#source: a softer sea

[the-black-bulls]

Nacht: I wonder if we all deserve to die sometimes.

Yami: Maybe, but I’m not in a rush.

#black clover #nacht faust #yami sukehiro #black clover incorrect quotes #source: a softer sea #nacht #yami #the black bulls #50

[incorrectateam]

I would like things to be better but I will settle for “less difficult”.

Face

#templeton peck #source: a softer sea

[lovelyandproblematic]

you were always laughing

#a softer mystic falls #sorry the quality is so bad #rewatching s3 made me depressed bc it was traumatic for Bonnie and it only got worse as the szns go on #her bf Jeremy was a jerkoff her mom got killed and she had to bring ppl back from the dead all bc of antics beyond her control #Alaric tore her neck up #and Julie plec is rascist AF for not putting Bon in a ball gown in 3x14 #tvd s3 #Bonnie stan club #bonnie bennett #source: a softer world #the vampire diaries #tvd #my edits #a softer world remix #a softer sea #bbennettedit #bbennett #tvdedit

[irrealisms]

diptych || a c!crimeboys web weave

[sources and IDs under cut]

The first collage is a collection of 14 images.

Image 1: A human hands a raccoon a gun. It is the same image CC!Wilbur sent CC!Tommy with the caption "Me passing the dirty crime boy title to you."

Image 2: Question 4 of 15 Do you love your brother? Answers, please choose 1

Image 3: WILBUR: This isn't just a silly river delta to me anymore, it's got a name, it's got a story, it's— it's L’Manberg, and it's … to me it's, it's you.

Image 4: A painting of Cain and Abel. Cain holds a club in one hand and Abel's wrist in the other as they walk forward. While it is in the background and mostly covered by the other images, their faces and hands are visible.

Image 5: Question 5 of 15 Liar. You feel guilty, don't you? Answers, please choose 1

Image 6: A screenshot from The Fall by SAD-ist. Wilbur has his hand on Tommy's shoulder and is leaning forward to speak to him. Tommy looks anxious.

Image 7: "Am I my brother's keeper?"

Image 8: A piece of paper pinned to the wall, reading "Someone is looking up to you. Don't let that person down." In the context of the collage, it is pinned onto Wilbur's sleeve/upper arm from the SAD-ist screenshot.

Image 9: Question 6 of 15 But you're the one that left him. Answers, please choose 1 [check mark next to the selected answer] I wanted to and I wanted it to hurt him so he could let go of me.

Image 10: WILBUR: I’m glad, Tommy! You know what, I’m glad! Because me and you were never good for that server. We just weren’t!

Image 11: When I close my eyes I'm climbing in the dark Trying not to fall apart Sometimes I get so high Falling is the only out I see And I don't wanna take you down with me

Image 12: a softer world comic. the text reads "At my worst, I worry you'll realize/you deserve better./At my best, I worry you won't."

Image 13: Question 7 of 15 Do you think your brother loves you? Answers, please choose 1

Image 14: WILBUR: Tommy, come over here, please, I— Tommy, I was scared I wouldn’t see you again if you didn’t forgive me. And I didn’t want to not see you again.

The second image is a collage of 11 images.

Image 1: WILBUR: You love it, don’t you, Tommy? You love… L’Manberg…

Image 2: a softer sea comic. the text reads "You're my brother and I love you./That's it./No punchline."

Image 3: A painting of two men standing next to each other. they look similar. the one on the right puts his hand flat above both of their heads, sheltering them; the one on the left has his hand up to touch the hand of the one on the right. the painting is titled My Brother's Keeper.

Image 4: I will stand in the dark for you I will hold you back by force I will stand here right outside your door I won’t see you disgraced I will protect your name and your heart Because I miss my friend

Image 5: A screenshot from Final Waltz by SAD-ist. Wilbur has his hand on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy looks up at him.

Image 6: In essence, the entire Bible is written as an affirmative response to this question.

Image 7: TOMMY: I believe that everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him. Alright?

Image 8: This is no garden. This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.

Image 9: A collage of an open book with forests, butterflies, etc. the text reads: i care for you still and i will forever.

Image 10: A painting of two young boys wading in the ocean and holding hands. The smaller one has spiderman swim trunks.

Image 11: TOMMY: It’s not about chances, Foolish. It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about.

#mcyt #dsmp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #c!tommy #c!wilbur #c!crimeboys #wilbur #tommy #web weaving #web weave #collage #my edit

[muenbear]

Cuddles - Ace x Reader

Repost cuz i accidentally deleted my 1st acc lmao

A one shot of Ace needing cuddles after a trip, I can imagine him being so clingy cuz he misses you! :3

Enjoy!

———————————————————-

The Moby Dick sailed through the calm seas. You were in your comfy room, putting on some light makeup, waiting for your boyfriend to come back from his 2-week long trip.

There was a knock on your door. "Hey Y/N, Ace is back!" you heard Marco yell behind the door. You quickly rushed and ran out the door, the whitebeard pirates were loud and cheering, happy to see Ace back.

"Darling~!" Ace sprinted towed you and engulfed you in a tight hug. "I missed you so much! How was your trip?" You smiled and returned his tight hug.

"I missed you too, so much!" He nudged your nose with his and turned to the crew. "We can celebrate later you guys! I need some alone time with my girl!" He smirked picked you up bridal style and walked towards your shared room, the crew will definitely make fun of you two lovebirds later.

Ace plopped you onto the fluffy bed and laid close to you, nearly on top of you, careful not to crush you. You could feel the tension in his muscles as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Gently, you ran your fingers through his raven-black hair, offering a silent reassurance that he was home, safe with you.

"I missed your touch" Ace mumbled into the crook of your neck.

You let out a soft laugh. Ace is always attention-seeking after his trips without you. "Me too, tell me about your trip!" your arms encircling him in a tender embrace.

"I had to deal with those Marines again," Ace grumbled, his frustration evident in his voice. "They just don't know when to quit, i was just minding my own business."

You listened attentively, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. As he recounted the events of the day, you offered words of encouragement and understanding. Your connection with Ace was a source of strength for both of you.

He started mumbling more and his eyes were drooping. "Thanks for always listening to my boring stories my darling" he planted a few gentle kisses on your neck. "They are fun to listen to since I don't get to go to so many places" you gave him a kiss on the forehead and pulled a blanket over the two of you.

"I see, also you are so beautiful, how I've missed your smile.....Thanks for being mine," he mumbled, his voice softer now as his eyes closed.

"Always glad to be yours Ace" you smiled and closed your eyes as well.

The room filled with a comforting silence as the two of you simply enjoyed each other's presence. Ace's exhaustion began to weigh heavier on him, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. You smiled down at his peaceful face, grateful for the moments of peace you could share in the midst of the busy pirate's life.

With Ace in a peaceful slumber, you allowed yourself to revel in the quiet joy of being with the man you loved. The Moby Dick sailed on, carrying its crew and their dreams through the vastness of the Grand Line.

The next morning when you woke up, Ace was already gone from the bed, probably outside catching up with his friends.

There was a glistening palm-sized seashell in the bedside table, a note under it : "Got this for you from a beach I stopped at, I know you love collecting these! I love you <3 -Ace :P"

You smiled and put it gently into the box under the bed, one that is filled with various seashells Ace has brought back for you from every trip.

—————————————————

Hope you like ^^!

#fanfic #anime and manga #manga #anime #one piece #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #oneshot

[inkindofmagic]

How to charge Crystals

source mindbodygreen.com

🔮 Why you need to charge them

Crystals tend to hold on to the energy they're exposed to—which isn't always a good thing. If you're using a crystal for protection energy, for example, that stone is absorbing the energy it's protecting you from.

That's why it's important to get rid of any negative energy your crystal has accumulated as needed. It needs to be refueled, just like our energy needs to be refueled by sleeping every night.

Part of charging your crystal is clearing its energetic slate—hence why some people refer to charging crystals as "clearing" them. From there, it's about filling your crystal back up, often with grounding energy that comes from places in nature: the moon, the soil, water, etc.

🔮 How to pick the best method

Building an intuitive relationship is really important because there's an intimacy with your crystals.

No charging method is better than another. Just be mindful of your specific crystal and whether it does OK in water or salt, as some will not take well to those. (More on that later.)

SOME METHODS

🌝 1. The full moon

The full moon is a powerful point in the lunar cycle, and it works wonders for clearing and charging your favorite crystals, too.

All you have to do is place the crystal outside on the ground, overnight on the night of the full moon, to charge it with lunar energy. Even a windowsill inside that gets moonlight will do!

Works with all types of crystals. (Most popular)

🌙 2. Moon water

For another moon-related crystal charging option, you can make your own moon water. You can place your crystals in this lunar-powered water for around an hour, or pour the moon water over your crystal.

