#and those who wants to revive the dark ages

[terrorbirb]

H&M has been SO ugly for the past like 9 months. I don't buy new clothes, but I like to check out what's out and it's rough.

I hate the Y2K fashion that's out mostly and I hate the 70s revival, but going back to minimalist fashion is like, boring, because that was 8 years ago already

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hey, I have DpxDc God Au prompt for you: Dani is the goddess of untraditional families, traveling, clones, and lost (emotionally and locationwise, not deathwise) children. She becomes a patron to many people (mostly kids and teenagers) struggling in the hero community and otherwise and comes to help them in times of emotional turmoil. Kon is one of her followers/friends, the speedsters pray to her for multiple reasons, and Billy and her sometimes hang out. Danny is the god of protection, space, revival, and neglected and lost children (emotionally and those who died before they reached adulthood). He also ends up becoming a patron for many heroes and abused kids. He helps Jason out when he dies young and gets revived. (Bruce prays to Danny for Jason when he dies to beg Danny to help Jason find peace in the afterlife if there is one). Danny also befriends Tim when he’s all alone in Drake Manor and keeps him company when he can and helps him survive. Dan on the other hand is the god of apocalyptic futures (and alternate and future evil selves), repentance and redemption, aggression, and devastation (emotional and deathwise). He doesn’t want most of his domains to be so dark, but it’s weird how much overlap there is between the same people praying to him along with Danny and Danielle. (SO many heroes have apocalyptic future/evil selves and have done terrible things. Example: Tim: Evil future gun batman and Jason: Aggression and Repentance/Redemption. They would definitely pray to Dan just in case). They’re all pretty respected gods who have been known for ages, worshiped, who actually help not just their followers but those who need their help that fall in their domains. The mythology got a bit weird throughout history, but the Dan(y/i)s were generally thought to be benevolent sibling/triplet gods. Jazz didn’t have enough power to ascend to goddesshood, but she was a patron spirit of psychology and mental health, and low-key a patron of people with eldest daughter syndrome (Looking at you, Dick). Then of course there’s Vlad. Mostly creeps want to pray to Vlad. He’s thought of as more of a predatory demon than a god, he has never been known as benevolent. He embodies most if not all of the seven deadly sins and his domains and immorality reflect that. He is the god of theft, power, greed, lust, cheating, obsession, ego, twisted family, immorality, corruption, envy, and vengeance. He has more domains than the Dan(i/y)s either because he was depicted so negatively from all of his schemes that people just gave him all the dark domains, or because he stole several artifacts and found some loopholes to get more power for himself. The Dan(ny/i)s stand together as one to protect the world from Vlad’s immorality, however there are some moments where Vlad helps starving children steal food or things they need to live, helps people to steal medicine they can’t afford to bring to a sick loved one. He gives self esteem and confidence to those who pray for it that struggle with self worth or mental illness. So yes, he is a more morally bankrupt god, but he has his good moments. Anyways, please write more of this prompt in whatever way you see fit. It could be stuff from the batfamily’s and/or halfas perspective as the years go by and they interact with the gods or something like that as vigilantes and as civilians, or you can write scenes out with the hero community or batfam discussing the little pantheon or whatever, or go into further detail with my examples, have conflict between the Dan(i/y)s and Vlad, change things up, or anything you want. Thank you!

Wonder Woman watches as Nightwing very claps his hands, bows his head, and mutters under his breath. The language is one she is not fluent with but has started to learn over the years in her time of man.

Esperanto.

She can pick out a few words. Enough to know that Nightwing is sending a prayer and hopes of a "Older Sibling" patron saint. He wants her to keep a eye over his younger siblings and to offer him "inner- peace".

Diana is aware that all of Bruce's children, minus Dick, are out on extremely dangerous missions. Dick had been benched due to an injury he sustained in the last confrontation. He was sent to the watch tower were a team of trusted surgeons had operated on his leg.

He would be fine in time but it would be a long wait before he would be ready to go out to the feild.

Understanding that he needed guidance from his gods, she waited paintently for him to finish, taking a few steps away from the doorway of his recovery room so as not to overhear any further prayers. A conversation between gods and man should remain private.

As she leaned on the wall outside, she wondered—not for the first time—who the Bats prayed to. Athena and Aphrodite would always have her loyalty, but she acknowledged that there were gods outside of her own.

She met some of them.

And while she had never seen the Bats or anyone else from Gotham's gods, she knew they were worshiped and believed as much as her sisters loved on Themyscira. It would be rude to ask about them, when she would never offer the gods of Gotham any offerings, so she refraimed but she wondered.

Oh she wondered.

She had witnessed Bruce pray to one of them, usually after a complex case involving children. He never mentions the god by name, but much like Nightwing, he clasps his hands, bows his head, and mutters that rhythmic language. Once, he even saw him place a star carved from one of the stones of his historical home by the window of the watch tower.

He had engraved all his children's hero names into it and allowed the moon to power it with protection.

Jason prayed as well, but not as profoundly as his family. He was Catholic growing up, and his mother often refused to have him pray to another god despite everyone else in Gotham doing so. He only did so as Red Hood because, according to Jason, that was the only time he needed Dan or Vlad.

Diana wondered if those were gods or people in his gang. Jason did not say their names with the same reverence as she did her gods.

Tim, on the other hand, took his Gotham-based region very seriously and had an entire timesheet of proper prayers. He did not pray every day nor did he stop what he was doing in order to do so, but he made it very clear that he would not be availbe three times a week for religious purposes.

Short of an emergency, those three hours every week were dedicated to his rituals for all of Gotham's gods. Diana knows that Steph, Barbara, Cass and Bruce would join only one of those three hours for their own god prefernce.

Despite that however, they were not very religious and often she wondered if the Bats were more atheists. Maybe meeting the gods and fighting some of them had the people of Gotham numb to the faith.

Or Gotham had the practices for such a long time that it became a background, much like tax season. Diana had noticed that despite the prayers and the dedication, the Bats treated their gods much like suppursitations to do before a big game.

It was a odd system to her, but once again, the "Gotham's Stars and Shadows" were not her gods. She did not have enough information to make any sort of statement about them.

Maybe they preferred to be treated as superstitions? Or maybe they liked to be close to their followers to the point they saw them the same way they did decorating their bedrooms? - A form of self-expression but not true faith.

A cold breeze blew by her, shocking Diana into a combat formation. There shouldn't be any wind up here. They are in space.

A whispered laugh echos down the hall, and for a brief moment she senses a god. Falling to her knee just in case, she stares towards the laughter watching a quick outling of a woman with flaming hair and a young girl in a black pony tale laugh and skip.

In their hands are carved stares, glowing green.

They vanish just as quickly as they appeared, but she knows who they were without having to call out to them.

"Diana?" Dick says from the doorway, pushing his wheelchair. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I am." She smoothly slide up to her feet smiling at him in what she hopes is comforting. "Have you finished speaking to yoyr gods."

"Yeah I hope they protect my siblings and help find Kon."

She thinks of the laughing ladies "I assume they will."

An hour later, Kon is recovered, and Tim miraculously escapes death due to strong wind and a conveniently thrown traveling map into his attacker's face. Diana witness the superman clone add a stone form Kent Farm to the one by Batman's in the watchtower.

It has the words Red Robin carved within a heart. She smiles.

[neo--queen--serenity]

The Black Butler revival will, of course, in this day and age, be the complete embodiment of pro-ship vs. anti-ship discourse, given the subject matter.

But for those of you who are watching this for the first time in 2024 (which includes myself!), there are certain things about the show you simply must understand, for the sake of media literacy.

The first is that Black Butler is supernatural gothic romanticism at its core. This genre alone should tell you that the relationships integral to the plot will be complex, messy, and toxic, by default. That is not only a huge part of this genre’s appeal, but very much the point of the story.

The themes are dark, the terrible things that happen to the main characters are dark, and therefore the relationships at the forefront (and in the background) will reflect that.

The gothic genre has been alluringly popular for over a century (longer, if you know your history) because audiences are entranced by the macabre, the tainted antiheroes, the monsters who live inside us all. It’s popular for a reason.

That being said, understand that whether you, the viewer, ship Sebastian and Ciel or not is irrelevant. Their bond doesn’t need to be understood as romantic or sexual, but it sure as hell isn’t normal. It isn’t healthy. And the audience knows that. That’s the draw. It’s what makes them compelling to watch.

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship mirrors many gothic novels, poems, and penny dreadfuls written in the Victorian Era (the very same time period in which Kuroshitsuji takes place). The Victorian folks who read these tales for the first time ate that shit up, because it was tantalizing. It was shocking. It was inappropriate, and monstrous, and violent, and erotic, and went against societal norms. But that was the point.

A huge part of gothic romanticism is the blatant sexualization of the relationship between the “monstrous” characters and their human counterparts in the story. Sex itself doesn’t need to take place for their bond to be sexually charged. The forbidden nature of their relationship—which typically involves layers of social taboos, moral ambiguity, or simple infatuation—is what makes their interactions erotic. Sexual contact rarely ever actually happens in these stories. It’s the taboo nature of their bond that creates the tension.

One of the many reasons audiences love this genre is the constant question of morality in its themes. Who, between them, is the real monster? Could the human character have ever been saved? This genre is often associated with tragedy, because the bond forged between the characters in these stories are destined to end in death and destruction. The reader knows it can’t end any other way. How can it?

But an integral element of these gothic tales is the catharsis that comes with this tragedy. The corrupted human often gets what they want in the end, even if it’s at the cost of their own life. Whether they regret their choice to foster this monstrous relationship varies on the story, but it doesn’t change the trajectory of their descent.

Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship is the whole plot of Black Butler. Their closeness bears a grotesque ick factor, but it is deliberate. It is a constant reminder of how unnatrual their bond truly is. Rationalizing or watering down how abnormal they are about each other misses the point entirely. They will never have a normal, healthy relationship, and that’s what moves the plot forward.

That’s why you’re watching it.

[stars-obsession-pit]

So a person requested (in messages) me to write a drabble thing based on this prompt. I’m not really into de-aged characters, but I thought of a way to focus it more on Jason’s reaction rather than the childcare part and felt cool with writing that.

So, uh, hope you like this I guess, @phantomrosereader…

Alright. Alright. Alright alright alrigh—

Nope. They’re still there. Fuck. Jason is not at all prepared to be a father. Nor does he want to show back up at the manor right now carrying two children and be forced to explain all this.

Wait, how did the kids even get there? Who was the mother? Why did they never contact him before?

…Did they contact him before? Can he really be certain he’s not missing any more memories?

He forcefully shook his head. No. No focusing on that right now. He’s fine. No spiraling allowed. He has to deal with this first.

Seriously, fuck. How is he a dad?

He… he should look into the mother. At least then he’d have more to go off of when he talks to Alfred. The note did give a name, but it wasn’t nearly enough to go off of on its own. Danny is hardly an uncommon name. Although, it does seem like a guy’s name—maybe Danny is trans? That would narrow the search down, but would that be enough? Even if he could get it down to just a handful of options, he had no way to determine which Danny was his. The kids seemed to have mostly inherited his own appearance…

Wait, that’s it! Genetic tests!

Despite his strained relationship with the other Bats, he still has access to their resources. A test wouldn’t take too long to give results. And also, it might reveal some other info like allergies he’d need to know.

***

Jason frowned at his laptop as his eyes flitted across the details of the error message. Apparently, some parts of the kids’ genes had been completely unreadable to the scanner and thus it couldn’t form a full profile.

Sighing, he clicked the popup closed. He could at least look at what results had come through. Maybe they’d be enough.

That hope dwindled as he scanned the full data, the corruption looking more dire than he expected. Even if the legible parts did succeed at painting a picture of the kids being related, the swaths of gibberish made meaningfully searching for the mother likely hopeless. However, there did seem to be a pattern to the broke areas. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He felt like he’d seen this before. Could that mean the mother was a meta or alien? Those were on a separate database, so that might resolve the issue. But that would require him to go to the manor, and he was still very hesitant to do that.

So instead, he pulled up his own test results to compare. Maybe they’d let him figure something ou—

He froze.

That’s why he recognized the corruption. Ever since his revival, his own genetic results exhibited almost the exact same pattern of issues.

Oh Hell, did the kids inherit the side effects of the Pit from him?

He looked over at the kids, sleeping peacefully in their seats, and prayed that they hadn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they had to suffer through the Pit Rage their whole lives just because of him.

He… he had to go to the manor. There was no pushing this off any longer. This situation was far too big for him to deal with on his own. He couldn’t risk leaving his kids to suffer alone.

