#ill get to posting the other requests i drew later!! i just have to get my con catalogue out of my drafts n don’t want to spam lol

[enduracarrotchips]

kzscr outfit/palette swap?

emo kazuha unsettled me sm i had to put them back to normal after

#emo kazuha….bye #genshin impact #kazuscara #Kaedehara kazuha #scaramouche #requests #sweetteawithpeach #ill get to posting the other requests i drew later!! i just have to get my con catalogue out of my drafts n don’t want to spam lol

[gaysfortwdgcharacters]

Relationship headcanons

just a small thing to post to hold people over while i work on some other things !!

also !! requests are open on my blog ! atm its only headanon requests while i work on some fics but maybe some day ill open up fic requests hshsh-

●～●～●～●～● ～ ●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Characters : Louis, Violet, Clementine, Marlon

●～●～●～●～● ～ ●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Louis :

He would write music about you, he'd probably be scribbling down different notes while having a moment with you. He writes down different words and phrases that describe you to keep for later when he goes to make lyrics

🌿

He doesn't care who's around, he loves public affection. He always has an arm wrapped around you or is holding your hand in some way

🌿

while you two are laying down for the night hes the type to play with your hair and hum until the both of you fall asleep next to eachother for the night

🌿

He gets easily flustered over small gestures, you kiss him? he cant speak. You flirt? Hes nearly gone. Any gesture makes him smile like an absolute idiot

🌿

If you mention something you like you best believe he will be looking for it to give to you as a gift, he likes seeing the way your face lights up when you get something you like :)

Violet :

She likes to sketch, so she often will just kinda draw you while you arent looking, when you come across her notebook one day and ask her about it, all she says is "Since i cant take a picture, i draw you instead..That way i can always keep a little something of you with me.."

🌌

She gets very shy with public affection, however she will do that thing where she locks pinkies with you under a table or while you're walking next to eachother

🌌

Loves to stargaze with you, though sometimes in the middle of it she'll lean her head on your chest and fall asleep

🌌

When you do something stupid she says "Thats not funny" meanwhile she cant stop smiling and laughing

🌌

Eventually, you both end up sharing a room, and a part of the wall ends up dedicated to all the small doodles shes made of you (theres alot), sometimes you both pause to just kinda look at it and embrace eachother :)

Clementine :

Something tells me she has somewhat trouble reading due to how when the apocalypse started she was only in 1st grade, so, that being said, she likes it when you read to her. Doesn't matter where, if you two are laying down she rests her head against yours, but if you both are just sitting and doing something she leans against you.

🍊

Will fall asleep sometimes while listening to you read, it makes her feel soft and safe :)

🍊

Aj probably drew a picture of you both and its hung up in her room

🍊

If you were to flirt with her i feel like at first it would go over her head for a moment until she thinks about it more, then she just like "...Oh"

🍊

When she has nightmares, you've begun helping her more so Aj can rest. You both made a whole routine to calm her down and it works enough to get her back to sleep

Marlon :

Protective to the MAX, he just wants u to be safe, if somone from another group even looks at you the wrong way then hes pissed

🐾

You help him through his issues and in return he becomes soft with you, he says he hates it but secretly loves it when you hug him tightly and reassuringly

🐾

tries to act tough but will instantly melt when you hold his hand or something along the lines of that

🐾

holds you very close in order to fall asleep, and then you both wake up absolutely tangled in eachother

🐾

Rosie instantly also becomes protective over you and absolutely loves you to bits, she follows the both of you around and snuggles with you both :)

#twdg #twdg hcs #twdg headcanon #twdg headcanons #twdg hc #twdg imagine #twdg x reader

[aceymazy]

Hello can you do a few HCs for Clara, Ife, You Yan, Drew, Falken or Gaius?

MORE DREW CONTENT??? yall drew fans THIRSTY 😭😭 anyways, going to do clara and drew, changing up a bit and doing 2 since i wanna improve my imagination ive been burned out lately. (ty especially for ur support, i see you like my works and keep requesting tysm!)sorry if i make any spelling errors!!

----------------

~~Clara n Drew (separate) HC's~~

-----------------------

-clara-

okay, first off, she has a reputation. A VERY HIGH ONE AT THAT. so she keeps everything lowkey, but in private she dosent mind the pda and love <3

claras favourite thing to do is cane dance, so she would ask if you would like to cane dance with her (if you cant cane dance or dont even know what that is (like me) then she'll teach you)

if you get hurt she will always be the first person to aid you, esper or not

but if you get hurt easily or very often she will try to prevent these times to happen, dont know how but she will

okay this is random but i see that whenever you stare at her breasts (like come on dont deny it you would, look at the official art on the wiki or official page😭) she just gives you a teasy smile and asks if you like the view, trying to catch you off guard

if you steal her hat, glasses and try to act like her in the mirror and she finds out, she will watch you (in secret) and when she tells you that she knows about you acting like her infront of the mirror she actually either compliments your acting OR give you positive criticism like what you need to work on, etc.

she likes peacocks, so she will take you to a peacock petting place (probs dont exist but shh) as a date, she finds peacocks as beautiful animals and always teases you by saying

"I always thought peacocks were beautiful, that was until i met you of course."

smooth woman right here

i easily think her love language is gift giving, so dont be suprised if you see chocolate, trinkets, pins, hats or small accsesories on your desk at home ;)

all in all shes a very caring and loving girlfriend <33

-Drew-

more drew headcanons yall are making me lose ideas for this man

i always say hes the perfect boyfriend material, but its true so ill say it again

my mans tall, hes 180cm so if youre shorter than him if you allow it, he'll put his head on your head

if you hold his hand or give him a kiss on the cheek as a good luck before a mission in public, he would freeze and blush, poor man cant handle your cuteness

you two would for sure bake/cook together

if you make him a mousse cake (his favourite) he wouls go nuts in a good way

blushing and admiring the hard work you put into it

if it tastes good or even bad he would still eat it, he dosent care at all you put your hard work into this just for him so he would, with pleasure, eat the cake no matter its taste or looks. its the thought that counts after all

if you become injured he would try to help you, he did serve a rich family so he of course knows some basic medic care. (dont know if thats the right term but lets stick to it okay...) if he knows he cant help, he'll put you into the unions medical cares arms and wait until you fully recovered to actually check up you himself

he does care really, but if youre not an esper thats in the union, you might barely see him

he does work for the union after all, he has missions to complete and peoples life could depend on it

so as i said maybe he wouldnt have time to be with you, but he does send you letters about his missions, well-being and some hi's and miss you's from the other union members

he did introduce his sweet partner to his friends after all

----------------

A/N: i had to reedit this after i posted this like 7 times because of my fast typing😭

im running out of drew headcanons, you guys are milking me out of them 😭, anyways sorry for being offline for a while, i was busy + didnt have any motivation/requests to do, i do have an old one im working on later!

Tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#dislyte #dislyte scenarios #dislyte x reader #hcs #scenarios #ameirl #dislyte clara #dislyte drew scenarios #dislyte drew #dislyte drew x reader #dislyte clara x reader

[amethystpath-writes]

P2 Not Your Treaty

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Part 1 here

A second part was requested almost as soon as I posted this story…here it is seven months later. I apologize. I hope the anon who requested this is still around 😭

******

“Will she not follow?”

Villain rolled his eyes. Not at the lord- gods, he knew better than to roll his eyes at a lord. No, Villain rolled his eyes at the door behind him, the one that shut loudly with a thud, and with no tiny footsteps behind him. Hero remained outside, probably still in the damn tree.

“She will,” Villain promised. “Eventually, she will have no choice but to follow me wherever I go, wherever I please.”

As Villain strode to the head of the table, the same lord opened up. “What worth is she if she cannot accept even marriage? It is the role of a princess to prepare for courtship, yet she could never lift a teacup to her own lips. How could she ever help a kingdom- desperate or already prosperous?” This particular lord was an old man, one once close with Villain’s father, the king. He was used to advising, to speaking when no one wished to hear his opinion- which was heinous more often than helpful. His grey hair did not make him wise.

“I do not need her for tradition. You know that.” Villain straightened the sleeves and shoulders of his top as he took a seat. “Hero is worth more with her fire than with an easy obedience.” He shrugged lightly- as to not ruin the tidiness which he just achieved. “How will the rest of the lands know of our power without seeing what alignment the princess suffers through? They know her well enough to know she desires defiance. She climbs trees now,” Villain explained, “but soon she will be painting them red.”

Noticing another lord, Villain asked, “Don’t you agree?”

The lord, who jumped with the fright of being addressed, drew his hands together and began picking his nails. If it weren’t for the fire crackling behind Villain, the whole room would have heard the lord’s fingernails ripping. “W-with which part, Your Highness?”

“Well, with any of it,” Villain stated. His own hands were folded in front of him. The way the prince held himself was just so slightly inhuman, so calculated and meticulous, that it unnerved every person but one. Hero. For now, though, his strategically straightened back, his folded hands, and his unblinking gaze would get him his way. “I am not so sure you have listened to a word spoken since I walked in. Do you care to share your hidden thoughts?”

Knowing this was no question at all, the lord spilled. “I apologize,” he began. “My mind was occupied by unrelated matters.” Admittance could never excuse his former or present absence. The lord was always gone, always ‘occupied’ as he so called it, and although the prince was forgiving, Villain was growing weary; it was hard telling when someone was plotting against the crown versus simply keeping their head down beneath that of authority. The lord- or boy, rather- was young, his hair still vibrant with colour despite the anxiety he felt under his prince’s prying eyes.

Villain rose a brow- nodded in the boy’s direction, a prompt for him to continue sharing. He did:

“I was thinking, Your- uh- Your Highness”- he kept his head ducked down, only occasionally making eye contact with his higher-up- “that if the king is ill, and there is no male heir to the throne, then Hero will never…” The boy lord cleared his throat and continued picking at his nails, which were more closely considered skin at this point. “Then Hero will never follow you home. She has sisters to care for, ones she already cares deeply about.”

“You are too sympathetic.”

“He might be right,” the older lord cut in. As always, Villain didn’t care for his advisor’s opinion, but he listened, knowing he would get a mouthful later if he didn’t. “If you want the princess to learn cooperation, you must learn compromise.” He continued before the prince could argue back. “You want to charm the other kingdoms, not terrify them. You think showing them a bruised princess from a falling kingdom will make them like and respect you? It will only bring retaliation against our legacy.”

‘Our legacy.’ Oh, how I would love to sew your mouth shut.

“If she wants to stay here, wed her here. Become the king of a broken kingdom and show the rest of the lands how capable you are of building it anew. That will earn us prosperity.”

“The whole reason for our being here was to bring her home and make her my queen- to strike an alliance for the benefit of trade.” Why would Villain ever stay in this wretched land of wolf claws and fallen trees? Fallen trees like broken crowns.

But the old lord presented another good point. “If you let one of your brothers take the throne of our kingdom, you will still have your trade, and more. You will have your homeland’s local benefits, this land’s local benefits, and whatever trade happens between the two.” A crooked smile raptured his face and he continued, “And if you come to resent your brothers for their own uprising, well, you will be the one with a glorified image- stepping in the way you are to help a saddened princess repair her kingdom. How glorious of you to volunteer taking the reigns of a land in shambles. You will be a god, Villain.”

With perhaps the most fortunate, coincidental timing, the door leading outside opened, and in stepped Hero. Her eyes were puffy, even from across the room. The princess’ sleeve was torn, exposing her tanned and olive skin. To top it all off, the body of her dress was littered with mud and vibrant green grass stains. “My branch broke,” she explained. “I want a place to sit that is not rock or hard dirt.”

“By all means,” the boy lord said, “take my seat. I need a breath of fresh air, anyhow.” With a curt nod, the lord dismissed himself from the table, leaving Hero in the wake.

