enables you to connect with users searching for timely, relevant insights. It’s not just about ranking higher — it’s about being a trusted resource for fresh, actionable content.

Top Strategies to Leverage Query Deserves Freshness

Create Timely Content Stay ahead of industry trends by crafting content on emerging topics, breaking news, or hot discussions. This proactive approach ensures your content is primed for trending searches.

Update Existing Content Regular updates keep older posts relevant while boosting their SEO value. For instance, incorporate new statistics, insights, or case studies into evergreen content to maintain its freshness.

Use Multimedia for Engagement Adding videos, infographics, and podcasts not only enhances user experience but also improves your chances of ranking in featured snippets or video results.

Challenges of Implementing Query Deserves Freshness

While QDF offers clear benefits, there are challenges to consider:

Content Saturation: Competitive industries may require extra effort to stand out amidst similar content.

Resource Management: Keeping content fresh demands time and resources, especially for businesses with extensive material.

Over-Optimization Risks: Avoid stuffing trendy keywords or forcing updates that feel unnatural. Always prioritize value for your audience.

Conclusion: Staying Fresh for SEO Success

Optimizing for Query Deserves Freshness is a continuous effort that requires strategic planning and execution. For businesses looking to maintain an edge, partnering with the right SEO agency can make all the difference.

If you’re looking for results-driven solutions, consider working with an experienced team to help you create fresh, engaging content that resonates with your audience. Whether you’re targeting new trends or refining your existing strategy, QDF is your ticket to staying competitive in the fast-paced digital landscape.

For more tips and SEO strategies, connect with us today and take the first step toward a stronger, fresher digital presence!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Mission Dad

Character: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky is just your average dad in his daughter's eyes. But deep down, she yearns for a father with more influence and power, like her friend's dad. Little does she know, Bucky is anything but ordinary.

Words Count: 3,712

Warning: Slightly bullying scene.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The midday sun streamed into the principal's office through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the abundance of light, the atmosphere inside remained heavy and gloomy.

"I’m sorry; it’s my mistake as a parent." You bowed your head to the people in front of you: two couples who wore formal suits, along with their teenage daughter, and the principal, who kept wiping the sweat from his head.

Your daughter, Faith, who stood beside you, clenched her fist. Her expression was ugly as she looked at her mother, apologizing and bowing to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Mom, don't apologize. it’s not even my fault.”

You glanced at her and nodded, assuring her that you didn’t feel hurt or offended.

Sabrina, your daughter's classmate, smirked at you and Faith. With her mouth silent, she told Faith, “You can’t win.”

“Yes. It’s just a small matter.” Roy, Sabrina's father and also a senator, patted his daughter's head. “I think this matter doesn’t have to go public, right?” He turned to the principal.

“That’s right.”

With that, the problem was solved. But the scar still felt fresh on Faith’s heart.

As you drove the car back home, the silence hung heavy between you and Faith. Then, unexpectedly, her voice broke the quiet. “Why did you marry dad?” Faith crossed her arms beside you, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her question. You hadn't anticipated such a query from your daughter.

“Why did dad let you go alone and allow you to be humiliated?” Faith wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. The memory of you apologizing on her behalf still fresh in her mind.

You felt a pang of heartache seeing your daughter in distress. Today's events had revealed a truth you hadn't known before. The reason for your confrontation with Sabrina's parents was rooted in the bullying Faith had endured.

Faith had gathered evidence – recordings and screenshots of text messages – hoping it would be enough to put an end to the torment. But the power and influence wielded by Sabrina's family proved formidable.

With the evidence at hand, Faith had the potential to tarnish Sabrina's family name and derail her father's career as a senator.

Your fists clenched at the thought of Sabrina's cruelty towards your daughter. You wanted to scream, to exact some form of justice for Faith's pain. The urge to confront Sabrina and her allies gnawed at you, a primal instinct to protect your child at any cost.

But you held it in, knowing that today you didn't have the power to fight back. Another reason was because your husband wasn't here. Bucky Barnes had been gone for months for his job, a job so complicated that contacting him was nearly impossible.

You caressed Faith’s hair gently. “I'll try calling your father again.”

Faith sighed, her frustration evident. “He better answer, or else I'll find a better dad.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the circumstances. “Honey, don’t joke like that. Your father is the only one in my heart.”

She pretended to gag, a playful gesture that reminded you of the teasing banter you shared as a family. Whenever Bucky returned home from his job, you would become lovesick teenagers, unable to keep your hands off each other.

******

Back at home, you glanced around to ensure no one was near before your hand slid open a secret shelf, revealing an old flip phone hidden within.

You dialed a number and waited anxiously until a voice finally answered, "Hello?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Steve, can you find him?"

“Not yet,” came the disappointing reply.

You sighed again, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "Alright, I’ll call you later."

Closing the phone, you rubbed your temples, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. Your daughter was right – you needed Bucky.

Just then, you heard heavy footsteps descending from the second floor. "Mom, I’m going out for a sec."

You glanced up in surprise, realizing Faith was already on the move. "Faith, we just arrived!" But it was too late – she had already slipped out the door.

******

Faith heard your voice, but she sprinted faster. She had caught the name "Uncle Steve" in your conversation, indicating that he might know where her dad was. They had been friends since childhood, and she trusted him.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop owned by Uncle Steve, she pushed open the glass door and was greeted with a warm "Welcome."

Steve was taken aback. "Faith?"

Approaching him, Faith cut to the chase. "Uncle, do you know where my dad is?"

Steve hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he shook his head. "You know he has to travel all the time."

Faith rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yeah, cleaning up someone else's mess. He keeps saying that, but when there’s trouble at his own home, he's never there."

Sensing the tension, Steve tried to diffuse the situation. "Hold up, the topic is getting heavy. Let’s sit down." He gestured towards a nearby table, inviting Faith to sit and talk more calmly.

Steve offered Faith her favorite chocolate mint drink to cheer her up. Taking a sip, Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her. She grumbled and sighed, “I don’t understand why mother married my dad when she can’t depend on him.”

Steve widened his eyes in surprise. “Your dad would be heartbroken to hear that,” he said softly. Having a daughter could be both sweet and scary, he thought, realizing the impact of her words.

“But it’s true. I also found out that mother came from a well-known family. But she cut ties with them because she married dad,” Faith sighed, her gaze drifting to the café window. “I wish I had a powerful dad.”

Steve sighed sympathetically, picking up on Faith’s frustration, as well as your own from the last phone call. “What happened, Faith?”

As Faith recounted the events of the day, Steve listened intently, his expression growing increasingly enraged. “How dare they do that!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table, causing the café patrons to jump.

“There’s nothing I can do since her father is a senator,” Faith lamented.

After a moment of silence, Steve spoke firmly. “Faith, don’t worry. Your father will handle this.”

“But—” Faith began.

“It’s not my place to tell you. Believe in your father. He’s stronger and more powerful than you think.”

Faith couldn’t argue with her uncle’s words. “Fine,” she relented, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll go back.”

Steve wanted to offer her a ride home. “Let me drive you,” he suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I need some alone time. And it’s not far,” Faith declined.

Steve nodded understandingly. “Text me when you get home,” he urged.

“Okey dokey,” Faith replied before heading out of the café.

Back at home, you continued to wait anxiously for your daughter to return. Dinner time had long passed, and worry gnawed at your insides. You picked up the phone and dialed Steve. "Is Faith with you?" you asked urgently.

Steve's voice sounded grave on the other end. "She was, but she left around 4:50 p.m.," he replied.

Your heart sank. "Steve, she still hasn't come home," you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

Without hesitation, you jumped into your car and raced to Steve's café. He was waiting for you at the park nearby, his expression as pale as yours. You could see the worry etched on his face as you approached him, your breath coming in heavy gasps.

