#but just out of pure envy over their skill

[braininatankwithalaptop]

I bet you while Clover can do all the standard cowpoke tricks, (lassoing, fanning the hammer, horse riding, cheating at cards) the one skill they're most proud of is doing the full ocelot revolver spin.

#alternative pacifist route for clover to get through the wild east #by teaching all the feisty five the cowpoke and gun tricks #the feisty five and starlo still attack clover #but just out of pure envy over their skill #and insecurity over being bested by a twelve year old #undertale yellow #uty #undertale yellow clover #uty clover #undertale yellow starlo #uty starlo #undertale yellow feisty five #uty feisty five

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

BY ANY OTHER NAME!

kaiser wasn’t someone to ever beg for anything. no—if there was something he wanted, he got it. it was as easy as that. but much to his shock, your heart wasn’t something you would hand over to him willy-nilly. it looked like he was going to have to work from the very bottom: starting with his name.

gender neutral reader

Kaiser was used to netting all sorts of reactions from people. Some adored him faithfully. Some wanted nothing to do with him. Some were even bold enough to chew up their disgust and spit it distastefully in front of him. He never paid them any mind. But the truth of the matter was that Kaiser was used to drawing out all sorts of intense emotions from everyone around him. He didn’t care if they loved him or hated him. Mediocrity was not a reality for him.

At least, before he came across you.

You were probably the first and only person in the world to be so neutral towards him. You were kind, never causing any trouble, and doing everything you could to stay off of his radar. It wasn’t like you were going out of your way to avoid him or to catch his eye; you simply treated him as if he were just an average run-of-the-mill person.

You were polite. Not out of respect towards him but out of obligation.

And that would be all fun and dandy, had it not been for the fact that Kaiser had fallen madly in love with that apathetic, monotone attitude of yours. It was 100% because of how you approached him at an arm’s length. It frustrated him to all hell. It’d be one thing if you couldn’t stand the sight of his face and went around huffing and puffing about how you hated his smug attitude or egotistical personality, because then he’d know that he had some kind of influence on you.

But a nonchalant reaction that had him keeling over and overthinking every little thing he said towards you? Calling it pure torture for him would be an understatement.

“Lovely work today, Alexis. I made sure to leave an extra water bottle in the locker room since you asked,” you greeted the Bastard Munchen players as they left the playing field. The magenta-haired boy ducked his head gracefully, beaming at you as he bumped your outstretched fist.

“And you too, Benedict!” You offered the fair-haired player a bright smile and a matching fist bump. Grim murmured some dramatic monologue about the despair of warmth and its depravity, but from the way his eyes twinkled at seeing you, you assumed that he was just as happy to have your support.

“And finally, we have you, Erik!” You welcomed the foul-mouth midfielder. He pretended to scowl at you, but you quickly morphed his scorn into a rare smile when you nudged him gently with your arm. “C’mon, you made some impressive plays today! I can’t wait to see what you do in the upcoming games!”

Last but not least, the king of the pitch himself, the self-proclaimed protagonist of the theater that the soccer world was, Kaiser leisurely strolled off of the playing field. It made his stomach turn inside out with envy to see you bantering with his teammates so casually, but what really drove the jealousy home was something else altogether. With his nose held high and his sky blue eyes fixed on you, he stepped to where you were waiting for the team off to the side.

He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself from going all out in each of the games he played in, especially when Kaiser knew that you’d be watching it in real time. Maybe, just maybe, if he went above and beyond what he normally did, you’d finally be amazed at his skills and come to your senses about what an irreplaceably talented striker he was. Then, you’d fall head over heels for him as all his admirers do…

He stopped in front of you with his signature smirk, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waited for you to shower him with praises. Well, he didn’t even need you to fall to your knees in utter worship of him; just your usual banter with the other Bastard Munchen athletes would have been more than enough to satisfy the lovestruck blond.

You didn’t skip a beat at shattering his fantasies. “Can I help you, Kaiser?” 

Kaiser choked back a cough, flicking part of his long hair back in order to mask the completely pathetic face he nearly made. “Darling! Is that all you have to say to someone who scored all the goals in today’s game?”

You tilted your head to the side. “Isn’t it your job to score though?”

God. It’d be one thing if you were saying these things simply to spite him, riling up his temper in order to get some kind of reaction out of him. But when he looked at your face, he couldn’t detect a single hint of malice on your features. You were doing what you were told: taking care of him. No more and no less.

This was the face of someone who did not care about him, whether that be positive or negative. You had no opinion on him. Period.

His heart sank to his stomach, but Kaiser kept up his cool front. He shrugged as he turned to you, a coy grin dancing on his face. “Still, it’s not an easy job. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little sweetness from you every now and then.”

You frowned slightly, as if you were thinking over his words. “I… think I’m doing an adequate job at taking care of you and the team. If you have any issues with my performance, then I appreciate you looking out for me. But that’s something you should take up with Noel Noa or Bastard Munchen’s greater management.”

Kaiser felt his body stiffen, his grin etched onto his stone face. He had braced himself to be shut down, but never before had someone shut him down so professionally.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” he purred. You surveyed him with your usual expressionless eyes as he came up next to you. Casually swinging an arm over your shoulders and dragging you close to him, he winked at you sweetly. “Your work has been nothing short of excellent.”

You put your hand on top of his arm, doing your best to nudge him off. Kaiser kept his Cheshire Cat-like smile, refusing to take himself off of you. You bit down on your tongue, wondering if you should stand your ground and yank him off of your shoulders, but you wisely decided that getting physical with a professional athlete was probably not a fight that was in your favor.

“Then I don’t see why we need to be talking. The locker rooms are to your right, Kaiser.” You avoided looking at him. It wasn’t like you were doing it knowingly, but Kaiser whimpered inwardly at the lack of your attention. It was like you weren’t even giving him the satisfaction of eye contact. 

He pouted like a little child. “See? It’s that right there.”

“It’s what right there?” You repeated. The confusion in your voice was so thick that it was nearly tangible, and Kaiser puffed his cheeks out. Normally he wouldn’t mind having his fun in flustering someone up: teasing them over their mistakes, flaunting himself as the superior one, and devouring all the delicious reactions he managed to milk out of them.

But trying to convince you to see eye-to-eye with him was downright embarrassing for him. Never before had he courted someone so oblivious, someone so downright unaware of his feelings, so casually cruel to the one-sided crush he was fostering. He couldn’t even get mad at you for your behavior too, because you genuinely didn’t know.

Kaiser hated groveling for scraps of your attention, but the boy was sick of being treated like a responsibility. Why did his teammates get to soak up all of your care and affection while he was left watching from the sidelines, licking his own emotional wounds while he could only imagine that it was you cheering him on after a game or complimenting his plays?

If this was the angle you were going to play at, then so be it. He was starved enough, and it was obvious that playing it cool wasn’t getting him anywhere.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, sighing dramatically against your shoulder. You froze, your body noticeably stiffening up at the sudden gesture, and you dug your heels into the floor to prevent him from dragging more of himself onto you. Lucky for you, that was the most he did, but you gritted your teeth and refused to loosen up.

He must have lost his mind.

“You’re so cold to me,” he whined. “I know it’s not your job to baby me or anything, but… You’re so nice and sweet to everyone else. Even now! You complimented everyone after the game, and you smiled at them. You look so happy talking to them, but when you talk to me, it’s like you can’t wait to get me out of your hair.”

You sucked your lips in, and you kept your expression as unreadable as always. “I’m being professional. I don’t mean to do anything to spite you specifically, Kaiser-”

“-See, you’re doing it again!” His face shot up from your body. You knew you shouldn’t give him any more of your attention, but you almost instinctively turned your neck to look at him. You were shocked to see how wide his blue eyes were, his irises trembling. He looked nothing like the powerful and self-aggrandizing striker that you were so used to. All of his confidence and swagger had disappeared, leaving nothing more than a desperate boy clinging off of you. “You don’t even call me by name.”

You were at a loss for words. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not asking for much, I promise,” he breathed. His voice sounded tentative, a hushed whisper that you could barely make out. “It’d be nice if you could banter and play around with me like you do everyone else, but god… At least say my name.”

He didn’t want anything else. He didn’t want to be known as anything else to you. Not as the New Generation World Eleven’s star striker. Not as Bastard Munchen’s number 10. Not as Kaiser.

But as Michael.

You swallowed back all the alarms going off in your head. There would be nothing good that could come from getting close to someone like him, someone who practically had everything in the palm of his hand, someone who would take your heart and mercilessly crush it under his heel if that was what he wanted to do, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to keep your usual cool level-headedness when he looked like he was on the brink of tears, a hair’s breadth away from your face.

How could you not crumble? That’d be too heartless, even for you.

“...I’ll try to do better. Thanks for letting me know. And I’m sorry you felt that way, Kai- Michael,” you corrected with an awkward cough. The light returned to his face right away, and before you could even finish your statement, his cheeks were rosy and full of life once more.

That was the first time you had said his name to his face. The literal choirs of Heaven couldn’t compare to how sweet your voice sounded to his ears, the syllables of his name rolling off your tongue like liquid gold. He didn’t care if he was being overly cheesy; he had dreamed of the very day that you would look him in the face and actually regard him like he was a human being.

You finally let your body relax, softening up just the slightest bit under his body weight, and you let out a breath you weren’t aware that you were holding. But before you could even fully relax, the blond was peering at you with another fox-like smile tugging at his lips. Undoubtedly with another scheme brewing in his mind, you wondered if you had made the wrong decision just now. Any hint of his previous remorse was gone, nowhere to be found.

“So…,” he trailed off, snickering to himself, “Now that we’re on a first-name basis, do you wanna pick out pet names for each other next?”

Your blood ran cold, and you thought about choking the striker for a split second. So much for feeling pity towards him. Loosening up was definitely the wrong decision.

But unfortunately, you had given him an inch, and Michael was determined to take the whole mile.

x

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM THIS MAN I CANT GET HIM OFF OF MY HEAD

[josiewinters1999]

Normal (p1)

L Lawliet x Chubby!Reader

Part 2

Summary: It lights a fire inside L that Light Yagami is allowed to be a "normal" young man. He has a loving family, a bright future, and... a girlfriend that isn't thousands of miles away.

Words: 1528

Contains: established relationship, angst, jealousy, pet names, L being depressed, takes place right before Yotsuba arc.

A/N: This is my first time writing for L but I just really wanted to dive into the facet of his character that truly just longs to be a regular guy with regular friends and a regular life. It's very obvious he loves his job, craves his work even, but you can see his yearning for something normal peek through here and there throughout the series. So this is just a little something to indulge him in that desire ^.^ I will most likely do a part 2 so stay tuned and comment below if you wanna see it!!

***

Looking out of the corner of his eye, a certain detective watches as the blond model fawns over the teen boy on the couch next to him. He pretends not to notice the way she looks at him, with the pure adoration and affection in her eyes that only young love like that could produce. With every move she makes, climbing all over her beau, the chain attached to him rattles. 

L covertly reaches down to shove a hand in his pocket. The linty insides of his jeans hold a roughly folded, and long faded photo that meant more to him than even the resolution of the Kira case. He dare not pull it out, in fear the man handcuffed to him sees it. L thinks back to the summer it was taken, the first time in his life he had ever felt like just a normal boy. These days, he thinks more and more about that summer. The summer he fell in love. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of what Light had. He had Misa… right there in his arms; close enough to touch, to hold, to kiss. What did L have? A crumpled photo, the occasional hurried phone call, and an annual one weekend visit… if he was lucky. 

Sighing, the black haired detective turns his attention back to the couple next to him, the two unknowingly taunting him with memories he can’t shake any longer. Forcing his usual stoic expression back onto his face, L calls for the blond girl’s attention. “Misa,” he groans, tired of listening to her shrill voice all afternoon, “Would you mind giving Light some time alone for now? I have some things about the case I’d like to discuss with him in private.”

She pouts, clinging even harder to Light’s shirt, “Aw, Ryuzaki, do I really have to go now? I feel like I’ve barely had enough time with Light today. You guys are always so busy.” Gritting his teeth in annoyance, and envy, L nods, “Yes, we have, and the sooner you leave, the sooner we can catch Kira, and the sooner you can have all the time in the world with your beloved Light.” The last two words came out a bit harsher than he intended, but he always had a tendency of being blunt, something she loved about him. Huffing, Misa gives Light a last kiss on the cheek as she struts out, promising to see them in the morning before shutting the door politely behind her. 

Straightening his shirt, Light smirks in L’s direction, “If I didn’t know any better Ryuzaki, I’d say that Misa was making you jealous.” Damn Light’s deduction skills. L clenches his jaw for a moment, then pulls out his phone. 

