#someone in soul's family likely had to have been a weapon for him to be one too right?

[qumiiiquinnquin]

im not sure if this is correct at all but ive been thinking

arachne created demon weapons 800+ years ago, meaning she also was responsible for creating ragnarok. but medusa melted him into a vat of black blood in his weapon form during the 800 years of her sister's absence and barely survived

and then that black blood was placed inside crona, swapping out their regular blood and giving them the weapon partner ragnarok. but since he existed possibly prior to and definitely during arachne's disappearance and got melted into black blood during the 800 years, wouldn't that make him the oldest weapon partner to any meister, in comparison to say soul or tsubaki, who were born way later and only discovered their weapon abilities during childhood?

[naiadic]

I have so many emotions about the finale but I also have thoughts

~~~~~~~SPOILERS~~~~~~~

First off, AAAA HES SO BABYGIRL, but more importantly he implies he was with Eve, too

Now admittedly, what he "had to offer" could have just been free will and the fruit of knowledge, but given the sexual vibe here I really want to believe this man got busy with Eve as well

But that also raises the question..

...we know Lilith is Charlie's mother, but was Lilith really the one that raised her? In almost every mention of Lilith we see her horns, but not in those family photos (or her finale scene, come to think of it...)

Plus I mean we have this whole hair thing going on, Lilith is usually shown to have swooped back hair, like a lil pompadour deal, while Eve has straight unstyled hair. Idk about you but it sure looks like Lilith loved and cared about charlie, but somewhere in there Eve came in and started being Bad Mom

i think there's a lot to be uncovered there. Somehow, somewhere the girls must be pulling a twin-switcharoo on us, I Just KNOW IT

Then we have Adam

I feel like its almost guaranteed that fucker is gonna pop up in hell, hiding for awhile or otherwise, just like Sir Pentious popped up in heaven after dying. They're both human souls! He's committed pretty much every sin during his time in heaven (pride, lust, and wrath being the most prevalent) and if sinners can rise by doing well, angels can fall by doing bad

Then..well...Alastor.

Honestly homeboy is still quite a mystery. It's clear to me he's made a soul contract that binds his powers, somehow making him weaker than he could be. Whether this was with Lilith or someone else is up for debate, but most fans think it was Lil herself.

One piece of possible evidence for this is in E1 when Zestial mentions rumors of Alastor "falling to holy arms". He says this BEFORE any mention of Charlie, too.

Personally, I think Alastor might not even be a human soul, or that he's somehow made a deal with himself for better control of his soul, and maybe he fucked it up somehow or had another deal impact it, just because of what he said during the finale about sinner's recognizing their full potential. I look forward to seeing his story play out!

(Also I wonder if he has some sort of power bank deal cuz that cut healed suspiciously quick once he got to all that green light...maybe he's got an item that lets him access bits of his greater power? And repair that staff of his?)

So yeah that concludes my rant, Im so fucking excited for S2

EDIT: Someone pointed out that Sir Pentious wasnt killed by an angelic weapon, but by a power blast if sorts (plus we dont SEE him physically die). That makes me wonder if he might've simply ascended at the last moment rather than specifically dying and then respawning...if that's the case maybe Adam won't return..

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP: The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King.

Danny Fenton is new to his title.

It's been about two years since he defeated Pariah Dark and inherited his seat through the right of conquest. Now Danny knew, on some level, that Pariah was King of Ghosts, but in all honestly, he had been preoccupied with getting his town back from the zone and keeping his friends and family (and the rest of the town, he guessed) alive.

The victory had been just within the lines of a fair fight, only because a dew ghost argued that his shifting his dad's ecto-skeleton suit was a form of armor only after his power ran over it.

If Danny had fought in the ecto-skeleton suit without doing so then it would not have been considered a fair fight as it wasn't his own strength, and thus, he would not won the right of conquest.

But he did. And now Danny was crowned Ghost King. Which came with all sorts of responsibilities and proper conduct for someone of his new stature.

Many ghosts were willing to teach him the way- Princess Dora, Clockwork, Frostbite, Ghostwriter, and even the Observants- but Danny struggled to adjust. He had no idea being King meant he had to play diplomat to the literal multiverse- as the Ghost Zone or Infinite Realms touched every possible world at every possible time- and follow specific rules of being a Ghost.

A vampire could not entire a home without being invited in.

A fae could not take control over a human without knowing their name.

And a ghost could not make a chance to the living plane without meeting requirements, like an agreement on a contract.

That was why the Ghosts never passed Amity Park's limits and why Pariah Dark had chosen to take the town into his domain instead of expanding his attack. The Fentons have unknowingly created an open contract with anything that could get past their portal by opening it up and claiming themselves the protectors against ghosts kind.

If a ghost could defeat everyone in the Fenton household- as the ground of where the zone was open and the beings calling that location a home- then they would become the portal's rulers and be able to leave the city. Thankfully, that contact applied to Danny, and he had never lost, no matter who challenged him.

His ghost sense activated the contract, alerting him of a new challenger. After finding his family contract, Danny had thrown a fit in the Ghost King's Keep. Thankfully, he could close it with the help of Clockwork, who agreed to be his final challenger, and once he won, the portal was forever closed.

Danny then discovered he had to create his own Ghost Conditions as Phantom, The Protective Spirt of Amity Park, and Phantom, the Ghost King. He argued with the Infinite Releams council, something he installed to help him rule and to lowkey have them continue to govern themselves with his own laws, keeping them from killing each other- until his core began to deteriorate the more he neglected his Ghost Conditions.

Clockwork has to intervene, telling him in little words to write up his Ghost Conditions and have them ready in a month or experience his soul being ripped apart by nature.

Danny agreed to write up the Conditions as soon as he could....and then did what any sixteen-year-old teenager would do with a work assignment. He procrastinated until the night before it was due.

Panicked, he sat down in front of his laptop to write, telling his parents he had a big essay due and could not answer any calls until late.

At three am of the following day, Clockworked appeared for his Ghost Conditions which outlined his limitations and certain requirements for Danny to operate.

He worked hard on Phantom, The Protective Spirt of Amity Park, to allow him to live everyday human life and shift into a ghost to protect his town whenever he needs to. He ensured that he could not be used to cause human death by a weapon in a mortal war, and his condition for working on behalf of a human was to have a recommendation letter from both FrostBite and Clockwork out of both ghost-freewill.

He figured it would make it practically impossible to make him a weapon or make him do anything against his will. He didn't want to end up like Ember or Desiree, who relied on mortals to get power, but he also did not want to be so obsessive about protecting something he forwent everything like Sculker or Walker.

He spent so much time on it that he forgot to leave time to work on the Phantom, and Ghost King lists until his eyes were dropping closed and Clockwork was messaging him that he was on his way to both lists.

Danny panicked and wrote something down- hoping he would redo the assignment later on- just to have something to turn in. The lack of sleep and stress caused him to not think clearly.

When he woke seven hours later, he realized this wasn't just some English assignment he could ask his teacher to let him redo. This was set in stone conditions and said conditions had already been passed around the multiverse. Some of his work even appears in his timeline, in some ancient civilization, thanks to Clockwork flinging copies of his Ghost Conditions into time portals.

Thank the Ancient Cores that Danny had copied and pasted the parts of about not making him a weapon for mortal wars or mindlessly killer. He hoped that it wouldn't come to bite him in the ass.

It bit him in the ass a week later when an alien threat so big the Heros of the Justice League were so desperate for a counter-attack they allowed Batman to attempt to summon the Ghost King even at the Justice League Dark's warning.

Batman had known about the Ghost King's Summoning Conditions from his time with Ra's Al Ghul. It was, after all, Ra's civilization that had been the one to find Danny's list from Clockworks time portals.

Danny knew this because one of the conditions was letting him know of the human's intention before they could summon him. He honestly heard whatever Batman was thinking and whatever the man could hear.

"Bats, this is baty even for you!" A disembodied voice hissed. Danny was startled so hard on his bed, having been scrolling on his phone when the British man spoke.

"If we can convince the King that the lives of Earth are at risk, he will aid us in the battle. He can not kill humans, but the aliens are not human." Batman answered, and Danny felt his core drop. Oh no. a loophole.

"Or he could kill everything around in a fit of rage!" The other man yelled. "No one understands the Ghost King! His Conditions were so open-ended anything could happen!"

Hey, Danny thought they were pretty solid, actually.

"Doesn't matter. We are out of options." Batman replied, and between one moment and the next, Danny was floating above a summoning circle, still wearing his snowflake pajamas- complete with a large holding- his phone in the same lying on his stomach position.

Thankfully, he was in his ghost form.

"What-"

"Phantom, Ghost King, I call upon you for aid. The lives of all human life are at risk of destruction." Batman said, his thoughts silent like the grave, and Danny had no idea what he was thinking.

Danm. Danny's wording of "Knowing a human's intention before summoning the King" meant that he could not hear the human's intention once the summon happened. Maybe his language was too open-ended.

"Ugh." He slowly sat up in a cross-leg position, eyeing the gathered heroes. It looked like all of the Justice League was present- all looking worse for wear. Whatever aliens were, the League wasn't kidding when they sent out an emergency shelter notice. "Um, that is...Well, you see, the funny thing is you have to pass some trials before I can help you. Batman Sir."

The Dark Knight showed no outward emotion as he nodded even as a few heroes seemed confused by Danny's nervousness. "I will undergo them."

Please disagree. Danny wanted to scream, flushing a bright green. He wrote those trails in two minutes. They are embarrassing!

Instead, he heard himself say as if speaking from his frozen ice core. "You must pass all my trails. The first shall begin right now and you must have opponents of those you cherish the most. They must be someone you love so much that the thought of them hurting will destroy you. They must take part now or drop dead if they refuse."

A glowing green snowflake appears under the feet of five individuals in the crowd. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Spoiler.are dragged to the front of the crowd, to stand next to Batman in the Ghost Kind's trails.

Batman froze and a man in a trench coat swore. "I warned you!"

"Wait!" Flash yelled, but it was too late. The Ghost King Trails had already begun. Danny wanted to scream, but he felt his body move one arm up, creating a sizeable frozen slate of ice to hover over the heroes.

A familiar song filled the air as smaller slates appeared before each hero. Words slowly carved across the large and small ice, much to the confusion of everyone present.

"Is...Is this Kahoot?" Red Robin dared to ask, watching the words finish being made, and the Kahoot music continued to count down.

Danny wants to hide his face in his hands, but he instead shouts, "The first to twenty is the victor and shall be the one I shall give my aid to! Now time is running out, humans, pick your answer for... Question one...According to the Ghost King, which Gotham hero has the best ass?"

Ding.

Everyone turned to Orphan when she quickly pressed B. on her ice tablet. Since she was the only one who moved in time before the timer ran out, her answer was displayed before all eyes.

She chose correctly. B. for Red Robin.

Orphan shrugs at Red Robin's gape. "His Highness' eyes did a slow up and down when they spotted you. It wasn't hard to guess."

Danny thought making a Kahoot was fast, and no one would be able to guess the answers to questions about himself. He thought it was foolproof.

He was wrong.

"Question two: Which is the prettiest star in the Milky Way!" Danny shouts in a pompous tone that contradicts his embarrassed frown and glowing green blush.

The heroes of Gotham stare at him before they all press A for Sirius.

"How!?" He asks when all of them get the answer right. Right now, Orphan is winning, so she is the closest to his contact dealer.

"You're wearing the star on your nightcap," Red Hood deadpans.

"Q-Question three.....What is the Ghost King's favorite Holiday?"

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Spoiler, and Orphan picked D. for Halloween but only Batman chooses correctly with B. for Valentine's Day.

He does not explain how he knows that, and Danny is starting to worry the greatest detective in the world is going to figure all his answers out, and he will end up serving them.

Sweating, he moves on to the next question as John Consistent watches on, wondering if he indeed was an Occult expert as he thought or not because none of what was happening was what he thought would happen.

They may stand a chance yet.

Master Post Link

[imaginesmai]

Hewn City, where nightmares come true

Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.

Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.

“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”

“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”

“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.

Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.

It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.

And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.

“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”

“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.

“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”

You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.

Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.

Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.

For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.

His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.

“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”

“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”

“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”

You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.

Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.

He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.

“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”

“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “

“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”

Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.

That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.

With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.

-

Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.

His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.

Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.

“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”

“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”

“Sex ban for a week”

Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.

The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.

He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.

Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.

“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.

“Shut up” Azriel hissed.

“A fair warning”

Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.

You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.

Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.

The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.

You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.

Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.

“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”

“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.

They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.

It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.

He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.

“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.

It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 

They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.

From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.

He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.

Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.

You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?

I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?

I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?

You smell nice, unbonded

Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity

The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.

And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.

Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.

“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”

You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.

“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”

“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”

You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.

There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.

“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”

Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.

You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.

Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.

“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”

“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.

“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”

You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.

Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.

“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”

The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.

It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.

Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.

He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.

They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.

“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.

“This is over. Forever”

“Azriel. They will know”

“Fuck you”

Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.

That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.

“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.

“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”

Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.

