#cane descendants

[hannahhook7744]

What we Know about Jane part 1;

Possible debate team member.

Acapella member.

Former mascot.

Cheerleader.

Thinks Lonnie wouldn't hurt a fly.

Thinks Doug is a very talented musician and that working in the mines sounds dirty.

Thinks Leadership is a lot of pressure.

Thinks Carlos is great at Tourney.

It is implied she had a crush on him in d1 according to the books.

Thought the vks deserved a chance in the school of secrets web series, where she can be seen arguing/debating with a girl about it. Which also shows that she can be sassy when she wants to be.

Gets tongue tied easily but eventually gets more confident thanks to the vkw influence.

After the vks showed up, she started to learn how to balance the rules with a dose of reality.

Really wishes someone would take her on a romantic date to the enchanted lake.

She wishes she was more artistic like Mal.

She has good hand writing.

She longs to be able to use her magic instead of just studying it, despite what her mom wants.

Things weren't easy for her growing up due to being Fg (the headmistress)'s daughter, because people always expected her to be good and avoided her at the same time.

She can be very insecure at time.

She once said "Magic is niether good nor evil-- it's all about who's using it."

Her mom taught her that love's a pretty big component in lifting enchantments.

Jane is too shy to ask a boy to dance.

She was shocked to find out Carlos was afraid of dogs but said it made sense after Ben reminded her who's kid he was.

She says 'Bibbidi-Bibbidi mom!' Whatever that means.

Her biggest wish was for people to accept her because she was never "the pretty girl" like Lonnie and Audrey (her words. Not mine. She was always adorable to me).

She has a necklace with her and Carlos's ship name on it (Janlos, I think).

Not use to having friends-- so much so that she thanked the others for being there for her.

She got grounded BIG TIME after Ben's coronation but everyone was pretty cool about it. Even though she was very embarrassed by her behavior.

Finds using magic exhilarating though learned it required alot of concentration after using it for the first time.

Thinks the vks are the best things to happen to Auardon Prep.

Had Mermaid Studies (I think that's the name for the class) with Lonnie and Audrey.

Audrey considered her a friend and felt very betrayed after she became friends with the vk.

Wanted to hang out with all the vks and main aks at the end of the d1 school year.

Might like Fairy Bubble Gum.

Would never turn mice into horses because she feels bad for them.

Likes black licorice over red.

Her biggest pet peeves are being ignored and bad hair days.

Was voted most likely to go on a first date.

Didn't invite Audrey to her birthday party in d1.

She, Ben, Chad, Audrey, and Lonnie all use to eat dinner together evrry night at the same table in the cafeteria before the vks showed up.

Audrey considers her, her ex bestfriend (surprisingly).

Carlos liked her with short hair.

All this info came from The books and wiki. If you want a part 2, let me know and I'll dig up as much info as I can.

[s0fti3w1tch]

This is a ref for Leo I have for an upcoming fanfic, but this is probably generally how I'll draw post-movie ROTTMNT Leo half the time now.

Also Leo uses a cane because I use a cane because of injuries sustained— not too severe, but mobility aid is needed to make things easier after that

He still has his other blades, but this is to showcase the more headcanonny art. And yeah, on the combat cane, the height adjustments are replaced with buttons to (1) active the shocky-shocky! and (2) detach the top. I'll probably update it bc I think Donnie would go ham on upgrading it for Leo.

And out-of-context spoiler for the fic:

[bougiebutchbitch]

cuddy ilu but have you maybe considered pranking House by putting clingfilm over his toilet seat or glitter bombing him rather than playing ‘trip the cripple’ and forcing the guy with chronic pain who’s not very steady on his feet to walk up multiple flights of stairs

[sapphicauntie]

it’s been really interesting observing the rabbits and comparing to what I know of domestic bunnies, bc they’ll sit there and sit there until you get too close or make a sudden move and then they’re off

the male is very much bigger than the female and kit (we think it’s a family unit). his ears are even longer than hers

the female (the one in the picture I posted) is pretty docile for a wild rabbit

the kit I haven’t seen much of

compared to domestic rabbits they’re scruffy and not quite as sleek as they don’t have a great diet or shampoo regime. domestic rabbits tend to run on the smaller side too

[camping-with-monsters]

Yeah that sounds like a normal conversation to have.

Original meme inspo under the cut

[quaelgeist333]

Be gay do crime is their motto!

Some stuff

Thing on nose is also a piercing!

Less unhinged like their dad(s?), because they actually have friends who they can rely on and good parents.

Will offer to do your top surgery when they finish education

Knows german, english and latin

Has multiple replicas of the cane in case of something happening to it

The e bass idea comes from ludwig being able to play iirc violin, And basses are background, necessary and support but can play on their own

Can't wait to share all stuff that group facts

[strangelittlestories]

After shoving Hansel in the oven, the witch turns to Gretel - who is currently fending the witch off with a gingerbread chair - and says:

"I can't believe you thought a trail of breadcrumbs would save you. I mean, honestly, this is a forest! It's full of animals. Honestly, the very idea that a dumb shit like you thought you could get the better of me is absurd."

Gretel hits her in the face with said chair. To be fair to the witch, she takes the chairshot like a champ.

"Ow!"

"Did you know," says Gretel, "that crows are capable of facial recognition?"

"Eh?" Says the witch, clambering to her feet and pulling a candy cane sledgehammer off the wall. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Not only that," Gretel continues, "but they can remember both friends and enemies. And they'll often follow people they remember as friends."

The two fence with their sugared weapons for a moment, before the witch knocks the chair out of Gretel's hands.

"Enough with the bird facts! Honestly, this whole attempted escape has been utter clownshoes. Get in the fucking oven!"

She seizes Gretel by the collar. Gretel immediately sandbags, letting her whole body go limp. This eminently practical defense forces the witch to try and deadlift her. Which is hard, as the witch often skips leg day.

"For example," Gretel says, as the witch struggles and grunts, "if you feed crows a lot of breadcrumbs, they'll probably start to see you as a friend and follow you in the hope of more food."

The witch stops. Outside, she hears the thunder of wings.

"They'll even bring you shiny things they find as presents!" Says Gretel, as a corner of the gingerbread ceiling is suddenly cut away by a large crow with a knife in its mouth.

"Oh shitballs." Says the witch, as the crows descend. "I hope you know this is a great unkindness."

"Technically," Says Gretel, "It's a murder."

---

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Okay can I request wedding headcannon to reader for Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor Adam and Lucifer? I need some fluffiness in my life right now

A/n: YES!!!!

Angel Dust will be paired with a male!reader

•Angel Dust•

You were the one to propose to Angel Dust, it happened on the day you were able to free him from his contract.

Angel Dust breaks down, he's never felt more safe than he did in your arms.

Uses Anthony, it feels right to use his name when he is marry you.

Charlie officiated the ceremony,her words spoke of redemption, love, and the power of choice. She reminded everyone that love transcends boundaries—even those between Heaven and Hell.

You and Angel Dust stood before the alter with your eyes locked, Angel's voice cracked as he recited his vows promising to love you through eternity. Your sweet voice followed, promising to heal Angel’s scars and cherish him forever.

Husk raised a glass to you both with a grin on his face. "About damn time."

You two met with a kiss, the kiss tasted of redemption, forgiveness and love. The guests erupted in applause, and even the demons shed a tear or two.

As newlyweds, you and Alastor danced your first dance on a cloud conjured by Lucifer. Your steps were light, Angel Dust's laughter echoed through out the room.

The wedding cake was a masterpiece,a tiered creation with silver fondant wings and red rose petals. As they cut into it, confetti exploded, and chaos ensued. Husk downed a shot, Lucifer blamed Alastor as Vaggie twirled Charlie.

•Husk•

Husk proposed late one night, drunk. He was scared you'd leave him. Find someone better, he stood in silence as you said yes.

The wedding took place in the ballroom of the Hazbin Hotel, the room was adorned with crimson and gold drapes, flickering candles, and ethereal flowers.

The guests, a mix of demons, fallen angels, and curious souls, gather in anticipation.

A haunting melody of a violin fills the air as you walked down the aisle.

Husk, in a tailored suit with a single red rose pinned to his lapel, awaits for you at the altar.

Your voice soft, you gave the man you love a smile as you recited your vows “Husk, you are my redemption. Your gruff exterior hides a tender heart. I promise to cherish your flaws and love you unconditionally.”

Then Husk recited his own. "you’re my light in this chaotic realm. Your kindness heals my scars. I vow to protect you, even from my own demons.”