Choosing to make no remarks about Light’s previous comment, L instead decides to ask him a question, “Light, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to make a quick personal call.  How good is your English?” Dumbfounded at the ridiculous question, Light struggles to come up with the appropriate answer, “At a basic conversational level, I’d say. Not any better though, I’m afraid.” 

Quickly dialing a number into his flip phone, L mutters flatly… “Good.” 

The bakery phone rings during what was certainly the early morning hours in New York, the most busy time of day for a bakery. Finally catching a break from the rush, Mr (L/N) answers the phone in the back, barking harshly into it, “What do you want? We ran out of chocolate cannoli for the day, if that’s what you want, you’re gonna have to call back tomorrow.” 

“Is this (L/N) Cannolis?” L’s tired, unsure voice timidly asks. “I don’t know buddy, is it?” Mr (L/N) snaps back, “You called me. What do you want? These customers are busting my balls here today, I don’t got time to sit and chat.” 

The detective rubs his toes together as he stands on the other side of the room, staring out the window at the night sky, “Is your daughter there, Sir?” 

“My daughter? Who the hell is this?” 

Sighing, L looks over his shoulder at Light sitting on the couch looking through documents, seemingly, and thankfully, uninterested in this entire conversation. The last thing he would want is his prime suspect hearing the name he’s about to ask for. “It’s Luke… I’m… I’d like to speak to (Y/N)… if that’s alright.” 

“Luke?” Mr (L/N) tries to wrack his brain for memories of anyone named Luke, “You the skinny English boy my little girl insists on throwing her life away for? Spiky black hair and raggedy clothes? Sits stupid in the chair?” 

“Uh… yes… that would be me. Is she there?” The last thing L needs right now is to be reminded how out of place and odd he was in the world of everyday people. 

With a groan, Mr (L/N) hums, “Yeah she’s here lemme go get her for you.” After letting his daughter date L for five years now, he knew better than to interfere with their shambles of a relationship anymore. 

“Hey darling,” he yells to the kitchen, “your deadbeat boyfriend is on the phone askin’ for you.” 

L smirks as he hears a mad scramble through the phone and it’s snatched out of the Italian man’s hand. A tired, panting, and excited, feminine voice calls to him, “Luke? Is that really you?”

Just hearing her voice, even calling him by yet another alias, after all these months, made half the tension from L’s shoulders lift and float away in the breeze. God, he’d missed this so much… “Yes, it’s me,” he smiles fully, unable to hold back the joy any longer. 

Clutching the phone to her ear, the portly, curly haired girl smiles back, “I was so scared something had happened to you, I haven’t heard from you in forever.” A pang of guilt to his heart, L purses his lips, “I’m sorry for that, I really did mean to call. I just haven’t had the chance lately.” 

The woman hums, “I figured. You’re working that case in Japan, right? I read about it online. Kora, it was?”

“Kira,” he gently corrects. There is a pause for a moment, he can hear the papers shuffling in Light’s hands behind him and the bustle of the bakery through the phone. What he wouldn’t give to be there with her right now… 

“Is everything okay?” the baker finally asks after some time, “It’s not like you to be so quiet, especially during the few times you actually get a chance to call like this.” 

Always so intuitive. L sighs, reaching into his pocket to feel the folded photo. The photo of her smiling face from all those summers ago. “This case,” he begins, “it’s been slow these days. I feel… I feel deflated… in lack of a better word.” 

She hums, “Ah, I see…” There is another awkward pause before she perks up, “Well when you crack it, there’s a raspberry cannoli here with your name on it. I… I think about you every time I make one. They’re all you eat when you’re here,” she chuckles. 

Another smile tugs on his lips, “How can I resist when they taste so divine? They’re only prepared by the most beautiful baker in all the world… and I would know that fact more than anyone.”

Her infectious chuckle nearly threatens to stop L’s heart. “Cream puff!” her pet name never fails to make him blush as red as one of the raspberries she makes the cannolis with, “You better hope papa isn’t listening on the other line.” 

“The old man hasn’t scared me off yet,” he retorts, “And what man wouldn’t want his daughter to be admired like the goddess she is?”

Before she can scold him again for flattering her too much, L can hear her father yelling at her on the line. He can’t quite make the words out, but knowing him, it probably wasn’t too kind. With a defeated sigh, the woman on the phone mumbles, “I’m so sorry cream puff but I gotta… I gotta go soon.” 

L’s shoulders sink, his heart along with it. Why was his precious time with her always cut so short? “Well, I suppose it’s for the best,” he huffs, “I have things to do here as well. I… thank you for talking to me. I… missed hearing your voice. It’s been hard to focus without it lately, if I’m being frank.” 

She holds back the tears welling in her eyes, “I missed your voice too… I hope you solve this case soon.” 

He nods, looking down at his feet on the carpet, “As do I. The second I do, I’m coming to see you, for a week at least… I miss you… quite a bit, in fact. I-” 

“Cream puff, I really gotta get going now,” she interrupts hurriedly, “I’m so sorry. Call again soon, will you? I’ll catch you later, bye!” 

As the dial tone rings in his ear, L slumps his shoulders and clenches his jaw, muttering to himself the three words he meant to tell her just seconds ago, “I love you…”

#l lawliet x reader #l lawliet #death note fanfiction #death note l #l death note #death note

[pretentiousgayguyidk]

I

Rome Lucia Callo

Would like to humbly request

Hakkai x male reader where Hakkai thinks reader is a girl and is really awkward but oh snap readers actually a dude and was just cross dressing for Mitsuya who wanted to see the dress on a person and Hakkai is just a mess please and thank you have a good day

My love for our bi disaster Hakkai is unmeasurable- like gender envy, kinning and simping?!?! Like genuinely Hakkai's like one of my favorite characters (we ignore that is at that about everyone but Kisaki lol) also pretty sure this is the only fic thats pure fluf- cause i usually wind up mentioning at least one sad thing

Bro you have such a cool name- like God damn

"Could you turn around?" Mitsuya asked, (Name) nodded. He was modeling a dress for his good friend, Mitsuya being excited to see how it would look on a person.

The dress was mid length, with a softly pleated skirt and tight accentuated waist. It was a more casual dress verses some of the others Mitsuya had made, most of them being wedding dresses. The elegance from his previous works carried over, the embroidery on the chest and waist was proof of his friend's skill. He examined the corset and gently pulled on the lacing making (Name) gasp. Mitsuya looked up at him concern in his eyes.

"Too tight?" (Name) shook his head.

"No, I'm okay." Mitsuya nodded and finished tying it off, quietly observing his friend a calm yet giddy expression on his face.

There was a knock on the door followed by the door opening, a pretty man almost as tall as the door stepped in, wearing a golden dangly earring on his left ear. His hair was bleached blond a swirly design shaved into the side of his head. He had a bright smile on his face, a cute scar adorned the left side of his mouth.

"Taka-chan I got the fabric you want-" he cut himself off as his gaze fell on (Name) red immediately dusting is face as he turned to look the other way. His shoulders squaring up as he seemed to shrink into himself. (Name) smiles and waved at him before turning to grab Mitsuya who had his face in his notes trying to see what he wanted to change and keep.

"Hey, Mitsuya. Someone's here to see you." He perked up with a him, his glasses crooked and his hair askew. He nodded with a small smile, stepping out of his office and into his apartments main room. Being met with a short circuiting Hakkai, who had his face hidden from Mitsuya's friend's view.

"Hey Hakkai? You alright man?" Hakkai silently nodded. A shorter girl popped into the apartment a roll of fabric tucked sunder her arm.

"She's too pretty, made him blue screen again." She stated bluntly, gesturing at (Name) who blinked in confusion. He knew people thought he was pretty but to be able to pass as a chick was something else entirely. He and Mitsuya shared a glance before bursting out laughing, surprising Hakkai and Yuzuha.

"He's a guy."

"W-what!?" Hakkai shouted, his face dark red as he had a mini identity crisis. Did he seriously blue screen over a guy? He's a cute guy, but Hakkai hasn't liked a guy like that since highschool. Mitsuya chuckled at his friend and pat him on the back.

"He's pretty cute isn't he?" The silver haired man tested, Hakkai practically went brain dead his face as red as a tomato as he stared at his feet. It's been a long time since someone has made him feel like this.

"Well, Hakkai-kun's pretty cute too, especially when he's all flustered like that." (Name) purred, flopping back on Mitsuya's couch. All that was heard from Hakkai was quiet whining as he hid his face, flustered and humiliated. Yuzuha burst out laughing at her brother's misery, smiling cheekily.

"Why not take him on a date? You seriously need a partner, I can't keep taking care of you." He rubbed his face and glared at his sister and friend.

"You guys are so mean!" He whined, (Name) giggled making Hakkai tense up and glance back at him.

"Alright, stop teasing him so much," Hakkai sighed in relief who knew his problem could be the thing saving him?

"Can't have him having a heart attack before I take him on a date~" (Name) crooned, stepping closer to Hakkai, who was melting at the closeness.

"Oh god- what have I gotten myself into..." Hakkai whispered into his hands, making everyone laugh.

"Well, if you aren't dead by the time Mitsuya's done with me and this dress. I'll be taking you on a date, if you're free." All Hakkai could door was nod, trying to find a way to calm down his burning face.

Months later Hakkai learned that (Name) was actually just as easy to tease as he is, all it took was one compliment before (Name) could even speak to make him blue screen. So despite them going on casual dates frequently, they were both flustered messes the entire god damn time. Mitsuya and Yuzuha couldn't tell if it was adorable or annoying.

#male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #hakkai shiba #hakkai x male reader #hakkai x reader #hakkai fluff

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hiya ! just wanted to let you know that i ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WRITING !!!

and ahem- if you don't mind, could you please do a oneshot on a scenario where the supervillain is badly hurt after a huge fight between them and their enemies so they end up knocking on the heroes door in a delirious state due to extreme blood loss and when the superhero opens the door the villain just collapses on them

“You think you’re such a hero, huh?” It wasn’t only the pain that tortured them, it was also the humiliation. Ending up in the middle of the night in front of the most expensive house in the whole city (maybe even the whole country…?) was pure embarrassment. 

Not only did the villain realise how rich their nemesis was, they also realised how jealous they were of that. 

“Oh, please,” the hero said. 

Of course, the villain’s personal affairs had nothing to do with their choice of hideout. Knowing the hero was the tiniest reason why they’d ended up here. The villain had been injured close to the mansion, so it had been easier to drag themselves there than home.

When the villain had climbed the fence and fallen into the hero’s front yard, the buzzing of loading proficient and probably high tech weapons had greeted them mercilessly. The villain was so tired, they couldn’t even get up as the red points from sharp shooters dotted their whole body, the sound of a siren in the background going off and the barking of guard dogs coming closer. Giant headlights turned on and blinded them. It had been a bit over the top, in their opinion. 

But in that moment they couldn’t have cared less. They’d never come this far, this close to killing the hero and it meant nothing to them. All they longed for was survival.

At some point, they fell into the hero’s arms but they passed out in the middle of the sloppiness and when they woke up, they felt numb. It took them a hot second to remember how to breathe.

That had been half an hour ago.

“You think you can buy everything.” The hero had their back towards the villain. The room they’d brought the villain into was simple, much too simple for a lavish house like this. At first, the villain had feared they hadn’t made it at all.

“Gratitude would be in order. My guards wanted to shoot you on sight. You’re quite the prize, you know?” The hero’s voice was cool and calm, as so often. They were great at smiling into the flashing cameras, it didn’t matter if they were in their superhero suit or not. 

The villain bit their tongue because, unfortunately, the hero was right.

“Thank you,” they mumbled. Finally, the hero turned around, dropping the last nastily bloody bandage onto the table where it became one among many nastily bloody bandages. It was a disgusting pile of the villain’s blood. The hero had forced them to drink an insane amount of water when they’d woken up.

“For the record,” the hero said casually, tilting their head and staring at the villain’s bandaged torso, “I can buy everything I want.”

“You’re not a hero,” the villain said.

“I saved you,” the hero pointed out. “That is somewhat heroic.”

The villain had to give credit where credit is due: the hero had done the work on their own. Mostly.

One time in this enormously blurry mess, they’d been conscious and when they’d looked at the person who was working on their wounds, they’d seen the hero’s face. Yes, the hero was unholily rich. But they were also talented beyond measure. They could learn a new skill within hours and drive it to perfection. 

The villain envied them so much. 

“Now, tell me. Why the hell did you have to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“I got ambushed,” the villain confessed. “They promised me negotiations and gave me bullets instead.” 

“Poor villain.” In their voice was actual sympathy and it surprised the villain. The hero was usually terribly smug. They walked over to them and sat down on the bed. “You came to me, even though you hate me.”

