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meiieiri · 11 months

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STOLEN MOMENTS WITH THEM [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento

warnings: suggestive themes in gojo’s part (bc why not haha), mentions of canon-typical violence

a/n: i’m so sorry for all this tooth-rotting fluff, i’m sad rn so hehe :’>> song inspo: you are in love (taylor swift). am accepting requests/prompts btw, just shoot me a message-

༊*·˚ SUGURU GETO

winter afternoons cooped inside your one bedroom apartment are always special days, commonly consisting of freshly-brewed piping hot tea sitting peacefully on your small living room side table, a good book, and the warmth of a knitted throw blanket. snowflakes fall entrancingly from the sky and make a feather-like landing on the glass windows that peek into your home.

suguru geto was lounging silently on the couch with you, your head on his strong lap as he gently combs his fingers through your hair, a leather bound book in his free hand, his eyes leisurely skimming the yellowed pages trying to make sense of the decadent shakespearean sonnets that liken love to that of honey and flowers. you were just about to fall asleep when suguru’s melodic baritone caresses your ear.

“don’t you think he’s so full of shit?” he asks suddenly. how could one speak with such vulgar words and still make it sound like poetry?

“shakespeare?” you sit up and you readjust yourselves so that you can rest your head on his shoulder, peeking over it to inspect sonnet 55. his arms comes up to pull you closer to him, tucking you into the warmth of his chest in a bid to keep you warm. “i thought you liked his work,” you take the offending book into your hands, scanning through the words.

“i do,” he clarifies, tracing shapes on your shoulder, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he waits for you to finish reading through the passage.

when you look up from the book, you are surprised when his lips abruptly yet softly meet yours in a loving peck. his hand moves to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving together in a perpetual waltz, your heartbeats in total sync. you thought the kiss would last forever, and you and suguru wouldn’t give a flying fuck, but he pulls away teasingly, his forehead resting against your own, his nose lovingly bumping yours as you both come down from your respective highs.

“not as much as i like you, though.”

you shake your head, rose blush tinting your cheeks, hopelessly in love. he truly was the light of your life, the lighthouse that brings you to safe waters.

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

despite the horrors that have long plagued the grounds of jujutsu tech, the school, being tucked away in a remote location deep in tokyo’s forgotten countryside, was actually quite beautiful. the backdrop of the tall cedar-wood and red maple trees in the forest adjacent to the teachers’ dormitories that served as a protective cover from unwanted prying eyes is a particularly wonderful sight and in an autumn evening such as this one, emitted a fresh aroma of sweet cherries and almonds.

“i was wondering where you were,” gojo satoru walks in the teachers lounge just as the electric kettle automatically switches off. he woke up in a panic when he noticed you’d gone missing, your side of the bed having lost all its warmth, indicating you must have been out of bed for a good while now. it didn’t help his nerves to see your bedstand digital clock display the time: 1:58 AM in bright neon green on its screen.

he moves behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your dainty figure as you busy yourself pouring the boiling hot water into the two instant ramen cups you had prepared. “that for me?”

“nope,” you shrug. “it’s for nanami.”

that was obviously a lie — he looks at the label of the ramen cup and scoffs when he sees the indicated flavor: seafood curry, his favorite, now, if that wasn’t enough to convince him, he has to remind himself that his adorable blonde junior hates instant crap like this. but still, you found it endearingly funny to see your husband pouting like some kicked dog when you push past him to bring the two cups over to the nearby dining table. “i’m kidding,” you chortle, beckoning him to join you.

“you meanie,” he sticks out his bottom lip as he follows you to the table. he sits down, his elbows resting on the table as his hands come up to cradle his chin, mirroring the image of a child who’d been told “no” by his parent. “i think i want a divorce now,” he sulks.

you feign guilt, playing along with him. you stand up to take a seat next to him. “i’m sorry, baby,” you tell him. he only responds by pointing to his cheek, silently telling you to “kiss it better” if you really were sincere in your apology. you reach up to place a loving kiss on his cheek and a smile spreads across his lips. “better?” you chuckle when he lets out an amused breath.

having made peace, you move to retrieve your cup of ramen when without warning, he pulls you by the hand, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, his teeth needily sucking at your bottom lip, the heat of the kiss seemingly warming up the entire room that had been filled with the chill of the autumn night breeze. your arms move to rest on his shoulders, as he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on the small of your back. it’s only when you need to take a steadying breath of air that he breaks the kiss.