In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.

He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.

Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.

When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.

His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.

“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”

“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”

You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.

He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.

Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.

“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”

He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.

Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.

“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”

“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”

“I wish that was different too”

It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.

Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.

Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya

[azsazz]

Tonight I'm So Lonely (Part 2)

Cassian x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to the One-Liner Anon Request: This is so cliche but what about “of course it’s you.” for your writing exercise 😙

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,306

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You turn towards your brother, eyes sparkling with tears, shining much like the stars framing you from behind. “Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?”

Your name is a soft exhale from your brother's lips, and you fall into his open arms instantly. Clutching him back as tightly as he’s hugging you, you realize that you’ve missed him more than you ever noticed before. Fighting with Rhys and being ignored by Cassian has taken a toll on you, and your eyes slide shut as you try to stop the tears from spilling over. “I don’t know why. Does he know?”

You nod against his shoulder, throat too tight with emotion to speak. It feels like a cavern in your chest, your heart cracking and caving in upon itself, mirror to how you’d felt when your mother had been murdered before your very eyes. 

“I know he knows, Rhys. I can feel him sometimes, even when he thinks he’s blocking me out.” 

Sometimes, when Cassian forgets that you’re his, you can feel every hit he’s taking during a particularly rough training session, the soreness in his bones, the splitting of the skin across his knuckles when he fights. You can feel his utter joy when he’s having a night with Rhys and Azriel, the laughter they share and the dizziness that comes with bottles of fae wine.

But mostly, you can feel how lonely he is. That flicker of pain that could be your own when he catches sight of you and turns the other way. When he sits down the table from you as far as he can so that he doesn’t even have to look at you, the tremble of his soul as it fights from his chest, reaching out to you when he’s trying so desperately to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhys answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Then, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No,” you answer quickly, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let you go, though, hands planted on your shoulders in a comforting manner. The sight of his glittering crown is obnoxious, and you’d normally snort at him, teasing him for wearing it, but tonight, it gives you an idea. “But I will need your help cornering him.”

***

“I wanted to talk to you before I told anyone.”

“But you haven’t.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Cassian curses, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair. His digits snag on the tangles and he winces, tugging them out instead to work at the belt of his sheath, needing something to fidget with to expel some of this nervous energy.

His heart slams in his chest just being in your presence. He never thought he’d find his mate, never thought it would be his High Lord’s little sister. Someone he’s grown up with and hadn’t looked at as more than a nuisance until the both of you had matured and he’d really seen you for who you are; beautiful and a lot more worthy than anything he can give you. 

Finding you lying in crimson spilt snow was his worst nightmare come true. Each breath was agony and his fingers trembled so hard that the sword he had gripped in firm fingers had fallen to the ground. If Tamlin and his family had still been at the scene Cassian wouldn’t have been able to fight them off, he would’ve gladly accepted his fate too, knowing in that moment that if he didn’t have you around, he didn’t want to be either.

But it hadn’t been until you kissed him that fateful night, when the Night Court had seized the lands they’d lost during the war, that Cassian realized just how much you meant. Long days and nights on the battlefield spent wielding weapons that cut lines through enemy armies, his mind never strayed from you. How you were faring, if you were injured or lying somewhere out on the bloodied field, alone and exhaling your last breath, so close to losing you again.

It terrifies him, the idea of losing something so important not only to him, but to your brother, to the court. 

“It is as simple as that, Cassian,” you argue, “You could’ve just talked to me at any point, instead of running away like a child.”

“You don’t understand,” he chokes, throat tight.

“Then help me understand!” Your chest heaves, cheeks red with frustration. Why won’t he talk to you? Why won’t he tell you what’s going on in that thick head of his? Why is running away from you so much easier than it is to stay?

“I’d rather have my wings torn from my back than to come so close to losing you again!”

Your mouth parts, words caught in your throat. Your chest aches with a thousand wounds as you stare up at him. Cassian’s chest heaves, hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. You haven’t seen him looking anything close to this since you’d woken up after the incident and he was by your bedside, begging the Mother to let you stay.

“I—”

But Cassian continues, now that the words have started spilling. “You’re…you’re the High Lord’s sister,” he argues, but it’s weak. He’s trying to convince himself, you realize. He won’t look at you, wringing his fingers together nervously. “And I’m just…me.”

“Oh, Cassian,” you coo, reaching out with a hand to caress his face, to tilt his head to meet your gaze, but he pulls away. “You’re the Lord of Bloodshed,” he scoffs at the title, “One of the High Lord’s Inner Circle, but most of all, you’re mine.”

Something breaks in him at your claim. His body slams into yours so fast you can’t prepare. Large, rough hands cup your cheeks and eager lips meet yours as Cassian backs you into the wall.

It takes your mind a moment to catch up, but when he grunts against your lips you snap into motion. Wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him pulled close, you move your mouth against his. It’s hot and desperate. Your teeth brush against his but the feelings quickly replaced with his tongue swooping against yours as it delves into your mouth to explore.

You meet him, keening with pleasure at the touch. His body shudders and his knees nearly give out, relaxing his body weight into you. It’s comfortable, not at all drowning, it’s everything you’ve been wanting for so long, finally within your reach.

Your bond thrums happily in your chest and you can swear you hear his purring. His cock is heavy in his pants and you shiver at the feeling of it pressed into your body. You’ve fantasized about that cock.

Cassian feels like coming home. Like waking up from the longest nap in the world. You haven’t forgiven him, not in the slightest, but his silken hair feels like heaven as you rip the tie from the back of his head. His muscles feel like opening the most precious Starfall gift, rippling beneath your nails as you rake them down his body.

He groans, hands just as desperate to touch. They slide down your sides in a possessive manner, over the round of your ass and beneath your thighs as he grips tightly and lifts you into his arms with the ease of a warrior.

You curse against his mouth and he swallows it greedily, cock swelling in his tight leathers.

“Say it again,” he breathes against your lips.

“What?” you ask, dazed. You angle your head away but he doesn’t let you go far, trailing kisses beneath your ear to keep you close.

“Say that I’m yours again,” he pleads, and you gasp when he bucks his hips against yours as he walks. “Mine, Cassian,” you moan, digging your fingers into his hair once more. “You are mine.”

[cypherscript]

Pulling a favor

Been watching Hazbin Hotel, really enjoying it so far. Time to mix my obsessions together cause that's what we do here, ain't it?

_____________________________________________________________

"Okay, I can get you the meeting but once you're in Heaven I wont be able to go with you. Will you be okay?"

Charlie takes Lucifer's hand into hers, "I'll be fine."

Lucifer places his other hand on hers, "That's my girl". He steps back, a look of pride on his face before sighing, "Good luck, kiddo." His magic flares from the ground, taking him away in a swirl of power before he steps out into a room full of his rubber ducks. Flopping down into a pile of ducks reveals a throne like chair that he slowly sinks into. "What should I do? Heaven's never going to listen to her... but maybe... YES! Where is it?" He begins digging through the multitude of ducks before pulling out a scroll with a note, 'One Favor-open when shit hits the fan'.

With a flourish he breaks the seal on the scroll, tossing it into the air as it bursts into an acid green flame and grows larger and larger until it's nearly 6ft tall, Lucifer lowers his head: not quite a bow but somewhat respectful, "King Pariah, I have a request, I have need of-"

"Uuuuh," a voice most definitely not King Pariah spoke, "I don't know who you are but Pariah's long gone."

Lucifer looks up to see the flames displacing a human boy sitting at a table eating food with his family. "Someone... Someone defeated the Infinite King?"

"Who is it sweetie? One of your ghost friends," The mother asks as the boy stands up, grasping the 'frame' of the green fire. "Isn't Pariah the ghost that stole our town?"

"Yeah mom, I'm not sure who this is so I'll just take this into another room."

"Alright Danno, I'll save you some meatloaf," the massive man who was obviously the boys father.

Lucifer's mind was going a million mile an hour, 'The Infinite King was defeated... The scroll opened to this human boy... This boy defeated Pariah Dark in single combat... HOW?! Human's are so squishy.'

The boy released the flame to float in front of him, "So why were you trying to contact king edgelord?"

"I am... sorry... but who are you?"

"Ah... so you're not a ghost," The boy asks, tilting his head before a ring of pure white light travels over his body transforming him; hair whiter than the holy light, eyes as green as the flame he spoke into, a cloak of stars that continued for what seemed forever over a black and white hazmat suit with a crown of aurora over his head. "My name is Phantom, Pariah tried to take what was mine and I had to put him back where he came from but I suppose you've already pieced that together..." Phantom gestures to introduce himself.

"Yes sir, I have, I am Lucifer of the Morningstar."

"The archangel?"

"Yes, that's... usually not the first guess people go with, I'm also the leader of Hell. I had used this scroll to ask a favor of the Infinite King. My daughter, Charlie, is going to Heaven to meet with the other angels about this plan she has to save the sinners from being slaughtered by the angel exterminators."

"Slaughtered? Aren't they already dead?"

"Normally yes but the angel's weapons can completely destroy the sinner's soul when they're exterminated."

Phantom stills from messing with his cloak, his face stony and shadowy as the lights in the room begin to flicker, "Their souls are destroyed?"

Lucifer feels something he's not felt in a long time creep up his spine, "Yes sir, I was hoping to ask for a favor to protect Charlie while she's up there. They can easily kill her, I'll happily agree to make a deal with you for it."

"No," Phantom says, cutting Lucifer off.

"Ah... I see, thank you for your time," Lucifer goes to cut off the flame video.

"I mean 'No' to the deal. I'll help you but not for a deal, I'd also like to have a word with these angels as well"

"Oh thank you, Phantom! Do I need to bring you here?"

"No need, one second," Phantom leans away from the flame, "Can you guys put my food up?! I've got some duties to take care of love you!"

"Can do, Danno!"

"Love you, sweetie!"

"Right, step away from the flame please." Lucifer does so and Phantom steps through flame with a ripple. Once he's through the flame poofs out of existence. "Nice place, love the... ducks?"

"Ah yes, they're a project of mine..."

"Well, I've seen weirder obsessions. Now what's this about destroying souls?"

"Right, let me explain while I set up the meeting with the angels for Charlie.

_____________________________________________________________

Danny had never heard of such bullshit in his unlife and he worked with the observants for ancient's sake! He steps out of the portal provided by Lucifer, switching to his human form, to the so called Pearly Gates with some Suburbia Ken standing at a podium.

"Welcome to Heaven! May I please know your name?"

"Danny Fenton."

"Right let's see; Dan, Danielle, Ah yes, Daniel Fenton. Oh goodness, you've been dead for some time, why are you just now getting into Heaven?"

"Traffic?"

"..." The angel stands in silence then bursts into a smile, "Well regardless, welcome to heaven!" He throws open the gates and Danny steps inside, his nose twitching at the lack of anything. His eyes lock onto the tallest tower and makes his way to it, the elevator inside playing harps and lyres for elevator music. As he gets closer to his destination he can hear the angels and Charlie musically their debate.

"Ancients I hate Musical dimensions," He says as the elevator comes to a slowing stop. "Showtime," Danny smiles as his transformation takes place, the holy lights in the elevator dimming and flickering.

_____________________________________________________________

Sera looks to Charlie, "I'm sorry, the court finds that the souls in Hell can not be redeemed."

Adam is all smiles at this point, "Ohhohoho YES! I win. Suck it! You better save the day c*&ts because we're coming to your hotel first."

"Are you now?" a male voice asks from behind him, grabbing his hand as he and crushing it in his grip.

"Ah fuck, my hand! Who the fuck are you," Adam screams as the courtroom fills with the inky void of space and Phantom fades into view.

Sera looks down on Phantom and then do his crown, "What are you doing here, Phantom? You have no right to be in this court!"

"No RIGHT?! Do you know what this bastard's doing?! I have every right to be here." Phantom tosses Adam easily to the ground. "You're destroying souls!!"

Adam gets up and summons a sword and swings at Phantom with it scream, "What's it to you freak-show?! Who cares what happens those piss bastard sinners?!"

"Sinners huh? Then why are you here?" Phantom turns frigid as a chain of ice appears on Adam's neck, the end in Phantom's hand. He yanks it tightly, pulling Adam to the floor. "Mister First Sinner. How could you get into heaven?"

The other angels in the court whispering, asking the same question.

"How are you doing that?!"

"None of your business. I was hoping Lucifer's daughter would be able to talk some sense into the lot of you but it seems there's just to many rotten apples up here. Let me fix that." Phantom steps onto Adam's back, grabbing his wings and ripping them off in a quick pull, filling the court with his screams. Lute tries to come to his aid but is slammed into the ground by the inky blackness.

"Phantom that is enough," Sera shouts down to him as she flashes down to the floor, "Why are you here? How did you know know this meeting was taking place?" Phantom glances at Charlie, still holding Vaggie, causing Sera to sigh, "Of course it was Lucifer..."

"I'll freely admit he asked me to be here to watch after here but it became so much more when I found out what this asshole's been doing."

"He did what he had to do, the demons were going to rebel and we had to protect our own souls. They need to be kept in line!"