#not a pr0mpt #To my professor who saw this when it was just dialogue-- I finally wrote the second part! #No one has ever made me more excited to write than my Intro to Creative Writing professor #but I was his last class before retirement. Always hopeful he still reads my blog and gets the same enjoyment out of it as before. #not your treaty #medieval #medieval writing #medieval story #hero x villain #hero x villain story #hero x villain snippet #hero x villain drabble #heroes and villains #arranged marriage #of sorts #forced marriage #that's closer I suppose #royalty #royalty writing #royalty whump #royal hero #royal villain #In all actuality I write royalty more often than anything else. I have reached the crowd which appreciates this but I don't know how #Because who honestly ever looks up the tags I use?? #royalty writing? #does royalty writing even make sense?? #prince #princes #villain prince #hero princess

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

Mercy kills hcs got me like 👀👀👀

Also you know I gotta ask about what even is this idk

okay, so

the mercy kills thing was technically based on an ask another blog got a while ago, and I did reblog my take on it on their post, but now can't find it to save my life

basically, the ask/request they'd gotten was what the slashers would do if their terminally ill s/o asked them to kill them

about what even is this... the name is pretty fitting

there are three snippets of... something? I think the first two belong together, the last one is separate but idk what past me was doing

divider by firefly-graphics: book, dots, fangs and bats

I'm just gonna copy paste as it is (from what is this even)

Pride. Her biggest flaw. That’s what her family said at least. You are too proud. Yet, here she was, the only one who knelt in front of the weird stranger with the piercing eyes, the dark black circles around his white irises the only thing keeping them from merging with the sclera. She kept her head down, gaze locked onto the floor. When they got into the room, she had looked at him, just out of habit, and she had felt as if his stare bored right into her soul. Maybe she was proud, but she wasn’t stupid. And maybe that was what had kept her from harm so far. Though the, at this point quiet and muffled crying of the others did make her wonder, how she was this calm.

“Quiet!” one of the women hissed, her canines and lateral/second/outer incisors way too long and pointed for a human. Then again, she couldn’t have fooled herself into thinking these people were human if she had wanted to

It was so hot. The heat radiation off your body was driving them crazy. Being this close they could feel every single heartbeat, hear the blood rushing through your veins, and the smell/scent was almost overwhelming. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe it was too risky. But then again, they had always liked to play with fire. They pressed closer to you, burying their face in the nape of your neck, lips brushing over the skin right above the veins/arteries. Just small kisses, just a little teasing. The grip in your hair tightened slightly. They were so hungry. What a reckless way to play with their self-restraint. And, by the gods, you smelled good. They pressed their lips to your skin properly now, harder. Licking there, almost overcome with desire. They wanted to leave a hickey. Or more. But would that be pushing it too far? Only one way to find out. It was torture. But the good kind. The hotness of your skin and the fast pulse against their lips, the knowledge of how close they were to that sweet, red liquid (?), how easy it would be to pierce the ridiculously thin skin – but resisting the urge. Only when they felt their fangs graze your skin they pulled away, knowing that it was getting too dangerous, too close. If they drew blood, there would be no holding back anymore. You looked down at them, eyes glazed over and unfocused. You could barely make out their features, let alone grasp what had just happened. They smiled to themselves before getting up, turning around, and walking away – leaving you dazed and confused.

#my stuff #my writing #cylas speaks #cylas writes #visceravalentines #wip tag game #wip ask #friendo meg #cylas replies #ask

[jostystyles]

ghostyjosty’s 2.2k writing challenge!

wow! thank you so much for 2.2k! it’s been such a wild ride and i’m so grateful for each and everyone of you! instead of a usual sleepover, I decided to celebrate this time around with a writing challenge! as much as i love writing, i love reading fic just as much. and what better way to kick off the holiday season with a holiday theme?

fic masterlist

rules:

pick up to 2 prompts/and or scenarios. i’m limiting these to 2 writers per prompt, so pick your favorites and make sure to check what’s taken! after that, write whatever your heart desires. canon, au, whatever you please!

send me an ask with what prompts you’d like, and who you’re writing for.

when your fic is done, tag me so I can add it to the master post!

there’s no word limit, write as much as you can! just be sure to mark it properly to avoid longposting.

i’m including holiday themed prompts, but by no means do you have to stay within that! you can stick with a regular theme if you wish.

tag your fics properly with warnings/triggers/tags etc

fics will be due on january 1st, 2022! I understand how busy this time is between finals and holidays so send them in before this date when you can!

fandoms:

nhl:

this is pretty much open to any player, im always looking for new people to read for. obviously, no players with controversy surroundings are allowed. if you request someone i have an issue with ill message you and ask you to change it!

outer banks:

jj maybank

john b routledge

pope heyward

sarah cameron

rafe cameron

kiara carrera

topper thornton

rudy pankow

drew starkey

prompts:

all from @creativepromptsforwriting

cold hands in warm hands

@jarmorie & nolan patrick

dancing with their hands holding onto each other

@princessphilly & jamie oleksiak

grabbing hand to show them something

holding hands while skating

@rosesvioletshardy & tyson jost

@sebbyaho & sebastian aho

smiling while kissing

@/fallinallincurls & mat barzal

passionate kisses

jaw kisses

"Is it ok if I kiss you?" "I would like that very much."

@sorryjustafangirl & bowen byram

“I've never thought I could fall in love with someone like you." “Because I'm a man?" “No, because I never liked your dog."

"I knew I would love kissing you, but it this was..." "Even better than the dream?" "Yes."

one gives the other a kiss on the cheek and the other one suddenly turns their head

“However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

@fallinallincurls & nathan mackinnon

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I love you! Are you happy now?”

@mattyanonwrites & cale makar

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, but I just had to tell you.”

@/mattyanonwrites & cale makar

@tangercrosbyschultzfan25887 & chase elliot

scenarios:

also from @creativepromptsforwriting

Later they would say it was love at first sight, but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here.

@tonyspep & jt compher

It was so typical. She couldn’t just go through life hating everyone. No, she had to fall in love with the most annoying guy, 10 things I hate about you style.

@/tonyspep @ erik johnson

It’s nice to see my whole family again but it would be even better if everyone stopped asking me if I’m in a relationship with my friend I brought with me.

@jackydrury & andrei svechnikov

@laurenairay & miro heiskanen

It’s still three weeks till Christmas but you’re already annoying me with your ugly sweaters, the bright lights and the songs you’re always humming. So please go away - but leave the cookies!

@calgarycanuck & tyson jost

You’re not a Christian and never celebrated the holidays, so I take you home with me to show you how I love to do Christmas.

@ilyasorokinn & elias petterson

We want to get a Christmas tree together but we have very different opinions on how the perfect Christmas tree looks.

We’re telling our children about our catastrophic first Christmas together.

@/tangercrosbyschultzfan25887 & kris letang

@teelagurl558 & jj maybank

It's the morning after a wild New Year's Eve party and there are quite a few regrets.

@starshine-hockey-girl & tyler seguin

5 times Person A woke up without Person B and one time they woke up together.

@nugnthopkns & ryan graves

5 times Person A thought they were in a relationship with Person B and one time Person B finally catches on that their own pining is definitely not unrequited.

5 times they told each other they would hate them and one time they finally told each other the truth.

@lam-ila & matthew tkachuck

Person A needs a partner for an upcoming event and it’s a spur of the moment decision, but they ask their friend with benefits to go with them.

@glitterandpankow & rudy pankow

@/teelagurl558 & jj maybank

Person A is leading Person B on a wild scavenger hunt to all the places that mean something to them. At the end they propose.

@/rosesvioletshardy & tyson jost

After spending Hanukkah with the parents and then Christmas with the in-laws is a lot of fun and full of love, but it’s also nice to finally have some alone time as a couple.

@/princessphilly & josh anderson

💚❤️

#emmie speaks #2.2k writing challenge! #hellooooooo it’s me :) #pls don’t let this flop #nhl imagine #obx imagine #nhl fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

[just-stop]

'I love you, Kobi': Watch the chilling last video a father posted of his smiling baby girl before plunging to his death with the nine-month-old in a murder suicide that has shocked the nation - as his history of terrifying threats is revealed

A suicidal father who strapped his nine-month-old baby to his chest and jumped to both of their deaths had threatened to kill his daughter and her mother in the past.

Henry Shepherdson, 38, frequently posted sappy videos and pictures of Kobi for the world to see on social media, including a final video showing the little girl babbling and laughing as her dad spoke 'baby talk' to her.

But the father-of-one from South Australia was privately in and out of the court system, charged with breaching a restraining order and threatening to kill or endanger a life.

On Wednesday, he jumped from the Whispering Well dam in the Barossa Valley of South Australia with Kobi strapped to his body as onlookers watched on in horror.

Police say witnesses desperately did what they could to stop him, and others performed CPR on little Kobi until emergency services arrived about 4.30pm.

She was declared dead about 15 minutes later, while Shepherdson died on impact.

Shepherdson's social media was littered with references to his daughter, including one post in which he drew attention to National Child Protection Week.

Back in November, Shepherdson uploaded a sweet video of Kobi as she babbled and played in her rocker. It was his final post before he died.

Shepherdson spoke baby talk to her as she watched her father, giggling at him as he made noises to get her attention.

An open beer bottle was visible in the corner of the video.

'I love you Kobi,' he told her in the footage. 'Yes I do love you Kobi bear, you little cutie... You are so adorable bubba.'

It was one of a stream of sappy posts with his daughter which have since been bombarded with messages of outrage from the public.

Despite the outward displays of affection, Shepherdson had a sickening criminal history.

The 38-year-old last appeared in court on March 19 for contravening an intervention order set by the courts.

Three weeks earlier, he was in court again facing several serious offences, including making threats to kill or endanger a life, commit aggravated assault against his own child or spouse and false imprisonment.

He had appeared in court on three other occasions throughout 2020 and 2019 for breaching the intervention order.

Shepherdson was legally entitled to see Kobi, despite earlier suggestions she had been kidnapped

Assistant Commissioner Ian Parrott confirmed on Thursday the matter was being treated as a murder suicide.

Shepherdson was legally entitled to see Kobi, police say, despite earlier suggestions she had been kidnapped and his long list of previous charges relating to family violence.

Mr Parrott admitted there was a lengthy history of domestic violence within the family and that Shepherdson was known to police.

While not at a liberty to discuss the details of the previous offences, he did say they occurred between Shepherdson and Kobi's mother.

'We have been involved on some domestic violence incidents in the past and there are court orders in place in relation to the family,' Mr Parrott said.

'It's resulted in this absolutely tragic outcome.'

Despite frequently sharing updates about Kobi, who is named after late basketballer Kobe Bryant, Shepherdson was hesitant to share photos of himself online.

Kobi's heartbroken mother shared a selection of adorable pictures of her happy baby with the hope that she will be remembered for how much joy she brought her family.

Mr Parrot said it was likely her smiley face will become 'the face of domestic violence' moving forward.

A formal identification process is yet to take place, and the investigation will continue.

Late on Wednesday, a chilling dispatch log uncovered by Daily Mail Australia revealed the chaotic moments that unfolded as ambulances, police crews and rescue teams raced to the tourist spot, where they found stunned tourists watching on in horror.

Mr Parrott said several witnesses had tried to stop him from jumping and talk him off the ledge.

The callout was listed as 'psychiatric' on an emergency services scanner; a term used for an incident involving mental illness or a suicide attempt.

