#snow is the closest to a dream world or spirit world i think

[iguanadonis]

snowy slumbers

#my art #snow #winter #procreate #snow is the closest to a dream world or spirit world i think #i find great comfort staring into the void #maybe im talking to demeter

[campbluelake]

who stole the stars from the sky | kyousuke | yaaaaaaay

[♫♫♫]

He thought he made sure to take his heart and methodically remove it from his chest. Bury it somewhere so far away from here that he can’t possibly remember how it feels to have one. He thought he made sure that the only reminder that he ever possessed that thing called a ‘heart’ is the woman sitting next to him.

He doesn’t want–

“Are we- friends?”

He doesn’t need–

"It was a really shitty night. But you made it less-less shitty. And it— It really meant a lot to me. That's all."

The moment Julio died, he knew caring about anyone here was a waste of time. Not when they could die. Not when they could kill. Not when he might have to kill them.

“I've...just never been a big sis before. Guess I'll have to learn something new, huh?”

Who would sign up to be hurt so willingly? He avoided the pain for years because of this. He doesn’t need people by his side; apathy keeps him so distant from his emotions that he can’t notice how cold he is at night.

"....I agree. And I'm glad I met you. Never knew I needed a gay dreamboat nepotism baby actor in my life before now.”

Kyousuke doesn’t invite pain. He doesn’t welcome it.

“You've just ... been so nice... and great to talk with, and train with... I feel like talking to you comes so easily…”

If he could walk into the afterlife with not a single person upset at his departure, then he’d think that a life well lived. A life where he wasn’t hurt, and one where –

"You can't be the luckiest guy in the world if I'm the luckiest guy in the world, y'know..."

– One where he doesn’t hurt others.

“You're worth it, Kyousuke.”

…

Saya sneers at him, and Kyousuke cracks a small smile at his friend.

“... Thanks for tryin’, Yacchan. And thanks for all those stupid talks. And – sorry for ‘em. Shit like this always makes it harder t’say goodbye. For bein’ a selfish asshole, too, but – you already knew I was one of those. Now you can dedicate your novel t’someone else, yeah?”

Loving Kyousuke is a terrible thing; it is a curse. It eases you in with soft “I love you”s whispered between two people afraid that the weight of the words will shatter the tenuous happiness like dropping a bowling ball on a glass floor. Promises that were made with purpose become empty; memories of gossiping in the snow, laying on the ground like you are children trying to put off going home, lose their warmth.

His selfish heart takes those treasured memories - of his and Niko’s first and last dance and dreams of a future where nothing happens, of the trips he and Abbie will never take to be funded solely by money he stole from his parents, of the audition he will never do for Malyce’s next movie, of the movie night he will never endure for Audie, of the trips he will never take to Kaede’s hometown, of all the amusement parks he’ll never make Jacky-Bobby experience for the first time, of the life in the middle of woods where his dog can run from the house he shares with Niko to the one Max and Saya live in, an hours hike away - and he locks them away.

With these, not even death will hurt.

… He won’t doom these people to more memories with him. Not after this.

He saved Eri. Eri could live a long life, with whoever she wanted, doing whatever she wanted. She would carve her path into a future so blindingly bright that she couldn’t possibly look back and remember he existed.

The woman who, for the longest time, was the closest thing he had to a soul. The woman who, every day, supported his crumbling morals and spirit until he was a vaguely human shape, and did it with a smile.

Eri, who hugs him as tight as ever, and who doesn’t need to tell him that she loves him. He already knows. He’s always known. He smiles despite it all, smoothing her hair that he had cut himself not too long ago.

“You know I ain’t gonna promise that. Doin’ this doesn’t even start to pay you back for savin’ me for so many years. You were always worryin’ about bein’ equal, but I was the one beneath you this whole time, y’know? Thanks for never givin’ up on me, Ericchi, even when you should’ve.”

He pulls away.

“I love you, too. I’ll come visit on Obon, ‘kay?”

Does he regret it?

Knowing that this is the natural culmination of what it means for him to care about others - that it will become an ordeal that no one walks away from happy - can he say it was worth it?

“I dunno what a Kyousuke with no one to care about would have done, but I know I’m glad I ain’t him anymore. He was a real pathetic piece of shit, y’know? He didn’t know how nice it was t’have someone to stay up with all night. No clue about the joy of cookin’ for someone, or curling up for movie nights. About gettin’ teased for not bein’ able to say ‘I love you’ to his boyfriend, or buildin’ the worst snow families with his bare hands.”

He allows himself this cruelty and this privilege; the final thing he will do before he ensures he can’t ruin Abbie’s life more than he already has.

“If I had the chance t’do it all again, I would still choose to love you, Abbie.”

Kyousuke kisses the top of her head, and hugs her a final time. They’ll be able to speak again, when he’s dead, but he more than anyone else knows that the time you spend with the dead is forever marred by the knowledge that it will run out very soon.

Malyce, he has always felt, can see through him in some way. Two actors behaving different ways because it's safer. Two people who fear honesty.

But Kyousuke can honestly smile at Malyce, and say--

"I'm satisfied that it's me, and not any of you. Keep up on your trainin', yeah? I'm proud of how far you've come. You really can do whatever you put your mind to, Macchan."

But, for now, Kyousuke puts on a lazy smile like he's done hundreds of times, and looks at the people around the fire. No words will ever suffice as apology for what he’s done. He doesn’t try.

“Y’all don’t go catchin’ a cold ‘cause you sat around in wet clothes for too long, ‘kay? Go change as soon as y’can. It’d be embarrassin’ if you survived winter in July and got sick now.”

And with that -- he waits for the inevitable, and doesn't regret a thing.

#ch5 #trial #kyousuke

[mayaree-darling]

Like Warmth to the Freezing // Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna x Sacerdos!Reader (GN priest/priestess)

Synopsis: They did say that a child would burn a village to feel its warmth. You never quite understood until your own village turned its back on you and you made a deal with a god that bothered to listen to you.

Warning(s): Violence and Gore because Sukuna (you know the drill); Lots of mentions of death (and I mean like most of the story); Religious imagery; Gender neutral reader; Reader-centric story

Fic Length: Long Shot (5k~) (Unedited)

From Ari: This guy has ended up being my weirdest form of comfort character ever like damn. I've started 5 projects since I sort of went into a hiatus so if you're reading this then that means this is the only one I was able to finish lmao.

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

There’s a temple in the heart of your village. At least, you think it’s at the heart of your village. 

From your place in the temple, the village always felt like it was around you, but you could never go out to see it with your own eyes. For the villagers, a sacerdos was only meant to stay in the temple they worshipped, never to see the world outside so their connection to the gods would never be tainted. So the moment you were born, you were kept locked away like an animal, chained down in a chamber meant only for you and you alone. Meant only to listen to the prayers of the villagers and offer them to the gods.

But you didn’t like that. So you planned it for months - you had found an opening at the very back of your chamber, an opening big enough to fit your body you had hidden behind piles of blankets. You used a pin they had once given you to hold your robes together and picked at your chains. For one seemingly dream-like night, you were out free, seeing the village for the first time in your life.

For the last time, too. 

The cold that bites at your feet is climbing slowly but surely up your legs. You try to shuffle in position, an empty effort to shrug the feeling off, but the motion is painful and you almost regret it instantly. The heels of your feet are a stinging kind of numb, and you refuse to look down to check if the skin has stuck to the snow. Your knees could have been solid lead, they certainly felt like it, if they weren’t shaking so much, constantly buckling under your weight. 

But being alive was a mercy right now.

You turn your head up to the village head and all the villagers before you, torn between wanting to glare at them or to plead to give you one last chance. Wasn’t anyone going to defend you? Curses and evil spirits, you didn’t know what those were. Those were words your handlers had told you about when they trained you to be a sacerdos. But you step out one night from your temple and had the misfortune of being caught by one of the villagers. They immediately deemed you to be corrupted by an evil spirit, putting everyone in the village at risk of divine punishment. And the only way they could save themselves was the stain on their village - you.

So this was your end. It wasn’t home, but it was the closest you had. Outside of the village walls, you had no idea what lay out there. And winter had just completely set in. They didn’t bother waiting for spring to come before forcing you out. You knew in your heart they were hoping the cold would kill you where they couldn’t, your blood free from staining their own hands. You turn back to your feet, the tears that gathered at the corner of your eyes stinging and being forced back by the winter air. They didn’t bother giving you a pair of shoes. They had stripped you bare of your sacred robes and left you in thread-bare-like clothing, along with the sin they had placed on your shoulders.

“May the gods show mercy on you, curse, and make your death a swift one,” the village head’s voice grates in your ears. Were you really a demon? How could a human say that to someone with no trace of guilt? Your chest is strangling your heart and the chill is entering through your throat with each breath.

Gods, huh? 

“I pray they do, too.” But the village gates are already closed in front of you, and the winter breeze carries your voice to nothing.

How far had you gotten from the village on your bare feet? How long has it been?

You mindlessly claw at your arms for any semblance of warmth, but you can hardly feel the white marks that trail over your skin as your nails dig deep enough to draw blood. You have half a mind to lick at your wounds, if only to satiate your growling stomach and your parched tongue, but you push it away. Who in their right mind would lick their own blood for sustenance?

“They were right to throw you out,” the words leave your mouth over and over, but they feel just as empty as when the villagers had claimed you were nothing but an evil spirit. The more the words echo in your head, the more you feel the injustice creeping up your spine. 

Curse? Curse? They were the ones who wrongfully accused you of something you weren’t. They were the ones who had locked you up in their so-called temple, meant only to listen to their empty promises and human lies. You were the ones they gave their burdens to when they couldn’t carry it any longer. And now they thought you were a stain to their holy visage? The injustice of it all.

If there really were gods, did that mean they were blessed and you simply weren’t? Or was your suffering in exchange for their lives of luxury? It was unfair. All of it. All of them.

“Gods, if you’re listening to me, if one of you would hear me out,” you kneel before a frozen lake. You don’t bother banging on the surface in hopes of water to quench your thirst. Your weak fists would hardly make a dent on the ice at the strength you currently had, and the landscape was covered with so much snow you wouldn’t be able to find a rock or a tree branch underneath the blanket of white. It felt so nice to just close your eyes and hope for the best, but the anger bubbling in your chest kept you awake. You clasp your hands together and touch your forehead to the ground. “If I don’t die here, I’ll kill them all. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll make them pay. All of them.”

“Who’s ‘them’?” you don’t really care that someone heard you and your vengeful prayers. You were stranded in the cold with no visible hope of making it out alive and with nothing but your burning hatred for the people who turned their backs on you. An eavesdropper was the least of your worries.

But when you look up and turn your head to the side, you’re met with four red eyes, staring down at you with almost mocking curiosity. For a good second, you’re not sure if you're seeing right, ready to chalk the tall figure into a hunger-induced hallucination. His form seems to blur at the edges against the stark white background, almost like he’s not completely there and his difference in physique just accentuated it. He’s easily two times bigger than you, if not three times, with four arms, and a weapon in two hands. His eyes gleam with mirth, almost like he’s expecting something to happen, but when another moment passes with you wordlessly gaping at him, he seems to huff in dismay. 

“I almost got excited to find some stupid human wondering around in the middle of this winter wasteland, but this one is apparently broken,” he stands up to his full height and you almost hurt your neck as your head cranes up to watch him. “How useless.”

The hunger may have been worse this time around, or you had thrown self-preservation out the window completely when you were forced to aimlessly trudge through the wild until you died, but you feel your eyebrows furrow. You force yourself up through shaky legs, catching the large man in surprise as he steps back once, but he doesn’t make another move, opting to watch you closely still.

“Broken? I may be dying, but I’m not dead quite yet,” your voice comes out gravelly, and you clear your throat once, trying to fix it. But you were long since parched and your voice even longer since you’ve last used to talk to someone. 

“Oh? We’ll see how long that lasts.” his lips turn up to a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leans down again so you’re at eye level. When you don’t back away or flinch, he frowns. “A non-broken human would have screamed and begged for mercy at the sight of me. Or maybe attacked me, if they were dumb enough. But this one can’t seem to grasp that idea.” 

Fear? He was expecting you to be afraid? Well, sure he seemed different, but he was mostly human, save for a couple extra limbs and eyeballs and being exceptionally taller than any man that you’ve seen before. But was it something to be afraid of enough to go down on your knees and beg? 

“Sorry,” you frown at your own words. Were you supposed to be sorry? You supposed so, since he looked almost offended that you weren’t scared of him. But you certainly didn’t feel that apologetic. “But the gods have already abandoned me and I’ve been set up for death long before you came. There’s very little for me to be scared of now.”

“Abandoned by the gods?” he barks out a laugh that rings throughout the forest. When he finally stops, he grins down at your perplexed face. You’re more confused than anything when he sets down his weapons on the snow and sits down, shrugging his kimono closer to his body. When you stare down at him, he pulls on your clothes until you sit down beside him. “In that case, this god will listen to you.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you gape at him and his smirk. “You’re… a god?”

“Are you questioning me? Quite bold of you, little brat,” he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down at you. He looks intimidating, but there’s an underlying mirth to his gaze as he watches you squirm. “I may be letting you off too easily. Didn’t anyone teach you to show respect to a higher being? Or should I show you myself?” 

“No, no, sorry, I just…” Well, now that you thought about it with whatever energy you still had left to make a cohesive thought, he did exude the likeness of some otherworldly being. Besides how different he was from any other human you’ve met, there’s an unmistakable energy you could feel palpitating from his very being. It would have been suffocating if it wasn’t so cold, and all you’re left with is an unexplainable warmth. “What’s- What are you god of?”

He seems to think about it for a good second. “Carnage.” 

His answer is clipped, and when he turns to you, eyes burning with impatience, you shut up and stare at the floor. “Enough of your questions, you still haven’t answered mine. I said this god would listen to what other gods wouldn’t. So tell me. I’ll hear you out, just this once. I’ll allow you to satiate my boredom. Pray I find what you have to say worth my time.”

You worry your tongue over your chapped lips, mind working a mile a minute. You don’t mistake his voice for anything but a careful threat, but you ask anyway. “And if it’s not?”

“I kill you for wasting my time.” You don’t have to look up to know he’s grinning, his voice lighter than his words. “It’s only fair, don’t you think?” 

You feel him staring at the back of your head, so you keep your eyes down, not willing to return his gaze and staring pointedly at the weapons by his legs. The end won’t matter either way, you console yourself with steady breaths. You die from the cold, you die from hunger, you die because of him, or you live. “I was a sacerdos in my village, and I was never allowed to leave my temple. But I snuck out once, they deemed me to be some sort of cursed spirit and I was banished. I simply promised myself that if I survived the winter, I would like to see them dead.”

There’s a pause, and in that short amount of time you wonder if you had made a mistake to open your heart to this creature. It’s not like he hadn’t heard you earlier, you were certain he did. You weren’t thinking of being quiet when you had made an oath to see your village’s demise. Maybe he just wanted you to repeat your words and watch you squirm, or he was subtly trying to make you regret what you had said prior and you simply didn’t understand the implications of his question. Either way, were you going to die from divine punishment for wishing harm on a village full of people? Did you trap yourself into an inescapable death sentence because you couldn’t control your anger?

You have half a mind to apologize to him, but before you can get a word out, there’s a rumble and he’s laughing. A hand comes into view and he’s gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. You’re not sure if you’re imagining his eyes glowing, but all you can focus on are his nails digging into your cheeks.

“You? A curse?” he breathes out a laugh, smirking down at you, two of his arms crossed in front of him. “You certainly have the spirit, but your face is a little too pretty for that, don’t you think so, little curse?”

You’re not quite sure how to reply to that, so you merely end up gaping at him. He stares at your befuddled expression a second longer before he’s letting go. You slowly reach up a hand and massage your jaw, watching him as he seems to think something over. Was that it? He wasn’t going to kill you? You clear your throat softly, the cold winter air scratching at your windpipe. He turns his eyes back to you and picks up one of his weapons.

You freeze, willing yourself to run, but you know before you can even move that you wouldn’t be able to make it far, or make yourself move at all. You’re stuck in a sitting position, not sure if it’s fear or your tired body, as he raises his weapon and strikes at the lake’s surface. 

The ice breaks into pieces and he pulls his weapon back to his side. He looks at you expectantly, and then the lake and back to you. You look at the lake. Was he… telling you to drink? You certainly didn’t think you were exceptionally loud earlier, but apparently it was enough for him to offer a drink. You don’t think twice and lean over the lake, cupping a handful of water into your palm and bringing it to your lips. The cold stings more than you had accounted for as the water goes down your throat, but you’re not stopping anytime soon as you go for another drink and then another.  

You’re too lost in your thirst to notice the tingling on the back of your neck before it was too late.

His nails hurt just as much as when he had grabbed your chin earlier, the feeling sending chills down your spine. You can feel the nail of his thumb scratching at your pulse and you stop, water dripping down your chin and hand frozen mid-scoop. You don’t dare move, hardly even breathe. 

He adds a little more pressure to his hold, forcing you down further into the lake’s surface. It doesn’t take much to push you around, you felt very much like a ragdoll at your current state, but you can feel the immeasurable strength he was holding back from using. You feel the pressure lift ever so much when your forehead finally touches the waterline. 

“This,” his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard him. “Is how you respect a higher being. You bow your head low.”

You swallow before managing a single laugh. “I’m guessing what I had to say wasn’t worth enough of your time?”