Check if the crystal tolerates getting wet.

🌱 3. The ground

Dig a small hole where you would like to bury your stone, placing the soil you have removed into an earthenware pot or jar, bury the crystal in the soil within the pot or jar. Then, lower the pot into the hole and cover it with the remaining soil. Mark your crystal with a flag or some other marker, and leave the stone buried for at least one week. This will help charge your stone with the powerful properties of the ground it came from.

🎶 4. Sound

Sound can be a powerful tool when it comes to shifting frequencies. Place them in a singing bowl and ring it.

💨 5. Burn incense or herbs

To cleanse your stones by burning sacred herbs, pass your stones through the smoke (such as sage, sweetgrass, Palo Santo, or cedar) or incense (such as sandalwood, lavender, or jasmine) for approximately two to three minutes.

🧂 6. Salt

You can also use salt (preferably sea salt) for charging your crystals. Simply place your stone in salt and let it sit overnight.

Check the hardness of the Crystal. Softer stones like turquoise, opal, and calcite can scratch easily.

🌬️ 7. Your own breath

Your breath can also be used for clearing crystals. To clear a stone using your breath, you must first clear your mind of any outside thoughts, then, hold the crystal in one hand and breathe out forcefully while quickly waving your other hand over the crystal.

🎋 8. Your spirit guide

If you work with any spiritual guides or deities, you can connect your crystals with them. Whether through prayer or meditation, you can take a moment to ask your guides to connect to your crystals and your intention for them.

👁️ 9. Cleansing visualization

And lastly, using a visualization technique to charge your stone: Picture universal, healing light filling your crystal up until all the old energy has been dissolved.

See the light expand until it surrounds the stone and fills your hands. Intend that all negativity be removed from the stone and dissolved, when you intuitively feel that the stone has been cleared, you may stop the visualization.

🔮 Tips

Charging crystals doesn't have to be a complicated business, but if you're just getting started, here are some tips to keep in mind:

Know whether your crystals can tolerate salt or water. A few common crystals that are fine with water are varieties of quartz, amethyst, agate, moonstone, and citrine. When in doubt, opt for a different clearing technique.

Know which element the crystal is associated with. Look up the properties of each crystal and see what they are rooted in. For example, malachite is associated with Earth, so charging it in the ground by burying it makes sense.

Because crystals can pass through many hands before they wind up in yours, it's always a good idea to clear them as soon as you get them home from the shop. You never know what kind of energy they may be holding!

Via @inkindofmagic

#magic #grimoire #witch #magick #coven #crystals #baby witch #charge Crystals #moon #mind #methods #gems #full moon #visualisation #witchy #witchy tips #witchcraft

[youryurigoddess]

Case study and analysis of the 1992 Good Omens movie screenplay (“the shitscript”) in light of the ongoing WGA strike

As one could suspect, the topic of the 1992 Good Omens movie screenplay and its infamy has recently emerged from the depths of the fandom. In light of the ongoing WGA strike it’d be good to properly address this issue, starting with Neil Gaiman’s own recollection written in 2004:

It’s basically the same old story — of brilliant creative workers struggling under the pressure of detached studio executives and being legally forced to mutilate their work again and again for no artistic or economic reason — we’ve heard before in many different contexts.

If you’re reading this and somehow still wondering why writers are fighting for their rights at the moment, their job security hasn’t changed much since then. Please follow the WGA, SAG-AFTRA, and other unions’ official channels for detailed information and ways to help the cause.

Anyway, it took over a decade and an enormous effort to print the screenplay in a limited edition of 552 copies. It can’t be distributed otherwise due to IP law, but some fans shared its fragments online and heavily criticized them, dubbing the 1992 source material #shitscript

There’s been obviously a lot of controversies over the changes in the plot and the relationship between the main characters. And rightfully so — the number of iterations has created something very different from the beloved book and the award-winning show we can all enjoy today.

It’s… objectively not good. Wouldn’t be considered a hit back then and certainly not by today’s standards. I don’t think I would watch it in any other way than through channel surfing. However, it’s not a monstrosity some people believe it to be and not a case of low effort.

Let’s start with the world building: the setting wasn’t changed to the US. It’s still very much based in the UK, mostly London and Tadfield, although the latter lies now by the sea and seems much more ominous. Interestingly, the British Museum becomes a prominent location as well.

The main character and the designated hero is not surprisingly Crowley, this time in his 90s anti-hero glory. If you haven’t watched many movies of this era, esp. dark fantasy, this trope involves middle-age disenchantment, cynicism, as well as hefty doses of sarcasm and brooding.

90s anti-heroes are a dark, grim, and unnecessarily violent embodiment of power fantasy, matching the destructive ideology of that time. Combined with uber-masculinity and performative strength over weaker characters, nowadays they naturally evoke more cringe or worry than awe.

1992 iteration of Crowley is basically in his Furfur era. Deeply unhappy and stuck in a dead end job, all he talks about is how he hates Earth and his assignment here, considering a transfer to Alpha Centauri as his one and only possibility of career advancement. Or life, really.

The talking part is important here, because he clearly compensates by insulting everything and everyone. He hates on the whole planet at length only to confess that he’d rather stay here with Aziraphale due to “no good restaurants”, “no decent bottle of wine” in Alpha Centauri.

Yes, he’s verbally abusive in his automatic response to stress. But doesn’t hate Aziraphale. In one particular scene he calls Azi stupid twice only to assure him that they are friends and to offer to solve the problem when he sees that his words were taken seriously and hurt him.

Crowley refers to him as “my angel” and “my dear Aziraphale”, agrees to Aziraphale’s suggestion of sharing a room, praises the angel as a “miracle worker around the home”, drinks the tea he makes for him, and generally proves to be much softer towards him than he wants to admit.

Aziraphale, on the contrary, wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s the one engineering ways to spend more time together, following Crowley around, checking up on him (including miracling himself into his apartment and office when no one answers the door), offering help right away.

He’s successfully calming Crowley down through his anxiety attacks, overcomes his dislike of heights (!) for Crowley, directly challenges him and even breaks rules only to make Crowley stay with him. Crowley seems to be his main motivation in this movie, not the saving the world.

1992 Aziraphale also has the most badass scene in the whole Good Omens multiverse to date, taking a 180 degree turn from the typical guardian angel we all know and love to the real angel of wrath protecting Crowley from harm in his true form.

But there’s no Their Side in this universe. The only semblance of that concept appears in the context of Anathema not representing either of their respective bosses, but humanity. “That’s the trouble with the humans. They’re on their own side.”

This Crowley appears not as much on Hell’s side as under Satan’s heel. He’s scared of him and subservient, and needs Aziraphale to prevent his escape as a pretext to do what is right. He lets the angel stop him by pretending that he doesn’t even see him cheating during their duel.

By finally standing up to his toxic boss (Satan is like Gabriel during the body-swapped trial, suave and cruel) and leaving Hell’s side to do good, Crowley takes an emancipated and employee-focused stance instead of fighting for his relationship with Aziraphale like shown in S1.

Which is a shame, but matches the overall tone of the screenplay and the times it was written in. The concept of free will, while simplified in a true Hollywood-style to issues like mind control and fear, is still crucial to this interpretation of the Good Omens original plot.

Especially the character of Anathema is seen fighting both of these things. There’s no Agnes Nutter with her prophecies here, only a 21-year-old witch and her will to thwart the ultimate evil versus her fear of doing it at a cost of one boy’s life, versus Satan’s brainwashing.

Madame Tracy appears slightly redesigned as a new character as well, but isn’t 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 for the most part. She’s been enjoying her youth way too much to see how fast it was fleeting, and this sudden realization left her in shock from which she denies to come back.

Unfortunately she’s also the one who took in baby Adam and now stays under his care. The level of his parentification is unnerving, much like his bullying and loneliness. He struggles to be loved and ask for love, which becomes his main quest beyond, y’know, the apocalypse thing.

Don’t worry, despite everything all ends well just like in the book. The family of two gets a chance to start again on much healthier terms and Anathema to live for herself for the first time in years. Our heroes get back in their car, Crowley tempting Aziraphale with an apple.

All in all, this whole post is a very long reminder for Amazon Prime to #PayYourWriters, #PayYourActors, and #RenewGoodOmens! The strike is still ongoing and crucial for any new content for this and many other fandoms #GiveMeS3orGiveMeDeath

#Yuri is doing her thing #good omens #good omens meta #good omens movie #a screenplay #1992 good omens

[iicomet]

(pre-reincarnation!chung myung & reader)

(In which you meet him for several times.)

The first time you met him, you remember thinking one thing.

‘What a small child.’