Coming closer, you noticed that Steve was holding Faith's smartwatch in his hand. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Faith had been kidnapped.

You panicked, struggling to catch your breath, and Steve steadied you with a reassuring hand on your back.

"I'll call for backup," Steve declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"I—" you began, but the sudden phone ring interrupted you both.

The familiar ringtone brought a wave of relief flooding over you. With trembling hands, you quickly accepted the call. "Bucky!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just got the chance to call you. I—" Bucky's voice sounded cheerful, relieved to hear his wife's voice again.

"Our daughter has been kidnapped!!!" you blurted out, the urgency in your tone cutting through the cheerful facade.

"Who dares lay a hand on our daughter?" Bucky's voice dripped with icy resolve, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

********

As Faith struggled to focus through her pounding headache, Sabrina's taunting voice cut through the dimly lit room.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice as she leaned in closer to Faith. "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"

Faith clenched her fists, her jaw set with determination despite her fear. "What do you want, Sabrina?" she managed to grit out, her voice trembling slightly.

Sabrina's laughter echoed off the grimy walls, sending shivers down Faith's spine. "Oh, just a little payback for ruining my life," she replied, her tone dripping with venom. "Thanks to you, my parents are furious with me. I'm grounded, all because of your little stunt."

Faith's heart sank as she realized the extent of Sabrina's anger. She knew she had caused trouble for Sabrina, but she never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Sabrina, sensing Faith's vulnerability, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Well, let's see how smart you really are when you're at my mercy."

Fear gnawed at Faith's insides as Sabrina's words sank in. She knew she was entirely at Sabrina's mercy, with no one to help her in this dark, desolate place. She braced herself for whatever torment Sabrina had in store, steeling herself for the trials ahead.

As Faith scanned the dimly lit room, her heart sank as she noticed an array of menacing tools laid out on the table. Were they planning to kill her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

Sabrina's malicious grin widened as she picked up a baseball bat, swinging it menacingly a few times. The sound of the bat cutting through the air sent a chill down Faith's spine, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Closing her eyes tightly, Faith began to pray silently, her mind racing with desperate pleas for someone to come to her rescue.

With an evil smile stretching across her face, Sabrina walked menacingly closer to Faith, raising the baseball bat higher with each step. Faith could feel the weight of impending doom settling over her like a heavy blanket. She wished she had stayed home with you, safe and sound. She longed to see her father, to feel his reassuring presence beside her.

"Dad, help me," she whispered desperately, her voice barely audible amidst the tension of the moment.

"I'm here," a deep voice rumbled through the darkness, sending a surge of hope coursing through Faith's veins. Could it be? Was it truly her father?

"I'm sorry I'm late," the voice continued, each word like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, Faith couldn't believe her ears. Was she in heaven? But then, a second time, the voice pierced through the silence, more tangible than ever. "Dad!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping open.

Standing tall and imposing in front of her was Bucky, her father. He stood alone but radiated a sense of power and strength that dwarfed everyone else in the room. With a swift motion, he halted Sabrina's advancing bat, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Sabrina had always thought her father, Roy, was intimidating, but the aura of power emanating from Bucky now was on a whole other level. She could sense a palpable bloodlust emanating from him, a primal energy that seemed to course through his veins.

With a voice that trembled with fear, Sabrina managed to stammer out, "Who... who are you?"

Bucky's gaze bore into Sabrina with an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively. "I'm Faith's father," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "And now, I'm going to teach all of you a lesson."

*******

At the grand mansion, Roy lounged in his armchair, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully as he gazed into the crackling fireplace.

The sudden ringing of his phone shattered the tranquility of the moment. "Hello?" he answered, his voice laced with annoyance at the interruption.

"Dad!!!" Sabrina's panicked voice came through the line, causing Roy to furrow his brow in confusion.

"Why are you screaming like a crazy person?" he retorted, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Someone tried to kill me!!!" Sabrina's voice trembled with fear, sending a chill down Roy's spine.

"Stop being dramatic," he scoffed dismissively, though a flicker of concern flashed in his eyes.

"She's right," a new voice interrupted, sending a shiver down Roy's spine.

"And who is this?" Roy demanded, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Your nightmare. And you're next," came the chilling response, causing Roy's blood to run cold.

"Tsk. Empty threat," Roy scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"No, Dad. He's serious. Call all the bodyguards!!!" Sabrina's urgency cut through the air, leaving Roy no choice but to take her warning seriously.

Roy wasted no time in taking action. He swiftly dialed his secretary's number, his expression tense with determination as he issued his orders.

"Get ready for an intruder," he commanded tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Call in all the bodyguards. I want the mansion secured from every angle. Do whatever it takes to protect us."

As he spoke, Roy's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, his mind racing with thoughts of the potential threat looming outside.

*******

As the night wore on, tension hung thick in the air of Roy's mansion. The threat from the mysterious voice had put everyone on edge, and they remained vigilant, acutely aware of any unusual sounds or movements.

"Good. Let that kid stay there for a while. She only brings trouble," Roy remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke of Sabrina's misfortune.

"Who tried to hurt us?" Roy's question hung heavy in the room, unanswered and unsettling.

His wife, equally on edge, offered her own speculation. "Do you think it's the Barnes?"

Roy pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Impossible. I looked it up. Barnes is just a nobody."

But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. Could he be wrong? Was there more to the Barnes family than he had initially assumed?

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house turned eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Then, piercing through the silence, came the sound of screams echoing through the halls. "AARGH!"

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The sharp cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves of fear through the inhabitants of the mansion.

"What the fuck is going on?" Roy demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Are we going to be safe?" His wife's voice trembled with uncertainty, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, the bodyguards in this room with us are former special ops," Roy reassured, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own anxiety.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, his posture firm and resolute. "It's alright, ma'am. We can handle this," he assured, his words instilling a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The door swung open, revealing just one figure standing in the doorway.

As the bodyguard moved to intercept him, Bucky strode forward confidently, his eyes fixed on Roy. "You have to stop before you get hurt," the bodyguard warned, his voice tinged with concern.

But Bucky paid no heed to the warning. With a swift motion, he grabbed the bodyguard's hand and effortlessly snapped it, causing him to curse in pain.

"Shit!" the bodyguard exclaimed, clutching his injured hand as Bucky swiftly took down the rest of the security detail with brutal efficiency.

The bodyguard, his eyes wide with shock, leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Do you think it's him? The lunatic?"

His friend's expression mirrored his own disbelief as he muttered back, "Shit. You're right."

Their hushed conversation carried a sense of unease as they watched Bucky's brutal efficiency in dispatching their colleagues, leaving them wondering if they were genuinely facing the infamous lunatic they had heard whispers about.

With blood streaked across his face, Bucky closed in on Roy, who tensed, assuming a defensive stance. "So you're strong, huh?" Roy challenged, his fists clenched as he prepared for a fight. "I was in the military too. Which special force are you from?"

"Black ops," Bucky replied curtly, his words sending a chill down Roy's spine.

Before Roy could react, Bucky unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Roy staggered backward under the onslaught, his face contorted with pain as he struggled to defend himself against Bucky's relentless assault.

Roy, already on the floor, bloodied and battered, pleaded desperately, "Wait. Wait!!! Are you Faith's father? The problem between our daughters is done. And this morning your wife also agreed to it. They're just kids."

The words "just kids" rang hollow in Bucky's ears as he thought of Faith, bruised and battered, her innocence shattered by the cruelty of others.

His heart ached at the memory, and he felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over him.

