#x. keepsake ;

[campbenji]

happy holidays gang guess who got a pin making machine for christmas

(art by @natamouche-art)

[pafsshark]

DUMB DUMBER (by re-uploading)

I hope they won't ban me because of this art.

in general, as they say: two morons is power💪

they don't know yet that they will have to go to work with such "makeup", because the lipstick won't wash off. 😈

(discussion without a frame and captions with a marker)

Lol

[lightan117]

Unquiet Grave in Necropolis

Daisy returns to the Necropolis to perform rites with Emmrich. Lucanis tags along. I always thought if you brought a companion along, they should at least have made a comment or two. This was in my head since I brought Lucanis and Emmrich every time I went to visit.

Pairing: Lucanis X (F) Mourn Watcher Rook

Warning: None.

~oOo~

Daisy thought she would never step foot in the Necropolis again.

If having to hunt down Solas, release elven gods, and find people to help her would result in her coming slightly closer home, she might have kissed the dread wolf. She was excited to leave in the beginning, but as time wore on, she longed to see her siblings again. Even her mothers she missed dearly. So when Emmrich asked if she would like to perform the rites, she hugged the professor tightly and almost knocked the poor necromancer off his feet.

The air was cool and dry as Daisy, Emmrich, and Lucanis made their way through the Necropolis Halls, their footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the towering walls, casting long, wavering shadows over the rows of carved names and epitaphs that lined the corridor. Solom faces lined walls as skeleton workers continued to clear out the remaining rubble and blockage. A hush hung over the halls as if the very stones held their breath in solemn reverence. There was a peace currently filtering the halls that would deceive one who had just recently returned from the surface.

Beyond the Vault of the Beloved, where the honored dead were enshrined in their final rest, lay the Memorial Garden. The doors opened into a vast, open-air courtyard, where ivy-clad statues stood sentinel over carefully tended plots of earth. Pale blossoms, some fresh and others wilting, adorned the headstone. The scent of earth and faded incense lingered in the air, mixing with the faint perfume of night-blooming flowers. The gardens were tranquil, a place of reflection where the living honored the departed. A massive tree stood in one far corner of the gardens, its ancient boughs stretching wide, casting dappled shadows across the ground. Its gnarled roots wove through the earth like the veins of the Necropolis itself, anchoring the past to the present. The tree's dark, silvery leaves shimmered faintly in the dim light as though they absorbed the lingering sorrows of those who mourned beneath its branches. A few fallen leaves, crisp and delicate, rested upon the nearby graves, carried by an unseen breeze.

Beneath the tree, the elusive shroud's kiss flowers bloomed, their pale, ghostly petals unfurling in the cool air. Their blossoms glowed softly, their fragile beauty undisturbed by time, as though they existed between worlds. Alongside them grew other flora found only within the Necropolis—twisting vines with onyx-hued leaves, slender stalks of flowers whose deep violet petals curled inward, and creeping moss that pulsed with an eerie, bioluminescent glow.

Wisps drifted through the gardens, their forms soft and ethereal, trailing ribbons of pale luminescence as they floated between the gravestones and statues. They moved as though carried by unseen tides, flickering in and out of sight like echoes of lost souls. Their presence brought neither fear nor unease—only a quiet reverence, a reminder that the dead were never truly gone in this place. The candlelight, the whispering leaves, the glowing flowers, and the drifting wisps blended into a quiet, dreamlike stillness. This was where time slowed, the boundary between past and present blurred, and the dead were honored not just in stone but in the living memory of those who came to tend the earth above their resting places.

"Thank you again for coming," Emmrich said, his voice steady and sincere. "It'll be good to perform the rites of remembrance with another Watcher."

His skeletal ward, Manfred, let out a delighted hiss before scuttling ahead of them, his bony frame moving with surprising agility. His usual stiff movements seemed almost energetic as he bounded toward the winding garden paths, vanishing briefly behind a stone monument before peeking out again.

Daisy watched him with amusement. "He sounds excited," she observed. "Do you take him here often?"

"When I have the chance," Emmrich replied. "He does enjoy the flowers that grow here." As if proving the point, Manfred stopped mid-path, looking back at them. He tilted his entire body side to side in a strange, rattling sway—an odd but unmistakable expression of joy. Daisy chuckled, shaking her head fondly.

"I thought we'd start the rites here." Emmrich gestured ahead.

Lucanis, who had been following at a measured pace, came to a sudden halt. His entire body tensed as his gaze landed on the structure before them. A faint look of horror crept over his face.

"What… is it?" he asked, voice carefully controlled but laced with unease.