Cold autumn air pricks at your skin, puffs of condensed air surrounding your lips, your warmth sourced from the bundles of scarves you had wrapped around yourself. Curious eyes watched the wrapped child being held in your elder’s arms; small hands, already so beaten and bruised at a young age, held back the temptation to hold him and fascinate in awe over the smaller being.

Despite being one of the older children, bearing witness to the numerous people who had joined the sect, you were still so fascinated at the younger ones being brought in. Even as you grew up in the walls of the esteemed sect, hearing people come and go through the wide doors, red painted wood opening and closing with a loud creak— You always seemed to miss the exact moment of their entry and departure, always so caught up in the swings of your wooden sword; each swing harsher than the rest, each stroke softer than before. Gaze boring into the tip of the blunt weapon as if it had wronged your entire bloodline; your mind dazed as you watched your own body be controlled by the memories of a practiced dance, over and over again. It was like you only had eyes for the sword, and nothing else. 

Yet this time, you caught a sight of something else for the first time.

And that just so happens to be the first time you met that child, on October 10. Blue skies tinted with a yellowish hue, the clouds passing through the gates of the sect, watching the newest addition to the family you had grown to love over the years. Hiding above the tall pink trees that decorated the grounds, you didn’t dare to reveal yourself despite the waging curiosity and interest in your heart.

Perhaps you were afraid of dealing with a younger child, afraid of hearing it cry so suddenly in your presence; or perhaps you were afraid of being found by your seniors for slacking off, the height of your rebellious stage beginning to peek through the cracks of your innocent exterior despite being years away from reaching the peak of your adolescent adventures. They had always said that the quieter ones were the most unexpected ones, after all.

So, you continued to watch from afar, the scent of plum blossoms beginning to feel overwhelming as you surrounded yourself in it, drowning your shadows in a pink sea.

–

The second time you had met him, it was when you were assigned to take care of him, when he could barely even walk. You had wondered what kind of person he will grow into, holding chubby little hands in your bigger ones, squishing the flesh with an amused smile. He was so weak, so defenseless. Even though you were the same, merely a few years difference between the both of you, you still felt a sense of protectiveness over the boy, wanting to shield him from the harm the world could ever bring him.

At that moment, you allowed a promise to be made, to swear by a self-inflicted oath to protect the child before you. Why would you do something for someone you had just met? A child, whose only life was behind the guarded walls of the sect and surrounded with the warmth of a family, had no idea how valuable a life was.

Even so, you gave yours to him. 

You gave yours to them.

A sudden tight pinch alerts you from your thoughts, flinching slightly from the death grip this child has. You tried prying off your fingers, fearing it might break, but his grip was too strong, and you didn’t want to hurt the child.

You sighed. You were never expecting a younger child to have such a monstrocious grip strength. 

Maybe, you didn’t need to protect him after all. Maybe, this child was someone who might be the one to protect you in the future, instead. 

You chuckled. 

As if. 

Even if this child grows up to be the savior of the world, you were still his senior. As his older senior, you would do your best to accompany him, so he wouldn’t be lonely. As his older senior, you had a duty to guide and protect your younger sect members. Just like how your seniors did to you, and just like how their seniors did to them.

You were his senior. You had a duty to fulfill.

–

The one hundred sixty-eighth time you had met him, he was running from his sect brother. You, who remained diligent in your training, bumped into him after a long time. Or, well, he bumped into you, causing the little findings in his hands to drop and spill onto the ground.

“Ah– There you are.”

You picked him up like a stray cat, his expression morphing from a mischievous glee to a nervous smile. He still greeted you as always, his voice abnormally innocent and kind. Cheeky little one, you bemused. As an expert is able to discern an amateur's lies, you weren’t a fool to trust his facade, having experienced the same scene that played before them over and over again while still in their youth.

It was like you could hear the sighs of your fellow sect members, shaking their heads as they hear you speak like an elder despite your young age. They would joke that perhaps an older spirit had possessed your body, causing you to act like a matured grandpa whilst adorning a teenage face. You, in turn would just solemnly nod and bemoan out loud whenever it rains, complaining about your aching knees and tired back to run from training. At first, it would work, but people soon stopped believing your act of compliance towards their jokes and forced you to return to sword swingings. What a pity.

Of course, as the kind and mature senior you were, you were about to give him advice on how to act better and let him off if he were to share with you his findings, but was unfortunately disrupted by the voice of another sect brother who came running towards the both of you, obviously exhausted. You pitied him, for a moment, deciding to continue your mask as the reliable senior instead.

To be honest, you pitied yourself more; for losing the opportunity to share a drink underneath the moonlight with your fellow disciples. 

You smiled at him as he spoke words that flew from one ear to another, your mind too occupied with the devastating fates that separated you and your beloved wine. Disappointment leaks through your expression, causing your juniors to freeze.

Chung Myung-ah, you should’ve ran faster.

Placing him down, you acted as nonchalant as possible, seeing another opportunity to grab and pick up the bottles, leaving the both of them behind. You silently applauded yourself for the genius idea that appeared in your mind in the spur of the moment as you walked away, promising yourself to pay your junior back for giving you such a wonderful chance.

–

The five hundred and twelfth time you had met him, he was working hard in the training grounds you once found yourself in nearly every day, taking your place in his diligent training. You were merely passing through, taking a break from your own practices when your eyes caught the familiar tuff of black hair, standing amidst the neatly arranged crowd of disciples. Wooden sword in his hand, it reminds you of the ones you broke countless times during your past, before you were sentenced to cleaning the halls because of one too many losses.

It’s not your fault the wooden sword couldn’t handle your strength, you thought, pouting slightly as you mopped the floors clean. Unfortunately for you, the elders thought otherwise. Maybe that’s why they had you banned from using the wooden swords for a short period of time, and why they decided to exclude you from the practices right now.

…No, that’s not it. You were clearly just slacking off by telling your instructor that you had to grab the specialized sword that the sect elders made for you just to stop you from continuing to cause any more losses to their savings. Obviously, you did grab it, but you just went for the longer route to go back to your training. If they asked, you would just blame it on your weak knees.

Your attention returned to the shouts of your junior brothers as they swung their swords, eyes filled with determination to perform the best in their group. You smiled, watching the younger ones repeat the same dance you had forced yourself to do a few years back, the same fire burning their limbs underneath the sun after hours and hours of non-stop swinging.

As you walked away, footsteps softly resounding across the cobblestone pathway, the already quiet paddings underneath your feet deafened by the passionate yells from your juniors, you wondered how long it would take for him to grow stronger and become like you. 

You silently hoped that it would never come. 

—

The five hundred twentieth time you had met him, it was night. The moon shone above the both of you, the birds long returned to their homes and quietly entered their slumber, just like everyone else in the sect. So, why were the both of you staring at each other wide-eyed, hands holding something the both of you shouldn’t be holding?

A look of recognition was passed between the two, a silent nod and approval of each other’s action. Who would’ve thought that the senior that everyone thought was a stickler for rules was such a troublemaker? Who would’ve thought that the growing prodigy in the sect was such a troublemaker? (The latter was quite a known case, but the former was still quite a surprise to those who were not of the same generation. What a well-kept secret, indeed.)

Before the two could even do anything, a sudden flicker of light appeared from a corner, causing them to bolt into different directions, the shouts of an elder close behind them. The younger one, who was nearly caught, found himself being grabbed by the back of his neck and pulled towards a secluded place, where another senior looked at him in surprise.

Three of them stayed quiet behind the walls, their breathing soft and quiet despite the harsh beatings in their heart, the bottles in their hands nearly breaking from the sheer pressure. The seconds felt like years, the stress from being caught causing them to age several years, but it was by luck that the elder was too tired to look closer. Perhaps if he did, he would catch three delinquents with one too many bottles of wine in their possessions, staring right back at him.

‘Maybe this is why senior was always complaining about having grey hair,’ Chung Myung thought.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, the feeling of relief flooding your veins as you slowly slide down the walls and sit on the floor. Nervous hearts pounded with blood, before the adrenaline rush dies down and you find yourself chuckling, giggling softly at the excitement this brings.

It’s true when they said that laughter was contagious, for the small corner was soon filled with childish sniggerings, three unruly disciples enjoying the stolen fruits of their labor in the night together. Underneath the moonlit gleam, you shared a drink with your fellow disciples, raising your glass high in the air, cheeks red from both the alcohol and joy.