“It provided enough entertainment, but I’ve grown tired of you now.” his grip tightens, and if your cheeks hadn’t bled earlier, then you were sure that your neck was. “Any last words, little curse?”

Was he going to drown you, watch you struggle to breathe underwater while holding your head down? Or was he going to stab your neck through a jutting piece of ice you could see just a few centimeters off of your throat? You swallow thickly, but tears come only to your eyes because of the cold and nothing more.

“My village isn’t too far from here, hidden behind a tall wooden gate,” your voice is the surest it's ever been since you’ve talked to him. “Do with that information as you will.”

You hear him laugh. “Do you think I'll spare you in exchange for your village?”

“I never said you had to spare me. I’m probably going to die from this cold if you don’t kill me. And I can't tell you what to do,” you strain to move your head as much as you can to look him in the eyes. His face is unreadable. “But if there’s a chance you feel like killing more people, then I'll take the chance to drag them all to hell with me.”

“What if I kill you but I spare all of them?”

“What do you think I'm going to do if I'm already dead?”

“Cheeky little brat, aren't you?” he grins maliciously. “You can always curse me before I kill you.”

“I’m not stupid enough to curse a god.” 

You’re surprised when the pressure alleviates from your neck. It moves instead to the back of your head as he continues to hold your head down lightly. “If you kill me, but spare them, then I suppose they really are just as blessed as they believe themselves to be.”

“And if I spare you and kill them all?” you’re not quite sure if you were imagining him lightly patting your head and brushing your hair back. It’s far from comforting, and it makes you question his very being in every sense of the word.

“I can’t offer much, but I’ll serve you for as long as you’ll need me,” you speak before you can properly think about your words, but you know they’re true. You had served a nameless god all your life, so how different would it be to serve him?

There’s another pause, a beat that lasts too long for comfort, where he just stares at you, trying to get a read of your expression. Finally, he lifts his hand from your head and crosses all four arms. You sit up straight, unconsciously rubbing the back of your neck as he seems to think over your words. 

You flinch when he stands up to his full height and picks up his weapons. Should you try to run? But he did let go of you, so it’s safe to assume he meant you no harm, right? Or he was going to kill you with his spear. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when he picks you up by the scruff of your neck. You wait for the spear to penetrate you, but you’re surprised for the nth time when he pulls you to his chest and merely fits you into his kimono. You curl up instinctively to his chest, not quite sure if you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible, praying he forgets you’re there, or you’re trying to gather whatever warmth he had. 

He starts walking off into the winter landscape, but you have a good guess where you’re heading. Your eyes trace over the markings he has over to his chest and down to his stomach. Was that a mouth? You see a sliver of teeth...

“Sukuna.”

You look up at him, not sure for a second if he was talking to you or to himself. “Pardon?”

“If you’re going to serve me, you have to know my name.” 

You lean on his chest again when he doesn’t say anything else. 

Sukuna. Huh.

Sukuna’s kimono is the thickest article of clothing you’ve ever laid your hands on. You feel the cloth in your hands, committing its softness to memory, and try to cover yourself from the cold best you can.

✧••❀••✧

The apple in your hand smells sweet. When you bring it up to your mouth, you relish the feel of the smooth skin over your lips before taking a bite. The crunch sends a satisfying chill down your spine. It even tastes sweet; huh, who would have thought. You go in for another bite.

A shrill scream pierces through the air and pulls you out of your feast. Screams, more like. 

You listen, unperturbed, as villagers scatter and run around the village premises, screaming for help that you know would never come. 

“Is this the place?” Sukuna grabs you by the scruff of your neck again. Like a cat, you think, just as he puts you down as quickly as he held you. You only had to choke for about a second.

“Yes.” you rub at your neck absentmindedly. You didn’t know how to tell him that you didn’t know how to get in. You stare up at the towering wooden gates and swallow. You’re not sure if even a day had passed since you left. Or has it been three? You had lost count, but the sinking feeling in your gut is there all the same.

You see Sukuna looking at you from the corner of your eye. “Having doubts, little curse? Already thinking of backing out of our little agreement?”

You don’t even think twice before you’re already turning to him. “No. Never.”

Sukuna grins and raises two fingers up to his face. He’s muttering a couple of words under his breath and you watch with bated breath as a black curtain seems to take over the sky. You stand closer to him on instinct.

“What are you doing? Are you starting?”

“It would be best to put a veil down first,” when you look at him, confused, he merely smirks. “It keeps the outside world from interrupting us. And we don’t want that, now do we?” 

When the veil is completely set over the village, you follow Sukuna to the gate. You rub your hands together as the cold begins to set in again, but Sukuna smiles at you as he holds out a hand and claws at the wooden gate. Your heartbeat stops in your chest as flames erupt from the marks engraved in the wood. 

“You better listen if you want to live, little curse. When we get inside, stay somewhere safe. Humans are petty fools - they’ll get rid of you in the hopes I stop. I can promise at the very least to make sure I kill them all, but I can’t promise to protect you.” Sukuna raises his spear and jabs at the gate. You hear muffled screaming from inside. “Anything else you’d like me to know?”

You hold out your hand, ash in your palm as the gate continues to burn. You can hear the toll of bells inside the village as the people prepared for intruders. “Make them suffer.”

Sukuna grinned. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

You had opted to stay at the temple, your old home. You knew no one would have dared enter here since they had thrown you out - it was against their customs to enter a temple without a sacerdos in the vicinity. You ran here the moment Sukuna started rampaging in the village, crawling through the same opening in the back of the temple you had escaped back then. It seemed so long ago while you were out in the snow, but the fear is still very much real. It felt like a prison back then, and it felt like a prison now. Breathe in, breathe out, even with the stale air. You force yourself to remember that this was merely for the time being. You wouldn’t have to be chained to this place any longer that you needed to be. 

Careful hands caressed the surface of painted pillars. Eyes gloss over religious decor hanging from the ceilings. You passed by a table that broke during the struggle of capturing you and bringing you to the village square. The contents have spilled to the floor, a broken bowl of rice meant as an offering among other things. Your eyes lit up when you saw a fruit bowl, a still decent-looking apple still inside. 

It was good food as any with how hungry you felt.

You go in to enjoy your food when you hear something slam against the doors and flinch. You listen closely, but you don’t hear the sound of footsteps anymore. Or the screams. Or people fighting back. Or Sukuna’s spear as it cut through flesh and bone. It was quiet, save for the banging on the door.

The doors slam open and you see a figure hobble into view. With one leg still attached, they drop to the floor with a thud, kicking up dust and blood. They crawl forward with pitiful moans of pain, and when they enter the light of the temple, you see its the village head. You’re still staring at him when you see Sukuna from the corner of your eye.

Sukuna grins at you as he lowers his weapons to his side, an arm coming up to wipe at the blood on  his face, but that hardly does anything when he’s covered in red from head to toe. The village head seems to sense his presence because he starts crawling faster, or faster as he could towards you, wailing for help. 

“Sacerdos, mercy, please,” You watch as he comes up to arms reach and pulls at the ends of your almost paper-thin robes. You force yourself to stare at his bloodied hands rather than his tear stained face. “Please, have mercy, help me…”

You crouch down and hold the hand gripping your robes in both of yours. Sukuna watches quietly. “May the gods have mercy on you and make your death a swift one.”

But you knew Sukuna was far from a merciful god.

You try to force his hands off of you, but when you’re still too weak to fend him off, Sukuna steps in and makes a careful swipe of his spear. Your breathing stops when the village head’s upper body flops to the floor, his sliced off arm still clinging to your clothes. Sukuna lets out a laugh before dragging the village head outside by the scruff of his neck, a bloody trail in their wake. 

Standing up and wiping the blood that stained your face, you watch blankly as the arm falls off. You swallow and bring the apple back to your lips with a shaking hand. You pretend not to see the blood on the apple when you take a bite, crouching down and placing it back in the fruit bowl. You pretend not to hear the screams as you offer one last prayer to the gods you have never seen or met and go out to look for Sukuna.

The apple tasted sweeter than before. 

✧••❀••✧

The robes you have on are far more extravagant than anything you’ve worn before, with jewels and bells hanging at the edges and tinkling as you move around the temple. Even the temple is extravagant, with a high ceiling and people waiting on you hand and foot. It felt more like a palace than a temple, with you as a monarch than a sacerdos. But that was who you were to these people. 

A village that worshipped the ground Sukuna walked on, or so he said. You left the temple once in a while to talk to the people, but you never told them where you were from, and they knew better than to question their god and his sacerdos. They fed you and you in turn listened to their pleas. But you never had to pray for your god to hear you, instead, during the harsh winters, your handmaids are not allowed to enter your temple as you wait for his return and speak on behalf of the village. 

You stand by the window of your room at night and wait for a familiar figure. You bow low as Sukuna enters the temple, only raising your head when he sits down on a throne at the far end of the room. Uncovering a clothed table, you offer food the handmaidens had prepared earlier to him. He picks up a bowl of fruit and passes an apple to you. 

“They prepared more than usual.”

“The village is thankful that you honored their prayers of overtaking the neighboring villages,” you bow low once more.

Sukuna smirks at your words, a laugh bubbling from his chest. “Honored. Right. You kill a couple humans and you’re considered a god. Humans are so pitiful.”

You accept the apple without a reply before taking your place by his side, making sure you’re covered in a thick blanket.

“I wasn’t aware it was cold enough for you to need a blanket even inside the temple. I was under the impression your handmaids had given you a warm enough robe. Or are you just that fragile?” he takes a clump of grapes from the bowl and eats it all in one go. 

“I don't do too well in the cold, is all,” you shuffle deeper into your pile of warmth before taking a bite of the apple. “Or in winter, for that matter.”

“Even though that’s where we met?” he grins at you and you share a small smile with him. “Hasn’t it been long enough?”

“Didn’t think you for the sentimental kind, Sukuna,” you put down the half-eaten apple after a while. Winter and apples didn’t go too well together for you. 

“Only for the things I deem important. Lucky for you, you’re a part of that list. But only for as long as I say so. I hope you’re as thankful as I think you are,” Sukuna hums before plucking a yuzu fruit from the bowl and examining it. “Why else would you be allowed to call me by name?” 

“Lucky me indeed,” you breathe out a short laugh and snuggle further into your blankets, the soft tinkling of bells on your robes slowly lulling you to sleep. 

A comfortable silence passes over you both as you leave him to his feast. But it doesn’t last long. 

You feel an arm wrap around you and you open your eyes as Sukuna lifts you up into his lap. Gazing at him in confusion doesn’t warrant an answer, however, as he simply fixes you in a comfortable position before going back to his fruit bowl. 

Don’t question it, you adjust your position once more, now with Sukuna’s comfort in mind before closing your eyes and leaning on his chest. You feel the stomachmouth move against your side and nothing more. 

“This feels wrong somehow.” you say, a small smile coming to your lips.

“Should I put you back down, then? Or use you as a stool to raise my legs on?” You flinch when you feel the stomachmouth nip at what skin it could reach. You open an eye to see it smirking at you.

But neither one of you makes a move to let go.

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist:💛@anime-allover​ 💛@snowaterfall💛@tojisbigtiddiesworm💚@nakachuchu💚@diesekimo💚@yugiohhetaliadork❤️@sofylatte​ ❤️ @mrdash-dine​

🌙 Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #like warmth to the freezing

[spiltscribbles]

57. “Wait a second.. are you jealous?” + Poorly Timed Confession + modern au 😍 pretty please!!!

~Notes: OMFG angel!!! Thank you SO SO much for the prompt<3 You are a complete babe! I hope you like :S It’s cheese, but like also what else would I do? LMFAO XD

.-

Smash Prompt Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Is Like An I Love You!!

.-

“Hmmm… All right, would you rather, mmm… Smell Borris Johnson’s sweaty gym socks, or snog Professor Slughorn full on the mouth for a straight minute— oh erm, not so straight I reckon on second thought.”

Remus wrinkles his nose at him from across the bed, and clucks his tongue at the awful pun. “You’re unruly.”

“And you’re dodging,”

“Am not arse, I’m just recovering from that very terrifying scenario you’ve spewed out like the sadistic satanist you are.”

“Which scenario are you recovering from though?” Sirius leers, wiggling his eyebrows and jostling Remus’s textbook with his foot.

“I hate that you’re enjoying this so much,” Remus intones in a deadpan.

“Mary John, I’m waiting,” Sirius says with far too much glee.

Sometimes Remus is sure that he hates him. “Fine, the answer is I hate you.”

“Filthy and slanderous lies, Lupin.”

“You’re demented.”

“Five. Four. Three—“

“I won’t choose.”

“See,  all I hear is that you wanna get it on with our chemistry professor, you saucy minx, you.”

Remus sniffs. “Better than touching that prick with even a ten foot pole.”

“Mmmm, have I ever told you how hot and heavy I get hearing you talk politics at me?”

Remus throws him the bird, which makes Sirius laugh. Remus can objectively say that Sirius has the most beautiful variations of laughter in the world, and he’d know considering he’s catalogued each one. This version is definitely top three. His care free, effortless laugh when Remus takes him off guard with a snide remark or lowly muttered retort that’s not appropriate for most company— It’s really more of a experience, truly. His breaths stutter out in a lovely staccato, and his eyes glimmer like the sea, and sometimes it feels like the world’s been suspended and it’s only the two of them in that slice of eternity.

Erm, Ah, but yeah…. That only happens occasionally, and it’s only because Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend— has been since the final year of primary school after Remus had moved to the London outskirts from his small, coastal town in Wales, and on first sight, Sirius swung a snowball straight to Remus’s face, which he of course responded to by throwing two more his way, and well… The pair of them were soaking and breathless by the end of it, but their fate was sealed, they were the greatest of friends, and nothing would ever alter that unquestionable staple.

So what if sometimes Remus’s chest thuds painfully when Sirius dimples his way, or Remus only ever wants to talk to him over anyone else— even Lily or his Mam— if he’s had a bad day, or good one, or if something remarkable had happened, or , or… Or whenever really. And there’s absolutely no significance that Remus can’t help the totally delighted grin that splits his face in half whenever he gets a text or snap from Sirius.

None of that is at all relevant.

Sirius is Remus’s greatest friend, and he’d never risk ruining that by allowing some pesky little crush swallow him whole and clammer out his mouth— vulnerable and throbbing in the open space between them. It doesn’t matter if Marlene always makes kissy faces their way, or how James only ever refers to them as a couple, and so what if Peter’s got a pole running that Remus knows basically the whole school is betting on. 

They’re all wrong, Sirius would never, ever feel the same sort of way that Remus does him, that’s downright preposterous and ridiculous and just simply impossible. And Remus’s perfectly content with that very real truth… He is.

Remus is fine with it God help him. So everyone else just needs to but the fuck out of their business.

Besides, this, this right now— Him and Sirius splayed out on opposite ends of Remus’s bed, with Sirius’s feet nudging at Remus’s elbow whenever he’s got a question about there homework, with the window cracked open just so, letting in some of the chilly winter air because Sirius absolutely can not focus if he’s not cold— the fucking furnace— Where Remus can still hear the going ons of his family playing out on the floor below them… This is the most perfect place in Remus’s eyes, and he won’t ever change that, especially not to live out some boyhood fantasy that would never come into fruition in his wildest of dreams.

Remus’s content… He is… He has to be or else he’d lose one of the most vital people in his world.

.-

“You’ve got footie practice after school, right?”

“Mmhmm, you coming to watch?”

“Only if you admit i’m your good luck charm,” Remus sardonically bats his lashes at Sirius as if he was in a mascara advert, and the taller boy  blows a raspberry right back at him.

“Nice, real nice. You’re extraordinarily mature, you know that, Black?”

“And sexy, don’t forget that, oh so important descriptor Lupin.”

Remus leans against the locker besides Sirius’s, watches as he trades his current binders for the lot he’ll need for the afternoon, and tries really hard not to stare too longingly at how Sirius’s arm muscles ripple beneath their school’s  maroon, uniform jackets  in the most delicious of ways. (He hates the fact he’s been dissolved into a starry eyed mess lusting over the star striker, but thus is his fate.)

“I’d never commit such a faux pas, and I’m insulted that you’d ever think as much.”

Sirius sneers at him with a slight shake to his head. “So you coming or not?”

“I’m still contemplating my options,” he preens, but before Sirius could retort, Marlene, megawatt smile and dangerously sharp  smirk— swaggers over towards them.

“Good morning my two beautiful chums!”

“What do you want?” Sirius asks before even glancing her way, to which Marlene blinks up at him, faux owlish. “S, I just wanted to greet a couple of my closest companions this lovely December morning,” she defends herself.

“Marls, you’re never this agreeable before noon,” Remus points out hesitantly.

“ And you rarely are even afterwards,” Sirius tacks on.

“Rude,” she pouts.

“Accurate,” Remus pipes in with an apologetic grimace.

Marlene stares them both down for a solid minute before finally relaxing her shoulders, and thrusting out the legal pad in her grasp. “The student council and spirit society are selling corsages for the snowflake formal, and Dorcas has deployed me to get some orders.”

“Whipped,” Sirius teases through a counter-fit cough.

Marlene doesn’t hesitate before smashing the legal pad on his head. “And you traipsing around getting people to buy the tickets for the theatre department last semester even though Re was only playing Mercutio wasn’t you being wrapped around his littlest finger?”

Remus flushes, feeling an unnerving amount of bees stinging around his stomach, and is thankful when the conversation pauses after Sirius casts her a very heated V.  “Sod off.”