Before them stood a tableau of the dead—a collection of posed skeletons arranged beneath iron trellises where ivy curled and wove through the metalwork. The figures were placed in various stances, some appearing deep in conversation, others caught in acts of work or leisure, frozen in time. Some had been arranged as though caught mid-dance, hands extended toward long-departed partners. Others rested in eternal repose, their skeletal hands folded over their chests.

"A commissioned piece," Emmrich said, his tone purely informative. "One hundred and twenty-three years old."

"A visiting Orlesian mage once called it 'the most macabre thing he'd ever seen,'" Daisy added with a knowing smile.

Emmrich scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Orlesians. Fabulous artists, but no eye for the long run." He motioned toward the display with a grand sweep of his hand. "These lives were flickers against the ages—precious, fragile, and finite. Now, they serve a warning. Don't linger too long in the gloom. Live with grace and error while you may."

Lucanis exhaled sharply, arms crossing over his chest. "If you say so," he muttered, gaze flicking between the carefully arranged bones. Daisy pressed her lips together to stifle a giggle, but Emmrich caught the glint of amusement in her eyes. He shook his head, then turned his attention back to the tableau. "Here, watch." Lifting his hand, Emmrich let his magic flow. A soft, ethereal green light flickered to life around his fingers, swirling like embers in the night. His voice took on a practiced cadence. "Who were you, when you breathed above?"

For a moment, nothing happened. The tableau remained eerily still. Then, the hollow sockets of one skeleton flared with sudden light, a ghostly awareness settling over it. Its jaw creaked open as a hollow and distant voice rasped through the air. "This body was a tailor's—a mother's. She laughed and taught and wove the robes kings wore when they were crowned."

Emmrich clicked his tongue, studying the skeleton with a critical eye. "Someone must realign her thoracic vertebrae. I hope the novices are inspecting the displays."

Daisy let out a small sigh, folding her arms. "I've had to have words with their supervisors about that more than once. We do have standards."

Emmrich hummed in agreement. "I remember it being better kept in my day. Doubtlessly just the comforting murk of time." He hesitated, then glanced at Daisy with a thoughtful expression. "Though… I have noticed a rise and fall in the level of care over the years. I take it that was your doing when you were here?"

Daisy's lips curled into a proud smile. "When I had time in between my studies, of course."

Emmrich inclined his head approvingly. "Time to light the candles?"

"If you would be so kind," Emmrich said, already walking further into the gardens, his long coat trailing behind him.

Daisy turned toward Lucanis, her expression softening. "Lucanis?"

The assassin turned his gaze to her.

"Thank you for coming with me," she said gently, "but if you'd rather sit this out or take a walk around, I wouldn't blame you. Something like this can be a bit… much for someone who's never been here."

Lucanis exhaled slowly, his brown eyes flicking again over the tableau before him. After a pause, he nodded. "I think… I'll stroll a bit."

Daisy smiled in understanding. "Just let me know if you need anything."

With that, she turned swiftly, her steps light as she caught up to Emmrich. Lucanis lingered momentarily, watching the flickering candlelight dance over the skeletal figures before shaking his head and moving along the garden path, the quiet hum of spirits trailing behind him.

Lucanis lingered near the garden's edge, watching as Daisy and Emmrich moved among the graves, carefully lighting candles and placing them at the base of each headstone. The flames flickered weakly at first before catching, casting a warm glow against the cold stone. Shadows stretched and shifted across the ground, bending with the slow dance of the candlelight. The whole place felt caught between two worlds, suspended in quiet reverence. His gaze drifted to Emmrich, whose movements were precise and deliberate as if this act of remembrance was as natural to him as breathing. Daisy, too, moved with quiet purpose, her usual energy subdued by the weight of the moment. The way the light played across their faces made them seem like figures in an old painting—small, mortal things against the vastness of the Necropolis. Occasionally, a soft smile came across her face before she closed her hands in silent prayer.

Lucanis exhaled softly, crossing his arms as he took in the eerie tranquility of the place. It was strange here—too still, too careful as if the entire garden held its breath. Yet, there was something familiar in it. His mind wandered back to the crypts beneath Treviso, the Dellamorte tombs where generations of the dead lay entombed beneath stone and silence. He had spent time there in his youth, walking among the marble effigies, reading names that no one spoke aloud anymore. He would trace his parents' names with his fingers, remembering them in silence. The cool air, the ever-present scent of old incense and damp stone, the sensation of being surrounded by memories long since gone and buried. Memories of his cousins, aunts, and uncles since departed.

And unlike the Dellamorte crypts, the Memorial Gardens were not entirely empty.

Lucanis felt no fear, only an odd sense of familiarity. He wasn't sure if that was a comfort or not.

Lucanis found a perfect corner to wait in, not wanting to bother the Mourn Watchers with their rites. So he sat on a stone bench in the dim glow of candlelight, arms crossed, watching the small flames flicker among the graves. The quiet reverence of the Memorial Gardens suited him well enough—until one of the wisps decided it had taken an interest in him.

