#that's my vision but it is unlikely it will ever see the light of day so in the tags it goes thank you for coming to my tedtalk

[s-aint-elmo]

I'm so glad I'm not the only one obsessed with the Marcille Laios Falin gang. Like they are a unit.... A team.... Even if the rest of the party fell apart they would stay together.... Idk it's just really fun to see all the different groups everyone falls into across the course of dungeon meshi and I love how you can tell that the three of them are a unit even as they are separated for most of the manga.

YEAH!!!! that day in the laughing wolf when falin first stopped marcille from perma-killing her brother that was fate in motion binding them together for the rest of their lives. (/hj but also i have a vague nebulous idea for a series of drawings of the toudens + marcille thru the years starting w the laughing wolf.) i love how we know that in both laios and marcille's ideal visions for the far future they are together with falin and that by the end they make it happen. i love that they both started off being connected only by the strength of their love for falin but eventually developed their own deep closeness that cemented their trio as a balanced whole.

i don't see laimar romantically the way i do farcille but those two for sure mean as much to each other as falin does to them. i love laios's strongest impression of marcille being the moment she gave it all to bring falin back. i love marcille speaking to laios's corpse with her cheek laid on his cold breastplate. i love laios looking out for marcille's comfort and enjoyment as the baseline for the party because she's the most expressive about her feelings. i love marcille always being the first to notice when laios is being dodgy as all hell and making him spit it out.

however it shakes out those three are family 5ever and we all know the lengths they'd go to if they were ever to be separated <333

[glitch-karma]

hai i want to req a scenario where bsd characters has a crush on the reader and tries dropping hints but the reader just thinks that they’re being nice :D

characters: yosano, nikolai, akutagawa, ranpo, jouno

I added Chuuya cause I am self-indulgent, but enjoy!

Tw: Very light talk of characters being very touchy, but still sfw

Yosano

she's so obvious

Constantly complimenting you

Saying how pretty/handsome you are

Maybe a little touchy iykyk

She honestly wants to confess and have a serious relationship with you

and she's been trying to drop hints but..

"Oh Y/n~, you're so cute I could eat you up.."

"Huh? You can't eat people Yosano! Do you need something to snack on?"

"ugh. No, thank you, dear..."

Finally, she'll confess to you after patching you up after a small mission.

"Y/n.. I uhm, really like you."

"Awe, I like you too Yosano! You're my best friend"

She falls on the floor momentarily before just jumping up, grabbing you by the collar, and kissing you.

"O-Oh!" "Yeah. Oh."

"So? Do you.. Like me too?"

"W-Well. If it means we could do that agai- MPHM!"

Nikolai

Another obvious one

Now he's the real feeler upper

He will not let you GO MAN

Definitely a grabber too

I have this vision of him full-on grabbing your ass and you're just like "Oh? What's up, Nikolai?"

Surprise hugs from behind

He lets you braid his hair

Unlike Yosano, he will not be as patient

He'll grab your hands, get down on one knee, and scream:

"Y/n~! I love you! Please go out with me so we can be free together!"

You are not expecting this at all

So you shakily nod

Then he'll pick you up bridal style and run around with you in his arms <3

Akutagawa

Now with him

I wouldn't fucking notice either bro

His idea of hints is odd

"You don't suck at fighting.."

"Uhm... Thank you?"

He's read that some people give food to their crushes, so he'll randomly just set a cup of tea down on your desk

Since it's a food he likes, he'll also just leave figs on your desk???

It's, very confusing to say the least

In this case, I don't see him ever actually confessing

it was actually Chuuya that found out and pushed him along

Aka, he dragged you both into the same room and pushed Akutagawa along

but it all worked out in the end

Ranpo

Oh my God you gotta be real dence

CLIMBS ON YOU?

LIKE FULL ON SCALES YOUR BODY AND SITS ON YOUR SHOULDERS

And when you get tired and ask him to get off he's just like "Nah I'm good."

Shares his snacks with you

You brought him sweet mochi one day and that was the day he vowed to marry you

You thought he was joking?

Likes pitching your cheeks

"You're so squishy and cute Y/n~ Just like a dumpling" "Ranpo that hurts-"

The way he confesses I hear you ask?

One morning he just, out of nowhere kisses your cheek.

You FLIPPED out and he was just confused

"oh, are we not dating?" "WHAT? NO?!"

He didn't realize you were too busy to notice his feelings

Jouno

Side note: God we need more Jouno hc's fr tho

Jouno's way of showing he loves you?

Training you to the mfing bone.

Bro does not let up

If you're a hunting dog it's even worse

Y'know that scene where he stands on tecchou's back?

He does that all the time

Sometimes hits your head too

But, if he sees you're genuinely struggling he eases up

Honestly, he shows hints in very small ways that you wouldn't notice

Like a small pat on the back or bringing you water after a long day

All the other hunting dogs can see the way he listens extra intently when you talk as well

Another thing, he remembers almost every conversation you two have even had.

So he knows all your interests, likes, and hobbies

He would probably just casually do a normal confession, bring you a rose and a gift <3

Chuuya

Chuuya is terrified of letting people get too close to him (Kinnie moment-)

So for a while he wouldn't make any attempts at a relationship with you at all

But after you've stuck around him for years, even when others didn't, how could he not be smitten for you?

After a while of denying, he'll finally drop hints

He'll offer to drive you too and from work (mostly for the excuse to have your arms around him)

He also started bringing you lunches on Monday's

Has bought you jewelery and chokers galore

The expensive ones too cause he rich rich

He will drunkenly confess

"Damn.. Why do you have to go and make me fall in love with you?"

"..What?"

He has never sobered up so fast

He tried to stand up and leave, but you grabbed him and hugged him tight

After a few seconds, he did the same

[artbean]

Corroded Coffin is back with their sophomore album, Memento Mori Motel.

With even more groundbreaking songs than the last album, those four boys from Hawkins Indiana have transformed into men with a message and a cohesive vision—keeping fans of rock and metal mesmerized by their musical innovation that defies genre entirely. (@eddiemonth day 8: rockstar)

The opening track, Jack Of All, plays like an instant classic. The riffs are crisp and clear as they poke fun at both their newfound fame and rural roots. I’m climbing up the walls / You just don’t have the balls / I’m never gonna fall / ‘cause I’m the Jack of All. The second song, If I Object (Objectify), is all noise, with hardly even a second to breathe before the wailing cries at the end. The words if I object melt into the word objectify, closing out the song in a soaring scream.

Hit The Nail Out Of The Park is a thoughtful examination of American boyhood, without shying away from how ugly growing up can be. The tempo may be slower but the track has a grit to it that can’t be ignored. Six Feet Under continues to wow audiences as the lead single, comparing the slow death of a relationship to being buried alive. Daisies sprout overhead / In the thick of goodbye / Now it’s just me in a flowerbed / Eternally wondering why.

In the second half of the album, Necrotizing Facist Idol isn’t afraid to punch up with hard hits or make a political statement. The message is pretty clear in the chorus: He’s eaten away at too much of our lives / He’s going to pay for his sins when he dies / No time to wait / Let’s amputate / The necrotizing fascist idol. 24hr lobotomy is more of an internal struggle of self destructive tendencies, and the desire to numb any feeling at all—and ultimately crashing down to earth when the vices wear off.

Postcard From Hell is a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek vision of life after death, musing on the afterlife being not unlike a long, grueling vacation. The album ends on a tender yet bittersweet note, with the mysteriously titled Microscopic Fibers (Dying Star). The harmonizing guitars at the end is a standout moment as the song goes out with a bang, which turns into the whisper of the final notes. I can see your fire from light years through time / Like a star that died before it ever graced my eyes / Oh, slipping through my fingers (fingers, fingers) / Oh, how your presence lingers (lingers, lingers).

[adventuringblind]

I See Your Beauty

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Genre: a little angst mixed with fluff and comfort

Summary: the youngest Verstappen is forced to do life without her vision. Thinking she might not be able fully experience her life due to the remarks of her father, she concedes that finding love is unlikely. Until she runs into Charles who helps her believe she doesn’t need her eyesight to be loved.

Warnings: Jos is his own warning now. Talks of disability and reader having an accident. Talks and depictions of verbal and physical abuse.

Request: nope this is self-indulgent. However, I am taking requests for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel.

Notes: written in third person. Also, this fic deals with disabilities, particularly blindness. I myself am blind though I still have some vision left, which is mainly what I’m basing this off of. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum like many other disabilities. It is defined really by a loss of vision that can’t be corrected. I’m open to answering questions about it if y’all have any. My inbox and asks are always open :)

Masterlist

The youngest of the Verstappen’s very close with her brother, Max. The two are barely a year apart so it makes sense. Though they get in each others nerves often as well. Victoria doing her best as the oldest to settle arguments between the two.

Jos decided that two children in racing gives him better odd then just one. Electing to have both start karting at an early age.

They liked racing together. Getting used to being each others rocks when their father was harsher then necessary. It became routine for the two to defend each other.

Then everything changed.

The two were moving up through the ranks. Competing harder then ever to make your dad proud.

The accident wasn’t her fault. A consequence of her father from trying to build a faster car and not having test run it.

The engine exploded during the race. Every one of her senses ranged useless as she tried to react.

Ears ringing.

Smoke from the fire burning in her nose.

Blood from whatever hitting her knocking her teeth into her lip.

Heat nipping at her skin.

Lack of sight making her steering erratic.

Max had immediately rushed to aid his sister. Their father only staring in disappointment. He became resentful of his father that day.

The ambulance arrived and took you away. Max begged to go with but Jos ignored his request, telling him he needed help cleaning up his youngest daughter mess.

After hours the finally arrived back home. The other two Verstappen’s confused why the youngest was nowhere to be found. Max finally broke down in tears, much to his father dislike, and clutched Victoria for comfort. Telling her everything that had happened.

While three of them went to the hospital to find you, the fourth sat wallowing in disgrace at the display from his children today. He couldn’t admit he’d made a mistake. One that might have cost him a child.

Meanwhile the youngest was out of surgery. Continually crying for her family. The nurses had tried to reach her father who had given the medics his cell number, but they had yet to hear from him.

When her family arrived she tried her best to make out their faces. The sparks from the engine had been so bright that they burned her retinas. The combination of the fire doing permanent damage. The impact of the engine had knocked her helmet almost all the way off and she instinctively pushed it away to try and see again. The protection of the visor gone.

The three siblings cuddled together in her hospital bed. The youngest not fully comprehending why she couldn’t see. The lights were too bright. She was squinting to make out the small details.

Things didn’t improve after that. Jos became angry towards her. Constantly reminding the girl of what happened, what she did wrong, and how if she hadn’t messed up she might have been successful.

Regardless, she listened to him berate her at everyone of Max’s races. He stopped commenting about Max when she was within earshot. Mostly because she told him off every time he insulted her brother. Jos already deemed her the disappointment of the family, standing up for Max couldn’t possibly make things worse.

Max had also gotten more protective of his sister. Having been the one to pull her away from the wreckage and cleaning up the damage made him realize he didn’t want you to get hurt again.

He made it to every doctors appointment he could. He attended as much physical therapy as you would let him. He even put on a blind fold so he could understand a bit better. He helped her learn cane skills and how to guide you himself. All in an effort to help his sister feel less alone.

He was aware she still had some eyesight lift. Mostly cloudy and bright patches dotted her eyes making it difficult to make out where things are and any specific details. She liked seeing what she could of her siblings faces though.

Max determined he was going to bring you to every race with him. The Verstappen losing all ability to drive now making things harder for her and she didn’t want to stay with her father.

