#he wants to miss his friends and old life

[devildomwriter]

you said the brother's seven sins are based on their PTSD symptoms can you elaborate on it, please?

I’m not sure how I phrased it but when I mean is much of their personalities can be attributed to PTSD.

Lucifer’s need for control stemming from a situation where something traumatic happened that he had no control over.

Mammon’s need for instant gratification (serotonin) through things like gambling. Hoarding treasure to make sure he has a little financial security. Kleptomania is also a more uncommon symptom is some people with PTSD based on specific traumas.

Leviathan shells himself away in his room and becomes obsessively passionate to the point of blocking out the real world. He’s also self deprecating and afraid of socialization.

Satan’s fits of rage, lashing out before he can be hurt, learning things obsessively to avoid feeling inferior or like a burden. The need to constantly put down the person he feels inferior to.

Asmodeus being obsessed with gratification, validation, and recognition of others.

Beelzebub eating no matter the situation. Food is a big coping mechanism for most people and he’s eaten so much his stomach is a bottomless pitting meaning he needs to keep eating more and more.

Belphegor sleeps to avoid the waking world, school, socialization, generally everything. He also redirected his trauma of the war on humans because he needed something to blame and couldn’t otherwise cope.

Simeon wrote his trauma and loneliness down and created an ideal world with the brothers, one that he could control. He also acts as though nothing has changed since the war, still treating them exactly as he did, even calling them by their old nicknames.

Diavolo is bubbly and friendly because he’s deeply lonely and wants friends. He has people pleasing tendencies not only due to the pressure of his position but because of the rejection and strictness of his own father.

Mephistopheles is prickly and angry towards the brothers because they take Diavolo’s attention and Diavolo was the sole reason he was born and who he was raised to stand by. All that he is is meant for Diavolo.

Raphael is quick to defend himself with spears, likely trauma from war. He’s hyper observant and generally tries not to react to things or give away what he’s feeling. He’s built a metaphorical walls around himself.

Solomon never gives away what he’s feeling, avoids talking about himself, manipulates others before they can manipulate him, and has desire for dominance, power and control. He also seeks validation and praise for his work, especially from a human, since the human world rejected him as a child.

Thirteens’s trauma is based solely on Solomon’s cooking and she does what she can to avoid, lash out, and take revenge through her various pranks.

Michael collects mementos and reminders of his friends, storing them safely away and immediately recognizing when something was missing. He also maintains strict control of the friends left in his life likely keeping an eye on them to make sure he’s not left or betrayed again.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Buzzed

steddie, omegaverse, modern AU, Eddie got out of Hawkins and got famous

Most days it’s easy to pretend. Steve and Robin share a house and a workplace and most of a life in Indianapolis. He can usually forget how he and Eddie almost had something.

But that was before Eddie moved to L.A. to try doing something with his music, found his way into playing a busker in an indie film that miraculously got oscar buzz, and suddenly he’s a household name, booking tons of projects.

And Steve is happy for him!

Really!

He is.

It’s just… He misses having Eddie around. How excitable and goofy he can be, but also having a thoughtful alpha to hang out with other than Robin.

Not to mention his campfire scent and the way his callused fingers feel against Steve’s skin.

They still talk occasionally, texting mostly, little check-ins every couple months, but Steve hasn’t seen Eddie in-person in at least five years.

That’s why it’s easy to pretend. Steve’s old friend, Eddie, and Eddie Munson, alpha movie star, are two different people.

Steve’s crush can exist between the pages of magazines and on internet gossip sites.

He can moon over the pics from Eddie’s photoshoots that he has saved on his phone in private. Can keep his fantasies contained in his nest as he imagines his fingers sliding into short curls.

At least until he gets a call from Dustin on an unassuming Friday night. Steve and Robin are already nearly through a bottle of wine, kicking their feet up after a long week of teaching, when Steve’s phone rings.

“Eddie’s next movie is shooting in Chicago,” Dustin starts.

“And he’s flying out early so he can stop in Indy for a week. I may have told him he should skip the hotel and stay in your guest room.”

“Dustin!”

“What? You’ve got one of the mattresses from the podcast ads in there! It’s comfy! And that way he doesn’t have to deal with paps!”

“Can you just say paparazzi like a normal person?” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “But it should be fine. When does he get in?”

“Next weekend.”

“Dustin!”

“I only just found out! El and I are driving down in a week, and Mike and Will are only able to skype in.”

He doesn’t mention Lucas and Max, since they also live in Indy; Dustin and El are likely staying with them.

Robin elbows Steve and hisses for him to put the call on speaker, getting caught up as Steve has a private crisis at the thought of finally seeing Eddie again.

To make matters worse, his totally not stalkerish web alert for Eddie’s name pings after he hangs up with Dustin. A new photo shoot.

Eddie’s curls are gone, buzzed down to his scalp; Steve mourns for a fraction of a second.

Then he needs to squeeze his thighs together.

The wanting that he’s been squashing down for the better part of a decade comes back in full force, strong enough that Robin asks if his cycle is early and he’s going into heat.

Blushing, but knowing he can’t keep a secret from her to save his life, he shows her his phone.

“All I can see is how noticeable his ears are now,” Robin says with a judging look and a shrug. “And I am never going to buy Eddie as a tough guy, but I guess I can understand what you omegas see in him.”

“Rooooob!” Steve whines, indignant.

“Steeeeeve!” she teases back.

“I just… Fuck, I need to get laid.”

“I’m sure Eddie would if you asked him nicely.”

“Rob!”

“He looks like he could hold you down, get you to stop stressing so much.”

“Robin… I can’t think about that.”

“Sure you can.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you know why: The bulk of the conversations Eddie and I still have are about you. He always asks me how you are, what you’re up to, at least once a month.”

Steve’s taken aback by that. “What?”

“Yeah. He usually asks if you’re seeing anyone. Tries to sneak it in. Like I’m not going to notice.”

She raises a single eyebrow, and Steve feels intensely confused. “Then how come he doesn’t ask me? Or talk to me more?” He tips back the last of his wine and pulls his legs up tight to his chest.

“Because you’re both idiots,” Robin says, voice warm and full of love as she hugs him.

A week later, a car with dark tinted windows pulls up in Robin and Steve’s driveway.

Eddie has a baseball hat and sunglasses on as he gets out, the disguise barely enough obscure his features, but even if it were better, Steve would still recognize him by his posture.

Robin is out running errands and picking up dinner, but mostly giving Steve an hour of privacy. A chance to say something before either of them can get stuck inside their heads and fuck it up.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says with a smile as he pulls off his sunglasses in the entryway.

“Hey yourself,” Steve replies, pulling Eddie in for a hug, ready to make it quick, only for Eddie to hold on tight and press his nose to Steve’s neck. A purr rumbles from his chest.

Steve reaches up and pulls the hat from Eddie’s head, letting it fall to the ground.

He rubs his fingers over the stubble of the alpha’s hair, keeping him pressed close to the bonding gland at his neck, his scent crying out for Eddie to claim him.

Soft lips ghost against Steve’s neck. “I missed you,” Eddie whispers.

“Missed you, too.”

Steve kisses the side of Eddie’s head, the only part he can reach, lips pressed to the velvet of his shorn hair. Then it’s like his brain suddenly catches up with him. “Sorry! We- I didn’t-”

Eddie presses a single finger to Steve’s lips, finally pulling back to look in his eyes.

Without his curls, Eddie’s gaze is somehow more intense, dark chocolate looking into Steve’s heart. “Don’t apologize, puppy. You have nothing to apologize for, not to me.”

“Eddie…”

“I’m the one who ran away, who’s been hiding instead of alpha-ing up and telling you.”

“Telling me what?” Steve asks, lower lip trembling.

“That even after all this time, I can’t get your scent out of my nose. That I still dream about you every night. That I work so much to keep from going insane missing you. That I sh-”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss.

Eddie doesn’t waste any more time, just picks Steve up, their lips still connected, and carries him to the nearest bedroom—fortunately Steve’s—and drops him on the bed. Getting out of their clothes doesn’t take long; they’ve both waited long enough.

And Robin will be home soon.

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TOUCH (1)

- you lost contact with the boy next door, and you believe your life is better for it. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, ⚠️ adult topics mentioned, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 1,003

a/n - aaaaaa my top gun obsession as of late is currently taking up everything in my brain 🥹 now that i’m out for the summer, i really am going to try to finish what i started. come along for the journey, if you dare <3

You were never “together” together with him. You used to wish you were, praying desperately to every fallen eyelash and coin in a fountain and 11:11, but nothing could make Bradley Bradshaw, the only thing your teenage self wanted, settle down.

Instead, you followed him like a lost puppy, and he reveled in your affection. He was fifteen years old, just barely starting to grow his hair out, and you were fourteen. He was also your neighbor, something you could not get out of your giddy head every time you caught a glimpse of him riding his bike outside your window. You supposed it was a thing of proximity; you fell for the only boy you had ever really talked to, and he wanted a warm body.

It was an innocent crush. You liked the way he moved his (frankly horribly styled, which you only realized later) hair out of his brown eyes, and he liked that you liked him. So you went out on “dates”, and you had a fun time, and he inevitably left you to fend for yourself when his friends came around. It took two months of this for you to finally realize that it just wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as you pulled yourself off of your metaphorical knees, he was attached to another girl. A blonde named Rebecca with curves that were certainly not age-appropriate, even at seventeen. You hated her, for a time, but looking back on it, she had the same lovesick look in her eyes that you did. He had that effect on everyone.

When Bradley left, you didn’t even miss him.

You’re thirty-four now, with a brand-new sparkle in your eye. Things are perfect. You just accepted a new job in sunny San Diego to be closer to your long-term boyfriend, and really, life couldn’t be better.

