#ngl i actually liked writing this

[swallowtail-lotus]

To Slumber {Hades x Reader}

Repost

I was inspired by the Bella Notte cover by Ryoutarou Okiayu

~~~~~~~~

The king of the Underworld smiled fondly as he laid in his bed, holding you gently in his strong arms. You were slowly falling asleep on his chest, your chest moving up and down. He let out a few chuckles as he feels your cheek brush against his toned chest. Hades always adored his beautiful wife.

Hades moved his hand, gently caressing your cheek while taking the time to admire your face, his eyes moving to your lips. He loves how soft and sweet they are.

"Mmmm... Love..." You mumbled quietly, moving yourself up a bit, wrapping your arms around him. Hades sighed, running his fingers down your back.

"Kirei na kirei na yoru

ko yoi wa Bella Notte

yasashiki Bella Notte~"

You moved your head to look at your husband in surprise. Hades had never sang before, and oh boy, was he good at it.

"Aisuru futari ga

kata wo yosere ba

tokimeku omoi ga

yozora ni no boru~"

Your heart skipped a beat from the very sound of his voice. His singing is deep, but it was very smooth.

"Shizuka na yume no yō ni

hoshi furu Bella Notte~"

You didn't say a word during his singing. You laid your head on his shoulder, sighing in satisfaction as Hades continued to sing.

"Aisuru futari ga

kata wo yosere ba

tokimeku omoi ga

yozora ni no boru~"

You felt yourself falling asleep just from his voice alone. You wanted to stay up to hear more, but his voice just had to be very pleasant.

"Shizuka na yume no yō ni

hoshi furu Bella Notte~"

By the time Hades was finished, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Hades leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, resting his head next to yours.

"Goodnight, My Beloved~"

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[rinriniisthekatch]

TUE AU:

Danny hated the stares. The looks of pity and sadness. Not one of them empathetic to the boy who lost everything. He hated Vlad for trying to take him.

He didn't want to become Dark Dan. He didn't want to become a child driven by the hate for his other half. Although, he hated that it wasn't him who died.

So, Danny ran. He ran and ran until he no longer could, and in the moment of a brief weakness, he stopped.

In front of him stood a tall man as he lay on the desert ground. The man in front of him looked down at the broken boy and offered a hand. He would train this boy to be better, more dangerous, more deadly than the Detective.

Eventually, the boy threw away his former name. Loyal, strong, able to use his gifts in his human body. He only let his ghost form flash over him when he wanted the stars to sooth his ache. The pain of the loss was still heavy in his heart and mind.

The boy grew to his late teens when he was given the mission to lure. To be an anti-hero. To be someone who he wasn't in the past. He no longer felt lost and even though he knew he was giving his trust to the wrong people; it did not feel as if he was.

Danyal formally Daniel finally felt free.

[blakbonnet]

Fic Recs For Getting Over Writers' Block:

To me, the only way to get over the writing horrors™️ is to read some good fucking prose. Even if the summary of these fics doesn't appeal to you, I'd suggest reading them purely for their tactile prose that somehow gets the brain working again.

General Block Breakers:

Magpie by yellowmustard

Skirts and Barbells by @petrichorca

Malleability by jazzxdaffy

The Nest That Hope Builds by @red-sky-in-mourning

Grounded by @forpiratereasons

So Long Seabird by @adamarks

Find Your Stede Voice:

Adventures of a Leggy Blonde by @palavapeite

Find Your Ed Voice:

You Belong in that Home by and by by @alchemistc

Stealing Romance by skrifores

[cacaocheri]

this is something I've been debating about posting because the likelihood of me actually finishing this project is kind of up in the air (just because I get distracted easily). but if I started posting more about my Personal Project on this account would that be something y'all would be into. would that be chill. should I make a different account for it. who's to say

[kiivg]

."Oh, aye?".

[ishomieokay]

— texting boyfriend!homelander

HOMELANDER X HISPANIC TEXTER (1/?)

✰ summary — a series of random texts between homelander and you, his girlfriend 💕

✰ warnings — +18, suggestive themes, sublander flavored, latina baddie with an attitude.

✰ genre — texts, domestic fluff, humor, smut.

✰ a/n — tbh, i dont't even know what this is, plp. i 've been meaning to give x reader content a try and this is me dipping my toes in the water, lmao.