Victoria had a room for her in her house and let her stay when she needed. Max always made sure there was a room for her if she wanted to travel with him. She loved how willing her sibling were to help her out. However, it left her feeling useless and vulnerable at times.

Eventually, Max helped get her a job with Redbull as a strategist. She enjoyed playing with the different data. Listening became a more essential job then seeing.

Race days were spent in the garage unnoticed in the back. Hopefully out of view of the cameras and away from her father. They saw each other often, much to her dismay. He always had something to say to her when Max wasn’t around.

It was during her downtime that she met Charles.

~

Deciding her cane was unnecessary since she knew her way around the paddock and the ground is relatively flat, she went to hunt down her brother.

Neither party was paying attention leading to them running straight into each other. She could vaguely make out the Ferrari red race suit standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Came the voice of Charles Leclerc. Though the two had never formally met, she had heard during interviews enough to know his voice.

“It’s alright, neither was I.” She smiled at the Monegasque. “Have you seen Max anywhere?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately no. Are you his girlfriend?”

The question makes her laugh hysterically. “I’m his sister.” She can hear him sigh in relief at the clarification.

“That’s better at least because I wanted to say that you are very beautiful.” The playfulness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Completely taking her off guard. Sure she’d gotten complements, but not often enough to make her used to them. The words of Jos not letting her believe them anyway. “Would it be alright if I give you my number?”

She lost all words in that moment. This had never happened before. “Sure-” she manages to stutter out before handing him her phone. The screen reading out things to her so she could get to her intended destination.

“I’ve never see a phone do that before.” Charles takes the phone from her and starts to put in his information.

She mentally face palms herself. Obviously he hasn’t realized she’s blind. “Actually I don’t have much of my eyesight.” She play with the bottom of her shirt. Her father having instilled in her that her blindness is something to be ashamed of.

“Wait- so you are blind? That is very interesting, I would like to know more if you’re okay with it.” The curiosity in his voice rising.

She wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody asks her questions about her condition. Even Christian doesn’t touch the subject and she never brings it up in conversation. “I guess, if your really interested.”

“Great, I’ll see you later tonight. Send me the address of where you’re staying.” His playful and flirty manner never faulted as he walked past her. Leaving the girl confused and blushing.

Little did she know that Charles had seen her around the paddock. Mostly hanging off of Max’s arm. He assumed she’d never notice him wave or try to get her attention. Turns out she couldn’t see him. He knows better then to assume. He blames it on the anxiety of being around her.

The youngest Verstappen finished up her duties as quick as possible. Catching a ride with her brother back to the hotel. He has learned to read her though and immediately noticed something was different. “What’s going on with you? You seem very smiley today.” He laughs.

“I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” She did her best not to appear nervous but was ultimately failing. Her hands fiddling in her lap.

“I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She glances over at him. Eyes planted on the road. His calm demeanor putting her at ease. “Charles Leclerc asked me on a date tonight.”

Max begins laughing hysterically. His once smooth driving now a bit jerky from his sudden movements. “You thought I would hate you because of a date?”

She stutters a bit. “Well- aren’t you two rivals?” She manages. His laughing throwing her emotions all over the place.

“Sure, on the track. Off the track we are still friends and I trust him.” He explains. Relief floods through her body at his words. Her confidence in the situation going up a little.

She can feel the smug look on Max’s face. “Do you want help getting ready?”

~

The two siblings spent over an hour playing dress up. Max eventually having to video call Victoria and ask her opinion. The two trying to make their sister feel like she owns the world.

Dressing is less tricky then make-up. Sometimes she didn’t feel like it was worth the struggle and didn’t put it on. Some day she had to call Victoria to make sure everything looked right. If there was good lighting she was typically fine, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Growing up between two sisters, Max had learned a decent amount about make-up. He even enjoyed getting to do it on his sisters if they would let him. The almost squeal he let our when his sister asked for help was both hilarious and ridiculous. Immediately setting things up on the bathroom counter and going to work.

Max could tell his sister was anxious. Their father having scared away any of your potential boyfriends. Even going as far as to tell they that she is diseased. One of the worst things about having Jos around the garage, is that you’re left with him.

Though Max has stepped in many time and even lectured his father about his word choices, he never let up on any of the Verstappen children. All of them getting some aspect of their father’s insecurity thrown back at them like it’s their fault.

When he was done, Max tried to sooth your nerves. “Dad isn’t around. He’s in his own hotel room. Go have fun.”

And that’s exactly what she did.

The conversation between her and Charles flowed. He asked questions that weren’t invasive and was respectful if she didn’t want to answer. He made her laugh ridiculously hard.

So they kept doing it. She had to follow Redbull for work which made things easier in the two. Finding down time to meet up or celebrating together after races.

After the season was over, the two went on a holiday together.

Charles spent a good amount of time learning from her (and in turn Max) how to guide if the need ever arose.

Charles was so gentle with her. Always letting her know if there was something unexpected around. Telling her who was in the room.

If felt like a dream. One she never wanted to wake up from. Charles had assured her multiple times that she wasn’t dreaming and that their love is very real.

But alas, Jos likes to make things difficult.

~

A few races into the new season, Charles still had yet to formally meet Jos and the Verstappen siblings intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t secret. Everyone in the paddock know the two were dating. Jos just hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet.

She’d mentioned her childhood a few times but could never get out the full extent of what happened. Charles thankfully is patient with her and lets her take her time. He knows Jos’ reputation. Her childhood couldn’t have been the most amazing with him around.

This particular race, she was forced into close proximity with him. There had been a mistake during a pit stop for Max which made him lose some positions. Ending the race in fifth. To her it isn’t bad at all, but to the angry Dutchman unleashing his fury on everything, it most certainly is.

Sensing his rising anger, she had pulled her father into a more secluded area. Hoping that Max wouldn’t come back to the garage for awhile. At least not before she could talk some sense into their father.

She said nothing as strings of curse words left his lips. Only waiting for him to run out of breath.

“Did you see how he got lazy? He would’ve finished higher after the idiots didn’t do their jobs if he had put in more effort.”

“Max put in all his effort and you know it.” She scoffs. Arms folded over her chest. This is nothing new to her.

“Like you have any room to talk.” He snaps back. Her head now sagging, knowing his anger is now finding a new direction.

Charles, on the other hand, had been looking for her. It’s his first win of the season and she is nowhere to be found. Max ran up to him as the podium celebration ended. Patting him on the back for his well earned win.

“Have you seen your sister anywhere, mate?” He asked the Dutch.

Max ponders for a moment. “She might still be in the garage debriefing after what happened.” He replies. “I can walk you over if you want.”

The two drivers made their way to the Redbull garage to find most of those who would normally be inside, standing outside in a huddle. “What the hell is happening?” Max shouts over to Christian as the two approach him.

“I was just about to go find you.” Christian sighs in exasperation. “Can I call security on your father? He hasn’t stopped shouting since the race finished up.”

Charles and Max exchanged glances. The young woman’s absence now making more sense. “I’ll try and talk him down.” Stated Max before weaving his way through the sea of Redbull shirts. Charles following close behind.

Before the two could get further away, Christian yelled out to them. “Good luck, your sister has been trying!” The statement make the two move faster.

Charles could feel his emotions bubbling as the shouting got louder. As him and Max turn the corner, he immediately spots who he’d been looking for. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt around the floor looking for something.

Max steps in between her and the angry Dutch, shouting back and forth in their native tongue. Charles tries to spot what she’s feeling for. Scanning the ground until he spots her phone. The entire thing shattered. Small pieces of glass just barely reflecting the light. He’s down by her side in an instant.

“Love, it’s Charles, max is here also, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”

Her body turns towards Charles. It’s then he notices the specks of blood dotting her hands from feeling around the glass and a deep purple bruise forming on her forehead.

She’s struggling to breath now. Listening to the angry shouts. The pain in her head and the bright fluorescents not helping her see anything. She back in the crash.

Her father had spend from the end of the race until now laying into her. She had successfully defended Max and thought she was prepared to take the brunt of it. Until he snatch her phone and threw it at her. It hit her head so hard she was in the ground in seconds. Trying to feel her way around to where it might have gone so she could call Max.

The words were so familiar to her. The ones she heard in her nightmares when she was once again surrounded by smoke and bright lights stealing away her vision.

“I don’t want to crash again Charles. It’s to hot. It hurts too much. I can’t see anything.” She tried to search for him but ended up with more glass in her palm. The tears only thickening.

“Stay put, okay? I’m going to help Max and then I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her on the floor. She looked like a child, and so did Max in this moment. The two getting their fathers wrath with no end in sight.

Charles sprints back to Christian, yelling at him to call security, then sprints back to Max.

“Mr. Verstappen I think you are out of line here.” Says the monegasque. Signaling Max to stay with you. He didn’t move at first but it was obvious he was getting nowhere, so he obliged. Kneeling down to help his sister calm her breathing.

Jos scoffs at Charles. “You have no right to get in between me and my children.” Anger pooling from his features.

“I mean no disrespect sir, but you’re being an asshole.”

“And is she-“ he jabs his finger at the girl on the floor, “-not disgusting.” Charles almost hits him but refrains from doing so knowing security will be arriving soon.

“On the contrary, I think she is an angel.”

“She’s diseased. She hasn’t even tried to fix her mistakes. Look at her! She just wants attention for what she did to herself!”

Now Charles doesn’t hesitate to punch him. His fist colliding with Jos’ jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall.

Max took his attention off his sister, who was leaning against him, and placed it on Charles. Shock clearly evident of his features.

Jos attempted to confront Charles again, but security finally showed up and escorted Jos out of the paddock.

Charles exhales, glad the confrontation is over. “That’s not how I imagined meeting your father for the first time.” Charles chuckles nervously.

Is doesn’t take much longer until Charles has his love safely wrapped in his arms. Whisking her away to his hotel room. Max had stayed ti make sure everything got cleaned up at the paddock. Kelly arriving shortly with Penelope in tow, ready to comfort Max.

She cried when they were finally safe inside. Pouring out to Charles about the accident and what it had caused in her life. He listened intently, doing his best to soothe the girl. Her panic still clearly evident.

Soon enough she’d calmed. Her head laying in Charles lap while he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“It don’t care what anyone else says. I see your beauty and it is not defined by what you can’t see.”

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Merry Christmas, Darling

Word Count: 1,200 (Tiny for me, but I haven't written in almost a year so forgive me.)

Summary: Ominis is going to miss you over the holidays. || Ominis Gaunt x reader|| Hurt but with plenty of comfort.

Warnings: This is as fluffy as a good sweater.

In the eyes of Ominis Gaunt, Christmas was a complicated thing. He loved it. Truly. Though, he'd never actually had one until he was eleven years old - when Anne and Sebastian Sallow invited him to their uncle's cottage in Feldcroft. They asked him to be there, they told him all these stories about how muggles celebrate the holiday, and their modest Christmas dinner was the best thing he'd ever tasted. The whole house felt so warm.

And... 

They gave him gifts. 

No one had ever done that. 

He hadn't had anything for them that first time, but they told him that was alright. Of course, he had remedied his ignorance every year afterward and for three more blissful years, everything was perfect. 

Until fifth year, when Ominis' only Christmas gift was comforting Anne through her nightmares – frightful visions of a goblin disemboweling itself in front of her. And her brother's manic grin. 

Ominis was sixteen now, and Sebastian was gone. Anne was too. 

In all his time at school, he'd never gone home for winter break and he didn't intend to now. Even if he had nowhere to go instead. 

Because you were leaving him too. 

He'd be, once again, alone.

You'd be going home to your own family to spend Christmas surrounded by love and warmth. Not that he wasn't happy for you, he was! But you wouldn't be with him.  It wasn't your fault. You'd begged your parents to let him come along. 