Bucky laughed darkly, the sound chilling to the bone. "My wife gave you a last chance. But your daughter blew it," he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain.

Roy's eyes blazed with fury as he struggled to rise. "Who do you think you are? You're just a fucking nobody. I'm a senator. Even if you raze my house to the ground, tomorrow you'll be sleeping in jail. Along with your wife and kid," he declared, his voice trembling with rage and defiance.

"Oh, so you're that powerful, huh?" Bucky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at Roy.

"I'm that powerful, you son of a bitch," Roy shot back defiantly, his voice strained with anger and frustration.

With a cold smirk, Bucky reached for his old flip phone, his fingers moving with calculated precision as he dialed a number. "Senator Roy? You know him? Yeah, that one. Could you erase him? Thanks," he said casually into the phone before ending the call.

Roy's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to convey his disbelief and fear.

But Bucky wasn't finished yet. With a swift motion, he snatched Roy's phone from his trembling hands and quickly scrolled through the contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he dialed the number without hesitation.

"Call him. Tell him there's a lunatic who wants to kill you," Bucky commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he handed the phone back to Roy.

Roy's hands shook as he brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding with dread. "Hello?"

"Commissioner!! There's a lunatic trying to kill me, he's hurt my daughter," Roy screamed into the phone, desperation and fear lacing his words.

But to his horror, all he heard in response was a calm voice saying, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What?" Roy's voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the phone in trembling hands.

"Who are you? You're just a guy from a cleaning company." Roy looked up at Bucky, dis, belief etched across his bloodied face.

"You messed with the wrong daughter," Bucky replied coolly, his voice dripping with a quiet menace.

Bucky Barnes, known by the nickname "Cleaning Service," earned his moniker through his unparalleled expertise in handling the toughest missions in black ops. With hundreds of missions under his belt, not a single one had ever failed. His reputation as a lunatic preceded him, but he wore the label with indifference on the field.

However, when it came to his family, especially his daughter Faith, Bucky preferred to shed his tough exterior and play the role of a regular dad. He didn't want to frighten her with tales of his dangerous exploits; instead, he chose to shield her from the harsh realities of his profession.

But now, as danger loomed closer to home, Bucky realized that pretending to be someone he wasn't no longer served him or his family. It was time to embrace his true self and unleash the full extent of his capabilities to protect those he loved.

Before Roy could react, Bucky delivered a devastating punch that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

*******

As Bucky stepped out of the mansion, a cry of relief and joy erupted from both you and Faith.

"Bucky!" you exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.

"Dad!" Faith called out, her voice choked with emotion as she joined in the hug.

Steve watched the heartwarming family reunion scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, especially with the backdrop of the burning house behind them.

Bucky held his daughter close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "I'm sorry. I let you and your mother get hurt," he murmured softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Faith shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "No, Dad. You're not late. You're so cool," she reassured him, her words filled with love and admiration.

Bucky smiled, a rare warmth spreading across his features as he looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said softly before gazing at you. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm back.I will never let anyone else underestimate us ever again," he whispered, his voice filled with determination and love.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[dhampling]

one fem!reader, 2k

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?”

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

-

astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that's it. that's the plot.

word count: 2,028

an: fluff, fluff n more fluff. no smut this time. soon. promise. parts ONE and TWO linked respectively but can be read alone.

-

“She’s asleep, Astarion!” 

You are wide eyed, furious; speaking in a whispered shout at your husband.

His pale hands flit across the ties of your shirt, frisking every which way they turn. You slap them off like flies on fruit.

“Even more reason to take advantage of the situation, if you ask me.” He murmurs hungrily in your ear, hands now circling down to your waist to tug on your waistband.

“It’s a fine job I didn’t ask you then!” Gritted teeth. Eyes aflame. Cornered against the dresser.

The crib beside your bed holds your infant daughter - skittish and fresh to a world wholly unknown in every sense of the word. She rests rarely and wails often for company in these early months of being alive with you both. Pallid and red-eyed yet beautiful beyond comparison and entirely yours. 

Seeing you together brings him joy unparalleled. 

He has, genuinely; never been prouder of anything of his doing - saving the Sword Coast is a drop in the ocean that is completely and utterly awash with love for your youngling. The mistaken mess of his own bastard elven vampiric genetics now born unto another. This time it would be right. The hunger, the rot; the abuse and neglect, they were hundreds of miles away.

He would make it right. 

But it was already so. She was here, and you all cried together in that dark, sweaty birth chamber. His great guttural sob at her birth, wracked with emotion he never knew he could possibly be permitted to feel on this immortal coil. Your genuinely feral howls of pain turned weeping with pure joy.

Two full days of agony unlike any you’ve ever endured and she had arrived, breathing; wailing; skin of a changeling in birthing viscera and lungs keen to rival any bellow of the Gods.

Astarion weakly clinging to you both; tears salting your lips and wetting her tiny head for hours on end. 

The great weight of another being on your shoulders. His sincere - yet cliche - fervently whispered oath to her just moments after being placed in his arms.

She is home. She is loved beyond any unit of measure. She will want for nothing, and she will never know anguish like that of her parents and their complex lives. No matter who she is or what she becomes, she has two people who are in her corner. She will be fierce if she so desires. Cunning. Witty. Roguish. Barbaric. Horrid. 

It didn’t matter. It never would. 

She was yours, and his; and she would always have a choice.

He had spoken with her for hours, the nurse whispered to inform you once you had awoken from the deepest slumber of your life. Even then when you looked he was hanging over her small form in her cot, running his lithe fingers over her tiny hands and feet in a repetitive soothing pattern. 

When you queried the topic of conversation he simply looked at you with a grin so lovesick it would flip your stomach completely. Butterflies.

-

“We deserve a bit of fun though, darling. Mummy and Daddy’s evening off? No?” 

Astarion pouts, wrapping his arms around you - still pinned against the dresser - and inhaling your scent deeply. 

You return the gesture and cough reactively.

“You stink of Noblestalk. I know your tricks.”

You playfully shove him away and tiptoe from your room to the landing, the pale elf hot on your heels.

“I have never stunk in my life, thank you.” He sulks. 

You pointedly stop to look at him, before picking up a basket of waiting laundry and descending the stairs. He follows.

“I’m trying to fuck you, dear. Don’t make it weird.” He rolls his eyes and huffs. 

You hum. 

“Corpses tend to smell awful.” 

“Warning.”

“You started it.”

“Touché.”

A beat of silence.

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?” 

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

“You’re getting rusty.”

He captures you in a kiss as you reach the bottom of the stairs, slow and patient. Holding your free arm to keep you close. 

“Look at me. I’m the epitome of the fatherly jester!’

Waggles his free hand.

‘I have been blessed with brains and humour anew by the birth of our daughter, clearly.’

He grimaces.

‘Not necessarily superior versions of either, but I - am - changed.” 

From the moment of her conception you’d felt it. An old wives’ tale. The night you’d agreed to mother a brood alongside him, you knew she was there. That she was her. That she was brewing as something brilliant deep inside you and nothing would be as it was ever again. 

He’d called it ridiculous, gestured wildly and rolled his eyes to the deepest hells, but a hazardous hope never left them until you’d far missed your bleed and it was confirmed to be true.

From that moment onwards, something shifted even further in Astarion. 

The domestic tether to your townhouse in the city - no longer just a convenience to remain a steady base for you both, but a fundamental part of his scene setting, to plant roots and grow together. Two centuries of rot and abuse, and his reward was finally nearing completion.

His nesting phase began far earlier than yours and with greater intensity than you could’ve matched even without the issue of your later-heaving belly. Entire pinboards tacked with decadent fabric swatches for every occasion - be it swaddling or nursery curtains. Tailor’s tape around his neck each morning and notebook in hand to note your measurements and take inventory of your wardrobe; ensuring you never looked awry or felt anything less than wholly comfortable. 

