#and brought me hundreds of little joys all through the year

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Angel Reader - Last Preview

One last preview for you all! Surprisingly, Lucifer does not appear in this section, but I promise he will! He is mentioned a few times though, it's all about the set up baby!! No active warnings for this part again! I'm saving all the juicy bits this time ;)

Days turned into month, months turned into years, years turned into decades, and decades turned into centuries. Not a day passed when you didn’t think about him. It took a few millennia before you stopped crying every day. Even the thought of mentioning his name caused your anguish. But now, you were numb. You went about your duties as instructed, but your will to dream and create had all but vanished. It wasn’t the same without him there. And now you were a perfect virtue, always did as she was told, never straying, and never questioning. You were broken. Even more so when you had mistakenly learned about the extermination of demons led by Adam and his soldiers.

No one was allowed to know, not even Emily, who had become the closest thing to a friend you’ve had since Lucifer’s fall. She was the one who helped you through your darkest moments. Her pure joy was enough to pull you out of your deepest pits of despair. For a little while at least. Your sadness never truly left you. It was like a black hole that could never be filled and could never truly be satisfied.

Your heart sank from the devastating revelation. You knew deep down that this was wrong; the slaughter of souls that were already doomed for eternity. They didn’t deserve that fate. But there was nothing you could do. What could you do? So, you stayed silent.

That is until one day, you learned of the arrival of Princess Morningstar's arrival to heaven.

You had known Lucifer had a child with Lilith, Charlotte. There was a great panic in Heaven, concerned over what a child of Lucifer could mean for both of the unearthly realms. But the last two hundred or so years had brought nothing. Until today. You had seen her walking alongside Sera and Emily on the promenade, as well as another person who looked awfully familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place where you'd seen her before. It was odd considering you had never met a sinner before. You wanted to follow them but had caught Adam and Lute discussing the demonic pair amongst themselves and thought it best to avoid fanning the flames of an already tense situation. After waiting some time and asking around, you learned the princess was visiting the zoo. You'd flown there as fast as your wings could carry you. After circling the enclosures, you spotted the princess gawking at one of the koalas that had fallen asleep in its tree. Luckily, you didn't see any signs of anybody else around her. Silently, you landed behind her, now realizing you hadn't thought about what to say. You sucked in a breath and took one step closer.

"Charlotte Morningstar?" you practically whispered. The princess turned her head cautiously at the sound of her name. "I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"Oh, hi there!" she beamed at you, using both of her hands to shake one of yours, your body jerking slightly with each motion. "And you can call me Charlie!"

"Charlie," you repeated. You took your time studying the princess in front of you. Her golden hair and pale face with rosy cheeks stuck out to you the most, as well as her genuine and unadulterated smile. She truly a reflection of her father. "You look…so much like him."

"My dad?" she questioned. "Yeah, I get that a lot!"

You shook you head, finally breaking eye contact and letting go of her hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Your father and I, we…we were really close when he was here. He was my best friend. I was there the day he…" you couldn't find it in you to finish your sentence. "I tried my best to help, to save him. But he saved me instead. I should have been cast out with him." Your voice drifted off. You could feel tears began to prick your eyes. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come, I should go-"

"Wait!" You felt a hard tug on your wrist as you tried to step away. "Please don't leave! I'm sorry if I upset you in any way!"

The utter compassion and sincerity in her voice felt like a stake to the heart. You fell to your knees, not being able to hold back the tears any longer. Charlie kneeled next to you, wrapping in a tight embrace. This felt all too familiar. "I'm s-so sorry. This…this isn't your burden to bear."

"It's alright," Charlie soothed, "it's okay to cry. To feel sad. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of." She unwrapped her arms from around you and placed them on your shoulders, now lifting your head to see her empathetic stare. "My dad…he never really talked about his life here in Heaven. I imagine it's painful for him to think about, just like it is for you." Charlie swiped her thumb across your cheek to catch a tear that had fallen. "But I'm happy to know that he had a friend like you who cares about him as much as you do. I'm more than glad to have met you, so now we can be friends too! That is, if you want that."

A small smile spread on your face as you reached out to return her hug. "Yes," you replied, "I'd like that, Charlie. More than you know. You really are your father's daughter. Sweet, and kind, and caring." You felt Charlie's arms around you once more, the tears at last beginning to dry. You pulled away and cleaned the rest of your face with your sleeve. "If I can ask, why are you here? Not the zoo, but, in Heaven, I mean."

"Oh! Yes!," Charlie shot up straight, offering her hand out to help you up as well. "My dad got me a meeting with Sera! I'm running a hotel in Hell right now in order to rehabilitate sinners! I want to convince them that redemption is possible so that they can have a long fulfilling afterlife here!"

"Redemption…" you pondered aloud. "Do you think it's possible?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIII don't know," Charlie admitted. "We haven't really had a successful case…yet! But I'm hopeful! We have a few patrons already who are making great progress! I'm presenting my case to Sera and the council soon, and I'm hoping I can persuade them!"

Charlie had just given you much to process. The idea of redeeming sinners had not once crossed your mind. It almost seemed too big of a dream, and knowing Heaven's attitude towards the demons in Hell, you were weary of how Sera and the rest of the court would react to such a proposal despite Charlie's seemingly boundless optimism. Another well intentioned idea from a starry-eyed dreamer shot down and ridiculed by Heaven; the parallels were impossible to ignore.

"Charlie, no matter what, know you have an ally in me," you told her. "Whether or not Sera and the others choose to listen, I believe in you, as I believed in your father all those years ago. I know for a fact Emily will listen to you. You remind me of her, she's a good soul."

"Thank you," Charlie smiled. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from Charlie's pocket. "Oh geez, the meeting! I have to go!" Charlie gave you one last quick hug before she darted off towards Heaven's courtroom, waving to you as she ran. "I'll see you later! Oh! And I'll tell my dad I had the chance to meet you!" she called out! You tried to wave back, but she didn't see you as she sprinted away.

That was the last time you saw the princess of Hell.

****

It's been a month since your conversation with Charlie and with each passing day, your anger had risen. Emily had told you that Sera had ignored Charlie's proposal, that she now knew about the exterminations that have been taking place, and how Adam had threatened to attack her and the hotel as he forced her out of the courtroom and back to Hell. In turn, you had told Emily about your brief conversation with the princess on the same day. Thankfully, the two of you were on the same page and decided that you were going to fight for Charlie. You had asked Emily if she could make arrangements to meet with Sera privately to discuss the matter. Of course, the only time Sera agreed to meet was the same day as the extermination. You spent so much of the day collecting your thoughts and practicing your speech that you didn't realize you were running late for the meeting. You flew across the city, barging through the front doors and making your way up to Sera's office in the blink of an eye. You swung open the doors in a panic.

"I'm sorry I'm late Sera, I was-" you began to apologize until you realized that the was their attention was not on you. You turned your head and noticed another angel in the room. He was slender, tall, and was wearing an incredibly unique hat. It was easy to tell by the look on his face that he was confused and a bit startled by your sudden entrance. Perhaps he was a new soul, but he didn't look like a soul you've ever seen.

"Oh, hello to you assss well," the new angel greeted you with his unique accent, his forked tongue slipping between his teeth.

Before you could respond, Emily shrieked stood up excitedly, rushing over to greet him. “Hi there! I’m Emily! Or you can call me Em or Emmy! It doesn’t matter, I’m fine with whatever! Welcome to Heaven!”

You looked over at Sera who had not moved since you entered the room. Her face was a strange mix of horrified and uncertain. Sera remained motionless as Emily refused to contain her unbridled joy.

“I recognize you!” she exclaimed. “You were the one in the club with your friends in Hell!”

“Wait, in Hell?” you chimed in. “How do you…”

Emily flew over to you suddenly, pulling your body closer to the stranger. “He was one of the residents of Charlie’s hotel! We saw him while she was pleading her case to the court!”

“Emily, wait,” Sera finally spoke up, but Emily ignored her. And so did you.

“What’s your name?,” you asked him.

The angel smiled and bowed before you. “I am Sir Pentiousss, a pleasure to meet you!” He straightened back up, looking around the room curiously. “I’m terribly sssorry to ask, but, where am I? I don’t recall how I came to be here. I was in my airship, ready to take on that dastardly angel, the one with that obnoxiousss guitar. And in a sudden flash of light, I was here!” His eyes grew into saucers, gripping onto his hat. “My friendsss! I have to get back to them, they’re in danger!”

You watched as he slithered back and forth across the room, mumbling to himself when it all hit you at once. This soul was a sinner. He was in Hell. And he was someone who was staying at Charlie’s hotel. The one meant to save lost souls.

“You were redeemed,” you finally spoke.

"What?!" the three angels asked in unison.

"Emily, don't you see?" you asked, reaching down to grab her hands. "This was Charlie's plan all along!" You turned to look at the redeemed soul. "Sir Pentious, I think you may have been killed."

"But I wasss already dead, my dear," he responded.

"Yes, but only souls who have passed on can face divine judgement," you explained. "Whatever you had done must have sent you here!"

You and Emily looked at each other and smiled, now hovering in the air. “He was a sinner!” Emily belted. “But now he’s here! He’s here in Heaven! Charlie’s hotel works! She was-”

“That's enough!” Sera cut in unexpectedly. You and Emily frowned; your feet placed firmly on the ground again. "You two need to leave, now. I will handle this matter."

"But Sera-" Emily tried to reason.

"Please do not question me, Emily," Sera warned, "remember what I had told you."

Emily hung her head and sighed, starting to make her way towards the door, still holding onto your hand. but you refused to budge when she had tugged on your arm.

"No," you replied sternly through your gritted teeth.

Sera narrowed her eyes at your defiance. "I'm not asking. It would be in your best interest to do as your told. You were already pardoned once before. Don't make this worse than it has to be."

You took to the air and were now at eye level with the high seraphim, a righteous anger surging through you. "I'm done listening to you," you spat. "I should have been cast down with Lucifer that day. He told me everything, I knew what he had planned. He protected me and not a day goes by where I don't regret not staying by his side. I did nothing to stop him because I knew he was right in giving humans free will. And now I can see Charlie was right in her quest to redeem souls. You were wrong back then, Sera, and you're wrong now!"

Sera's angelic eyes appeared; her anger peaked to its boiling point. "Emily, take the new soul and leave immediately."

Not wanting to anger her further, Emily took ahold of Sir Pentious's hand and rushed him towards the door. You caught a glimpse of her teary expression as she looked back at you. I'll be okay, you mouthed to her, but you knew it was a lie. When the door finally closed, you glared back at Sera with a fiery intensity that you never knew you were capable of.

"You know the punishment for an act of defiance," Sera spoke sternly.

"I should have fallen eons ago," you retorted, holding back you sobs. "Do it, Sera, cast me to the pits of Hell!"

"So be it."

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #my writing #preview #i love cliff hangers don't you? :3

[maggiecheungs]

happy new year, my lovelies 💕 thank you for being your wonderful selves this year, and i wish you all a peaceful and fulfilling 2023 xx

#istg I have been on hiatus more than not this year 💀 #(and I technically still am—be back in a few days probably) #but I just wanted to pop in quickly to send out a round of good wishes #this year has been so so much and i am so so tired #but now I suppose we can cross it off the calendar for good #i am so grateful for everyone on here—you’ve all helped keep me sane and human #and brought me hundreds of little joys all through the year #thank you for constantly conjuring beauty and humour from this poor battered year—for coaxing gold from straw #I hope the new year is kind to you all #and I’m sending love and best wishes to each of you xxx

[satorusugurugurl]

Here's some funny ideas I've got while at work today; a leisure streamer gojo who'd just simply streamed himself playing games naked except for his sunglasses and briefs. Rumors had it that each time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to see him ~fully naked~.

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor will you get to see the goods or was it just a rumor. Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x FAB!Reader

Warnings: language, nudity, masturbation, mutual-masturbation, skype sex??

A/N: I fell in love with this request! ugjskdkekd I love them so much! Thank you bonnie for such a great idea!! 💚💚💚

On Friday nights, you always ran home from your last college class, avoiding people on bikes and walking by. You often got dirty looks thrown at you or the occasional ‘watch where you're going.’ But nothing would stop your stride. Friday nights were some of your favorite nights of the week. All because the-strongest-streamer live streamed on Fridays.

And the man, god fuck, he was the hottest!

Gojo Satoru, aka the-strongest-streamer, was a leisure streamer. He played games like Animal Crossing, Dream Daddy, and fluffy feel-good games in only his boxers and sunglasses. He was among the most popular streamers, not only for his looks but also for his happy-go-lucky attitude. But because of a particular rumor that started going around.

It was said in the forms online, in his comments, and even on Twitter that every time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to join a private stream with him and see him fully naked. That was just a rumor. He had denied the allegations and made it clear that the private stream was to have a meet and greet with his top donor.

The meet and greet was why you’ve been saving money for six months. You wanted to meet the man who had brought you so much joy in the last year. You stumbled across his profile when looking through videos online. You were looking for a cute cat compilation to ease the ache in your heart after your boyfriend dumped you. Instead, you found this goofball that had you smiling like an idiot on your phone.

You had been in a dark time when you first found his videos. You wanted to express your gratitude to him. Seeing him naked was not your goal in any way, shape, or form.

The second you got home, you slid over to your laptop and pulled up Gojo’s stream. He was sprawled out in his black and blue gaming chair; blue LED lights illuminated the room. Black sunglasses reflected his computer screen as he adjusted his headset.

“Tom Nook is a scammer.” He announced as hundreds of comments flooded in. “The little shit asks me to do all this for him! After all, I have to spend my hard-earned bells on upgrading the pavers. Kiss my nicely toned ass, you bastard.” You smiled, giggling as you dreamily watched him. “Ya’ know what? Next week, we'll play Sims or something; I’d rather build a house than have Tom Nook steal all my money.”

He adjusted his sunglasses as he slipped on some frappe, the logo conveniently covered so no one knew where he was. Several comments flooded in asking what he was drinking, and most people sent in small donations. All of these were things Satoru tried to answer and thank. He may miss a couple here and there, but he tried hard to get to everyone. God, he was so down to earth.

It was all of those reasons that had you clicking the donate button, sending a total of eight hundred dollars to him. Your cute little icon of a mochi popped up on his screens, flashing while music blared. The whole scene reflected off his dark sunglasses.

“Eh?!” The white tufts of his hair flowed as he moved in, focus glued to the screen. “Whoa! Whoa! Mochi-gurl-89, thank you so much for that donation!” With a chipper chime, you took the spot as his top donor. “And it looks like you're my new top donor! Just before the stream ended! I'll have one of my admins contact you so we can do our private stream. And with this, I adore you all, until next time this is the-strongest-streamer signing off!”

The second he ended his stream, your inbox chimed with a new message. As Satoru said, it was a message from one of his admins. The message was clear; you got a thirty-minute stream, maybe more if Satoru agreed. There could be no recording of your conversation or photos, which was perfectly fine. All you wanted to do was talk. After agreeing to all those terms and signing a nondisclosure form, you were sent a link to your private stream.

You had your camera off, your cute chibi mochi avatar taking up your screen as Satoru’s room was fully displayed. With a deep breath, you shook your hands, trying to ease your nerves as a door opened on Satoru’s screen. A second later, he plopped down in his gaming chair. God, he was so handsome. Fluffy white hair and chiseled abs like he was carved from marble; he was just your type.

“Hello?” he asked, “you there, mochi-gurl-89?”