Your closest friend Angel Dust gave you a teary-eyed smile as he raised a glass: “To Y/n and Husk! May their love be as wild as a demon’s dance and as tender as an angel’s touch.”

You and Husk sway to a haunting waltz.The room holds its breath as they twirl, your love defying fate.

The wedding cake held White roses intertwine with black orchids.

You feed Husk a delicate slice, and he smudges frosting on your nose playfully.

As the clock strikes midnight, you and Husk share a kiss another. It tastes of redemption and second chances.

The room erupts in cheers, and even the walls seem to hum with joy.

Husk whisks you away for a little pre-honeymoon fun.

•Alastor•

The Wedding of you and Alastor took place in Hazbin Hotel Courtyard.The courtyard is adorned with crimson roses and obsidian candles.

You descend the grand staircase, your gown—a blend of ethereal silk and charred lace—trails behind you a veil conceals your face, but your eyes—resolute and curious—betray your emotions.

Alastor awaits for you at the alter, his top hat tilted. His crimson suit is impeccably tailored, and his cane rests against his shoulder. His gaze never wavers from the staircase.

You smile up at your fiancé, light tears in your eyes as you finish your vows I choose you, Alastor.”

Alastor states his own oath“I, Alastor, relinquish my darkness. For you, Y/n, I’d trade my infernal powers.”His words echo through the damned souls, who watch in awe.

Your lips meet, a deep kiss. Alastor holding you tight afraid you might slip away.

Niffty supplying the treats, sinner themed pastries adorn the dessert table. Angel Dust sneaks a cupcake, giving you a wink.

For your first dance, you and Alastor swayed to a waltz.

Sinners gossip. Charlie smiles, Vox scowls as Husk grumbles about the open bar.

You Whisper: “To redemption,” she adds, and Alastor’s grip tightens.

You and Alastor sneak away to the roof top for a moment alone.

•Adam•

Much to his disappointment, the wedding takes place in the grand cathedral of the Hazbin Hotel which it is then transformed into a celestial sanctuary. Stained glass windows depict scenes from both Heaven and Hell, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor.

The guests, a mix of angels, demons, and curious souls, gather in awe.

The ethereal melody of harps fills the air as you walk down the aisle.

Adam, in a pristine white robe, awaits for you at the altar, his eyes reflecting both duty and longing.

Your vows are with love, and Adam does his best to keep things PG.

Archangel Michael steps forward, his wings spanning the aisle. His voice resonates through the halls.“May your love transcend realms, Adam and Y/n. May it heal the wounds of Heaven and Hell.”

You and Adam waltz gracefully, your steps echoing the celestial dance of creation your love story unfolds in each twirl—a delicate balance between duty and desire.

The cake, a fusion of angelic white and infernal crimson, stands tall. Feathers and flames intertwine.

You feed Adam a delicate slice, and he smiles, savoring the sweetness of your union.

Adam pulls you into a passionate kiss, his whispers a promise of nothing but love

You and Adam exit the cathedral,the guests hold their breath, witnessing the union of realms

•Lucifer Morningstar•

The wedding takes place in a cathedral in the heart of Hell that stood adorned with twisted ironwork and flickering candles. The air hummed with anticipation as demons,and lost souls gathered to witness an unprecedented event.

The setting of the cathedral’s stained glass windows depicted scenes of redemption and damnation, casting colorful patterns on the cold stone floor. Row of crimson velvet pews awaited the guests, their eyes filled with curiosity and skepticism.

You walked down the aisle your gown flowed like liquid silver, and your eyes held a mixture of hope and trepidation.

Lucifer stood at the alter, his black suit was impeccably tailored, and his crimson eyes bore both mischief and longing.The Devil’s presence commanded attention, and the room fell silent.

Your voice quivered as you recited your vows..

Lucifer’s own voice cracking as he recited his own.

As you lent in for your first kiss, the cathedral’s candles flared, casting shadows on the walls.

The reception hall was a decadent affair. Demons danced with fallen angels, as lost souls clinked glasses.

Your laughter echoed as you twirled with Lucifer, your steps defying gravity.

Vox, the media mogul, smirked. “A match made in Hell. Ratings will soar!”

You swayed in Lucifer’s arms, your head resting on his chest as you looked up at him

“Why me?” You whispered.

Lucifer’s eyes softened. “Because you see the light even in Hell.”

The stars above flickered, and Lucifer kissed your forehead. “Together, we’ll rewrite the cosmic order.”

[balteredsworld]

cha cha chase, gregory house

🥼🩺 | house finds out you're a dancer.

masterlist: greg house n all

tags! house being house, fluff of sorts? house x reader def

"aww that's cute," house tilted his head in amusement, eyes twinkling with signature mischief. you were going to hate this. in fact, you were already dreading it. "we can all give foreman a lap dance."

you rolled your eyes, prepping your dearest ex-friend's arm for a transfusion. "did you have to say all that?"

"what? people should know you were a dancer, especially with a boss like that," she sweetly and very innocently shrugged, before looking at house with pride. "she's got killer mo—"

"—alright!" you jammed the needle roughly, shutting her up. "you'll fall asleep in right about... now."

she dozed off, but not before catching you with a triumphant frown about your lips. oh you were pissed, at least she didn't need to deal with it until after the treatment.

you would've cooled down by then. but you were also in trouble. why? because of that stupid grin house had on his stupid face.

"so you used to dance."

"and you used to walk."

"ouch. low blow!"

"i can blow even lower."

you cringed. the words left your mouth sooner than you could think.

"you definitely have the knees for it," house chuckled, practically looking up into heaven with an extremely exaggerated grateful look.

"shut up. and don't ask."

his brows shot up, face contorting a theatrical face of an innocent. "how could you assume the worst in me!"

"my bad," you deadpanned. "i think it's just your track record with insanely inappropriate jokes."

you slipped swiftly out of the room, keen to get house off of your hair. but for a cripple, he was insanely fast. this man could do more than he let out, but that was only to make people like yourself, his victim-of-the-day fellow, miserable.

house was a smart man, but his aptitude was used for the worst. nothing was a viable escape, he was going to hold this over you until the day you die.

"i ask first," he snarked, making a gesture with his finger. "uhm, i have something inappropriate to say. can i say it?"

you glared at him over your shoulder. he was hot on your trail. if only you could get to the flight of stairs quicker.

he blinked all cutesy, innocently batting his lashes as you two turned the corner. "were you a stripper?"

you threw your head back, eyes rolling back to the point it felt like someone was gauging them out. house looked excited at the prospect. even if you weren't, close enough.

finally, you turn to him with an unimpressed purse about your lips and an angry furrow to your brows. house towered over you, all but amused at your well invited and justified anger. he thought it was cute.

"so?" he cocked a brow, still twinkling in mischief.

"answer's no," you half-calmly answered, titling your head, formulating a wicked idea.

you grabbed house's wrinkled collar, standing on your tip toes, snaking your hand on his shoulders.

"but i am a dancer," you whispered, mustering a sickeningly sweet voice. you trailed your fingers along his neck, letting your breath fan his ear as you crooned your head slightly, just as how you would with your dance partner.

some part of you had a daring inkling to knock his cane over, still unnerved over his shenanigans that last christmas he duped you into getting him a pricey gift.

fortunately for house, you weren't him.

but you maintained your hold on him, before letting out a hum at the same time you descended back to the soles of your foot. an innocent smile creeping on your lips, lashes batting the same way he'd done seconds ago.

"that's right, dancer..." house trailed, with a gaping mouth, still in a childish drawl.

"doctor, actually. the id says m.d., but thanks," you remarked nonchalantly, whipping away in a spin to dash into your escape. "you hired me remember?"

"because you had nice legs!" house shouted in a last ditch effort to win, seemingly paralyzed on the spot. "and even nicer knees!"

you had outrun him for now, although you knew it wasn't long before he revived into an ever meaner bloom. and you were right to dread it, because hours later, house was sitting with a triumphant smirk about his face. he somehow found a video of you dancing embarrassingly online, no doubt with the help of lucas, and forwarded it to any and all.

that only strengthened your resolve for revenge. house was fucked, but he welcomed your challenge.

who knows? maybe he could just get a lap dance out of it.

[bellaxgiornata]

Half of Forever [Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

a/n: This part is all in Matt's POV and it's the second of three in this little mini series. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt's hand curled around Foggy's bicep as he descended the stairs of the courthouse, the heat of the midday sun warming him through his suit. Lowering his cane along each step, a sharp tapping resounded in his ears while he walked. As Foggy guided him back towards the office, a frown permanently settled along Matt's lips. 

Things had not gone how Matt had hoped this morning.