The little thing hovered just at the edge of his vision, bobbing like a stray ember in the wind. At first, he ignored it, assuming it would drift away like the others. But it didn't. Instead, it lingered, weaving lazy circles around his head. He shifted slightly to the left. It followed. He shifted to the right. It followed again, twirling in an almost playful loop.

Lucanis sighed, keeping his expression neutral, though irritation prickled off his patience. He wasn't about to start waving his hands like a madman to chase the thing away—this was a place of rest, after all—but the wisp had made it clear it was not going to leave him alone. Lucanis stood stiffly, his patience wearing thin as the wisp continued to circle him. It bobbed and weaved, a persistent little ember of light that seemed far too entertained by his presence. He sighed through his nose, glancing sideways at it. "Go on," he muttered, waving a hand as subtly as possible. The wisp twitched in place, then darted closer, spiraling around his arm as if it had taken offense. Lucanis stood up to walk about, but it followed. He took a slow step back, then another. The wisp followed, glowing brighter, almost taunting. Lucanis groaned under his breath and waved both hands this time, trying to shoo it away like one might with an overly bold moth. The wisp did not take the hint.

If anything, it seemed encouraged, bobbing gleefully in place before looping around his head again. "Claro que sí, wonderful," he muttered, resisting the urge to swat at it outright. Spite was also getting annoyed, scratching lightly at his door to smack the wisp in between their hands like the bug that it was. Annoyance...Spite muttered in his ear.

Watching from a few feet away, Daisy finally took pity on him. With a small laugh, she approached and lifted a hand toward the wisp. "Hail the eyes of the dead," she said warmly. At once, the wisp perked up and floated toward her. Daisy giggled as it rubbed against her cheek, its glow pulsing in what almost seemed like recognition. "Leave our poor guest alone. He doesn't understand like we do, my friend, but he will." Daisy locked eyes with Lucanis, who gave a roll of his own. The wisp made a slight sound before it finally drifted away into the night.

Lucanis let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Why was it bothering me?" he spoke, "And why did it seem to like you so much?"

Daisy grinned. "I spent a lot of time here. Made some friends along the way," she said, watching the wisp disappear into the dark. "The spirits know me. That one probably just wanted to see what you were about. Or maybe it thought you needed some company."

Lucanis snorted. "Somehow, I doubt that."

Daisy only laughed, already turning back toward the candles. Lucanis cast one last wary glance around the garden before following, just in case more curious wisps lurked nearby. Lucanis followed a few steps behind Daisy as shee moved gracefully between the graves, lighting candles and murmuring quiet blessings over each one. The warm glow flickered against the stone markers, casting elongated shadows that stretched along the worn pathways. The air smelled of wax, earth, and something softer—the faint floral notes of blossoms swaying gently in the night air.

Lucanis watched her work in silence for a while before finally speaking. "I don't get it," he admitted, his voice low but not unkind. "Most people would find a place like this unsettling. You seem... at peace." He glanced around, his eyes trailing over the graves, the towering tree, the wisps that still lingered at the edges of the garden. "Why here? Why not among the living?"

Daisy paused, looking down at the fresh candle she had just placed before an old, weather-worn headstone. She was quiet for a long moment before she answered. "Even the dead need company sometimes," she said softly. "They're not gone, not really. Not as long as someone remembers them." She brushed the dust away from the inscription on the stone, revealing a name that time had nearly erased. "It breaks my heart when I find tombs like this—forgotten, overgrown, left to crumble." She shook her head. "No one should be left alone, not in life or in death."

Lucanis frowned slightly, his gaze drifting between her and the endless rows of graves. He had never given much thought to the dead beyond acknowledging their absence. They were gone, weren't they? The past was the past. And yet, there was something in the way Daisy spoke, in the way she tended to each grave with such gentle care, that made him hesitate. He exhaled, glancing toward a nearby headstone, its edges softened by time. "You really think they know?" he asked, quieter now. "That they're not alone?"

Daisy smiled, looking up at the wisps that still floated lazily in the cool air. "I think they do," she said simply. Then, with a knowing glance at him, she added, "And I think you do, too." Lucanis scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he said nothing more. Instead, he followed as she continued her work, stepping carefully among the graves, listening to her words and the quiet presence that filled the garden.

Daisy took great pride in her work, and as she moved from grave to grave, she felt her own spirits rise. There was something deeply fulfilling about tending to the Memorial Gardens—sweeping away the dust, lighting the candles, speaking names aloud so they would not be forgotten. It gave her a sense of purpose, a connection to something larger than herself. She knew these rituals mattered, even if only to the spirits who still lingered. Emmrich's quiet praise only made her smile more. His approval wasn't something she sought, but it was still welcome. He walked ahead of her, leading the way through the gardens, pausing every now and then to share small details about the people resting here—their stories, their lives, the echoes they left behind. Daisy listened intently, absorbing each piece of history as she placed candles at the graves, their warm glow cutting through the cool air.