“So are you guys gonna buy or not?” Marlene huffs, weight slung to her left hip, and arms crossed against her chest.

“I’m a gay bloke, Marls, did you forget that?” Remus pins her with a one eyed squint, and she just scrunches her face up at him, exasperated.

“I’m sure there’s matching boutonnieres.”

“Fine, I just don’t have any school spirit  then.”

This time she glares. “Lily and James are Head Boy and Head Girl, isn’t there like an oath between you lot,  one for all and all for one, or some rot?”

“That’s the three musketeers,” he says.

“isn’t that basically who you guys are?” She reasons.

Before their wage of words could continue, Sirius just grabs the order form out of Marlene’s hands and fills out a sheet with the flurry of his pen. “Happy?”

“Positively delighted,” she leers, pecking them both on the cheek before strutting off, reminding them of their group study session at Alice’s tonight in her wake.

Sirius shakes his head, reluctantly amused with a grin gathering on the corners of his mouth, but for Remus everything feels like it’s frozen. “You didn’t have to do that you know? ’S not like James is much of a Head Boy anyhow, and Lily wouldn’t have really cared.”

Sirius shrugs, commences their walk to the opposite wing of the school for their shared history class. “Emmy likes that sort of romantical shite.”

Remus sees red, feels his heart lodging in his damn esophagus. “Oh, so— Erm,  you’re taking her then,” Remus wonders if his tone sounds as detached as he feels.

“Yeah,” Sirius eyes him, questioning. “She wants that title of snow queen real bad, made me promise I’d campaign with her and the whole shtick.”

“Oh,” it’s like Remus could feel it when he closes off completely, can feel his hopes squashed down and his heart contract and his every organ collapsing in on themselves, leaving him feeling hollowed out completely.

Sirius slows down marginally, eyeing him with a slight frown. “Is that all right? I know you two don’t exactly get along and we were planning to go as a group, bu—“

“It’s fine,” Remus hates how screechy his voice gets, how he feels like he’s about to scream. “You two are a shoe in, no doubt.”

Sirius tries to mirror Remus’s faux excitement with a tepid grin of his own, but Remus doesn’t let him, instead commandeering their typical table on the back row and tries focussing on the thousandth war with France while his world tilts off kilter.

.-

Emmy is beautiful, and popular and her smile alone dazzles the whole room. She’s everything that Sirius should look for in a partner, someone to match his whip lash wit, and his taste for all things exuberant that skirt on flashy, and someone who’s got just as many friends and admirers as him.

They’re perfect and Remus should just get over his petty ass hatred of her, even if he still thinks she can be down right cruel and selective and selfish. Qualities Sirius surely isn’t… But maybe it’s all in his head how she sneers at people who she finds plane, or how she literally guffaws over the misfortune of others. Maybe his perception of how she wields people in like moths to a flame just to get what she wants is all a misunderstanding, or in his head or something.

Maybe all that’s possible, even if Remus seriously doubts it.

But at the end of the day, Sirius loves her— has been basically infatuated by Emmeline Vance since she first transferred at the start of their Freshman year. Sirius loves her, and who ever Sirius loves is merely an extension of him… Right?

Remus just needs to get over it and somehow rid himself of this crush he’s been fostering for so long it’s basically a part of him at this point. Though, he thinks it’d be a lot easier if he didn’t see their faces plastered on posters everywhere the week and a half leading up to the dance— looking like actual royals that would put Will and cate to shame.

.-

“Yo cheekbones!”

Remus starts, swivels around from where he was scratching his pen to paper, finding Sirius— as glimmering and beautiful as always— swaggering up to him, insanely electric smile painted over his face.

“Would you rather eat a jumbo jar of jalapeños without a break, or eat the toenails from someone with athlete’s foot next to your dinner every night of the rest of your life?”

“I thought you were having lunch with Emmy to keep up your royalty status before this weekend?” Remus asks, tacitly side stepping from the horrific images swimming to the forefront of his mind because of his cruel question.

“Now that doesn’t sound like an answer to my ultimatum,” Sirius says in a singsong sort of voice.

“You answer me first,” Remus says airily.

“But I asked first,” Sirius argues haughtily.

“Well both your options would kill me, so I wouldn’t do either,” Remus retorts.

“That’s not how the game works!”

“You’re the one who always says that rules were made to be broken,” Remus says, lofty as all get out,, and dissolves into laughter at the completely cross look Sirius’s giving him.

“You were born to be contrary, weren’t you?”

“So lunch?”

“Got bored,” he shrugs, hopping onto the corner of the desk Remus’s working on. “What you up to instead of eating?”

“My position paper for Model UN.” Sirius smiles down at him, and Remus can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks in return. “Not as glamorous as running as Snow King, I know.”

“It’s precious,” Sirius contends, his soft timbre sounding like syrup and his long fingers fluttering against Remus’s skin, pushing back a lock of his ever disheveled, tawny curls in a far to gentle way, and Remus gulps before averting his gaze to break the sudden tautness that’s built between them. 

They’ve had so many of these almost moments, ones that Remus’s always treasured but he knows doesn’t mean much of anything at all to Sirius— Sirius who is effortlessly hilarious, and brims with genius and  who is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts looking at him for too long. Sirius who has a new suitor at his beck and call on a near weekly basis. But whenever they transpire now, it just hurts all the more because Remus knows in his heart of hearts that they will never lead anywhere, and Sirius is in love with Emmy and Remus can’t let himself float around in this daydream for any longer.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, shuffles in his seat only slightly. “I’m Algeria so my Mam’s pretty excited about it. She’s been telling me all the stuff Wikipedia’s got wrong and everything.”

Sirius laughs, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Your mother is kinda everything, you know that?”

Remus twists his mouth up, reluctant. “Don’t tell her as much, or else she’ll go on and on how she won Miss Teen Great Britain when she was only sixteen.”

“Hmm, I was wondering where you got that pretty face.”

“You, Sirius Black, can go lick an unwashed arse.”

“You’ll never catch a suitor with that cheek of yours though. I’d work on that, Lupin.”

“I don’t think I could ever win Miss Congeniality, alas.”  Remus doesn’t quite catch Sirius’s reply, to busy responding too the text his phone just chirped with instead.

“Mary John, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sirius’s brows hike up, flabbergasted smile stretched across his face. “So totally rude! And I came all the way here— to the place where dreamers die— just to spend time with you.”

“Sorry,” Remus gives him an abashed little half grin before setting the phone back down. “’s just Fabian.”

Sirius’s expression drops, goes inquisitive instead of his typical ebullience. “Fabian? Why’s Fabian Prewett texting you, and why is he,” Sirius crooks his head so he’s able to read the new message that popped up on Remus’s phone’s screen. “Asking about color coordination?”

Remus blushes for an entirely new reason now, one he likes much less. “Ah, he’s the sort to like it when our suits like match, but not in an abrasive fashion, you know?”

Sirius’s face goes scarily blank.

“Your suits? Suits for what?”

“The dance…” Remus says slowly, he’s confused what Sirius’s confused about.

“The dance… Right… I thought you were still going with everyone else?”

“Pff, no way,” Remus scoffs. “Lily’s  only pretending to be single, you know how red in the face she gets whenever around James. They’ll end up dancing the whole night away. And with Dorcas running the whole event and Benjy thinking any social function is a plague on society, that’d leave me stuck with Peter and Mary, . And honestly I’ve seen enough of her tongue shoved down his throat for a lifetime.” Remus is only slightly  surprised that doesn’t even elicit a chuckle from Sirius, who’s now looking a bit stormy— and he thinks he’ll never be accustomed to his mercurial moods that can change as quickly as the snap of the finger.

“Right… So you’re going with Fabian Prewett… as your date?”

“Yes… Why is that so hard to believe?”

“it’s, it’s not,” Sirius scrambles, suddenly standing up.

“Then why are you being so weird about this,” Remus argues, getting up to meet him at his level.

“Am not!”

“You’re going with Emmy,” Remus reminds him, this edge of desperate.

“I know I am, okay. But you— you—“ Sirius tappers off, eyes glassy and lips parted with words he can’t get out, and Jesus fucking Christ is it weird how for the first time ever their roles have reversed. Sirius can’t put any sentences together, and everything Remus’s been beating down—  everything thrashing inside of him— are now burning his throat and warring over who can spill out first.

“What? I’m suppose to stay behind like the pathetic, nobody friend. The guy who’s just there to moon after you while you have an actual life. The Judie garland to your Mickie Roomie!”

“What are you even talking about right now!” Sirius shouts, sounding as torn apart as Remus feels.

“As if you don’t know!” He snarls, collecting his books into his backpack— Suddenly this room feels to stifling. He can’t breathe and it’s too hot and his chest is pounding.

He’s imploding and Remus has no idea how to rectify it.

“Just stop! Remus Stop!”

“leave me the fuck alone Sirius!”

“Why are you being such a prick about this!”

And that, that makes Remus angry, angrier than he’s ever been.

Before he could even think about it for a moment longer, Remus is rounding on him, dashing so close to Sirius that he can taste his breath with how close their faces are skirting against each other.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for forever, and I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I know that you’re in love with Emmy and, and I just know okay.”

“Wha—“ Sirius sputters, looking like a gaping fish. “Wait a second, are you jealous? Of sodding Emmy Vance?”

“Don’t!” Remus practically growls out. "Don’t disrespect me, okay? Don’t pretend that you never knew, or that I was such a good actor. I’ve been in love with you for years and you always knew and Fine, I get it. You never felt the same way, that’s fine. But just don’t pretend as if you never had the choice, don’t make me out as the bad guy for actually, finally saying yes to a bloke who’s actually into me. I need to fucking give up on the premise of us, I need to get over you. So I’m going out with fucking Fabian Prewett and you’re going out with Emmy Vance and that’s that!”

His breaths are labored, jagged and painful, as they race out of him, but Remus can’t move. He’s staring straight into Sirius’s beautiful, gray eyes, and he sees everything he’s always seen there, and hates that this is probably the last time he’ll get to be this close to him.

Not after this.

“I didn’t,” is the first thing Sirius croaks out, broken and helpless. “i didn’t know, Remus you have to believe me— I didn’t—”

“How! How could you not know!” He shouts back, but Remus doesn’t get his answer in so many words, instead he feels it.

He feels it when Sirius clamps his hands on either end of his waste-line, feels it when Sirius smashes their lips together in a cacophony of lips, and teeth and spit. He feels it when Sirius moans in side of him, when his hand moves down, spreads across the width of the small of his back, pushing their torsos even closer. Remus feels it when everything goes into focus, when he takes Sirius into his arms, greedy and excited and disbelieving.

And Remus thinks to all the other times he’s kissed another boy— To this prior weekend swapping snogs with a beaming Fabian in the back of a theatre. He thinks of how there was never anything worth anything when he kissed any of them Because it was all Sirius, always Sirius. And he could try to love Fabian, or some other cute boy, and he tried, and he tried, and he tried, and he gave all he had…but it was never enough, could it ever be enough?

Remus knows it in his bones that it’s enough when it’s with Sirius.

When they finally pull apart it’s difficult to breathe and Remus feels lightheaded and it’s wonderful in the most marvelous of ways.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sirius says in a whisper. 

“Maybe next time give a guy some warning?” Remus can’t help the shit eating smirk that swipes across his mouth and is elated at the adorably cross scowl Sirius answers him with.

“Fine jackass, how’s this for a warning, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“That’ll be sufficient, I suppose,” Remus goads, laughing against Sirius’s lips when he does just that.

~*~

Sirius ends up winning snow king, but rejects the dance with Emmy, opts to ask Remus to join him instead, as if they were in the middle of some John Hughes movie from the fucking 80s.

It’s utterly ridiculous and overdone and simply way too much— but everyone applauded and cheered and when Sirius kissed him in the middle of it, Remus felt as if his whole body sung with joy.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #SPILT INK #PROMPTS #I love you endlessly #!!!!

[stiltonbasket]

not sure what verse this comes under, but in a world where everybody lives and is happy and there are lots of babies, what's auntie yanli like with her nephews and nieces? specifically the girls because before them she was like, the only girl. i just want yanli to get the chance to be an auntie!!!! she deserves a big family!!!!

this would actually come under the verse of xiao-yu’s time-traveling fic, so Chunyang no longer exists in this verse (for obvious reasons *cough*)

One of Jiang Yanli’s favorite times of the year is the height of summer, when Lanling and Yunmeng are both too hot for comfort. Before she married into the Jin sect, she usually spent her summers eating watermelon with her little brothers and sheltering in the cool pavilion closest to her father’s; but now, with A-Xian living in Gusu Lan, Yanli spends the hottest three weeks of the year visiting the Cloud Recesses.

“This is the best month out of the year, Lan Zhan,” A-Xian always laughs, every time he and Yanli and Lan Wangji are all in the same room. “Don’t you think so, too?”

And Lan Wangji, hopelessly besotted as he is, always agrees. He treasures each and every one of A-Xian’s smiles, even though Xianxian gives them away so freely, and the sight of her little brother being so loved never fails to lift Yanli’s spirits.

This year, however, her visit is even more looked-forward to than usual; first because A-Cheng will be in Gusu, too, and secondly because A-Xian wrote to Koi Tower two weeks ago announcing that he had a new niece for her.

“Her name is Shuilan, and she is so sweet that Xiao-Yu keeps trying to eat her baby fingers,” the letter said, dotted with blots of ink where her brother’s tears ran onto the paper. “I can’t wait for you to meet her, Shijie.”

But now Yanli is actually here, seated in one of the side rooms built onto the jingshi (one of perhaps more to come, since A-Xian and Wangji adopted one baby and had two more in the span of the last five years) and cradling little A-Lan in her arms, stroking each perfect finger and toe in a fit of silent rapture. A-Xian is looking at her, clearly eager to find out what she thinks of this new little person he and Wangji brought into the world together, and he makes a small sound of dismay when Jiang Yanli begins to cry.

It shouldn’t be possible to love someone so much at first sight, she thinks. A-Lan is yawning in her lap, opening her wee red mouth to reveal a tiny, tiny tongue barely any bigger than a kitten’s, and her chubby little limbs are moving restlessly even as she slips into sleep--she looks like Wangji, certainly, since her skin is as white as fresh snow, and her eyes are going to be just like Wangji’s phoenix-flame eyes someday--but the way she wriggles in her nest of blankets and grips Jiang Yanli’s finger is all A-Xian, and Yanli falls in love like she did for the first time twenty-six years ago, when a newborn A-Cheng was laid in her arms, and then again four years later when she carried A-Xian home in the dark and fed him his first bowl of soup.

Yanli has been blessed with only a single child; her A-Ling is perfection itself, and she and Zixuan are wholly content with him. She has never yearned to be mother to a daughter--all she wanted was the chance to be a mother at all, and A-Ling was more than she could ever have dreamed of. But she has yearned to be an aunt, too, to see her brothers happily married with growing families of their own; and the sight of this little girl squirming in her arms with a pair of miniature clarity bells tied around her ankles brings her a kind of joy that reminds her of her childhood at Lotus Pier, and dipping her legs in the lake while A-Cheng and A-Xian swam about with their shidis and ducked each other under the water.

Holding A-Lan feels like holding the most precious days of her past, and Yanli’s heart nearly breaks in two when she finally hands the infant back to her brother-in-law.

But then A-Lan kicks her little feet up into the air, and the twin silver bells on her ankles sing, and the tears that fall from her guma’s eyes are tears of the purest happiness.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #jiang yanli #wei shuilan #my fic

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

On Days Like This (Part 1)

Carwood Lipton x reader

Carwood Lipton never once doubted that you were good at what you did.

If anyone were to ask, he’d go as far as to say that you were brilliant- your skills as a mechanic having saved the Company’s collective ass several times when Lip had been positive the lot of them were doomed. 

Just yesterday he’d seen you dodge enemy fire while running to siphon gasoline from a wrecked civilian car to the Jeep had enough gas to get the injured men to the aid station, his heart in his throat the entire time and every bone in his body wanting to do something to help you. 

He’d have provided cover fire, run into the open as a distraction to the gunmen who seemed determined to end your life, anything to make sure you didn’t get hurt.

No, he knew how lucky he was, they all were to have someone of your skillset- you’d gotten your German down well enough that you could pass for an expat of some kind. 

And, because of your gender you had the unique position of being able to wander into occupied towns in advance of the company and confirm that all of Nix’s intel was correct. 

Without you, Carwood had no idea where they would be (or, more importantly, how many more of them would’ve been dead by now).

But Carwood still didn’t like that you were there.

He loved you more than he’d initially allowed himself to think possible, your very presence  a healing salve to the aching hopelessness that tried to eat away at the warmth in his chest. He couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, he didn’t even want to entertain the notion. 

A secret, guilt-filled part of him wished you’d get a little sick or lightly injured, just so you would be taken out of rotation and spirited off to relative safety- even if it was just for a night. 

He’d insinuated, not too gracefully, that you take some time to rest after you  had nearly got yourself killed for gasoline, and you’d looked so disappointed in him that he’d begun to apologize before he’d even finished speaking. 

You’d just nodded sadly, and Lip knew he’d really stepped in it this time.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Sir. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That had been a week ago. You’d disappeared while out looking for Dike the next day.

Six days, and no one could find any trace of what could’ve happened to you.

Six days. Six goddamned days and Carwood didn’t even know if you were dead or not.

He didn’t want to think about that possibility too much.

