#should I turn this into a fic?

[peachshadows]

Had a dream where Wukong was a vampire king/lord and only feeds from his immortal best friend, Macaque

[sleepyshouto]

thinking about a bajifuyu au where their first meeting is the same but chifuyu doesn’t get into a fight on his way home so baji is able to keep up his nerd act for a few weeks. they meet up every day after school to study and chifuyu winds up falling for baji anyway. he can't get that nerd out of his head. when killer bee shows up at school looking for baji chifuyu goes even more feral since he has no idea why they want to fight his nerdy bf

after the fight the cat is out of the bag and chifuyu is shook but even more smitten with his baji-san

if you don't believe me this would happen i got proof remember these panels from ch 67. chifuyu is already daydreaming about baji

and then this smile he gives him after baji yells at him

basically chifuyu would fall for baji in any au + i wanted to spread my nerdy bajifuyu agenda

[girl-intrigued]

all I need now is for Cressida to drop her fan and for Eloise to pick it up and hand it to her; all the while their parents and the entire ton watches them with wide eyes

[izzystizzys]

As High Marshall Commander, a title foisted on him by the Galaxy’s fakest bitch aka Chancellor Palpatine, Fox theoretically has privileges and authorities like no other clone. In practice, he has a headache and gets ignored more obviously than before.

What he also has is a fancy new function on his personal comm unit modified to broadcast GAR-wide to all commanding officers, up to and including Jedi. It gathers dust next to his own modified button that sees much better use - a private channel to Stone, the only vod that will let Fox bitch at him to his heart’s content without hanging up (Thire) or bitching right back (Thorn).

It’s been a long shift of 72 hours, the maximum Stabby allows him to do without a well-placed hypo to the neck, when Fox finally collapses on his rickety cot in the Command quarters and hits the private comm connection to Stone without looking. He’s already rolling his eyes so hard it tweaks at the migraine that’s been building since hour 18 and heaving a put-upon sigh.

“Everyone is stupid, Stone, and asking to be thrown face-first from the Dome balustrades”, he begins, settling into a low, dead tone of voice to warm to the building monologue. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. “I swear to haran I’m going to wring Amedda’s stringy neck one of these days. I don’t know what magical Force gods his mother pissed off, but they made sure to punish her and the Galaxy at large a hundred times over. He sucks the joy and competence out of every room like a black hole of stupid. I’d call him a has-been, but I trust in the power of nepotism and also just don’t believe he ever was. I swear he’s doing it on purpose and - oh, kriffing Sith-damned hells, you know who’s definitely doing it on purpose?! The kriffing Chancellor, that wrinkly ass-faced ballsack!”

Taking a deep breath, Fox lets that sit in his chest for a moment, indulging in the feeling of bright weightlessness. “I swear he’s trying to keep the war going - no one man can be that incompetent and still draw breath, not even Amedda or Taa. Goddamn Taa - but anyways, kriffing hell, Stone, either the senility isn’t an act or he’s a bad cartoon villain from Dooby Scoo. Yes Sir, sending Senator Amidala to a Seppie-infested planet for negotiations is a great idea after her fourth bomb threat of the week. No Sir, I can’t hear you cackling evilly with Count Dooku under your lame two-credit robe as you’re definitely not colluding with the Republic’s enemies. What, you have a red lightsaber?! Oh, of course I don’t know what that means, I was dropped on the head as a tubie!”

Barely pulling in a harsh breath, Fox continues, palms pressing into his eyeballs hard enough to cause sparks. “And speaking of lightsabers and senile fucks, haran smite my ass off but who the kriff thought it’d be a good idea to give absolute tactical and military authority to the kriffing eldritch space monks! The Force didn’t bless them with the collective good sense it gave to a kriffing rock, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise! Has anyone kriffing read the Theed Convention of Sentient Rights in Wartimes?! NO?!! Well, color me UNSURPRISED, because war crimes ARE NOT! GOOD! BATTLE! TACTICS!!”

“They run around in crop tops, Stone, in crop tops! Oh, the Force provides - WELL I’M GOING TO PROVIDE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT WEARING KRIFFING ARMOUR!”

“Sure, let’s send the preteens into active warzones under heavy artillery in kriffing party wear! Surely nothing will ever go wrong! And give them commanding positions equivalent to CC-clones, WHO WERE LITERALLY GENETICALLY CREATED FOR IT! WITH A DECADE OF INTENSE TRAINING! LET’S DO THAT, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL KRIFFING STUPID!”

