#you could make it ''inspired by'' so theres a little link to this fic at the end of knifetrick :D

[thepublishingpress]

In Remembrance of You

Katara is glad.

Honestly, she is.

She is glad that she could live to see her children grow.

She is glad to see her grandchildren, their playfulness and childishness.

If you asked her if she was content with how her life played out, she would respond that she wouldn’t have it any other way. That she was pleased with how she was leading her life.

But sometimes…

There are times when the realization, hitting her like a sharp slap to face, barges in, unannounced.

The realization that living in the timeline of the next Avatar, the Avatar after the one you loved, married, had kids with, and adored, hurts.

That when you see the new Avatar, you see bits and pieces of your lover, but in different person.

That there are these small things they do and say that make you think, That was so much like Aang.

That when you hear they consulted past Avatars, you think, She saw Aang. She talked with Aang.

She keeps these realizations to herself, hiding it away in a chest, reflecting on it only when she is alone.

Perhaps the thing that hurts most of all is that the new Avatar also has a lover.

And Katara looks at them and thinks, Me and Aang did that once. Me and Aang acted like that. Me and Aang looked at each other like that. Me and Aang, me and Aang, me and Aang…

Me and Aang loved like that.

Katara had always had hope that she would see Aang in the Spirit World.

But now that the Avatar Cycle was broken…

Was Aang’s spirit lost forever?

Or would she not have seen him in the Spirit World anyway, because he was Korra? And now that the Cycle was broken, Aang’s spirit was, for lack of a better word, freed?

Would it be so selfish to hope that was true?

Korra and the Avatar after her would need Aang, and all the others before him, wouldn’t they?

After all, that’s what comes with falling for the Avatar.

But Katara still hoped that she would see Aang either way.

So she’ll patiently waits for her time to come to the Spirit World permanently.

But she still looks at the new Avatar and her lover, Korra and Asami, and aches.

&*&*&*&*&*&*&

wooh boy! this is an angsty week, huh? first kataang fic, too! great progress, ehe-

tbh, i feel like theres little emphasis on katara's feeling about aang after he's gone in TLOK but maybe that's just me.

but bc of those feelings, i made this, so enjoy! :3

(i was inspired by some art, but ill find it soon to link it here!!!!)

[iron-sides]

HI HELLO i have One small request, could you give me some desertduo fic recs? (like besides yours bc i just all of yours and it made me even Worse) im Unwell abt them

ok i assume u mean like in the life series since all my desertduo fics are life series but !!! i will also be suggesting grand opening of our hearts by @funkily just because well . its sweet i love gay people and fake dating what can i say ?

anyway here are some of my favs !! um heads up every fic i link you today most likely will be at least a little bit slash are because altho the romance isnt what interests me wrt desertduo it is like. very integral to my interpretation of their dynamic as tumblr user mcyt once said. they fucked in that cactus ring. also im sorting these into two categories namely works that make me crazyyy and man that fic sure is fun :) <- lying

works that make me crazyyy: (stuff that indirectly or otherwise inspired my own takes on these fuckers, iirc theyre all canon compliant or the canon setting) um . all of these come with a blanket warning for the canonical end of third life taken to its dramatic saddest including the fight in the cactus ring and grian killing himself, even if none of these per se involve anyone actually permanently dying they definitely get dark 👍 read the tags lol

fireworks exploding in the distance (this writer is just really good in general (altho i couldnt find a tumblr sadly) but this is my favorite lol) its soooooo well um yousee. scarian and grians resistance or otherwise to being touched (explodes)

when the tether snaps the anchor sinks by @eeriefeelingsat3amuwu listen dl!desert duo is sooo interesting to me and i just think this is a really interesting exploration of what the fuck is wrong with them

ashes by @raichett is like ok so first off this whole series is great im user subbed to this author but 2 im so obsessed w this fic i think about it constantly likeee. grian and guilt is such an interesting sort of Thing to me right like he does all this stuff and then he feels sooo guilty . and then he does it again anyway. i want to study him anyway !!! great fic :)

now okay so @sparxwrites sparxwrites is a rec as is because wow !!!! like you can tell when a person has had years to hone their class and sparx clearly has- beware of nsfw tho cos it definitely abounds lol. specific sparx recs, like, my favorites would be here i am, again which is just. its an au where grian and scar win together and this goes exactly as well as you expect :( also! yours were the arms (that the whole world was in) is a last life fic a mumscarian polyamory negotiations fic and its just really good ! i really liked it lol im not much of a last life girly but theres something to the way all these characters so clearly know each other better than we know them thats sooo good and its only 1231 words so its not too long to read in an afternoon so like go read it ! and then come !!!! about it with me bc its sooooooooooo well i dont even know how to say it or i would its great tho

ok now for fics thats are ust !! :) <- mostly they are less :) and more :(( but shhh these are slightly less thinky but no less mwah !! (+ less warnings (still read the tags) + they lean more romantic)

mad scientists can be a little hot. as a treat. by @romanocheese this is exactly what it sounds like, takes place just after grians triple kill w the tnt minecart in third life

coliseum by @artanogon is a steampunk au where pretty much everyone save dogwarts is allied trying to bring down the red king ! unfinished but the tension is sooo high like. the mystery, the suspense, ive literally watched third life i know how this ends and yet here i am on the edge of my seat waiting for each update !!

my heart has been half asleep all my life is a series by @sciencechicken + if i was reccing one fic from it that would be i dont think i could stand to be where you dont see me which is a double life fic that definitely belongs in the other category (grian assumes after scar spent all of DL episode 1 ignoring him that he doesnt want to be soulmates) however since im reccing the full series (its all so good im subscribed to it lol) + the literal second fic is vampire scar/blood drinking/making out... im putting it here lol but its really wonderful i enjoy it greatly

friend of the devil by @mochiwrites and @idioddyssey ok all of the series mochi does are great but this is the one im currently avoiding reading the latest update on because i am soooo invested and i have a terrible feeling something is about to happen . :((( regarding well i shant say because spoilers like i know its gonna be great im just nervous lmao anyway its a mumscarian crime au and it is a delight to read ! recently it has featured tubbo as scars office aide and also well i shant say (spoilers etc) but yeah very fun i really enjoy it :D

l'appel du vide by @pixelfun20 is basically what if grian right after winning 3l was plopped into hermitcraft! i just really enjoy this kind of premise tbh it hasnt been updated since last june sadly but its. a lighter???? read than what else is here! well maybe not lighter but fewer people die iirc

and last but not least: @atherix midnight series which is soooooo like well ok so its mumscarian kind of like fantasy au? featuring vampire mumbo socerer/elf scar and whatever the fuck is up with grian and well ok i am rooting for it to become mumbo/scar/grian/cub actually because well. read and find out? but just trust me ok this series is one of my favorites of the ones im currently following bc of the way it sets up and then pays off conflict-- like, grian'll do something i wont specify due to spoilers and immediately i know that by the time the fic is done there is going to be SUCH a nice catharsis about this !! also the plot of the dsmp is just kind of like playing out as a sidequest for scars adopted son tubbo which i love <- former dsmp girly moment

ok i lied im also gonna plug mochi's series solem et lunam really fast because i like it !! basically grian is the sun god mumbo is the moon god they have a forbidden romance until the unthinkable happens (read the tags !!) OKAY ACTUALLY BYE THIS TIME

[suffarustuffaru]

What are your thoughts on Prideful Cinderella by Pinkshuchan

ooohh prideful cinderella..... again gonna leave the link to the fic here please show the author some love <3 ill try to keep linking to the og fic like this if i get any more asks like this hah

i remember reading it a loooong time ago when it first came out. and then i actually read the first several chapters of it recently again because "hey i havent seen it in a while. and i dont remember much about it" so i gave it another go out of curiosity and i got to around ch4?

but yeah i did enjoy reading it!! not sure if ill continue it soon but it was pretty solid. the writing style is very - formal, i'd say? a little flowery? but anyway the writing style is very well written. it gives the fic a super nice atmosphere which i think fits the whole point of the story - a cinderella inspired, fairytale-esque fic thats made a little Off on purpose just because its pride if and pride if is Understandably. you know. off the rails. yeah i think my favorite part was exactly that - the atmosphere and style was very nice to read through, imo. its just the perfect combo with the premise, as i said, and the setting of this ball and the fact that a certain doomed by the narrative duo reinsuba are having their drama HAH.

and also that antagonist is so. hes so hateable but that seems to be the point. and also he Definitely feels like someone you could come across in real life (unfortunately). so big kudos to the writer for that!!! the part where the antagonist states his viewpoint on women and how theyre like Flowers is so chilling. and also a perfect counterpoint to reinhard, whos 1. genuinely fond of gardening 2. not horribly misogynistic and 3. his family has this. Motif. with flowers.

and also i know its been a small detail so far (at my uhh. around ch4 mark hah.) but reinhard drinking and not getting drunk because of his dps has gotta be one of my favorite details of this fic. theres already like small little bits of details in canon regarding reinhard and his thoughts on drinking (other than the fact that his dad is an alcoholic but lajfls), but yeah. i think reinhard purposefully trying and failing to get intoxicated is interesting. and the whole reinsuba drama and this taking place in pride if is all very interesting as well. the author does a good job of establishing the premise of the fic (cinderella inspired) and making it Make Sense with rezero's setting - its not forced at all i think!!

also i liked the julius reinhard friendship moments <3 (i am someone very normal about their friendship (lying through my teeth))

other than that i do have like. a few criticisms but theyre more a matter of personal taste. like the formal writing style is wonderful with the narration and with dialogue from people like julius or reinhard. it does however feel a little stilted with subaru just bc i Personally cant see him talking like that Unless hes putting up an act (which he does in this fic to be fair!!! but even when hes not he sounds a little too formal for my taste). and also i have General tastes regarding pride if subaru characterization which 1. will of course be a little different with other people and i am welcome to people criticizing my own pridebaru characterization hah and 2. yeah my opinion with prideful cinderella is that pridebaru is a little too nice at times? yeah. hes just a little too nice at times imo despite the fact that this is post-pride if arc 1 and post-subaru joining the witch cult. so i do wish stuff like his hatred of reinhard was more pronounced bc i feel like it Would be at this stage.

but i do get that pridebarus One Line he wont cross is like. people like regulus mistreating his wives and the antag of this fic sure is a bit similar so ig that makes sense? :o and also i did enjoy a lot of pridebaru moments and lines in this fic otherwise (the detail of him rbding to practice his disguise for the ball and him casually going "yeah i did it like 30+ times lol" in his own narration was SO good). i think the characterization of pridebaru just had some moments that i Personally didnt like and others that i Liked A Lot so a bit of a mixed bag to me personally. i liked everyone elses characterizations though!! the witch cultist lackey was also an interesting take yes.

yeah so thats my thoughts on it!!! overall its a good fic just had a few things that werent to my taste but thats perfectly fine!!

[relaxxattack]

hi! I'm the anon that asked about sending in the fic. apologies if this is the wrong place to send it, I wasn't sure what was most appropriate. feel free to ignore it btw. apologies for plot holes and mischaracterisation I wrote this while very tired.

When he’s not trying to solve the mystery of kidnapped children or plotting ways to kill a man, Ran likes to walk the halls of the castle.

In the End everything is so similar, the cities, the bridges, the ground, the sky – it all goes on forever, repeating itself over and over again, never anything new.

In the Overworld however, no two cities he’s been to have ever been the same. They bustle under one sky with their own clouds each day and their own constellations each night. They have been built by different minds for different purposes and different people and he loves to study it.

So when he wanders the halls he take notes in his journal of the art and the architecture. Of the style and the purpose and the history.

He’s definitely not hoping to bump into someone. He would never do that.

One night when he’s unable to sleep he decides to go for another walk. At this point he’s sure he’s seen everything so it’s more to clear his head than anything else.

Unlike the other times he’s been out at night, the castle is not silent. There’s a low hum emanating from somewhere, quiet enough that he reckons he’s the only one that can hear it.

He walks towards it and the sound grows louder and more distinguishable.

It’s music.

They don’t have music in the End, not really. However, it had been one of the few things in the Overworld he never had to learn to understand. The second he heard it he got it. He felt it in his bones, the way that the rhythm would drum through his heart and tell him a story. A story just for him. The way that the melody would make him understand things he could never put into words, even if only for a moment.

He follows the sound, or rather it lures him to it. Through a corridor and up a set of stairs. Open a door, shut the door, up another flight, along another corridor. He thinks he’s running now, sprinting to find where the music is coming from, but he stops dead when he sees the source.

It’s him.

At the end of the hallway, facing away from him, Jackie sits in front of a piano.

Ran doesn’t think he’s ever been to this part of the palace before. The ceilings are lower, the walls bare, the windows foggy. Nobody has been here in a long time; he wouldn’t be surprised if Jackie was the only one that knew about it.

He stands stock still at the door to the hallway, not wanting to move, not wanting to shut the door for fear it might disturb him, for fear it might make him stop.

He’s never heard this song before, which is odd because he likes to think he can recognise most Overworld music by now. The same songs are played at all the gatherings he goes to, through all the streets he walks. He had never considered that there would be more.