“A lot of people hate you. Don’t make it sound like I’m the only one,” the villain grumbled. The hero smirked. 

“But there’s only one that would come to me.” They grabbed the villain’s healthy shoulder and squeezed it. 

It was skin on skin contact. That had never happened like this. The hero always wore gloves and if they didn’t, their suit took care of their hands. Long ago, the villain had figured it was to hide their fingerprints, some sort of reassurance that they didn’t have to get into boring lawsuits with the government. 

But now, the gown they’d given the villain was hanging loosely around their shoulders and the hero had cleaned their hands from the blood, taking off the medical gloves.  

And it was skin on skin contact. 

“You’re right. I tend to believe that my money can get me out of anything.” The villain felt their blood pumping behind their cheeks. It was very hot in the room. The hero’s thumb was on their collarbone. It was skin on skin contact. “And I’m right most of the time.”

They let go of the villain. 

“I’ll leave you on your own now. You need some time to heal and I have some work to do. If you need me, I’m in the lab. Just ask someone or call me. I took the liberty to save my number in your phone.” The villain looked at the phone on the nightstand. 

They were pretty sure they’d lost it. 

#been watching millionaire daddy #oops i mean millionaire detective silly keyboard #sowwy uwu this isnt exactly what you asked for uwu #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

[slytherhys]

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

5th day of Christmas - Cookie Decorating

I'm dedicating this to Elisa for giving me so many good ideas for this challenge. I love you and you're the best and I hope this story does your idea justice.

It's just cookies! (Archeron Sisters Bonding)

If anyone happened to enter the kitchen of the townhouse, they would probably be extremely confused at the sight before them. Alarmed even.

Feyre stood hunched over a tray of cookies, a look of pure concentration on her face as she gently drew different patterns with the pipping bag in her hands. Stars, and snowmen, and Solstice trees appeared under her sister’s talented hands, each one looking more mouthwatering than the other.

On the other end of the counter, Nesta stared at the tray in front of her with disdain, holding the pipping bag in her hands with what could only be described as a death grip. There were already two cookies decorated, though Elain couldn’t be quite sure of what they were supposed to be. She wasn’t sure Nesta knew either if the frustrated look on her face was any indication.

When Elain had first suggested to her sisters that they all bake cookies for their family it had been a fiddle attempt at spending more time with them. Sure, she had only vaguely mentioned the fact they’d be baking them from scratch, but Elain had been confident enough in her skills that she had expected things to go smoothly. Looking around her, she couldn’t help but grimace, very much regretting the suggestion that any of her sisters step foot in the kitchen in the first place.

There wasn’t an inch of the kitchen counter that wasn’t covered in either burnt parchment paper or whatever ingredients had been used to bake gingerbread cookies (Elain couldn’t quite recall why cheese was one of them, but she tried not to think about it). Solstice-themed cookie cutters were pilled precariously by the sink, where every single baking tool Elain ever owned now seemed to be.

Out of the four batches Elain had originally planned to bake, only two remained. One had ended up in the trash, burnt and possibly toxic, while the other had been eaten by both Feyre and Nesta. Stress-eating, Feyre had offered as an explanation at Elain’s affronted glare.

Now, Elain couldn’t help but crave something to nibble on too. The baking should’ve been the hardest part of it, but Elain was close to tears as she watched both her sisters decorate the cookies. Between Feyre’s perfectionism and Nesta’s utter lack of talent, it was all Elain could do not to kick them out of her kitchen. Out of her house. Mainly as Nesta cursed rather colourfully for what was probably the tenth time in the past thirty seconds.

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” Nesta muttered under her breath as she tried to draw a smiley face on the snowman in front of her. At least that’s what Elain assumed she was going for.

“We’re bonding.” Elain said exasperatedly, hovering behind her older sister. “Stop squeezing the bag like that or else you won’t have any icing left for the other cookies.”

“I’d like to squeeze your neck, instead.” Nesta grumbled.

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think we’re very good at bonding, Elain.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re very good at baking, either.” Elain mumbled, biting her nails as she fought the urge to help Nesta. Her fingers were tingling with the need to reach for the pipping bag and just show her how easy it was to handle it. Or how unnecessary it was to completely strangle it.

Nesta eyed her cookies with a tilted head, then eyed Feyre’s cookies with envy. “How is it fair that I’m competing against Feyre? She’s a cauldron-damned painter.”

“This is not a competition.” Elain said, eyeing Feyre’s cookies. They did look beautiful, but Nesta didn’t need to hear that. Not when she was trying so hard. “This is a friendly, innocent activity. It’s just cookies!” She tried to be cheerful, but she feared she was edging lunacy. By the look her sisters gave her, she probably looked it as well.

“And if it were a competition, you’d at the very least get a participation medal.” Feyre smirked, ducking down just as a gingerbread cookie flew in her direction. She narrowed her eyes at her older sister. “That’s not very friendly of you.”

“Please, don’t waste anymore cookies.” Elain whined. At this rate, their friends would be lucky if they could get one each. “We don’t have the time to bake another batch and I refuse to bother Nuala and Cerridwen on Solstice.” Was she hyperventilating? It certainly felt like she was.

“Ladies,” A familiar voice sounded from behind Elain, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and watch as Rhysand strolled inside the kitchen. Not when it looked as if it had felt victim to one of Cassian’s drunken pranks. “Why is Elain having a meltdown?”

Feyre smiled, leaning against her mate as he reached her side. “We’re very bad at bonding.”

“And baking. Very bad at baking.” Elain added, mildly terrified as Azriel and Cassian too appeared in the doorway.

“Can’t be that bad, can it?” Cassian grinned, peering into both trays. He shrugged. “They look edible.”

Azriel grabbed a cookie, eyebrows rising as he tried to understand exactly what he was looking at. He didn’t seem to entirely agree with Cassian’s statement. “I’m guessing Nesta decorated these?” He asked, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t be a dick.” Cassian said, chewing the head of a snowman. “They’re…” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he eyed the plate in front of him. “abstract. Right, Nes?”

Nesta gave him a blank stare. “Sure.”

Azriel shook his head, trying to hide a smile as he eyed Elain. “Did you bake anything?” Was it her or had that felt more like an accusation than an innocent question?

Bastard.

She felt her face heat as everyone’s attention turned to her. “N-no.”  

Azriel narrowed his eyes, knowing smile on his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Why would she bake anything?” Feyre objected before Elain could say anything. “She asked us to do it with her.”

“And she trusts us.” Nesta added. Then paused, turning to her sister as if suddenly unsure. “Right?”

Elain nodded quickly, ignoring Azriel’s taunting smile as she focused on her sisters instead. “Of course I do!” She assured them, because she truly did.

Even if she had gotten up at dawn to bake a few batches as precaution. 

#archeron sisters #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #12 days of christmas #christmas writing

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 1 (12/11/23-18/11/23) - Set A

Model used is Tsonghan Wu

1 & 2.

I don’t typically train with push ups all that often, but I picked this as my personal goal because there’s such a potent jock energy about being able to show off and crank out effortless reps of push ups. Massive high school sports star energy. But we started small. Only managed 22 on my first day. Granted it was immediately after a Push session.

The second attempt however I integrated the competitive element. I went to one of my best friends from back home, K. Total stud who i’ve always envied and idolized. I expect he’ll come up a few more times before this is over so might as well give him some designation. I asked him to make it a contest to beat his score. He hit 30 in one go. I pushed myself so fucking hard because I would not lose to him. I was gonna kick his ass. And I did. I hit 31 and then spent a good minute on the floor unable to get up. It felt so fucking good tho. Increasing by so much. Pushing and winning against my bro. It made my night. 3rd attempt i hit 32. If i keep increasing. Keep pushing. Maybe i’ll get to 100 by the end.

3.

The first step is an important milestone. Obviously as a Self-employed writer/full time student in a different country I don't have a MASSIVE collection of clothes to chuck out (you all can change that). But there are definitely a few that I already know are going to get the boot when the time comes. The reason this one was so important for me and Jockrs is because we both felt that as long as those old clothes were an option, I’d keep defaulting to them out of habit. Over-sized, drab, boring. Hiding the gainz and the new person i want to become. So the first piece I threw out was a fairly cheap ugly grey long sleeved shirt that I bought when I first moved to NZ. 6XL. Bought 3 sizes too big for me at a time when I was 3 sizes too big for me. And as I've leaned down and put on muscle, all this shirt does is wash me out and make me swim in fabric. It had to go. But I still feel indebted to it. It was a go-to piece of clothing on my worst Dysmorphia days when I felt like a fat, disgusting piece of shit. It helped me deal with the anxiety of being in a new place where I clearly didn’t look like I belonged. It helped me hide when I needed to hide. But i don’t need to hide anymore.

4.

Unfortunately I couldn't really work on this as much as I wanted. Jokers was still in exam mode so some of the shared tasks that required him were a bust. That said, I did slip a few more "dudes", "mans" and "bros" into my chatter with gym bros. And I went as far as coaching some dudes through my leg day workout. This is one I'm eager to make progress on because it's so antithetical to what I've always been. My speech has always been a weird indistinguishable hybrid. I’ve been mistaken for American, British and Canadian. I’ve had my voice described as “trans-Atlantic”, Despite coming from the Caribbean. I was always discouraged from indulging too much in dialect and slang when I was young. “Speak properly”. Combined with being fairly bookish and advanced, maybe that led to some good things in the long run. My skill with words, language and voice are unique. They’re why you all love me. But it did mean that by the time I was in secondary school I was a little alienated from my peers. I didn’t talk like them. I didn’t want to either but it was rough always being mistaken for a foreigner on soil you have never left in your life. In a sense, me picking up an even more exaggerated americanized accent is taking that full circle. Developing a bit more control over my speech to inhabit an ideal I have always longed for. Sounds cool, rite brah?

5.

Again, one restricted by Jockrs being in exam mode. I didn’t want to get too far. But we finally watched the first episode of the 2018 series. One of the rare occasions where the dub is notably better than the sub. But god. What a wild ride. 10/10. No notes. It's just pure gas. And that first episode really struck a chord with me. Something visceral about being palpably perceived as a threat. Emanating danger from you that lessers can sense in their bones. Actually being a weapon in human form. I get such a thrill from that concept. I understand why the toxic tik tok gym bro crowd latches on to this show so much. I think I will too.

#muscle #jock #hypnosis #bull #bodybuilding

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 13

💥Flashback chapter💥

a continuation from the last one

—  

masterlist

warnings: blood, torture, past whipping, partial nudity (he's just not wearing a shirt), weird thoughts on purity and sin that isn't specifically mentioned as religion but pretty close

—

The blood ran freely. It didn’t drip, no, it poured out of him, streaming down his back. Envy felt he’d been emptied of all he was, that the wounds had opened up some part of himself that was now leaking out until all that was left was pain.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the angel had whipped him raw. He’d never been whipped before. He couldn’t think about any of that right now.

He struggled to draw in breath, shaky, slow. Every liitle movement of his body sent a jolt up through his muscles, pulling at his skin and the fresh wounds on his back. Long, thin stripes that trailed from his shoulders to his hips, criss-crossed over one another. Envy’s throat closed up, choking on air. He thought he might have still been shivering, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he got tired of it earlier and stopped. He was so tired. He hung there in the chains, his knees sagging, his arms hanging in chains over his head the only thing keeping him upright.

He breathed in. Out. Wished he could open his eyes and be back at his House, away from any angels and torment.

Never so kind. The angel strode into the room holding a crystalline bowl filled with water, a white cloth draped over the side. Envy felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the sight of the divine being, as well as the burning in his eyes that it brought him. Even when it hurt to look directly at her, he didn’t want to look away and leave himself unsure of what might be coming. Would that be better, though, he wondered. To be oblivious, just for a moment? Envy swallowed thickly. No, he’d rather be prepared for what fate might bring him—or at least he could try and convince himself he was. He was a prince of Hell, not a common demon. He wouldn’t be made to submit so easily.

And yet, how he’d screamed. His throat felt dry and sore.

“I am here to clean your wounds,” the angel said, stepping behind him.

Envy snorted, the action sending a ripple of pain down his spine. “How nice of you.”

The angel leaned forward and brushed a hand over his cheek. Such a delicate touch, but it stung all the same. Envy couldn’t help the anger that rushed up from within him—how was that fair? How was any of this fair? The angels have the power to hurt us just by sight and touch and what do demons have? I want I want I want—

“You shouldn’t have such impure thoughts,” the angel crooned.

Envy jolted. “There’s no way—”

The angel shook her head, a slow and careful movement. “No, but you display them plainly enough.”