Hopefully Alfred with his parenting skills and Damian with his knowledge of the Lazarus Pits (and similar experience of being descended from a user of them) would be able to help. Or if that failed, maybe he could guilt trip Bruce into getting the Justice League Dark to help.

[dadsbongos]

Hi!!! Hope you’re doing well - I just want to take a moment to gush before I ask something, because I’ve really enjoyed your blog since finding it:

1: your writing is SO good I’ve reread your dunmesh fics several times now & just eat them up every reread. I’m stoked you also have funger content & can’t wait to eat those up

2: your blog’s aesthetic is just 🤌🤌 chefs kiss

3: your chilchuck’s wife fic - I’m convinced you are the chilchuck expert you characterized him so well (& the bit in the 3some fic when he choked the reader ? gulp)

OKAY on the with the actual question: I was wondering if you have any chil thoughts for the chilfuckers? Maybe some sfw / nsfw?

thank youuu :] i'm so glad to provide for the dungeon community with both meshi and funger <3 and also extra glad to make the chilchuck people proud, he's my fav lil man

i have so many chilthoughts bc i am a verified chilfucker i need that middle aged man

nsfw chilthoughts 

MEAN mean man

Likes to make his partners huff and whine, especially if they start haughty or mouthy

Facefucking, especially, for the mouthy ones. Wants to shut you up and make you drool

Lately the thought of Chilchuck fist-fucking a bigger race has been making me sweat… like yeah lil man, get up in that thang… I need to write it. Maybe some dwarven wench who keeps mocking Chil, or an ogre that feels its appropriate to pick n lift him up while working

Schrodinger’s breeder kink - sometimes its all he’s thinking about and sometimes the thought is entirely uninteresting

Touched on it a BIT in my body swap fic but i think Chil has a really sensitive neck and likes being held there (maybe not choked, but grabbed and stroked for sure)

Has a secret goon for younger partners but doesn’t like admitting to it, the taboo of it makes him all hot especially since he knows most other races can’t tell. Like a VERY poorly kept secret that could ruin his distinguished reputation

i also have chilchuck fic ideas that i haven’t fleshed out, but thought it’d be a shame if they sat in my ‘puter unseen:

Idea 1: Reader is a young elf, only about 72, and against all odds began dating Chilchuck. On his 30th birthday, it's brought to attention that you’ll be in your 90s when he dies. Leading to a spiral wherein you’re just trying to live in blissful ignorance to your races’ lifespan difference, and Chilchuck assumes you’re mature enough to handle his death, move on, and remember him fondly… lol… anyway. When Chilchuck dies you study how to maintain your own mana without a dungeon and practice minor healing spells until you can do a full revival, which fails on Chil, so you have to turn to dark magic. Basically rewinding his life until he’s the same age as when you two met and he’s upset you brought him back because YOU could get in major trouble and that’s when you confess you didn’t tell anyone when he died bc you knew you’d bring him back -- and you’re a nutcase that keeps doing this every time he dies despite knowing he wants to die peacefully. Omg loving someone so much you need them at all costs even ruining their perception of you… 

Idea 2: Chilchuck helping a 20-ish(+?) y/o half-foot negotiate a contract for themself and he thinks they’re soooooo cute so they get together, and he’s kinda nervous to bring them around cuz you’re crazy young compared to him. Not even a child to speak of GASP. The party doesn’t notice at ALL cuz they have no idea about anything about half-foot aging and customs -- but his daughters look at him sideways lmao

and this is literally not even a full fic idea but i have a note from my chilchuck master doc for you lol

im so normal about him

[pearlessance]

Faith in Me - Idle Threats [v]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel faces hard truths and discovers you've been assigned an impossible task. He doesn't intend to let you chart your course alone.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI (no smut in this part, but in almost every other in the series), brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, BIG angst in this one, reader shoots at joel, added backstory to progress the plot

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following morning, Joel wakes up to a cold bed. The sunlight leaks in through the window, casting rays of yellow across your room. He realizes he’s never seen it like this, all lit up. There’s a mahogany dresser across from the bed, one of those handmade ones that last through lifetimes. There are scuffs and scrapes in the wood stain, but they make it look cozy and lived-in and comforting and warm, just like you. He realizes too, that the sheets on your bed that he once thought were navy are more of a plum—and that, too, suits you.

He turns his head and finds the ripped paper sitting on your pillow. He unfolds it, and inside there’s a note in your scribbly handwriting that reads, I had plans with a friend. When you let yourself out, make sure you lock the front door. 

Joel’s a little surprised for two reasons. One, you allowed him to sleep in your bed, in your home, without you, as if it were his, too. It makes him feel tender yet…territorial, somehow. Like he wants it to be his. Wants to wake up slowly like this every day, with the smell of your shampoo stuck in the sheets and in his skin. And, two, he’s surprised he slept through the night. 

It’s been a long time since he’s done that. It’s been a little easier, being in Jackson, being someplace safe. But while the walls around the commune make sleeping a little less fretful, his thoughts are what keep him up at night. Guilt and shame and all the loss he’s suffered. The memories, the picture-perfect images in his head, the bloodstain that never seems to leave his hands, the sounds of gunshots and clicking infected, and the screams, always the screams. He’s lucky to get an hour or two of solid rest every night. 

But it was dark when he fell asleep cradling your head in his hands. And now the sun is out, blinding him— midday. He feels rested and sated and revived. As if sleeping here, with you, has changed something in him. Altered the chemical makeup of his brain.

Joel doesn’t know how to process it. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he finds his clothes on the floor and does just what you ask. He locks the door behind him, wondering who this friend is that you’ve left him for, wondering if it’s someone he knows, wondering if it’s another older man who’s got morals as loose as he does.

It had been your words last night, though, and that brings him comfort. I’ll only see you.

He believes it. He has to. Because the alternative is…unthinkable. Dangerous.

When he nears the two-story colonial that Maria had given them upon their arrival to Jackson, Joel notices the door to the garage, where Ellie has taken up residence, is propped open. He hears her rambunctious laughter, and his chest pulls tight at the sound. He makes a mental note to spend some time with her soon—her birthday is coming up, and she’s growing so fast, right before his eyes. But Joel wants her to enjoy this phase for as long as she can. Wants her to get a chance to be a kid the way he’d gotten to. The way…the way Sarah will never get a chance to. 

He swallows hard as the thought crosses his mind.

And he knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s an invasion of her privacy, but he lingers outside the garage, wanting to hear that easy happiness in her voice for a little while longer. He expects to hear Dina’s voice, or Cat’s or Jesse’s, or maybe even all three of them. But he hears you instead, and something akin to relief fills him to the brim as he realizes who your plans are with.

“No, no! It’s good!” You’re laughing too, and Ellie mirrors the sound twice as loud. “C’mon, look. Let me see.”

Joel can’t help himself. He peeks into the room, decorated with band posters and paintings and polaroid photos. The two of you sit on the floor with your backs pressed against the side of her bed, knees pulled up with a composition notebook held between you. In your lap lies that journal Joel has seen so many times, the same one he’s been so curious about. 

Part of him is a little envious that whatever you’ve put in it, you’re sharing with Ellie and not him. But he supposes if not him, at least it’s her.

He watches as you pluck the ballpoint pen from her hands, making minuscule edits to whatever it is she’s drawn in her notebook. “There,” you say, handing both tools back to her. “See? You just forgot the hindwings. That’s all.”

Ellie looks up at you, admiration in her eyes. “How are you so good at this? I love drawing but I feel like I suck at it sometimes.”

“It just takes practice,” you tell her. “And I’m not good at drawing. Just these two things.” You pick up the leather-bound journal in your lap and flip through several pages.

“Bugs and bones,” Ellie says, eyes scanning each page and drinking up its contents greedily. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you echo. “Just bugs and bones.”

She stops your flipping of the pages and points to one in particular. “What’s that one?”

“A moth,” you answer.

“Is that a skull?”

“It’s called a death’s-head hawkmoth,” you say, setting your journal aside and picking up hers instead. You take the pen and speak as you draw on the page. “People used to think because of the markings it has that it was bad luck to see one. That it meant trouble was coming. But, back before the outbreak, some scientists used to study bugs like this exclusively, and some of them wondered how they survived so long because all they do was eat honey. I mean, all they do. They don’t even harm the bees who make the honey. They don’t have fangs or claws, they don’t sting like bees or cause harm to the environment. How can something like that mean trouble? Just because of the way it looks, because of what people think ?” You shake your head and hand the journal back to Ellie.

Joel knows, without even having to look, that you must have copied the image from your journal into her notebook. He mulls over your words and thinks about all the reasons he’s told you he can’t be with you. Wonders if you’ve ever compared yourself to a moth, remembers Kelly’s words. 

Bit of a troublemaker, really.

He remembers the first thing his brother ever told him about you. 

That’s just how she is. Explosive, defiant, easily provoked.

Remembers how Tommy noticed the immediate change in you after that night spent in the tree blind, that night Joel saw you for what you were and wanted it still.

That girl has been a pain in my ass every single day. Someone has a complaint about her, or she’s hollerin’ about something or other. Never does as she’s told—fights Maria and I on everything.

He thinks about Stella standing outside the bakery, shaking her fist at you with your name shouted from her lips over the loss of a single strawberry scone. One you split with a girl who’s never had one before, and likely wouldn’t have even thought to try it if not for your thievery.

How can something like that mean trouble?

Joel feels that pinch in his chest again. It’s a little different this time, a little more like guilt than appreciation, a little more like perdition, like eternal damnation.

Because he did this to you. Joel put these thoughts in your head, didn’t he? And you don’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve you.

“You write a lot,” Ellie says, and there’s a sensitive tone to her voice. One that lets you know you don’t have to talk about it, but that you can. 

And Joel is a little surprised that you do. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you forget stuff all the time?”

You shake your head, flipping back to the next vacant page in your journal. You’re drawing inside of it, and Ellie is drawing in her notebook, and Joel lets himself appreciate the sight of the two of you seemingly so comfortable with each other. Two gifts he’d been given from God, two gifts he’s too corrupt to deserve but too lamentable to ever let go of. “Not really. It’s…it’s the opposite,” you tell her so softly he almost can’t hear it from where he lingers just outside the doorway. “There’s too much I can’t forget.”

Ellie’s drawing stops, but she still holds the pen tightly between her fingers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you answer.

“I think…I think I like Cat,” Ellie says, and Joel isn’t even a little surprised to hear it. He’s old, but he’s not blind. “I mean, like like her. Is that…weird?”

“That’s not weird,” you say casually. You don’t even lift your pen, don’t even turn your head to look over at her. Joel sees the relief in Ellie’s shoulders, knows this confession has been made easier for her with how little you’ve reacted to it. “Cat’s cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, cheeks flaming. She starts to draw in her notebook again, pursing her lips together to hide her pleased smile. “Cat’s cool.”

Joel clears his throat and knocks his knuckles against the door. “Hey, kiddo,” he greets.

“Hey,” Ellie says, brows pinched together. “Where’d you go off to so early this morning? Maria was asking for you.”

“Just had a couple of things to take care of,” he says. “I’m gonna shower and then I’ll go find Maria. We’ll grab lunch in the dining hall after. Sound good?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I think they’re serving venison today.” Her eyes widen dramatically, and she gives him a pointed look, and then she’s inconspicuously nodding toward you, hinting at something. 

It takes Joel a little too long to understand what she’s saying. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shrugs as he turns to look at you, trying to prepare himself for the embarrassment, the discomfort. But when your eyes connect, none of it’s there. It’s just that warm tenderness you bring out in him, and somehow that’s even worse because Ellie is right there and he doesn’t know how to hide this, doesn’t know how to keep it under wraps when every time he looks at you he feels he might burst with the rapture he’s stolen with you. Joel fights his knowing grin as he says, “You can come.” And as soon as the words fall from his mouth he regrets them, coughs to cover up his chagrin. “I mean, for…for lunch. If you…if you want to. You don’t have to, but you’re…you can—if you want.”

You’re laughing as he stumbles over his words, and Ellie’s mouth falls open in astonishment. “Uh…sure,” you say. “Sure. I’ll come with you, Joel.”

His face burns, and he’s trying not to laugh and scream at the same time. 

“ Jesus,” Ellie huffs. “That was painful. Now go, please.”

He knows she’s pushing him out to save herself any more embarrassment, but Joel knows there’s no way it compares to his. He tries to remedy the conversation. “I didn’t mean…I’m just trying to invite you,” he says. To…to lunch. Venison.”

Ellie leans back, grabs a throw pillow from the mountain of them on her bed, and chucks one at Joel’s head. “Oh my God, go!”