Timeline of emergency response

4:30pm - Ambulance from Hamley Bridge station is sent out to respond to a 'psychiatric' incident

4:32pm - SA Ambulance Service send out another unit from Hamley Bridge for an 'emergency' callout

4:32pm - Dispatch send out another unit from Playford ambulance station - which is closer to the dam - for the same 'emergency'

4:32pm - A third ambulance is sent from nearby Oakden station

4:36pm - An urgent call is made for a MEDSTAR (Medical Shock Trauma/Acute Resuscitation) helicopter

4:40pm - Call placed to the SAAS Special Operations Team - a team of highly-trained rescue paramedics.

4.42pm - Emergency crews request permission for the helicopter to land

4.48pm - Mission changes to a body retrieval

Two minutes later, a call for help was placed to teams from the Playford and Oakden ambulance stations for an 'emergency' situation that was unfolding.

Things escalated as units arrived at the dam, with the MEDSTAR (Medical Shock Trauma/Acute Resuscitation) helicopter sent at 4.36pm.

Just minutes after that team was called, emergency services sent out its Special Operations Team - a crew of paramedics who specialise in high-risk search and rescue procedures usually involving water and cliff rescues.

One mother, who claims she was at the popular lookout with her children, took to social media to describe the horror she witnessed.

'So painful having to see what happened with my babies,' she said.

Local MP Stephan Knoll vowed to investigate the safety of the region if a coronial inquest found it was lacking.

'It is a very popular tourist attraction and something that young people and kids of generations have been going to visit and not before have we heard or seen of an incident like this,' he said.

'But, having said that, if things need to be done to modify the structure, then that's something we need to look at.'

He also said the incident was awful.

'It is just heartbreaking... it does hit everybody hard... and we all do need to band together,' Knoll told ABC Radio Adelaide.

Police said they are not seeking anyone else in relation to the deaths at this stage.

Detectives from Barossa CIB, forensic investigators and the Major Crime Branch remained on the scene on Wednesday evening looking into what caused the tragedy.

A report will be prepared for the coroner.

[jadelynlace]

When You’re Unmatched Art / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

[you can find the reference for the tattoo Ivar did here. He thought he was being slick, but he most certainly was not. Ivar, your feelings are showing!]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ 

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. brief mentions of smut under the cut, and love sick Ivar.

synopsis: Ivar finally figures out how to design your first tattoo.

✎

For this to be Ivar’s passion—his mortal life’s calling—he could not, for all of the seconds in the year, figure out how to design your tattoo. There had never, in his professional life, been a client that had given him complete and utter reign. No simple idea, no nudge in a specific direction, hint of any realm no where on the forefront. You told him to design you a tattoo to take up space on your thigh. And that was it. Even after he declined, saying there must be some idea you had, you shook your head and give him control. Total, and utter control. And it was almost too good to be true.

Ivar knew he was screwed, when an entire sketchbook’s worth of pages went torn, crumpled and tossed into the garbage can with failed ideas. Even Sigurd offered no help—not that he was the artistic hand Ivar needed, he was the needle pusher and piercer. Music selector and unruly greeter. Floki only offered his normal words of wisdom, a way of not answering the question but instead making Ivar look deep within himself. “Don’t think about it much, Ivar. Just let your heart and your mind run freely together.” Great. No help. Both of them were caged in a muddled pile of muck and mud and dead leaves and Ivar couldn’t pull them out.

Through every outing the band of brothers went on, you in tow more often than not, Ivar would be at the receiving end of your questions—how he was coming along with it. You had no deadline, you understood his craft took time, but you were far too excited to see. Then came the first hook up—Ivar driving you home because you were too many martinis in, you inviting him up but he declined because it “wasn’t a good idea, princess” and you told him you “weren’t his fucking princess” and he drove around the block twice before finally knocking on your door. Weight against the frame with his temple kissing it, apologizing playfully for his nickname and you invited him in. A game of truth or dare later, Ivar asked you how drunk you were when it was his turn. And you told him you were sober enough to make decisions, clear ones, and then he dared you to kiss him. You felt like a high schooler again. When it was your turn to ask him and he had picked truth, your one question was the end of the game: 

“If I asked you to fuck me right now, would you?”

“In a god damn heart beat.”

He was more than screwed when you wouldn’t leave his mind, after you rocked his world and he used your name on his tongue to get himself off the next time his left hand was needed. And then he texted you, asking how your day was, that was it. And after a conversation, playful but real, he was over at your apartment with take out and beer and you two watched true crime and Ivar told you he had seen this one and tried to have you guess before the show told you. When you were right he said you were smart, when he silently figured out an equation in his head, how many liters to grams to degrees, or whatever the hell it was, you almost dropped your beer. He wrote it out for you to show you, a near different language across the page through algebra, and you told him he was smart. The tattoo idea clicked then. The minute Ivar realized he caught feelings, the tattoo idea became so visible he drew it in almost an hour.

There was never a nervousness with him when it came to the day of appointments, even with the most picky of his clientele, Ivar took it as it was gifted because he loved his craft too much to have these types of petty things take up hatred in his heart. But you walked through the shop, shortest of shorts on, a pair of flowing pants in your bag for the event that session went longer and nipped off into the chilling night time air, and both a coffee for yourself and a Red Bull for Ivar. He nearly wanted to throw the ink onto the floor because he was scared that once you saw the design, you’d laugh, you’d call him something pathetic and walk out, and it would be the last he’d see of you. Instead he handed you the artwork, and your eyes scanned the image for almost five minutes, mouth agape and holding it as if it were a map to the unknown, hiding gold and jewels and you asked him if you could keep the sketch. Even with it forever on your skin you nearly begged him for the original artwork, saying something about how you wanted to frame it. You’d never seen Ivar blush before, but you were sure he did when you said that.

The session wasn’t short—it was almost his full day’s work of hourly long needle dabs, buzzing and brotherly bickering between him and Sigurd. Intensive talks between you and him, explain to him the less than glamorous parts of your job, the funnier parts and the teenage humor of the men you worked with. Hvitserk’s track record for receiving the majority of patient vomit on every call and you watched Ivar laugh, smile more than you had known him too and you wondered if it was because of the machine in his gloved hand or if it was you. 

Sigurd ducked out right before lunch, picking up with the three of you had ordered and your skin received the welcome break from the on-going buzz. You were quick to kiss Ivar once, lingering lips on his to thank him and he looked shocked for a moment, worrisome that his brother would see before he tossed the fear aside, shoving his tongue down your throat. When it was all said and done, dawned with the artwork on your flesh you couldn’t stop the smile. Neither could Ivar. He’d promised the sketch after he photocopied it for his portfolio and you went home with the sore leg but a full heart. He showed up late, just shy of midnight after cleaning up the day’s worth of work, buying a frame and bringing dinner for the two of you to eat. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of it, even in its red and swollen, tender state, you loved this tattoo, and Ivar took his time treating it for you. Even after his head spent time between your thighs, one hand plastered on the bare skin and the other holding yours. Even after you rode him, artwork in his line of sight and it made him finish quickly; watching the piece on your skin, your palms on his chest as he moved your hips for you. Your head tossed back as you moaned his name when you came, the heavenly sight and you were forever marked with his skill. The after care from the sex went beyond the closeness, holding you as the television played in the background; he spread the lotion over it, his entire hand nearly able to cup your thigh as he made sure to leave no line un-slathered.

“You know I’m going to want another one before this one even heals,” You said to him, craning your neck up to look at him.

“Yeah?” Ivar asked, his hand in your hair. “Where do you think you want your next one to go?”

“On my arm, so I can see it all the time,” You replied, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Who knows, maybe I’ll just cover myself like you do,” You giggled.

“You’re perfect already,” Ivar said through a yawn, his eyes closing, head drooping against yours. “You tell me where you want ‘em, and I’ll do it—but you’re perfect already,”

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#vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #vikings fanfiction #modern vikings #modern vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar lothbrok #modern ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar au #modern ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar au #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson smut #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings ivar #vikings smut #sigurd #modern sigurd #sigurd snake in the eye #modern Sigurd Ragnarsson #sigurd ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk fanfiction #modern hvitserk

[felixgoetia]

Decided to post my stories on here as well.

Geraskier Prompt: While Geralt is off on a multiple-day hunt, Dandelion picks up a stray pup off the streets of whatever town he’s been left in and has to try to convince Geralt to let him keep it.

Part 1

Dandelion had absolutely nothing to do that day while Geralt was off on another hunt one that would last a day or so and left Dandelion to fend for himself in this town that the bard had already forgotten the name of. Dandelion had his lute slung on his back, perhaps he could find the town square to perform at to earn some extra coin. It was the third day of the hunt and Dandelion had grown bored of performing indoors at the inn.

Dandelion asked directions for the square from a merchant. “Excuse me, my good man, where would I find the town square?”

“It will be a few streets east,” the merchant pointed a thumb in the general direction. 

Dandelion followed the man’s directions, hoping that there would be a good crows of people during this beautiful, warm day. He could see it now. Dandelion having his lute case opened on the ground while Dandelion sang of the White Wolf’s praises and other popular songs he had with the crowd cheering him on and throwing coins into the lute case. 

As he cut through a side street, Dandelion could hear small noises and what seemed like whining or whimpering along with rustling sounds coming from some trash. Dandelion frowned, wondering what the source of the commotion was. He placed his hand on the small dagger on his belt as he slowly moved toward the noise. He knew that he would probably get a lecture later on from Geralt, but he didn't care at the moment. The noises sounded almost animal like or perhaps it was some drunkard.

Dandelion had gripped the hilt of the dagger, ready to use as he slowly crept to the tarp, seeing a lump moving around. He slowly drew it and had it at the ready as he gripped the cloth then jerked it off the lump. His eyes widened. There was a puppy, a scruffy puppy no more than a few months old. The puppy seemed a little thin for it's age as well, it looked up at Dandelion. The puppy had gray medium fur, a white cross on its chest though tan from he dirt and floppy ears. Dandelion sheathed his dagger.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Dandelion picked up the puppy and held it in his arms. “Where are you owners or mother?”

The puppy replied in licking Dandelion's face.

“You shouldn't be in this dirty street,” he tutted, petting the puppy's head. “Don't you worry, little one, I will take care of you. I'm sure Geralt won't mind another animal companion. You could keep Roach company!”

A while later, Dandelion had gone back to the inn and had the puppy in his and Geralt's room. Dandelion had requested a maid to bring him a large pot to his room along with a bucket of warm water and some cooked meat. The puzzled maid had fulfilled his request and now Dandelion was bathing the puppy in the large cooking pot, his sleeves rolled up as he gently scrubbed the lathered soap into the puppy's fur. The bard cooed sweet nothings to the puppy as he was knelt on the floor. The puppy seemed to enjoyed being pampered and licked at Dandelion's arm.

Dandelion giggled a little at the affection and rinsed the soap from the pup's fur then scooped it out, drying it. He let the puppy go and it shook what little water was left from it's fur. Its fur was now brighter, the gray and white colors more pronounced. Dandelion placed down the bowl of cooked meat, watching the poor thing devour the food.

“Let's see...we need to come up with a name for you. I see that you are a boy,” he mused. “Can't allow Geralt to name you, he is horrible at picking names. If he had his way, he would name everything Roach! Not that there is anything wrong with that name, mind you, just he is not the most creative.”

The puppy had his tongue stuck out, as he looked up at Dandelion with his gray eyes.

“I got it! Klaus!” Dandelion smiled, picking up the puppy.

Klaus licked his face and gave a yawn.

Dandelion laid the puppy on the bed and Klaus fell asleep as he cleaned up the room and called for a maid to take the pot, bucket and towel. He sat down at the small table and picked up his music journal, deciding work on the lyrics of his new song. Geralt should be back at any time since he had said he would be back today.

Sometime later, Dandelion looked up when he heard the door open and a very sweaty and dirty Geralt came through, closing the door behind him. Dandelion smiled, hurrying over and started to undo the clasps and laces to Geralt's armor.