The forests of Foy were cruel and unforgiving, with trees seeming to explode like random pressurized volcanoes and shrieks of explosives rattle his bones and swallow his screams.

He’d thought of his home and his ma and how’d he’d ever be able to look at fireworks without wanting to cry.

He thought of you.

He thought of you, lost in the woods in the middle of enemy fire and all alone. He thought of how your hand had felt in his when you’d first introduced yourself at Toccoa. He could see you laughing and smiling and screaming in sorrow when you’d thought he wouldn’t survive Carentan.

“Don’t you dare make me spend the rest of this war alone with these boys, Carwood. I swear to God I will Frankenstein you back to life just to kill you myself if you start talking like this is goodbye…!”

“—No fucking way!”

Carwood startled out of his worried thoughts, eyes instantly scanning for signs of a threat at Liebgott’s exclamation. “What? Tanks?”

Joe kept looking through his binoculars at something across the snowy field, along the edge of the clearing- the part of the forest closest to the town of Foy. The young man was making sounds of disbelief as he leaned forward as if to get a better look.

“Got your fucking binoculars, Lip?” he asked, and Carwood quickly got to work pulling them from his pocket and bringing it up to his eyes.

“‘Where you looking—?”

“Two ticks past one o’clock,” Joe said with an undercurrent of adrenaline, nervous energy rolling off of him in waves and crashing over Carwood. “By the stone fence with the moss on it…”

Lipton got his lenses to focus and pointed his binoculars to the place Libegott had directed, at first seeing nothing but muted earth tones and white snow.

But then an SS officer steps into his line of sight, turning and pointing to the ground beside him like he’s directing something to the spot.

Any fear Carwood had felt seeing you shot at before now seemed insignificant compared to the absolute terror he felt when you stumble forward and reluctantly stand before the German officer, your hands bound and your stride hitched.

“No fucking way.” 

This was worse, this was MUCH worse than the gasoline scare.

Lipton quickly drops the binoculars to rub at his eyes, wondering if this was just some strange waking dream and he was simply seeing things. 

But when he brought the binoculars back to his eyes he knew that even his imagination couldn’t concoct something as horrifying as seeing you captured.

“Liebgott, get Winters and Nixon.” Lipton was giving the order before he really thought about it, fear making his methodical, protocol following side take over while the part of him that loved you as a man loves a woman went into full-on panic.

“Should I get the Doc—?”

“I don't know, just get them here now—!”

If Liebgott took issue with the impatient tone Carwood had taken on, he made no mention of it. 

As much as Carwood cared for you, he wasn’t so blind as to not be aware that several other soldiers held you in high standing as well. To Liebgott, he knew you were  like one of his sisters- had been since the two of you had realized you were both from the Bay Area. 

If anyone could relate to the sickening fear he felt, it would be Liebgott.

It seemed almost cruel to have them be the ones to finally find you

Lip tensed as he watched you sneer at the Officer who was addressing you, and he was unable to help the pained sound that escaped his throat when he saw the man backhand you across the face and grab you by the hair when you didn’t immediately fall to your knees.

He could taste blood in his mouth as you licked your split lip, and in that moment Carwood made a promise to whatever higher power would listen.

Carwood Lipton promised that he would never raise an arm against another man for the rest of his life. 

He swore he’d finally settle down like his mother wanted and give her grandchildren to dote on. He promised he’d be the best man he could be, a better man than his father had been and a better father than he had been to his brothers. 

If he had to go to church every morning for the rest of his life he would do so gladly.

But only if I can do all of it with her. I don’t want it to be with anyone else. Please let me keep her.

Tightening his grip on the binoculars, Lip stares out into the cold.

You’d been alone for six days. Lip would try his damndest to make sure there wouldn’t be a seventh.

(YIKES A DOODLE, here yall go. Probably going to post part 2 even if no one likes this bc i’m an adult whoops)

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #carwood lipton x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography

[lilmissbacon]

Adding Characters to the Big Four (RotBTD)

I've already made a post about just "How the Big Four Work so well (discussion)" which talks about their personalities are and what their stories have in common, as well as what criteria they follow.

So if you want to understand exactly what I'm talking about I'd recommend you read this first:

Now I'm gonna go into what characters would fit and why. So if you want to add other movies to this world, I would recommend Moana, Epic, The Croods or maybe even Hotel Transylvania and here's why:

Moana – Begins with narration but ends with a song. Although it's a song that sums up what Moana had learned and what her people have now become. So it is, its own form of narration. She also goes through the journey of finding herself by becoming a wayfinder like her ancestors.

Moana definitely adds to the groups resources with being friends with the ocean, knowing about the realm of monsters and being friends with Maui & Te Fiti. She would definitely get along great with the big four friend dynamic in many ways.

Hiccup: through their ability to lead and quick thinking. They also both understand what it's like to grow up on an island with their fathers being the leader who expects certain things from them.

Rapunzel: because they understand going against a parent's wishes and working to make their dreams/wishes come true. They also have the same type of bubbly personality and would converse well.

Jack: they both understand what if feels like to be chosen for something they feel they're not ready for and what it feels like to be an outsider from the people around them.

Merida: their tough and somewhat playful nature as well as their diplomacy skills match each other so well. They'd definitely be the closest of the group because of their strong personalities.

Out of a friend group consisting of: the girly-girl, a troublemaker a nerd and a tomboy, she fits into the literary dynamic through being the 'athlete.' In battle, consisting of: a leader/strategist, a healer, a sniper(bow and arrow) and a speed fighter, Moana fits in as the 'close combatant' in battle.

The magic also can still follow the guidelines of rotg. They speak about Gods but what if there really aren't any? The only 'God' we see is Te Fiti, who is the bringer of life. Or in other words; Mother Nature. The God that had raised Maui could've actually been the man in the moon and that would be how Maui was given magic and doesn't age. He goes around, calling himself a demigod but in reality, he's a spirit. And of course he's able to be seen since everyone on Motunui believes in the demi/gods.

Seasonally, Moana would most obviously be put in summer. But there are a lot of people who feel that adding more characters to the big four kind of breaks the seasonal aspect and that's fine.

But here me out.

The seasons effect the land on earth but if Moana is a spirit of the ocean, then she's effecting the rest of the earth's surface. The ocean doesn't necessarily have seasons so you don't need to apply one to her in order for her to add to the group. BOOM! Loophole!

I believe she's the BEST additional choice out of them all. Plus she'd definitely be chosen to become a guardian because *cough cough* SHE SAVED THE WORLD FROM DECAY.

Eep – A lot of applications for Moana fit for Eep too. She has narration at the beginning and end of her film. She'd fit in literarily as the 'athlete' and battle-wise as 'close constant/brawler.'

She also kind of has an arc of finding herself by leaving her cave days behind and following the light with her family. And being that she's from the caveman days –a time even before Moana– she could definitely add to the group with her survival skills.

Eep's dynamic with the others would be:

Hiccup: he understands overly strong women and would be able to keep up with her. She also has an innocent side to her and would be enthralled with his inventions. She'd just sit there and watch him work 😆

Rapunzel: being that Eep is getting a new friend in Dawn (who reminds me of Rapunzel) in "The Croods 2," I would imagine Rapunzel would also be intrigued with Eep's scars/adventures and Eep would be more than happy to boast.

Merida: their roughness and competitive nature would make them the best frienemies. They'd be closer than ever but do nothing but wrestle and compete.

Jack: like how Eep would boast with Rapunzel, Jack would boast with Eep. She would be in love with Jack's magic and he'd be more than happy to show off.

There really isn't a magical aspect to compare with rotg so the world can still fit into the dynamic here.

Eep is witty, optimistic, energetic, speaks without thinking and fails to plan ahead a lot. Therefore, as a seasonal spirit, Eep would bring spring.

MK – Begins with narration but doesn't really have any at the end. She can add to the groups resources by knowing about the leafmen and the whole mini society, of course.

The magic also stays in line with rotg and it probably helps that the creator of Epic was also the author of the Guardians of Childhood books that inspired rotg. The moon is what blooms the pod, so it's possibly the man in the moon passing his magic into the pod so it gives the next queen her powers.

In the literary dynamic, MK would be the 'city girl' friend-wise and the 'reanforcement' fight-wise. Getting along with the rest would be:

Hiccup: she would be a sense of familiarity with MK's dad being a scientist and Nod's sarcastic nature. Hiccup would also be very intrigued to learn more about the Moonhaven kingdom.

Merida: their stubbornness and being able to understand having a parent that doesn't listen.

Rapunzel: their (new) love for nature and exploring. As well as being able to understand the pain of losing a loved one.

Jack: understanding the feeling of being invisible to the people around you. MK definitely felt this way after her mom died and when her dad wasn't listening. She mentioned how she felt alone to Ronan when he brought up the "many leaves, one tree," line.

I believe she could've been chosen to become a guardian because she did save an entire society and forest. Seasonally, I believe MK would be made into a fall spirit. There are certain places that relate to or even represent the seasons. When you think of Fall, you think of trees. Spring relates to a field/garden, summer relates to a beach and winter relates to just about everything being in snow, but usually frozen bodies of water. She's also very dependable, willing to work, disagreeable and easily irritated. All traits that relate to Autumn.

Mavis – Probably the least workable candidate. There really isn't any narration in this movie and she also doesn't really "find herself" either so her movie criteria don't really work here.

But her character criteria still does. The magic still fits because we know that spirits are created by the man in the moon. If we go by the GoC books, the mim is alien magic. But who's to say that earth didn't have its own magic in the form of monsters (which can also fit for the realm of monsters from Moana.) So the magical dynamic still works.

She could also add to the group by knowing about monsters as well as being a vampire herself. She could turn into a bat or travel as smoke to sneak around places to find information if need be.

She'd fit in literarily as the 'gothic (not so much as personality but by style)' friend-wise and the 'sneak attacker' fight-wise. Getting along with the rest would be:

Jack: there are many takes on the Jack Frost myth and in a few of those takes, he's a monster. The reason for this could be because Jack has come across Hotel Transylvania and the monsters could see him (not being human and all) and he befriended Mavis, knowing she was lonely. They have the same type of fun personality and are both great with balancing tricks. I can imagine Jack getting Mavis into trouble through pranking the hotel guests.

Rapunzel: they'd both be able to understand being locked up in some way by a parent and wanting to travel the world. They both also have naiveties about the real world and would be learning things for the first time together.

Merida: through their daily activities and love for food. I could imagine them trying each other's scream-cheese and haggis😂 I'd also imagine Merida being the one to help Mavis socially catch up.

Hiccup: much like Eep, she'd be incredibly intrigued by Hiccups inventions. I think she'd even try anything to assist him while he's testing certain things. I can imagine him also being the one to help Mavis socially catch up as well.

She's very curious, friendly, energetic and tender-hearted as well as undecided and talkative. So seasonally, she too, would go to spring. She unfortunately can't go into sunlight but there are plants that actually do better in darkness. That would be where she specializes.

I hope you all like this. I hope you find this whole thing very interesting and informational. If you have any other characters you think could add to the big four, I'd love to hear it.

#the big 4 #the big four #rise of the guardians #rise of the brave tangled dragons #rotbtd #how to train your dragon #httyd #tangled #brave #hotel transylvania #the croods #epic #moana

[avatraang]

20 Stories, 20 First Lines

Thanks for the tag @foxy-knowledgeseeker and @thinkingisadangerouspastime <3

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

20 fics and first lines is absolutely massive, so i’m gonna post them under the cut for the convenience of everyone. if you dare to read, thank you!

1. define divinity.

Suki’s time in Caldera City has been pretty eventful so far. Training new agents, fending off assassination attempts. Trying new foods, adjusting to the new climate, the culture. She’s been here almost a year and still feels like there’s so much she hasn’t learned, so much to become accustomed to. Zuko says she’s doing great, but he’s also… Zuko, so Suki doesn’t really know what to think of that.

2. infinite and always.

Aang comes and goes, and that is the hardest part.

3. lazy sunday.

Sokka is half-asleep when she kisses him. It’s a Sunday morning, the type of Sunday morning that makes you realize why the day is called “lazy.” They’re laying on her bed, in and out of easy slumber. It’s not an abnormal occurrence – they have sleepovers all the time, in the same bed, on the same couch. They cuddle, hold each other, keep each other company, keep the loneliness at bay. It’s familiar, like home. They are each other’s closest confidants, after all. It helps that they are in love with each other and are avoiding it, but still. Of course this isn’t strange.

4. when the sun goes down.

It’s a rainy day when Aang feels her presence. To say they are tied together is an understatement – Aang is connected to all worlds, but to her more than most. The way his scar almost stands on end, a phantom of electricity ghosting across it. He often feels such thunder in his veins when she’s nearby, the universe’s way of reminding him that he is tied to her in more ways than the norm.

5. we’ll keep on growing like ivy.

The first time Mai meets him, she thinks perhaps she’s dreaming. It’s late, around one in the morning, and she’s walking back from the library on campus with one hand on her umbrella and the other on the knife tucked into her sleeve. Ba Sing Se University isn’t particular dangerous, but Mai is a foreigner in these parts, and it’s better safe than sorry. She sees him on the roof of the cafeteria, feet dangling, one hand raised above him as he bends the rain away. She watches the way it bounces off his hand, the other one busy holding an ice cream cone. It's a strange sight -almost like something out of a fever dream. There’s a yellow beanie on his head, which, if he was trying to conceal himself, is a pretty awful attempt at it.

6. she loves him still.

This is how it goes: 

The world is thrown into turmoil the morning he dies. The elements tremble. People as far away as Harbor Town claim to have felt the earth quake, and those at sea as distant as the coast of Akahime swear to the Spirits that a tsunami threatened to devastate their lands. Any flames within a twenty-mile radius reportedly shot up, burning holes into ceilings and ruining breakfasts. Lamps are said to have burst and shattered. Air acolytes claim a breeze swept through the compounds, so strong it cut down a tree that had stood on the island for over a hundred years.

7. the sweetest rewards.

Toph is sitting opposite of Aang, silent as stone. She’s inspecting him; Aang can tell by the way her feet shift almost imperceptibly, scanning his body. Finally, Toph breaks the silence. “When do you think they’ll be done?” She nods towards the kitchens.

8. lunam et familia.

17.

Sokka is sitting at the edge of the temple side when Toph finds him. They are resting at the Western Air Temple, taking a break from diplomacy trips that Aang had roped them into. His feet are swinging over the edge, palms planted flat on the ground, head tilted up towards what she supposes “seeing” folk perceive to be moonlight. Everyone else is fast asleep, deep within the temple walls, except for him. Toph moves to step towards him, to ask Sokka why he’s still awake, but then she hears him speak.

9. seen.

“What is that?” Zuko asks Sokka one day, leaning over his desk to peek at the swell of color Sokka is adding detail to.

10. purple lilacs and pilfered letters.

“NO!”

"Sokka, I swear on Oma and Shu-”

"NOOOOO!”

"Sokka!”

11. as simple as breathing.

con·sti·tu·tion

/ˌkänstəˈt(y)o͞oSH(ə)n/

   noun

noun: constitution; plural noun: constitutions

a body of fundamental principles or established precedents according to which a state or other organization is acknowledged to be governed.

Toph is 23 when Sokka tells her he’s addicted to smoking.

12. jealous of the love.

It’s raining outside when he notices it for the first time. Well, not it. Her. He’s new in Republic City, so she took a day off to show him around. Katara had expressed her mild surprise that Toph, the Chief of Police, had taken a day off to show Sokka, of all people, around… Toph didn’t even take days off when Zuko came into town, and that was rarer than Sokka’s appearances. Plus, it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon. If all goes well, he’ll win his position on the council and move to Republic City, permanently.

13. fortune telling, reincarnation, love, and other (somewhat dubious) forms of science.

Toph doesn’t really bat an eye when she gets a letter from a small Earth village in the middle of bumbafuck. Her secretary reads it to her and she shrugs it off; it gets thrown on her dining room table most unceremoniously. She spends the rest of the week doing what she usually does: focusing on her school and being a little too bored. To be grounded is in her nature, but Toph also has a strange tendency to get restless. Her body starts to twitch and her spirit grows bored. Nothing good has ever come from a bored Toph.

14. why do we put each other through hell? (why can’t we just get over ourselves?)

“How have you never seen a Superman movie?” Penelope’s voice is loud -per the usual- and unbelieving -per not the usual. She’s staring at him like he’s got eight eyes instead of six, like he’s spoken Russian instead of English.

15. firelady.

Suki is born a commoner.

16. between me and you.

"Ms Bei Fong," the voice cuts through the air with practiced precision, a note of affection ringing in it even through the poised professionalism. "I didn't expect to see you here."

17. a ring made of silver.

#01 – Ring.

It starts out simply enough, a breath of a laugh here, a memory of a whisper there; trinkets left behind to find, conversations forgotten, a ring made of light silver that he takes off when they're muttering and forgets to take back: she goes to give it back the next morning, before even the owls have fallen asleep, but he engages her in a debate on how long it took Dumbledore to grow out his beard, instead, and next thing she knows she's in Arithmancy and the ring is on her thumb, forgotten.

18. a girl who will never be a nun (and a man who will make sure of it).

To: Mother (10/9/2016, 01:02) i didn't *mean* to do it

19. to tell you properly.

She's at his doorstep, and they stare at each other for a moment too long, her backpack slung over her shoulder and Fraxure standing next to her. "Well," he finally says, and there's pain in his eyes, written clear across the stars that are reflected inside them. Not for the first time, she feels a pang in her heart. "I guess this is goodbye. For a bit, at least."

