#this train is back on track

[star-named-riddle]

Day 21 - Sage

Bellatrix pulled her daughter close to her chest, not caring about the blood that would inevitably stain her skin and clothes.

She dried her daughter's head with her nightgown, smiling at the soft black curls.

Her sister offered her arms, holding a warm towel with which to wrap her child. Bella took the towel and kept her child. The warm cloth smelled of white sage. Narcissa had been diligent about burning it throughout her labour because of some old wives tale she didn't bother listening to. Something about calming the mother and protecting the child. Bella had scoffed. Her daughter had all the protection she could ever need.

The pair of red eyes that spied them from the shadows by the door gave her all the assurance she needed.

Nothing would happen to her precious child. Nothing her Master did not deem so would come to pass.

The preternaturally still figure waited while Narcissa pulled bedsheets and covers from the bottom of the bed up to Bella’s waist, trying to preserve some form of modesty. The Healer, half in awe and half in terror, dutifully checked the health of both mother and daughter with two swift flicks of her wand.

Both witches were quick to retreat then, knowing they would be summoned later to tend to Bellatrix and her child, but that for now they had to be content with the bare minimum.

The Dark Lord was waiting to meet his heir.

Bellatrix kept her eyes on her daughter’s features, committing them to memory as her fingers both traced and caressed them.

The little girl had quieted, snug against her mother’s chest, lulled by the familiar heartbeat.

Only when Lord Voldemort’s shadow covered the both of them did she raise her eyes to him. He was bending over the two of them, a hand on her shoulder, light and soft, his thumb caressing the curve where her shoulder and her neck met.

“Well done, Bella,” he said, barely above a whisper, something akin to wonder in his face.

He caressed his daughter’s forehead with his thumb, careful not to touch her skin with his claw like nail, hissing to her.

The baby in Bella’s arms turned her head towards the sound, her eyes opening. Bella found them to be dark, like her Master’s had been in his youth, though the shape of them was hers. She blinked at her father, then turned her face back to her mother’s skin, searching.

“I think she’s hungry, my Lord.”

Lord Voldemort hummed his agreement. A louder hiss sounded in the room, one coming from the floor. Lord Voldemort replied to it, just before a pair of golden eyes emerged into Bella’s field of vision. Nagini’s forked tongue displaced a few still wet curls on the baby’s head, not that the little girl seemed to mind.

She did open her eyes again, and Bella stared, her mouth agape, as her dark eyes turned first to grey, like hers, then red, like her father’s.

“I’d say she’s earned her meal, Bella,” Lord Voldemort said, smiling at the display. “And you should rest. I’ll order Narcissa and the Healer back in.” He kissed the crown of Bellatrix’s head, a tenderness he had not shown her since the gone times of the First War.

She leaned into it, daring to turn her face up to him, her free hand moving of its own volition to caress his jaw. Neither cared for the blood on her fingertips.

Lord Voldemort kissed her squarely on the lips, utterly taken by the sight of her with his child in her arms.

He stood up and turned away quickly then, hissing a command to Nagini, who clearly begrudged being made to leave.

Narcissa returned at his command, and smiled discreetly at the image of Bellatrix nursing her daughter. Bella looked into her eyes and smiled openly. Neither had expected her to be a natural at this, both refusing to admit it.

“Where’s the Healer?”

“Coming, Bella. Is something wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t worry about her. I was told to keep her in the next room once her work here is done,” Narcissa said, her voice even and unworried.

Bellatrix knew it meant the Healer’s memory of all this would be erased, and replaced with something suitable to justify her absence. She was one of them, an ally to the cause, her skills useful, but young and untested. Lord Voldemort would not allow her to keep any notion of his heir, or why Bellatrix had been away from the battlefield for so long.

From the door, he nodded to her. Then left, Nagini’s coils following in his heels.

Bellatrix followed Lord Voldemort’s shadow as he moved away, noticing how the tang of iron and the smell of smoke and ozone he carried everywhere, underneath the sandalwood he wore, were slowly overpowered by the white sage again.

Also on AO3

[brainrotcharacters]

the man trained by the shimotsuki since childhood, the mind behind the three sword style, the demon pirate hunter, vice captain of the Strawhat Pirates,

easily stopped with a hand on his shoulder by his captain (currently in a silly hungry vibe)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[strang3lov3]

Girlie, please ruffle some feathers and spill who your dilf awakening was, my interested is piqued, and I am far too nosey for that cliffhanger!

My dad’s best friend, who is legitimately so fucking handsome. Always was. He had a baby boy that unfortunately passed away about a month after his birth, and then I came along a few months after that. So he’d come by and hold me for hours because he needed a baby in his arms 🫂

I didn’t know this until a few years ago. My dad told me something about his best friend always having a sweet spot for me and said that was why. I loved him when I was a baby, I guess. I would spend hours napping on him.

I remember sitting at his kitchen counter when I was like 15 talking to him about a boy I had a crush on. And he fuckin hated this kid, lmao. He imparted his sage wisdom onto me and I remember having fucking hearts in my eyes for him at that moment.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[nyabsolart]

[larabar]

some adau things ^^ he cheers barry on through the dreamgear

[releasing-my-insanity]

This is too cute.

[sannin-three]

Jiraiya: I'm going to stay here and train these kids until they can take care of themselves.

Tsunade: What?? But who's going to train Minato and your other students?

Jiraiya: My what?

[frost-eyed-autumn]

@memoryextrction

shirase vc: [fucking cackling, dear Jesus this shouldn’t be that funny]

"SHUT THE FUCK UP SHIRASE AND HELP ME, DAMN IT!"

[lexosaurus]

I know that was a shitpost for the latest Danny Phantom fandom meme, but I'm genuinely impressed and how authentic it sounds. How much of Dash's monologue is real advice, and how do you know all of that? Do you work out?