But why, oh why, would they ever approve? How could they possibly want him – a Gaunt – in their household? 

"That family has a reputation, Y/N." They'd said.

Well, they were right. And he was bitter. And he was sad. And he just wanted to spend Christmas with you. Why was that too much to ask?

He heard you sigh next to him. The sound brought him back to reality. You hadn't left for home yet. You'd leave in the morning. For now, however, you were curled up against him on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. The flames crackled and roared and he so adored the scent of pine and applewood burning. You hadn’t left him yet. He could still feel you. 

Your cheek against his shoulder. Your hand in his. You smelled like peppermint.

“I wish you could come with me,” You whispered. And you didn’t say you wished you could stay. Because you loved your family and he was so happy that you did. He wished he had the same luxury.

“As do I,” He said. He tried to smile.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I hope you will.” He knew he’d miss you so much more. 

He felt you shift, resting your forehead against his arm now, stroking from his forearm to his hand. You drew in a breath.

“Greeting cards have all been sent… the Christmas rush is through. But I still have one wish to make, a special one for you.” The tune was slow and you sang it so softly. He’d be the only one in the common room to hear it. You didn’t have the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard, but in that moment, you sounded like an angel. Ominis squeezed your hand tighter. 

“Merry Christmas, darling. We're apart, that's true. But I can dream, and in my dreams, I'm Christmas-ing with you.”

“That’s a very nice thought.” He interrupted, unable to stop a smile from tugging at the corner of his lips. You laughed and kept singing. 

“Holidays are joyful. There's always something new. But every day's a holiday. When I'm near to you.” He ducked his head and blushed, and not just a little bit. See, you were one of those people who never said a word you didn’t mean - unlike him. You were always so sincere. 

“Oh, how flattering.”

You kissed the back of his hand.

“The lights on my tree, I wish you could see. I wish it every day.”

“Why would I need them when I have you?” He murmured. As if you weren’t doing enough, you leaned in to kiss his cheek. You were warm. You’d take your warmth with you.

“Logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you Merry Christmas. Happy New Year too. I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve. I wish I were with you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, grabbed your soft, warm hands, and pulled you up against him. You were wearing his sweater. It was far too big for you so he had to go searching for your hands in its sleeves, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. One arm around your waist, yours around his neck, your hand in his. 

“Dance with me?” He breathed. “Just once more… before you go.” 

And sure, you wouldn’t be leaving him forever. But it would feel like longer.

You laughed that sweet laugh of yours and he knew that if he could bottle the atmosphere around them, that emotion on his tongue would keep him warm through the winter. He held you tighter, trying to memorize every inch, every layer of your scent. There was peppermint, and cinnamon, chocolate, and pine. He loved it all. You smelled like the only home he had left. When you were gone, your scent was all he’d have of you. Your family was poor as dirt. Ominis didn’t care, but your parents wouldn’t allow you any money to spend on him of all people. You were the only gift he wanted now anyway. Your presence alone was too much to ask, yet you gave it so willingly.

“Logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you a Merry Christmas. Happy New Year too. I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve, I wish I were with you.” You stood up on your tip-toes to whisper to him. Your hand found its way into his hair. “I wish I were with you.”

His breath hitched and what was a dance collapsed into a longing embrace. He held you as tight as he could, burying his face in your shoulder. Though he wasn’t one to be so cavalier with expressions of emotion, he couldn’t help but dip his head to nip at your collarbone. The mark he knew he’d leave wasn’t for him. He just… didn’t want you to forget, was all. And he had to leave more kisses - a trail of them along your perfectly smooth throat. He hoped the taste of your skin would keep his cheeks burning through the January freeze.

You were the one to kiss his lips. When you pulled away, you placed your hands on his cheeks and rubbed your nose against his.

“Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas…” You whispered. 

He sighed.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

That sweater of his that you were wearing… after wishing you farewell at the train station, he’d find it folded on his bed when he got back. It smelled like you. A note in Braile accompanied it. 

“To keep you warm until I return. Wear it. (I cast a preservation charm on it this morning.)”

He did wear it. And your scent on the wool didn’t fade until you returned and tugged it off him.

This fic is dedicated to @witchcraftandgeekness for telling me to f#ck everybody. Not in the sexy way.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

So. Lena as a stitch witch/thread mage. She spends multiple hours-long sessions with Kara's cape in her lap, her fingers slowly moving across the warp and weft, lingering every painstaking millimeter. Kara sees her do it, Lena tells her exactly what she's doing (imbuing the cloth with protection magicks) -- its not a secret by any means.

A couple months/years later, Lena develops the means for laypeople to see magic. (Think one of those magnifying ring lights that scientists and crafters use.) Kara thinks its dope that her girlfriend is so smart. But then she gets bored, and wanders into the lab alone to poke around. She's idly swishing her cape around her, as one does, until she pauses, recalling those days Lena spent with said swath of fabric.

Kara knows what magic looks like by now-- they've used it on a couple of magical items they've found around the city, trying to track down an unknown magic user. It looked like gentle ripples, undulating over the surface of the object.

As Kara takes a handful of her cape, drawing it towards the lens, she wonders what color Lena's magic is.

The fabric shines so bright under the magnifying glass that it sears Kara's retinas, temporarily blinding her.

"Mother of-- Rao!" Rearing back, she slaps her hands over her eyes, now watering, and tries to blink away the newly won shadows from her vision. "What the--"

"Kara?"

The sound of Lena's footsteps rushing to the lab draws Kara's attention.

"What happened--?"

"Jesus-- me being an idiot happened," Kara grumbles, blinking rapidly to try and focus on where Lena should be. All she sees is a large dark blotch. "Hey, what did you calibrate that thing with?"

"One of Nyxly's artifacts," Lena responds. Warm hands take Kara by the elbows and guide her over to a nearby stool. "I wanted to be able to distinguish between fifth dimensional energy and true magic. Here, can you follow my finger?"

"What finger?" Kara quips. The blotch is already beginning to shrink by a fraction, assuring Kara that the damage to her vision isn't permanent. Her mind spiralled.

Nyxly had had magic unlike the world had ever seen. More powerful than Mxy even. None of the artifacts they'd put under that lens had come anywhere close to producing even half that effect.

"Kara, will you please tell me what you were doing--"

"I wanted to see what your magic looked like," she says, bluntly. "My cape..."

"...oh." Lena's voice is quiet. "Yeah, that--"

"Probably wasn't the best idea. Clearly." Kara tries to grin, but she knows it probably comes up flat. "But my god, Lena..."

"Florence says I have an affinity for magic. Like my mother."

"This," Kara gestures towards her eyes, "is more than an affinity."

She hears Lena swallow. "Please don't be scared. I would never do anything to hurt--"

"Scared? Lena, I'm-- I'm in awe of you."

A beat of silence follows, before Lena's hands settle in hers. "Please don't be that either. I'm just me."

Kara blinks, and smiles towards the hazy silhouette of Lena's hair, in its usual gentle waves. She tugs Lena closer, until Lena relaxes towards her and lets her forehead rest on Kara's.

"Just you is amazing."

[lebrookestore]

nct 127 as demigods!

authors note: i have no time to even be doing this i don't know where it came from but the pjo brainrot and phase is so real and back with a vengence so please enjoy while i hope i won't be failing my mathematics final. and yes, i absolutely want to write a full fledged fic based on this.

Mark: as a son of Poseiden!

listen...this man is everywhere and is so important that its no surprise he's the child of one of the big three.

has a natural affinity for swordplay.

used to depend on his swordsmanship a lot more than his inherited powers from his father but learned to strike a balance between both as he grew older.

has a very obvious, clearly powerful aura, but he's also Just A Guy.

when he first arrived to camp, everyone thought he was a child of Hypnos actually because he quite literally slept through the first two days he was there due to how exhausted he was.

got claimed on the third day and everyone was shocked (yes he's my Percy stand in and what about it)

doesn't really like how much everyone looks up to him, it makes him scared for the moment that he inevitably disappoints them all - or so he thinks.

bro is clueless for the most part but always manages to pull through and get himself out of any situations (*cough* monsters *cough) he finds himself in.

when he's especially emotionally disturbed or angry, he causes earthquakes.

Johnny: as a son of Hecate!

when he was little he didn't really understand how he could make things simply appear or scenes in front of him change by simply imagining it.

it kept him out of a lot of trouble during his younger years.

manipulation of the mist has always come easy to him, he barely even breaks a sweat.

his weapon is an enchanted spear.

it helps channel his power and helps in physical battle as well, though he tends to rely on his powers more.

the spear was a gift from his mother, the only time he's ever met her or spoken to her.

he tends to make people nervous with so much as a glance.

its not just the fact that he has that demigod aura of power- he's just an intimidating figure.

the air of mystery around him is furthered by how private he is, but he's all smiles and jokes if you're a close friend of his.

knowing how easily he can make someone nervous, Johnny uses it to his advantage often, whether it be to get out of trouble or to get his way.

Taeyong: as a son of Iris!

take a moment to see the vision here folks

he totally has the vibe of a hippie rainbow goddess' son.

was brought to chb when he was fourteen, which is relatively old for a demigod.

the colour of his eyes varies and changes according to his moods and emotions.

when the sun hits his hair it seems like that too changes colour and shifts from one shade to another.

once tried to tie-die his camp half-blood shirt with Jaehyun to make it a little more stylish since the both of them were tired of the bright, unflattering orange. lets just say it did not turn out well.

his weapon of choice is a scimtar - a wicked curved blade.

for someone so peaceful and smiley, he's scary when fighting with his scimtar, quick on his feet and downright deadly. unlike his siblings, who tend to despise conflict, he's one of the best fighters.

like all children of Iris, he can create a rainbow barrier for protection

he possesses photokinesis, a rare power among children of iris, in which he can focus an intense beam of prismatic light which will burn anything it touches.

Doyoung: as a son of Athena!

was taken to camp when he was nine and quickly adapted although he was so young.

the definition of a know-it-all, but its kind of in a lovable way.

he has the habit of rambling so his attempts at sounding all knowledgable tend to come off as dorky a lot of time.

make no mistake though, Doyoung is as cunning and resourceful as they get.

although every child of Athena is talented at battle strategy, Doyoung is the one most of the other campers turn to in times of crisis for guidance through any battle.

spends countless hours reading and studying the old stories of great greek heroes and demigods and his favourite is Odysseus.

is proficient with almost all weapon but usually uses a sword.

his fighting style is more calculated than most, his mind is always racing and thinking about weak spots and dissecting his opponents fighting style and flaws.

although a good fighter, he first and foremost relies on his wit and strategic skills and can make use of whatever is at his disposal to hold his own.

Yuta: as a son of Ares!

competitive little bitch (and we love that for him).

got kicked out of three schools because he would pick fights (and win them).

usually leads during capture the flag.

during battle, there tends to be a somewhat manic glow of delight in his eyes because no matter how dangerous the situation is or how bad the odds are, fighting his what he's the best at.

to him, its an art form.

his weapon of choice is a pair of daggers.

usually children of ares don't opt for small weapons as such, and although he has control over any weapon like Doyoung does - though Yuta's control is more innate and in built- he prefers the versatility his daggers give him.

he's quite deadly with them.

the only person that can take him in a fight is Taeyong, and that is also quite rare.

his fighting skills are enhanced when angry or particularly vengeful.

impulsive when it comes to any sort of fighting - prefers to deal with it head on and directly.