“all better,” he winks, the ramen having gone cold, utterly forgotten, as the night peacefully went on.

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

“i knew i should have brought an umbrella,” nanami kento sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“i’m sorry,” his shoulders slump when a low rumble of a thunderclap suddenly goes off, lightning illuminating the sky in a brilliant glow. the date had gone so well — you visited the best art galleries in tokyo, even saw a performance at one of those cozy hidden gem jazz clubs — kento had thought that his luck would hold out ‘till you got home.

but the universe seems to have decided otherwise. now, here you were taking shelter, stranded under the fiberglass roof of a deserted bus stop’s waiting shed. “kento,” your gentle voice quells the dread in his chest, chipping away at the block of anxiety forming in his throat. “it’s okay,” you scoot over, patting the spot next to you, silently telling him to sit down.

reluctantly, he takes a seat, keeping himself at a reasonable distance from you, thinking that you would, at the very least, be upset at him for this slight mishap. “sorry,” he repeats the apology like a broken record, and a compassionate smile forms on your lips.

you slowly scoot on over next to him, closing the gap between the two of you, your pinky finger reaching for his own, as if you were asking for permission. kento notices the gesture instantly, and takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles comfortingly. “…today was fun, kento,” you tell him, a genuine grin on your face, “seriously. what’s a little rain?”

a burden seems to have been lifted from his shoulders. kento nanami was not a man who put much value into love, with how dangerous his profession is, fighting the lurking malevolence hiding in the world’s darkest shadows, he didn’t have time for the childishness of falling in and out of love. it was inconvenient, and troublesome.

at least, that’s what he used to believe before you came crashing into his life and touched the heartstrings he has long resigned to keep under lock and key with your delicate hands.

he silently takes off his overcoat then to wrap it around your shoulders like the gentleman he was (he wasn’t about to let the love of his life get drenched in the rain), resisting the urge to grin when he sees just how small you look in it. the next few minutes pass by in absolute silence, the sound of your breaths being the only conceivable sound for a long while.

“…i’m glad you had fun,” he looks up at the stormy sky again. “i did, too.”

“next time, let’s be sure to check the weather forecast ahead of time,” you giggle. he joins your laughter, bringing your hand to his lips, his warm breath tickling your skin, as he lets his lips touch your flesh in a quintessentially classic affectionate kiss on the back of your hand like they do in those vintage hollywood movies. he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i know how much you hate the rain.”

“…i think i can make an exception,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

the decibels of his tenor fight against the loud pitter patter of raindrops crash landing on the fiberglass roof of the waiting shed. but you hear his lyrical confession of love anyway, with your heart’s ear perhaps.

“i have the sun with me all the time, anyway,” kento says, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as the rain washes the remnants of his old world away.

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saraswritingtipps · 11 months

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Writing Prompts About Ghosts

1. As a child, you could see and communicate with ghosts effortlessly. Now, as an adult, you've lost that ability. However, one day, you encounter a ghost who desperately needs your help.

2. In an old, abandoned mansion, a group of friends decides to spend the night to prove their bravery. Little do they know that the mansion is haunted by a mischievous and playful ghost who starts toying with them.

3. A ghostly figure appears in a small town, haunting a specific location every night. The townspeople are terrified and curious about the ghost's story. Write about their attempts to uncover the truth and put the spirit to rest.

4. While exploring an ancient graveyard, a teenager discovers a hidden crypt. Inside, they come across a friendly ghost who reveals a forgotten family secret that holds the key to their own destiny.

5. A renowned paranormal investigator takes on the challenge of investigating a haunted lighthouse. However, as they delve into the ghostly phenomena, they uncover a deeper, more sinister mystery that connects the present to the lighthouse's dark past.

6. In a small coastal village, a ghostly figure appears near the cliffs every time a storm is brewing. Write a story about a curious local who braves the elements to find out why the ghost is drawn to the stormy weather.

7. A recently deceased ghost wakes up in a realm where ghosts can still interact with the living. They have a limited amount of time to accomplish one final task before they pass on. Describe the ghost's mission and the obstacles they face along the way.