Envy clenched his jaw, glaring at the wall with indignation. He couldn’t see the angel from behind, but he would have shot her a look straight from Hell if he could. He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions, a skill he was often teased for by his brothers.

“I do not,” he ground out, unable to resist the urge to argue, even when he probably shouldn’t.

“Shh,” the angel said, dragging a finger over his cheek. It left a trail of burning on his skin in its wake. “You must release all that anger, hatred, and desire if you want to be made pure.”

Envy could hear the angel dip the cloth into the water and decided not to respond. He was grateful his wounds were being cleaned at all and didn’t want to make the angel do some other horrible thing instead if he said the wrong thing.

The angel touched the cloth to Envy’s back and every nerve in his body lit up with pain. Envy threw his head back and stifled a muffled cry, feeling as if the wounds were being freshly created—worse even. Fire became liquid and seeped into his bloodstream, flowing through his body and singing it from the inside. He was devoured whole. Diminished, disintegrated, dissolved. Only one thing could rend him so terribly as this.

Holy water.

The angel had brought in a bowl filled with holy water. The angel was using holy water—the antithesis to his kind—to clean his wounds.

“You can’t—” Envy began in a voice more desperate than he wanted, and was promptly shushed.

The angel circled around him and touched a finger to his lips. Still wet, it sizzled on the fragile skin. Envy made a muffled sound, but couldn’t even open his mouth.

“Oh, but I think I can.”

It didn’t hurt. Hurt was a mere word in comparison to what this was. Hurt was the feeling of being whipped over and over again, the lashes overlaid over fresh and weeping wounds. Hurt was the angel’s touch on his skin, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look upon her and bask in her stinging light.

Holy water was so far past mere hurt.

The angel wiped his back and every touch sent him jerking away but unable to escape. The water worked its way into his wounds, fresh and raw and awful. It filled his blood, his body, and all that he was and was not. He bit down hard, trying to cut off the sobs that wrenched from his throat. Worse than the whipping itself—to be burned at every touch, to feel such a gentle motion as the angel wiping away the blood but have it all be tainted by the fire that sought to consume him.

Envy couldn’t stand it.

And yet, he had to. He wouldn’t beg. He refused to. He was one of the proud lords of Hell, a demon prince, a capable ruler of his own and others’ territories. Even if blasted Pride got all the attention and accolades for his stupid plans, Envy was still better. He would never debase himself by begging for the angel to stop, no matter what she did. No matter how much it hurt.

The angel didn’t stop until all the wounds were clean, the blood washed away from his back and shoulders. Envy was left gasping for air, shivering once again.

He gave her a smile stained with tears on her way out.

—

next

(taglist in reblogs)

#whump #whump writing #my writing #willow writes #original work: demon’s haven #demon whump #demon whumpee #angel whumper #oc envy #the angel doesnt get a tag because she doesnt have a name yet kjhuhsm #religion tw

[mauesartetc]

Thoughts on Helluva Boss 201 (”The Circus”)

Pros:

- The child versions of Blitzo, Fizz, and Stolas were pretty cute, and their voice actors did a good job. Funny how these characters can actually be endearing when Viv’s forced to let their personalities shine through rather than fall back on sex scenes and excessive swearing.

- The animation was solid, as usual. Nothing fantastic compared to previous installments, but competent.

- More of the jokes landed than they normally do in Helluva episodes.

- I liked the exploration of Blitzo’s relationship with Fizz. They were friendly and playful with each other in this flashback, though we already see the friction growing between them via Blitzo’s envy of Fizz’s balloon animal skills, and Fizz’s aversion to the idea of blood while Blitzo revels in it.

- It was interesting to see Blitzo and Stolas’ respective fathers and how their treatment of their sons would affect their psychology later in life. While I still have issues with his name (we’ll get to that shortly), Paimon was entertaining to watch.

Cons:

- As I mentioned here, it makes no sense to name this shapeshifting owl after an Ars Goetia demon who resembles a human riding a camel and has no shapeshifting powers or relation to Stolas as far as I know. How hard would it have been to make up a new name for him? And y’all couldn’t even give him a camel to ride? Tsk.

- Bit of a nitpick, but when Stolas and the imp butler arrive at the circus with Paimon looking through a magic mirror, Paimon suggests they move to a spot where he can’t “smell the poor”. But... he’s not physically present. He shouldn’t be able to smell anything. That’s like me watching a football game on TV and holding my nose every time the camera moves to the bench. Don’t want those sweaty players bombarding our nostrils now, do we? Either Paimon has the best sense of smell ever, or this is a nonsensical line the writers didn’t think about. I’m guessing the latter.

- The ringmaster’s voice was a little grating for my taste, sorta like a gravelly-voiced parrot. Someone like Gilbert Gottfried could make this kind of delivery sound natural and add some charm to it, but here it comes off like the VA was just putting on one of those stereotypical voices you’d hear at a kids’ puppet show. He was pretty good as Paimon, though, so I’m sure the direction has something to do with this. (Also, this voice hilariously reminded me of Jaboody Dubs’s version of Cathy Mitchell. What has been heard cannot be unheard.)

- Edit 1: Something I forgot to mention in the initial post: Stolas’ hellhound security guards bring Blitzo to Stolas and ask what they should do with him, but isn’t it their job to know that already? Just throw him out, guys. It’s not that hard. Also, one of them calls him a “nasty imp”, his voice filled with disgust. But I thought imps and hellhounds were on the same social tier in this universe, so isn’t he basically calling himself nasty too? You could argue he’s just playing up his reaction in front of Stolas and doesn’t actually feel this way, but there’s no evidence to suggest that. This dialogue doesn’t make a lick of sense. 

- It’s exceedingly odd that Stolas is immediately horny for Blitzo after spending twenty-five years away from him. Like, I had childhood crushes from 20-ish years ago too. But typically, people’s tastes evolve as they age, they meet new people, and they get the fuck over it. I’m picturing meeting my second-grade crush now, when we’re both adults and haven’t interacted in ages, and trying to jump his bones on sight. Just... no. Gross. Pure cringe. What would we even talk about? What do we have in common anymore? This reunion isn’t romantic; it’s deeply concerning. Get some fucking therapy, Stolas.

- In Stolas’ bedroom, Blitzo tells him “I kill people now”, but how is he already doing that if he doesn’t have the grimoire to transport himself to the human world yet? Bit of a plot hole there.

- Also, there’s a tangible air of manipulation about this whole episode. What we’re being told and shown here isn’t consistent with what we’ve seen of these characters so far. For instance, young Stolas finds Blitzo’s jokes funny, indicating he likes his personality. Yet if we review their interactions in Season 1, Stolas constantly treats Blitzo like an object, sexually harassing and fetishizing him to no end. Personality has nothing to do with it.

Then, near the end of the episode, Stolas tells Stella, “I would feel bad if I hurt you, but we both know I didn’t do that”. Ya sure? Ya really sure about that? Because she threw a pretty massive fit about it in Loo Loo Land, was angry enough to hire a hit man to kill her husband, and even in this very scene, she admits to sticking around just to remind him of what he did. These aren’t the actions of someone who isn’t hurt. If she really didn’t care, she wouldn’t have done any of this. This is just an excuse for Stolas not to apologize. If he avoids any admission of wrongdoing, that makes him a more sympathetic character, right? Wrong. Apologizing would be the mature, emotionally-stable thing to do, and it’d make him more respectable despite how he’s acted in the past.

Edit 2: Something else I forgot to mention is that Stolas says “The only reason I endured your constant insults and cruelty was for that girl [Octavia] to have a normal life”. But back in Loo Loo Land, he repeatedly flirted with Blitzo despite knowing it made Octavia upset, and once again, never apologized or offered a proper explanation for it. And of course, three episodes later, he’s still sleeping with him, having learned absolutely nothing. Notice a pattern here? The writers want us to think Stolas suddenly cares about his daughter when his past actions have demonstrated he doesn’t give a shit. And I’m not sure if this was intentional (it probably isn’t if the writers want so badly to make Stolas sympathetic), but it’s telling that he says “that girl” instead of using her name, psychologically distancing himself from the guilt he associates with her rather than addressing it. He knows he did her dirty but prefers to cover his ass instead of making amends. Father of the year, folks.

- Speaking of audience manipulation, good god, STELLA. I thought she was flat and poorly-written before, but they seriously made her an over-the-top evil, moustache-twirling Saturday morning cartoon villain. There’s absolutely zero subtlety here. She even straight-up tells Stolas “I like tormenting you”, beating us over the head with her outlandish, unrealistic cruelty. I mean... This was the cartoon meant for adults, right?

Here’s a room-temperature take (that Stolitz stans will probably take as controversial anyway): Making one character completely unlikable won’t magically make another character sympathetic. If the stove in your kitchen is busted, you don’t take a baseball bat to the fridge to make it look worse by comparison. You fix the fucking stove.

- Stolas’ singing voice sounded a bit thin at times, almost mechanical, like there wasn’t much life or energy in the sustained notes. I don’t know if the VA had a cold while recording or they added some kind of weird autotune, but it sounded a bit off to me.

Those are my thoughts. Definitely not the worst episode, but holy fuck does it have problems. I’m tired. So damn tired. Brb, off to watch a  much better show.

#helluva boss #helluva critical #critique #criticism #helluva blitz #helluva stolas #helluva stella #writing #long post #sympathetic characters

[salixsociety]

Local Flora, Folklore and Medicine

On connecting with the plant spirits of your land.

As a magical practitioner of any kind, or even as a pagan, there is major value in maintaining awareness of your surroundings. Though I preach that the responsibility of 'saving the environment' is not on the shoulders of the average non-billionaire, I do think we all owe it to each other and the world to know the plants we pick, get stung by, and walk on. Those are the same plants that offer themselves as food, medicine, clothing, and magical tool, but are generally met with a blind eye. So how do we get started with learning about them?

Acknowledging

I think as children we all passively learn about the plants in our environment. Grade school, our elders, TV. Kids in northern Europe learn about acorns, amanita muscaria toadstools, and chamomile. Kids in southern North America may learn about saguaros and sagebrush. Those plants are a great place to start. We learn to take them for granted as we get older, but they were the first you learned about for a reason! Their cultural relevance has stood the test of time. You can start looking into them just by googling - the internet has a surprising wealth of knowledge both cultural and conventional about the medicinal, nutritional, practical and spiritual applications of plants, especially those who have long-lived folklore. Wikipedia is a great jumping off point for further research.

Another excellent method to start, and this one may be my favorite, is to go to a local thrift store and pick up a field guide for your area/state/province/biome. There are many different kinds! There are those with small blocks of text and little b&w scientific drawings that are purely designed to help you quickly identify a plant. There are those that have color pictures and an elaborate description of where to find the plants and what they do. There are those that focus on wildflowers, those that focus on trees, those that focus on medicinal plants, et cetera, et cetera. Choose one that suits your needs. If you're a beginner interested in folk medicine, choose one with color pictures that focuses on medicinal plants, for example. Then carry it with you for a while, or go on walks with it! Look around, listen to music, and try to identify the plants that stand out to you.

Recognizing

Of course, going around and looking at plants may not feel like a productive way to get into plants. How will I remember what they look like and what they do? That is where folklore comes in. I will never forget the moment I learned why 'Devil's Bit' is called that. I had read that folklore had it the devil, in envy about the potent medicine in the root of the flower, had come up from below and bitten off the rootstock of every single flower. The first time I dug it up I could see: it really does look like someone took off the bottom of the root. And this goes for many many plants in our immediate environment. Many native Americans refer to narrowleaf plantain (plantago lanceolata) as 'White Man's Foot' because it grows along footpaths and was brought over by European colonizers. 'Monkshood,' really does look like the hood of a monastic. Herbaria If you are dedicated to your plant related magic, a herbarium will be very much worth the effort. It's a compilation of any kind (a notebook, a google doc, a binder) wherein you can collect all the information relevant to you. It is massively helpful to write down every alternative name you know, the medicinal properties you use, et cetera. A physical herbarium can also include pressed plant specimens or cyanotypes of them, and a digital one can have pictures taken from the internet. Making your own scientific sketches of plants is also an excellent way to learn much about them.

Understanding

A basic understanding of botany may prove very useful when you get a bit more skilled at recognizing your local flora. Understanding how they reproduce, which plants threaten one another, how poisons work, what plants are native and which are not, and how to perform basic processing styles such as extractions, infusions, distillations, will be a major step in both feeling like you understand the scientific part of the plant as well as its importance in your environment.