Lucanis followed, trailing just behind. His sharp gaze shifted between Emmrich and the tombstones, though he remained quiet. A faint glow caught Daisy's eye as they made their way through the gardens. A wisp drifted toward them, its soft light pulsing gently as it hovered near Emmrich. The moment stretched in silence before Emmrich spoke, his voice softer than before.

"They're always so drawn to necromancers, aren't they?" The wisp moved around them, chirping happily. "We are also enjoying the gardens, but we've on last ritual ahead. On your way, my friend." Emmrich nodded at the wisp before it took off.

"Spirits are really your specialty. I didn't understand a word." Daisy said with a grin.

"I've always had a rapport with them. Even as a child, they were my companions." Emmrich explained.

"After you started training here?" Daisy asked.

Emmrich's face fell, "After I was orphaned." Daisy's face fell. "A collapsed building. Swift deaths. After the funeral, the Watchers took me in."

"I didn't know how alike we were, professor." Daisy mustered a smile. "Mother found me not far from here, closer to the lower floors of the garden."

"I always wondered where she had found you."Emmrich smiled at her. "She taught you very well. When I first arrived, I was terrified."

"Really?"

"Of course, everything scared me."

They continued their work until, at last, they arrived at the final grave. Daisy knelt beside it, lighting the last candle before standing and reaching for the bell hanging from a nearby post. The metal was cool beneath her fingers as she gave it a firm ring. The chime echoed through the gardens, reverberating in the stillness. Two forms materialized before them as tattered, robed figures as the sound faded. Keepsake and Curio.

"Hail from the abyss!" Keepsake greeted them.

"Keepsake! Curio!" Daisy hadn't seen the robed spirits in what felt like forever.

"Oh, little flower!" Curio floated closer to Daisy, its tendrils hands coming towards her as if patting her on the head. "How good to see you are back again after so long."

"You have been missed." Daisy inclined her head respectfully to both of them. Keepsake's voice was a little more deep sounding. "We witness good Watchers; faith kept in all our packs."

Curio pulsed, darting forward before turning to Keepsake's side. "The dead remember," it murmured. "And so do we."

"Please do not disappear for long," Keepsake mentioned before disappearing.

"Not until your time, of course," Curio added before disappearing.

"We need to ring the bell once more to close out the ritual." Emmrich took a slow breath, nodding once before reaching for the bell again. He rang it a final time, the chime marking the closing of the rite. As the sound faded, the spirits dissolved, their light dissipating into the night. The gardens fell silent once more, save for the gentle rustling of leaves in the cold breeze. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Emmrich exhaled and turned toward them, his expression unreadable. "I didn't know you were close with some of our oldest friends?"

"Curio found me when I ran away from home once. I didn't know where I was running to, but I ended up here. Curio found me and comforted me. They showed me the gardens and introduced me to other spirits. Keepsake didn't honestly like me at first, but they came around after a few years."

"You have a habit of making friends with spirits?" Lucanis asked and Daisy grinned broadly.

"Only to spirits I like." She glanced over Lucanis's shoulder. "Spite will be one of them, I can tell." Lucanis rolled his eyes as Daisy turned her attention back to Emmrich. "Were you really afraid of this place as a child?"

"It wasn't the Necropolis itself, but what was draped around it. The fear of death." As the final echoes of the bell faded into the night, Emmrich took a deep breath, the weight of the completed rite settling into a familiar sense of peace.

"Death is a part of life, Emmrich. There is always a brighter side to death. Most are just scared of the dying part." Daisy softly smiled.

"I wish I had your equanimity when I was younger." Emmrich looked out over the gardens with a grim face. "That's when I discovered a great terror of dying. It goes beyond dread. It can't be reasoned with or soothed over. It comes without warning, in the dead of night, in sunlit streets. A raw, strangling fear struck somewhere deep past the heart."

"That's an issue for a necromancer," Daisy answered.

"Oddly, I discovered I wasn't alone. I debated this fear with friends, I argued with teachers...yet it lingered." Emmrich explained until they heard Manfred hiss. Near the stone outlook, overlooking the larger halls of the Necropolis, a small table had been set up with a simple tea service and an assortment of snacks. The setup was modest but carefully arranged—steaming cups waiting to be poured, a small plate of biscuits and dried fruit placed neatly beside them. And waiting patiently by the table, standing in the quiet, was Manfred. The skeleton ward stood at attention, his emerald jewel sockets gazing toward them as if he had been waiting all evening. He shuffled excitedly, waiting for their arrival while holding the teapot in his hands. "Manfred's right. That's maudlin enough. What sort of homecoming would this be for you if we didn't end with some light refreshments?"