“O-Oh! Uhm, yes, hi!” He stared at the screen, frowning just a bit as he saw your avatar instead of your face.

“Here, I thought I’d be talking to a fan. Instead, it's a cute mochi ball.”

You nervously giggle before clicking a few times and turning your camera on. You felt so plain compared to him. He was incredibly sexy, and you were just an average college girl. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to see.

“Oh.” Satoru breathed out, drawing your attention back to the screen. You swear to God, you choked on your breath. Because he had taken his sunglasses off, revealing cerulean eyes behind white lashes. “Wow, you're fuckin’ hot.”

“Oh! Uhm—”

“Fuck! Sorry, did I say that out loud?” he sulked back in his chair. “I'm so sorry. I'm not one of those creeps who stalk their followers. I, I was expecting—”

“A giant ball of mochi?” The sweetness of your voice seems to have him relaxing as he realizes you didn't mind his compliment.

“Exactly.”

You cup some of your hair behind your ear, biting your lip. “Sorry to disappoint, but thank you for the compliment.”

“And thank you for the generous donation! That means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for being such a beacon of light in my life.” Did popular streamers think comments like that were cringe? “I hope that doesn’t come off creepy or weird.”

“I've had fans send me their underwear. Being a beacon of light to you is the least weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

You can't help the wide, warm smile that spreads across your face. “You have no clue how happy that makes me. I went through a nasty break and the night that it happened. I found one of your—” his fingers played with the hem of his boxers. “Your stream—and you—” fingers gently lift the hem, and you focus on his face. “Uhm Gojo?” The man on your screen hums.

“Yes, mochi-gurl?”

“I—I heard about you getting naked for the private streams.” Using your hands, you shield your vision. “B-But you don't have to do that! I just wanted to talk.”

“Eh?!” peeking through your fingers, you watch the white-haired man turn red. “Naked! No! No shit fuck, I'm sorry! I'm not a perv, I swear to god.” He shields his face in his hands, grumbling some incoherent words that you can't make out.

Gojo didn't seem like the type to be a pervert, and from his reaction, it wasn't like you’d caught him fully undressing in front of you. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed than you. After gathering your thoughts, you leaned a bit closer to your screen.

“Gojo?”

His white hair flies as his head jerks up. “I-I know about the rumors! How I get nude for my private streams for my top donors, but that is nothing more than a rumor, I swear!” Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you, into your soul. “I promise you I wasn't about to do anything remotely weird.” His face is almost entirely red, and his bottom lip is between his teeth as he scans your features.

“Okay,” you tentatively begin, “then what were you doing?”

“That's the thing; it's going to sound ten times worse when I tell you what I was doing.” you motion with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, just promise you won't put me on blast or try to cancel me?” When you nod, the leisure streamer grumbles before tilting his head back. “I-I’m sorry, but you're really hot. Like super mega hot.” Thank god your room is so dark, or he could see how flushed you were. “So hot, my stupid dick decided to spot a hard-on.” He rolls his chair back just an inch, revealing the extremely hard bulge in his boxers. “I was trying to discreetly lift the waistband so you wouldn't see how hard I was.”

A string of ‘I’m sorry’ echoes on the other end of the screen. Gojo’s blue eyes focused on you, waiting to see how you reacted to the news. His shy demeanor and the bulge in his boxers have you shifting in your seat. Heat pools between your thighs. God, were you getting wet? Rubbing your thighs together, you confirmed that you were as you felt your arousal. You bite down on your inner cheek to prevent a moan from sounding.

“Hey, mochi-gurl? You're too quiet, and you look super pissed. I'm sorry.” Gojo’s voice seems to enhance your growing arousal. He sits back, cocking a brow as you peer at him with dark needy eyes through your lashes. “H-Hey you go-goo—oh fuck.” He watches as you stick your hand between your legs.

“You think I’m hot?” Your voice is so smooth, with desire.

“Y-Yeah, super hot.” Gojo follows suit, his hand reaching back down, fingertips slipping under the band of his boxers. “The hottest fuckin’ girl I've ever seen.”

Pressing your fingers against your shorts, you rub your clit in slow circles. “Gojo, you’re girlfriend won't find us doing this?” The man on the screen before you scoff, his hand sliding fully into his boxers.

“Girlfr-ahh—” his hand moved up and down, “fuuuck—what girlfriend? I-I go to the gym, hang out with my friends, and live stream.” Watching him stroke himself has you feeling feral. “Plus streaming half naked, well, let's just say girls don't like that.”

You rubbed your clit faster, “As a girl, I like it.” White brows knitted on your screen. “I like it a lot; it's so hot.” Gojo watched, head resting back against his chair as you slid your hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts, massaging yourself.

“Y-Yeah? Does your boyfriend like it?”

“I don't have one~”

Gojo growled, biting down on his lip. “Really?” He leaned back, spreading his legs apart. “Lucky me.” Pursing your lips together, you tilted your head back. “Fuck, you're so fucking hot, sweetheart.” something overcame you. A boldness you hadn’t experienced before. Taking the bottom of your T-shirt, you put it between your teeth and lifted it, revealing your bare chest to your favorite streamer. “Oooh fuck, you have the prettiest tits.” Gojo watched as your fingers moved elegantly over your skin, kneading your breast until your nipples were hard. “How rude of me, you’re showing me yours might as well show you mine.”

A choke sounds in your throat as you nearly release your T-shirt from between your teeth. Gojo had pulled his boxers down just enough to hook them underneath his balls, freeing his gorgeous cock. His cock throbbed and twitched underneath his hand as he gently began stroking it up and down. Watching him stroking himself, twisting his wrist, squeezing it just around the tip, causing his head to tilt back, and seeing that made you do something you had never done.

Gojo could hear you shuffling in the background before your screen suddenly turned, and he faced a couch. You plopped down, your shorts discarded. With his jaw dropped open, Gojo watched as you spread your legs as wide as you could in front of the camera and rubbed your fingers over your wet pussy. You had never done something like this before. Sexting, yes, but full-on masturbating in front of a stranger, this was something you never thought you would do.

“Holy, you're so wet.” his hand sped up around his cock. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty.” his thumb brushed over the slit rubbing pre-cum over the tip. “God, I wanna taste you. I bet you smell fucking delicious.”

“I want to suck you off, fuck, Gojo~ fuuuck.” coding your fingers in your slick, you rub quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your legs to tremble. “Gojo~ Gojo~”

“N-No, call me Satoru, please.”

“Satoru~”

Goj—Satoru tilts his head forward, his burning gaze on you, watching you slide a finger inside your tight heat. You don't think you've ever been so aroused. Having a stranger watching you finger yourself as he jerks off had your walls clenching around your fingers. Satoru must have thought the same thing because his tip dribbles more pre-cum, his cock throbbing hard as he matches his pace with yours.

“Oh god, I'm so wet.” Slick coats your fingers as you rub your clit with your thumb. “I can't remember the last time I was this wet.”

“I can tell, god, you're soaked.” Glancing at the screen, you can see Satoru gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, I-I’m so hard it hurts, I-I’ve never done this before. God feels so good; all my brain is thinking is, ‘dick hard, feel good.’”

The conversation dies down, replaced with whines, moans, and grunts of pleasure. Your eyes never miss each other. You both constantly look each other over, whispering each other’s names like prayers. You try to imagine how his thick, long fingers would feel inside of you instead of your own. You know that he could reach the sweet spots inside you that you loved. At the same time, Satoru imagines replacing his hand with your own while his fingers take the place of yours.

Both of you are so worked up that you find yourself dangling over the edge of an orgasm before you know it. Your legs are trembling, toes curling, while Satoru’s hand moves faster his other hand, reaching down, cupping his balls, massaging them. Both of you are lost in each other’s pleasure without even touching the other. There’s chemistry between you. Both you and Satoru can feel it through the screen.

“Oh fuck, of fuck, fuuuuck fuck!” Satoru leans closer to his screen to watch you. “Oh god, I can feel it coming; it’s gonna be a big one. Baby~ fuuuck, please tell me you’re close.”

“S-So close.” a sharp inhale of breath sounds, “Oooh fuckin’ shit, Satoru, I’m gonna cum~.”

“Oi.” your eye hazily find him, “look at me when you cum.”

That, god, that was the hottest thing anyone has ever told you. “Cummin! Oh fuck, Satoru~! Satorruu!” the screen that leaves your body almost doesn’t sound human as you squirt all over your couch. Even though your orgasm is the hardest one you’ve ever experienced, not once do your eyes leave his.

“Good girl~ good fuckin girl.” his praises leave your cunt twitching. “Oh fuck, gonna fill you up all the way. Tell me you want it. Please.”

“Yes~ Satoru, inside~ inside~!”

The veins and his neck protrude as he slams his free fist against his desk, causing his setup to shake. Ropes and ropes of white cum spurt out of his cock. The sticky substance coats his abdomen, on the top of his thighs and hand.

“Fuck~ fuck~fuuuck!” His hand continues, moving up and down his shaft, milking his cock for all that it’s worth. “Fuuuck!” he hisses out through clenched teeth.

Several seconds pass, both of you breathing heavily, recovering from your orgasms. Swallowing hard at your dry throat, you slowly pull your fingers out of you with a wince. Satoru was the next move, grabbing some tissues off his desk and cleaning himself up. You can’t help but laugh softly in the silence of cleaning yourselves.

Hearing the angelic sound leaving your mouth, Satoru focuses his blue eyes on you. “What’s got you giggly over there?” much to his disappointment, you slide your shorts back on before sitting back on the couch.

“That was one hell of a meet and greet.”

Satoru’s lets out a rough laugh.”Yeah, it sure as hell was. I think I owe you a proper meet and greet.” The streamer let out a content sigh. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.” he leans back, fixing his boxers.

“Think you can keep your boner down long enough for that?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can’t make any promises that it’ll behave.”

“Huh, what if I don’t want it to behave?”

Flushed cheeks darken in color as Satoru’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Goddamn, you're so hot. Who knew some chick with a mochi avatar was going to have me stroking my cock tonight.” God, he was so cute, both physically and in personality. “Which is super cute, by the way. Did you do it yourself, or did you have an artist commission it? Because I am in dire need of some new avatar artwork for my videos.”

“I drew it myself. I’m a freelance graphic design artist.”

“You takin’ commissions right now, Miss oh-so-hot-and-talented?”

“If I get this job I want tomorrow, I might have to take a brief break. But I would make an exception for you.”

Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door behind him. “Shit, sorry, I gotta go; I promised my roommate I would help him hook up a computer upstairs.” With one final glance in your direction, Satoru, for once, was elated over a rumor that had spread about him over the Internet. “Tomorrow same time, mochi-gurl?”

“Sounds great, Satoru.”

After bidding farewell to the exceptionally hot man, you pass out on the couch. From the excitement of getting to meet your favorite streamer to the intensity of your orgasm. The combination of those contributing factors knocked you on your ass. While your neck was stiff, falling asleep like that on the couch allowed you to get some of the best sleep in months.

You woke up refreshed and ready for your interview that morning. Satoru had put a peep in your step as you walked into the coffee shop you had an interview with. The owner wanted to develop a new logo design for the shop. One that was both warm, welcoming, and had an adorable mascot.

“Wow,” The man across from you flips through your portfolio, “you're talented. You’re just a freelance artist?”

“Mhmm, I don’t like big corporations. I would rather help out small businesses and help support our local community.”

The man interviewing you brushes dark bangs out of his face, his tongue running over his lip piercing. “We love supporters of small businesses. People like you that keep our place going.” He brushes long, dark strands of hair before his dark eyes leave the page before him, meeting your nervous gaze. “Which is why I think you would be a great fit. Your art is exactly what I’m looking for when I think of our logo.”

“Really? That’s so good to hear. I promise you I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be sure to make your dreams come true.”

Your interviewer shuts your portfolio, handing it back to you. He held out his hand, his nails painted black, and his rings on almost every finger. When you first walked into this cute café, you were intimidated by the stranger. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, and his gauges were huge, but he couldn't have been any nicer. So, without hesitation, you stood up, shaking his hand.

“I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Geto.”

“Same goes for me; I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Rainbow Dragon Cafe recently went viral for its excellent coffee, pastries, and aesthetic. Not only was it a café, but it was also a gaming café. There is a bar where people can enjoy their coffee and booths where they can sit down and work on projects if needed. On one wall, there’s a large flat-screen TV playing compilations of different streamers talking to the camera as they play games. A large sectional couch was set up in front of it so people could sit down and watch if they wanted to.

The other wall was set up so that people could take photos with the company's logo behind them. That was if they had a logo, which is where you came in. For the next few months, your job was to help the owner, Geto Suguru, design and revamp his menu and website. Once you succeed in your mission, a cute neon sign with the logo will be placed on the wall, covered in fake vines and flowers. It is the perfect spot to take photos and hashtag the cafe in their posts.

“This is Shoko; she manages the front and helps run orders to tables.” A woman with dark brown hair waved at you casually as she passed a cigarette in her mouth and headed for the front.

“Taking a smoke break, I’ll be right back.”

Geto led you into the back, where an espresso machine hissed. “Back here is Ryomen Sukuna; he is my best barista.” The muscular, pink-haired man in front of you, covered in tattoos, slammed a rag down on the counter.

“I'm not some fucking barista; I’m the king of coffee.”

“Right, king of coffee, sorry.” Geto introduced you to several other workers. Most of them were just high schoolers working there as a part-time. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki waved at you before returning to doing their inventory. “And you’ll meet my girls eventually. They said something about getting more couches or pillows for the front. They’re the head of our social media team.”

You lean over the counter with Geto, overlooking the shop that you were hired to help. “I love the setup you guys have. It’s got my creative juices flowing.” Glancing at the TV, you watch a compilation of different streamers reacting to jump scares. “But I’m curious. Why make it a gaming cafe?” Geto follows your gaze, humming at your question.

“That’s all because of my best friend. I didn’t want just to run a cafe and bookstore; I wanted to do something different. He pitched the idea. A place for people to sip coffee, read a book, or play video games.”

“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”

“He is.” Geto jerks his thumb in the direction of a door. “He rents out the basement while I live in the loft upstairs. He's an investor; you might get to meet him if he ever drags his stupid ass out of the basement.”

“Oh, that wou—”

Before you finish your sentence, the door Geto is still pointing at is slammed open. “Suguru! Hey, do you think I could borrow that blue shirt of y-you—” God, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter, you might’ve passed out? Blue eyes that had been locked and focused on the night before met your gaze. You almost didn’t recognize him because he was wearing clothes. “H-Holy shit, mochi-gurl?!”

Your favorite leisure streamer, the man you had masturbated with the night before, was standing right in front of you—more like towering over at a total of six three feet. Words seem to evade you as you stutter. “G-Gojo?” Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?

“Hey, I thought we went over this last night. You can call me Satoru!” his smile fades as soon as it appears on his face. “Sweetheart? Oh shi—” He’s rushing forward just as your world fades to black due to shock.

This was a dream right, it had to be a dream!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

#satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk reader smut #jjk #jjk y/n #jjk reader insert #jjk gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru smut #satoru x reader smut #reader jjk #jjk au #streamer!gojo #jjk fanfic

[hanafubukki]

Okay so. At some point soon Malleus is going to feel guilty and hate himself just for existing because if he hadn’t been born then Lilia wouldn’t be dying, and Silver wouldn’t be crying, at least that’s what he would think. And then Lilia would get mad at him for thinking about himself like that. And Malleus tells him in tears that he should’ve just left him to die in his egg so he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life alone and without his family…and then they hug and Lilia promises that Malleus will find something to live for…..just like he did…

(Yana make this happen)

Hello Fruity 🌺🌷💚

Oh Fruity, the day we get that cutscene!! I will never shut up. Only tumblr post limit will stop me 🔥💚

The day we get that inner monologue and we see all the inner pain Malleus had to go through. The centuries of loneliness.