Jaehyun: as a son of Aphrodite!

his birthday is literally on valentines day i will not take criticism about this.

bro is literally stunning.

his weapon of choice is a sword.

a surprisingly competent fighter considering his siblings don't particularly enjoy any form of sparring for the most part, and helps out with teaching the younger campers sword fighting.

has the ability to melt anyone with that pretty boy smile of his.

knows exactly how to win someone over and use his natural charm, but doesn't know how to stop it from going too far, which leads to people falling for him left, right and center.

this doesn't mean he's oblivious to those who like him - make no mistake, he is well aware when someone is crushing on him.

unfortunately, he hasn't quite mastered the art of gently letting someone down, which leads to very awkward moments after some poor soul confesses to him.

thus he unwittingly follows the whole 'heartbreaker' agenda the Aphrodite cabin has, though he doesn't approve of it.

doesn't have charmspeak but can tell when its being used on him.

Jungwoo: as a son of Hephastus!

a literal genius.

could solve college level mathematics in the third grade, but his mother never made that fact known - simply because she knew about his demigod nature, being one of the few mortals who could see through the mist.

she didn't want to attract any more attention than necessary.

first came to camp half blood when he was twelve.

can sense how any sort of mechanism works.

possesses pyrokinesis unlike most children of Hephastus, but it takes a lot out of him.

usually relies on his fire manipulation while fighting, but otherwise makes use of an axe as a weapon.

while he is pretty damn good fighter, he prefers to take a backseat and work behind the scenes on weaponry and creating traps to capture or unarm the enemy.

can easily disarm any traps and can sense them if close by, but can also make traps deadlier.

spends a lot of time in forges.

also loves working with the Hermes' campers to construct devices for pranks for fun.

Haechan: as a son of Apollo!

literal sunshine boy.

must protect at all costs but is honestly quite capable of protecting himself and then some.

his mother is a nurse and with her busy schedule he was left alone at home for the most part when he was younger, so being taken to camp half blood by his satyr when he was 10 seemed like the perfect solution.

chose to be an year-round camper since it was safer that way.

an excellent archer.

isn't much of a healer, but if his siblings need help in the infirmary, he'll assist them.

leans into his musical gifts more - his voice can quite literally make anyone stop in their tracks.

if an especially young demigod shows up at camp, he goes out of his way to make sure they're okay, knowing how daunting it all was when he was their age.

gets along well with the Hermes campers due to his mischievous nature.

his favourite trick is putting a rhyming curse on whoever the victim of his prank is.

Taeil: as a son of Demeter!

he's been at camp since he was ten years old.

very level-headed and calm, due to this he often is able to break up any fights started by the Are's cabin.

has an addiction to froot loops.

my boy is badass as hell his weapon is a scythe.

for most people, its too big and bulky to fight with, but he knows just how to make it work.

it takes the form of a hand weeder when not in battle for easy transportation.

can summon, manipulate and and control all sorts of vegetation.

he can make them grow faster but on the flipside can also make them decay quicker.

spends a lot of his time in the strawberry fields since working with working with agriculture is hardwired into him.

has a motherly presence, a lot of campers turn to him for advice.

especially fond of Haechan and is also one of the only reasons the Are's campers haven't gone all psycho on the boy- Taeil is the only one who can calm them down through their bouts of rhyming phrases (which happens suspiciously often).

[lya-dustin]

The Last Wolf of Lankiveil

Part 2 of Queen of Light, King of Darkness ft the poll thanks to @jennathearcher @lady-phasma for the idea of the were-feyd fic

Taglist: @valeskafics @avidreader73 @emilykaldwen @cljordan-imperium @beebeechaos

Cw: murder, blood, lycanthropy

For all his reputation as a Beast and Count of Lankiveil, Glossu Rabban had not inherited their mother’s true nature thanks to their father’s wretched human blood.

Feyd Rautha had inherited more than just Onir Rautha's name, he had inherited his lycanthropy.

A true Beast, like those who ruled Lankiveil's icy lands before the Harkonnen's hunted them to extinction.

A shame his mother had to die to keep his true nature a mystery from his beloved uncle. As his mother’s son, Feyd will make sure her death wasn’t in vain.

The universe will be ruled by the last Wolf of Lankiveil.

And for that to happen, Paul Atreides and his wife, Feyd’s own sister-in-law had to die. He’d done away with Atreides’ pet and the bastard in her belly, and you deserved a gift as magnificent as the one you gave him that morning in Arrakis.

“We were hoping you could join us for a hunt in my son’s honor.” Feyd gives no indication of what he has planned for the Muad’Dib and the wife he refuses to even touch.

It is not that difficult; his wolf form could not be sensed, and he had received enough training to hone the abilities that would have created the Kwisatz Haderach. He can hide from their visions and escape their control completely.

“I am sure my wife longs to see her sister and our nephew again. We will be there, cousin.” Paul’s eyes hold some suspicion, but their alliance has chipped away at most of it. As far as his cousin knows, Feyd is a simple man with simple pleasures. Give him something to respect in you and a weapon in his hands and he will massacre entire planets in your name.

But the young baron is a father now and his perfect little heir can’t aspire to be his uncle’s heir when his lady mother is far more deserving of the Throne.

You, his Queen of Light, his Nurbanu, deserved the universe.

There is something other about him. Something related to his violent nature and the moon.

You had heard the rumors of the lycanthropy that plagued House Rabban, but one thing was hearing stories about the wolves of Lankiveil and another one was seeing her husband leave for a hunt on a full moon and hear a wolf’s howl unlike aby you’ve ever heard.

Irulan and Paul would be visiting some village across the forest that had myths of the Kwisatz Haderach they wanted to take advantage of.

You weren’t supposed to follow, you were supposed to stay home with Murad who would turn one year old tomorrow. But you wanted to confirm your suspicions.

You arrive at the village to find it in chaos. It had been destroyed as if something ravaged it and its people. Like a one man army.

“The Wolf of Lankiveil!” they shout in fear and adoration. “The Kwisatz Haderach has been destroyed!”

Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t hate your sister. She annoyed you and stood between you and your throne, but you didn’t hate her. And while you knew this day would come, you knew you would feel terrible for murdering her.

Feyd didn’t understand that part, he didn’t have a single positive memory of his brother nor any chance to be a friend to anyone.

You find the wolf at the edge of the village and you smile at the sight of him.

Your guards beg you to keep away, fearing what would happen if the wolf carried you off.

None recognize the blue human eyes in the wolf.

Your Feyd, your husband.

You believed yourself immune to him, that his violence would keep you from ever falling in love with him, but in the end he grew on you. Like mold on rotten fruit.

“So this is where you went off to, dear husband?” you ask the man beast covered in the blood of innocents.

Come with me.

No need to tell you twice. In a fluid movement you’ve gotten on his back and he takes off at breakneck speeds.

It is thrilling, to feel the icy wind around you as you use all your abilities to remain in place. You can hear his laugh echo in yours as you ride through the woods.

Not long after the wolf begins to shift, the fur thinning, the canine body losing its structure in favor of something human like and soon you arrive to his hideout clutching his back. You must look ridiculous piggybacking a bloody and very naked Feyd.

“Did you like your gift, wife?” his black teeth still have blood from where he tore apart his victims and the red staining his snow like skin paints a beautiful picture.

“How could I not, my baron?” you kiss his bloody mouth and show how much you love his gift, how much you love him.

Your daughter ,Asena Rautha, conceived that night, is born a wolf.

Just like her father.

[a-certain-romance]

Your hips, your lips, they’re mine

Characters/Ships: Yae Miko x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your relationship with her has brought a lot of unwanted attention. Thankfully, she came up with the perfect solution.

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, markings, scissoring

Link to Pt2 & Pt3

It started after you two began dating. It wasn’t unlike Miko to occasionally take a human lover every few centuries but what was baffling to most people was that it was someone like you. You, the seemingly ordinary Inazuman citizen who neither had much mora to their name nor held any high ranking position, within the tri-commission or otherwise.

Your presence, which used to go unnoticed by plenty of people, intrigued those who learned of your relationship. We’re you really human, or just a Yokai in disguise? Is there some secret talent you possess that strays further from a vision? What is it about you that won over the guji’s heart? All this unwanted attention has attracted many sorts of people, but the most irritating we’re the ones who tried to test their luck on asking you out.

At this point of her life, Miko was adept in terms of her patience. But these pests who are vying for your attention were certainly testing her resolve. Her busy work schedule doesn’t allow her to visit you often during the day yet she can practically sense the amount of unwanted guests you entertain all the way from the top of Mt. Yougou.

She’s on the verge of snapping when yet another one of your sudden “suitors” interrupts one of your many late night strolls through the city with the promise of a romantic, candlelight dinner by the sea. Since words can seem to get through to these dense idiots, she’ll opt to putting her arm around your waist and pull you close to her chest. If you don’t shut down the conversation immediately, she’d start twirling her finger in you hair and whisper downright filthy remarks in your ear as if the other person weren’t still there. Yet the man is still unfazed, as if he isn’t intimidated by the Yae Miko.

Has she really lost her touch? Maybe being with you really has make her soft. He tries to lay his hand on yours and that becomes the last straw. Finally having enough, she moves him out of the way by the shoulder and “accidentally” slips a current of electricity through him. Taking your hand, she practically drags you to your shared apartment before anyone else can try to get their hands on you.

If the people of Inazuma can’t seem to take the hint that you’re taken, she’ll have to make that fact much more obvious by biting at your neck and in places that would be hard to cover up. She’d mark your boobs, stomach and thighs, anywhere she can get her hands on really. All this pent of frustration is getting to her and she needs some form of release soon.

Hands moving to your hips, she lines up her clit to yours and starts grinding. Miko would press you down into the mattress until you’re squirming away from the pleasure. “And just where are you trying to run off to my dear? Not to that whore in the city are you? I can make you feel so good, better than what they can ever promise you just you wait”.

She cuts off your whines with her mouth. She loves the little moans and noises you make when she runs her tongue along yours. She needs this. She needs you to moan for her and only her. The rhythm speeds up and she can tell you’re close like she is. She removes your mouth from hers as her eyebrows furrow in concentration. You tap her arm and ask to come together, Miko could never be happier.

She holds you tightly when the both of you finish. She’ll smooth over the hickes she made with her tongue with light open-mouthed kisses as she repeats the words mine mine mine. You love Miko dearly but you have to admit, seeing her jealous is kinda hot. You start to wonder if teasing her by talking more to these people would gain the same reaction, but with her hand trailing down to massage your cunt you save the thought for later.

[mytheoristavenue]

GOTG Yandere!Rocket Raccoon x Reader - The Things I'd Do

Summary: After a mission goes ary, ending with you badly injured, you become hyper aware of Rocket's violent tendencies.

Warnings: mentions of violence, character death, revenge killing, one sided love, yandere!Rocket, overprotective!Rocket, heavy angst, not proof read

God, did your head hurt. Actually, you hadn't had a migrane this bad in a long time, certainly not since you stopped drinking so much. This was no hangover, though. Your vision was blurry, and you were tired and light headed. This was a concussion, and a pretty severe one at that. Trying to crane your neck, you took in your surroundings; the ship's infirmary. How did you get here? You could hardly remember anything, other than going on a simple mission.

"(Y/N)..." a timid voice called from the entrance to the room. "You're awake..."

"M-Mantis...?" you croaked, straining to fully sit up, only to have her rush over and worriedly push you back down.

"No, no, please stay lying down!" she fretted in a hushed tone. "You are very hurt, you have to rest."

Reluctantly, you laid your head back down fully. "Can't be that bad," you joked weakly, eyes suddenly flickering to the machinery all around you. You weren't sure how you hadn't caught on until now, but there were needles supplying various things straight to your veins, wires monitoring your vitals, and your breathing was assisted by a mask. "I-It's not that bad, right?" The woamn stood quiet, somberly gazing at her feet. "Right, Mantis?"