Connecting

This is by far the most individual part of this whole process. Your religious inclinations, spiritual views on the world, et cetera, will shape how this goes. For me, as an animist, I connect with plants by acknowledging that they are alive and have a degree of sentience. I use them in my practice both intact and not - I tie off my illnesses to trees, thank plants I use to stand on or pull myself up from, and speak to living plants just as much as I work with and revere ones that I have to uproot or process to make use of them. Someone that is not an animist may not find value therein, but instead in something else. The important part is to stay conscious. Pay attention to details. Be grateful that you get to witness their beauty and make use of their applications. Marvel at the great web of interconnectedness that both we and plants are a part of. Wonder what the existence of a plant does for you, even if it just is what it is. How does the kelp in the ocean benefit you in your daily life even when you aren’t eating it? It does, somehow, I can assure you. Some great rabbitholes to dive into if you are keen to feel connected to plants are how trees in a forest are all connected, about mushroom mycelia, about how what looks like many shrubs or trees may just be one after all. Mother trees and how they sustain all the trees around them are one of my very favorite topics. 

Practicing

The fun part! There are many ways to apply your newfound knowledge, and continuing to actively do so is the best way to keep learning. Safe and fun things to start doing immediately could include: - Processing plants for their practical applications, such as making rope or fabric from nettles, making baskets from willow twigs, carving musical instruments or sculptures from dried wood; - Making decorations in moderation, such as bouquets, wreaths, flower crowns; - Using them in small-time magic you will not be consuming. Many plants were said to ward off witchcraft, bad luck or bad spirits, and you can so easily hang a strawberry leaf above your door or keep an alder twig by your window; - Making art such as sketches, dyes, cyanotypes; - Harvesting small amounts and observing: I think we all remember picking dandelions as kids, noticing the latex flowing from the stems, and tasting it carefully. And there is more. I don't suggest doing this right off the bat, as you may do more harm than good in the beginning stages, but when you have learned a fair amount, feel confident in your ability to recognize a few plants, and frequently use some of your local plants in your magic, you could start stockpiling a bit. Take opportunities to gather herbs that are not endangered, bulk dry them, and store them in jars away from sunlight for use in the future. Please be sure to educate yourself on foraging etiquette and plant lookalikes! You may also grow a wish to assist your local environment by helping to manage invasive species. I highly encourage this! Educate yourself well on what the invasive species look like, how they behave, and how they are best eradicated. Be sure to be mindful not to get in the way of greater conservation efforts, though!

In conclusion: the wealth of the world is at your fingertips. Everything you need is where the nature is. Food, medicine, building material, warmth, fun, art, music, is all hidden in the sting of a nettle, the rustle of foliage, and the cushioning of a clover field. You are entitled to it all, so long as you stay grateful and conscious.

#germanic pagan #folk magic #apothecaric allerlei

[blowflyfag]

ECW Magazine: February 2000

FLIGHT OF RAVEN

Raven returns to ECW roost and brood about life

By S. Connor

RAVEN RETURNED TO EXTREME CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING on Aug. 26 and shook the foundation of the promotion. At the first TNN taping at Elks Lodge in Queens, N.Y., he paired with longtime nemesis Tommy Dreamer and beat The Dudley Boyz to claim the ECW world tag team title. 

In the following interview, Raven talks about his days in World Championship Wrestling, his childhood and his motivation for returning to ECW.

A CHILLING CHILDHOOD

Q. WHAT KIND OF CHILDHOOD DID YOU HAVE?

A. A miserable one. No one liked me. I was very unpopular and I was staved for attention because my dad never told me he loved me. I was extremely outgoing, loud and obnoxious just to get any kind of attention.

[Raven pulls Rhino off Tommy Dreamer]

Q. DO YOU HAVE ANY BROTHERS OR SISTERS?

A. I have an older sister but she had mental problems of her own. In fact she has emotional problems that are bad enough that she gets disability from the government. She also has very poor health problems, but she’s a great person.

Q. WAS THERE ANYTHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE TO MAKE YOUR CHILDHOOD BETTER?

A. I probably could have stopped picking on her and abusing her. I was embarrassed by her problems and I took it our on her. It wasn’t her fault she was that way, which left me with even more guilt for being cruel to her because I thought she was embarrassing me. It just snowballed.

Q. DO YOU BLAME THESE PROBLEMS ON YOUR PARENTS’ LACK OF ATTENTION?

A. Yes, complete lack of attention. I also have a fragile brain chemistry to begin with. My sister is actually unipolar. She’s just depressed. I’m bipolar, I’m manic/depressive. I needed more attention than your basic kid to begin with but i got less than your average person so it was a double whammy. My parents were so wrapped up in my sister’s problems they didn’t give me any attention. I had problems just as bad as her but apparently I hid behind an armor that was thick enough and it was such a good act that nobody saw though it. But they should have seen through it. They are my parents. My I.Q. was 143 and they should have realized how special i was. If not special, then I should have been treated like any normal person. I often envied kids that at least got beat by their parents. If they got beat, at least they knew that their parents cared. Mine were indifferent. Indifference is the greatest cruelty of all. 

[Unlikely tag team: Tommy Dreamer and Raven]

ABOUT RINGMANSHIP

Q. HOW IMPORTANT ARE MICROPHONE SKILLS IN WRESTLING?

A. The greatest interviews in the history of the business were Mankind’s interviews as Cactus Jack in ECW. I don’t think anyone will ever cut promos better. Like a Seinfield episode, he went all over the place, but at the end the whole story came together in a neat little bundle. Cactus was always teaching you something. Austin is tremendous. In World Championship Wrestling, as far as charisma, I’m a big fan of Kannan. He is one of the most charismatic guys ever. Rey Mysterio Jr. is one of the greatest pure athletes I’ve ever seen in my life. In ECW, Axl Rotten is absolutely remarkable. Rotten can actuallt wrestle scientifically as smoothly and as well as anybody. If he dropped 30 pounds and Paul  Heyman [owner of ECW] have him a chance to really prove himself, all of a sudden you’d have a new major star.

WCW STRIKES OUT

Q. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR CAREER IN WCW?

A. I was never allowed in the “big 10” of WCW. I wasn’t popular enough and I didn’t get my shot. Anybody who truly has seen my work with an unjaded and uncynical eye would probably include me in the top 10. I haven’t drawn money in the major territories because I’ve never been in the position. 

Q. SOME OF YOUR GIMMICKS: SCOTTY THE BODY, JOHNNY POLO, SCOTTY FLAMINGO. WERE THEY REALLY YOU?

A. Yes they were. I’m a manic depressive! Scotty the Body was a character I created. The World Wrestling Federation gave me Johnny Polo and Dusty Rhodes gave me Scotty Flamingo - offshoots of Scotty the Body, one of my original names. I wanted to be the most flamboyant, obnoxious, abrasive, loudmouth chickens—heel I could be because I knew it would give me the attention I craved. If i didn’t get the attention at home, I wanted the adulation of strangers. I found along the way it’s no substitute, but it does to an extent alleviate some of the anguish and pain. If you talk t the boys in the WCW locker room. Konnan, Saturn or Disco Inferno would say either I am the most moody pick on the planet to the most wise ass goofy bastard you ever met.

[‘My parents were so wrapped up in my sister’s problems they never have me any attention.’]

RAVEN-DREAMER SAGA LIVES ON

SINCE RAVEN RETURNED TO EXTREME CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING ON AUG. 26, HIS LEGENDARY FEUD WITH TOMMY DREAMER HAS BEEN REVIVED. 

AS KIDS, THE TWO WERE BEST FRIENDS UNTIL A GIRL NAMED BEULAH CAME BETWEEN THEM. DREAMER STOLE BEULAH FROM RAVEN, EVEN THOUGH HE DIDN”T REALLY WANT HER. WHEN SHE CAME BACK INTO THEIR LIVES IN ECW, OLD HATRED BETWEEN RAVEN AND DREAMER ROSE UP AND DROVE THE TWO TO FIGHT THEIR BATTLES IN THE RING.

DESPITE THEIR HATRED, THE TWO BECAME ECW WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS WHEN RAVEN RETURNED TO THE FEDERATION ON AUG. 26. THROUGHOUT SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER OF 1999, DREAMER WAS BARELY ABLE TO DEFEND THE TITLE BECAUSE OF AN INJURED BACK. RAVEN ONLY INVOLVED HIMSELF IN THE MATCHES AT THE END TO ENSURE THE TWO UNLIKELY PARTNERS KEP TTHE TITLE. HOW LONG DREAMER AND RAVEN CAN CONTINUE IN THIS DYSFUNCTIONAL MANNER IS ANY FAN’S GUESS.

SUCKING UP?

Q. WHAT WERE YOUR DAYS LIKE BEHIND THE SCENES FOR WWF?

A. When i was working for Vince McMahon [owner of the WWF] as associate producer of RAW, Vince made me put on a suit and tie. It was killing me. As soon as I was done producing, the sh-t would come off and I would put on a pair of ripped up jeans, a pair of boots, a T-shirt and leather jacket. That’s who I am. Me and Shane McMahon became really good friends. I was an original member of the Mean Street Posse, because me, Shane, Rodney and Pete Gas used to hang out all the time. I think it’s kind of amusing that Raven’s actually a Mean Street Posse member and they all dress in their ivy league clothes. Me and Shane are really close friends. I can’t say anything bad about him. We used to hang out constantly. It was funny because all of the boys would say, “You’re just  sucking up to Shane so you can get over with Vince,” and it’s just the exact opposite. What would happen is I’d get total heat with Vince because I’d have Shane out all the time, back when I used to drink. I quit drinking two tyears ago. I had Shane out every night of the week partying and Vince thought I was a horrendous influence on his son. 

[I’ve been to a couple psychologists.’]

BACK ON THE COUCH

Q. DID YOU EVER SEEK OUT HELP FOR YOUR PROBLEMS?

A. I’ve been to a couple psychologists. I found one phenomenal one who really helped me through my baggage. My father’s passing away recently - he was very ill so it was the best thing for him - took a lot of that baggage away. I don’t by any means glorify his death, but it enabled me to turn my life around.

Q. DESCRIBE RAVEN NOW COMPARED TO THE ONE WHO APPERED JAN. 8, 1995.

A. I came out in January 1995 as dark and as bleak and as miserable as one could possibly be. A lot of people say I left the character consume me, but what they don’t understand is it was already consuming me to begin with. I just found the forum to play it out. It was cathartic, it gave me release. By the same token, a lot of the negatives that accentuated it had a detrimental effect on me. It took a long while to work through all of that as well. What you see now is probably the most stable and happy I've ever been. Raven now is cruel, hateful and malicious, but bot as brooding and not as sullen. Fans will see a more sarcastic edge. Raven is 75 precent of the brooding bastard and 25 perfect of the glib, wise ass prick that Scotty the Body was. 

FROM ECW TO WCW AND BACK AGAIN

Q. HOW DID YOU COME TO THE DECISION TO LEAVE ECW THE FIRST TIME?

A. I didn’t want to leave and to be honest, I begged Paul. I said, “Please, I don’t want to leave.” Eric Bischoff [then vice president of WCW] offered me a lot of money to go to WCW. Of course ECW’s pay scale has jumped since then, but at this time it was a very hefty contract. I begged Paul to give me half of what Bischoff offered, but he couldn’t he just didn’t have the money. I had to leave and it broke my heart. All the boys said, “You got to go.” Now that ECW is on national TV with the TNN deal, I’m like: “well, I cant let them go on national TV without me. I got to be there for it.”

Q. BUT DIDN’T BISCHOFF ASK YOU TO LEAVE WCW ON AUG. 23?

A. I didn't really have a choice. Bischoff called a meeting and said, “Raven, start working through our attorney outside. You’re not happy with the company so you can leave right now.” I said, “bye” and walked out the door. Later Eric said, “I think you should think this over, I think you should stay. What are you going to do, go work for Paul E.?” I said, ”No, I’m going to Vince.” He said, “You are not going to Vince.” I said, “You said I got a release. I would think that implies I could go wherever I want.” Eris said, “I’ll let you go to ECW but you can’t go to Vince.”

Q. HOW DO YOU GET ALONG WITH BISCHOFF NOW?

A. I like Eric a lot, I think he’s a great guy. I know there’s a lot of horror stories of how badly he treats all the wrestlers, but he’s always treated me with a lot of respect. He always made time for me.

#raven #Raven ecw #ecw #extreme championship wrestling #magazine scan #magazine transcript #this guy is so fucking gay

[theangiediary]

Happy WW! What do they think their brother (or other family member if you like) does better than anybody else in the whole wide world?

There's this paragraph in take the things you love by @hathfrozen :

Which I adore. So the thing Dean thinks Sam does better than anyone is sleeping in Baby. Sure not many other people do, but John was always restless when needs made it happen growing up, and Dean is very light sleeper so while nice, to be so close and bundled with Sam, the smallest forest noise or strong breeze would wake him (always alert, always watching out for Sammy). Occasionally girls would catch a couple hours after sex, but that's pure exhaustion and drink and not the same thing at all.