How he wishes he was dead because his birth was what caused his loved ones pain (sounds familiar doesn’t it?!? See the hundreds of ways I can cry!!).

His parents wouldn’t be dead, Lilia wouldn’t have lost his best friends or been exiled/insulted, his grandmother wouldn’t have lost her daughter, and Silver wouldn’t be loosing his father!!

He should have just died while he was in that egg, at least that way, Silver and Lilia would have more time together.

What was the point of living? If he lost everyone in the end? What was the point of this magic if he was so useless??

(The fact he refers to himself as useless, this fae that loves Lilia and Silver, helped raise Silver, taught Silver and Sebek magic, helped at the VDC, saved Vil, etc). 😭😭😭

How Lilia was his only light at that lonely castle and then when he was finally old enough and strong enough, that cottage was his home because the inhabitants there was family to him, and how those lonely years were bearable because he had Lilia, Silver, and Sebek at the end of the tunnel.

How Lilia visiting him with gifts and making him shaved ice made life worth living.

How holding little Silver and seeing him grow made him happy and seeing how Sebek and Silver cared compassionately brought him joy.

His family.

That family is breaking right in front of his eyes: Lilia leaving and Silver crying.

And he can’t help them, but to find out he’s the reason for Lilia dying? For him loosing his magic and running away?

The source of torment? It’s true what everyone has been saying, he truly is a villain isn’t he?

And I want Lilia to just be furious! To tell him that’s not true! Hug him and tell him how loved Malleus truly is. And how he held on during exile because he knew that Malleus was alive. How him hatching was really his happiest moment and how much he loves him.

And that’s why, Malleus too will learn and make bonds. And this is his gift to Malleus. Their gift to him.

Lilia learned he can love because of Malleus, he changed because of him, and that is what Lilia wants for him.

For him to make many bonds and for him to love, as he has loved Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. Because that was the greatest gift Lilia has ever received. The love he got from his boys.

And Malleus will live a long life being able to form these bonds and connections and how, no matter how long, they will always be with him.

Always.

Because that’s what love is, isn’t it?

Everlasting.

(Yana please, please yana please 🙏🙏🤝)

#answered #anonie ask #🌺fruity🌺 #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst silver #twst book 7 #diasomnia #twst analysis #twst character analysis

[grave-z-boy]

Right so I love your writing and just need more mx m cause fuck I'm tired of imaging dead me .

I'm a Trans man..I think ( female to male ??) So I was hoping for a fic somewhat like that . Arthur and reader meet when they're female but 2 years later or so they meet again and arthur doesnt recognize y/n (because they transitioned) I just want some fluff and acceptance of that . I know back then homosexuality was a big no no and being trans is unheard of so it'll be fun to see where you take it.

Arthur Morgan x Trans!Male!Reader

Summary: You’ve felt stuck and unhappy for years, so, in pursuit of your own happiness you leave everyone and everything you’ve even known behind. Including your currently out of state lover, Arthur Morgan.

Word count: 6,011

Warnings: reader is a bartender, reader steals, readers sister and mother are mentioned, implied past sex between Arthur and reader, drinking and alcoholism mentioned (not reader or Arthur), y/n and his guns, guns mentioned, shooting mentioned, abandonment, hurt comfort, reader being One Of The Guys™️, sleep deprived Arthur, Tilly being helpful, reader get misgendered and deadnamed a lot but it’s before they knew he was trans, reader cries really fucking hard at one point Arthur being sleep deprived, sleep deprive Arthur being really gay for Reader, not mentioned in the story but the reason Arthur is so tired is because about half way though his second trip to town his horse bucked him off for pushing her too hard and he had to walk the rest of the way, worlds longest warning list damn

Sept. 15, 18XX

My Dear Arthur Morgan

It’s been thirteen months since I saw you last. The time has passed slowly for me- sometimes it felt as though I was standing still for days at a time. Like everyone and everything around me was moving forward- but for me, and only me, time stood still. In the months since you’ve left it seems my joy, as well as a my love for my home town, has dwindled to nothing. Staying here, the way I am, it pains my heart. I know I said I would be here, that I would wait for you to return. But I need to change and the change that I need cannot be achieved here. The people here know me, they’ve known me my whole life, and no matter what I do I will always be that same little girl to them.

I’m heading up to a little town in Nevada, maybe I can start over there.

Always yours, D/n.

Arthur received your final letter months ago. In the time since he’s read it hundreds of times, mulling over every little detail. The crumbles in the paper, the unevenness of your writing, the all too familiar tear stains that permanently warped small circles on the page, the way your name ripped through the paper, as though you’d traced it dozens of times before sending it off.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what happened, why after all this time of waiting, all this time of writing him dozens of love letters, why you decided to say goodbye, he understood change. Arthur has seen people change, he’s changed, and if it was change you needed he’d do it again. But you left. If he really wanted to, he could find you, ride day and night, ask everyone he saw if they’d seen the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But…

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be hunted down, you didn’t need to be convinced. You needed change, not a reason to stay the same. So he let you go and even when the following days were filled with the nothing but pain and confusion and the complete desolation your decision brought, he still let you go.

The gang knew he was hurting, he was withdrawn, went off on his own for a couple of days. They figured he went to find you, but when he returned, without you and in a severely worse state, they knew not to press him on it.

You weren’t much better.

This was your decision and you were going to live with it. You yearned for Arthur, every day and every night, it was different from waiting for him in your hometown, he was the one who’d left then, but you knew he’d come back to you one day. Now you were the one leaving, and you could never go back to him.

You needed to move on, you sold every piece of clothing you had to a local tailor, it was almost funny to see some of your nicer dresses displayed in the window the next morning, early on, your new wardrobe came from various drunk men. You’d be surprised just how much you could find in an alley next to a bar. After you had an outfit, a proper male outfit, you were able to assimilate.

You lived above a tavern. The owner was far too old and far too tired to run it anymore, and he wanted to live in his own house for the first time in decades, so he offered you the place for a little over a hundred bucks. You worked at the bar at night, while you handled various chores and other responsibilities during the day. The pay wasn’t great, but you had a permanent place to stay and spare food from the bar to eat, and it was more than enough.

You’d taken up a new name, y/n, you thought about it for a long time before you left. A good name, the name of a proud man with no connection to who you were before. No one ever questioned you. You were just a man to them. They teased you, in the earlier days, called you feminine, pointed out your hand, your cheeks, and your hips among other things, but in the end it was just teasing, they didn’t know why you were like that, and they didn’t question when you put in an effort to change or hide your more feminine aspects. Maybe they were just too drunk to care.

You loved this life, you were just the friendly bartender.

But even with this new life, you found yourself missing aspects of you’re old one.

Your old friends, your old family, your old lover. They wouldn’t take you back, not like this, they’d think something was wrong, they’d try to change you, try force you back into the box you clawed yourself out of.

But still you dreamed of them, your sisters cooking, the way she was effortlessly graceful even when she was teasing you, your friends, the girls you’ve know since you were in diapers, singing, making flower crowns, getting into trouble. Arthur…

You dreamed of Arthur the most. Your days and nights were filled with thoughts of him. You think back to your last night together, the way he held you so tightly, you swore you could still feel his hands there. The praises he muttered, the love he confessed through out the night, every move he made, the way he left and the hole that was left in your chest after.

You dreamed of him, like one day you’d wake up and he’d be beside you. And he tell you that he loved you, not d/n, not the girl from before, but you, y/n, as your truest self.

But just like yesterday, and the days before that, he wasn’t there when you opened your eyes.

The sun was just coming up. But the sliver of light that did shine through the window seemed to magically be angled at your eyes. Making the rest you so desperately wanted impossible.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, your elbow popping the moment you were upright, your eyes were just barely open, you scratched your chest and let out a long yawn.

Your room was still dark for the most part, but you were still able to pull on some pants and fasten a belt so you could head downstairs. The tavern was empty, you cleaned up good last night and you wouldn’t have to worry about really opening until later. Still, you unlocked the front door and flipped the wooden sign in the window to say open, the people here knew you weren’t really open to serve, you were just open to the chatty people that passed through in the morning, locals coming to say hi, or travelers in need of direction, others came to sit with their friends and get out of the violent Nevada sun. Either way, you’d be polite enough to them, but they weren’t welcome for a drink for another couple of hours.

Stepping into the backyard you picked the laundry off the line and into a basket. You heard the bell up on top of the front door ring a couple of times. As you got closer to the back door you could hear the faint chatter of two people inside, Doctor Mayer, one of three doctors in town, and Anita, a house wife. She was in here more often than her husband was, but you always figured that she just needed something to do while he worked considering you’ve only ever seen her drink a handful of times in the past year.

When you came through the back door she let out an excited yelp,

“Y/n!” She shouted, like she hadn’t seen you the night before.

“Mrs. Matthews.” You said with a respectful nod. “How’s you’re husband?”

She groaned, “paranoid.”

Setting the basket down on the bar, in between the upturned stools, you turned back to her.

“He used to be a farmer, farmers are always paranoid.”

“He was not a damn farmer, don’t let that man fool you, he was a farm hand, it’s different,”

Dr. Mayer piped in, his voice low and tired, though that just how he always sounded, “the bastard smells like one…”

“It’s getting warmer out there.” You responded, leaning against the bar.

“Doesn’t mean he has to walk around smelling like a damn animal!”

You laughed, turning back to Anita, “what does your husband do anyway?”

“He’s a banker, which is why he’s so damn paranoid in the first place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well..” she stated, adjusting herself in her chair, “one of his colleague’s brother-in-law told his colleague that he saw a gang ‘a outlaws heading up this way, but here’s the kicker, Johnny, the colleague, is a notorious liar. Lies left and right like his life depends on it.”

“Johnny Flores?” You asked.

She smacked the table, “That’s the bastard!”

“Yeah, he comes in here every Wednesday like clockwork, telling the boys his stories. It’s a surprise the whole town hasn’t heard about this..”

“Well, it isn’t Wednesday yet, is it? It’ll make it’s way into you’re bar, don’t worry”

You laughed again, grabbing the basket off the table you said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, got a few more thing to settle.”

You weren’t too worried about the rumors, there wasn’t much in the town anyways, no sheriff either so if they did come and make noise, it’d be a free for all and they’d leave with less than they came with. Everybody had a gun, hell- you had two, a shotgun the last owner had given you, and a pistol Arthur had given you a few weeks before he left, one was under the bar on a shelf, the other was under your bed, you’ve never really had a need for either, but if Johnny was being truthful for once in his life, which you doubted, you figured it was good to have them.

That night, when the bar did open, a few unfamiliar faces strode in, though none were to shady. A couple of working girls took to them quick and they were gone after being chatted up by for a bit. Outside of that, it was a normal night.

You closed late, shooing out the last drunk nearly two hours later than usual. Wiping down the tables, flipping the chairs and stools on them, washing the glasses, sweeping, mopping and making sure the front and back door was locked before heading upstairs. You scrubbed yourself down at your washstand. Of all things you missed from your old home, your bathtub was one of the bigger ones. Your mother had invested in it early on, and now you were saving to have one installed here too. What you wouldn’t do for a hot bath after a long day. You were almost there, another fifty dollars and you’d have all the money you needed. That’s were a good portion of your money went, you didn’t mind, after all you’ve sacrificed you deserve something nice.

——-

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday afternoon, Johnny Flores and a couple of his friend decided to take over the seats directly in front of the bar. Again, he told stories of bandits headed your way, but he was “serious” this time.

“I swear, I know what I saw, Dutch’s boys, just like the damn posters! I saw them coming from the east, clear as day.”

Before one of his friend could respond you asked, “and what the hell were you doing in the east, huh?”

“Well-“ he straightened himself out, “I was out with my lady friend-“

“The prostitute-“ his friend, Oscar, interrupted.

“-Not a prostitute, she's a-”

“-escort-” both Johnny and his three friends said together, they've heard that one before.

“Isnt that the same thing?” you asked.

“He doesn't think so!” Oscar said.

“They almost knocked our carriage over!” Johnny shouted, getting the conversation on track.

“Sure they did..” you said, drying the glass in your hand before setting it back down. “Bet they stuck you up too, only let you live cuz you're so pretty.”

“Go to hell, y/n.”

“I'll go where ever your lying, drunk ass ain't.”

“Im not lying, and I’m not drunk either, so get me another whiskey, asshole!”

“Hey now,” Daniel, who was also a regular, piped up, “careful how you talk to him, he might shoot ya’”

You set the glass down in front of him, he snatched it quickly, gulping it down.

“Or I might just piss in your whiskey.”

He choked hard, luckily the drink went down his throat instead of all over your counter, then you would have shot him. His face morphed to one of irritation, but his friend's laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing along with them.

The night ended with you carrying a passed out Johnny to the alley, you cleaned up, scrubbed yourself down, and went to bed just as you always did.

The next morning a delivery was made to the bar, food and alcohol, you kept your meats and some of your more expensive liquor in the ice box and things like bread and supplies were kept on the shelf. Food wasn't ordered commonly in the tavern, but there were those who ate here nearly every night because they had no skill for cooking and no one else to do it for them. You enjoyed those people, and you think they enjoyed you too, especially since the last owner would drive them out if they tried to come in for more than three days in a row. He thought that they were stealing food from other customers, but you didn't, You knew they were just hungry and needed to eat, and they couldn't be stealing because they always paid.

After that, your day was pretty normal- other than what you consider to be one the best things to happen to you in a long time- your bathtub, your beautiful porcelain bathtub with golden feet and faucet, was done. Fully installed and in perfect working order. You weren't going to pretend to understand how the man you paid did it, but he did. And finally, after what felt like years, you were able to take a hot bath.

It was weird, staring down at your distorted body as you soaked. Usually, when you scrubbed yourself down at the washstand all you could think of was how desperately you wanted this to be over. Your mind was clear, but that clarity only lasted so long though, as it did most nights, your mind wander to Arthur.

Saying you missed him was redundant, it was meaningless, it was stupid. You know, but you did. Letting out a long sigh, the last time you saw Arthur was like a dream, you spent an entire day together, you woke up together, ate together, bathed together, dressed together- everything you did, every little move you made reminded you of that day. And with Johnny spreading rumors about the Dutch’s gang, you heard his name more and more. You let yourself sink into the water, your eyes clenched shut as warm water covered your face. You stayed there longer that you should have, when you finally sat up, you were nearly gasping for air.

You got out few minutes later, you were tired, dressing yourself halfway before collapsing into bed.

You didn’t dream that night, your mind either too tired or too pained to show you your usual fantasies.

——-

Arthur swore he wouldn’t look for you, he swore it to you and to himself that he’d let you be free. But it seemed unavoidable now. Dutch had settled the gang in a large clearing in Nevada, the gang was mostly hidden by a small chain of mountains, and there was a streak of towns and settlements all within a couple dozen miles from each other.

There weren’t many cities in Nevada, it was dry and damn near impossible to farm out here if you didn’t know what you were doing, and if that wasn’t enough, the heat would be.

You were out there somewhere.