"There is no their souls or your souls. You are disrupting the balance, if you kill the soul there's going to be issues with the mortal worlds and if the mortal world goes so do yours. You were so worried about the demons attacking you? You keep destroying souls and all you're going to have to worry about is me."

"Are you threatening Heaven, Infinite King?"

The wings in Phantoms hands turn to ice and shatter into billions of pieces, "I don't make threats, Sera, I make promises." Phantom treads over to Charlie and Vaggie, thrusting his hand out and portal much like a blackhole opens up, "Come along you two." They simply step through with him as the court of angels burst into a cacophony of angelic shouts of alarm and outrage.

[runnning-outof-time]

Thanks for sending this lovely surprise in, Cia! 🥰 this gif tho…🥺🥺🥺 it immediately made me think of my mini-series, Girl Dad.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Loud Sounds

Tommy Shelby x Reader (from the mini-series Girl Dad)

Warnings: ptsd fueled episode (brought on by sound)

Tommy and his daughter, Thea, are out on Arrow House’s grounds. Thea asked if her father could take her fishing for the day and Tommy, surprisingly, agreed. (Y/N) was rather pregnant with their second child, and Tommy knew she needed a rest.

With their rods in hand, Tommy still managed to get Thea’s favorite horse, Sammy, out of the stable and the two rode him to the pond that was on the property.

Things were going well. Tommy had shown Thea how to properly cast the line and the little three and a half year old was more than happy with reeling in lily pads and soggy sticks. Tommy was happy that he was able to spend some quality time with his daughter; he’d been guilty of thrusting himself fully into his business these past several weeks.

But the baby was coming soon, so Tommy decided to cut back on the hours in his office. He even found that the more time he spent with his family, the less he was trying to find ways to quiet his mind.

He was usually ok with loud sounds, bangs in particular, and horses getting startled, so having this happen truly scared him. Afterwards he reasoned that maybe it was because the two sounds happened together, but in the moment he shutdown.

There was either a car that misfired, or someone in the woods shot their weapon. The loud bang that came from it startled Sammy to the point where he was rearing back and whinnying loudly.

Hearing these sounds made Tommy hit the ground; his mind transported back to France. He slid down the slight slope of the pond, flattening his body as best he could against the mud as he covered his head with his arms; waiting for the imending gun and canon-fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for it once again.

But it didn’t come. Instead, the sweet voice of his daughter filled the silence that returned after the horse had calmed down. “What’s wrong, daddy?”

Her voice made Tommy open his eyes and look around. He was breathing heavily, adrenaline still coursing through him and he was still able to hear his heart beating in his ears, but that was the only sound. Removing only one of his arms from his head, he checked his surroundings. It quickly became apparent that he wasn’t in France. Then he saw Thea. She was looking at him with an expression that was a mix of confusion and worry.

“Daddy?” she asked again, her head tipping to the side as she made her confusion even more clear.

“Noth…nothing, sweetheart. Nothing’s wrong,” he told her, not trusting his voice enough to sound confident at first.

“Mumma’s not going to be happy that you got your shoes and pants wet,” she pointed out in a warning tone, making Tommy realized that the lower half of his legs were now submerged in the pond.

“I don’t think she will be,” Tommy agreed with his daughter, taking a few more steadying breaths. He hated that he’d reacted like that; especially in front of Thea…but it was thanks to Thea that he was able to snap out of it. She quickly made him realize that he was no longer in France.

“I can help you up, daddy,” she then said to him, extending her hand out as she crouched down next to where he was laying.

Tommy’s heart instantly swelled at her offer, wondering how he managed to be blessed with a child who had such a pure soul. “I’ll get up on my own, love. Thank you though,” he politely turned down her offer, pulling himself up, out of the water then so that he was standing again.

“All better?” Thea asked, looking up at him now.

“All better,” Tommy nodded, sending her a smile, making one form on the little girl’s face.

The creaking of the door made Tommy glance up from the paper he was reading over. He decided that he’d take some time alone in his office after the incident that happened at the pond. He brought the newspaper down to his lap when he saw that (Y/N) was in the doorway. He smiled at her, silently waving her over.

(Y/N) listened, moving into the room and shutting the door behind her. She waited until she was a step or two away from him to finally speak. “Thea told me about what happened at the pond today,” she said softly, testing the waters to see if he wanted to talk about it or not. Tommy was always hit or miss when it came topics such as these. She didn’t want to push him if he didn’t feel comfortable with it.

“She told me about my pants and shoes then, eh?” he asked, chuckling slightly he rubbed the back of his head. He looked down at his lap as his smile faded, thinking back to what had happened earlier. “It was just loud sounds, love. They happened at the same time and…” he trailed off, exhaling the rest of his breath as a sigh.

(Y/N) sent him a sympathetic smile, knowing how tough it was for him to express these types of things. The fact that he even began talking about it was a rarity. “I know,” she began, catching herself before continuing, “well I don’t actually know, but…”

“I know what you mean,” he cut her off, seeing that she was getting ready to talk herself into a circle. “I’m fine now…got over it pretty quickly once I realized Thea was there. She helped me,” he told her, sending her a closed-mouth smile.

“She didn’t think much of it,” she informed him, smiling back, “just thought it was funny that you got wet.”

Tommy chuckled at her statement, waving her over to sit with him. (Y/N) obliged, happily taking a seat on his lap. “Thanks for checking on me,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck before he pressed a kiss to it.

“Of course, love,” she smiled at him before she rested her head against his shoulder.

They sat in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tommy spoke again: “maybe I ought to go take Thea fishing again,” he mused, his hand brushing lazy circles against her swollen abdomen, “she really seemed to like it.”

“You should,” (Y/N) answered, nodding the best she could with her head rested against his shoulder, a smile forming on her lips.

“Maybe I’ll even take this one out there too,” he continued, referring to the child that would be born any day now.

“Even better,” (Y/N)’s smile grew as she lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his lips.

So I got a but carried away with this one 😅 I hope you enjoyed it!

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[tossawary]

I think there are definitely a couple people at Cang Qiong who already know about Yue Qingyuan's Xuan Su Sword problem before the beginning of SVSSS. (Shen Qingqiu is not one of them.)

When I decided to write Mobei-Jun with chronic pain problems due to his family's method of power-gathering and the ascension ritual ("Servant to a Different King"), it was because I had been doing a lot of thinking about Yue Qingyuan's health and potential chronic pain problems (at the very least) due to having a sword that leaks his soul out or whatever the exact issue there is ("Sit With Your Soul").

I feel like it would be unrealistic if, after the initial incident, Qian Cao Peak wasn't consulted at all. I think that even if he felt secrecy was paramount to preserve the image of Qiong Ding (I don't think the sect's future was resting on Yue Qingyuan at this point, I think he was just a promising disciple), the previous Qiong Ding Lord would have consulted with the previous Qian Cao Lord at least once.

And since I like to imagine that Yue Qingyuan has ongoing issues and takes medication / receives treatment, then Mu Qingfang definitely knows. I don't think this would be too difficult to hide, behind meetings revolving around sect management and an apparent friendship between two peak lords. (I do think Yue Qingyuan was encouraged / forced to hide it in order to preserve appearances, and that his own instincts would have been to hide it regardless.) But I also imagine that there may be a small handful of elders and senior cultivators on Qian Cao who suspect that the sect leader is receiving check-ups / treatment for something, even if they don't know exactly what and know better than to gossip freely about it.

Personally, I like to imagine that Wei Qingwei also knows, as someone who can potentially consult with Mu Qingfang on spiritual swords. This would mean that the previous Wan Jian Lord probably also knew, unless MQF and YQY only reached out to WQW after their ascension. Some people on Wan Jian may also have suspicions, but it seems reasonable to me that most of them don't look further than, "Oh, the sect leader is simply seeking consultation on how to responsibly manage such a powerful sword. Drawbacks with spiritual weapons are quite common if you're not careful. That's very wise of him. Also, he and our peak lord are apparently just also good friends."

Yue Qingyuan being locked up in the caves for a year can be explained away as a privilege, training away in seclusion in order to master such a strong sword, and I think most people wouldn't think more of it. I think there would have been a few members of the sect in the wrong place at the wrong time, in order to see the Qiong Ding, Qian Cao, and Wan Jian Lords panicking about something, and that some people could match this up to the timeline of Yue Qingyuan's seclusion, but I also think anyone connecting these dots might just assume that the powerful Xuan Su Sword was unruly and dangerous at first, and the problem was quickly solved and has been solved for years. Some senior Qiong Ding cultivators might have known the initial problem, but they may not know that powerful sect leader Yue Qingyuan is still receiving treatment for this problem to this day. Only someone like Shang Qinghua, Airplane Bro, would immediately know what really went down there and know for sure that it's still a problem.

I don't think these peak lords are careless with this information. Mu Qingfang and Wei Qingwei know how to keep their mouths shut about having an injured sect leader, and Yue Qingyuan would be capable of keeping up a smile while he's bleeding out if he really needed to do that. But I think Yue Qingyuan's secret is especially compelling if there's potential for Shen Qingqiu to piece the information together, if he could look past his own self-loathing and resentment to search for another explanation, and start looking for all the little clues scattered across the sect in other people.

[sunnified]

DON'T GO SHARIN' YOUR DEVOTION !

synopsis. the night before fleeing from his kingdom, the prince begs for you to follow him to a new life.

pairing. mcd!prince!garroth ro'meave x gn!reader

content. fluff/angst. use of “my love”. mentions of arranged marriage. garroth is a charmer,,

word count. 1.1k

a/n. no way, sunnified's first post?!

cerulean blue eyes stared into yours, unwavering in his decision as garroth attempted to look into your heart, mind, and soul; he wanted to know your feelings on the matter, hear your thoughts before you could voice them. there was no way to describe how he was truly feeling, his emotions a whirlwind of the worst things imaginable and his thoughts nothing but murky waters. perhaps, it was un-princely of him to show up to a maiden’s house in the middle of the night, but garroth didn’t really consider himself to be a prince anymore.

by morning, he would be declared dead, anyway.

“you cannot be serious.” your confused voice broke the heavy silence, a humble crease in your brows as you presented nothing but your true feelings. garroth had always liked that about you — even in a tough situation, you had a good head sitting atop your shoulders. the rolling pin you had been using as a weapon only moments before laid on the ground, and a dry laugh escaped you, “garroth, tell me you’re not serious.”

he winced, more-so than when you had nearly taken his vision with your baking equipment, ducking his head slightly as he kept himself hidden from the view of outside. nobody could know he was here, and patrolling guards seemed to be lurking all over the streets as of late. he offered a nervous chuckle in reply, having shaken all his anger out on the journey to your family’s withering business, “i am.”

it still felt weird, years down the line, to see the first prince of o’khasis standing in the middle of your unremarkable bakery, staring at you with those honest eyes of his and being so charming even when he didn’t mean to be. after an unlikely friendship had formed in the middle of a festival one evening, garroth had been insistent on seeking you out more and more often. the bakery had become a sanctuary of sorts for him, acting as a place of mercy during the hectic lifestyle he seemed to lead. the building itself was nothing special, the walls were crumbling, the floorboards creaked, and dust lined the windowsills, but it housed his favourite person. you.

“i’m leaving.” his voice was smooth, determined as he stood in the middle of the room. he looked out of place, handsome features contrasting greatly to the beige clothing he was wearing — in fact, you thought he could almost pass as someone less than royal blood status, if it were not for the fullness of his cheeks and the way his hair shined under candle light. garroth continued with a grimace, “tonight. before anybody notices the mess i left behind.”

“garroth—“ you begin to protest. as a peasant in the bustling city of o’khasis, you had no idea of the self-serving nature that the royal family seemed to follow. it was the chance of fate that you had even been acquainted with the prince in the first place, and lady irene knows you have never been the lucky type, especially when you began to develop feelings for the chivalrous yet shy next-in-line. out of everyone in the world, you just had to fall for the one person you knew you could never have. in a world such as this one, a love story simply could not exist between a prince and a baker. yet despite the obvious class difference, prince garroth seemed intent on seeing you as much as possible. the friendship was kept under wraps, even from your parent and his most trusted allies.

it was not a secret you were willing to share with anyone, and he seemed exactly the same way.

tears welled up, not that you wanted them to but it was futile to attempt to stop them, “don’t go.” a shaky breath, followed by a hiccup, “garroth, you can’t just leave. what about the future of o’khasis? the future of your people? what about me?” despite the peculiarity of it all — the unfortunate blossomed infatuation, the sneaking around, even the occasional difference in view when arguing — there was nobody in all of the ru’aun region more perfect to be your other half. you would be a fool to allow him to go so easily.

“my love, all i think about is you.” he responded ever so softly, taking a singular step forward and closing the gap that had previously been open, “day and night, hour after hour.” he whispered, his hand clasping yours in a gentle hold. a sad smile pulled at his lips, “but there can be no us if i do not go.” oh, that’s right. with the sudden intrusion, and initial shock, you had almost forgotten what had led your secret lover here the first place. the treaty — an arranged marriage between the oldest son of the lord of o’khasis to the daughter of the lord of scaleswind. garroth was to be wed to another, should he not flee tonight.

tears fell down your cheeks. even in his time of desperation, when his life was being decided for him, garroth was still thinking about you. he had always been such a devoted and caring lover, a man willing to put your needs over his own. truthfully, you weren’t sure if you deserved this man. was this really your last moment with him until the foreseeable future?