Sam... okay again, I don't want people to think I don't like him but honestly, for most of the series I'm not sure what Sam would say Dean is "the best" at. There's some mid-late moments where it's just "hunting" overall but idk if that's Sam's emotional truth or the fact that they know they're God/fate's favorite toys at that point, or both... Soulless called himself a better hunter than Dean, and while early seasons Dean might say "Dad is the best"/"Dad'll be fine"/hero worship John, Sam.. wouldn't, re: Dean. Sam left because he was always thinking someone wouldn't come back, ya know? Also the best of the what, 3(?) hunters they knew wasn't really saying anything.

Same kinda concept for like, early Sam wouldn't say Dean was the smartest, or the kindest, or the best at cars, or getting witnesses to talk, or...

Actually maybe "lucky"? Like, their lives really, really suck. No one's saying having your mom die as a kid is lucky, but things just seem.. easier, for Dean. Maybe he's best at obeying John (snide) (I know other people answered this too ✊), but since there's not much competition let's tie it into this larger, "Dean's damn good at adapting". The discount bin always has something Dean can make a meal out of, the prettiest girls in school fall over themselves to take him home (and he never gets bullied for his grungy jeans), doesn't get caught when he uses ridiculous covers like"Bikini Inspector" badges, I mean Faith alone.... Some of these things are practiced skills, some things are fate, some are just hidden from Sam by Dean.

Sorry, I write/think about Sam with a lot of envy/lust toward Dean. And love, but it's.. complicated. Possessive, because Dean is worth possessing. Dean is duty/loyal to Sam, who is special because he is Dean's. That's his little brother, who is incredible but there's lots of incredible people in the world that Dean wouldn't be devastated to lose. So Sammy's The Best title is something intimate. Vs Dean is like a jewel to Sam, anyone would be grateful to have him but they can't, he's wasted a little under John (gonna get him killed), but he belongs to Sam. His The Best title is something everyone gets to experience, but maybe can't see, because they don't have all of him like Sam does.

Does that make sense? I feel like I've just been in bite-y, baby dom Sam mode recently. Or more accurately, edible sweet submissive Dean 🫣.

#thank you timezones ITS STILL WEDNESDAY #💋 and thank you maggie!

[bluejayboi]

Daughter of Evil

This story is based on the Story of Evil series (No specific versions, just a hodge-podge of multiple). There are three songs in the trilogy, so I'm splitting this story into three sections. It’s based heavily on the plot of the songs but I deviated in a few ways. There aren’t as many quotes but there are some. Hope you all enjoy (＾▽＾)

Part 2: Servant of Evil

Part 3: Regret Message

TW: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and bratty yandere

Songs to listen to while reading:

Daughter of Evil- JubyPhonic, Kuraiinu, mothy  

Characters: Riliane (princess in the dress) and Allen (servant in the suit). Both characters are aged up to 19.

Once upon a time in a land so far away was an evil kingdom that no person dared to face. You have lived in this kingdom all your life. You had taken a job as a (butler/servant/maid) in Riliane’s castle. The job didn’t pay very well, but it gave you a roof over your head, enough meals for you to not go hungry, and enough money for you to live somewhat comfortably. You lived frugally, storing most of the money you earned in a hidden location on the outskirts of town. You always kept your head down, trying to avoid the attention of the tyrant Princess Riliane. She ruled with an iron fist. She had started ruling at the age of fourteen and never quite grew out of her immaturity and entitlement. You had heard the horror stories of what happened to other workers who had irked her and never wanted to meet that same fate. Unfortunately for you, her attention was unavoidable.

Something about you caught her eye. Maybe it was a particular attribute of yours that got her attention (an interesting hairstyle, exquisite eyes, a cute face, etc.). Maybe it was a certain talent you had (a beautiful singing voice, incredible artistry, a skilled craftsperson, an elaborate storyteller, etc.). Or maybe it was the way you acted (always gentle and kind to others, a strong force that people look up to, seemingly always calm and mysterious, etc.). Regardless of what it was, something about you caught her eye. She fell fast and she fell hard.

Being the greedy individual that she is, she wanted to possess you. She wanted to own you; add you to her collection of shiny baubles and prized possessions. She wanted to polish you up (she couldn’t let you go around looking like a peasant after all) and show you off. There wasn’t anything that this princess couldn’t have, so she sent the boy just like her, her right hand man, to fetch what she wanted.

She had her brother Allen get you for her; had him gather your few meaningful possessions from your servants quarters and escort you up to her room. Whether you go quietly or protest, the ending is the same; you’ll be locked up in her room and gawked at by the privileged princess.

In the beginning, you were like a glorified pet to her. She kept you in a gilded cage, keeping you locked up in some lush quarters right next to her own until the time came when she wanted to spend time with you (which was quite often). She would drag you along to various activities; forcing you to spend tea time with her, reading with her (with either you sitting on her lap or her sitting on yours), and more. She would give you trinkets and treats and other magnificent gifts in an attempt to buy your affections. She would bedeck you in silken outfits and glittering jewels and precious metals, claiming that no possession of hers is allowed to look anything less than magnificent.

One piece of jewelry that she gifted you stood out in particular. It may have been a brooch, a necklace, a pocket watch, or some other piece of finery. Regardless of what it was, the item was wrought of pure gold (since she loves the yellow hue of the metal) and with gems of your favorite color inlaid in it. There’s an image of a dove in flight decorating the metal. How you envied that bird. You longed to fly from this prison, to escape from this gilded cage you were locked in. Yet here you stayed.

Whenever you didn’t act the way she wanted you to, she would throw a tantrum. She would threaten you and the people you care about to get her way. And afterwards she would come crying to you about how she ‘hates being so mean to you’ but that she just wants you to love her back.

Riliane only lets herself and her brother see you at first. She’s incredibly jealous, worried that people might try to steal you away from her if they see how precious you are. She knew she could trust her brother with you though. 

Despite having a rocky start with him (due to him helping kidnap you), you and Allen actually form a pretty decent relationship. Despite his undying loyalty to his sister, he’s actually not that bad of a guy. He’s somewhat kind (despite his skewed morals), hardworking, and dotting. It’s nice to talk to him, since you don’t feel like you're walking on eggshells around him. He feels bad about keeping you here against your will but he refuses to let you go because you make his sister so happy. He cares a lot about you in a platonic way. You make his sister incredibly happy, so he loves you too. He sees you as a second sibling and a close friend. He’s able to trust you with things that he’s worried to bother his sister with. He goes out of his way to pamper you as a way to say sorry for keeping you here.

After a while, your resolve starts to break a bit. You give into the princess’ requests more easily, stop flinching at her touch, and she even sees you smiling more often. Riliane is overjoyed that you're accepting her more and begins to lighten up on you. She starts to treat you more like a partner than a pet. She respects your opinion much more than she did before but she’s still incredibly bratty and will pout or throw a fit if she has to compromise too much.

Riliane even eases up on her possessiveness a bit. She ‘allows’ you to make public appearances. Of course, you have to remain by her side the whole time. She loves ordering people to show you the proper respect that she feels you deserve, often chiming out “Now, kneel before us peasants”. And should anyone treat you in a way she doesn’t approve of, they will face a severe punishment. She once sent a man to receive thirty lashings for simply making eye contact and trying to talk to you. And if anyone so much as thinks of disrespecting or flirting with you, they’ll be dragged out of the palace in chains and sent to their execution. After all, anyone opposing her would be punished for their crime. And treating you in a way she didn’t approve of was a one way ticket to the chopping block.

She loves taking you out to show you off. She’ll get you all dolled up and dressed in the finest of clothes so that you can join her for tea time, sit in on her political meetings, or make an appearance before the kingdom. She also really enjoys taking you out horseback riding. She doesn’t let you ride on your own horse though. She expects you to ride on the back of Josephine, her prized horse, with her (it’s *totally* not so she has an excuse to have you hold onto her).

Riliane continues to buy you extravagant gifts. Anyone worthy of being her partner is obviously worthy of the finest things money could buy. She could buy the world no matter what the price may be, so simply ask her and she will get you whatever you want (in exchange for affection of course). If there wasn’t money for the tyrant left to spend, she would simply take it from her loyal subjects to no end. No request is too big for her to fulfill (unless you're asking for your freedom back)

She becomes a lot kinder with her affections too. Instead of forcing you to cuddle with her, she becomes more conscious of your boundaries and interests. She’ll look more into what you want. She’ll still be a brat about it, but she’s at least trying.

#story of evil #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere vocaloid #yandere x reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere story

[angel-babycakes]

Bruno, trying to be a good parent: does your mommy know you eat all that crap?

Trish, a recent orphan and has yet to meet her madre Doppio and father Diavolo: not anymore! 🎶When mom was alive-🎶

I also think it’s pretty funny that Trish would probably be baffled that she resembles both Doppio and Diavolo so much more than Donatella that there is no need for a DNA test, it’s so obvious but I just find this fucking hilarious. “Yeah, my mom knew my other parents for like a while and they promised to meet again after they separated to raise me together, guess it never followed through.” It’s even fucking funnier knowing that Donatella Una stood OBSESSED with Doppio and Diavolo for 15 WHOLE YEARS, talk about a skill issue, having to think about that wild ass threesome on a hot summer night in Sardinia, but I bet 100% that if Donatella was alive she’d be beefing with the main cast for messing with her sneaky links. Donatella was always misunderstood because if my DID bipolar bisexual pink haired freckled situationship left me to watch over our baby to go run a powerful mafia syndicate and learn that a band rejected big tiddy goth jester had been flirting and fighting with my ex on the beach, l'd be on the news or woulda started eating my own organs.

Donatella would have been tweaking out of pure envy, like that one episode where Spongebob broke on Mr.Krabs and screamed gibberish, like this “AAAAAAAAAAAAA REGA FLIKA FREGA SMELAHOLIN YAGA HOGA MEGIN ZIBBIE NEBI SPID REBIFLIBIN DIBIN SHIPA!!” And I would applaud that in all honesty but Trish would definitely catch a case for knowing that her madre Doppio and father Diavolo are literal gorgeous beings and she’s got their genes but hates the idea of anyone flirting with her parents, she’d scratch your eyes out-

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba doppio #jjba diavolo #jjba trish #jjba bruno #jjba donatella una #jjba headcanons

[louwhose]

A Matter of No Small Importance

AO3 Link saw the Princess, looking down at him from where she was standing, every inch of her posture perfect, not a line of her expression untoward. Every inch the perfect Princess fulfilling her duties. Except for her eyes that betrayed her, looking at him, or rather the sword strapped to his back, in the look that any child would have as they complain that it isn’t fair. And Link couldn’t blame her. - Written for @zelinkcommunity's weekly prompt Significance

Zelda hated the Hero before she ever even saw him.

She worked for years upon years upon years upon years with nothing to show for it while he was lauded with attention for pulling a sword out of the ground and it stung.

And it was worse when she did see him, from afar, talking to her father. His back was turned from her. She wanted to be grateful that he didn’t see her, but it was so much worse instead.

Because her eyes latched onto that sword strapped onto his back, seeming to tell her, over and over and over again, I’m here, I’m ready, Why aren’t You?

“Princess?” Impa, her bodyguard, asked. Right. She had better things to do. Only now was she able to appreciate that he had never turned and seen her seething.

Zelda turned and followed Impa to her next appointment. There was no need to care about that Hero that made her feel so inferior.

They may be the Hero and the Princess destined to fight off evil together in their time, but there was no significance to their relationship beyond that. And that was how it would remain.

-

"Hero of Hyrule…” There was a hesitation in her voice. Her voice, icy, colder than any he had ever heard before. She said Link’s title with more spite than he would have imagined possible. The Princess took a shaky breath before continuing the next line of her speech. “Chosen by The Sword That Seals the Darkness.”

Now that, she said with pure venom in her voice.

Link cautiously looked up, dispersing with his decidedly-maintained blank expression and dutifulness to his position for a moment in order to look up at that expression, so full of hatred, no, frustration.

And he saw the Princess, looking down at him from where she was standing, every inch of her posture perfect, not a line of her expression untoward. Every inch the perfect Princess fulfilling her duties. Except for her eyes that betrayed her, looking at him, or rather the sword strapped to his back, in the look that any child would have as they complain that it isn’t fair.

And Link couldn’t blame her.

“You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity. And have proven yourself worthy of the Blessings of The Goddess Hylia.” Her words were sharp and uneven, as though she was barely able to stop herself from scoffing at them. She felt she couldn’t mean them, so she did the best she could in her position; she made a mockery of them. “Whether…” The princess faltered, tone softening. “Skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight… The sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the hero. We pray for your protection, and we hope that… we hope that the two of you will grow stronger together as one.”