Dealing with the heat, with the drought, and with the shitty crops. And you still didn’t go back home. He’s been to your home. He's gone back dozens of times, you were never there, whatever you wanted to do, whatever changes you made, you succeded. He was happy for you, you were happy, God he hoped you were happy- he doesn't know what he'd do if he found out you weren't. If you were somewhere miserable and sulking, all this time, when you could have been with him.

He pushed those thoughts back- you were happy, you had to be.

When Arthur mentioned he was riding into the nearest town, he got a few odd looks. It wasn't a secret that you'd run off to Nevada, not even close. Most didn't say much, maybe a quick good luck, or a request for something from town. Some didn't say anything, but Dutch did. Dutch warned him, warned him about you and how some changes weren't good, and if Arthur did see you that he needed to be careful.

Arthur wasn't one to ignore advice, and he didn't ignore it, he thought about it as he road through the desert lands of Nevada, but whatever changes you made, he could handle it. He wasn't a child, he didn't need have his hand held. There wasn't even a guarantee that you'd been in this town, or the next one. So for all he knew he'd never have to face you're changes.

The town was bustling with life. The people went about their business. The town was…normal. Small, busy, and normal. He road in unbothered, no one here seemed to care enough to even look when the man when he trotted by.

Hitching his horse to a sturdy pole he set off to one of the small shops nearby, after picking up some extra oat cakes and apples for the horse, he tried to find the sheriff’s office, only to find that this town didn't have one after asking a mildly disheveled yet nicely dressed man for directions, no government either. The town was its own unit outside of the occasional trading.

“Danny Hikman used to be the law here, well, not really, but he kept people on the right track. Encouraged them to do right- and get guns, he used to run a bar a little down the way, gave it to his nephew or something-” the man said, laughing slightly.

“‘ bar any good?” he asked, only half listening to the man.

“The best, fresh food, cold whiskey- bartenders a good guy too, won't hesitate to throw your ass out though.”

“I’ll bet- which way’s that bar, again?”

———

You started serving earlier than usual today, mostly so you could close earlier without complaint. The familiar chime of the bell above the door called your attention for a less than a second, you recognized Johnny, then looked back down at the glasses you were cleaning.

“Changing your schedule on me, Johnny? I thought you were a Wednesday man?”

He let out a short laugh, sitting in the spot directly in front of you, “just showing a friend around.”

“You’re friends are all alcoholics, I doubt they need help finding a bar.”

“Hey now, I’ve got a new friend. Mr. Uhh-“

“Arthur.”

You felt like you’d just jumped out of your skin, the glass in your hand clattered against the floor, ever so sturdy. Landing thankful one piece. Staring at the man in front of you, standing just behind Johnny, Arthur Morgan, right there, looking just the way he did when he left, just the way you remember him.

He glanced at Johnny, then back at you- it felt like he looked right through you. Looking at you with none of the love or adoration from before. Because he loved d/n, not y/n. Y/n was just a bartender to him, an awful one who apparently couldn’t even hold a damn glass.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your chest was tight and you could feel your throat start to close as tears weld in your eyes. Quickly, you broke eye contact with Arthur, ducking down under the bar to grab the glass, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the forming tears in your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry boys,” you muttered, “you’re, uh, friend startled me is all.”

Taking off his hat and setting down on the counter, Arthur took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry, your friend here talked you up quite a bit, had to see for myself if what he said was true.”

You let out a laugh, forced and almost nervous, setting the glass down with the rest of the dirty glasses, you said, “Trust me, it’s true, what you looking for Mr. Arthur?”

“Just Arthur, and whiskey, thanks.”

You nodded to the man before heading to the storage room, you’d hate to admit it, but you wanted to run, straight passed the storage room and out the back door. But that would make Arthur think something was wrong, and yes, something was wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t recognize you, and that was okay, it was supposed to be okay, you left so you wouldn’t be recognized, you left to start over. But he’s out there, and you were hiding in the storage room so you wouldn’t have to face him. You gave yourself a moment, for your throat to release and for your heart to stop pounding and aching. Only the pounding stopped. You needed to work, you couldn’t let them know anything was wrong.

Grabbing a bit of higher quality whiskey out of the icebox, feeling the frosty glass sting your hand as you carried it out of the storage room. Without looking up at the man you grabbed one of the clean glasses and poured him about half a glass. You remember Arthur complaining about it once, only getting serviced the tiniest amount of alcohol, no matter the price. Capping the bottle you gave a short wordless nod before setting it under the counter. Arthur grabbed the glass, before he could speak you were on the other side of the bar, serving somebody else.

Johnny didn’t stay long, he had other things to do on a Thursday afternoon, but Arthur stayed, you poured him a couple more glasses before cutting him off, at least from your expensive whiskey.

“How much do I owe you?” He ask, his speech a bit slurred as he sat unsteadily in his seat.

“Nothing, I’ll put it on Johnny’s tab, come Wednesday he won’t notice it.”

“Thank you kindly-“

“Y/n-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You have a good night Mr. Morgan.”

You crawled into bed that night, still in your day clothes, feeling like your heart had been torn out of your chest. And you cried, you cried until the sun came up, until your body couldn't cry anymore and every sound you made was a rough heaving sob. And when you had no more energy left to sob, you stared at your open window, watching the sunrise, listening to the people.

You were supposed to open today, unlocking the door and flipping the sign, staring out the window, at the people, at Mrs. Matthews waiting across the street for you to open your doors.

You flipped the sign back, you stated at the word “OPEN” facing you, then at Mrs. Matthews's face fell as the word “CLOSED” faced her.

————

Sitting on his cot, journal on his lap, Arthur stared at the picture he drew. It wasn't perfect, considering he was half drunk when he drew it, but it was something. The bartender from last night. He was…something. A nervous something. Arthur felt bad for him when he dropped the glass, then he just…stared at him, long enough for Arthur to get a spark of familiarity when he saw his face. Arthur tried to get his attention as the night went on, ordering drinks, asking questions, trying to get the man to stay close, be he'd walk away the moment he'd answered or served him.

He wasn't like that with other patrons, he laughed, he joked- then he kicked everyone out.

He heard him say he was closing early, but let him stay until he finished his last drink. Arthur thought about the name he'd given. Y/n.

“I see you're drawing d/n again, did you catch her in town?”

Looking up he saw Tilly standing next to him with a kind smile on her face.

“No, it's not d/n, some bartender in town, he looks so familiar.”

Tilly hummed, sitting on the cot with Arthur and taking the book out of his lap. She flipped through the pages quickly before finding a drawing of d/n, with your final letter stuck right next to it.

“Needs a change, huh? Maybe she skipped town and became a bartender, you never know.”

“A bartender and a man?”

“You never know Arthur. Maybe that's why she left, couldn't make a change like that where people know you. They would've hunted her down.”

“Tilly..”

“Maybe you should talk to the bartender, if it's not her then it's not her, but if it is, are you really going to miss seeing her again because you won't take a chance?”

Handing the journal back to him she said, “Just think about it, at least.” Then she walked away.

————

You heard the slam of the front door behind you as you sat the freshly cleaned glasses on the rack. If you were going to sulk and lock yourself in the bar then you were going to clean while you did it.

“We’re closed..” you said, your tone not exactly customer friendly.

You had a list of things you needed to do, you've already mopped the floor, scrubbed the tables and walls, washed every glass, plate, and utensil, did your laundry, scrubbed your tub, cleaned your room-

“D/n..?”

You paused, then glanced over your shoulder. You knew it was him, you already knew, you knew his voice too well to ever mistake it. Taking a breath, you hands shaking and heart pounding, you turned around.

“Arthur, I-” you breathed out, but you didn't know what to say. “How did you-”

“Lucky guess..”

Taking slow steps towards the bar, you heard him sigh.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, unsure.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.”

“We should talk-”

“Yes, we should-”

You stepped from behind the counter, still unsure as to what could happen next. Then, without warning, you were pulled into a tight hug, Arthurs's body practically enveloping yours. You stood there, holding him as tightly as you could until your arms started to burn from the strain.

You didn't know what to say, or how to explain what happened, the realization you went through while he was gone, why you left.

When you pulled away you still didn’t know what to say, you opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. You kept your face glued to the ground for a long moment.

“You look different, I didn’t recognize you yesterday..”

You pulled out one of the stools.

“I told you I needed change.”

He pulled another out beside you.

“I know, I just don’t know what I was expecting.”

“This must be so confusing.”

“It is, but I’m betting it was more confusing for you that it could be for anybody else.”

Leaning on the counter, you looked up at him.

“I guess so. In my home town I figured that they’d be a little more angry than confused so I left..” you stopped, taking a breath, “I didn’t want to leave you, Arthur.”

Arthur sat there silently, his eyes turned towards the counter.

You couldn’t help but stare, you haven’t seen him in so long, his eyebrows were slightly scrunched downward, his pretty blue eyes focused on nothing as his mind raced. His fingers tapped against the counter every few seconds. You tried not to let that anxious feeling in your chest build, but the longer he was silent, the harder it got to push down.

“You said you aren't happy anymore..”

You blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“How about now? Are you happy now?”

“I'm.. I have more good days than I did before, so…yeah, I'm happy.”

He stayed silent for another moment. You figured he was just trying to find his words.

Then, when he did speak,

“I still love you.”

You sighed, “I still love you, too, Arthur.”

Another long silence passed. It was odd, you've dreamed of seeing him again, all the damn time. And now that he's here you didn't know what to say. Your relationship, how ever strong it was before, was dying. Even though you loved him and he loved you.

Arthur was having similar thoughts, he didn't care how much you changed, he wanted you to be happy. That's all he wanted for you. But he wants to be with you, he doesn't care that your a man, it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't think it's ever mattered. He's never thought too hard about it. But now, with you sitting there looking the way you did. Looking so different, so muchlike yourself, so much more at peace even though you were being confronted, he thought, ‘yeah, I could be with a man.’

Before he could, you took a chance.

“How long you thinking of staying in town for, Arthur?”

———-

You laughed, he missed your laugh.

“You can't just go around taking people's clothes off!”

“I needed clothes and they were so drunk they wouldn't miss them!” you argued.

“How have you not been caught yet?”

“I bought new clothes!”

“Why couldn't you do that first?”

“I needed to avoid suspicion.”

“Avoid suspicious by stealing clothes..”

You laughed again.

You and Arthur had found your way upstairs, both of you sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He asked you how you ended up here, it was funny, explaining to Arthur, a known outlaw, the various ways you broke the law, and having him lecture you.

“I will not take this from an outlaw!”

“You're an outlaw too, now, Clothes Bandit.”

“Oh that's awful, why couldn't I get something good?”

“‘Good’ like what?”

“I don't know, you're better at naming things than I am.”

He looked over at you a small smile on his face.

“Really now, Mr. Y/n, how’d you come up with that anyways?”

“Well I found a baby naming book.”

He sat up, giving you a look.

“Are you serious?”

You looked at him for a second, a stren expression on your face, then slowly a smile broke out on your face.

“You're an ass.”

“You really think I got Y/n for a baby naming book?”

“You could have!”

“But I didn't-”

Eventually, after showing him your room and the various aspects of your new life that you adored (yes, the tub too), you headed back down to the bar, only to see Daniel, one of Johnny’s friends, behind the bar serving himself.

“Daniel, I'm going to kill you, how many drinks have you had?” you said, rushing over to him, snatching both the glass and bottle from his hand.

“One-” you gave him a look, he caved quickly with a sigh, “five.”

“Goddamnit.”

“‘M sorry, you are closed, your never closed!”

“I wouldn't be serving drinks this early anyways!”

He laughed, walking around to the other side of the bar, “I'm special though right? Won't get shot or banned or nothing?” he practically pleaded, but formed it like a question.

“No, you're not banned, but you still need to leave.”

He sighed, dragging himself out the door.

Sighing yourself, you turned to Arthur, “See what I have to deal with?”

“‘Seems like a handful.”

“Daniel is harmless, he's just an alcoholic.”

“Never met a harmless alcoholic.”

“He's harmless now, he doesn't want to risk almost getting shot again.”

Arthur laughed, sitting at the bar, just like had yesterday, “Who shot at him?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“You?”

“I gave him plenty of warning, see that hole in the wall that there—” you pointed to the very back wall of the tavern, between two tables was a loosely patched hole, “- warning shot, missed him by an inch.”

“Who the hell taught you how to shoot?”

“I taught myself, maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“Very funny, y/n, I wouldn't mind seeing you shoot sometime though.”

“There's a range in the next town, I could take you there sometime.”

The two of you talked until the sun had fully set and the town had gone quiet. The bar made you feel more open somehow, it always did. Arthur helped too, you guess. You missed him, you missed being like this, so normal with him. You were surprised his quickly things settled back in place, like neither of you had ever left. It was clear that you were different, but Arthur seemed to accept this change flawlessly. He never messed up, seemingly having ingrained every aspect of your new life into his mind.

Y/n, Mr.Y/n, Sir, he even called you handsome, you swear you nearly fell over when he did.

By midnight, you both were tired, and despite what he planned before, which was bringing you- if it was you, back to camp with him. But that plan never fell through, you ended up pulling him into the bathroom with you. You thought you'd be uncomfortable at first, but you figured if he was going to be back in your life you should get used to him seeing you naked again. But it wasn't, it was calm, comforting. You were thankful for your massive bath, the both of you fit well, you sat behind him, his hat tossed in on top of the heap of clothes you two had left, you ran your fingers through his hair, water from your hands running down his face. He hummed in contempt. He didn't speak much at first, simply enjoying you and your presence. It wasn't until the water had begun to cool and the cold air of the Nevada night started to seep in did he pressed himself closer to you, muttering something quietly.

It wasn't until you got out, long after the water cooled, we're you able to figure out what he was saying. You had some clothes you figured might fit Arthur, something you'd bought impulsively without actually checking to see if you could fit it.

“You have…nice arms-” he muttered.

You were pulling your pants up over your waist when he spoke, you turned to look at him, one hand holding your unbuttoned pants up, you asked, “Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no I'm just…real tired.”

“Didn't get much sleep?”

“I didn't sleep, I kept thinking of you.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He groaned, “Tuesday, I was on watch Wednesday, I was pre occupied by your ass on Thursday, and now here we are.”

“Fucking Christ, go to sleep.”

“I want to look at you, I missed you-”

“I'll be here in the morning Arthur.”

He didn't respond for a long moment, you figured he dozed off finally, until you decided to switch shirts, shoving the one you had on into your drawer and pulling out another.

“You have a nice back too-”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Your night ended with you curling up around Arthur, your arms nearly wrapped completely around him. You didn't dream again tonight, your usual fantasies of seeing Arthur were deemed useless now and we're thrown out with the rest of today's mental trash.

#arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x male!reader #rdr2x male!reader #male!reader #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male y/n #x male y/n #arthur Morgan x male #✮ — z-boy

[ackleskittles]

SUPERNATURAL FINALE : an honest, maybe sometimes controversial, take on tv's biggest disappointment of this decade.