8. In an old, haunted house, a ghostly presence continuously rearranges furniture, knocks on walls, and causes mischief. Write a story from the perspective of the ghost, exploring their motivations and the reasons behind their haunting.

9. A skeptic who never believed in ghosts suddenly starts experiencing paranormal encounters in their own home. Describe their journey from disbelief to acceptance as they navigate the mysterious and unsettling phenomena.

10. A ghost from the past reaches out to a present-day individual through dreams, leaving cryptic messages and clues. Write a story about the person's quest to decipher the ghost's messages and uncover a long-buried family secret.

Follow me on my IG for more Content. https://instagram.com/saraswritingtipps?igshid=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

#writing #writing tips #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #character development #writer tumblr #writblr #writing advice #oc character #writing help #horror writing #horror #ghost oc

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saffichearts · 5 months

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Show me some lovin'

Riri Williams x Fem!Black Mermaid!Reader | Reader is half Talokanil | Author been gone for 2 years | Stem!Riri? Stem!Riri. | Pure fluff.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, the first light of morning fluttering through the window, a soft glow on Riri's skin. There she was beside me, her breath steady, our legs tangled. I was still amazed at how warm she always felt, like the sands after a long day under the sun.

"Morning, ma," she murmured, her voice tussling with the last strands of sleep.

"Good morning.." I replied, my voice still trailing groggily.

She sat up, groaning a little as she stretched. I watched, fascinated with the way she moved — all angles and smooth muscle, a contrast to my own fluid grace. "You wanna hit the shower first, or should I?"

"You go. I'll... figure out the coffee machine?" I said, because making a drink out of ground beans still seemed odd to me.

Riri chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "Aight, but don't fight with it, 'kay? It's older than some of the profs here."

She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me to face the contraption that brewed hot, bitter water. It rumbled and sputtered like a tiny volcano as I fumbled with it, but I did get it to work. Eventually.

We left the dorm together, her arm casually draped over my shoulders. The world beyond was still such a strange mix of sounds and smells and textures, nothing like the soft, muted contours of Talokan.

We spent hours lost in the fabric of the city — museums, parks, diners with greasy spoons and laughter. Riri held my hand, her fingers a lighthouse in the strange sea of foot traffic and honking cars.

By the time we got back, night had wrapped the campus in its quiet, cool blanket.

We found ourselves in her dorm room once again, the door closing with a soft click behind us. I felt the weight of the land dimming, a longing for the crashing waves and the embrace of water.

She must've felt my shift in mood and pulled me onto the bed, into her arms. "Talk to me," she said, her voice a soft rhythm against the quiet of the room.

"It's just... sometimes I wonder how I fit here, in your world," I confessed, tracing a circle on her chest with my finger.

Riri combed her fingers through my hair, a motion as soothing as the tides. "You fit right here," she whispered, pressing her lips to mine in a gentle, grounding kiss. "With me. And I think you're dope — getting the hang of coffee, killing it at crossing streets, and owning my heart."

I laughed, the sound strange in the dry air, but it was full of warmth and trust. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," Riri promised, all earnest eyes and tender hands. "Plus, you teach me too — like how to just be still sometimes, take it all in. You're my mermaid babe."

We settled into the blankets, my doubts melting away as she held me, her heartbeat a new kind of pulse beneath the sea of my thoughts. Together, we were a confluence of two worlds, colliding, blending, coming to life in the quiet tide of the night.

"Goodnight, Ri," I whispered as her breathing deepened.

"Sweet dreams, my ocean treasure," she replied, and there, enveloped in each other, we drifted into dreams where water and land were one, and love was the bridge between two worlds.

Short but soft, expect a few more posts today. I had 2 years to write some shit 😭.

#riri williams x reader #riri williams #riri williams fluff #wlw #lesbian

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boymeetswerewolf · 8 months

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Sterek Week '23 // Day 1, Only Just Begun / @sterekweek-2023

"Coffee Shop" color palette

i love you for sentimental reasons i hope you do believe me i've given you my heart - Natalie Cole, "For Sentimental Reasons"

"Coffee Shop"

As Stiles made his way to the counter with the gentle sounds of jazz drifting through the shop from an antique gramophone, he pulled out three singles from his back pocket to pay for his order. His eyes were trained on Derek, the somewhat distant, non-smiling yet excruciatingly attractive owner of the shop, who went about tidying up the counter and filling up the display jars on the shelf behind him.