After high school, you moved halfway across the country to attend your dream college, where you met Derick. He’s a nice guy. He brings you flowers, knows your drink order by heart, and, most importantly, he isn’t afraid of commitment. He has a big, shiny ring tucked in the back of his sock drawer, and you won’t ever tell him you know where it is.

Even your job is amazing, which is something people rarely get to say. You got the opportunity to own and manage a cafe quietly nestled into the cozier part of the California coast, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Its proximity to a naval base is also a great thing, as uniformed men line up in droves for an early morning coffee or the odd pastry on their cheat days.

You’re hardworking, and finally, finally, it’s starting to pay off. You smile to yourself as you pull the morning’s cash profit out of the cash register and divide it into folded envelopes. Nothing, you think, could ever go wrong.

//

Bradley’s life is great, too. That’s what he’d like to think, at least. He has friends. He loves his job. He loves the freedom of hooking up where he wants when he wants, without anyone trying to tie him down. He likes condoms and birth control, too, which are very important to his lifestyle. But when he looks at couples, rings around fingers and hands tucked into back pockets, something inside of him gives a little.

He’s never been one to stay in one place. He moved around a lot as a kid, and some essential part of that stuck with him. His job doesn’t make it easier, either–he’s constantly on the move. Now, though, he’s living in San Diego semi-permanently, and his roots are beginning to dig into the sand. And the whole time, he’s stayed depressingly single.

Women want him. There’s no doubt about it. He’s young enough, at thirty-five, for the twenty-something’s to chat him up, but old enough for the forty-somethings to not feel creepy talking to him. He’s fit, smooth, confident, and if he wants to take it that far, very good in bed. Despite all of that, he’s never found anyone that could truly tie him down. He’s getting a little tired of it at this point.

“Lord, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen all week.” Fanboy moans into his palms. There’s a croissant on a napkin in front of him that he hasn’t even touched.

Hangman grins from behind him. “You gotta get us there so we can take a shot. As a humble man, I can firmly say that she won’t even think about her boyfriend when I walk through the door.”

The daggers are going on about their new crush of the week. Apparently, Fanboy had spotted what he describes as a “cuteness off the charts” cafe owner on his quest for a new dessert spot. There’s only one thing that deterred him from sweeping her off of her feet: she has a boyfriend, one that she’s evidently quite serious about.

Rooster isn’t into taken women. It’s too much hassle, and he doesn’t like getting in the way of a relationship. He’s made that mistake in the past, and gotten a black eye to show for it. A bit of him is curious, but he won’t take that bait.

“I want to go back. Maybe… maybe I can say the croissant was so good that I had to get another. Guys, you need to go with me. It’s serious serious.” Rooster can firmly say that he’s never seen Fanboy so worked up about a girl before. Who in the world could make his friend geek out like this?

Phoenix chimes in from her spot behind Rooster. “I don’t condone messing around with girls with boyfriends, but I’ve gotta see her for myself.”

Fanboy stands, determination written on his face, as he takes a bite of the croissant. “Let’s go. And you guys better not steal my thunder.”

Rooster rolls his eyes, but follows behind his very smitten friend. He’s in for an interesting (if not somewhat funny) afternoon.

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes

[sxulcxtcher]

(Breeding) (friends to lovers) ( bartender reader) (bratty darling) (implied edging)

(For reference, the reader should be in his early 30s) (darling in his late 30s).

Back in college, you and your friend ____ used to be close. Some might even say lovers, or rather, you looked like lovers. You wanted to believe it. I mean, he's not much older than you, maybe 3-4 years?

But, sometime after college, he stopped talking to you completely. Ironic the same person who used to stay attached to your hip suddenly got so far away.

Still, life moves on, and so do you.

You move from your hometown and start a new life entirely. Begin working elsewhere, and life is just fine. A quaint little pub a couple blocks down from your apartment, and a good salary is all you need to be happy.

Except,it's boring but you can get used to that.

A quiet night. Slow. Dreary.

And then he shows up.

Despite it being at least 6 years since you've last spoke, that face of his is burned into your brain, new images of him seeped into your mind and pull old ones out.

Graduation,high school,middle school,rumors,late nights, all of it.

And with those memories bring new feelings, feelings that weren't quite there before.

He sits down in front of you. "Still as pretty as usual.." You think sighing out as you put on your best face.

"Welcome in..what can I get you?"

He opens his mouth,pauses, looks up at you, scans your face, and looks away.

"Are you him..?"

He trails off almost like he's not expecting you to answer.

You chuckle "depends on who you mean?"

"Are you ______?"

You smirk, turning your back to him

"Well.." You trail off mixing together his favorite drink to the best of your memory

You place it in front of him. "What do you think?"

He smirks,downs the drink in one gulp, and passes the glass back

"Been a while.. hasn't it?"

You smile back, "it has.."

He giggles. "You're still as cute as ever"

You look away "quiet"

He chuckles, bending his front over the table god those tits of his.

"You know.. when we were in college, they used to say we looked like a couple.."

His voice is so sweet.. fuck has it always sounded this nice?

"So I was thinking.. it's been a while since I've had a good fuck.."

God.. he's so..

"Wanna help me with that..?"

You blink

"What..?"

He smiles, sultry,tempting.

"You heard me.."

"You said..?"

He smirks

"Why don't you show me a good time?"

FUN TIME!

"Ooh! Fuck!~"

And that's how you got here..

Fucking your once best friend in the back of your bar.

Skin slaps against skin as he whimpers nonsense, moaning about how he should've fucked you sooner.

It's ironic considering that you were the one pounding him.

You roll your hips against his and watch as he sighs at the feeling.

He chuckles "you can fuck harder than that no?"

He smirks, arching his back, presenting his ass to you.

"Show me what I've missed out on all these years.."

And you do.

You pull his ass closer to you, leaning down to suck hickeys into the nape of his neck at the sound of his whimpers, you smirk, ramming him harder.

"Ah fuck!~ right there!"

You can feel his sloppy hole fluttering at the stimulation

Shifting now right next to his ear, you mutter

"You're suckin' me in hm..? You must really want this, huh slut?"

He let's out a groan.. more like a whimper, actually.

You smile, grabbing his hair, tugging slightly

"Answer me.."

He shivers, looking back at you tears welling up in his eyes.

"Need it.." he whimpers out "fuck..please.."

"Awh you do, don't you.."

He nods, eyes glassy with tears.

"Too bad.."

noice.

(Im knawing on ur keyboard)

[aestherians]

Change and Loss

Word count: 1362 Expected reading time: 10-11 minutes

"If your otherkinity still serves you, it will never really leave you," is what I used to say - more as a reassurance than a statement of fact. I mean, how could I know for a fact that it was true? I didn't have any experience with losing a kintype. I still don't think I do; not really. And I always saw the idea repeated in the community - one time otherkind, always otherkind.

But I don't believe that's true anymore. I'm still a bison for sure. I've never doubted that. I'm still Ɐwhrayɐ the gnoll and I'm still Ben the shapeshifter… but I'm beginning to accept that those sides of me have changed.

"One time otherkin, always otherkin. If your otherkinity still serves you, it will never really leave you"… but what if that's not true? What if you still benefit from your kintypes, and they disappear regardless? What do you do if you lose a part of yourself, or if a part of yourself becomes unrecognizable to you? How do you keep living when you've lost yourself?

Sometime in 2023 the distress of always having to hide my true self became too much to bear alone. But I'm not a brave person. I think the better solution would've been to just bite the bullet and start expressing myself, but hindsight is 20/20. I've survived 25 years by hiding everything that makes me 'weird', and the idea of leaving my one dependable survival strategy behind was (is) terrifying. I went to a free self-help seminar ("Take control of your life!") but all it taught me is that I need a dependable support network before I can take control of my life. I went to my doctor to try and get a referral for a therapist (it's cheaper than just finding your own therapist). Instead he sent me to a psychiatrist for my 'delusions'. The psychiatrist told me my experiences, worldview, and self-perception were unusual but not harmful - they could only help if my goal was to get rid of my schizotypal traits (traits that weren't even significant enough to warrant a diagnosis). If all I wanted was to learn how to conquer my fears and express my true self, they couldn't help. It took months of visits to get the diagnosis: Traumatized by peer abuse, too poor to afford my own therapy, and too anxious and ADHD to even find a therapist in the first place.

I can't even say I was left at square one. I had started out hopeful. Nearing the end of 2023, I just felt helpless.

At the same time, my studies were drawing to a close. I completed my bachelor's degree in animal science and all it took was a diagnosis of ADHD so I could legally buy amphetamines, a compound-diagnosis of autism so I wouldn't get kicked out when I inevitably misunderstood exam questions and failed final after final, and 5½ years - almost twice the expected time for a bachelor's degree in my country.

It should've been freeing but instead it left me directionless. Helpless and directionless - that's how I entered 2024!

In the past, in the strictly structured day-to-day of school, my kintypes have been a source of comfort. Especially my Ben fictotype, which probably fell into the category of coping mechanism. I awakened in a time of intense stress and retreated to that world whenever my present life got too much. When crowds got me overstimulated or I missed an important deadline or fought with my neighbors or drifted apart from old friends, I thought about all the times Ben!me had gone through similar or worse. I cut off a friend in my present life after finding out he'd abused his ex - but in my other life I'd cut off a friend who tried to murder me, and things still turned out fine. I lived through it. I could live through it again. Every situation had a parallel in my other life.

I still don't know why that method failed me, but eventually it did. It's not that it didn't work, it was more that I suddenly had to put an effort into making it work. As if I'd always been able to enter Narnia and now suddenly I had to personally petition Aslan to let me back in. It started in the fall of 2023 but it wasn't until spring 2024 that I fully realized. Coping had never been an effort before, and the worst part is, I don't even know why it suddenly was.