"Aw, you didn't have to do all this for me, Grandpa." Daisy giggled, and Emmrich pulled a face.

"Do not call me that; I am not your grandfather, young lady." Emmrich placed his hands on his hips.

"Of course..." Daisy smiled, but the unspoken word was enough for Emmrich to groan and walk towards the table. Daisy brightened at the sight of the table and turned to Lucanis with an expectant look. "Would you like to stay for tea?" she asked. "Or if you'd rather, we can head back. No pressure."

Lucanis considered for a moment, his gaze shifting from her to Emmrich, then to the table where the tea curled, inviting wisps of steam into the cool air. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly before offering a small nod. "I don't mind staying," he said. "No reason to interrupt your time on my behalf."

Daisy beamed, pleased with his answer, and led him toward the table. But as she reached for her chair, she was caught off guard when Lucanis, moving with quiet ease, quickly stepped forward and pulled it out for her. Daisy blinked, momentarily surprised. A flicker of amusement crossed her face before she sat down, tilting her head at him. "Well," she said with a grin, "who would've thought?"

Lucanis gave a smile, settling into his own seat as Emmrich poured the tea with his usual precision. As the three of them settled in, the warmth of the tea provided a welcome contrast to the cool night air. The flickering candlelight cast long, wavering shadows across the table, and the quiet hum of the Memorial Gardens made for an oddly peaceful atmosphere. Daisy sipped her tea contentedly while Emmrich carefully prepared his cup, adding just the right amount of honey before stirring with slow, deliberate motions.

Emmrich glanced at Lucanis over the rim of his cup. "So," he said, his tone calm yet curious, "what do you think of the Memorial Gardens?"

Lucanis set his cup down, exhaling through his nose as he considered the question. His sharp gaze flickered over the candlelit graves, the looming tree in the corner, and the faint wisps still hovering at the edges of the garden like silent sentinels. "They're beautiful," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "Peaceful, even." Then, his mouth curled ever so slightly into a smirk. "But I'd still rather not spend too much time around this many corpses." He took another sip of his tea before adding dryly, "Frankly, I get enough of that with you and your growing collection back at the lighthouse."

Daisy nearly choked on her tea, quickly covering her mouth as a giggle slipped out. She shot Emmrich an amused look, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Emmrich sighed heavily, setting his cup down with exaggerated patience. "I do not have a collection of bodies at the lighthouse," he stated, though the slight crease in his brow showed this was not the first time he had to defend himself against such claims.

Lucanis arched a brow, feigning skepticism. "Mm. Tell that to Manfred." He gestured toward the skeleton standing dutifully nearby.

Daisy let out another laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. "I mean… you do have at least one, Emmrich."

Emmrich pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. "Manfred is not part of some macabre collection. He is my ward and my assistant." He glanced at the skeleton. "A very dependable one, at that."

Manfred gave an excited hiss that even Daisy couldn't help but smile at.

Lucanis gave a slight, amused hum, taking another slow sip of his tea. "If you say so."

Daisy, still grinning, leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Besides, Lucanis, you're acting like Emmrich is the only one with skeletons in his closet."

Lucanis narrowed his eyes slightly. "…That's a figure of speech, right?"

Daisy just smiled, sipping her tea.

Emmrich, ever unbothered, continued to sip his tea. "Unlike some people, I don't keep mine hidden."

Lucanis let his gaze flick between them, suddenly aware of a very specific kind of implication hanging between their words. Slowly, he set his cup down. "I see," he said flatly.

Daisy giggled, looking all too pleased with herself. "Do you?"

Lucanis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm surrounded by necromancers."

Daisy reached for a biscuit, entirely unconcerned. "You could always start your own collection, you know," she teased. "Then you wouldn't feel so left out."

Lucanis shot her a look. "I think I'll pass."

Emmrich, calmly sipping his tea, hummed thoughtfully. "Suit yourself."

Daisy grinned and raised her cup in a playful toast. "To Emmrich and his very public collection, and to me and my… better-hidden one."

Emmrich sighed again but clinked his cup against hers anyway. "To maintaining the dignity of the dead."