DISCLAIMER : in this essay, i will give my opinion about 15x20 of the silly long-running show Supernatural (no kidding???) and i stand by the fact that i hate it, BUT i am not just going to trash talk my comfort show the entire time, and will try to bring into light the things that actually worked (ahem, yes, i will try to find some...) in this episode. i don't need any attacks on my opinion, you can disagree with the things i am going to say, but let's stay civil, right ? hope you enjoy it !

let's face it, no need to beat around the bush : Dean's death is THE worst thing that could've ever happened to us. 15 years of adoring, worshiping THE best character ever created on tv just for losing him ?? this way ?? feels (sorry but...) fucking disrepectful to me. and listen, i haven't seen that cursed episode again in six months, so don't mind me if my blurry memories are failing me... it still makes me so mad, that the episode starts on OUR beloved hero living a peaceful life, happy, kind of, finally free from god's (yeah, more like chuck) who's been through literal hell, faced a hundred deaths, just to end up on that stupid rebar. fuckin stupid quick, meaningless death of a HERO. i can't even think straight when it comes to this but what makes it EVEN WORST is the freakin comedic part of this episode. the pie in the face ??? when THE Dean Winchester is about to die ??? or Sam's fuckin hideous wig ??? the episode focuses on some POINTLESS hunt involving a fuckin vampire literally no soul remembered from season 1 (if you did remember without even looking it up and just happen to have this knowledge, i am sorry AND really impressed) ?? are you just kidding ?? your main character dies, and you just make it absolutely no big of a deal ? i could not. disrespectful, once again.

Dean isn't even the only one who's been failed on this finale because the same disrespect is put on Sam. i'm not bringing back the wig again (BUT THE WIG THO ??? i know the budget is low with covid and everything but come on ??) but the blurry wife is the icing on the cake. but where they failed Sam the most is the way in 15 years (okay this is not only finale related but i thought it deserved to be brought into light) they never EVER gave the man a real closure with Jess. they literally bring every character back from the dead, or at least give the boys an opportunity to say goodbye at some point but they never even cared giving Sam a proper closure from the most important relationship in his life. this, pals, makes me insanely angry. but at least, Sam gets to live and have an ordinary life until his last breathe.

Castiel isn't even really mentioned again ?? i mean, no need for a long thesis about this shame but he's been a fan favorite for YEARS and they just ???

i reached the part where i have to list the things that worked for me in this cursed episode. well. it gave us Dean x Miracle ? the man deserved to have a dog. and it was one of the cutest thing they ever did on this show. Miracle is somehow Dean's little sparkle of joy and hope after losing Cas. kudos (somehow, in a way, i don't know) to Dean's last speech to Sam, and their heartbreaking exchange. it really moved me, and made sense, it was in character. Dean dying on his feet was also appreciated (and those kudos go to Jensen, thank you buddy) but i will explain why in the next paragraph. anyway, i don't have anything more to add, and trust me i tried really hard!! oh, the photography was also decent, but it's one thing Supernatural always did well, so... not surprising.

i am NOT a supporter of Dean dying in the finale, and i am thankful to the wonderful talented writer in this fandom for their amazing fix-it fictions on the finale. this ground is covered, so i am leaving you with ao3 for all the ways the show could have ended WITHOUT Dean dying. my man deserved to be happy and free ans well. i am going to cover the ground of THE WRITERS REALLY WANT DEAN DYING. fine. i don't agree, but you do you baby. 15 years of the show, Dean Winchester was depicted as a HERO. the fanbase has been dedicated for FIFTEEN FUCKIN YEARS and being myself a 2006 Supernatural fan, this finale made me feel like it was a total loss of time. as i said before, i WORSHIPPED (and i still do) this character like i've never worshipped any other character. what he (and we) deserved for always sacrificing his own happiness and life was to die the hero he's always been. to die, i don't know, saving Sam one last time ? with a show with great biblical implication, didn't he deserve a great biblical tragedy ending ? something huge, epic ? and i know this could be controversial because they are no longer under the influence of god himself, but he could have been paralleled to Jesus somehow, just joining heaven next to Jack and Cas as his mission on earth was over. i don't know. just thinking about things.

what could've also been great would have been Dean's life flashing before his eyes as he was dying. glimpse of unseen good moments, memories, as a tribute to the character. once again, he deserved no less than to be praised for everything he did for his family, and for the world.

anyway. revival is now a thing all over social medias and it could both heal us, or destroy us. it raised a lot of concerns, the most important being will Cas' confession finally be aknowledge ? i sure hope it will for misha's perfect delivery of it, and his fight to allow his character to be himself fully. but i also hope this revival finds a way to "cancel" the mistake the writers made with this finally. it could make sense. it could be yet another illusion, trick, anything really and they could (just like us) pretend it never happened (spoiler alert : it really never happened) and i don't want my hopes too high. but it's possible.

thank you so much for your attention. i wanted to write an essay about the finale but i feel like i've been here and there talking nonsense. i've never really expressed my disappointment before, as it was something really personal to me, but i am glad i finally did. there could have been so much more things said. or said in a better way, but i tried my best :(

love y'all, spn family <3

#supernatural #spn finale #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #crowley #jensen ackles #destiel #misha collins #jared padalecki

[i-cast-bardic-inspiration]

Halsin with a Tav who had a toddler? Like they get back to Baldurs gate or theyve been nursing an egg(for the Gith and Dragonborn Tavs) that’s now hatching.

Pls let him be the dad he’s always wanted to be 🥹

Okay, first off thanks for sending in your request! I hope it’s alright to do this in a mix of headcanons and narrative blurbs because I have too many ideas for this wholesome content. Also, if I interpreted your Ask wrong please let me know and I’ll amend! 

But alright, here we go—let’s give our Big Bear some love and let him be Daddy Halsin because he deserves all the best things. 

*TW: Pregnancy talk, mentions of past trauma, wholesomeness so wholesome it hurts

Halsin will be in shock for a brief moment before going into Daddy Halsin mode. This man has just gone through the most traumatic hundreds of years; in pure survival mode after losing his family, being held prisoner in the Underdark, dealing with the Shadow Curse and all that it has brought upon him—he never once during that time was afforded the opportunity to simply…live. He always focused on doing what was necessary to survive. So now that he finally can let some of his walls down? Now that his lover just told him they have a child? 

He looks at you frozen in disbelief…he never thought he would be able to have his own family. And now you’ve given him one of life’s greatest joys in the mere blink of an eye. His whole world has turned on its axis in the best of ways and he needs a moment to find his feet on the ground again. 

Whether it’s biologically yours or you’ve adopted, it doesn’t matter—he views it all the same. He is in awe, deep gratitude bursting forth for this bounty of nature you’ve provided him with; that you’ve invited him to share.

“My heart…you,” Halsin’s voice breaks, “Why did you not tell me before?” the question falls past his lips with a tremble, but there is no trace of anger or hurt in his tone. Only awe, tinged with a soft skepticism as though this moment will slip through his fingers and he will wake to find it was all a dream. 

You tell him why. Maybe it’s because you were scared he wouldn’t want anything to do with you or your child…maybe you didn’t want to distract him from all that still needed to be accomplished…maybe you didn’t want to add another burden to his already heavily-weighed-down shoulders—whatever it is…

He understands your fears but tells you to put them to rest because nothing—absolutely nothing—could ever deter him from loving and caring for you and your child. He is more than willing to step into the role of a father…if that is what you should wish of course, to share this part of your life with him…

As soon as you give him the affirmative, he is all over you. Wrapping you up in his strong embrace, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach before settling his face against your neck and inhaling deeply. Your scent calms him, and he needs it to ground himself after the revelation that he finally—finally—has the one thing he thought he’d never have again…a family. He is a dad. 

He’s a dad! 

His deep laughter echoes through the air. He’s overjoyed, a little scared maybe too, but his unbridled joy is contagious and you find yourself tearfully laughing along with him. 

With your invitation, he quickly stepped into full dad mode, and wants to unleash all the doting upon you and your child that he possibly can. 

If the baby has not been born/hatched yet; he’s all about using his skilled hands to melt the tension from your feet and calves and anywhere else you might be tense from carrying the weight of another; letting his healing magic wash over you when your head is pounding and stomach is churning from the extra hormones; making sure you have proper nutritional meals to keep your stamina up…his healer capabilities really kick into high gear here.

If your little one is already in the world, they immediately take to Halsin like a moth to light. And he takes to fatherhood just as easily. It is a precious and priceless thing to watch the two of them bond so quickly. You knew he would take to it naturally, having all the qualities of a loving and supportive father. He was always a wonderful listener, he was just as good of a teacher, and he still held so much wonder and love for the world even after all his years. His zest for life was contagious and played right into the natural curiosities of a child. 

Beneath all of the stoic wisdom is a man who loves to play. Loves to experience everything life has to offer. And it shows when they decide to have storytime before bed…or any other time your little one asks for stories. Which is a lot of the time because Halsin is rather good at it. He could be a bard if he wanted. But all he wants is to see the expressions of wonder on your child’s face, the shrieks of laughter and gasps of surprise filling his ears as he twists and turns the stories, acting them out with grand gestures and motions. 

Sometimes storytelling evolves into playing “Adventurers”—or so that’s what the two of them call this game anyway…you call it pure chaos, but you don’t mind one bit. Not as your little one rides on the back of a giant wildshaped bear through the forest, roars and laughter tickling your ears. You join in at times, and it usually ends in one big giant cuddle pile as morning turns into afternoon and sleepy little eyes close for a short nap. It’s at times like these his heart threatens to burst, and you can see it in his eyes—feel it in the way his fingers trace your jawline and move softly, reverently into your hair…soon you’re drifting off in the peacefulness of it all too. Halsin just lays there holding the two of you in his arms, listening to your soft inhales and exhales. In the slow moments is when he really feels it hit him. How contented he is. 

They’ll go on walks around the forest together, sometimes stop to examine a plant or a flower, your child asking Halsin 123812378 questions about everything they come across, and he answers every one of those questions with the utmost of patience. He genuinely loves to share his knowledge with young and curious minds. You can tell by the way his eyes light up, and how his voice excitedly carries across the meadow as he explains things like how flowers grow from the ground with the help of the sun and water and air. 

He even asks some questions of his own to get your child thinking and talking, and also just to be silly and play: “what kind of animal would you be?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to eat?” ~ “do you think cats can have fins?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to do with mommy and daddy?” 

When your child is sad or upset, he is there guiding them through their big feelings. Oak Father knows, Halsin has had his fair share of coping with tough emotions through his years. Even with all the practice he’s had though he still gets overwhelmed at times. Children need help getting through these sorts of big feelings, not to be admonished or chastised for feeling something natural. Of course while he usually spends time wildshaped when he needs to think, he knows that might not work for a child, and there are certainly other solutions. Like physical connection—hugs, and holding a safe space for your little one to feel. Maybe they need help labeling what they’re feeling, and Halsin is right there ever-observant and gentle with his words, “I see that you fell, does it hurt anywhere? Were you scared when you fell from the tree?” Your child responds tearfully, “it was scary,” so then after a quick scan Halsin knows he doesn’t need to mend any broken bones. He just needs to hold them and tell them it’s okay to be scared and to cry, and that they are very brave for doing so. 

It’s moments like this that you find your heart swell with fondness so vast it nearly hurts. Because you know how capable of ferocity he is, how much strength and fortitude he has shown in battles past…that seeing him like this, so patient and supportive, so loving and gentle…you know he has finally been able to take the armor off both literally and figuratively.

He walks lighter, laughs louder, plays harder. His love knows no bounds, and he makes sure the two of you know it with every breath he takes. With every scratch he mends. With every toy he whittles. With every blanket he tucks in and every kiss he lays atop a sleepy little head. With every word and kiss and hug…he embraces this simpler but no less meaningful side of life with arms opened wide.  

One day, after a very important and engaging conversation about “daddy, where do babies come from?” your little one asks him another question. “Daddy, can you and mommy make a baby?” His eyes lift to find yours, a heat there so smoldering you swear you could feel it sweep over your skin in a dizzying rush. “Little One,” he starts, tearing his gaze from you to look down softly at your child, “would you like that—a brother or sister to play with?” Their little eyes light up and they shout “yesyesyes!” 

Halsin’s smile lines deepen as he laughs loudly. “You will just have to wait and see my little heart, all will be as nature intends.” He knows that is a conversation to have with you in a more private setting. Though he’s pretty sure he can tell by the speed of your breathing, the flush of your face, and the warmth in your gaze that you are no doubt feeling the same sentiment he is in that moment.

Adding to your little family might happen sooner rather than later…and he definitely would not say no to having more little ones running around.

#my heart 😭 #my heart is full #Halsin #Daddy Halsin #please let this man have a family it is not too late for him #Best Dad Ever #all the Dad Jokes #i YEARN for this man #bg3 #Ask

[theladyofbloodshed]

Nesta and Eris with their baby a short snippet please I beg 🙏

You've twisted my arm...

Eris’s fingers gripped her wrist tightly. For once, his hands were clammy. Beside her, Nesta heard the rapid thud-thud of his heart.

‘Oh, thank the Mother,’ he exclaimed. He let out a shaky exhale.

‘What is the matter with you?’

Their son slept soundly in his crib with soft light seeping through the thin curtain. Firo was curled up on the rug beside it, keeping guard. Gently, Eris pulled the door closed.

‘I came to check on him but I couldn’t see his chest moving. I thought he wasn’t breathing.’

Nesta pushed a tuft of hair away from his face. ‘And instead of checking, you called me and watched from here instead?’

Eris blinked.

‘My love, I think you need to nap too.’ Before Eris could raise a complaint, Nesta pressed her finger to his lips. ‘Orla is over the moon with him. He is growing well, eating well, sleeping well. Everything is fine. His father is going to injure himself soon if he does not sleep.’

His forehead rested against her own as his eyes shuttered closed. ‘I don’t want to miss a moment. I have this fear that it is all too good to be true. That you or our son will be snatched from me because I don’t deserve this joy.’

The pregnancy had been a surprise. Fae cycles were so rare that Nesta was nearly four months gone before they had realised. Eris had turned into an overbearing mother hen at home and a militant high lord in court. If Nesta had a bad night’s sleep, he’d buy them an entirely new bed complete with quilt and pillows. At any signs of dissent within the court, it was plucked out like weeds. He wanted his son to inherit a court that was paradise.

When their son had arrived four weeks prior, Eris could barely leave his side. He wanted to be involved with every moment – every feed, burping, changing, bathing, napping. Even now, when he was sleeping, Nesta would find Eris gazing with utter awe from the doorway. But it did mean that Eris was running on very little sleep and was beginning to slip up.

‘Rest. When Saban wakes, we can sit a while beside the sea. Get some fresh air.’

Worry tugged at his mouth. ‘Are you sure it’s safe? The sea is so large and-’

Oh, her husband liked to fuss.

‘We won’t send him off to the ocean. He is fine. Must I fetch Orla to dose you with a sedative?’

***

This could not be his life. Eris Vanserra did not deserve such an incredible wife or darling baby boy. He hardly believed it was his life. It had been a difficult path, but Eris would go through those five hundred years of tyranny, the double-life where masks always had to be worn, again and again if it meant he got here.

Every time he looked at his son – at the tiny nails, perfect, little ears, delicate crop of blonde hair – a lump rose up in his throat and he wanted to sob. His son had brought a brighter smile to his mother’s face than he’d seen in centuries. Even Eris could barely stop smiling. Each time he glanced at Nesta, however brief, a new wave of love threatened to overpower him.

Nesta had taken it all with the same lack of nonsense that she approached everything. When her waters had broken in the middle of the night, she had already sent a servant to fetch Orla before calmly waking Eris with a soft kiss on the forehead. He had been the flapper. He’d called for Orla so many times during the pregnancy that both females asked if he was the one carrying the child.

Niamh would never let him live it down that he had fainted during the birth and gashed open the back of his head. Still, he had managed to come to and watch his son be brought into the world then promptly fainted again afterwards.