"You are on life supposrt." she finally confessed, glancing up at you through her lashes for a second before looking away again. "We weren't sure you would make it..."

"How long has it been?" you finally asked, facing dead ahead, too stunned to even train your sight on her anymore.

"Two weeks and four days." she replied, still stiff as a board. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just came to check on you..."

"Don't be sorry," you finally said, cracking a sad smile. "I'm glad you're here, come here me get outta all this stuff, will ya?"

For a split second, her face lit up with the same joy it usually had and she made a motion towards you, before reaching out, only to fall short. Her expression suddenly morphed into panic and she back away from you at the sound of light footsteps. When the door opened to reveal what she must've been so affraid of, you were left with more questions than answers.

"Mantis," he barked, inhaling an irritated breath. "What did I say about this room?"

"N-No one in or out but you..." she stuttered, crumpling herself up in a corner, far away from both you and him.

"So you do understand, you just choose to go behind my back? Is that it?" Rocket's fur stoof on end with aggitation, which grew taller by the second.

"N-No, Peter asked me to-"

"I don't give a fuck what Quill said, get the fuck outta here before I-" his blood suddenly ran could, robbing him of all his anger and harsh words, giving her time to escape weeping. "You're awake." With that, you held his full attention as he padded closer to you, a weak grin splitting his face as he reached your hedside, hoping up on a stool to be closer toy our level.

You on the other hand were not as overjoyed to see him as he was you. You had shot up to sit, hugginy our knees during his outburst, having never heard him that upset. You'd seen Rocket angry- furious even- tons of times, but this was...malice and it was so unlike him. "Rocket...why did you yell at Mantis like that..." you asked in a cautous whsiper.

"I'm sorry ya had to see that, doll," he started, reaching both hands out to cup your cheeks. "I just been in here takin' care of ya and I didn't want anybody to screw anything up." he explained, taking on a gentle tone as one of his thumbs stroked your cheek. "I keep tellin' 'em to stay outta here but nobody ever listens to me."

"Rocket, you were really mean to her...you really should apologize." You pressed, wiggling away form his touch. "She was just worried and checking up on me."

Rocket sighed, sctraching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, doll, when you're right, you're right. I'll find her later." he relented, hoping down and scurrying over to a nearby table to pick up the tablet that had been collecting all the data on your condition. "So, how ya feelin'?"

"Not great," you admitted. "I have a really bad headache and..." It suddenly occoured to you to try and get more information about what had happened from him. "Hey, since you've been the one taking care of me, why am I on life support?"

"Well, i couldn't just let you die, could I?" he asked rhetorically with a laugh. "Honestly, you should be thanking you for bringing you back."

"Back from where." you muttered, more as a command than a question. He chuckled nonchalantly in responce, mimicking you while shaking his head. "Rocket." you warned sternly, making him halt, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you. "Where did you bring me back from?"

"Well..." he shifted awkwardly in place, rubbing the back of his neck. "You were dead." he finally confesed, blowing right past the revellation into more gruesome detail. "You had to fuck around and get your head beat in so I had to go in and..." His voice trailed off as your focus pulled away, horror washing over you. You had never been relgious, but you knew now that this was wrong. Your skin felt like it wasn't in place and your heart begin to feel like it didn't belong to you.

Rocket- someone you trusted- had gone and dragged you back from the dead, played God, who knows what else? You began to fold in on yourself, pulling your knees back to your chest in discomfort as your stare seems miles away. He could recognize the symmtoms of your oncoming panic attack before you could and he reached out to you, scurrying closer.

"Hey, Hey, don't go and freak out on me ok?" he urged, hopping up on the bed with you. "Try not to think about it too much, you're alive after all." He continued to talk while you mentally checked out, your mind entirely broken as you studied the skin on your hand. "And this is just the half of it." he said. "You shoulda seen how many of those knuckleheads I took out for you."

It was at this moment, while Rocket began to curl up in the crevice of your side that you noticed: In the reflective surface of a nearby tool tray, one of your eyes had changed color and the was nopciable scarring covering the largest portion of your face.

"Killin, takin' care of you. You got no idea the things I'd do for you, doll face."

[sadlybeans]

No More Batman AU Part 2: Robin Lives.

(Part 1)

The light rain turned into a downpour that clouded the entire city. From the porch of the manor you couldn’t even see the gate at the end of the driveway, and the wind was so strong that Damian was already soaked to the bones where he sat on the steps that led to the huge double doors. If someone was home, they mustn’t have heard the taxi through the rumble of thunder above their heads, and so nobody had bothered him in the two hours he had spent there.

Damian wasn’t a stupid child, he never even had the slightest chance of being naive and innocent, but he still sat there looking out towards the faraway gate he could barely make out, waiting for someone to come pick him up. Someone who was never coming back.

The door opened and someone audibly tripped over the boxes and suitcases lined right in front of it.

“Fuck! What the….?”

The dark sky was momentarily lit up by lightning.

“… Hello?”

Time had run out, they had finally noticed he was here, and there were still no headlights coming in the distance.

“Hey, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Damian slowly untangled his cramped limbs and stood up, turning around to find himself face to face with the vaguely familiar face of a man around Jason’s age. His first instinct was to want to lie, to say he had been left there by mistake, that he needed a ride back to the city. He wanted to ask for a phone so he could call his mother to get him, or to mark a number that was already deactivated.

“M-My name is Damian Al-Ghul” he stuttered against his will, trembling so much he couldn’t keep his voice steady. His tone was still quiet and mostly emotionless despite that, and through his half blurry vision he could tell the man was shocked by his answer. Well, he would get another bomb dropped on him. “Bruce Wayne is my biological father”

He could have screamed and raged, maybe try to get his hands on something sharp and attempt patricide despite the low chance of success. He could have also shown his disdain towards all of Wayne’s charity cases, or snapped at Wayne himself for treating him like a child. He could have smashed every single stupid decorative vase in his room out of spite and then escape through the window for good measure… but for once in his life, Damian Al-Ghul was too exhausted to throw a tantrum.

His heart had been ripped out of his chest and all that was left was a far away numb pain, and his mind kept telling him ‘It’s alright, see? It doesn’t hurt that much’. But with every second and every breath that tiny scratch became a festering wound that kept growing larger and larger— his eyes hurt but they were dry, because not even his tears could bring any relief, they just made it all the more real.

His mother had prepared him since he was a little boy to one day say goodbye, he had always known that one day he would he in this manor, in this room, and she would be somewhere far away and out of his reach. He had always expected it, and he had always known that she would be there whenever he came back to her.

Jason Todd was, and would always be, the worst thing to ever happen to him.

When he had first met him, undead and full of too much rage, he had been an annoyance. He tolerated him because mother asked him to, because he wasn’t half as useless in some ways and he could teach him about things that his mother either couldn’t or wouldn’t. Jason was a thread connecting him to his father and nothing more, a nuisance, an aggravating asshole that found too much pleasure in making Damian lose his cool.

And then, as months blended out into years he learnt to tolerate him and appreciate that, maybe, he hadn’t been so right in his initial assessment on Jason’s capabilities. As he grew older he began to realise that he preferred his company to that of his grandfather’s assassins because unlike so many of the adults around him, Jason listened. Damian had never treated him too kindly and yet he was patient and he stuck to his side no matter what.

That fool had worn down his walls until he could break through, and it was so confusing and so infuriating to feel warm when he was there, a feeling that only one other person in this Earth was worthy of.

He had let down his guard, let Jason hold his heart in his hands, and all he got in turn was this.

Damian had never truly meant anything to him, when he had meant everything to Damian.

“…mian? Damian, are you listening?”

He finally looked up and fixed his passive stare on Richard Grayson, pointedly avoiding to look at Wayne.

“Yes”

Grayson looked concerned and Damian wanted to punch him or stab him for it. Who did he think he was? Why did he believe he could do anything to make it hurt any less? He didn’t know anything of his pain.

“I was saying… we know this is going to be a bit of a tough adjustment for everyone, but we’ll do our best to make you feel welcome, ok? This is your house now and- and you can ask for whatever you need”

For a second his eyes flickered around at the sober decorations and soft lighting of the room that made it seem welcoming, and he hated that it felt much warmer than his grandfather’s palace.

“I don’t want to”

Grayson blinked.

“You don’t want to… ask for anything?” he dumbly guessed.

Damian pursed his lips.

“I don’t want to stay here” he stated clearly this time “I don’t care about him“ he vaguely and sharply gestured towards Wayne “or about his house. If mother wants me to live in Gotham for a time I will, but I don’t want to be here, I won’t. I refuse”

He crossed his arms over his chest in what could’ve been an attempt at seeming more serious, but was actually a shield between them. The silence that followed was long and tense.

“Listen, I know that I have not been a father to you, and I don’t expect that you would think of me as one” Wayne finally spoke, slowly and calmly as to not set him off, and that was even more irritating than if he wasn’t trying to be understanding “If you don’t want me to ever be your father then- that’s your choice. But for now, being here is safest for you”

Safe… what did it matter if it was safe or not? He had grown old enough to take care of himself with tooth and nail if he had to, he wasn’t some innocent sheep— he was a trained assassin, skilled and sharp, and even if he didn’t look the part his hands were already drenched in blood.

“I want to go home” he spat out, lowering his gaze again.

“Well why don’t you give it a chance?” Grayson tried to lighten the mood that was quickly falling “Just for a couple weeks, and if you don’t like it then you can leave”

“I want to go home”

The stubbornness in his voice was one hair away of turning into desperation, and that open hole in his chest was burning so intensely he could feel it physically now, barely short of interfering with his breathing.

“Thalia wants you to stay for a while but you will go back eventually” Wayne tried to say that because of course he did, of course he would use his mother to get him to stand down.

“I don’t want to be here, not with you!” the hurt and the anger were finally spreading to his lungs and his throat, demanding to be let out “This is all your fault!”

Grayson seemed about to pipe in but Wayne put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I understand” no he didn’t “I don’t want to force you to stay, Damian. But Thalia sent you here, she is asking me to look after you, so I have to try”

“I don’t want you, I want to go home!”

“This is going to be home for now”

“NO!” the last string holding him together snapped and he finally screamed because no matter how hard he tried, nobody listened unless he made himself heard “THIS ISN’T HOME, YOU’RE NOT MY FATHER!”

Damian hadn’t carried any weapons on his person since they moved and he deeply regretted that choice at the moment, so he picked up a paperweight from the desk and threw it at Wayne, grabbing for anything else that was within reach in a frenzy. Pens, glass trinkets, a lamp, a phone, a sand clock— they all landed where he intended and Wayne took it, stunned at his outburst. Grayson scrambled to try and catch the projectiles, which meant he couldn’t stop him from grabbing more.

“I hate you, I don’t want to be in your stupid house!” he grabbed a book and it slipped past Grayson’s fingers, one of the hardcover corners hitting Wayne on the forehead hard enough to leave a bleeding scratch “I want my baba, I want to go home with baba!”

There was a beat of silence, and then nothing.

It had just… come out.

When Damian turned nine he had finally stopped saying ‘Todd’ and had moved onto ‘Jason’. When he turned eleven he sometimes threw in ‘ahki’, but when he turned thirteen he stopped any of those altogether and never once adressed Jason directly again. Mother always knew why, because of course she did, but she never tried to pressure him into voicing it… Jason on the other hand, never noticed how Damian never called for him even when they were in opposite sides of their apartment and instead chose to walk directly into his line of vision whenever he wanted something, never noticed how he pointedly avoided answering people when they asked what they were to each other.

At first he didn’t really know how to say it… and at the end, he had realised that he couldn’t say it because it wouldn’t matter any longer.

So here he was, standing in front of complete strangers that he was supposed to accept as family, calling for a man who didn’t even know he held such title.

