#only to learn it was my mother being dramatic&he's just in the process of making a new account BUT SHE DIDNT TELL ME FOR 2 DAYS ANY UPDATES

[rainbadinosaur]

We are NOT doing well tonight fam 💃🏼 Crying in the club? Nah, we got a fucking monsoon up in this bitch

Reasons in tags, but it's long so buckle up chucklefucks 😎

[honey-writes-sometimes]

Random romance headcanons for the Lin Kuei Brothers

what do they search on a partner, how are dates with them, that sort of stuff

I tried to make this headcanons as accurate to what i think these characters would do canonlly

(I accidentally posted my draft but now i finished it, still learning how to write and use tumblr)

Kuai Liang/Scorpion

>Kuai Liang is an honourable grandmaster, he puts humbleness and passion over other traits. he is looking for someone with honour, kind and selfless, with the will to complete their goals, without sacrificing anyone in the process

>he prefers a peaceful person, one that he can spend quiet and tranquil nights with, he is a quiet person himself, he loves soft and peaceful chats, your voice calms him down and talking to you is the perfect way for him to distress

>he doesn't mind if you are in the Shirai Ryu or not, but he will consider you as a valuable ally to his clan, a loyal and truthful counselor, but it will sweep him off his feet if you decide to help him and the Shirai Ryu with their goals

>dates with him are difficult to have, he is the grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu, he often goes on missions or stays up late doing tasks or errands for the clan, training his initiates and ninjas too, Kuai Liang has little time for himself, but when he does he spends it with you, most likely in bed talking and staying up late playing with your hair, he loves late night talks with you, it soothing and comforting for him

>as for gifts, he will gift you meaningful things, he can gift you flowers or beautiful jewelry with gemstones and every single one has their own meaning, if he misses you he will send you forget-me-nots which means that he doesn't want you to forget about him or if he comes back to you after a long mission he will bring lilies of the valley with him, because it means the return of his happiness. he uses his gifts to communicate his feelings

>Kuai Liang is not really a jealous man, he acknowledges his negative feelings and doesn't let them get in his head, he is not one to do any sudden act or dramatic scene out of jealousy, he will talk to you about his feelings, try and make you understand why he feels the way he does, i picture him as the most emotionally mature out of his brothers

>he doesn't like PDA, he is a grandmaster and tries to maintain a honourable and diplomatic image, not that his love for you is not honourable its just he doesn't want others to see him being vulnerable to you, his vulnerability is a side of him that only his loved ones know of, specially you, and he likes to keep it that way, he secretly loves the fact that only you can tear down all his walls and see him when he is most vulnerable

>he makes it up to you when you finally get time alone, he will hold you tight and whispers sweet words in you ears, he will kiss your jawline and temple between his words, and so sweetly too, he will reassure any doubt you have, comfort your feelings, ease down your anxiety, to wash down any negative feeling you feel, he doesn't mind being the one to hold you or comfort you, he feels happy to be the one to spoil you

>a relationship with Kuai Liang its something that keeps you yearning for him, to have more time with him, he is so close and yet out of reach because of his duties as a grandmaster, but he does his best to return home safe to you,

Bi-Han/Sub-Zero

>Bi-Han is a disciplined, cold and ambitious person, he doesn't mind making sacrifices to accomplish his goals. he wants a person that is decisive and disciplined like him by his side

>he wants a partner that is decisive, confident and determinated. a person that is fully capable of giving orders, he wants a partner that will join and lead the Lin Kuei alongside him, like his father and mother did. to him having a partner means working in a team to accomplish both your goals

>he wants you to join the Lin Kuei, he thinks if you are going to dedicate and expend the rest of your life with him you'll need to become a member of the Lin Kuei, it means that you are dedicated and loyal to him, alongside his goals and aspirations, he sees it as a sign of not only respect but devotion and love aswell

>if dates with Kuai Liang are rare, is even worse with Bi-Han, he is as busy as Kuai Liang if not more, he is busy even late at night, he comes to bed in midnight, if you fall asleep before his arrival, he will prepare himself for bed and cuddle with you, even if he won't admit it he loves having you close, its his way of apologizing for having little time for you. if you stay awake to wait for him it would make his cold heart flutter but he will scold you, saying that your need for proper rest comes before him, and you shouldn't sacrifice it for him

>Bi-Han is not much of giving you gifts out of emotions, but out of necessity and need, he will keep an eye on you, do you need hygiene products? Health care products? Skin care products? He has you covered, he will sent his men to bring you everything you need, or what you say you need, he demonstrates his love by taking care of your necessities

>Bi-Han is not a jealous man either but he is protective, overprotective even, if Sektor or any other Lin Kuei tries to convince you to participate in the Cyber Lin Kuei project Bi-Han will tell cut them off immediately, and coldly scold them, he doesn't want you to be involved in overly dangerous Lin Kuei business. you will rule by his side, aid him, share victories and glory with him, but he will never let you make the same sacrifices he or other Lin Kuei members do, you are too important to him to let you

>no PDA, like never, he hates being vulnerable in general terms but more so in public, he wants to keep a cold and intimidating exterior, he is the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, and he wants others to respect him, being it out of fear or admiration, he doesn't want others to see that you are his soft spot either, he fears people may use you against him

>even when you are alone, it is difficult for Bi-Han to let down his walls and fall apart in your arms, sience he was little he thought feelings like vulnerability made him weak, so he pushed these feelings aside, he thought it was the best for him, but thankfully he is slowly healing from that, you are making him heal, teaching him to be vulnerable to you, because you will never take advantage of him in this state

>being in a relationship with Bi-Han is rather hard, like with Kuai Liang being grandmaster has its duties, and they are heavy, plus his trauma doesn't help eiter, but if you manage to see pass and help him heal, step by step he will finally let you see that he is actually very devoted to you, he will do anything for you, he will kill for you if you needed, he would bring the world on their knees for you if you asked him to, he doesn't mind sacrificing anything or anyone to make you happy, because you make his cold heart beat with passion again

Tomas Vrbada/Smoke

>Tomas is one of the most kindest soul out of the mortal kombat characters, he emerged of his tragedies as a genuine and caring person. he is looking for someone as kind as him, he doesn't like petty, rude or troublesome people

>he is attracted to kindness, compassion, humbleness and anything between those lines, he doesn't mind if you are loud or quiet, shy or confident, introverted or extrovert, as long as your actions are good and honourable ones and you treat people right

>don't ever expect expensive gifts or dates from him, he is a humble person, he belives love relies on thought itself, he can bring you a couple of flowers he picked off the ground because they reminded him of you or just write you a letter of how he feels about you, even if his gifts are small he gives them to you with all his heart

>like his brothers, he doesn't have that much time with all the tasks he has because of the Shirai Ryu, training his initiates or going on missions, but he always tries to make time for you, and when he does he prefers dates at home or places where there is little to no people, he also prefers when you two make the food together, so cooking with you or going to picnics with you are his favourite type of dates, he also loves stargazing with you

>Tomas is not a jealous person most of the time, he often tries to ignore the feeling, but if it affects him too much he would get self-conscious and insecure, probably trying to avoid you while he cleans his thoughts, he thinks his jealousy is immature of his part, you need to reassure him and validate his feelings because no one ever really did that for him

>he is not big on PDA, does more than his brothers thought, he can hold your hand, hug you or compliment you in public, but nothing pass that. he doesn't like when people see you two being so vulnerable and loving, the love you two feel are just for you both, no one else. he also doesn't like the idea of other gossiping about your demonstrations of affection, he thinks it will give you trouble and he doesn't want to be a burden to you at all

>when you are alone he would show you how much he loves you, satisfy your needs, spoil you, and will do what he can to accomplish every desire you have, but with one condition, you must do the same for him. he is not the type to be happy with only giving or only receiving, you both should give and receive love equally, so spoil him with love too, he can get quite needy and eager for you love, he loves when you spoil eachother rotten

>a relationship with Tomas is a slow burn type of love, not rushed, he wants to experience your relationship at your own pace, step by step, he will kiss you for the first time or sleep with you for the first time when he feels that you are both ready to take that step on your relationship, even if he is ready and eager to try new things with you, he won't tell until he feels you are ready too, he will always wait for you it doesn't matter how much time, he will wait an eternity for you, if it meant he finally gets to be yours

[primaviva]

baby hair princess; miles morales

featuring. miles g. morales x latina!reader

synopsis. you stumble upon miles in a state of frustration, aggressively tugging at his hair, and instinctively, you step in to offer your assistance. however, you make one specific request in return for your help—a favor you hope miles will grant you: doing his edges.

warnings. none just pure fluff and sassy miles !! for my not boricua readers, pretty sure the only word really different is “pinche” for hairpin (art credit: snoopminnie)

“boy, if you don’t stop tryna run away-”

miles instinctively moved backward, evading your attempt to grab hold of him and keep him still. his resilience and stubbornness were evident, leaving you to wonder if these were qualities he had always possessed.

typically, miles relied on his mother for assistance with his hair, including styling and maintenance. however, his stubborn streak had prompted him to take matters into his own hands, gradually attempting to style his own hair. yet, he had not yet mastered the art of caring for his own locks, which led to the predicament you found yourselves in.

within the confines of the shower, miles followed his usual routine. he delicately massaged the hair product into his strands, employed the appropriate brushes, and adhered to the techniques he had learned for his specific hair texture.

however, patience continued to elude him when it came to detangling and combing. convinced that knots were of little consequence, he clung to that belief until today, when the knots seemed to wage a battle of their own. miles understood that detangling in the shower typically facilitated the process for curly hair, which only added to his confusion when the water failed to alleviate the difficulty. frustration took hold, compelling him to forcefully yank the comb through his tightly coiled curls.

his efforts proved disastrous.

as the comb became entangled in his hair, his arm persisted in its pulling motion, resulting in a swift and painful injury to his wrist.

usually, styling his hair did not consume much time, and earlier that morning, he had told you that you could pull up in the afternoon. however, unbeknownst to him at the moment, senora rio had allowed you entry into his room, recognizing the close bond you shared with the morales family. when you entered, you observed miles struggling to maintain his grip on the comb, his pride, dignity, and remnants of masculinity on display.

and so, the scene unfolded with you and miles' situation as he scrambled to cover his head. your intentions were pure, simply attempting to assist miles in combing his own hair. however, miles, true to his stubborn nature, resisted your efforts with the tenacity of a pitbull, determined to maintain control over his own grooming routine and feelings of embarrassment.

“this is not a telenovela with your dramatic ass so leave the theatrics for english class,” you swiftly retorted, a hint of exasperation in your voice as your hands instinctively found their place on your hips. “take the bonnet off.”

you gracefully settled onto the edge of miles' bed, the mattress yielding beneath the gentle pressure of your legs. the soft fabric of the bedspread caressed your skin as you positioned yourself on your knees beside him, creating an intimate proximity.

with an audible groan, miles met your determined gaze, his eyes rolling in a display of stubborn defiance. the atmosphere crackled with a mixture of frustration and resistance.

"i can do this myself," miles declared, his tone lacking the reassurance he intended. with an abrupt motion, he forcefully yanked the comb through the tangled strands of hair, the sound of resistance echoing in the room. the sensation of hair being torn from the comb sent a shiver down your spine, a visceral reminder of the struggle at hand.

his words hung in the air, a plea masked as a command. "you didn't see anything," he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. the weight of his unspoken plea lingered, an unspoken request for understanding and discretion. “understand?”

you regarded him with a stoic expression, your features carefully neutral. "i understand that you're in need of some serious assistance," you stated, your voice devoid of inflection. as you took a deliberate step closer, an electric wave of nerves filled the air he breathed. lookin’ like them kids that get embarrassed by they mama on facebook live for misbehaving. let me help, te suplico por favor.”

extending your hand, your fingertips grazed the edge of the purple bonnet, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin. locking eyes with him, you held his gaze, ensuring that miles focused solely on your expression. with deliberate intent, you offered him a gentle smile, a silent reassurance that your intentions were rooted in love and support. it was a subtle gesture, one that conveyed your unwavering commitment to help him through this, especially since you had always excelled in the art of hairstyling.

miles' eyes remained fixated on you, their intensity betraying a roiling mix of emotions. the heat of embarrassment colored his cheeks, suffusing his face with a noticeable flush.

"fine, i'm letting you help, but only because i can't get the knot out," he conceded, defeat lacing his words.

a mischievous smirk stretched across your face, a subtle display of triumph at his reluctant surrender. with a fluid motion, you maneuvered yourself behind him, a slight shiver of anticipation dancing along your spine. as you sat up, your hands found their place on his shoulders, offering physical support.

the proximity between you was palpable, each breath shared in the confined space. your head tilted to the side, and your words grazed his ear, their gentle cadence resonating against his skin. a tingling sensation rippled down his neck, a delightful shiver provoked by the intimacy of your closeness.

surprise mingled with satisfaction as you observed the ease with which he acquiesced. normally, miles would put up a greater fight, but the direness of his situation was evident at a glance. you couldn't help but notice that he was attempting to comb his hair dry—dryer than his texts, even.

"you're doing this because i am your boyfriend and you care. not out of pity, okay?" he stated, his words carrying a hint of self-assurance that seemed more like an attempt to convince himself rather than you.

you responded with a nonchalant hum, acknowledging his statement without verbal confirmation. your gaze remained fixed on his hair, carefully examining it without yet laying your hands on it, teasing the anticipation in the air.

restless fidgeting overtook miles as he squirmed under the weight of your scrutiny, a palpable sense of judgment lingering in his mind. the passing seconds stretched into what felt like agonizingly long minutes, further heightening his humiliation in his eyes.

"just don't laugh," miles demanded, his plea inadvertently causing you to stifle a giggle that bubbled up uncontrollably.

"i can't promise that," you replied, laughter still tugging at your words.

with determination, you began to gently pull at his hair, your fingers seeking out the knotted areas hidden within. the absence of matting provided a small relief, knowing that the problem was limited to knots alone. you pulled back his hair, carefully inspecting the sides, the back, and even searching for any residue or soap that may have clung to his roots.

curiosity flickered in his eyes as he glanced back at you, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "how long is this going to take?"

with a playful yet assertive response, you couldn't help but let a touch of sass color your words. "stop acting like a diva," you retorted, the hint of amusement evident in your tone. "it's gonna take as long as it needs to, especially since you been putting your hands on your hair like you chrisean rock. now, turn around."

taking charge, you gently guided his head away from you, redirecting his gaze back to his lap with a firm yet tender touch of your hands. with your focus regained, you returned to the task at hand, your fingertips lightly exploring and assessing the core areas that harbored the most stubborn tangles. each delicate touch was a sensory exploration, searching for the knots that required the most meticulous attention.

with a curious and investigative spirit, you allowed your fingers to delve deeper into his hair, purposefully seeking the sensation of his scalp beneath your touch. it was a tactile exploration, a quest to uncover any remnants of shampoo buildup or dandruff that may have intertwined with the knots.

as you did so, miles let out a deep sigh. you sensed his annoyance, understanding that your playful banter and sassy remarks could sometimes test his patience. but you both knew that the exchange of playful banter and sass was a known part of your relationship—a back-and-forth dance you both engaged in. bickering was woven into the fabric of your relationship, something you both embraced. he, in your words, was the "leader of the sassy man apocalypse," despite his inevitable protestations as any self-respecting sassy man would. however, this particular sigh carried a different meaning.

as your fingers traversed through his damp curls, a subtle shudder coursed through his body, reverberating in the sanctuary of your hold. "that feels good, ma," he breathed out, the admission slipping from his lips almost unconsciously.

stunned by his unexpected confession, you momentarily paused, your fingertips suspended in their exploration. the weight of his words settled upon you, a surprising revelation that bypassed your awareness.