He’s gesturing wildly at the ceiling now, face heating up as his blood boils beneath the surface. “And you know what really gets my lowers in a twist, apart from the preteen commanding officers and blatant kriffing high treason and war profiteering?! Is it the complete lack of recognition? Gratitude? Basic sentient rights?! No, Stone, no, I would take all that in stride if it meant I never had to see Skywalker and Amidala kriffing canoodle right in front of me again, and pretend like it isn’t the galaxy’s worst conflict of interest case in the making!”

“By all levels of Sith-hell, what the kriff is wrong with that woman? You have it all, you could have anyone, and you choose that twatwaffle?! And then they have the gall to lock themselves in a broom closet for twenty minutes straight and have me guard it! ‘Oh yes, Senator, naturally we all go rattling brooms with our good friends! Nothing dodgy happening at all! I definitely believe you were looking for detergent and have used a washing machine before!’ The absolute nerve on those two! And then last week - you’ll never believe this - High General Windu passed by, and I swear he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the roof! I’ve never been less impressed by anyone in my life, and I’m batch-mates with Bly!”

“Speaking of Bly, that little bitchtit - if I have to edit one more, one more kriffing propaganda piece of him staring at General Secura’s bits, I’m going to stab my eye out! And if I have to edit one more of Secura staring at his bits, I’m going to stab the other one out! The only good thing I have to say about them is they’re more subtle than Skywalker and Amidala, which means nothing really. I will never understand that woman - but then she’s worked with Jar Jar Binks for a decade and not had a nervous breakdown, so she either has nerves of steel or is on some good-ass drugs.”

“Girl, your choices. And you know what else is a choice? Kote kriffing roundhouse-kicking heads off droids when he has a perfectly good blaster right there! I don’t know what the Longnecks put in his tube, but I hope to kriff it’s not contagious. I’d say I’m glad he has Kenobi to keep him in check, but that man wouldn’t know common sense if it punched his nose clean off his face. Flirting with General Grievous, ugh. I’d say he can do better, but honestly, they deserve each other.”

“And Wolffe - “, panting, Fox pauses, considering. “Well, Wolffe is an asshole and stupid, and I hate him because he’s stupid and has a stupid face. Also he keeps drunkenly submitting adoption paperwork on General Koon’s behalf - I wish I could say something mean about that, but honestly, his existence is roast enough. Anyways, bitches are trying me today, and by bitches I mean everyone. Commander Fox signing off to go not commit treason, unfortunately.”

Thoroughly powered out, Fox sinks into his hard mattress with a deep sigh. Several seconds of silence reign, and then his comm unit starts blaring in alarm.

Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu is knocked flat on his ass by a gargantuan shatterpoint exploding.

[daftpatience]

youre always cold but damn it if youre not my friend

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia (ona batlle x reader)

You wake up in the hospital with no memory of who you are or anything about your life, but a pretty brunette is by your bedside, so it can't be all bad, right?

warnings: memory loss, car accident mention, hospital

a/n: part 2 here!

----------

“She’s awake!”

Squinting against the harsh light, you slowly opened your eyes, taking in your surroundings. You were lying in bed in a room with white and grey walls and bright overhead lights. The bedsheet covering you was soft against your hands.

You blinked, looking around the room. Four people were stood around you, a woman in a white coat, a man in light blue scrubs, and two young women in everyday clothes. The two women looked on the verge of tears, but you weren’t sure why.

Opening your mouth to speak, you gagged as you realised your throat was obstructed by something. The realisation quickly turned to panic, feeling like you were being choked, unable to breathe. One of the younger women turned to the woman in white, who you were pretty sure was a doctor, and spoke rapidly in a language you couldn’t understand. 

The doctor and the man, who you decided was probably a nurse, quickly worked to remove the tube from your throat. Eyes watering, you coughed and rubbed your throat, glad to be free of it. When you opened your mouth to speak again, the doctor interrupted you gently.

“Careful,” she said. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Wh- where am I?” you asked. Your voice was hoarse, and your tongue felt like sandpaper. “Is this a hospital?”

The two women exchanged anxious glances.

“Yes, this is the Hospital de Barcelona,” the doctor told you. Barcelona, huh. That explained her accent. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Now that she mentioned it, you had no idea what you were doing there.

“That’s okay. It’s perfectly normal not to remember much. You were in an accident. You were hit by a car. Miraculously, you only broke some bones in your right leg, but you hit your head pretty hard. You’ve been in a coma since the accident, 15 days ago.”