This one sounds sad, not sad like crying but sad like stillness. It feels like trailing your hand through a river as it flows by, or when you learn as a child that you can’t sleep on clouds, or when you wake up from a nightmare calling for someone only to realise you are alone.

It feels like everything he’s never been able to put into words all at once, it feels like it’s for him but not just for him, like a hand reaching out and saying I feel like that too.

He’s so caught up in all the feelings that he can only think one thing, and that is that he doesn’t want Jackie to stop.

Ran should know by now that when it comes to Jackie, he never gets what he wants.

The last note Jackie plays sounds less like a conclusion and more like a promise. I will be back tomorrow. I still have stories to tell you.

Ran wonders that if he returns at the right time he might be able to listen to him again.

And then kill him when he’s distracted, a voice in his head adds on.

Sure, that too.

Jackie hasn’t moved since he stopped playing but Ran knows that won’t last for long and decides to slip out the door while he’s still unnoticed.

“Whoever’s waiting outside the door better stop and hope to God I’m feeling merciful tonight,” a voice commands. It is not one he recognises. It’s definitely Jackie, but it’s low and tired. It hurts Ran and he doesn’t know why.

Ran’s only halfway out the door and he figures his best bet at staying alive is to reveal himself. He’s done his research. He knows that unlike him, Jackie doesn’t have assassination attempts, only assassinations. A long list of names with him as the last face they saw.

There are worse ways to go, he thinks.

He turns around to go back through the door again.

“Ran?” Jackie says, confused. “What’re you doing here?”

What is he doing here? If the Council knew of this, Ran in a dark room with his target, alone in a hidden in a part of the castle where no one goes, not trying to kill him but instead afraid of him, instead just watching him, instead wishing that he would turn around and continue to play - well - he’d be dead probably.

Definitely.

Oh, he’s so dead.

For once in his life Ran has lost all ability to lie, or tell the truth, or say anything remotely useful.

That’s been happening a lot recently.

“I- um, I was just- I was uh-”

Jackie looks less confused now, instead just annoyed.

“You were what?” he asks.

“I was listening.”

His face seems to fall, like a realisation that drains all irritation from it. His harsh brow fades away and his eyes soften. Here in the moonlight Ran think Jackie looks the youngest he’s ever seen him.

“Did you like it?” His voice is different but in a good way this time, it’s sweet, almost naïve and it strikes Ran once again how strange it is that this kid has enough red in his ledger to anger herds of bulls.

It doesn’t occur to Ran that it’s strange that he does too.

“I did,” Ran replies, and he doesn’t mean to. He really didn’t mean to say that. Why did he say that? Why did-

Jackie smiles and all trains of thought stop. “Good.”

Jackie gets up from the stool and walks down the corridor towards him. Closer and closer. Ran’s heart is getting faster and he has to remind himself that Jackie doesn’t know. He’s not going to kill him.

It doesn’t help.

When Jackie reaches him he stops for a second and seems unsure what to do. Eventually he pats Ran’s shoulder and meets his eye. “G’night, Ran.”

He walks past him and through the door, not expecting a reply, not expecting anything at all.

When Ran falls asleep that night he tries not to think about a life in the future. About a life far away from here. With grassy fields and trees and lakes. With blue skies and a house in the middle of nowhere. Far from everything he’s ever known. Untouchable. Undisturbed. Answering to no one.

He tries not to think about sitting in that house – it’s more a cottage really – simply furnished with the windows wide open, resting in an armchair and listening to music played by a boy with blue in his eyes and red in his ledger. With blonde hair and a laugh that sounds like if seagulls could sing. The most beautiful music he’s ever heard.

He tries really, really hard.

i'm going to cry this is so so lovely holy shit. this is my new favorite thing in the whole world now. i am going to treasure this forever.

it feels so weird to see ran and jackie written by someone else, but, like, you've taken them and made them better... they feel so alive here. they really come off the page.

my writing normally feels grounded and dry, which is intentional, but i absolutely love how yours feels glittery and flowy (like a stream). oh my god.

thank you so much for sharing this!! if you ever want to like put it on ao3, please do!!!

[lumine-blight]

cold ― an albedo imagine.

i'm pissed because i'm offline and my downloaded pdf version of an ao3 fanfic is unfinished so here's an albedo fic inspired by it. here's the link to the fic: <3

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

tags: albedo is kind of a jerk at first, you're new working under his wing, not much romance in this tbh, but it's albedo so its okay, AND THERES AN ALBEDO RERUN CONFRIMED IM GONNA CRYSRKJSDF

Ever since the Grandmaster Varka set out on an expedition with a whole army of soldiers and all the available horses of the cavalry, the Knights of Favonius' number and performance has plummeted. Well, that could be an exaggeration but it's somewhat that way, anyway. There were less of the better trained knights and more duties to fulfill. And talk about the former cavalry captain's stepping down. Diluc was one of the best knights, but now he sees the knights as nothing but, well, inefficient. Though you barely got to work with him before, you still kept in touch somehow, but it would mostly annoy him. But the tavern was a pretty nice and cozy place to hang out when you're off duty. Diluc murmuring the inefficiency of the Knights of Favonius just makes it better.

After the mass recruitment drive last month, and the tryouts last week, Kaeya now had the list of the better suited and well versed knights to be put in consideration for joining the Knights of Favonius. Though, this too, made you question the real nature of the man's work. Wouldn't matters like this be more fitting for the Intelligence team? Recon? Better yet, the Recruitment Department. What's a cavalry captain doing gathering intel and using them against the treasure hoarders anyway? And most importantly, what is he doing being the one to look at everyone's backgrounds?

Despite all these questions that have been in your head for the longest while now—every time you heard of Kaeya—you dare not ask. It would be fair to say that you aren't exactly so fond of him. Or just that you aren't one to strike a conversation with him and hit it off even though he himself is already the smooth talker. You weren't much of that, but being a part of the Reconnaissance Company you knew how to handle people. You usually did that instead of Eula. You know just how much she holds on to having vengeance, it never really works well with others—most, if you may.

“Oh, and by the way, we had to do a little bit of...let's call it revamping. Or reshuffling, if you may. Those who seem capable enough of other areas other than those that they are a part of now, will be transferred to a different team,” said Kaeya, and his gaze fixing upon you didn't give any good indications. You broke the brief eye contact, and looked around the room, at the other knights called to go to the meeting. You looked over at Jean, then at Eula. Now that you've thought of it, where are the others? Sure, you knew familiar faces here, such as Huffman, Aramis, and more of the other knights. But that wasn't exactly the point. Amber wasn't here, and so was Sucrose. Her superior, the chief alchemist, was always gone anyway so it wasn't a bother.

“This doesn't feel right...” you thought out loud—or muttered to yourself, better put. Lisa wasn't here either—at this point you were only beginning to notice everyone who wasn't with you in the meeting. You thought you were assigned to go because you were second to Eula in the Recon Company, but now you're having your doubts.

“There were very few who were capable of joining the Investigation Team. Either they simply had no experience or not enough knowledge to immediately kickstart work. So, we are transferring Ms. Y/N to the Investigation Team under the Chief Alchemist's supervision,” Kaeya announced, and you gripped on your vision at that, feeling it's heat rise as it glowed, only a few tiny rays of red escaping through your hands.

“You've tinkered around alchemy before, haven't you Ms. Y/N? I'm sure there wouldn't be much of a problem between you and our dearest Chief Alchemist,” Kaeya said, the joking (or mocking) tone underneath almost seeping out with only a thin layer of formality. You continued to feel dread thinking of having to stay in that cold and steep mountain, and Kaeya continued to announce who is being transferred to

which. Great, you're alone as an Investigation Team newbie.

...

At that point, the only hope you had was Sucrose. She was the only one you could actually hold a proper conversation with, or so you believe. You'd hang out with her a few times, usually by the crafting station in the city where she would talk to you about her latest discoveries ever so passionately. The way Sucrose loved her area of work was the same way you felt about negotiating and delegating, but now you had to drown yourself in research papers and study certain properties of certain materials and whatnot. Sure, you did tinker around alchemy for some time, but there was a reason why it had only lasted a certain amount of time.

You often find yourself delving into a new field, a whole new area of study, and a whole new passion to immerse yourself in. But you could never really stick with it. Once you were interested in history and hung out in the library for pretty much all your free time, then you grew the same interest for cooking, and so on, so forth. Of course it went the same for alchemy. While at some point you did think Alchemy was THE thing, it didn't last long enough for you to stay too invested in. And so you ended up in the Reconnaissance Company with Eula, mostly because she was the only one there at that time, and the field covered by the work seemed diverse enough.

You sighed, cold smoke slipping past your lips and forming cloud-like shapes dissipating in a fleeting moment. Taking out your catalyst which you had freshly forged from Wagner's, you lit a nearby torch, your Pyro vision burning bright red once more, as you thought about how difficult climbing this mountain was. Thankfully, the path was already cleared so as not to have hilichurls slowing you down.

After that rest you took halfway into the mountain, you continued your venture through the cold icy mountain to the camp where the rest of the researchers currently are. You were pretty nervous despite already knowing who you were working with. You weren't so familiar with Albedo, despite your relations to Alchemy, because at the time when you dabbled in the arts of life, he was just in the mountains, developing the warmers replicated from the nature of seelies. You never actually got to see one of those in person, since you barely went to Dragonspine—you almost never did, unless some unfortunate situations occur and you would have to do the patrolling around that area yourself, being the most qualified for wielding Pyro for warmth.

You weren't sure what or who exactly to expect, but caught in surprise when you were only met with one person. Not even one to acknowledge your existence and welcome you after trekking through extreme temperatures. You stood there awkwardly for a good minute or two with hands holding onto the straps of your leather backpack. You let out a fake cough, then another one, and a third one.

No response.

This lack of acknowledgement prompted you to be the one to approach the man so fully immersed in his papers he couldn't even notice that the fire on his torch has now gone out.

“Mr. Albedo...?” you carefully called out. Most of the time, you would be more confident rather than having your volume decrease through a word. Though, you couldn't be blamed. While Albedo himself seems like a decent person overall, he just had this cold aura around him. It's almost surprising how he didn't get a Cryo vision instead. But well, Geo does fit his grounded attitude towards his work.

He sighed, and placed the papers he was reading on the table beside the flasks. Albedo finally faced you, and you wondered whether he was just simply uninterested or his brain dried out reading those reports. He said nothing.

“...”

“...”

“Ah—right! I'm Y/N, and I've been transferred to work under your wing from now on. I hope we can work well together along with the rest of the team.” Before you could go on asking where the rest of the team was, you held out a hand for a handshake, which, by the way, hung there in the cold and open air for a good five seconds before Albedo

shook it. His hands seemed to linger for a while longer though, and you figured it was because of your naturally warmer temperature, and the fact that his fire has been put out since you got there.

“Great to meet you. Will you please light this torch up so I can continue with my research,” he asked, not even sounding like a question at all. Though, you did what you were asked anyway. After doing so, you were eager to get to know the guy, so that you could also help with something other than lighting torches. You didn't train and learn Alchemy only to be a human matchbox.

“Oh, did you mean OUR research? So, what do we have here, Mr. Albedo?” you walked up to him and peeked on his papers, then proceeded to observe the graphs and tables posted on the board before you.

“No, this is my research. I'm not doing this for the Knights, as you should've noticed already. If I were, then Sucrose and Timaeus would've accompanied me,” he answered flatly.

You were currently left with no words, and pondered whether you should just leave him with his own personal research and go look for the other researchers to have them orient you instead. Even if you traversed that difficult path up here to the camp, you felt as though you were unwelcomed, which might as well be.

“O-oh, is that so? My apologies, I thought today was the day when I was supposed to be oriented around the team. I'll get going, then—”

“No, you're not. I ran out of matches in the middle of an experiment. If the fire goes out once more, I'd freeze to death. I already asked Timaeus to bring me some matches on his way. You can leave once he's back.”

“Hold up. So basically, I'll be here as a tool while you wait for your other researchers to do your errands?” you were getting irritated, and it was showing with your manner of speaking.

“As someone who claimed to have the skills with people, you seem short-tempered. More to the reasons why you're transferred, it seems.”

“Oh, Barbatos, I cannot believe I'll be working with a bitch as my superior,” you muttered under your breath, though you were pretty sure it was audible to Albedo. Unless he wasn't paying attention again. Turns out, he wasn't. With that, you saw no point in arguing further, and decided to head back down no matter how much your body is aching already.

Though, special thank you for your Pyro vision that melted all the surrounding snow, the ground was now slippery and you became its victim. This time Albedo paid attention to you without you having to solicit it from him. Despite being unsolicited, you hated it because he only ever looked when he needed your assistance that's not even work-related, or when he insulted you.

“What're you looking at now, Mr. Albedo? Please, if you shall, go back to your research. I don't want to be taking too much of your time,” you spat, with sarcasm seeping on each word.

“Ms. Y/N, I strongly don't recommend going down all alone. By now, snow has probably started accumulating again, getting thicker and thicker. And given the circumstances, you may slip again once your steps melt the snow. Though this time it would be worse because the slopes are steep and there's no one who can help you out.”