But it wasn’t until she finished that part and gave that brief, almost insignificant sigh that he understood. She quieted, because as much as she might think she hated him, she really just envied him, and only wished to fulfill her role, if she must be held to it.

Which made it all the more significant.

The Princess lowered her hand, and lowered her head for a moment in her own personal mourning of her loss. If something never gained can be considered a loss. Now, as her personal guard, she would have to be constantly constantly reminded of what would continually feel like her failure, and she was preemptively despising him for it. And he could hardly say he looked forward to it.

She raised her hand again, and lifted her head once more until her eyes met his, ready to continue with this sham of a ceremony.

Link quickly bowed his head back down into the proper position, finally realizing that look had not taken a mere moment.

-

Perfect.

Zelda couldn’t stand how perfect the Hero was. Nothing a step out of line. He hardly ever talked, so she was able to forget his presence blissfully for hours on end. But he did respond when circumstance required, which was rare. Perfect.

Oh, how she hated it.

No. Hate was too strong a term. Hate was what they were trying to fight against.

But still, his footsteps following her grated on her ears each time she tried dismissing him, despite knowing full well that he was only fulfilling his duty. At least hate would feel like a better excuse for not liking someone for simply existing.

(Sometimes, she wished that the Calamity would just hurry up and come, so that they could all be doomed already. Perhaps the previous Heroes and Princesses had developed a unique bond with each other strong enough to ward off the evils of their times, but it seemed obvious to Zelda that such a thing would not happen between them.)

-

Link felt lost, floundering in his duty and all the expectations everyone seemed to have for him, when truthfully, he only ever felt like a boy that got in way over his head.

So it was all he could do to try and fulfill his duties as Princess Zelda’s personal knight, and hope that he couldn’t mess that up.

It was lonely. Incredibly so. Others couldn’t understand the pressure that came with being expected to save the world.

And the one person who could refused to talk to him.

Sometimes Link considered trying to initiate the conversation with Princess Zelda, sometime when they were alone, to let her know that she wasn’t the only one who felt like she was drowning. But then she would turn to look in his direction and her eyes would narrow as she saw the hilt of The Sword peeking over his shoulder and didn’t continue to his face.

And Link knew. He knew.

She would never understand. To her, he was the Hero.

She would never see him as someone more than the Hero whose presence she was fated to stand long enough to fulfill her destiny with.

-

For all the time she had spent with the Hero, Zelda couldn’t tell you about a single feature on the Hero’s face, because she could never look past the sword on his back.

Until now.

Because now, The Sword wasn’t on his back, and she was mesmerized by his blue eyes looking back at her with dozens of lines of worry framing it as he looked at her.

Zelda just sat there, staring.

After a split second, he seemed satisfied that she was alright, and a quick glance further upward must have confirmed that there were no enemies behind her, because then those eyes were gone.

The Hero was moving quicker than her mind could keep up with, as fast as lightning as he dealt out death to the Yiga that were after her.

Zelda had been foolish to venture off on her own. But for once, she was grateful that her knight had done what he had always done, and found her.

He turned back to her, relief evident in his eyes.

Oh.

She couldn’t say he was just fulfilling his duty. She had no idea how he had managed it with how horribly she had treated him, but somehow, he cared.

Maybe they weren’t doomed to be nothing but a legend of only duty fulfilled. Maybe they could be something more, something important. Starting now.

He reached a hand down to help her up, and she took it.

“Thank you, Hero.” Zelda paused. That wasn’t quite right. “Or rather, thank you, Link.”

-

Link has had friends before. But it is very different to have friends to play with in the village as a boy than to have a friend as the Hero.

Not to mention that the friend in question was his charge, Princess Zelda.

“Zelda.”

Link looked at Pri— er, Zelda, in confusion. They had become close enough that she was beginning to understand that he preferred silence and interpret his expressions, but not enough that he felt comfortable breaking protocol those few times he did speak.

“I have enough people who follow protocol around me,” she argued. “Certainly, due to our respective positions, we cannot have a typical friendship, but I’d like to hear my friend speak to me informally, at least.”

Link smiled. “Alright, Zelda.”

Certainly, they couldn’t have a typical relationship, but it was nice to hear someone tell him he didn’t have to push himself after a battle, even though it wasn’t true. It was nice to hear her ramble on and on and on about plants or the technology that he couldn’t even begin to understand, but to be glad if only because it made her happy.

It was nice to have someone else who understood how hard a fate it was to be expected to give up your life so that no one else had to, even if it were only for a few years. It felt nice to have someone who was willing to simply just console you, without needing to ask why, just willing to wrap you in their arms and ward those sorrows that plague you both away.

Even if it never became anything more (Link might want it to become something more), that was good enough for him.

-

A silent princess.

Zelda lowered her slate, wanting to appreciate this sight with her own two eyes. She got down on her knees, wanting a closer look at it. The rustling of the grass behind her told her that Link had done the same.

“This one here is called the silent princess,” she said for his sake. It was nice, knowing that he would always listen to her about everything. “It’s a rare, endangered species.”

She leaned forward and let her hand brush against the petals, if only for a moment. She didn’t want to unintentionally bring any harm to it.

With a wistful sigh, Zelda sat back on her haunches, only allowing herself to stare at it more. “Despite our best efforts, we can’t get them to grow domestically yet.” She turned to look at Link, purposefully leaving “silent” out of the next line. “The princess can only thrive out here in the wild.”

Her gaze was returned with his silent, all-telling blue eyes. But only for a moment, because this was one of those few instances where he did respond. “I know.”

Zelda froze for only a second before rapidly turning around to escape that too-sweet gaze and hide the light blush forming on her cheeks. Yes, Link was handsome, and Link was sweet, but it was foolish to harbor this crush on him that could never be more than that.

They were friends and partners in this extreme fate they shared, no matter how it turned out. That was more than important enough.

But why couldn’t she get his soft smile out of her head?

-

Link breathed hard, not able to do any more than put one foot in front of the other, clutching at the hand in his as he looked around for threats. His heart was beating rapidly, from the adrenaline, and that was from more than just the exertion of running.

Fear.

That's what it was. It had been a while since Link had ever really felt fear for his own life, having been skilled enough with the sword for as long as he had. But even more than that, he was afraid for—

His hand was jerked backwards by Zelda's as she stumbled, falling to the ground. He turned around to face her, and sheathed his sword.

They were safe enough here. At least he hoped so. And they needed a break, regardless.

“How���” Zelda choked on the words. “How did it come to this?”

Link slowly lowered himself onto one knee. Clearly she needed someone to help comfort her. And even if all he could do now was lend a listening ear, then at least he could offer that much to her.

She buried her tear-filled eyes into muddy hands, the next words slightly muffled for the action. “Our only hope for defeating Calamity Ganon is lost all because I couldn’t harness this cursed power! Everything— everything I’ve done up until now… It was all for nothing…”

Zelda lowered her hands, tears still filling her eyes. “So I really am just a failure!”

Link was about to protest, say that was never true, even now. But she kept on speaking, taking on a softer, more tragic tone. “All my friends… the entire kingdom… my father most of all…” She breathed in shakily. “I tried, and I failed them all…”

Zelda looked up at him, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks in earnest now. “I’ve left them… all to die.”

Her face contorted, and all out of words to say, she finally started sobbing in earnest. She fell forward, and he moved just in time to catch her in his arms.

Link looked down at Zelda, knowing how difficult this must be for her. This was one thing he couldn’t quite empathize with her, an unusual feeling since they became friends.

But what he could do was hold her in his arms as long as he could, and stroke her hair and hope it comforted her. One thing he could do was try to convey to her that it was never her fault, even if he couldn’t find adequate words to do so. What he could do was let her know that she was loved.

Because yes, he loved her. Yes, perhaps it was beyond that of love friends felt for each other, but what mattered was that it was love, and he wanted what was best for her, is all.

Link had never been good with words. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show Zelda he loved her.

“Zelda,” he finally said as softly as possible after they had been there a while. She peeked up out of where she had buried her face in his chest. “We need to go soon, otherwise the Guardians will catch up with us again.”

Zelda nodded, and they both stood up. He offered his hand to her again, and she took it.

Hand-in-hand, they walked off to neglect their fate together.

-

The Guardian’s tracker beam was on Link’s chest. He couldn’t avoid it. He couldn’t even deflect it off of something even as basic as a pot lid. All he could do was stand there so that he was the one who took the hit.

And Zelda had never been more terrified in her life.

So, Zelda, for once in her life, didn’t think. She just acted, moving around Link so that she could stand in front of him, and be the one to take the hit for him, even if it only prolonged his life for a few moments. Because she couldn’t stand to do nothing as he died. So she held up her hand.

And light filled her vision.

Once it faded, Zelda saw the Guardians fall, red lights flickering off and the malice evaporating out of them.

She staggered a couple of steps backwards, staring at her hand. “Was that… the power…?”

She halted in her tracks at a thud behind her. She turned around to see Link, lying limply on the ground.

Zelda dashed over there, as quickly as she could in half-ruined sandals chafing at her feet and knelt next to him, rolling him over until be on her lap.

“No, no… Link! Get up!” she pleaded. He wasn’t close enough. She put her arm under his shoulders so that she could lift up his torso.

Link coughed, and Zelda held him closer to her. She fervently whispered in his ear, “You’re going to be just fine…”

Maybe she didn’t say it for his sake. Maybe it was to try convincing herself of it.

Somewhere during all that time she refused to have a crush on him, Zelda had gone and fallen in love with Link. And it scared her more than anything that he was probably dying.

Link turned his head towards her, eyes ridden with pain. “Zelda, I…” His choked, dry words faded out of sound as his voice gave way, but his lips finished the soundless syllables. And maybe she was being too hopeful, looking for something to see, but she thought he finished it love you.

But she didn’t have so much as a chance to ask him about it, because as soon as his lips stopped moving, his head fell back.

Maybe he wasn’t quite dead yet, but Zelda already knew. Knew that he was close enough to it, knew that she would never get to talk to him again and see that little, comfortable smile as he listened to her go on and on about any subject as if it were the best experience in the world.

Zelda had already had everything else taken from her, everyone else. Now must Link be taken from her, too?

So Zelda just lowered her head on his chest and sobbed. Sobbed and sobbed and cried and cried and just mourned all those who had died that she loved. Daruk, Revali, Mipha, Urbosa, her father, Link.

So what if she really did have her sealing powers now? If losing everyone she ever cared about was the cost to gain them, then she wished they never came until the end if only so that she could die with all the rest.

Zelda clenched at Link’s tunic, missing him, mourning him. Mourning the Hero, her partner in fate, her knight, her friend, her love. She wove her fingers through his hair, remembering her initial hatred and conviction to never like him when she first saw him. If she had known what would happen anyways, she would have tried harder to keep her feelings back, to not let him become anything more than a stranger she was doomed alongside.

What was the point of having such a meaningful, significant bond if all it led to was tragedy?

Even if she did talk to the sword, and create a plan, and prolong hope, it didn’t stop the tragedy of the moment.

Link was dead, even if it wasn’t forever now. And she couldn’t help but wish that she had done something more to stop it.

But… Zelda thought, taking one last look towards the Great Plateau from the entrance to Hyrule Castle, Link might live again. And then this story would no longer be a tragedy, would it?

She turned towards the Castle. Then it would be all that much better to have such a meaningful bond in the light of a victory.

-

…

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

…

Void

Light

…

…Open your eyes…

Blue

Open your eyes…

Focus

Open your eyes.

Things strange things

Wake up, Link

Blinking. Open eyes. Breathing. Water. Water gone. Eyes look. Look around.

Up. Sit up. Turn. Look at room.

Room strange.

Strange? Yes, strange… a word. Strange. Words.

He had words.

He? Link. Link? Link.

He had words. He might have a name. But he had nothing else.

So Link crawled out of the strange… he didn’t have a word for it.

What to do next?

-

You must hurry, Link, the woman pleaded. Before it’s too late…

She stopped speaking to him. The light from the castle stopped, but so did the strange black stuff, so he hoped that was okay.

Link didn’t know a lot about himself before he lost his memories. But maybe emotions had carried over from before, because he knew that voice in a way much deeper than knowing her name.

And he knew he had to go save her, whatever it took.

And that was all that mattered.

#this idea took me by force and made me write it #I mean the prompt was so good so of course I had to write something #zelink #slowly falling for each other #legend of zelda #loz #botw #breath of the wild #fanfic #my fic #my writing #lou writes

[hongjoongscafe]

Glossy And Sparkles

Day 4 of the blogversary drabble week.