Because gods forbid ill-fitted clothing stand in the way of you and your brutal vomiting spells, obviously. A pointed click of his tongue as he fixes your sleeve.

In the middle months of your gestation, the typically discerning clientele who visited you and Astarion in your tailor’s store at the dead of night were the first to become privy to the news. Rounder by the week, flushed; brimming with a deep fatigue and yet somehow absolutely aglow.

Children to be fitted for yet another presentation evening placed sleepy hands on your belly with a saccharine softness. Their parents jostle you - sometimes in congratulations, sometimes to whisper in sheer curiosity. Dhampir are a notoriously rare breed, and you’re certain there were rumours of a third party involvement in the process.

‘No, no. We just tried really, really hard.’ You’d smile, as if in a blissful stupor from just the recollection. He’d turn to you with his ridiculously brilliant hearing; needle between teeth, brow raised; lips upturned in a slight quirk. Devilishly handsome, never anything less.

-

You drop the laundry basket in the kitchen corner. A stuffed bear falls from it. Clive.

A pause.

“You never asked what I did with that shirt, you know.”

It takes you a moment to recall which shirt he’s referring to. He sits at the table and watches you lazily.

“Which? The one for Mr. Chugley? I didn’t think it needed much by way of adjustment, at least?”

A stale piece of burnt toast sits on the counter untouched. You bite and chew and bite and chew like a woman who has never once tasted a morsel so divine; so untainted by the evils of hot butter and a filling bronze crunch.

“Oh - Bunt? Gods, no.’

He sips his stone-cold tea. A fresh film wobbles on top.

‘Bunt Chugley.”

A snort of laughter sends it straight back through his nose and out onto the table. You begin to choke on your toast.

“Bunt Chugley.” You giggle, crumbs spilling from your mouth.

Astarion stands to wipe himself down, creasing over with an escalating laughter.

“Bunt Chugley.”

He waggles his hands, eyes heavy lidded with lack of rest. 

He looks purely maniacal.

“That’s- that’s what we should-’

You stop for breath, cackling now; hands over knees for a brief moment.

‘We should call the next one Bunt Chugley.”

He launches into a wheezing fit.

“How- How would that even work, darling? Like Bunt Chugley Ancunín, or- or-”

“No! No, no. Just that. Bunt Chugley.”

You hold both hands to your eye as if framing a canvas, looking through the gap at the ludicrous proposition in front of you. 

He takes a moment to still. Smiles at you dopily.

Crosses the floor and brings both hands down to your waist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, my love.” He grins and holds his forehead against yours.

You look at him, dazed.

“Hmm?’

He simply looks up. 

A profoundly gut-wrenching wail becomes apparent to you from above. Your face falls.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Astarion.”

-

He’s up the stairs before you can comment further, swiftly darting back into your chambers and grinning with an unbridled joy - though, you note, with lack of rest that grin is beginning to look more insane by the hour.

“Sweetheart! My darling girl. Shush now. You’re sounding something absolutely wicked.”

You watch on from the doorway, arms folded; stale toast in hand and jaws meeting in a firm chew.

He’s far too good with her. 

It somewhat surprised you at first just how innately fatherhood came to him, but as he picks her up and cradles her intently it’s as if there are fractures of his own childhood coming back. How he was loved, how he was held. 

A piece of him, now alive and breathing again after all these years of death.  

He coos at her, bouncing her small frame gently in his arms and hushing her with each wail. It takes very little for soft mewls to take their place as she reaches aimlessly in his direction. 

He leans towards her grasping fingers and allows her to take one of his ringlets from the front of his head as he kisses her tummy. She’s enthralled by him; recognises him. She wants to know more of him. 

As he lifts his head her grasp remains firm.

“We have some work to do on your sleight of hand, I think. Not to worry.” 

Ever so gently, he unpicks her fascinated fingers and kisses them all in tow. Her face looks almost ready to crumple before he reaches for one final kiss on the very top of her head.

“There, now. All better. Back to sleep?’

A gurgle. A puzzled blink.

‘Absolutely. Mummy does look particularly radiant today, doesn’t she? I’ll be sure to send your regards.”

He catches the smile on your face. Winks your way.

“You’re getting the baby to flirt on your behalf now?” You tease.

“That’s the lady of the house to you. She was simply passing on her praises.” He whispers as he places her back into her crib and steps back fondly. Sidles over to you as you finish the last bite of toast and pulls you in for a soft kiss.

“Stop playing coy. I know you feel the same way I do.’

He whispers down at you.

‘You want another one, don’t you?’

A kiss on the very top of your head.

“You’re projecting.” You smile.

You can’t deny him for long, he knows this. You don’t particularly want to. 

Since becoming a mother you’ve taken to parenthood almost as naturally as he has; and when the topic has come up since you’ve struggled to say no and mean it.

“Think, though. The sooner we try again, the sooner we can begin building our little mercenary force.” He looks at you with the face of a man who thinks he’s just had a really good idea.

“Oh! Yes! You’ve sold me!’

You pull him into a long kiss, the kind that still makes you swoon after all this time together. He tastes like cold tea and smells so clinical you can’t help but laugh heartily as you pull away.

‘That Noblestalk is getting to me. Have a bath and try again with a little less?”

He scowls before narrowing his eyes in thought.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It just might, my darling dearest.” 

You wink this time.

The bath starts running before you’ve fully made it back down the stairs.

[hotheadedhero]

Why They Fall/Favourite Feature

2012 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

You respect his decisions without being aggressively defiant to his orders. That isn't to say you're a pushover, however. In fact, you still openly challenge his word when there's something you disagree with. It's just the way you speak out of such gentle consideration when you calmly explain that you see the point of a plan but you think it would work better a different way. You have also never once berated him when he has gotten something wrong and instead talk him out of his funk delicately.

In turn, he loves how sweet your voice is, drawn in by the way your lips move thoughtfully with your words.

Raphael

Fighting. He's attracted to strength but not just physical strength - it's the true grit you showcase in the face of danger, the passion you're unafraid to expel when he and his family are amidst peril. Even just witnessing you stand up for what you believe in is a sight to behold and he relishes in the opportunity to be at your side when it happens. You do the same when he goes full-gear into something as well and that means a lot to him.

He loves your eyes. He gets so elated when you're in the zone and how they flare with this badass flame settling in them.

Donatello

Your thirst for knowledge. You've always been inquisitive and fascinated by "what's" and "why's" and he's always happy to answer any query. It's a breath of fresh air knowing he doesn't have to rush past the techno-babble around you. Even if half of it isn't cohesive, you'll ask the appropriate questions to expand your understanding. He gets this rush from knowing that you learn so much from him.

With this in mind, he loves how your fingers fidget over themselves whilst you put all the pieces of information together in your head. Quite frankly, it's adorable.

Michelangelo

You listen to him where he feels his brothers don't. It doesn't matter what's coming out of his mouth, he has your undivided attention. In fact, you always appear ecstatic spending time with him like such and that's the kind of appraisal this sweet guy needs and deserves. He doesn't even have to seek you out. As soon as you enter the lair, he's the first person you go in search of and that makes his heart go all kinds of thump.

He loves the way your body reacts when you eat something you really enjoy. The little tap your feet make and how your nose scrunches up with your cheeks are levels of cuteness that could put ice cream kitty to shame.

[tanoraqui]

Lalwen caught everyone's attention by slamming a fresh wine bottle onto the center of the table.