Albedo confused the living daylights out of you. So did he want you to leave or stay? Well, surely he wanted you to stay so he could have infinite warmth while his apprentice ran his errand. But you didn't feel quite welcome either. You didn't reply, and just shot him a look for a while, trying to fathom his words. He stared back, but was the one to break it, clearing his throat as he continued on with his research. You felt rather victorious, as childish as it sounds, because he was the one to break eye contact. It's as if you had the bragging rights to say he looked away first and therefore was the first one to feel self-conscious.

“Alright, I'll stay in one condition,” you finally spoke up.

“Why should I have to agree to your condition? I'm good here as I am.”

“Just minutes ago you were asking me to light a torch so that you wouldn't freeze to death,” you scoffed. “But

anyway, tell me more about your research and I'll give you my insights and more helpful resources. I guarantee you they're credible.”

“You know nothing of what I'm researching. Just leave it and stay here to warm me up,” he said, almost as if purposely pissing you off again. You thought of one way to both warm him up and shut him up, but it was a little too inappropriate given your working status, and no way in hell did you want to associate yourself with him in such intimate terms—you immediately cut off that train of thought.

“That's precisely why I asked for more details, is it not?” Somehow, his attempts of pissing you off is actually working, but you stood your ground, skimmed through the board and gathered some thoughts together. You took a deep breath to stop yourself from throwing hands right on his pretty face at the moment. You regained composure.

“So, what is the truth of this world? You mean like natural sciences with philosophy on the side? Seems like it.”

“Not necessarily, but in a way, yes. I'm trying to understand how things work in this world, how life is formed and destroyed. For example, the slimes which could be a manifestation of the elemental energy in the surroundings.”

“Could be, yes. But not every human being can stand elemental energy. Sure, it's not that high in concentration around the more populated parts but continuous exposure to it could start to cause harm. So I'd say that the slimes are more of uh...a residue.”

“Continuous exposure to a certain amount of elemental energy you say? One could think you're talking about radioactive energy...but it does make sense, in a way. But I don't believe the energy surrounding us could be that intense. In fact, I do think it's harmless. Only the manifestations—residue—are the ones that could cause harm.

Say for example, the flora that accumulated energy and turned into a monster. But even though the element is Pyro or Cryo, fire and ice don't have the same effect.”

Your conversation went on, and it was your most civilized one so far. Perhaps when geeking out on natural sciences, you two could experience peace even within a foot or two radius with each other. You continued to talk about how slimes and other elemental beings could be the harmful manifestations of the energies harnessed over time, and how they evolve and such. You discussed how their properties are distinct and how they can deteriorate over time. It got philosophical at some point, when you started quoting certain lines from books and such materials. Even your thoughts when practicing alchemy back then were re-remembered and only now made sense.

It was starting to get late and you were still in the middle of your discussion, drawing maps and connecting dots and taking notes. Of course you had to hydrate yourself, but your water bottle has turned into ice. You took it to your hands and waited until it was warm enough to drink. It wouldn't be a day if Albedo didn't ask you to warm his beverage as well. Not long after the sun started setting halfway, a snowstorm came through, and you were immediately brought to a cave.

“This is where I take shelter when storms come. We should stay here for a while,” he said.

Despite bearing a Pyro Vision, you still felt cold. It's sheer cold you're against, after all. Though, not as much as Albedo, probably.

“Are you cold?” you asked your superior as you looked around the cave for a torch of some sort. Or just something you could light up to amplify the warmth inside.

“I don't think there are any torches here. The only one is in the camp outside, and it'd be too dangerous to go back. But don't worry, I'm accustomed to the extreme temperatures,” Albedo replied, and crouched down to the ground, sitting down.

You followed and sat next to him. This, at least, you hoped warmed him up a bit more.

“By the way, where's Timaeus? I thought he was supposed to arrive earlier—could he have gotten caught in the middle of the storm?” you started to worry, but it seemed that Albedo wasn't bothered at all. You wondered if he simply just has no emotions because of his different origin and nature, or that he just sees everything as a tool for his studies. Sure, that's a good thing to utilize but this would be too far from that.

“Don't worry about him, I'm sure Timaeus is fine,” Albedo replied still in a calm manner. You raised eyebrows at this, and your civilized moments with him are put to an end.

“What do you mean fine? He could be out there freezing to death because you made him run your errands, Albedo!”

This was the first time you called him by his name; not Chief Alchemist, not Mr. Albedo, but just Albedo. And you were pissed. Earlier you saw light that you could actually work pretty well, but now you're taking it back again. Maybe it's a little too early to conclude that, but even Eula Lawrence had more compassion than your new superior.

You stood from the ground and looked outside to see how bad it was getting, how heavy the snow was accumulating, which only worried you even more. You would voluntarily go out and find Timaeus yourself but that wouldn't be such a smart move now, would it? If anything, it's just gonna cause twice the harm. Well, at least Albedo would be the one to blame but that was far too childish and petty.

“For someone who used to lead the Recon Company you're pretty slow, it's fascinating.”

Now, what?

“Excuse me?” you retorted, not taking any of his shenanigans anymore.

“Timaeus is perfectly fine because I didn't send him out to do my "errands" in the first place,” Albedo replied, looking up at you. He put emphasis on the word errands, which only you were using against him earlier.

You didn't know whether to be relieved or be even more pissed. Though, right now, you really felt heated up, with embarrassment, disbelief, and because you felt defeated—and pissed off again. You know, maybe your Pyro Vision just symbolized your hot-headedness, too. Not that it mattered, because you believed that anyone in your situation would most likely feel the same.

But before you could say anything back, Albedo stood up and dusted his robe, before then pulling you back down to sit with him. It left you speechless, the gesture, but you just sat there anyway. There was nothing else you could do, and nowhere else you could go. Outside, the snow rages and piles up until it could melt once more, and you're here in the cave waiting for that.

“Stay closer. I'm cold,” said Albedo, which you wanted to protest against but once again was beat to it. He had already scooted closer to you, and you could feel yourself getting warmer than usual. You dismissed this as simply warmth transfer through body contact, but you were sure Albedo's clothes were thick enough to preserve warmth only to himself.

“What are you doing...” you mumbled, moving farther away from him only to be followed, making your efforts of staying away useless.

“Sorry for earlier, by the way. I didn't mean to be rude, especially to someone who I'll be working with from now on,” said Albedo.

“No, it's fine. I can just request another transfer and find you a new assistant, if that would be better,” you replied.

“Actually, when we were having our discussion earlier, I've come to realize that you're far more interesting. So, to answer that, there is no need. I'll be happy to work with you,” he said. “If, that's still alright with you.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, processing what he had just said. It almost felt as if you were talking to a whole new Albedo and you weren't sure whether it's a good or bad thing. But given your bad blood with him since your first meeting, you decided simply acknowledging him and being polite wouldn't be your response.

“Interesting? What am I now, a test subject?” you answered, which caused Albedo to panic only until he realized that you were actually just joking.

You proceeded to hold out a hand to him: “Greetings, Mr. Albedo. I'm Y/N, hope we work well together,” you said, as if a restart to your introductions.

“Well, it's nice to meet you. Today will be just a briefing, and I do also hope that we work well. I'm sure you have knowledge of alchemy prior to this?” Albedo played along, and shook your hand. You answered a yes to his question but he said nothing further than that.

Instead, he just kept his hold on your hand, only adjusting your fingers better to be more comfortable. This, means that your fingers were now intertwined, and as you were about to escape from his hold he only held your hands tighter.

“Uh...Mr. Albedo...?” you questioned.

“I'm cold,” was all that he replied.

[businessbois]

hello blue :D i would like to know everything you would like to tell me about your favourite fic you've written

lyssie shrugofgod weirdly-enough this is the kindest thing ever i hope you're ready for vaguely comprehensible ranting.

okay so i couldn't choose between two fics "once i called you brother" and "the art and (mine)craft of war" because i could talk forever about both, but im gonna talk about "once i called you brother" because its the less popular one

heres the link :)

so i basically wrote this fic because i thought that the song "the plagues" from prince of egypt (or at least the opening lines) were incredibly perfect for c!tommy and c!techno and it was a shame that no one did an animatic for it yet. i cannot draw so i just wrote a fic for it.

once i called you brother once i thought the chance to make you laugh was all i ever wanted

is that literally not tommy with techno though?

and then the rest of the song can read as like doomsday or november 16th, you know, them arguing about selfishness and betrayal and all that. the song fucking slaps.

but anyways the fic itself? the opening is inspired by how like, if you didn't know who technoblade was during the beginning of the smp, he would just be this mysterious figure of legend that tommy, wilbur, or dream occasionally talked about. it hit me during the dream v technoblade duel stuff that since techno had never been on the smp before, he was just this invisible dude with a huge reputation and that was so cool to me.

"Alrighty, I've been here before, right?"

"Listen, Techn—Dream..."

these are quotes from tommy that i quoted in the fic. i used to do this a lot, just stick quotes with no context into fics because i assumed everyone had the same precise memory of everything that went on the smp that i did. the first one is referring to tommy being surrounded by people outside the community house and "i've been here before" is him remembering a similar scenario on smpearth and therefore technoblade. the second is when he accidentally calls dream techno (about 30 seconds into this comp) again adding to techno's thing of being just this widely alluded to figure.

"Who do you think will win? My bets on our boy, Dream, but feel free to be wrong."

Niki stays quiet, a small frown on her face.

i feel bad for cutting niki absolutely owning dream with "well, techno's my friend" but it simply couldnt stay in for fic purposes

waking up to a frantic Bitzel muttering about hypothermia and something heavy and red covering his shivering frame.

smpearth is canon because i Want it to be canon and in my canon there's a moment where tommy passes out in the middle of a fight and techno brings him back to business bay wrapped up in his cape because he's technosoft and all their fighting is more like play fighting anyways

Tommy knows that love is earned. That if he does well in some Championships, then his place in the family is secured.

this is inspired by the bet that wilbur and tommy had in like mcc8 that if they placed fifth or higher tommy could be in sbi. in tommy's pov it becomes, "you have to earn your place in this family."

“Because I’m not the vice president.”

this is from one of his exile streams where he's talking to dream about why people won't visit him anymore

Tommy is 10 and too big for his boots.

this section is inspired by tommy's story of how he met techno as told in this storytime.

there is something that flickers at the back of his mind when the ratty zombie child calls him The Blade.

i think it's so incredibly special that everybody calls techno The Blade but like,, that's tommy's nickname for him. theres this moment where tommy's talking about giving techno a nickname and techno's like "you call me The Blade!' again, everybody calls techno The Blade, but he tells tommy "you call me The Blade." like i don't know how to articulate this but, that's tommy's nickname for him. they're brothers.

Tommy's been to war with soft, pale blues.

ae reference because again, smpearth is canon cuz i said

Tommy is 13 and standing over the remains of Business Bay's storage area.

this is an smpearth thing. wisp and vop did a whole grief of business bay, it was very dramatic very tragic. the thing with techno coming to business bay to talk to tommy is from this comic and i hold this headcanon close to my heart.

"Tommy, if anyone gives you trouble—and I mean serious trouble, not the kind we have—you tell me.”

Tommy hears an echo of similar words from the man who just burnt down everything he’s worked for.

"Tommy, anyone that touches you fucks with me... I will kill Techno if it takes me all of my life to prepare for it, you understand me?"

im so proud of this parallel between wisp and techno man you have no clue. okay, so like i said before, the ae versus bb thing in my head is very much like play fighting. sometimes it gets serious like the scenario which is happening in the fic where things actually get destroyed. that's because they're stubborn teenaged boys and conflicts can go from fun to actual trouble real quick. these "similar words" and the following quote are references to one of my favorite wisp moments ever. wisp, for anyone unclear on smpearth backstory, was a part of business bay before he betrayed them for the antarctic empire. he was also the one who burnt down the storage area which is why tommy's remembering this quote so bitterly.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "I pinky promise, Technoblade." He sticks out his little finger like a challenge.

the pinky promising is Canon from like the post-exile streams i think and i headcanon it as something tommy just does with people

and so this is to put context to the "using techno" thing. because i've always kinda viewed as like calling in a friend (or a big brot—[gunshot]) in for help so this part of the fic gives it the background to be like that

But then, Tommy is 16 and standing in a cataclysm, once again watching everything he’s worked for get destroyed by a man who swore to protect him.

this line solidifies that parallel to wisp where techno made a similar promise to protect tommy and now he's destroying everything tommy's worked for (business bay in wisp's case, lmanburg in techno's case) im very proud of this parallel.