Yes I'm so sorry to inform my good people of Tumblr that I've secretly been a part of the gym fandom for all this time. I've only recently come out as a gymbro in this phandom via my creation of the current dp gym bro au meme that I've forced upon everyone in this good holy christian space. I mix whey protein into my overnight oats, I track my macros, and I have a closet full of Gym Girlie Outfits™️.

And just know it's a badge of honor that I carry to be able to say I've converted multiple members of the Danny Phantom phandom into regular gym goers as well 💪

[aheathen-conceivably]

A GioJo baby would be absolutely gorgeous so this is my petition for you to bless this world with them in CAS at least 🙏

Your wish is my command and also now my greatest regret...

This is the the first child generated by them in CAS, no tweaking at all only skin details and a makeover as though she would be in her 20s in the 1950s.

Am I absolutely out of any sort of chill? Do I regret all my choices? Most definitely. So uh, please just have another photo of her in CAS before I lose my cool and go full photoshoot/AU/side plot madness...

[m4gp13]

Thinking about Luke's thread being cut before Percy even got to camp, thinking about Al's siblings being dead already by his first on-page appearance, thinking about Ethan having made the trade that sealed his fate before we even met him, thinking about The Oresteia "This was always going to happen. She's been dead since the beginning." thinking about John Darnielle "Their fate has already staked its claim on them from the moment they appear on-screen." thinking about Matthew Stover "This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it."

Thinking about Richard Siken "You're going to die in your best friend's arms. And you play along because it's funny, because it's written down, you've memorised it, it's all you know. I say the phrases that keep it all going, and everybody plays along."

Thinking about how fate is a tangible and unavoidable thing in the pjo world and every single time, it stakes its claim no matter what the characters do to avoid it. The three Fates know when your string will be cut and have full control over it. The oracle always knows who will die, where and when, while the people in question can only cross their fingers and hope the prophecy isn't referring to them. Because if it is, then it is.

[mollywog]

Thank you @distractionsfromthefood for the nudge to write this! Inspiration: [not all of it] and [wild onions]

On Ao3

She doesn’t bother knocking (they never do) as she lets herself into Peeta’s home. He's standing at the kitchen sink, unaware of her presence; She pauses in the entryway to admire him; The sunlight glinting off his golden waves. It’s been several months since his return. Between her hunting, his baking, and Haymitch’s eggs, they’ve all put on weight; She could even swear he’s grown a couple inches.

He looks so healthy and beautiful.

She briefly contemplates creeping up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, breathing him in; Capturing the memory of this moment when she’s happy and life feels good again: not perfect, but better than she could have imagined it would ever be.

But she doesn’t want to risk startling him; none of them do well with that. So she clears her throat, whipping her game bag from her shoulder, and plopping it on the island.

He turns towards her with a greeting and smile and she thinks in this moment, life might be better than ‘good’. Feeling suddenly bashful, she turns away, grabbing a glass, filling it with water, and arranging the collection of wildflowers she’d bought in the makeshift vase. Picking them had been a small flight of fancy; the early summer blooms were so lovely, too beautiful not to share.

Upon regaining her composure she completes her task, peering up at him, “For you.” Her smile falters at the look of intense concentration on his face.

“I gave you flowers once? Real or not real?”

She’s momentarily puzzled. There were plenty of bouquets on the victory tour, but those were given to them both, not from Peeta. She looks at the array of yellows, whites, purples, and pinks. Her heart sinking at the sight of the pink-and-white blooms. They transport her back to the train tracks after the first Games, when she’d been confronted with her feelings and he’d walked away.

Stupid. How could she be so stupid?

He’s looking at her, awaiting her answer. She swallows, “real.”

He nods as if remembering, “on the train tracks, on our way back home, after the first Games,” his eyes flit to hers. Her mouth is dry, her tongue like lead, so she gives a quick bob of her head in affirmation.

“And I realized it had all been an act for the games.”

He’s looking at the flowers again. Maybe that’s what gives her the courage to say it, “not all of it.” It’s a phrase laced with implication. He’d been too justifiably hurt the first time she’d said it; He hadn’t recognized the weight of the words, how much they’d cost her. She hopes it’s different this time.

Their eyes meet again, before he drops his gaze back down to the flowers. “Not all of it,” he repeats in a voice hardly above a whisper.

She expects questions. She had feared what he’d ask when she’d said it the first time, unsure if she could dissect her motivations at every decision during the course of the games; still disappointed that he hadn’t given her the opportunity to try.

Silence stretches. She can’t see his eyes so she watches his hands; they’re just as telling when it comes to flashbacks. His fingers twitch, but don’t clench, then they lift and she feels herself being pulled into an embrace. She relaxes. It’s not the hug she’d imagined earlier; it’s better; it’s real.

“Thank you” he says into her hair, but safe in Peeta’s arms, she feels like she should be the one thanking him.

[massyworld]

still only on season 2 in my Daredevil rewatch, and I haven't seen it before this since it first came out a decade(!!!) ago and back then, I hadn't shipped them or even thought of it but......FoggyxMatt? I get it. I get it now. like it makes sense. Foggy IMMEDIATELY pointing out Matt's good looks upon first meeting? Matt and Foggy living in a ROOM together, Matt giving his brightest smiles and loudest laughs at Foggy, Foggy's entire world crashing around him when he discovers Matt's secret identity and this world he'd hid from him and it basically feeling like the angstiest breakup scene when they weren't talking to each other or nothin, when they go back to talking and it's like two puzzle pieces are joined back together again... Foggy finding Matt, half conscious on the ground and cradles him in his lap DONT SPEAK TO ME

[charleemoon]

gritting my teeth through any hardship . "will graham went through worse and he survived" i say biting my tongue until it bleeds