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy One Year Anniversary to Boy King AU!!!! 🎉

Okay wait before I start talking, look at these close ups and the process!! Aren't they so beautiful aaaahhhh

Wow, can you believe it’s really been a whole entire year since my very first post about this AU? Well technically I first started talking about the statuette a day earlier, but the very first sketch was exactly a year ago!! Let us not forget the incredibly prophetic tag on that post: “also in the sense of this au i think the only ship that would work(historically accurate wise) is Vettonso.” Who knew that after that my entire life would devolve into vettonso, this specific period of history, and the lovely combo which is Boy King AU. Also wow this means it’s taken me almost a whole entire year to actually draw a joint portrait of them hahaha. I drew this sketch around the beginning of the AU, but never finished it. It’s fine though because this one is a lot better, and I’m in love with it. Took me a year to draw a couple portrait, and took me almost a whole entire month to finish said piece. 

Okay let me explain this piece, which I am very obsessed with!!! I dragged the process out more than I usually would, but I’m glad, because it was so enjoyable. But also look at that fucking crown, no wonder this took almost a month. Usually I’d write like 50 paragraphs detailing the characterization. HOWEVER! I’ve spent over a month writing little bits of characterization, mostly for fun, but also in preparation for this very post. A lot of the earlier ones, I had this drawing in mind, thinking on how I could expand on the ideas I was drawing. Though there’s definitely some things I could still write about. I’ll probably continue to write more Lore a Days, but yeah, they basically amounted to this drawing where you can actually see the characterization I was talking about displayed. Anyways, here are the explanations of bits in the drawing:

First of all, this is some part of the long process of their wedding. Look at the married couple!! Look at their rings!!!

Okay, but why are there two, almost identical looking pieces?? Because look at their hands!! I talked a lot about how Fernando is the one to give out affection more easily, especially in public, where he knows he can easily fluster Seb. He’s acting all grumpy and out of it, I mean to be fair, it’s probably been such a long ceremony across weeks. But he notices Seb is out of it too, just better at keeping his smile (let’s be honest, even if he’s distracted, he’s super smug.) So Fernando catches him off guard by squeezing his hand. Before that, as you can see, Fernando is just resting his hand on Seb’s outstretched palm, like that one scene from Succession. Very: yes I’m getting married, but I’m not happy about it. The combination of Fernando refusing to even touch him more than lightly beforehand but now going full force, them being in public, and Seb already being distracted catches Seb so off guard he has to try to cover his blush with his fan. He thought Fernando was being super impolite, but now he’s the impolite one!! Getting all blushy and giggly over a simple display of affection, perhaps even ha-

So. Their crowns. Seb’s wearing the crown of Austria, because he is in fact only a king still! Also, because I really wanted to try drawing it after I wimped out of it before in this drawing. Fernando’s a king as well by the point, but the fact he’s wearing only a tiara-like hairpiece is to represent how much of an outsider he still is. At this moment, he’s just Seb’s wi- ,I mean husband, to all these guests. Of course this bitch wears a black veil instead of a white one, to signal that he’s mourning the loss of his autonomy and personhood. Don’t worry too much about his mental state though, considering he’s not depressed enough to be able to resist teasing Seb. 

The fan, oh my god. Back in this era, people would gift/make fans for basically any occasion. To symbolize an event, to celebrate something, to show a story, etc etc. I wish I could have drawn something more narrative, but I think the bull vs. horse is good enough. Also you can see those same symbols on the pendants they’re wearing!! I’m so happy when I can fit irl, modern stuff like that into these drawings, it feels so clever!!

It’s so funny, I wrote a lore a day from a prompt about what they’d be like when doing a joint portrait, while I was already almost through painting a dual portrait of my own! So I got to explain some stuff like their clothing colors and poses before I even posted this. I feel very coy about that still honestly. 

Hmmm what else? It feels so weird to not expand on the characterization, considering I already did it for myself weeks in advance. I can’t imagine what it’s like opening this read more, and seeing more than 10 in-text citations. Happy reading!!!

 Happy anniversary to  this wonderful, crazy AU that makes me download 500pg German papers about 18th century etiquette. I drew a couple pieces of fanart before this AU, but I definitely think it jumpstarted my insanity about drawing/making AUs, and literally is what made me insane about Vettonso in the first place. Remember, if I hadn’t learned about Joseph I/Charles VI, most of my blog probably wouldn’t exist in it's current form. Thank you if you’ve stuck around since the beginning, or if you’re even just learning about it now!! It’s so incredibly niche but I’ve had so much fun researching and building this world and these characterizations, and I hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve made in the process. I hope I can draw/write many more things in the future. I think next, I’m gonna maybe open up requests. I’d like to try to either write ficlets or draw chibi comics about specific Lore a Day posts on request. I think that’d be a lot of fun, but also will probably kill me. We’ll see!! Anyways. PPlease enjoy this absolute labor of love, which is a result of a year’s worth of work.

[normal-person-i-promise]

hushed affirmations and gentle caresses

arataka reigen x female reader

no tws :] just a bunch of fluff and kissing

first chapter here, though its not needed to understand this one :> it makes more sense though

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

★ ★ ★

You wake up a little earlier than Arataka does. It's about... 10, 10 in the morning, when you awaken to see he hasn't woken up yet. The city outside your bedroom window is alive with the weekend chatter and the excited footsteps that come with it, though it's barely audible; you're too busy focusing on Arataka's slow, steady breathing as his chest rises and falls, studying the way his eyes would flutter as he shifts, trying to get comfortable...

You're still nestled comfortably in his arms, that familiar scent of his sharp cologne and the soft cotton of his white dress shirt bringing a sense of peace and comfort to you. He's warm, his arms wrapped around you almost protectively, your head resting on his chest as you lay on top of him — he's like the cutest, most comfortable pillow you've ever slept on.

And he's going to have the worst hangover.

You lay there quietly in Arataka's warm embrace, just... Staring up at his calm face, his kissable lips set in a slight smile, his eyes shut tightly as he dreams. His golden hair is disheveled, his bangs out of place and in a halo on the pillow.

He's so... Cute, god...

You find your hand on his face: tracing his jaw, feeling the sockets of his eyes and running your fingers through his hair, cradling his cheek and running a thumb across his lower lip — you're almost playing with him, like a child with a new doll, toying with and pulling whatever you can. It's hard to resist, after all; he's too cute not to touch.

Arataka doesn't awaken, thankfully.

You free your other arm from his embrace and now bring both your hands up to his face, a mischievous grin plastered on yours as your gentle hands settle on him. Pinching his cheeks, squishing and pulling them like a grandmother with her grandchild, you coo and fawn, mumbling and murmuring about how absolutely adorable he is. You run your hands through his messy hair, adjust his soft, white dress shirt, fidget with the digits of his fingers.

It's only a second later when Arataka stirs and you panic to rapidly remove your hands from his face. He shifts you in his arms, his eyes fluttering open slowly, slowly, taking a moment to focus before they find yours. He seems to short circuit as he stare at you in confusion, before—

"EH?!"

He pushes you off him quickly, scrambling to put some distance in between the two of you. He stares at you, shaken, before the events of the night come rushing back to him — it causes his face to flush a bright, bright red for just a moment before he hides his face in his hands.

Arataka grumbles and groans in embarrassment, and you can't help but find it absolutely adorable.

You were so... Warm, in his arms, it felt so... So right, like you were supposed to be there, and, oh— last night, your touch? Your sweet, sweet hands caressing his face so, so lovingly? And, god, your voice, your voice when you asked him if he was okay? The kiss—?!

He bends over on himself in the purest form of embarrassment you've ever seen, muttering and mumbling words laced with regret.

He can't help but... Miss you, though. Miss how nice it felt with you in his arms.

The whole time all these thoughts are racing through his groggy mind, you're staring at him with a mixture of concern and amusement, not sure whether to comfort him or tease him about it.

A splitting headache begins to pound at Arataka's head, an extreme fatigue forming in his muscles and limbs, and a sharp pang of regret starting to stab him in the pit of his stomach. A hangover, and regret.

"God, I messed up..." He mutters bitterly into his hands, low under his breath so that you won't hear. You hear it anyway, though.

"I warned you you'd regret it," you say to him, the smug grin you have plastered on your face audible in your voice, making Arataka grumble even louder. He stays quiet other than that, though.

Your grin widens when you don't hear a reply from him, deciding to see just how red you can get his cheeks.

You lean in close, just enough for your warm breath to ghost over his hands pressed tight to his flushed face. "And who was the one nodding his head when I asked whether he was sure?"

You let a beat of silence pass, before, with a voice laced heavily with a smug grin,

"You, was it?"

You stay quiet for a moment to see his reaction, feeling a surge of pride when you see Arataka's shoulders stiffen as he grumbles louder.

More memories, along with more opportunities to tease him, come to mind.

"And who, pray tell, was the one who asked to sleep in my flat?"

You tilt your head to the side, cradling your chin like a great philosopher pondering a deep question. Your eyes roam around the room for just a moment before they land on Arataka again — and he's aware of how your gaze traces his face, running up and down in an almost fascinated daze. You still manage to keep your tone teasing, though.

"Because it certainly wasn't me."

Arataka makes muffled sobbing noise, almost in pain as you watch the red from his cheeks spill over to his ears and neck.

God, you're so... Annoying, especially when you talk like that, reminding him of all the things he did when he was drunk last night...

He— he was drunk, okay?! He wasn't thinking straight! It doesn't matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he—!

"Stop... Talking..." Arataka groans through gritted teeth, his tone begging and his voice thick with regret.

You arch a teasing brow at him.

"Oh? And why is that?"

You lean in even closer, reaching your hands up to his wrists and wrapping your fingers around them, trying to pry his hands off his face to get a better look at his flushed cheeks. You manage to get them off, holding them near his cheeks.

"Embarrassed, are we?"

Arataka's eyes are wide with fear as he stares at you, his breathing quick and shallow, his face redder than the colour itself. Your eyes fall down to his lips, and his cheeks seem to flush even more, impossible as it is.

His mind is still reeling from the clumsy kiss from the night before — you'd tasted just like the cola you'd drank, your lips cold from the ice and your hands cooling on his hot skin. It felt so... Good, but, god...

Steam almost spouts from his ears as his mind overheats. His expression is overwhelmed as he stares at you with the reddest face you've ever seen on someone, his mouth slightly agape.

Arataka clears his throat, casting his gaze to the side as he struggles to get his hands out of your grasp. You let one hand go, bringing the other into both your hands and beginning to fidget with the fingers.

"Don't... Tell anyone, please," he almost begs in a whisper, his breathing growing shallow as you run a hand up and down his arm, fidgeting with him — bored with nothing to do with your hands. He likes when you touch him. He likes your warm, warm hands on his skin. He likes how you're so comfortable with just... Fidgeting with him like some toy.

Don't stop, please.

"Aww, okay," you say in disappointment, cracking each of Arataka's knuckles with a satisfying 'click!'. He lets you, watching as your hands move from one finger to another, almost mesmerized.

He lets out a sigh of relief at your words, just as you take his other hand and beginning to crack the knuckles on that one, too.

Though he won't ever admit it to you, he likes it. He likes how you handle him just like a little girl with a new doll, he likes how you so lovingly press your lips to his knuckles, he likes how gentle your fingers are as you run them across his cheeks and over his features — it makes his mind go haywire and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He likes you. He likes you a lot, a lot more than he thinks he does.

You let go off his hands, getting up and off the bed. You stretch, your back popping.

"Hey, Arataka," you ask, your gaze growing worried. You reach a hand out to smooth his golden hair down, trying to make it neater — you're aware of the horrible hangover he's probably having right now.

He hums in response, closing his eyes in contentment.

"I'll go get you some painkillers for your hangover, yeah? Make you some soup and toasted bread?"

He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, a low, contented hum vibrating his chest. His eyes are closed tightly, and he startles when you remove your hands and he loses your touch, his eyes snapping open.

"Oh, u-uh, what? Yes, alright, mm-hmm, okay!" Arataka says quickly, embarrassed.

When you get there, Arataka is waiting for you, his cheeks flushing when he sees you again. Every time he lays eyes upon you, the events of last night come rushing up to him...

You prepare his food quickly — it's just a cup of warm tea and a can of boxed soup. You toast some buttered bread as the water boils, and when it's done, you bring the bowl of soup, the plate of toast, and the cup of tea to the bedside table.

He takes the bowl and toast, dipping the bread and biting a piece off with a loud 'crunch!" and swallowing loud enough to get you to know that he's enjoying it. You watch him; you'd prepared a simple breakfast of your favourite flavoured spread on plain, untoasted bread for yourself, and you munch on it as Arataka downs the tea greedily, chugging the soup and stuffing the bread down his throat.

He loves you, he supposes, though he's never loved someone before.

You'd made something for him. You, who's always kind and understanding with him; you, who always jokes with him; you, who he loves with all his heart, had made something for him, no matter how small. Him, Arataka, of all people, was the one you chose to love.

He can't even begin to explain just how much he appreciates you — his words would become nothing more than a mumbly jumble, his manners dissolving into a flustered mess.

"Anything else I can get you?" You offer politely and so, so lovingly, just as Arataka is swallowing the painkillers.

He grins.

"You can get me a kiss, but I—"

You cut him off before he gets to finish, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you. He's taken aback by your directness, his eyes going wide and his body stiffening — though it's not long before he's returning the kiss, closing his eyes tightly and leaning into it.

Pressing your lips gently to his, you run a careful hand through his hair, caressing his cheek with a loving touch. You can feel the crumbs of the toast and the warm taste of the tea and soup on his lips.

He tastes... Comforting, you suppose. A familiar flavour, that scent of the mouth of someone who's just woken up, the warm taste of freshly toasted bread, the salty flavour of the powdered soup. He tastes nice.

You're careful not to make the kiss last too long, in case he loses his breath; and you're taking care to make sure your touch isn't too painful on his head, lest his headache return.

When you break the kiss, Arataka is nothing more than a mess of mumbly words and flushed cheeks, his hands shaky and his eyes wide. He's so, so cute, in the way that he'd struggle to form proper sentences, the manner in which he'd clumsily try to keep you close.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, those familiar butterflies in his stomach making his head spin and his vision swim. You kissed him again, you kissed him again! Oh, god, you kissed him...

Arataka gives you lopsided grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm like he'd just eaten.

"That will suffice," he says with utmost confidence.

Just in case, of course, you kiss him again. He seems to be getting the hang of it — he tilts his head to press his lips more onto yours, keeps a hand to the back of your head to elongate the kiss, runs a hand up and down your spine.

When you break the kiss, you wrap your arms tightly around him, squeezing his ribcage so hard it elicits an absolutely adorable yelp of surprise from him, followed by rushed words to loosen your grip.

You're laying on top of him as you crush his torso under yours, your head resting below his shoulder.

You've noticed he's gotten a lot more confident: he can form proper sentences and talk without mumbling, his movements aren't as shaky and uncontrollable, and his kisses are getting better with each time he practices on you.

Arataka wraps his arms around you as you get settled on him, resting his chin on the top of your head. You're so... Comforting, so warm and soft... You're nice to have in his arms, and he finds himself adjusting you do that you're as pressed up against him as he can possibly get it.

You can hear his gentle snoring after ten minutes or so. You wake him up, saying you're going to go shower for a moment as you slip out of his groggy grasp.

You shower as quickly as you can, changing into your most comfortable pair of home clothes. The soft cotton hands loosely off your frame when you enter your bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as you bundle your dirty clothes and throw it into the laundry basket.

Your eyes fall to Arataka as he stares at you.

"Uh, right, I... Got this. Here."

You rummage through your cupboards. It's only a moment later when you take out a pair of folded clothes, slowly placing it next to where Arataka sits comfortably in your bed, lounging like he belongs there. Which he doesn't does, of course.

"These should... These should fit you," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.

He likes it. He likes you. He loves you.

Arataka, too, showers, though he takes a lot longer. He's wearing your clothes (not that he has a choice, but not that he minds), and, god, he... He loves the fact that what he's wearing now, you've worn before — the cotton of the shirt worn from years of usage, the pants you lended him warm against his skin — and it smells just like you; a warm, soft scent as he slips the clothing on, feeling the old threads cascading down from his shoulders and hanging loosely around his frame.

He finds it... Cozy, and... And sweet, the smell of the laundry detergent and that warmness of the sun. It's so, very, very... Comforting? It's comforting, to him.

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

You're scrolling on your phone when he asks you that question, and you switch it off. Seeing Arataka wearing your clothes makes you feel... Nice. He doesn't seem to be arguing about it, at least.

You shrug, a thin smile on your face.

"Must be weird, huh? Finally getting a girl after being single your whole life?"

You narrow your eyes at him as he sputters, your grin widening as his cheeks flush.

He presses a hand tightly to his mouth, gripping the doorframe as his knees almost seem to buckle. The red from his cheeks is visible even through his fingers.

"You're going— to KILL me," he chokes out, his tone laced with embarrassment.

"AND, FOR THE RECORD—!"

Arataka jabs an accusing finger in your face, and you watch on, amused, as he talks in such a panicked tone that you find it hard to understand more than the first few words. He's shouting, yelling.

"ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS AREN'T EVERTHING IN LIFE! TO NOT HAVE A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IS THE SAME AS NOT HAVING A GOOD MEAL! YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT IT JUST FINE, BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU HAD ONE!"

He scoffs in disappointment, crossing his arms, his tone almost annoyed — though that undertone of endearment is definitely there.

"I'm surprised you haven't learnt anything from working under me."

You roll your eyes.

"You can just say you're bitter about being single. It won't hurt you."

Arataka sputters again, opening his mouth to argue — but closes it quickly, realising that he's just making himself look worse. Instead, he crosses his arms tightly and grumbles, which an adorable display despite his agitation.

You grin, getting up and off the bed to ruffle his hair. He pushes your hand off, annoyance written on his face.

[bonefall]

I'm not in 100 years reading wind, so what's the nightstar stuff as well as the harelight execution scene?

The Nightstar Stuff is that they're constantly making it clear they KNOW that cats can lie about getting the 9 lives, they KNOW that a murderer can receive the lives, and they KNOW that StarClan has never rejected an evil cat before... but then they handwave it away because they don't wanna do anything.

Nightstar/Nightpelt gets namedropped six times and vaguely alluded to a dozen more, but it means nothing to the story. You could have just forgotten him entirely and the plot would happen the same way.

Most of this book is the leaders finding excuses to sit on their butts, but I really only need to share one exchange to demonstrate just HOW stupid this is,

"I'd like to think that the ancestors would speak up." A+ logic Squirrelflight. Just believe that reality won't happen. If you cover your eyes it makes the maneating lion bowling towards your face go away. Soblem prolved.

[teecupangel]

sooo Desmond is an Irish name, so fae Desmond?? 👀 haven’t been able to get to my laptop to search your blog if you've already done this idea, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway!

am a big fan of Weird fae, like when you look at them you think they should be human but something about them is so obviously not. uncanny valley with a side of fight-flight-or-freeze instincts kicking in just from being around them.

is this something something that comes from his parents? is it all Isu bullshit? is it something he changes into or is he born with it?? on that vein, what if he was a changeling child? lots of ways of incorporating the Isu and the calculations into that for sure

(am one of the anons who keeps coming back for renaissance baker Desmond, so thank you very much for answering those asks, and also for just being a rad individual in general. am still catching up on Eagle of Alamut, I think I’m around chapter 30, and absolutely LOVE what you've already done with it and where you’re taking it. my sib assures me Altaïr makes his appearance soon, and I'm GREATLY looking forward to it.

thanks again, I hope you're well 🧡) —bread anon

(Thank you! I try my best hahahaha. I am so sorry for being slow on asks and replies TTATT

I hope you’re enjoying the rest of Eagle of Alamut… especially Altaïr’s appearance hehehe)

Desmond Miles always knew he was different.

The other kids call him ‘ugly’ and they don’t like to play with him.

He had cried in his mother’s arms and told her what happened and she just… she looked somber.

She patted his head and held him close, comforted him with soft words and a warm hug.

Never once did she say anything about his face.

He was a little bit older when he realized why they think he was ugly.

There were no mirrors in their home.

Or even in the training building he spent most of his childhood in.

But there was a hand mirror in the infirmary.

Desmond never had a reason to go there. What he lacked in brute strength, he made up by being faster than anyone on the Farm.

He had went to the infirmary to take the first aid kit. One of the other kids had a painful gash on his arm. It wasn’t life-threatening but it needed to be cleaned and disinfected.

Desmond had been ordered to get the first aid.

He supposed it was because he had been the reason the boy had hurt himself, trying to run away from him like he was being chased by demons during a ‘game’ of tag.

They always run like they were scared for their lives when Desmond was ‘it’.

The doctor wasn’t inside so Desmond went towards the cupboard that would have the small boxes of first aids stacked on the bottom shelf.

He stopped when he noticed the hand mirror.

And saw his reflection for the first time.

Desmond Miles was not ugly.

But there was something in his features that made him seemed… strange.

It wasn’t anything that can be physically described about his facial structure.

He looked human but there was something in the human brain that just made it scream ‘danger’.

Desmond couldn’t explain it.

But he could see it.

He didn’t bring the first aid back to training.

He went home.

His mother was cooking something.

“What am I, mama?”

She didn’t seemed surprised by the question. She looked resigned.

She looked like she had been waiting for the day he would ask the very same question.

She led him to the dining room, letting whatever was on the stove continue to simmer in low heat.

“You’re my son, my dear little fairy.”

She didn’t held the same unnatural feel as he felt when he looked at his reflection.

But it didn’t sound like a lie.

Her hands trembled as she caressed his cheeks.

Her smile was genuine as she whispered, “You will always be my baby.”

But he could hear it.

The fear in the voice.

Whatever he was…

He was affecting her too.

Yet she didn’t try to run.

So he hugged her, pressing his face against her stomach.

Her trembling stopped and she held him like she was afraid he was going to disappear from her grasps.

She didn’t fear him if she didn’t see his face.

Whatever he was…

It was the face that scared all of them.

.

Once upon a time, a young woman married a young man by the orders of her father. The man loved her but she did not. No matter what she did, she could not. She tried to be the best wife she could be.

She did not love him but she bore him a son. A weak little thing, more fragile than glass and smaller than any other child in their little commune.

She loved her child more than anything in the world.

But the world did not.

The child died during one cold winter night while her husband had been away.

In her grief, she took the cold body of her dead child and ran towards the forest, as silent as she was taught by her own father.

She came across a circle of mushrooms.

And heard the whispers of the fairy queen when she stood in the circle of it.

The fairy queen will save her child.

But he will become one of them.

“Yes! I agree! Please, save him!” The mother begged on her knees.

The fairy queen did not do it out of the goodness of her heart.

She was one of three rulers of their little fairy kingdom, long destroyed by the wrath of the sun.

She was nothing more than a ghost, traveling to the far future.

The mother gave the corpse to the ghost.

And the ghost gave it new life.

The mother thanked her as she held the warm body of her son.

And the ghost disappeared.

The mushroom circle melted like metal.

And mother and child returned to their home.

.