His tall brown-haired friend from competitions past

wilbur of course, the competitions past being mcm

He collects titles like music discs

i asked my friend for things that people collect and they said "records" and i said "wait—"

Technoblade is 17 and he has no family. He has a friend who makes sure he sleeps. He has a friend who creates bridges and mischief. He has a bug that he still hasn't squashed.

i've always loved the idea of sbi becoming this little found family on smpearth. like they're not super lovely dovey "we're like brothers" but they're so fond of each other and they hang out when they're not pretending to be at war. and so theres still that room to say that they're not family, but like they totally are

Bright blue eyes beg him for some entertainment, so Techno sighs and grabs The Complete Works of William Shakespeare off the shelf.

this headcanon that techno used to read them shakespeare comes from wilbur's offhand comment asking techno to recite king lear to them

Wilbur's planted himself at Techno's side for the duration of the finale, something that he's grateful for. Wilbur's always been his person to lean on for things like this.

inspired by i think wilbur saying that he was techno's like designated extrovert during mcc's and i really love that aspect of their relationship. because techno is looked at as "the older brother" in so many ways, but like in this way, when wilbur's guiding him through social situations and supporting him, he gets to be wilbur soot's little brother.

Technoblade never says I love you, but he reads his baby brother The Twelfth Night instead of Hamlet and ends Theseus' tale after the Minotaur.

this was one of the first things i had written for this fic. so obviously hamlet is a tragedy while the twelfth night is a rocking good time. so like going back to that shakespeare headcanon but techno protecting tommy in the little ways. the theseus part is inspired by me not knowing the rest of theseus' story after he gets home and his dad jumps into the ocean. like the exile and death stuff i didn't hear about until the dsmp so that's where that came from. techno, even though it kind of goes against who he is, leaving theseus' story as a victory where the hero slays the monster, just to give his little brother something with a happy ending

"Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? THEN DIE LIKE ONE!"

i did always think this could be seen as like "well if you want to be a hero, then you can die like one" and leaving off the unspoken "but if you don't want to be--if you choose not to be, then you get to live. so don't be a hero. please don't be a hero." and theres like that little tragedy there that i really love in techno and tommy's relationship. like, i love you, you love me, all i ever wanted was to make you laugh, but we don't speak the same language. we don't understand each other. everything you are is against everything i stand for. so yeah bedrock bros feels. i wrote this long before exile and all that so its even more complicated now gosh.

[toraashi]

‘tis the damn season (ft. oikawa tooru)

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: angst, fluff, implications of sex (there’s no sexual dialogue, the most explicit it gets is i use the word “whimper” once but theres not even graphic descriptions like i rate this PG-13), a couple swears

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: part two to this fic. Oikawa visits for the holidays after leaving for Argentina years ago. Catching up with his old flame brings back memories and reminds him of a love lost

Author’s Note: this is inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. It’s so good, please listen to it, it’ll add so much to the story because I reference it lots :) also i’m dedicating this to @hikariakaashi bc she agreed to be my valentine this year hehe 🥰 also @u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum​ thank you for hyping this up in the discord :))

“the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you.”

"Hey, it's Tooru. I'm in town for the holidays. I'd like to see you."

The sound of his voice as the audio repeated left an unpleasant feeling in his chest. It burned like longing but twisted and lurched like nervosity, a sensation he pretended he wasn't familiar with. Oikawa wasn't a nervous person. He was a confident, suave man with the world in his hands, but for some reason, leaving a voicemail for someone this dear to him, who could see through him like glass, left a slight tremble in his fingers. 

The ding of his phone startled him, muscles growing taut. 

10:36am

It's been so long! I'd love to see you. Would 4 at that old coffee shop work?

received

Holy shit. 

It was almost embarrassing how his breath caught and his heart stuttered. It had been years, but yet here he was, hooked in with every word.

10:40am

I'll make it work 

sent

10:42am

That's a first ;) i'll see you then 

received 

The coffee shop hadn't changed much since he'd last been. The walls were still straining with the wooden roof's weight, the floor still comprised of creaky floorboards that screeched at each drag of a chair. Sparkling red and green lights decked the rafters, hanging low and casting unique shadows across the residents. The lobby was relatively empty, and he was seated quickly at a metal table near the window. The round teapoy rocked on uneven legs when he put his arms on it, but nostalgia made up for the shoddy furniture quality. The poignant smells and whispers of piano music wafted over him like a tender memory, leaving him with visions of your sunrise smile and golden touch breezing over his fingertips. Content was the next emotion that settled over him, but before he could melt too far into it, the bell on the door jingled. Chilly winter air rushed through his hair, waking him up from the dream that was the last few years and bringing him back home. In the blink of an eye, a familiar arm was pulling at the seat in front of him. It took his brain far too long to process the rosy cheeks and snow-dusted hair before him, but once he did, an infectious grin tugged at his lips.

"Long time, no see." Your gaze was cautious and guarded, and it burned holes in his euphoria. 

"Long time, no see," you repeated with a light smile, "How have you been?" 

"Ah, you know, just capturing the hearts of every person in Argentina, how are you?" That earned him a tinkling laugh, and his heart beamed at the reward. 

"I'm doing okay, just living my life." You greeted the waitress, plainly speaking your order, pausing to glance at him before ordering his old favorite. Honey hues glittered with unspoken fondness when you caught his gaze; he couldn't help it.

"You remembered my order. I feel special."

"Shut up. You are special, Mr. Pro Volleyball Player." You teased, inching your fingertips towards him on the table. It wasn't enough to be wanton, but he noticed, and he couldn't help but reciprocate. Eyes flicking to his hands and back up, that cautious glaze returned. "So, are you staying in town?" A warm hum in affirmation thrummed in his throat.

"I'm staying at my parents' house." 

"For how long?" The words seemed full, but he wasn't sure with what. 

"Just the weekend." He held your gaze like a taut string tugging you closer and closer. The air felt heavy, and his heart ached with a longing he'd suppressed for years. You opened your mouth to speak, but before anything came out, he interjected boldly. After all, what was he, if not bold? "I got your letter." Hues big and lips parted, a pink flush climbed your cheeks. If he was the same person he was years ago, he would've teased you, but now? With his heart on his sleeve and your eyes staring into his soul, how could he muster that courage up?

"And?" The single word was meek and tentative, fragile like the little bird of your unyielding love. 

"Well, for one, your attempt at scratching out the last line wasn't great." There was the teasing. He couldn't hold it back for long. 

"Shut up." You shied away from his crinkled eyes, pinker than you were when you stumbled in. God, he missed this.

"I won't." He drawled, closing the narrow distance between your fingertips and enveloping your hands like it didn't electrify his nerves. "And for the record, I missed you too." 

"Did you?" He rubbed a calloused finger across your knuckles, holding your eyes confidently. 

"How could I not miss that pretty face?" 

"Stop teasing." You pouted.

"I'm not." Pensively, you stared back at him, and he admired the furrow of your eyebrows, the puff of your pouted cheeks. Your smaller hands were quaking in his, and just as he considered laying off, you spoke a conglomeration of words that shuddered up his spine.

"Would you like to stay at mine for the night? We can catch up more? I don't want to leave you just yet." A genuine smile simmered up his lips, and he linked his fingers between yours.

"You know I can't say no to you." 

"Didn't seem like it when you left." The magic in his chest faltered at the blow, but the regret was evident in your expression. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know it was about more than me." he hummed, the affectionate graze of his thumb against your knuckles resuming. 

The conversation felt much too short, every move you made clenching his heart, brimming it with innocent nostalgia and longing. Before long, you were tugging him out the door, leading him to your apartment in a movie-worthy montage. The silver moonlight caught your hair like silk, your gossamer grip on his wrist balmy and familiar. 

"My, you're eager." When you glanced back, your eyes sparkled like the sequins on your prom getup from so many years ago. 

"Is it stupid that I missed you so much?" The way his heart caught in his throat was almost painful. Chest aching, he concluded that this was what happiness felt like, a hummingbird flutter he'd never find in the falsities of fame. You, who knew him like the muddy road to your secret high-school hangout spot, looked ethereal beneath the moon's knowing smile. As you approached the door, he couldn't help but dip his toes into the subdued desire he'd grown to ignore. 

Your chest pressing into his, your back to the door, his fingertips firm against your waist, and finally, the brush of your reposeful kiss against his needy lips, it left him with frantic desperation clawing up his body. You broke away with a similar gleam tucked into your gaze like a secret just for him. Swinging the door open and fumbling with your jacket, you found your place in his arms again, a mutual craving for a love that was cut so short.

He did many things that night he'd only remembered in dreams, his frame pressing your familiar figure into the bed, lips tracing every line of your silhouette, the dips and curves in your skin, sealing each forgotten memory in an envelope for him to read later. Just for tonight, he'd bask in your entirety, the glow of your smile, the whimpers that spilled past your pretty lips, everything that was purely you. When everything was done and gone, the flaxen glow of your lamplight flickering out, you pulled him into your arms, twirling the chocolate strands of his hair, breathing in his adoration, your own lulling him into a long-awaited, dream-filled slumber. He dreamed of his past self getting lost in the empty arms of another, the void carved out by your existence impossible to fill. He dreamed of the life he'd lead if he'd remained in your embrace, waking up to you every morning instead of cold sheets. 

He awoke with the December sun, your bare skin blinding in the morning's glow. Glancing at the red numbers on your nightstand, he stretched his arms. It was almost ten, but the warmth of your body reeled him back in like a fishing pole, his mouth splattering kisses across your visage like freckles. Swelling with delight, he collected you into his arms, setter's fingers revisiting the map he drew on your body like the ink was still drying, greeting you with a grin as your eyes lolled open. 

"Morning, babe." Oikawa scanned the love-struck expression painting your features, the scrunch of your nose, the quirk of your lips; he inhaled it like it was his last breath, coming to terms with the time and its draining sand. Raising a lone finger, he followed the shape of your jawline, locking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Sleep well?" You neglected to respond, searching his gaze. 

"If this is the last time I ever see you, I want you to know that I've always loved you, and I won't ask you to stay." The last grain of sand in the hourglass tumbled through the glass gap, the alarm clock on your nightstand beeping abruptly, stealing Oikawa's breath. 

And as he looked upon your effervescent figure, shattering his own battered heart at the realization, Oikawa decided the road not taken never looked more appealing than now.

[whatisgoingonpaul]

My ideas of past David -

A ramble headcannon sort of thing , and images

So to anyone who knows me or follows this blog knows how much I talk about pre vampirism boys and the never to be prequel. How I made designs , redid designs for how I think they’d look and I have the revision au fic where I write them more as they were when human. I made a post on this a little bit how my past/human David would straight up be keifers charecter in young guns, that was purely from a appearance standpoint but now that I’ve seen the film... holy shit it’s just past David. Let me explain

Prequel-

So the prequel is 1906 San Francisco/ Santa Carla blah blah I talked about this way to much the script is flawed but I love the film(if you want the link I got it-). I think the scitpt is also very young guns inspired and was said to be as its a buncha young boys speaking in the “I don’t know nothin’” speak and stealing etc. Doc is David If he could actually shoot his fucking gun

Shoutout to David being the only one of them to have a weapon and he can’t shoot to LITERALLY save his life, the one time he can shoots it’s god damn Dracula and everyone dies because of it. Thanks David.

He’s a lot more gentle in the prequel and also a extreme softie to the point he falls in love so hard within 2-3 days he asks the lady to be his girl.

My idea on past David and how it kinda lines up -

I swear I never once knew of this film before I discovered it via mutrals a few days ago but I swear, appearance wise it’s how I see David. His hair is longer, naturally darker and it’s not like he has a place to shave so that too. Always a liking to leather and dramatic overcoats. These soft eyes that are somewhere between I’m sorry and I love you.

Human David I see as a lot more open to emotion, he has his boys and nothing else. He doesn’t want to live like he does but he has to , he’s sorry but hey what can you do? Them or us. There’s not really a choice in anything no matter how much he wants to push for it, he’s thinking for the other boys, constantly.. how they get out, how they keep more money then they have to steal etc. At the same time there’s a part of him who just wants to leave, somewhere, anywhere. He doesn’t have to kill anyone , thank god, so at least that part of his morals is not constantly put into question. Yet.

David and love had never been a simple thing, he is the kind of guy to tell you “ I love you” even if not in those words, from the moment uou first meet and he means it. He is one of those at first sight kind of people, give him a kind young woman or a cowboy and he is GONE. He’s had relationships and they all end horrifically for some reason or another and half the Time it’s not his fault like she’ll say I Love you but a earthquake happens that god damn moment levels of bad luck. They theres Micheal ... who fucking kills him so no luck for love even undead.

He is gentle yes, but he’s not so soft to the point he doesn’t have a brain. Like I said he’s always thinking and planning and worrying , for threats such as jail and gangs. He’s not above attitude, he’s sarcastic and petty and blunt, if he doesn’t like you... you will know.

Again it scares me how much Doc looks and acts like my idea of past David. So looks 100% gonna model... soft pretty boy smh. If I didn’t follow the 1906 idea I would still see David having been turned around the same time, maybe make him a little older and it having been in 1880s- 1890s? Who knows

should i do a ramble thing like this for the other boys?? Just headcannons and rambles about they were?