Lucanis shook his head, muttering under his breath, but joined them in the toast regardless. As they drank, the night didn't seem quite so cold anymore—though Lucanis made a mental note to never, ever ask where Daisy kept hers. The night pressed in around them, but for the moment, the world outside the Memorial Gardens could wait.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

you're a diver from Fontaine, one of the best in the entire Court, and are known far and wide for your ability to collect whatever resource people need- that's where most of your pay comes from, collecting beryl conches and romaritime flowers for jewelry, perfumes, and the like. but you also enjoy diving as a hobby, spending most of your time off in the water and enjoying the sights, your Vision allowing you to breathe easily under the waves. there's something about floating weightlessly in oceanic world that helps you feel so calm and at peace.

it's during one of these leisurely dives that you encounter something- or someone- incredible.

you won't lie, you were swimming too close to the Fortress of Meropide. yes, it's technically forbidden, but you couldn't help but investigate the deeper waters and caves around it after so long of staying away from the area! as long as you stayed away from the searchlights, no one would suspect a thing, so you swam down into the murky gloom. it's more difficult to see as you cautiously glance around, slightly on edge- until you come face-to-face with an oddly glowing light, seemingly emitting from a faceted crystal. you don't dare go towards it (you've had enough experience with ocean creatures to know it very well could be a lure), so instead it decides to come towards you, and an enormous slinking creature is revealed from the darkness. your blood runs cold, all instincts screaming to get away, run, but the monster merely chitters curiously, tilting his horned head and blinking at you quietly.

hesitantly, you raise a hand and wave, and the beast's singular eye widens in awe as he waves back.

you come back to visit the odd creature again and again after that day, becoming adept at avoiding the lights of Fontaine's prison. the monster- Childe, as he told you via carvings on the wall- was incredibly sweet despite his intimidating appearance, greeting you with a delighted chirp and a hug, always extremely gentle with you. he follows you as you explore, protecting you and bringing you trinkets that have sunk to the ocean floor, nudging your hands for head scritches. through his gestures and warbling tones you deduce that he lives in a cavern further below, one you refuse to go to- it makes your skin crawl, for some reason. rarely does Childe come to the surface, but occasionally he'll accompany you if he doesn't want to see you go, wrapping his scaled tail around your legs and whining until you give him a kiss on the forehead. he loves you, and you love him, and he was your special secret.

until you began to fall mysteriously ill, your breaths coming out short and ragged and your head filling with cotton clouds. at first you think it's just a common cold, but it doesn't go away, only getting worse over time. the doctors you visit don't seem to have a cure, merely telling you to rest until you feel better, which you never do, no matter how many hours you sit on the shore with Childe's head in your lap. his worry for you makes you feel a little happier, caressing his cheeks and whispering hoarsely to him as he whimpers, claws dancing over your cheeks in an attempt to hold you back. but it hurts and you cough again and again, growing weaker by the day for no reason other than fate's cruel story.

you don't know that Childe is a monster from the Primordial Sea, gradually wearing away at your strength and life, until it's too late.

[charlotte-family-apologist]

Kenshi and Suchin aren’t really gift people so they mostly spend their Christmases at home just relaxing with takeout

[starmocha]

I know it's Sylus' birthday today on this side of the world, but

MY NEW PHONE ARRIVED EARLY (it was supposed to have been yesterday but the ups delivery person decided no one was home..... in spite of two huge cars in the driveway 😒)

omg but i'm no longer salty, because my new phone arrived on Sylus' birthday, so i'm calling that a win <33333 (no, i'm still the loser 🫠 MY NOTESSSS. Tempted to pry the back of my old phone apart and try to start it long enough to retrieve those notes lmao /srs)

The phone is the latest model....so it supports LADS and.....I downloaded the game...out of curiosity, of course.... 🫠 I also re-downloaded MLQC, but for some reason, it's not letting me sign in with my google play account 😭😔

But tell me why I opened the game for the first time on a phone and the first thing birthday boy here says to me is that he believes I should be on my period today 💀✋️ SYLUSSSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭

Back in October 18, 2024, my manager pissed me off so i turned the day into a treat yo' self moment and pre-ordered some LADS official merch that i then proceeded to forget about

Zayne's Snowy Serenity acrylic stand 🥺 I can literally hear his voice when I read the lines 😭🩷 omg he looks extra handsome here AND THE HAND KISS 💖💖💖

And a Sylus acrylic stand you can write notes on (it came with that marker)....... as if I don't already have two white boards in my study (actually i use them more like magnetic boards so this could work) 🫠 i need to place it somewhere more elevated. It looks odd at eye-level.

I should rearrange my desktop. I want Sylus and Zayne here too 🥺

[feaches]

I saw this post and was so charmed, I wanted to do one for my Rook and Lucanis <3

[grapestones]

I was listening to a Diluc playlist as I was walking home and. Unsurprisingly. I want to wrote another Diluc x Jiang Cheng. The problem is I have no idea what.

[diam1nd-arc]

❤️ tossing the positivity check right back @ u ❤️ dior, ily so much, and byasha loves her sister in law ems. all of my girlies love ems in every which way, so thank u for being here and being a lovely presence on the dash.

i’m about to crash tf out. legit love the chaos your muse starts. it gives me life. 😭😭😭 emma and i over here with our sunglasses on while bianca roasts tony.