-

#its fluff (finally!!!) #hopefully. #return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheongmyeong #chung myung x reader #chungmyung #gn reader #cheong myeong x reader #return of mount hua #return of the blossoming blade x reader #would've continued it but it was getting too long/losing motivation and i might accidentally turn it into angst (AGAIN..!!) #platonic relationship intended!! #another throw back to my first fic lol #whos the extra person in the last scene i wonder #(theyre totally not related to senior reader lore...) #senior of mount hua #it does get reader centric at one point im sorry i swear i'll write cm centric in the next #maybe i'll continue this in the future because theres a very very big gap in between that im not too satisfied with..... #talking about the jump from second to hundred smth and more #the pacing is not pacing

[jumexju]

LULLABY

Fic Type !! : angst

CW !! : Gojo fucken dies (thanks a lot gege)

Summary !! : He lied. He didn't come back like he said he would.

Note !! : Yes i'm bitter idc gege needs to apologize for makin me go thru this, this was originally gon be a fluff fic but I just read 237 for myself and well, here we are

✦ MASTERLIST

OPENING YOUR eyes, you could see his eyes. Bluer than the sea itself, not even the beaches in Okinawa could compare to the beauty his eyes held. And his hair, oh his hair. Softer than the clouds and whiter than the snow. The way his lips were always plush against yours.. How his rough, calloused hands would often cup your cheeks as he kissed your forehead.. He was simply more perfect than perfect was.

"Ya miss me?" He snickered as his strong arms wrapped around you, engulfing you completely in his affection. You immediately hugged him back. With your face buried in his shirt, you could almost smell the detergent you often used when doing laundry.

The softness of the fabric was like no other, you weren't sure if it was because of the fabric itself or because it was Satoru clothed in it. Despite his rigid build, he was always a source of comfort for you, he was always soft to you.

"F'course, there's not a single day I don't miss you." Your words were quiet ー and a little muffled since you were still tightly pressed against him. He pulls away a little, trying to get a better look at you.

"Hey.. you know i'd never leave you." He tries to reassure you as he takes one of his hands off your waist and raises it to cup your cheek. His thumb brushing against your skin.

"..." You didn't say anything back but your grip on his shirt tightened. You rested your forehead against his chest, "You're a bad liar."

At this, he chuckled, bringing you back in for a hug. "You're just an illusion made by my brain to cope with what happened.." You continued. "You're not really here.." Hot tears welled up in your eyes, you could feel them roll down your cheek as you slept, still not daring to let it wake you up.

"That may be true." He spoke, leaning down a little to kiss your forehead reassuringly, "..Maybe in some alternate universe, I'm still here, with you." He smiled.

".. That doesn't help, Satoru," You chuckled sadly as he wiped your tears with his thumb.

"Made ya laugh though didn't I? That's gotta count for somethin'!" He declared cheerfully.

"You always knew how to cheer me up.." Your voice faltered, lips quivering. He pulled you in again, trying to comfort you. You wanted so badly for this to be real. You wanted to wake up next to him, tell him you loved him and see his toothy smile as he told you that you couldn't possibly love him more than he loved you.

"I miss you.." Your body shook as you cried into his shirt, his arms keeping you close.

"I know."

Your eyes burst open, vision cloudy from the tears you'd been crying in your sleep. The covers surrounding you shifted as you sat up, wiping your tears, you felt empty. The heavy feeling of sorrow had become familiar. Grief had made a home in your heart since seeing the horrific sight of Satoru's lifeless body.

It felt like some sick and twisted dream.

At first, you'd been angry. Angry that Sukuna had managed to end the life of the one you loved so much. Angry that no one else stepped in to help, even if you knew logically that they would've only hindered him. Angry that.. you weren't there to see him in his final moments.

Then you were sad. Sad that you would never hear him rant about how the higher-ups were always on his ass. Sad that you wouldn't be able to see the boyish smile he wore so often around you. Sad that you'd never see the loving glint in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

But now.. you were empty.

As empty as his side of the bed now that he was gone. Emptier than the bottomless pit that sat in your stomach, it was unbearable. The weight of his death crushed your heart.

It was uncanny.

To realize that you would never wake up next to him again. You would never get to bicker with him over his unhealthy addiction to sweets. You would never feel his soft lips on yours again. The softness of his hair would never kiss the tips of your fingers.. his warmth would never again be close to you & his eyes would forever remain soulless, never again gazing at you lovingly like he used to.

You didn't have Satoru to comfort you anymore. The spot beside you would always be cold. He wasn't coming back.

Sobs racked your body as you began to cry for the nth time this week and in an attempt to soothe yourself, your encased yourself in your own arms. Your breaths were uneven, your eyes hurt from the endless stream of tears that flowed. Your pained wails ricocheted off the walls of your room.

You were alone.

Totally and undeniably Alone.

#angst #jjk angst #hurt no comfort #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo angst #satoru angst #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #fuck sukuna #Written apology NOW gege #what the fuck

[baekberrie]

[21:30pm]

With your chin tucked over your knees, you swayed gently to the soothing melody resounding softly through the speaker of Beomgyu's studio. Listening to music surely was to some people, a mere, casual activity. But there was something about sharing the songs that comforted you with someone.

That someone being a person that magically had the same effect of that one song, their presence a soft blow on your scars, a band aid gently applied to your aching cuts. Putting on a song to you dear, was something that rendered you extremely giddy, just because Beomgyu was sitting next to you, swinging side to side on his swivel chair.

"this one reminds me of you," you had murmured softly, shyly avoiding to look at him while pressing play from your phone. The best friend eyed you curiously from underneath his lashes, something glistening in his eyes as soon as the gentle noise of the sea caressing the shore feathered.

I want to stay by the sea, watching it turn into red, sat down with the people

You could only be reminded of why this boy was so much like the song playing. A song about a beautiful place that feels just like home. A place with the most mesmerising sunsets, with the warmest company. A place you never want to leave.

You could only nervously gnaw at your lip as you waited for the lyrics to sink into his pretty little head, if it ever would.

Listen through this song

Moon is slowly rising

I see the trees are moving

Sky is brighten through the moon

Your heartbeat was echoing in your ears, drumming like the base of a speaker against your chest, begging to be set free as you laid your gaze on anything but him. You were too flustered, too afraid that you were embarassing yourself more than anything else. It was the way that you could feel his gaze burning on your cheek that made you find interest in your growing nails, picking at them relentlessly.

It happened too quickly, his moves were slow yet ever so blurry in your wavering view as you felt yourself being pushed backwards. Beomgyu had grabbed the back of your chair and drawn it closer to himself. Your breath lost itself somewhere far within your lungs as he with ease made you face him. Lips caught in the nervous cage of your teeth, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to meet his gaze. But the best friend did not mind your shy antics, all too engrossed in the lyrics that had caressed his heart. Pushing him to come closer, to close any distance there had ever been.

The soft voice singing was still floating in the air, its soft words like the feathering motion of a thread tying itself around your hearts, bringing them closer.

The cherry red color of Beomgyu’s hoodie came first into your view, then next were his hooded orbs lazily gazing into yours for a few moments before dropping to your lips as he leaned away from the back-rest of his chair, entering your personal space.

You barely had time to register the fluffy scent of his newly washed clothing clouding your senses, for what you felt next was something even softer. Beomgyu’s eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as his eyes dropped close, his pillowy lips placing themselves gently between yours. The small, surprised gasp leaving your mouth allowed him deeper as he tilted his head and captured your lower lip within his, kissing you slowly.

You were stunned, hence you had no idea if you were dreaming or not, but you dared not to question the moment, closing your eyes as well and pressed yourself closer to him, earning his soft palm to cradle the side of your neck, fingertips caressing your cheeks and jaw.

Your breaths became one single source of air as your lips detached with a low sound. The boy leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed and you couldn’t help but stare at his swollen pillows. Though, your attention was soon swooped by his deep voice breathing out sincere confessions to you.

”I love you too,” he murmured against your cheek, and your heart skipped a huge beat.

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #txt #tomorrow by together #txt imagines #beomgyu timestamps #txt timestamps #txt fluff #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu #tubatu

[echo-ri0t]

Dog Teeth (1-??)

Frieza x M!Reader

This is a little thing I'm going to write in and when i have time/ motivation

TW'S

Frieza is abusive, there is blood, there is swearing, and mention of death.

Summary

You are an alien solider serving on the Frieza force and Lord Frieza takes a strange liking to you

What is the reader?

You the reader are a species I made named the Stellargon, they're a matriarchal gladiator species. The reader is the only one left because frieza wiped your race out because they were interfering with his plans. You were a male gladiator who was Imprisoned for speaking out against Empress Malvoria Voidshard.

Word Count; 882

He regards you with disdain in his eyes; you're nothing more than a creature unworthy of the love and attention he bestows upon you. So, why does he bother? To him, you're little more than a chew toy.

"You're relieved of your post," Ginyu declares as he approaches. You nod and bow to both him and Lord Frieza before departing the throne room. The lord snorts in disappointment as you make your exit.