[grapesodatozier]

2020 top 5

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

i was tagged by @tinyarmedtrex !! thank you sm!!

okay so these are all about mike wheeler lmao which tbh is very indicative of the kinda year 2020 was, really just clinging to my favorite comfort character and all of my aus for him for dear life lmao. like i really tried to switch it up but tbh all my best writing is about mike which tracks lol

1. Milk and Honey - wheelzier

I am so proud of myself for how far I’ve gotten in this so far, like ive got an outline and everything?? who am i?? im really proud of my writing and my planning and how much writing i got done in whats a short amount of time for me lol. i wrote this when i had no job and no classes and was feeling v untethered, but @mikewheelerr is an angel and hyped this fic up so much and gave me to motivation to start it and keep with it, so thank you!! i wrote the first 8 chapters at the picnic table in my backyard every day for the last four weeks of my summer vacation, and it was honestly such a special experience. i love these characters and this ship and this story sm and im so excited to keep it going in 2021!! extra thank you to joy bc fr you are so amazing and this fic exists bc of you so thank you thank you thank you <333

2-4 are a trio of mike wheeler high school au pining fics that i banged out consecutively every other day at the end of july?? not sure what i was going through then, think folklore had just come out based on the titles, but whatever the inspiration was im proud of the end results lol so in order of publishing:

2. I Knew You’d Haunt All of My What-Ifs - madwheeler

this is a concept i’d been wanting to write for a while and it is in fact inspired by a real life encounter between me and my boyfriend a few months before we started dating lol so this one’s near and dear to my heart. also im proud of the characterizations here for both of them. and im proud of the setting/atmosphere. also i love mike acting all fussy but not hesitating before helping someone he cares about. madwheeler is a great ship for bittersweet pining lol it works so well for them and i really like the way it turned out here

3. nerd charming - mileven

horrendous title lmao but that’s probably just bc i was so excited to post it bc its so!! cute!! if i do say so myself lol. there is nothing that makes me happier than mileven fluff and this is just them being nerds in english class and having crushes on each other, its pure fluff but i love imagining el in an au and picturing what traits she would still have and what would be different. also both of them being awkward and sweet and nervous around each other, ugh just cute little crushes on each other ): they’re the sweetest ):

4. A Million Little Times - wheelclair

i!! love!! wheelclair!! god they know each other so well, we love that best friends to lovers with the angst and the inevitable fluff. i think this was my first time writing for them but im honestly so happy with the way it turned out, i think i captured their dynamic well while putting a romantic twist on it that feels natural. also im once again v happy with my characterizations. ugh i just love writing about mike working through his feelings and being a dramatic asshole lol. also p proud of the dialogue? i feel like staying true to characters’ voices is one of the hardest things about fanfic and i like to think i did a pretty okay job of it with this fic

5. If These Walls Could Talk - wheelzier

if i could choose a brand to have it would be friends to lovers smut with confessions and fluff that also gets a little kinky lmao. fr i love this fic sm, it’s like a speedrun of my two favorite tropes combined (friends w benefits and fake relationship) since they fake fuck as ~buds~ but then the tension breaks and tbh i love it lol like i said these are my two favorite characters to write, i love them, and i loved writing the banter. I love the fluffy ending with a touch of humor. i love the intimacy and the tension. i love how ridiculous the premise is lmao im so proud of this setup. also theres at least one joke about mike listening to mcr in there which will never not be funny to me lol

as usual i was super late on this lol so im p sure everyone i can think of has already done this, but if you haven’t please do and please tag me!! <3

[shelly-ah]

MDZS / CQL FIC RECS 1ST BATCH

Wei Wuxian Must Die by Clarissa_23 on Ao3

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Relationship:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Qǐrén

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

some OCs - Character

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Additional Tags:

Crack

Overprotective Uncles

Teenage Wangxian

do not take this seriously

Fluff

Published: 2019-04-25 Words: 12.690 Chapters: 11/11

Summary:

Lan Qiren will do everything to protect his innocent nephew from the purple beast.

Even if he has to break every rule of Cloud Recesses in doing so.

—————

Or Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji get together at fifteen, the Lans are very overprotective, Wei Wuxian is blissfully oblivious, Lan Wangji is enjoying his first romance while Papa Lan enjoys the show.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596743/chapters/44087482?hide_banner=true

More under the cut!

How to Keep Your Diplomatic Asset Close (and Your Wei Ying Closer) by His Excellency by misscam on Ao3

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationships:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Characters:

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Lán Qǐrén

Niè Huáisāng

Additional Tags:

Getting Together

Fluff

Smut

Humor

CQL!verse

some inspiration from the novel

Published: 2019-12-15 Words: 4.976 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“Uncle considers Wei Ying a diplomatic asset,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Wuxian boggles at that. Lan Qiren considers him what? “Very determined I keep Wei Ying close for the rest of the conference.”

“An asset?” Wei Wuxian repeats. “Your uncle considered me an asset – to you?”

“Mn.”

“Maybe he thought I’d make it less boring for you, haha,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment, still slightly baffled, but finding the idea of staying close to Lan Zhan a far too enticing prospect to question it further.

(In which Lan Qiren considers Wei Wuxian a diplomatic asset His Excellency should keep close, Wei Ying wants to be kissed, touched and ravished breathless, Lan Zhan may enjoy himself a great deal, Nie Huaisang might be making an attempt at amends, and in the end, Lan Xichen ends up feeling not the least bit guilty.)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21806002

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Wei Wuxian’s Kidnapping Back and Forth Farce (Starring Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji) by misscam on Ao3

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationships:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags:

Humor

CQL!verse

some novel inspiration

Switching

Published: 2019-09-01 Words: 5.554 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Truly, only Wei Wuxian could manage to get himself into a kidnapping back and forth farce. Jiang Cheng just wants to mend things. Lan Zhan just wants to start things. Neither is willing to let the other have the last say when it comes to Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian... Well. He’d rather like to have both a (to-be) husband and a brother, actually. (Or in which Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji kidnap Wei Wuxian back and forth until Wei Wuxian has had it.)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478974

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The (Several) Convenient Kidnappings of the Chief Cultivator by the Yiling Patriarch by misscam on Ao3

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationship:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Niè Huáisāng

Additional Tags:

Humor

Spoilers

mush of series and novel

some adult action

Switching

Published: 2019-08-15 Words: 3.920 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“Yes, Clan Leader Jiang. It is most regrettable, but the Yiling Patriarch has once again kidnapped His Excellency. However, we have every confidence in His Excellency’s safe eventual return.”

“Of course you do,” Jiang Cheng says bitterly. “You get a more agreeable Chief Cultivator, and everyone is happy, right? You are all so happy the Yiling Patriarch kidnaps the Chief Cultivator on a regular basis. How can you not delight in the fact that Wei Wuxian has no shame and is revered for it? Aren’t you all thrilled, thrilled, that Lan Wangji is such good friends with Wei Wuxian that they spend so many friendly nights together and His Excellency returns like a lovesick fool afterwards and is so conveniently more agreeable?”

“…”

“I hate you all,” Jiang Cheng declares and stomps off.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256982?view_adult=true

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Blue Blood Series by PotterheadAvengerDemigod on Ao3

Words: 81.971 Works: 18 Complete: No

Summary (made by me; not official!):

A Series of events in a world where the a/b/o dynamics exist and Wei Ying shared a heat with Lan Zhan during his time as Yiling Laozu, having a child as a result.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1200298

-----

i won’t let you down (give me what i need) by orphan_account on Ao3

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories:

Gen

M/M

Relationships:

Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Additional Tags:

Lan Zhan & Jiang Cheng are just mentioned

also hints at Lan Zhan/Wei Ying

honestly I had no specific time period for when this takes place in my head

so u can just decide when this happens lol

Wei Ying is the closest thing to a somewhat motherly type figure imo

and I just think them getting along is so important

Published: 2018-12-24 Words: 2.593 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Jin Ling unknowingly craves a motherly type figure. Wei Ying wishes to make up for his past misdeeds.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129681

-----

A Start on How by misscam on Ao3

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationships:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngī

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Alternate Universe - College/University

Published: 2019-08-26 Words: 7.250 Chapters: 6/6

Summary: 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. His heart is racing. “Wei Ying, look at me.”

Wei Ying pauses at the door and closes his eyes, so Lan Wangji gets out of bed, walks up to him, turns him around and pins him against the door.

“Wei Ying,” he says again. “How do I feel about you?”

Wei Ying opens his eyes, and his gaze turns from sad to hopeful as he takes in Lan Wangji’s ragged breath, his parted lips, the flush to his ears, the look in his eyes.

“How,” Lan Wangji says again.

(Or five times Wei Ying stayed over at Lan Zhan’s, and one time he just stayed.)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405866

-----

Long John by hasu on Ao3

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationship:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags:

Crack

Fluff and Crack

I literally cannot write anything without some crack. or fluff. both.

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

POV Outsider

Wifi is charged for willful obliviousness

Alternate Universe - College/University

theres actually very little college life in this ahahaha

its just wifi being dumb in the eyes of an outsider

Published: 2018-12-06 Words: 3.796 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: 

William’s new roommate at university is...interesting. He’s studying abroad from China, is very loud and friendly, and is constantly talking about someone named “Long John.” Okay, well, that’s probably not his name. But at this point, he’s too embarrassed to ask.

(Or, in any universe, someone will be sick of Wi-Fi's shit and tell him to get together with Lan Zhan already)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873797

-----

from me to you by Ceta on Ao3

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Relationship:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Jiāng Yànlí

Jīn Zǐxuān

Additional Tags:

Social Media

outsider pov

Fluff

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

indulgent fic i wrote impulsively

Published: 2018-11-27 Words: 14.612 Chapters: 13/13

Summary: 

Wei Too Cool ✓ @wei-wuxian correct me if i’m wrong but i’m pretty sure that’s a love song @LanWangJi #AtFirstSight

Or; Three-time Golden Globe recipient Wei WuXian and seven-time Grammy award recipient Lan WangJi’s love story through the eyes of the internet.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759042

----- 

But we made no sign, we said no word (we had no word to say) by Babyoonie on Ao3

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Relationships:

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters:

Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī

Lán Jǐngyí (brief)

Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī (mentioned)

Additional Tags:

Reconciliation

Brothers

Brotherly Love

Jiang Cheng can finally talk

Jiang Cheng is better with emotions

Fluff

slight angst

Overuse of italics

overuse of hyphens

overuse of commas

POV Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín

POV Outsider

i dont know what else to tag

Wei Ying is a teacher in Cloud Recesses

They do actually talk

A little

despite what the title might suggest

take a shot at every 'Jiang Cheng'

Hopeful Ending

Cloud Recesses (Módào Zǔshī)

Published: 2020-02-23 Words: 2.652 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He scolds himself for coming internally. What was he thinking? Even if he hadn't seen Wei Wuxian in weeks, in months, that doesn't mean that he has to personally visit him at his new home under the pretense of business with someone else - and even just thinking "new home" leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Because would it have been if he hadn't rejected him? Would he still have left, still have chosen Lan Wangji over his own brother, still have chosen the Sect he used to despise for its three thousand rules?

Yes, his mind whispers, traitorously.

or: Jiang Cheng visits the Cloud Recesses and finally gains the ability to say what he means.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868278

[whorphydice]

The stars too they tell of spring returning- Orphydice Hadestown Fix it Fic no-one asked for

Well y’all I’m BACK With content no-one wanted. This time, 10 pages of angst filled fix it fic. Woo. 

And of course theres a baby. Why not.

Shoutout to @bakedbeans-orpheus and @hollywoodx4 who have heard my angst for DAYS about this fic and this verse. Ily guys. @hollywoodx4 deserves a ton of the credit for putting the image of the “finale with this verse” in my head. This is for you two who deal with me. 

Here goes nothing on the angst train

It’s a sad song

“Will it be okay.. Will it live, Hades?” Stone faced and teary eyed, she is unwavering as she asks. Looking him dead in the face, unblinking. “Persephone did she ever-”

“I don’t know, girl.” He shakes his head, eyes blinking from paperwork to her face and for yet another time in the months they knew each other doubt scattered across his features. “Noone has ever been born in Hadestown.”

Feelings. Emotions. Something she thought she would forget in Hadestown. Yet suddenly a wave of something like grief and fierce unyielding love washed through her. “Can I send her up with Persephone, at the end of winter, can she take her to Orpheus-”

“I don’t know, Eurydice. I don’t know.” Not knowing was a weakness, one he did not like to show. Yet this girl, she deserved the truth. And that truth was unknown. “Take care of yourself, stay off the line. We’ll go from there.” 

It’s a sad tale

Fall came and so did Persephone, who could tell things were wrong in the air. They were going to try, he was going to wait. And when he greeted her off the train with his usual kiss and a tight squeeze of her hands, she expected the worst.

“Hades what is it, what’s wrong.” 

“It’s the girl. You.. you need to see her.” He said briefly, linking his arm with hers and walking her through the town. He needed her to see his improved conditions. Changes he made for her. For them 

The workers had time off and reasonable shifts. Camaraderie on the lines. Other work, rather than just the line and the wall. Things were improving in Hadestown. 

 Improving for all but one. 

Hades stopped them infront of a small building, with a single flight up stairs up the front. “Go up. She’ll be excited to see you.