"Alright, new game," she said. "'The Worst Thing I Ever Did To You Was...' It's like The Worst Thing I Ever Did, but it has to be specifically to someone else in this room, and you have to apologize for it. And you only get to drink if everyone else agrees that your apology was good enough."

Fingolfin raised one finger. "Point of order: what if you need to be drunker in order to apologize for something?" He didn't look at Fëanor, but his gaze was sliding around a bit, so in order to achieve this, he turned his entire head to the right.

"Tough luck," said Lalwen.

"Point of order," said Findis. "What if we don't want to play this one, either?"

"Then you have to sit here and endure it without getting to drink any more. Because - " Lalwen forestalled Fëanor's imminent query - "the door is still locked and no one is leaving until Family Game Night is over."

The boys all radiated rebellious pedantry, probably still not over how she'd lied to get them all here. But they didn't say anything, so Lalwen smiled brightly and said, "Great! I'll do an example to show you how it's done."

She retook her own chair, wobbling only a little as she moved from standing to sitting, leaned toward her youngest brother and said earnestly, "Ara, I'm sorry that I lied to you that Gil-galad was Fingon's son and your foster-great-grandson. It was politically expedient but essentially an orc move, and mostly I just did it because I was bitter at you for swanning in with all your golden armor and righteousness and optimism, when we had none of any of that. That was wrong of me. Also, obviously it fell apart as soon as he and his parents were all re-embodied."

Fëanor still had half a glass of wine from the now-lost bottle. He'd started slipping it slowly while glaring pointedly at Lalwen, to prove that he didn't need her stupid game.

He nearly spit it out.

"That's why a random half-blood became High King of the Noldor?" he demanded. "You just lied that he was part of the House of Finwë? And nobody challenged it?"

Lalwen was laughing too hard to answer. Findis was also laughing, more quietly.

"To be fair," Fingolfin offered, swallowing his own snicker in favor of loftiness, "from what the elf himself has told me, at the start of the Second Age, Galadriel, Elrond, and Celebrimbor between them could have crowned an unwoken tree High King if they'd all agreed on a candidate. Support from each of our lines, you know."

"Fëanor, how did you think Gil-galad became High King?" Finarfin asked curiously.

"I hadn't thought about it much - I've been busy, you know. I suppose I assumed he'd been elected, as we do now."

Fëanor tipped his head back to drain his glass, then rather slammed it down on the table. Yet again, the jewel-grade goblets proved themselves the right choice for the evening.

Lalwen could barely breathe for laughing. "No Noldor on either side of the Sea did that until nearly the end of the Second Age!"

Fëanor scowled.

Findis smiled serenely, and twisted the top off the new wine bottle. A melodious scent swelled forth of sweet grapes, bruised peaches, and warm summer sun.

"Well, that seems well-apologized to me." She refilled Lalwen's glass - though she paused before handing it back, and asked, "Ara?"

Finarfin nodded grandly, and for good measure took Lalwen's hand and kissed it. "We are well-reconciled, sister, and have been for many years."

"Good, good, gimme!" said Lalwen, grabbing at her well-deserved wine. "Ahh..." The Yavannandil wine was soft and soothing against her laughter-dried throat.

When she'd downed a good third of the glass, she gestured broadly and declared, "There! You see how it's done! Your turn!"

She pointed to Fëanor, then jabbed her finger at his chest. "And you're not allowed to say 'burning the ships', that's too easy."

[otherworldseekers]

OC x Canon Week Day 4

This entry is going to be just writing because it got slightly long and also because the fashion prompts were plaid/sequins(?) and I just couldn't do it.

Anyway, this is an excerpt from a canon scene where the night before they all travel to activate Omega, Severia has gone off to grieve alone over all the losses of the past year and Nero finds her.

The clouds parted and moonlight shone down on them. Hurriedly, Severia turned her face away again, but it was too late. He had already seen the tracks of tears on her cheeks. Had the Warrior of Light come up to this secluded place to cry alone where no one could see her? 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, accusation in her voice as she wiped away the moisture in her eyes. 

“I was looking for you. Now I’ve found you.” He said it lightly, as if seeing her wasn’t everything he wanted. 

“The whole point of coming here was to be alone, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “But is that what you really want?”

She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Why are you always asking me what I want?”

“Because what you want is important.” He didn’t say to me because he didn’t think she was ready for that. 

“It’s not.” She shook her head. “Not when people keep dying because of me.”

Something wrenched in Nero’s chest. A pain that had nothing to do with his own state of being. A pain shared with her. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do!” she cried, wiping away fresh tears. “If I’d been faster or stronger… If I’d been better…” 

Nero took two quick steps to her side. She looked up at him in surprise and he took her hands gently in his, moving them so they did not hide her face. Then with his thumbs he brushed aside the locks of hair that stuck to her wet cheeks. He felt her sharply indrawn breath. But she didn’t stop him. He wanted to hold her. To comfort her with his touch. But he had sworn to tread these waters slowly, to ease his way back into her good graces without romantic advances. He didn’t want her to misunderstand his motives. So his hands felt back to his sides. He needed to find the right words to reach her. 

“Severia Zetsuen. Even I know that no one tries harder than you.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It is. You are,” he said firmly. “You have always been enough. And still you never fail to push past your limits and do the unthinkable. If your efforts aren’t enough, what hope can there be for the rest of us?”

“That’s not…”

“Is it not?” Nero queried with raised eyebrow. “And furthermore, are you not doing your friends and allies a disservice when you blame yourself? Did they not make their own decisions? You are failing to afford them the agency to knowingly and willingly do what they thought was best. And in so doing, you are failing to give them the credit they deserve. In focusing on your own perceived failings, you deny them your gratitude and appreciation. Do you think they would want you to wallow in self-recrimination? Or would they rather you honor their choice and their memory?”

Severia bit her lip, brows furrowed as she struggled with these arguments. Nero made one more sally. 

“You are not the only one who pledged their life to the salvation of this world. You must let others do their part.”

He had not stepped away from her and so he was within easy reach as her small fist came up and beat against his chest. “It’s not fair,” she cried. “It’s not fair that you of all people…” Her second fist joined the first. “But they’re gone, Nero. They’re gone and I’m still here. It’s not fair…” 

Slowly she leaned forward until her forehead rested against him. He could feel her shuddering as fresh tears flowed. “Hush,” he said softly, allowing his arms to wrap around her at last. “Go ahead and grieve for them. Weep as much as you need to. And only I will see it, which hardly counts at all.” 

He felt her bury her face against him as she slowly soaked his shirt. It took many minutes before her shaking finally subsided and he felt her go still in his arms. Severia lifted her head to look up at him. She hiccuped adorably and looked charmingly embarrassed. When she pushed away from him, he felt a keen sense of loss. 

“I never imagined I could feel this way,” she said softly. 

“What way is that?”

“Comforted by a Garlean,” she answered with a slight smile. 

Nero answered her with a grin. “Is it really so bad?”

The look in her eyes turned soft and thoughtful. “No. No, it’s not.”

Prompts: Brushing hair out of the other's face / "I never imagined I could feel this way..."

Thanks for reading!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

AHHH CONGRATS ON 5K YOU DESERVE IT 💙🎉

angel eyes - send me a sfw request!

I think I saw you post you made a cake a couple days ago, or it was a reblog, either way! It looked delicious and made me think of a neighbor or someone making Peter Parker a birthday cake after No Way Home. Cause the thought of him being alone on his birthday makes me wanna sob 🥹😭

a/n: yes!! I did bake a cake the other day! it was delicious

word count: 710

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist |  join my 5k celebration! 

Head tilted to the side, resting against the banister, you finally perked up when the figure you had been waiting for finally appeared, “Peter!” you shot up from your spot at the top of the stairwell, “hi!”