“Well that went about as well as I expected it to,” Foggy stated, mirroring Matt's thoughts. “And did you see Judge Andrews’ face, Karen?”

Karen was walking just a step behind Matt, her heels hitting the concrete a bit more harshly than usual. Matt heard her release a defeated sigh as her hand reached up, frustratedly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He could feel the agitation in her body and the tension in her muscles, already aware of her own soured mood before she'd spoken.

“Yeah, I saw,” she answered. “But the trial hasn't finished yet. Maybe there's a chance we can still turn things around?”

“I really hope so,” Foggy muttered. “But honestly I feel like we'd need a miracle at this point.”

Matt heard the movement of Foggy’s head turning in his direction the moment they'd stepped onto the sidewalk. He caught the unmistakable intake of his breath next, aware that Foggy was about to address him. And Matt had a good idea of exactly what it was that he was about to say.

“Are you just allergic to taking easy cases that make us money, Matt?” Foggy asked. “Because I think I remember telling you this one would be a pain in our asses. And look at that!” Foggy waved his free hand in the air. “It's turning out to be a pain in our ass!”

“Mr. Barrows is innocent, Foggy,” Matt replied, trying to restrain his own irritation. “And we help the innocent, if you recall.”

Karen remained silent, her head ducked down as she walked. But Matt felt the air shift as Foggy began nodding vigorously.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes we do. But we also have bills to pay. Do you remember what bills are, Matt? Because we have a lot of them. And not just for the law firm, but you know, outside of it, too. And maybe you're not big into the whole having somewhere to live thing,” Foggy sarcastically carried on, “but I think Karen and I both enjoy having apartments. And food.”

“I get it, Fog,” Matt stated flatly. 

“Do you though?” Foggy persisted. “Because you keep insisting we take these cases that you stumble on with your nighttime hobby. And unless Daredevil himself would like to take the witness stand, these cases become pretty damn impossible to fight.”

“You know I can't do that,” Matt pointed out. “For more than one reason.”

“No, of course not,” Foggy grumbled. “Because then we'd have even bigger problems. But all I'm asking is that we–”

Matt's fingers gripped tight around Foggy's arm when his senses unexpectedly picked up on something. Whatever Foggy had been saying had gone completely unheard by Matt as he momentarily ceased to even breathe. 

Standing absolutely still on the sidewalk, Matt swore he'd just caught the scent of your favorite perfume and the beat of your heart among the afternoon crowd milling about on the city’s streets. It was a combination Matt had once known better than even Foggy’s presence. Despite having thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years, Matt hadn't realized just how closely he'd been unconsciously looking for that distinct combination until he'd startlingly and accidentally stumbled on it.

His mouth felt like it had gone dry, his tongue sitting heavy as he recalled the scent of that very perfume filling his nose every time he had buried his face into the crook of your neck. Head shifting over his shoulder as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, he attempted to focus in on where you were. While he scanned around himself, desperately hoping to find you again, someone roughly smacked into his side as they passed him. Matt stumbled backwards a step, but he still remained intensely focused in his search, paying no mind to anything else.

“Dude, what's going on?” Foggy asked in a hushed tone. “Is something happening in the city?”

“Back again, handsome Devil?”

Something like panic hit Matt next, his heart speeding up in his chest while his hand tightened around his cane. Your voice. It was like he could hear it as clear as when he used to slip through your apartment window late at night. With his head darting frantically from side to side, he continued to search for you like a man possessed. He wasn’t entirely sure what had taken over him, but he was determined to find you in the crowd again.

“Matt?” Karen’s hesitant voice cut through his concentration. “Is…everything alright?”

He’d opened his mouth, about to tell them both to keep quiet and let him just focus for a minute, but then he found it again. The perfume you always wore–a light floral scent that never gave him a headache or overwhelmed his senses. A scent that immediately stirred up a myriad of memories in his mind. The melodic sound of your laughter whenever he told a joke. The feel of your hand sliding up the inside of his thigh when you’d had a few too many to drink at Josie’s. Your fingers gently and tenderly tracing the injuries on his naked and battered body before he fell asleep in your bed. 

Closing his eyes, he focused in on the sound of your heartbeat as you made your way through the throng of people just across the street. It was the same rhythm he used to love listening to whenever he curled up with you in bed at night. He’d often rest his head along your chest, listening to the calming beating of it as your fingers absently carded through his hair. He’d never felt more at peace or more loved than when he was wrapped in your embrace listening to that exact sound. 

Except–

His mouth sinking even further into a frown, Matt’s eyes snapped open. Something wasn’t right. The cadence was a little off, not quite exactly the same sound as the one he’d so often fallen asleep hearing beating loud in his ear. 

No…that wasn’t you at all.

Jaw tightening at the surprise of how hollow he felt at that realization, Matt released his focus on the stranger across the street. She wasn’t you. Blinking hard a few times, he felt tears beginning to build in his eyes as a flood of despair slammed straight into him. It had been so long since he’d last heard your heartbeat that he’d gone and forgotten the sound of it. 

How could he have ever forgotten it?

“Matt?” Foggy tried again. “You okay, buddy?”

Throat tightening with emotion, Matt nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

“What uh, what was that all about?” he asked carefully. “Never seen you get so…quiet before.”

Matt cleared his throat a couple of times, hoping that he’d be able to form a sentence without his voice cracking and giving away how emotional he’d suddenly become. Blinking a few more times, he also hoped that he could hide the tears welling in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. 

“Just thought I heard something,” he replied, catching the tremor in his voice. “But I was mistaken.”

“Like what?” Karen asked curiously. “Someone in trouble?”

Matt’s lips pursed into a thin line as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But we should be getting back to the office,” he said, attempting to change the topic. “We’ve got a lot to prepare for if we hope to do better in court tomorrow.”

Reaching his hand back out, Matt grasped onto Foggy’s bicep once more. He hoped they’d just drop the entire thing despite how strange he knew he’d just appeared by stopping in the middle of a conversation and becoming entirely unresponsive. But as Foggy began to guide him down the sidewalk again, the sound of Karen’s heels resuming their clacking along the pavement, he could practically feel the thoughts swimming in both of their heads.

“So if it wasn’t a crime being committed, what was it?” Foggy asked half a block later. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty curious to know what the hell that was, too,” Karen chimed in.

The frown never left Matt’s face as he kept his attention straight ahead of himself, swinging his cane from left to right on the sidewalk. He didn’t want to think about this anymore, especially because the scent of your tears and the sound of you crying in his apartment from that night were steadily becoming impossible to ignore.

“You don’t mean that.”

You’d sounded so heartbroken. Because of him. Because of what he’d had to do.

“Nothing,” Matt muttered. “Just thought I’d heard someone.”

“Heard someone as in like…what?” Foggy pressed. “Planning a crime? Winning the lottery?”

Matt didn’t respond. Instead he sped up his pace, hoping the pair would drop the subject if he didn’t answer their questions any further.

“Okay, so I’m guessing,” Karen said, craning her neck to look past Matt and focus on Foggy along his other side, “that he thought he heard someone and not something .”

“You might be onto something,” Foggy mused. “Maybe a client of ours? Or some crime lord that he's been obsessively chasing after? Or possibly a– wait a minute !”

Matt’s shoulders tensed, his eyelids lowering as he let out a sigh. Internally he began begging God that Foggy hadn’t figured it out. Matt hadn’t brought you up in so long, surely you wouldn’t have crossed Foggy’s mind, would you?

But then he heard it. Your name.

“Who’s that?” Karen asked.

“She and Matt used to date,” Foggy explained, leaning forward and speaking as if Matt wasn’t right there. “A few years back. They were inseparable. Like disgustingly adorable. I was basically ready for Matt to ask me to be his best man at the wedding–”

“They were engaged?” Karen asked in surprise.

“No,” Foggy answered, shaking his head as Matt grit his teeth at the topic of conversation, “but they might as well have been. I’ve never seen Matt so happy before in my life.”

“That’s enough,” Matt interjected.

“So what happened?” Karen asked Foggy, ignoring Matt entirely. 

“Somebody here doesn’t know how to just let himself be happy,” Foggy said.

The air shifted as Foggy’s free hand began vigorously gesturing at Matt beside him. Matt’s nostrils instantly flared in frustration. He wanted this conversation to end. Now .

“I said that’s enough ,” Matt snapped.

“So you thought you heard her then, huh?” Foggy continued. “Somewhere nearby? I mean, I would imagine she’s still in the city somewhere. I told you a little over a year ago that I saw her in Hell’s Kitchen at a coffee shop. And I’m pretty sure I told you back then that you should call her.”