It’s a tragedy.

“Oh, honey.” Her stomach dropped the second she busted into the apartment, her bag all but dropping to her feet.

Eurydice was there, of course. Sitting in the bed, back to the wall. And like a song bird, she sang. The softest voice singing a melody of love- the very melody that brought the world back into tune. 

“Spring came for us down here too- Her name’s Ophelia.” Eurydice said, no need for prompting. “She looks like him, don’t you think?” In truth, no. Persephone could see nothing but Eurydice in the baby, from Dark hair to her nose. “She’s sleepin’ but she’s got the prettiest hazel eyes.” She cooed, not even looking at the goddess.  “And you’re gonna take her to him, if you can.”

“I- what? How old is she, darlin, I couldn’t take this little baby from her mama.” Persephone kneeled at the bedside, running a hand over Eurydice’s short hair. 

“She has to go, He’ll love her. He’ll love her more than anything. And she deserves better than this. She deserves springtimes and ice cream and her father.” She finally snapped her head up, eyes ringed with puffy red skin. Tears. How many had she shed over this little girl.  “She’s two weeks old. Ashame, really. I thought I could wait until you got down here to have her. She has her own agenda, it seemed.”

Ophelia was spring time. This happy, smiley little girl who the workers loved. Who brought Eurydice’s singing to town. She would tell persephone later, about how they banded together for her. How they took over her work for her, and helped her when she was too weak to move. 

“I didn’t think she’d make it, Seph. I felt her moving and kicking in there and I was sure.. I was so sure” Her voice broke in her throat as more tears pooled in her eyes. “Living things don’t survive in Hadestown. But here she is. An anomaly I guess.”

Anomaly. Just like her mother. And her father. 

“He’s going to love her.”

“And you don’t?” It wasn’t a question. It was just a fact. She could love her enough, Persephone believed that.

“I love her too much to keep her from him.”

It’s a sad song

“She can go, can’t she?”

“Ophelia? Yes. Most likely.” It was an unforeseen situation. But he owned everything in hadestown- and Ophelia he did not.  He sighed and looked away from her, unable to face the disappointment. “Eurydice, no. Not yet. I’m trying. I’m looking for a loophole. I can’t stomach it.”

She cut him off with a kiss, and a gentle hand on his cheek. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He wasn’t a monster, he wanted to scream to the world. To Eurydice. To Orpheus, who saved his marriage and ended his own. 

She’s coming, poet. Give her time.

But we sing it, anyway.

The only sound at that train station were sobs. Hopeless, never ending sobs from a young woman on her knees, too weak to stand. 

“Tell her how much I love her.” She begged Persephone, as the only thing she had left to go on for was taken from her. “And him. Tell him I love him and I forgive him and that she is the most important thing to me.” It was barely coherent as it stumbled out of her mouth through gasping sobs. 

She was shaking the last time she kissed her daughter’s head, prying the baby’s fingers from around the strap of her overalls. “I love you more than spring, sunshine.” Eurydice swore, letting out another gasping sob as Ophelia reached for her, little lip quaking. She was an empathetic baby, much like her dad. She felt everything her mother did. “Give your daddy a kiss for me, yeah?” 

The train whistle blew impatiently as Persephone looked between Eurydice and the train, Ophelia becoming fussy in her arms. 

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” The heartbreak ripped through everyone in the vicinity, and Persephone couldn’t help but doubt if this was the best thing for everyone involved. Eurydice, especially. 

“Please, take her. Take her.” Eurydice whimpered, wiping at her eyes. “Take her and tell her how much I will always love her.” It was harder than selling her soul and leaving Orpheus.  It was harder than anything she had ever done and would ever do again. 

Persephone offered the most sympathetic smile she could as she boarded the train, the baby in her arms whimpering loudly. “I know, honey, I know.”

Hermes locked eyes with her the second she boarded, and something caught in his throat as she locked eyes with him. “Yeah brother, it’s what you think.”

As she took the seat by the window, Ophelia banged her tiny fists against the glass. “Ma?” She asked softly, before breaking out into crocodile tears. “Ma.”

“I know darlin, your mama wants you too.”

The sight of Eurydice on her knees sobbing as the train pulled away, workers gathering to help her up, is one that will haunt Persephone forever.

The sound of screams as Eurydice said goodbye to her daughter, knowing she would never see her again, will stay with Persephone every day of her life. 

On a sunny day there was a railroad car and a lady stepping off a train

Noone was ready that day, when Persephone’s train rolled up. Dozens of people flocked to see her, to give thanks. But when the door opened, the world stood still. The crowd went silent. 

Silence, as Persephone approached the boy. The boy who hadn’t sang in months. Who’s permanent smile was replaced with something like indifference. 

“Lady Persephone, I didn’t know you had a-”

“Shh, Poet.” And in a moment, the world shifted again. The crowd remained silent, with eyes only on the poet and green clad woman in the center. Without finishing her though, she deposited the whimpering baby in his arms, pressing a hand to his face. 

“Her name is Ophelia, and her mama forgives you.” 

If he hadn’t held something so precious, he would have collapsed. He vaguely remembers his heart racing and the feeling like someone was holding him under water. 

“I...she..Eurydice?” He squeaked, arms shaking as he finally looked at the baby. Dark hair, chubby little cheeks, the sweetest little face. If Eurydice was the world in his arms, Ophelia was the universe. 

“Not yet, poet. He’s tryin’” She assured, pulling her hand from his face. “She’s a fighter, that one. She’ll come home to you.”

She couldn’t tell him, that Eurydice made her peace with never seeing her daughter again. 

Every body looked, and everybody saw that spring had come again

Orpheus sang for the first time that night. The six month old wrapped against his chest in one of Persephone’s summer scarves. He picked up a guitar and sang of love. Love for a girl far away, and love for a much smaller girl nestled safely in the crook of his arm. 

Orpheus loved easily, and Ophelia was easy to love. It took effort, to learn how to care for a baby so quickly. But with lessons from Persephone, he was doing his best. And that was what he owed Ophelia and Eurydice both. 

That first night, when he held her in his arms and paced infront of the window, a sky full of stars the only source of light. 

In his free hand was a picture, the only one he had, the only one of value. 

“Her name is Eurydice, and she loves you endlessly. And I promise, I’m not gonna fail you, i’m not gonna let you down, like I did her.”

With a love song

“She hasn’t spoken in months.” Hades told her, the second she came home that winter. “I don’t know if she has a voice anymore.”

Her singing was missed in the mines. Her joy that Ophelia brought the workers. The hope she inspired. Without Ophelia Eurydice gave up.

Eurydice had no reason to hold on to herself anymore, as far as she was concerned. 

“How is the boy? And Ophelia?” He inquired, linking arms with her yet again, as he had done a year prior. 

What he wasn’t expecting were the sounds of sobs, held back in her throat.

“He’s trying so hard, Hades. But she wasn’t ready to leave Eurydice. He’s trying so hard but winter’s coming- they aren’t going to survive a winter like this.” It was horribly poetic. Eurydice sending her daughter for a better life, only to be reunited a year later in death. 

“DO we tell her?” 

“There’s nothing she can do.”

With a love song

Hades was enraged, to say the least. 

Somewhere between a desk destroyed and papers tossed into a furnace, he found himself on the ground, palms in his eyes.

Orpheus saved the world. Brought his love back to him. And he couldn’t even do the same for him. 

It had been months since Persephone returned. Over half a year since Eurydice gave up her daughter, hope, and the will to fight. 

Days since Hermes sent the message. Orpheus was dying. He’d need a ticket. 

Somewhere between papers in the furnace and getting off of the ground, he had her called in. 

He called the girl to his destroyed office, where flames ate the papers she signed many months ago.

“You’re free to leave.”

She didn’t speak, simply looked up. And for the first time since ophelia was taken topside, he saw something in the girl spark. 

“The contract..it’s burned. Gone. Invalidated, actually. Ophelia wasn’t on the contract. She’s an extenuating circumstance. You’re free to go, if you want.” He paused. “But you need to know something.”

She knew it was too good to be true, and the way she shook in her spot revealed that. “Know what?” Her throat screamed, it was like razors sliding over the delicate folds controlling her voice. 

“The boy. He isn’t doing well. Neither is Ophelia, i’m afraid. You can go be with them, be a source of comfort if you wish. Or you can wait here, for them to arrive on the train.”

Eurydice can’t remember feeling pain when her knees met the marble, and the blood drained from her skin. “They’re dying?” She croaked out, hand grasping over her heart. 

“They’re...unwell. The weather is cruel to them. And Ophelia is just so young.. The odds are not favoring them.” There was no use in lying to her. Not now. 

“But they could make it?” She asked quietly, hope in her heart for the last time.

“They could. Should I send for a train?” It was a peace offering. A train and freedom, to get home. 

Eurydice nodded, scrambling to her feet frantically. “Mr. Hades.. Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything.” She was practically out the door when he spoke again. 

“Get to the station. And Eurydice?” She turned to face the man speaking. “Since your contact was invalid, here is back pay for all the months you worked on my line. You’re going to need it.”

With a love song

The train ride was longer than she remembered. Alone on a train out of hell gives one a lot of time to wallow. 

She thought of Orpheus, with his million watt smile and gift for words.

She thought of Ophelia, who wouldn’t know who she was.

She thought of how she would lose them both, but was acting as the comfort Orpheus deserved.

She thought of him. 

With a tale of love from long ago

The train station was empty, as one would expect for winter. 

Empty except for a man in a silver suit, with a blanket over his arm and a solemn smile on his face. 

“Girl, come on lets get out of the cold.”

He half carried her home. Months of abuse of her own body- not caring for it, not eating, not sleeping- made standing hard and walking near impossible. She leaned heavily on him for support, the winter storm around them making things somehow worse.

She decided now, to voice her fear. “How bad is it, Hermes?”

When he remained steadfast and silent, she knew better than to press on. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

He brought her home. To the house she didn’t expect Orpheus to have. He unlocked the door for her, kissing her temple before stepping away. 

“He waited for you. For this moment.”

It’s a sad song.

She limped through the house, a draft from somewhere chilling to her bones. She caught a glimpse of her reflection- she looked more like bones and paper skin than herself nowadays. Eurydice wondered to herself, what Orpheus would think, when she heard the wheezy breathing in the back room.

With apprehension, she approached the door, swallowing to lubricate her brittle throat before trying. “Orpheus?” She called out, before she limped into the room and locked eyes with him.

But we keep singing even so.

“Eurydice?” The frame under the blankets whispered out, before the sound of crying filled the room. “Eurydice...god no...I’m so sorry Eurydice.” Orpheus was lanky before. But now? Now he was broken. Thin face, lost shine in his eyes. If she hadn’t known to look for it, she never would have seen the impossibly little bundle of blankets on his chest, far too small to house the fifteen month old baby she imagined in her dreams. 

“Orpheus, it’s me… why...why are you sorry?” Eurydice climbed into the bed, taking his face in her hands frantically. 

“You’re here. That means I’m dead doesn’t it? I failed you again. I took her to protect her, you wanted me to protect her, and I failed. I failed and i’m dead and she must be dead and-”

She grabbed his hand, and placed his palm against the center of his chest. “Orpheus, honey, i’m here. I’m alive and i’m here. He let me go- it’s not important right now. What matters is i’m right here, and you’re alive.” 

Unable to wait anymore she leaned down to kiss him, the contact of his lips igniting a fire in her that had long since gone out. “I’m here, and you aren’t leaving me. I just got back, you don’t get to go yet.” Eurydice pulled his upper body into her lap, and stroked his hair, draping Hermes’ blanket over him. “We’re going to be okay.”

It’s an old song

He cried into her thigh, words of love and endless apology. Of hopeful future and the life they would share. Before long she was beside him, head on his chest listening to the steady, albeit weak heart beat.

Alive. Alive. Alive. 

They could have forever, now, so long as they made it through this winter. She was sure of it. 

Her sweet, sweet husband. And their daughter. Ophelia. 

“I know she won’t remember but Orpheus can I-” He was too far sleeping, his arms wound around her so she couldn’t disappear. 

She decided for herself, to take the little blanket wrapped bundle from his chest.

And we’re gonna sing it again and again

It was like her heart restarted in that moment, when this tiny, whimpering little girl looked at her. The whimpering, she knew, was a sign of obvious pain in her daughter, and she knew then that she’d go to hadestown and back to end her pain for her.

For a moment it felt like forever and yet no time at all had passed since she held her. She wasn’t terribly bigger, which was concerning enough. 

It was like the world fell back into tune for Eurydice alone, when she got to look at this baby she would fight the world for. “Hey sunshine, I know you don’t know who I am, but i love you more than springtime.” She cooed, holding her against her chest. Ophelia’s fingers curled around the strap of her shirt, like they had so many times when she was a new infant still. Muscle memory, she supposed. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything in there to feed you this time. I’m sorry i’m not-” Hours topside and she already felt this rush of failure. Her baby, asking for something she couldn't give anymore. 

It was a moment she’ll never forget of course, when Ophelia relaxed with her head against her heart. When her baby stopped her whimpering because she had her mother. 