Faintly startled by your unexpected presence, he quickly plucked out the ear pods and sputtered, “oh, hey, Y/n,” slowly climbing the remainder of the steps as he carefully found your eye, “what’s, um-, what’s up? Why are you sitting out here?”

Sucking in a deep breath, you asked him straight out, “are you busy right now?”

“No,” he drew out in a curious tone. 

“Really?” your smile grew, “okay, well, I kinda have something I wanna show you.” 

“Me? You-, you wanna show me?” his eyebrows shot up as he gesticulated towards himself, “uh, alright.” 

Ushering him with you, it didn’t take long before you were both stepping over the threshold into your apartment, your legs instantly carrying you towards the fridge. 

Ripping it open, you grabbed the tall treat dominating the entire middle shelf and gingerly turned to present it to your neighbour, “tada!”

“Wow, that’s-,” taking in the airy cream and fresh berries adorning the top, he blurted, “you baked a cake!” though still with an air of confusion as to why you wanted him to witness it.

“I baked you a cake,” you clarified. 

Mouth falling open, he uttered, “you what?”

“Happy birthday,” you said giddily, though your grin swiftly melted as he just continued to stand there completely and utterly stunned, “oh, wait, is it not your birthday?” you checked nervously, “I just remember that you told me you’re a leo,” you rambled, thinking back to the day that he moved in and the random things your scattered brain thought was crucial to ask him, for some reason questions about his astrological chart and his favourite movie as a child happened to be the kind of queries you bombarded your new neighbour with as soon as you first met him, “and then a few weeks ago I just couldn’t stop thinking about it and so I asked our landlord, and he said the 10th of August, but maybe he was wrong…”

As if finally coming back to life, Peter breathed, “you baked me a cake?”

“Yeah…” embarrassment bubbling within your belly, you sat the heavy platter down on the counter, “so when is it really your birthday? I can bake you another one then if you want, unless you don’t like cake in which I can whip up something else, anything you’d-,”

“No, it is my birthday today,” he informed you, interrupting your babbling offer. 

“It is?” you felt the nauseating butterflies begin to settle within your stomach. 

“It is,” he finally returned your smile, “and I do like cake by the way.”

“Oh well, happy birthday then!” you pushed the cake towards him, “do you have any fun plans?”

“No,” he glanced down at the baked good and thought out loud, “I honestly haven’t really been looking at what date it is lately, I mean, I knew it would happen sometime around this week, but I didn’t know it was today…”

“Oh…” you then awkwardly found yourself offering, “well, I can be your personal calendar any time, if you’re interested,” instantly wincing at yourself, your cheeks heating up at how awkwardly swoon-worthy your spurted words had sounded, “anyways, this is yours,” you gestured to the cake, hoping to draw attention away from your flush, “take it and go enjoy your birthday, and I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”

Cake in hand, Peter stopped again before he could reach the exit, “hey Y/n?”

“Hm?” you glanced up, hoping that the blush had faded by now.

“Are you busy right now?” he softly echoed your question from before out in the hallway, “because, I mean, this is a lot of cake, and it would look pretty sad if I just sat and ate it all by myself.”

“Really?” you sucked in an excited breath, immediately grinning from ear to ear, “yeah! Yes! Of course-, I mean,” you finally noticed your blatant eagerness and attempted to recover with a graceless, “uh, sure, that sounds lovely, of course I’ll hang out with you on your day of birth…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[queen-scribbles]

Can I get a forehead kiss for Emiri? Or any other OC if she's not talking to you right now :D

Okay, so I did get a Vesper ficlet out of this, too, BUT far be it from me to pass up a chance at writing my first blue girl <3 Just over 1k ---

Scared

The night was long since fallen, her friends all asleep in the room behind her, but Emiri couldn't bring herself to join them. Not yet. Not even with her lingering exhaustion. There were fears that lingered as well, and she'd rather stare at the stars than face them just yet.

It was done.

Thaos ix Arkannon was no more, at least for now.

She'd helped her friends, helped the world, helped herself. She wondered ho w long before people went their separate ways. Sagani would be first, she'd wager. Then Hiravias, Maneha, Pallegina...

Emiri sighed. She hated goodbyes.

She ran her fingers along one of her bracelets as her eyes found and followed familiar constellations. The stars twinkling overhead were steady witness to her solitude.

"Still awake?"

She turned as the soft query, smiled. "I could say the same to you; it's awfully late. I thought you had all turned in. "

Kana gave a soft, sheepish chuckle. "I was writing," he said, stretching and rubbing the back of his neck. "Trying to record your accomplishments while they were still fresh in my mind. I'd not want to leave anything out."

Emiri fought the urge to drop her gaze to the floor, but couldn't stop her face warming. "I'm not-"

"You are impressive," Kana insisted. He gestured to the other chair on the small balcony. "May I?"

She nodded. "You may want to be careful; I don't think they were made with kith our size in mind."

"The warning is appreciated," he said, taking a seat with care. "Returning to my point, you have done so much, for so many. Given us answers. Peace." He reached over and briefly touched her hand. "It pains me to see you struggle accepting the praise you're due."

"You're... very sweet," she mumbled, halo brightening. "I'm just not used to having my praises sung, let alone so enthusiastically."

"It's well-deserved," Kana said, gingerly leaning back in his chair. "Especially given you did it progressively--concerningly--short on sleep." As if on cue, she yawned and he chuckled. "Hence my surprise at finding you awake."

"I did sleep for, what, seventeen hours immediately after," Emiri pointed out, biting her lip.

"Emiri." He gave her a knowing look. "We're all well-aware how little sleep you've had these last couple weeks. Surely you need more."

"That bad at hiding it, was I?" Emiri laughed, her chest tight with... several things in competition. "I'm scared, Kana," she whispered, feeling safe in the confession to him alone. "Scared the... dreams, the Awakened memories will still be there, now that I've taken the edge off, so to speak." She traced the arm of her chair, following the carven swirls with a fingertip. "I'm afraid stopping him won't be enough to make them stop."

"An understandable worry, with how bad your nights could be," Kana said. "But if you put off sleep out of fear of not being able to sleep, you bring certainty to what is only possibility. Perhaps they will still trouble you, in which case we will help you find a solution--"

"I couldn't ask that; you have your own lives, your own plans," Emiri protested. "Sagani needs to get to her family, Pallegina has--"

"I will help you," he cut her off. "My report to the lore college will keep as long as it needs. Edér and Aloth as well, I'm sure. But perhaps" --he reached to squeeze her hand--"perhaps they will no longer trouble you and you can get some much-needed sleep."

"I hope you're right," she managed, voice nearly a squeak from the warmth of his hand on hers. "I'm so tired, Kana."

She didn't just mean physically; this mess had drained her mentally and emotionally as well. She felt empty and alone, and even knowing both were nonsense couldn't chase the feeling away.

"Then why not try?" he asked earnestly, then flashed a warm, toothy smile. "While they aren't my usual repertoire, I did pick up some lullabies in my travels..."

She laughed at the gentle teasing, hoping the moonlight didn't show her blush at the idea. "But wouldn't that wake everyone else? I wouldn't want Maneha to throw something at you again."

Kana chuckled, eyes sparkling like the stars overhead. "I can be very quiet," he said in a dramatic whisper so opposite his normal vivacity Emiri's laugh turned to a giggle. "If it would help."

It was tempting. So, so tempting. Emiri yawned. "I wouldn't want to keep you up. Much as I l-like listening to you sing," she stumbled. "If it's late enough I should go to bed, shouldn't you as well? Tales and such will keep until morning."