Joel does as told, catching the throw pillow in his hands and tossing it on the floor at your feet before disappearing out of the garage. His mortification eases at the sound of joyous laughter that spills from both of you, and he can hear Ellie as he walks away.

“You wanna know something insane? I think he’s seeing someone. Like a girlfriend. Can you believe that?”

Your answer is spoken with mock astonishment, and Joel decides to make you eat your words later as you snark, “Whoever it is should teach him how to talk.”

He does just as he said. He showers quickly, trying to avoid thoughts of you, images that flit through his brain of your shampoo sitting next to his on the side of the tub, of a second towel hanging behind the door. He does his best to not think about you sleeping here, in his bed with your hair splayed out over his pillows. He tries not to think about hearing your soft sighs echo in his room, about waking up to the warmth of you wrapped around him, about your pretty sounding pleas for more, more, always more, needy little girl. 

Joel fails, of course—and twice he has to take his cock in his hand and grant himself a little relief in the shower before he feels sated enough to go about his day.

An hour later, he finds Maria near the stables. She’s talking to a young man Joel can’t quite place. He’s your age, and Joel’s seen him around, but his name slips his mind. Maria listens intently as he tells her about the foal who was born a couple of days ago, updating her on the horse’s progress. When she spots him, she gives him an inviting smile and says, “Joel! There you are.” 

He waits for her to say her goodbyes and the two of them leave the stables and start down the street. “Ellie said you were lookin’ for me.”

“I was,” she says, wasting no time. “When you weren’t home, wanna know the next place I checked?”

Her stare is weighted, heavy. And he suddenly feels a little bit like a child being scolded, knowing he’s been caught but not willing to admit fault.

Joel doesn’t offer a reply. Maria doesn’t either, because they both know right where she went. “She was leaving when I got there, on her way to meet Ellie. Said she hadn’t seen you since yesterday morning at The Tipsy Bison.”

She leaves room for him to confirm or deny the accusation in her words. He doesn’t. 

“You snore, Joel. Did you know that?”

He stops, feet sinking into the fresh snowfall in the middle of the street. The sun shines brightly, though—and he knows the spring thaw is coming soon. He hopes the end of this conversation comes sooner. “Maria…”

She turns to face him, several paces ahead. “She’s only lied to me once before today. And it was to protect someone then, too.”

He opens his mouth to say something, anything —but nothing comes out.

Thankfully, Maria stops him with a raised hand. “Don’t you go lying to me too,” she says. “Look, I…I know you probably think she hates me, and maybe—maybe there’s a little truth to that. But I love that girl like she’s my own, Joel. And she’s irreplaceable to this town. You understand? I don’t need her distracted. And I really don’t need you to be causing issues with the others because of her.”

It surprises him to hear it, in truth. The only interaction he’d seen between the two of you was the one in the dining hall where you’d been throwing things and screaming in Maria’s face, and Joel had assumed it’d given him all the information he needed about your relationship with her. Had he been wrong? Jackson has a pretty lengthy history—maybe there’s more to this than he once thought. Maybe there’s more to you than he thought. 

The desire to pry confessions out of you rises in him, desperate to discover that something that’s happened to you, to drink greedily from your well. Joel realizes he wants to know it all. The good, bad, and ugly.

“I’m not causing issues,” he says, but it even tastes like a lie. He’d sent Kelly away crying and almost stabbed Abel with a broken beer bottle just yesterday.

“Hey, Maria! Come take a look at this!”

Joel’s thankful for the distraction. She raises a hand in greeting to the older woman a few feet away, and then turns back to Joel with a heavy sigh and exhaustion on her face. “Look, you’re both adults, and I’m not trying to give you the talk. What you do together is your business—all I’m saying is…don’t do irreparable damage to yourself or to this town to indulge her,” Maria says. “I’m sure you know by now she can cause a whole lotta trouble when she wants to, and I don’t want you to start thinking this is anything but a way to get back at me, to prove her point. I know you think you’re what she needs, and, hell—maybe you are right now. But she’s young, Joel. She’ll never love you—not the same way you’ll love her. This is just a phase, and she’ll grow out of it. She’ll grow out of you.”

The words are cold and sharp, stabbing behind his ribs, stealing the breath from his lungs, dousing that warmth you’ve elicited and leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Because in the back of his mind, Joel knows it’s the fucking truth. 

Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, though. He chokes on it instead.

Maria seems to sense his struggle and offers an apology that does nothing for him because she can never take the words back, can never replace the blindfold she’s ripped off. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was really hoping Tommy would get through to you but I think you’re more like me. Sometimes we need the truth to hurt a little to understand it.”

The woman tries to grab Maria’s attention again. This time she gives it to her, squeezing Joel’s shoulder in a way that makes his hands curl into fists at his side. He hates Maria at this moment because despite desperately trying, he can’t find a single lie in her words.

She’ll grow out of you. 

Joel swallows it down like a bitter pill.

When he returns home, he’s relieved to discover you’ve fled Ellie’s company for the time being. He thinks about canceling, urging her to have lunch with you alone because of a non-existent headache. 

But she’s so excited to see him when he gets back, excited for the three of you to share a meal, and Joel doesn’t have the heart to ruin it. She babbles about you the whole way to the dining hall, talks about how cool you are, how pretty you are, and Joel agrees.

It throws Ellie off guard enough that she squints and turns her face up at him as they settle at a table with one vacant chair. “I thought you hated her,” she says.

“Hate her?” He shakes his head. “Nah. Ain’t like that.”

This answer, it seems, has her even more suspicious. “Sooo…what is it like then?”

Like religion.

Because Joel wants the comfort you bring. He wants the warmth, the devotion, the prayer he makes you recite whenever he finds himself between your thighs. He wants the succor that comes with urging you into submission, wants the satisfaction that blankets him when you’ve got nothing bratty left to say, foul words replaced with pleas. He wants the respite he finds whenever you’re near.

But he’s never much believed in God, never believed he’d be good enough to get into heaven. And he’s having a hard time believing he can keep you, too.

It’s not the worship he struggles with. It’s the faith.

“Sore subject, I see,” Ellie says. And there’s something on her face akin to understanding, which makes Joel realize she’s growing up at the speed of light.

“Yeah,” he says, seconds before you and Tommy walk through the door. 

The laces in one of your boots have come undone, loosening with every step you take into the dining hall. You talk to Joel’s brother animatedly, a serious look on your face. Tommy’s nodding in response as you tick off something on your fingers, and it’s barely there but Joel can see the fear in his brother's face as he looks at you. 

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know what it is or how he knows it, but Joel knows. Can see it in the way his brother’s shoulders are pulled tight, can see it in the crease between your brows. Worry emanates from both of you. And when you glance over at Joel and Ellie waiting for you at the table, it dissipates for a single moment as a warm smile stretches across your face. 

Tommy pulls you into a tight embrace—something familiar and affectionate that would enrage Joel had you shared it with anyone besides his brother. Your goodbyes are muffled by the clink of silverware and the dull chatter of the people around you, but Joel can make out two of Tommy’s words. “Be careful.”

You shake off whatever unsettles you and sit in the chair between them. “Sorry I’m late,” you say. “Tommy caught me on the way here.”

“Everything okay?” Ellie asks carefully.

“Yeah, yeah—all good.” It’s a lie, and both of them sense it but neither prod for more.

Joel leans over, takes either side of your chair, and turns it toward himself, legs scraping noisily against the wooden floor. You glare at him and start to call him some obscene name, but then he gently takes your ankle in his hands. He can feel your gaze on him as he sets your boot between his knees and laces it back up—because it’s dangerous for you to be walking around like that. What if you trip? When he’s finished, he sets your foot back on the ground and stands from his chair, trying to ignore the look of bewilderment on Ellie’s face. “You two stay put. I’ll grab lunch.”

He hears both of you break out into hushed whispers the minute he walks away, but whatever it is the two of you are talking about is way less concerning to him than what you and Tommy were talking about.

It takes him less than a minute to slip out of the back door in the dining hall, round the building, and find his brother just outside. He stops him with a brisk hand to the shoulder. “Tell me.”

Tommy lets out a sigh and runs the back of his thumb over a wrinkle on his forehead. “A few months ago, just a couple before you and Ellie showed back up, there was a raid. A bad one. Only lost a few good people but…a lot of the survivors were pretty hurt. We made it through, but the stock we had in medical supplies has been slim ever since. An’ it’s hard—finding stuff like that these days.”

“That’s all it is? A run for supplies?” You’re the best runner Jackson has. Tommy’s said so on multiple occasions. That doesn’t scare Joel, the idea of you going out there. So why has it got his brother so rattled?

Tommy swallows, and Joel knows there’s more. But his little brother hesitates, pity filling his brown eyes, and it does nothing but fuel the panic slowly creeping into Joel’s bloodstream.

“Tell me,” he insists, a little more aggressive this time.

He has to look away to answer. Tommy instead finds the steadily melting snow far more interesting. “There’s a…there’s a hospital out in Casper. About two weeks on foot, one with a horse. It’s got all the supplies we could ever need—aspirators, sterile bandages, ECG monitors, ventilators, antibiotics.”

“Get to the point,” Joel demands.

And he does. Says it outright as if it’s not a death sentence. “It hasn’t been touched since before.”

Joel knows, but he narrows his eyes and asks slowly, “Before…before what, Tommy?”

“Before the outbreak.”

Which means that whatever’s inside… “No,” he says, shaking his head and taking a step back, suddenly unable to pull air into his lungs fast enough. “No. Find someone else.”

“There is no one else, Joel.” 

“Then call it off! Send her on a scouting mission—farther away if you have to. You have no idea what’s in there.”

He can’t imagine it—something worse than clickers, worse than bloaters. Joel’s mouth runs dry as one terrifying thought rings like a warning bell through his head. You’ll die, you’ll die, you’ll die.

“You think that’s the kinda man I am? That I’d send her in there knowing how dangerous it’ll be without giving her a choice?” Tommy glares at him. “It was her idea.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care whose idea it was, I’m sayin’ no.”

“It ain’t your decision to make,” Tommy says in warning.

And Joel knows it’s the truth as much as he knows Maria’s sharp words were the truth—but he doesn't care about any of it. Not when your safety is on the line. “Nah, Tommy, you’re not—you’re not hearin’ me. I’m telling you it’s not going to fucking happen.”

“Maria’s gonna give birth soon, Joel. We need those supplies,” Tommy says, finality in his voice. He shoves past Joel, a clear sign that the conversation is over—but Joel doesn’t care about that, either.

He shoves his brother hard, and when he turns around to face him Joel can see the anger on his face. But it’s no match for his. “Don’t you walk away from me!”

“It’s not your fuckin’ call!”

Joel scoffs. “This is someone’s life you’re gamblin’ with, Tommy. You’re tellin’ me you need those supplies more than this town needs her? More than I need—?”

He stops. Freezes beneath the weight of his brother’s accusatory stare, knowing just what he’s almost said, knowing just what he’s admitted. So much for keeping it secret, Joel thinks. 

His chest constricts, ribcage closing in on his lungs. Joel suddenly can’t breathe. 

Tommy’s eyes soften as he watches his brother fall apart in the middle of the street. “I tried to warn you, man,” he says. “I told you to put an end to it. Told you nothing good would come of it.”

It becomes obvious to him then that there’s no getting through to his brother. Joel decides to take a different approach instead.

When he storms back into the dining hall, you and Ellie have already gotten plates for yourselves and one for him—and the sentiment would warm his heart if he wasn’t currently fuming. He doesn’t sit back in his chair. He stands over you and says firmly, “You’re not going.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about, and roll them dramatically the moment it clicks together in your mind. “I didn’t ask, Joel. Sit down. We got you lunch.”

“It’s a goddamn suicide mission and you know it,” he says, trying to no avail to keep his voice down.

He expects you to lash out, to fight him like you always do. But you sit still in your chair. Don’t even turn to look at him. Just stare pointedly forward, knee bouncing furiously beneath the table. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you hold back that anger, the first time he’s ever seen you try to keep it in check.

Joel’s not sure what that means. For him, or you. “If it’s been left untouched for that long, it’s probably been that way for good reason. Have you lost your mind? ”

It’s then you stand abruptly from your chair. Even though the words are dripping with irritation, you try your best to put on a gentle front as you say, “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’ll catch up with you later.”

And then you’re pushing past him, shoving him with a shoulder, leaving the dining hall with watery eyes. And Joel starts to feel a little bad, but he knows he still hasn’t gotten through to you and he has to. He needs to make you see reason before you run off and get yourself killed. 

Because he’s only just gotten a part of you. It can’t end so soon. It can’t. He won’t let it.