Your mind raced as you took in the information. Why couldn’t you remember any of it? Why couldn’t you remember anything? Not even-

“Now, can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked, interrupting your stream of thought.

Not even your name. 

“I- I don’t know, I don’t know my name, why don’t I remember my name?” you asked frantically. You tried to sit up but stopped as a wave of pain radiated throughout your body, crashing over you. One of the women reached out, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

The doctor stayed for a while, explaining to you again and again what had happened. You’d been hit by a car. You’d hit your head. You’d been in a coma for the past 15 days. You’d been hit by a car. You’d hit your head. You’d been in a coma for the past 15 days. Over and over again, until it sunk in. 

She spoke to the two women before she left, again in a language you didn’t understand, the two glancing over at you with worried faces, the doctor’s face reassuring and kind. Once she was gone, the two women came over to your bedside. Tears brimmed in their eyes, but they were both trying to smile at you.

“Hola, mija,” one of the women said. She had blonde hair with dark roots and kind eyes, but she looked tired. 

“Do- do you remember me? Us?” the other woman asked, gesturing to herself and the blonde. Her hair was darker, and freckles were scattered across her nose and cheeks. Your eyes raked over her sharp jawbones, her angular face. Surely you would know if you’d met someone like her before.

You shook your head slowly. 

The brunette swallowed back a sob, the blonde holding her arm tightly. 

“It’s okay, that’s okay,” the blonde said. “The doctor said there was a high chance of this happening. That she wouldn’t remember us. It’s okay.”

“Who are you?” you asked, voice quiet.

“I’m Ona. I’m, uh, we play together,” the brunette told you, and the blonde looked at her sharply for just a second before looking back at you.

“And I’m Alexia. Your teammate and friend.”

Playing together? Teammate?

“Football!” you blurted out suddenly. You’re not sure how you knew, but you had this deep, innate sense that football is important to you. More than important, it’s your whole life. “I play football, right?”

The blonde, Alexia, let out a laugh of relief. “Si! You play football! We all play together, here in Barcelona.”

She squeezed Ona’s arm, who smiled tearfully. 

“So, I’m guessing we’re all pretty close, right? Surely there’s a reason you’re here,” you said bluntly, wincing at the pain in your head.

“We’re your best friends,” Ona said quickly, before Alexia could open her mouth.

“That’s… right,” Alexia said slowly. “I’m the capitana of our team, and we’re best friends. And you and Ona are also… best friends.”

You nodded, feeling exhausted suddenly. “Thank you both for being here, then. I think I’m going to sleep now, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Ona said, jumping up. “We’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

You were asleep before the two had even left the room. Once they were in the hallway, the door to your private hospital room shut, Alexia turned to face Ona.

“What was that?” Alexia asked her, voice hushed, as though you’d be able to hear them through the door.

“What do you mean?” Ona shifted uncomfortably, not meeting the blonde’s eyes.

“Why did you tell her you’re just friends? Why didn’t you tell her that you’re dating?!”

[originalaccountname]

You know how it's so easy to compliment your pets and tell them how much you love them, often way easier than to other people?

Skk are in the begginings of some kind of established relationship. Chuuya's been hanging out with a dog for a while, showering it with love: "gorgeous", "you're so cute", "you're doing so good", "you're adorable", "I love you", etc. The whole deal.

And Dazai is witnessing it all, silently seething because a dog, a goddamn dog, is getting more verbal affection than him from his own partner. He's been here longer! And Chuuya doesn't shower him in compliments like that! He hasn't even gotten his first "I love you" yet! This is unfair! He's losing to a literal dog!!!!

[trek-tracks]

Do you ever think about how Kirk had a "best friend" on the ship before Bones in Gary Mitchell, a man who:

a) deviously manipulates him into heartbreak for Mitchell's benefit,

b) shames him for not being "fun" enough when he's in a position of power,

c) openly insults intelligent and powerful women,

d) treats everyone cruelly as soon as he gets power and tries to seize everything for himself,

e) finds it fascinating that he can stop a person's heart for fun, and

f) tries to murder Kirk instead of admitting that he's a danger to the universe,

and then chooses to replace him with Bones, a man who:

a) tries to save Kirk from heartbreak at every opportunity,

b) gets him to smile and relax by being genuinely interested in how he's doing and telling him that he's great and respected just as he is,

c) openly toasts intelligent and powerful women,

d) treats everyone kindly as soon as he gets power and tries to use it to help as many people as he can,

e) cries about how people suffered when medical treatments were less advanced, and

f) says, "Jim, I can't destroy life, even if it's to save my own. I can't."