"Hard to argue that," he said, bobbing his head in sheepish acknowledgement. He stood and offered her a hand up, which she took. "After you."

Halo pulsing bright enough to worry it would wake kith, Emiri mumbled thanks and slipped past him to head for her bed. His wasn't far off, and she couldn't help but be vaguely aware of the quiet sounds to his bedtime routine.

Hers was much faster, being that she simply collapsed into bed in her clothes, so she was already trying to sleep as he settled in for the night. The thoughts and worries still swirling had her restless, however, and despite being short on sleep, Emiri found it more difficult to achieve than expected. She tried different positions, all the tricks she'd learned to encourage sleep no matter the circumstance.

A quiet baritone hum came from nearby, warm and rolling and smooth. Like the sea. But unlike the sea, it calmed her. She didn't recognize the tune, maybe it was one of those lullabies he mentioned.

If so, it was working.

She relaxed, letting her thoughts quiet, her fears fade. She did need the sleep.... so she let the humming lull her.

And just before she drifted off to the comfort of friends who cared, the humming paused. A gentle, careful kiss brushed her forehead, just to the side of her crescent.

The humming resumed, bearing her off to sleep and much more pleasant dreams than she'd anticipated.

(let's complicate the Emiri/Kana thing further SHALL WE? >;3)

[delphi-shield]

ive been seeing more and more mutuals mention trying original fiction so i wanted to compile some resources and advice to help get you published. my experience is almost exclusively in short fiction and poetry - don't take this as advice for querying your novel.

some general advice up top: do not write for free. get paid for your work. you deserve it, and you are good enough. submissions that don't pay aren't worth your time.

professional rate is considered 8 cents per word.

if you're looking to publish short fiction, you'll have more success looking through open calls and writing something to fit the theme rather than trying to bend a piece that you've already written to fit.

be mindful of simultaneous submissions. most lit. mags allow for you to submit a piece to more than one publication at a time, but some don't. just be mindful when submitting.

maintain a submission tracker. i linked a very simple free one. unfortunately, they're so helpful. it's easy to lose track of what you've sent out and to who.

when your work gets picked up, it's your responsibility to reach out to other publications that you submitted to and withdraw your work. you don't want to be in a spot where two publications have accepted the same piece. it's very unprofessional.

many publications don't publish reprints. basically, that means if Magazine A published your story 6 months ago, Magazine B doesn't want to publish it again. they want fresh, new stories.

the submission grinder is your new best friend. you can find markets here and filter based on genre.

here's a quick guide to manuscript format. always always always check submission guidelines before just assuming that standard manuscript format is fine. some places are picky.

i recommend keeping a copy of each submission, with a master copy of each story at the top. i have them divided up into folders by story name, then the file format it "date submitted - publication name". that's just me though. you'll find your own system.

its normal to get rejected. a lot. you're gonna be okay. just mark it on your submission tracker and keep going. i promise you that people are genuinely excited to publish new authors.

happy publishing!!

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[fangirlinglikeabus]

semi-serious sand thoughts:

i’m not actually opposed to servalan/tarrant conceptually, at least within this very specific scenario...part of that i think is that if you’re going to do a story that touches on a pain servalan experienced when she was very young, bringing in a Fresh Faced Youth to evoke that period of life works. also i get the impression that getting to play the dashing hero type does appeal to tarrant - see assassin, where he’s absolutely swayed by piri being apparently emotionally vulnerable and likely to need him. so like at the very least there’s some sort of precedent within the show. the fact that he’s so QUICKLY attracted by servalan’s tears adds to some of the ambiguity surrounding to what extent she’s manipulating him because surely she knows that, despite himself, this would be an effective way to win him over - and i’m not 100% convinced that would be the case with any other character. do i think all of this is entirely realised within the episode? uh...not sure. but i do think there’s reasoning behind the whole thing.

also i just think she deserves a boy toy or two idc

speaking of tarrant. love when servalan says he saved her life and he replies ‘we’re all entitled to one really big mistake.’ like buddy you are going to make one WAY bigger by the end of this episode.

adored that final scene of servalan thinking over both keller and tarrant before crushing the water cube tarrant gave her in her hand to get rid of the last of the sand. mainly because that looks like it could surely cut you, so it just comes across as this almost self-destructive act with which she closes off the potential for emotional vulnerability which was opened up by the sand trapping them. destroying both the gift tarrant gave her and the thing that brought them together. he remains unsure how sincere she was, she gets rid of any evidence she WAS sincere and in emotional pain - and to do so she breaks glass RIGHT into the palm of her hand.

(also potentially thinking of this in relation to ‘i don’t care about us’ and her placing tarrant’s gun up to her head and daring him to shoot her - which is pretty intense even if she guesses he won’t do it. women will literally murder their way into the presidency of an authoritarian state instead of going to therapy)

another good scene, this time with the scorpio crew: soolin theorising they’re being affected by that alien mind that got onto the ship through cally and vila snapping at her and storming off, only for her to admit to avon when he queries it that she doesn’t actually believe what she just said. just...up there with her telling orac ‘you wouldn’t know where to start’ when he offers her her heart’s desires in terms of what i find to be Tantalising Soolin Character Moments.

i’ve now also watched gold and while i think it’s a very solid episode (avon losing it laughing at the end when the entire crew are pissed at him because he risked their lives for a trap that got them nothing and netted servalan a bunch of money?? man has Reached His Fucking Limit and is now firmly Past His Fucking Limit) it does disappoint me a bit that dayna and tarrant seem to be largely interacting like usual. don’t get me wrong, i do like seeing the crew act like a competent unit and i’m not asking for a big blow up, but they’re probably two of the closer members of the crew, Away Mission Buddies, and he just hooked up with the woman who killed her father. that's a massive betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and i’d have liked a bit more obvious tension there even if it was just in small moments of interaction

i honestly had a great time with sand. i think every blake’s 7 member should have an episode where they’re locked in a room with servalan, i wanna see what would happen to each of them

[not-quite-there-myself]

Hello! I think that my req wasn’t sent because of Tumblr’s technical reasons so… Please ignore it if you’ve received the previous one.

Firstly, I want to say that I’ve read all of the fan-fictions that were published here since the first day of this blog being even created. I monitor the food fantasy tag every single day because I’m really starving for any content dedicated to this game like a wild hungry animal so when I saw this blog I was so happy! I felt such a pure sense of joy that I almost cried out loud lmao. Thank you for your hard work! Love this blog.

And secondly. If it’s okay, can I request like any work with Whisky x reader? I’d want it to be fluffy, romantic and sweet but that’s literally Whisky so it’s pretty hard to write something normal with him… That’s why I don’t want to put limits on you. Just do as you wish about everything. I just want to read anything about this crazy man.

I hope that I’m not bothering and causing any discomfort. Sorry for being so talkative and annoying! Have a good day.

Sweater Weather

Synopsis: Autumn was just around the corner when you and Whiskey decided to take a walk. It was mostly his idea; after seeing you busying yourself with restaurant preparations, he thought that you deserved a small break from your duties and spend some time with him... But is that really all he's after? Notes: 800+ words; romantic(ish?) fluff; ambiguous ending; gender neutral Master Attendant A/N: No need to worry anon, you are not causing me any discomfort or annoyance. If anything, I’m so happy I’m not the only one looking through the Food Fantasy tag! I had no idea how to do this request but I tried my best to make it as "romantic" as I could without breaking too much character. Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy.

The leaves of most trees began to change colour and fall, cluttering the cobblestone streets with signs that winter was next to appear. The days throughout the week were cloudy, but today that was not the case.

"It's a perfect day to take a walk, wouldn't you say?"