"really?" you questioned, surprise laced in your voice. tentatively, you allowed your fingers to resume their gentle exploration, cautiously delving deeper into his hair, trying to recreate whatever he let slip from how good you seemed to be.

the electrifying sensation of your fingers weaving through his hair was potent enough to derail his train of thought. a feeling of bliss surged through him, coaxing his eyes to flutter shut, surrendering to the pleasure that pulsed from your touch. his head found a resting place in your capable hands, a gesture of trust and vulnerability as you continued your ministries.

witnessing the effect you had on him, satisfaction rippled through your being; it was almost as if you physically felt your ego boost and the arrogance that swelled within you. the tension in his muscles melted away, dissipating into the air, as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. it was a physical manifestation of the pleasure and relaxation that enveloped him, a silent testament to his peaceful state.

in that fleeting moment, a pang of guilt grazed the edges of your conscience.

you almost felt bad for knowing that you were about to disrupt this serene moment for miles.

almost.

as you skillfully worked your hands through his hair, a contented hum escaped his lips, affirming your success. a mischievous smirk played across your face, well aware of the satisfaction you had brought him.

"well, nice you enjoyed it while it lasted," you sarcastically remarked, abruptly halting your ministrations. "because from this point forward, it's going to be red eyes and shaking," you teased, alluding to the potential discomfort of untangling knots in his hair.

the moment you ceased massaging him, he remained blissfully unaware, lost in the depths of relaxation. his eyes remained closed, oblivious to your smirk. however, at the mention of the word “knots,” his eyes fluttered open, nerves piqued. he observed your preparations, mild concern evident in his gaze.

"wait, what do you mean-" miles began to question, but before he could finish his sentence, you deftly dragged your fingers down through the knots at a fast pace, eliciting a wince of discomfort from him.

a deep chuckle escaped you, a private amusement at the reaction you had provoked. using your hand as a comb, you carefully untangle the knots in that particular section, providing him with a subtle reminder of the purpose behind your actions.

"that's exactly what i mean," you replied, your tone laced with playful satisfaction.

you turned your attention to his cómoda, scanning the array of hair products with your eyes, searching for the water bottle that would serve as the catalyst for dampening his hair. each spritz would prepare his curls for the upcoming detangling process.

despite the discomfort he felt, he mustered his best effort to endure the pain, determined to ignore the laughter that escaped your lips. his gaze followed your movements as you delved into his drawers and retrieved the spray.

"what are you doin’?" miles inquired, his voice carrying a hint of shakiness, still recovering from the sting inflicted upon him moments ago. yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, observing your unwavering focus on his hair.

reading his anticipation, you knew he anticipated the impending combing with a mixture of dread and curiosity, fully aware of the potential discomfort it would bring.

"necesitas mojarte el cabello," you stated, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, tilting his head slightly to ensure thorough coverage with the spray. "y cus’ of that, i'm spraying the shit out of it because your whole head dried during that hour-long battle where your hair was kicking your own ass, and you lost miserably. so, forgive me if i find it a lil’ funny that you're treating me like an inexperienced stylist, considering the miracle i'm performing right now."

with the final sprays, you set the water bottle down, keeping it within reach in case individual strands require extra attention during the detangling process.

placing the spray in the hands of his frog build-a-bear plush, memories of your mall date resurfaced. you had convinced miles to get matching frogs, despite his initial reservations. seeing his green frog nestled among his deep black covers, contrasting with your pink one, brought a genuine giggle to your lips. your imagination wandered, picturing miles donning a purple bonnet, cuddling the little plush as he slept.

as you playfully turned him to spray different sections of his hair, he fought back a laugh, savoring the lightheartedness of the moment. he felt a deep sense of gratitude for your assistance and admired the care you took as you continued to spray his locks. each mist of water touched his hair, eliciting a subtle coolness and leaving a faint scent in the air. he kept his eyes closed, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks out of a mix of appreciation and mild embarrassment.

when the spraying finally ceased, he opened his eyes, curious to assess the state of his hair. he couldn't help but chuckle lightly at your comment, attempting to defend himself. "i didn't lose that hard," he protested playfully.

amused, you responded with a teasing tone, "if having a comb stuck in your hair isn't losing to you, then i don't know what to tell you, mi rey."

a sigh escaped his lips, accompanied by a raspy chuckle, his laughter mingling with the sound of the running water. it was another blow to his ego, a reminder of your witty banter that often left him both amused and challenged.

you reached for a nearby towel, presumably the one that had once rested on his neck, and deftly adjusted it over the shoulders of his white tank. this thoughtful gesture ensured that his back remained dry, sparing him any discomfort.

glancing back at the array of hair products, you carefully selected a detangling spray, knowing it would help soften his hair. the chaotic tangle of strands, a result of miles' frustrated attempts at untangling, called for some extra care and attention.

"mí rey," he softly repeated to himself, savoring the endearing nickname. although it was said in jest, it warmed miles' heart whenever you called him that. a smile spread across his face as he gazed at you with wide, affectionate doe eyes. "you're enjoying this too much, aren't you?" he questioned, his glance filled with both amusement and adoration.

as you carefully draped the towel over him, creating a barrier to protect his back, miles couldn't help but notice the tenderness with which you carried out this simple act. it touched a chord within him, a gentle reminder of your thoughtfulness. he found himself captivated, his eyes fixed on you, appreciating not only your efforts but also the person you were.

"of course i am," you responded, a playful smile gracing your lips. "bullying men is fun," you added sarcastically, the mischievous glimmer in your eyes betraying your lighthearted intent.

with the detangling spray in hand, you began to work your magic on miles' hair. each spritz released a fine mist that enveloped his curls, saturating them with the product. the light-catching droplets bestowed a subtle and enticing shine upon his locks. taking a moment, you sprayed some of the product onto your palm, rubbing it between your hands to ensure even distribution, before gently scrunching his hair, coaxing the detangling spray deeper into the strands.

"ready?" you asked, giving him a moment to prepare himself. the anticipation hung in the air as he readied himself for the untangling process, knowing that your skilled hands would soon navigate through the intricate maze of his hair.

a soft giggle escaped his lips at your playful bullying comment, finding it endearing rather than offensive. his eyes remained fixated on you as you meticulously sprayed his hair, the mist enveloping his senses. nodding in response to your question, a hint of wariness flickered in his gaze, unsure of what awaited him in the next moments.

"i'm ready, amor. just don't pull too hard, alright?" he requested, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability and trust.

with a reassuring smile, you replied, "i'll be gentle," your words offering the comfort he longed for. the weight of his anticipation lifted slightly, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you would navigate this challenge with care.

as your fingers began their task of untangling his hair, the knots seemed to have woven themselves into a formidable labyrinth within his curls. yet, you remained undeterred, driven by a determination to restore order and softness to the hair he loved almost as much as you.

again, almost.

his hair resisted your touch, each knot presenting a unique challenge. he emitted sounds of mild discomfort, a testament to the sensitivity of his scalp and his desire to endure the process without feeling embarrassed. your heart swelled with tenderness as you witnessed his effort to maintain composure in front of you, further igniting your resolve to handle his hair with utmost gentleness.

you embarked on the task of unraveling the knots, starting from the bottom where the tangles were most stubborn. with your fingers as your gentle guides, you skillfully released the friction between neighboring sections of hair, diligently working your way from the base to the crown. the surface-level knots surrendered to your patient touch, as you meticulously separated each strand with care. however, as you traversed his hair, it became apparent that the majority of the knots ran deeper, demanding a more thorough approach than initially anticipated. the need for a brush became imminent sooner than expected.

delicately, you began to divide his hair into six distinct sections, methodically parting each portion to facilitate focused attention. "dame un pinche," you commanded miles, and he silently complied, passing you a bag of hairpins and clips. a glimpse into his world, the assortment of cute-colored pins and clips hinted at their sentimental value, likely passed down from his mother.

with miles holding the bag for you, your fingers danced above the contents, contemplating the best choice. after careful consideration, you selected five firm metal clips, their purpose clear in your mind. as you divided his hair into the necessary sections, you secured each one with the clips, fashioning little buns that held the strands aloft. this strategic maneuver ensured that the rest of his hair remained out of both of your ways, sparing him the annoyance of wet locks clinging to his face or water trickling down his neck longer than necessary. you understood his preference for a fuss-free styling experience, catering to his needs. after all, he is your boyfriend.

equipped with a wide-toothed comb and the spray bottle in hand, you prepared the hair once more by saturating it with a fine mist. the water droplets danced upon his strands, awakening them with renewed moisture. the stage was set for the comb to work its magic.

starting from the tips, you delicately guided the comb through his hair, gradually making your way towards the middle and then the top. with one hand, you held his hair in place, providing stability as you applied a bit more force, determined to conquer the stubborn knots that lingered.

a hushed "ouch" escaped miles' lips, his eyes instinctively fluttering shut in response to the fleeting discomfort. sensing his reaction, you paused your combing and turned your head to face him.

"cállate! you tender-headed baby, i ain’t even pulling that hard," you reprimanded, a hint of exasperation lacing your words. the desire to avoid his dramatics for the remainder of the thirty minutes propelled your stern response.

"ight," he muttered under his breath, bitterness coating his tone.

unfazed by the interruption, you had already completed the first section while he voiced his complaints. with the hair still saturated, you gave it one last thorough brush, observing with satisfaction that the knots had vanished, leaving behind tightly coiled curls ready to bounce back to their full glory. the comb glided effortlessly through the now smooth strands, the sound of its gentle strokes harmonizing with the sigh of relief that escaped both of you.

with precision and determination, you continued your task, skillfully releasing the clip from the neighboring bun of hair you had previously created. as you secured it in a new bun, the section was neatly isolated, awaiting its turn to be untangled. following the same method as before, you began from the bottom, working your way to the middle and then the top, unraveling the knots with practiced finesse. the repetitive yet rhythmic motion of your combing became almost meditative, a soothing cadence that echoed in the small room.

yet, as you approached the crown of his head, meticulously brushing downward to release any stubborn knots near his scalp, a delightful surprise caught your attention. delicate strands of hair, small and wispy, dared to defy the boundaries of the meticulously sectioned locks. they sprouted from the front area of his face, cheekily eluding confinement within their designated sections. a knowing smile crept upon your lips, for you knew they were baby hairs—duh! you had some of your own along with others that you either slicked back or styled with a touch of eco gel.

however, there was something distinctly enchanting about miles' baby hairs. while they retained their petite stature, you couldn't help but marvel at their surprising length. they cascaded delicately, framing his forehead in a regal manner that evoked images of princesses gracing the grandest of pageants. these miniature strands possessed an ethereal quality, as if they held a secret whispered only to those who took the time to observe.

does miles have princess worthy baby hairs? you couldn't help but notice his long, beautiful lashes one day while cuddling. in a moment of hope, you jokingly asked to do his makeup and apply mascara, but he looked at you with a bewildered expression. he had been blessed with naturally striking features, and it made you feel a twinge of envy—even with him being a man. however, a mischievous idea suddenly popped into your head, and a wicked smile formed on your lips.

with a sense of accomplishment, you declare, "all done," as you delicately remove the clips, allowing the sections of detangled hair to cascade down, revealing his now liberated curls. your fingertips instinctively caress his tresses, relishing in their newfound freedom. "do you want two braids as always?" you inquired.

he feels the gentle touch of your fingers running through his hair, a comforting sensation that brings a wider smile to his lips. in response to your question, he nods, affirming his desire for the familiar twin braids.

"por supuesto, bebé. two braids, just like always," miles responds, settling his head comfortably on your lap, ready to surrender to your skilled hands.

the endearment he uses warms your chest, evoking a tender, fuzzy feeling that envelops you. "como tú quieras," you reply, honoring his request.

taking hold of a nearby comb, you flip it to its sharp end, aligning it with his forehead to ensure a symmetrical part. carefully choosing a starting point, you use the opposite side of the comb to create a clean divide, guiding it down the center of his head. to refine the symmetry, you rise slightly above him, positioning yourself on your knees, hovering with precision. with the comb, you deftly lift sections of hair from the part and sweep them to either side, harmonizing the flow of his locks.

once satisfied with the balance, you employ the original part to separate his hair into two equally thick halves. one side is gently draped over his shoulder, allowing you unobstructed access to work. with practiced fingers, you divide each braid-to-be into three distinct sections, intertwining them skillfully, creating a seamless braid that reflects your meticulous handiwork.

he closes his eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of your braiding technique. a blissful sigh escapes his lips, the tension melting away as the sensation of your touch envelops him—he enjoys having you as his own personal hairstylist.

"gracias, mami," miles murmurs, his head turning slightly to meet your gaze, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"you don't have to thank me," you assure him, focusing your attention on the other side of his hair now that one braid is complete. with practiced ease, your nimble fingers continue their dance, skillfully weaving each strand. "but... there is one way you can thank me."

intrigued, he maintains silence, his curiosity piqued by the mischievous tone in your voice. he remains seated, patiently awaiting the revelation, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the distant mirror. a sheepish smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he eagerly anticipates your next move.

"and what would that be?" miles questions, his tone curious.

rather than answering, you choose to maintain silence, your focus shifting to the final touches of his second braid. stepping away from the bed, you position yourself in front of him, cupping his face in your hands, your touch tender and affectionate.

“y’know miles, i never noticed what beautiful baby hairs you have…” you remark, a subtle segue into your true intentions, a rogue glint in your eyes.

his eyebrow began to slowly raise at how vague your demeanor was. “and? okay little red riding hood. ‘what big teeth you have, abuela’ head ass.”

you fixated your gaze on him, eyes widening in surprise at his comment, struggling to maintain a serious expression despite the humorous undertone. suppressing a laugh that threatened to escape, you attempted to project an air of seriousness.

"you think you're funny, huh?" you retort, your voice carrying a stern tone as you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to conceal any hint of amusement.

a low laugh escapes his lips, the sound resonating with a raspy quality. "oh, i'm hilarious," he corrects, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours, a mischievous smirk gracing his face. it was evident that he took delight in teasing and playfully testing your composure. it was more than a delight, he loved it.

you clench your teeth, a tinge of bitterness surfacing as you lick your lips, a subtle gesture of frustration mixed with a hint of intrigue. the playful banter between the two of you created a dance you both enjoyed, even in moments like these.

“it’s so funny you say that because i know a man with baby hairs longer than ella mais’ is not talking to me,” you yelled back as a rebuttal.

miles found himself at a loss for words, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you in astonishment. your bold response had caught him off guard, revealing a side of you with a sharp wit that he hadn't fully expected. he couldn't help but respect your ability to hold your ground. with curiosity etched on his face, he continued to observe, wondering where this playful exchange would lead. he knew you wanted to style his baby hairs, but the question lingered: just how far would you take it? could he trust you with something so personal? miles could only wait and see.

arms crossed, he maintained a composed stance as he awaited your response. "you've got some bite to you. what happened to being gentle?" he questioned, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

you sighed, understanding that you needed to convince him. taking his hands into your own, you cupped them lovingly, locking eyes with him. the intensity of your gaze was difficult to resist.

"miles, pretty pretty please, let me style your edges," you pleaded, your eyes employing the irresistible charm of puppy dog eyes. you knew he couldn't refuse such a request.

however, to your surprise, he did refuse.

"edges? nah, you trippin’," he repeated to himself, his shock at such an ask evident as his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes widened. miles attempted to free his hand from your grasp, but you held on firmly.

at that moment, you realized there was no other choice but to resort to your final tactic. you brought his hands closer to your chest, leaning down to kiss him gently. the touch of your lips against his was tender, a moment of surprise that slowly transformed into shared synchronization.

as you pulled away, your eyes met his once again, filled with a pleading expression, silently asking permission to style his edges. "please?" you repeated.

the weight of your intimate kiss lingered in the air, leaving miles feeling captivated and unable to deny you any longer. the sensation of your lips meeting his had transported him to a realm of enchantment, where time seemed to stand still. as you leaned away, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, longing for more of the intimate connection you had just shared. however, your irresistible gaze and the allure in your eyes made it impossible for him to utter the word "no."

his eyes fixated on your hand, realizing that he had been defeated by your charm. his arms dropped limply to his sides as he simply stared at you, a mix of surrender and anticipation coursing through him.