The study was a mess of broken things and tense silence, but there was no more screaming. He turned around, scarily silent and with complete blankness covering his features once more. He opened the door and let his feet bring him back to the impersonal room where his things were piled up on.

Baba isn’t coming back.

Bruce couldn’t be the only one who saw it, the only one whose blood ran cold every time the shadow of his recently found fifteen year old son passed by a hallway, and every day that passed the other members of the family started to see it too, even though they hadn’t known the person he was eerily similar to. A swear jar that hadn’t been used in years rested upon the kitchen mantle with a good few bills and coins inside, books that were rarely ever touched pulled from the shelves of the library, the echoes of loud music coming from the always shut door of a teenage boy… it was all like they were living with a ghost.

And the more he thought about it the more he saw it and the more painful it became; Damian was so much like Jason. From the way his eyebrows dipped in a frown to his cat like walk— how he held his fork at dinner and how he passive aggressively reorganised everything to his liking, how he muttered curses under his breath and how he dressed. His sweet tooth, his distrustful demeanour, his speech patterns…

It hurt.

Not a day had passed in the last ten years that he didn’t think of his little boy and the agonising pain of losing him, not one. When he woke up every morning he did it with the foolish hope that it had all been a nightmare and that he would find all his children downstairs having breakfast, when he returned home from work he still expected to be ambushed at the door by Robin trying to take Batman by surprise, and when he laid down in bed for the night a part of him still said; “It’s alright, he will be here tomorrow”.

He was everywhere, in every TV commercial about cereal (“That’s just fake advertisement, /this one/ is clearly superior”), in every child that ran past him in the streets (“Hurry up! If you don’t move the tickets will sell out and it’s a limited time exhibit!”), in every flash of superhero merchandise (“Oh my god B, look! It’s me! It’s my Robin! I have to buy one for Big Bird!”), in every scholarship signed by his hand (“You can’t throw this away, one day when I become a famous author you can have interviews and say it was your genius son’s first story”).

Buses (“You need to know how to use public transport, you’re an embarrassment”).

Cars (“I did steal all four tires, you just lie every time you tell the story”).

Loud punk songs on the radio (“You wouldn’t get it, you’re old”).

Laughter echoing in the distance (happy, he had been so happy, he had believed in him and trusted him).

… The news.

(Agonising screams and blood, oh so much blood, all over concrete and dust and bright yellow fabric, a small broken body held in too rough hands- you did this, it was your fault, he would still be alive if you had been a good father, you never deserved him, you don’t deserve any of them)

Jason was everywhere, and yet nothing could ever fill the gaping wound that his absence had made, none of those fragmented memories could ever be enough…. and now he was there in that manor, in the shape of a boy that hated Bruce’s guts, of someone so familiar and so alien at the same time.

“I’m fine”

Bruce dared lift his head to stare at Damian, who tensely stood in the study as he held the phone to his ear, his mother at the other end of the line.

He was slender like any other boy his age, and the oversized hoodies he wore every single day didn’t help in analysing him further but Bruce wasn’t naive enough to believe Thalia hadn’t trained him throughly…. he was grandson to the Demon’s Head, after all. His hair was silky straight much like Bruce’s, but completely pitch black like Thalia’s, and he too shared her bronze skin tone and the shape of his nose. His sharp eyes and eyebrows were all Bruce however, even the small and barely visible moles under his left eye and right side of his chin. His eyes though… they weren’t like either of them. Thalia’s eyes were green but they weren’t as green as Damian’s were, unnervingly bright as if… as if the Lazarus Pit itself resided in them. If Thalia was to be believed, he had never been put inside it so it was indeed simply a little disturbing.

Whatever Thalia said on the other end frustrated Damian, who frowned and interrupted; “When is baba picking me up?” he demanded “I want to go home”.

Silence, and then Bruce heard her faint voice.

“… He’s not here, dear. You know the deal, I don’t know where he is anymore”Damian’s knuckles became white as his grip on the phone tightened. “I’m sorry my love, I know you miss him but he will find a way to contact you eventually, and then you can tell him all about staying with your father”

“…”

“I know this is strange but you will be fine, your father is a good man and he will look after you, even if it’s not like home. I’m sure he could even train you if you ask”

“…”

“You need to give yourself time, hmm? I promise it will become easier if—“

“Why did he abandon me?”

Bruce inhaled softly and Thalia shut up entirely. Not unlike the first time he had seen his son, he looked utterly devastated and wrecked while still managing to keep his body upright and his expression vacant. His green eyes however, they were tainted with unshed tears.

“He didn’t abandon you, my love…”

“I know he doesn’t want me anymore” he interrupted again “I just. I… I want my baba”

Finally a couple tears made it past his eyelashes and left their mark as they soon vanished into the collar of his hoodie.

“Why am I not enough?” he choked out, sniffing and blinking as if to try and stop the torrent “What did I do wrong?”

“That’s not it, baby, he loves you, this is probably hurting him as much as it is you—“

Damian seemed like he wanted to lash out and scream, but instead he suddenly hung up the phone and set it down harshly atop the desk, furiously wiping his tears away.

You have to be careful, Dick had warned him after that explosive first impression, you’re his biological father but you’re not his dad, and you can’t pretend you are. If you try and take that place he will resent you.

“Damian, wait—“

The boy froze just before he left the studio and Bruce walked to catch up, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but just— listen, alright?” Those bright death-lit green eyes glared daggers at him but he didn’t run off just yet. “This is being hard for all of us, and I would love to get to know you and spend time with you… but!” he quickly intercepted him from leaving again “I don’t want to disrespect you, and if you feel like you don’t need me… I can’t stop you from feeling that way. You want to go home and that’s fair, so how about we compromise?”

Damian remained silence for a long moment, and then finally made a small subtle head gesture as if to tell him to go on. Bruce almost let out a sigh of relief.

“You stay here for a while and we try to be civil to each other to make your mother happy. In the meantime you can look for your, uh, baba, and once you’re ready you can leave”

Hopefully, with just the tiniest chance, Damian might find him tolerable, or he would stay long enough for Bruce to know him. When he left he would’ve lost another son, but at least he would know he’d be safe and happy with the person he actually considered a father… with his real family.

“… You won’t tell me what to do”

“If it’s within reason then— yes, I suppose”

He could almost see the gears turning as the boy quickly analysed every possibility and how each choice could affect the outcome. Was it worth it? Had he offered enough?

“I want something, only one thing” the boy said slowly, quietly but surely.

“What is it?” he asked, eager to know and grant it.

Damian looked at him and his eyes were burning.

Gotham nights were cold and quiet, as far as anyone is concerned to measure in a Gotham scale. For the past decade Batman had been little more than a myth, refusing to entertain the rogues any longer and doing his work in the shadows. Blurry sightings and vague stories was all that remained of The Bat, and only occasionally you would see one of his batlings soar through the skies.

Gotham nights were cold and quiet and nothing ever disturbed them anymore.

At least not until a blur of colour is seen again.

[gatheringbones]

robert f. reid-pharr, from living as a lesbian, from Sister & Brother: Lesbians and Gay Men Write About Their Lives Together, 1994

["In 1985 Barbara Smith came like a fresh wind into Chapel Hill. She brought with her a vision of home unlike anything I ever had imagined. It was then that I began the process of being a lesbian. It is only recently that I began to understand lesbianism as a state of being that few of us ever achieve. To become lesbian one has to first be committed to the process of constantly becoming, of creatively refashioning ones humanity as a matter of course.

Coda

By becoming a lesbian, I have done nothing more nor less than become myself.

I had expected to end this piece with these words, forcing all of us, myself included, to reevaluate what it means to be labeled lesbian, gay, straight, bi, transgendered, asexual. And yet, this is not enough. For even as I recognize the difficulty of giving definition and meaning to our various identities, I also realize that as I struggle to lay claim to my lesbianism I am always confronted with the reality of my own masculinity, this strange and complex identity that I continue to have difficulty recognizing as privilege.

It was a Friday afternoon in September when I had my first bathhouse experience. I'm not sure what I expected, or wanted. In truth, I was compelled more than anything else by Samuel Delany's description in The Motion of Light in Water of his visit to the St. Mark's Baths in the early sixties. I thought that it would be exciting, that perhaps within this outlaws' territory I could throw off the stifling fears and anxieties that shape and constrain our lives, sexual and otherwise. I even felt that, given the name of the enterprise I was about to visit— "baths"— there had to be something intrinsically cleansing and healing about it.

Now I find myself asking if in the bathhouse— the most sacred of male enclaves, where my masculine body and affected macho style increase my worth in the sexual economy— I am still lesbian. Is it lesbianism that spills out of the end of my cock as bald-headed men with grizzled beards and homemade tattoos slap my buttocks and laugh triumphantly? Is it lesbianism that allows me to walk these difficult streets alone, afraid only that I will not be seen, accosted, "forced" into sexual adventure?

All my bravado, my will to adventure is caught up, strangely enough, with the great confidence I have gained from "The Lesbian." And yet, this confidence, this awareness of my own body, of my own independence, takes me to places where she dares not go. Perhaps then I am not a lesbian at all, but rather like a drag queen, by day a more or less effeminate, woman-loving gay man, by night a pussy, a buck, the despoiler of young men recently arrived from the provinces and the careful tutelage of their loving mothers. What I know for certain is that this self, this lesbian-identified gay man, is in constant flux. I live like a lesbian, as a lesbian, because I know no better way of life. Still, I live beyond her, in a province that continues to be reserved exclusively for men, all the while reaping the many fruits of sexual apartheid.

Me, I want to escape…. this dirty world, this dirty body. I never wish to make love again with anything more than the body.

Perhaps in my next life I will be done with these questions of identity altogether, will cherish fully the body that I am given, begin to see it neither as burden or weapon, but only as the vessel of my existence. Perhaps in my next life I will have given up finally this constant struggle to explain who I am not— not woman, not white, not straight, not you— and start to revel in the limitless of my boundaries. Perhaps each one of us will recapture that which has been lost, start again to accept and acknowledge the profound ambiguity and uncertainty of this existence. It is then and only then that we will find home.

In 1985 Barbara Smith came like a fresh wind into Chapel Hill."]

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 7: Star

Word Count: 1020 Rating: General Summary: As you lie on Din's strong chest, looking at the stars and reflecting how grateful you are that your paths crossed, you discover once again, that the man with the fearsome reputation is incredibly soft underneath his hard Beskar shell. Content Warnings: None! Pure fluff. Author's note: Stargazing is so much fun!! I went out a couple of summers ago and watched a meteor shower with some friends and it's one of my favourite memories. I want to live in the Star Wars universe purely so I could look at the stars every night... and also cuddle Din Djarin but that's besides the point.

My Dincember masterlist

Lying on a blanket outside the cabin you shared with Din on Nevarro allowed you to indulge in two of your favourite things: stargazing and cuddling with your favourite Mandalorian. It was no secret that you had always been fascinated by what was out there in the stars; it was part of your nature, you had a curious mind. From an early age, the cosmos fascinated you. You had always held a deep desire to travel and see what was out there for yourself. But your life circumstances on the planet that you were born on had meant that travelling away from it was an unlikely prospect. Your chance meeting with Din had changed your fortunes in so many ways, not least by finally giving you the chance to travel across the stars like you had once wished to do.

It was on that memory of meeting Din that you reflected on now, as you found yourself lying on the broad, firm chest of the man that had given you so many experiences and a life that you could never have imagined for yourself, even in your wildest dreams. Looking up at the stars was making you both a little sentimental, and Din sensed your emotion, as he asked you a seemingly simple question. Yet it was one that did not have an easy answer. 