as if reading your mind, garroth wiped a stray tear. your eyes met his, and you were suddenly reminded of every little moment together over the past few years, “come with me.” he whispered.

you reeled back for a moment, “what?”

he didn’t hesitate.

“this life is not worth living if i do not have you by my side. all of this, it will have been for nought should we be separated.” his words were sincere, accompanied by the squeezing of your hands as thought to clear away any doubts, “you are the one i want to wed in this life, and in every other. i would be foolish to not ask you to follow me to a new life.”

for the first time since he broke into your little bakery, his usual smile was present, making everything else seem dull in comparison. it was a reminder of why you had fallen in love with such an impulsive man in the first place, of how nothing else seemed to matter when he was present. he was comfort, safety, and everything in between.

“okay.” your whisper was small and sweet, but it reached his ears nonetheless, “i’d follow you to the ends of the earth, if you asked.”

he chuckled, carefree and joyous, “good thing i asked, then.”

[raisedbythetv89]

joss's sick obsession with not just causing pain and suffering - but punishment and humiliation to his "pretty popular girl" archetype characters aka Buffy and Cordelia and his favoritism of the most horrible mediocre white men aka riley, xander, and angel is never more apparent than in Into the Woods

The writers opted not for the FANTASTIC call back to season 1 with owen and Never Kill a Boy on the First Date when Buffy says "two days in my world and owen really would get himself killed…. or I'd get him killed… or someone else...."

which set them up perfectly for the road map of Buffy's attempt at a "normal" relationship that angel, her mother, and the scoobies keep trying to push her to have (when she's not normal herself so of course it's gonna be a disaster which is soooooo trying to force a queer person to be straight coded which is why spuffy is inherently queer on top of them both being canonically bisexual because Buffy embracing her love of Spike is embracing her inherent queerness)

But could you IMAGINE how amazing it would have been for season 1 to have foreshadowed riley being turned at the suck house (because literally all that evil in Sunnydale and NO ONE takes the opportunity to turn the slayer's boyfriend into the perfect secret weapon to take her and her whole family out??? PLEASE)

Then vamp riley almost killing Dawn and her mother (because Dawn would be the one tricked into inviting him in as a call back to Dawn accidentally inviting Harmony in and Buffy saying she's gonna get us all killed plus angel tricking his little sister into inviting him in once he was turned)

Buffy is forced to kill him after pleading with him to remember he loves her or any part of who he was (which would further show how exceptional Spike's ability to form a truce with Buffy, keep it, and fall in love with her all without a soul is)

Making riley her second (third if we count ford being left for dead and then having to dust him) turned evil boyfriend she's forced to kill.

Buffy would still be DEVASTATED and it's Buffy so she'd still punish and blame herself even though it'd be all riley's fault (demonstrating how this storyline would still cause immense pain for Buffy and be very high stakes drama for the plot but again joss elected for humiliation having Buffy literally chase after the man who was cheating on her with vampires while she was dealing with a sick mother and a hell god after her sister. Favoring a white man's character over the best plot line)

All while also further setting up her and Spike's relationship because of the "if that's what I wanted I'd be dating Spike" of it all which was her basically saying if I didn't want normal, Spike would be who I'd choose and now she's tried to be normal and he got killed, almost killed her family and then she had to kill him just like season 1 Buffy knew would happen when she broke things off with owen!!

AND the poetic irony of her trying to be “normal” and it ends with the exact same result?? The lesson being that rejecting who you are is not the answer and the only true answer is self acceptance because pain will happen no matter what so might as well love and embrace yourself ???

BUT NOOOOOOO the writers aka joss opted for riley's narrative to be that he's a hero and a good guy always, no matter what because joss has a big fat crush on marc and guys like him, angel and oz all get written off by treating women like shit without being villainized for it at all and then leaving. Getting to go on to live rich and fulfilling lives while Kendra, Tara, Cordy, and Anya are all violently killed off with barely any time spent grieving their deaths by more than one character..... (I haven't ever been able to finish ats so I don't know how much this applies to cordy's but my guess is the pattern didn't change much)

THEY EVEN LOOK THE SAME FOR CHRIST’S SAKE IT WRITES ITSELF

[petrichormeraki]

Tips For Writing C!TommyInnit, From A Loser With Brainrot

Tommy is LOUD. Whether he's angry or excited or playing around, he's usually yelling. He is not aware of how loud he is unless he's specifically raising his voice to overpower the conversation (which he usually only does when he's angry at someone/thing, or to make a point). He's only quieter when he's serious, at peace, or very very sad

TOMMY IS SMART!!! He thinks things through when he has time to do so. He is strategic and considers other people's behaviors when he plans something out (ex building the tower overlooking the prison slowly, so Sam didn't get as suspicious, and making a point to only inhabit it when it was dark to be less noticed). Tommy knows how people act/think if he's familiar with them, and he uses that to his advantage.

However, Tommy's very impulsive, and his emotions overrun his brains very often. This happens the most when he's angry or scared.

Tommy lets people take pity on him 80% of the time. Unless it's a serious situation and he's trying to prove himself, (ex Logstedshire) he LOVES free shit and he very easily falls into the "oh poor little TommyInnit, he has no family to his name and is dirty and cold, won't you spare some netherite for his poor soul?" narrative.

Tommy is childish. He bickers over things that don't really matter and is the epitome of "he started it!!" when he gets in trouble. He also constantly nags at people until they cave to get what he wants. I have no idea how CC!Tommy plays being a youngest sibling SO WELL since he's an only child but that is exactly who C!Tommy is

Tommy is not brave. He hides behind people to avoid danger and he runs away from conflict if he can. The times where this didn't happen (Exile, Final Disc Confrontation, November 16th) were because he was backed into a corner, literally or figuratively, and was forced to fight back.

more under the cut bc this got very long lmao

Tommy is not very private UNLESS it concerns his past trauma. He will talk about what he's doing, every thought in his head, and what he thinks of everything he sees, UNLESS it's recounting what happened to him. Getting information like that from the source is like pulling teeth, even for people he trusts completely. The reasoning for this (best as I can tell anyway) is that he simply just doesn't want to relive it.

Tommy has a very black and white way of thinking about his allies. If someone helps his enemy, they are his enemy too. He doesn't really care about personal motivations or reasonings unless they're close to him (Tubbo) and he does not forgive easily.

However, he also recognizes power. When Tommy ran from Logstedshire, he ran to the person who killed his best friend because he knew Technoblade was very powerful against Dream. Another example is when he ran to Phil when Dream escaped prison and went after him, even though Phil destroyed L'manburg WITH Dream AND killed Wilbur, two things that Tommy vehemently hates him for. Tommy seemed to not be thinking very clearly when either of these events happened, so this may have been a purely impulsive decision made out of fear.

Tommy squirrels away his riches. He only breaks into his ender chest when he really needs the resources, ie diamond armor and weapons for a showdown. He actually has quite a lot of diamonds and gold if I recall correctly, but he still resorts to stone/iron tools and no armor in his day to day.

Kind of related to above, Tommy keeps momentos of people he cares about in his ender chest, where no one can reach them but him. He is terrified of losing these things because they remind him of when times were good, and he had people he loved. (This was actually said by him, I just don't remember the stream sorry ;;w;;)

Tommy is very stubborn. He doesn't cooperate very often and views the way he does things as the best way. The only time to my memory that he defaulted to someone else was when Wilbur was alive (L'manburg, Pogtopia)

Tommy likes maintaining his surroundings. This includes harvesting crops and replacing them, patching up creeper holes, and replacing missing blocks from his house or the Prime Path. He does these things without anyone telling him to, on his "down time" if you will, and doesn't really call attention to it

TOMMY LOVES ANIMALS. He doesn't like killing them and tries to eat carrots instead of killing for meat (although he doesn't seem to have qualms with eating meat that other people give him)

Tommy has a soft spot for kids/small creatures. He tried very hard to hate Michael because he was bitter about Ranboo and Tubbo's friendship but he broke almost instantly if I remember correctly. He fawns over "cute" things and gets thoroughly distracted from whatever he was doing if he notices a baby chicken or something

Tommy is rarely still. He almost always is doing something with his hands (ie building, chopping trees, etc) if he's in conversation with someone. The only times where he actually sits down and stops is when he's watching the sunset on his bench, or having a self reflection moment/processing heavy information.

I'll stop here, but I plan on making another post that more goes into his speaking mannerisms and whatnot. I hope this helps somebody trying to write C!Tommy, feel free to send me an ask if you have specific questions!!

[dandylovesturtles]

Whats Draxum’s redemption arc in sideline look like (if he even gets one lmaooo)

thanks for the ask! this got long so I'm putting a lot of it under a cut

at this point, I have committed to Draxum's redemption arc in Sidelined, because I like Draxum and I love a good redemption arc haha. That said, as I've said a few times before, it wouldn't be easy for him, and it definitely wouldn't go down like in the show, where Mikey just kind of drags him into it. he'd have to work for it himself

it's probably good to start this by talking about my own interpretation of Draxum and the Draxum characterization I'm working with in this AU. while I love a good Evil Bastard Draxum, in canon I read him as more of one of those people who truly believed he was the hero so hard he tipped over into villainy on accident. which doesn't mean he didn't enjoy what he was doing, and he's definitely uncaring of the lives around him (he's got some of that mad scientist spark), but in contrast to the Foot Clan who are actively trying to subjugate the whole world (presumably under the belief that they'll get to be the top brass in the new world order), Draxum is actually just trying to save his people. a noble end, even if the means he's choosing involves eradicating another race of beings entirely. and I'm generally of the belief that if Draxum had actually kept the turtles, if he had been in charge of their raising, he might have initially started out thinking of them purely as warriors to be molded for his aims, but eventually would have come to see them as their own people, as children (yes, it's entirely possible to raise children and still have disregard for them as people, but I'm giving Draxum the benefit of the doubt in this one).

however, Draxum didn't raise them from babies - they just showed up at his house one day, raising weapons against him and blowing up his lab. so he's still thinking of them purely as warriors - young and inexperienced warriors, sure, but warriors nonetheless. he's not really thinking about how they're only teenagers, about how they might have dreams and wants and needs that have nothing to do with fighting, how they actually love and care for each other as a family. I said this in another ask, but Draxum thinks the idea of them calling each other "brothers" and Lou Jitsu "father" is actually laughable. in his mind, it's just pointless to even read any kind of family structure into their relationship. they are at most superiors and subordinates.

when Draxum put Leo in the Dark Armor, Splinter saw it as his fourteen-year-old son, his Baby Blue, being tortured and possibly killed right before his eyes. Draxum saw it as sacrificing a pawn in front of a general.

of course, callous disregard for a living person is bad no matter how you see it, but there's still a definite difference in perception here.

it's not until 1, Draxum realizes he was horribly wrong about what the Armor is and what the consequences of awakening it are, and 2, he witnesses the way the family reacts to what is happening to Leo, not as group of warriors down a man but as a family desperately trying to save a loved one, a piece of themselves, that it finally clicks for him what he's done.

Draxum goes on a long soul-searching retreat after that (he's also hiding from the Hidden City government but that's a side note). how could the love he had for his people drive him down such a dark and reckless path? how could he not see what was right in front of him, until he caused serious damage to the place he was trying so hard to save? how could he be so callous to someone who, annoying as he may be, is ultimately innocent?

initially he does this soul-searching far away from the Hamatos. he still has his powers in this timeline, so he makes do with stealing and finding places to take over and live. but at some point he starts thinking, maybe he wants to try and make amends for what he did, even if it's in just a small way. and even with his humbling he's still a little full of himself, so he's like, of course this ragtag bunch would want the help of Baron Draxum

(they do not)

so he starts by trying to give them practical help. he can imagine that Leonardo has significant medical issues following his time in the armor, and while it's not his primary field he knows enough about healing draughts to get by, and while there's no magic potion that will "fix" Leo, there are ones that can help with the pain and fatigue, in some ways better than human medicines, and that can help strengthen his immune system. He tries to give these to the Hamatos (specifically Mikey and Donnie while they're out scavenging one day) and gets pretty soundly rebuffed. Donnie is in "kill on sight" mode, and while Mikey is more likely to at least hear Draxum out, he also has no reason to trust anything the man gives them, especially when he suggests they feed it to Leo. so they don't take the offerings initially. Draxum eventually settles for leaving them in a cache near one of the sewer tunnel entrances, if they want it.

and then Leo gets really sick, and is in a lot of pain. Leo's immune system, like everything else about his body, is pretty weak following the armor, and he can't fight off the flu or an infection as well as he could before. so Leo is sick and in pain and Donnie and Mikey remember the cache of healing potions.

(I actually considered writing this fic awhile back and then never did haha, but here's what I had in my notes for it:

Splinter kneels on the side of the bed. "I'm sorry, Blue. We'll get you more medicine soon."

Leo reaches one hand out and Splinter takes it quickly. "Daddy," he whines, tears starting to roll down his cheeks, and oh, Donnie realizes, Leo really is hurting.

He quietly and casually deletes the last ten minutes of audio in his recordings. No one else needs to hear this.)

again, they aren't stupid - they aren't just going to feed Leo some random potions given to them by the guy that hurt him in the first place. but they can go find out if the potions are legit. so time for a trip to Witch Town!