Whiskey had invited himself into your quarters that morning, pulling you away from your work. You raised a brow at him, questioning what exactly he wanted from you to prompt him to ask such a thing out of the blue. He feigned a look that suggested he was hurt by your words, even putting a hand over his chest to express something akin to heartache.

"My Attendant, you wound me. Can't someone simply ask you to step away from your work and get some fresh air? I hear today is a wonderful time for that."

You look out a window to see for yourself. He was right about that, and you felt all the more suspicious about him. But then, what harm would it do to step away from your desk for a while? Nothing specific struck you as odd.

Eventually, you just sighed and gave in. "Alright, alright. I guess I wouldn't mind stretching my legs anyway."

To your surprise, Whiskey had already prepared your jacket and shoes, as well as a scarf you found unfamiliar. "Whiskey," you say, taking it and looking at him. "This isn't mine."

He smiles. "Of course it isn't. But you can have it, if you'd like." When you ask him what he meant by that, he ignores your query and gingerly takes the scarf from your hands. He then proceeds to wrap it around your neck.

"Ah- Whiskey, I can do it myself..." You mumble.

"Of course you can," he replies.

You huff as you begrudgingly let Whiskey assist you in getting ready to go out. It was as if you were a toddler. But the way he treated you so far was unusually soft...

You pushed back your train of thought as soon as Whiskey put his hand on the door's knob and escorted you out first. "After you," he motions with a slight bow. You nod and exit the restaurant, Whiskey closing the door when the two of you are outside.

After a while of walking, you found yourself less tense... Well actually, you only really knew that because Whiskey pointed it out to you. He would mention several things about you as the two of you ventured out into the chilly autumn day. Fallen leaves crunching under your feet and the occasional attempts at conversation were the only things you really heard.

Eventually, Whiskey's words got increasingly flattering, and you halted in the middle of the side walk just to ask, "Whiskey, what is up with you today? What you're saying... you don't really mean that, so what are you trying to do?"

He stops as well, turning to you and pushing up his glasses. "My Attendant, do you really think I'm up to no good?" His expression doesn't falter when you nod. "Ah... I see." He continues walking and you can't help but call after him.

"Hey! You didn't answer my question!" You half-run to catch up beside him; he's quite the fast walker, and the only reason why you didn't notice was because he'd been slowing down his pace to match your casual stride. "Whiskey, tell me straight. First you're entering my quarters and asking me to walk with you, then you help me get ready, which, you know I can definitely do on my own, and now you're complimenting me." Now that you said it all out loud you kind of felt embarrassed, your face warming.

"It almost feels like you're trying to ask me out or something." But that's silly, because it's Whiskey and he doesn't like anyone that way, nevermind just liking people in general.

"And what if I am?" He says nonchalantly. Whiskey stops walking again when you fall slightly behind him.

"Huh?" You stare at him. He's probably joking.

Without warning Whiskey leans closer to your face, a small smirk appearing on his face as he repeats himself, "And what if I am?"

Absolutely flabberghasted and speechless you are.

The audacity of this man.

You can't believe him, and yet you can at the same time. Maybe he was being genuine. You weren't really sure. It is Whiskey though, so no one would blame you for not being sure. But in your chest your heart sped up, your face warmed, and, despite the chill in the air, your hands started to sweat. Your mouth opened and closed as if to say something, but you remained tongue-tied as Whiskey chuckled lowly at your reaction.

He steps back from you to let you relax and ponders aloud, "Could it be that you finally believe me now, My Attendant?"

You believe him.

[heinrix]

from the sentences starter: Maybe Oz/Gale + "do you remember when we first met?"

ohh this is very cute yesss

Sleep was easy for Oz, the act of staying asleep however had been challenging ever since he’d been yanked from his own reality and from his own demise at the hands of a monster he once called friend. The feel of slick, oozing mercury running down his throat, his nose, the corners of his eyes, filling his lungs and sinuses, cutting off any way for him to breathe; relinquished himself to that fate, one he aptly deserved for sins of a former self he’d sooner bury than confront. He fought back, because of course he did, his body wouldn’t let him go quietly; his body, a thing not his own, claimed by many and puppeteered by fewer. Though that feeling of complete and utter suffocation would never properly leave him as he tried to grasp his throat but his hands were stuck, sifting through endless roils of a silver tidal wave.

He jolted awake, gasping, coughing for air that had been sapped from his lungs. The environment around him was somewhat unrecognizable at first until he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, a concerned voice filling his ears before Oz jerked away from the touch. “Gods, don’t touch me, please.” He rasped, still attempting to catch his breath, eyes landing on a concerned Gale who hesitantly took his hand back.

“Bad dream, I take it?” He asked, never taking his eyes off Oz as the tiefling sat up within their shared sent, wiping sweat from his brow and finally evening out his breaths, though his heart still battered against his ribs like the insistent rhythm of a drum.

He merely shrugged, turning to look at Gale, a bit awkward as this had been the first one of Oz’s recurring nightmares he’d experienced. “Not really a nightmare if it’s just a memory your brain sets on a loop.” A sigh fell from him as he fell back down against their bedroll, his side slightly dampened by sweat.

“True events do make for the worst horror stories…” he trailed off a bit, possibly wondering if what he’d said was a tad insensitive but Oz chuckled softly, letting his arm fall outward toward the wizard and Gale perked up at the gesture, taking the invitation to lie down, resting his head in the crook of Oz’s shoulder, fingers dancing softly along his exposed chest. “You do know, if ever you desire to alleviate these specific demons, I’m all ears.”

“Perhaps later…thank you, though.” Oz felt his chest tighten at the offer; it had been a long time since he had spoken of anything that could make him seem vulnerable, aside from his confession around the particulars how he was indeed more of a magical artifact than a person. The gesture was achingly sweet but Oz was in no mood for revealing old scars that still felt fresh.

Passing a hand through Gale’s hair, relishing in the strands of gray here and there, Oz had never felt as content with another person before; perhaps it was his own lack of true relationship experience shining through but Gale saw him, for what he was and what he had done yet still he was lying in Oz’s arms, fighting by his side each day. Though the tiefling’s body didn’t harbor his soul, Gale saw him and stayed. But Oz supposed that revelation was mutual, with how Gale viewed his own past transgressions. Their meeting in this reality, in this time, in this most harrowing of events felt as if fate had touched them both; deserved or not, Oz would thank whatever higher power brought them together for the rest of his days.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Oz queried, looking down at Gale only to be met with adoring deep oak eyes and a soft grin.

“As I recall, the grandiose strength of my paladin savior yanked me from a fate of being stuck between realms.” Gale gesticulated fancifully with his left hand as he was wont to do. “Not only was he as altruistic as to save a misfortune wizard such as myself, but gods was he utterly stunning.” Oz couldn’t help the smile that made its way across his lips, rolling his eyes at Gale’s recollection. “Oh and it doesn’t stop there, no, no, no, he takes me into his fold of every growing companions and well, you know the rest, surely?”

“And the gallant paladin falls headfirst in love with that clumsy yet erudite wizard who fumbles with all his flirtations.” Oz spoke, attempting mirror Gale’s own cadence. The wizard feigns offense as he sits up, hand over his chest.

“My good ser, I didn’t fumble anything considering you’re in my tent and my bed.” Gale tried his damnedest not to crack, a laugh bristling within him as Oz shook his head and pulled the wizard back down, hand cupping his jaw before he pressed his lips to Gale’s, chaste and basking in the warmth of him. These night wouldn’t chase away memories seared to every crevice of Oz’s brain but they did help.

this was way longer than i anticipated :3 anyway, them!

[dharanaarecruitmentagency]

More Than a Move: Building a Life in New Zealand with the Right Guidance

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[digitalmarketingcourseindehr]

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