because I do

[collophora]

This fic is leaving rent free in my head since a week so go read it: Haunting by @iiidunno : https://archiveofourown.org/works/54832273/chapters/138984958 [Edit] ok I put half a BG 'cause really It was bothering me

[jackshiccup]

if i could hold you for a minute darling, i'd go through it again

inspired by chapter 42 of OTNWAS by @jjackfrost

[reineydraws]

i have this fic series i'm still working on where mihawk sort of becomes rayleigh's kid and spends ages 11-17ish on the oro jackson.

shanks and buggy imprint on him (bugs considers him a sort of older brother figure/sparring inspiration and shanks has a crush that eventually turns into full-blown love) and this is how i imagine they're like on the day mihawk sets off on his own haha.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I need fic writers to write more goofy and silly situations with Astarion leading up to sex. Like he grabs the reader or whoever by the waist and they slip away giggling to put a table between them and him so it turns into a little chase situation with them both laughing and being mischievous.

PLEASE I need more sillies ;w;

[tommykinard6]

Should I be eating and resting? Yes. Am I? No, so come join me for a dissertation on Tommy Kinard being lonely.

Edit to add a note since I saw a reblog about it: Tommy has no canonical age right now and Lou is 39, 40 later this year, so that is my basis for saying he’s 39.

Now when I say lonely, I don’t mean that he has no one whatsoever. I can picture him going for drinks with his team or having some Muay Thai buddies that he could call up if he really was inclined. Maybe an old army buddy or two.

But there’s something about Tommy that’s just achingly lonely, both when he was at the 118 and now at Harbor.

Tommy had a broken home, or some other kind of unstable childhood. Maybe his parents split, maybe he was mistreated, maybe he was in the system or was passed around family members. Maybe he was isolated as a child because he was a little overweight (I think Lou said something along those lines) and was bullied. I think Tommy didn’t really have any friends until high school, when puberty hit and maybe he started working out and probably joined the football team. I don’t know if anyone remembers what teenage boys are like, but I can imagine they were the same as they are today back in the 90s/early 00’s. Because around this time, Tommy might’ve started to realize that something was very different about him.

Now this isn’t a meta about how I think Tommy dealt with his sexuality (maybe I’ll do one of those later) but I think he never would’ve risked his football friends knowing even if he himself could acknowledge it, which I doubt. So he messed around, got in trouble with these guys, hung out with the bros, and pretended to be interested in girl talk.

Of course, eventually, his buddies all got girlfriends and he was always the odd one out again.

He didn’t do college. The army was his next step. And I feel like this might have been the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. He’d learned to blend in by this point and he worked with some great people. But as he started making real friends for the first time, he also started losing them as the war tore them away.

Tommy left the army and joined the fire department. There was an aching hole where the camaraderie of the army had filled previously and with no education beyond a high school diploma, Tommy thought the fire department would replicate that. Not the police though. He’d had enough of guns.

(And ohhhh now so many ideas on his thoughts during the sniper)

But he ended up at the 118 and quickly realized that his team had maybe more of a DADT stance than the army. He realized that he had to put on an elaborate act to fool his fellow firefighters, who had more time on their hands and more prejudice they were willing to wield to pick apart his life. Tommy, who maybe had only just started to acknowledge he felt differently about guys with less panic than before, had no choice but to backslide. He acted and acted and crafted a person he wasn’t until the day that maybe he was. Sal was his closest buddy at the 118 and Tommy had no doubt that Sal would be one of the first to make his life hell. Gerrard seemed to look at Tommy as some sort of mentee. Boxed in by two notorious bigots, Tommy had never felt more claustrophobically alone.

Chim was the first one to reach out a hand of friendship, or at least the first one that didn’t come with caution tape, but he was also an “other” and Tommy, who was confused and afraid and had just had his captain call his bluff on his fake girlfriend, lashed out. Then he allowed Chim in and Chim wasn’t interested in being besties but he was a great drinking buddy and movie buddy and Tommy felt safest around him.

Then Hen came and Tommy watched her get the same treatment he was afraid of. Not that he had to worry about the racism, and he was aware of the privilege, but Hen didn’t exactly hide herself and he watched them bully his lesbian coworker. He let himself get pulled into it all and hated himself for it, but was too cowardly to break away from it. He wasn’t sure why Hen had forgiven him, but she became the only other person on shift he felt even a little safe around other than Howie. But then Chimney and Hen became best friends and Tommy fell to the wayside. They still included him, sure, but they were always a pair and there was something there that Tommy didn’t know but longed for. A closeness he’d never felt.