they probably have some kind of misadventure while they're there (I'm imagining Mikey is joining Donnie and April this time), but they do manage to ascertain that the potions are legit. still, they end up getting the same potions made by someone else instead, just in case. but they remember that Draxum did try to help them, that time.

I imagine this happens several times, where Draxum just shows up to help them, they tell him to get lost after, before it starts to sink in that maybe Draxum is actually trying to turn things around. I don't think it ever quite gets to "Mikey calling him their second dad" level, but they do start to accept him as a begrudging ally and eventual weird uncle.

he has to seriously and sincerely apologize to Leo first, though. and Leo doesn't want to forgive him at first, and that's okay. these things take time.

anyway that's all. thanks for the ask again!

[koogl001]

So, I know this might sound super awkward, or maybe not, but can you please write a platonic yandere Alastor and reader. The reader could be a very close friend or even someone Alastor views as his child (and no they don't have to be related). I'm not super picky about this if you do write it. Thank you for reading this.

One-Shots and Headcanons Masterlist

Ever since you were a child, you used to play with the boy next doors 

He was well behaved yet meek and seemed almost fragile 

He always sported new bruises and cuts whenever you saw him but you never gave it too much thought, you were only 8 at the time after all 

Your mothers, just like you, became very good friends so sleep overs was a monthly must, not that you complained 

Alastor was always fun to hang out with  

After the mysterious death of Alastor's father, the young lad started slowly emerging from his shell 

He was more confident, daring and ready to take on the world 

When both your and his parents passed, you decided to move together 

It was easier that way and you could emotionally support the other when needed, not to mention you could talk to each other whenever you wanted 

You soon became close and comfortable with each other enough, to consider the other family 

You even started calling Alastor your big brother 

It wasn’t long after your new living arrangements were agreed upon that you started noticing little unexplainable details 

How he went out at outrageous hours during the night 

How you never saw him come back 

How he was often injured (though thankfully it was never anything serious) 

How you suddenly had piles upon piles of meat which you never saw him buy 

How he never allowed you into the basement, having secured it with three different locks to prevent you from going in 

And so, one night you decided to secretly observe what he was up to  

It was a mistake that cost you your life 

When an armed man who was supposed to be Alastors next victim pointed his weapon at him, your body moved on its own to shield him  

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a place with blood red sky 

It took you several weeks, maybe even months to get accustomed to your new way of life 

It wasn’t too bad 

You found work at the Happy Hotel ran by the Princess of Hell as a receptionist  

Charlie was a very friendly and kind soul 

So was Vaggie, once she stopped being suspicious of you and accepting that you had no bad intentions  

And Angel Dust, well he was a bundle of energy, always up and around  

But something was not right, and it left you feeling hollow every night when you went to bed, missing your home and missing your brother 

•❅─────────────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────────────❅•

“Hey Vaggie!” 

Charlie exclaimed, running from the front door towards me, Angel and Vaggs as we were sitting on a couch in the hall.  

“The Radio demon is at the door!” 

She motioned with her hands and made an overly stretched smile appear on her face. One could tell simply from her eyes that she was nervous as all Hell. Whoever this Radio demon was, he must have been a frightening character. 

“Well, don’t let him in!” 

Charlie went back as her girlfriend explained to me and Angel who exactly they were talking, how he got the nickname and why he was so feared down here. Scary stuff, I tell you. It made me want to run up the stairs towards my room when I saw an outline of an unfamiliar demon walk inside. Vaggie quickly took her spear and decided to go help with whatever was happening. I decided to try distracting myself with talking to Angel who was slouching next to me, his head resting on my thighs. That is, until a strange shadowy figure pulled him down.  

“(Y/N) my dearest, I finally found you!”  

I turned around only to come face to face with a deer demon dressed all in red with cute little antlers on his head. His voice was staticky, yet strangely familiar despite the fact I was more than sure I’ve never seen him before.  

“Uhm... Do I know you sir?”  

The shadow disappeared along with the strange (satanic?) symbols that were floating around.  

“My oh my, do you not recognise your beloved older brother?” 

He inquired, bending forward so that he would be on the same eye level.  

“I’m sorry for being so late, little dove. Finding the person who killed you and torturing him ever so slowly for hurting my precious little sister took much longer than I anticipated, but rest easy. I avenged you accordingly and now, with my power, I will protect you no matter what.”  

I was embraced by the man, closing my eyes and letting tears of happiness for reuniting with Alastor trinkle down my cheeks.  

“Big brother...” 

You finally found the missing piece, or more so it found you. All you knew was that you were finally home.  

[fantasy-relax]

@muffinsin I blame you for this, I write the reader point of view of reader you write Cassandra, deal? deal.

Fucked up! Reader x Cassandra dimitrescu

Warning: violence Cassandra being Cassandra, really what do you expected of this tag?

You always have been a Little... different that's what your family used to say. You were blunt and honest but the thing that trouble them most was your prediction for violence.

You got in a fight with a neighbor when you were a kid, your father had to pick you off the boy, the rock you grabbed to beat him was full of blood.

People keep their children away from you after that. Your parents too keep their distance.

Now all grow up, you are in the Dimitrescu Castle, working as a maid. The only thing you hated was the dress. As for everything else...

"AHHHH PLEASE LADY DANIELA I'M SORRY"

You actually don't mind. People die all the time, people suffer all the time and nobody of them were someone that you particularly care for, so being in a castle full of death and blood was pretty easy for you, do your job and that's all.

Rounding the corner, you see a pretty common scene.

"Look what have you done! My favorite sword has a scratch! You useless woman!"

" I'm s-orry Lady Cassandra my arm was tired and I-AHH"

The cut was fast and made with lethal precision. The arm was in the carpet, it will be a pain to clean luckily this was not your assigned area.

"Not tired anymore I bet"

The maid keep screaming, until Cassandra cut her head in another clean swipe of sickle. You can't stop the low hum in your throat. She looked at you her sadistic smile displaying her fangs.

"What is little morsel? Want to be next?"

She was full of blood, ready to cut your head too but the only thing you could think was:

"That was a clean cut my lady, you have a steady hand"

Cassandra freezes for a moment, you get closer to the body not too much as you still have to clean and getting your uniform dirty before that was a bad idea.

"You also have to be pretty strong or have a sharp weapon to make this so smoothly"

You stand up. Looking at the still frozen fly girl.

"Truly impressive"

At the end of your words Cassandra just swarmed away, her prey forgotten in the floor. You shrug walking to your duties.

For a moment you though that she was blushing.

The next day there is a leg outside your door something carved in the skin.

"How is this cut for you?"

Again it was very precise but what caught your attention was the handwriting, it was messy and the message feels like if she was pouting when she wrote it.

"Aww, My lady is pretty cute"

You hear something move above you, looking fast you catch part of one swarm, you know exactly what sister was spying. You laughed softly, very cute indeed.

The next week you were assigned to take some things to the dungeons. A chore that all the maids are terrified to do, the scream of the unfortunate souls trapped there and the sadistic daughter that was always ready to take more were more than enough to make them beg at the feet of the head maid for a change that like them never comes.

You just pick the box and go. The screams were annoying but you just tune then out, you put the thing down. Looking around you see one of the victims, Stella?Sara? you don't remember, she had cuts all around her body, how long was she here? Was two weeks ago? Three? And she was still alive?

"Seeing your future, little maid?"

You flinch surprised. You don't hear her come.

"I make sure to keep her miserable as long as possible by-

"Making cuts that are painful but not mortal, absolute brilliant, nothing less of expert like you"

You take a look around you see a man being held by hooks that goes through his hands, his legs are broken you can see that clearly, either he put his weight in the legs or in the hands , both choices painful.

"Very creative"

Full of curiosity you keep exploring. Praises to Cassandra talents never stopping

"Astounding"

" Visionary"

"Imaginative"

Until you feel the swarm pick up you up and rapidly throw you outside and closing the door as fast.

"Rude"

You stand up going to report the head maid of your completed chore.

If you could saw through walls you would have see a peculiar image of the so called monster sitting on the other side of the door, face red, hugging herself and purring happily.

More limbs were given to you as well as some organs, luckily they were of animals, so you cooked them. You keep a journal were every gift is written some examples were :

Deer leg with the following message *you have pretty eyes*"

Boar heart *Did you know they are the most similar to humans? * she is such a nerd

Full Bunny *Small like you* the small was more like a smoll it made you laugh.

One day a group of hunters try to raid the castle and kill the monsters inside, they only end giving you more work.

Bodies, blood and all kind of gore is in the floor AND in the carpet. It will be a pain to clean, even lady Bela it's looking at you with pity. You sigh pulling you sleeves up when you are tackled by certain brunette.

"Are you okay?! Did they hurt you?! Tell me who-"

"I'm fine lady bela take care of them"

"You took three"

"oh yeah, that reminds me"

You point at the three bodies.

"They are all yours Lady Cassandra"

The sisters have a particular rule, prey that they hunt, prey that they eat. Cassandra was the strongest not the fastest, Daniela and Bela surely got more than her.

"I killed them so they are mine but i don't gonna eat it so they are all yours."

Cassandra keep looking at your face you cleaned her face with you apron the only red was in her cheeks, she was so cute that you can resist it anymore you grabbed her neck and kissed her, it took a few seconds but he eagerly returned the kiss.

"FINALLY, the pining was killing me"

"SHUT UP DANIELA"

You were in a relationship with the sadistic sister something that you still were processing, you could easily live freely without working at all. But you were sorry for Bela having to work with short staff because her sisters were little shits with zero self control. So you keep working, in Cassandra side mostly and sometimes in Daniela.

Today was one of that days were you work was in Daniela hall. Everything was going well until a new maid decided to ruin the mood

"I told you, someday that bitch a Cassandra will get what she deserves, maybe I could let her live if she eats my pussy real good".

The other maid was new too but a lot smarter she looked like she wanted to stay away from her and was making signals to the absolute imbecile that was talking.

" I would tear her ap-UGH"

You grabbed her head and bashed her harder against the wall.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. She is out.

You let go of her head and looked at the other maid she just picked up her cleaning tools and continue her job, she was learning fast.

You walk and pick one leg of the imbecile, you start walking to the library were you beloved was having a sisters day.

No one interrupt you or try to help her. They know better.

The newbies considered you a depraved traitor. Sleeping with the monster that could kill them any day. But still survival is priority so they keep working.

The older considered you a blessing. The amount of death and injury since you started dating Cassandra was lower. Keep working, Survival is priority.

You were at the doors of the library you opened the door.

"knock first I know you have manners"

"aw did Draga mea miss me so much?

Focusing on the sickle on the table you entered in the room, dropping the maid in the middle of the room you pick the sharp blade.

You bend and grab the little bitch head again, you pull out her tongue and with a quick swing cut it out.

"AHH-UGH"

You grabbed her again and bashed her against the floor again.

One, two, three, four, five. She is out.

You dropped her and walked to your beloved, you throw the sickle on the table, she was silent looking at you with that pretty blush, so adorable.

You grab her chin, kissing her deeply until she is panting, the blush in her face just grow bigger and the soft purr in her chest is music, yours she is totally yours.

Grabbing her gloved hand you drop the tongue, you point to the crying woman in the floor.

"Here my love, a snack"

You kissed her again.

"I still have duties to attend, I see you later."

She looked like a lovesick puppy. A puppy whom you will play with later. What a good life.

[ohtobeleah]

Clover Club // Robert Floyd

Summary: After a near fatal accident, Bob comes face to face with the reality that time really is fleeting. Deciding that taking the leap to love you while he has the change is better than to not have had the chance at all.

Warnings: Robert Floyd x Reader. Mickey Garcia x Stepsister!reader. Depictions of injuries sustained from a serious car accident. ANGST! & a lil bit of fluff.

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Note: I don’t wanna hear shit about this one. This is 100% Whump. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m sick in the head—but this entire concept was inspired by Claire’s accident in McLeods Daughter’s. If you aren’t Australian and haven’t seen it just look it up on YouTube. SAD BOI HOUR. Also: this also serves as a milestone post—thanks for the 2k following.

Bob hated his birthday. He had for three years. Not because he didn't like presents or because he didn't like cake. It wasn't because he did have friends and family who would celebrate with him each and every year that passed. It wasn't because he was a lonely person or someone who didn't mind the day being about him.

It was because it served as a memory of the women he lost. A memory he could never ever forget even if he tried. How could he? Reaching out across his bed to be met with emptiness– Bob opened his eyes with a long drawn out yawn. Looking around the bedroom to be met with just himself. Sitting up, Bob threw his legs over the side of the bed. Noticing the date on the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table.

His Birthday–

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Three years earlier

“This is just perfect, he’s gonna be thrilled—“ Rooster placed his hands on your shoulders excitedly as he shook you slightly. Standing behind you as he admired the birthday decorations that you’d worked hard to hang up around the entirety of the Hard Deck. Fairy lights and birthday streamers. Helium balloons in all different colours, and the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. “Bobs gonna love it.”