"fine, you win," miles admitted, a sense of defeat in his voice.

a smile spread across your face as you jumped up, radiating joy. "you're the best boyfriend," you exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug before playfully springing off his lap. with determination, you rummaged through the cabinets of his cómoda, searching for the holy grail—his eco gel.

"yeah, yeah," miles mumbled, his smile concealed but unmistakably present. as your arms enveloped him in an embrace, he savored the warmth and comfort they provided.

knowing that he slicked his hair back, you were confident he had a brush somewhere. your persistence paid off as you soon discovered the gel amidst your exploration. as you gathered all the necessary items in front of you—the gel, the 3-in-1 edge brush, and your trusty spray bottle.

a whisper escaped your lips, revealing your anticipation. "you don't know how long i've waited for this moment," you murmured, standing before him with the array of products, excitement emanating from every fiber of your being.

"go crazy,” miles added, giving you the green light. the gel in your hand held the power to transform his hair at your will, and he willingly surrendered himself to your creative freedom. his gaze remained fixed on you, as if he could anticipate your every move.

"bet," you confidently responded, reaching for the comb. your determination was evident, and he knew you were about to go all out. "you already know."

approaching him, you delicately used the comb to separate the baby hairs, skillfully tucking away any excess strands and seamlessly blending them into the braids. the edges received your attention next, as you meticulously brushed and styled them, lightly misting them with water to ensure they were dampened for the gel, all the while ensuring it wouldn't touch his forehead.

repeating the process on the other side of his head, you effortlessly extracted the baby hairs, leaving behind a clean and polished look, carefully arranging the longer strands that may have become entangled in the process.

now, the moment had arrived. with a glimmer of excitement in your eyes, you eagerly picked up the gel, locking eyes with miles.

as you finally held up the gel, his eyes widened, captivated yet nervous by your ecstatic expression. he had no inkling of your forthcoming plans, and his heart raced with anticipation of what was about to happen to him, caught in the enchanting gaze you shared once again.

"this feels like when sza finally dropped shirt," you playfully remarked, closing the distance between your faces. the anticipation in the air was palpable as you dipped the bristles of the edge styler brush into the gel, then pulled it out to reveal a perfect, medium-thick coating. "prepare to radiate fabulousness."

he couldn't believe the level of dedication you were putting into this moment. "i can't wait to see this myself," he responded, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "my edges gon’ be on fleek?"

you made a shushing sound with your mouth, drawing even closer to him. his hands instinctively found their way to your hips, slowly gliding up to your waist as your bodies now stood inches apart.

"what, can't hold onto your girl anymore?" miles teased, a sly smile playing on his lips. "consider it me supporting your...balance."

a natural grin spread across your face, despite your attempts to resist it, for he had that effect on you—the power to make you smile effortlessly, just by being himself.

you delicately applied the gel to his hair, savoring this moment as an image in your mind. the weight of the occasion was undeniable, as he rarely allowed you to partake in such intimate grooming rituals. as the gel made contact with his strands, you felt a cool and smooth sensation tingling against your fingertips, heightening the sensory experience.

with precise movements, you began pulling the hair out from his hairline, brushing it towards you, allowing the gel to guide and shape each strand. the rhythmic dance between your finger and his hair created a tactile symphony, showcasing your control and finesse. the subtle resistance of the hair against your touch provided feedback that you relished, further immersing you in the moment.

however, this endeavor was about more than just tending to his edges; it had to be extraordinary. you understood that this opportunity might never come again, so you were determined to make it truly memorable. a flicker of inspiration sparked within you, warming your heart and fueling your creativity. you decided to put your heart into it.

continuing the sweeping motion, your finger glided along the edges, seamlessly blending and smoothing the gel with each stroke. you repeated the process with meticulous care, moving from one hair to another, ensuring a harmonious flow. when you reached his temple, a decision took shape. you divided the hairs into two distinct sections, applying the gel as you normally would. however, instead of sweeping them to the side, you gently smoothed them down, guiding them to face each other with an overexaggerated curve. the sensation of the gel-coated strands conforming to your touch brought a sense of satisfaction that words couldn't capture.

"perfect," you whispered under your breath, affirming your accomplishment with a contented smile.

the same process awaited the other side of his face. swiftly, you dipped the tip of the brush back into the gel, ensuring a fresh and generous coat for the opposite side. with deftness, you brushed the gel-soaked bristles down to his hair, feeling the slick texture of the gel melding with the strands. carefully, you laid the hair against the side of his head, relishing the tactile connection between brush, gel, and hair.

you gracefully swooped down the last bit of hair, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. it felt surreal, almost dreamlike, to witness the transformation you had achieved. slowly, you took a step back, feeling the corners of your mouth ache from the tightness of your grin. you observed your work with a keen eye, much like a painter admiring their canvas.

"done," you declared, your voice soft yet filled with a triumphant undertone.

bending down, you retrieved your purse, unzipping it and retrieving your phone. the anticipation in miles' gaze was palpable, as he eagerly awaited your permission to glance at the mirror.

"can i see the results?" he asked impatiently, his curiosity getting the better of him.

emerging from the floor, you tilted your head and regarded him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "nah, you gotta wait. this photo i'm about to take of you comes first," you spoke, relishing the suspense.

miles' face transformed into a slight pout at your words, the anticipation clear in his expression. you swiped right on your phone, opening the camera app, and positioned the focus on miles' face. the act of preparing to capture the moment added to the unreal experience, as you adjusted the settings and framed the shot.

"well, hurry up then cus’ i'm tryna see this masterpiece," miles urged, attempting to rush you. though he tried to conceal it, his eagerness to see your handiwork was unmistakable.

you couldn't help but notice that, despite his efforts to hide it, miles genuinely appreciated the care you put into styling his hair, just as he enjoyed when you attended to his skincare and other personal grooming routines. he couldn't deny that it made him feel special, particularly when it was you who took the time and effort to do it.

you shot him a cold, sidelong glance, effectively silencing his complaints.

"smile," you commanded with authority, expecting compliance. miles obliged with a soft smirk, clearly relishing the attention. however, this response irked you.

"hey, don't make this look like those instagram reels where them lash techs make their clients cry with crushed red eyes from the weight of them five pound lashes," you warned, your irritation seeping into your words. "i did you good, so don't make me repeat myself when i say smile."

your firm tone conveyed your insistence on capturing a genuine smile, free from any depressed or forced expressions.

miles adjusted himself, fixing his posture up straight and doing a cute little smile only a facebook mom could get out of their son.

“que lindo,” you added as your thumb kept tapping the photo button repeatedly, capturing as many shots as you could. it was an opportunity you had to seize.

once satisfied, you decided it was time. “okay,” you spoke as you went up on your tippy toes to put your hands over his eyes, wanting to do a surprise reveal. “you can look now.”

miles leaned down a little, lowering his tall figure to your height to make it easier for you to cover his eyes. you moved forward while still covering his eyes, urging him to follow as you propped him in front of the mirror.

you smiled to yourself as you looked at him through the reflection before without warning moving your hands down and revealing his reflection.

his mouth was agape as his eyes widened slightly. there were his edges, laid to perfection. you did them just as most looked, with graceful swoops to the side that perfectly blended to his braids. but there was a subtle difference at his temples, one that you did specifically for him. you felt a warm sensation in your abdomen as the butterflies fluttered against your stomach as you watched his lips curl into a knowing smirk followed by a chuckle. it was the hearts that got him. symmetrical to each side you had given him little hearts made from his baby hairs with the eco gel.

miles couldn't help but admire his reflection, marveling at the artistry and care that went into his edges. he ran his fingers gently over the intricate hearts, his embarrassment giving way to a sense of warmth and appreciation for your thoughtfulness.

"they actually… don’t look half bad," he finally managed to say, surprise and delight in his voice. "i’m almost mad that i kinda like it, lowkey."

you grinned, ignoring his “lowkey” comment and feeling a sense of pride in your handiwork. "i'm glad you like it even tho’ you had no other choice but to," you replied with a little giggle, unable to hide the satisfaction in your tone. "i wanted to do it a lil’ special for you."

as if on cue, the two of you instinctively reached for your phones, ready to capture the moment. you held up your phone and asked, "can we take a pic’ together?"

miles hesitated for a moment, a playful blush creeping onto his cheeks knowing you wanted to take another one of your pinterest worthy relationship goals photos to add to the album of you two. "well, i don't mind taking the photo, as long as you don’t go posting me as always," he said sheepishly. "i'm not tryna get clowned in the locker room because my girl wanna be funny."

you nodded understandingly, respecting his wishes. "c’mon, miles. i wouldn’t even do nothing like that," you assured him, wanting to make him feel comfortable.

with wide smiles and playful poses, the two of you snapped several adorable mirror selfies, capturing the joy and affection radiating between you. miles couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, grateful to have someone like you in his life to always keep it interesting and be there for him.

in his mind, he had acknowledged countless times that it was these moments, born out of the mundane and unexpected, that truly illuminated his love for you as his girlfriend. in those instances, he couldn't fathom the strangeness of a life without you by his side.

hours later, as you scrolled through your friends' instagram stories, you couldn't help but chuckle mischievously. miles had no idea what was coming. without thinking, you swiped left to make a post on your story and went to your camera. scrolling through the recents of your photos you found your favorited of the photos you and miles took. selecting a song of your choice, ranging from partynextdoor to had posted one of the mirror selfies, showcasing his impeccably styled edges and the sweet hearts adorning his temples.

it didn't take long for miles to notice. his phone buzzed with notifications, and curiosity piqued, he opened your story. his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the photo, his cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a hint of affectionate annoyance.

"yo," he exclaimed, a playful protest in his voice. "you said you wouldn't post it!"

you turned to him, a mischievous grin on your face. "who would i be if i didn’t flex our relationship goals on the story every now and then? crazy you even thought i was being for real about not posting," you replied, unable to hide your amusement. "don’t press me when we both look cute, especially you. everyone loved it anyway and the swipe ups are even better."

miles shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. deep down, he appreciated how you flaunted your relationship, knowing that it came from a place of love and admiration—knowing that if you could, you would show him to all of new york.

as the notifications continued to flood in, miles found himself instinctively snuggling up to your side, finding comfort in the warmth of your presence as you busily responded to all the messages you received. despite his stubborn facade, you knew deep down that miles wasn't upset in the slightest. in fact, you couldn't help but hope that this playful incident might soften him up, eventually granting you the opportunity to work your magic on his lashes next time.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

do u think u could right a fic about cg!house finding regressor!wilson small at work please??:00 thank u!!!

Here you go my friend!

-----

Word Count: 1138

Summery: House crashes Wilson's office during an overnight shift only to find that Wilson has been teetering on the edge of regressing. House gives him the nudge he needs and they make do with a bedtime routine in the hospital.

-----

House threw open the door to Wilson’s office. “Honey, I’m home!”

Wilson jumped in his chair and clutched at his chest. “Jesus, House! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing in here?”

He dropped down into the other chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk. “Oh, stop being dramatic. You’re not allowed to have a heart-attack on me, I came here to get away from dying-patient-duty.”

“You’re ditching your night-shift?” Wilson asked, like a disapproving mother about to take away his video games for cutting class. 

House rolled his eyes and snagged a trinket bobble-head from the desk. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of nurses. Unless, of course, you’re saying the nurses are incompetent.”

Wilson sputtered. “I— Wha—? No. Just— Whatever. I’ve got work to do.” 

“Yes, that was the point. I wouldn’t have come to see you if you weren’t here.” He said, “What, I can’t see my best friend, Wilson?”

Wilson didn’t engage him any further than a disinterested hum, and rubbed at his eyes with his fist before returning to his paperwork; most likely patient-related and why he was also taking a night shift at all. House cocked an eyebrow. Normally Wilson would banter with him for at least a little longer than that. It was only 1:30 AM, it wasn’t late enough for him to be as tired as he looked; all wound up and unfocused.

House gave the bobble-head an absent flick and watched Wilson intently as he flipped through the patient’s folder. Tight posture, shaky movements, eye-rubbing with his fists, speech avoidance. To any normal person, all mere symptoms of physical exhaustion and normal enough, but House knew better than that. 

“You’re doing that thing.” 

Wilson blinked, delayed, and looked up at him. “…What thing?” He asked. His tone was irritated, but voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“That thing. You’re regressing, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Wilson was sluggish even for an unplanned overnight stay at the office, and even though he was pretending to work, House doubted he was actually processing any of it. His eyes were staring right through his desk instead of at the page.

“What? No, I—“ Wilson cleared his throat and his voice returned to normal, “I’m not.”

“Uh huh. And you tell me that I repress my feelings. That’s pretty hypocritical, y’know.”

“I’m not regressed, House. I’ve got a job to do.” He insisted, and stubbornly returned to the file.

House flicked the bobble-head again. “I didn’t say you were regressed, I said you were regressing. There is a difference, but I don’t think toddlers learn that for at least a few more years so I’ll give you a pass.” 

He could feel Wilson glaring into the side of his head, but he elected to ignore it. After all, indulging children in tantrums only encouraged their behaviour, and he wouldn’t want that. He would just have to wait for Wilson to crack, because he always did. Given his defensiveness, he was probably trying to ignore the feeling before and House pestering him about it was only pushing him towards an inevitable drop. 

And just like he expected, it only took fifteen minutes for Wilson to give in, dropping his head to his desk with a disgruntled whine. House grabbed the phone and dialled the nurses station.

“Hello? This is Doctor Greg House. Doctor Wilson will be unable to oversee his patient tonight, he seems to have come down with the flu.” Wilson looked up at him with a pathetic attempt at a glare that turned out to be more of a pout. “Real nasty stuff, don’t ask. Have his patient reassigned to an on-call oncologist, thanks.” He hung up.

“Houssse…” Wilson whined.

“Wilsoonnn…” House whined back. “There. You’re officially cleared for the night, so how about we get ready to sleep now, hm? No offence kiddo, but you look pretty tired.”

“But… I wan’ed to get stuff done…” He mumbled, then shrunk down in his chair a bit more. “…an’ we can’t do bedtime here…” Wilson was almost inaudible, and House knew it would only be a matter of time before all he would be getting was head shakes and sounds from him. Wilson was right, to an extent. Even though House was skipping watching over the patient directly he couldn’t leave the hospital entirely, and Wilson couldn’t get home on his own, so they would just have to improvise something.

“Oh sure we can. We don’t have your jammies, but you can change out of your dress shirt and just wear your sweater. That’s pretty soft still, right?” 

Wilson shrugged. “Mm.”

“And while you do that, ol’ House will go down to the cafeteria and find you a night snack and you can sleep on the couch.”

“…Cookie?” Wilson asked softly, sleepy eyes hopeful and round like a baby deer, disgustingly sweet. How did he do that?

House chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. Get settled while I’m gone and see if you can find a book for me to read to you. I’ll be right back.”

He got up and hobbled down to the cafeteria. They stayed open to staff until three in the morning, which meant that he was easily able to place an order with the tired and disgruntled-looking cook for a coffee cup of warm milk and a package of digestive cookies. For his troubles he got a confused look from the employee, like he’d never heard of the concept of milk and cookies before bed, but it was delivered quickly nonetheless.

With his order in hand House made his way upstairs, stopping by a linen closet on the way back to grab a pillow and blanket. The balancing act was precarious, but he managed to get back to Wilson’s office without any spillage.

When he opened the door Wilson was sitting curled up on the couch, dress-shirt discarded from underneath his swearer, head lolled lazily on his knees, and a book sitting next to him. He looked ready to fall asleep at any second, but he perked up slightly when House walked in.

“Your cookies, and a cup of milk.” He set them down on the side table and dropped the blanket and pillow down on the free space on the couch, and sat down on the coffee table.

Wilson fumbled with the package of cookies for a moment before managing to tear them open, but once he did he ate them quickly, holding each one with two hands like a squirrel. Once he was finished his snack he pulled up the blanket around himself and wordlessly handed House the book he had chosen.

He took it and examined the cover. Charlotte’s Web. A very Wilson book.

“Good choice. I like this one too.” He said, and Wilson smiled sleepily, shuffling deeper into the cushions. “Chapter One: Before Breakfast…”

[fizziepopangel]

A Fizziepop Take: Let's talk about the (soon to be) ex-wife from hell

I’m not sure about everyone, but I personally have always loved villains and morally gray characters. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a lot of fucked up situations where no one was every really the “good guy”, not even the people I loved and trusted…. So I learned early on that bad guys aren’t always bad and even when they are, being bad isn’t always as bad as it seemed to be made out by everything on tv and in books. Having this way of thinking from a young age, it’s no surprise that some of my favorite characters in books and movies tend to be the villains. Now, as much as I love Stolas (and want his relationship with Blitz to work), I’ve kinda into Stella on this ‘I want my husband dead’ trip, and after watching “Western Energy” a few times, I think I figured out why and I can’t be the only one who feels like this, so let’s get into it!.

If you know how most villains are written and portrayed, a lot of them have some sort of reason for doing whatever fucked up thing they're doing. Sometimes the excuse is a tragic backstory, or an unrequited love, or a fear that they just don’t seem to deal with very well, or to gain power over another being/beings or even keep power they already have, in some cases mental illness is even villainized in the media (which sucks since it’s not always portrayed in a realistic manner when it’s used as a reason for someone being "villainous" and ends up stigmatizing an entire group of people who suffer from the illness in ways that aren’t dramatized for the entertainment of the masses.).... But all of these reasons tend to be on the list of the reasons the villain, and the audience, try to justify whatever messed up shit they’re doing…. But here’s the thing, sometimes a person doesn’t have a reason to be an absolute fucked up beyond repair, horrible person, they just like being that way. That’s what we see with Stella.

See, Stella doesn’t have a horrible tragic past to blame her cruelty on. Stolas never abused her, if anything he did his best to try to make their marriage work despite the abuse she put him through for what seems to be the entirety of their relationship. And it seems she’s never even had to smell poverty or what fear would smell like when it’s her own. As of right now, there is no reason for her cruelty that we can see except for pure enjoyment, with her even at one point telling Stolas "I like tormenting you!" when asked why she's still in his house despite having moved out pretty much completely at that point. She enjoys making Stolas’ life miserable and she hates the man enough that she tells her brother that she’d laugh when he dies and even has to be convinced to keep him alive to figure out how to get money from him since she’d likely get nothing when he dies. The woman has no regard for anyone’s life but hers unless she’s making someone else feel beyond miserable.... And, as much as I love Stolas, I love the cruelty Stella processes and how she seems to aim it all toward him, especially because she doesn’t in anyway try to hide the fact that she’s an evil bitch and she doesn't even try to. Whether she’s telling her husband that she likes making him miserable or badmouthing him to friends and family with him standing a few feet away, or even giddily admitting to her brother that she’s hired the assassin that kidnapped and off her husband, the woman has zero shame and as easy as it is to dislike her for actively hurting a fan favorite character, the sheer size of Stella’s metaphorical balls makes me love her. Despite being a ditzy, bitchy ex-wife and a bad mother from what most of us believe, and her literally torturing one of my favorite characters for sheer pleasure, Stella has earned a spot as one of my favorite villains, and moved up in the ranking of my favorite Helluva Boss antagonists. 

The woman is a horrible, cold hearted, monster on the levels she’s been placed on within the show and it's literally shown that it's been that way since she was a child…. And I think that’s what makes her such a good character despite her being written very flatly otherwise. Viv made Stella a character that’s so easy to love to hate, which is something I believe every show needs. I think that’s awesome considering so many people still think that a villain needs to be made; forged in tragedy, warped by trauma, and bathed in fear and heartbreak when in reality, cruelty isn’t always something people are gifted through bad experiences. As much as we hate to admit it, some people just enjoy the way cruelty tastes and hate the way happiness looks on someone who isn’t them. Stella is a wonderful example of a villain who chose to be the way they are just because they find amusement in it. Nothing else. And call me crazy, but I love that for her and I want to see more scenes like in “Western Energy” where you can see that she knows what she’s doing isn’t just cruel, but villainous and she enjoys it. But like every post I make ranting and over analyzing the fictional world of imps and hellhounds and all of this, this is just a Fizzie take on things I probably spend too much time thinking about. But let me know what you think about Stella, and villains in general. It’s always a topic I’m down to see different perspectives and opinions on.

[just-walk-around]

I don't read or watch the twilight saga, I only have seen some parts. But I love fanfics, I twilight fanfics are part of all the group of shows that I like. But my queer ass prefer a platonic relationship than romantic between Bella and Edward. WLW and MLM is the best friendship ever.

Edward (sad, dramatic, repressed hundred years old but still mentally teenager gay): I'M A MONSTER, AN ABOMINATION THE WORST, GOD WILL NEVER OPEN THE DOORS TO HEAVEN FOR ME.

Bella (kinda depressed, sarcastic, weird, grow up to fast, absolute disaster lesbian): DUDE, IS JUST A FUCKING SPIDER!

Bella x all female vampire (except esme that woman is her mother figure you can't change my mind) is delicious.

Alice? Friends to lovers, calm gf and too much energy gf, "sweast and t shirt is enough" "as your future wife I have full right to change your clothes" "my Future Fucking what?!" "opps spoilers" , oh you are weird I weird too! Besties!

Rosalie? Rival to lovers, tsundere gf and oblivious gf, "I fucking hate you" "oh, then what you buy me a new car?" "BECAUSE THAT SHITTY TRUCK HURT MY EYES", family intervention because they Will never get together otherwise "I'm not jealous!"You just make a boy cry because he told her how nice her hair looked!" "wow your sister is beautiful but she is a bitch, just because she is hot and smart and have a pretty smile and..." "Bells just ask her out this is painful to watch" "I don't love her!" "Bella take a moment to think about everything that happened between you two, EVERYTHING and tell me again that you don't love her" "I.. *processing information" "HOLY FUCK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR SISTER""Congratulations you are THE LAST TO KNOW IT! "

Any of the Denali trio ? Teacher x student, "I have met this human for one second now I love her I will provide everything for her I will make her happy Fucked up!Edward stay away", patient gf with hurt gf.

Victoria or any volturi girl? Enemy to friends to lovers, reluctant gf and resigned gf, denial, denial and more denial, the bad guys are actually doing good things, "I will never fall in love with you" "I have all the time of the world darling". Unhealthy relationship going to healthy relationship.

The other vampire clans? The possibilities are endless!.

PLUS PAPA BEAR CHARLIE JUS GOING FULL SUPPORTIVE,HE COULD EITHER BE PUTTING RAINBOWS STICKERS IN HIS CLOTHES, "YES SIR I LOVE NY GAY DAUGHTER DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT" OR HAVING NO IDEA HOW TO GO ABOUT IT, "So you like tits? I like tits too! I mean, uh" "did you need um you know advice? About you know?" "dad please you are killing me" the best Is that he wouldn't care if his daughter is dating a vampire BUT THEY ARE SO OLD, HE WOULD BE LOOKING THINKING IS THIS PREDATORY BEHAVIOR? AND BELLA BEING LIKE DAD WE JUST ARE HOLDING HANDS There will not be a shotgun he will buy a freaking flamethrower he will spend all his money for a fishing boat to buy it. Because God dammit he is a dad trying his best!.

Edward x Jacob? Enemy to friends to lovers, cross lovers, cat bf x dog bf, homophobic Edward, denial denial and more denial, supportive cullens or slightly homophobic because of their differents ages trying their best to overcome their views for their son/brother, VS the pack "my imprint is a boy" "That's okay we love you and support you anyway"" he is a vampire""WHAT THE FUCK YOU SAY?! EXILE FOR JACOB, EXILED FOR HUNDRED OF YEARS"

Edward x Emmett? I get us in trouble bf and I get us out of trouble bf, calm bf and too much energy bf, grumpy cat bf and dumb bear bf, "babe what animal is the pink panther?" "dear, is in the name" "I think is a lion" "love of my life is a panther" "I Google it panther aren't pink" "AND FUCKING LIONS ARE?" "You do something stupid again don't you" "no, I just think he will like some roses for his room and a new piano" "sure"

Edward x jasper? Learning together to live with overwhelming powers and the guilt of our decisions and mistakes.

And just for the shit of it, Edward x Aro, Carlisle going FULL PAPA BEAR ON IT.

Like it could go the hurt/comfort route or the comedic route and it will be amazing.

[book51ut]

TW: abuse/ sexual assault

Ok im chronically on TikTok and very invested in the Brooke/ Clinton Kane thing for more than just spectatorship reasons. First of all all of the people who have moved from “Brooke’s side” to “Clinton’s side” after he posted his 20 something part story I am so envious of because they have never been in an abusive relationship. When I was 16 I was in an abusive relationship and EVERYTHING that happened echos exactly what it was like for me, it is textbook abuse. Ugh there’s so much I want to say this is going to be disorganized.

I think that part of the reason that people don’t come forward with abuse is because they are ashamed of the way they acted in response to their abuse. Crazy behavior begets crazy behavior, and when someone is psychologically abusing and torturing you and you just take it, you’re not in the best headspace and you often say and do things that are not the nicest, kindest, most responsible ways to act or respond. And it’s embarrassing. Especially if you’re not a narcissist and have a soul and empathy like most survivors of abuse do (and most abusers lack). Abusers prey on low self esteem and they cause you to act in ways that lower your self esteem. I’ve said cruel things, done cruel things. I’m not proud of it. But as I’ve gotten older and dealt with the trauma of that relationship and the impact it still has on me today, I’ve realized that it is nearly impossible to respond to insanity with clarity. I’m not a saint, above it all. I’m a human being who was being abused. I responded in kind. That doesn’t mean that it was just “toxic all around” or that I was “equally as abusive.” I think people say things like that when victims/survivors of abuse don’t respond to it “perfectly.” But all that does is shift some of the blame from the victim to the survivor.

The second thing is like a lot of people don’t talk about abuse because it can be REALLY hard to realize that abuse is happening. It is small things, even individual phrases, that compound and create something sinister. And it can take years to process and unpack it all. I didn’t realize I was sexually assaulted until 3 years after, when I woke up and randomly just remembered it. I know The Body Keeps the Score is such a cliche book but it literally does. Your body makes you forget things. Part of the reason I don’t talk more about the abuse I endured is because I have forgotten, remembered, and reforgotten it. Trauma fucks with your memory. Brooke doesn’t remembered that he got stopped by the cops going to vs from Joshua Tree. And all of a sudden not remembering that detail throws suspicion on her claim. That’s fucking trauma. Manipulators are especially good at pointing those inconsistencies out, shifting the blame off of them, and furthering your OWN feeling of insecurity and feelings of “craziness” that your abuser planted in your head.

I didn’t watch his million part thing because it was so triggering for me. It reminded me SO much of what I experienced 7 years ago, with similar wording. It is really truly amazing how many women go through TEXTBOOK emotional abuse. This is something I only learned during this seven year journey of healing. This was something that was pointed out online but it is really so true- some many women experience this abuse and so many people start to “change sides” because they just don’t realize how common this truly is. And they don’t realize how common this truly is because women are shamed and discouraged from sharing their stories. They are called gossips, dramatic, obsessed, and “yappers.” Men discourage women from forming these networks by pitting us against each other with these words and the connotations behind them.

I’m really only scratching the surface on these thoughts, but obviously my commentary on this has no real practical value.

I hope Brooke is able to find some peace, and that Clinton rots in hell for abusing these women and sending his mother to an early grave.

[aelinschild]

TWO - ROWAN

Holding Me Like Water In Your Hands

Main Masterlist | HMLWIYH Masterlist

And its time for chapter two! I'm in the process of creating a masterlist and mood boards along for this series, so look out for that! Anyways, please enjoy, and feel free to let me know your thoughts! :)

SYNOPSIS:A cross continental move forces Aelin Galathynius to open her eyes wider than before, and at the doors of Terrasen's most exclusive and expensive private high school, she realizes her life is flowing through her. And if she wants to make the most of her life, she needs to grab onto something. Or maybe someone. WORDCOUNT: 1.3k GENERAL WARNINGS: Language, Drug use, Alcohol, Allusion to sex/intimacy, Brief descriptions of sexual assault, Domestic violence, Very severe angst, Messy Divorces (More to be added)

The air is hot, and beads of sweat roll down my back. My ratty t-shirt does little to hide the sweat, and the working overalls only add another layer to this heavy Orynth heat. 

Terrasen’s weather is well known for being difficult. Freezing winters and withering summers, dramatic rainstorms, or weeks of fog. All part of the routine. I roll out from underneath the car I'm working on. Three out of the four garage doors are propped open, and the AC is coughing up air, it's not cold, but at least it keeps the air moving.

I wipe my grease-stained hands onto my overalls and reach for the filter I need. After I switch this out, then refill the oil, ill be done for the day, and I can hear the creek behind my house beckoning me. 

I work in the Elia, one of Orynth’s more reliable garages. And technically my labour is illegal, but being good friends with the Ashryvers comes with perks. Like a job. And I’m the lucky one, because Aedion doesn't even get paid. Gavriel took pity on me years ago, and I've been working here since, trying to cushion my pockets a little more. 

The office doors bangs open, disturbing the fragile silence of the room.“Yo,” the devil himself shouts from the other side of the garage. “Dad says you’re good to go if you want. Just stop by the office. He got your moneyyy.” Aedion shouts, humour lining his tone.

It's a running joke, I get paid under the table until I'm sixteen, and Aedion gets nothing. He likes to pretend he’ll tell some sort of authority on me, but Gavriel shuts that down pretty fast. 

I snort and roll back under the car. I can hear him banging around somewhere. I move through the motions quickly, tasks like this have become second nature to me at this point. 

I was eleven when Gavriel recruited me to his small team of mechanics. Aedion and I constantly were getting into scraps at primary school, and my adopted parents and Gavriel thought a job might help me ease my overactive mind and raging hormones. The past few years have been mostly instruction and learning. Small projects and being the glorified maid for the older guys, but I'm beyond grateful for Gav’s direction. 

My family and I aren't rolling in money, and it pained me when I would hear them up at night pouring over overdue bills, attempting to budget and still support Oliver, my adopter father’s medical bills. There was nothing I could do as an eleven-year-old boy, but now I'm fourteen and I make ten dollars an hour. Which magically make their way into Myra, my adopted mother’s, pockets each Sunday. 

I fill the oil, and toss the empty bottles into the trash. Dragging a cloth from my overalls across my forehead, I close the hood of the car with one hand and begin to clean up my station. I may not be as good as the older guys, but I'm meticulous about cleaning. Gavriel approves, Aedion calls me anal. I walk my things over to the tool bench and put them away. Elia Ashryver stares at me from her perch on the wall. The photo of her, in the signature Elia red overalls, tattoos lining her arms, and elbow-deep in grease, shines from its spot. 

Gavriel and Elia Ashryver started this garage decades ago, but it was Elia who roped Gav into it. She was a wild child. The black sheep of her family. Apparently, she was decorated in ink before Gav had even met her in mechanical school. She was top of her class, knowing how to repair anything with an unnatural efficiency. Machines were second nature to her. And Gavriel fell head over heels in love with the cunning woman and post-graduation, the two were hitched and opening their own garage together. Elia’s expertise was the best in Orynth. And their business bloomed. Soon she was pregnant, and the asshole I call my friend was born. 

I've heard the story recited over and over from Gav, who revers his wife, but the end of her story was harder to get out of him. Elia struggled after Aedion’s birth. Her Post-Partum Depression lasted longer than the doctor said it might, and she became a different person. She struggled to bring herself out of bed, be with her child, or work with the machines she once loved. And Gav was so caught up in running a business and caring for his son, that he missed the warning signs. Elia Ashryver ended up overdosing not eight months after Aedion was born. 

Her picture never collects dust.

I shut the drawers, and make my way to the office, the red overalls I wear drag slightly on the ground around the heels of my work boots. I'll grow into them eventually. I see Aedions boots underneath a Ford Raptor, which is unsurprisingly back for the fourth time in six weeks. 

“Turn on the radio on your way out!” He shouts.

“Kay,” I flick the dial and the room fills with the familiar static of the ancient radio, landing on a more common channel playing the ‘top hits’. I recognize the new song from The Archeron Sisters.  

Aedions shitty singing fills the room, and I hastily make my way to Gav’s office before I permanently lose my hearing. I rap my knuckles on the frosted door. 

“Come in,” The voice inside shouts. 

I push the door open, and I'm hit with the heat of the room. “Gods Gav, this place is like a sauna,” I say as I trudge over to the shelf that holds my cash.  

He laughs and runs his hands through his shoulder-length hair. “I heard it's good for the skin, keeps me young, or something.” I laugh and turn to face him after I've slipped the cash into my back pocket. 

Gavriel’s a handsome man for all the weight he carries. One might think you'd find the lines of his grief over his face, but it's fitted with wrinkles from all the smiling he does. Somehow, Elia’s death doesn't really haunt him, or this garage. How he does it, ill never know. 

He leans back and appraises me. 

“You look taller than the last time I saw you,” He muses.

“Taller than yesterday?” I smile.

“Maybe a foot of height?”

“Sure Gav” 

“Bigger too, been lifting?”

I roll my eyes. “Nope.”

“You gonna join the rugby team? Aedion’s been crawling up the walls with excitement to start.” He shifts forward, tawny eyes boring into me. 

I shift in place, uncomfortable. “I’ll see.”

“You’re nervous to go to ORHS, arent you?” He states. 

“I'm not nervous.” I scoff. 

We stare at each other. And I wait for him to call me out on my bullshit. Sometimes I think Gavriel knows me better than I know myself. He just hums and nods. 

“CUSTOMER!” Aedion bellows from the garage. 

Gav rises from the worn leather chair. “Go home kid. I'll see you next week.” He says as he passes by me and wanders out of the office. 

I sigh, and turn to the other door that leads to the break room and staff parking lot just outside. Swiping a stale donut off the countertop, I trudge over to my pickup truck that's days away from being impounded into some dinosaur museum. Stuffing my face, I hop in and drive home.

[callofthxvoid]

WHO: Karma Free and Quill Harker

SUMMARY: Karma has no idea who Quill is. Quill knows exactly who Karma is. Drama ensues.

QUILL's not really expecting much from this conversation if he's honest. She never came back and it's been more than a decade, but if there was one thing he'd learn from his father it was to cover his bases. He'd kept an eye out for her, she'd finally gone off on her own and he waited a bit before standing next to her and taking a drag from his cigarette. They were near the edge of the lake but far enough no one would hear what they'd say. "So do I call you Nicole or Karma?"

KARMA practically froze in place when she heard the name Nicole. She didn't mind people knowing it, but she did mind when she wasn't the one who had told them. In an instant, the comfortable, carefree Karma was replaced by a tense copy who just barely turned her head to look at who was speaking to her. "Well, one is my legal name, and the other one is what my mother called me," she replied, looking back at the lake and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll let you guess which one I prefer."

QUILL raised a brow at the quick change in personality, then again he'd only briefly seen her all those years ago in person. She'd been a lot more timid, nothing like the wild child he'd seen in town. There was something ironic in that, she likely have fit well with their group, but unluckily for her, Cosima didn't share the spotlight with anyone. "Karma then," he said shrugging, really was all the same to him, "Doubt you remember me. We saw each other for maybe all of 5 seconds if I'm generous. I'm Quill, I'm friends with Cosima."

KARMA's entire expression and demeanour changed when he dropped the name that made it clear how she knew him, or more accurately, how he knew her. Suddenly, she wasn't twenty seven years old and at a lake party with her family and close friends—she was fifteen years old and standing in the home of a man who didn't want her, with nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. "What do you want?" she asked, looking back at Quill. What a stupid fucking name. "I doubt Cosima sent you to talk to me."

QUILL hummed, exhaling and watching the smoke drift off as he glanced back at the festivities. He was letting her have her moment to process, people were usually easier to talk to when they didn't look like they'd just been hit by a cattle prod. Meeting Karma's gaze after a moment he shrugged, "No she didn't, she's not aware you're even here, yet," he said. Maybe it was being a twin that had him giving her a brief once over, idly wondering how alike if at all the two might be. "From you? Nothing in particular, I'm just being courteous. This town isn't exactly large, you're bound to run into each other eventually." Pausing he mused over a thought he'd had since arriving and poking around, "This town seems to thrive off that, the dramatics of it all, but you don't particularly seem the type for some confrontation. So consider this an olive branch to let you process whatever you need to."

KARMA raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing as she looked back at the lake. She tightened her arms around her chest. "Well, guess that's unsurprising, you people never want anything from me other than to make me go away," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the ground and kicking a stray rock into the water. She hated feeling at a disadvantage. Since becoming a private investigator, she was usually the one who had all the information, and it hadn't occurred to her until now how comforting that was. "You're right, I'm not one for dramatics, so you don't have to worry about me causing a scene or anything. I have no intention of speaking to Cosima or anyone she associates with. I have my own family. I don't need her, and I certainly don't need you." She looked up at Quill. "How long have you been watching me?"

QUILL was tempted to correct her, that it really had made no difference to him, that it was Cosima's family's decision. He tilted his head watching the ripples of the water, giving a hum of acknowledgement as she spoke. "None of us really have the option of going away," he said shrugging. Taking his cigarette he lifted his shoe to extinguish it on the bottom before tucking it away into his pocket. "I didn't think you did, but like I said. Small town, you're bound to run into each other, least now it's not a surprise?" Meeting her gaze he tilted his head back in thought, "Mm about 2 weeks, and not so much watching. People in this town really do love to talk, it's a bit unnerving honestly," he said shaking his head. He paused glancing back at the crowds of people then back at her, "I didn't come here to start anything with you. Like you said, you have a family and you seem happy. I have nothing to gain from making you unhappy, if you want a list of who all we came with, I can give you one."

KARMA was aware that Quill was being perfectly polite. But that didn't stop her from being on edge, and it didn't stop her from feeling wildly uncomfortable at the thought that he had been asking around about her, or her family, for the past two weeks. She briefly wondered if this was how anyone she had investigated in the past had felt. "You didn't come here to start anything with me, but you have been talking to random people in town about me for two weeks," she answered, clearly keeping her guard up. "Apologies if I'm not immediately breathing a sigh of relief at your reassurances." She paused, taking a moment to think, before letting out a defeated breath and shrugging. "Why do you even care? I did what he asked. I stayed away. I even changed my name. I have no interest in him, or any kind of inheritance from him, and there is nothing out there that links me to either." She stared at Quill with a raised eyebrow. "I'm assuming that's who you really answer to. I can't think of why else you would bother paying attention to me."

"You were a talented private investigator, you know these things aren't personal," QUILL replied with a shrug, "You also know how quickly people can change their minds, especially when it involves familial ties." He paused for a moment to actually consider her questions, glancing out at the lake and kicking his own rock out. "I'm not particularly fond of making people miserable. I prefer to avoid conflict when I can," he finally said after a beat and meeting her gaze. "To be frank you for all intents and purposes were here first, in a way we're intruding on your home. I know how they act and are, I'm not making excuses for that, I'm just personally not a fan of acting like I own the place when I clearly don't. Seems only fair to let you know about us instead of being in the dark and seeing us in town." He made a half and half motion with his hand, "Half correct, my father is the one who likes covering his bases. Yours seems to follow the philosophy of out of sight out of mind," grimacing for a second, "Sorry that could have been more tactful."

In spite of herself, KARMA listened to everything that Quill had to say. Obviously she was a talented private investigator, but she didn't expect that compliment to come from him; and even if she was miffed at the insinuation that she would ever change her mind about her familial ties, she could recognise that he was making a good point in general. The biggest surprise, however, was that he had such an enlightened attitude to the privilege Cosima and people of her ilk carted around along with their giant egos and platinum credit cards. "Well, thank you for the heads up, I guess," she replied, her arms slowly loosening across her chest before she dropped them entirely and shuffled closer. When she turned back to look at Quill, her expression was a lot less antagonistic; not friendly, just not actively hostile. "And you're fine. I prefer honest over tactful anyway. I appreciate you talking to me like I'm a person with a brain." She paused. "Most people don't."

QUILL stayed where he was despite her moving closer to him, it was her call how friendly this ended up being, if it simply remained civil he'd consider it a successful conversation. A person could be reasonable, it was why he preferred one on one interactions. His eyebrows raised in surprise for the first time, now the one caught off guard. "Is that a fault of theirs or intentional on your part?" He asked genuinely curious, it wasn't like he'd never used the rich boy act to get past things. "Though I guess I'm not like most people, neither are you really," he mused out loud, bending down to grab a rock and flick it towards the lake, "You're likely one of the few in this town whose had a similar enough career to my own. It be insulting to both of us if I tried to speak to you any other way."

KARMA shrugged. "A little of column A, a little of column B," she replied, turning to watch as the rock hit the lake and rippled out. "A homeless fifteen year old would have to be a genius to track down her biological father with nothing to go on but the date, time, and hospital she was born at. But it always seems to work out better for me when people don't see me that way." She looked back at Quill and offered him a curious look—not necessarily interest, or intrigue, but a step up from the indifference that had replaced her initial anger and defensiveness. "Uh-huh. Right. Did you also go from a hacker to a private investigator to a bartender?" In spite of herself, there was a playful amusement to her tone.

"And humble to boot," QUILL said shaking his head even he had an amused smile as he flicked another rock. Snorting he shrugged, "No I went from professional bodyguard to glorified babysitter to a stock worker. Truly this town was an upgrade for my career," he said shaking his head again. Vaguely he could feel a pair of eyes on him, sneaking a glance and seeing her brother occasionally glancing at them. Past him though he could see the next person on his list to speak with. "I do have someone else I need to speak with, thank you for being willing to talk. I can't promise anything but I'll try and keep them all out your hair," he said giving her a small nod.

KARMA actually laughed at that. Granted, it was more of a snort than a laugh, but it was still the closest she had gotten to feeling anything but dread during their whole conversation. "Wow, you make my career sound lucrative," she quipped back with a small smirk, and there was a little bit of relief in starting to feel like herself again. She followed his gaze to Neptune and gave her brother a small wave as if to say that she was fine. "You didn't really give me much of a choice, but sure, you're welcome," she replied, looking back at Quill. "I'd say it was nice to meet you, but I already told you I prefer honesty over tactfulness, so I won't." She pushed past him and started walking back to her own crew before pausing and looking over her shoulder. "Hey, if we do run into each other in the future, guess it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. You're... Interesting. I'll give you that."

[katyahina]

Quick Caryll headcanons update!

Alright, a few months ago I've made a post where I doodled all Byrgenwerth scholars I could possibly think of, but I've decided to change my ideas a bit in the end! Basically, I turned one character into two! So here is the changed post with the full cast and quick rundown: ( x )

More detail on why the change under cut though!

Long ago, when I just gotten into Bloodborne, my first vision of the character Caryll was of a red haired man who also was an artist. Even in one of those stereotypical berets, all that. Then I learned Caryll was ungendered name, so I opened up to potential of female character instead (really love to have more of those). And it was also around that time when I figured the potential of Caryll as the inspiration for the statue with a stitch on her forehead we see just behind Memory Altar - as well as Witch of Hemwick! We find Runes Workshop tool on a tied up corpse in Hemwick that appears to have bled and surrounded by many paper sheets, that made me think of experimenting on him to find out how many runes can human brain memorize at once before it explodes. Turns out only four, and that's my justification for in lore how everyone knows to not hold more than four in mind at once.

So for a while she was one of the witches and sole person responcible for runes - both having deciphered language of Great Ones, and then having brain surgery to 'speed up' process of receiving inhuman information! That dramatically shortened her lifespan and thus Old Hunters (and Church's prospectors too) revered her as a great help for their grave robbing- errr, exploration of the Chalice Dungeons! Hence why same statues are in the dungeons too.

Later though I found out that in Japanese original, character Caryll has legitimately masculine name - Karel, variant of Charles. ( x ) I myself use japanese script a lot but it never occured to me to check kanji of names so that was... a late discovery. Now I check names and titles too and it only was useful (especially with proper name of Kos thing). That didn't sit very well with that super female figure martyr mother teresa something vibe of the statue I copied Caryll from, nor with witch idea... Yet it still made a lot of sense to connect Hemwick stuff to it.

So I was lost on what to do, and then I remembered the very old instant impression of the redhead artist man and... It finally made sense to me! So I guess I just... knew something before I KNEW it?

So yeah, now Runes are joint effort of two people! :) Caryll is an artist from Cainhurst that also drew all those portraits, and had enough archiological education and talent to figure out an alphabet of Great Ones that even others could be taught to envision their own personal runes (ie Ludwig and Adeline). He saw very big potential in it as such language is exempt of the flaws of human languages and errors in verbal communication! People could even communicate their OWN thoughts and feelings to someone else without misunderstandings or language barriers - like how League's rune allows Valtr to let others see HIS understanding of what evil is and who has it. He also was slightly biased because he was hardly eloquent at all, and only felt like he could express himself in visual art. x)

Meanwhile, the witch was more of the "inventor" person that found a way to utilize Runes and created tools and means for exchanging them very effectively between people, without any divine Insight by brain fluid needed! Possibly worked on combining runes with ancient bells to basically create Arcane version of cellphones x) By getting literal eyes in her brain, she was able to receive significant amount of information that Caryll was able to perceive and write down too! Within lore, being close to a person who is seeing a Rune could make you see it too. Since it killed the witch quick, she was honored as martyr in the workshop for her sacrifice for the progress.

I now call her Carolee, but funny enough? Runesmith is mistranslation as well, because in the original it is 'Transcriptor Karel'. So basically Caryll is, indeed, transcriptor, meanwhile Carolee is, indeed, runeSMITH. Because tools and stuff. Had it not been too hard to bounce between general english speaking fandom and people who dwell on Japanese original as much as I do, I'd just call them Caryll and Karel instead! But yeah although similar names situation happens (like Adella and Adeline), that'd just be too confusing, so I gave her just a name that is variant of Caryll (and not variant of Karel!) similar enough, to still have connection to her previous version!

SO yeah, thanks anyone who read this short story! xD It just feels right for me, besides I feel like it'd be just bad to waste that redhead artist who came to me like a muse over a translation mistake... Like, sorry guy, you can't exist because I didn't bother to check the names extra time? It is like he saught me to let him exist, and I want him to have this chance! :) Just personal creator's intuition bias, don't mind me.

[spit-out-the-dust]

I was this open with my mother and her response was to tell me she was sorry for “my feelings” and then went on to tell me that when I’m “healthy again” she’s here to talk.

I want to remember this. When I start writing my book this may be chapter one.

Most people do not stop to think about how a victim feels after something happens. Usually it is due to selfishness but the reality is that unless you go through something yourself there are often times you may never know what that person feels. My entire life I have made excuses for people because of this very thing. I have sat down across from mothers in shock as they learn that a man they thought they knew, a man they thought they loved, was touching their child at night and then making love to them later. I have sat and cried with these mothers. I have made excuses for these mothers and as I work each and every case that I have worked I have seen the difference between the mothers who truly cared for their children and then the mothers who were completely incapable of caring for their children. The difference was simple. What did they do with the information that was provided for them. Did they make excuses and call their children liars, or try to find a reason why their child would make the claim that they made, or would they stand behind their child although still covered in shock and fight for them and be the saving grace that child so desperately needs.

October 14th 2023 changed my life forever because not only did something traumatic happen to me but that started the day that all of the walls I had built up around myself came crashing down as the secrets started to unveil and unravel.

You say you want to know what happened and I can’t quite figure out if you truly are so caught up like I was in the web of lies and deceit and the desire so desperately to believe that we all grew up healthy, or if this is just another manipulation tactic that you don’t even realize that you do where you don’t actually care what my response is you just want to be able to show the world, the family, yourself even, that you care when in reality you lost that ability probably when you were a child going through the trauma that you went through yourself. The trauma you never spoke of. The secrets you also kept hidden deep inside of you.

But I will go ahead and speak. Maybe because it is cathartic. Maybe because my therapist is right and deep down I so desperately want a connection with my mother that I am willing, was willing, to live in complete and utter ignorant bliss as long as I did.

But please know, that the decisions I have been making are for one person and one person alone. I don’t think there is hope for me. My therapist thinks there is and maybe because it is so overwhelming being hit with so much in such a short period of time that I am being dramatic, but these decisions are not for me because deep down I don’t have hope for me.

They are for Rylei. Because I have hope in her. I have hope in the fact that our family curse will stop with her. 200 years from now everyone will look back and they won’t remember before Rylei. Those deepest darkest parts of our family, I hope, to erase.

I also understand that most of this will not even be seen, or heard, or truly read and processed. I am learning that you appear to be incapable of seeing anyone else’s side of things. incapable of apologizing, and incapable of giving the support that any of us have ever needed and as my heart hurts for the child in you that obviously did not have that yourself (generational trauma at its finest) I can’t allow the emotions of my heart to affect my decisions anymore. I have to start using my brain.

The day that I was sexually assaulted by Dillon was a day that I still have nightmares about. Not even just what he did, and although my grandfather states it is not a big deal because he did not “rip off my clothes”, which I gather he got from you, my mother, who seems to have turned the whole family against me while you sit over and do what you do best. Play victim and take absolutely no responsibility for literally ANYTHING. But either way, I have nightmares. The dreams play out so differently. For instance the best is the dream I have where I did not consistently hit Dillon and get him to stop. In one dream I simply freeze while he continues doing what he was trying to do.

Then my memory goes back to that day. The day that I was truly a victim and my own family was incapable of treating me like one. At one point you blamed me. You actually stated that you told me I should not have went by myself as though I was supposed to know that my brother would want to sexually touch me in any way. The whole thing is just astounding when I think back. But moving on.

I realized as I cried myself to sleep most of that weekend and your response to that was to, once again, play the victim, and make it about you and how I hurt your feelings. I realized then that something was very wrong and that was when I truly believe that God started to step in.

It started with my first few memories that I talked to Loren about. Of course Loren so desperately wants the acceptance of you that she is not willing to take a stand for herself and I can’t change that, but I also have anger in my heart towards Loren because although I forgot most of it, she did not and she allowed my daughter to be around your husband.

I know about Mike. I remember back then. I remember Loren making allegations and I remember you blaming the drugs. And after this I spiraled down. You always did that. When loren made allegations against Scott and clearly there was something wrong it was “loren is possessed by demons” then as Loren came forward about Mike French kissing her it was “well loren is on drugs” there were always excuses to keep family secrets just that, secrets. It is interesting to me that everyone wants to start going to church now and I get it, you feel attacked and you feel like you are the victim and you always cling to God when you feel yourself spiraling down, but God’s word clearly talks about justice and true forgiveness is taking responsibility. So unless Mike is able to take responsibility for what he did to Loren that means he has not changed and I will not risk Rylei.

Then from there therapy started helping me realize some things. I realize exactly why I am the way that I am. I even realize why loren is the way she is. No WONDER she does not like penis!! Look at what EVERY penis in her life did to her. No wonder she has such significant trauma and can’t escape it. She can’t truly heal because she is always blamed for remembering things, so she allows all of this trauma of what these adults did to her to stay inside of her. It is why she can’t heal. You cannot heal with things festering inside of you. You turn to drugs. Alcohol. Anything to drown out the demons within.

Or you become a monster. Like Dillon.

She reached out to me. Dillon actually reached out to her and it triggered her so much that she, as a victim, started having nightmares and flashbacks and she reached out to me. I remember more clearly things about when Dillon made the front page. Kacy. I thought they were just pictures. I was told so many lies about how Dillon did not know this girl’s age as he at 19 decided to sexually engage with a 14 year old CHILD.

But I have the texts. I have seen everything. And you knew. You knew. You allowed him around Rylei and you stood behind in him in court. A monster.

What Dillon did to me, is on you. Not me.

And the worst part? I stood behind him too. I don’t know if I will ever forgive myself for that. For going to court and VOUCHING FOR HIM and putting MY NAME ON THE LINE. I will make up for it every day of my life as I keep helping children like Kacy put bad guys like Dillon away. It is my new life mission. To make up for the fact that I believed EVERYTHING YOU EVER SAID.

And now I’m realizing that, I’m not sure what is actually wrong with you. Maybe you have a personality disorder. Maybe you can just sit around and blame nana for everything that happened to you as a kid, but the truth is you became mamaw Riddley and you had full control over it. And I will NOT be you. I will NOT make excuses. It will stop here.

Then the attacks started coming. From papaw. From Tiffany. And you sit over there and you play the victim and honestly it has built up so much anger in me that I’m not even entirely sure if I will ever be able to forgive you. Papaw sending me scripture like a false prophet because I chose to do the RIGHT THING and for Dillon to be held accountable for his actions.

And head trauma? REALLY MOM. So first it was psychosis. Now it is head trauma. You know what? It honestly does not matter why he did what he did. He did it. Does not matter why he FUCKED A 14 YEAR OLD CHILD. He still did it.

And God says we are held accountable for our actions. I forgive Dillon. Because he experienced a life tragically as Loren and I did. You’re at fault for him being a monster. You knew at 19 years old that he needed help and you covered it up.

But forgiving someone does not mean “letting it go” it does not mean you turn your back on the truth. I have a DUTY to protect other people. I have a duty to those children who were running around the apartment complex. I had a duty to Sculla. I have a duty to Kacy. Macy. All the girls. All the victims.

I don’t know how all of you sit over there and choose to hide in your secrets but I can’t do it. I will pick justice every time.

And now that I am remembering things I realize that you know more than anyone mom.

It’s funny. I look back and try to figure out why I was so blinded. But you do this to everyone. I have never heard you apologize without some sad story behind the apology to where in the end I END UP apologizing.

Fletcher was the problem. Scott was the problem even though you knew how fucked up he was before you married him. Sharon is always the problem. Nana is always the problem. Tiffany is the problem. Mike is the problem (although don’t even get me started there because man number two you have covered for while he harms your children). You sit over there and you cry and you blame LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

And I will not let Rylei be around that. You know what is sad? I’m not even entirely sure Rylei has not been touched. I have no idea if Dillon ever did anything to her as a baby. Hell, I don’t even know if MIKE did anything to her as a baby.

I don’t know anything anymore. But I’m getting all of my memories back.

So you can go to church. You and papaw can keep sending me scripture and you can keep taking the Lord’s name in vain.

But you want me back in your life? Then it’s time you take a long hard look in the mirror and take responsibility and maybe go to therapy YOURSELF and get the help that YOU NEED.

Instead of always telling everyone else how to live their life and get the help they need. I have sat over here as I’m the one made into the bad guy for doing the right thing. And that’s fine. I am finally okay with being the bad guy because as long as Rylei is okay that is all that matters.

I love you mom. I have lived my whole life believing we were the Gilmore Girls. But now? Now I’m not sure if we were. I’m not sure if you have ever truly ever picked me, and I mean truly picked me. I’m not sure if you have ever truly known how to really love me. I think you have done the best you can in loving people. But I truly don’t believe you know what love is. Just like nana doesn’t. just like mamaw didn’t. I don’t even know if the stories I have been told about Fletcher are true. I’m questioning everything.

And I don’t know about this family anymore. There is a darkness deeply rooted in this family. So many child molesters in this family. I’m not sure if it started with papaw riddley or if it started way before him. But this family is sick. And to me? Family is not family. You don’t just pick your family because they are your family. You can love people from afar. You can forgive people and move on and that does not mean you have to allow the sickness to continue in your life.

And as all of you go to church and play pretend. Just know, I’m getting guidance from Godly people too. Maybe I’m not going to church every Sunday. But I have had a lot of things happen that I deem as miracles the last few months where God has CLEARLY shown himself to me and I have peace with every decision that I am making. Maybe I may never be healed and be able to have a real relationship with anyone. I may be guarded my entire life because of all of my trauma, but I have peace knowing that my daughter will be okay moving forward. I have peace knowing that the decisions I’m making for her are the RIGHT decisions. So while you try and search for all the bible verses you can that make you feel better and make me look like the bad guy.

I’m not having to search. God is just speaking to me. In so many ways.

I love you. But I cannot understand you and the decisions you have made and the secrets you have held and the risk that has put myself and my daughter in.

I’m not Loren. I don’t need acceptance and love anymore from you. I just need my daughter to be okay.

[forbidding-souda]

Hey! How are you today?

Could I request Teruteru/Gundham/Kazuichi × gnc boy reader?

Me not requesting teruteru only, what a surprise  :0

Hope you're doing well!

See you!

- 🐭🌙

Teruteru Hanamura, Gundham Tanaka, and Kazuichi Souda with a gender non-conforming boyfriend

HELLO!!! Look at me writing your request. Confession it took so long because I forgot it was in the ask box as if it's literally not the most noticable one bye my bad

I'm watching The Wretched rn on Netflix and tbh i have not been paying attention but it's pretty good. Update I completely missed the ending bc I forgot I turned it on and I went downstairs and made soup so if the ending is trash then idk.

currently watching: The Wretched

-Mod Souda

Teruteru Hanamura

✯ His attraction towards you physically comes from you're openness when it comes from things like gender and the such. He considers that form of openness to be desirable in somebody, as he himself is not afraid to indulge in things considered feminine. Whatever you want to do: whichever way you combine femininity and masculinity to create something neutral, he would be more than willing to go along with it and partake.

For a time he was so lost in concentration as to forget the sleepiness in his eyes. He had noted with his professional thought process that the pancakes are rising later than they usual do, which is something that doesn't matter, it's literally just an observation to keep his mind going.

Now, as he flips them with that same dramatic flare (no one is even looking), he had no time to hear you entering the kitchen from behind him.

"Smells good," you said aloud, yawning. "Thank you."

His words were picked up even though they were quiet. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

When you say good morning back, he looks at you right as you glance his way. You notice the blush forming on his face that wasn't there before and it makes you laugh. All you said was good morning.

✯ He be cooking you breakfast everyday like there's no way he isn't waking up early just to send you off with the first meal of the day.

✯ Omg the two of you can do skincare routines together. Pink facemasks and him painting your nails.

✯ He knows a lot about being feminine from his sister, who is like peak femininity. Growing up being an older figure to her meant learning how to braid hair and to add at least 3 coats of polish to make sure the coloring doesn't flake off easy.

✯ He does your laundry sometimes and it's always fun to see what clothes you have. He likes doing laundry for this main reason.

✯ When he introduces you as his boyfriend / partner all his friends are like yep that makes sense.

.

Gundham Tanaka

✯ He does things for the sake of aesthetic rather than for the sake of gender. His love for painting his nails (and the smeared remnants on his thighs and palm) comes from the rockers he saw on the big screen. His earrings are from his mother's side, and his eyeliner is from the drug store. Everything he has he has worked for, and now that the two of you are living together, he can steal a bunch of your shit and use it as his own. Excellent.

A section of the jacket, right on the inside where the side of his thigh is, has embroidery of your name. His shoes have your signature on them as well, and it was then that he realized the feelings he feels towards you is love. There seems no possibility of anything else, especially considering the fact that it's an unrecognizable feeling; something new [and nowhere near something bad] He woke up Tuesday morning to feed the animals, leaving you in the bed (your feet were hanging out from the blanket so he covered them before he left). He shushes the dogs and makes sure the clanking of the many hooves isn't loud enough to carry to the bedroom. "What would you do?" He asks the goat as he scratches under its chin. Your voice comes from behind him. "About what?" "Nothing..." "I just thought," you smile, "you mentioned something about love." He grunts, but to you it sounds more like a hum. Did he really say those things out loud?

✯ He loves opening his trench coat as you hug him and just swallowing you inside of it.

✯ He's gonna completely fluster himself through calling you things like "my lord" or "my treasure", "my mystique".

✯ If you have spare necklaces or bracelets then he'll wear those (ah and imagine him with kandi on... PLUR on, brother).

✯ He also loves being able to say boyfriend. That shit makes him all flustered. "That's my boyfriend." giggling and twirling his hair between his fingers.

✯ "Your beauty is one that goes beyond the stars."

.

Kazuichi Souda

✯ He used mixed gender norms as a means of getting more popular. Introducing the fact that he has a boyfriend now (meaning accepting no hoes) he can visibly enjoy his appearance and the ways he's constructed it. He'll dye his hair whatever color you want, he'll let you braid strands of it and keep them that way for however long they last. His appearance is way more flexible than it was before and this is mainly because he sees how fluid you are. He also just generally wants to match with you but.

Bothering him while he works is so easy, and it's so fun. You like sitting on the edge of the car after he lifts the lid. You give him a sympathetic smile as you brush his hair from his face, his mess of pink hair everywhere after he takes off his beanies. "You look so good today." His grumbles come from a place of shyness rather than a place of annoyance. He hates (loves) it when you touch him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you have work to do?" You chuckle at him, lifting your shirt to wipe your face, him staring at your chest while grinding his teeth. You meet his eyes when you pull it back down. "I'll come see you after I finish. I know you'll miss me."

✯ The two of you are like pencil liner vs. liquid liner.

✯ He steals your fashion sense.

✯ His way of flirting is slinging his jacket around your shoulders and refusing to let you give it back. It's yours now until no it's not (now, how long does it take before he wants it back?).

✯ Whenever he talks to you it'll be hard to make eye-contact because he'll just be examining your outfit. It's something he does subconsciously.

✯ When he goes in for a hug he wraps his arm around your chest and holds his head against your sternum. It makes him come off as vulnerable (because he is).

[rageagainstmymachine]

A Different Tomorrow (Primis Richtofen x Reader)

Summary: You’re a regular person in the present who works at your local history museum as a tour guide. One day, as you’re going through the storage of the museum, you come across this unmarked crate and inside this mysterious black and yellow orb. What are you to do when said orb sends you somewhere impossible - like a video game you played years back? And what are you to do when you realize you can alter the events and possibly save the Call of Duty Primis crew while finding a way to get back home - and possibly falling in love with a certain doctor in the process?

“(Y/n), you got a tour waiting for you.”

You looked up from your thermos, a displeased look on your face as you glanced up at the voice. You took a late lunch so although you were half expecting it to be cut off by patrons, you weren’t happy about it. Alfred, your coworker, tapped on his watch signaling you to hurry up, before ducking out of the break room.

You worked at a war museum, specifically a world wars museum. Its key selling point was all the WW2 antiques it had - the tank parked out back always being the main event, but you had a fondness for the Great War hall that didn’t get enough love in your opinion. You couldn’t really complain about your tour guide position, you wholeheartedly enjoyed talking to people about your interest, but you couldn’t help at times feeling like you were getting nowhere in the museum social ladder. Your dreams of being a curator were so close yet so out of reach, you felt stuck.

You sighed, setting your spoon down and closing your thermos, mentally preparing yourself to whatever group that was waiting for you.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Military and War museum,” You smile to the crowd of about a dozen. It seemed to be three families, and by how they acted they were all somehow related. There were 4 teenagers and 2 kids - the bane of your existence. “My name is (y/n) and I’ll be your guide as you make your way through the wars that changed the world.”

You did your best to hold your smile, as much as you tried to not think this way, you always hated touring families. 90% of the time it was the dads dragging their families along when it was obvious they’d rather be anywhere else. Every now and then you’d get delightfully surprised when a son or daughter took interest in history, but you could tell this wouldn’t be the group to surprise you.

“Follow me to the Great War hall, as we learn what was the powder keg that kicked everything off.”

Just as you expected, only the fathers really cared about what you said, and you supposed you could at least appreciate that. The mothers spent their time keeping their chicks in tow, and the teens just scrolled on their phones the entire time, even to the scolding of their parents. The entire tour was excruciating, but you got it finished, and you only wanted to die a little bit.

“God this fucking sucks,” you sigh, leaning against a display that Alfred was cleaning. He shook his head, chuckling at your dramatics.

“Hey, you picked this job. Face it, kids are no longer interested in history, they only care about what the next tiktok trend is.''

Alfred was a few years older than you, and was already starting to get that boomer mentality even when he was nowhere near the age. You doubt you would have ever become friends with him if you met him out in the wild, but the job brought you two together, challenging the world one shitty tour group at a time. He was a friend you were glad to have.

“That can’t be it, it wasn’t all that long ago that I was in school, and even then I loved history! I have loved it since I was a girl.” You grumble.

“Not everyone is like you (y/n).” He stopped cleaning the glass to look straight at you. “Fine, but let’s say you’re right, that there are kids who still love history - they’re probably not going to be coming to museums. Have you seen our visitor data lately?” He asked, joining you in leaning against the glass.

“No… is it really that bad?”

“You bet. I give it 5 years before the museum tanks… you know most of what keeps us afloat is through donations, right?” He said, eyebrow raising.

“I think you’re bullshitting me.” You eyed him suspiciously. Alfred was… a character. This wouldn’t be the first time he threw out conspiracies, in fact he lived and breathed conspiracy. More than one occasion you told him he needed to cut down on his Reddit time.

“Nah, forreal.”

“Even so, you think I’m gonna still be here running tours when it sinks? No siree, I’m going to be the curator of my own museum.” You smile at him proudly.

“Oooh, alright big shot, but you better employ me once I get laid off from here.”

The bells of the front door chimed as a family came in, a rowdy one at that. The two of you looked at the group and groaned simultaneously, before you smirked at Alfred.

“That’s your tour since I took the last one.”

He shot you a dirty look, dropping the washcloth on the glass before putting his hand on his hip.

“You know I don’t like children.”

“Suck it up, buttercup. That’s your group.”

He shoulder checked you when he began making his way towards the family, which you couldn’t help but snort at, it not phasing you one bit. He can give you all the attitude he wants, it’s still his tour.

“Fine but that means you gotta set up the new exhibit, the checklist is in the back.” He called over his shoulder. Setting up whatever new exhibit there was was definitely much better than giving a tour to another family.

You made your way to the back, a pip in your step from excitement, and after some searching found the checklist he referenced. The handwriting you immediately knew as the curator’s, Mr. Duke. It wasn’t a new exhibit like Alfred told you, but a new addition to the German 1918 exhibit that was already on display: a few bayonets, an entire uniform, some guns, etc etc. All of these you knew had been in the museum’s possession for a while, so none of it piqued your interest. You’ve gushed over them ages ago.

As you scanned the area, looking around for each piece, your eye caught something in the back of the storage: a crate you have never seen before. It didn’t have the faint layer of dust like everything around it did, it looked brand new. You carefully approach it, your interest entirely piqued, how long has this been here? You place your hand on the box before reeling it back and turning on your heel, first going to ask around before you open it - you quite liked your job and didn’t want to be let go for getting into things you weren’t supposed to.

“Hey, Miss Roberts, do you know if Mr. Duke got anything new delivered for the museum?” You ask the receptionist once you approach her desk. She was a sweet older lady who immediately took you under her wing when you were first hired on, she’s always been like a mother to you.

“Not that I’m aware of, but if it means that much to you I could check the order forms.” She turned to her computer and started tapping at the keys.

“Yo, (y/n), I don’t see that exhibit being put together yet~” Alfred teased as he sauntered up to you, he still had his gaggle of people behind him.

“Chill, I’m getting to it, don’t you have a tour to do?”

“We are just going to the WW2 side, ain’t that right?” He asked his party, a bunch of mumbled yeses answering his question. He grinned at you before strolling away from you and Miss Roberts.

“Sorry, hun, don’t see any orders here recently, is there something you were hoping we’d get?” Miss Roberts turned to you, eyes peering over her cat eye glasses.

“Oh, no. I was just wondering…” You shrug, turning to walk away, “Thanks anyways, Miss Roberts!”

You head back to storage and peeked around the box a little more -  no return address, or any address for that matter. You’d normally just ask Mr .Duke about it but given he wasn’t there that day and you didn’t want to disturb him on his day off, you were just going to leave it alone.

You were going to.

You really were.

But something about that box pulled you in, the mystery surrounding it really eating you up. And it’s almost like it physically pulled you in. Before you knew it, you had a crowbar prying it open.

It was really nailed in good, taking you a good two handfuls of prying to get it open, and once the top was off, you were met with… a lot of hay, actually, you felt like Indiana Jones for a second. You carefully dipped your hands into the pile of hay, fearful you would come in contact with new not-so-new bayonets, but your hands touched something… round? You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion, quickly moving the hay to the sides of the box to get a look at what you touched… Maybe it was a helmet or something. When you finally saw it, you didn’t recognize this as anything that would be in the museum.  Whatever it was gave you a really uneasy feeling.

“Yo, what are you doing?” Alfred called from behind you, startling you pretty good. Instinctively, you covered the sphere back with the hay, turning to Alfred with wide eyes.

“Jesus fuck don’t do that, Alfred! And I’m just… looking at what was in the box…got some more Great War bayonets” you lied, knowing he wouldn’t care. While you were the Great War buff, he was the WW2 buff.

“Damn, some more? I swear every new collection we get is some more bayonets… I don’t think you’re supposed to be opening that, though.” He warned, raising an eyebrow to you.

“You know how I get with new arrivals… I’ll make sure I close it back.” You smile sheepishly at him.

“Good, cause if the Duke asks I’m throwing you under the bus.” He laughed, which you matched weakly. “Get that exhibit set up, alright?”

With that he was gone, probably to tend to something else in the museum. You turn back to the box and with shaky hands reach into it to grab the sphere.

It was a deep black with gold bands and fairly heavy. You turned it over in your palms trying to figure out what exactly it was. There was no way this was a piece for the museum - it must have been sent to the wrong address, maybe the art gallery down the road? Just as you turned it over once more, you almost dropped it, startled as it started to glow, blue light radiating from the strange symbols that were engraved in it.

What in the goddamn fuck were you holding?

A bright flash came from the sphere, washing over your entire view. You dropped the orb, too startled to care. The whiteness of it engulfed you, and no matter how far you crawled back, you couldn’t escape it. Strange, mechanical noises you couldn’t describe became louder and louder, and you felt extremely sick. You were glad you were already knelt when going through the box, because by how weak your limbs felt, you were sure you would have fell.

Just as soon as everything happened, it was over. The bright lights, the sounds, everything was done. You heaved,  and at some point you collapsed entirely, now laying on the floor, looking straight up. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust from the assault it endured from the light, but once it did, you realized you were staring straight up at the sky, stars littered the view. You must have passed out, because you know for a fact it was just afternoon, so that would explain why it was dark, but it definitely didn’t explain how you were looking at the sky right now when you were just in a building.

Getting your bearings, you realized how much everything hurt, your whole body was sore like you’d just been hit by a truck, and with a groan, you sat up.

“Don’t move another inch.” A heavy Russian accented voice called out to you harshly.

Your head snapped to the voice and you gasped, backing away even when you were just told the opposite. Four men peered down at you, guns pointed and ready to shoot. As terrified as you now were, you couldn’t help but feel more shocked and confused. These men were familiar, too familiar, and all too impossible.

Four men who you’ve only seen in video games from years ago glared at you, as if you were the issue here, and not them impossibly being here. Where was here , by the way? Your eyes darted around, and you almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You must be dreaming.

“Who the hell is she?” Tank Dempsey muttered, gun lowering and stepping towards you.

~

~

~

‘Knock knock knock knock knock’

A throng of beatings at your door startled you awake. You stretched out in your bed and did your best to ignore the sound. Light creeped in from the cracks in your curtains, signalling it was probably damn early. You shoved your head under your pillow to block both the noise and the sun. Sleep lulled you back into its arms, and how soft your mattress was dared you even closer.

‘Knock knock knock knock knock’

“What?!” You yell out, the harsh sounds dragging you away from the arms that embraced you. You knew exactly who it was, and you were beyond irate. Your older brother was the only person who bothered you like that, and he was definitely a pain in the ass at times. Why won’t he just let you sleep? The knocking continued, getting louder and in much quicker succession. With a final groan, you yanked the pillow off of your head and stomped across your room, throwing your door open. James, your older brother, continued to knock on air, playfully pretending not to notice the door was opened even to your annoyed glare.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, finally stopping his little act. He grinned at you, not a single ounce of him caring that he woke you up, or how pissed you looked.

“What?” You hissed at him. He excitedly held up a game case - Black Ops 2, a game you've played with him on multiple occasions. “What about it? Hate to break it to you but that ain’t exactly new.” You tried to close your door back, wanting to chase that sleep your body still craved, but he stopped the door with his hand.

“A new DLC released.”

You tried to explode him with your mind for waking you up for that.

“Its downloading right now, and when it's done, me and you are going to play - there’s a new zombies map.” He almost vibrated with excitement for that. You put a little more pressure on the door, trying to close it still.

“James, no.” You tell him sharply..

“C’mon, please”

“ No. ”

“Please?”

“ No .”

“Pleaaasseeee…?”

If there was one thing your brother was good at, it was peer pressure. In fact, he should just be named peer pressure because of how good he is with it. James was known to bug and bug and pester and just annoy the living shit out of you if it had a chance of getting him his way. You sighed and rested your forehead on the edge of the door. You did really enjoy playing with him - it was the only thing the two of you had in common, but you also really liked your sleep. You look at him and see he was giving you his best ‘please’ face, still holding up the game.

“Why can’t you just play by yourself?”

“I need you for the easter eggs! You are the best trainer around!” He buttered you up with that backhanded compliment.

Playing Zombies with him normally went like this - He’d look up how to do all the easter eggs beforehand, and then not tell you how to do them. And so since you didn’t know how to and he did, that meant you ran around with the last zombie chasing you while he did all the cool things. But… if you did this for him then he will have to pay you back, that was a pretty sweet deal.

“Fine.” You said slowly, gauging his reaction “but you owe me.”

“Yussss, alright, deal. Come with me.”

He led you down to the living room where the family xbox 360 was located. The download screen was at about 80% so he did his best to keep you interested in the meantime so you didn’t change your mind.

“So you know the characters we normally play as right?” He asked, sitting down on the couch, you hummed in agreement. “Well, apparently, now we get to play as the younger versions of them.”

“God, more lore? Please don’t tell me it's as complicated.” You groan.

Multiple hours you have spent hearing your brother explain to you the story, and with each new map it was 10x more convoluted lore than the last.

“Nah…. it's much more complicated!”

~

~

~

This couldn’t be happening. In fact it wasn’t happening, you weren’t going to believe it.

You know what makes more sense? I ended up hitting my head at the museum and now I’m unconscious and dreaming all of this up… but if I was wouldn’t I be unaware that I was dreaming? Maybe I’m lucid dreaming? No that can’t be… if I was I could control my dreams and I wouldn’t have these fuckers holding guns to me if I was in control.

Dempsey crouched down to get a good look at you, holstering his weapon once he saw how terrified you looked. You still backed away from him, eyes darting from him to everywhere else. You were in a trench, a certain trench you’ve only seen on a tv screen, and you really just wanted to wake up at this point.

“This isn’t happening” You shakily breathe, eyes training on the man in front of you, then the men behind him.

“Oh, this is happening alright, we just need to know what the fuck ‘ this’ is…” Dempsey muttered, turning to look at the three behind him. “I swear, if this is your doing, Richtofen-”

“Me? I didn’t do this! You know just as much as I do!”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

You tried to stand but your legs gave out on you, only not hitting the floor because Dempsey was close enough to catch you.

“Hey I got ya… let’s find you a place to sit… and figure out what the hell is going on here.” He hissed the last part to Richtofen, probably still believing this was his doing.

Dempsey led you inside one of the bunkers to a chair where you could sit. You took it gratefully, still entirely startled by the scene. The four men huddled in a circle, away from you but obviously discussing you in a hushed voice: them peering at you every now and then. It seemed to get slightly heated between Richtofen and Dempsey, but you couldn’t make out a single thing they said. Eventually, they ended the conversation, coming to huddle around you now, possibly to question you.

“Who are you? Und how did you get here?” Richtofen asked. You look up to him, it took you a minute to choke your answer out.

“M-my name is (y/n), I’m just a museum tour guide… I uh, I found this uhm… this sphere thing in a crate in the back, and next thing I know…  I’m now here.” You admit.

“Sphere thing…? That can’t be….” Edward muttered under his breath, taking strides to pace away, deep in thought. He quickly turned back to you. “That sphere, it was black und gold, ja? Do you have it with you?” He said much more excitedly, his hands clasped together in front of him.

“No….no I dropped it when it started glowing. It freaked me out.” You said shakily, half shrugging your shoulders. Edward seemed less thrilled at your answer, but you could see the gears were still turning in his mind.

“Nikolai, go outside und see if the summoning key is where she landed, it probably isn’t but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

Nikolai nodded at Richtofen and left, leaving the three men to continue interrogating you. Edward continued to pace around, muttering to himself about god knows what, while Takeo just stared at you, which didn’t help your nerves at all. You stared at the floor and did your best to just focus on your breathing. You've had this habit of holding your breath when scared, and if you continue to do that you will surely pass out from the situation.

“Here.” Tank said, knocking you out of your thoughts. He held a canteen up to you, motioning for you to grab it. Your hands greedily took it and you gulped it down. It wasn’t until he offered you water that you realized just how damn thirsty you were. You heaved after you swallowed the last of it, nodding to him.

“Thank you, Dempsey”

Fuck.

That was a big mistake.

You didn’t even realize it until the words left your mouth. Dempsey’s eyes widened a hitch before narrowing and Edward stopped pacing to turned to you. The room was silent just for a moment as you processed just how you fucked up. In a blink of an eye, each man had a gun trained on you, and yelling commenced.

“How the hell did you know my name?” Dempsey yelled, his 1911 trained directly to your forehead. “You a fuckin’ spy? Who do you work for?” He demanded.

Nikolai ran in just then, and after assessing the scene for half a second, he too now had his gun trained on you. “What happened?”

“She ain’t no nobody, she knows who we are.” Tank explained, pushing his gun closer to your skull.

“Please don’t shoot me!” You cried, cowering in your seat, you were starting to get sick and tired of these guns being trained on you. “Look! Look I will tell you everything if you stOP POINTING YOUR GUNS AT ME!”