My fictotype was drifting away, even when it still served me! This wasn't supposed to happen! Had I been lied to?!

I think our community has a lot of survivorship bias. Whichever mailing lists and newsgroups get archived, and whatever snailmail gets published, that's what our history is based on. The people who made archivable geocities sites get to write our story - not the people on closed forums or in private chat groups. People who leave the community don't tend to leave behind pristine essays on their fully archived websites explaining why they left. It does happen, don't get me wrong, but it's rare. And when they do leave behind messages, it's usually some variant of "I still love the community that fostered my awakening, I'm just an adult with responsibilities now and I don't have time for this."

But what about the people who don't love the community? Who 'unawakened'? Who aren't passionate enough to leave behind a final message? Do we ever hear from the otherkind who 'fizzled out' and became human - or at least lost a kintype?

You can understand my panic, right? I considered turning my fictotype into a copinglink, but my ADHD is so debilitating I barely remember to brush my teeth - no way I was gonna remember to do daily reinforcement exercises. Especially frazzled 2024 me (still frazzled as of June but I'm hanging in there!).

I was forced to accept whatever my come.

I'm still Ben, on some level, but I won't say "I'm thankfully still Ben," 'because 'cause is it really that bad to not be Ben? Even if that facet had served me well and could still serve me? $1,000,000 could serve me well, but uselessly pining after it doesn't serve me.

I didn't prepare myself for loss because I really wasn't sure I was gonna lose a part of me - and, in any case, grieving preemptively is a waste of energy if you ask me. Instead a turned to the Bison - not my own bison theriotype, but the archetype of the Bison. When one woowoo solution fails, why not try another?

The Bison has always been a good teacher to me - better than any self-help seminar or psychiatrist. The Bison takes everything in stride. The Bison survives until it can thrive. The Bison ruminates on the present, it doesn't ponder the future. The Bison doesn't grieve or fret unnecessarily. It exists in the now. I exist in the now.

Of course, the chance that anyone reading this works with the Bison spirit is slim, but I think its teachings can help everyone - regardless of spirituality.

When turning to other worlds doesn't aid you, accept it, and turn to the present world. Let your worries pass through you, you can't see clearly when you're pent up with worry. You can't prevent the seasons from turning, all you can do is turn with them. Accept your lack of control, instead of trying to grasp at the uncontrollable. Sometimes change is unexpected, and you may not like it, and it might not even open up new doors for you. Not all change is good. But you cannot prevent every unwanted change, and you have to keep living regardless.

My fictionkinity doesn't have the intensity of my first few years post-awakening, but it also doesn't have the casual reassuredness of decade-old kintypes. It comes and goes, and when it comes it's like a whisper. And one day it might become too quiet for me to notice. One day it might not return.

But I think I can live with that.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Mortal Bounds. Part 5. The Vampire and the Witch

Summary: Astarion reunites with his adult daughter twenty years after Tiriel's death

Tags: angst, hurt, depression, father\daughter relationship, widower Astarion, adult child of Astarion

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate has sent me requests to post this story at least twice so here you are!

This is the fifth part of the Mortal Bounds series. Tiriel dies and Astarion deals with grief and loneliness along with their daughter.

Alethaine's age: 150

Mortal Bounds. Part 1. Shall We Meet Again?

Mortal Bounds. Part 2. Death, Worthy of a Barbarian

Mortal Bounds. Part 3. Paint it Black

Mortal Bounds. Part 4. Butterfly

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion curls under the blanket, hoping he will see Tiriel in his reverie. He wants to see her freckles,her smile, to feel her warmth. He wants to press his ear against her chest to hear her heartbeat. 

But Astarion can't. 

Because his wife is dead. 

She died 20 years ago in a fight like she had always wanted and before that, they had 150 years of life together. 

Astarion misses her. 

He didn't even have a chance to bury her or say goodbye. That dragon just burnt Tiriel to ashes leaving only a small piece of her armor.

Well, if she hadn’t died that day, she would have died a year later. Or ten years later. She was already 186 and her body was aging as it yielded to its human nature. Red hair turned white, wrinkles covered her face.  She would pant after a long walk and fighting became difficult for her.

Astarion would have loved to care for her in the last years of her life – elves who choose spouses from other races went through this all the time. Still young, they end up caring for their old partners who suffer from dementia and blindness. 

Tiriel would have never wanted this. She wanted a fight. She wanted a noble death.

And she got it.

The money Astarion earned from killing that dragon ended up in many bards’ pockets – he forced them to hear about Tiriel so they could make songs about her.

Then came the most difficult part. He sailed to Cormyr where their daughter acted as the High Necromancer, an evil sorceress who people thought had bewitched the court; little did they know she was the only person capable of saving these illiterate goons from demons and dark forces.

Alethaine.

She got him a sleeping potion and also paid a servant, a young woman, to share her blood with him. The small goblet was barely enough to satiate Astarion but he hadn't had blood for months and it was enough to at least soothe the nightmares.

When he woke up, his first thought was to search for Tiriel only to realize she was  gone. Forever.

Alethaine…

They parted ways. She left to the Underdark saying she wanted to join the dhampirs in their Freehold. Poor girl, she had nowhere else to go. The world of short-lived creatures had changed so much she felt uncomfortable. Elves come back home when they become older than a century, but dhampirs have no other place and Alethaine Ancunin is doomed to see her friends and companions grow old and die as she stays unchanged.

And so, she went to join her kind in the Dhampir Freehold.

Dhampirs had become so common in the last decades that no one was really worried about them. They called each other cousins as a slight towards Astarion’s master, the one who forced his spawns to call each other siblings. Now, dhampirs call themselves cousins. Grandchildren of the dark.

Or called.

Something bad happened fifteen years ago. Almost all dhampirs disappeared. The stronghold in Darkwood, once a home to a merciless dhampir guild, was left empty. A castle owned by the Midnight Sisters, blood witches Alethaine would call sex obsessed, was burnt to ashes. 

Within the last few years, Astarion  has met only one dhampir, a gnome, who got a panic attack the moment Astarion asked what had happened.

He would cry and beg not to ask him about the Freehold.

It seems like Astarion has to accept he lost his daughter, too.

The next sunrise meets him in the ruins of a tower. Astarion makes himself comfortable in the darkness and watches the sun taking its rightful place in the horizon.

He sticks his hand out from the shadows and his skin starts burning.

Astarion covers himself in a cape and waits.

When it is dark again, he leaves his shelter and sees something written in blood red on the collapsed wall.

WHERE DID THE DHAMPIRS GO

Astarion stares at the words. They send a shiver down his spine.

He looks below it and sees symbols in the Thieves' Kant 

THEY KILLED THEIR FATHERS AND THE DEMONS TOOK THEIR EYES

Astarion shivers.

There is nothing worse and scarier than a fight between dhampirs. The silence fell as their heart stopped beating and the half-mortal monsters ripped each other’s throats.

There was a period when Astarion barely left his home fearing to cross paths with yet another “nephew”. He made it alive only thanks to the fact real vampire hunters knew Alethaine would make talking skulls out of their heads should someone hurt her father.

Alethaine.

Where is she? Is his princess even alive? Is she safe? Or is she dead along with the others? And if so, where is her grave? 

Astarion would have given everything to see his girls again. To hold Tiriel in his arms, to see Alethaine. Maybe to hold them both like 150 years ago when Alethaine was just a tiny elf and Tiriel was strong and young. 

Now, he has only reveries.

Autumn is getting colder and the days are shorter. Astarion navigates the darkness talking to no one but himself.

He would have been even happy in the company of Theris the Bard, the annoying dhampir tiefling who has a sibling-like relationship with Alethaine.

Did he perish in the Underdark along with the others?

As the winter begins, Astaron spends more and more time outside. He remembers Tiriel warming him in such cold times and he cries himself to sleep mourning the happiness he once had. 

The worst reveries are the ones connected with arousal.

In these memories, Tiriel is his, completely his. She breathes in his mouth, moans, and pants as he traces her body with his tongue and fingers.

Sometimes he wakes up painfully hard because he dreams of Tiriel’s lips around his member.

Yes, always on him. Always gentle. Always playful.

He tries to remember her scent, her voice, her taste as he strokes himself. Orgasms always come with tears and desperation.

Twenty years.

Twenty years without her.

Twenty years alone and lost. 

Forever.

**

… The tavern looks dirty and reeks of piss. Astarion stops at the door sensing the invisible barrier.

He needs an invitation.

“Come in, fairy!” The innkeeper says. “Well, look at you! How come an elf looks like a dirty dwarf?”

People laugh.

Astarion looks around. Blood. Warm blood. But dirty necks averse him.

“I am looking for a job. And a warm bed,” he finally says.

“Hm, we have nothing here. We are peaceful people!”

Liar. Astarion can physically sense the anxiety.

“Tell me the truth,” Astarion whispers. “Who do you want me to kill?”

The innkeeper leans into him and Astarion hopes the exhaustion hasn’t made his vampiric traits show off. He can always explain ruby eyes with elven ancestry, but he wouldn’t be able to explain the fangs.

“We… We have a job… But hush! You haven’t heard from me!”

“I am listening.”

“There is a vampire witch in the swamps! She kidnaps girls to drink their blood! And she makes the dead leave their graves! We once hired a man to kill her, but she seduced him and turned him into a spider!”

Astarion hesitates. Well, killing vampires is his profession, but witches… He prefers not to piss the mages. He has a sorceress daughter, after all.

Or had.