“You think so?” Rooster thought that you and Bob should have gotten together a long time ago. He thought you were two of the best people he knew and the undeniable chemistry you two both gave off whenever you were left alone to your own devices together just seemed like a perfect match. But that was just his opinion. The matter of fact was you and Robert Floyd weren’t even dating. It was more of a situationship than anything else. A blooming romance that enjoyed taking its sweet sweet time developing. “I just hope it’s not too much.” Planning Bob a surprise party for Bob’s birthday wasn’t something you thought you’d ever do, but it had been fun nonetheless.

“No, this?” Rooster questioned as he jumped over the bar, working quickly to pour himself a glass of beer from the tap. “It’s perfect.” Snatching the schooner from Rooster's hand before he could take a sip, you sent him a warning glare. Having followed him right around the bar before he could get too comfortable.

“Penny doesn’t like it when you flyboys come behind the bar—“ You reminded him, watching as Rooster rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders in defeat. Trudging along as he went to sit at a barstool. “I need to pick up Mickey from the airport and stop by Bensons to get the cake. Can you finish getting this place all decked out before the birthday boy arrives?” You wouldn’t consider yourself a hard task master. Simply a bartender who had a thing for the big eyed bigger soul weapons systems officer who’d always given you the time of day. But with the way Bradley Bradshaw was looking at you like you’d just asked him to cut off his own arm—perhaps a hard task master was more appropriate. “Rooster—?”

“Two on the house beers and a bowl of fries and you got yourself a deal.” Rooster beamed as he leaned on the bar. His elbows pressed against oak as you looked at him dumbfounded.

“On the house just means out of my paycheck you jerk!” Sighing as you fished your keys from your back pocket. “But fine, whatever—I really don’t have time to argue.” Stepping out from behind the bar you threw Rooster the keys to the bar. It wasn’t yet open for patrons. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rooster shouted back as you raced out the door. Looking at your watch you had about an hour and a half to get Mickey and Bobs birthday cake before meeting Rooster and the rest of the TopGun gang back at Hard Deck. You’d planned everything perfectly, even reached out to Bob's family. His hometown friends, everyone who was important to him. “Drive safe!”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“So, are you and Bob a thing yet?” Mickey Garcia had been in your life since you were about five years old. His mother had been dating your father and as the years went on? He became your step brother. Officially. “I mean—if you’re planning the guy a whole ass birthday I think you should at least make a move don’t you think?” Mickey had been visiting your parents in Seattle on his annual leave, coming back just in time to make it for Bob's birthday.

“I’m pretty content just waiting in the shallow end.” You’d been hurt before. Pretty bad as a matter of fact. Driving back towards the Hard Deck with precious cargo in the back seat. Bob's birthday cake—the massive three layer sponge cake with fresh cream and white chocolate caramel. “We have time, I’m just trying not to get too involved, I mean—I think he might be interested. But I also just don’t wanna get my hopes up. And I’ve already told everyone to say it was you.”

“Me! I haven’t even been here!” Mickey laughed to himself in disbelief. “Bob is gonna know straight away that this was all you.” Mickey was probably right, but you weren’t about to put yourself out there like that. Not when you weren’t entirely sure where you stood. Sure, you’d really like to be exclusive? If that’s what you’d even call it. There’s been a handful of dates, a few moments where eye’s lingered and lips almost connected. But maybe Bob just wasn’t in it. Or maybe you were reading too much into it to begin with. “Besides, he’s different. I don’t think Bob would ever hurt you, not like—“

“Mickey—“ Cutting off your brother with a sigh, you shook your head softly as you drove down the road. “You don’t need to bring him up.” Your ex boyfriend had been that bad, that when you finally managed to get away all you took were the clothes on your back. Mickey was the whole reason you ended up in Miramar—when he’d found out that the daggers were staying as a specialist unit, he hooked you up with a job working for Penny. Keeping you close by surrounded by people who’d always protect you. He never expected you’d stay on your own accord. That accord being one Robert Floyd.

“All I’m saying is Bob is good people, he does like you, talks about you all the time to anyone who falls victim to it.” That made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t really felt this way about someone since high school. It felt childish—but in the best of ways. “Maybe just try to get him to yourself tonight?”

“Can’t, working behind the bar—“ It wasn’t uncommon for you to get side tracked talking to Bob as you cleaned tables and collected discarded glasses. Although you knew Bob wasn’t a drinker, he was one of the only few you’d ever bring a fresh glass to every so often. His order always the same every time. Lemonade with lots of ice, lime wedge on top.

“That has never stopped you before.” Mickey taunted as he looked down at his phone. “It’s beyond me how anyone actually gets a drink whenever you’re working and Bobs in the building.” You couldn’t help but to laugh with Mickey as you felt your cheeks heating at the embarrassment. The smitten kind of embarrassment. “You’re like a moth drawn to a flame—“

“I’ll drop you on the side of the road if yo—“ In an instant, what had been a simple drive back to the Hard Deck as the sun set, turned into a horrific scene of twisted aluminium and bloody bodies.

“WATCH OUT!!” It came out of nowhere, leaving you with little to no time to react more than slamming your foot down on the break. Only to be completely cleaned up by the car coming at you at what felt like the speed of goddamn light. The sound of tires screeching and glass shattering rang through your head as airbags did the best they could to stop your head from smacking violently against whatever part of your car you were thrown against as you rolled and rolled and rolled. Your car ended up at the bottom of the embankment just a five minute drive from the Hard Deck. If you looked close enough with your eyes squinted slightly, you could see it. The lights that had begun to glow a people that looked the size of ants swarmed in.

“Mickey?” You cried as you tried to move. Trapped. “Mickey you there?” There was no response as you listened closely for something, anything to give you a sign of life. Nothing. “Oh, oh god—“ Panic set in quickly as you felt yourself disappearing, the edge of darkness threatening to take you victim as your head spun and eyes rolled. Blood dripped from your mouth. The last thing you consciously remember thinking before coming to a complete stop was the cake sitting in the back seat. The car kept slipping down the embankment, slowly but surely creeping further and further away from the line of sight of oncoming cars. There’s no way it survived. Dizzy and feeling like you were hanging from the roof, you let the taste of iron consume you. Tired, you just needed to close your eyes for abit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had the slightest inkling that you had been up to something. He just wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. But as he came through the front doors of the Hard Deck and was taken aback by all the decorations, the balloons, the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. He knew in that moment you were behind this entire get together.

“SURPRISE!!!” Everyone in the entire bar cheered and shouted as Bob looked around at all his friends and family that had all come together to celebrate his birthday. It wasn’t something he did every year. Not one big on birthday celebrations. But as he looked around—his eyes scanning the entirety of the bar, looking amongst a sea of people? How could Bob not love his birthday even for a moment. You’d done this all for him he knew that the second he saw the specific way the streamers were twisted. But where on earth were you?

“Happy Birthday man, how’s it feeling huh? Another year older?” Hangman teased as he handed Bob a birthday hat. Something childish alright but it kept with the theme. Bob Accepted it with a smile and nodded in response as he tried to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Feels good—yeah, hey have you seen Clov?”

“Is she not behind the bar?” Jake responded with a questioning brow. If you weren’t here where the fuck were you? “Ah well, she can’t be too far away right?”

“No, yeah no I guess you’re probably right.” Bob tried to shake the almost gut wrenching feeling he had. Checking his phone to see if you’d messaged him, if he’d missed a call. The last text you sent being the one you sent him on his lunch break—reminding him to arrive on time. Sending you a quick message asking where you were before joining in on the festivities the best he could.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was the smell of gasoline and burning rubber that broke Mickey Garcia out of his unconscious state. His first instinct was to unclip his seatbelt which had him hurtling towards the roof of the car that had somehow become the floor. With a groan, he crawled out of the broken passenger side window—army crawling his way along the dirt and grass that shattered glass had covered without a rhyme or reason.

Laying on his back, Mickey closed his eyes as dry blood covered his face. A deep gash still dripped fresh blood down the left side of his cheek. He could feel it dripping.

“Fuck—“ His torso hurt from where the seatbelt had locked up against him. Probably the only thing besides the airbags that saved his life. “What the hell—?” It shouldn’t have come as an afterthought but it did. “Oh fuck, hey—Clover!” Scrambling to his feet, stumbling as he held his hand to his torso, Mickey crouched down near your window. “Clover can you hear me?” It wasn’t your name, Clover. More so of a designated call sign the resident Aviators you surround yourself with had given you. You’d brought the cocktail with you when you started at the Hard Deck. Asked Penny if you could redo the cocktail menu. A Clover Club had quickly become the special. The mix of raspberry, gin and egg whites winning over the crew who seemed to take you under their wing. “Clover, hey—!” It looked like the scene from Carrie, the one where blood was just dumped over her entire being. Your seatbelt doing God’s work holding you into your chair upside down. Unconscious.

“Help!” Mickey could smell the gasoline leaking from somewhere close to him, so close and so strong it burnt the hair in his nose. “Help me–!” A voice so panicked sent shivers down Mickey's spine as he turned to see the other car. The one who had hit you, the one that had come out of absolute nowhere at a million miles and hour. “Please–” Checking your pulse carefully and as gently as he could, Mickey left you for much longer than he liked as he raced across to the other car, the man trying to claw his way out of the driver's side window. glass cut and dug into his skin as he fell to the ground. Bloodied, broken and bruised.

“You alright?”

“Does it fucking look like i’m alright! You guys hit me!?” Mickey couldn't believe what he was hearing, he did his best to assess the man as he kneeled beside him. “What the hell even happened.” Without question, Mickey knew the man was drunk. He could smell it just as prominently as he could smell the leaking gasoline.

“Okay, we need to get some help out here.” Looking around Mickey could see the Dard Deck just off in the distance. He could run it if he really needed to. Where was his phone? Patting himself down he realised it must have gone flying in the wreck somewhere. “Do you have a phone sir?”

“I did, somewhere, I was arguing with my wife.” Fucking perfect. A double whammy if there ever was one. Drunk and using his mobile. With a throbbing head and a weak constitution for blood, Mickey stood to his feet, making his way back to you. Just in time too, you were coming back to him. Squeezing your hand to gain your attention, Mickey crawled slightly into the car. Assessing if he should hit your seatbelt buckle or not.

“Mickey?” It came out so soft. Barley even audible as you came to. “What–what's going on?” Trying his best to keep you as calm as possible, Mickey sent you a soft smile. Looking up at you as you looked down at him. Blood dripping everywhere.

“Just had a bit of an accident–” Mickey squeezed your hand as he shimmied further into the car along broken glass. “But I feel like we should try and get you out of here, I'm not a big fan of the smell coming from the engine Clov.”

“Oh god, Bob–” It actually pained him to hear you say it. “It’s his birthday, the cake.”

“They’ll be other cakes Clover, but not another you alright?” Trying to keep his voice as calm as he could, Mickey's heart sunk into his chest. Your legs had been jammed up under the steering wheel column. Jagged edges of plastic from your dash stuck into your thighs, ripping them apart like no tomorrow. So deep he wore he saw bone. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” Coughing slightly, blood bubbled up forcing you to cough a little more aggressively. “Im so sorry Mic–”

“Not your fault at all.” Mickey was trying his best to keep himself together as he tried to look for his phone, to no avail. “But I do have to go get help so I can get you outta here.” It was almost as if you’d just woken up and realised what was actually going on. Because the minute you felt Mickey slightly pull his hand away from out of your grasp, you panicked. Tears fell with the gravity of being trapped upside down.

“No no no, don't leave me.” Begging as you cried, trying to unbuckle your seatbelt. It had become jammed from the impact. “Mickey don't you leave me here to die, please–please don't leave me.”

“Clov I can’t not get help.” Mickey tried his best to convince you, but you weren't having a bar of it. Clawing at your seatbelt trying to set yourself free as your steering wheel column dug deeper and deeper into your thighs. “Clover stop!” Mickey tried his best to still you, your hair caked with blood as he held you still. He assumed that there was so much adrenaline pumping through your veins that you couldn’t feel the damage being done to your legs. Either that or shock. “You’re stuck, please don’t make it worse by moving—“

“Get me out Mick—“ It was the worst kind of plea for help because Mickey Garcia was in over his head. He didn’t know what to do. On one hand he could find a way, but the damage he could do in the process might outweigh the cost of setting you free. On the other hand? He leaves you here to get help, what if you weren’t to make it? How could he ever live with himself? “I’m serious, get me out!” Screaming at the top of your lungs as you tried with all your might to free yourself.

“Hey shh, shh—listen?” Mickey looked around the roof of the car which had become the floor, your phone lit up across the other side. With his emotions running wild as he tried to reach it Mickey groaned. It was Rooster trying to get a hold of you. “Shit, I can’t get to it.” Just as Mickey was reaching for your phone it stopped ringing out—a loud overpowering explosion consuming you both entirely. Sending the car rolling over a little more down the embankment. Mickey had smacked his head as the car rolled, rendering him unconscious as you laid pressed against the steering wheel still trapped.

“Mickey?” It hurt to breathe. “Mickey!?” It hurt to speak. “MICKEY!” You didn’t know what had happened—what had caused the car to shift again. To roll over. Whatever blood had rushed to your head while you had been upside down was now pumping back through the rest of your body.

And fuck did it hurt.

Rooster stood on the front porch of the Hard Deck biting his cuticle as he listened to your voicemail for the third time. Where the hell were you? You should have been back by now? By a while.

“Dude? Where’s Clover? I thought she was the one who set this whole thing up?” Jake questioned as he came to stand with Rooster, picking up on the decorated pilot's worry.