[merthurao3recs]

Dandelion

Author: tinylilemrys

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,722

Details: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, SO MUCH FLUFF, and dandelions. 

[pain-is-too-tired]

Sweet Dreams Sweetheart,Sleep Tight.

You snored and it was the most beautiful thing that I'd ever heard

And I'm sure if we ever got old and married it would get on my nerves

But right now - for the first time

I think it's so cute you can't breathe right

So sweet dreams sweetheart, sleep tight

Smitten / Vulnerable by Leanna Firestone

Clarisse and Chris 🥰

I just think their sweet hdgdf Chris being one the only ones Clarisse softens up around. Him being only truly comfortable enough to sleep when with her and 🥺😭

I love them ♥️

Also unshaded

[vuulpecula]

*pees* 💧

✖ i can't believe you've done this.

[cariantha]

Every day feels like Christmas when I'm with you...❤️🎄❤️

I received this beautiful manip from a dear friend for Christmas and wanted to share. They are so pretty!😍

Happy Holidays, everyone!

[newwolfehunt]

hey — i think you're fantastic. ♡

uhm ... hi - i think you're fantastic! 🤍

[diam1nd-arc]

waddles my way in here. hi, I’ve been talking to you for less than 24 hours but I was blessed when you followed me and your presence is continuing to bless me. thank you for being super chill and welcoming, and can’t wait for adventures with our babies. 🫶🏼🫶🏼

adfadfadff hold on let me get my venturi mask. i am kermit rn. *pats my seat* i see u. brb screaming. go take care of your fever or else ill be obligated to use my bsn license. which pls dont bc it's been draining me 2 death. drink water 😠😠

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 2

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon mutters under his breath, face twisting into a deeper frown as both exhaustion and annoyance settle in; etching into his features behind the itchy, damp cloth still covering his face. 

Another giggle bubbles up in your throat, resounds freely around the room as you keep beaming at him from your spot on his couch, though no matter how melodic it sounds, Simon can merely feel his stomach churn and his skin crawl. “Wowee, you sure do cuss a lot, Simon!” 

“Stop calling me that.” Simon deadpans. 

And the curses keep burning and festering on the tip of his tongue, some directed at himself self-deprecatingly, as he simply decides to ignore the stray currently taking up residence in his sacred space. He swallows those insults down. His wet boots squeak on the floor as he turns on his heels and marches towards his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with finality like some pouty teenager. 

The mask comes off swiftly; uncaring of the sharp pain as he tugs at his own hair harshly, pulling out a few damp, dirty blonde hairs by the roots from his scalp before he tosses the mask onto his neatly made bed, and Simon takes a deep breath. 

He discards his BDU’s methodically, throws his dirty clothes into the old laundry hamper in the corner of the manageable bathroom, and takes a quick shower despite his aching muscles and bones screaming at him for more warmth from the hot water. And even after his quick wash, Simon cannot find it in himself to relax, not when he’s all too aware of the strange intruder currently occupying his living room. 

In spite of the hole in his stomach, the angry grumbling vibrating from its empty pit all up to his chest, Simon goes to bed hungry, though it’s nothing he’s unfamiliar with from his past; he simply refuses to deal with you and he’ll try his damn best to keep the contact to the barest minimum until he’s forced to face you again in the morning to take you back to Price’s office–to let the old geezer sort this messy situation. 

Now Simon lies on his knackered mattress at barely 0830 p.m., stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling in utter darkness; ears strained to pick up every little sound you might be making. For a moment, he wonders if you’re snooping around through his stuff, even though he doesn’t really own many personal belongings or sentimental keepsakes. You certainly don’t give off any of those threatening vibes he can easily pick up on with new people; he simply thinks you too daft to be deceiving. 

As thick as two short planks, Simon muses to himself, snorting softly with a straight face. With your bloody tail and stupid dog ears; way too soft and defenceless, dependant on some stranger to be your bloody handler as if you’re not a grown, capable woman yourself– 

His thoughts get disturbed by a sound he hasn’t heard in a long, a very long time. It’s almost too subtle at first, but it still makes him jerk up in his creaky single bed, causing the prickly military-issued blanket to slip off his bare chest and pool around his hips. Simon hates how his heartrate increases slowly and despises the myriads of emotions crashing over him like a tsunami wave. 

And then he hears it again–a steady, high-pitched yet soft noise; alternating between pathetic whinging and gut-wrenching squeaks. 

Simon tries to ignore it for another moment, closing his eyes to will himself to sleep when it seems you’ve given up, until you pick up right where you’ve left off. 