“I take it the hunt went well?” the bard asked.

“Yes, though the werewolf was quite good at staying incognito.” Geralt removed the swords. “Was able to lift the curse off him. Got paid 400 crowns.”

“Ugh, what is that in your hair?” Dandelion scrunched his nose as he was picking at dried monster bits.

“Rotfiends. Hit a nest of them on the way back. Nasty bastards.” Geralt pulled his shirt off, it reeked. “I'm going to—what is that?”

“What is what, dear?” Dandelion asked, looking through the bags for a new shirt for Geralt.

“There is a pup on the bed.”

Dandelion looked to Geralt seeing the man had a cocked eye brow. “Yes, there is."

“Why?” Geralt asked.

“Well, I found him and decided to clean him up,” Dandelion found some clean trousers as well. “So, I was thinking maybe we could...” he trailed off.

Geralt crossed his arms, giving the younger man a stern look. “Keep it?”

Dandelion sheepishly nodded, but smiled. “Yes, Geralt, can--”

“Absolutely not,” Geralt said, taking the trousers from him.

“But why?” Dandelion frowned deeply.

“We don't have the coin for another animal.”

“He costs less than Roach,” Dandelion crossed his arms this time.

“Roach is a necessity, that pup is not.”

“Oh, come on!” Dandelion continued arguing. “It isn't like having a pup around will hurt anything! You could train him to hunt animals with you!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and shook his head. “He could have an owner or rabies or some sort o other illness.”

“Horse shit, the pup is as healthy as it can be besides his weight,” Dandelion scowled.

“We are not keeping it,” Geralt used his authoritative tone.

“Yes we are,” Dandelion was not afraid to stand up to the White Wolf. “We can't just let it die out in the streets! That's so cruel!”

“That is life, life is cruel and unfair,” Geralt told him.

“You're such a horse's arse!” Dandelion scowled darkly.

“Tough shit.”

Both men stared each other down, Klaus now awake and just watching them unaware of the tension, neither men wanting to give in. After a few moments, Geralt growled, pointing a finger at Dandelion.

“If you want the damn pup so badly then fine, keep it! But you are the one going to be caring for it's well being and training it. I do not want to hear you bitching later on about how tough it is to handle a pup, got it?”

Dandelion grinned and hugged Geralt, not caring the man was dirty. “Oh, Geralt, thank you! It's going to be so wonderful! You'll see! Oh ad he will be a great attraction for earning more coin!”

“Whatever,” Geralt gently pushed the bard away, not admitting that he gave in. “I don't want to hear you go on for days on end with your high pitch whining tone, damn near makes my ears bleed. I'm going to go take a bath.”

Geralt left Dandelion to the puppy, thinking that the bard would get bored of it after the week was over, but he did not know how wrong he was going to be.

Part 2 & 3

#the witcher 3 #the witcher #the witcher books #the witcher series #the witcher 3 wild hunt #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #dandelion x geralt #geralt x dandelion #jaskier x geralt #animals #puppies

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Pragma | Alucard

Request: Hi, I love your blog. Would you mind writing about what it would be like to for Alucard to fall in love with the reader post season 3? Thank you! Keep up the good work!

Word Count: 1826 words

Page Count: 5.2 pages

A/n: hope you enjoy this!

Tags: @catherinedm​

        All Alucard could do was deny that you held no ill will towards him. He had found you when you were running from a cultist like group, ready to burn you alive just for learning older sciences, he could only laugh at the bitter irony. Your legs were whipped and tired, your chest was bruised and the rest of your body was worse than you could have imagined, and so he took you in when he knew you were not a threat. Or would be conscious for a good while.

        "I seem to only get more and more desperate for heartache, don't I?" He whispered to himself as he looked to you, your body was freshly cared and cleaned for, and yet he found on the other end of the room near the opened door. His fear that gripped his heart made him feel like a child, wanting to be held and cared for by those around him, yet cannot seem to overcome going up to an adult for help.

        When you woke up days later, cleaned and cared for, your body aching like never before- and the man in the room staring at you like you had just killed his mother in front of him, full of shock and fear. Speaking with him in this stage of your relationship was scarce, only what needed to be said was put into the air, either met with silence or acknowledged with muted nods and small hums.

*****

        Alucard was never known for his temper. He was a sweet and gentle boy according to his parents, something he wished to be after seeing his mother be... her, he was never to freak or lash out on those around him. When he realized this, it had been to late, his hands were running through his hair as tears slipped effortlessly from his eyes- curled in his bed with his knees to his scarred chest. He had been helping you walk more, working on your legs and helping them gain muscle, when you had fallen near him while he fell as well.

        You both had slipped due to the old rugs folds getting caught in his foot, making him slam onto his back while you managed to land on your knees, and when you turned to see if Alucard was alright he looked at you in pure fear. He shook as he saw you on your knees, on his right side, like her. Just like she was when they both locked him onto his bed, tied with the burn of silver, looking at him with such hate and disgust.

        Your eyes held worry though. Worry for his well being. Care. Your heart was opening up. But in that moment, he saw back to that night, her. His face contorted into anger, yelling at you while his lungs burned for air, profanities settled into your mind as he was cursing your existence. 

        "I trusted you! Gave you everything! And here you are again, having me on my back, a knife to my fucking heart!" He was leaning upright at this point, while you crawled backwards away from him, the fear evident in your eyes but he didn't see. It wasn't you at that moment. It was the flickering image of Sumi and Taka.

        Once he had caught his breath, he closed his eyes, hands coming to his hair as he shook violently. You realized what was happening, your father was a soldier and suffered from delusions like this, and your mother would come running to anchor him back into the present once his past came to torment him again. 

        "Breathe. Alucard, breathe. Evenly. Exhale longer than when you inhale, please." You coached him gently, your hands in front of you in case he were to look up, you weren't a threat to him- he knew that. You told him when to inhale and hold, before letting out the breath that wavered less and less. You needed to anchor him back to the present, he wasn't seeing you yet, but you would make him to help with his sanity.

        His breathing evened but tears still came, flowing against the flushed pale skin, and you made your way closer to him. You held out two fingers, mimicking your parents, and waited for him. He saw, and pulled out two gloved fingers to wrap around yours, his shaking would start to still after a few moments.

*****

        You hadn't seen Alucard in two days, his mind was taking its toll on him, and you managed to figure out the basics of his situation. His mind was sending him back to the most stressful moments of his life, the wound on his mind hasn't been stitched and is now bleeding into his daily life.

        You wanted to learn how to help people mend their minds, ranging from trauma to genetic ailments, the human mind was so vast and complicated so of course it drew you in. In doing so, you met an old vampire in Athens, she was kind and sweet- teaching philosophy and medicine to those she knew would use them appropriately.

        Alucard was depressing himself further into his mind, and you needed to help him, though helping him would need to be paced. He needs time and luckily you both have plenty of it. You made your way around the castle and found a few empty notebooks (not wrapped in human skin), a few books on meditation and spiritual awareness, and some recipe books next to fictional ones that held important meanings on self worth.

        Should you be looking through his things?

        You didn't care. He needed help.

        You then split the books into two piles, one for Alucard to journal in and write all his thoughts in and the other for you, to write tips and other important information for Alucard to read so he can understand what is going on and how he can help himself cope with his own mind. The books that helped with meditation would help him order his thoughts and understand how to calm himself in case he couldn't find an anchor, (you hoped the spiritual awareness would be a plus? Dracula had lots of books so it wouldn't hurt.), and books of things you thought he'd enjoy in general when he needed an escape.

        Once all was finished, you placed everything into a small net bag, limping your way to the kitchen, you decided the man needed something to eat. After all, food made everyone happy, right? Right. A simple dish of grilled chicken and veggies, with a side of mash potatoes and some water, you slung the bag on your shoulder and made your way to his room.

        You didn't hesitate to knock, but you made sure it was soft and non demanding, before calling his name in the same manner. You heard shuffling, but the door never opened and you never were welcomed in, but you knew you needed to intervene and help boost Alucard onto a support line.

        "I'm coming in, in a few moments, so if you need to ready yourself please do, Alucard." You heard nothing on the other end, and waiting for about two minutes with your head against the door, you pushed it opened slowly to allow yourself into the dhampires room.

*****

        When you had managed to get Alucard fed and on a routine to help himself more and more each day, he had apologized to you for the outburst, and decided that leaving you on your own when you had trouble walking was not the best idea. He was surprised you accepted his apology and brushed his actions off, deciding to help him instead, it was a reaction different than what he had expected.

        Allowing himself to be near you much more often, he opened up a bit after a week of sitting by your side, setting you into the nine circle of his mind. You peeled back the shallower layers at his pace, setting him for a more favorable way of opening his heart and mind up, and seeing how he thought and felt about everything.

        He was intriguing and intelligent, you found yourself tearing through your own heart just to open up and show him the exposed muscle, opening yourself up to him inevitably as he did to you. He felt warmth bloom in his chest that only rose up when he was in your presence, and while you helped him heal the wounds inside him, he continued to help you heal and gain your strength back physically.

        A mutually beneficial relationship is all.

        Yeah, no.

        It was a puppy love shrouded in pain and betrayal that was settled into an old wound, the bleed has now stopped, and the clotting had begun, a deep scab was there before the skin would over take it in a tough light pink blanket. There was healing when there used to be a knife digging itself deeper into the soft flesh.

*****

        "Do you plan on leaving?" His voice was soft and scared, his breath was shaky while pale arms wrapped tightly around your waist, the sheets covering the both of you blanketed the intimate scene of a boy begging for the girl to love him back- to not leave him, though he thought he deserved it, it started to become less of a thought on his mind.

        He accepted himself for what he is and what he has done.

        He knows what he wants and what he needs.

        You were on the top of both lists.

        He was being selfish, but you told him that was good, he was learning how to realize his worth in what he wants. He was still respectful of any decisions you made, but he begged everything in the universe for you to say no, no you wouldn't leave him. You wouldn't abandon him, you'd stay and love him as you do now, and for the rest of your time together.

        "Depends." You chuckled, rubbing his arms that were secured on your waist, your eyes were closed as you felt him curl around you.

        "Depends?" He mumbled into your hair.

        "Do you wish for me to stay?"

        What? Of course, he wanted you to never leave him, and he was sure he never gave the impression of being disinterested. Hell! The position you were in now speaks for itself! He sighed, realizing you were just teasing him, and settling his mind down.

        "Of course. I never want you to leave."

        "Then I never will."

        His heart had burst at the affirmation of love, a tear slipped from his eye as he smiled wide, the supernova in his soul sparked his love for you to become brighter and stronger.

        "Thank you."

#castlevania x reader #castlevania imagine #Castlevania reader insert #castlevania x y/n #castlevania x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x y/n #alucard imagine #adrien tepes x reader #adrien fahrenheit tepes x reader #🐝

[ethereal-not-occult]

patience and the mulberry

"With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Character(s) of Color, Sericulture, silkworms, past religious trauma, but nothing bad happens in this fic I promise, mixed bookverse w/ TV elements, references to Chinese culture Notes: Originally written for the @goodomensfashionzine​ !

“I'll only be a minute, dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek as he opened the door of the Bentley. “You don't have to see me to the door if you don't want to.”

Crowley tightened his grip on the wheel. “Sure, angel. Sounds good to me.” The sibilants slid far too quickly past his clenched jaw, and he bit his tongue to stop the instinctive hiss from escaping.

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look, but shut the Bentley's door behind him and soon disappeared through the doors of the church. Once he was out of sight, Crowley slumped forward slightly, sliding his sunglasses up and rubbing at his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he felt composed enough to exit the Bentley himself in blatant disregard for the “NO PARKING” sign on the curb.¹

[¹ Given his new job position (or lack thereof), lawbreaking was no longer a necessity, but old habits die hard.]