He follows you back to your house, calling your name, trying to avoid the stares the rest of the Jackson residents are giving the two of you. It isn’t until he says your name one final time that you turn to face him.

Joel’s chest cracks at the sight of the tears on your cheeks. He needs to get through to you, but he wishes it didn’t have to be like this. “Baby, please—just listen to me. It’s not safe.”

“Nothing is safe, Joel! Have a little faith in me. Why are you so sure I won’t make it back?”

“Because whatever’s in there is going to be so much worse than anything you or I have ever seen. Don’t you get that? You can’t do this. I couldn’t do it. No one should have to.”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes and breathe a long sigh. When you finally compose yourself enough to speak again, you don’t look at him. And that hurts more than anything, Joel thinks. “Miley…she, uhm…she’s fifteen. Same age as Ellie. Been in Jackson her whole life, never been outside. Not really. And she’s so sweet…one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. She has…she has a—a tumor on her spine,” you say softly. “It can be removed, and she’ll live. But to operate, we need anesthesia. You know where to find anesthesia, Joel? A hospital.”

He shakes his head slowly, feels pressure build in his throat. “No,” he says softly. “We’ll…we’ll find it somewhere else. I’ll help you, baby, okay? We’ll go together—we’ll figure it out—”

“She doesn’t have that kind of time! God, are you hearing me? I’m going. And when I make it back in one piece with everything they need to save her, you’re gonna feel real fucking stupid for not believing in me.”

You turn away, push through the door and slam it closed behind you. Joel scrambles up the steps after you only to discover that, this time, you remember to lock it.

An hour later, Ellie finds him in his room with his backpack on the bed and his boots laced tight and an extra flannel on beneath his coat. She leans against the doorframe with her arms crossed and asks quietly, “Tommy told me what happened. You’re going with her, right?”

He doesn’t find any resentment on her face, and it relieves him if only a little. “Yeah,” he says. “That alright with you?” He prepares himself for any answer she gives. Decides then and there he'll remain here, in Jackson, if that's what she needs from him.

“‘Course,” she says, much to his relief. “Just…be careful.”

He hugs her tight, makes her promise she’ll bother Tommy with everything she needs, makes her swear she’ll stick with Cat or Dina or Jesse, that she won’t hermit in her room. She makes a joke about how he’s the hermit between the two of them, and then she urges him on his way. 

As he’s descending the stairs, she leans over the banister and says, “Hey, Joel? By the way, fuck you for stealing my wife. I liked her first.”

It makes him laugh, and the small moment of ease she creates just before he leaves brings his spirits up. He says goodbye to Tommy on the way to the stables, who points him in your general direction. He ignores the look his brother gives in response to his decision. Ignores him, too, when he warns, “Maria won’t like this.”

Because Joel doesn’t give a fuck what Maria thinks. Not when it comes to you. Because she might say she loves you like you’re her own, but she doesn’t love you enough to refuse to send you to your death. It’s all the information Joel needs about her opinion. 

He takes a horse and enough rations for two weeks and follows the tracks you’ve left behind in the mud. Once he’s deep into the forest surrounding Jackson, Joel realizes that you’re smarter than you let on—because the hoof prints veer off a mile into the trek, off the trail, and into the more secluded brush. He knows he’s getting close when the tracks become more defined, knows he’s just on the cusp of finding you. 

But it’s not him that finds you at all. 

Joel feels the hair on the back of his neck rise a second before he hears your voice from behind him. You look a little like some sort of Valkyrie warrior, standing tall beside your horse with your bow pulled taught, an arrow aimed right at his head. “Go home, Joel,” you say, an edge in your voice he’s never heard before. 

And he knows it’s partially due to frustration, but mostly because you’re here— outside the walls, out in the open where everyone has to be harder, sharper, crueler. He dismounts, keeping a loose hold on the reins. He raises his hands in surrender. “Let’s not do this,” he suggests. “You and I both know I’m not goin’ anywhere. Alright?”

The stiffness in your limbs subsides the smallest bit at his words, the soft side of you he knows and loves peeking through. But it’s only a second before those walls come slamming down again. “I don’t do runs like this anymore,” you tell him. “I don’t take partners.”

Anymore. The word haunts him. Because it implies that you did at one point. But something changed, something happened to make you break Jackson's most important rule, to draw the boundary he’s currently crossing. He can feel the pain it causes you, even from several feet away. And Joel doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he is right now but he can’t let you do this alone. “Put the bow down,” he says, taking a tentative step forward.

You only raise it higher, pull the bowstring back further. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Go. The fuck. Home.”

Another step, closing the distance. One more and fear bleeds into your pretty eyes. 

“Stop.” Your jaw clenches. He’s moving a little faster now, steadily invading your space. “I said stop!” You release the arrow, changing its trajectory in a second. 

It whizzes through the air, sinking deep into the earth between his feet. It’s dead center—and Joel would be impressed if he wasn’t furious. “You just shot at me,” he says in disbelief. 

“No fucking shit,” you bite back. “Maybe now you’ll take me seriously.” But then he lets go of his horse’s reins completely and is stalking forward, face contorted in rage because how dare you. “I swear to God! Don’t do this!” You reach behind your head and pull another arrow from the quiver strapped to your back in the blink of an eye. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

You won’t, and he knows it. The moment he’s able Joel rips the bow from your frigid fingers, ready to grab you by your hair and force you into submission if need be.

But the moment your hands are free you’re pushing his chest—pushing and pushing so hard it nearly sends him off his feet. But Joel feels that anger, that sadness, and he realizes suddenly this has nothing to do with his being here and everything to do with what happened to you. It’s about your something. “Please,” you say, the word broken in your mouth. “Please, Joel, please don’t do this to me.”

“Hey,” he says softly, laying your bow on the ground at your side. “Hey, baby, hey, c’mon now.” He takes your hands between his, pausing your assault. They’re so cold that he brings them to his mouth and tries to warm them with his breath. It seems to calm you if only a little. “S’okay, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, alright?”

Your cheeks are flushed crimson and water lines your lashes as you confess, “I don’t care about me, Joel, what about you? What happens if you get hurt? What do I do? I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t— please. Just go home, I’m begging you.”

It’s then he understands. Joel knows this kind of grief, is real intimate with it, in fact. He knows how unforgivable it feels to lose someone on account of bad judgment. He pulls you close, wraps his strong arms around your frame and cradles your head against his chest. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, little girl. Okay? You’re alright. I’ve got ya. Shh…s’okay, baby. I’m right here. I’m right here .”

And he is—wherever you are, he silently vows to be with you. To keep you safe, always. To do his damndest to keep you from suffering any more loss, any more of that sinking misery. He lets you cry it out, lets your tears soak into his flannel, lets you catch your breath. 

When you do, you lift your head and wipe your face and fix that hard stare back onto it. “Okay,” you say softly. And then again, a little stronger. “Okay. But you play by my rules, Joel. You do what I say, when I say it.”

He hears the echo of his conversation with Ellie back in Boston. Feels the urge suddenly to spill his guts to you so you know he really, truly understands. But now isn’t the time. So Joel caresses your cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “Your run, your rules,” he says. And he means it. 

You lean down and pick up your bow, sling it across your shoulder, and pull yourself back up into the saddle. “It’ll be good, having two horses,” you say. “We can carry more supplies back.”

Joel leaves your side only long enough to mount his horse, who he steers back toward you the moment he can.

“Only one problem now,” you say. 

He furrows his brows, following you back onto the path through the forest. “What’s that?”

“You’re twice my age, Joel,” you say dismally. But there’s something else there, something teasing in your voice. “Not sure if you can keep up with me, old man.”

Joel shakes his head as you set your horse off into a gallop, flying effortlessly through the trees at a break-neck pace. He can’t resist the grin that tugs at his lips. He scoffs and mutters under his breath before following after you. “Brat.”

[part four] [part six]

[ikarasu]

🍫White Chocolate🍫

Yandere Carlo/P x Reader

Warning: spoilers, yandere behavior, broken bones, and death

P/Carlo’s Perspective: 🍫Dark Chocolate🍫

Final Part: 🥀Tummy Ache🥀

Word Count: 1715

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

At a young age, Carlo and I knew that we were to marry. My parents were successful vehicle inventors who were very interested in Geppetto’s works. Geppetto wanted his son to marry the perfect spouse. So our parents took an opportunity and formed an arranged marriage. I knew that Carlo hated me, because of the arrangement. Feeling that now he has no chance of experiencing real love. I, on the other hand, fell in love at first sight. Everything that Carlo did felt so honest and pure. I watched Carlo grow up into a fine young man, but our relationship never improved. He would always avoid me at any chance given. Yet I still loved him despite his bitter nature towards me. Loving Carlo was like savoring dark chocolate. It’s so pure and rich but leaves nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

As the plague worsened my family had us move away from Krat. Yet my parents still caught the disease and eventually passed away six months after contracting it. I returned to Krat in hopes of finding Geppetto and Carlo. Only to return to the beginning of the puppet frenzy. I found Geppetto and was told of Carlo’s passing before he rushed me to take refuge at The Krat Hotel with a few other survivors.

I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve taken refuge here. But I’ve grown to enjoy the company of others. Usually, I help around with Polendina or chat with Sophia and Eugénie. I have not heard news from Geppetto recently, and I can’t help but worry. Leading me to think about Carlo and how I wasn’t there for his final moments. It hurts to think that I never got to say bye and tell him the truth about my feelings.

The loud creaking of the front entrance doors opening pulls me out of my thoughts. Like a bitter pill, I swallow up my feelings and head downstairs to greet whoever had just entered. As I head down the stairs I hear Sophia chatting. ‘It must be another survivor…’

“Sophia, who’s the newcomer-“

I stop as I look up at the face of the newcomer. Suddenly I feel sick to the stomach and I take a step back.

“I-it can’t be….”

There stands a confused familiar face. His unfamiliar blue eyes are glassy and dull, but his freckles are a constellation of stars I have memorized by heart.

“Oh, (name), I want you to meet P” Sophia says as she looks over at me with concern.

P raises his hand slowly as he stares at me. He almost touches my hand but I run. I headed to my room as fast as I could. My breath is erratic, my heart is pounding, and my mind is spinning. I feel like the world is collapsing on me and I fall to my knees and cry alone in my room.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

*knock knock*

I refuse to move from my bed after the events from earlier today. The confusion and feeling of being lied to is conflicted inside me.

“(Name)… it’s me, Geppetto. May I come in?”

He sighs as he hears no response from me.

“I’m assuming you met my latest creation…..”

The door whips open revealing my angered expression.

“Is that what he is, Geppetto? Just another toy to you?! Some sick way to make up for your shortcomings as a father figure to Carlo?!”

My fists are trembling and the hot tears spill from my cheeks. Geppetto holds one of my fists gently before making me look at his face.

“Let me explain everything to you… there’s more to it…”

We sit in my room as Geppetto explains his whole plan to revive Carlo. I hesitate at his words, everything about it seems inhumane. Yet he tries to reassure me with promises of me getting my chance to love Carlo again.

“I can’t Geppetto… none of this sounds right. I miss Carlo as well, deeply, but this is too much for me.”

I guide him out of my room to let me process everything that has been said.

The next few days I try to go through my day as per usual. Trying to ignore those same blue glassy eyes following my form as I pass by. Despite their beautiful color, they’re too fake and doll-like for me to appreciate.

I go to the library to browse some books to read. On the top shelf, I notice one of my favorite books sitting on it. I try to reach for it as best as I can. My fingers barely graze the spine of the book before suddenly I feel a cold form pressing against my back. A larger hand easily grabs the book I was reaching for. Turning around slowly I refuse to meet his eyes. I quickly take the book and give him a quiet thank you before running off. If I had taken the time to look I would’ve noticed the way his eyes showed something new, longing.

I try to avoid him whenever he is in the hotel. Until one day I was feeling more somber than usual. Today would’ve been Carlo’s birthday. Sitting alone at the piano I play an old tune, one that I thought Carlo would’ve enjoyed if he and I got along. The tears drip from my face as I continue to play. Quietly the front doors of the hotel open and P walks in. P’s footsteps go unnoticed by me as I drown myself in my sorrows. He feels something deep down in his heart pulling him towards me. The feelings ran deep and made the ergo in his veins flow more. He felt like he had no control over these feelings. Remembering Geppetto’s words in his office after defeating the watchman at the city hall.

“(Name) and Carlo were made for each other. Treat them well, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges at the moment. They’ll come around sooner or later”

The song comes to an end and the room is now only filled with the sounds of my quiet sobs. I gasp as I feel a hand touch my shoulder. P stands there and looks at me with concern.