You serve as a Stellargon soldier for the Frieza Force, the last surviving member of your species, thanks to the tyrant himself. Stellargons are characterized by their dual-colored skin—shades of red, blue, green, white, and black—along with softer facial features and eyes. You, my dear, are a unique case among the Stellargons, labeled as an "angel." Angels are powerful fighters with a special form, and you wear power inhibitors to control this unique ability. This is why Frieza keeps you close, often drawing comparisons to the Saiyans.

The sterile metal flooring of the hallways echoes beneath your boots as you walk back to your quarters. Another grueling day in service to Frieza is behind you, and you look forward to unwinding until your next shift. The door to your quarters slides open with a metallic hiss from the hydraulics. While the room itself is unremarkable, at least it's your private sanctuary—something your acquaintances, if they could be called that, envy you for.

You shed your shoes, belt, chest plate, and shoulder pads, not bothering to change into fresh clothes. Lying down on your bed in only your undergarments, you gaze up at the ceiling, contemplating the path that brought you here. Reflecting on how Frieza discovered you in the dungeons for presenting as male and essentially abducted you before obliterating your homeworld into dust particles.

"Maybe I should've perished alongside my people," you hum before drifting off into a restless sleep.

Frieza scowled as he peered down at the screen before him. Shaking his head in disdain, he lifted his gaze to the subordinate standing in front of him.

"Take these reports back and don't return until you locate what I desire!" he commanded with a thunderous voice.

"Yes, my lord," the Grunt replied meekly, shuffling away and leaving Frieza in solitude. Frustration etched across his face, Frieza tapped his fingers against the desk while scrolling through the reports. Boredom plagued him—bored with the conquered planets and colonies, weary of the same grunts and soldiers. The insatiable itch for destruction gripped him once more.

"Tch," he scoffed, powering down the screen and rising from his seat. As he walked to the window, he gazed out into the vast sea of stars and uninhabited planets, contemplating which ones to obliterate for his own amusement.Yet, nothing stirred Frieza's interest — not a planet, nor the prospect of annihilating another feeble race could alleviate his boredom. His mind fixated solely on you, his favored plaything, a source of amusement to chew up and obliterate at his whim. Grinning at the thought, he snapped his fingers, conjuring a screen on the window.

"Alert the Stellargon, report to me immediately," Frieza commanded through the screen. The device chimed with a check mark, confirming the transmission. Content with his decision, Frieza smiled as he settled back into his seat, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

An alarm blared, rudely interrupting your slumber and jolting you awake. "God dammit," you muttered, swiftly changing into your armored uniform. Heading to your computer, you checked the source of the transmission. "Why is Frieza requesting me...?" you wondered aloud, securing your hair into a tight, high ponytail before departing. As you traversed the hallways leading to the throne room, you noticed your colleagues and peers glancing at you, exchanging hushed whispers. Though not uncommon, it still unnerved you. Had you angered the lord? Left your station in disarray? Perhaps a promotion was on the horizon? The latter, however improbable, lingered in your mind.

The doors to the throne room slid open, crashing closed behind you as you entered. "My lord," you greeted, bowing to Frieza, who bore into you with his deep burgundy eyes.

He gestured for you to approach with a crooked finger, and obediently, you walked toward him. "Roll your sleeve up," he commanded sternly. Perplexed, you complied, exposing the softer flesh of your right arm. Frieza seized your wrist forcefully and sank his teeth into your forearm. Pain surged through your arm from the bite and the vice-like grip on your wrist.

A sharp yelp escaped you, and instinctively, you attempted to pull your arm away, only intensifying his bite. His teeth pierced your flesh, and your light red blood spilled from the wound, creating a brutal tableau. Frieza released your arm, pulling away with blood staining his teeth and the corners of his mouth.

"Oooh Hohoho!" Frieza laughed, bringing his hand to his face. "You are weaker than I thought!" His laughter echoed as your arm twitched and bled.

Disbelief etched across your face as you tore fabric from your undershirt to fashion a makeshift tourniquet. Wincing and whimpering in pain, you questioned, "Wh... why did you do this?"

Frieza's tail flicked as he smirked. "Because I was bored, and you seemed like the perfect thing to bite," he declared, baring his teeth stained with your blood.

#frieza x reader #dbz frieza #frieza x male reader #/myownarchive\ #dragon ball #frieza #x reader #tw blo0d #ok to rb #please rb

[bonesandthebees]

trick or treat!! any sandduo?

found a scene from stars that I ended up cutting and rewriting to make it a bit less soft because I felt like it didn't fit the characters at that point in the story yet lol

“Orpheus,” Phil then said, his voice shifting to something much softer than before, “what’s really going on?”  Again, there was something about Phil’s words that acted like oil on troubled seas—it calmed the waves, and he was finally able to hear himself think again. And as he forced more icy air into his lungs, he was also forced to acknowledge the real question sitting on the tip of his tongue.  “I just- I don’t understand. Even if you don’t care what they say, wouldn’t it be easier to not deal with those questions at all?” Wilbur asked, glancing up at Phil between his fingers. “You didn’t have to give me a private room here. You didn’t have to invite me to take meals with you. I mean, you even granted me permission to come see you whenever I needed. There was no reason for you to do any of that.” His breathing hitched as a shudder ran down his spine. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing all of this for me when it’s just causing you trouble?”  There was something vulnerable lying under his words. A fragility he didn’t mean to put into his voice. Because he could guess the answers to his questions well enough. This could all be manipulation. Some game for Phil to gain Wilbur’s trust. But what was the point of that anymore? It clearly had nothing to do with the negotiations. And while Phil had once said he wanted to carve Wilbur into something more, so much had changed between them since that night. Phil encouraged his anger, but didn’t force it into a specific shape. He offered him advice, but never demanded his attention.  Suddenly, there was a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, and he found himself leaning into the singular source of warmth in the room.  “Why shouldn’t I?” Phil asked simply.

hope you enjoy! happy halloween!

#ask #maxinemarine0 #trick or treat #the stars and their children

[seattlesolace]

water // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: prince!jay x mermaid!fem!reader

summary: your father sends you to inspect a ship, and by doing so you found yourself a new acquaintance.

content: sfw

word count: ~1k

for tropetember – 18/09 fairytale au // tropetember masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were huffing and puffing as soon as you emerged from the water. Your jet black luscious hair lay flat on your head, and you fixed the shells that covered your chest as you made your way to the nearest bed of rocks. Your father instructed you to observe the ship that arrived on the island last night, and although he could have asked his other sons or daughters, he just chose to send you.

It was early in the morning, and you couldn’t see any signs of life coming from the boat. Except for one voice. You squinted your eyes and saw a man, a human, with the sharpest jawline you had ever seen in your life. Based on what he was wearing, he seemed to be a prince, or someone of royalty. You decided to swim closer to the ship, getting a better view and a better taste of his voice.

He was belting notes to a song that you did not know, and it made you knit your eyebrows and hold in your laughter when he started singing way too enthusiastically and exaggerating the adlibs. The man then leaned to the side of the ship where he could see you floating in water, but his eyes were set somewhere else.

“You sound awful.”

The man lost his balance and tripped backwards as soon as he heard your voice. Standing up with wobbly legs, he brushed his hair back and looked left and right, searching for the source.

“Down here, Sir,” you called for him. You waved at him when his eyes landed on you.

You could see him gulp and hear him clear his throat before he spoke. “You’re… a mermaid…”

It seemed like he was awestruck by the way his eyes were looking at you and the way his mouth stayed agape.

“What’s the matter, you’ve never seen one before?” You asked, purposefully bringing your tail to the surface of the water. He saw the purple scales you had matched the shells that covered your top. If he decided to come closer, he’d see that your eyes were purple, too.

“I’ve always thought you were a myth,” the man leaned forward, desperate to get a better look. “Where did you come from?”

“Uh, under the sea,” you answered matter-of-factly. “What about you?”

“Esgalduin,” the man said, pulling on the collar of his outfit. “I’m sorry, talking like this seems very uncomfortable. Is there any way I can get closer to you?”

You frowned before nodding. “Yeah,” you smiled. “Jump in the water.”

The man scoffed and backed away. He disappeared and you really thought that you had offended him. However, as you turned your tail around to swim away, you heard the sound of a huge splash behind you. You swiveled in the water and was instantly met with the same man with the chiseled jawline. He was wiping the water out of his eyes, smiling at you.

“You can call me Jay,” he bent his head slightly to greet you formally. “My father is the King of Esgalduin.”

“Wait,” you blinked twice. “So you’re a prince?”

“His only son, yes,” the man pulled on the strings that held his white top together. “And you are?”