The bright afternoon sun made him wince a bit, and two robins in a nearby bush were getting frisky in a way he would never be able to unhear, but they made it easier to forget the distant wail of air sirens. Even standing out on the road, Crowley's skin prickled faintly with the remembered sting of consecrated ground.

He pushed the feeling aside and walked resolutely forward. Aziraphale was bound to take his sweet time as he mooned over the church's dusty old tomes, but Crowley had his own investigations to conduct while he waited. No rest for the wicked and all that.

The concrete pavement under his snakeskin shoes gave way to grass, and the tingling sensation in his soles faded. Soon he found himself at his intended destination—an Edenic grove of mulberry trees, clustered together in a ring in the church's backyard. He'd spotted them on the drive over and couldn't resist the temptation of a closer look.

Crowley wandered into the garden with a scrutinizing eye. They were young, for trees, but growing well despite their callowness. A particularly stocky sapling hardly flinched when Crowley gave it a token glare, much to his disappointment. Then again, outdoor plants were rarely as well-behaved as properly cowed houseplants. It seemed this attitude persisted even in ecclesiastic gardens such as these.

He cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then reached a hand up into the tree's umbrella-like branches and tugged. The season wasn't quite right for fruits, but he still withdrew clutching a handful of dark ripe mulberries. Hardly apples, but his lips twitched upwards nonetheless. He plucked a berry from the pile and raised it to his lips.

“Zaoshang hao!”

Only a hasty miracle saved Crowley from choking as he jumped and swiveled around. Hovering right outside the churchyard was a middle-aged human, well-dressed and smiling pleasantly at him. Judging by her formal clothing and the Bible she carried, she was a part of the congregation, maybe even the priest herself. Crowley swallowed and stepped backwards.

“Ni shi jiaohui de xinshou ma?” the human called again, picking her way across the dewy grass in his direction. Crowley eyed the Bible she held, willing himself not to break out into hives.

“Um. Wo bu—er, no. I'm not new. Not here for church at all, actually.” He fidgeted and clasped his hands, still full of pilfered mulberries, behind his back. “Just waiting for someone.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “You're welcome to wait inside, if you like,” she said, also switching to English. “I reckon we still have biscuits left from the children's morning service—”

“No!” Crowley said too quickly, and perhaps too sharply. He winced. “I mean. That won't be necessary. I'd much rather stay out here, if it isn't too much trouble.”

The human gave him a Look. Crowley's cheeks heated and he averted his eyes, willing his sunglasses a few shades darker.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Crowley's head shot back up. The human had turned her back to him and was running a hand through the glossy green leaves of the nearest mulberry tree. Crowley could practically see the branches stretch out in delight beneath her touch, like a purring cat.

“Volunteers from our congregation take care of them,” the human continued, smiling at the young tree. “The kids here like raising silkworms, you see, and we welcome them to pick leaves from the trees each week to feed them.”

Silkworms. Of course. Despite himself, a hazy memory rose to the forefront of his mind: Sichuan, China, several hundreds of years ago. A family farm, weathered and cozy and oozing enough sheer goodness to make the average demon ill with it. Crowley wouldn't normally be caught dead in such a place, but he had owed a favour to the angel. His fingers twitched at the phantom memory of butter-soft silk fibres against his skin; long, winding threads that stretched out thin and fine, tangling so easily around his uncertain fingers. With this memory came the golden, moon-round face of a child he hadn't thought about in centuries, grinning toothily as they held out a box to him, a box filled with small pale larvae that wriggled among the spade-shaped leaves. “Zhe jiao can.”

Crowley forced himself to return to the present. The human was speaking to him.

“—waiting on Mr. Fell?” she asked.

Crowley blinked. Shook himself a little. “Yeah. He's helping out with the restoration of some old manuscript or other.”

The human smiled again. It was an unnervingly piercing expression. “I'm aware. I was the one who requested his help. Such a lovely man. Are you a friend of his?”

Crowley tensed. “His husband, actually.”

He braced himself, but the human only brightened. “Goodness, then you must be Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell talks ever so much about you. Finally gone and tied the knot then, have you?”

Before Crowley could stammer out a reply, something dinged loudly, making him jump. The human pulled a phone out from her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to run back inside. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr. Crowley.” She stuck out a hand—thankfully not the one that had been holding the Bible—and after a brief hesitation, Crowley shook it. As quickly as she had arrived, the human disappeared from the garden, leaving Crowley alone and off-kilter amid a grove of mulberry trees.

---

Aziraphale emerged from the church around an hour later to find Crowley seated on the curb next to the Bentley, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun as he scrolled through his phone.

“My dear,” the angel sighed. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to sit next to Crowley on the roadside. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here the entire time.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’. “I toured the gardens for a bit. Swiped some fruits, too. The mulberries aren’t half-bad, for a bunch of church plants, but they’ll need a good deal more threatening before they're really up to snuff.”

Crowley stopped when he saw Aziraphale chewing his lip, brow furrowed as he studied Crowley's face. Now it was Crowley's turn to sigh.

“Really, angel. It's fine. I was hardly bored.”

The expression didn't leave Aziraphale's face. A soft brown hand reached out and brushed aside stray wisps of hair from Crowley's forehead. The demon hadn't bothered to cut it since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and it was growing longer and more unruly by the day.

“I'm fine.” Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and held it, carefully. He pressed his lips against the well-manicured fingers. “It was years ago, angel, and we both came out of it all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Aziraphale still looked vaguely distressed as Crowley drew him close. With the sun setting behind him, framing his face and curly dark hair in a golden halo, he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He kissed him then, right there on the road, in full sight of the church and probably Someone Else, too, if She happened to be watching at that particular moment. Once, he would've been terrified of such a public display, but he hadn't gone through hellfire and holy water to care anymore about what others thought of them.

As he helped Aziraphale into the Bentley, he noticed abruptly that the angel was carrying what appeared to be a shoebox, of all things, along with his usual camelhair coat.

“What on Earth is that?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale carefully pushed the box over to Crowley. “Mrs. Lao gave it to me once I'd finished with those manuscripts. She said it was a gift for you, actually. Have the two of you met before?”

Crowley stared down at the box, baffled. “We talked for a bit in the gardens just now, but I can’t imagine why…”

He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as Aziraphale eased open the lid and beheld the contents with a raised eyebrow.

“Good heavens. Are those caterpillars?”

“Silkworms,” Crowley corrected automatically, leaning in for a closer look. There were so many of them, somehow both smaller and larger than he remembered, all white and wiggly and chomping away busily at the layers of mulberry leaves filling their box. None of them paid any attention whatsoever to their occult observers hovering above them.

“Why would she give you such a thing? Not that they aren't dear little creatures,” Aziraphale added hastily, glancing into the box, “but I doubt I have the means to keep them in the bookshop.”

“No need,” Crowley said before he could stop himself. “I can raise 'em in my flat.”

Aziraphale gave him a curious look. “You know how to care for these… insects?”

“Yeah.” Crowley gently shut the lid of the inhabited shoebox and curled a hand around the Bentley's stick-shift. “I've done something like this, before. I know what I'm doing.”

“If you say so.” Suddenly Aziraphale chuckled. At Crowley's affronted look, he demurred, “I'm not making fun, my dear. It's only that you still manage to surprise me, even after all these years.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pecked Crowley's cheek, making him blush red and sputter. Much to his disgruntlement, the Bentley chirped a light-hearted rendition of Haydn's Crazy Little Thing Called Love all the way home.

---

Crowley had spent the past eleven years co-parenting the Antichrist with Aziraphale.² They had faced this challenge head-on, and in his opinion, it hadn’t gone too shabbily. Now, without the threat of the Apocalypse hanging over his head, becoming a surrogate parent was far less daunting the second time around.

[² Even if young Warlock hadn't really been the son of Satan, it was the principle of the thing.]

Still, Crowley worried. He had always been something of a worrier, and that hadn't changed even after the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

After dropping off Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley returned to his flat, where he commenced the preparations for introducing his unexpected twenty-odd guests to their new home. This was accomplished by miracling up a small glass aquarium onto his desk, lining the bottom with paper towels, and carefully (read: nervously) placing the silkworms one by one into the tank. Once this was done, Crowley scattered the half-eaten mulberry leaves from the box around the aquarium. The silkworms set upon their interrupted lunch with all the enthusiasm of Aziraphale devouring a meringue pie at the Ritz.

Crowley slumped into his chair, took off his sunglasses with a wince, and rested his chin on his desk, staring into the glass tank.

“I raised your ancestors once, you know,” Crowley informed the wriggling creatures. “Tiny farm in China several centuries back. We'd weave branches together into a tray and let you loose inside. Bit like how manmade beehives work, or something.”

Crowley paused. Watched one silkworm slowly inch its way across a stem to tackle a new section of leaf. “‘Course, humans use wire mesh nowadays, but the general premise is the same. Always thought it was bloody clever, what humans could come up with. If you gave me a bunch of moth larvae and told me to make a living out of them, I definitely wouldn't think to make clothes.” He snorted. “Whoever came up with that, I'd like a glass of whatever they were drinking.”

The silkworms munched on. They ate much faster than they crawled, that was certain. In the quiet walls of his flat, away from prying human eyes, Crowley loosened the knot of his silk tie and tugged it off, easing the tightness around his neck.

“You're the ones who made this, in a sense,” he said, waving the tie at them. He laid the tie beside one glass wall of the tank at just the right angle for the inhabitants within to see. Several silkworms looked up curiously.

Crowley tossed his suit jacket aside, then unbuttoned his shirt collar. He had always prided himself on his sharp, modern attire over the years, the better to tempt humans with—or so he claimed. Despite repeated scoldings from his superiors, his Lust quotas had never been quite up to par.

Sufficiently dishevelled, and feeling all the freer for it, Crowley sank back into his chair to watch the silkworms.

“The only thing I didn't like about the process was the boiling,” he murmured. “Logically, I can see why it was done. And you would all be in cocoons, so it's not like you'd be in any pain. Not like I was.” He exhaled, the sound becoming a low hiss. “But still. Never liked it. Always felt like an awful lot of trouble just for the sake of some silk threads.”

One particularly adventurous silkworm had nosed its way upwards and was now creeping over the edge of the tank opening. Crowley made a mental note to devise a lid of some kind and stuck his finger against the lip of the tank. The silkworm crawled onto his hand without any hesitation. Tentatively, he drew it closer. Its many feet stuck stubbornly to his skin, and it reared up as he approached, swaying slightly, its mandibles twitching.

Crowley stared at the silkworm. The silkworm stared back, and seemed disappointed when Crowley had nothing else to offer. Just to prove it wrong, Crowley materialized a single large mulberry leaf in his other hand and presented it to the insect, who fell upon it with gluttonous enthusiasm.

Staring at the miracled leaf, an idea formed in Crowley's mind. He smiled, slowly.

“I need a hobby, now that I'm jobless,” he said aloud to the silkworm, letting it creep onto his palm. He ran a careful finger over its smooth back. “I think I'll take up sericulture again, for old time's sake.” He reached back into the tank and gently encouraged the silkworm to crawl back inside.

“Humans have to boil you alive to get those nice unbroken threads off your cocoons,” Crowley mused, withdrawing his hand. “Fortunately, I don't have to do things the human way.” He lowered himself until he was eye-level with the inhabitants of the tank. The silkworm he had carried paused in its perpetual eating and turned its head, almost like it was looking at him.

“How's this?” Crowley asked. “You'll be able to grow into a fuzzy, fully grown silk-moth, and I can take your cocoon after you've finished with it and miracle the threads whole again.” He paused and mulled it over. “I guess I could take it a step further and just miracle the finished silk together, but there's still something to be said about the human way of doing things.”