News of the babe was passed to the Night Court only after Saban had arrived. Koschei and Briallyn’s movements were unknown still. They weren’t sure how Cassian could react either. Nesta did not withdraw from court, but Autumn had changed for the better. News of the next heir did not leak from the borders at all. Her sisters had missed the entire pregnancy, but Nesta hadn't been particularly bothered. Some of the Night Court were expected soon – informally – to meet their nephew, and there were murmurings that Elin might also accompany the high lord and lady. For the time being, Saban had been thoroughly spoilt by his unofficial blood. Emerie and Gwyn had been whisked to Autumn shortly after his birth although Niamh refused to hold him, saying babies didn’t agree with her. Orla had wept when they announced the name. She had lost her Saban in the war, Eris his best friend, but thanks to Orla, they had everything. Orla had brought him and Nesta closer, helped Nesta heal, saved the high lord line of the Night Court, and always kept them fed. It was the least they could do. They owed her everything.

Wind blew strands of Nesta’s hair as she smiled down at their son. They were lucky to have a very easy baby. Saban’s day had already fallen into a rhythm of nap, eat, burp, repeat. He cried little, was happy to go to anybody, and was only waking once in the night for a feed.

‘I cannot believe we made him,’ mused Eris.

She arched a brow. ‘I did most of the making. I did all the hard work.’

‘I did the fun part.’

‘What, the passing out? Twice? While I pushed your son out?’

Eris tutted then scooped Saban out of her arms and onto his shoulder. ‘A testament to the strength of females. I’m in awe of your ability. You can be high lady – I’ll be your consort. Use me as you wish.’

‘Too much paperwork for me.’

His hand settled on Saban’s back, rubbing gently to bring up his wind. ‘I wish he’d stay this small forever.’

‘How many are we having?’

With those soft eyes and rare, unguarded smile on Nesta’s face, he’d have asked her for another child there and then.

‘We should stop here. The eldest child is always the best one.’ Eris gave a dip of his chin.

Nesta touched a hand to her chest. ‘Clearly.’ She smiled again, watching Saban yawn. A tiring life he had. ‘I wanted daughters until I met you then some madness claimed me and I wanted a miniature version of you.’

‘You poor thing,’ he tittered. ‘I would like a daughter who will side with me in an argument against you. I already know Saban will take after me and be a mama’s boy. I need somebody on my side or I’m outnumbered.’

‘What will we be arguing about?’

‘You will allow the smokehounds on the bed and Saban will help you despite my refusals, but our daughter will come and tell her papa and agree that mama and Saban don’t listen to the rules.’

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Oh, you have it all worked out.’  

‘I always do, my love.’

#neris

[genshinology]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔. zhongli

(requested by anonymous.)

content; zhongli x gn!reader. historical au to modern au (ig we could say that liyue has been modernised and like teyvat has been shifted into powerless realm without elements (please, bear with me and my stupid imagination ANSBHIQWKNDK)), reincarnation au, soulmates au, not really angst or fluff but like zhongli misses the reader and it shows, mentions of character death. wc; 1.6k (not proofread, let’s gaurr)

a part of my 800 followers event + *gasps* finally i am back to actual writing?!?!?! and get to continue this event??? HAHA ik this is so not my tradition of being inactive most of the part this year eek (btw, i have finals for like the next two weeks, so expect this blog only filled with queued stuff, etc.)

it was raining.

the day zhongli found you back on liyue past, dark days, where he was still the geo archon - all powerful, and craving the power from his people in the archon war, still under the name of morax - zhongli could not understand how you, a mere human without a vision, caught his attention in more ways than one.

sure, he believed that he knew you through guizhong, one of his old acquaintances, but he still could not comprehend how he could seek joy and calmness whenever you were around him, despite him still did not wander around with the body of his human form, zhongli. and how content you were when you knew that he was morax, not a passerby that casually tried to hit up on you.

it was raining, when he saw you working hard, a trait he found himself adored when it came from you, you were his everything back then, until he remembered how dread it was; one day, when the archon war finally came to its end, and news of you died tragically during the battle between gods, along with his close friends.

he could not imagine how helpless you must have been, without the power he often accompanied you whenever you said you were going out to catch up with the outside world. zhongli blamed everything on himself, how he was not able to protect the one people he cherished the most, you.

it was raining, once again, when he found you running towards katheryne, complained something about nearby monster attacks so that the adventurers’ guild could take the problem into their hand.

zhongli remembered how you thanked the receptionist, eyes gleaming with hope. the one emotion that he remembered back hundreds of years ago that was reserved for him. the one emotion he would trade his life for, because the hopefulness in your eyes was the one thing that kept him alive, the one thing that made him determined to be a better god, and he thought he was being deceived when he turned twice to properly look at your figure.

(yes, zhongli was no longer a god that oversaw liyue, but at times like this, he remembered how he was not really a gentle god to begin with, and the presence of you in the old days gave him hope for him to be kinder and wiser, and, he would not hesitate for a brief second if someone asked him how to be a respectable god (because zhongli, more often than not, was asked this question a little bit too much by the other gods and archons alike). he would, surely, answered those questions that you, the little human that he swore had sunshine upon you, was the one that brought the best out of him.)

zhongli could not believe when childe introduced you to him. (it was funny how he met you through his close friend, again.) you were helping xiangling at the wanmin restaurant, and as a regular there, he could not believe that it was really you. the same smile, the same height, the same face, even the same walk, and your kindness in serving other customers, even him, were all still the same. the y/n that he knew, the y/n that he wanted to protect, the y/n that he loved. it was still you, and zhongli knew that deep in your heart, you also sensed a familiarity when you approached him. it was weird, but you managed to introduce you to him, the new part-time worker at the restaurant and that this was your side income.

zhongli was wise, and smart. he, at that time, decided to not being too attached to you, although he assumed that he was actually immune to the death occurrences around him, since he learned that it was inevitable. all mortals he befriended with, all would only go and leave him alone, like how he always be.

but he could not deny the ache in his heart when he longed for your presence and attention, especially when you said you would be going back to your hometown, far away from liyue, and for once, zhongli reminisced the second, most bittersweet goodbye from you, and worst yet, he never knew when you died for a second time. all he knew was you admired him from afar from hu tao, and zhongli regretted his choice back then of not welcoming you into his heart once again.

it was a raining night, where cars and buses bustling around the busy city. the horns from afar, the colourful lights, the coffee in his hand, the droplets of rain that stained the café large window. all things, somehow, made him focused more on the memories of you, and the thousands of emotions that came along with them.

“may i sit here for a while?”

zhongli gave the person a brief nod, not really paying attention due to the fact that he was so deep in his thoughts, before he could feel the sense of familiarity to the person beside him.

zhongli never acted recklessly, often forming his own thoughts of consequences before doing anything, but he could not hide his shock when the person in front of him met his eyes, and, for a fleeting moment, zhongli knew it was you. he just knew.

if soulmates were real, he was so sure now that you were his.

you halted for a moment, part of you was awestruck by the manly aura that radiated off of him, but you could not ignore the tinge of sadness that suddenly overwhelmed you.

“have we.. have we met?” the simple question coming from you was more than enough to make his heart shattered into pieces, not because of the disappointment of you not recognising him - of course you couldn’t remember. you had been going through many stages of life cycles, and he would forever stuck with one - it was the fact that you thought you knew him, almost made the urge to pull you into his arms ten times stronger than ever.

the way zhongli kept on being silent made you quickly realised how off the question was, especially if you had just met a stranger in a downtown café. “wait, i’m sorry for sounding stupid. it’s just - i thought we know each other before but i may be wrong,” you sent an awkward laugh. “and i’m sorry if i am interrupting your personal space, that the rain is pouring and i could not catch the last bus and my umbrella is kinda broken -

“it’s fine, y/n.”

you almost dropped your phone at that. so, you had met. but you could not remember where.

the sadness inside you amplified the more you tried to shrug it off, his voice worsened your confusion to the negative feeling inside you, but, somehow, the more you held eye contact with this beautiful man in front of you, the more relieved you felt.

the sense of familiarity was not something you could ignore, with the fact that the man in front of you could technically be a bad person didn’t even come across your mind. “i know this might sound dumb, or stupid, or both but like - where did we meet?”

“somewhere, and i believe we were close at that.”

thousands of questions surged your mind, how could you forget a person that was close to you? the way you knew he wasn’t lying made your insides felt more relieved. who was this man? and why did you feel so sad? and relieved?

“the name’s zhongli,” he introduced himself to you.

the name struck you once again, but zhongli decided that this was all too much for you by reading your body language. even after centuries had passed, you were still the y/n he knew. “your umbrella broke?”

“i, uhh, yes,” you felt like you were sharing too much information on this guy who you barely knew, but the way he gave you the most gentle smile coming from a man made you knew that you could trust him. it made no sense, how you were not making any sense even in your own thoughts.

“let me offer you a ride. it is late and dangerous.”

you didn’t even doubt him and his words. something about him made you felt safe, and you thought you were the one who acted weirdly in front of him, but you figured that he didn’t mind. perhaps he had always been nice just like this.

“thank you, zhongli,” zhongli sent a small smile, one which pulled the strings of your heart. was this love at first sight, or you were actually close with him before? it was absurd, but you decided not to care with the intrusive thoughts.

either way, your gratitude made zhongli unknowingly blinked his eyes. those were the last words you said at him both times he met you. now, he swore he wouldn’t let you go again, with no responsibility of a god on your first life, and no treatment of platonic relationship with you on the second, he just knew that in this life, he would cherish every moment with you once again.

both of you decided to watch the rain after zhongli treated you with a drink, and, ironically enough, it was the most beautiful, and calming night you had ever seen.

all rights reserved © genshinology 2022 strictly on tumblr only. any form of wrongdoings under the copyright law is strictly prohibited.

#🍁.800;event #☆.works #twilight-theatre #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli imagines #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin angst

[neochan]

💌 - from the bottom of my heart, i want to thank each and every one of you who has decided to stick around <3 to those who like, comment, send asks, & reblog; this blog wouldn't have grown this big without you. & to the silent readers, thank you for indulging in my world of nct.

i never thought our community would grow this big. i mean, fifteen thousand people....and you want to read my writing? it baffles me honestly. but i'm so so thankful i have the ability to create a safe environment for yall to talk about our little kpop boys haha!!

each one of you has brought your unique insights and energy to this space, & i really cannot thank you enough. god, i remember sitting in the library like four years ago when i only had about a thousand followers... and even still, writing for nct has continued to bring me joy, and you all have been apart of keeping that spark alive.

& so have the mutuals i've met along the way. a lot of them have drifted off into bigger and better things, but to the ones who are still around, you mean a lot to me and this blog. never forget that.

huge thank you to @peachjaem00 . you've been stuck with me for years, and i couldn't think of a better mutual to spend that time with. we have both grown as people & writers and i want to thank you for always being there to help me through anything. i hope i can continue being that person for you as well.

& for @rainyjeno . you started as a reader and ended up being a friend. if it weren't for this blog, i wouldn't have driven hundreds of miles to see you and go get sushi, we wouldn't have facetimes and collabs etc. planned. we wouldn't have the friendship we do. thank you for always being here <3

and finally, @saintlyhyuck . kay, you aren't around much anymore, but we still talk all the time, & i love having the four hour phone calls. i love screaming abt things other than nct. i love planning a trip to come see you (my first ever international trip). and i thank you for being an amazing mutual to this blog.

there are so many others, @hykwrld , @mrkis , @hyuckmov , @ofjunemoment , @ohmytyong @lisired you guys are at the top of my head rn. thank you for supporting me and this blog. i'll continue to do the same for you <3

okay, moving on lol. i got too sappy i think. but as for the future of this blog. i have put this off for a while, but i'm going to stop writing soon. by soon, i mean this time next year. i'm going to be entering law school, and moving on to bigger and better things like my past mutuals. i'll be stuck doing real adult stuff, and i won't be able to continue this blog.

but that doesn't mean you'll see the last of neochan. you still have a year with me, sam, but once the time comes, this blog will be passed on to someone else who will continue the neochan legacy (there isn't really one but i like the sound of that.) of course, i may change my mind, if this becomes the stress reliever that it once was, but for now, i'm pretty set on this.

so here's to our last year, let's make it count, okay?

sam <3

#sam rambles ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ sweetbox #— milestones

[palestinian-fundraising]

PLEASE READ AND REBLOG🇵🇸

After Losing our son, Help us rebuild our lives outside Gaza

Message from the creator:

About Me:

My name is Mohammed M Radwan, a Palestinian from Gaza Strip and a resident of the United Kingdom. I am currently studying Medical Physiology at the University of Leicester and soon to my medical degree at Nottingham University which is one of the top-ranked UK medical schools. I am running this fundraiser on behalf of my Uncle, Aunt and their family and I reassure everyone that every single penny donated will be sent to them in full.

My journey away from Gaza at such a tender age has been filled with heartache and longing, as I left behind the embrace of my big family and the warmth of cherished memories. Each special occasion served as a bittersweet reminder of the laughter and joy I once shared with them. My aunt, with her radiant spirit and contagious laughter, has been a source of comfort and light in my life. Now, as I grapple with the atrocities my family faces, the pain cuts deeper than words can convey. The loss of my aunt's little son, coupled with the devastation of losing everything she owned, weighs heavy on my heart. Yet, amidst the sea of grief, she and her husband bravely shoulders the responsibility of caring for their remaining children, their future hanging in the balance. Their need for support is urgent, as they navigate through the darkness of genocide, clinging to the hope of a better tomorrow. Your plea for assistance is not just a call for help, but a cry for compassion and solidarity in the face of unimaginable adversity.

The Beneficiaries and my Relation to Them:

I am making this fund raising call on behalf of my uncle (Mohammed Kraizem), aunt (Nawal Kraizem-Alabsi) and their 8 children (5 sons and 3 daughters) trapped in the middle of the horrible situation in the Gaza Strip. Those children (Ahmed M. Kraizem/19 years, Nouman/18 years, Osama/17, Sara/15, Maria/12, Tala/10 , Ibrahim /11 and finally the wonderful kid, Hussein/10) whom I spent with them some of the best times of my life.

My Uncle, Mohammed Kraizem, was the raw model I followed when I chose to enroll in a medical profession, is a university professor specialized in rehabilitation and physiotherapy. He used to talk to us about the importance of his profession and the evidence-based medical treatment and other medical frameworks and methodologies.

He is one of the talented and long experienced professionals in this career in the Gaza Strip. He had a long career working with the El-Wafa Medical Rehab and specialized surgery hospital in Gaza, Palestine. He is a professor at the Islamic University of Gaza and The Applied College of Science. He was involved in many cooperation programs with universities inside Palestine and outside Palestine.

My Uncle spent all of his career life helping others in need specially those affected by the recurrent wars and incursions that left hundreds of young people and children paralyzed/brain-damaged or their limps amputated. His kindness and deep knowledge brought relief and happiness and quick recovery to many people in Gaza and changed their lives to the better.

Now, due to the carnage going on in the Gaza Strip, my Uncle and Aunt along with all members of their family are in dire need to your kind assistance and help.

Here is a very short story about a glimpse of what they have been through since October 8th when Israel launched its devastating attacks on the Gaza Strip:

During the early days of the war, their home was bombarded and brought into rubbles with everything that was inside including furniture, cloths, children toys, memories and life-long photos. They were forced to flee Jabalia to seek refuge in my other Aunt’s house in Deir Al Balah (Middle of Gaza).

The Grieve Loss of Our Son (Hussein):

This was not the end of this phase of the suffering but it was just the beginning of a more harsh physical and mental situations that they went through in their own words and ended up with losing their youngest and lovely child Hussein:

“It was a very bad experience we lived at the time of bombing. It was evening, just 30 minutes before sunset. Since it was becoming dark and there was no electricity, all of our family members were sitting on the ground floor of the refuge shelter. A huge Tsunami of ashes, rubbles, darkness and stones covered us. It looks that the whole building falls over our heads. We were overwhelmed and could not understand or realize what was going on. I didn't hear any explosions and for more than 5 Minutes, we were in full darkness and can't see anything. Those were extremely terrible times every one calling the names of the kids. After some time that we can’t remember how long, and after the dust has settled, we start to see each other and check if everyone is alive and safe.

At this terrible moment, I found my son (Hussein) on the ground covered with large debris, stones and rubbles. I was barely able to see his face. I caught him in my arms and rushed to seek any type of medical assistance or help from anywhere. For a second, I forget that I am a health professional and after trying to stop the bleeding from his head and other parts of his body, I ran to look for an ambulance to get him to the hospital. I realized that his injuries are life-threatening since he was bleeding heavily with fractures on his skull. He stayed in the hospital for a couple of days but his succumbed to his injuries and died.

It was very horrible and unbelievable moments and even now after a couple of months, I am still can’t believe or realize that I lost my beloved, smiley and full of energy and happiness child forever.” ️May His Soul Rest In Peace️

Forcible Displacement to Rafah and back to Deir Al Balah:

The story did not end at this stage, they have to evacuate and seek shelter for the rest of the nigh in a neighboring UNRWA school where more than 5000 people were taking refuge. The next day, The Israel Army dropped leaflets asking all residents to move further south to the city of Rafah. We have to go there and build a tent from Nylon and some scrape papers and woods. We stayed in this tent along with 40 other extended-family members for more than two months and due to continuous threating of invading Rafah, we returned back to Deir Al Balah. We are living between the rubbles of the bombarded house and depend totally on UNRWA assistance since there is no work, no education, no health system, no sanitation or any other means of life.

Dreams and Future Plans:

As part of the university activities, I participated in many joint programs with other universities and hospitals around the globe. Some of those institutions were:

Dublin City University – Ireland

Angel Kanchev University of Ruse – Bulgaria

University Rehabilitation Institute - Republic of Slovenia

Rehabilitation Training at SUNNASS Hospital in Oslo, Norway

I also worked within the I-Care program funded by the EU Erasmus Plus Project. The I-CARE project aims to bridge the gap between rehabilitation technology and science education at the Palestinian universities and the rehabilitation procedures and practices at the Palestinian rehabilitation service providers. Therefore, the aim at end of the project is that, raise and improve the knowledge, skills and abilities of academic staff member, rehabilitation professional, students of respective departments to meet the recommended standards by EU partners and experts in the fields of rehabilitation technology and sciences.

Before the war, I was planning to pursue my studies towards getting my PhD degree at the University Rehabilitation Institute in Slovenia or ⁠Angel Kanchev University of Ruse – Bulgaria. I prepared my PhD proposal which was mainly dedicated to rehabilitation advanced research specially for those living in crises and war zones. My dream was to attain this degree and benefit the people of Gaza. The scale of injuries and the massive need for rehabilitation programs proves that such advanced research will be most beneficial to the poor people of Gaza. I was able to secure a place in Norway but can’t leave my family behind specially during those terrible times and the destruction of our home, the loss of our son and the loss of my career as a result of the bombardment of the university buildings, laboratories and research centers.

As far as other members of the family plans, nothing is expected to be materialized since all educational institutions including universities and schools are erased completely and rebuilding them may take 5-10 years. Health care institutions were systematically demolished and burned into ashes as well as all forms of infrastructure and basic human needs. So, the future of my family including the kids is so dark and is not expected to be changed tangibly in the near future.

Why we need the fund?

As a result of the total blockade imposed on Gaza, it is very difficult for anyone to leave Gaza without paying some fees on the Egyptian border. Due to the current situation, it would be impossible for me to go out of Gaza to study and leave the rest of my family in despair without any form of shelter or sustenance. I am left with one choice which is to get us all out of Gaza and try to build a new life for the coming couple of years and then return to Gaza after finishing my degree and payback to the people and land that I admire and always belongs to.

We are turning to you to help us to build our shattered life again and overcome the harsh living situation in Gaza. Such kind contributions will enable me and my family to bring our live parts together again and start a new phase of our lives. Since Gaza is becoming an uninhabitable land with no sign of ending to this genocidal war, we decided to build our life somewhere else. It is really difficult for me to take the decision of leaving my homeland but with your generous donations, we can overcome the current unimaginable situation and the destruction of every aspect of our livelihood and resurrect our dreams again and bring the light back into our hearts and minds.

Expected Expenses:

The planned fund raising target is 70,000 USD (Seventy Thousand US Dollars) and will be tentatively used to cover the following expenses:

Exit fees through the Rafah Border Crossing into Egypt ($5000 USD per adult and about $3000 for each child). The family needs at least (4 adults x 5000 = 20,000 for the adults and (2000 X 5 children= 10,000 USD) a total of 30,000 USD to just cross the border to Egypt.

We may need to stay in a rented apartment in Egypt for 3 months to get the visa, university acceptance and other travel documents. The cost is expected to be ($1500 initial expenses and $1500 X 3 months) = 6,000 USD.

We need to cover flight tickets from Egypt to our final destination (9 X 500 USD + 500 Visa fees and miscellaneous expenses) =5,000 USD

If I can’t get a fee waiver from the university, then I may need $14,000 for the first year fees.

Initial 6 months expenses for the whole family in the country of residence (2,000 USD Setup and $2500 x 6 months) = 15,000 USD

Finally,

I return back to you to help me and my family to re-build our life again and try to secure a better and prosperous future and enable us to be more active and beneficial specially to our community and the humanity in general.

#fundraiser #gaza #gofundme #mutual aid #palestine #donations #free rafah #palestine charity #rafah #signal boost #palestine aid #aid #humanitarian aid #financial aid #all eyes on rafah #urgent #donation #donate #operation olive branch #save gaza #save rafah #save palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #free gaza #palestine fundraiser #fundraising #ceasfire now #ceasefire #activism

[thescrapwitch]

It's Talk Shop Tuesday! (The idea is to ask fanfic authors/fan artists/etc. questions about their writing or art.) I absolutely loved your snippet from Multiple Words Monday for Psalms for the Strange, another eldritch!Maglor story. Can you tell me more about that? Because I would LOVE to know more :D

Thank you!

Psalms for the Strange is another bonus story for my eldritch!Maglor series, and can be seen as a sort of fluffy epilogue-like tale for the whole "eldritch creature in Valinor" arc. Maglor's been allowed to stay in the blessed lands by the Valar, but that doesn't mean its going to be easy to fit into the larger society.

The basic set up is this: Lindir finds out about a music competition, and decides that he and his eldritch bff should join in. There are a few problems, such as Lindir needing a new instrument and Maglor's skills are VERY rusty after thousands of years of not playing, but there's also the issue of expectations. Valinor is a land of perfection, after all. How do you fit a kinslayer-war criminal-eldritch monster (once the greatest bard of all the Noldor/the world) into such a place?

Like the rest of my eldritch stories, the answer comes through friendship and family and love (and having a friend who won't let anyone exclude you, no matter how terrifying you may become)

Staring: Finrod and many other bard characters, the horror of perfection and rigid standards, LINDIR POV, the power of friendship, and lots of fluff.

I was worried about writing it for a long time, because it is very light-hearted and much less horror-ish compared to the other fics in this series, but if you can't write a fluffy epilogue-ish story about your own eldritch AU, then what can you do?

Here's another little snippet:

No. Wrong again! Despite the frustration in his tone, Maglor smiled. For thousands of years he’d been unable to play any instrument. Being able to make music again, even terrible music, brought him joy. I just can’t get this scale right. 

“You were closer this time,” said Lindir. Harps could be tricky for someone who had to relearn how to use their fingers with such careful precision. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Sooner rather than later I hope. I had this mastered before I turned a hundred. Have you decided what to write your next song about?

“Not yet,” said Lindir. “But I’m seeing my parents for lunch today. Perhaps I shall find some inspiration along the way.”

Maglor’s fingers froze over the harp, and he sent Lindir a worried look, the music around him softening. You haven’t spoken about them before.

“There isn't much to say,” explained Lindir. “They sailed during the Second Age after they were sure I could take care of myself.” Maglor was still staring at him. “What?”

They left you?

“No.” Lindir had talked about his parents once to Erestor, many years ago, and had run into the same sort of worries. “It's not - it's not a bad thing, Maglor. They love me, and I love them. It's just a distant sort of love. We’re just very different and lead our own lives. It's not like you and Elrond, or you and your parents.” Lindir patted his arm. “It’s fine. Really. We’ve always just been a couple and a child rather than anything else. I will see them for lunch, have a pleasant time, and then leave to work on more exciting things.”

If you’re sure. But call me if anything unpleasant happens. I’ll hear you, no matter where you are.

Lindir smiled. Maglor’s face could change a thousand times, but deep down he would always be the same. “Yes, I know.”

#thank you again for the ask! #my writing #eldritch!maglor #lindir #maglor #silmarillion

[motherfuckerunleashed]

My love letter to Larian Studios.

It is difficult to put into words how utterly captivating this journey has been, no matter how many times I try. I thought I bought a game in August 2023, and I could not have been more wrong. Baldur’s Gate 3 is an experience.

Millions of people from around the globe – whether they were familiar with the Forgotten Realms or not; whether they had ever played an RPG or not – have been struck by this phenomenal story for reasons that are personal to each and every player. We answered the call, we fell in love, we learned, we laughed, we cried, we united, we created – and we continue to do so nine months later.

The enormous freedoms we are granted upon crash-landing along the River Chionthar allow for a stunning diversity of experiences. We all enjoy different games and stories for different reasons – and in the expanse of Baldur’s Gate 3, we are the director of our own stories. This freedom has ignited a community of fans with incredible creativity, kindness, motivation, and talent that delight and inspire me every day.

We can feel the love and devotion that has been poured into development. This is a game, but calling it such seems so reductive; it is art created by artists.

It feels ridiculous to say that BG3 has changed my life, but it has. Taking this gift, admiring it from every angle, and sharing my feelings with other fans has been an uplifting adventure all its own. And I really needed it. Making my silly little edits on my silly little fan account has brought me indescribable joy and carried me through several rough patches this year. I have connected with hundreds of beautiful, like-minded people for whom I have an overwhelming abundance of love. Most of these connections won’t last forever, and neither will these memories, but what will last is knowing that I feel all warm and fuzzy.

And I am not alone in saying that I have been deeply moved by this adventure. Whatever I write here is echoed a thousandfold from across oceans and mountains.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

SONG: The Call – League of Legends, 2WEI, Louis Leibfried All footage is from my own game Lyric Video | IG | TikTok

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[lisbeth-kk]

Together

I can't believe it's over. 31 days. 31 fics. Such a joy to do. Challenging, but worth every minute. Thanks so much to @notjustamumj and @calaisreno for the prompts.

Alone isn't the answer

Sherlock didn’t believe Mycroft in the beginning. Giving his little brother advice on how to interact with other people, or rather avoid contact altogether if possible.

Sentiment is never an advantage.

The mantra of Sherlock’s childhood, which followed him into his adult life.

Sherlock found it hard to live by for many years. People intrigued him. They were a puzzle to solve. Why they acted the way they did in different situations. How they expressed their feelings, good and bad. What motives they had for lying, deceiving, stealing, murdering, caring, loving. It was fascinating to study, but in order to do so, he had to interact with them. Lacking the ability to do that in a sociable acceptable manner, led to another rule he’d invented himself.

Alone protects me.

In particular after having neglected Mycroft’s advice. Because Sherlock fell in love. He didn’t mean to, and he fought it, but he lacked Mycroft’s self-control when it came to feelings. Sherlock felt too much, and he failed to observe. 

Sherlock almost lost it when Mark showed interest in him. Asked him about his chemistry class, his experiments, his deductions. Sherlock was flabbergasted. Someone other than the professors and occasionally his family, was interested in his work, and later on, in him as a person. Mark never called him freak, but sensational and phenomenal. Seen in hindsight it was all a bit too much, and Sherlock should’ve known better.

Even now, he cringes thinking back on that night he pledged his love for Mark. They were alone in the gymnasium, or so Sherlock thought. Once the words were out of his mouth and he tried to pull Mark in for a kiss, the lights came on and a crowd of fellow students cheered and whistled.

“You did it Mark! Made the Freak say the words. Well done!”

Sherlock wanted to die. His face blushed, tears threatened to fall, his stomach and chest ached. He fled, didn’t even bother fetching his things. The next he remembered was Mycroft collecting him from the drug den he’d ended up in.

***

Sherlock didn’t make the same mistake again. Out on cases he was superior and couldn’t care less if he hurt someone’s feelings while he spat out deductions a mile a minute. He was a fraction more patient when interviewing witnesses, but that was all. Sherlock felt the hate and disdain from the Yard’s finest, but he didn’t care. His armour was thick and solid.

And then sunshine entered his life. John Hamish Watson. Sherlock felt like he’d known John for years when he handed him his phone that very first day at Bart’s. A man several people dismissed as boring and weak. John was neither. He was a marvel. An enigma Sherlock was sure he’d never solve if he lived to be a hundred years.

Sherlock was almost giddy when he brought John along to their first crime scene. Not showing it obviously. His façade was as imperious as ever, answering, “He’s with me!”, whenever someone dared asking who the hell John was and why he was there. 

Examining the dead woman, John showed that he was adept and useful, just as Sherlock had assumed. What almost knocked Sherlock over mentally, was John’s praise when Sherlock started his deductions. It was nothing like Mark’s exaggerations. To Sherlock’s ear, each word was sincere, and when he looked John in the eyes he saw true admiration. His face was like an open book. Sherlock knew John wasn’t lying and it overwhelmed him. He didn’t know how to address all the feelings surging through him. That’s the reason he left John at the crime scene. He needed to think, and again a man made him lose his bearings. Failing to bring Mycroft into the equation. Of course he’d already observed what was going on with his little brother. But John stood his ground, not the least bit intimidated by the British Government. 

Then John shot Jeff Hope to save Sherlock’s life, and his world changed forever. Seeing John standing there all innocent looking while Sherlock deduced the killer to Lestrade, opened his eyes. Giggling together afterwards was such a new experience to Sherlock. He felt invincible with John by his side. They could conquer all.

***

Bit by bit, Sherlock’s armour dematerialised. John kept him right, was his conductor of light, the love of his life, his entire world. He never had to fake anything with John. John made Sherlock promise after his encounter with Mycroft. No lies. No hiding. No shamming. Only honesty. Sherlock had thought he would fail, but John made it all easy. John also taught him that alone protects no one.

As Mrs. Hudson presumed, there wasn’t much need for the upstairs bedroom. Before the Banker case, which still was Sherlock’s favourite because of John’s (in)appropriate behaviour against Sebastian Wilkes, they became lovers. 

On their wedding night some years later, they made another promise. When the day comes, whether there’s illness, an accident or other circumstances leading to demise for one of them, the other will follow. Neither can live without the other. They’ve done everything together. Even death can’t prevent them from continuing that.