“My father is the King of Themyscira, the kingdom…”

“Underwater, yes,” the man finished your sentence. “That’s what we’re here for. We’ve been told that your kingdom is in this area. So you’re a princess?”

“One of many,” you shrugged, pulling your hair to the front. “My father sent me here to inspect your ship.”

“Oh?” Prince Jay brushed his wet hair back and took a quick glance at his own ship. “Is there some sort of requirement for us to visit your kingdom?”

You chuckled. “No, I guess he wanted to make sure you all are friends and not foe.”

“Well, judging from this friendly interaction we’re having, I hope you don’t see us as the latter,” Prince Jay swam closer to you and reached out his hand to take yours. “Princess…?”

“Y/N,” you replied, your voice sounding way softer than the first time you opened your mouth.

Prince Jay planted a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness.”

You snorted, and Prince Jay looked at you weird. You pulled your hand away and started swimming around him. “My father has been waiting for your King’s visit.”

“That’s great,” Prince Jay rotated in his place to follow your movements. “How are we going to get there then?”

“I pull you down and hopefully you can hold your breath for an hour,” you said, eyes wide anticipating for Prince Jay’s reaction.

He stared at you in horror and you could no longer hold back your laughter. “I’m kidding. We will come to your ship. After I report back, of course. There will be a feast and a party.”

“Now when you say party, will there be entertainment?”

“There should be?” You answered with an uncertain tone. “Why?”

“Earlier you said I sounded awful,” Prince Jay swam closer to you again. “So I’m dying to find out what your standard for singing is. I’ve heard mermaids have beautiful voices.”

You chuckled, splashing your hand from underneath the water to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “My apologies, Your Highness, although I am certain I can sing better. Than you, at least.”

Prince Jay let out a soft laugh that showed his fake disappointment towards your comment. You then gently swam backwards, keeping your distance from him.

“I shall go back to my kingdom,” you declared, ready to leave.

“I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Prince Jay bowed again, this time in a bigger gesture to the point that his nose touched the water. You responded with a smile before turning your back to him, playfully flapping your tail so it would make a big splash against his face.

-END-

© seattlesolace 2022, all rights reserved

tropetember authors: @vivvys @aira-mai @nyanggk

for more tropetember, click on the hashtag below

the masterlist for my tropetember entries will be updated regularly

#writtenbynana #tropetember #fic: water #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #jay fluff #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #jay park #park jay #jongseong #park jongseong #jongseong park

[fowlblue]

So if Artemis fowl gang we’re gods what do you think they would be gods of

Ooo I used to have an AU of this, gimme a sec-

Artemis:

- A young god-to-be of Knowledge, Secrecy, and (eventually), Magic? I like thinking of him in any ‘Gods’ AU as a child of the gods not quite sure what to make of his powers yet, and mostly using them for mischief in the divine realm. He’ll join the pantheon some day, he’s just got a little growing to do!

Holly:

- I feel like being the goddess of the Wind and Sky would suit her well. Holly’s at her happiest when she’s free and flying, and I like the thought of her able to fly as far and fast as she could ever want.

Butler:

- God of Hearth, Home and Shelter. Butler is a source of stability and protection for his loved ones, and I think he deserves recognition for some of his softer traits of caring, such as cooking good food or offering occasional comfort to his friends, as well as his capabilities in battle.

Mulch:

- Why, the god of Thieves, of course! I feel like Mulch would be one of those gods that’s mostly worshipped by smaller groups of people, under-the-radar, and mostly travels the human realm in disguise.

Fowl Senior:

- The god of the Sea, Storms, and the Moon (of course)- likely a bit of a brooding god, with potential for great destruction, but mellowed out by his wife and family. Tim is a character deeply connected to the sea and I think it suits him well, both as a benevolent and yet unpredictable force.

Angeline:

- The goddess of Spring and Sunlight. Angeline is a warm presence whenever she appears in the books, even if at times she is a bit too much, and she’s beloved by her family, so it suits her! I like to think in a Gods AU, one myth spoken about would be her and Tim falling in love.

Opal:

- I think being the Goddess of Death would be great fun for Opal- she certainly has no qualms causing it, and her leading an army of fairy ghosts in TLG is just. Absolutely iconic. Queen shit.

Spiro:

- The god of Lightning and Thunder- given his association with technology in canon, electrical abilities suit him well, and it certainly aligns with his explosive personality. Perhaps instead of The Needle, his temple would be perched on a high mountain somewhere, surrounded by a never-abating thunderstorm…

Britva:

- Okay so Britva has always been heavily associated with ice in my mind, duh, but for this I’m gonna have to go with Fire. Not like, fire in terms of warmth and light. I mean burning. I mean melting. I mean Destruction and Desolation and permanent scarring/melting/twisting of whatever he touches. He’s a villain who never shows his face directly and yet his actions set off the whole series and left permanent marks behind. Also he’s scary as fuck so why not?

#artemis fowl #here you go!! i love god AUs the aesthetics are so much fun to work with and think about #the idea of Artemis running around causing divine mischief is so funny to me. some other god shows up carrying him by the scruff of his neck #- to drop him off at Angeline’s temple because he decided to steal something or cause minor havoc in their stretch of the human realm #asks

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Character Profile - Scotland

Character Name: Scotland. The Kingdom of Scotland. Alba. Alasdair Kirkpatrick. Alexander Kirkland. Alexander Kirk. Alasdair Kirkwood. Alasdair Kirkland. Uncle Alasdair.

Age: 10-12 upon the Roman invasion of the 1st century. 18-20 by 1300. Late 30s, early 40s modern day..

Height: 6'0/182cm.

Physical Description: Tall and musclebound, Alasdair was a warrior and his body still shows it. Broad-shouldered and strong-jawed, the transition from fighter to the financial brain of the British empire matches a large man with surprising grace and dexterity. He carries himself equally well in a boardroom as on a battlefield. The most classically handsome of his brothers but the least agriculturally valuable, he was locked in a triangle with his youngest brother and Francis for centuries, riding on his good looks for much of it. He also contributed much to his brother's children and added enough, especially to Canada. He made the lad damn near a strawberry blonde. He's getting a bit softer in middle age but still easily caber tosses the entire family on a human's strength if permitted. He's got a bit of a grumpy look to him sometimes, but he's also extremely tender-hearted if brusque with those he shares affection with, and those people know what his body language conveys, if subtly.

Eye colour: Blue-green-grey. A bit muddled and changeful like the churning clouds and waters of the highlands.

Hair colour/style: Red-brown curls. The shade of brown you can't tell is red or brown even in bright light. He wears it just long enough to show off the curl too it and often with a matching beard. Arthur is the one more often at sea, but Alasdair often looks like the quintessential seacaptain.

Other distinguishing physical traits: The family brows. Has a smattering of old war wounds that especially act up when he and Arthur are arguing. He and Brighid are also the source of the family dimples but Alasdair has to be positively grinning for them to show.

Personal Appearance/Style: A lot of sweaters, boots and trousers. When he put down the broad sword and picked up the abacus, he became quite interested in finer things and figured if he was stuck in this union with Arthur and Rhys, he might as well get something out of it. He's generally found in quite dull greens, browns and countrymen clothes these days but was once very fond of French fashion. He only wears a kilt on special occasions. Instead of having his own clan tartan or even wearing the national one, he most often wears a woad-blue and white plaid he remembers his mother having a cloak of.

Verbal Style: He can switch between various Scottish accents fairly well, lowland and highland alike. It gets thicker when he's speaking to Arthur to piss him off and when he speaks French because it makes Francis practically swoon. His Latin isn't a good as Brighid's in the modern day, but he's still pretty good with it; he learned languages as needed, especially as the sciences grew through history. Whatever the language of education is, he'll be fluent quickly. An interest in chemistry brought him to modernize his German; he's always loved reading in French.

Level of Education: This is almost impossible to quantify. He was the first country in the world to make education mandatory in the 15th century. He was meant from birth to be a warrior and he was very good at it with there hardly being anyone mortal who could challenge him sword to sword by the time he was as tall as the sword itself, but he was always in his heart more of a druid and a scholar. He's gotten so many degrees and learned so much over his life span its a little insane. And barring Alfred, he was largely in charge of educating Arthur's children. He's an absolute powerhouse at the sciences and maths but loves a good poem too. Physics, chemistry and pharmacy are his specialties and an incredible knowledge of medicine is still building in his head. He's also, of the British isle siblings, the best with money. Arthur is no slouch either but its Alasdair's running of the family money that they scrambled themselves out of poverty several times over before ever having any real international power. Once that started up, he was the real brains behind the money-making.

Occupation: Diplomat, surgeon, financial something or another.