The silkworm bobbed the front half of its body as though in agreement. Crowley smiled again.

“We can make silk, and no one gets hurt. I'm a few hundred years out of practice, but I'm sure I could make it work, somehow.”

The silkworm turned its attention back to its meal. Crowley didn't notice. He was too busy wondering if Aziraphale had any old texts on silk-weaving that he could borrow, just so he could refresh his memory.

The angel would appreciate having a new silk bowtie to add to his collection.

---

Thank you for reading! Replies and reblogs are always much appreciated. <3

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #go fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #go tv #otp: ineffable #li writes #zine fic #insects tw

[freebooter4ever]

i’ve seen the discussion going back and forth on boundaries and sexual objectification, and i don’t have much to add to the conversation other than to say everyone is allowed to determine their OWN ‘lines’ and just because we don’t vocalize them doesn’t make them any less valid. but here’s the limits i set for my blog if anyone feels it is important for them to know (<3):

personally I consider ‘characters’ fair game for anything goes, with ‘public personas’ a little more iffy. ‘RPF’ isn’t new - it just takes on a new more accessible/visible form nowadays. i remember reading my first fic about a ‘real person’ back in my LOTR fandom days - it was a story in first person perspective about the main character meeting orlando bloom on a plane before he was ‘famous’. like a lot of these types of stories, it wasnt so much about the person as it was about the meet cute. the actor was just a convenient placeholder with a handsome face and some personality quirks thrown in to make the romance/dialogue more specific. i personally dont read much xReader fic nowadays, but mostly only cause i’m an old fart who can’t relate to the ‘you’ format. i miss the good old days when people actually created OC’s and then inserted them into things LOL. but also LOL if you think i’ve gone an entire year of quarantine without some imagined personal fantasies of joe mazzello (or steve aoki in the years before)(ramilicious can attest to this. she can also attest to most of these fantasies ending in friendship rather than anything explicit cause that’s just how i roll these days lol). the line i draw is i would never post these types of fics in a place where the subject could accidentally find them - you have to go looking for this stuff on tumblr, most fics are given explicit ratings and under read-mores. with the blacklist tags it’s pretty easy to filter things out. its even easier to add filters to ao3 searches. i am NOT going to do something like message steve aoki and say ‘yeah i watched that movie Ibiza like five times, here is my 1k fic where you’re the dj and i’m the one night stand’. but obviously people still enjoy imagining scenarios like these otherwise movies like Ibiza wouldn’t exist?

for art, i consider anything already on display up for grabs, we all know a certain person’s ass is all over the place...all you have to do is google ‘need for speed’ and rami’s name. HOWEVER, in the case of actors i personally would not draw anything more explicit than what’s already there. i’m not gonna draw full frontal nudity for rami (unless he gifts us with it in a movie, i suppose) or anyone. this is 100% a personal choice for me. 

i was a sophomore or junior in college when i volunteered as a figure drawing monitor where i’d time the nude model’s poses and help them set up the stage and lighting and such. there was this one guy in his mid forties probably, a regular who came every week, and i always thought of him fondly till one day (the day after i ran into my Hot Programming TA during dinner and later sent him an email begging him to go on a date with me because i was desperate for kissing experience)(and Hot Programming TA emailed me back within minutes saying yes) this artist guy who i saw all the time and thought i knew fairly well, decided to draw me instead of the model. which would have been fine except he drew me naked. i was NOT naked at the time, i was wearing a shirt, and a bra, and a full prairie skirt with alternating calico and floral patterns. he drew what he imagined was underneath all that. he came up to me after the figure drawing session and showed me his drawings and told me i had been ‘glowing’ and my response was to laugh it off awkwardly and get the hell out of there as soon as i gave the model their pay check. but inwardly i was thinking a) i was NOT glowing for this creepy man twice my age and b) i did NOT give him consent to sexualize my body under my clothes and then SHOW me that objectification. i never said anything to him or anything else, i continued to be the monitor, and i continued to field off creepy advances from him including multiple job offers, but when i finally realized i could just...stop..and i passed the student volunteer monitor job on to my friend naeem, i also realized that what that older male artist did was NOT ok in my book. and it was probably not something he would do while naeem was monitoring.

nowadays im working in an industry that regularly objectifies female bodies. in the past year alone i have had to deal with requests to make breasts bigger, i have been given character rigs that in addition to the usual elbow, knee, and spine joints also have ‘nipple’ joints but ONLY for the women (to make them jiggle for animation), every time i send out a female pose i get it back with notes that push it further into the sexy type of body language reserved for women (twist the spine more! sway the back more! give it ‘energy!’), i have been told to erase wrinkles and fat and pores but ONLY for the women (men you ADD pores bc realism! and manliness!) and this is all me working for a company that is actually fairly progressive in terms of sexism compared to OTHER studios.

like it or not, sexual objectification is a huge part of specifically women’s lives and how we react to that is our business. for me, turning the tables and putting men on display feels like fair’s fair. i cant stop the men from doing it, so if i want to enjoy sexualizing male bodies, damn it im gonna! like dang it, boy do i want to send steve aoki a thank you note every time he posts a video of himself doing those ice baths during the sunset golden hour bc holy shit gorgeous or working out in his gym wearing VERY little clothes, but i dont because i know what its like when someone imposes their personal fantasies on the subject. or, god, there was that time i had to unfollow nicole’s insta for a while bc i had a very explicit dream about her and realized, shit, i need to take a break and get my emotions under control before i can refollow. and god some of the stuff i see dudes sending her during her live videos on mental illness/meditation is TOTALLY gross and not something they should be confronting her with. and she’s not even ‘famous’ famous. or how some fans send their idols explicit direct messages without consent. THAT feels inappropriate to me.

a part of me feels like i shouldn’t have to defend this. men don’t. they’re even encouraged in mass media to sexualize women. but i also recognize the importance of talking about consent. the importance of recognizing that a celebrity deserves to have their boundaries respected. these are my lines in fandom. other people have different lines they won’t cross, and that’s okay to me. i block or blacklist any blogs or tags i think go over the top.

heck, even in fandom-only spaces i still try to keep my own more sexual fantasies off this blog and only in private messages with my friends and mutuals, and i feel like that might come across as unintentionally prudish or judgmental sometimes. i’m not ‘horny on main’ very often. but like...every time i reblog that particular ‘washing machine’ gif of joe mazzello am i thinking about him naked and thinking about how he’s got very loooooong feet, and ‘gee i wonder if that means /other/ things are Too Big for my tastes’ but also ‘gosh wouldnt that make a pretty picture to draw’???? hell yeah.

i dont know who is gonna actually read this essay but yolo i guess :)

#journal shit

[sortavibing]

hi !i would love a hq matchup with any gender🥺 im caro my pronouns are she/they and i love sleeping mostly, i love watching movies and sometimes i like to read and write things ill never post. im an infj and a leo. i am very supportive and hard working person and i like to consider myself a good leader. i can sometimes come off as a bit of a cold person but i like to believe its because i have a resting bitch face. i love playing with makeup and my hair. i have short brown hair and im about medium to long height. i love your blog btw!

hi caro! thank you for requesting! we stan people with rbfs (i have one too). anyways, here’s your matchup!

generating matchup...

matchup: complete

i match you up with kenma!

what first drew him to you was how hardworking you are. he admired your drive, and he wanted to learn from you, so he could be more of use to the nekoma team. though it was a little awkward at first, since you both are introverted, you guys quickly became good friends, and later, kenma gathered up the courage to ask you out.

if you ever write something, kenma will want to read it, and he will tell you how good he thinks it is, and he would encourage you to post it if you wanted to. he thinks it’s really cool how creative you are, and how you are able to put your ideas into words that actually make sense. if you ever do post something you write, he will immediately show his friends and be like “look what my s/o wrote. isn’t it good?” and will tell you all the positive feedback you got.

you guys both have that resting bitch face, so in public you guys look like that bad bitch couple that just kinda give off those intimidating vibes (in a good way). both of you guys know this, and kenma is kind of proud of it, because loves that people won’t come up and talk to him, and he doesn’t even have to do anything for them to make that decision.

kenma really likes it when you play video games with him, and his favorite games to play with you are minecraft (he would place his bed next to yours), plasmaphobia (he finds it funny to see your reactions to the jump scares), and jack box (it’s so much fun to just go off on the team while you laugh and go along).

he loves to watch you do your makeup, and will always tell you how good it looks while you are doing it, and in the end, he will ask you do his makeup, because yours looks really good and he wants to match you. while you are doing his makeup, he will card his fingers through your hair, or show you the newest video game he is playing, and once you are finished, you guys will take so many pictures.

since you enjoy sleeping, if he ever sleeps over, he won’t sleep, but he will just vibe with you, talking about whatever comes to mind, until you fall asleep. then, he will just play on his switch until you wake back up. this man has the shittiest sleep schedule ever, but he enjoys spending time with you, so he will try his best to sleep.

every few weeks, you guys will have a movie night, and kenma will let you choose the movie for the most part, but he refuses to watch romance, comedy, or western, because he finds them cheesy and a little bit lame. his favorite movies are sci-fi actions, so you guys usually watch that, and he will get really into some of the better ones, much to your surprise, because he usually doesn’t get passionate about most things.

the first date kenma took you on was to a local arcade, and you guys spent the entire time playing each other in all the 2 player games, and ended up getting so many tickets, that you could actually buy something that was worth more than like 50 cents. he also was able to win a stuffed animal from the claw machine, and you still have it to this day.

if you ever come to one of his volleyball games, he will be pretty happy that you came to support him, though he won’t really show it, and after the game, he will go up to you and thank you many times, and then show you to his team, because he wants everyone to know that his s/o was nice enough to come and watch his game.

overall, you guys are pretty chill, and kenma is really grateful that you are there for him, giving him advice, and just supporting him in general. he wants to let you know that he really does care about you, and though he does it in a more lowkey way, you can tell that he just wants you to enjoy your relationship with him.

i hope you enjoyed!

#haikyuu #haikyuu matchups #haikyu #kenma #kenma kozume #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyu headcanon #haikyu imagines #kenma headcanons #kenma imagines #kenma x you

[gidleboo]

Body Worship

an imagine where you feel insecure about your body and where Shuhua tries to make you feel better.

requested by: @jffbuckley

Word Count : 750

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You've been checking yourself in the mirror for the past 15 minutes with your shirt abandoned on the floor as you kept turning around, squeezing your belly 'fat'. You frown at your reflection thinking to yourself, 'I'm so fat, what the hell.'

You were the type of person who gets fat easily and that annoyed you a lot. You tightened your lower abdomen to try and flatten your stomach when you suddenly heard the door being pushed open.

You panic as you realize that you've forgotten to lock the door as you quickly pick up your shirt from the floor and cover your chest with it. "Babe, what are you doing?" Shuhua raised an eyebrow at you. You struggled to find your words as you felt your face starting to burn.

“Im not doing anything?” You finally say as you quickly put on your shirt and try to walk past Shuhua who caught your arm in her firm grip. “Okay, let's try that again. What were you doing?” Shuhua softly asked you as she noticed your troubled expression. 

“You better not be taking pictures of your tits and sending them to someone.” Shuhua joked which made you burst out laughing. “Im not! It's just,” you hesitated as you felt your face start burning once again while Shuhua waited patiently. “I think Im getting fat,” you mumbled.

Shuhua widened her eyes at you, surprised at what she heard because for her, she thinks you’re the sexiest woman she’s ever seen. She loves every curve of your body especially your ass and she literally thinks you're perfect so hearing you say you're 'fat' really confuses her.

Shuhua sighed and held your face as she thought of what to say because at times like this, she really has a hard time trying to choose her words carefully. 