“Thirty gold! No, 40! Hey!” he waves to a man in the corner. “Come here! I'm an adventurer! He can get rid of that… that… thing!”

“Fifty,” Astarion says.

“But we haven't yet paid the tribute!”

“Sixty gold,” Astarion adds. These people are desperate, that’s for sure.

“All right…you …fairy!”

“Call me a fairy once again and I will side with the witch.”

“All right, all right! 60 gold be it! But you need to show us the body!”

Astarion waits till the night starts again. He hears whispers – the demons of the Underdark are twisting people's minds and bodies, darkness falls on the land, elves are going extinct, winters and nights are getting longer, and Baldur’s Gate has collapsed into the sea. 

Unfortunately, Astarion knows at least half of these things are true.

He tries to meditate, but there are very few safe memories to relive. Two centuries of enslavement still haunt him and the things that used to make him  happy now make him even more miserable.

“Daddy, look!” Alethaine, five or six years old, shows him a skull.

“Is it an ogre?” Astarion carefully takes the dirty discovery in his hands.

“Mum won it at the fair. Well…She told me!” Alethaine casts a glance at the bathroom door where Tiriel washes the dirt off herself. 

Astarion returns the skull to his daughter asking her to wipe it clean and enters the bathroom. Tiriel is deliciously naked while she rubs her freckled skin.

“So, where did you get the skull, darling?”

“Someone reanimated a dead ogre. I left Alethaine to watch the fire performers and killed it.”

“And she wanted the skull?”

“Of course she did. It was this or a book on the Great Old Ones which was cursed, I am sure.”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. A few years later, they will realize that Alethaine is a necromancer and her love for macabre things is part of her nature.

Astarion returns back to reality in tears. He lost it all. His love and their daughter. It is one thing to lose Tiriel – he knew it would happen. She was a half-elf. And he must be happy for every day they spent together.

But Alethaine…

It’s unnatural for a parent to live longer than their child.

He should have stopped her, he had to make her follow him back to the Swords Coast.

He had to… 

Astarion sits up. He has a job to do. 

He goes down the tavern avoiding the innkeeper’s gaze.

“You can’t go hunting her at night! She is a fucking vampire!” A drunk woman says. “She will be weak in the morning!”

“I know what to do,” Astarion mutters.

The swamps are disgusting and so is the forest. He barely sees anything even with his darkvision and the rain makes it all even more disgusting.

It seems like the witch doesn’t even try to hide. Her hut is visible from the distance, but it’s entirely guarded with necrotic traps and a few raised skeletons who don’t notice the vampire. 

A necromancer.

Astarion feels a knot in his stomach. What if it’s Alethaine? What if it’s her?

He shakes his head. Miracles are rare and he has had enough of them. He will have to fight the witch, whoever she is. Maybe, if she kills him, he will find peace.

Astarion jumps over the fence. He doesn’t sense the presence of a living soul. Is there no one home?

Dhampirs, he reminds himself. Dhampirs are invisible to vampires. No, he shouldn’t give himself hope.

Suddenly the door slams open. Astarion grabs his daggers preparing for the fight.

The evil witch of the swamps bares her fangs.

There is a memory Astarion loves and fears to relive. 

When Alethaine could barely walk, he left for a few weeks to deal with a nasty contract between a gnome prince and a devil. When Astarion went away, Alethaine couldn’t even stand and he kissed her goodbye promising to return soon. The job took him longer than he expected. He was tired and angry when he returned home (the gnome died in the process and he didn’t earn anything from it). When he entered the house, he heard Tiriel’s breathing as if she was sound asleep.

And then he heard tiny steps.

Alethaine rushed to him on her two feet with her open arms. As he lifted her up, she grabbed his ears mumbling “Da-da, da-da!”

The memory flashes in front of his ruby eyes as he stands in the dirt with the dark witch of the swamps in his hands.

“Dad,” Alethaine cries. “I missed you so much… I am so sorry… I should have come with you,” she presses her nose against his shoulder.

Astarion caresses her back and silver hair. “It’s all right, princess, I am here.”

She bursts into tears like the little girl she once was.

“Let’s get inside, all right?” He says, trying to look at her.

“Yes… Come in!” Alethaine sniffs returning to the hut.

Astarion sits by the wooden table. The hut looks awful and so does Alethaine. It’s a dirty and cold place full of dried plants and mushrooms, artifacts and rugs thrown around, and a reanimated rat is chewing a book on the history of gnomes. 

And Alethaine. whom he raised to have standards, who belonged to the fucking nobility in Cormyr when he last saw her, looks like a deranged village witch.

Her silver hair is messy as if she was too lazy to brush it. Her black dress is in rags and nails are bitten. 

“Oh, you need to eat…” she mutters, opening the cellar door. “I have some blood preserved in bottles, it is as fresh as it was when I took it.”

“Don't you tell me you drink blood,” Astarion says, feeling how his regular fatherly concern returns back. Blood makes dhampirs sick and insane, but it’s addictive like a drug.

“No, I don’t. I would never,” Alethaine returns with a bottle of human blood. “I will never.”

Astarion finishes the bottle and feels his body become warm. Alethaine takes a brush and tries to tidy up her hair, but instead, she just pulls out the tangles.

“Alethaine…”

“I am all right, Dad. How are you? What are you doing so far from the Swords Coast?”

“And I thought you were supposed to be in the Underdark! What happened?”

Alethaine turns away, her eyes wide open. Astarion has lived long enough to know such a  stare means nothing good.

He carefully takes the brush away.

“When was the last time you took a bath?” He asks gently.

“I- I don’t remember.”

“Do you have a tub here?” 

“Dad, I am all right! Besides it’s you who is… a widower.”

Astarion sits in front of her. 

“What happened to you? But don't lie, I know when you try to.”

Alethaine sniffs.

Dhampirs murder each other. Profane Abyssal language. Her cousins were without eyes and tongues. Screams, pain.

Death.

And much worse.

“I don’t know what happened. They just… got insane. Started killing each other. My friends, my cousins. It was a purge!” Alethaine clenches her hands. “I survived only because I resurrected the dead bodies. And… that thing… it’s still there, somewhere… And I am afraid it will find me,” Alethaine shuts her ears as if she could still hear the screams.

Maybe she does.

“I have nightmares. I see shadows and darkness. I barely leave the hut, only when I absolutely have to. Sometimes people come to me for healing or prophecies… Damn, everyone knows I have no prophetic abilities…. I am scared all the time.”

Astarion caresses her fingers.

“How long have you been here, princess?”

“Fifteen years.”

Astarion is silent for a few moments. What can he say to her? That everything will be alright? That she can just leave it be? After all that happened?

“Alethaine, I am here.” He makes her look at him. “I am a vampire, if anything bad comes here, they will have to walk past me.”

Alethaine smiles, but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe him.

“All right, so you haven’t told me if you have a tub.”

**

Hours later, when he brings enough water to warm it with a fire spell and Alethaine locks herself in the room submerging herself in the tub, Astarion cooks a stew from what he's found in the hut. It's difficult to say if the food is even edible, but it’s the best that he can do.

From time to time, he calls Alethaine and relaxes as he hears her voice. 

When the stew is more or less ready, Astarion contemplates if he should clean the hut but decides not to meddle with what might be his daughter’s specific order so he gets more water from the well to wash the black dress. 

“Princess, I hope you have other clothes, because I am afraid I cannot repair this,” he finally admits, realizing the dress is little more than a rag.

Alethaine doesn’t answer. 

It’s already sunrise when she finally returns to the kitchen in what looks like another ragged dress, all patches and holes. She starts eating like a starving person.

Astarion takes a pair of scissors.

“Try not to move,” He says as she munches the dinner. “I will cut off the tangles.”

He does it carefully, knowing that elven hair takes centuries to grow back. The tangles fall on the dirty floor.

“Astarion!” Tiriel calls him in his memory. “Astarion, is it normal that they are already so long?”

A seven-month-old toddler sleeps with her hair covering the whole body like a second blanket. 

“She is an elf, it is normal,” He says. “But we can’t cut them.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Tiriel touches Alethaine’s ear making it twitch. “It’s just weird!”

The toddler wakes up, and sits down, her hair covering her fully. And then sniffs.

“Thank you, Dad,” Alethaine says, putting the plate away. “And… for the hair. I just couldn’t make myself cut it.”

“Now sit in front of me,” Astairon orders and takes a nail file out of the inner pocket. 

Alethaine chuckles, noticing it.

“What, princess, I have no idea how I look and my whole image of myself is formed by my hands!”

“Everyone says we look alike.”

“Then I am sure I am the most beautiful elf this world has seen.” He takes Alethaine's right hand and starts working on her nails. Alethaine sniffs again. “I am sorry for what happened there”

“I don’t know. I think it would happen anyway. This cult… There was always something wrong with it.”

“Did they get insane only because they worshiped the Great Old Ones?”

“I don’t think it was the Great Old Ones. It was something more… twisted. More dangerous. They worshiped it and it killed them.”

“So, you think it happened only because of that?”

“I think it was more than enough. But honestly Dad, do you want my version?”

“Hm?”

“We started killing vampires, our own parents. And the gods punished us with madness.”

Astarion pulls away. Alethaine’s gaze is a thousand miles away. Has she always been spiritual? Or is it what happened to her after Tiriel’s death and the purge she witnessed that made her so?

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Dalyria’s sons, the twins, killed her. They dragged her body to the surface and watched her burn. Ayrin… her father, Sebastian, I think that was his name, she killed him because she just liked murdering vampires. I hunted … spawns and lords… and whoever I got paid for. I rationalized it, like, I was killing the dangerous ones! I was saving mortals! But we shouldn’t have done it. We should have left you all in peace.”

“Princess, your mother made me release seven thousand spawns into the Underdark. And what is worse, like I learned much later, they all were true vampires because our master had died. Most of them were dangerous. Someone would eventually have had to kill them.”

“It wasn't our hunt, though,” Alethaine says. “We don’t breathe. We walk on ceilings. We fear silver. We regenerate. Blood makes us insane. We live so much longer than we are supposed to. It is a sin for a dhampir to kill a vampire and I am sure of it. Maybe I survived only to tell others.”

Astarion touches her pale cheek.

“Princess, don’t look for reasons where there is none. The gods are too busy bickering with each other to punish dhampirs.”

Alethaine doesn’t answer. And then she covers her face with her palms.

“I miss her, Dad. I miss her so much.”

Astarion doesn’t need to ask who she means. Tiriel. Alethaine misses her mother. And she always will.

He takes Alethaine in his arms and places her on his lap. She cradles herself like a little child and Astarion is surprised yet again at how small she actually is. Only five feet tall! And barely eighty-eight pounds to weight. 

Tiny.

“Hush, baby princess, it’s all right. You are safe with me,” he says.

**

Astarion finds special comfort in repairing clothes. Everything Alethaine has is in tatters and he stitches dragons and butterflies, monsters and phrases in Elven like he did when she was little.

Alethaine is way more cheerful. She tells him about her time at the royal court, of her adventures and books she’s read. They discuss necromancy and the undead and also the destiny of the Underdark vampires.

“Dad, how did you find me?” She asks the next evening. 

“Very simple. You’ve scared the shit out of locals and they started looking for a monster hunter.”

“Oh, so you’ve come to kill me?”

“Alethaine, to be honest, I am not sure I could handle you,” he laughs.

“We can pretend you succeeded and earn some money.”

“So, dear, am I getting this right,” Astarion bites off the thread. “You suggest you start scaring the shit out of mortals and then I arrive like a mysterious knight in shining armor to ‘end’ you?”

“Or you scare the shit out of people as a dangerous vampire and I come to deal with you like a dhampir. I can even make a legend that you are my asshole father who is an absolute tyrant.”

“I like it,” Astarion says. “But we will have to move often, otherwise we will be caught red-handed.”

Alethaine sits in front of him. 

“We can travel… Like you did with mum. I just… can’t stay here anymore. This place sucks.”

“Alethaine, it will be difficult. I will have to stay inside in the daylight.”

“Not a problem. I can move as fast as you, we will cover great lengths at night!”

Astarion looks at his daughter. She is not lying. She really wants it.

How will it be? To adventure with his adult child? His beautiful and smart 150 year-old princess?

He is sure it’s going to be fun!

“All right, then pack your stuff! And let’s go earn some money.”

“I need to fake my death,” she says.

“Then do it! The night is short!”

Astarion sneaks out of the hut the moment darkness falls on the ground.

No one in the village believes him without proof so he brings them to the swamp hut.

“You killed her!” The innkeeper exclaims. “We are safe! Thank you!”

Astarion looks at the hut.

A corpse with long silver hair hangs down the roof. The body looks so similar to Alethaine’s that Astarion has an uncanny feeling.

A sack of gold is thrown to his feet.

“Take it and leave,” the men order him.

Astarion bows out and takes their money. 

Alethaine waits for him on the hill. She wears her black traveling armor, and her hair is braided. She looks younger. And more cheerful.

And happy.

“Sixty gold?! Are you kidding?” She says. “I am very much sure I am worth more than that!”

“Next time harass someone richer, princess!” Astarion walks beside her as they leave the swamps.

“So where are we traveling to?” Alethaine asks.

“Where do you want to go?”

Alethaine contemplates for a while.

“Halrua. The land of magic!” Alethaine says. “Imagine the things we can steal there!”

“And the things we can kill!” Astarion bares his fangs and Alethaine copies his expression by showing hers. 

He takes her hand. He doesn’t know what the future will hold for him or his daughter but for now…

This little adventure just feels nice. 

---

Thank you for reading! You know, it's actually the first story I've ever written about Alethaine - but it remained in drafts while I was writing other stories about her!

--

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[recapitulation]

elevator pitch mysterious lotus casebook to me 🤑🤑🤑

BELIEVE IT OR NOT I TRIED TO KEEP THIS SHORT. this is no longer an elevator pitch. or maybe i am trapping you in this elevator with me until i finish.

ok. let me give you just a little bit about each of the three main characters bc thats what would make ME interested.

li xiangyi/li lianhua:

li xiangyi rises to the top of the jianghu/martial arts world at 18, but is poisoned and nearly dies during a fight with di feisheng. he's given about 10 years to live. (story starts 10 years later.)

he decided to step out of the jianghu altogether and live life as li lianhua, a "miracle doctor" whose reputation is 100% bullshit.

the only thing he wants is to find the missing corpse of his dead shixiong and bury him properly before he dies himself.

king of lying to your face repeatedly with no shame.

^^ will absolutely lie to you this time.

fang duobing:

fang duobing gets manipulated and backstabbed by li lianhua and immediately starts following him around

after about the third time li lianhua dumps him on the side of the road in an attempt to ditch him, fang duobing starts calling him zhiji

has a huge celebrity crush on li xiangyi, and walks around telling people he's li xiangyi's disciple because of a small interaction the two of them had about 10 years ago.

fang duobing spends the whole beginning half of the show telling li lianhua TO HIS FACE how great and awesome and cool li xiangyi is

^^ btw this is how fang duobing looks at li lianhua WHILE li lianhua is actively poisoning him. <3

di feisheng:

wants to fight li xiangyi again more than anything. like. anything.

agressively tries to heal li lianhua time and time again but li lianhua does NOT want to become li xiangyi again.

is he li xiangyi's old enemy? friend? are they working towards the same goal? do they want to kill each other? well... <3

^^ face of a guy about to throw li lianhua in a pit of snakes for the sake of his health

other reasons why i like it:

I am a fan of inescapable tragedy

I love how the ghost of li xiangyi haunts every part of the story despite li lianhua doing his very best to kill his past self

Truly delicious amounts of dramatic irony

Every time you think the most embarrassing thing possible happens to fang duobing something worse happens to him

So many interesting character interactions deepened by layers of hidden identity

Ending made me cry like a baby and I don't cry easily <3

[quitealotofsodapop]

Unfortunately for Wukong, he was still visibly upset by the time they got back to the shop and while Pigsy found the ingredients he picked out acceptable (the alchemy and herbalist knowledge helped a lot in picking the best of the stock) he definitely didn't want to risk Monkey Tantrum: Adult Edition when he saw the face of his second most loyal customer. So naturally he asked about it.

Pigsy: What got your tail in a knot!?

Wukong: Nothing! Just... ran into someone at the store is all...

MK: Baba's old friend Liu'er was there!!

Wukong: MK, I told ya bud, he isnt my 'friend' anymore.

MK: But Baba, he seemed nice!

The Demon Bull Family were eating there. After reuniting with Wukong and such, they'd begun to visit the shop for family nights at Wukong's recommendation since it's got great food, a cozy atmosphere, and it gives them a semi-peaceful place to bond as a family again after being separated for so long. So of course the moment they overhear MK talking about Macaque they're all ears.

DBK, in protective big brother mode: That RAT is back!?

PIF, defensive of her brother: Darling, Macaque is hardly a rat.

DBK: After what he did to Wukong? He might as well be. If I had ever had the gall to abandon MY wife in her most vulnerable moment, I would be too ashamed to show my face again!

Wukong, from across the room: Oookay! I think that's enough from the peanut gallery

Prev.

DBK about to bust out 1300-year old shovel talk the second he sees Macaque again. The Stalwarts are his back-up.

Macaque initally believes that DBK is mad at him for stuff that happened along the Journey, but DBK is hirt more by something else...

DBK: "You LEFT him! Left him when he was suffering under that damned Mountain! He had just been tortured within an inch of his lives, and you turned away because your pride was hurt?!" Macaque: "I didn't exactly see you hanging around either!" DBK: "Me and Tieshan were in hiding! Both of our families had just disowned us, and Heaven was out for blood! If I could have kept Wukong from loneliness under that rock - I would have! And when Tieshan fell ill while carrying our..." (*has to pause as he starts to tear up*) Macaque, realising that he Really Messed Up: "You're... you're not one for crying Brother Bull... aren't you pissed that you missed out on 500 years of your life just cus Wukong deemed it?" DBK: "Time has changed me. Wukong was forced to deal with my rampage to the extent Heaven allowed. Sealing me away was a necessary evil to prevent my execution." Macaque, becoming quiet: "...he didn't spare me that mercy." DBK: "Then perhaps you gave him no other choice in the matter. Have you considered that?" Macaque: (*silent*) DBK: "He mourns for you, Liu'er Mihou. Has for over a thousand years. He's told your stories hundreds of times to ensure his child grows up knowing your heart. It's about time you repay his devotion." (*Bull leaves, leaving Macaque to dwell upon his actions*)

I love DBK being a protective big bro, and Mac being forced to see the error of his actions >:3

[melonminnie]

I was looking for fanfics of Atil x reader 😭 I just read yours it was really good

Can I please request another 😭 like reader is Atil’s childhood friend and they meet after a long time in a ball. But she dances with Fjord in the ball instead of him so he gets pissed and corners her in the garden (you know those manhwa scenes)

BTW if you can, please write Your name instead of Y/N 😭

Can you make them at least 15-17 (not too young or old)

IN the gardens ☆: .˚ Atil x fem! reader

AUTHOR NOTE: Also, I tried complying with the request 100 precent so bear with me I haven't written in so so so long so mind the grammar because English is not my first language, I came back from the writing grave bc i lob writing abt atil

"THIS is your new playmate, Atil!" cheered his nanny, pushing the small girl a step towards the prince. It was very clear to the then eight-year-old prince that you two wouldn't get along.

If you left, Atil thought he wouldn't miss you. For the brunette, you were the most boring person to ever exist. Hell, the boy marked his calendar to the day you would leave, with a big red circle around the day and the words 'She'll finally leave'.

While Atil had completely forgotten that the calendar exists, the cruel words of the eight-year-old were right there for her to see. You weren't meant to see it; he should've hidden it, should've tucked it under his pillow.

Eight-year-old, your name saw them, and of course, you were hurt. Of course, you cried and got mad at him. But luckily, you two made up; he removed the markings on the calendar.

Eventually, you left. He begged you not to, but you did, and for 9 years, you remained in the back of the prince's mind.

9 years later,

Atil thought you looked familiar, familiar in a way he's known you before, seen you in drawings, had you memorized in his brain, and it clicked. Fuck, was he happy when he remembered.

All the memories, all the words, the questions he wanted to ask you. But for some reason, he couldn't.

It wasn't until the next day that Atill found out why he couldn't talk to you. You were simply too beautiful for him to talk to anymore. Too stunning, an angel maybe.

The ball that Atill had held, one of the first balls for him to even hold as the current emperor of the empire, was a week-long, so he wasn't worried about time.

But what worried him was if he would ever get the courage to talk to you ever. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd remember him.

So, the next day came, morning came and went, the sky growing dark, unseeable stars twinkling. The castle was abuzz, and so was the capital, nobles arriving at the palace in their pearly carriages, and those who worked there passing along the long halls, food and wine in trays.

Atil stood there, for once, maybe in his life, he felt absolutely dumbfounded. He really didn't know what to do.

"Hi, Atill, remember me?" With the voice came a tap on his shoulder. While the voice grew softer, Atill knew who it was, his childhood friend, one of his only friends.

"Your name."

"Your name?" he asks, turning to face you. You nod to his question. And he smiles, "how long has it been? Nine years?" he asks.

"I think so, time moves fast. You're now the emperor, hm?" she responds, grabbing dessert from one of the servants that passed by them.

"Soon to be. Will you be there for the ceremony?" he asks once more. This time, you don't answer as everyone moves toward the ballroom. Atill follows suit.

For the first ten minutes, there was no dancing, no nothing, till one person asks the other and soon everyone follows, asking the person they've been eyeing or with the higher status.

Atill rejecting every one of them for one reason. He wanted to dance with you and only you. For the first time since he saw you at the ball since day one, Atill wanted to ask you, and he wanted to be the only man to ever dance with you that night.

Unfortunately, to his dismay, a particular white-haired boy, one that he despised with his entire being, Fjord Bharrat, had asked you to dance. Why? he didn't know. He didn't even know that Fjord even knew you, considering he had never met you.

But you were stunning, and almost every person there had been looking at you. Or maybe it was because Fjord saw Atill eyeing you and wanted to annoy him.

Annoyed and not particularly wanting to dance with anyone but you, Atill heads to the garden. He had half a mind to head to the maze garden, but he knew neither his friend Pie nor his butler would appreciate his disappearance.

So, he stood there, like a pretty decoration, if you will, bored out of his mind, his eyes following your movements. Atill was mad, yes, not at you, at the future duke who was dancing with you.

After a few more songs, Atill took his eyes off of you for one second to get a drink, and when he returned, you were no longer there. He searched everywhere, but you disappeared. And he knew one place he could look for you.

Making his way outside, the grass was damp from rain or from drunk guests spilling their drinks; he didn't know.

He saw you almost instantly. He's always seen you, really. Atill liked to believe that the first time he noticed you was the beginning of him always noticing you.

To him, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You were always there in the background, but really the main part of the event for him always would have been you. How could it be anyone else?

"Your name? What are you doing here?" the brunette called out, inching closer towards you every second till he stood next to you.

"Oh, you know, I'm just sitting here enjoying the atmosphere," She responded. She wasn't really lying. It was stuffy inside, the air choking her, taking its sweet time till she couldn't bear it anymore. Or maybe it was the white-haired male dancing with her. He really looked like he didn't want to be dancing with her.

Which made her wonder why he even bothered asking her to dance in the beginning.

"Why did you dance with him?" Atill asked, kneeling till he reached your height as you were sitting on the bench, his full attention on you.

"'Cause he asked me to? Don't tell me you're angry I danced with him," Your name scoffed. If he wanted, she thought he could have asked her to dance himself instead of getting upset about her dancing with others.

"Maybe," he whispered, causing the girl to somehow frown even more than she was frowning internally. "Well, your majesty, you have no right to be angry because someone danced with me had you wanted you could have asked me to dance not just sit there like a decoration."

"You're right, but I couldn't ask you when the Bharat brat had gotten to you first," he replied, now frowning as much as you were.

"So, cornering me in the garden was your only approach?" she spoke after an eternity.

Atill shifted, his forehead pressing against yours. "You're going to ruin my hair, Atill. Go away before I kick you."

"I'm sorry, your name. I really desperately wanted to dance with you. I wasn't fast enough, but I very badly wanted to," he whispered, meeting your eyes.

"Will you dance with me tomorrow then, your Majesty?" Your name asked.

"Of course, I will," Atill answered.

[deadpool15]

This is fucking bullshit. All of this is so stupid. I’m gonna kick his fucking ass. Me and Woo-Jin had been kinda on and off for about two years, at first it was fine because I wasn’t ready to settle down so it was all fun and games. But now I’ve been trying to slowly show him I’m ready for the real thing. Full on relationship, our parents had already met, with my parents practically becoming friends for life with his after agreeing to endorse his father’s campaign. His mother constantly telling me how much of a good daughter I am, and how she views me as her own.

Everything was slowly coming together until that fucking teacher arrived. Her nasty disgusting elderly ass decides to fuck my man. It seems like no one in this school realized Woo-Jin belonged to me. Not even him, well not yet. Storming through the school with my shirt slightly unbuttoned from the top leaving my sloppy tie on display just how I like it. It’s a style. Skirts were always a hit or miss for me, seemed no one in Korea understood the struggles of having a fat ass. My knee-high socks had fallen down slightly revealing a few of my tattoos. Shall I say baddest bitch at school for you. Yes, yes indeed.

I make my way up to our special classroom where I had told the man himself to meet me. Walking in the room I notice He-ra in there as well. Now before you say it that’s my bitch. Love her to death. But now isn’t the time for her and her constant back talk that I know she will give without explanation. “He-ra I love you so much babe, but I’m about to embarrass the fuck outta your bestie right now so can you please give us a minute. And I mean go to class not wait outside and listen this time.” She turns to me grabbing her things, “I wasn’t gonna listen to your guys speak, last time I tried to ease drop on you two felt like I was listening to unfiltered porn.”

Watching her walk out the room I see him sitting there smirking. “Stop that you make me sick. You piece of shit.” He motions for me to come closer as I was standing up still. Dripping my bag on the floor, I sit in the chair next to him only for him to grab my arm and push me into his lap. “What’s wrong, Cherie? And what are you gonna embarrass me with?” Pushing his hands that had landed on my hips off me, I sit firmly. Feeling the tension in the room. “When where u gonna tell me you are into old broke bitches now, huh? Miss me that much? You have your sluts acting out of order around me.” He tries to speak up but I place my finger on his plump lips. Causing him to slowly wrap his lips around my finger.

Wow can’t believe he is playing dirty right now. Two can play that game. “Guess your skills are getting old, it’s not working for you anymore is that it baby, is that why you are fucking old women now.” He removes his lips from my fingers and starts leaving kisses on my neck. Open-mouthed kisses are my fucking weakness and he knows this. “What did she say to you?” For a minute I couldn’t respond. I was lying through my teeth this entire time his skills always worked but I knew so did mine. “Kept trying to speak to me saying how worried she was about me since she has noticed me and you barely talk. She wanted to offer me a moment to let out my emotional side and show her how impacted I am now that you have moved on to someone new apparently. Messy ass teacher.”

Hearing this he stopped, “aww are you jealous, baby?” Seeing the mischievous smile on his amazing face almost made me crumble until I started to lean in for him to show off something I know would get me victory. “Is that a fucking hickey? Cherie you’re not serious right, no marks we talked about that. You have shitty guys leaving marks on your body to remember them.” He gripped my neck once he realized I was smiling, “Oo I didn’t even notice he was mainly focused on my bottom half when he did that, guess that’s my bad.” Chuckling and making my way to move off of his lap until he gripped my hips keeping me firmly placed glued to him. “No more of that, me and you that’s it. You only need me, how many times do I have to fuck you to prove that huh? Do you hate walking, is that it?”

“You’re sleeping around too, asshole. Get that dog under control and maybe I’ll let you have me. Any way you want it baby.” He smiles at me before unlocking his phone and pressing the camera icon. “What are you doing, sending her photos Woo-Jin? Wow you truly don’t give a fuck about me do you. Such an asshole.” He wipes my tears before leaning in to kiss me softly. “Cherie I like you so much, actually I fucking love you. Everything about you. I’m not sending her pictures, two options ok. I could text her it’s over or I could bend you over this chair and fuck you til you’re begging me to stop and send it to her. But, something tells me you like the second option more.”

Leaning closer to bite his ear, I whisper, “how many rounds can you give me before next class, huh pretty boy?” He grabs my breast, before kissing my ear. “My next course doesn’t start until 4, it’s currently 1. Which means we have to test this theory, are you up for it beautiful?” Unbuttoning his shirt, while spreading my hands across his chest I nod. “Always up for a challenge, pretty boy. But can you handle it. I don’t move at that same pace as you’re used to now. Since you have downgraded to fucking the retirement community. Can you even keep up?” He pulls me closer kissing my hands. “Can I, handle you? Baby you’re not leaving this room til you tap out.”

“Say less, pretty boy.”

[kimingyuslover]

Coup de Foudre

synopsis: same old case, he never believes in love at first sight, until he met you

word count: 1,199

pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: love at first sight!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive.

warnings: simp!wonwoo, mention of alcohol, Jeonghan made appearance, Dokyeom mentioned, make out session (not detailed), slightly suggestive at the end.

a.n: finally! a full fluff fic, but i can't think anything, so maybe the plot is kinda rushed.

Wonwoo never believes when people tell him that they're falling in love at first sight. To him, love needs time and patience. You can't just say you're in love with someone when you first see them.

That's until he met you.

You both met at a college party, you wanting to relieve your stress after the final exam, Dokyeom– your friend since high school, invited you to his frat party.

Whereas Wonwoo just wants to spend his weekend night with his frat brothers.

You went to the kitchen to take another bottle of vodka because Minghao said that it needs to be refilled.

There you met the most attractive man you've ever met in your life. Wonwoo just stood between the kitchen island and kitchen shelves with a phone on his left hand while the other filled with a cup of gin.

“Uhm, excuse me, can you please take that bottle? I can't reach it. It's on the top shelves” you said sheepishly to Wonwoo.

He froze for a second, admiring you like you're a piece of art that God made special for his eyes. He realised that it's been a few seconds since you asked him, and he hasn't given his answer yet, nor did he make a move to grab the bottle you ask for.

“Sorry, here” he said after snapping out of his thoughts and grabbing the vodka bottle from one of the top shelves.

“Thanks! care to join us? we're having a beer pong” Your offer was reciprocated with a small smile attached to Wonwoo's face and followed with a ‘sure’ from him.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

The second time he met you was when he bought coffee from the cafe that's close to your campus, not expecting to see you there working.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” you said automatically before lifting your head only to realise that you saw this man a few days prior at a party.

“Can I get one medium americano and one cheesecake to go? i'll pay with my credit card” He replied with a smile while handing his card, which makes you mirror his smile with yours and take his card in your hand.

“Okay then, that'll be 10,000₩” Before you continue your sentence, Wonwoo already tells his name, maybe a little bit too loud because everyone can hear it.

“Here's your card, wait for a few minutes and your order will be ready to go, Wonwoo” you said with a wide smile still plastered on your face.

Wonwoo smiled shyly at you after he realised he had embarrassed himself a few seconds ago.

Then not long after that, you call his name when his order is ready, and Wonwoo doesn't want to miss his chance, so after he takes his order he asks you to go somewhere with him.

“Are you free this weekend?” he asks you carefully, makes you halt your movement, before smiling apologetically.

“I'm packed this week, maybe next time” but before you can go to your original station, he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“Give me your phone number so i can text you next time” he says, making you smile. The next thing he knows, you take tissue from the counter and write your number with your pen.

He said his thanks when he got out of the café, he was surprised when someone loudly spoke to him.

“huh? pretty smooth flirt skill you got there, care to share?” That person was Jeonghan, his childhood friend, and the question makes Wonwoo slap Jeonghan’s shoulder lightly.

“Shut your mouth” Wonwoo walked away with a grin on his face. The fact that he got your number only on your second meeting was superior. He can't wait to text you tonight.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Okay, maybe not tonight. He's too anxious to send a message to you. He's an overthinker and an ambiguous man.

Hi, this is Wonwoo|

Hi, this is|

Hi|

He thinks it over and over again to send a message to you, doubtful of himself, but at the end of the night, he still sends a message to you, a simple one.

Hi, it's Wonwoo

He turns off his phone and charges it on the nightstand beside his bed, opting to close his eyes and open the message from you tomorrow so his heart will calm a little.

And tomorrow rolling faster than he could imagine, it feels like he just slept thirty seconds ago, but he's eager to see your reply.

hi Wonwoo, i checked my schedule, and i think i can go with you on tuesday next week, i don't have any class.

He nearly jumps out of his bed, but that action comes to an image after he sees Jeonghan on his door, looking confused at his behaviour.

“That cafe girl replies? lucky you, she seems sweet, pretty, and kind of cute” and with that, Jeonghan walks to his room, which is the opposite room from Wonwoo's.

After Jeonghan left, Wonwoo couldn't hide his smile, feeling like the happiest man on earth.

And days go by like a wind always blows on each day, it goes fast.

Before he knew it, it's H-2 before his meeting with you, and he was still stuck on picking his attire for this unofficial date (in his mind, it's official).

He has no other choice than calling Jeonghan, who seems so excited for his bestfriend unofficial date.

After a while, Wonwoo finally found his outfit that he would be using on this date.

White high-waisted trousers with a cream half-zip sweatshirt will be his attire for the rest of the day, which goes with black framed specs attached on his face.

He's been waiting for you alone at the restaurant downtown that you two talked about the night before.

After tapping his shoes for almost 5 minutes, he sees a glimpse of you, your pretty smile, and the outfit you wear adorning your body.

Wonwoo, still remember that day, you were wearing a white midi dress with a cream blazer on your hand and a white ysl bag walking towards him with a big smile on your face.

“So, that day is the day you love me?” you said, looking up to Wonwoo, who was playing his ps5 while you're laying on his lap.

you're curious about how he fell in love with you, so you asked him.

“No, sweetheart, I fell in love with you at first sight when we met at my frat party” Wonwoo said while stroking your hair with a gentle smile on your face.

“And you're my first love too” Wonwoo continued after you sat down beside him.

“I'm your first love?”

You asked him with that pretty eyes of you, gaze full of questioning his statement.

Wonwoo can’t help but give your lips a peck and a peck and another peck that turns into…

A heated makeout session, so he takes you to your shared bedroom.

He plopped down beside you after hours of hot making love, “you're my last love, and i'm hoping i'm your last” he says, then gives you lips a long chaste kiss.

“I love you”

“I love you too, sweetheart”

[cheezecakeee]

seventeen as taylor swifts songs🫧 (angst ver.) part 2

part 1

main masterlist | seventeen masterlist

❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉

╰┈➤ DK: Happiness

"Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk? When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt? I hope she'll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you. No, I didn't mean that. Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury, you haven't met the new me yet" "I can't make it go away by making you a villain, I guess it's the price I pay for seven years in heaven and I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night now I get fake niceties. No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him too" "Honey, when I'm above the trees, I see it for what it is but now my eyes leak acid rain on the pillow where you used to lay your head. After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that. All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness, you haven't met the new me yet and I think she'll give you that." "There'll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you too. Both of these things can be true, there is happiness in our history, across our great divide there is a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light from the dress I wore at midnight. Leave it all behind, and there is happiness"

╰┈➤ Mingyu: Midnight rain

"My town was a wasteland, full of cages, full of fences, pageant queens and big pretenders but for some, it was paradise. My boy was a montage, a slow-motion, love potion, jumping off things in the ocean... I broke his heart 'cause he was nice," "It came like a postcard, picture perfect, shiny family, holiday, peppermint candy but for him it's every day, so I peered through a window, a deep portal, time travel, all the love we unravel and the life I gave away..." "'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain, he wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain. He wanted a bride, I was making my own name, casing that fame, he stayed the same. All of me changed like midnight" "I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted and I never think of him except on midnights like this..."

╰┈➤ The 8: Now that we don't talk

"You went to a party, I heard from everybody. You part the crowd like the Red Sea don't even get me started. Did you get anxious though, on the way home? I guess I'll never, ever know. Now that we don't talk" "You grew your hair long, you got new icons and from the outside it looks like you're tryin' lives on. I miss the old ways, you didn't have to change but I guess I don't have a say. Now that we don't talk," "So I call my mom, she said to get it off my chest, remind myself the way you faded 'til I left. I cannot be your friend so I pay the price of what I lost and what it cost, now that we don't talk" "I don't have to pretend I like acid rock or that I'd like to be on a mega yacht with important men who think important thoughts, guess maybe I am better off. Now that we don't talk. And the only way back to my dignity was to turn into a shrouded mystery, just like I had been when you were chasing me, guess this is how it has to be. Now that we don't talk"

╰┈➤ Seungkwan: The last time

"Find myself at your door, just like all those times before. I'm not sure how I got there all roads, they lead me here. I imagine you are home, in your room, all alone and you open your eyes into mine and everything feels better and right before your eyes, I'm breaking. No past, no reasons why, just you and me..." "You find yourself at my door, just like all those times before, you wear your best apology but I was there to watch you leave and all the times I let you in just for you to go again. Disappear when you come back, everything is better and right before your eyes I'm aching. Run fast, nowhere to hide just you and me," "This is the last time I'm asking you this, put my name at the top of your list. This is the last time I'm asking you why you break my heart in the blink of an eye. This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong, this is the last time I say it's been you all along, this is the last time I let you in my door, this is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore..."

╰┈➤ Vernon: the 1

"I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit, been saying "yes" instead of "no"... I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though. I hit the ground running each night, I hit the Sunday matinée, you know the greatest films of all time were never made. I guess you never know, never know and if you wanted me, you really should've showed and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow and it's alright now..." "I have this dream you're doing cool shit. Having adventures on your own, you meet some woman on the internet and take her home. We never painted by the numbers, baby but we were making it count... you know the greatest loves of all time are over now. I guess you never know, never know and it's another day waking up alone," "But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool and if my wishes came true, it would've been you. In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone but it would've been fun if you would've been the one"

╰┈➤ Dino: Peter

"Forgive me Peter, my lost fearless leader in closets like cedar preserved from when we were just kids. Is it something I did, the goddess of timing once found us beguiling, she said she was trying... Peter was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did... and I didn't want to come down, I thought it was just goodbye for now" "And I won't confess that I waited but I let the lamp burn as the men masqueraded. I hoped you'd return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned 'cause love's never lost when perspective is earned and you said you'd come and get me but you were 25 and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired. Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life. Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine but the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light" "You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep but never to keep"

❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉

[sorreysorren]

the remnants of two old friends

now, you were no longer kids, you hadn't seen each other in years, and he didn't have the means to be a striker anymore.

sae stared at his screen, your name glowing in bold as he watched the last ring go through.

to pick up, or to not pick up.

he supposed it was about time you got word of his presence in japan.

he hadn't been planning on staying long; he'd been planning to renew his passport, but that damned blue lock changed things.

it's not that he didn't want to see you.

he was reluctant to contact you or answer any of your messages.

he wasn't one to think hard about simple actions like answering a message or a call, but he had to think a little longer when it was from you.

you, who miraculously had the same schedule as him in middle school.

you, who'd been to all of his middle school soccer games.

you, who supported his ambition to be a striker.

you, who'd been there when he left for spain.

now, you were no longer kids, you hadn't seen each other in years, and he didn't have the means to be a striker anymore.

all of these things changed.

he was aware he probably changed as a person, and that only meant the same for you. he knew that much, and at least that would never change.

your being corresponded to his.

- - -

the both of you kept in touch when he first left for spain. it started with in-depth conversations about small changes in life without the other, to brief updates, simple good mornings and goodnights, to by the 4th year almost no messages at all.

it's not like either of you had meant to drift apart.

you each believed the other to be at different points in their lives therefore believing that in some way, that unspoken "proportionality" between you was severed.

- - -

he never thought he'd feel this way about you.

no, it wasn't the warm fuzzy feeling that people describe when they talk about someone they love. he, too, knew about this feeling once.

this wasn't even anything near that.

this was dull, bland, and flat. the type of distant feeling one would feel towards a passerby. towards a stranger.

you weren't either of those things.

you weren't.

but maybe now you were.

he stared at his phone, unlocking it.

there were three missed calls from you.

he wondered: did you give up, or would you try again later?

you wondered: will he ignore it, or will he pick up next time?

it wouldn't be until hours later that the two of you make up your minds about each other.

he picked up his phone to call you, and you picked up your phone to text him.

just as you begin typing, your phone rings.

you stare at your screen, sae's name glowing in bold as you slide your screen to pick up.

a/n: TYSM FOR READING i literally almost gave up writing this bc i accidentally got rid of the draft so i had to rewrite everything in one sitting FROM MEMORY.

a BIG thanks to the muppets soundtrack for getting me through this.

taglist: @huaposh @bloodypaintersgf @gigiiiiislife @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hanmasfavoritegirl @ewlyq @vagueval

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED EARLIER THAN I MEANT TO. AND I STILL HAD TO EDIT,,, SORRY IF IT TAGGED U MULTIPLE TIMES.

[tizniz]

i’m sorry you’re having a bad day, if you still need a drabble to take your mind off of it then:

“i remember when chris was this small,” sniffed Eddie

I will always take drabble requests, y'all. Always.

They're a little drunk, Buck admits. But well, can they be blamed? Their son has upped and left, run away to Texas. Buck frowns into his wine glass, because no. Chris isn't his son. He's Eddie's son. But Buck misses him just as much. Or maybe almost as much. Eddie is his dad after all. Glancing to his left, Buck studies the distraught and drunk father, who's staring lifelessly into his empty glass, only a few drops of red wine left behind. Making an executive decision, Buck gets to his feet, wobbles, and then marches into the kitchen. The bottle sitting on the coffee table is empty and they're both off shift for another two days, and dammit, their son is gone! Buck returns to the living room, bottle of wine in hand, only to find the couch empty. "Eddie?" "Here." Comes the reply from behind the couch. Stumbling around it, Buck blinks down at his best friend's form. Eddie is sitting on the floor, leaning against the backside of the couch, legs crossed, and — "Is that a photo album?" Buck blurts out, dropping himself to the floor and tugging the cork the rest of the way out of the bottle with his teeth. Eddie nods, tracing the cover, "Shannon made them when I was deployed. So I could watch our son grow up." "I didn't know you had them." Buck admits, realizing too late that his glass is gone. So is Eddie's. And their too far away. He shrugs and tips the bottle back, drinking straight from it. He passes it into Eddie's waiting hand when he's done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can I?" Eddie nods, taking a swig of the drink himself as Buck shuffles until he's curled up next to Eddie on the floor, dragging the book onto his lap. Eddie drops his head onto Buck's shoulder, cradling the wine bottle in his lap. They probably shouldn't be sitting this close. Not when Buck has only just split from Tommy. Not when Eddie is struggling with his son being gone and not talking to him. And certainly not when they're this drunk. Buck flips open the album and pushes those thoughts aside. Page after page is filled with photos of Chris, beaming up at the camera, and looking so small. Even smaller than the vibrant seven year old that Buck had met all those years ago. "I remember when Chris was this small," Eddie sniffs, clumsily poking at a picture of his son, naked in a tub full of bubbles. His hair is sticking straight up and he's caught mid laugh. Buck's heart clenches. "But barely." "Eddie..." "I wasn't there, Buck." Eddie whispers, "I missed so much of his life. And now he's gone." "Only for a little bit." Buck worms his arm around Eddie, tugging him even closer. "He'll come home. He'll come back to us." "Promise?" "I promise." Buck turns his head enough to press a kiss to the top of Eddie's head. He hopes he can keep his promise.

come talk to me about stuff if you want.

[fairdale]

Herongraystairs afterlife headcanons? 💝

imagine all the time will had to read books. all the time he could have spent looking for new lectures, annotating them for tessa and thinking which ones she would enjoy.

and then, because he had a lot time, and he missed jem like crazy, he thought: why not learn how to play an instrument? he thought about playing the violin, but it hit a little too close to home, so he went for the cello (he wanted something that would go well with jem's violin). and he started learning jem's favorite pieces for his new instrument.

he also had a lot of time to think. because, yes, he could still see his friends here and there, his kids too (god, how much he had cried), but they also have their own lives, so it can be a little lonely at times.

so, all those years, he waits. and longs. and loves. and wishes for the two people he loves the most to be there with him, but also... not yet. it's not time yet. they still should have a lot more time the two of them, together and with mina and kit.

but, ah, he can't help but be selfish and desperately wish that they were there with him. he misses them so much. but he sees them, happy and so, so alive, that he thinks it's enough. if they're happy, he's happy.

(he also felt a little too smug when he told gabriel about mina's name)

(he cried himself to sleep that night)

but then, he doesn't know how much time has passed. he just knows that he has a room full of books and that he can now basically play a cello concert and that he has a list of places he wants to visit.

and it hits him. just how much he loves them. it's a bit silly, really, because he has always known. what he hadn't known, though, was how similar the love he felt was. in some ways, it was different.

their stories hadn't been the same. his heart hadn't beat for jem the way it had had for tessa. and he hadn't had as much time with him either. but now... if he really thought about it, when he had asked jem to be his parabatai, hadn't it been because he needed him close? because he wanted to have that bond with him?

yes, it had had a different start. it had taken time, but he now realised that his heart wouldn't be full without any of them. and he didn't want to make any distinctions. he wanted them both. with him. he was in love with them both.

in love with tessa's wit, in love with jem's gentleness, in love with their resiliance and their bravery.

so, imagine his surprise when he woke up one day to everyone screaming his name.

he got out of bed so quick he barely had time to put on some grey pants and a white shirt before he got out of the house practically sprinting.

and then the air got knocked out of him.

"what the..." he thought. it couldn't be. he was dreaming again.

"will" oh, how much had he missed her voice.

"william" oh, he realised when he touched his cheeks. he was crying. crying at the sight of jem. ironically, he looked healthier than he had ever been with him.

he took in the sight of them. they were standing just a few feet from them and, by the looks of it, they were still just because they saw how much he was struggling.

tessa was wearing a soft pink knitted sweater with white linen pants while jem was wearing a dark blue sweater and grey pants. they looked gorgeous.

and then, tentatively, jem smiled. just a little. just to make sure he was okay.

will looked around. he saw the faces of all their friends there, crying. james and lucie were hugging each other, crying as well, but with bright smiles in their faces. they both nodded.

and will didn't need anything else before he ran towards the two loves of his life.

he was so old, yet in that moment, it felt like no time had passed. like they were still young and careless and inexperienced.

he hugged them tight, breathing in their scents and feeling their warm bodies against his. he felt tessa's hand carding through his hair and jem's travelling down his back.

he kissed them, then.

jem first. because he had wanted to for so long and he had never gotten the chance before. "it's okay", he heard tessa whisper.

and then he turned towards her to kiss her. and it felt like home. like all the pieces of the puzzle were finally were they belonged.

and their friends could joke as much as they wanted to and their kids could pull as many mocking faces as they wanted to, but they could never fool jem and tessa.

they could never pretend that there was anything other than pure happiness when they saw will's smile lighting up his whole face as jem and tessa kissed his cheeks.

[movedtodykedvonte]

Au where turning into a puppet stripped Spamton of any of his identity and ability to feel and rather have his motivation be around becoming big again it’s about him wanting to feel.

He acts the same but any moment he’s not talking or trying to strike a deal, he just returns to that quiet static he goes to when he remembers his past or something traumatic. He believes Neo will make him a real boy that could feel and be “free” of his apathy.

He wants so bad to feel to hurt to be happy, to not be so complacent with everything that has happened but thats gone. Along with everything else…