When her daughter, with what little strength she had, smiled at her and just breathes out “mama” into her skin. 

Of course, Orpheus would never let her forget.

It’s a long journey out of hadestown and it’s a long journey out of the dark. Eurydice knew though, in those moments, that they could make any journey together. The three of them. 

[charmspoint]

5 works tag game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Thanks for tagging me @scarletrain1724, sorry I ended up procrastinating this a tad ;;; This year i returned to writing fanfiction so its a bittersweet year for me, sweet cuz hey im writing again and it feels great! But bitter because theres still this feeling of ‘I could do better’. Still there’s some things I’m proud of this year and I hope the next I’ll write even more and get even better. Now in no particular order.

1. Lio Fotia: Unextinguished 

So fun story, me and my brother watched Promare this year, way after the initial hype happened and while the movie itself didn’t blow me out of water I ended up loving Lio a lot. So I wrote this fic in an hour and a half and posted it immediately with barely a proof read at like 3 am or something like that. That itself tells you it’s not the most polished of fics and it displays my biggest bad habits loud and proud, there are whole paragraphs in there that are only one sentence that runs on and on and on. It is my writing and it’s rawest, in a moment of inspiration and too late at night. I should probably edit it at some point to pretty it up, but I’m kind of fond of it’s raw status as you would be fond of an ugly kitten. 

2. Molotov 

I mostly did this one to be able to apply to Metamorphos DabiHawks zine and just by getting me in it went above and beyond what I expected. But it was also a work I tried in a new atmosphere in, one that I kinda wanna figure out how to use more because I enjoy it so much when I read it in other peoples work. It’s a snapshot fic and I might return to it and develop it’s story in the future and I might not, but I’m pretty happy with what it is right now. 

3. The suffocating quality of your dying breaths (And the effect they had on me)

Better known as the Chuuya fic. I had the idea for this fic while i was in bed and then got up and written the entire idea out in a oneshot in like a few hours. I was almost gonna post that but then i was like ‘wait i could do better’ and so I expanded that 2.3k long drabble into the whole fic. I still think i could have done better in some parts and that the characterization is a bit off since this was my return to the fandom, but its still dear to my heart and I think it ended up about how i wanted it to. It was also one of the thing that helped me get back into Bungou as well as made me wanna write more Bungou fics so theres that.

4. Red String of Death

My DabiHawks tragic romance fic that was quite a wild ride. I almost gave up on it at one point, thinking its too dull and boring but than I got a beta to read it and she really liked it, returning my inspiration for the fic tenfold (this is why chapter three is longest, cuz I wrote it after my beta read the first two and left her comments). It ended up pretty good and I’m really proud of it, especially since I’ve gotten a lot of positive interaction on it and even art that’s unrelated to the bang. It still feels a little surreal that people are actually building little theories and headcanons on my fic, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that kind of interaction with my fisc before. Of course with the attention comes the imposter complex and I once again end up worrying and scolding myself for not making the fic longer or not explaining some stuff well enough. One day I’ll write a fic I’m truely happy with ;;;

5. My thesis

I don’t got any other works I’m super proud of but I did finish my thesis this year and I think that’s worth celebrating. It was on topic of ‘Asexuality and the tendency to enter romantic relationships’ (Translated from croatian, I kinda ended up regreting the wording i chose since it doesn’t translate well what I mean in croatian to english ;;;) I poured my blood, sweat and tears into this goddamn thing and encountered every problem possible from uncooperative professor to unresponsive sites, faulty translations and my own many dumb failings. But it did got done in the end and I did get 5/5 so you know what I did well, can’t wait to suffer all over again next year 

Almost forgot to tag people hjbjhbhj Imma do @viiyverns-den and @autumn-foxfire and honestly anyone who wants in on this

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through V

Chapter: 5/16

Rating: M (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Despite what John had suggested, Ringo didn't go back to The Helter Skelter the following week; he'd considered it when John sent him yet another late night text but ultimately decided it wasn't the best idea. Spike had been playing on his mind daily and Ringo wasn't sure he was prepared to face him again. Instead he focused on his drumming and searched for a few more students to teach, which were fairly easy to find. Usually Ringo enjoyed his time off, he understood he was lucky that he didn't have to work a 9-5 job just to get by, but recently he wanted his fill his time up as much as possible, to distract himself.

One of his new students seemed incredibly interested in him, they'd spent an hour just chatting in his living room before they'd even moved over to the drum kit. Ringo wasn't too fussed, he was getting paid by the hour so wasting time was beneficial to him but he didn't want to give the guy the wrong impression. He was a little bit older and attractive enough but Ringo simply wasn't interested.

"Why didn't you just go for it?" John had asked him when they next met up.

"I dunno..." Ringo mumbled, but a part of him knew very well.

He'd given the guy another lesson since then and it became clear that the guy's interest in him wasn't going away any time soon. Ringo felt bad about the whole thing, wasn't he just doing exactly what Spike was doing to him? He tried to act as professional as possible the second time around in attempt to get the guy to back off, considering he hadn't heard from him since he was hoping it had worked. What was wrong with him? Was he really going to make himself suffer like this all because of one guy? And not just any guy, a stripper who had shown absolutely no interest in him at all. It was ridiculous, he kept telling himself, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had to get over Spike, he would still think about him every day without fail. Trying to distract himself with clients had been working somewhat, but it had been difficult, especially when his best friend was John Lennon.

       youre gonna love me

The text came through when Ringo was sat in a café getting some lunch. He'd finished with one of his younger students, a sweet girl who's parents had tried to convince her to try a more 'ladylike' instrument but she had promised only to give up the drums if she was awful; much to her delight, and Ringo's for being able to prove the stereotypical parents wrong, she was pretty good. Seeing her always put Ringo in a good mood, the parents mostly stayed away partly due to the noise but mostly due to disappointment, which meant they could joke around together. Ringo could tell she admired him and he welcomed it gladly, one of the best things about teaching was inspiring others, at least for him it was.

        do i not already?

        well yes         but youre gonna love me EVEN more

        what have you done

        well i happened to stop by the club last night

        oh god what did you do

        wow is that how little you trust me

        can you blame me

        suppose not         ANYWAY i got talking to paulie

        surprise surprise

        do you want the good news or not???

        fine fine sorry

        AS I WAS SAYING i was talking to paulie         and he told me that your special little someone has an onlyfans account

        first of all fuck you for calling him that         second of all wtf is onlyfans

        oh sorry i didnt realise you werent living in the 21st century

        ......         care to grace me with your knowledge?

        basically its a website where you can post exclusive stuff for ONLY FANS to see         its not a porn site or anything but its basically where people sell their nudes         MEANING spike has an account so you can totally see loads of raunchy filthy perverted pics of him

        but i have to pay?

        well weve all gotta make a living

        i can basically see him naked for free

        but this way you wont get all freaked out and embarrassed         well you will but nobody will know at least         so do you want the link or not???

Ringo paused for a few moments, he was gripping his phone tightly in both of his hands as he unblinkingly looked at John's words. If his mind was going to decide to make him suffer by enabling his intense interest in Spike, he may as well get something out of it.

        fine

        where are your manners richard??

        can i please have the link to the strippers nude photos please john please

        alright calm down         let me know if its worth while i might have a look

        idk if im even gonna look at it         paying for porn is a little dated

        treat yourself ringo         id offer to pay but im broke

        if youre broke why were you at the strip club last night?

        well SOMEONE had to go

        they really didnt

        im supporting my local economy

        i dont think thats how that works

        sure it is         anyway here you go

Ringo stared at the link for a while, his eyes even began to blur, he didn't want to risk opening it in public even though he knew there was little chance of anyone seeing. He finished his lunch in a hurry and headed home quickly, only when he was in the privacy of his bedroom did he dare open it. First he had to make an account, when he saw the screen loading up asking for an email address and password he just turned his screen off and put the phone down. This was far too much effort for something he shouldn't really have been doing in the first place. But it only took a few minutes for him to pick the phone back up and begin signing up, he used an old email as it felt less seedy that way and he didn't want to risk his name cropping up anywhere for Spike to see. Now he could load up the link properly and take a proper look at Spike's profile.

Just looking at the small profile picture was enough to startle Ringo a little, the dark eyes looking into the camera with that unreadable glimmer behind them. He was shirtless in the picture, Ringo wondered why that didn't catch his attention first, with the frame cutting off just before it showed anything too explicit. The header was a photo taken from the club, showing him in tight, leather pants and tassels on his nipples which matched the whip he held in his hand. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He'd spent so much time and effort trying not to think about this man, attempting to keep him out of his mind as much as possible. Ringo knew that if he went through with this all that progress would be lost, he'd be giving in to whatever strange obsession he'd developed for Spike, one that no doubt wasn't going to lead to anything good.

Ringo kept staring at the screen as though it was going to tell him what he should do. Spike's profile had no description, which wasn't very surprising, and it dashed any hope Ringo had of discovering something new about him. Right before he was about to put his phone down again, it vibrated.

        howd the wank go??

        john i dont care how long weve been friends asking how my wank was will always be weird

        youre right sorry         so how did it go???

        if you must know         i havent had a wank         i havent even paid for entry

        now whos the one being inappropriate??

        ha ha

        why havent you???

        feels weird

        oh i see         youll consume a bunch of unethical porn for free but god forbid you actually give sex workers any actual money

        you are the last person who can lecture me about unethical porn

        hey now watch yourself         ringo if you dont get a subscription I WILL

        go ahead

        and ill tell you every day what sexy sexy pictures hes posting         ill tell you EVERY SINGLE TIME i have a wank over them

        every time? i dont think youve got enough data for that

        im not joking

        neither am i         you wank A LOT

        ringooooo just buy it i swear to god         if its not worth it or you regret it or whatever ill give you the money back

        on top of the money you already owe me?

        have you always been such a capitalist

        youre not doing a very good job of convincing me

        fine         spikes cock         now are you convinced???

        maybe

        naked pictures of spike whenever and wherever you want them all for the low low price of 10 quid a month         convinced??

        fine fine         if itll shut you up

        im starting to think thats code for 'i really wanna do this but im too embarrassed to admit it'

        i hate you

        now that DEFINITELY code for 'john youre right'         anyway theres no time to be telling me how right i am all the time youve got dick pics to look at         even i wont stand in the way of a good wank         so dont bother replying to me until youve paid for that subscription young man

        im older than you

        DONT BOTHER REPLYING

Ringo let out a sigh and rested his head against the bedroom wall from where he was laying on the bed. He opened up the link again and his thumb hovered over the subscription button, why couldn't he just do it? The money wasn't an issue, it could've cost half as much or be double the price and he'd still be debating it all the same. Somehow it felt like an invasion of privacy, after all Spike hadn't told Ringo about it himself, but then again that didn't necessarily mean he didn't want Ringo to see it. After all it was like John said: everyone has to make a living somehow. Sometimes Ringo wished he could turn off that part of his brain that was so empathetic, so concerned about how everyone felt and what they were thinking. He knew that he wanted this, so why wasn't he allowing himself to have it? Ringo could see that he was being ridiculous, as he was with almost anything involving Spike, and after lying there for a while pondering and debating he decided to flip a coin. Heads would mean he got the subscription, tails that he didn't. He watched the coin spinning through the air after he flicked it upwards, then snatched it and slammed it down onto his forearm before slowly moving his hand away: it was tails. What a relief. Ringo chuckled to himself for being so foolish, settling down into his bed; it was still only around midday but he didn't have anywhere he needed to be.

So why didn't he feel relieved in the slightest?

This whole thing was getting tiring, the constant debate between what he believed he should do and what he wanted to do, and it seemed like it wasn't going to be ending anytime soon. Apparently he was in this for the long run, whatever that meant, but if he was going to turn down relatively attractive guys practically throwing themselves at him, he may as well go all the way. While he was putting in his credit card information, he stopped to think around three of four times, but once he'd finished and the images became accessible to him, his brain was barely able to conjure up a coherent sentence.

"Jesus..." Ringo breathed out as his eyes flicked across the plethora of pictures loading up on his screen.

There was a lot of them, and a lot of Spike was on display. Most of them were pictures taken at the club, either from a professional photographer in the audience or photos he'd taken himself in the mirrors backstage - Ringo could even see glimpses of Paul in the background of some of them. The ones that caught Ringo's eyes the most were those that seemed to be taken in his house, these also happened to be the ones in which Spike tended to be fully naked. It was very different experience to see him like this: a static image that he'd intentionally taken of himself and posted for so many people to see, an image that couldn't look back at Ringo and make him feel that strange mixture of excitement and shame. He began scrolling down the feed which only revealed more and more enticing photos. Ringo began to feel himself hardening, he suspected it had been happening for a while now but he'd been far too distracted to notice. He felt like a teenager discovering porn for the first time, it was difficult to remind himself that this wasn't anything new. Seeing Spike naked shouldn't have excited him so much, and yet it did.