“Should’ve been back by now.” As Rooster clicked on your contact once again—Jake jumped slightly beside him at the explosive fireball that shot up in the near distance. Just down the road.

“Holy shit what the hell was that?”

“Whatever it was, it can’t be good—“ Watching as the fire ball dissipated and thick black smoke followed in its tracks, Jake and Bradley were both too scared to admit to one another that they both had the same gut wrenching feeling. What if it had something to do with you? “We should check it out—“

“Yeah no doubt.” Before the two men could get very far down the front steps of the Hard Deck, Bob was coming after them.

“Oh my god, what happened over there?”

“We’re gonna go check it out man.” Rooster explained. “Stay here, enjoy the festivities! It’s your birthday.” Bob didn’t want to admit it, but without you there to taunt and tease? He wasn’t having all that good of a time. “Sure it’s nothing.”

“Well if you’re sure it’s nothing we’ll be quick and be back before anyone even notices, right?” Bob stood his ground. Hesitant to drop the subject because what Rooster didn’t know, what Jake didn’t know, what Bob didn’t know—was that they were all thinking the same thing. But no one wanted to say it out of pure fear. “So what are we doing still standing here?”

“He’s right, let’s just check it out and get back before everyone throws a tantrum—“ Jake had become a little less jerky and a whole lot more tolerable since the success of the uranium mission. But he still had his moments.

The road was pretty much a straight shot to where the explosion had been. The three aviators all jogged somewhat seriously towards the fire. The smell of gasoline and what could only be described as a mix of burning rubber, aluminium and human flesh completely consuming them the closer they got.

“Oh shit–” Jake saw it first. The familiar silver of your Toyota Corolla caught his attention as it sat crumbled up in the embankment next to what he could only imagine had been another car. Completely engulfed by flames. “Fuck–” Pausing in his tracks as he gripped Bob by the forearms. Pulling him back as his eyes widened. Realising it was your car. His heart immediately racing in his chest. “Don't do it to yourself man, go back to the Hard De–” Ripping his arm out of Jake's grip, Bob raced down the embankment, sliding down on his arse to avoid the steep incline and force of gravity. “Call an ambulance man–” Jake's voice was soft as he gestured to Rooster who stood completely gobsmacked by the sight before him. There was no fucking way anyone would walk away from this?

“Clover!!” Bob shouted as he stood to his feet. “Clov? Are you there?” In retrospect, yes it was a stupid question to ask. But Bob didn't know what else to ask. “Clov!” When he finally laid his eyes on you Bob held back his imident automatic response to throw up the entire content of his stomach. “Oh my god–” With a hand over his mouth to sooth the urge, Bob tried his best to open the door. Pulling at the handle to absolutely no avail.

“Won't work–” With your head resting against the steering wheel, you mumbled softly with your eyes closed. Conserving whatever energy you had left. Whatever light. “Bob–”

“Hey pretty girl.” Bob’s bottom lip quivered as he pulled himself through the broken window. Being careful enough to avoid the shards that threatened to slice his torso. “What happened, hey? Do you remember?” All he got as a response was a soft moan, anguish evident. “Can you open your eyes for me?” Bob was careful as he moved your blood stained hair from your face. Dried and stuck in the cuts and gashes that covered your cheeks, your forehead. Watching as your eyelids fluttered open and blood dripped from your slightly open mouth. “There she is, hi Clov.”

“Hi–” It was all you could muster up the strength to say. Small almost inaudible responses. “Mickey?” Bob wasn't thinking straight, he hadnt even thought that Mickey would be with you. He hadn't noticed Mickey sprawled in the back after being thrown around when the car rolled again.It was supposed to be a surprise. Pulling himself out of the window to turn back to Jake who had managed to find a way in, retrieving Mickey from the back before placing him on the ground.

“He’s got a good pulse, I don't know shit else Bob, they aren't in a good position–can you get Clover out?” Statement, question, statement, question. That's all Bob heard. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't see, couldn't hear. This was the woman of his dreams he was dealing with. He’d been too afraid to make a solid move on. “Bob!”

“Sorry, Sorry–ill uh, i'll try.” Shaking himself out of his own head Bob turned back to where you sat trapped in the driver's seat. Assessing the situation. “Clov, I'm gonna try to unclip your seatbelt, yeah?” You’d gone back to just responding with groans, eyes closed. “Open your eyes for me.” Bob reminded you as he reached in and around to unclip the belt that had come loose in the last roll. Shifting you slightly forwards when it unsnapped. Your eyes open just barley.

“I got you–got you a cake.” Okay. Maybe Bob could work with this. Keeping you occupied with absent minded conversation while he stayed with you till the ambulance arrived.

“You did? What flavour was it?” Bob's heart dropped out of his arse when he saw the damage that had been done to your legs. Specifically your thighs, completely cut into and torn off the goddamn bone from your sternwheel column. Completing trapping you regardless if he was able to get the door off its hinges. “Clover, what flavour was the cake?” He wasn't giving up, but Bob quickly realised the best thing he could do would be to just say with you, keep you talking.

“White Chocolate Caramel.” There was not a part of you that wasn't covered in blood. Bob knew the human body held a lot, but he’d never seen it leaking from so many places before.

“Well, I'm sure it would have been perfect.” searching for your hand, Bob gripped it as tight as he could. “I'm here okay, I'm not going anywhere, helps coming Clov.” This had to be the sickest joke the universe had ever pulled on Robert Floyd. He had a plan, you see. Bob was pretty sure that tonight would be the night he finally worked up enough courage to ask you if you wanted to date. Start off slow, go with the flow. Enjoy each other's company more exclusively. He wasn't sure if he’d ever get the chance to now.

“Guys, I'm pretty sure there's a dead guy burning over near the other car–” Rooster shouted as he raced down the embankment. “Ambulance is like five minutes away.” Bob didn't reply, he was too caught up with you. His eyes weren’t leaving yours as you just sat there, resting against your steering wheel. Face squished.

“Bob?” It was a sob. Clear as day. Bob noticed the tears welling in your eyes as they fell down your cheek. Mixing with the dried blood that caked your skin.

“Yeah Clov, I'm here.” Squeezing your hand as you gave him nothing back. Your fingers just twitching ever so slightly.

“I really like you, like a lot.” You didn't feel good at all, something was very wrong and you didn't want Bob to go about his life wondering if you did or didn't like him. Despite your insecurities? Bob had been a good friend. Always. You just needed him to know that there was more than friendship on your part. Just in case. “Just need you to know–” Coughing up blood as you really struggled to keep your eyes open and tried on Bob. “Just in case–”

“You aren't dying on me.” Bob was stern when you leaned further into the car. His face just inches away from yours. “You don't get to die on me, God if you die on me Clov i'll be–”

“Angry?” Of course he’d be angry, you ruined his birthday.

“Completely and utterly heartbroken.” Bob finished his sentence before you could let your mind run wild with the thought of Bob being angry at you. “I couldn't never be angry at you.” It was the Silence that fell as your face changed. Stilling as muscles relaxed and your breathing shallow even more than what it already was. “Clover? Hey– Clov you stay with me alright?” Bob panicked as he pushed your hair back out of your face. Your hand fell limp in his as you smiled softly at him just one more time. Your vision blurred and became dark and dazed. Sirens alerted Bob to the fact that emergency services were just getting to you now. They began racing down the embankment with gear they needed.

“What I would give to know what it would be like to be loved by you.” It was the last thing you said before darkness came for you, going completely limp as a steady stream of blood poured from your mouth. Eyes still open as your entire body weight collapsed onto the steering wheel. Bob couldn't believe it. No–he wouldnt let you just fucking die on him.

“Clover!!! Hey, no no no no don't you do this to me! Don't you do this, c’mon, you're alright.” Complete denial had set in as he tapped your cheek trying to get you to wake up. “No baby don't do this, please don't leave me–”

“Sir, step aside!” The paramedics on sight were quick to push Bob to the side. The feeling of his hand slipping out of yours Bob swore he’d never forget. “She's not breathing! Let's get her out of here quickly!” Bob stumbled back as he felt his heart racing, tears streamed down his face until his back crashed against Rooster. Finally breaking as he fell to his knees. Listening to the paramedics as they worked on you. “Where's the defib?” “I can't get a pulse!” “Pass me the saw now!!!”

“Bob?” It was Mickey's voice that pulled Bob out of his own head. Watching as paramedics placed him on a stretch with his neck in a brace just for good measure. “She loves you, you know.” Your blood was all over his hands, his shirt, his jeans. Bob couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think of anything else but how he’d never get a chance to love you as fiercely as you deserved to be loved.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

As you cleared the empty glasses from the top of the tables, you caught the sight of Bob in your peripheral. Sitting off to the side while the rest of the aviators he’d accompanied to the Hard Deck played a game of pool. Respectfully—it wasn’t Bob's thing. The pool table and booze weren’t what he came to the Hard Deck for. It was and always would be to see you.

“You want another drink Lieutenant?” Still working to clear the table before turning to face Bob with a smirk. “I can make you a mean mocktail.”

“You know I hate asking—“ Bob looked down at the empty glass of lemonade that he held in his lap.

“It’s not asking if I’m offering.” Taking the glass from Bob's hand, you stayed comfortably between his legs as his hand moved to glide against the side of your thigh, fingers playing with the hem of your waitressing apron. “One Clover Club mocktail coming right up.” It all seemed to give you a case of Déjà vu. You’d done this before.

Too many times to count.

“What about the cake?” Bob questioned as his eyes lingered down towards your thigh. Confused, you tilted his chin up with your fingers.

“What cake?” Huh, this was new. This wasn’t what you were expecting Bob to say.

“My birthday cake—“ Reaching out to cup your cheek, Bob left a bloody handprint against your cheek. “You ruined it.”

“What are you talking about?” Storm clouds were quick to take over the sunny sky that had been blistering outside the Hard Deck. Glass shattered around you as three branches smashed into the bar. “Bob! What’s going on!?” Falling to the ground on top of you—Bob protected you from the wild weather and broken glass. Bob used his body as a shield.

“Quickly, follow me!” Rising to his feet Bob took off running. Trying your best to follow him, you stumbled back to the ground. Your legs were numb. You thighs were cut up and bleeding, so badly you could see bone. Flesh torn apart. “Clover! Over here!!”

“I can’t walk!” Panicking you felt your chest tightening as the storm outside got worse. Where had everyone else gone? “Bob! Help me!” The entire Hard Deck looked as if it had been caught in the eye of a hurricane.

“I’m over here!!” His figure has gone, vanished into thin air. “I’m here Clover!” Where the fuck was he? Why did he leave you?

“How do I get to you! I can’t walk, I can’t see you!?”

“Just wake up.” Bob's voice had softened, like he was whispering right in your ear. “Please come back to me—“ Scrunching your eyes tight as you balled yourself into a foetal position a steady beeping came through the thunder. The beeping drawing you back to reality because when you opened your eyes again you were no longer at the Hard Deck. You were in what you could only assume was a hospital bed.

Cold. That’s how you would describe hospitals in one word. They were always so cold. The steady beeping of your heart rate monitor was the only sound you could concentrate on as you slowly but surely looked around. Your arm was casted. Had you broken it? Trying to shift yourself up the bed slightly you noticed how unbelievably heavy your legs were—or lack thereof. Wait—why couldn’t you feel your legs?

“I uh, I just stepped out for a coffee. Didn't expect to see you awake for a while.” Bob’s voice was soft as he stopped himself at the threshold of your room. Holding a large coffee in his hand and a fresh bunch of flowers he’d gotten to replace the practically dead ones that were in the vase across the room. Timidity, he entered. Not sure how to act even though he’d been by your side since you were moved into a room by yourself. “Not saying that you being awake is a bad thing, I just um–the doctors told me not to get my hopes up.” You didn’t say anything in response as you watched Bob fixed the flowers he'd brought you into the vase, discarding the old ones before he came to sit beside you. He looked tired. Scruff has settled in nicely across his chin and cheeks.

“It's that bad huh.” You cut right to the chase. Not wanting to beat around the bush too long with it. Bob just took a sip of his coffee as he tried to hold back tears. He’d gotten pretty good at it over the last week or two. He’d just swallow a bunch of times and clench his jaw to stop himself from breaking down over a girl who wasn't even his to break down over. “Bob?”

“I should go get your parents.” As Bob tried to leave, you reached out for his wrist, keeping him from moving away. He hated the little oxygen tube that fed up into your nose. He wanted to rip it right from your face. But he knew better than to do that. It just hurt to know you’d been through so much. That he couldn't do more to help. “Clov–”

“You won't sugar coat it, please?” You knew if your parents had a chance to explain what was wrong with you, they would give you all the odds and tell you to fight and keep strong. But Bob? He was a statistics guy. A realist. He knew exactly how bad things were. You could see it in his eyes. “I wanna hear it from you.” Running his hand down his face as he placed his coffee on the table beside you. Bob reached for your papers. Sitting back down in the chair beside you as his free hand squeezed yours. The pad of his thumb rubbing softly against the skin of your palm.

“Um–so–” Bob didn't really know where to start. Clearing his throat as he looked back to the woman he loved so dearly. “So you had an accident, a pretty serious one.” Explaining what had happened the best he could with the information he had. “I think a good place to start is that Mickey is already discharged, he’s good, a couple of broken ribs and bruises here and there but otherwise he walked away pretty unscathed.” That in and of itself had been a miracle. It was good to hear though. “A little bit of a concussion but that was to be expected.”