“We’re over , Fog,” Matt bitterly reminded him.

“Because you’re an absolute idiot!” Foggy shot back, guiding the pair of them across the street. “You can just never let yourself be happy, Matt. You always have to self-sabotage every relationship you have. And it’s sad.”

“I do not. And there was more to the break up than that,” he muttered. “That's not at all what happened.”

“It's you, Matt. That's exactly what happened. What more could there be?” Foggy asked in exasperation. “She knew you, man. Like knew you, knew you. And apparently you going out in your little pajamas and getting your ass beat wasn’t a turn off because she was still in love with you.”

“I love you, Matty.”

“Stop it,” Matt warned.

“I saw the way she looked at you,” Foggy pushed. “And I saw how you were around her, man. You were in love with her–you’re still in love with her.”

“You’re my forever.”

“And I will never let you live down how incredibly idiotic it was of you to end that relationship,” Foggy told him. “Because you could have been happy. You could’ve–”

“I said stop it !” Matt roared, his lip curled back in a snarl as his head snapped in Foggy’s direction. “Stop talking about her already! We’re over, Foggy. Do you understand that? She’s not a part of my life anymore and she hasn’t been for years. So stop it .”

An awkward silence fell among all three of them as they neared the law firm’s office. Matt’s teeth were grinding back and forth, his muscles tensed as he walked. The urge to hit something was becoming unbearable as his fist curled tighter around his cane. It didn’t help that the sound of your crying and the sad, broken pleas from the last night he’d spoken with you had begun playing on a loop in his mind. He’d broken your heart that night, he damn well knew that.

“Please, Matty. You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t–don’t walk away from this!”

“I love you, Matt. Why’re you doing this to us?”

But he’d also broken his own that night, too.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ethereal-blaze @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia

[fatehbaz]

In fact, far more Asian workers moved to the Americas in the 19th century to make sugar than to build the transcontinental railroad [...]. [T]housands of Chinese migrants were recruited to work [...] on Louisiana’s sugar plantations after the Civil War. [...] Recruited and reviled as "coolies," their presence in sugar production helped justify racial exclusion after the abolition of slavery.

In places where sugar cane is grown, such as Mauritius, Fiji, Hawaii, Guyana, Trinidad and Suriname, there is usually a sizable population of Asians who can trace their ancestry to India, China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia and elsewhere. They are descendants of sugar plantation workers, whose migration and labor embodied the limitations and contradictions of chattel slavery’s slow death in the 19th century. [...]

---

Mass consumption of sugar in industrializing Europe and North America rested on mass production of sugar by enslaved Africans in the colonies. The whip, the market, and the law institutionalized slavery across the Americas, including in the U.S. When the Haitian Revolution erupted in 1791 and Napoleon Bonaparte’s mission to reclaim Saint-Domingue, France’s most prized colony, failed, slaveholding regimes around the world grew alarmed. In response to a series of slave rebellions in its own sugar colonies, especially in Jamaica, the British Empire formally abolished slavery in the 1830s. British emancipation included a payment of £20 million to slave owners, an immense sum of money that British taxpayers made loan payments on until 2015.

Importing indentured labor from Asia emerged as a potential way to maintain the British Empire’s sugar plantation system.

In 1838 John Gladstone, father of future prime minister William E. Gladstone, arranged for the shipment of 396 South Asian workers, bound to five years of indentured labor, to his sugar estates in British Guiana. The experiment with “Gladstone coolies,” as those workers came to be known, inaugurated [...] “a new system of [...] [indentured servitude],” which would endure for nearly a century. [...]

---

Bonaparte [...] agreed to sell France's claims [...] to the U.S. [...] in 1803, in [...] the Louisiana Purchase. Plantation owners who escaped Saint-Domingue [Haiti] with their enslaved workers helped establish a booming sugar industry in southern Louisiana. On huge plantations surrounding New Orleans, home of the largest slave market in the antebellum South, sugar production took off in the first half of the 19th century. By 1853, Louisiana was producing nearly 25% of all exportable sugar in the world. [...] On the eve of the Civil War, Louisiana’s sugar industry was valued at US$200 million. More than half of that figure represented the valuation of the ownership of human beings – Black people who did the backbreaking labor [...]. By the war’s end, approximately $193 million of the sugar industry’s prewar value had vanished.

Desperate to regain power and authority after the war, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters studied and learned from their Caribbean counterparts. They, too, looked to Asian workers for their salvation, fantasizing that so-called “coolies” [...].

Thousands of Chinese workers landed in Louisiana between 1866 and 1870, recruited from the Caribbean, China and California. Bound to multiyear contracts, they symbolized Louisiana planters’ racial hope [...].

To great fanfare, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters spent thousands of dollars to recruit gangs of Chinese workers. When 140 Chinese laborers arrived on Millaudon plantation near New Orleans on July 4, 1870, at a cost of about $10,000 in recruitment fees, the New Orleans Times reported that they were “young, athletic, intelligent, sober and cleanly” and superior to “the vast majority of our African population.” [...] But [...] [w]hen they heard that other workers earned more, they demanded the same. When planters refused, they ran away. The Chinese recruits, the Planters’ Banner observed in 1871, were “fond of changing about, run away worse than [Black people], and … leave as soon as anybody offers them higher wages.”

When Congress debated excluding the Chinese from the United States in 1882, Rep. Horace F. Page of California argued that the United States could not allow the entry of “millions of cooly slaves and serfs.” That racial reasoning would justify a long series of anti-Asian laws and policies on immigration and naturalization for nearly a century.

---

All text above by: Moon-Ho Jung. "Making sugar, making 'coolies': Chinese laborers toiled alongside Black workers on 19th-century Louisiana plantations". The Conversation. 13 January 2022. [All bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Ten

masterlist

note: hi everyone! there's not much action going on here in this chapter but i just really wanted to give you guys another chapter. i may do longer wait times between uploading chapters like i did with this one since i deal with motivation issues but im gonna do my best to continue uploading the story till it's finished <3

professor sato stared at the wall of the elevator, his body slowly descending down from the first floor of his sons house. the doors opened, showing ultraman's face blocking any movement forward. he could only stare at him silently as kenji spoke.

"dad, im not asking for complaints, guilt, or criticism. not right now, i just... we need you help." he stepped aside out of the way from professor sato to walk in. a soft gasp escaped him as he looked at the scene before him.

he recognized your ultra form in front of him, holding down what looked like to be a kaiju. a baby one at that. he couldn't help but stare at awe at the sight in front of him. he eyes and mind couldn't believe that an actual baby kaiju laid in front of him.

"y/n, is that you?" he asked, confused about you and his son being together in the same room. he held no knowledge of your connections together. he would only worry about where you would go in the time that you weren't fighting kaijus that attacked. he shook his thoughts off to acknowledge the sight in front of him.

his hands touched the scales that littered their skin. "incredible." before he could say anything, kenji who sat on your side started to talk. "she's hurt dad. we were attacked. i don't know what to do." his voice was shaky, almost as thought he could break down in tears looking at the injured baby.

your heart clenched at the quiver in his voice, wishing you could comfort him but the priority of your babies comfort stood first in line. "she got loose, i should have been there." he gasped out. "no kenji, i should have been there, i was literally there. she got out right under my nose." you said holding the baby in your arms.

professor sato hands neared where the syringe of green liquid was stuck on the babies body. "shh shh" professor sato tried to comfort the pink creature as they whined in pain and fear. "dad please! careful with her." kenji cried out, anxious to see the kaiju he had grown to love was injured.

this was all new to him. growing up as a single child, he had no one to worry about besides his mom when they moved to the states. he had no close family, no younger siblings. he was truthfully forced to grow up too early.

but since the day he had first held the baby kaiju in his arms, he had found himself feeling a way. attached. love if you would call it that. he had grown to love them the way a father would. it was a sweet bittersweet feeling.

"it's okay, its okay, he's not gonna hurt you." said while you rubbed the babies head to soothe them as your other hand found kenji's back to rub. professor sato gently but quickly pulled off the syringe as he watched the way you two interacted. he didn't want to assume but there was a closeness between the two of you.