Past Occupations: Doctor, surgeon, cattle raider, financial planner, merchant, trader, fur trapper, teacher, writer, artist, professor, soldier, crofter, farmer, fisherman, sea captain, shipwright, engineer, weaver, banker, etc.

Skills, Abilities or Talents: He's got the brawn to match his brains and is an incredible hand-to-hand fighter. He's a mental math whizz and has memorized almost everything written in Gaelic in the last 100 years. He knows practically all the major scientific disciplines back to front and their experiments and research patterns. He's probably more resistant to cold than Rhys or Arthur. Like all of his siblings,

Admirable Personality Traits: Innovative, resourceful, blunt, nurturing in a crabby sort of way, friendly, reliable, bold and practical.

Negative Personality Traits: Stubborn, impatient, grumpy, taciturn, reserved, slightly superstitious despite his incredible knowledge.

Sense of Humor: Dark, dry, direct, observational, sardonic, pawky.

Physical/Mental illness or affliction: He's probably the least mentally fucked of all his siblings, but that's not saying much. His liver is about as virgin as a dockside brothel. He's got a lot of old war wounds, but only a few bother him, and even then, he's not one to wallow.

Hobbies/Interests: Reading, engineering, hunting, hiking, caber toss, golf, building ill-advised machines with Alfred in the garage.

Favourite Foods: If its fried, he'll fucking love it. He might be the only person on earth who likes Alfred's food as much as Alfred's. He loves Cullen skink, cured meats and cheeses, kedgeree, cranachan, scotch pie or any meat pie, and he'll still pile on rowan jelly on porridge for breakfast. Whisky, of course.

Most important personal item: The torc and penannular brooch his mother gave him is in the national museum, and he has a kilt pin with a chunk of diamond Francis gave him in the 13th century.

Person/friend close to character: He's somehow close to his brothers, all things considered, but he's also on the best terms with Brighid, and they tend to talk more than Brighid does with the other two. He's very close to Arthur if only because they figured out they could control a lot more power and money if they worked together. An uneasy but extremely effective relationship there. And because the Americans will reblog and add a paragraph about how special Scotland is to America if I spent more than five words on Canada, Alasdair played an outsize role in raising Matt. but yes, he's very close to Alfred, who is fascinated with all things Scottish and has the same kind of brain Alasdair does. The Appalachian mountains used to have the same range as the highlands, and the way it was peopled rather shows it.

Brief family history: He was the second child and first son of Brigantia/Brittania in the pre-roman period. He's about 200-300 years younger than Brighid and maybe 400-500 years older than Rhys and Arthur. His relationship with his siblings is complicated but generally more positive than Brighid's. His brother's children are important in his life.

Most painful experiences in the character’s past: Probably the Jacobite uprisings and the rough wooing, and god, they're 2,000 years old. There's so much shit here. The civil wars? Elizabeth I hacking Mary Stuart's head off??? He's seen famine, plague, two world wars, and god knows what else.

Their Song: Julie Fowlis - Dh’èirich Mi Moch Madainn Cheòthar

#Character Sheets || bodies and flesh of borders and fences #Alasdair || my heart's in the highlands #hws scotland #If anyone wants to give me feedback about anything that feels wrong about the brit bros I would very #very much like to hear it #these fuckers are HARD #so much fricken history

[villainsimpqueen]

Enternal bloodlines

Adrian tepes/ alucard x Male Dhampire reader

Also available on A03.

This fanfiction is for 18+ Audiences as it does have gorey themes and later on smutty themes.

Chapter 1

The sea waves were softer than they had been in weeks. As he commands his ship across the ocean to arrive at the king's call. Godbrand thought of the recent news that had so many other General's furious. 

The king, Dracula himself, was marrying a Human woman. 

Dracula called on his council to not only meet his wife but their so appointed Queen. From what he had heard or gathered through stops and gathering supplies or feasting on the local villages of livestock, Many General's had refused even going as far to pull away their support wanting to be separated from the king. Apparently it hadn't ended well for them. 

For Bastards to be around for so long, it was surprising to find out that this was the line they were willing to go against the old man. 

It was almost amusing to the Viking General, They spent the past few centuries ignoring or shutting him down when he did try to speak at the meetings. Calling his point of views on their tactics or other things scribblings of a child, simply because he was the youngest among them. 

fifth youngest.

He had to remind himself as he moved to turn to the front of his ship. 

There were those newerlings that had taken over Styria. When the call from the king came the new vampiresses sent the king's wife fine garments, jewelry and gowns. With their apologies for needing to decline the call due to the shift of power in the frozen land they strived in. 

It was granted seeing as the King had called for the old vampire ruler of those lands and that the newlings taking over had not seemed disrespectful.

While it was a disappointment in not getting to see the newlings in the council, Godbrand wasn't going to the king's castle for them. 

He was going to see if it was true. 

That the king of Vampires was really serious about marrying a human pet. To make a human pet his bride and Queen over all vampires.

To see if the King had finally gone mad like the other Generals who pulled away and had disappeared surely by being killed for going against the old man himself. 

That's what separates Godbrand from the others, He didn't do the whole he said thing. He didn't like the wild spread of rumors that could easily be changed and fit to one's agenda. He prefers going straight to the source himself. 

So that was what he was doing when his ship ported in Wallachia. Traveled through the land to the Kings Castle to attend this meeting of vampires and to see the Human who took the Old man's stone cold heart for her own. 

Lisa Of Lupu. 

A Human woman in a small room full of vampires centuries old and older who saw her as nothing but livestock and a pet of the king they believed had lost his mind. 

And yet her resolve was unwavering, her eyes never looked away from the generals eyes, If she had any hint of fear she never showed it. If any of the vampires in the council room had intemendated her, they would never know for how she held her head high beside the King. It was something Godbrand could respect, he supposed the woman had a pretty face but other than that he saw nothing special of her. He didn't see what Dracula saw in her and he didn't have any strive to find out. 

The meeting went as about what could be expected, The king announced that Lisa was his wife and that she was to be respected as the Queen. What had surprised him was how the woman seemed to reject such notions only claiming she was his wife nothing more. 

A notion that surely irked some of the Vampiresses in the room, for this little human pet was being given such a powerful role that she didn't even understand it. Or perhaps she did. 

Godbrand didn't care much about it as they went over discussions of Territories and the livestocks current little wars. 

So much delicious blood being wasted by their wars over nonsense. 

The General's disgusting ways to turn the wars into the vampires favors once more, the typical goals. 

The viking general wondered how the human pet was taking their conversations. Seeing how her husband and his men thought about her own kind. Using them for their own gains and if she had any rejections or hatred she did not show it, her displeasure or perhaps empathy for the humans suffering in the wars, but other than that nothing. Her hand kept moving to rest on her stomach, seeming to absentmindedly do such actions. 

Such actions that kept him silent during the meeting, an unusuality for him and didn't go unnoticeable from the king. 

When the meeting was adjourned and the other generals left, Godbrand moved, finishing the last of his blood in the dainty glasses the King used getting up.

"Little Godbrand, your tongue seemed to be missing this evening." The king's words called making him pause and turn to look at the old man. His dainty wife beside him, her blue eyes seeming to fall on him as well hands on her stomach once more. 

Perhaps he had stared too much at them.

"You are more observant than I had thought." The old man mused. 

"So she is then?" He spoke, watching his words carefully, he knew well that the king had a peculiar way of handling those who had offended him and Godbrand hadn't seen all that the ocean had to offer nor fancied dying so soon into his seemingly immortal life. 

"What little vampire?" 

The air grew more chilly than the land's winters and it was merely autumn on the trees. 

"Will it live? Is it possible?" 

A human having a vampire's child, that was something He had never thought about before, nor had thought was possible. 

Sure he had his fun with harlots as much as he pleased, and there were chances of vampires conceiving but the chances were so thin that heirs were chosen by Vampires turning a hand pick disciple. 

But a child born of human and vampire blood? What could such a creature even survive? Then again, He doubted the king would go so far out of the way that it was unnecessary to bring the pet he decided to marry pain ... .Or maybe he would, perhaps the king was more cruel than ever. 

"We believe it is possible. So far I've been careful." The woman spoke, her voice was soft as she rubbed her stomach that showed no real sign of life in her womb. 

Godbrand took that information with a silent nod as he moved to leave, the king seemed to allow him to as well. 

The young Vampire found himself thinking back to that meeting, that fleeting moment he was given alone with the King and his mortal bride. He was unsure about his thoughts as he watched his men tear through a village he planned on taking over. Watching humans scream and run as his men tode through their limbs and necks. Blood staining snow as it rushed along the village proximity in small rivers. 

The next meeting he had attended the King's pet was nowhere to be seen and the King's patience seemed slim as thin ice. 