“Go away… You’re the last ‘thing’ I want to see at the moment” I say resentfully.

Instead of listening to me, P pulls me into a hug. I freeze and then I let myself melt. Carlo would’ve never hugged me so comfortably. The tears spill more and for once I look back at those blue eyes. He stares at me so lovingly and kindly. Maybe this is okay…maybe I can love again…

As P progressed on his journey our relationship bloomed. He was patient when I was stubborn and he was loving when I needed it. Loving P was like milk chocolate. The perfect balance of sweetness with no bitter aftertaste. He was perfect and I gave him all of my heart.

P came into the hotel and came to my room. One look at his face and I knew what he was thinking. We lay together one last time before he had to go off and finish off Simon. Our tears and hearts are shared one last time.

“I promise to come back… I won’t leave you again, (name)”

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Screams are all I can hear ringing through the hotel. I hide in my room crying as I fear for my life. They’re all gone. Eugénie, Venigni, Antonia, Polendina, Pulcinella… they’re all gone. I hear footsteps approaching my room and I feel sick to my stomach. I pray for them to turn away and move on. It’s silent for a few moments before I hear the handle of the door turn. I hid in my wardrobe before the door could be opened. Holding my breath as I stare through the crack of my wardrobe. The room is empty and everything is silent. I let out my breath before suddenly brown eyes appeared in front of the crack. A scream is ripped out of my throat as I’m yanked out of the wardrobe.

“My love~ I promised you I would come back”

I tried to push at his form but his body wouldn’t budge an inch. Staring at familiar brown eyes that are now filled with bloodlust. Familiar constellations of freckles are nowhere to be found. Only splatters of blood and oil speckle his face.

“Let me go! You monster!” I scream as I continue to thrash in his iron-like hold.

“Now, now, that’s not very nice of you love~” he says in a sugary tone

I continue to thrash as tears fall from my eyes. Praying to any gods that all of this is just some nightmare. Suddenly he pulls me by the hair to force me to look at him. His tone taking a dangerous turn.

“Father promised me that we were made for each other. So start acting like it, love.”

I tremble in his hold submissively. He smiles and releases my hair before leaning closer to my face.

“That’s a good spouse~”

Before he could lean any closer I grabbed the vase behind him and smashed it on his head. He staggers and I make a run for it. Skipping over steps as I make a dash for the exit. I manage to run out the doors into the rainy entrance before I’m tackled down. Grabbing onto my leg he gives me a dangerous look. A sickening crack and a scream were all that could be heard. I cry as the pain shoots up my leg.

“See? That’s what happens when you’re not a good spouse. I have to clip your wings” his tone has returned to that sickening sweet voice.

He pulls out a ring and looks at me. I try to crawl away but he pulls me back cradling me. I cry as he slips on the ring and pulls me into a possessive kiss.

“That’s right, love! Cry! It’s a joyous moment for both of us. Now we can be together forever just as we were meant to be”

This ‘love’ is like white chocolate. Its overly sweet taste is there to cover up the fact it isn’t chocolate. Only this time it’s all that you have left.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Notes: I will edit this eventually rippppp

[ordinaryschmuck]

Quick Thoughts on "Remember It" from X-Men '97

So I just now realized that Disney+ has rated X-Men '97 as TV-14 and...it really frickin' SHOWS with this episode.

I don't want to spoil things, mainly because I keep "Quick Thoughts" as spoiler free as possible, but like...FUCK dude. Holy hell, things went down hill quick. And you wouldn't think so, at first. Things start off relatively light enough with good fun like the X-Men getting interviewed and Nightcrawler returning to pal around with Rogue and Gambit. But slowly yet surly, the episode turns up the drama with every second.

It starts off with X-Men's usual standard: Relationship drama. Who's in love with who? Can these two still be in a relationship? How badly will Wolverine get rejected by Jean this time (Turns out, not that badly this week)? The meat of the episode is just this and I'd say MOST of it is engaging. Personally, I find the whole thing between Rogue and Magneto to be...icky. The age gap must be large between those two and feels like it was added in to twist the knife into Rogue and Gambit's tragic love story. Granted, the whole "I can't touch you" thing might not be considered a big deal in this day and age because, well, asexuality is a thing and that specific group of people might think "Oh, get over it. Physical contact isn't needed to make a relationship strong." Still, we don't need Rogue sleeping with Magneto to spice up the drama, it's already spicy.

But one thing I AM okay with is the complicated mess between Jean, Scott, and Madelyne Pryor. THIS is juicy because you can just FEEL how things can't be simple between these three, especially through Scott. The man fell in love with a girl and put a baby in her clone, you can't get more complicated. And I like that there's time dedicated to figuring out WHAT happened and WHERE to go from here. I'm so glad the show didn't just sweep the whole thing under the rug and I REALLY hope they still don't now that Madelyne MIGHT be...uh...Well...

You know how I said things went downhill quick? Well, a certain...event happens in all of this. An event with casualties, lots of blood, and bold sacrifices that left me STUNNED. It was at this specific event did I realize, "Oh, yeah, this probably SHOULD be meant for older audiences." Because, yeah, things get DARK in this event. I wouldn't say it ever gets to Invincible levels, the show NEVER goes that far. But I will say that it DOES go farther than what the original series does as well as anything Marvel has put out in recent years. Again, I won't spoil anything, but trust me when I say things are going to CHANGE with this series. I doubt the emotions would be as strong if you just watched the revival before the original series, but it is still some well-done action and drama that's perfectly executed--Oh, that was a poor choice of words...

In short, "Remember It" is DEFINITELY going to be a memorable episode...

[highlordofkrypton]

PROLOGUE SUMMARY:

The world is in ruins. Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. To think, they’d all fall prey to their own hubris. This is not what the Goddesses wanted. To Prythian, they are sending scouts to decide whether their world is worth saving, or whether it should be devoured and remade anew.

This is a dark fantasy, eldritch horror fic that may end up being unserious more often than not.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey, remember that You Wanted a Villain snippet? It's now a fic! I probably won't post the updates here, so follow on AO3 if you like. I'm just gonna be vibing with this one, writing that self-indulgent shit 👌

READ ON AO3 OR BELOW THE CUT

The world is in ruins.

Humans and Faeries pick at each other’s teeth until the bone is whittled from flesh and all that is left is blood in their wake. They had been created equal, once. One people who would breathe life from and into nature, the other that would build upon it in ways that even the gods could not imagine. It was thought that they would complete each other, those who danced in between the trees as spirits and the mortals who sacrificed immortality for knowledge.

To think, they’d all fall prey to the same selfishness.

This is not what the Goddesses wanted.

Creatures skitter across the cracked dry ground, gathering their offerings in the form of sticks, grain and withering greens. Very little survives in the Black Lands, an old forgotten place where myth and legends roamed free. The mound grows and grows until it overflows, a tidal wave of activity where not even the wind dares to blow. 

A wolf lopes towards the pile and the vermin part in reverence. It bows its head, honouring the ghost that sleeps here.

Smoke billows to the West, another prickle of life in this forgotten place. A small spark blooms into a shy flame; it casts dancing shadows across the withered bark of the Black Forest (now made only of skeletons). It distracts from the cloaked figure haunting these lands.

He darts into the wide maw of an unlit cave, clothes billowing behind him with just a breadth of magic. He hides from no one, but he makes no noise, giving way to stirring of the Black Lands—a quiet, haunting symphony. (It can be heard by those who listen with more than their mortal tools. Its revival should wring in their guts, twist them into knots and let bile rise back up into their gullets.) 

The Stranger clenches his fist, tighter and tighter, until the strength of his nails cut into his palm. Blood trickles down his palm and into a small black bowl on the ground.

Awaken, he beckons, not with words, but his entire being.

The Black Lands shudder.

They are coming.

***

Late.

A sentiment that echoes through the Black Lands, like a steady unimpressed voice. The Wolf and the Billowing Smoke met the Stranger, the former’s shoulders stuttering in muffled laughter. The Smoke simply laughs openly without a care in the world.

“Is our little Nightshade upset?”

The Stranger’s ethereal blue eyes narrow and his nostrils flare in clear annoyance. Beings of their age need not words, those are a creation of later when the abundance of races needed some universal language that was not power. He says nothing, jaw flexing in all the things he won’t be goaded into saying. There is only one creature in the world that breaks the Stranger’s composure and it is of the greatest unfortunate that it is made of smoke and sass.

“He is so angy,” the Smoke continues, a wicked smile forming on its pale imitation of a face.

“Angy is not a word,” the Stranger finally snaps.

“And he speaks the mortal tongue! Oh, it sounds good on you, angry one.”

The Wolf’s tail sways side to side, content to be in the presence of its missing counterparts. Johannes, Ballika, it growls through their minds and through the very Earth itself. There is no one here to hear them, no use in containing themselves, but soon—soon, they will need to exist as a fraction of themselves. It has been too long. Tipping its head, it acknowledges them both as peers.

Johannes, the Stranger from the Black Lands, halts his inner machinations on how to exhort physical pain on something intangible. (He would, first, have to change its shape from vapid smoke to something heavier. Perhaps a different element, something so leaded he’d find himself trapped within layers and layers of ground. Bye, bye, Johan would wiggle his fingers and enjoy the peace he’s claimed for himself. A mere fantasy, but a comforting one.) He nods in return.

We have work to do.

The mission sobers them up from bickering and heartfelt reunions. Somewhere in this world, a fracture has widened and widened, disconnecting it from its roots—from what it should be: a Sanctuary. There are others, places where Gods have had their fill of Creation, but those were made in their image and turned to poison as soon as they were left on their own. This world, their world and former home, was built on billions of years of hope. Hope that it would be better than any other existence. It is their job to restore the heart of the Goddesses, but they can only do that by finding the source of the discord.

We will begin with Prythian. My initial investigation points to there.

The Wolf and Ballika nod. Each of them is to return to their home Continent, to the Courts they once commanded. Johan, the former yawning abyss that darkened the Northern skies. The Wolf will return to its prowl across the South and the West. Ballika will swallow the lands made of Smoke. Back to the homes in which they were each born.

“Shall we place bets?” Smoke billows around his younger brother, perching on the shoulders of his little nightshade only to be shaken off.

The Goddess coddled you far too much, Ballika, if you think this is a game, the Wolf grumbles and begins his journey towards the Spring Court. 

“Oh, it’s been millenia since we’ve been let out. Let’s have a little fun.” He looks around to hound Johan instead, but finds him to be gone. “I wager there won’t be a continent left by the time we join him. Hold, Wolf, hold. Let us watch and see.”

[commander-revan]

So I finished reading through the Naruto manga for the first time last night, and I had some thoughts about how similar parts of Obito's and Touya's stories are. They have very different pasts and different reasons for becoming 'villains' in the worlds they live in, but they do have several things in common.

When they're younger they're both bright, energetic, and determined kids that both have a goal of becoming an important person in their communities (hokage/hero). While Obito didn't really have family or parental figures in his life, given that he's Uchiha there's most likely a sense of legacy he's trying to live up to similar to Touya, and they're both working towards their goals so they finally feel seen by those around them. They both feel ignored by the people they consider important (Rin and Minato/Endeavor) in favor of those who are seen as more skilled than them (Kakashi/Shoto), so they train harder and harder in an effort to finally be noticed.

Both of them 'die' tragically young at the age of thirteen, though in very different ways. Obito dies with Kakashi whom he had finally bonded with, and Rin whom he loved though he still didn't have the courage to tell her his feelings. While Touya 'dies' alone, waiting for a father who won't show up for him until he's already gone.

However, they're both saved by a major villain that was thought to be long gone They're revived and healed using rather unethical science (White Zetsu/Nomu). And they both come out of the experience with weaker power than what they once had, and scars covering a large portion of their bodies.

While Touya never buys into AFO's plans and immediately breaks out and runs home, Obito has to stay and recover. Part of him even feels indebted to Madara, even though he is a bit creeped out by him and his philosophy. Eventually, though, he gets out too with the 'help' of one of the Zetsu's. However, when they both arrive to reunite with the people they're trying to get to, they see something that sets them on their dark paths.

They come to different solutions for what they want to do (Infinite Tsukuyomi/getting revenge on his family) but they both spend time walking the world and see how more than just their personal situations are fucked up. They see how much injustice there is in their societies, and how the people up top that are supposed to protect others frequently harm and use them. (The world of Naruto is quite a bit more fucked up than MHA, but the point still stands.)