One picture in particular drew Ringo's attention: Spike was stood in front of a bathroom mirror with a loose black tie lying against his bare chest, one hand was holding a phone and the other gripping his cock. He had dark eye make up on and his hair was messy. Ringo wasn't sure exactly what it was about this photo that was so enticing but he couldn't take his eyes off it. The prominence of his collarbones, the faint curls of his dark hair, how his slim fingers wrapped around himself. Slowly Ringo slid his own hand under the waistband of his boxers as he stared at the picture. At first he hesitated, his fingers stopped right above the base. It's not like this would've been the first time he'd touched himself while thinking about Spike, it would've been far from the last he imagined, but this was different. It was more concrete, more of an admission. Nothing felt quite as real when it's only being imagined, the haziness of lust fuzzing up the mind as it so often did, but now with a very real photo of Spike in front of him - which he'd paid to see - the feeling was far more tangible, far harder to ignore.

He'd come this far, he told himself as his hand sunk lower until his fingers were running along the length of his semi-hard cock, he may as well go all the way. To begin with Ringo stayed looking at this single picture as he slowly pumped himself, but as his lust began to grow he perused through more and more pictures: Spike kneeling naked in front of a mirror with a loose cigarette hanging from his lips, lying in the bath with bubbles only just about covering his nakedness, spread out on the bed with a gag in his mouth, handcuffs forcing his slim arms behind his back with his cock throbbing. None of this was anything Ringo hadn't seen before, like most people in this day and age he'd searched through the darker corners of the internet - sometimes willingly, sometimes John was to blame - but to see Spike in such a way was like an entirely new rush. Each picture drove Ringo further and further on, at times he almost dropped his phone with how sloppy his movements were becoming. Who took these photos? Ringo figured it was best not to think about it, the possibility that Spike had a boyfriend who took all these pictures of him would've been the quickest way to kill his erection.

Ringo began moaning and cursing wantonly as he got closer and closer to his orgasm, he had to stop flicking through the pictures because he could hardly concentrate on what his other hand was doing, so he settled on a final one to help him finish; it wasn't particularly strategic but he was definitely grateful that he selected the one that he did. In it Spike was looking directly into the camera, allowing Ringo to gaze longingly into the rich brown of his eyes and how his dark lashes curled beautifully around them. He was shirtless with nothing but a necklace on, the same necklace that Ringo had seen him wearing in the record store and Ringo couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction that he'd seen it with his own eyes, as though it meant something. Deep down he knew that it didn't but his inebriated mind was latching onto it. The nudity in the photo was hardly interesting Ringo by this point, although it would be wrong to say that he completely ignored the flatness of his stomach or the faint shadows of his ribs beneath his pale skin, it was the personal aspect which truly affected him.

This wasn't just lust. Lust Ringo could understand, he could compartmentalise it and give into it without much shame or a second thought. If this was just lust, he would've bought the subscription without a care and touched himself looking at the nakedness of Spike's body as though it meant nothing more than a way to get off. Yet here he was on the brink of orgasm looking into another man's eyes, eyes that felt like they were looking straight back at him as though they were sharing this moment together. It wasn't hard to imagine Spike's hand in place of his own, those deep eyes watching Ringo come undone piece by piece. Ringo's hip began to stutter, his leg twitching a little as he had to drop the phone down onto his lap as his head fell back against his pillow as his orgasm approached. It wasn't the image of Spike's naked body that filled Ringo's mind as he came, it wasn't his arse or his cock or even his chest, it was his face, his voice, it was him.

Ringo lay breathless on his bed for a while, the clarity that arrived as his orgasm subsided wasn't welcome in the slightest and he was reluctant to pick his phone back up to see Spike's eyes looking at him once again. There was no use in feeling ashamed about it, no point in trying to deny it any longer: his feelings for Spike were more than a mere passing fancy, that was clear. Exactly what he was meant to do about these feelings was far from clear but that wasn't something Ringo could figure out right now with cum on his stomach and the daylight seeping through his bedroom curtains.

When he'd picked up his phone he'd closed all the apps immediately, doing his best not to catch a glimpse of what he'd been so eagerly looking at before. Just as he was about to step into the shower to clean himself off, his phone buzzed; he almost couldn't hear it over the music he was blasting out. It alerted him for a moment as though it was going to be a message from Spike stating he knew exactly what Ringo had just done - it wouldn't have really surprised him had that been the case, Spike's face almost always looked like he knew something that nobody else did - but fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it was John.

        sooo how did the wank go

         who knows          but on a totally unrelated note im about to get into the shower

         well before you do that i have even more good news 

         can it not wait?

         NO because you might cum just at the thought of it and then youd be wasting a good shower

         well arent you considerate          and unnecessarily graphic

         thats me          anyway im taking you to the club next tuesday whether you like it or not

         im still waiting for the good news

         well if youd let me FINISH          next week theyre doing a special event and we just have to go          youll never guess what it is

         what is it?

         guess

         you just said ill never guess

         youre no fun

         WHAT IS IT

         alright alright keep your hair on          its a crossdressing event          high heels make up probably a few wigs all that good stuff

         im still waiting for the good news

         OH COME ON youre telling me you dont want to see spike in heels and fishnets with some lovely lipstick on

Ringo gulped. It wasn't a difficult image to conjure up his mind, considering he'd been staring at photos of Spike for the past twenty minutes and it excited him to say the least. He did want to see that, very much indeed.

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

 ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

 Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

-

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

-

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

 But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

 "I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

[overwatching-you-sleep]

Hey, I totally just got into overwatch fanfiction (particularly anything that involves junkrat), but you're like the only good author I can find. Could you maybe recommend some?

Why Ao3 authors:[Many_Freckles] does some pretty great McCree stuff if I do say so myself[BlackwatchMimi] does a lot of good stuff, mainly focused on Reaper but has a little bit of everything.[DarkDrabblings] is bae and I love everything that comes out of that lovely brain. [Demial] writes some great stuff too, especially if you like my writing.[strikecommandher] has some nice shit too, mostly McCree and 76.[Reapers-Carino aka SweetKimchii] is just………👌👌👌

Tumblr:@we-are-yanderewatch is one of the first yandere overwatch blogs i followed@overwatch-yanderes inspired me to make my own blog so theres that@santamuertita is fairly new but I’m already loving the writing @jailbird-junkrat-writes does that good content as well, sort of branching out from yandere writingEdit: Just remembered some more:

@watchpoint-yandere​ does some pretty great shit, another relatively new and awesome blog @a-b-overwatch does great a/b/o centered stuff@fivetail has an awesome ongoing 76 fic, but does some other cool stuff you can check out

And if anyone else has something to add, feel free to do so

[kfawkes]

Like a Knife to the Heart

Hi! This is my first EVER JONERYS FIC. I hope you like it :) I’m used to writing Shakarian as you all know, so if this isn’t your cup of tea no worries! theres nothing graphic or sexual, but it’s kinda fluffy. Thanks for reading guys! 

Check it out on Ao3 too if you wanna! <3

There weren’t many things that scared Jon. No, he’d been through worse than any man could dare to even dream about. He’d been murdered by his brothers, abandoned by his friends, tricked, lied to and his heart had been crushed in more ways than one. It was hard to be afraid of anything after you’ve lived a life like Jon’s or seen what really lie beyond The Wall... What Jon didn’t realize was that when you lived your life knowing you could die at moment, there wasn’t much room for happiness or joy. You were left empty and usually alone.

But things changed for Jon, and he felt himself truly feeling what it was like to be alive again, only after he felt that fear again. The fear of losing something, someone special.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he was summoned to Dragonstone, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t her. He’d heard the stories about House Targaryen... The Mad King and the tales of days when dragons roamed the skies. But this woman wasn't like her father, and the dragons were no longer distant memories, Slowly, and then like a wave he felt himself pulled towards her more and more as each day pass. Drawn not just to her beauty or grace and elegance, but to her strength, persistence and vigilance. 

Daenerys Targaryen was impeccable and only a fool would not see it. Nearly everything about this woman was inspiring and it quickly became clear to him why people chose to follow her. The more time he spent with her himself, the more he wanted to know her. As each day passed he warmed up to the idea of bending the knee and even serving her himself.  

Jon been her guest at Dragonstone for over a full moon cycle, and even though Queen Daenerys granted permission to mine the Dragonglass, she was quite persistent in her cause as rightful Queen of Westeros. But Jon knew what was coming, he’d seen it so many moons ago and now they were almost here. 

He maybe have been able to see her wondrous potential like all others, but he still he couldn’t bend the knee. How could he focus on petty things like who the rightful heir was when he knew what was coming for them. Jon may have acted stupidly before, but he wouldn’t let her beauty or bloodline blind him from his true goals. Protecting the Realm and stopping The Army of the Dead. 

Jon was King in the North, selected by those who knew his family and his trials to guide them all; To protect them. He had duties, expectations... obligations. How could he submit to this Queen, even if he himself knew she would be a worthy choice when the outcome of it all was so irrelevant? His men trusted him, they chose him and they needed him to be strong and do what is right for them... Bending the knee was of little importance, but saving the Realm wasn’t. 

“Your Grace... If I might have a word.” Jon asked under a serious brow with hands linked loosely behind his back as he make brief eye contact with Tyrion and the others surrounding them. “In private, if I may.”

After a moment she nodded once as the quiet shuffle of feet exited the Chamber of the Painted Table leaving the two in silence. Jon exhaled in full, as he watch her from the opposite side of the table. She was wearing a long black dress, the same one she’d worn the first day he met her, and by the Seven if she didn’t look beautiful.

“Is this private enough for you, Jon Snow?” Daenerys asked as she pull herself gracefully from her chair at the head of the table. Linking her slender fingers into a tight braid as she walk closer to him, her eye contact unbreaking. 

“Yes... Your Grace, I kn-” 

“You may call me Daenerys.” She interrupted him as she step lightly unlinking her fingers as she trace them along the edge of The Painted Table. “Continue.”

“Daenerys, you have my gratitude... My armies stand a chance because of you. You’ve done what not many would and trusted someone you’ve never met. And now I’m asking you to trust me again.” Jon’s brow was still lowered, the concern and urgency was as prevalent on his face as it was in his voice. 

“And what is it you’re asking of me?” With a soft exhale she move her purple eyes to his, reading him as best she could. 

Jon raised a hand to the back of his neck as he nodded lowly. “The Army of the Dead are real and they are stronger than any man or woman, stronger than any army: We cannot win this battle alone. They’re coming whether you choose to believe that or not-” 

“And what if I do believe you?” Daenerys replied with a smooth silky voice, as she glance to the Painted Table beside her eyeing each wooden House piece momentarily. “If what you say is true then there won’t be anything left to rule after...” Daenerys slid her finger tips over the House Stark piece with a soft finger, then move her eyes back to his. “What is it you’re asking of me?”

“I’m going North, over The Wall... I plan to bring one of the dead to King’s Landing. I’m going to show Queen Cersei what is coming for us. For all of us... If we want to win this war we will need more men.”

“I have men.” She replied back quickly, holding her jaw tightly together. Daenerys didn’t like the idea of this Cersei Lannister on her throne, but she liked the idea of Jon going to her even less.

“Not enough.” Jon said back under a soft sigh. “We need the support of everyone we can. That means those on the Iron Throne.”

“No...” Daenerys swallowed as she shake her head briefly from side to side. “You don’t have my permission to leave.” 

“With all due respect, Daenerys... I wasn't asking for permission. I am a king and I must do this.” Jon was confident and could see by the expression on her face that she didn’t like his response.

Jon lightly sighed as he slid his eyes to the walls momentarily. Tracing each scale carved into the wood forming a miraculous dragon. As he glide his gaze over each crevice he thought on her response. He himself didn't like it and he wondered if she thought he’d prefer miles upon miles of ice and snow to the comfort of a warm fire and meal at Dragonstone... Did she think he’d rather trek for days with what is out there instead of ruling the North in Winterfell? Did Daenerys believe he’d prefer the possibility of death to spending time alongside her? 

Of course he didn’t want to leave, but he had to. This was his battle and it was beginning to seem like it always had been. 

“You’ll get yourself killed.” When she replied this time her voice wasn’t strong or stern, but lined ever so slightly with apprehension. 

“I might.” Jon took a small step closer to her admiring the way the light shone behind her silvery white hair. The paleness of her face and her large round lavender colored eyes... He knew the way he was looking at her would be noticed, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Please don’t...” Daenerys said quietly as she look to his chest thinking of the first day she met him and the words Davos had said.

He took a knife to the heart for his people. He gave his...

Now in those moments she wondered what those words truly meant. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

Before he realized what he was doing, Jon reached a hand towards her cheek, tracing the back of his finger along it slowly. That look still ever present in his eyes, saying volumes more than any words he could form would. He watched her slightly shudder at the embrace as she drew a hurried breath in and swallow returning the look he sent her in full.  

“I’m... I’m sorry Your Grace, please... forgive me.” Jon’s face changed to one trying to hide embarrassment as he remove his hand quickly, shifting his gaze towards his feet.

“Don’t be.” Daenerys didn’t move and she didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment or have minded he’d just touched her... She just stare with wide  eyes holding a look of admiration behind them. “And I told you... Daenerys.”