A best friend. A juvenile idea to him, but one he’d never truly had.

Then Gerrard was gone and Sal got transferred and the 118 moved forward under Captain Nash, but Tommy felt left behind, even in what was the most united A shift team yet. Because he was over 30 and was starting to be unable to ignore everything that he’d had to hide under Gerrard, as he no longer had a distraction from it.

He’d been a pilot in the army, so he transferred to Harbor. And Harbor was great. He wasn’t best buds with anyone (he was starting to think that was never in the cards for him) but his team didn’t carry the same baggage that the 118 had.

So Tommy started to come to terms with himself. He started to date for the first time and came out to his team. And he had several boyfriends, but most couldn’t handle the job or his baggage or the desperate need he had to be wanted. His most long term partner cheated and the one he fell hardest for couldn’t deal when Tommy was injured on the job. Even within his own relationships, he felt like he was destined to stand alone.

Tommy was 39 years old and alone, as always, when Chimney walked back into his life, dragging an adorable and also extremely hot blonde and a stoic brunette that radiated ex military in a way only ex military could know. And then Hen was there and they were trying to rescue their captain and his wife and they clearly loved each other fiercely and like family.

And as Tommy listened, flying through the remnants of a cat 5 hurricane, he thought to himself that he should’ve never left. Simply just never found himself if only that meant being part of the family the 118 was now. However, he knew deep down that he still would’ve been alone and on the outside.

And they rescued the survivors and Tommy thought that was it but then Eddie wanted to hang out. And they liked the same things and had similar experiences and Tommy couldn’t help the hope. Because the loneliness had grown stifling and now he could breathe a little. And then Evan, the cute blonde, wanted a tour of the hanger and he thought that maybe he was being hit on.

And then at the end of it all, Tommy was left realizing that he’d wedged himself between two best friends and that was what happened when he allowed himself to hope. So he went to Evan to apologize. He would get Evan and Eddie to talk to each other and then would fade into the background.

But then Evan was sweet and apologetic and told him that he was part of the 118 family simply by helping them. Tommy couldn’t help it. Here he was, at 39, with a little boy still waiting inside of him to be soothed. And Evan was hot and sweet and Tommy couldn’t help himself.

And he really liked Evan. Evan was adorable. But their first date didn’t go as planned and Tommy knew he was already whipped. So he removed himself before someone could get hurt. Evan deserved better and so did he, even if the loneliness was stifling again.

But then Evan texted him and looked at him with sparkling blue eyes over too sweet coffee and wanted him. Him. He wanted Tommy and to have something with Tommy and he wanted him to come to his sister’s wedding with him.

And Tommy looked at him and saw someone who could finally fill the ache he’d felt his whole life. He saw a man who he knew he wanted to take a chance with. All he had to do was jump.

And he did.

And it wasn’t solved, not immediately and never fully. Too many wounds were left gaping for too long to ever heal. But for the first time in his life, at 39, with the 118 surrounding him and Buck as the sunshine at his side, Tommy finally felt at peace.

[pixlatedvampire]

You gave those wounds to your god, Enki. Did you think they would heal so easily?

(Uh Oh! Someone gave the priest catholic guilt!)

[tasteofthedivine93]

The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Part 1

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/145208599 Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Teen) Category: F/M Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader Warnings: None Words: 952

MASTERLIST // -> Part 2

You're lost on your travels in the Shadow Realm. Rain causes your cart to get stuck in the mud, wheels not moving an inch. Your Torrent Steed is tired from the journey.

You untie him from the cart, abandoning your only possessions, you whistle your steed away for rest and head into the forest for shelter. You walk as much as your legs can carry you. Till the forest edge unveils a large castle in the distance. The blackened stone looking like charcoal, a large staircase darkens from greystone to black towards the front doors.

You walk warily up the stairs and knock on the door to no answer, instead you push your way inside without invitation or greeting. The night's cold air was making your bones shiver, you needed shelter.

The walls inside are lined with candles and paintings, before you a grand staircase. You call out hello, but to no reply, but you shiver - unsure from the cold or from another presence watching you.

You look around the foyer, till a shadow at the top of the stairs catches your attention. You swear you hear a hiss echo through the empty chambers. You call out 'wait' after the suspicious shadow.

You head upstairs, down a corridor, large wooden doors carved with snakes line the walls, sconces with red candles drip to the floor, windows covered by thick red velvet drapes.