After that, they both go by an alias (Tobi and Madara/Dabi) and start setting their plans in motion, eventually teaming up with the villain who saved them. Later on, they both fight their past loved ones (Minato and Kakashi/Endeavor and Shoto) who don't realize who they're fighting initially. Though once they do finally get it, Obito and Touya point out how they should have realized it sooner.

(This is a minor one that I didn't quite know where to put, but they do both show up to the final battle with white hair and outfits.)

They both end up fighting and losing to the one that they've always envied (Kakashi/Shoto), but they get back up and do something violently self-destructive that has the power to kill a lot of people that neither has complete control over at first.

During this, and the pain they're experiencing, they both start having flashes of a life that could have been. A life that should have been so simple to have.

That's about where we leave Touya, he's down, but he hasn't been completely saved yet. Meanwhile, thanks to Kakashi and Naruto's efforts, Obito begins to realize that there is hope still in the world, and that not all of it is hell. And he ends up fighting with them to take the bigger threat to the world down. Until he eventually sacrifices himself in the end to save Kakashi (and Naruto), just like he did during his first death.

If Obito, who did way more heinous things than Touya has ever done, can be saved and redeemed in the end, then I believe Touya can too. But, unlike Obito, I think he's going to get to live afterwards.

[pricescigar]

Vampire!Price & Elvira Wolff Lore

Even though I've written Vampire!Price twice, I'm going to dump some new lore between Vampire!Price & Elvira Wolff

I have been brainstorming for a while because why not >:)

(And also because I've been too shy to share it lmao)

You could say I got heavily inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula / Castlevania because it's my brainrot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAYS... LETS BEGIN

John Price lore

Captain John Price, also known as "Dracula." "Prince of Darkness." "King of the Night."

Before he became a Vampire was of course a famous captain in the British army in the Medieval era ranging from 500AD to 1500's. John was born at some point in the early 1060 A.D. exactly date, month, was deemed to been long forgotten. The older you get, of course you forget your age and the people around you who are long dead now.

In his human years standing proudly at 190.50 cm / 6ft3 , short brown hair that was always slicked back. His blue eyes shone in the sunlight. Chizzled mutton chops, always neatly shaved regardless of time and place.

At a young age he joined the army, leaving the life he knew behind. He became an excellent swordsman, leader & strategist. He was a young man after all, well built, strong like any man.

Knowing the basic means of survival thanks to all what his father taught him, his father's name forever unknown to everyone else but John.

He sought his enemies to be dead upon the battlefield, always the one to rush into Battle. With his great courage and bravery he quickly became captain, leading his men into Battle with no hesitation. Despite all of the Battles he had won, he wanted more. Of course, John was immensely recognised by his bravery, leadership. He wanted more; He wanted to be King.

At the time had a supposed lover by his side. Despite how forbidden it was for a Knight to have fallen in love with a Princess, he did fall in love with her. He wanted nothing more to take her hand, and make her his. Yet... she soon passed away due to a grave illness, which also made him angry and guilty.

Greed & Power could only get a man so far. With deadly consequences, he betrayed the King, the same one who knighted him all those years ago. Taking the Throne for himself, his other relatives had been slaughtered, taking no second chances. While he sat ever so proudly at the Thone, killing anyone who had defied, dared to betray him.

(That had also meant most of his soldiers for that matter)

To be the Kingdom's forever ruler, John sought out means to possess immortality. He heard of many rumours that of a "Crimson Stone." By any means necessary, the stone got into Price's possession thus he gained immortality. But at a cost.

He became a Vampire. His appearance changed as a whole, all forms of humanity, forms of emotions were gone.

His skin became paler, his ears almost pointed. Teeth sharp like canines, sharp nails that could easily cut you at the slightest touch; Standing now at a staggering height 213cm / 7ft.

With his powers he managed to revive his men forming an undead army, at the bend of his will. Raging War on anyone. With his now gift of immortality, he also gained knowledge of Necromancy & master of Sorcery. Although he gained the common abilities of a Vampire. Price was the most special one of all.

Under the restrained rule of John Price, a band of rebels formed a resistance. A band of powerful sorcerers. With Price's newfound powers, it raged a powerful battle. Almost defeating Price he transformed into a bat, escaping just in the nick of time before his ultimate demise.

One of the sorcerers that almost killed him was a member of the Wolff family. Escaping England for good, moving far away to another foreign land. Yet over time, Supernatural forces grew despite Price's dissappearence, Vampires spawning everywhere causing destruction everywhere.

Soon a Hunters Regieme was formed to tackle the supernatural creatures.

-

Elvira Wolff lore

The Wolff family became strong as the generations went by, one of the many few families built the Hunters Regime, and what it became of in this day and age.

Elvira's mother passed away during birth, so it's been herself and father that stuck through thick and thin. Along with Elvira's godfather, godmother and uncles in their family estate.

Elvira was trained from a young age to be a hunter like her family members, from the age of 5 her training begun. Her knowledge was built on by reading various books about the supernatural creatures; How to fight them, how to deal with them, what to do when you encounter one.

(The list goes on)

By the age of 10 Elvira already had basic knowledge of supernatural creatures, but that was a starting point of her career path.

As she grew older her father got attacked and seduced by a Vampire and eventually turned into one. Bit by bit, all forms of humanity dissapeared within him.

Elvira's godparents, and uncles died in the hands of her father as they tried protecting her but to no avail. Dietrich always had the upper hand.

Elvira became a captive in her own home, each night she heard the various screams of men, women, being dragged into the family estate so Dietrich could feed on his eternal hunger.

Elvira did all she could to save them but that would only result in punishment, when she turned 21 in 1476. She risked her life to do the inevitable. Eliminating her father.

She risk burning down her family estate, trapping her father in it. By the time she got out Elvira was gravelly inured, yet she survived.

The Hunters came and nursed her back to health, yet due to her father's betrayl she had to work hard to regain their trust once more.

Her mission was to kill the Vampire King, John Price. Elvira had everything she needed to make the mission successful.

Yet the moment Price set his eyes on Elvira, the young woman reminded him for his long lost princess... His lover.

[tav-marcio-leles]

Meet my Tav, Marzio! Yes, another updated masterpost. I'm so sorry.

His pose is apart of the somatic motion for Sanctuary (if you wanted to know)~

Since my Marzio comic is going to take a lot longer to be produced than I planned, his story will be under the cut! You can read this if you like, or you can wait until I start releasing the comic.

Gender/Sexuality: Trans Man / Gay Age: 35-40, or however old Gortash is -> unsure due to memory loss Race: Mephistopheles Tiefling Origin: Haunted One (Dark Urge) Class: Monk / Cleric of Ilmater -> Duelclass (Open Hand / Life Domain)

Marzio has very little memories of his life before the Nautiloid. All he has left are his name, flashes of old names and training as his time as a painbearer for Ilmater.

Stats:

STR: 15 DEX: 12 CON: 13 INT: 8 WIS: 17 CHA: 10

Important Design Note:

Devil’s Hair listed here is Devil’s Daring Needles or Virgin’s Bower. I didn’t realize thar Devil’s Hair was a parasite twin plant? Correct me if I’m wrong.

His pants are usually white, but I went with blue here... for some reason.

His eyes probably change color during his urges to red or orange

SPOILERS BELOW CUT -> scroll all the way down for screenshots!

Marzio's Story TLDR: Marcio got sacrificed to Bhaal and was revived as the Dark Urge (now Marzio).

Life One:

Marcio was a cleric of Ilmater, a painbearer specifically. Marcio was trained to endure the worst pains a person could experience, all in the name of helping others—including but not limited to drowning, starvation, dehydration, extreme weather, and anything physically painful. Reading on Ilmater Painbearers, there's a lot of horrors between those lines.

Despite this, Marcio was satisfied with his life and the path he had chosen. He loves people, and Ilmater is actually pretty cool compared to a lot of the other gods. He was eventually almost made a martyr of when the Nautiloid came and took him away—taken rushing people to safety as the ship tore through Baldur's.

He met Gale after Shadowheart, and one could say the rest is history, but that's unfortunately, that's not how Marcio's story goes.

After a lot of self-sacrifice, Marcio developing an alarming savior/martyr complex, they finally reached Mystra's confrontation. I kid you not when I say that my save files stopped loading after that conversation. Gale had received all the help he needed from Marcio, but the moment Gale turned around to finally help Marcio in return, dead. Save gone.

So, why not take that opportunity to diverge from canon a little bit.

Intermission:

Remember that murder tribunal with Sarevok to Bhaal? Who would be a better replacement for Valeria than Marcio himself—a cleric to Ilmater makes a much better sacrifice than an uncaring investigator.

Gale, I imagine, was nooooot that happiest with this development. But what was done, was done. Can't revive Marcio now.

So, what does our completely sane and not at all unhinged wizard do? Why, he takes the Crown of Karsus to revive Marcio, of course! Somewhat becoming a god, and despite all warnings not to, half-god Gale reverses time with a wish spell. Wish spells though? They're a lot like a monkey's paw. He might have changed the timeline, but not everything came back how it should.

Life Two:

Marcio has been reborn in this timeline as Marzio. (Partially because I needed a way to differentiate the two, and partially the because that was how I meant to spell it in the first place. But I had two save files to experiment with classes, and I was afraid of overwriting something.)

Now here's where the timeline gets messed up.

I don't imagine this new Bhaal was very happy with a sacrifice to him literally being the cause of a new world with new life. No, in fact, it was probably another chance for him to try and destroy the world again. Taking that sacrifice Marcio made for Valeria, Marzio was born as the Dark Urge. Maybe this would direct his destruction on the winning path this time.

So, Marzio is the Dark Urge now. He's all blue, because he was a corpse literally wished to have a new life.

Currently:

Yeah, so that's Marzio!

He and Gale are Betty x Simon coded, and I'm crying in the club thinking about it.

I'm thinking maybe Gale is a tiefling too in this timeline (thanks to High Rollers for that imagery), solely for the fun of it. Who knows. I was this comic to be fun and worth the time it will take to create, but also worth y'all's time to read. Let me know what you think.

I have the dream guardian set as Marcio, so maybe that will change things in the comic for the Emperor? Who knows. I still have a bit of deciding to do with the writing.

OTHER FUN INFORMATION:

Romance Partner: Gale Tattoos: Dandelion, Yarrow, Coltsfoot, Bishop's Lace & Devil's Hair (Virgin's Bower) Scars: Morning star scar on cheek; whip/scourge lashings on his back and some spilling onto his arms/shoulders, hips, and sides; rope burn scars (religious practice), vivisections scar from his collarbone down to his abdomen

Other Notable Details:

pierced ears

wears holy symbol ropes around his wrists for Ilmater as often as allowed

doesn’t have t-scars, because he’d prefer no one to know (magiced them away!)

Other Behaviors:

cat-like: purrs, trilling, tail movement (twitching, lashing, etc.), and sometimes other cat body-language (headcanon that all tiefling are somewhat cat-like)

Music Playlist (Spotify): Marcio Leles

Trivia:

Birthday: March 4th / Ches (the Claw of Sunsets) 3rd MBTI: tbd Personality: Shy with people he knows, bold with people he doesn't know, lovingly teasing, patient, self-sacrificing

Favorites:

Food: Potatoes (& anything potato adjacent) Drink: Dry Alcohols (usually ciders or wines) Color: Blue Weather: Slight Breeze, Slightly Cloudy, Sunny Flower: Dandelion Animal: Pigeon Activities: Gardening, Foraging, & Herbalism

Images:

You can thank my roommate for these once in a life time quality screenshots. My laptop does not let Marzio look this high res 👁️

[synergysilhouette]

Guide to my Rewrites (and other content)

I post a lot of things, and some of those things are rewrites. As such, I thought this would be a nice guide for fans of my rewrites in particular. I'm still adding new things! Lemme know what you think.

Alternate Takes (Disney)

These are projects that have the same characters and settings (for the most part), but different plot points. These particular alternate takes suggest ideas that would've made me enjoy the movie more (or at all) and aren't a fanfic so much as bullet points with pictures.

Aida

Pocahontas

Hercules

The Princess and the Frog

Tangled

Frozen

Big Hero 6

Moana

Frozen 2

Raya and the Last Dragon

Encanto

Strange World

Wish (Note: working on a full-length rewrite unrelated to the ideas used here)

I also did rewrites for two Dreamworks movies:

The Road to El Dorado

Sinbad

Reimagining Disney Movies

These are projects that take Disney's framework (ie a fairy tale) and create my own characters, plot, setting, and song titles for it.

The Snow Queen

Kingdom of the Sun

Rapunzel

Reimagining Disney eras

These posts are designed based on what if Disney eras made different decisions (either based on my own ideas or rejected concepts) for their films. Note: I made the revival post before the renaissance and post-renaissance posts, so they kind of flow in different continuities. I also wanted to include future ideas for Disney's next era. These posts also work independent of my "Alternate Take" posts.

Reimagining the Renaissance

Reimagining the Post-renaissance

Reimagining the Revival era

Plotting out the Reinvention era

Marvel

Not quite as detailed as my other rewrites, but I thought I'd include them.

Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness

Thor: Love and Thunder

X-Men (Because they have more content than my other Marvel things)

This pretty much just includes my rewrites.

X-Men: Evolution--New roster, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Roster (Timeskip), Season 4, and Season 5 (I did a poll months ago, and maybe I'll do a post brainstorming a Marauders spinoff).

Wolverine & the X-Men--New Roster, Season 1

Fox's X-Men films (I may remake this)--Part I (First 3 films) and Part II (Phoenix, NM, and Dark Phoenix)

Extensive rewrites

TV shows that I've remade episode-for--episode, perhaps removing and adding some as I see fit.

Miraculous Ladybug--Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4 (currently working on Season 5; been dragging my feet with that!)

Anime as comic books

Yes, this is a topic. I remember when I was in this headspace, and it was really fun. I basically reimagined what if popular anime had been created as superhero comic books that golden or silver age.

Dragon Ball

Naruto

Anime rewrites

Black Butler

Naruto: Part I

High Card: Season 1

Video Game Rewrites

These aren't quite as detailed as my usual rewrites.

Bayonetta

Fire Emblem: Awakening

Fire Emblem: Fates

Fire Emblem: 3 Houses

Kingdom Hearts

Hogwarts Mystery (MAYBE; ongoing internal discussion)

My OCs

This section covers my original characters for a few fandoms.

Fictif

The Arcana

Hogwarts Legacy

Baldur's Gate 3

Mood Boards

Just something I've made for fun to inspire others! Not an expert on making them, but it was still something I wanted to do.

My Wish rewrite (temporary)

Disney's Swan Lake

Disney's Hansel & Gretel

Disney's Rumpelstiltskin

Disney's Red Riding Hood

Sub-Saharan Disney musical

Disney Superhero Film

Japanese Disney musical

Actors who could play Disney villains

Choices: Stories You Play

REALLY into this game for a period--but it started to get awful when "Witness" came into play. Here's a list of reviews (which I've stopped doing) as well as concepts for new books (originally on Reddit before I got banned).

"Before I Say I Do"

"Celebrity Status"

"Summoned to Court"

"Arkikara"

"Fairy Godparent"

"Hierarchy: Scheming University"

"Willow Falls"

"Late at Night"

"Spellcaster"

"Four"

"America's Most Eligible" (Review)

"Desire & Decorum" (Review)

"High School Story" (Review)

"Rules of Engagement" (Review)

"The Freshman" (Review)

"Queen B" (Review)

Winx Club Content

Rewriting the Winx

Rewriting the Specialists

Rewriting the Villains

Monster High Content

Plotting out Gen 4

[bootleg-sara]

Random fuck miitopia job head cannons GO

(Under a read more because it’s really long)

- Most people are born into their jobs. “Jobs” are magical and often affect the person’s anatomy in some way. Under normal circumstances, people cannot change their jobs either. There’s more magical jobs available than what’s shown in game

- You don’t need to have parents who have these magic jobs to be born with one. It seems to be almost random in how the world chooses who has a job and who doesn’t. Vise versa, people who have magic jobs can give birth to a jobless child

- They are called Jobs because the job holders of miitopia didn’t want non-magic users to feel left out. Miis with magic jobs do hold special privileges as well as extra responsibilities.

- There’s charms of each job that can give its job to anyone who wears it. But you do need to wear it for it to work, as you’ll lose your job while it’s off

- The “Dark Lord” is technically a job of itself. The job proper is called Face Stealer. People who became dark lords after wearing the charm was due to the curse that was stuck with the charm, not the job itself. No one is born with this job naturally, the charm being made centuries ago from a long forgotten deity. Their main weapons are special coins that hold faces. They have the capability to both make incomplete monsters and clones of themselves

- It’s been theorized that jobs were originally created by deities long ago to combat the Face Stealer charm. This theory is largely unproven and has fallen out of most modern thoughts due to how long ago a Face Stealer had any prevalence in culture

- Cat jobs aren’t completely cats, but have many cat-like physical qualities. And the amount that shows on a person varies. The cat charm gives tends to give the user a bit less of these physical traits than those born into it. But all cat job holders do have very hairy bodies (some cover the body more like body hair would, while others have hair all over), cat ears, whiskers, and sharp nails. The cat suits that are bought are to help either cover the hair or add more to help the person be more in-tune with their job. The claws are weapons you can wear above their natural claws to improve their performance

- Mage jobs do have a school to help train new upcoming mages. Mages are considered to be one of the dangerous jobs and thus a community of well-known mages made a school to help teach control so young mages don’t accidentally hurt people or themselves. Most mage magic is based in fire and electricity, drawing from earth’s natural power. Most mages do have their own unique spells, but these are considerably weaker than their main stays.

- Vampires can drink blood to heal themselves, but most prefer not to. They usually love acidic foods like tomato juice and blood doesn’t really satisfy that desire. Their teetering between death and life have left many confused as to what vampires truly are. But vampires can die for good and many die of old age (even if their old age is older than an average person). Their “revival” skill helps them get up from being knocked out more quickly, not from being dead. They are not affected of garlic and crosses. Many vampires love a good garlic bread!

- Tanks have the most separated anatomy from a normal human. With a body that has mechanical parts within them. Which leaves them much more durable but also very slow. Their ammo is still connected to a magic system, but they can change their ammo via magically enhanced weapons. Their wheels fold up next to the legs when not in use. Their canon can be replaced, though it must be done rather carefully for underneath that shell is the tanks actual body. Typically only other tanks, scientists, or jobless people who are trained in bio mechanics can do maintenance and body swaps on tanks. Making their armor upgrades the most tedious of the jobs (tanks was the hardest for me to figure out because WOW)

- People get Imp jobs confused with Imps the monster very frequently. Many times in the past people have suggested removing Imps from the job classification and consider them full monsters instead, but that idea never gets through the conceptual phase. They do still have a mostly-human form, while monster imps lack many of human features like legs and a face. Depending on the person, imps can be like bats, birds, or satyrs with wings. Imps are known for trouble, but most people who are imps don’t have a desire to hurt anyone past a small prank. They can only fly in short bursts

- Warriors are the least magically inclined of all the jobs. Still, they have the ability to channel their magic into stronger sword attacks which separates them from a jobless sword user. They also have extremely high durability that surpasses most people, even others with jobs. They are often used to guard important people like kings and government officials due to their high stamina and loyalty

- Clerics are not doctors. Their healing is strictly used for soothing or on the move battlefield injuries. They can’t fix something big a broken limb or cure illness. Still, their curative abilities are matched by none. Being able to rejuvenate a person in mere moments. They can use their spiritual connection to deities to smite monsters, but only those who carry faces. Clerics are notoriously hard on HP bananas, viewing them as unnatural and illy made

- Thieves aren’t called thieves because they steal from others. It comes from their battle tactics of upper handed trickery and quick movements that keep them out of sight. They use more sleight of hand tricks rather than the emotional ones of imps. Thieves do take inspiration from the thieves of yore, but they flip those nasty tricks and use their skills for good. Usually. There’s some thieves that do fit their name sake

- Pop stars are an odd ball of jobs. It can hard to tell they use magic at all to an untrained eye. But those smooth dance moves and captivating singing are enhanced by the magic that lays within them. They simply have to release said magic via the mention methods. Pop stars do not need a microphone to use their magic, but it does greatly enhance its effectiveness. They actually use a magic very similar to imps, touching the deeper hearts of those who listen to their music. The main difference being that pop stars haven’t found a way to use that magic to force actions and stronger emotions like an imp can. At least not yet. There’s a few sneaky ones trying to increase their Magic’s potency

- Chefs job magic is more in tune with fire than being a good cook. They can self heat their pans to cook without a flame. They can conjure fire magic, but most attempts to do that without a pan leads to them setting themselves on fire before their enemy. Their magic is also directed transferred into their food when they cook, which boost that food’s healing abilities. Or damage potential, depending on what they are making. Chef jobs can make even the smallest amount of food be filling and nutrient rich. Chef jobs are the main prepares of monster grub, and are found at almost every inn for work

- Scientist jobs are the most funded group of the magic jobs. Due to how diverse their skill set can be for the modern world. Ironically enough, they are the least likely magic job to be found out fighting monsters. Scientist jobs usually sport a photographic memory and are considered to be very smart. Some are smart in many places, while others have a very limited and specific range of knowledge. Their magic mainly shows itself via electronic/computer-like spell casting. Their spells are executed in a simple coding language. Much like mages, there is a school for the scientist job for many of the same reasons.

- Princesses are the least common job, this job is the only one that is passed down via bloodlines. You need to have a parent with a princess job for the child to have the chance to have that job themselves. Not all princesses jobs are royalty, and not all royalty have this job. A princess job who prefers to be masc-presenting will often dress as a princes. Oddly enough, many princess jobs always carry a natural pleasant aroma with them. With it without the use of a proper fragrance. Along with scientists, princesses are usually not seen in the battlefield. But you’ll see more princess jobs out there fighting than scientists

- Flowers are deeply in tune with the earth. One of the few jobs (along with clerics) that work directly with deities for their magic. Not all flowers actually grow huge flowers on their heads (but there’s definitely some that do). Their flower costumes are to help them feel deeper with the earth they gain their energy from. Most flower jobs do have at least a small bit of foliage growing on their bodies. Sure do hope you like bugs as a flower, because they’re constantly swarmed by them. Thankfully, most bugs do not attack or harm flower jobs. But pest upkeep is an important part of a flower job’s health. Flowers are very relaxing, offering a calming and warm sensation for those nearby them. Flower jobs do not like most essential oils or defusers. Many people respect flower jobs, as it’s a common belief that whenever they use “Flower Power”, they are releasing the earth’s anger, which helps prevent natural disasters. Flower jobs tend to be timid

- Elves are one of the most common power jobs out there (along with sage). Like flowers they draw energy from the earth, but it’s not as direct. Their magic is potent and can be used in many ways, often via channeling it for protection or weapon strength. Usually connected to whatever environment they were born in. Forests are the most common draw, but elves can take from any ecosystem. What ecosystem they draw from will change how their magic is shown

[verishere]

Can you rant about your OCs please??? They seem very interesting and I want to learn more abt them :3

whoo this'l be fun. Technically pretty much every OC has their own individual post on @vermakesthings, but thats more focused on worldbuilding than on the OC's- things like their positions and stuff. I don't think I mentioned anything about any of their personalities on that blog ever.

I have like 13 OCs and while some aren't fully thought out I do have like 7 that I could ramble about and that would take fucking forever so for today wheelofnames.com and we get 3.

Won't talk about any of the extremely important stuff about the characters, like their limbos if they are Thrinnu or their arcs and stuff- thats all explained in their own post on @vermakesthings

first though I have two species for the worldbuilding project. One of them is just humans (called "Mornnu") and the other is Mennu.

Don't know what a Mennu looks like? Take a human, make their shoulders a bit slimmer and hips a bit wider on average, make their head a bit bigger, and cover them in very, very deep purple fur. Almost black fur. Now make their mouths like 1.5x as big as a humans and their eyes 1.25x as far apart. Thats a Mennu.

also incase you know nothing from my sideblog, Thrinnu are the creators and true rulers of the world, the Lyradonnus are the regent royal family they had while they were stuck in their limbos.

Aegir Thrinnu

Species: Mennu

Pronouns: he/him

Brother of: Freya, Nerquam, and Nirum.

No parents aside from perhaps the primordial void. No, thats not an exaggeration.

aro/ace and cisgender. Not that those words exist in world, this is a fantasy setting, but you get the point.

Very, very basic rundown of role: Master of the earth element, one of the four creators of the world, his domain is over the earth itself: he designed the mountains and the canyons, the landmasses and the caves. He maintains his control ofc and manages earthquakes and other necessary things.

He is also the most massive fucking troll to ever live, somehow outshining both Axel Lyradonnu and his sister, Freya Thrinnu, which is genuinely impressive. He isn't known as the most massive troll to ever live though, just a bit of a troll, as almost everything he does is anonymous. He does not get through a single day without annoying somebody, but they usually think he does something like once a month. From tying hair together, dying hair, and keptchup bottle replaced with hotsauce all the way to things like Eris' "to the fairest" golden apple from Greek Mythology. He did something like that except it was with a bueatiful (hand crafted) diamond, and thrown into a room of Lords of the Mark (if you ask what that is be prepared for politics) of the southern realms. Two people died there. Still no one knows who threw the damned thing.