"it's good to see you again, professor." he smiled while turned to mina. "hello mina." he said holding the green syringe. "it's been a while." mina's voice was gentle, a slight tone of joy seeing the professor after a long while. "it has. can you do me a favor? can you run an analysis on this?" he held out the syringe to the robotic arm that reached for it. mina's 'eye' scanned the syringe.

professor sato turned towards the two of you. "dad, please, do something, help her." kenji whispered out. "please professor." you added on in desperation for help. for anything. he nodded and kneeled slowly with the help of his cane. "mina, it looks like like she might have a broken arm. can you confirm?" he turned to mina who began to scan the arm. "yes, that's correct. she has a mid-humeral fracture with associated hematoma." she finished explaining just when the the baby kaiju cried a little bit. "it's okay it's okay." professor sato comforted her.

mina began to speak up once again. "i have completed the chem analysis, professor sato. it's a powerful sedative, but it's harmless." you let out a breath of relief hearing that the liquid wasn't poisonous in any way. you felt kenji grasp the hand you one had on his back in his own. he squeezed it a comforting manner, making you smile internally.

"can you synthesize a 100 ccs?" professor sato asked mina, which she agreed too. "good, we'll need more." kenji heard his dad, turning to him in shock. "more? why more?!" he yelled in fear. "kenji, you may not agree with me on anything else, but right now, i'm the best chance she has. so please, please, let me help." he softly begged to his son. kenji let out a soft 'okay', giving his dad a nod.

professor sato's torso turned as he reached for the bag at his side. he pulled out a small bunny, one adorned with colors of yellow, green, purple, and red. he held it out to the baby kaiju, allowing you and kenji to see it. "dad, bunny?" he inquired softly.

"it always worked on you." he said softly as he clicked a button. a familiar melody began to play as your baby began to coo in joy. he played bunny on the babies arm, letting her watch it with curiosity.

he then began to sing with the song. "🎶 b-i-n-g-o, b-i-n-g-o," he grabbed his metal cane, placing it in the crevice of her arm. "okay now hold her steady, please y/n." he said as you listened and placed a gentle but sturdy grip on her.

mina's robotic arms came out from the ground as they grabbed at the baby kaijus arms to hold her arm steady. professor sato aligned his hip with the fracture at her hand. with one swift movement, he pushed against it, letting out a crack. in an instant, a cry erupted from the baby kaijus arm from the pain.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

you and kenji sat on the couch of the small room in his base. your eyes watched at you baby kaiju who laid in their containment unit, sleeping peacefully.

professor sato walked into the room with his cane holding a mug. you instinctively shot up from your seat, rushing by over to help him sit down carefully. it's not that he was at an age where he would need help but after his injury from being the past ultraman, you found yourself building a habit of helping him walk.

you led him to sit down on the sofa, taking away the mug he held and placed it on the table in front of kenji. "bad habit." he said looking at kenji who tapped his foot anxiously. you moved back to your spot on the other side of kenji, sitting closer to him for comfort.

"i'd say we did pretty well considering the circumstance." he spoke trying to continue a conversation. kenji turned to him. "dad i- i really appreciate you showing up, i do. but this doesn't make you ultradad. you know, we're not suddenly gonna be best pals."

kenj sat hunched over his right hand holding his face. the atmosphere had done tense. you felt your own body turn rigid from the feeling. as cliche as it sounds, you could almost cut the atmosphere with scissors from how thick it was. you turned to kenji, trying to hint to ask if you could leave, not wanting to be rude or intruding.

you felt his free hand next to you grab you hand nearest to him, silently reassuring you that it was okay for you to listen. professor sato watched the site in front of him once again, taking in these small acts of closeness between the two of you. staying silent once again.

"kenji, y/n, i need to show you something. mina, news please." what was once a window, turned into a tv as cheif officer of KDF, dr. onda, was shown talking on national television. you felt yourself tense up, recognizing the man that you had learned was behind all the kaiju attacks.

"fortunately, the KDF was able to contain the damage and no one was harmed. but the kaiju escaped, and it would appear that ultraman and the new ultra hero are actually defending the beast. the KDF are conducting a massive search for both the creature and the two ultra heroes. we will protect the families of this city. we will get to the bottom of this and we will eliminate the threat."

the news showed clips of the baby kaiju running around, then switching into the KDF jets searching for the missing kaiju. your baby kaiju. professor sato turned to the both of you, who sat intensely watching the new till it was turned off.

"kenji, i have been tracking onda. even y/n has when we would work together more frequently. and until now he's been content on just killing whatever kaiju attacks the city. but somethings changed. he wasn't trying to kill the baby. he wanted her alive. i've known onda for a long time. he is brilliant and cunning. and he will never stop, not until she's captured and you're dead. until you're both dead.

you head snapped towards professor sato, shocked to actually have to acknowledge the truth. kenji's eyes widened, his body had turned stiff as the three of you stared at the baby kaiju who shivered slightly as mina sang to her. you felt your heart clench in fear of her being alone, without you, the two of you.

professor sato sighed at the sight, turning back to kenji. "you and i don't have to be best pals, kenji. but can we at least agree that she is the priority?" he said staring at his son.

"yes, she is." kenji responded looking at his father while you gave him a quick nod. professor sato turned to the two of you. "do you have a plan?" just in that moment, mina came out to the two of you, laying out the plan.

"we thought returning the baby to her natural habitat would be best, professor sato. but the location of kaiju island remains elusive." she spoke. professor began to walk around, almost anxiously. "even if we could find it, without a mother to defend her, the baby might starve, drown, die from hypothermia, or another kaiju could eat her as a snack-"

his panicking rambling was cut off my kenji who spoke sternly. "i got it, i got it." his dad then turned to the two of you, his voice silently desperate. "we have to raise her, the way her mother would have." he said. his eyes were pleading for the two of you to agree as he walked away.

kenji stood up from his spot, pulling you with him as your hands were still intertwined. he then let go as he neared his dad, raising them in shock. "so you're suggesting that you and i- uh ultrapeople, people who are supposed to fight these things, should train this baby to essentially kick our butts?" he spoke as his body jumped with shock with each step he took.

"kenji, she needs us." professor sato spoke softly. kenji turned to you, looking into your eyes for what you would have to say. it might have been your attachment speaking or your mutual agreements with professor sato but you knew that not teaching her was not good.

"we have to kenji. i rather her kick our asses than know that she's struggling to even survive. i need to know she's safe and sound." kenji could only nod slightly, giving you a soft smile as he turned to his dad to agree.

TAGLIST

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[rhenysz]

Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 1

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all your life, many people say that death was lurking around your eyes, maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.

A/n: This took longer than expected and isn't even half as long as I would have liked, but I've finally finished the first book and let's get to the real story! Thank you for the positive feedback 🙌🏻 This chapter was more about the sisters' bond, the next ones will be different. I think the Reader has an emotional dependence on Feyre 😥

*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with the help of an AI, any grammatical errors please let me know*

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Scars, family abandonment, mentioned death.

previous x next

"Do you not think you're exaggerating?" Elain asked you with forced gentleness. The sound of her sipping tea tickled your ears. Dropping your own teacup on the living room's coffee table – causing some splashes to stain the surface – you placed a hand on your chest in mock indignation, perhaps not entirely fake.

"I'd rather be thrown to the wolves than face the conjugal bed, and I must say I'm terrified of those animals." Your lips curled downward, "Men, in this case."

Elain's eyes crinkled at the corners, and the curve of her lips lifted even as she tried to dispel the amusement she felt.

"I understand. But maybe you should consider, I bet Feyre would return in time for your wedding." She spoke with her eyes lowered to the tea.

No, she wouldn't return. You wanted to shout out to Elain. Hardly would that beast willingly let your sister go, that is if she wasn't already in the belly of those faeries.

"I have no interest in getting married, sister. And who in their right mind would be interested in someone with my condition?" Your voice was soft, not a hint of resentment showing in your features.

Having a man in your life was not something you desired. They were rough, lazy, and smelled bad. Not even the twisted relationship Feyre had with that man could make you want one too.

"Maybe... you just haven't looked in the right place," Elain commented. Looked? Have holy patience. You were hardly going to look at anything, let alone a man. Realizing her bluntness, Elain widened her eyes towards you, "I didn't mean it that way, sister, it was just a figure of speech—"

Your laughter cut off Elain's awkward attempt to apologize. Your shoulders shook with the intensity of your laughter. Elain sighed in relief and awkwardly joined in.

Feyre didn't treat you as if you were about to burst into tears.

After that interesting conversation with Elain, Nesta barged into the room, interrupting – rather rudely – to announce that a luxurious carriage was approaching.

You could hear the rustle of Elain's skirts as she tried to beautify herself even more. Despite Nesta feigning an indifferent facade, she was also discreetly arranging her hair.

Laughing to yourself, you wondered how you must look in your supposed light blue dress. A hand grabbed your arm and gently lifted you from the sofa. Nesta, you could tell the difference. Elain had rougher hands from gardening, and Nesta's hands were colder.