20. (just say) you won’t let go.

Hermione finds her way to Fred's flat easily enough, apparating in just as he'd instructed her. She shakes the snow from her jacket and slips her boots off, feet sore and heavy from the day. His flat is dark, darker than usual, but it's only when Hermione takes in the worrisome silence that she pulls her wand out and holds it before her, gathering her wits and taking a step forward. Silently, she scans the apartment with a spell, relaxing only slightly when she registers only one other person in the apartment; out on the balcony. She walks briskly over to it and finds red hair framed by night, drooped shoulders defeated by exhaustion.

i definitely love to open up a story by describing either a setting or an action. very few times do i open up with dialogue... interesting! wonder what that says about me O.O

i think my favorite opening line would have to be the one from “infinite & always.” it’s such a short but impactful line! aang DOES come and go, and that IS the hardest part!

thanks again the tag, e-money and a-dawg B) i’m tagging @cats-and-metersticks, @praetorqueenreyna, and @justoceanmyth :)

#my writing #my fanfiction #tag meme #tokka #aanglove #fremione #alvareider #wishfulshipping #maiaang #azulaang #zukaang #yueki #almost missed my queue #rey rambles

[aikrus]

Another Day, Another Life (Tenya Iida x Villain!Reader)

Fandom: Bnha / Mha  Warnings: Angst, amnesia, swearing, weed, coping with death, hallucinations  Words: 3,456 Requested by: No one, but requests are open!  Request/ Description: Casualties are expected in a war, but when a child dies no one is ready. No one knows how to react. The death of a teen can tear people apart, it can rip people into shreds to never be put together again, but is it better or worse if they’re not actually dead?

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          Toga was far from an ideal friend. She was clingy and rude, she talked too much and she cared primarily about herself. She was weird and difficult to get understand, and you never really knew where she stood. She wasn’t perfect, but having her was a blessing in disguise. 

“Y/n, we’re heading out, are you ready?” While she wasn’t perfect, she was pretty close to it. Himiko had a strange way with words, and she could always make the world feel smaller than it was. Her voice was like warm honey on a spoon; hazy caramel color and sweet, perfect for recovery.

“I’m ready, thanks for grabbing me,” Y/n wasn’t close to anyone. It was hard to get attached when the overwhelming threat of having friends ripped away from her grasp constantly loomed over her. She kept her distance, but it was hard not to get sucked into being friends with the blonde.

“Of course!” Her bright smile feels like it should be un-nerving, it holds malice and hatred, it’s the smile of a girl who has been rejected her entire life- but it almost makes others smile back. And so, Y/n’s face was covered with the rare grin; which had become scarce. 

“It really isn’t that big a deal, but Shigarki is getting trigger-happy. We should hurry, I’m pretty sure Dabi will set his hands on fire if we don’t leave soon!” Her voice dripped sugar, and Y/n found herself hurrying. She put her phone into her side pocket, and she secured her outfit. 

The pair walked out of Y/n’s assigned room, and they made their way to the group scattered around the bar. “I thought you all were ready? Let’s get a move on!” Y/n said, there was an unusual lightness to her tone.

The group had started to pass through the given portals Kurogiri had made for them, and one by one they stepped through. In the end, only Dabi and Y/n were left standing with the tall void-like man. 

“Hey,” the gruff man had grabbed a hold of Y/n’s y/s/c arm, and he had lightly pulled it back.

“What’s the deal, Dabi?” She asked, not rudely, but he could tell she didn’t appreciate the physical contact. They were far from close. When Y/n woke up, Dabi could tell something was off about her. Not wrong necessarily, she just had a very unique vibe that he felt was oddly familiar. 

“It’s just...” he sighed and shook his head, “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” 

Whatever it was that Dabi was going to tell her obviously didn’t matter that much, so she shook it off and went through the portal. 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Kurogiri looked him in the eyes with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Dabi nodded and walked through the portal- it would be cruel to tell her- he decided as soon as he saw her laughing with Toga. She has no memory of it, and she just recently started to act like herself again, why would I ruin that for her?

Amnesia was a tricky situation for anyone to deal with. It was dangerous to the person suffering from it, due to how trusting and gullible they become- but it is significantly worse for those of them who have their memories of the victim intact.

Dabi was one of those lucky people- so is the majority of the other people on the team. They can all think back to at least one memory of the spunky girl they have grown to care for. She was always so strong, yet somehow she was always overshadowed by her over-zealous classmates. Those stars that tried to outshine her magnificence- Dabi could only hope they would burn out soon.

He had been one of the first to meet the girl, and boy was she hard to forget. If her physical appearance didn’t grab his attention- her striking y/e/c eyes and flawless y/h/c hair- her quirk definitely did. 

GateKeeper was a well-known up-and-coming hero and student at UA’s school for future hero’s, she was the receiver of the most interning opportunities, and she was respected by almost everyone. Named after her quirk, GateKeeper- or rather, Y/N, is able to access the gates between different planes. 

She can visit the gates of hell, she can see the holy light of heaven, she can see the Mormon’s different kingdoms and the fields of Aaru. She can walk along the banks of river Styx with those about to be reincarnated. 

She can see spirits or those who have passed, and she can comfort those who have lost love ones. With this power, she has been given the ability to have the power of those who have died where she is standing. She can call on the remaining spirits to help her, and she has the power to reap souls. 

Dabi had spent countless hours thinking about the girl who froze him in place- she showed him his worst fear and didn’t bat an eye. She was fierce and protective of all the other students, she stood in front of them and, with her small undead army of soldiers who could never move on, defended them till her last breath. If only she had died.

The fight hadn't lasted long, the pros took out most of the b-tier criminals, and the students were fighting here and there. With All-might out of the picture, it was anyone's guess how the fight would go.

Who would have thought that a single girl who wipe the floor with them? Ahh yes, in a flash of light she managed to subdue the vast majority of the villains, if only she hadn’t lost consciousness- then maybe she wouldn’t have been snatched away so easily. 

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It was hard to believe that Iida would skip school. For the first handful of days after the attack, he dragged himself to his classes- half-conscious and unwilling to be aware of his surroundings.

Eventually having to push himself to get out of his bed- let alone go to school- grew too much for him. He settled with walking to the canteen when everyone else was out to get food before going back to his room. 

He was never one for dramatics, but Iida knew there was nothing he could do. He had failed her, the love of his life slipped through his fingers- never to be seen again.

Day after day he listened to a voicemail left months before the incident- he was never happier for his phone to be dead than when he knew he could hear her talk to him again. 

And while Iida had his outlet for his sadness, his classmates were going more and more concerned with every passing minute. 

Midoriya would double take when he heard her voice through his wall, and, silently, he would press his ear against it just so he could make-believe she was still with them.

“Hey, Tenya! I guess you’re busy huh? Haha! It’s so weird to talk to your voicemail- I’ve never had to before. Well, I miss you! Remember that just because it’s Christmas and I’m not with you doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to celebrate with your other friends!

I just want to remind you how much I love you! You are such a great boyfriend, and I’m glad that you’re mine. I was planing on FaceTiming you while we have Christmas dinner, but since I can’t I guess this will have to do~

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland

Gone away is the bluebird

Here to stay is a new bird

To sing a love song

While we stroll along

Walking in a winter wonderland

In the meadow, we can build a snowman

We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say, are you married?

We'll say, no man

But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on, we'll conspire

As we dream by the fire

To face unafraid

The plans that we've made,

Walking in a winter wonderland”

She cleared her throat and laughed a little, “That was really awkward, but I hope you’ll accept my mini Christmas gift! I’ll wait to open the one you got me until I’m with you again. I love you Tenya, merry Christmas!”

Once again, the shrill ring of an ended voicemail echoed through his room. Wiping away a stray tear- Iida sat down at his desk.

Everything had been going so perfect, everything was going exactly to plan. His brother had been in recovery, they had been going smoothly, classes had finally declared winter-break, and then... everything fell apart. The storm had been brewing, and brewing, and then it came- and then it destroyed everything in its wake. 

It’s hard to accept a loss that you didn’t see happen. He didn’t get the goodbye, or the I’ll never let go. There was no body to hold on to, no one in the casket which was lowered to the ground. Nothing to show that his lover was gone- only the empty dorm room and phone number that gave no answer. 

The school had opened it’s doors during winter break for all the students and parents to come. Some of her closest friends only ever saw her in the hallow walls of UA, and now they didn’t have the chance to see her anywhere else.

There was really no good way to deal with it. ‘It’. Iida despised that word now- ‘it’ was the only way people described the death of his girlfriend. As if death was a taboo word, ‘it’ was all people talked about and yet their words meant nothing. 

Tenya was doing his best- fighting every single fucking day at a time. He hated what he had turned into. He hated the state of being that he devolved to be. Every trait she adored about her boyfriend diapered.  Failing to go to class and snapping at those that came close enough to bother him. He had always gotten cold when faced with misery, resolved and retreated in himself- he had never seen himself as someone who would take up smoking to feel better.

Weed always seemed so far beneath him, it felt like something nothings did to feel better about themselves instead of working hard at bettering themselves, but now even Denki wasn’t eager to help him. Last time he visited the blonds room Kaminari rejected him, saying that he wasn’t getting high in the right way and that he was worried Iida would become a drug abuser with how things were turning up. 

Tenya hated himself more that night. He hated himself and he hated everyone else. He hated Uraraka, who coped with baking Y/n’s favorite cookies and eating them to the movie they would watch during their own girl’s night. 

He hated Momo too, she still got straight A’s and seemed to be just fine- pretending like we didn’t hear her obnoxious sobs at two am. He hated Mina too- she had no place wearing Y/n’s hoodie to school everyday. It was a shitty thing to do. 

He’s pissed at Deku as well- Midoriya the hypocrite. Knocks on his door every day with his missed classwork and with his judgement, pressuring him to leave his room. Everyone knows his grade’s have gone down since her death so who is he to talk about attending class. 

He hates Bakugo, who only ever yelled at her even when she joked around with him- who’s words she laughed at but really made her drown in her insecurities when she was suppose to be secure in her boyfriends arms. Fuck Bakugo, for glaring at her empty seat next to him like he didn’t openly mock her when she got a grade lower than him. Fuck him for screaming at 3am and breaking the school punching bags. Fuck him for feeling bad after hurting her. Fuck him for being her friend. Fuck him for giving a shit. Fuck everyone.

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

Aizawa sighed once he sat at his desk. Classes would start in half and hour and he was still crying. His silent tears burned down his cheek and all he could fell was the raw aching in his throat and the headache that felt like it was killing him slowly. 

He saw it then. In that classroom starring at her desk, he can see it happening. 

The cold breeze had moved his hair into his face, giving the villain a second outside of his hold. One second- yet it was long enough for him to disappear into the ground. 

“Dammit,” he hissed, looking around him. 

He heared Mic’s screech at a crowed of them on his left, and the majority of his students stood tall on his right. Everything was chaotic, but a Nomu appeared from the forest line everything exploded. 

He felt a familiar chill crawl over his skin, signifying Y/n using one of her ultimate moves ‘Fallen Heros’. AS what looked like hundreds of dead warriors of different generation’s rose from the ground- some in modern military uniform and others in ancient armor- and surrounded the giant Nomu. 

More appeared- in uniquely them outfits. They were the dead pro-heroes, the ones who passed during a fight they’ll never get to finish. The ones who either dine at Valhalla or will never be at peace after failing. 

A woman with black hair flew as she fought- with more ease than the others that were in spirit form. It was safe to assume that this was her quirk. The other that sent momentary shock waves through the gathering was Sir Nighteye, who waisited no time wiping out the waves of villains. 

Aizawa took notice of Y/n’s body floating in mid-air. The cost of her quirk- she had to keep note of all those she called upon. If one of the fallen are out of her sight for too long her body replicates what the dead’s went through, and she would eventually die from the injury. 

The dead soldiers ended the battle very suddenly, and, as their spirits returned to the afterlife, a large explosion of dust swallowed the crowed. 

Once they could all see, and the hectic environment calmed, Iida’s voice cut through the air. He was screaming as loud as he could, frantically running around the field of people. 

“Y/n!” He had shouted, his voice becoming horse. “Y/n!” Everyone became deathly pale and still as the horror of realization came upon them. She was gone. 

“Y/l/n?” Aizawa had shouted, starting the shove peoples shoulders to get to where she was. 

“Y/l/n now is NOT the time to play games!” He had hopefully prayed. His face fell along with his voice as he made it to where she had been floating. A scorched square of land had taken her place. 

His mind tried to go back and see the rose dead she had summoned, he looked frantically for a scorched soldiers face, but he couldn't find one. Even then it wasn’t hard to guess at what had happened.

No one near her had heard her screams, but with the noise coming from everyone in the dust storm, it would be unlikely that they would have been heard whether she screamed or not. 

He was right there. He saw her. He was less than three yards away. How did he let this happen?

He remembers looking around for a corpse of a soldier, but he wondered if, with Y/n dead, they would be able to live anyway. 

He pinched the bridge of his noes, wiping away the pools of tears from his stinging eyes. Rubbing them with his palm, his vision blurs when he looks up. Yet, even with the lines blurring, what he sees is unmistakable.

“Y/n?” He asked, seeing her figure sit on the top of her desk. 

“Calling a student by their first name,” she teased lightly, “how unprofessional,”

“Are you...” he stopped and starred at her, “Are you really here? Is this a part of your quirk?” 

“C’mon Eraserhead, like I would know. If you’re right then you’re right. If you’re wrong then I’m just a fixation of your brain and I wouldn’t know it,” She tried to reason, hopping off of her desk. 

“Damn... you’re right. I’m going batshit crazy,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

“So,” Y/n smirked, walking up to his desk and bending over, placing her hands on her locked knees, “Wanna talk about why you’re fantasizing about your dead, female, super fucking hot, student?”

He groaned out annoyed and clawed at his eyes, “Why the fuck is that happening? I hate that, I hate this, cut this shit out!” He shouted, pushing his hand into his covered corneas. 

“What shit out?” Hizashi asked, stepping into his classroom.

“Nothing Mic, just overthinking,” he responded, slamming his eyes open looking for his student. 

“Alright Shouta, just remember that I’m across the hall if you ever need to talk,” 

Sighing once he noticed Y/n had vanished, he wondered if this was confirmation that he was hallucinating. Needless to say, Y/n definitely responded to her situation exactly how he would expect her to when she figured out her action’s had no consequence- like a little shit who needs to be put into detention. 

God, even thinking that last sentence made Aizawa feel dirty. He’ll definitely need to scrub his skin red after that. 

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

Breakfasts in the mornings have changed a lot since school opened back up. Y/n was always made a plate of food and a drink every morning, it varied in who made it every couple days. No one vocalized what the food at her usual spot on the couch meant, but it was an unspoken rule that it would stay undisturbed. 

No one was entirely sure who cleaned it up when they were in class. They were pretty sure it wasn’t Iida, the seat was clear even when he was in class with them. 

Everyone missed her voice in the mornings. Whether she was complaining about late nights (to which Denki or Mina would yell get some in her direction after) or she was cracking jokes to help wake everyone up, her voice still rung in the air leaving a hole of silence where it once was. 

People’s sentences often drifted off half way through as their eyes caught themselves on her corner seat, where she once curled up into half a ball as she placed her plate of breakfast on top of a throw pillow. 

As people would shuffle off to class, everyone would throw a look over their shoulder and give a moment of their time to the friend they would never get to see again. 

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

Taking one more look at the lock-screen of a phone she couldn’t unlock, she wondered who it was on her screen. A boy with strikingly unique features had white ice cream smeared from his noes down to his lips, and a small smirk was percent on his face. Lights from a Ferris Wheel and fairy lights lit up the dark night sky behind him, and what looked like her knuckles were in front of the camera, showing their interlocked fingers. 

It was a cute photo, but it was so foreign to her it made Y/n wonder if the phone was even hers. She sighed after staring at the keypad, asking for her password. The face id had been disabled after it shut off, and all she could do was hope she would remember what is was.

“You okay?” Toga asked, placing a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded, taking in the forest clearing Toga had taken her off to, splitting off from the rest of the group. “What are we doing here Himiko?”

“The other members want to know how much control you still have over your quirk. They thought I would be the best person for you t be around when we do this,” She explained, a soft smile on her face as she explained. 

“Huh,” Y/n had a few thoughts running around in her mind, “Shigiraki didn’t want you to tell me did he?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” She teased, a wide smile on her face.

“I dunno... it felt like someone whispered it in my ear, if that makes sense?” 

“Who knows, that could be one of the parts of your quirk,”

“What exactly is my quirk?” She asked, glaring at one of the birds near them who had grown to be too loud. 

“It’s kinda hard to explain. The easiest way that I know how to explain it is that you’ve got a strong connection to the dead. You can talk to them, visit them I think, and most importantly you can summon them to fight for you,”

“Fight for me?” Y/n echoed. She wasn’t quiet sure why, but that phrasing felt weird... it almost felt off... 

“Yup!” Himiko cheered, bouncing slightly. 

“Alright,” Y/n sighed, shaking her arms, “Let’s give this shit a try,” she declared, moving her arms slowly from beneath her hips, struggling to get them above her waist.

In front of her, a muddy figure rose from the ground, it’s shoulders cracking as it took a deep breath of clean, fresh, air.

#Bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #iida tenya #Tenya iida #iida tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #Tenya x reader #Iida x reader #Tenya Iida x Villain Reader #Bnha villain reader #bnha villian reader #tenya iida x villian reader #Bnha angst #angst #death #bnha death #boku no hero academia #boku no academia #my hero academia #my hero #iida x reader

[asexual-hugger]

Christmas is approaching in the small village that Allison McQueen grew up in. She recognizes the decorated trees lining the snow-covered ground instantly, along with the giant Christmas tree erected in the middle of the square. Every year, she and her family join in caroling around this tree as a tradition to bring in the holidays and as part of the annual tree-lighting celebration. This year, however, Allison hopes to include a very special guest in the family village tradition: her big-city boss from London, Detective Ernest Sinclaire.

She steps out of the carriage that she took into town, breathing in the all-too-familiar scents of pine, spice and peppermint. Ahhh, Christmas. Her favorite holiday of the year. Her parents were overly thrilled that she was coming home to spend the holiday with them, and even more so when she told them that Detective Sinclaire would be joining her. Lord Sebastian and Lady Eleanor had remembered the handsome young private investigator very fondly, and Lady Eleanor, along with the youngest member of the McQueen clan, Allison’s brother Kade, had secretly hoped they would set eyes on him again. This time, it would be the full family under one roof, since the two oldest brothers, Dominic and Harry, would be taking time off work to celebrate with their loved ones.

Allison had not seen either of her two oldest brothers in months. She felt excited, but also nervous. How would Dom and Harry respond to seeing a private detective bunking in with them? Allison had mentioned to them via group text that one Detective Ernest Sinclaire was going to visit this year for Christmas and that he was her boss at work, but the most she could receive as a response was “OK,” from both of them. They were either too busy to give a full response or they just decided to run with it for now.

I’m sure I’ll get the stranger danger lecture from both of them once I get home, she thinks. Dom and Harry were notorious like that: anyone they didn’t know that their little sister got involved with or brought home with her immediately caused Older Brother High Protective Gear mode. They loved Allison dearly, and the last thing they wanted was to see someone hurt her.

They don’t know Detective Sinclaire like I do, Allison continues silently. He’s my boss. Our relationship is purely platonic and professional. He wouldn’t hurt me. Ever.

Still, she plans out what she’s going to tell her brothers the moment they begin to blab.

She walks into the town square to admire the giant tree and the colorful display of Christmas lights lining the shops and bushes all around. Everything is alive and cheery for the season. Families are laughing and walking around, Christmas music playing through speakers and causing some people to sing. Not being able to control her Christmas spirit, Allison starts to sing the lyrics to the instrumental We Wish You a Merry Christmas filtering out from the entrance to a jewelry store. Her breath comes out in white steam before her, catching under the colored glow of the flashing red and green lights lining the windows. Soft snow has started to fall, making the moment even more magical.

“Wow! You have an amazing voice!” Allison jolts when she feels someone come up next to her, and she stops singing for a moment to find the man himself, Detective Ernest Sinclaire, brushing her shoulder. His cheeks are pink from the cold, he wears a black top hat and a scarf around his neck, and he’s staring at her with astonishment. His breath is ragged as if he’d been running, the white puffs of steam more noticeable than hers. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. Keep going. I was enjoying it immensely!”

“Detective, when did you get here?” Allison asks in surprise, looking around outside the square for any sign of his black patrol car.

“About a half hour before you,” Sinclaire responds. “And I didn’t drive this time. I took a bus. It dropped me off right at the edge of the village. I’ve been in the jewelry store looking for something to give my mum for Christmas. It’s nice and warm in there if you want to get out of this cold. I saw you standing outside and I came right out.” He fiddles with his thick jacket a bit nervously, his already-pink cheeks looking a bit more flushed. He flashes his million-megawatt smile at her. “I remember you told me you sang in the shower all the time, but I never knew you could SING! Your voice is incredible, Miss McQueen. How come you never sang for me?”

“Er, because it never seemed appropriate.” Allison flushes. “I mean: yes, I can sing, but I usually do it in the privacy of my apartment, in my shower or whenever I’m in the mood. Sure; I’ve sang in front of people before, but it was a long time ago. I haven’t had many opportunities recently. The closest I’ve gotten to performing is during the annual tree-lighting ceremony that we have here every year to bring in the holiday season. Our family has never missed a year. The town lights the big Christmas tree over there and everyone gathers around it and sings Christmas carols. I was hoping you’d join us this year since you’re considered a guest of our family.”

“Erggg.” Sinclaire grimaces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “I’m not exactly the best singer. That was one gene that skipped over me when I was born. I tried when I was young, but I could never get these vocal cords to cooperate. Perhaps I could just stand next to you while they light the tree, and I can just listen to you singing. Your voice has more Christmas cheer than anyone’s out here. Do I HAVE to sing? Because if it’s a tradition in your family to participate, I can at least try, for your sake. You might want to bring earmuffs if you have any, because my voice sounds like squeaky pipes.”

Allison stifles a giggle as she forms a mental image in her mind of Detective Sinclaire trying to sing. “You don’t HAVE to sing,” she assures him. “It’s completely optional. We have plenty of people in the group that come to watch the tree light up and they just stand next to their friends and family while the others sing. Christmas isn’t about caroling or having the talent. It’s about the experience and spreading cheer with your loved ones. It’s about family, both blood and not. You being here is enough to celebrate Christmas. I get to spend the holidays with someone I care about. Dominic and Harry are going to be home, so you’ll have the chance to meet my whole family this time. Mum and Dad and Kade really liked you when you came with me to help on the farm last summer. They couldn’t stop talking about what a gentleman you were. Even Dad was impressed by you, and strangers RARELY impress him.”

“Well. I am quite pleased that I was able to make a positive impression,” Sinclaire says, feeling proud. “And I definitely cannot wait to meet your older brothers. I’m sure they are just as pleasant as the rest of your family.”

“Pleasant, and VERY protective,” Allison says. “In fact, I was just going over in my head what I was going to tell them when I arrived at the house. I sent a text message to each of them to tell them I was bringing you, so they’re probably going to start lecturing me the moment they see me.”

Sinclaire frowns. “Lecture you? Why?”

“That’s just how they are.” Allison shrugs. “Any man their little sister brings home has to get the Older Brother Seal of Approval. Because they’ve never met you, you’re considered Stranger Danger. I have to make sure you stay out of the Stranger Danger zone and inside the Welcome Zone. Luckily my parents and Kade can back you up. Dom and Harry don’t want to see me get hurt.”

“You know? I get it,” Sinclaire states. “I do, Miss McQueen. I know exactly what you’re saying. Protective older siblings are all too common in this world. I’m actually glad they’re so protective of you. If I had a younger sibling, I’d probably be protective of them, too. If you need help convincing your brothers that I’m worth their Seal of Approval, I’m willing to support that. I’ll even do the talking. Anything to make sure I’m not labeled as Stranger Danger. You do know that I’d never touch a hair on your head without your consent, I hope. I wouldn’t even DREAM of hurting you in ANY way, and if anyone out there DOES try to lay a finger on you, they’ll be staring down the barrel of my pistol in a flash.” He sweeps the right side of his long jacket aside, and Allison sees a flash of metal against his hip. “I never go anywhere without it. Holstered and secure, unless I have a reason to use it.” He gazes at her for a moment protectively.

Allison pulls out her phone. “I should probably get home,” she says. “I just wanted to see the town decorated before I went. Mum and everyone is probably wondering if I’m ever going to show up. I’m guessing everyone else is already there.”

“Well, then, allow me to walk you there.” Sinclaire looks at her hopefully, offering her his arm. “We are both going to the same place, after all. It’s pretty cold out, and I’m not letting you freeze.”

“Me? Well, what about you?” Allison asks, taking his arm. “You’re only human, Detective. You look pretty flushed yourself.”

“I was inside for the most part,” Sinclaire argues. “You look colder than I do, Miss McQueen. I think I should walk you home so you can get warm. We’re both freezing our toes off standing out here.”

#choices stories you play #desire and decorum #pixelberry #detective story #fanfic #tv show idea #choices game #play choices

[5evahbeyou]

The 2nd thread of me and @gettinonurlastnerve RP.

————————————————

*Continuation*

I froze to what Hiccup did and wanted to shout out his name, but my tongue got tied up so suddenly, I got to let out a frustrated sigh. "Did something happen to Amy?" Aunt Cass piped up as she goes down the staircase. "Hiro said she got some badly scars." Hiccup said, looking at me then to Merida. With me contemplating what had happened, I quickly gobbled up my food before standing up to put my plate in the sink. "It could be something worse. We should head to Amy's place." I said signaling Merida to lead the way. Aunt Cass said it was best for us to go fast. She even scolded us for not having a move on when all we wanted was to help clean up the plates. "I said go Lizzie. It's okay." She said, I gave her a smile then quickly ran to the door.

-Amy's house-

"Do you really not know anything about it??? Are you sure you didn't let a burglar inside?" Tadashi kept rambling, As baymax helped in healing the wounds that Amy have. Meanwhile, I was so absorb at my thought, that I didn't hear Hiro calling my name. "Jack.. JACK!!" Hiro shouted, which caused me to flinch by the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry, but you look like you're in a deep thought." "It's nothing. I'm actually thinking of why Amy got it." I said,looking back at Amy who got tears on her eyes as Baymax put on some medication to her wounds.

"I'm thinking of someone who's behind it, but I'm not sure if it's possible." I muttered slowly which made Hiro confuse. "What? You know who did this?" Hiro said,causing Tadashi to look at me abruptly. I heard foodsteps coming at me and I looked at who it is. "Explain. Now." Tadashi demanded, I stood up and looked him straight in the eyes. "You know, I can conjure snow right?" Tadashi looked at me quizzically. "And so? What's the connection of your power to Amy's scars?" "Ugh, this is hard to explain-- Wait, call Eli, now!"

I shouted to Hiro, who got his phone quickly and dialled to Eli. When the ringing started, Hiro gave me his phone then clicked the speaker so that everyone could hear. "Hello Hiro?" "Eli, listen. You have to get your book, the one we once talked about." "Wait, Jack! What is happening??" "Amy has wounds, and when I touched it, it flowed with Black sand." I heard Eli gasping at the other line. "No, do you think--" "Yes, I think he's back." "Okay, we'll detour to my place. You better put some of your powers to that wounds for now." She said and hung up. "Wait, Lizzie knows?" Tadashi said, everything sounded so confusing to the three of them.

Finally we got to Amy's house, all of them looked at us with anticipation. "I need ai breathur." Merida said, gasping for air.I closed the door before looking at Jack. Hiccup on the other hand got three chairs out so that we could sit. "Is it true tha-- Oh no Amy." I said, looking at Amy's wounds. "Lizzie, I haven't explained it to them, but I think it's time we do." Jack said, I looked at him before giving him a nod. "Okay, you all need to listen very well. I said, and quickly sat down at the middle."I'll explain everything."

"What Amy has now is done by the Boogeyman. Also known as Pitch Black. He spreads nightmares to all the children of the world, and would do anything to have power over everyone, including the guardians. He is the Nightmare King as we call it." "Te guardi'ns?" Merida asked, "The guardians are those who protects the children, they are the one who stopped Pitch Black back then,including Jack." As I said Jack's name, they all looked at him the way I looked at him when I found out who he was. "The guardians consist of 5 members; Bunnymud, the guardian of hope. Toothiana, the guardian of memories and the tooth fairy. Nicholas, known as Santa Claus, the guardian of wonder. Jack, the guardia of fun, he's better known as the King of childhood because all he ever did was create mischief. "I said, smirking at Jack who rolled his eyes at me.

"And then lastly, Sandman, the guardian of dreams. He protects the dreams of every children in the world. He creates golden sand to reflect the dreams of a person he or she wanted to see. The person who created this is called Man in the Moon." "Is he some kind of high powered being?" Amy asked, not realizing she was beside me already. "Yes he's like that. He's the guardian of the children on Earth, and he made the guardians to protect them, because it was too big of job for himself to do it." "Wait so, are you trying to say, the guardian is the moon itself?" "Sort of, he lives in the moon, and certainly does not talk. He only communicate with the guardians by using his light." I said, quickly closing the book with a thud and began to get up from my sit.

"Pitch Black was killed by the guardians, or so we thought." I said, putting down my book. "What do you mean with 'we'?" Hiccup asked, I looked at him before looking at Jack, looking for some comfort. He nodded, making me look at them."I... I... I am the future self of Katherine. The guardian of storytelling." I said, and everyone, excluding Jack, looked at me with wide eyes. "So you're telling me, there's a lot more others??" Amy said, and I nodded. "Nightlight was, one of the people. He was my closest friend, but he turned into Jack Frost." I said looking at Jack. "Well more than that actually, they both had this romantic feelings." Jack butted in, which Amy furrowed her brows at.

"But it was all in the past. Nightlight became a living boy after he had kissed me to awake me from a spell. This caused him his power. Transforming as the now, Jack Frost." "So is that mean, he's dead?" Tadashi said, I chuckled but shook off of the idea. "I wish not. Jack and I have no feelings whatsoever, only his spirit of friendship of me and he has stayed. If the right person comes, I think the man in the moon himself might bring the spirit to someone." I said, everyone took a long time to comprehend what I've just told them. "I'll give you guys time to take it slow. Jack come on, we need to plan something." I said and got my book again and went to sit with Jack.

[mzargentum]

Sunshine & Lightning

Warnings: None. | OC’s: Muerlinian Zephyr | Word Count: 3,071

A/N: Part one of holiday fic.

A/N: Because of work, it was kind of rushed, but I did my best.

2 years.

This world has been in darkness.

The Oracle has been dead.

And the Prince has been missing.

But to him, he wasn’t just the Prince...

To Prompto, he was his best friend...his brother...

The blonde hunter had never gotten the chance to meet the woman that gave him the opportunity to meet his closest friend...

And that was painful enough without his disappearance.

The world was in complete peril.But in the chaos of it all, someone rose to take her place to the world to heal the wounds the Usurper had inflicted upon them ...a “New Oracle”, if you will.

An Queen, ostracized by most of the world, now a beckon of what the Oracle stood for...her own sister...the Stormsender’s daughter...his beloved Muerlin...

The world had desperately beseeched the aid of the powerful wizard in the depths of the darkness.

The daemons were raging through cities, hundreds were experiencing a fate worse than death. They needed her...but so did he.

Prompto knew there was more at stake than his own sanity despite the fact that watching her venture from this dusty garage nearly tore his heart in two.

“I’ll be back soon, love”, she said to him during their last embrace.

That was 2 years ago.

He replays this in his head every night he is forced to sleep alone.

The ever so faint smell of her hair that lingers on her untouched pillow churning his stomach.

As captain of this HQ, he was always meant to be in tip top performance and always on his toes...but he often found himself looking toward the road. Hoping one day, he’d catch a glimpse of silver.

                                    _____________________________

It was the depth of winter.

The darkness made this time of year more difficult than the rest.

More and more survivors were growing ill throughout the world.

Refugee camps scrambling to look after their wounded beckoning the aid of the New Oracle.

Hammerhead was no exception.

“Sir!”, a hunter shouted toward their frustrated captain.

“What is it?”

“We’ve lost contact with the team Omega on the far west side!”, he explained in a light panic.

“What?!”, Prompto exclaimed. “Dammit! How long ago did they leave the camp?”

“About an hour ago, sir! I’m afraid they won’t make it much longer. They’ll freeze!”, the hunter explained somberly.

Prompto’s technological skills as well as Cindy’s expert mechanics made generating heat less of a hassle, but they could still only do so much with what little electricity they could scrounge up.

“Okay, let’s gather a search party. Take one of the trucks. I’ll grab one of the generators and join you”, Prompto instructed. “We can’t leave them out there!”

“Yes, sir!”, the hunter acknowledged Prompto’s orders before darting off to gather more hunters.

Prompto sighed lightly. This was going to be a long night.

“Captain Argentum!”, a woman shrieked as she ran up to the blonde captain, stumbling into him in a panic.

“Woah, woah!!”, Prompto attempted to soothe her. “What is it?? What’s going on??”

“The generators...”, the woman panted, “...in the barracks. They’re malfunctioning!”

As if they didn’t have enough problems.

Prompto’s eyes widened in terror as he rose his gaze to the barracks.

Some of his top men were in there, sick because of the cold. Not only that, they had grown to become his friends.

The generator was the only thing keeping them warm and despite he and Cindy’s efforts combined, it was only a matter of time before the worst was to come.

“No, no, no”, Prompto muttered in a light panic. “We can’t let them die in there. Do everything you can to keep them in good health”.

“Y-yes, sir!”, the woman stuttered before rushing back to the barracks.

“Talcott!”, Prompto shouted, eyes still glued on the barracks.

The young man jolted at the sound of Prompto’s voice, it was heavier than usual.

“Mind giving us a hand, buddy? We have men out there who need our help”, the blonde grinned at him.

“You got it!”, the boy beamed as he darted toward his truck.

The captain on his heel.

                                       _________________________

With Talcott at the wheel, Prompto and his men made their way to the last known location of their scavenger team.

Prompto in the passenger seat, trying his best not to appear worried, but his kindness and care toward his men made it very evident to the young man.

“Prompto?”

The indigo-eyed man looked toward his young friend.

“Hm?”

“Do...do you think that everyone will be okay?”

Prompto’s brow forwarded.