“Why can't I feel my legs?” You really just wanted to get to the worst part of all of it. Bob was reluctant to explain but he knew you would appreciate him just cutting the cord. “Rip the bandaid off Flyboy–” It was something you called him just to tase him. Flyboy. Even as you laid practically on your deathbed, you still had a massive thing for Robert Floyd.

“You broke your back in two places Clov, doctors said you had a pretty high risk of losing function possibly from the waist down.” Bob's entire demeanour changed as he lost the smirk that crept across his face at the pet name you called him. Settling for something more serious as he held your hand and explained what was going on. “They tried to operate, you know, clear the bone fragments that had shattered and tidy everything up. Relieve the pressure on your spinal cord.” Bob paused a he look a deep breath in. he’d had more time to come to terms with this but he still hadnt fully processed it. “The surgery offered slightly better odds on the paralysis front but you were in critical condition–the surgery came with real risk.”

“The risk being, I'll never walk again?” It cut through Bob's heart like a hot knife into butter.

“The doctors seem to think there's a slight chance, but if we’re looking at it from an odds perspective here Clover it's like one in one hundred.” But he told you the truth like you asked him to. Didn't sugar coat the situation at all. He told you openly what you were facing. “There's options like rehabilitation, but the chances of ever walking without aid again are pretty slim to none.” the silence lingered as you processed what Bob had just told you. Frowning, you simply tried to change the subject.

“Did you ever get another birthday cake?” Bob looked at you like you were on some sort of medication he wasn't aware of. “I think if anything you need a cake.” Pushing the hospital blanket off your legs you tried to sit up. But couldn’t on your own accord. “Bob, help me up would you?”

“Y/n” Bob hardly ever used your name. Noone really did these days. It always always callsigns and nicknames. So when Bob said your name it struck a nerve that someone was severely wrong. “I'm not gonna do that alright, just–let me get the doctors for you and ill–”

“I'm fine, see–?” Pushing yourself up with your good arm. A jolt of pain flashed up your spine. Gritting your teeth you tried to act cool. “See, now help me off this goddamn bed.” Trying your best to throw your dead legs over the side of the bed, Bob had to reach out and physically stop you. Forcing you to stop what you were doing. “I'm fine! I'm totally fine!”

“Clover your paralysed, please–don't make it worse just, please, i'll go get the doctors.”

“I dont need some fucking doctor! I need to get out of this fucking bed!” A nurse walking past had heard the commotion coming from your room, stopping in the doorway to see Bob struggling to keep you still in your bed. Paging for someone to come check on you before the situation spiralled out of control. “Bob if you aren’t going to help me get the fuck out!” Not knowing what to do, Bob ignored your pleas for him to leave, how could he do that when you were so clearly not alright. “Get out!! GET OUT!”

“I'm not gonna leave you here alone Clov” Bob tried to hold you still as he saw the doctors coming in. “It's just a lot right now–”

“Fuck. Off. Floyd.” At this point you didn't really know what you were saying as Bob stepped back and let the doctors who knew what they were doing take over. “Get out of here!” It was hard not to take things as personally as he did. Bob knew it was just the process of grief taking effect. It hits everyone differently. You didn't mean what you were saying, but the fact you had just been told you probably would ever walk again had your emotions everywhere. You needed someone to blame, someone to hate. Bob had just been the closet victim.

Watching as the doctors and nurses sedated you for your own benefit, Bob let his emotions escape as tears streamed down his cheeks. Standing over near the flowers he’d brought you. Settling you back into the bed, one of the nurses turned to Bob, offering him a few tissues.

“You shouldn't leave, she clearly needs someone–it’s most likely just the cocktail of drugs we’re pumping her with.”

“Oh I wasn't going to.” Bob was quick to clarify. “Just hard seeing her like this.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had waited until your parents had arrived before he left your side. Since you’d asked him to leave he hadn’t been back. Well, as far as you were aware anyway. He’d slip in to check on you while you were sleeping, but he was too afraid to overstep a line you’d drawn in the invisible sand of your relationship. As days turned into a week, you’d begun to worry irreversible damage had been done to your relationship.

But something Bob couldn’t let go of was the fact he’d watched you die. He’d watched your light fade into nothingness. He’d watched the girl he’d pinned over for months with your intoxicating laugh and bright smile fade to nothing. He’d been given a chance to love you—he wasn’t letting that go.

He saw you out of bed, sitting by the window in the wheelchair the hospital had provided. Knocking gently, you didn’t turn around. For a split second—Bob was going to turn on his heels and dip. But he stood his ground. Clearing his throat as he entered your room.

“You know, I never did get to eat that birthday cake.” Bob started as he came to stand beside you. Noticing the glazed over look in your eyes as you looked longingly out the window. “So I thought, why not share one with my best girl.” A little bit of Bob's southern hospitality jumped out when he sat the small two person cake on your lap. Holding up two silver spoons as he ducked to kiss the top of your head. Chuckling softly, you shook yourself out of your daze. Watching as Bob sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you last week.” It was a heartfelt apology you knew Bob deserved.  

“It’s not an issue, really.” Bob was quick on the draw as he shook his head. You didn't need to apologise for grieving.

“Why’d you stay away for so long then?” Silence fell for a moment before Bob decided to just be truthful, be honest.

“I just wanted to give you time, some space.” It was the truth. “I still came by and sat with you while you slept. Checked in with the nurses, your parents, Mickey.” Opening the plastic lid on the cake before he dug his spoon in as he spoke candidly. “You’ve kinda got me in a spiral here Clov and I dunno what to do.” It was Bob's first admission. Taking a spoonful of cake into his mouth as he sat back in his chair. Mimicking his actions you did the same, taking a spoonful of cake onto your spoon. “I'm pretty sure I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, but that could also be the whole I saw you die thing still making it hard to sleep.”

“What did you just say?” Coughing on the cake you just swallowed in a lump.

“The whole I saw you die thing making it hard to sleep?” Bob repeated as he frowned his brows. “I mean yeah, i just can't get the image out of my head, and then there's the blood–”

“No Bob, I wasn't talking about that–'' It wasn't that you didn't care about what Bob was going through, seeing someone die in front of you would be hard on anyone's mental stability. “What do you mean you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?” It felt so natural to say that Bob hadnt even realised how much that could weigh on a person. “Robert Floyd, you know I'm in a wheelchair right? For possibly the rest of my life– you can't do that.”

“Why not?” He was being so casual about it that for a moment you thought you were going crazy. “What law says that?”

“There's no law it just seems–” You paused as you hung your head low. Almost shamefully. “Unfair.” That really hit Bob. “I feel like you'd be more of a carer then a partner and I don't want you being stuck with a girlfriend who can't walk. Do you know how many things I'd be cheating you out of?” It really did sound like you were trying to talk Bob out of whatever decision he’d made about you. “Not to mention the process of–”

“You don't get to think of yourself as any less deserving because of this.” Bob was quick to interrupt as he brought you a little closer to him by your wheelchair. “You are the best person i know–”

“Bob please–”

“You're so funny, you light up any room you walk into.” Bob smirked as he saw your eyes get a little bigger, a smirk trying its best to take over the muscles in your face. “Do you know how many Clover Clubs i've drunk just so i had a chance to talk to you?”

“What do you mean?” You could not believe what you were hearing as you tried to hide your smile, biting your bottom lip softly as Bob softly rocked your wheels back and forth as he admitted his feelings, his little smooth criminal moves.

“I hate eggs, God the idea of drinking raw egg whites makes me want to vomit, but goddammit the way you would always ask, so nicely, so sincerely, how could I say no!” It was the laugh you let out that had Bob beaming. He hadnt heard you laugh in so long. “Even if it was non-alcoholic id still rather drink anything else than raw egg whites.”

“You should have told me!” Between genuine chuckles that evoked tears of joy, your smile had come back. Bob was certain at that moment he was going to marry you one day. “I would've just made you something else, or better yet brought you over something you actually wanted.”

“Now where's the fun in that?” Bob beamed as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. Holding you against him for a moment before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “Honestly, if you want to, we’ll take it slow and just see how things go? But this?” Bob gestures to the wheelchair you sat on. “Does not change how I feel about you. If anything it's made me realise just how fleeting time really is and all I wanna do with the time I've got left on this god forsaken earth is love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“You're gonna end up resenting me.” It was hard to trust that someone could love you with how broken you really were. “For all the things i'll never be able to do.”

“I could never resent you.” Bob was as honest as he could be. “Never could I ever resent you for just being you Clov.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Present day

Bob hated his birthday, a little part of him died that day. He would never take life for granted again. He cherished small moments with the people around him more than most people would ever know. Not only would he take mental pictures of life's greatest pleasures, he’d taken up photography in order to make sure he could always look back on the memories he’d made with the ones he loved. If Robert Floyd was around? You’d best be sure there was a camera not far behind.

Yawning as he made his way down the hall, Bob kicked away balloons that had littered the floor of the hallway. He knew you weren't far away.

“Babe, what is all this?” Rounding the corner of the living and kitchen area, Bob froze in his tracks as he locked eyes on you. “What the hell!” Completely stunned.

“Happy Birthday Baby!” You beamed as bright as the biggest star as you stood just slightly away from the kitchen counter. Standing still on legs that had not held your full weight on their own in three whole years. Your cane close by, Bob could see it sticking out from behind the island bench. But that didn't matter. Because as you took three very wobbly steps towards him unassisted? Bob couldn't have asked for anything else besides your happiness. “Been working towards this since you told me I was still worth your love.”

“You will never stop amazing me, pretty girl.” Bob was quick to catch you in his arms as you lost your balance, crashing into him. His lips on your in an instant as he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were his one in one hundred chance. The love of his life. “I love you so much.”  

Robert Floyd hated his birthday. His birthday brought around memories of the women he lost. Forever trapped in that smashed up car. But he’d never for a moment forget how to love the women who he had the chance to love as fiercely and as passionately as he did. He knew a part of you died that day, but he was just thankful to be able to spend his days with the best parts of you that were left.

“I love you so much more, Flyboy.”

[liesmyth]

has something from a tlt fic ever become headcanon to you? i ask because i find this happening to me all the damn time with this fandom but not others

OK SO, my tlt headcanons are like schrodinger's cat, they explicitly contradict each other sometimes and all of them exist at the same time in different quantum states of canon. So in that sense I've never read a fic and thought, okay, THIS is my canon from now on.

But I've read so so many fics that burst my third eye wide open and made me consider different perspectives on a character / dynamic, or helped me shape some I already had. A few favourites:

the soul that seeketh him by bittybelle — missing scene pre NtN ft. John and Kiriona. Wherein John Gaius meets his daughter, remembers the women he left behind, and deals poorly with being the male god of a universe in which the divine is essentially feminine.

AO3 user LesbianJesusLovesYou gave me Big Feelings about Gideon's childhood on the Ninth and her relationship with Harrow, Aiglamene, Ortus and Crux

believing in everything (and knowing nothing at all) — A series of childhood memories from the Ninth

when i call, will you come to me? — “My Lady,” Ortus wheezed, shifting uncomfortably. “I only thought you should know… Gideon Nav was flogged before the congregation.”

A few fics set right after NtN that really stayed with me:

never hear the sound of someone calling me home by @corpsesoldier — Kiriona Gaia returns to the House of the Ninth.

One More Son by captainpeggy — After Nona, Pyrrha Dve walks the Ninth.

two old broads split a cigarette by @forjodssake — Aiglamene/Pyrrha. “sometimes the girl you like becomes one person w her soulmate and you have to jack off about it”

Post HtN missing scenes:

Death in its season by @ancientannoyance — John holds Mercymorn's 24 minutes funeral

recognize them by their fruits by @ceruleanvulpine — John and Ianthe emerge out of the River

Other stuff that Stuck With Me

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar — post NtN flashbacks. John and Alecto are the only two beings on earth, and he starts working on the Resurrection. This is harrowing and I'm absolutely obsessed with the implications in this fic of WHY John removed everyone's memory.

and they were roommates by @herenortherenearnorfar — pre Resurrection Mercy and Cristabel, from their first meeting onwards and it just really burrowed a hole in my brain and grew roots and sprouts and everything. Latin American nun Cristabel it's all I can see now, and YES they met working with climate refugees when M— was a bright eyed idealistic doctor. It also lines up great with the Asian Mercy headcanon that exist in my head (I have a whole elaborate backstory about M— aged 12 proclaiming to her Filipino Catholic family that she's an atheist now). Anyway, it's just a lovely, gorgeous fic. I think about it every day.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon — pre-Resurrection, John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing. Ft. Southern hemisphere holidays in Mururoa Atol and 100% canon. To me.

Operation: The Most Honorable Man by @cadmean — Augustine has a proposal for the Saint of Duty (Dios Apate. That's the proposal)

lowkey cheating but I can't choose — absolutely anything AO3 user Raxheim has posted has been SOO up my alley. Every time I read one of their fics I feel like I'm enlightened by some never-before-considered detail. And mean ANYTHING, from Harrow Nova to Wake to Cytherea and the Lyctors to the Universe's #1 Sadgirl Gideon