Pairing: fairy!prince!yeosang×fairy!oc (Ae-Cha)

Genre: fluff, angst, best friends to lovers

Summary: they were each other's backbone and blood.

Word count: 2.5k+

Note: @nanibecute thank you for the AU suggestion and the pretty edit! I love your editing skills. The hehetmon tho😭💓💓💓💓

The fairies are really tiny. I didn't grow up watching magical things. The only fairy I know is the fairy godmother. Also, suggest to me some fairy books or movies. I would love to see what I missed as a child💓

Drabble week masterlist

Masterpost

*DO NOT REPOST, PLZ*

The sound of happy laughter was echoing in the chamber. The tiny fairies were sitting there and helping each other with their hair. All were looking pretty as always. Their skin glowed under the twinkling light that they made from their magic. 

It was the birthday of the Fairy Prince, Yeosang. The most handsome man in the finagle. Hair was like blonde silk threads, they bounced prettily when he flew in the air. He has a unique red birthmark next to his left eye that adds more luxury to his beauty. His voice that came out of his thin red lips was like heaven's sound. He also possessed a lot of magic powers. Let's not forget his pretty golden sheer wings with natural sparkles all over them; nobody had such wings ever. No matter how much one could describe him, words were never enough. 

Ae-Cha, Yeosang's only best friend, was a beautiful fairy. She wasn't as great as Yeosang but she had a golden heart. Her magic was to turn the bad into the good. No one had this magic; not even the prince held such privilege. But the downside was that she would get weaker. It wasn't like she couldn't heal from the weakness but it took time. 

Yeosang and Ae-Cha have been friends since they were children. They learned many things from each other and Yeosang only trusted her in the whole finagle. When she flew in the air, a sparkling trail of wind would appear and it only used to appear when someone held no feeling of sin in them… no hate, jealousy, anger for anything. 

Fairies often envied both of them. They were a perfect blend of pureness and rawness. All the fairy girls hated her. They were jealous for many reasons and not so surprisingly, they loathe the fact that she was so close to the prince, and the prince never looked at anybody else but Ae-Cha. 

Now here their hate made Ae-Cha sob quietly in the corner of the chamber where everyone was ready and was leaving for the feast and dance. They successfully managed to rip her pretty blue dress that matched her watery blue sheer wings with a glossy effect that was unique and only she had. 

Her magic couldn't put the dress together. She sat there sobbing while clutching her dress in her soft, fragile hands. 

…

Yeosang was looking handsome as ever. His outfit matched his wings just perfectly. He added some curls to his hair with his magic. The natural sparkles looked pretty on his hair. He wasn't excited about the feast or dance… he wanted to meet his best friend. Ae-Cha was busy preparing for the feast. She told him about her dress, that she was super excited to wear such expensive clothes for the first time. Her mother sewed them for her, especially for his birthday. 

He picked the beautiful alabastron and sprinkled some fragrance on him. His thin lips had a cute smile. Oh, he couldn't wait to see her. 

He hurried out of his chamber and joined everyone on the ground where the bonfire was lit in the middle and the table chairs were at a good distance, forming a circle around the fire and leaving enough space to dance around the fire without burning themselves. 

It looked festive. The magical bulbs were all around the area. The magical instruments played wonderful sounds. The children were playing, the ladies were setting up the food, the men were keeping everything in place, and the girl- well they ran towards him and wished him. 

After fifteen minutes, he was still standing in between the circle of girls uncomfortably. His eyes were trying to find Ae-Cha.  

Yeosang managed to get away from the girls and went to Ae-Cha's mother. "Mrs. O."

"Ah, Yeosangie~ Happy birthday! May you live longer!" Mrs. O clapped. 

"Thank you," he bowed, wings fluttering with gratefulness. "Have you seen Ae-Cha?" 

"Oh, she went to get ready in the chamber where the rest of them got ready," she pointed towards the finagle of fairy girls. 

Yeosang cussed in his mind at the realization. He bowed to Mrs. O and flew towards the chambers. 

He never trusted the girls with Ae-Cha. She never complained about them or ever thought with hate for them, the magic trail behind her indicated that enough. They have always hurt her. Mrs. O didn't know about this and always encouraged her daughter to be friends with them. 

Yeosang swiftly entered the chamber and saw Ae-Cha sitting in the corner, face towards the wall. Her wings were slumped as well as her shoulders. He could hear her sniffing. "Ae-Cha?" He softly called. 

Ae-Cha perked up and looked over her shoulder. She quickly got up and threw herself in his arms. She sobbed there for a while as he caressed her head. He saw the shreds of the clothes behind her.

It's not the first time he held her crying like this. It happened many times before. He remembered when Ae-Cha came to him in the middle of the night.

It was dark but a little glowing body sat on the floor next to Yeosang's bed. He got up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes away. With the snap of his fingers, the magic bulb turned on showing Ae-Cha's violently trembling body. 

"Good mother of fairies! What happened to you?" He stood up and picked her up and made her sit in the bed. 

"I-it hurts," her voice barely made it to his ears. 

Then Yeosang saw the bruises all over her. Her cheekbone was swollen and turned purple. The corner of her lip was bleeding as well as her nose. Her arms and legs were bruised too. 

Yeosang gasped when he saw a tear in her beautiful wings. His mind burned with anger. He didn't need to be told who did this. He knows. 

With his magic powers, he healed her. But the wing, well it was healed but she wasn't able to fly as high as she normally would without help. He knew that it bothered her but she never said a word instead she kept her beautiful smile and flew here and there. 

"We can fix it. Don't worry," Yeosang kissed her hair. 

He helped her sit on a chair and then collected all the pieces of clothes and set them in a pile. He mumbled something and then placed his hands on the pile. In a few seconds, the clothes were in his hands, just as new. 

Yeosang smiled and looked at her and gave her the dress. Ae-Cha's wings fluttered with utter happiness. She giggled and hugged him again. 

"Thank you… you always save me," she mumbled on his shoulder. 

"You are my best friend, why won't I help you?" He sniffed the peachy scent of her hair. "Get dressed. I wanna eat chicken and dance with you."

Ae-Cha went into the changing room and came out looking like a princess. She twirled around and looked at the prince. "So? How do I look?" 

"Do I even need to say? Just beautiful," he smiled. 

"Thank you!" 

…

The fairies joined the feast. The other fairies were more jealous than ever. Ae-Cha looked different than everyone. The sparkling trail was taunting them as they knew that she still didn't hate anyone. 

Yeosang and Ae-Cha ate a lot. They could feel their food bellies trying to get out of their clothes. The music changed to a more romantic vibe. 

"Ae-Cha… dance with me?" Yeosang nervously asked. 

Ae-Cha smiled and linked her arm with his. They both paddled where everyone was dancing and joined the circle. His one hand was resting gently on her waist and the other was laced with her hand. She was holding his shoulder and hands. 

Their wings glowed and sparkled with affection. This always happened when they were this close, consumed at the moment. As the music and the night got old, they were lost in each other's eyes– cheeks dusty red.

There was much more in their friendship. So much love… probably more than normally friends have. It was scary to admit. Friendships are as fragile as glass; it won't take time to break and shatter with one mistake. That was what kept them from committing. They longed for each other's company, warmth, and scent. They grabbed onto every chance to sneak glances and spend time together. 

Five years old Yeosang was sitting on a leaf of a grapevine. His cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were swollen. He was upset with four years old Ae-Cha. She went to visit her mother's mother. The granny lived two hours away. There was no one to play with Yeosang. She didn't even tell him that she was going. 

He knocked at her door only to see her father coming out with an apologetic face. He sobbed harder. He missed her. But he knew it wasn't her fault that she didn't tell him because he was away for a couple of days. But that's what made it worse, he was away and came home sooner to see her. He wanted her. 

…

Ten years old Ae-Cha was nervous. Her breath picked up its pace and her pores started sweating. Her soft eyes were looking over everyone but were trying to find one pair of eyes. She was standing on the little stage. The other country's fairies visited them as usual and this year Ae-Cha was supposed to welcome them, on the King's order. Finally, after five minutes, her eyes fell on the prince. He was standing by the door at the back, holding magical words that only she could see—

"I know you are gonna do great! Just look at me and start<;3"

The speech was better than ever. The King was proud of her heartwarming speech. This happened only because Yeosang was there for her. 

…

It was raining hard, something twelve years old Ae-Cha was afraid of. The school organized the trip near the beach. But the rain made it all scary, especially because it was night too. 

Yeosang glanced out of his window and saw how the rising water of the ocean was hitting the land aggressively. So he got up and wore the slippers that Ae-Cha made for him in her arts and crafts class. 

Just as he opened the door of his room which he was sharing with three others, he saw her trembling body, head on her knees. She was sitting on the clammy floor. 

"Cha. Come here," he helped her up and brought them to the lounge area of his floor. "Who are you here? I thought you would be in your room."

"Th-they won't let me in," she sobbed on his shoulder. 

Yeosang felt bad. He was mature enough to know that his fairies were cruel to his best friend. Not only that, but it meant that his country will be considered bad if others know about this. He was gonna sit on the throne next. He was worried. 

"Can w-we stay here?" She asked. 

He nodded and hugged her closer to his warm body and fell asleep on the uncomfortable sofa.

Memories…

It is something that goes with you to your grave. And these memories, some bitter and some sweet, are stuck with them now when they were celebrating Yeosang's twenty-first birthday.

They felt like they were reliving the memories but in most of them, they comforted or longed for each other. There was no in-between. 

"How about we go somewhere else?" Yeosang asked. 

"This is your feast," she looked around. 

"Hmm. But I feel better when I am with you… alone…" their blushes deepened. 

"Okay."

…

The magic bulbs were surrounding them as they were sitting on the grapevine. The same grapevine where they have spent hours and hours talking and playing. 

"Happy fourteenth birthday, Ae-Cha!!!" Yeosang clapped as she blew the candle. "Here is your gift."

Ae-Cha took the gift from him and opened it neatly, trying not to ruin the wrapper. She gasped when she saw it. There was a thick glass frame with Ae-Cha and Yeosang's pictures carved into it. It was when they first met each other. She was two and he was three. It was a blurry but a great memory. 

…

Yeosang hurt his knee when he was trying to put together the blockhouse for Ae-Cha. But ended up falling face down and all the blocks on his back. 

Ae-Cha softly scolded him with the cutest pout ever, "Sangie~ why would you do that? You could have used your magic and assembled it," her wings' glow dulled and slumped with hurt. As she was sitting in front of him on the leaf. 

"Sorry… I wanted to do something myself for you…" he pouted.

"It's okay… seeing you is enough for me. You don't have to do something like that for me… but I appreciate the effort," she kissed his cheek, causing their wings to glow brighter than ever. 

"Hmm. This is all I wanted for my birthday," Yeosang laid down and perched his head on her lap. 

"Mhm. Your father might get angry…" she threaded through his hair. 

"He said I can do whatever makes me happy… and spending time with you like this is what I love the most in this world," he looked at her and sat back again in front of her. "Ae-Cha…"

"Yeah?"

"You know that you're my best friend. Right?" 

"Mhm."

"I care for you more than anything in this world… I can't spend even one day without being with you," he held her hands. 

"Why are you saying that?" Her wings nervously moved at her back. 

"... Because I want you to know," he clutched her hand harder. 

"Why?" She whispered. 

"Because I want you…" he let out. He was afraid that this might end their friendship but he had to take the risk. 

"You have me…" 

"No… more than that. I want you to be mine. I feel more than just a friend… I love you more than just a friend," he did not stutter. 

Ae-Cha's wings glowed more than ever. The glossiness shined through her wings. Her skin glowed with a deep red blush. That was enough for him to know that the feeling was mutual. So his wings reacted the same. The golden of his wings shined and sparkles increased. 

"You do too, right?" Yeosang cupped her face. "Please, tell me you do," he whispered. 

"I do…" she whispered. 

Yeosang's face came closer and closer to her until their noses were touching. Their hearts were beating faster. He looked into her eyes, "can I kiss you?" 

"Yes please," she barely whispered, and Yeosang's lips landed on hers. They tasted so sweet. Their soft and glossy lips moved in amateur movement. This was their first ever kiss but they got hold of it quickly. It felt like they were meant to be touched like this. 

The sky shined brighter as they glowed more and more with overflowing love. Their songs fluttered and then they flew in the air while kissing deeply. They let out their pent-up need. 

When they couldn't breathe, they let go but still held each other closer. Their heads were resting against each other. 

"You make me so happy… it was easier than I thought," Yeosang giggled. "I love you."

"I love you too…" 

.....

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#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez au #fairy!yeosang #prince!yeosang #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang au #yeosang angst