“I mean...they’re strong a-and you and Miss Cindy can fix the generators again. We’ve got plenty of medical staff to help out too, right? So...they should all be okay...right?”

Prompto smiled at Talcott’s hopeful optimism.

“Of course they will!”, the man chuckled. “After all, they’ve got me as their captain”.

Talcott laughed at Prompto’s lack of modesty. That clearly hadn’t changed.

And that answer seemed to satisfy the lad, but the captain’s worry was still eminent. 

The world was wide and vast...and cruel.

Especially during these times.

With all that’s happened, he knew it wasn’t possible for him to save everybody...

...he couldn’t even save Noct.

But regardless, he had to try. He couldn’t let his men down.He couldn’t let them die out here.

Not like this.

After what felt like an eternity driving in the snowy blackness of Eos, the team noticed a group of ice bombs congregating toward the mountains off the side of the road.

Which was odd with them normally being native to Cleigne.

What’re they doing here in Duscae?

“Wait!”, Prompto shouted pointing toward small group, “over there!”

The truck came to a screeching halt once Talcott noticed.

The bombs were swarming a group of hunters laying unconscious in the snow.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!”

Prompto rushed toward his fallen men, the rest of his team following pursuit, as his trusty pistols materialized into his iron grasp.

Taking aim and releasing a heavy barrage of bullets toward the aggressive daemons.

Unfortunately, causing them to begin detonation.

“Let’s make this quick, everybody!”, Prompto instructed his men as they rushed up to join their now bazooka wielding captain in battle. “We can’t let them explode!”

“RIGHT!”, they all said in unison as the whole lot of them began to pilfer through the army of explosive daemons.

They hacked and slashed through a great number of them, but somehow this battle seemed never ending.

“What’s going on?”, a hunter shouted toward his colleagues.

“It’s like more of the more of them we take out, the more that replace them!”, someone else interjected.

“It’s because of the snow”, Prompto affirmed as he began emptying his rifle toward the icy enemies. “This is where they’re strongest”.

“What do we do?!”

“We win! We can’t let our buddies down”, the blonde captain instructed.

“Don’t worry, guys”, his optimistic smile lighting a fire within their spirits, “we’ll make it”.

This burst of optimism was short lived as the galaxy eyed plebe noticed a bomb wandering away from the group.

In the darkness, it was unclear where he could’ve been going until...

“TALCOTT!!!”

Prompto began to dash over to the boy in the stalled truck, desperately trying to bring it back to life which unknowingly caught the attention of a bomb that was already near detonation.

“TALCOTT”, Prompto shrieked in terror, “LOOK OUT!!!”

Finally catching the young man’s attention, Talcott’s eyes became saucers at the gargantuan monster before him.

Nearly the size of the truck and trembling violently.

Prompto desperately sprinted toward his friend, but knew he was much too far away to reach him in time.

The captain was left helpless as the bomb reached maximum size to detonate and was deafened by what sounded like the most thunderous eruption that he had ever witness in all his days.

The force enough to send him flying back toward the snowy ground below.

And then...

Whiteness.

                                           ______________________

The ringing in his ears.

His vision blurred.

Desperately trying to regain his composure, so many voices in his head and what sounded like shooting and flames.

SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM!!! MAKE SURE HE ISN’T INJURED!!!

His brain rattled with the muffled voices. Was he going insane?

THERE ARE MEN OVER HERE AS WELL, ROUND THEM UP AND GET THEM ON THE TRUCK!!!

It was louder.

The ringing was subsiding.

Did this voice in his head have an accent?

He was totally out of it...

“WE MUST BE QUICK HERE!!! MANY OF THEM ARE ON THE BRINK OF DEATH!!! WE CAN’T STAY HERE!!!”

It was so familiar...so...silky...soothing...

“LET’S GIVE THESE ICE-SHITS SOMETHING TO RUN FROM!!!

”Prompto’s eyes widened...it couldn’t be...dammit, he could still barely see, but...

He could at least make out a figure kneeling down beside him.

“Don’t worry, love”, the figure spoke. Clear as day. “I’m here”.

As the blur faded away, Prompto could only believe he was in a dream.

The long streaks of silver...the shimmery bronze cheeks...the warmth of this hand against his cheek...the teal lagoon eyes...

...it couldn’t truly be real...

“...Muerlin?”

That all too familiar smile confirmed it.

“It’s good to see you too, Prom”.

                                       __________________________

Tagging: @completelyinappropriate​ @digitalkanvas​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @a-new-recipehhh​

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #final fantasy oc #prompto argentum #muerlinian zephyr #cindy aurum #talcott hester #hammerhead #ice bombs #snow

[mygrandmathinksimsassy]

From Across the Stars (aka the armband fic nobody asked for)

She was never supposed to go back to the desert.

Her life began the day she left Jakku, the day she stole a ship and made a friend and watched another die.

The day he found her. The day she left a scar.

She’s seen entire worlds now, planets that she only ever imagined when she had strength enough to dream, and it doesn’t matter that she’s a nomad, only passing through until there’s nowhere left to hide, she misses them even if they were never hers to miss.

Green forests. Purple skies.

Luxuries she may never see again.

Rey adjusts the staff across her back as she scours the empty marshes and the scar on her arm throbs beneath her leather arm band, aggravated in the light of two unfeeling suns. There’s a lump in the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down until she’s almost sinking in the sands, and there is no point in fighting it so she follows where it leads.

She is doomed to roam the desert.

This is where she was always meant to die.

She finds him as the suns are about to set.

He was waiting to be found.

He is flanked by his disciples, all dressed in black. Shadows gathered to finish what their master had begun.

The Force flickers in the waning light, flashes of darkness shimmering now that the Knights are free to hunt.

They are all in masks, but she could find him even without sight. 

The Force radiates from his cloak, from his fingertips, and Ben or Kylo or whatever name he’s called when he lingers in her dreams, is so brilliant, so alive that she could have found him a thousand systems away.

It calls to her, singing in a voice so sweet tears nearly fall from her eyes, and it is agony to ignore it, to close her ears as she buries herself in the sand.

She’s close enough to spy, but not close enough to listen. Unable to ignore the growing dread as the row of soldiers circles around their general.

The darkness hisses in her ear, and she pulls her staff from its holster. Even if Poe said this was only an intelligence mission. Even if Finn made her promise she wouldn’t get herself hurt.

There are shouts, the sounds of weapons being drawn.

And then they are upon him.

She is halfway down the dunes, staff unfurled to reveal the crystal hidden inside, when he crumbles to his knees.

Her heart stops and the Force, the light and darkness, all at once scream his name. Her voice, her body, is only a vessel and she is running, running so fast, that the fear that had stowed away to Tatooine is incapable of keeping up.

She reaches an arm out, focusing all of her energy on the locusts straight ahead. Her head is throbbing and her blood is boiling and she lets herself sink to the depths she worked so hard to climb out of, to wield the darkness just as readily as she uses the light.

The Force is a weapon, exploding like a cannon, and the shadows collapse to the ground.

The Knights were too enamored with their sacrifice. They did not expect the pain.

She is depleted, an empty shell, but the light soars as he scrambles to his feet, as he tears his saber from his belt and cuts down the unfortunate soul that stood closest to where he fell.

The Knights are rising now, unforgiving in their pursuit of vengeance. A flash of white and a flash of red are all that stand between them and their destruction, but her spirit rejoices with each new blow, and she is powerful, indestructible with each movement of her staff.

Ben is there.

Rey cannot be afraid.

They fight together as they once did, as she once hoped they would do for the rest of their lives, and it is the only thing she was ever meant to do, the reason the Force ever claimed her as a home. His back is against hers, hot and sturdy and strong, and her body molds to his, imperfect parts forming a perfect being.

The fight is over before it even starts. The screams are silent and she hears his breathing, heavy and labored, beneath the mask. Her body aches with the weight of a thousand galaxies, the Force itself balancing on her head, but she will endure it if it means an end like this.

They are face to face now and it doesn’t matter that he’s hidden; she can feel him, can feel his eyes locked on her as though it were the first they met.

Her knees buckle as she falls just like the others and he might even say her name when she gives in to collapse.

She will get to be remembered.

At least hers won’t be a pauper’s grave.

—

She needs to stop waking up on his ship.

The air is filled with the copper tang of blood and it’s only when she sits up that she realizes it’s her own.

The side of her head is coated in it sticky and saturated, as the remainder paints her neck,. This is the first time she’s worn this tunic and it’s already destroyed, the linen drenched in her blood.

Red staining the white. Flowers blooming in the snow.

She’s on a bench, not an altar. There are no restraints around her limbs and her mind is still cloudy, but it is completely her own. Her staff is on the floor just beside her resting place, as though she set it down before falling asleep. She is a guest, not a prisoner, but there is no sign of her host.

She is not quite so weak. The Force is calmer, kinder now that she saved its other servant, and it won’t be long before she finds the strength to run away.

Running away is easy, she thinks.

It’s missing him that’s hard.

The door opens as though she willed it and Ben comes back into the room with a cloth in his hands.

He is silent as he sits down on the bench across from hers and quieter still as he pulls off the mask. He sets it on the floor, dusty and abandoned and he is only Ben again. 

Only a man. 

Nothing but flesh and blood.

It’s been a year since they breathed the same air, trapped in an elevator with her hands bound behind her back and his mouth so close to hers, but he’s aged a decade since he stole the mantle of the galaxy from Snoke’s shoulders. 

The Supreme Leader.

Long may he reign.

He watches her and she watches right back, taking in the dark circles, the strands of gray that hadn’t been there the last time.

A scavenger can look at a king. 

Rey will look as long as she wants.

He leans forward to offer the cloth, and she doesn’t mean to flinch, but it doesn’t change the fact that she does. Ben looks taken aback, almost hurt, and it’s hard to say what pains her more, the wound already festering on her face or the guilt that comes with the mournful expression in his eyes. 

“I’m not going to kill you.”

He reaches for his belt and puts his saber on the ground between them, right beside where he’s already placed her staff. 

“You showed me mercy once,” he says solemnly.  “A debt for a debt.”

She nods and takes the cloth from his gloved hand.

“A debt for a debt.”

She applies the cloth to her temple. It’s cold, but the cold is welcome, and within seconds, it starts to soothe.

“I put some Bacta on it,” Ben tells her. “It’s not much, but it should stop any infection before it starts.”

She should thank him, but she doesn’t, still unsure even in the midst of their détente.

“Is there a med droid in your camp? You’ll need stitches.”

His voice is steady, but there is worry hidden in every word. His face is drawn, clammy like he was the one to bleed and she’s overcome with the urge to soothe him, a need so strong that her better judgment demands she stomp it down.

“I was just going to get a needle and do it myself.” She’s snarling, but her fangs are bared.   “A med droid? Why didn’t I think of that?”

The corners of his mouth curl up and there’s almost a smile on his lips.

He’s almost smiled at her before. It’s been months, but she still clings to the memory.

They’re frozen like that, savoring the uneasy peace, until she inspects the cloth he brought her. The blood is drying and the Bacta is gone and it’s only now that she remembers that she has a job to do.  

The Resistance sent her to find him. She cannot let herself forget.

“Why did they try to kill you?”

The ghost of a smile disappears.

“They should have tried harder.” Ben’s voice is frosty, but there is anger in his eyes. “I know how to stay alive.”

A flash of a memory leaps out of his head, unable to be contained. These people, the ones who nearly brought him down, were once his friends.

Now he stands alone.

“It looked for a while like you forgot,” she says. “What would have happened if I hadn’t been there?”

A galaxy without him in it. She had once celebrated the thought.

Now it sends a shiver down her spine.

“You were there,” Ben says quietly. “That’s what matters.”

He is gentle, a whisper of twilight in the morning dawn, and she leans in closer to bask in his glow. There is color in his cheeks, made brighter by the pink of his lips and scar.

His eyes dart down to her arm, to the leather band she’s worn since the Resistance fled Crait.

“What happened there?”

The band is locked in place, but she covers it with her palm.

“It’s nothing,” Rey insists. “Just a scrape.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. I can take a look at it if you want. There’s more Bacta on the ship.”

Her hand is frozen on her arm and if she weren’t staring quite so intently, she might not notice how Ben’s shoulders slump.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” he tells her. “I just want you to make sure you’re alright before you leave.”

He sounds the way he did long ago, billions of miles away on the other side of a fire, and unwrapping the band is the easiest decision she’s ever made.

He knows now that she will always have to leave him. It breaks her heart that he’s right.

She balls the leather in her first and waits for Ben’s inspection, waits for him to realize what she went to such great lengths to hide.

It’s faded now, but unmistakable.

Two hands reaching for each other across the stars.

Her doom tattooed on her skin.

She studies Ben as he takes it all in and her breathing stops as another one of his memories dances across her mind.

Two figures bathed in firelight. Their fingers are linked and there is hope flowing in their veins, hope for a tomorrow that never came to be.  They look at each other as though nobody else existed, seeing the universe together for the first time, and a lump catches in her throat as Ben looks at her the very same way.

They’re even further now. There’s only the end in sight.

His eyes are on her when he slides the glove from his hand and then he’s exposed, bare and needy and waiting for her permission.

She nods and slowly, carefully, he brings his fingers to her scar. Pleasure, hot and languid, bubbles with every trace of his fingers on her skin and she will burst any second now, held together only by his embrace.

“It’s beautiful.”

He looks back up at her and there is worship in his eyes.

“You are beautiful, Rey.”

She moves in even closer, guiding her hand to the mark she left so long ago. She is shaking, why is she shaking, until she touches his face for the first time. His scar sings underneath her sing and he is holy, the Force itself carved into divine flesh, as he leans into her palm.

“You are too.”

The suns have long since set, but she is nowhere close to leaving.

--

Her heart is in the desert.

This is always where she was meant to be.

#rey #rey of jakku #ben solo #kylo ren #knights of ren #star wars #star wars episode ix #episode ix #reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #armband #the arm band has got me all sorts of fucked up #i didn't realize how much i missed writing canonverse #sasstasticmad #mygrandmthinksimsassy #may or may not post on ao3 #arm band #arm band kink

[isthisthingeven0n]

lies of new york: d.d

this is my christmas piece. I kinda anticipated having time to write a couple, but it’s a busy time of year and it didn’t pan out that way as life happens :) anyway, it’s very angsty and the writing in italics is a flashback.  if you celebrate christmas then merry christmas or happy holidays! thank you for all the loving support, and I will open my requests again soon!

masterlist (I remembered, getting better I promise)

Christmas in New York City, everyone would say it’s a dream to experience such a thing, but this year I can’t agree. This year I’ll be spending it alone, something I hadn’t pictured happening, not ever.

Sitting down in Central Park I see all the pictures of my friends heading home for the holidays, they’re all being reunited with their loved ones whilst mine are thousands of miles away. I can’t help but allow myself to feel pitiful, I had a whole plan for this Christmas to be spent with him, but sometimes plans don’t always work out. In this case, they destructively fall apart, piece by piece.

I pull on my coat, tightening it around myself and I sigh deeply watching my cool breath float into the atmosphere. My eyes follow the couples who pass by holding hands through knitted gloves, they’re so happy, so in love.

Tearing my eyes away from it I can picture him now, I’m left picking up the pieces of what is left of us whilst he’s laughing with her, taking off her dress.

His smile remains set in my mind, how joyful he was last Christmas as we sat by the tree exchanging gifts. He was so excited by his wrapping skills which mainly consisted of tape covering the entire gift, but it was an improvement from my birthday, to say the least.

I was nervous to see what he was gifting me, everyone had said I wouldn’t believe it and I couldn’t. I remember seeing the tickets and thinking it was some kind of prank. But when the tears started to flow down my face and his smile only grew I realised it was real. He put his camera away and brought me closer to him as he wrapped his arms around me as I rested into his chest.

A present that I am now experiencing alone. I contemplated not using it, not going to New York knowing it was on his behalf. But since I found out the truth I wanted to be as far away as I could- within reason that is (that I could potentially afford.)

I knew going home wasn’t an option as I thought I’d be spending it with him, my family in the states. I didn’t think about buying a plane ticket home, and by the time it came to it as I FaceTimed my Dad they were too expensive to be an option.

Which led me to be in New York. A city of dreams covered in bright lights and festive spirits. I wonder the streets like a Scrooge whilst everyone else is living in a winter wonderland.

As I wander away from the Park I head back to the hotel where I’m greeted as Ms Dobrik. I used to smile when I was mistaken for something more than his girlfriend, that it could be real someday. But now it makes my heart hurt, the broken pieces that hang together by the smallest bit of tape loosen and fall all over again. At this point I think they understand and merely greet me as Miss, my name being something unknown and not worthy of questioning.

Sitting in the hotel room made for two I remember when I walked in three days ago, greeted by the sight of the rose petals, champagne and chocolates. I began with the first glass of champagne along with a few of the chocolates which soon developed to the glasses being something of the past along with the wrappers laid across the floor. 

“Keep your eyes closed, no peeping!” He giggled like a child as he kept my eyes covered with his warm hands, guiding me through the small apartment. 

“Just don’t make me hit anything.” I nervously laugh as I take tiny steps forward keeping my arms in front of me waving them from side to side. “What have you done Dave?”

“You’ll see.” He says with such joy, I can tell he’s smiling by the way his hands tighten around my face. 

And now here I am, no lights, no tinsel, no music or company. I’m alone in a city that flashes by refusing to stop for anyone. 