And there it is. The very last one. Thank you all for reading and cheering during the month <3

All the fics can be found here:

@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @peanitbear @raina-at @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @catlock-holmes @gaylilsherlock

#sherlock fandom #johnlock #sherlock #sherlock fanfic #john watson #bbc sherlock #may prompts #together #ao3 fanfic #sherlock holmes

[actual-bill-potts]

Hi! Earwen and/or Finarfin with 19 or 20? — @emyn-arnens

Thank you so much!!! (from this prompt list) I went with Eärwen/Finarfin (sort of...) and #20, "ere deeds were done that could not be undone"

The little tea-shop in which Eärwen was to meet Arafinwë was quite lovely. It was quiet and well-lit, tucked away from the main roads of Tirion, but not so far back that one could not easily find it. And it was at the outskirts of the city, so that Eärwen did not have to travel through old haunts or see many people on her way.

Arafinwë’s consideration, his care and concern, was so obvious in his choice of the location and time - early dawn, the hour that most brought to mind the Mingling - of their meeting that tears had sprung to Eärwen’s eyes. Once his love for her had surrounded her every day. It had been the foundation upon which they had built a family, the soft threads which bound them all together, mother and son, father and daughter. Those threads had been woven deeply into her heart, and their rending at Arafinwë’s hand had left gashes which were not easily healed.

Not only by Arafinwë’s hand, she could admit quietly to herself in the predawn hour, but also by her own. It had not been his actions alone which had ripped them asunder so thoroughly. He had come back to her in sorrow, and knelt a penitent at her feet; and she had stood still as Uinen’s waters and sent him forth in shame. It had been deserved, certainly. But she had thought often, first with satisfaction and then with a little pang, how much he had lost, as well as she: father and brothers as well as children and spouse, and all the burdens of rule laid upon his shoulders.

"I know, Lady," he had said as he left, shoulders slumped, "that my presence now only brings pain. But if you ever wish - if there is - that is -"

He had hesitated then, ears drooping, fingers twitching; and finally said, "You have only to say the word, Princess, and I will return. Till then I - I only wish you peace."

The wife of Arafinwë had looked upon his pale face, his tangled hair, his reddened eyes and wanted to enfold him in her arms. But the princess of Alqualondë thought of blood on sand and said coldly, "Your people have killed my peace, and your children have buried it. Go rule your hollow city, Ingoldo, and let me bury my dead."

He had gone then, and she had mourned and raged and sung alongside her people. They had made new laments for those who were lost, and consigned the bodies of the slain to Ulmo who would lay them to rest in the peaceful depths of the Sea, and Eärwen had sat with those whose spouses and children were slain and thought bitterly, yet my grief is greater than yours, for your dead will return and mine will not.

Then, slowly, there had been new joys. She had noticed the sunset one day, and been surprised at how the gold and silver had mingled to spread roseblush across the sky. How did I never see that before, she had wondered, how did I not notice?

And then she thought, suddenly and with the force of a blow, Artaresto would have loved these colors. He would be mixing new paints already.

But still there was the sunset. And so it was, the bitter with the sweet.

But two hundred years of the Sun had passed, two hundred years of grief, and many of those whom Eärwen had wept with had their lost ones back. Gradually a question had grown louder and louder in her mind: and why should I not regain my husband? Why should he not return to me?

So she had sent for him. She had closed any and all connection between them firmly, two centuries ago, and did not wish to reopen that wound. Instead she had sent a note: If you still wish to speak to me, I am willing.

She had labored over the wording far longer than seemed sensible; finally she had sent it. When Arafinwë received it, she had immediately known by the sudden warm press of his mind against her own, a shocked tendril of thought that disappeared as quickly as it had come. There had been a flash of vertigo then - am I really doing this, am I opening myself to hurt again, why? - quickly followed by resolve. She needed to talk to him. She needed to see.

They had arranged a meeting, and now Eärwen sat waiting in the little tea-shop Arafinwë had chosen. She had come a full hour before dawn, anxious to have some time to collect herself before her husband arrived. She did not want to appear as if she were other than resolved upon a path. She did not want to be pled with. She did not know what, exactly, she wanted - only that Arafinwë’s absence had been an itch under her skin for one hundred years at least. She hoped, if she saw him, that that itch would abate, or go away entirely. She was tired of being pulled in two directions.

There were footsteps at the door. She looked up quickly, and there Arafinwë was, framed with light in the doorway.

He was so familiar! He might have been stepping in from putting one of their children to bed, or walking upon the beach. That golden head, the tall frame, the wide-set eyes shadowed by graceful lashes, the cleft chin - which none of their children had inherited, to Eärwen’s laughing chagrin - the straight nose, the narrow shoulders! Eärwen’s heart gave a sudden leap.

Then Arafinwë took a step forward, and the world inverted. Eärwen was knocked sideways, breathless and gasping as if she had been caught in too large a wave.

He looked like - like some drawing of her husband-who-had-been, by an artist who was skilled but unfamiliar with the subject. Arafinwë had kept his hair long and unbound, for he was vain in his own shy way, and his bright hair foaming about his knees had been a lovely image indeed. He had dressed in bright colors and multitudes of layers that made swimming a nightmare but made him look as if he had stepped out of the inside of an oyster. His steps had been languid, his pose winning, leaning against doors and tilting his head at her.

Now her husband’s hair was braided tightly away from his face, white streaks marring the gold. The braid was short; Eärwen guessed that unbound it would fall only a little way past his shoulders. His robes were dark and sparsely adorned, the sleeves rolled up in the manner of a scribe, the clasps so simple they could be done up while half-asleep - and given the dark shadows beneath Arafinwë’s eyes, she guessed that this was often the case. There were unfamiliar lines creasing his face; he looked like some of the Maiar of Nienna, who wore their grief upon their very skin. His posture was slumped; but as he approached he straightened his shoulders, drawing himself up in a manner very remiscinent of Finwë - and that too was unfamiliar. Arafinwë had never sought to emulate his father in anything.

“Good morning, Eärwen,” said Arafinwë, and she realized belatedly that she had been staring. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” said Eärwen.

“Have you eaten?” said Arafinwë. “I can get you something to drink, or to break your fast, if you need.”

“I am not hungry,” replied Eärwen, perhaps more harshly than his query deserved. “But thank you.” She hesitated. “Do you need to eat, before we talk? I can wait.”

Arafinwë shook his head. “I have been up since well before the rising of the Sun.”

Eärwen cleared her throat. “Very well.”

Then she stopped. What to say? A swell of sudden panic overcame her, and she sat frozen.

“How - how have you fared in Alqualondë?” Arafinwë finally ventured.

Eärwen grasped the side of this conversational life-boat with relief. “Things are better,” she said. “We sing of the sky and the sea again, not all mourning-songs. Many lost have returned.” Then she winced. It was perhaps ungracious to bring up the Kinslaying so soon. She had not summoned him merely to argue.

“And how are you finding Tirion?” she asked hastily.

Arafinwë sighed. “Busy - but not all unpleasant. I have not much time to think on what was lost.”

Does he mean me? Eärwen wondered - then, “I am glad,” she muttered, and they fell into silence.

Minutes passed. Eärwen glared at the table and cast desperately about for something - anything! - to say. She had never before had difficulty talking to Arafinwë! Even at her angriest, there had never been silence, only hot words. Now her mind was being tossed hither and yon like an unmoored boat at high tide.

Finally Arafinwë said, quite politely, “And how is your father?”

Another change! Arafinwë had never been so diplomatic. If he was uncomfortable, he would simply flee a conversation. It had made their fights unimaginably frustrating, once.

“He is well,” said Eärwen, “and so is my mother - as I am sure you well know,” she added, with a flash of humor. Although she did not talk to Arafinwë, trade between the Noldor and the Teleri was still necessary, and her father and mother dealt with him regularly. At first their conversations had been frigid - or so Eärwen had gathered from the little her mother had said at table - but they had not mentioned Arafinwë’s name around Eärwen for years. Perhaps they were friendlier now.

“My perspective is that of a king who must manage trade for his people, not a daughter,” said Arafinwë, smiling a little - and then looked as if he wished he had said nothing.

Once, he had come to Eärwen’s parents as a son, and the father of their grandchildren now gone.

They sat in silence for another minute; then Arafinwe shifted, and said, "Eärwen, what is it that you want?”

For some reason, the question annoyed Eärwen unreasonably. “Is it not enough that we are speaking?” she demanded. “Always you are asking me for what I cannot give.”

A weighted pause. “Would you prefer,” said Arafinwë quietly, “that I follow your example, and ask you for nothing?”

“That arrangement has suited us very well for the past two hundred years,” said Eärwen. The statement was unreasonable, she knew it was unreasonable, but she could not stop the sudden tide of anger from coming in. “And I have not asked you for anything because I knew you would give me nothing.”

The flinch opposite her made her almost regret her words. Almost.

Then Arafinwë spoke. “I came back. I came back, Eärwen. Does that count for nothing?”

“You did not come back for me,” said Eärwen, feeling bitterness scorch her throat as strongly as the day she had lost her husband and children both.

“Should I have abandoned my brothers, my people - our children - so lightly?”

“Do not speak of them,” Eärwen hissed, surprising herself with her own vehemence. Smiling Ingoldo, shy Litsemir, steadfast Poldahano, determined Nerwen, fiery Fairetarmo. Gone, all gone. “Is it supposed to make me think better of you, that you abandoned both me and our children?”

Arafinwë’s head dropped into his hands. His shoulders shook. Eärwen sat still opposite him. Gone, gone, gone, pounded the litany in her head. She had not thought of her children in so long.

Finally Arafinwë raised his head. “Always,” he said, “always you strike to the heart of me.” He took a deep breath. “Eärwen,” he said, “I did wrong. I should have stood by you in your day of grief, and I did not. I should have spoken out against my brothers earlier and louder. I should have tried harder to bring our children back. But -” his lips quirked - “if I wished to hear a litany of my failures, I could go back to my throne room. So I will ask again: what is it you wish?”

Eärwen did not know. She thought again of her children. She thought of Arafinwë laughing with Artaresto on his shoulders, long ago.

“I am lonely,” she said at last. “And I had hoped to regain - something of what I lost. I wanted to know whether you were still - here, I suppose.”

“Well - here I am!” said Arafinwë. “But there is no going back. There will be no remission of loss, not for the Noldor. This I have learned in bitterness.”

Eärwen felt another flash of anger at that, and a little fear; but something in his tone smote her heart. “So you do not wish to go back? You would not wish to - to see me again?”

“Wish - wish?” exclaimed Arafinwë. “I wish it more than anything! I would give anything to go back! My children have left and will not return, my brothers are mad, my father is dead, my mother is stricken! My people mourn and will not be comforted! I am known here now as Sárafinwë, the Bitter King, for there is no sweetness to my kingship. There is no joy. The Arafinwë you desire does not sit with you now. Would that he had been struck down with his father! Would that -” he broke off. Looked down.

Eärwen could not speak.

“I am sorry,” said Arafinwë at last. “My burdens are not yours to carry.”

“No,” said Eärwen, “but the loss of our children - that we bear together, whether we will or no.”

“My will has not truly mattered for a long time,” said Arafinwë. He reached out and clasped her hand, and Eärwen let him take it.

“Let my will rule in this, then,” said Eärwen, moved by she knew not what. “Let us be friends - or make the attempt, at least!”

Arafinwë bent briefly over their joined hands, and for a moment it could have been any moment at their dining table in Alqualondë, ere deeds were done that could not be undone.

Then he kissed her hand, and rose. “I will write to you, then,” he said, “if you will permit it.”

“I will,” said Eärwen, “and I will even attempt to write back.”

Arafinwë laughed, a little. “How I have missed you!” he said. “Very well.”

They looked at each other once more, something passing between them that Eärwen could not define. Then Arafinwë turned and left, that tall bitter king who had once been her husband. From the back, against the light, he could have been her eldest son.

My children, she thought again, despairing.

Then she rose herself, and set out on the long road back to Alqualondë.

#finarfin #earwen #silm fic #my writing #asked and answered

[masterqwertster]

Maybe #17 with Deanna and Orym (maybe with a side of #8 if you're so inclined).

After last night's episode I'm a little obsessed with Deanna's dynamic with Team Issylra. Plus with Aabria drawing parallels between Deanna and Will being the ones to wait for their partners on the other side of the veil to send them back to the living world... I'd love to see these 2 have a heart-to-heart. ❤

8 "I’m so sorry you had to go through that." 17 "It seems like that really rattled you." Yeah, it's kind of a shame they didn't get the chance for some one-on-ones with the guest PCs (I would have loved a shovel talk to FRIDA and some Tired Robit Parent conversations. Fearne and Prism about being non-native to the plane they're currently on. More Deanna with Laudna and/or Ashton on being People Raised from the Dead to a Life in Shambles stuff), but the table was too full and guests can only stick around for so long.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help but ask: you were dead for 200 years? I didn't even know people could be brought back after that long," Orym says, turning to Deanna now seated beside him at the large table.

"Yeah," Deanna answers, shaky smile on her face. "I died. My husband kind of promised to bring me back, and he did after collecting all the resources to do it. Lots and lots of diamonds. A Dawnfather cleric powerful enough to do it. So, you know, it took him a while."

"He must love you very much," Orym comments. He certainly loved Will enough that if it could work, Orym would spend half his life trying to bring him back.

"I guess. I mean, he moved on with his life, got remarried and had a new family, while I was dead. By the time he brought me back, it was obligation more than anything. Barely even stuck around long enough to say, 'Hey! Welcome back!'"

"Oh." That's a tragedy if Orym's ever heard one. To be loved enough to receive such a promise and have it kept, yet it takes so long that you have to wonder why the promise was kept at all when they don't feel the love that initiated that promise. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine bringing someone back just to dump them like that."

"No, no. It wasn't like that. I encouraged him to live his life," Deanna tries to downplay it. But Orym can see the hurt beneath the surface.

"...Wait, you encouraged him?" Orym asks after a moment to process, confused.

"Yeah. See, Dustel, that's my ex-, I guess, husband, became an adventurer to get the money and stuff for my resurrection. So he did the adventurer thing where he dies for a little bit before someone brings him back in a minute or a few days. And I was waiting for him on the other side. Telling him I still loved him, but he still had a life to live. Eternity is a long time, so what's a few centuries, yeah? And it's so peaceful in death." There's something almost wistful in here eyes as she speaks of the afterlife.

And Orym thinks of Will. Of meeting his husband when he was briefly dead. How Will threw him back towards the light of life. The promise from Will to wait for the day Orym stayed dead. ...And the brief flickers of thought he's had about moving on.

"Do you resent that he moved on without you?" Orym asks with morbid curiosity.

"No. I meant it when I told him to live. That means finding joy and love among the pain and grief," Deanna answers, truth in her eyes. "I just don't appreciate being left to struggle alone, hundreds of years after my last memory, when he took the time to bring me back. Like, you want the people you love to find happiness, even if it's not necessarily with you. But also own up to your actions and their consequences! Come on! Couldn't just take me to your new home to get my feet under me. Or send me to our kids! That could work too!"

Orym nods, a little wide-eyed at her vehemence.

Though it's nice to hear that Will probably won't resent him for moving on. After all, he can't bring Will back as he reaches the end of his own life. So as long as their reunion in death has room for anyone Orym might eventually move on with, it should be okay. Probably.

"Sorry. I can get a little passionate," Deanna apologizes, sitting back down from her rant.

"No, you've got every reason to be upset," Orym says. "That's- It's horrible, that he wouldn't make room for you in his life again."

"Thank you. For caring," Deanna says after a moment, a small smile on her face.

"You're welcome."

#MQ&A #MQfic #critical role #orym of the air ashari #deanna leimert #cr spoilers #noticing trauma prompt