"Let's go. Can you manage on your own?" Nesta asked. You appreciated that she allowed you to have your own autonomy. Nodding, you reached for the edge of the sofa where your cane rested and grabbed it.

When you heard the door opening, your head turned towards the sound and you went, dragging the golden tip of the cane across the floor, which hit the furniture warning you to dodge, and slowly going after your sisters – who were walking significantly slower to wait for you.

His cane hit the front door step. Carefully, you placed your foot in front to descend. The breeze made your hair flutter, and it felt so good; the wind kissed your skin like a longing lover.

"Welcome to our home... Lady." You heard Nesta as you finally caught up with your sisters. A brief moment of silence followed, soon to be cut by an extremely familiar laughter

.Your heart raced, and your free hand crumpled the dress you were wearing. Your lifeless eyes turned, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Nesta," she laughed, "doesn't recognize her own sister?" The air was expelled from your lungs, Feyre. A burning sensation started in your eyes, and without you realizing, fat tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. No matter how or where, you would always, always recognize your sister's voice.

The crunching of dried leaves alerted you that someone was approaching, a calm breath was blown on your face. Your trembling lips also parted as you tried to find the right words. Nothing came to mind; it was as if your brain had turned to jelly.

"My snowflake..." Feyre stepped forward, using her fingers to wipe away your tears. She missed you so much while she was with Tamlin. Her chest weighed every time she thought of you, her dearest sister.

Closing your eyes tightly, you let out a sob and threw yourself into Feyre's arms. Discarding the cane without care, your hands reached the back of your sister, pulling her into a tight and emotional embrace.

Feyre staggered under your weight and laughed. She laughed as she nestled in your arms and continued to laugh even as she felt Nesta's eyes drilling holes into her head.

You couldn't physically move away from Feyre while your sisters talked with her. Your hand clung to hers in the hope that if you held on tight enough, she wouldn't leave again.

But not even all the happiness you were feeling could make you ignore Feyre's excuse. Taking care of Aunt Ripleigh? You distinctly remembered that it wasn't Aunt Ripleigh who tore the door off the old cabin.

As expected, Nesta was cautious, hovering over you and Elain as if Feyre would reveal her true intentions at any moment. She declined Elain's invitation to go to the garden, seeing Feyre there made her physically sick, so she withdrew to avoid conflicts in front of her sisters.

You were focused on Feyre and Elain's conversation, desperately wanting her to talk about what happened.

Feyre tensed when Elain casually mentioned – distracted by the flowers – that Nesta visited her at Aunt Ripleigh's. Another lie.

You felt Feyre's breath near your face: "How have you been?"

Fine. You were fine, but not well enough to disguise the suspicion in your expression. Feyre quickly noticed and stepped back slightly.

"Why are you lying to us?" You were direct, no more beating around the bush. You needed answers, and not even Elain's presence would distract you from your goal.

Feyre widened her eyes toward Elain and was relieved to see that she was far enough away not to hear. Biting her lips, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the exit, giving a brief goodbye to Elain, who was so fascinated by the new petunia seedlings that she didn't care.

You were guided through a few doors until you reached a room that Feyre considered safe from curious ears.

You crossed your arms over your chest and impatiently waited for Feyre, who ran her hand through her hair and sighed, not knowing where to start. Then she decided to start with the worst.

"I– I'm in love with the High Lord of Prythian."

If you weren't already blind, you could swear your vision blurred at that moment.

And then Feyre told you, told about how the other side of the wall was breathtaking, told about the peculiar creatures that existed there, told about her frenemy Lucien, and told about how she fell in love with the beast that turned out to be so loving to her.

And to your dismay, she detailed the night of passion she had before being – gently – sent home.

"I didn't need to know that. I have a vivid imagination, and I hate myself for it." You spoke with disgust; Feyre chuckled and approached you, taking your hand and bringing it to her face.

"I haven't told you everything," you murmured for her to continue. Your fingers traced the contours of her face. She looked so different but at the same time so familiar. Perhaps she had become healthy.

"There was a male who threatened Tamlin, he was handsome, maybe the most beautiful male I've ever seen," she commented absentmindedly, "he asked for my name... Clare Beddor."

Clare Beddor, the name weighed on your tongue. Clare, your former neighbor who was killed in such a horrendous way that no one could bear to look for too long, according to your gossip source – Elain.

Feyre had given a false name to the fairy assassin. And you could swear she didn't know what had happened to that poor girl. And perhaps you weren't the most suitable person to tell her about the event; Feyre seemed happy sharing her new experiences. And you? You would allow yourself to be selfish for a moment.

"I understand."

Your sisters and your father went to the seasonal ball, and despite Elain's insistence, that wasn't your place. Your place was anywhere as long as it was far from high society. You certainly didn't fit the standards imposed by them, even though those who looked at you were dazzled.

"A beauty never seen before."

"I would die for features as delicate as yours."

"It's truly a shame…"

Feyre promised to come back early, just like you; she didn't like crowds and pompous people. Feyre promised to come back early.

So you did the only thing that was possible – you waited. Waited while eating, waited while talking to some servants, waited while invading Elain's garden, and waited until you got tired and chose the living room sofa as a great place to rest.

Inevitably, your eyes began to weigh, and before you realized it, sleep completely took you, plunging you into a deep state of peace, unable to hear the hurried steps through the house and the slam of the door closing.

Feyre promised to come back early.

Feyre hated goodbyes.

Perhaps, just perhaps, you should have already imagined that this would happen. Feyre was in love with the beast, and people in love tend to do foolish things.

That didn't ease the chest pain you felt when the next morning you were informed that she had returned to the fae lands in search of her High Lord. The feelings of betrayal and sadness walked hand in hand.

At the same time, you couldn't find the strength to harbor resentment towards her. Why would you? For the first time in her life, your sister was dedicating herself to something that truly made her happy. It didn't matter if she was leaving her family behind, right? No, that mattered to you.

Nesta hated dealing with your whirlwind of emotions; she hated that you depended on someone to be happy, and she made it clear when you woke up.

"Feyre is not responsible for what you feel. You are allowing yourself to stay in this state. Stop depending on her to live."

Despite being harsh, Nesta was spot-on with her words. Feyre was finally living her dream life; it was time for you to start living yours too, without anyone dictating how you should feel.

And thinking about this led you to where you were now, with your hands covered in clay – and probably not just your hands – trying to give some shape to that earthy mass on the spinning table in the studio.

Your mind wandered through all the possibilities of sculpture. Sculpting things your fingers had memorized or even inventing new forms to call conceptual. It would be ironic if your sculptures became famous.

Humming to yourself, your fingers gently moved over the clay's edges, shaping a small sphere; you pulled five points out and rounded the edges.

"They look like fingers." Merina's voice made you jump on the stool; Merina was one of the maids you had become close to, she had such a calm and gentle voice that, if you let her, could lull you to sleep.

"Well, I hope so. I'd be very upset if they looked like something else." You laughed, still molding your supposed fingers. Merina dragged a stool to join you, after, of course, looking down the hall to make sure no one was approaching.

She looked amazed at your hands giving life to the clay. Inevitably, her mind wandered, how? How were you capable? Feeling where your mind wandered, you chuckled softly and tilted your head in a silent invitation. Merina cleared her throat and asked:

"Why a hand?"

You subtly widened your eyes; that certainly wasn't the question you were expecting. A hum came from your throat before you answered Merina.

"It's with my hands that I see; they are my eyes to the world," you replied, licking your lips as you pondered, "I don't know how I manage it; I fear there's no logical explanation for it."

Merina didn't say anything, just grunted in response. Extending your hand, you searched the table until you found a small knife; bringing it close to the sculpture, you began making small fillets with it all along the hand's length.

Merina turned to you curiously, not understanding why you were deforming the piece. She gently nudged you with a – painfully pointed – question.

"Hmm, I've been thinking about it lately, hands with scars," you made one final cut and dropped the knife. Merina reached for an old cloth to help you clean your hands, "thank you. What would it be like to see with these hands? Would the texture of things be different? Or would the sensitivity be greater?" You rambled to her.

There were so many questions to consider, and in your opinion, you could already be considered a hands expert. That made you laugh.

Merina took the cloth from your hands and brought it toward your face, cleaning some clay splatters that had strayed there.

"I hope you don't have the answers on your own. It must be a horrible pain to have your hands torn apart." She commented, lowering the cloth.

A horrible pain? Makes sense. Whoever has hands like that must have a melancholic story behind them.

"You're right."