Heaving his massive body out of his bed nearly silently despite the creaking bedframe and the soft groan escaping his throat, he puts on a pair of tattered sweatpants, its waistband hanging baggy and low on his hips from years of wear, and pairs it with an old Army shirt before leaving the safety of his bedroom begrudgingly to sneak back into the living room. 

There is no need to hide his face from someone who has no common sense to even care about his identity, so he doesn't bother to put his mask back on. 

As Simon walks down the short hallway from his bedroom to the open living room, he notices the change of scent as he keeps approaching with caution. It’s sweet, but not too overwhelming. Flowery and fresh, like chamomile and daisies drenched in honeydew, and it gets stuck on the back of his tongue as he can’t stop himself from inhaling deeply.  

The whining stops as soon as he switches the light back on, tawny brown eyes zeroing in on the spot on his couch where you’d arranged the few cushions into a meagre nest, and when your head pops up from within your little den, blinking at him with twitchy ears and wide eyes, Simon gets triggered and thrown back in time in a way that has his breath stutter momentarily and his chest ache as if hit with a sledgehammer. 

A memory of his late mother flashes in front of his inner eyes; lithe body curled up in a makeshift nest to keep her own cubs safe inside a cold apartment in one of the worse corners of Manchester. But it’s gone in a blink and slips back into the dark, rotten corners of his mind before he can begin to process it properly. 

He hasn't thought about her in too long, and the realization makes the shame even worse as it lodges itself in his throat, choking him slowly but surely. 

“Hello,” you chirp suddenly, pulling him back to here and now, and Simon notices the huskiness to your voice from crying out so much. “Oh! Your mask is gone,” you remark with fluttering lashes and a soft chuckle. “You’re so handsome, Simon–” 

Simon huffs. “O’right, stop,” he grumbles before rubbing a calloused hand over his face, scratching his stubble as he feels an unfamiliar heat rise in his pale cheeks. “Whaddaya doin’? Why are you whinging like some bloody puppy?” 

Your ears flatten, nearly disappear under your hair as you avert your eyes from him, and Simon catches himself wondering briefly how you make those cotton balls hide so easily before he hears you answer ruefully: “I'm scared. I don't like sleeping alone in the dark.” 

Ah, shite.  

Simon stares at you for a moment, unblinking and unmoving; shoulders barely rising with shallow breath.  

“Then sleep with the bloody lights on,” he counters eventually. “I don’t give a shite. I'm no' the one payin' for the fuckin' power bill.” 

The pout on your face makes his nose wrinkle in anger, and he hates that he didn't put on his mask, that he's giving you the privilege to judge his facial expression. He tries to reign them back in, keep his ugly mug more neutral. 

“Can I... sleep with you in your bed?” 

You actually manage to throw him off balance with that. His heart skips a violent beat at your innocent question and casual tone, like you're some damn child scared of the dark, but you're not. You're a grown woman asking to share a bed with a stranger, with Ghost of all people! Don't you know who he is? Did nobody bother tell you or are you really that foolish to care? 

“No.” Simon nearly growls at you, trembling hands balling into fists at his sides to keep himself from ripping his own hair out in frustration. He wants to say more, wants to lecture you, get some sense into your idiot hybrid-brain, but he only manages a curt answer. No.  

Your face drops even more, a soft keening whine reaching his trained ears before you swallow it down with great effort as Simon notices the way your delicate throat bobs. The sound brings back more memories of his mother, and pity along with it. For you, for him, for her. He doesn't quite understand the sentiment and he adds it to the list of things he hates, because he can't control anything he’s feeling right now, because you keep confronting him with it unwittingly. 

What Simon does remember is the way his mother had always found comfort in his father's scent. No matter how much of an abusive prick he was towards her, or her children. The memory makes bile rise in his throat and he swallows it quickly. 

“Here,” he gruffs eventually, reaching for the hem of his worn shirt and pulling it off in one smooth motion; uncaring of the way it leaves his broad, scarred torso bare in front of you. “You can have this, but no more whinging, lass.”  

Pity. It’s pity making him do this, he assures himself; something else he hasn’t felt in a bloody long time. A feeling right up there with mercy. It’s what makes him do it, despite knowing that you shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need this from him. He isn't your handler, definitely not your friend. Simon is a stranger to you as much as you are to him, and yet– 

The fabric is thrown at your head with unmatched precision, hanging in front of your face for a moment, surprisingly soft and drenched in his heavenly, musky scent, before you slowly pull it off, tail finally wagging and thumping dully against the couch. But when your eyes uncover and you blink to clear your vision, the spot where Simon was standing previously is empty; leaving you lonely, sad and cold once more. 

As Simon slips back into his own bedroom, silent as ever, his jaw clenches tightly when he hears how the soft thudding of your tail stops at once before his door clicks shut behind him, and one thing becomes even more clear to him– 

He needs you gone. 

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses