#no baby left behind

[justpoliteconversations]

Graveyard Waltz [Deity!Reader + Fallen!Time]

One deity's failure is another's champion, or something like that.

Reveling in the new smell of uncommon trash.

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Hylia's destined hero was small, even by the standards of his species. His hands were smooth with youth and a life of peace among the Kokiri, face still plush with baby fat, shoulders thin below a delicate neck.

Red. All the softness of childhood was bathed in the red of his lifeblood, still warm against his pale skin. His eyes open wide and frozen in childish horror, the realization of death's inevitability settled upon his features like the masks he so loves.

Hylia has always been cold to her champions, but never had she been so callous. To send a child so young is not new to her, but to cast him aside so readily. Your own divine sensibilities bristled, displeased at the thought.

It was your nature. To love and cherish that which has been discarded. You are the Deity of Passing after all, the one to comfort those who have been torn from the world of the living. Be them saint, child or sinner, you accept them all.

The power of Hylia's favor has long gone stale on this one's young body, her grace long left him even before Death had laid its hands upon him.

In the distance, 6 sages cast their power over the entity known as Ganon (an unnatural creature, far removed from the cycle of death and passing), sealing him away in the Sacred Realm. It is sacrilegious, to cast such a creature into the Goddess' cradle. But what else can they do.

A dead hero, an unawoken princess, an abandoned world. What else can mortals do against the might of a being whom even the Goddess herself had failed to strike down.

You pay the happenings of the living world no mind, for that is not your duty. It lies instead in this fallen hero, this child of the forest, still clinging to his mortal body with childish determination. Still so desperate to live, despite the fear festering within his heart.

The strength of mortal spirits. How you adore the bright spark of firelight in the vast stretch of eternity, fluttering like ambers in the night.

"Little one." You call to him, sweetly, as you have always called to the ones taken too young. "You need not fear, for pain will not find you here. You are safe."

"No!" A young voice raises in defiance, a single blue eye peeking out from within the still body bathed in the cooling red of blood. It is a small spirit, barely big enough to fill the body it once resided in. Nothing like his predecessors, who possessed souls so strong and unyielding you'd had to call upon your divine might to take them across the dead realms.

The sight of him, so small but possessing a spirit so potent, was enough to pull at the reigns of your instincts. The will to take this young soul as your own, to call upon your right to choose a champion.

"Link, child of the forest. It is your time to pass on from this plain of existence. I will guide you, and across the realms of the dead, you will find peace." You coaxed, maintaining careful distance from the young, belligerent soul.

The small soul glares at you, still hiding from your gentle, patient gaze. You are tempted to step closer, to take the lost being in your arms and comfort him, but you hold back. Faded though it may be, the remnants of Hylia's power still lingers on the boy, ready to lash out at the insult.

She has ever been a jealous goddess. That she would withdraw her favor from her own chosen, before even the inevitability of death, is incomprehensible to you.

She had clung to the Hero of Skies for years after he'd passed, until Death itself had come to reap him from her arms. She'd latched with divine fiery to the Hero of Man and Minish with steadfast defiance, until the influence of Death's touch had severed the bond between them.

Yet she would leave this one to perish, deprived of her favor and the Sword of Legend that was her gift to those who possessed it. To not even fight for his life as she had for those before, leaving him to face the burdens of passing alone.

Abandoned. Forgotten. Even by the sages who spared not a glance for the broken body laying at thier feet. Still clinging futilely to life, staring down a messenger of death with the will to live pulsing through his diminutive spiritual form.

It was too pathetic. Not even the weeping hearts of poets could capture the pain that seared through you at this tragety.

You kneeled down beside the frightened soul, quietly waiting.

Your decision was made. Hylia be damned for her callousness, but you were willing to fight for this one's soul if she chose to return to this place.

Hours passed, days. The sages had long left, taking the young body with them. The soul it once housed had been left behind, bound to the place in which he'd died.

He'd cried and raged as they'd taken his body, small hands grasping at the limp flesh with desperate strength. Though it had meant nothing against the influence of the living. The dead were not meant to transverse the realms of flesh and blood, after all.

He'd stared to you with fear then, a bone deep grief at the inevitability of death. Not much different to his final expression, faced against forces he did not understand nor could he defeat. Helplessness brought to his feet by a destiny that'd long abandoned him.

You'd waited. Until his fear turned to confusion. Till confusion turned to apprehension. Until apprehension turned to boredom. And in that boredom, the child came forth.

"I'm not going to die yet!" He proclaimed quite suddenly many weeks later, standing before you with feet apart and hands on his hips. You merely nodded at that, and he faulted, not expecting such easy acceptance.

"Good!" He pushed on regardless, though his voice was shaken. "So you should return me to my body!"

You shook your head, and for the first time in weeks, spoke. "It is not within my power to return souls to departed flesh."

His lips pulled downwards, looking annoyed. You knew though, by the wavering of his soul, that he was scared of what that meant. That he understood to some extent, even if he did not.

"Then, what do we do?" He asked, and you ached at the unsaid admission. A lost child, torn from everything he'd ever known and seeking guidance in a world that was suddenly so big and so unknown.

Guidance he'd been denied once before. The absence of which had brought him here, at your side, seeking that guidance from a messenger of the dead.

You gave it to him, because you had already decided.

"I will bestow upon you my favor. Should you accept, you will become my champion and I will grant you a body of my own divine essence."

He blinked, unnecessarily, then frowned. "But I'm Hylia's champion." He said simply, not quite denying, but bordering on incredulous.

You stared at him, taking the measure of his soul. He knew, but he needed it said. Even if he'd known for some time, the mortal heart is stubborn and defiant.

Sometimes you have to break it honestly for it to heal.

"She abandoned you. Long before you passed from the living world." You didn't bother to soften your words, wouldn't give him the chance to hide from the truth any longer. No now. Not ever again.

Lies are for the living. Neither of you have that luxury anymore. Not you, and now, not him either.

Your champion.

He didn't fight as you moved closer, he didn't fight as you reached down to cup his small face in your hands. He didn't shed a single tear, just met your gaze with steely determination. That fighter's spirit shining though, hardened by the harshness of a spoken truth.

"Okay." He said, and it echoed within the furthest reaches of his heart, like fire burning away the stagnant rot. "I will be your hero."

You smiled. The fires of divinity burst forth from your hands and cast him aflame, burning away the golden light of Hylia and pouring forth the somber gray of your essence. Like the dim light of an overcast day, like fog rolling over the land.

He didn't shy away, didn't avert his eyes. Just stared up at you with acceptance. Then the flames reached his eyes, cast away the veil of mortality upon them, and the light of divine clarity entered them. He beheld you for the first time as you were, and his spirit burned too with understanding.

'Do you see me, my Champion.' You spoke, not with your lips, but with the pulsing of your essence running through his veins.

He nodded, entranced by your soft, divine light. So different from Hylia's wrathful gold, gentle like shade upon the eyes. Sweet and cool. Accepting of all. Rejecting none.

'Then go forth, my Champion.' You whispered into his heart, your hands upon his narrow shoulders. 'Carry my will with you, always. Bring back the lost souls tainted by Ganon's wrathful malice. Slay them with righteous fiery.'

You placed you forehead to his, and he reached out, grabbed your face with devoted care.

'Bring them home to me.'

"I will not fail you." He vowed, never breaking your gaze as he gave his first solemn promise. "I will liberate my brothers and sisters from the bondage of hatred. I will bring them back to your grace."

'Then go. Fear not the inevitability of Death's touch. For I shall be there beside it, to guide you across the realms one final time.'

He nodded, and you kissed his forehead. Sealing the promise between you, the black symbol of deliverance blooming upon his brow.

'Now live free of divine burden. For you are not alone.'

He closed his eyes. The world disappears around him. Your touch turning inward, settling like warm coals into his heart.

You were gone, but you were not. You'd spoken truth. He would never be alone again.

Suddenly, the warmth of sun is upon his face, the soft give of grass and wet soil beneath his feet the sweetest of homecomings. Fresh, cool air enters his lungs, heavy with the promise of early spring.

He opens his eyes, and below him lies a grassland as far as the eye can see. And within it, trailing great lines within the tall grass, 9 men.

'Your brothers.' He felt your whisper, pushing him forward. 'Go to them. For they are yours still, even if they are not yet mine.'

And he did. Walking into an uncertain future, with you in his heart and his brothers by his side.

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

oscar piastri is the funniest man in the world i fear

[x]

[mxtxfanatic]

I will say that y’all gotta lay off my girl Jiang Yanli 😭 She may have done a few small questionable things in life *cough*the wedding dress*cough* but saving Wei Wuxian was not one of them. She only died because she intentionally gave her life to save Wei Wuxian. She used up the last of her strength to shove him, a fully grown man, out the path of a sword trying to backstab him. She saw it coming when nobody else did and chose to save him. It was her choice. Don’t take that away from her by calling her impulsive or acting like “if only she had time to think,” she would have chosen differently. If one Jiang was gonna give themself to Wei Wuxian wholeheartedly, it was gonna be the one who publicly claimed him as her brother. Cause that’s what real family does.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 9: So that's where the turtle came from!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[elliesproperty]

ELLIE IN EVERY SCENE 36/?

[indigovigilance]

Fanfiction is a wonderful way to separate the art from the artist.

[riaki]

a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[dirtytransmasc]

the Sully kids' reaction to Jake saying Spider "knew everything" breaks my heart.

they knew him better than anyone else, better than their parents. they knew his love for Eywa, for Pandora, for The People, for the clan, for their family. they knew he would never tell the RDA anything... not willingly at least.

they knew they were leaving because Spider would be tortured for information, he'd be forced to reveal their home, their plans, their numbers, their weaknesses. their brother would be tortured and they were being forced to leave him behind.

they knew they were being forced to find a new home, without their brother, because their dad knew he would be tortured.

[neoncolorblocks]

Rest In Peace Donnie, since the embarrassment from that can be fatal.

Guy just wanted to teach the kids about some of his upbringing and it backfired lol

Extra frame I couldn’t fit in bc it felt too out of character but I thought it was cute:

Please don’t tag this as ship, thank you✨

[laniidae-passerine]

I am so not immune to a Medea moment. my beloved has left me. we had a life and a love and a child. my beloved has left me for another. I have lost my life and my love. I still have my child. my beloved deserves to pay. all he has ever really loved is our child. here is a stage. here is a role. here is the chorus to sing my sins. here is my beloved with his horrified gaze, fixed on me. here is my beautiful daughter. here I am, in her countenance, her phrasing, her cruelty and her mirth, mother that I am. punishing him. letting the light in. letting my daughter burn. and here I am, in those beautiful eyes of the girl I helped raise, the very last thing she ever sees before she dies. I am her and she is me; and all that is left of us both is utter agony

[ikram1909]

Xavi, Gavi and Pedri with a little fan 😭😭😭

[jilyandbambi]

so a Yellowjackets AU where mari says something to get herself kicked out of the cabin, and she dies of exposure and gets eaten at the bachanalian banquet instead of Jackie, who LIVES, who's there at Shauna's side when she goes into labor, stroking her hair and letting Shauna squeeze her hand hard enough to sprain her fingers, who keeps Shauna calm enough she has a (comparatively!!!!!!) easier delivery, who is the reason the(ir) baby lives.

who finally, after months of feeling adrift and useless because she’s not a hunter or a butcher or a prophet or a captain (anymore) finds her purpose in the wilderness. who painstaking sews patchwork baby onesies and cloth diapers from the girls' spare clothes (Offerings, not donations). who makes a baby sling from animal pelts and backpack straps. who makes a rattle from sticks and pinecones and some light blue pebbles Jackie found by the lake one day and saved. who makes sure the cabin stays warm and clean for Luke Dylan (from 90210--they couldn't decide whether to go with the actor or the character).

who builds them another shelter from blankets and animal hides after the cabin burns down. who keeps shauna and their baby warm through that first terrible winter and the one that followed.

and one day in 1998, Canadian forest rangers happen upon that American high school soccer team that went missing 2 years back. they find a group of starving teens and a baby, a little over a year old, two of the girls wrapped around him--and each other

and when the rescue team tries to separate them the one with tangled, golden brown hair bears her teeth and Growls

[alchemania]

“Don't you hate her?”

Furina turned, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“Your creator. Don't you hate her?”

The girl pondered a moment, looking unsure. “I..don't know.”

“You should,” he asserted. “All this time you had to suffer alone, for what?? People who didn't even care about the real you?? People who were ungrateful and selfish and only cared about themselves, at the end of the day??”

“Not everyone is like that,” Furina protested, shaking her head slowly. “I ..did suffer, but it all worked out in the end. Besides, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her-”

“The same could be said for my mother,” Wanderer interrupted, eyes flashing. “I came into being because of her, but that doesn't make her a good person, or a good parent. She hurt me. These two facts can coexist. Focalors created you, yes, but she also subjected you to 500 years of suffering where you couldn't confide in ANYONE or risk losing everything. Wasn't that awful?? Wasn't it a horrible time? You were all alone living on a hope and a prayer, and if it went wrong, it would have been all for nothing. You were a means to an end, and what do you have to show for it? Sure, everybody was saved and all was well, but now you're just - a person, and people hate you for what you did, people hate you for what you DIDN'T do. Was it worth it?? Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” she nodded, after a beat. “Because, this is what I was created to do. And, I'm free now. I don't know what I'm going to do, but at least my life is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can live.” Wanderer's jaw clenched, and Furina frowned, nervously. “..why are you so angry?”

“Because SOMEONE has to be!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I mean- I heard about the trial, they were gonna kill you- they lured you there because you wouldn't talk, right? And then after everything, did anyone apologize to you or- praise you, for all the hell you went through? Anything??”

“.. Neuvillette is taking care of me.”

The pain on Wanderer's face was almost palpable, at that.

“..anything else?”

“.. it's fine," she tried to appease. "It's not like I serve any purpose anymore. Like I said, I did what I was created to, so I'm not of any use and-”

“Stop.”

“..what?”

“STOP- talking like that,” Wanderer snapped, eyes suspiciously glossy. She sounded so much like him, who he used to be, and it hurt so badly.

A blank sheet of paper has infinite potential, but it is nothing as long as it is empty, he'd said, a good while ago. He'd been wrong about himself, and Furina was wrong now.

“You're not just - what you were made for. You don't - what happened to you is wrong. You're not DISPOSABLE now that everything is over.”

“It- it was for everyone's sake, compared to my suffering, it's obvious what's more important! I had to save them! It’s what I was born for! It doesn't matter -”

“It DOES,” he yelled, eyes glowing an almost neon icy blue, and she startled. “Stop acting like your suffering was something that was necessary. Stop acting like it was just for the greater good. That doesn't matter! The fact of the matter is that you suffered, and you were hurt, and you're STILL hurting! And- barely anybody is there for you..your creator, she should have been there for you, she should have protected you, but she didn't. She didn't. And you - you have every right to be angry with her, for not being there for you. For you being unable to live, until now. It was wrong, even if it was, as she claimed, for the greater good. Don't defend her.”

"She loved me-"

"And she left you, so not enough."

Just like my mother ..

“...Wanderer,” Furina ventured, worry all over her face.

“What?”

“You're crying…”

..oh. He hadn't even noticed, but his cheeks WERE wet, and he put a hand to one with a start, quickly scrubbing at his face. “Ah-” and he pulled his hat over his face, to hide it.

“..it was a lot. I often wondered when everything would end. I wanted, to tell someone so badly what was going on,” Furina admitted, and Wanderer looked up, eyes red from weeping. “There were a lot of times I didn't think I was going to make it, but. But I did, and, and everything was okay.”

“But are you?”

There was a long pause, and the two of them stared at each other until Furina slowly shook her head no, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

“See? You're - we're both so messed up, from everything, and no one was there,” Wanderer almost whispered, looking out the window. "No one was there to help. ..You're strong as hell, I'll give you that. If I was in your shoes, I don't know if I would have made it. It seems people are stronger than I've given them credit for..”

It was something that surprised him, again and again.

“I just don't understand why you care..”

“.. I don't know why I do,” he shrugged. “Maybe because you remind me of myself, and. It hurts, looking at you and feeling like I'm looking in the mirror. But someone has to be in your corner and -”

“And you want to do that?”

A pause.

“..Well, if you don't stand up for you, no telling who will.”

“You don't have to cry over me. I'm -”

“If you say you're not worth it, I am going to bodyslam you,” Wanderer growled, eyes flashing, and Furina put up her hands.

“I wasn't going to! I was going to say that I will be okay. Not now, but. Eventually. I'm healing. I promise. There's people who care, like you.”

Wanderer fell silent then, looking away, and she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I'm still wrestling with - with what I want to do and where I'll go but. It's nice to know that I'm valued just for existing.”

“That's all you need to be valued,” he muttered, looking to the floor. “You don't have to prove the worth of your existence. It's fine to just be.”

“..are you talking to yourself, or me?”

He looked to her then, expression unreadable, and she smiled sadly, in understanding. “Both is good. It's okay to just be. We're here, and we'll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Wanderer whispered, giving a shaky breath. “..we will."

[dreamaruu]

Hi so whats the deal with our two appearances of the Lich so far being associated with bonnie

[seattlesellie]

this ellie fic is taking forever to write :((( but will be posted by the end of this week !!! either by tomorrow or by friday <33 💞💞💞 lil peak i guess… also gonna answer all asks as soon as i wake up i have to sleeeeep n i wrote all night my eyes are so dry ☹️ love u !!!

[ttm-rayllum-baby-au]

left behind, ch. 1

In the aftermath of their misadventure at the Moon Nexus, Callum worries about Rayla—and what she might regret.

content warning: references to explicit underage sexual content, teen pregnancy

chapter 1 of 8: summer i

word count 1.6k

It’s warm once Callum wakes up. …and it’s late, too, he’s pretty sure, squinting into the glaringly bright sunlight beating down on them both through the dorm’s ceiling. He yawns, and looks at Rayla there beside him, still fast asleep, wondering if she’ll still call him her early bird today, even if it’s already—what? Noon, at least, probably? He is up before her, like usual…but it’s not usual for him, sleeping in so late. It’s not every night that you and the love of your life go jumping into magic moon portals at midnight, though, he supposes.

Read Ch. 1 on AO3!