“What’s on your mind, cyare?” Din asked thoughtfully. You could feel the vibrations of his deep voice against your cheek as he spoke.

“Just thinking about how much is out there, in this galaxy and beyond. How grateful I am to have met you, how unlikely it was considering the vastness of time and space that we actually met.” You admitted with a sigh, turning your head so your chin rested on Din’s chest so you could gaze at him. 

“Oh…” Din said, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows in wonderment at your sentiment. “And here I was, just thinking how beautiful the stars are without the visor from my helmet to obscure them.”

“That’s still a nice thought,” You smiled at your somewhat oblivious favourite Mandalorian, admiring the way the lights caught his brown eyes in the darkness. 

“It is, cyare,” Din looked down at you, the corner of his lips turned upwards slightly, “But the stars still pale in comparison to the vision I’m looking at right now.”

“You big softie!” You giggled, “Who would ever think you could be so adorable underneath all of that armour?”

Din just shrugged with a slight smirk. He continued looking at you intensely, in such a way that it made you feel almost shy. Din looked at you as though you were the greatest sight in the entire galaxy. And you knew, to him, you probably were. 

“There’s something I never told you, by the way,” You told Din with a shy smile, the way he was looking at you made you want to bear your entire soul to him. “The night before I met you for the first time, I wished on a shooting star. I was outside, looking at the stars, wondering what was out there. I wished to get off the backwater planet you found me on. The next day, our paths crossed.”

“Really?” Din asked, clearly stunned by your revelation. 

“I did,” You nodded. You weren’t sure why you felt a little shy about sharing something like this with Din. It was a little cheesy, you were unsure whether he believed in fate in the same way that you did. But looking at the stars with him had reminded you of the time you had gazed at the heavens and wished for something that, at the time, you weren't even sure you had been missing, but knew with absolute certainty that you had found when you encountered Din. 

“What would you wish for if a shooting star passed us by, now?” Din asked thoughtfully. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” You sighed happily, nuzzling into Din’s strong, warm chest. “I have everything I need right here.”

Din hummed happily at that, bringing his hands under the thin shirt that you wore, rubbing your back and side with his fingers softly. Your body was set alight with such a simple touch from him. 

“What would you wish for, Din?” You finally asked.

“I’d wish for Grogu to listen to me every once in a while,” Din huffed. You giggled at that. He played the part of an exasperated father well, but deep down you knew that he never took anything Grogu did for granted. He loved every movement he spent with the little boy, especially after Grogu had almost been taken from him by the Jedi. 

“Din…” You said with a giggle, turning your head up to look at him fondly.

“Seriously…” Din sighed and swallowed deeply. “Just like you, I would wish for nothing. For so much of my life, I felt as though I was missing something. That I was incomplete somehow. I don't feel that anymore, not after I found Grogu and met you.” 

“Din…” You exhaled, saying his name once again, but this time with such a different emotion attached to it. His loving words brought tears to your eyes. You composed yourself, and expanded on his musings: “I don't know what force, if any, brought us together, Din. But whatever it was… there will never be enough gratitude in the galaxy for me to possibly express how grateful I am to have you. I love you.”

“I love you too, cyare,” Din breathed. 

You adjusted your position so you were snuggled into the warmth of his neck, your hand resting on his firm chest. You kissed the side of his cheek softly, Din hummed happily at the touch. The two of you continued looking at the billions of twinkling stars in the sky, admiring the view for a while. You lay there in complete silence and stillness, until a sight caused your mouths to open in awe as you gasped and met each other’s eyes, as if to confirm what you had just seen. 

It was another shooting star.

[miyaur]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ft. diluc

— what is he like when you both finally become a thing? and how does it happen? what happens after you both get married, lets see! ♡

⟢ Sypnosis﹒ basic sfw/nsfw hcs on genshin men once you date them!!

⤷ ﹒ notes ♩ WAAA i just fixed my blog n fixed school, and i wanna change to kokomi/blue pink & green theme bro, anywaysss.... im back from my hiatus YIPPEE!!!!

⟢ Warnings﹒ no spoilers that is important to the in-game storyline, mentions of death (diluc fatherlessness), THESE HAVE NSFW HEADCANNONS AT THE END.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑, what was he like when he first met you?

・whether you'd be the Traveler's friend from another nation, or even outside this world, or if you were just one of Kaeya's new drinking buddies, nevertheless you caught his eye in particular.

・you weren't really obnoxious, unlike someone else who drinks at the tavern often, green fading to blue hair, short, and has an anemo vision.. well you could control your alcohol consumption pretty well, you could drink a lot and still not be that drunk at all, plus, he'd never admit it before, but you were stunning. not like the other drunkards he met at his tavern.

・specifically taking shifts only whenever you arrived, but that's just a coincidence he says. you usually would just strike up conversations once Kaeya had gone, or that he was too drunk to talk (lol), it was just you trying to get to know him, to your surprise though, he would reply, even if it was a dry, cold response, he also tried to put a bit of effort into talking to you. when a particular pointed it out he would get a free bottle of dandelion wine, and a treat to able to hear you laugh a bit.

・he can be a bit unwelcoming at times, but whenever you spoke to him, that changed. slowly warming up to you, you both had pleasing conversations, as chaos of drunkards in the background rose, yet you both paid no mind, just you and him, no one else.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑, how would he act once he realized he liked you, romantically?

・probably would be in major denial, attachment issues too. he's scared you leave him like everyone else, he's scared that he'll hurt you without meaning too. tries to push the feelings away, plus, you probably only like him as a friend, right? he would slightly, very slightly, gaslight himself into thinking you only like him as a good friend, or not a friend at all

・next stage; anger, he is probably a bit upset with himself that he fell for you, but who could blame him, you treated him like an equal, your bright smile could immediately make his day, your voice could soothe his mind, your body was like candy to his eyes, everything about you he loved, he was frustrated, why did he love you so much? whenever you arrived into the tavern at night, his face would light, and a small smile would cover his face, no one has done for him, ever.

・bargaining; like i said he would maybe gaslight himself into thinking you don't like him like that, and maybe tried to ignore you too. that's hard, especially since the whole my shift is when you arrive thing is there now.. well he just tries to not make an effort in his conversations with you anymore, but you do, and that gives him a real hard time. he gave up eventually.

・depression; he's scared that he's lowkey accepting that he likes you, has actually now taken into account if you liked him back. when he finally opens his heart to someone other than himself. after his father's death, he wasn't the same person. Kaeya noticed that too, you could make him feel better within seconds of being in his presence, it felt like home, something he never felt before. made him take a few days off of shifts at the tavern, burying himself in work, paperwork that had been recently given so not much work was had to be done, trying to distract himself from you was hard. he gave up a bit later, he decided to escort you home.

・acceptance; probably a year into meeting you, he'd accept that he liked you, wow, that took a while, but bro has issues, what do you expect.. anyways, he does acknowledge his love for you very clearly. accepted, accepts, whatever, he is now aware he loves you, but even during the 1st year you both met, he's taken note of your reactions to his words, to what he does, and did. he makes sure that when he does end up confessing, that he doesn't get rejected and ruins your friendship. even taking so long to observing you a bit more for 3 months, just to see if you'd accept his offer to go out with him, he didn't really have to wait that long, you'd also fallen in love at first sight. finally after so long, he takes you both on your first date!

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑, where would he take you both on your first date?

・picnic dates on top. the classic clichè restaurant date is a close second, and coffee dates at home or at a small cat cafe is a good tie. picnic dates with him would probably be near the dawn winery, maybe even picking out good grapes for grape juice and make some at home, he knows how to make homemade fruit juice, just give him good fruit, that's it and he'll make yum yum smoothies. probably would tell adelinde that he'll cook for any upcoming picnic dates you guys have. ・next upcoming dates would always be a surprise though, he isn't always the man to do the same thing over and over again, restaurant dates with him feel like a dream though! he rents out the whole place, so that's it's just both of you, and from past conversations whenever he's asked you about things, he does take note mentally about your favorite food, favorite place, etc. he'll probably try to learn how to make the dishes you love too! ・coffee dates at home, definitely just both of you cuddling and spending time together by talking to each other, or going out for a walk, probably would also have set up something so that both of you could stargaze at night when ever meteor shower were scheduled that day. very thoughtful, will gift you whatever you frequently talk about things like jewelry, he'll buy whatever's best fitting to you, he loves seeing you wear what he bought, definitely does something to him. ・he probably asks lisa and jean for advice, they both laugh at him lmao, "i'm happy you both are together, after so long, but nothing gives me a laugh more than diluc trying to ask for help from us is something out of the ordinary", jean probably nods and laughs with her girlfriend too, but they do give him good advice trying to help you both, lots of laughs through out it though hehe. 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑, when will he propose? did it go wrong, but in a right way? or did it go according to how he wanted it to go?

・probably does go according to what he planned, maybe after 2/4+ years or being together, he'd start thinking about marriage, and having a family with you. very often in the 1st or 2nd year of dating/being his partner, he'd start to think, and maybe even once asked you if you ever wanted to get married one day. marriage with you, or having a family in general, was constantly on his mind, and never left. also to answer the question if he wants kids; yes, 1-3. ・did it go wrong in a good way, or did it go accordingly; it went accordingly, it went well, he's super happy, he had given you a whole speech, holding your hand, he memorized the speech by heart, the whole time he's on the verge of tears and slowly getting on one knee once he's almost done with the speech, and brings out a beautiful ruby jewel on the top, with a gold mixed with silver base, he thinks it compliments your beauty. probably had rented out a restaurant for it, to make it seem like a normal date. took you out to a secret hangout of his that he decorated with plants that only shine in the night. ・in a way, it went both ways too, putting that ring on your ring finger was an amazing feeling, he fell in love all over again, both of you have tears running down each other's cheeks, this was one of the happiest nights ever, before you both had your wedding a month later. your wedding is probably lowkey private, inviting mostly who are fairly close to you guys; jean, lisa, kaeya, the traveler, paimon, etc.!! (jean catches the bouquet when you do the bouquet toss thing)

NSFW HEADCANNONS. read at ur own risk ♡

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑, general nsfw hcs :D ・likes being in control probably, maybe breeding kink, but he probably just wants you and him to feel good, your body is his no. 1 kink. maybe corruption kink too though, anyways medium/high sex drive-ish, doesn't masturbate that much, usually gets turned on by revealed skin, like revealing clothing on you gets him going, like i said, mostly anything that concerns your body, is what he definitely loves the most, everything about you gets him going, probably jerked off to you once or twice before you guys started dating, he's probably sensitive too, pretty prone to orgasms, doesn't cum that quick i guess ・probably pulls your head closer to his shaft while you're blowing him, maybe 6.325 flaccid, 8.459 hard. his pounds get harder the more you guys are into the moment. like in the heat of the moment he probably degrades you, he doesn't mean it and reassures you during aftercare sessions. loves it when you look at him in the eyes, likes it a bit too much actually, positions he loves is anything that concerns you looking at him, and him getting to see your whole body. ・i feel like he tops more often, but is a switch, he leans to dominating much more. but if he was a submissive baby, praise him, like a lot. mark his body, let him know he's yours. pound him hard while you tell him praise, with your strap/dick, he'll absolutey fall. hearing how he makes you feel, makes him even more horny too. ・he sucks the life out of ur dick/pussy, like it's unreal. will not waste any drop of your cum. oh by the way suck his nipples while fucking his hole :D!! ・after everything's done, aftercare with him is great. loves showering with you after, lots of praise after everything's done because he wants you to remember he still cares about you, want you to remember that.

[storyofmychoices]

For @choicesfandomappreciation's Countdown to 2024.

There are so many talented artists in this fandom. I could never pick only four. I am seriously in awe of all of you and your talents. You truly make this fandom a more beautiful place. We are lucky to have you all.