Centuries ago, Minerva saw a future which the Assassins and Templars waste years fighting each other instead of finding a way to save the world.

She saw a future where Desmond Miles would die to save the world in their stead.

So she made a different choice.

There was no one to stop her.

Tinia had long given up, waiting for the end as he drinks and drinks and drinks.

Juno remains imprisoned in the Grand Temple.

She was the only one left.

She changed the trajectory of the Calculations to one where Desmond Miles died as a weak human baby.

She created a device and had it transported to where his mother would walk into in her grief, her mind weakened to the point of thinking of falling off the cliff nearby with her dead son in her arms.

It was a device she had created using Consus’ research.

Consus’ research cannot bring back the dead.

But with Minerva’s modification…

It could clone the dead.

But she didn’t clone the weak human baby that would die centuries from now.

She created a child made of Desmond Miles’ DNA from that tragic future.

And added her own DNA to reinforce his body and mind.

A new future the Calculations could not predict.

A new future where Desmond Miles is both human and not.

Minerva did not know if this would be a better future.

Still…

She does not regret it.

At the very least, before she died…

She was able to save someone.

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Tsc 2 should end with the Trojans winning the championship just like how tkm ends with the foxes winning

[reddamselette]

“Do you ever dream about me?” Jason pressed the red button on the machine, startled as he watched the claw lower itself into the sea of stuffed animals and plushies. He exhaled softly, turning to face Leo who had been leaning against the machine with his head resting against the glass, arms and ankles crossed, silently observing.

Jason reached into his pocket, digging out another few coins to insert it. His hand wrapped around the joystick, brows furrowed in concentration with squinted eyes carefully calculating the distance of the curved metals to the stitched fabric. “Where’s this coming from?”

Leo shrugged lazily, his eyes roaming Jason’s face. “I’m just curious. I think a lot, you know.”

Jason pressed the button once he was sure, silently praying and hoping for the ridiculous claw to grab the animal he had his eyes on since they stepped into the arcade hours ago. He straightened, the entire body perfectly inside the claw, the arms and legs dangling and just as it brought it to the left to drop it into the basket, it fell.

Leo snickered and pushed himself off the machine to stand beside Jason, taking a few coins he’d been mindlessly fidgeting and inserted it into the slot. Jason’s lips parted in awe as Leo effortlessly managed to grab the dark blue and brown teddy bear, his eyes following the rigged machine as it dropped it into the basket.

Leo bent down to retrieve it and tossed it into the air victoriously. It landed perfectly in the spaces between his thumbs and forefinger, presenting it to Jason with a grin. “Now that you got it, let’s head to the food court. I’m starving.”

I could kiss you right now, Jason thought but he didn’t say so. Only nodding as he swallowed thickly with a dry throat and followed after him.

-

part two

[shortnotsweet]

all bets are off [1/3]

Lucemond High School AU drabble [part 2], She’s All That (1999)

“Am I a bet? Am I a bet, am I a fucking bet?”

“Yes.” It comes out quietly, which makes it all the worse. Luke would have expected Aemond to sneer and look down his long nose at him like the Hightower side of the family had for most of their lives. Luke wishes he would. It would have made it easier. Aemond’s face reflects no relish, or even satisfaction. Instead, it is pale and unreadable. Fitting, perhaps; as it turns out, Luke had read him wrong this entire time.

“Would you have told me before it was over? Before you humiliated me in public?”

The silence speaks for itself.

“Alright,” he scoffs, “that’s it, then.” The bitterness in his voice has an unfamiliar edge, and it sounds mean even to Luke, but it’s right. That’s how he feels. “You played your little game, you had your fun. I get it. It’s over.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s not over.”

“It is if I say it is. I don’t want anything from you, and you—you can shut up about debts, or what I owe you. We don’t have to know each other after this.” It’s true; they don’t have any classes together. They run in the same circles but that’s nothing some convenient maneuvering and strategic avoidance can’t fix. Their sides of the family voluntarily meet up for a miserable dinner once every three months and holidays. Luke can make it work.

Aemond’s remaining eye widens and his mouth thins. His face is readable now, at least; he’s livid. In a second, he lunges forward and grabs ahold of Luke’s wrist, trying to drag him back towards himself, to reel him in like he had all those months ago. Luke digs his heels into the ground instinctively, bracing away from the pressure. Luke used to like how big Aemond’s hands were in comparison to his own—the encompassing warmth, the difference in size—but now his grip tightens and locks like a handcuff, squeezing Luke’s wrist to the point of crushing. It hurts. He’s hurting him. Aemond is older and bigger than Luke, he always has been, and now he presses in like a storm cloud blocking out a clear sky.