He had later found the woman when he walked through the castle's Halls to live, hearing her in a room which had the small beginning of childrens things. She was crying those clear crystalline tears when her head snapped towards him. 

"It didn't make it." Was all she offered him, making the Viking silent. 

He had never needed to give condolences in many many years and so he held his tongue as he watched the human move down a small blanket to her lap. 

He left the human pet to her mourning.

He fed from a man who had some sort of bravery to attack him as he watched other human bodies be torn through like ancient parchment. 

Men and women torn and scattered in the snow, children either sharing same fates or sobbing clinging to their dead mothers sides as they watched the horrors of masters of the night feast among their friends and families before there flight sensory came to them making them gallop through the snow like herds of deer fleeing from a forest fire. 

  A sound by a nearby cabin caught his ears as he moved towards it, his eyes landing on a young woman holding onto a dead human man, her eyes staring up at him wide and streaming crystalline tears. 

She was merely several years from her beginning years of womanhood, possibly her early twenties and she did seem to have the hips to survive pushing a child out. 

Godbran moved towards her watching the human scramble away fear filling the air from her. 

"I'll give you a choice lass. You can die tonight like the others, or you can try baring a little lad for me and be let go to live with the rest of the livestock as soon as he walks." 

She had chosen the later option and she had followed behind him silently to his ship. 

through the massacre of her village and burning home to be a vampire's breeder. 

The human woman he had taken did better on land than sea and so he had to live with her in the safety of his lands, where his men's women could watch her closely and aid when it came to the excitements of childbirth. 

Many of them were not sure why his sudden interest in such things but they did not question him. He was the chieftain and he provided his clan with as much blood and human pets as they desired. Why would they stay too focused on his current interest, even dare to question them.

  His little mother had lost many, barely making it a few months from when she would stop her monthly bleed mother nature's way of showing she was with child. Each time she mourned over them, whether it was because her freedom slipped away or she actually had mother instincts to them. Godbrand was only interested in what she had changed, what she ate differently? Did she over exert herself? Did she move around too little, coddling the pregnancy too much for a hellspawns liking? 

Or was such a possibility of a Human and Vampire sharing blood in the form of a child even possible to begin with?

During most of the human womens miscarriages Godbrand had heard rumors through the sea winds that Dracula's little wife was having such problems as well. 

Yet they were still trying to create such an impossibility. It seems like He too was trying as well, only to see if such a creature could be born and what conditions were needed for it to happen. 

 After a solid two years his little mother to bear his hellspawned had passed the few months range. Her body even started to change and show his seed taking sprout. 

There was curious excitement in his clan, or more so curiosity. Everyone in his clan was interested to see his human give birth to his hellspawn.  The pregnancy seemed to be going smoother than the others and his little mothers diet was steady on freshly killed lamb. The spring seemed to be a better time than the following seasons. 

But despite how well the human pregnancy went with his undeadish offspring it had ended with her giving birth to a quite dead thing. Simply born way too early and deformed and as Godbrand inspected the thing that came from his human pet, she had sobbed for it. 

"Please…Please let me hold them." She had sobbed in her blood soaked sheets. 

He didn't. 

He carried the dead little thing wrapped in a ripped sheet, the womans shrieks piercing his ears as he left the Hut that she stayed in. 

It had fangs.

It was blue like a corpse and just wrong in all sorts of ways. 

But, this one had come so much further than the others. 

Godbrand had stood over the sea looking down from the cliffs of his village as he dropped the blanket and the dead little thing to it, watching its waves devour what could have been. 

He would let his little mother rest before he would fill her womb once again to have her cook another hellish spawn. 

The next Seven were born similarly or simply unfit to live. The second, third and fourth were born way too soon, leading him to question the reasoning and the sudden change of his little mothers health. She seemed weaker and tended to pass out more and more even if she barely moved around. 

By The Fifth, Things had shifted. A steady supply of blood added to his pets diet had led her to being able to carry the hellish thing to labor. 

But it didn't live any longer than a mere few hours. It didn't even bother to respond to any method of his pet trying to care for it. 

Seemingly dying out of spite for its birth.

The sixth shared a similar birth and death as its fifth sibling.

The seventh had been born wrong, nearly bringing his human pet to her death as well as it tore its way in her body, to tangle itself in the womb and be born strangled by her umbilical cord.

You were the eighth. 

Born almost similarly to the seventh. 

But you had fallen out of your human mother when the nursing woman had her stand up and squat, learning from the last one well, and had dangled by your neck just above the floor before you were scooped up and  wrapped into a blanket. You did not scream or cry and they believed you too had been born wrong like the others. You were taken out of the room from your crying mother and brough just outside to your father. Godbrand had taken you in his arms, carrying you to the cliffs that overlooked the sea. 

He had you outstretched over the ledge and was about to release you and have you return to the hells you were sent from until the wind had faintly carried the faintest of gurgles from your throat to his sharp ears. 

The Viking general had pulled your hanging blanket from the clift and nack to his chest opening the covering to see your pale and blue tinted flesh resembling a corpse and yet your face turning in hues of purples, your chest convoluted here and there and bubbles leaving your tiny mouth. 

His eyes narrowed on the cord still wrapped so tightly around your neck before taking a claw slicing through it with ease, the flesh falling away from your neck and your chest heaved with air. 

   A small hellish pitch wailed over the cliffs at the sea and it echoed through his village as he carried you back to the hut his pet, your mother stayed in. 

You were given back to your human mother who had weeped holding you tightly to her chest rushing to feed you.

And fed you did, with a mixture of your mothers blood and Milk from her bosoms.

   You had survived the night and seemed to be eager to continue to live your strange blooded life. You grew faster than human children, by four months you were already the size of a year old and were starting to stand and take first steps. 

Already recognizing him as your father despite his distance from you traveling back and forth to Wallachia for the king's call of his council and back to the land that was your home. 

He was coming back from Wallachia this time with Gifts to the old man and his wife, well made fur blankets to keep the king's pet warm during the winter months in Wallachia and a small flock of sheep expecting to birth lambs. He had joked obnoxiously like was expected of him,  about how Lamb's blood is sweeter when freshly born and he left it to that. It was to the old man if caught onto the hidden hint at aiding his human bride's current pregnancy. 

The village was eager to greet their chieftain and sailors as they unloaded his current ship of loot from several human villages in nearbying lands they pillaged. Dragging tied humans from.the ship that would be food to them all.

 An Excited shrill cooing in the crowd making him look to see your mother carrying you on her hip towards the ship. You bounced against it until she placed you down on the green grass that the moonlight gleaned from. He watched you wobbly walk over to him, a wide smile on your face despite what seemed to be a bright red rash over your face and arms. 

He carelessly picked you up holding you away from him as he inspected your small body. 

His eyes snapping to the human woman.

"Why is he sick." He wasn't asking and she by now knew that.

"He was playing in the river while I was washing his clothes. The rash came hours after we left it." Her frail voice spoke as she looked down docile. 

His eyes moved back to you,Taking in your features. Your hair color is highlighted with his shade of red hair, your eyes of your mothers unlike his. You had rounded ears like your human mother if anything you looked more human like her than vampire like him. Yet you had fangs you inherited from him.

You could and did go into moving water and had not disintegrated on immediate touch Another little discovery he learnt with your existence. 

Half breeds like yourself could go into the sun without suffering too much at all. 

You could go into moving water, something that could kill him. A death he risked everytime he took a step on his ships. 

He wondered if the King and his human pet child would be able to do the same things as you, his half breed son could. 

Or would their child have different abilities? 

He carried you to a captured human and he snatched the human by their neck ripping it open with his own fangs swallowing the chunk of flesh before moving you to the gushing throat. 

When it was time to feed, that's when he got to see himself in you. How your eyes would glow in bloodlust, fangs growing ever so slightly longer and your nails would sharpen to claws. You would feast as ravenously as he did and he watched you feast without any remorse, a grin forming over his lips, his bloody fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Atta lad, Gotta get ya grown to ya can aboard the ships too my boy. And when ya pillage your first village, then i'll name ya boy." 

He said with his wide grin watching you guzzle down the rushing blood of the dying human.

    He would not speak of your existence to any of the generals and not to the king and his human let if they could not succeed in having a half breed child like he did. 

His curiosity from if such a creature like you were possible now Satisfied. He could have killed you now and be done, but as he watches you pull your small head away covered in blood looking like a small reflection of himself. He couldn't.

You were His blood.

A continuation of his bloodline.

And despite you being purposely born a half breed and would be looked down upon like the livestock you fed from. 

You were His son, and Godbrand would make you into a fearsome Viking and Vampire where the other vampires in neighboring lands will doubt if you ever had an ounce of human in you. 

chp 2

#castlevania fanfiction #Adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #castlevania x reader #18+ only