In no particular order

💛 @hydn-jpg: I absolutely adore you and your talent. I can't thank you enough for the beautiful creations you've made for me. I just adore your style. I'm glad you are doing better. I've loved seeing your art on my dash again. Thank you for sharing all of your beautiful visions with us.

💛 @cashweasel: What can I say?! I absolutely adore you and your art. You've created some of my favorite Mal pieces and you gifted the world Valen. How can we ever thank you enough for that?! Valen is everything, but I adore Gideon too!

💛 @oh-so-youre-a-nerd: I've only been following you for a few months but ohmygosh you are so freaking talented. Like how?!!! I absolutely adore seeing your art on my dash, no matter the subject matter, each piece is just stunning. Your use of light is unlike anything I've seen. You are amazing.

💛 @artbyalz: Your art is so much fun! I LOVED your 12 days of Christmas art series. You gifted the fandom so many beautiful and unique pieces. I absolutely adore all you've created, and ohmygosh how can I even thank you for this gift you've given me?!!!

💛 @cassie-thorne: GAH your art!!! The recent art with Astrid is still living rent free in my head. She is so gorgeous! I truly admire and adore all of your work, though I'm a little biased toward your CoP art! I can't wait for the next book to see how you tackle all the new content we get!

💛 @baldwinboy5ive: I've absolutely enjoyed all of your art and memes from Blades. They were simply fantastic. Your work always puts a smile on my face!

💛 @fairymatchmaker : JOY!!! You are just so so lovely and amazing, and your art is brilliant. I know you haven't been able to draw as much as you'd like to have recently, but please know we are here waiting patiently for when you can. Your art is just brilliant.

💛 @violentinecrl: I am still absolutely in love with this gorgeous gift you made for me. I never expected anything like this and genuinely treasure it. It lives rent free in my head always.

💛 @callmebeem: I only discovered your art this year, but I am so in love with it. I love the 3 commissions you've made for me so far (even if I'm still holding on to one of them) but I absolutely treasure each and know I will be back for more soon! Thank you for them!

💛 @rosefuckinggenius: what can I say about you and your art besides you actually are a fucking genius. Your talent is amazing and I'm grateful for all the times we've worked together!

💛 @bayleedraws-sometimesx: you are an absolute delight! You are a sweetheart who creates such lovely art for the fandom. I love your minimalist style. You bring so much love to your work and it shows.

💛 @erixafleur: I've loved seeing all your gorgeous Blades art throughout book two. I can't wait to see more. Your style is lovely whether it's fully rendered or the sketchy style.

💛 @sazanes : Your art is so beautiful! I love seeing all the gorgeous stuff you create for the various appreciation weeks. I truly look forward to seeing all your works. You can see your care for each piece in every stroke.

💛 @twinkleallnight: you write, you do art, what don't you do? Thank you for sharing all of your many talents with the Choices fandom

💛 @mydemonsdrivealimo: Jensen is an amazing character and your OH art is so lovely. Thank you for the Valentine's doodles you made for my Bryce and Olivia. I truly treasure it!

💛 @gaiuskamilah / @talasintahan: your art is simply brilliant. I haven't been following you long, but I'm loving seeing all your gorgeous work.

💛 @weetlebeetle: You're technically not in our fandom, but you've created so many amazing pieces for me and so many others, you might as well be. Thank you for sharing your talent with us! We are so lucky to have you

💛 @hashiedraws (I know you're no longer active in the fandom, but I will always adore and treasure your art!

There are so so many amazing artists in this fandom, just mentioning a few more:

@somewillwin , @garlickk , @myautumnrose , @rainesenator , @ellezelindraws, @totojo2 , @choices-ceri , @crowlion ; @gremmiie ; @cpt-indigo , @mavidraws , @javsarts

This list is by no means exhaustive, please know that it was not intentional if you were left off!

[be11atrixthestrange]

Guilty as Sin?

Thank you for this song, Taylor <3.

Read on ao3

------------

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

The energy that permeated The Three Broomsticks on a Saturday night was one of students that had been cooped up all week. Hermione could barely hear Ginny’s voice through the noise, and even if she could, she probably would have struggled to pay attention. Of course, she was thankful for the invitation even though Hogsmeade weekends weren’t really her thing these days.

Ginny liked to talk about Quidditch and boys. Hermione loved Ginny, but conversations about Quidditch and boys grew tedious after some time. Not that Hermione never thought about Quidditch or boys — in fact, she spent most of her time trying not to. 

Hermione stared at the glass in front of her, the honey-like hue of its contents matched the dim light of the bar. She didn’t even like butterbeer that much, but it was something to do with her hands. She reached for the glass, and her fingers made an imprint in the condensation, sending shivers down her spine. Then, she brought it to her lips and took a swig. 

The smooth buttery flavor made her mouth water in a way the butterbeer itself couldn’t satisfy. 

Unsatisfying. Maybe that’s why she didn’t like butterbeer. It wasn’t quite enough. 

Hermione placed her drink back down on the table and turned back to Ginny, only to find she had stopped talking. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” said Ginny. 

Hermione frowned — it was no secret that she hadn’t been a perfect friend lately. Distracted was an understatement. Ever since Ron and Lavender had gotten together, nothing could cheer her up. Ginny was usually pretty understanding, but maybe her patience was finally running thin. “Sorry, my mind was just wandering.”

“Oh,” said Ginny. “No, I was just looking behind you.”

“Behind me?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione nodded. She didn’t need to look to know what Ginny was referring to. And yet, as if someone else was controlling her body, she swiveled in her chair to confirm. 

His bright red hair was unmistakable. It always was. That was usually one of the things Hermione loved about him, but not recently. She couldn’t not see him even if she didn’t want to. 

He sat at a table for two near the bar’s entrance, with Lavender across from him. She had clearly styled her hair — her curls looked fresh and sleek, unlike Hermione’s wild and untamed mane. Her face glowed underneath perfect makeup, and her feminine clothing revealed just enough to catch the eyes of men sitting at surrounding tables. But Ron’s eyes seemed glued to the butterbeer in front of him, not Lavender. 

Maybe Hermione’s optimistic side was just imagining that. 

“Sorry,” said Ginny. “I wouldn’t have suggested The Three Broomsticks if I knew they’d be here.”

“I know,” said Hermione. “It’s okay.”

She couldn’t avoid him forever. Not in person, and definitely not in her mind.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

That boy had been living in Hermione mind for as long as she could remember, and especially since Lavender laid her paws on him. In fact, that had only made it worse.

It started in their fourth year, when Hermione wondered what would have happened if Ron had asked her to the ball, and not in a last-resort kind of way. As she danced with Victor and felt his hands grace her lower back, she imagined they were Ron’s. She hadn’t meant to, it just happened. She kept her eyes transfixed on Victor’s face, hoping that could erase Ron’s image from her mind, but later that night, when Krum led her out to the gardens, it was too dark to make out the color of his hair. So when he tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers, it might as well have been Ron. And of course, she closed her eyes, and let her stomach erupt with butterflies — just like it had every time Ron’s gaze had ever lingered on her for a moment too long.

The daydreams intensified in their fifth year. Prefect rounds became a test of her sanity, especially when she was paired with him. Exploring empty classrooms and wandering the dark corridors at night paved the way for fantasies. Every time they opened a door to find a broom closet, she imagined him pulling her in there, pushing her against the wall, his lips on hers, his hands roaming her waist and toying with the hem of her shirt. She wondered what it would feel like to be entangled with him, the heat of his body and breath a delicious contrast to the cold stone wall against her back. 

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

The heat of the following summer was a blessing in disguise. As the sun beat down on the Burrow grounds, Hermione had the perfect excuse to wear her shortest shorts and sleeveless tops. She relished in Ron’s gaze on her thighs as they sat out in the grass. She noticed how his eyes grew wide when she stripped down to her bathing suit for a swim in the pond. He spent the entire summer with a glowing sunburn, but Hermione had a feeling that his face would have been crimson red either way. 

She spent those summer nights in the camp bed in Ginny’s room, wondering if she’d made a mark on Ron’s mind. She laid awake remembering how his hands trembled when he hugged her, the way he stood closer than usual, and the feeling of his arms as they wrapped around her bare waist when he pulled her off the dock and into the water with him. 

Then that split second underwater when their bodies made contact, and his arm stayed locked around her. It took everything she had to resist wrapping her legs around him, and sometimes she wished she hadn’t even tried.

Would he have responded positively? He might have slid his hands up her legs and pulled her tightly against him, before crashing his lips into hers when they resurfaced. She blushed thinking of the way his hips would have felt pressed against her, their mutual desire clear as day. 

During those nights at the Burrow, as Hermione’s hand wandered to the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also lying in bed upstairs, wide awake, replaying the summer’s events in his mind. Maybe, like Hermione, the fact that he wasn’t alone in the room was the only reason his hand behaved, unmoving, leaving him to wonder what it would feel like to have her in bed with him.

It was entirely possible.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me, we've already done it in my head

If it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

It wasn’t until she was alone in her dorm one night that she let her mind wander even further. She’d had enough of the lingering glances and the pure torture of wandering the halls with him, resisting the temptation to touch him. Hermione could have exploded when Lavender waltzed into his life. How could she contain the years of built-up fantasies, now that everything she wished would happen could only play out in her head?

So she let it play out. When her roommates were out one night, and the lights were dark, she drew her four-poster curtains shut and cast a silencing charm. She imagined him lying there, under the covers, sidled up next to her with his clothes nowhere to be found. When her hand slipped into her own knickers, it could just as easily have been his. Why should she have to wonder how his fingers would caress her, how his tongue would pave a trail between her legs, or what it might feel like with him fully inside her? She deserved to know. 

And once she knew, a dam had been broken. It happened in the shower, in broom closets they’d discovered on prefect rounds, and in empty classrooms when persistent thoughts of Ron wouldn’t leave her alone during a study session. 

The Ron that lived in her mind — the one that was hers, not Lavender’s — did well with practice. It didn’t take long for him to learn her body, how to make her breath hitch and her eyes roll back in her head. The Ron of her fantasies knew how to elicit a gasp and a moan. He took pride in making her scream his name.

Somehow, she knew the real Ron probably would too.

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name

Building up like waves crashing over my grave

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Hermione took another sip of her butterbeer, which effectively brought her back to reality, even if only for the moment. Her mouth watered, and whether that was from the taste of butterbeer or something else, Hermione didn’t know.

Ginny was still talking, having not noticed Hermione’s eyes glazing over as her mind transported her somewhere else. 

She risked a glance toward Ron’s table to see that he was still there, and his red hair sent a jolt of electricity through her body. How did he have that effect on her even after breaking her heart? It wasn’t fair. Hermione gulped down the remainder of her unsatisfying butterbeer, and the tingle in her spine strengthened.

There was really only one way to quell the heat that seeing him ignited, and even then, it wasn’t never quite enough. It had already happened in her dorm, the shower, a broom closet and an empty classroom… Why not add a bar bathroom to the list?

“I’ll be right back,” she announced to Ginny as she stood. “Bathroom.”

Ginny nodded and Hermione turned toward the back of the bar, shouldering her way through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ron looking in her direction, but she didn’t dare risk eye contact to confirm it. He was on a date, and she didn’t want Lavender’s wrath. 

Maybe he still harbored the same thoughts she did. There was something between them before Lavender got in the way, she knew it. Those glances, extended hugs, intense eye contact… did he get butterflies the way she did? Did he think of her at night? And if he did, would seeing her across the bar remind him of what could have been?

Hermione pressed the door to the loo open and slipped through, her heart pounding at the possibility.

A girl could hope.