“Luke, it wasn’t—it started like that, alright? It was like that in the beginning, but not now. It’s different now, I’m not—just look at me!” There’s something frantic in his words, the way he hovers over Luke like his shadow alone will cage him in. This isn’t the first time Aemond has struck the flight instinct in him, or the urge to fight, but it resonates through Luke’s core nonetheless. There is too much of him near. “I would’t have told you because there’s nothing to tell, not anymore.” Luke cranes his neck to peer over Aemond’s shoulder, searching out the best escape route. “It’s not over. You don’t mean that. We just…this is a rough patch, that’s all. It doesn’t matter how it started, it matters what it is. It’s good now, isn’t it? I’m good for you, I can be whatever you need, I’ll keep you happy. You like me, right? I know you do. I know you like me. Just get in the car, and we’ll talk about this later. Not now. Not like this. Look at me, don’t—don’t be like this. Luke.”

“I’m going home.”

“No. It’s late. You’re going back with me.”

“Let go.”

“Not until you listen.”

“Get off of me,” he snarls, launching himself backwards and ripping out of Aemond’s grasp. “Don’t touch me.” Aemond rears back at this rejection.

“Who else is going to do it? Lonely little Luke, eating lunch alone. Stupid, useless, weak. Can’t play sports, can’t speak in Debate Club, Mommy pays his tuition. He almost wets his pants when someone pulls the fire alarm. Who else is going to touch you, other than me?” Aemond’s mouth curls into a grin; he’s done it before, all sly and cruel. It looks ugly. He never changed, did he? How did Luke never see it before? “You didn’t fuck, didn’t drink at house parties, didn’t go to the beach past bedtime—hell, you probably never rode in a car without buckling the seatbelt. You were so eager for it, and I took you so easily. No one else could do that. No one else can touch you now, not like I can.”

It would have been true five months ago. Poor, common-looking Luke, who blended in with the walls, kept his head down, and startled at car alarms. That Luke was surrounded by gems, by brothers and uncles and friends who excelled at something, who carved names out for themselves. The Luke from five months ago would have balked at this, would have shrunk into himself and cowed to the truth. That Luke thought no one watched him, but he would’ve known if he just looked up. The Luke from now knows what the truth is, for the first time, and it’s nothing that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. Luke knows himself better than he ever has, and knows Aemond like he never wanted to before.

“I don’t think that’ll be any trouble, Uncle. Don’t worry about me,” Luke snorts out without thinking. “If I need someone to give me a ride, it won’t have to be you.” It doesn’t. It won’t. “I can buckle my own seatbelt; better yet, someone else can buckle it for me.” The uncle in question stills.

“Say that again.” He blinks, a curious expression settling over his features. “Say that again.”

“I said, it doesn’t have to be you. Other people will touch me. You’re not the only one around here with a working dick and something to prove. You lost an eye, not an ear. I should’t have to repeat myse—” before he can even finish the sentence, Aemond grabs him again, fingers curling over his shoulders like talons. Luke’s breath stops in his throat. Aemond’s face is so close they could kiss. Instead of leaning into it like he might have a few hours ago, Luke cringes backwards. Never again. The wounded expression on Aemond’s face gives him some satisfaction, but then his mouth morphs into a snarl and Luke would bet anything—his mother’s money, his own life, or whatever Aemond must’ve taken when he made that bet in the first place—that both of his eyes are glowing right now. The prosthetic below the patch shines like a jewel in its socket anyway, but the working eyeball in his head works furiously, searching across Luke’s face for something.

“What did you say, you little shit?” Aemond seethes. “Is there someone else? You have someone else, you were thinking about someone else?” he hisses into Luke’s face and furiously shakes him like a child would a broken toy. “Who is it?” he demands, sounding desperate now. “When? Is it Stark? Aegon? Greyjoy, that waterlogged rat? Daeron? Did one of them touch you—did you let them? Did they kiss you? Tell me, you fucking bastard.” Luke tells him the truth.

“That’s not your business anymore.”

“Not my business? Not—hah, not my business?” He’s so angry he’s spitting. “Of course it’s my business. It always has been. You’ve always—always, there’s never been a time when—you little idiot. Don’t you get it? You’re mi—”

Luke slaps him.

[3-aem]

MY BRAINS NOT WORKING AND THE CUTE BOY I WORK WITH KEEPS CORRECTING MY GRAMMAR THIS IS SO AHAIWIAKSDHDGRRRRHRNE

[enden-agolor]

do jesse and lukas end up together in the forest deity au? 🥹

Absolutely. All of my aus are created with the intention of jesskas being a major part. That's not even a spoiler 🤪

I have great passion for writing love stories where they fall for each other in different ways, and so far this one is probably my favorite and will get lots of love and attention. I just hope I can do the au justice with my writing.