As promised, you lived your life the best way possible, and sculptures paved the way to your heart. Over time, your clay skills became refined, even daring to sculpt the features of your sisters; Nesta was your biggest supporter, even if she didn't admit it, there wasn't a day she didn't pass by to make sure your stock was full.

Each sister had their own shelf containing everything you thought resembled them. Elain had sculpted flowers and cakes, Nesta had books and red jewels, and Feyre had an arrow – just a sculpture, but it was the one you dedicated the most time to, whether smoothing the edges or trying to paint in the right places.

Because even though Feyre was a million miles away, you would love her all the way, and even if she never came back, you would find your way to her through the heart.

You wouldn't wait for her, but you wouldn't forget everything you had been through together.

And you might not even believe she would come back, but that tingling you felt in your fingers when you heard a knock on the door made you doubt your mental state.

It may be that besides being blind, you're also becoming deaf because hearing your sister's name from Elain's lips after so long is not a sign of good auditory nostalgia.

"Feyre?"

TAGLIST:

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[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Pt 2

Short Summary: Zhongli knows that it’s you and he can’t wait to meet you as the first one to recognize the creator and officially welcome you. (sorry there’s no intense chase yet, sort of a filler chapter)

characters: Childe, Zhongli

warning(s): ooc characters, lowkey degenerate behavior from Zhongli

word count: 1551

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You manage to get home without any interruptions. Grandpa Fuyi, the farmer that took you in, noticed your heavy breathing.

He sat up in his chair, grabbing his cane. Wiping the sweat from your face, you urged him to stay seated.

“I’m alright! I just… saw a few hilichurls on my way back and got scared.”

His grey brows furrowed. “Thank archons you’re alright. It’s dangerous for you to be traveling alone. Why don’t you take a break from selling?”

“About that… I’ve been thinking of traveling.”

Grandpa Fuyi was silent for a bit.

“Did you remember your real family?”

When you had first arrived, you knew it was impossible to tell him that you’re from another world. Instead, you told him that you’re lost and have no recollection of your past.

“I knew you’d eventually want to return to your life before, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.” He sighed shakily.

“No! That’s not it…”

Your heart breaks seeing the frail man. You can’t possibly leave him alone. But you are scared. You aren’t sure if the geo archon would come searching for you and you don’t want to involve the one person to give you shelter. You think about what your next set of actions are when Grandpa Fuyi speaks after a long strip of silence.

“Will you let me come with you?”

You are frozen in shock. He sees your reaction and continues speaking.

“I know I’m old and it’ll be difficult to travel with me, but I’ve always dreamed of visiting other nations before I pass…”

You pause, weighing out the options in your mind.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “It may be dangerous…”

“I’m sure. As long as you’re okay with it, I’d like to travel the world with you.”

He gives you a smile with such kind eyes that you can’t help but tear up as you hug him tightly. How can you abandon the one person to help you in this unfamiliar world?

The two of you prepare, quite quickly, to leave Liyue. Using your knowledge from your previous world, you create a collapsible wheelchair for Grandpa Fuyi that would make it easy to travel in. The money you made from selling your miracle vegetables is enough for the two of you to travel comfortably and is enough to last a lifetime. With your bags packed and an optimistic smile on your face, the two of you set out to head to your next destination, the land of eternity… Inazuma.

—

Early the next day, before the sun has even risen, Zhongli returns to the stall and sees that it’s not yet open and that the person he has been thinking of all night is no where to be seen.

Feeling that it is quite early, he decides to wait for you to come. He waits until the sun is high in the sky. Then he waits till the sky is purple. Despite standing for a whole day, Zhongli doesn’t move an inch from his spot.

He has to confirm it.

Even with this thought in mind, he knows deep in his heart that it it’s you. He knows that the creator has descended. Zhongli can feel it in his gut and with every fiber of his being. You’re here.

Zhongli waits for days in the same spot, neither eating nor drinking. Passersby’s stare at him as if he’s crazy and some even offer food. Zhongli refuses them all, only one thought in mind.

Creator, creator, creator… where are you?

—

It’s been a while since Childe visited Liyue other than short business trips and missions for the Fatui.

Childe is heading towards Northland Bank when he sees Zhongli, standing as still as a statue next to an empty stall.

He decides to greet him, walking over to the former geo archon.

“What are you up to?” He asks him, seeing the serious expression on his face.

“I’m waiting for someone.” Zhongli’s answers are brief, nothing but determination in his eyes.

Around him, Childe can hear the whispers of the people who pass by.

“That man is still standing there…”

“How many days has it been?”

“Is he even human?”

Childe’s eyes narrow.

What’s so important about this stall that the Geo Archon himself waits days on end for?

His eyes examine the stall closely. Nothing special stands out. However, as he is examining it, he sees a small white handkerchief poking out from behind the stall on the opposite side of where Zhongli is standing.

“Who are you waiting for?” Childe asks as he casually walks over to the handkerchief. “They must be very important for you to be waiting this long.”

Zhongli doesn’t spare him a glance. “A vegetable merchant,” he says simply. Childe rolls his eyes, discreetly picking up the handkerchief and shoving it into his pocket.

“Wow, how informative,” he says sarcastically. “Well I hate to be the one to break it to you, but if you’ve been waiting here for this long, chances are whoever you’re waiting for is long gone.”

Hearing this, Zhongli finally moves. The former geo archon was so absorbed in thoughts about what he’d say and how he’d react when he finally meets the creator that he didn’t realize how long he has actually been waiting.

“You’re right.” Zhongli wastes no more time waiting and leaves to search for them.

“Nice… just leave me hanging, no problem. I’ve been good by the way, thanks for asking!” Childe calls out to him.

As Zhongli walks to each nearby stall, asking for information about the vegetable merchant, Childe pulls out the handkerchief from his pocket.

His eyes scan over it, noticing smears of gold staining the white cloth.

Paint?

His thumb rubs over the smear, noticing that it’s a different texture than the usual paint used in Liyue.

Childe lifts the cloth to his face, taking in a deep whiff. As someone who survived the abyss and the youngest Fatui Harbringer, Childe’s senses are not to be messed with. Though it’s been days, there’s a small scent that anyone else would not have been able to recognize… but Childe, someone who has experienced his fair share of fights, is able to recognize it instantly.

… blood.

The puzzle pieces in his head click together so fast that he’s barely able to react. Childe stares at the cloth as if it’s the most special and rare artifact in all of the land of Teyvat.

A handkerchief with golden blood and the oldest archon guarding a shabby vegetable stall. Childe knows that this could only mean one thing.

The creator has descended.

With his heart beating faster than ever, Childe quickly leaves. He has to let the Tsarista know before Zhongli can find them. Childe smiles giddily, excitement filling his body.

—

After following the directions given to him by the townspeople, Zhongli finds himself in front of the small house you lived in with Grandpa Fuyi.

The wooden boards creak as he steps on the porch. Zhongli cringes, seeing the decrepit state of the small home.

Is this where their beloved creator has been staying?

Zhongli sighs. He will be sure to build you a grand palace for you to live in once he finally meets you.

He lightly knocks on the door with anticipation. A few seconds pass with no response. He knocks a bit harder and waits. After a few minutes pass of complete silence, Zhongli lets himself in.

He walks around the small home, examining it closely. Other than a small living area and kitchen, there are two small rooms. The first room he enters is lightly decorated with a few antiques littered here and there.

Were they living with someone? Zhongli asks in his head…a bit of jealousy shakes his heart. How lucky they must be to have lived with the creator…

The next room he enters is almost completely bare other than a small bed in the corner of the room. Zhongli knows immediately in his heart that it’s your’s.

The creator’s room…

Closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath, almost as if he’s basking in your presence. It’s like he can feel you…

Zhongli walks over to the bed, sitting on top of it. His hands caress the sheets, feeling the slight roughness of the cloth beneath his fingertips.

This is where the creator slept…

He lifts the blanket up, burying his face into the cloth and breathing in deeply with the nose of a dragon. He can smell you… he pulls away after a few seconds, feeling a bit dizzy.

From what he can tell, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve left. You must be close, he thinks. He smiles with eyes filled of devotion and exhilaration.

It won’t be long before you meet, Zhongli thinks. He awaits the day he is able to kneel before your feet and officially welcome you to the land of Teyvat.

Zhongli finally leaves the small house to follow your trail before it fades. He decides not to tell a soul of his discovery, thinking that it’d be best not to release the news so as to not spark any chaos.

… but in truth… Zhongli wants to be the first one to find you. The first to welcome you and become your most trusted acolyte.