You call out again, no reply.

Another shadow catches your attention down what you assume is the Western Wing. You walk down the hall to the end where a large door opens a crack, light glistening out of the door.

You pause for a moment, holding your breath, but as if in a serpent's trance you pull open the large door with a grunt, hinges creak and groan.

Inside, you see a bedroom, however destroyed, scorch marks line the walls, cracked and broken mirror shards glimmer like water, bed linen covered in burn holes, rugs frayed and black. You gasp at the sight.

You tenderly step into the room as if it was still aflame, looking around for any sign of life. Instead you catch a portrait on the wall, half burnt away, but you see a young man with vibrant red hair and a piercing golden eye. Behind the man a red snake fills the frame. The lower section of the portrait is charred and torn as if struck by the lightning.

You step closer, mesmerised by the painting, trying to look closer at the face shredded by burns.

Then out of the corner of your eye, you spot a small table near an open window, the curtains dancing gently in the breeze. On the table floats a crimson flame, flickering gently. As if it was beckoning you, your feet involuntarily begin to walk towards the blaze.

As if possessed, you feel your hand rise from your side and out of your moth eaten cloak. You slowly reach towards the flame, a sinister call hissing in your mind to touch.

You feel no heat but instead you feel cold as a shadow engulfs you, your eyes snap away from the flame to see a monster in the shape of man, skin greying, wrapped in a red cloak, thin long hair flowing down to his shoulders and surrounded by 2 large snakes who hiss at you.

You step back in horror, falling onto your backside as you try and crawl away. Letting out a gasp of fear.

"Mongrel, intruder." A bellowing voice vibrates in your chest. "Wherefore has't thee cometh here?"

You open your mouth, dry as stone and attempt to shutter out your apologies. You continue to crawl backwards on your hands and feet, instead the man, monster, steps around the table and follows you, keeping you in shadow.

"Doth thee not realise what thee couldst has't done?!" He growls at you. The snakes around him grow and slither in the air towards you. Their green eyes never leaving yours.

You again apologise and ask "Who are you?" The snakes stop mere inches from you.

"The master of thine castle." He replies, still deep. "Where thee has't in mine own domain trespassed"

You turn your head away from the monster and begin to sob. You tell him you got lost in the woods and needed shelter, you didn't mean to trespass. You plead with him to spare you.

The snakes hiss at the man as if communicating with him, who responds with hums of agreement. (The snake simply informs that this person could be the one to break the curse, maybe they should stay.)

The monsters shoulders sink at your tears and plea. The snakes retract back behind him and he knees down in front of you. His face comes more into view and you look up at him threw wet lashes. You notice the same golden eye at the painting, glowing like a star against the velvet night sky.

He was no monster at all, but the same man from the portrait, just older. You study him as you wipe away your tears.

"Art thee lone?" He asks, but this time is voice was softer. You nod.

"Thee can stayeth here if thou desires, take shelter for as longeth as thee need" He holds out his hand to you, fingers decorated with golden rings.

You hesitate at first, eyes flickering between his stretched out hand and his newly illuminated soft features. You nod and reach out, his long fingers wrap delicately around your shivering hand. He helps you to stand. You stare up at him, who looks down at you smiling, still holding your hand. You feel a small bloom of warmth in your chest. 

(credits of gifs in description)

[housethemd]

Headcanon:

House was a heavy smoker when he and Wilson met.

Like a pack day, chain smokes on his lunch break, type smoker.

Wilson, being an oncologist, hates it. Once they’ve developed a close enough friendship Wilson nags constantly about how terrible cigarettes are for you, and how if House had to see as many cases of lung cancer in a day as he does he would quit cold turkey.

House comes back of course with sarcastic comments and deflection and sometimes immediately lights up another smoke just to annoy Wilson.

But after a couple years they are out together and Wilson notices House hasn’t been smoking, but has been chewing a lot of gum. He realizes House didn’t come annoy him to go outside with him at lunch either.

The next time House pulls out the gum, Wilson asks for a piece. House says no and they scuffle until Wilson manages to get the package from House’s hand and lo and behold - it’s nicotine gum.

Wilson is floored. House is actually quitting smoking. For some reason this seems to embarrass House, so Wilson keeps it to himself how proud he is of him.

It backfires slightly though, because now instead of pestering Wilson to go outside and sit with him while he smokes, House is pestering Wilson into buying him lunch, because “If you won’t let me smoke, you can at least buy me lunch.”