“Take off your clothes,” Shuhua whispered and your eyes widened as your face reddened at the sudden command. "Excuse me?" You ask surprised while Shuhua held you close by the waist and kissed you softly before pulling back. "Let me show you how beautiful you are."

. . . . .

Shuhua sat on the bed as you timidly started taking off your clothes. Shuhua bit her lip and stared at you with hooded eyes which only made you more nervous. "Come here." Shuhua patted her lap when you took off your last piece of clothing. You sat on her lap hesitantly and you squeezed your legs tightly shut out of embarrassment.

Shuhua started placing open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder up to your neck, her hand moving your hair to the other side, giving her more space. You gasp as Shuhua slowly licked the back of your ear while her hand glided down your stomach to palm your cunt.

"Spread your legs for me," Shuhua whispered in your ear and you did as you were told, no matter how embarrassed you felt by the position. "Good girl." Shuhua praised and you moan as her fingers gently slide up and down your dripping slit.

"You're so beautiful baby, trust me." Shuhua tilted your head with her other hand to face her as she leaned in for a passionate kiss as she drew slow circles on your clit. You moan into the kiss which Shuhua took as an opportunity to slip her tongue in.

Shuhua's tongue danced with yours as her other hand found your left breast and gave it a squeeze. "Everything about you," Shuhua pulled back and sucked on your neck and inserted a finger inside of you as you moan and tilt your head back. "Is perfect." Shuhua finished her sentence.

She started increasing her pace and inserted another finger as she felt your pussy start to stretch while your moans started getting louder. "God, you're so sexy." Shuhua curled her fingers inside of you which makes you gasp, "Shuhua..!"

You feel the familiar feeling rise inside of you as you feel yourself tighten around Shuhua's fingers. Shuhua noticed this and whispered in your ear, "Cum." You find yourself cumming hard and moaning Shuhua's name with your back arched and your head tilted.

You came down from your high after a few seconds and Shuhua told you to stand up. Shuhua made you face her and straddle her as she pulled you in for a soft kiss, her hands locked behind your back.

"You're beautiful no matter what, okay?" Shuhua pressed a firm to kiss your forehead you while you smile and nod your head, thankful that you have Shuhua as your girlfriend.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

im not even sure if this is supposed to be fluff or smut🙃

anyways im sorry for posting this a bit late sknchb ill be posting another one later and hopefully that makes up for this

AGAIN, i am horrible with smut like, ??? please send help

also dominant Shuhua is so hot im gonna cry

anyways thank you @jffbuckley for requesting with smuts prompts 1 and 4 and im sorry if it leans more on fluff than on smut🥺 ill write something kinkier next time i promise

thats all thanks for reading ❣

#gidle #gidle imagines #gidle scenarios #gidle drabble #gidle smut #giddle shuhua #yeh shuhua #idlecreation #idlecreations

[warrioreowynofrohan]

you mentioned your headcanons on when and if other finweans forgive maedhros... if you wanted to share some (or all) of them I'd be very interested!

Okay, wow, I have a lot of thoughts on this….it basically covers large parts of a fanfic that I’ve had broadly plotted out in my head for a long time but am completely incapable of actually writing.

This is going to be very long (EDIT: extremely long, apparently) - and rather messier and more scattershot than my usual posts - so I’m putting it under a cut.  This one only covers events in the Halls of Mandos; I would need another one to lay out post-Mandos headcanons, if I can put it together.

Fingon is deeply conflicted and unhappy about Maedhros; he’s horrified by Maedhros’ actions, but he can’t stop caring about him even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t know what’s happened to him after death and isn’t sure he wants to know. For at least the first couple hundred years that Maedhros is in the Halls, he’s in extremely bad shape and is not communicating with or visible to anyone. (This is not unusual for elves who are wrapped up in their own thoughts or deliberately avoiding others.) And between Maedhros’ actions, and the manner of his death, and the Oath, Fingon can’t be sure of whether he’s even in the Halls, or if he refused the Halls and is a lost spirit, or even if he’s in the void.

Fingolfin is sympathetic to his son’s pain but doesn’t really see any hope for Maedhros, and tries to say that it’s hard, but that sometimes you have to accept that you’ve lost someone you love to evil and they’re not coming back. Fingolfin’s lost his brother (who he still has complicated feelings about. Aulë has lost people. Even Manwë has lost his brother -

That comparison doesn’t go over well and from that moment Fingon isn’t speaking with his father anymore.

When Fingon decides that not knowing is worse than anything he could know about Maedhros’ fate, he goes to Námo and asks whether Maedhros is in the Halls, and Námo tells him that yes, Maedhros is.

He looks for Maedhros. He seeks quiet corners of the Halls, and sings, and hopes Maedhros will hear him, and one day he senses in his spirit that someone else is present near him. He continues to sing, simple things, and then moves to the song he sang at Thangorodrim -

- and Maedhros is there, ragged and shaking and trying with all his might not to look at Fingon. Stop he says. Please, stop. Why must you torment me?

The last thing Maedhros wants is to be reminded that once, he had a chance to do right, that once, he had a chance to recieve mercy and he has thrown it away, to be reminded of the gaping gulf between the person he wanted to be and person he is. You still think you can rescue me? he says with a twisted smile, and holds out his hand. Across the entire palm and to the first knuckle of the fingers, it is charred black. Fingon’s expression goes stubborn and he takes Maedhros’ hand in his own - and then releases his hold in shock. The hand is hot - not as with fever, but as metal newly withdrawn from a forge. Maedhros gives a bitter laugh and disappears.

Fingon cannot find him again.

This brings the story roughly to the start of the part I wrote in response to your last Ask, where Maedhros goes to Nienna and recieves, beyond his hope, mercy and forgiveness and help and healing. That’s not the endpoint of his journey to recovery, but it’s the beginning; it gives him the knowledge that there is someone who can love him absolutely unconditionally, that he’s not beyond redemption. And that gives him the foundation he needs to start facing the people he knew and the people he’s harmed and answering to them and seeking their forgiveness.

The Halls have a will of their own, if you let them; their geography is as much spiritual as physical, and they’ll lead spirits to the people whom they need to resolve things with. Fingon isn’t the first person Maedhros talks to, but he’s one of the first.

*****

FIc snippet

It would have been easier if the Halls had brought him to the Teleri, or even the Sindar. He could bear condemnation from them.

He did not know how to bear it if Fingon turned him away. As he had every right to.

He wanted to flee to some abandoned corner of the Halls and never face Fingon again.

He wanted to lay at his friend’s feet for a year, for a yen, for an Age, and beg Fingon not to despise him forever.

He forced himself to do neither of these things.

Fingon had still not seen him; his eyes were shut, his head bowed to his knees and his lips moving wordlessly, and it was the evident misery in his hunched shoulders that gave Maedhros the courage to kneel down beside him say softly, “Fingon.”

He did not seem to hear. “Fingon. Fingon.” Fingon looked up, made a choked noise of surprise, and grabbed Maedhros by the shoulders, staring into his eyes for a long moment, and then pulled him into an embrace. “Thank you,” Fingon said, low and fervent, and Maedhros knew it was not him that Fingon was addressing.

“You’re all right. I mean - not all right, but - better.” A spirit’s appearance in the Halls drew on both their true condition and their perception of themself. Maedhros was clothed in rags, his hair matted, but his hand no longer burned and he could meet Fingon’s eye with a look that, though still deeply ashamed, was no longer tormeted.

“The Lady of Sorrows has been very kind. Far more than I could ever deserve. Though in truth even to be in the Halls is better than I deserve.”

“Maedhros, surely you cannot believe that you deserve the Darkness?”

Maedhros’ laugh was rueful. “Deserve it? I believe I specifically requested it. Demanded, even! What does it say, that the very worst anyone could do to us would be to take us at our word? But by the end I earned it more in keeping the Oath than in breaking it.”

The question refused to be suppressed. “Maedhros, why? We beseiged Angband for over four hundred years without attempting regain the Silmarils, and the Oath did not trouble you then, yet the moment one was in the hands of Elves - ” Fingon paused. “Maedhros, please tell me it was not because of my death.”

Maedhros’ words came halting. “I blamed myself. I blamed the Valar. I blamed the Doom. I told myself that abandoned you again, this time to your death. I told myself that if this was how I was repaid for trying to win the war, if the Powers had mandated that any attempt to do good could only turn to evil and the destruction of all that I loved, then they had no right to judge me for doing ill.  I told myself that I had chosen war on Angband to avoid war on Doriath, and if they were going to punish me for that choice, well, then they were in no position to complain when I made the other.

“I was wrong. We were not wrong to fight Angband, but on my part the Fifth Battle was waged in service of the Oath, and everything done in its service turns to ill. Good becomes evil. Evil becomes…worse. The words we intended to drive us against Morgoth turned to his service, and we did his work.

“I am sorry for what I have done. I will spend the rest of Time being sorry for it. We should have thrown ourselves against the walls of Angband and died there rather than ever again raising our swords against our kin. You have every right to despise me.”

Fingon, lacking words, took Maedhros’ remaining hand and lifted the burnt palm to his lips. “I will not leave you. I hate what you have done - I would rather have seen you dead on my blade than do any of, though that would have killed me - but I will not leave you.” He wrapped his arms around Maedhros again. “Please don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

The dead have times of rest of thought, even if it not what the living would call sleep. A little time later found Fingon resting with his back against a pillar and Maedhros curled on the floor, his head pillowed on Fingon’s feet and an expression of deep contentment in his face.

*****

My thoughts on Aredhel and Maedhros are in the Halls are largely covered in this post.

*****

Turgon, in contrast, is exceptionally angry at Maedhros, especially about the Third Kinslaying, and not at all inclined to forgive or to care for apologies. This is also wrapped up in Turgon’s own guilt about the Fall of Gondolin. He feared that he had left the remnant of his people defenseless against Morgoth, but Ulmo found a way to protect them through the waters at the Mouths of Sirion; instead, they were defenseless against Maedhros and his brothers. And to Turgon, Maedhros’ renunciation of both the Oath and the Silmarils after his death is meaningless, because he did so only after he had lost any possibility of achieving the Oath or obtaining the Silmarils. How can it mean anything to renounce evil only after you’ve lost the ability to commit it or to gain anything from it?

Maedhros and Turgon have an intense conversation on these points (well, intense on Turgon’s part) while Maedhros is in the Halls. Maedhros, for his part, while he does want to apologize and beg forgiveness, does not really have any expectation that Turgon will forgive him; his hope in his early conversations with both Turgon and Fingolfin is mainly to arrange a detente where the Nolofinwëans can get back on good terms with each other by dint of all of them agreeing to just not talk about Maedhros (who is the primary subject of contention between them). This, he does succeed at.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #cliff notes for my unwritten fanfic #maedhros #fingon #turgon

[fleckcmscott]

Bittersweet

Summary: After a little prompting, Arthur tells Y/N about his first kiss.

Warnings: Angst, Past self-harm (Don’t worry - there’s love, too!)

Words: 2,652

A/N: This was an anonymous request! Whoever you are, thank you for sending it to me. Writing this was a joy. A hearty thanks to Karen for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

Edit: I apologize for forgetting to thank @sweet-nothings04​ for the title! Love you, girl!

As Arthur felt the first periods of genuine satisfaction within his own skin, he discovered which activities he enjoyed the most. Performing for children, seeing their small faces beam in reaction to his magic tricks. When he was doing a comedy set somewhere and his laughter didn't occur. Working on material or listening to music. And every second with Y/N at his side.