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(sorry guys, i know a lot of you were expecting something big. Honestly, i had no plans to continue this but i randomly had a thought about it and decided to write this. I’ve been so busy and stressed with school so it’s been a while since I’ve had time to write anything. It’s a bit plain but I hope you guys like it! Next chapter will be more intense…probably…hopefully…)

taglist:

@allblognamesaretakenlikereally @kokxm1 @leafinapuddle @probablynoposts @tonightwrites @tiffthescales @dakotali @xxxastridexxx @sparklyphantom @ursinaw @d0rmiens-fact0rem @iruiji @turningmad @moonlilliesinthegarden @java-lava @chihawari @yanderesarentagoodidea @5-stirling-heartstrings @smokey-cat @raingoesboomboom @cheritastic @rugiebugie @thelocal-idiot @minteasketches @pwisoned @blueberryhitosh1 @eliaspspspsp @extremelytoastybread @angelkazusstuff @whinnywhale @thedevioussmirk @ravenswife @goldenglow149 @a-person-with-many-likes @noisychildnut

[camping-with-monsters]

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh miscellaneous doodles of Bliss characters from the past several months idk

I’m literally soooooo nice to my ocs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 13

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You sit on the other end of the long sectional as your mother continues to rumble. You’re happy at least that she’s getting rest, more relieved that she isn’t cognizant enough to track your every misstep. You choose a movie you’ve heard of; the synopsis seems okay. You only really watch the old DVDs your mother bought a decade ago. 

You lean into the armrest as Steve reappears and puts down a large bowl of popcorn on the low coffee table, along with two bottles of clear soda. The very stuff your mom tried to forbid you. It’s the one thing you can say for him, he doesn’t let her ruin his fun. You wish you could be that strong. 

“Let me get the lights,” he goes to shut off the lamp and you blink as the screen blares bright in the sudden dim. “Better.” 

He surprises you as he comes back and sits between you and your mom’s snoring form. You press yourself tighter to the arm rest. The couch is pretty big but next to him, it’s cramped. He sighs contentedly and he reaches forward for the bowl of popcorn. He offers you some and not wanting to be impolite, you take a few kernels off the top. 

You stare at the television as you nibble. You try to block out the room around you as the opening credits give way to the intro. You flinch as Steve nudges you, offering the bottle of cane soda. You thank him and sip slowly, nursing it as you make sense of the dialogue on screen. You don’t think the movie is very good, you’re almost embarrassed you chose it. 

The barely established meet-cute brews to sudden culmination in a bed, shot with flowery music and slow-down shots that stretch out the manufactured intimacy. Steve clears his throat as you shift, pressing your mouth to the bottle to hide your discomfort. You should have checked the rating before you hit play. 

Well, you are an adult. These things are normal right. Sex might be a mystery to you but he’s old enough to know a lot more. It’s probably nothing to him. You lean forward to put the half-finished soda on the coaster and sit back, wiping your slightly damp hand on your tee shirt. 

As the scene ends, you exhale in relief, squeezing your legs tightly together as you keep them bent beside you. God. This is really boring. You lay your head down on your arm as you lean into the armrest. Your eyes barely cling to the television as the colours blur to fuzzy orbs. 

You yawn, the effect of the sun setting in as the windows darken completely. The day of standing outside in the heat, sweeping and mopping, and scrubbing, it all gathers over your eyelids. No wonder your mother was so quick to pass out; she had better reason for it too. 

You yawn quietly as you sense the shadow next to your stir. You glance over and see how Steve’s arm extends over the back of the couch. The glow of the television limns his features as he watches intently. You’re slumped down, almost sideways, well away from his thick bicep resting over the back cushion. 

You drop your head back down and blink long and hard. The itchiness in your eyes is too much to resist. You sink down into a foggy haze, tinted softly by the hue of the television, the voices droning to low murmurs. 

As you drift on the tides of your unconscious, there’s sudden rolls in the water. A wave rolls over you, leaving you dizzy as the world moves around you. You groggily grumble as your eyelids slit and you catch sight of the large screen. You descend back into sleep, nape thrumming with unease but too tired to rouse. 

The abrupt change in tone jars you. Your eyes snap open as the credits roll white on black. You snort and rub your cheek, taking in your bearings little by little. You’re on your side, a pillow under your head, your legs slightly bent and lifted. A coolness settles on your stomach and you tug down your rumble shirt as it exposes your midriff. 

You babble as you raise your head and peek over with a flutter of lashes. 

A soothing sensation runs up and down your pajama pants. You see Steve’s silhouette cast against the greater darkness. His hands move up and down your legs, rubbing and kneading your thighs, fingertips edging along the crease between them. You whimper and straighten your legs stiffly, turning to drag yourself up. 

His touch falls away almost immediately. He seems to jerk awake himself and shakes his head. He sniffs and rubs his cheek. 

You bend your legs to your chest and gape at him. What was he doing? 

“Movie’s over,” he proclaims, his voice gritty, unlike you’ve heard before, “you were sleeping so sound... didn’t wanna wake you.” 

You look at your knees and hug them. You’re not crazy. He was touching you, but maybe it was innocent. Maybe that’s just how he is. Touchy-feely. Your mom’s not the type so you’re just not used to it. 

He sits forward and grabs the remote. He turns of the TV, sending you into bleak blackness. You sift through the shadows until you can make out the undefined shapes of furniture around you. Steve stands, the couch shifting with his weight, and a light blooms from his grasp. He shines his phone around, first at you, then your mother. 

“Better get her to bed. She’ll be sore,” he nears and holds out his phone, directing the light away from you, “wanna get this? Lead the way?” 

You take it and nod, standing with effort as your muscles rack across your back, though your legs feel noodle-ish. You aim the light towards the doorway as Steve bends over your mother and lifts her up with a grunt. He pauses and turns back, waiting for you to go ahead of him. 

“Upstairs,” he directs you in a grizzly whisper. 

You obey, going forward as you hold the phone high, making certain to illuminate the way ahead clearly. You turn up the stairs and when you get to the stop, you pause again. Steve lingers behind you. 

“Down towards the studio and across the hall from that,” he says. 

You go forward as he tells you and stop out the bedroom, shining the light inside but not breaking the threshold. He pauses, as if waiting for you to enter, then passes you and uses his elbow to hit the light switch. You lower the phone and watch him lay your mother down on the large bed. 

You don’t know what to do as you stand awkwardly in the hall. You watch his muscular back as he props your mother’s head on a pillow and covers her up. She’s still snoring, louder than you’ve ever heard. You're surprised she hasn’t woken up. 

“I could take the couch,” you offer. “Or go home.” 

“And sleep in that house all alone,” he faces you, crossing the room. He reaches for you and you shy away. You look down as he grasps at your hand and you give him the phone. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“Thanks,” he taps the screen and the light shuts off. “I can’t let you take the couch. I got a guest bed.” He points you to the room beside his studio, “just in there.” 

You retreat and stop by the closed door, waiting for him to open it. He twists the knob and pushes inside. He goes in ahead of you as he reveals the interior, flipping another switch to spark the overhead light. You peek around him as he enters. 

The room is gorgeous. It reminds you of one of those you saw in your mom’s home magazines. It’s a bit girlier than you would expect of its owner but it’s pretty. The white quilt on the bed is white, speckled in bunches of purple petals, and the four posts drape with sheer lilac coloured canopy. The white night tables have an antique style to their feet and handles, and a matching vanity stands against the wall. The velvet stool before it has a back that resembles a clamshell. 

“I ordered the bedding online but they sent the wrong pattern,” he approaches the bed and touches his forehead, “but it doesn’t really matter, I guess.” 

“It’s nice,” you rub your arm as you inch inside. “Thanks, er, it’s fine.” 

The bed is much bigger than your twin. It’s too much space just for you. The room itself must be double your own.  

“Yeah, no problem, let me know if you need anything,” he backs away from the bed. 

“Thanks,” you mumble again, biting your thumb. 

“Did you enjoy the movie?” He asks as he hovers close to the door. 

“Er,” you shrug. 

“Yeah, kinda cheesy,” he chuckles. “But I can’t complain for good company.” 

You stare at the bed. You’re tired. Your scratch your eye and try not to yawn. 

“Go on, tuck in, I’ll get the light.” 

He stands by the door, waiting and watching. 

You lift the corner of the covers and carefully slip in, staying on the edge. As you lay back, the light flicks off. 

“Night, sweetie,” he says before he pulls the door shut.  

The door doesn’t catch and as he walks away, you hear the creak as it opens just an inch. You pull the blankets snug around you and turn onto your side. You just want to sleep so the morning comes sooner.