Likes: trolling, singing, caves, rocks, trolling, spending time with his family, meeting new people, alcohol, playing with is nephew/niece, did I mention trolling people?

Dislikes: Dancing, flying, public appearances (he's a litereral king), speeches from him or anyone else, worship, and anyone thinking their position of power makes them entitled.

Averon & Unvurion Lilinu Lyradonnu Thrinnu

Siblings, children of Freya Thrinnu and Liam Lyradonnu.

Averon is transfem, Unvurion is transmasc.

these two are interesting. There is a method of revival in my world, but for thousands of years it was shut off. Averon died as an infant some 400 years into the Dark Ages. Unvurion was born about a year into the Second Blessed Years. Averon was revived from death two weeks later. So depending on who you ask, they are either 4500 years apart or two weeks apart.

These two are inseperable. There was exactly one documented case of them arguing after they turned 10, which was when they were coming out as trans: Unvurion was scared to and Averon thought he was being stupid. The only other disagreements they have had are solved civilly and within minutes. It did help that, especially due to who their parents are, they pretty much never had to share any thing outside of when their parents were intentionally teaching them to do so, so they never had anything to fight over.

They aren't really trolls at all, though they are known to be an unstoppable force of karma. Their family and friends they are nothing but kind to, little pranking, but heres an example of the opposite: a few lords of the mark were visiting the palace of the sun for a meeting with the Thrinnu. They were by this point only teenagers and were thus not present, though they did listen to the entire thing (with their parents approval). After the meeting, the dignitaries were leaving to their private guest quarters. They thought the teens were away at the time visiting extended family, though in truth the kids were hiding behind a pillar.

A plot was formed with all the entire services of the palace. The launderers were especially involved in this, though not alone. Everyone collectively agreed that these dignitaries needed to have as terrible a stay as physically possible.

Their clothes went unwashed- problem with the faucets, you see. Totally coincidental with their rooms not being kept, or at times kept wrongly; the roomkeepers- all of the ones for these dignitaries, that is- had all had a late night and thus were commonly making mistakes or forgetting things that day. You get the idea.

This continued for a whole day before they finally got to speak with the Thrinnu to complain. The Thrinnu brought people from all over the palace to a common area to ask what the fuck was happenning, and all of them simply collectively turned their heads to Averon and Unvurion.

The dignitaries had been saying things like "so rushed, it is as if they have no care for formality" and "she should never have married him" etc. about the Thrinnu. They were also commenting on how Averon and Unvurion's parents were supportive of them being transgender, specifically calling it unnatural.

The kids of course told their parents directly. The way they convinced all the staff to join in on this was infact that they swore to take the fall fully and fess up as if they soley were responsible. Not that they were punished, of course; this was actually celebrated, though they were told to simply tell the Thrinnu next time about what was said.

The Thrinnu ofc went to the next day's meeting with the dignitaries and adressed their concerns- by telling them to their faces the word for word qoutes that they had been saying, and promptly informing them all of their removal from office effective immediately.

Wonderful force of karma.

Liam Lilinu Lyradonnu Thrinnu

Mornnu

He/him

Parents: Nyra Lyradonnu and Dowan Lyradonnu

Axel Lyradonnu's is his sibling.

Bit of backstory: this world originally started as an Undertale fanfic. Years ago, I added an OC to a little fanfic in my head about Undertale.

Over time, the fanfic grew. I kept adding more worldbuilding. Eventually I threw in Doctor Who as well. From there changed it to more a fantasy setting, adding new characters and trimming old ones.

Liam is the literal only character that has survived all those revisions. He was the one I added in when it was an Undertale fanfic, and he was the only one that has not been cut out. He's my favorite OC. (if you know undertale, his role in the og fanfic was Frisk's brother, btw).

He is deeply intelligent and knowledgeable. During the Dark Ages he was actually the greatest loremaster the world had, without exception. Even during the Second Blessed Years he still knows a lot more about everyone than most people think, though he does try not to abuse this and he doesn't make it extremely obvious. He knows it all, but he's not a know it all. He is extremely smug when given even the slightest reason to be. He gets into fights a lot, mostly friendly duels though.

If you need to cheer him up, mention his wife, Freya. Assuming Second Blessed Years, anyways. He is even after literal centuries still head over heels with her (she is with him, but less obvious). He considers himself pretty much the luckiest man alive to have found her. Raising his children with her was the greatest joy he'd had since their marriage.

He is a Lilinu, of course, which automatically makes him a smith (the joke is that the forge runs in the blood; EVERYONE of that descent is a smith at least part time. The oldest of that house are the two greatest smiths in the world, so they probably aren't wrong). His first romantic gifts for Freya were forged by hand over the course of a week.

In this world, souls are an actual thing: people don't have brains. Their head is a house for the soul, a magical thing. As such, mental disorders don't map 1f1 with real world disorders. None of my characters suffer from any disorder in real life.

When Liam gets overstimulated and nervous, he will usually go quiet and tense, even over telepathic communication he is only capable of sending a vague sense of his emotions instead of words. A quiet place and not too many people (usually just one or two members of his direct family) is the best place for him to calm down. If it gets worse it may reach the point he passes out, in which case he will be out for ~15 hours on average. When he wakes up he will still be unwell for a while.

Likes: Singing, Dancing, partying, littererly anything with caffeine, spending time with family and friends, and smithing.

Dislikes: Alcohol, dealing with idiots, idiots having any kind of power, entitlement, worship, and any insults to his family. That last one is true of any character I've made, really, but it bears mentioning for Liam do to the extremeness of it. He will ruin your life if you say something about his family (or he would, except that his family doesn't want him to.)

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl: December

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

December

Joel was three servings deep on a surprisingly decent single malt when he realized the two of you were seated directly beneath the mistletoe.

You’d made an effort to be festive - donned a dark green sweater and a red knitted cap. Joel hadn’t even tried - just rolled up to the Christmas Eve gathering in his usual flannel and jeans. Every few minutes, his eyes swept over the crowd with a cold indifference most of the townsfolk still hadn’t gotten used to, whereas you waved at nearly everyone who passed by, and they greeted you warmly in return.

He recalled how you’d smiled up at him the very first time all those sunrises and sunsets ago. Your kind, welcoming eyes had been nonjudgmental, open, and endearingly curious. In fact, you’d made his world go topsy-turvy that day, and things hadn’t been quite the same since.

Something about you had revived and coaxed out parts of him he’d thought dead and buried long ago. But he played it very close to the vest - not only because you’re half his age and completely out of his league, but also because you deserved more than his old bones and bloodied hands could ever give you.

You deserved better. You deserved the fucking best.

Everyone in Jackson adored you, and they were right to do so. Even after all you’d been through, all the pain and loss you’d endured, you were still so good. Joel, on the other hand, had always been a blunt instrument - contractor, smuggler, killer, guardian. And sure, he may have been permitted to be a member of the town, but he’d never been widely well-liked or fully embraced - not in the way you and Ellie had been.

For the longest time, the need to protect Ellie and keep her safe had outweighed everything, including any misgivings he’d had about a prolonged stay in Jackson. But after a year in your continued presence, he realized he stayed because you’d made him remember what it felt like to actually want something - to want someone - for himself.

And the longer he remained, the more invested he became.

Rushed meetings, focused on getting assigned a house, learning the town rules, and being added to the job rotations. Then, more prolonged conversations over meals in the mess hall. In the past few months, there’d been walks and rides and movies and books. Ellie liked you, trusted you, and seemed to enjoy your company as well. The more time Joel spent with you, the more he realized he wasn’t just attracted to you; he’d started to feel comfortable - maybe even safe - with you, and that complicated things.

It wasn’t until you polished off your drink, and the tip of your tongue darted out to catch a wayward drop, that Joel started to think about your mouth and all the ways he’d enjoy it if you ever became his. And as his thoughts continued to mosey on down that unlikely, dangerous path for what seemed like the trillionth time, he realized your tongue would taste especially good coated in whisky - all warm, smoky, and sweet. 

“Any plans for tomorrow?” you asked in a conversational tone.

Joel shrugged away his treacherous thoughts and raised his hand for a refill, “Might visit Tommy and his family. Hang out with Ellie. You know, the usual.”

You nodded. Offered up your plate for sharing. Joel accepted your ready-made concoction of bread, cheese, and jam; a surprisingly good combination, but then again, you’d never steered him wrong.

“What about you?” Joel wondered as he wiped crumbs from his shirt. “Spending time with Carl?”

You gestured for your own refill and waited for it to be delivered before you spoke again.

“We decided to go our separate ways,” you announced tersely.

Joel paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, “When did that happen?”

“This morning.”

You tilted your head back, and he watched as the amber liquid disappeared down your throat in one swallow. You maintained an even temperament and possessed an impressively good poker face. Even when Carl sidled up to the opposite end of the bar - bold as brass, with his arm wrapped very familiarly around another woman’s waist - you didn’t react.   

The reason for the split became all too clear, and just like that, your ex went to the top of Joel’s own special kind of Naughty List.

“You can’t kill him,” you insisted.

He rolled his jaw, “Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t his fault.”

“He’s the one who cheated. Not you.”

You let out a self-deprecating laugh, “There are different kinds of cheating.”

Joel wanted to know what you’d meant by that, but you steered the conversation out of those muddied waters, and asked about Ellie and how she was doing in school. That safe topic saw you both through another round, and while you shared another plate of food, you talked shop and swapped stories about past Christmas celebrations.

“I mean, I was eighteen when it happened,” you explained. “But I remember Christmas at my house was always a bit stuffy. Not like this, you know?”

“You mean you weren’t hanging out in a bar, doin’ shots of whisky with an old man?”

“Shut up.”

Joel smirked, “You sure you shouldn’t be at home, dreaming of sugar plums like the rest of the little children?”

You pursed your lips and smacked his shoulder, “Har-fuckin’-har.”    

While everyone in town would attend a big Christmas Day dinner, the Christmas Eve party was an adults-only affair. With the kids safely tucked into their beds, the grownups had gone out to play, and as people started to blow off steam, the party became both raucous and crowded.

Someone attempted a rendition of Elvis’ Blue Christmas and failed spectacularly. Then, the jukebox was turned on, and people danced like fools. The delicateness of pine, mixed with the headiness of firewood. Laughter and mindless chatter and a bit too much Jingle Bells.    

Joel sipped and chewed, and as he pondered your new relationship status, you ordered yourself another. As the night’s bartender hustled over, she jerked her thumb toward the ceiling, and he watched as you caught sight of the mistletoe. Something he’d hoped and feared you’d notice had been blatantly pointed out, and Joel tried not to cringe as the bartender poured and explained that it was tradition to kiss beneath it and not doing so would bring bad luck.

You waited for her to walk away before you looked at him, brow arched, “That true?”

Joel shrugged and scratched his chin, “It’s an old wives’ tale, but yeah.”

You nudged him. He nudged you back. A shared laugh, and then, a moment of hesitation. A flash of unspoken, are we really going to do this? You nodded - said it would be better not to tempt fate. Joel agreed - said he’d had enough bad luck to last a lifetime.  

Like all fires, it started with a spark; the anticipation of first contact as you both leaned toward each other on rickety, unbalanced stools. A rush of flames soon followed; your lips fitted sweetly against his, stoking the need, causing it to flare brighter.

Without any conscious thought whatsoever, Joel gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and swept his tongue into your mouth. From there, it turned into an inferno. Your nails dragged along the skin at the tape of his neck, and he introduced his teeth to your bottom lip in response. When he cupped your face in his palms and caressed the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs, you wrapped your hands around his wrists and squeezed. Joel felt the vibration of the pleased sound you let out, and as goosebumps erupted along his body, he slanted his mouth more firmly over yours, and let himself get lost in the warmth of your kiss.

A couple of very inebriated, gray-haired women singing Santa Baby at the top of their lungs bumped into you and effectively burst the bubble. They apologized profusely. You graciously waved it off. Then, you looked at him - lashes aflutter, pupils blown, and mouth all shiny and kiss-swollen; you’d never been more beautiful, and Joel would’ve happily picked up where you’d left off had you not suddenly jerked away from him and rushed to your feet.

“I have to go,” you announced abruptly.

Joel cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “Alright. You want me to walk you?”

You shook your head. Pulled on your coat. Mumbled Merry Christmas and hurried out the door.

Just his luck.

Next Chapter: January