At this point, the fear started turning into rage. You still felt utterly terrified but you’d do anything to get your point across - even scream. They were silent for a moment, judging the scene in front of them. You trembled and you held your hands over your head, but your eyes were piercing, staring straight into Dempsey’s own. You heard footsteps before Richtofen appeared in your line of view, he held a hand up, signalling to Tank to lower his weapon. The two others behind them followed. Dempsey muttered something and turned away, Richtofen replacing where he stood.

“Explain yourself.”

“Richtofen… I’m not sure you’d even believe me if I told you.”

Read the next few chapters here!

I upload new chapters regularly :)

I’d appreciate it if you left kudos!

Current word count: 58,493

[simonsnowichooseyou]

This excellent essay was posted by @goodbyedandelion and reposted on Instagram—however their account sadly seems gone now. But it is in rememberence of their Tumblr spirit that I post a continuation to their essay!

EVEN MORE Reasons Why Carry On is so groundbreaking as a YA Fantasy/Romance

Misconceptions/Character Complexity

A large topic in YA Contemporary is gossip, but I feel like fantasy doesn’t touch on this as much. Think of how others perceive one another in Carry On. Early on we learn that Simon, for example, saw Penny as different because of her race. But of course, we quickly know this isn’t true.

But what about Agatha? In Harry Potter, for example, Lavender Brown and other feminine characters are often looked down upon because of their femininity. We often as a culture perceive beauty as overcompensation for what’s inside. Sometimes Agatha is looked at in the same light in Carry On, but when we see things from her POV, we realize that Agatha is perhaps the smartest one there. Maybe she’s not Penny Bunce-smart, but she has the survival instincts that Penny lacks.

Agatha isn’t the only one. Baz looks cold and unfeeling from others’ POVs, but we quickly learn that he is a boy with a soft heart that’s been hardened by his past. Everyone thinks he cares about nothing but we know he cares about his mother and how she’d feel about him; his father and step-mother and siblings; Simon, of course; Bunce, in his own way; he even cares about flowered suits and dramatic entrances! We think Bunce is nerdy and perhaps annoying, but we learn she’s very sweet and like a mother to Simon. And the mage. Ugh, the mage. We think he cares about Simon but we learn that for every bit he cares about Simon, he cares about the war more.

Rowell doesn’t allow any character to be simple, stereotypical, or as they appear. My sister, for example, was saying that Baz sounded like a stereotypical gay man in the media. But he’s not, is he? He might love fashion but Rowell does not make him simple or stereotypical. Everyone is so complex, and she uses the multi-POV to not just show us their complexity but also the complexity of how they are viewed by others.

Woman on Woman Drama/Anger

For years and years, only one woman was allowed to have a true seat at the table in films. Take Indiana Jones, the original Avengers, and Star Wars for example. This woman was often made to be the sex appeal or romantic interest, but I’ll save that for another day. Because of there only being one spot, it set a precedent that women in media needed to fight with each other to take that spot, thus depriving us of women getting along!

At first, I was worried Rowell had fallen into this trap. Bunce thinks Agatha is simple and too feminine, Agatha thinks Bunce is a major pain in the ass. Their dislike for one another is complicated in that they’re essentially two different types of feminism battling it out, and half of their fight was about Simon and their roles in his life.

But in the end, Penny and Agatha create a relationship that exists outside of their relationship with Simon. Penny sees Agatha’s strength and resilience; Agatha recognizes Penny’s harsh exterior for what is is. When Agatha moves away, they text without his even knowing. Penny is the one that decides they need to check on and save her. In the end, penny and Agatha fight alongside one another.

Rowell didn’t just give us a feminine friendship—she showed us what we’ve been doing, and how to get from Point A to point B. I think it’s the most underrated part of the series.

True Friendship

It might sound bad, but I truly believe a lot of today’s media ruins the idea of friendship. I just feel like none of the portrayals are realistic. Friends are either joined at the hip and have never fought (toxic) or never get along (also toxic). The fact that Baz and Penny and Simon and Penny and Agatha and Penny can get into fights but still continue to love one another platonically is really heartwarming to me.

Trauma/Mental Illness

I remember getting to the end of Harry Potter and thinking “he went through all of that and we’re just supposed to leave him now?” We see some remnants in the most cursed play ever: The Cursed Child. But more than trauma we see someone who looks back on the days they risked their life everyday with *longing.* While that’s about the most Harry Potter thing Harry Potter has ever done (and the most canonical part of that play) it’s so unrealistic. You’re telling me Harry grew up with nothing and was an amazing father—minus a few spats with his son. You’re telling me Harry was able to hold it together emotionally after fighting for his life from ages 11-18 without a therapists help? You’re telling me Harry lost two father figures in the ministry of magic AND spent 7 years going through what amounted to a lesson titled “the government is corrupt” just to be a part of that government!?

Wayward son isn’t like that. Wayward Son shows us what happened to Simon afterwards, and it’s not peaches and cream. He had therapy, he quit therapy. A lot of us have been Simon on that couch, and we all needed the Baz in our life to drag us across a metaphorical America. Wayward Son is hands-down my favorite book. Realistic depictions of mental illness, check. Subverting our expectations of after the end, check. Reading it feels like taking a road trip, check.

As OP mentioned, Simon is a beloved chosen one because he’s just so wrong for the role. He’s not levelheaded where he should be, he’s bold in all the wrong places, he couldn’t possibly maintain a professional relationship with the coven. Meanwhile his super-hot enemy Baz was the absolute perfect choice to be chosen, but he was completely passed over. And part of this chalks up to how Simon became so powerful—fate isn’t twisting its whims this way and that. Simon is only chosen because he was a Petri dish experiment-gone-wrong baby. When Simon asks the fates why, really he should be asking the mage. There’s something delightful about the fact that Simon was made. The chosen one was made, and in the same process, so was the greatest threat.

De-escalation

I think it’s clear by now that Carry On is a great book, Simon Snow is an amazing series, and Rainbow Rowell sure can write. But I feel the need to point out that the end of Carry On wasn’t well-received by everyone. I recommend the series to everyone I know and some people are really disappointed you don’t get a big magical battle at the end. Some people think Simon filling in the humdrum was a cop out. But I disagree. I felt it was thrilling to witness a book where war was as stupid in fantasy land as it can be in real life. This is the first fantasy I’ve ever read where they find a better way to handle conflict than senseless fighting. It’s emotionally rewarding, to me, to see de-escalation. To see conflicts fixed before they start to be huge problems. It was a risky choice for an end, you have to admit. But Rowell pulls it off amazingly.

Nothing is Wrapped in a Bow

A day will never go by without me thinking about the fact that Simon Snow Salisbury doesn’t know who his parents are. Or how Baz will never know what exactly happened with his mother—whether she really ended herself to avoid vampirism and whether she would’ve done it to her too. We’ll never even quite understand the mage’s plan behind fix the humdrum and get an all powerful boy wizard on his side. Rowell doesn’t wrap everything up. She gives you closure as often as she gives you something to ponder. The ending of Harry Potter was so controversial, I think, because it spelled out so clearly much of what was happening. And what you didn’t learn in that epilogue, Rowling released later through Pottermore and interviews. That’s fine and dandy—but there’s something to be said for ending Simon Snow’s books with questions. Not infuriating questions but rather things that I’ll always ponder—that will shed new light on different situations depending on how I look at them. Rowell sets a precedent that you can fill in Simon’s world with your imagination while also reminding us that life doesn’t have endings. Not really, the way books to. Rowell is one of the few writers of today’s fantasy, I’d argue, who’s okay letting things go unanswered. There’s always a thread of fantasy and magic going. It’s something that will keep Simon alive in my heart for many, many years to come.

So yeah, that’s what I think about when I think about Simon Snow. It’s not nearly as coherent as the original post but I hope you enjoy it.

[carryonthroughtheages]

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

--

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

[ellitx]

In honor of Father's Day, could we get some headcanons of the twins (separately) as parents?

Venti as a Father:

It would be really chaotic and a mess when it’s him watching over the kids

Just feeding them and bringing the spoon to their mouth like an airplane, and if one of his children happens to playfully throw the food to his face, it’ll be a food fight.

Of course, it didn’t last long when you entered the room and you see everything is so cluttered and dirty.

Venti can be strict with them if he has to but most of the time he’s carefree and lively with them. Often going outside to play, gliding, and maybe just a leisurely family time with you, him, and the children.

He’s not really restricting them but if they wanna play outside they have to ask his permission first so he’ll know where they are or so that he can watch over them

Venti likes it if his kids ask him to carry them! He’ll carry them on his shoulders so they can see the beautiful view of Mondstadt's scenery!

Or if he’s laying on your lap and they’re asking to be carried, he’ll lift them up and act like they’re flying in the sky. He’ll use his vision to make it really breezy so they can feel what it’s like to soar in the air.

When it’s time for dinner, he has to call for them. But the problem is they’re so mischievous that they even hide from him. It’s easy to find them but for the sake of entertaining them, he pretends he doesn’t have a single clue as to where they are.

“Now where’s my little sweetie hiding again? Looks like Detective Venti is starting another case of Disappearing Angel.” He takes his cape and flips them in the air for a dramatic effect and boy does he hear that stifled laugh behind the sofa.

He takes out his lyre and starts singing about the clues he had gathered and for suspense, he stopped strumming his instrument and stood still. Their kid covered their mouth to quiet themselves and it was unfortunate for them they didn’t notice their father was already behind them.

Venti’s hands slipped underneath them and hoisted them to his shoulder causing them to shriek and wiggle around while giggling.

“Papa, that’s unfair!!”

“Another point for Detective Venti~”

Aside from playing detectives, he’s pretty much dramatic around them if they’re playing house or prince and princess together.

“Oh, sweet child of mine, call the fairest maiden for I, Venti the Most Handsome, Charming, Powerful, and Talented Bard has fallen down because of the great dark dragon’s compelling attack.”

Your child first thought of you, immediately rushing to where you are and tugging at your sleeves.

“Mama! Mama! Help Papa come back alive! He said the only way to regain his powers is that you have to kiss him!”

You choked at your own spit, your face burning hot hearing another ridiculous idea venti started for you to kiss him. You didn’t want to disappoint them so you obliged and followed them to the living room.

There you saw venti laying down, his hands on his chest with his eyes closed, and sure you’d mistaken him as some kind of princess if not for your daughter asking you to help him.

Clearing your throat and readying yourself in acting mode, you kneeled down beside him and clasped his hands with yours.

“Oh, my darling Venti. All your power has been drained, the energy within you has been stolen by the greatest and fearful creature that has been ever lived. But fear not, for I have come to aid you by… by caressing you with a true love’s kiss.”

You slowly leaned forward and ran your finger on his face before closing your eyes until his lips brushed with yours. The tips of your ears were turning red when your child awed and watched closely, and for sure you felt your husband’s lips tugging upwards. His hand reached up behind you to hold you close to him and let the kiss last longer.

His eyelids flutter open, revealing the marvelous emerald orbs he has that were the same as your little angel, and he turned at you with clouded eyes, his cheeks beginning to tint with warm red.

“…more…”

Before he could latch his lips with yours once more, your child jumped at his back and cried,

“You’re alive! You’re finally alive! Quick, defeat the dark dragon before it destroys the castle!”

Venti almost forgot he was playing with them. All of a sudden, you felt your feet weren't on the ground anymore and in instinct, you held onto his shoulder and gaped at him. Venti's arm was underneath your bottom, carrying with such ease as if your weight was as light as a feather.

“Of course, my dear! Now that my power has been replenished thanks to this lovely maiden, I can finally stop the dragon’s outrage through the power of wind and freedom!”

His right hand glowed, unleashing a gentle yet powerful wind to knock down the mini dvalin stuffed toy that was standing in front of the blocks. The toy’s balance was gone, causing it to fall onto the ground as a sign the enemy’s disturbance was no longer present. Peace, harmony, and freedom were settled back to the small kingdom you, your child, and your husband had created.

Himmel as a father:

Himmel’s a househusband! Due to his frail body, he’s more inclined to work inside the house which he doesn’t mind. So all the cooking, cleaning, laundry is handled by him.

Househusband Himmel doesn’t really mind at all! In fact, he really enjoys it because he gets to watch over his kyut litol beybis playing around the house and spend time with them!

He knows you’re already home when he hears his babies screaming “MAMA!!”, it’s either a playful chase with his children on who gets to hug you first or he let them hug you first before he kisses you as a greeting of welcome home.

Whenever he goes to the grocery, he brings his children with him and they’re in the twin stroller. Everything is prepared; the pacifiers and two bottles of milk, and perhaps some extra diapers in case the line is too long and they need a bathroom break.

Himmel always takes a morning stroll and he also brings his babies with him so they can get that vitamin from the sunlight for them to be healthy. Don’t want them to risk being so unhealthy when they grow up now do we?

Maybe after the stroll, he stops in a nearby park to rest, maybe even allowing them to have some fun as long as they’re in his sight. Himmel will start planning on having a picnic time as family bonding on weekends so you can also take a break as well as you can get in touch with your own kids

While at home, carrying his two kids in his arms is no biggie for him. He can even multitask with it, though he prefers if they are in the crib just in case he doesn’t accidentally step on some toys and slip while carrying them.

He loves holding them and carrying them with him after he finishes the household chores! He’ll play with them, shower them with kisses, keep on telling them how much papa loves them and how he’s so happy they’re part of his life. When they run out of milk, he has to take the new supply you’ve readied in the refrigerator.

The babies will crawl up to him, stretching out their short arms towards their father because they wanted to be carried. Himmel chuckles then picks them up before making their drink. He hums a song while warming the milk and leaves small kisses on their head and nuzzles his nose against it as he waits

His little ball of sunshine is full of energy so he can be quick to get exhausted, but he’s trying his best to stay awake to make sure nothing dangerous happens to them. he lets them crawl up to him and play with his hair and when they also get sleepy and clings to him, it brings a smile to his face and holds them close to his chest protectively before laying them back down in the crib

Himmel may have taught them many things, from a simple reading, talking/cooing, walking, and maybe even singing. He has bought many things that can help them like rattles, squeeze toys, picture books, and also some stuffed toys they can play with.

Over the months, he’ll buy different toys for them so they can start the process of learning simple stuff like ABC blocks and even more plushies.

His kids love it when he sings or reads them a bedtime story. If you’re free, you and Himmel will reenact the story to maybe entertain them, and oh their cute little smiles and giggles tug their parents’ hearts.

Once they reach the age of three, Himmel is so excited for them that they can meet new friends. It’s the start of their preschool and he prepared everything. Now he’s the type of father who’ll take a picture of them every single year and some memorable moments to be added in the album

After school, he’s there to pick them up with you. All the mothers were gawking when he was standing near the door and looking for his cute babies. Perhaps he’s a brother to pick his siblings up?

Lol nope

Their jaws dropped when they heard a scream of papa from the running children. He opened his arms and caught them easily as they jumped at him for a hug. The mothers/guardians can’t believe Himmel's a father. Such a youthful face he has and having two children?!

He gives them a kiss on their forehead and asks how their day went. When he told them that mama was waiting outside, the twins immediately left their father’s side and ran out of the school to see you there smiling and waving.

“Mama!! Look, look, my teacher gave me a stamp that I did well!”

“I have five stars on my booklet!!”

Your eyes sparkled at their wonderful achievements and patted their head. Himmel stood next to you and smiled, admiring the wonderful warm feeling in his heart to see this growing family.

Kneeling before one of his kids, he whispered something next to them causing them to gasp out and looked at you with big curious eyes.

“I’m going to be a big sister/brother?!!”

You look at your husband with an astonished face and pout before playfully shoving his shoulder.

“That was supposed to be a surprise!” You whined. Himmel laughed and pecked your lips, whispering “I can’t help it,” before taking the hands of his child then yours. You take the other twin’s small hand and walked side-by-side with your husband and children back home