Closing my eyes I lie down on the soft pillow as I unzip my dress and see it land by the front door, something he would always notice and hang it nicely for me. But now when I see that I see the events of that night. 

Her clothes on the floor whilst laughter filled his room. I thought it was Dom, oh I wish that could’ve been true. 

I remember when I saw it. Them. 

My heart shattered at the sight of my whole world falling apart. 

Him with her. 

Two people I trusted. Two of my closest friends in bed together. There was no shame, no remorse from her, but he knew it. It was like he was in a trance. The sight of me with teary eyes snapped him out of it. 

He ran towards me, he tried to explain how it happened, that he was sorry. But all I did was leave a bruise on his face and scuffs on my knuckles. I didn’t hear him out, I never did. 

And now I’m left wondering if she’s with him now whilst I am living someone else’s life. 

*

David: 

Standing I watch as the screens change, lights illuminate every passing face in a mere blur. 

I can’t help but feel my eyes linger on all of them, secretly hoping she’d be one of them. That we could exchange glances like school children and talk about it later. 

But I ruined that. I ruined the sweet innocence of what we once had with a single mistake. 

I can still picture her face. She was so upset, but she was holding it back as best as she could. She tried to listen to my rambles as they fell out of my mouth. I didn’t even know what I was saying that night, I just knew I had to explain something somehow. And that despite my actions I truly loved her. 

Love her. 

New York at Christmas, it was supposed to be magical for the both of us. We would have gone sightseeing and experienced the snow together. I would’ve watched as she admired all the expensive jewellery that reflects the glimmer in her eyes. I would’ve waited until she had gone back to the hotel to pick out that perfect ring she would’ve loved. 

But none of that happened. 

Instead I’m in New York alone whilst she is enjoying the city with someone else. 

She left me to pick up the mess whilst she is laying on someone else’s chest admiring the city at night. She is with him now, holding his hand as they walk through Central Park. They’re out doing everything I wanted us to do together. 

She’ll laugh at his shit jokes whilst he squeezes her hand a little bit tighter. He will help her ice skate as she is terrified of falling over and she will love every minute of it. 

He’ll treat her the way she deserves to be, something I guess I never could fulfil. 

She was so excited as I let my hands go from her eyes. I quickly turned to face her to see the full reaction, but she was stunned. 

“Well?” I nervously asked with a grin on my face as I stood to one side, allowing her to see it for the full view. 

Y/n took a step closer, admiring the tree as the snow began to fall from the machine and sprinkled us both. 

Her face lit up with glee. That smile grew wider as she giggled and twirled in the fake snow. “Dave, I, I mean, how, what?” She motions to the fake snow that now covers us both. 

“I have my connections, and I know how much you love snow.” I say as I pull her closer into me, my hands resting on her waist as her head rests against my chest. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.” 

Those memories were something of the past, ones I know we’ll never experience again. Not in the way it was. 

I sigh as I continue to walk on, heading down past Times Square back to the hotel where I had to book a new room in a different hotel after she had taken the one I booked for us both. She would be with him in there now, dancing in her underwear with a glass in her hand. 

Whilst I would return back to the empty room, disgard my clothes on the floor and order more room service for one. 

“Watch it,” I hear a voice murmur as they shove past me forcefully, and I stop turning to see them. 

I secretly hoped it was her, but it wasn’t. It was a businessman who rushed off, jaywalking in the process as taxis honked in anger at him. “Dick.” I mutter before turning around to head back to my hotel. 

As I turn another force hits me, nearly sending me flying backwards. 

But I don’t fall, an arm holds onto me, and a sweet voice fills my ears. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I struggled to comprehend it. I wanted to keep my head low, the sound of her voice in person was making my heart desperately scramble for the broken pieces and force them together whilst she was in front of me. 

“It’s alright, my fault.” I keep my head low, focusing on her scuffed boots. The same ones she always wore in Winter. “I’m sorry.” I lower my tone in an attempt to disguise my voice. 

“Oh, it was me, not you.” She remarks, but she doesn’t understand. 

I never got to truly apologise to her for it, for being a dick, for cheating and breaking her heart. This was my chance to say it and mean it, even if she will never know. 

“Anyway, Merry Christmas.” I pull on my hood, bringing it further down across my head as I pass her. 

“And to you!” She joyfully responds, and then she is gone. 

I turn around and see her walk off with a cup in her hand as she picks up the pace and calls for a taxi. 

Leaning against a lamp post I can’t help but watch her, the way her smile turns to a tired frown as she looks around at the city. 

Until she sees me. 

Her eyes lock with mine, the billboard lights illuminate her face and mine. There’s no way of mistaking either of us, we both know each other. 

The taxi pulls up alongside her, and without her expression changing she turns her head and climbs inside leaving my face bright as the tears fall down my cheeks as the adverts change and the Christmas music blares.

#okay so more angst #but i hope you liked it #took a lot of time #of course it did its me #david dobrik #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fluff #imagines #imagine #angst #david dobrik angst #masterlist #david dobrik masterlist #vlogsquad imagines #vlogsquad imagine #vlogsquad writing #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad imagine #vlogsquad x reader #vlog squad x reader

[padawan-historian]

The Female Game: An Analysis of the Stormborn Dragon

SPOILER warning for Season 8, Episode 1-3 and more of a SPOILER WATCH for Season 8, Episode 4 (no plot related details, but . . . a teaspoon of character and tone vibes from the episode).

Now I know we are still wrapping our heads around what we witnessed last night on Game of Thrones. But there was one discussion that caught my attention – Daenerys character development (or lack thereof) and how women are represented on the show:  

i hate that ambition in women is always used as a bad trait.

All her hard work and talk of breaking the wheel for nothing. All this talk of her being different and just and “see you for who you are” for absolutely nothing.

They should rename season 8 to “the tale of how we trashed a character’s development, made her an army of haters, just so we could make Jon Snow a hero: A study on Daenerys Targaryen.”

they really are setting up “Mad Queen” Dany and I’ll be honest, I don’t blame her at this point.

If a man acted that way it would be perfectly fine.

every single woman on game of thrones deserves better.

Ever since Game of Thrones graced the stage seven years ago, a number of fans, critics and activists have voiced concerns about the way the show portrays violence (especially sexual violence) towards female characters. However, those concerns have slowly evolved into larger conversations about the way these heroines are portrayed in comparison to power. Westeros – and most of the known world in the show – are under a patriarchal system. Men have inheritance rights, new wives join their husbands’ families and male children are given precedent over their older sisters and female relations in the line of succession (they call this primogeniture). Attempts at female rule are rare and even more rarely achieved without a healthy dose of fire and blood (search The Princess and the Queen on YouTube for more context and a juicy history lesson!).

Suspicion and hesitancy towards female rule is common in our real world (i.e. 2016 election) and is, unfortunately, not a new phenomenon. Prominent theologian, wrote in his 1558 piece, The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women, that, “To promote a woman to beare rule, superioritie, dominion or empire aboue any realme, nation, or citie, is repugnant to nature, contumelie to God, a thing most contrarious to his reueled will and approued ordinance, and finallie it is the subuersion of good order, of all equitie and iustice”(Knox).  Across Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Islam, Christianity, and Judaism there exist exclusionary mindsets in regards to women in power dating back to antiquity. However, there are also examples of women overcoming the restrictions and barriers of their societies, such as the prominence and elevation of women within certain patriarchal systems (including Egypt, the Tang Dynasty of China, the Mongolian Empire and beyond) . Even today, within many Native American and West African communities, femaleness is connected to spiritualism – unseen forces are often defined as female, such as goddesses and masked spirits, and are often interpreted by priestesses, prophetesses, healers, fortune tellers, and female shamans. However, the dominant culture that defines our 21st century world is, largely, patriarchal and continues to prosper through the oppression of women – and, to an extent, men. 

Power is power – and there is power in subjugation.

(Sidney Note: The glass ceiling metaphor should be viewed with some context – as should my statement above ^^ While times have changed and we now have female executives, college presidents, directors, governors, ambassadors and presidential candidates there are still inequities that exist. The metaphor implies that women and men have equal access to entry- and mid-level positions (Eagly and Carli). They do not. Rather than a ceiling to break through, women often have to struggle through a labyrinth, a maze filled with dead ends, false leads and towering walls. The labyrinth is even more suffocating for minority and marginalized women.

But back to the Game of Thrones universe . . . While most of the main characters have divided the fan base at some point in time (remember how we used to hate Cersei and then we felt bad and now . . . we kind of hate her again?) the discourse around Daenerys has been relatively consistent. While some see the Dragon Queen as an entitled, power-hungry tyrant slowly turning into the Mad Queen, others view her in a more sympathetic light. Daenerys – like many women – exist within a labyrinth. At the end is the Iron Throne. But the roads, for much of her life, were determined for her. Her (thankfully) deceased brother Viserys sold her in exchange for military support. Even after his golden death, Dany was still trapped in the maze, struggling to navigate the seemingly endless corridors. She has been raped, abandoned, deceived and . . . perhaps, most damning of all, she has been wrong.

Dany has made some questionable choices throughout her reign and while this is nothing new when it comes to GOT characters, what is new is that she is in a position of considerable power. Besides Cersei and, at one time, Grandma Olenna, Daenerys is one of the most powerful women in the series. Her dragons carry the weight of nuclear weapons and, after taking several fiery walks, hatching (or incubating) three ancient creatures an liberating a city from the chains of slavery . . . well, you can see why she thinks her destiny is to sit upon the Iron Throne.

Recently, the discourse about the portrayal of women in cinema has lit a fuse within the feminist movement. While I will say that some people tend to over analyze the actions of every character - relating them back to contemporary issues, it’s no state secret that female characters are often held to a very unhealthy set of standards:

Be strong, but not emasculating.

Be desirable, but not whorish.

Be charming, but not condescending.

Be ambitious, but not too ambitious.

The criticism about her representation in the show I think comes from a place of genuine concern. These fans want her to succeed because, seven hells, this woman has been through A LOT. And while there is a dose of sexism in the discourse, I do think that some of the backlash towards the show and creative team is unwarranted.

Daenerys Stormborn is NOT the protagonist in the traditional sense. She is a principle character who is heavily featured in both the books and Martin’s 5 novels. If you look at the charts below, people (who are more tech savvy than me) created comparison charts to help determine principle characters:

You may not like that Jon is painted as the hero or that Tyrion is featured prominently, but EVERY character has faced failures and loss in this series.

The freedom to lead is not freedom from failure.

No character is entirely good or entirely bad – Dany included. From white savior to female icon, Daenerys has been a polarizing character since season 1. She has made choices that, even when justifiable, were not . . . the most diplomatic solutions. She has a temper. She can be impulsive. But she is also affectionate with her friends. She is nurturing towards her dragons (in the books, her ancestors used whips to direct their dragons). She is also a queen . . . living in a patriarchal system that Aegon Targaryen established almost 300 years prior. She is single handedly trying to undo 300 years of patriarchal feudalism. That’s a pretty ambitious goal!

While Westerosi politics are similar to our own, they do not have cemented democratic institutions. The Night’s Watch is probably the closest example we have of a meritocracy (rule by merit or ability). The majority of the kingdom falls under the rule of one monarch who distributes semiautonomous authority through bonds of vassalage.

Change requires sacrifice . . . and compromise.

When was the last time you saw a high fantasy where, at one point, there were 5 women in positions of power? The closest moment in European history where that was a thing was when Catherine the Great of Russia, Madame de Pompadour, the Mistress of the King of France, and Empress Maria Theresa of the Holy Roman Empire combined their forces to fight against Fredrick II of Prussia during the 7 Years War (Fred was kinda a misogynist and coined the phrase The League of the Three Petticoats to describe the three women). Even in early English history, women who fought for power, like Isabella of France and Margaret of Anjou, were dubbed as she-wolves or reckless, power-hungry queens. Hmmm . . . sound familiar?

Now Dany does have a temper. But so did Robert Baratheon. She can be impulsive. She has a sense of entitlement, as do most monarchs and presidents. She is compassionate, loyal to her friends and nurturing towards her dragons (in the books, her ancestors used whips to direct their dragons). She likes to be in control, but she is also willing to listen to others. But she does get angry and she does have insecurities. She is also a human and – like most humans – she is a bundle of idiosyncrasies, conflicting ideas, blinding anxieties and soaring dreams.

Are there problems with the series? Yes.

Have female (and male) characters been portrayed in ways that are questionable? Yeah.

Would a more socially conscious director craft a different narrative or create a more dynamic story? Maybe.

Are you still gonna watch the next episode this Sunday? Most likely.

If you look for flaws, you will find flaws – because, this story was not created by you. So write your own story, whip up a fanfic or make a headcannon!

And besides, there are plenty of real world issues surrounding women that you can (and should) put your energy towards.

#wow + beyond #wow analysis #game of thrones #got analysis #daenerys targaryen #feminism #women of wonder and beyond #writing #character development #fantasy writing

[kittensartswriting]

Bear Castle: Major Side Characters [1]

Duke Lucretius Emerentius | Imperial Prince

Age: 38 | Personality type: ESTP | Gender: Cis Man | Sexuality: Straight | Ethnicity: Angusian | Current home city: Abhlean, Cabalusia, Angusian Empire | Title: Duke of Cabalusia, General of Cabalusia | Appearance: Short wavy black hair, lightly tanned olive tinted skin, sharp proportionate features, straight nose, deep brown almond eyes, thick upward-tilting eyebrows, muscular longish body (about 180 cm)

Lucretius is the current resident of the Bear Castle and has the title of Duke of Cabalusia, that once belonged to cor Mantgamias. He also commands the Cabalusian army and is uncle of the emperor, younger brother of the previous one. He is know to be very charming, handsome and friendly as a noble man, but also coldly efficient and extremely cunning as a general. He is well liked, but his likable exterior hides a sadistic cruelty and dark ambitions.

Gid’alon Child of Stars | Spirit World Scholar

Age: 45 | Personality type: INFP | Gender: Vaskka (afab non-binary)* | Sexuality: Pansexual | Ethnicity: Ahinian | Current home city: Amari, Víren, Angusian Empire | Title: Eadniei of Stars (high ranking noble in Dir’ahin) | Appearance: Long white hair in ponytail, white eyebrows, very light pinkish skin, blue eyes with monolids, hooked nose, thin lips, high cheekbones, short and soft body

Gid’alon is an scholar and Agrippa’s tutor, who has autism. They prepare Agrippa for her rightful place at the throne of Dir’ahin and at the same time study her abilities. They are kind, snarky, deeply curious and very hungry for knowledge, but they are really bad at practical things and let too often people treat them badly. Years ago they left their home in not so great terms, when it was a crime to leave Dir’ahin and for foreigners to come there, to see the world and seek more knowledge. In addition to spirits, they love everything that is purple, snow and astronomy. They hate illogical rules and traditions, noisy cities and heath.

*Vaskka is the traditional third gender of Ahinians. Intersex people and people who don’t identify with their assigned gender are vaskka in Ahinian culture.

Mánoheahpi Child of Moon | Prince of Dir’ahin

Age: 27 | Personality type: ESTJ | Gender: Cis Man | Sexuality: Straight | Ethnicity: Ahinian | Current home city: Moon City, Dir’ahin | Title: Eaddár of Moon (basically a prince), White Sage | Appearance: Very long straight white hair, white eyebrows, almond-shaped blueberry eyes with monolids, flat nose, long face with soft shapes, high cheekbones, sharp chin, long and lean body, blue tattoos all across body and face

Mánoheahpi is the older brother of Agrippa. He is practically blind because of his albinism. His existence in itself is a miracle, since he is first son in centuries born from the Sun and Moon Binding Ritual alive and healthy. The daughter born from that ritual is the rightful heir, and that is Agrippa. However, some are thinking that maybe Mánoheahpi should inherit the throne since Agrippa is taken by the Empire, but for now their closest female relative is at charge. On the surface he is perfect. He is handsome, composed, powerful with magic, great in martial arts, intelligent, well-spoken, good with people and he even has the Third Eye. However his obsession with power has led him down some dark corners of the Spirit World.

Ráva | Imperial Adviser

Age: 39 | Personality type: INTJ | Gender: Cis Woman | Sexuality: Lesbian | Ethnicity: Ahinian | Current home city: Civitas, Angusia, Angusian Empire | Title: No titles | Appearance: Long wavy red hair, green monolid eyes, round face, small chin, a bit of freckles, full round lips, long and bony body, tattoos hidden under clothes

Empress Verginia’s closest adviser is a mystery to everyone. The empress mother is never seen in public without her. Her being Ahinian is not the only reason why everyone in the court whisper rumors about her. Nothing is know about her past and she never talks to anyone, only walks across the Dragon Palace halls without a sound. And people claim they have saw her in their dreams. They call her witch and some whisper that she is controlling the empress mother with her magic. But she has Empress Verginia’s trust, so they are only whispers.

FaRocM, Part One: Bear Castle (for mobile) | Part 2

I’ll do this kind of little series about all the important side characters I haven’t properly introduced yet!

Tagging the crew: @madmooninc @lady-redshield-writes @worldbuildng @siarven @hell-yeah-fantasy @heniareth @wilde-writing @contes-de-rheio @kainablue @lillayalightfoot @teacupwriter

If you want to be tagged too or not anymore, I’ll be happy do do that :)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing #original characters #writing #creative writing #my wips #my ocs #ocs #fantasy #epic fantasy #speculative fiction #aesthetics #moodboard #fall and rise of cor mantgamia #farocm #bear castle #farocm moodboards