Weaving himself completely with another person hadn't been something he'd believed possible. But during the past eleven months, his assumptions had changed. Y/N knew about the difficulty he often had interpreting people, about his illnesses, about each time he'd been remanded to Arkham. Instead of recoiling as he'd feared, she reminded him to take his medication on the rare occasion he would forget. The calendar that hung by the kitchen entrance had both his appointments or gigs and her court dates written in his scrawl. She delved into his interests by watching old comedies he rented or shows he picked out. He'd explored hers by paying extra attention to Action News and asking about the cases she was working on. And they'd gotten in the habit of watching Gotham Tonight before heading to bed. It was the repetitive mundanities of normal life, the routines and rhythms they'd fallen into, that he found most intimate.

Yet, she still had the ability to flummox him.

They were walking in Sheldon Park after dropping off their groceries and his three prescription refills at the apartment. It was a lovely evening, the temperatures balmy even though dusk was approaching. The place was more crowded than expected for a Tuesday. A group of kids were riding their bikes through the winding paths. On a nearby bench, an older man smoked a cigar while the woman he was with chattered about the day. And there were quite a few teenage couples, strolling with arms entwined or their lips locked.

Y/N must have noticed them, too, because she nudged him when they passed a pair making out on a knoll near the duck pond. "If we'd met back then, would we have been doing the same thing? All over each other without caring who saw?"

A light laugh caught in his throat. He gave her side-eye, taking a drag off his cigarette. "You already don't care who hears."

She was chuckling when she asked her follow-up, like it was the most normal question in the world. "When was your first kiss?" He halted, mouth agape as she continued on. The answer made him feel self-conscious before even giving it. It had been embarrassingly late, considering what he remembered hearing around school as a teenager.

Y/N put a quarter in the duck pellet machine and turned the crank. "I was fifteen. My ex-husband. We were at a drive-in, watching some terrible movie - Attack of the Grasshoppers or Ants or whatever." Arthur stepped towards her and put out his smoke in the nearby ashtray as she held out her hand. "I knew he liked me, but I was surprised." After splitting the feed with him, carefully pouring it into his upturned palm, she sat on the grass, legs crossed in front of her at the ankles, and tossed some in the water. "He leaned over and kissed me as hard as he could. I pushed him away, then pulled him back again."

The birds swam hurriedly in their direction, a couple of the braver ones daring to come ashore. Arthur crouched down next to her and threw some of the pellets himself. But he stayed quiet. A few minutes later, she leaned towards him. "You don't have to tell me. I know I'm your first serious relationship." Shrugging, she continued. "I just thought there might have been a high school sweetheart. Then we could share embarrassing tales."

He shook his head, throwing the rest of the food and sitting next to her, one knee up with his arm rested on it. "No," he said. "You're my only sweetheart." Normally she wasn't fond of pet names, but she let out a soft sound and scooted closer. Her arm looped through his, a kiss planted on his temple. As his lips pressed together, he wondered what she expected. She'd been surprised by his inexperience when they'd started sleeping together, seemingly unable to comprehend how he'd been single. If she'd been anyone else, he would have assumed she just wanted to make fun of him. But she'd been open about her history, and hadn't laughed at him once so far. "I was twenty-two."

"What were you like back then? Just as beautiful, I'm sure."

A short giggle escaped him, his forehead rested on the heel of his hand. While he'd never been outgoing, never been half as bold as Y/N, he hadn't yet shrunken in on himself. Though he'd had his condition, his mental illnesses had only partially presented themselves. He hadn't already been committed. Life had had its challenges, having taken care of his mother seven years by then. But he'd still been naive enough to hope it could be different. That Penny might get better. That he could meet his special person.

That was too much for this conversation. She'd asked a lighthearted question and deserved a lighthearted answer. So he gave one that encompassed it all. "Younger." It had been awhile since he'd reflected on the circumstances surrounding his first kiss. His brows drew together as he tried to remember all the details. "Her name was Helen. We were coworkers in Gotham Park. At a summer carnival."

The bit of exaggeration was unintentional. He'd been hired to work as a clown. It had been new for him, but given his natural aptitude for dancing and interacting with kids, it'd come easier than expected. The boss had told him to roam the entire grounds. And he'd tried to. But it had become impossible after seeing her.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered at Y/N tracing the veins on the back of his hand. "What did she do to win your heart?"

Not a lot. They hadn't exchanged more than a couple of words, mostly pleasantries and the odd complaint about the weather. But she could have done anything, frankly. He'd been fantasizing about dating for years. What had originally been an innocent desire for attention and friendship had, as he'd grown-up, become a near constant craving for love and connection.

Helen had worked at one of the games, though he couldn't recall exactly which one. The radiance of her skin was nearly as bright as the smile she met customers with. She always wore cute, short sleeved sweater sets, ones that revealed a sliver of her mid-riff. She was kind. Whenever she talked with anyone, she'd laugh easily and be attentive. She seemed smart, too; he'd noticed the textbooks she took notes in. The moment he'd passed by her and she'd glanced up at him with her deep, brown eyes, he'd thought he'd sensed an affinity between them. It had sparked his imagination. "She was nice. And pretty. We didn't get to talk much."

"How was it?" Y/N asked playfully, her caresses flirty as they traveled to the inside of his wrist, a spot they'd learned made his breath catch.

The carnival had normally stayed open until nine. But high winds and heavy rain had forced it to close early. He'd been sprinting by Helen's booth, when she called out to him. The front closure was stuck, she'd explained. Could he help her with it? After a minute or two of trying to fix it, she'd invited him into the back. It had taken a couple seconds to decide to go for it - he'd hoped his hesitancy hadn't been too weird. Once the rope was untangled from the hook it'd been stuck on, he'd rolled down the tarp and secured it shut. Then he'd turned to her.

They'd been drenched. Probably half his clown-makeup had been washed off, leaving his pale skin exposed. Her sweater had clung to her, the silhouette of her hardened nipples visible through the cream fabric. He'd fought to keep his eyes averted. The pitter-patter of the pelting rain had surrounded them, slightly muffled by the tall trees above and the orange canvas of the tent. It had felt pleasantly hazy. She'd looked up at him and said, in the sweetest voice, "Thank you. I owe you one."

"Yeah," he'd replied lamely, when what he'd meant to say was, "I think I love you. You're beautiful. Let's go on a date." His heart had been pounding, open, plain to see, and he'd thought he'd understood her smile correctly. It was rare they were directed his way - surely it must have meant something. When she'd offered her hand for a shake, adrenaline had driven him to take it, step forward, and press his mouth to hers.

After all this time, only vague impressions remained. Her lips had been pliant, warm, and wet. How he'd imagined a ripe plum would feel if he could ever afford one. There'd been enthusiasm on his part. And he was sure he'd been trembling. He hadn't paid attention to her reactions, having been too caught up in his own nervousness and excitement. Finally, he'd been brave enough to kiss a girl. He'd been proud of himself for not laughing.

He'd attempted to snake an arm around her waist, pull her flush against his skinny frame to feel the realness of her, the softness of her breasts, the dip of her waist. But she'd backed off, pushing against his chest as their lips parted. He'd released her instantly but kept her hand. He'd tried to hold it loosely enough to hide his desperation as he felt his heart break.

She'd cleared her throat before starting in. "You're sweet, Arthur. But... This is going to be my senior year. I have to concentrate on school." White noise had filled his ears. "I think you're a little old for me. And I'm seeing someone. And..."

Halfway through her litany of explanations, he'd tuned out and slowly dropped her fingers. His palm automatically went to his abdomen, willing his diaphragm to not betray him. "I'm- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" He'd squeezed his eyes shut as he broke off, self-disgust filling him. "Why would you like me? I-"

The reassurances she'd given him hadn't mattered much back then. They'd actually made it worse. They'd meant that in lieu of hating him, she simply didn't want him. "I'm not mad." There'd been pity in her half-smile. "It was a nice kiss."

His anguish as he'd gotten ready for work the next morning was overwhelming and unwanted. But his brain wouldn't stop going to Helen. Seeing her again would crush him. The tightness in his chest, the tension in his arms were acute - he didn't know what to do. And anger was welling in him, at himself and what he'd never have. He'd attempted to find distraction in the radio, tobacco, the nearly scalding hot water during his shower. None of it worked. Instead, as he stood in the corner of the living room by his clothes, he banged his head, smashing it into the mirror hanging on the wall.

It was the cracking of the glass that got him to stop, got him to notice what he was doing. The compulsion he'd felt and given into to hurt himself was new. Frightening. And cemented his abnormality. He'd lifted his fingers to his forehead - there'd been no blood, at least. Then he'd squinted at the mirror and groaned, annoyed he'd have to replace it. Quickly, he took it down and threw it in the trash can, not wanting his mother to see what he'd done.

He didn't return to work that day. Or the day after that. He'd stayed at home, calling out sick and missing a week's pay.

Penny had noticed his lack of absence first. Then his failure to do anything besides smoke and get off the couch to use the bathroom. She'd asked if he was okay for the first time in months. And he'd confessed, rasping softly, "No, mom. I need someone." The humiliation he felt at yearning for such simplicities grew as he went through his list. "I want to take her to the movies. To light her cigarette. To hold her." He'd exhaled sharply and flinched. "I want her to laugh at my jokes."

"Oh, Happy," she'd said, patting his arm. In his fragile state, the nickname's familiarity had both calmed and hurt. "Just smile and put on a happy face. You can't feel bad, then." She'd turned back to the television, maternal instincts quickly forgotten. At least around her, he listened and tried to paste a grin on.

Eventually, he had dragged himself back to the carnival - the bills had to be paid somehow. He'd done his best to avoid Helen. She had spotted him once, though, and given a small, friendly wave from across the way. After briefly freezing, he'd chosen to nod back at her, giving her the acknowledgment he would have wanted had their positions been reversed.

He hadn't seen her again. But he'd clung to the memory of that kiss for ages. Reminisced when he'd ached for another life and wanted to believe it might be possible. And for less chaste longings. It had stopped being a placeholder years ago, when he'd realized he'd always live with Penny. Not alone, but lonely, until he was lucky enough to check out forever.

Until he and Y/N had stumbled into each other. Repeatedly. In this harsh city.

"Kissing you is nicer," Arthur said, slinging an arm around Y/N, meeting her gaze.

She giggled. "Oh?" Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, only inches from his own. "And why's that?"

"You love me. And you want me." The touch of his fingertips went to her upper arm, guiding her to recline on the grass. "All the time," he scolded mockingly, rasp barely above a whisper. His lips tickled her, just under her ear, and he delighted in the way she squirmed and batted at his shoulder.

She locked her hands at the nape of his neck and smiled up at him, like he was the only man in the world. Eagerness sparked as her fingers slid under his sweater. "I do," she replied, low and throaty. "I won't pretend I don't." Cradling the back of her head, he bent and sealed their mouths together. She was demanding, as though she sought to capture a piece of him and hold it deep within her. He sighed as he brought his hand to the hem of her blouse, not hesitating before going in for another kiss.

Neither of them heard the hooves of the approaching horse. "Sir? Ma'am?" Arthur turned up towards the mounted police officer shining her flashlight in their faces. "Aren't you two a little old for this?"

Wide-eyed, Arthur's head snapped back to look at Y/N, nearly colliding with her as she held her hand in front of her eyes. Thank god she answered straightaway. "Sorry, officer." She sat up, pushing Arthur off her. The blush currently spreading across her cheeks made him snort. "It's such a beautiful night and, well..." she gestured in his direction. Christ, would she never find it inappropriate to brag about him? He turned away and hid behind his palm.

Y/N stood and brushed off her clothing. "We'll behave, madam. I promise." The cop shook her head and rode off. Y/N covered her mouth as she burst into laughter. "I guess this means we wouldn't have cared who saw." Arthur stood up beside her, pulling up his pants and fixing his hair. "Thanks for sharing that with me," she said.

As she reached to remove a leaf from his jacket, he stepped to her and cupped her face, melding their lips once more. "I'll share anything with you."

~~~~~

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