Before he knew it, Stiles found himself standing at the counter and quickly put on a casual smile to try and mask the anxiety brewing inside him. He'd played the scenario over in his head a hundred times while sitting in the corner sipping his coffee, yet now that he had to act it out he was all jittery... or maybe that was just the caffeine.

"Hey, Derek," he began, his voice slightly shaky. He held up the three dollars for his order but before Derek could take it, Stiles said, "I was just wondering, uh, if I could buy you a coffee?" He looked up at Derek and immediately felt frozen in place like a deer in headlights as he waited for Derek to react.

"I usually like the five dollar stuff," Derek quipped as he returned two more jars of coffee grounds to the display shelf.

Stiles, confused for a second, looked at the three dollars in his hand and back at Derek. "Uh... oh! No, this is for you. I mean— for me. To pay for my coffee, my order." The twin flames of mortification began to engulf Stiles' face and he was fully convinced his cheeks were as bright as a lighthouse, broadcasting his embarrassment for anyone within a five mile radius to see.

Derek, who rarely smiled, offered Stiles a sly grin as he took the three dollars. "I know," he said softly. "You've been coming here every Wednesday - and sometimes Mondays - for the last six months and you always order a caffè misto, tall. It's $2.95 and you always tell me to keep the change, which I then donate on your behalf to the Wolf Preservation Fund." Derek took a nickel from the cash register as he placed Stiles' three dollars inside, then dropped it into the donation jar, Stiles' eyes following his every move.

Chuckling bashfully, Stiles shifted from foot to foot. Derek's smile had caught him off-guard, but also somehow put him at ease. "Sorry," he said, not sure what he was apologising for but doing it anyway. "What I meant is I'd like to buy you a coffee sometime, if you'd like that. To get to know you better."

"And why would you want to do that?" Derek asked in return, the smile gone from his lips but still very much lingering in his eyes.

The soft music from the record player reaching Stiles' ears suddenly became familiar and he said, "For Sentimental Reasons," as he glanced in the direction of the old gramophone and the song's title sprung to mind. "I want to do it for... sentimental reasons." He looked back at Derek and suddenly the discomfort and anxiety seemed to wash away as his sincerity came through.

A half-smile returned to Derek's lips, this time expressing a softness Stiles hadn't seen before. "Well, you're in luck," Derek replied quietly. "I close up around 7pm. Maybe you should come by then, and we can have that coffee? Bring five dollars."

When Stiles overcame his disbelief that Derek said yes, he could hardly contain his excitement as he watched Derek's eyes meet with his. A moment formed between them, one they'd both remember for a long time to come. With a casual nod, Stiles replied, "Yeah, 7pm sounds perfect! I'll see you then."

The exchange was brief, but left Stiles with a newfound sense of anticipation. As he left the shop, he didn't see Derek's ears turn a bright shade of red, or the broad smile he tried to hide from the other customers. Neither of them knew this would be the start of something new, something wonderful, but it was just the beginning.

#sterekweek2023 #sw23theme #sw23onlyjustbegun #eternalsterek #sterek #my sterek #my art #my fic

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ketherite · 2 months

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Hello! First post on hit site Tumblr!! I offer you an extremely rushed Cypher x Reader! I'm so sorry if he's a bit OOC here. Do note that I originally made this with an OC in mind! Comments will be greatly appreciated. Enjoy :)

(C/N) - Code Name

(Y/N) - Your Name

(C/N) looked at the man right across from them, a mug of tea in hand. His eyes, never peeling away from them— at least that’s what they thought. They couldn’t read much from Cypher’s face because of his pesky little mask covering every identifiable inch of him. The blue lenses only provided them small insight with how frequent his shutters— or eyelids blink. Despite that, they still feel his eyes on them, as if they have his undivided attention.

“So, Cypher, what did you call me here for?” (C/N) asks as they look down into their mug, gently swirling it around to gather the loose leaves in the middle while awaiting his answer.

“What? Is it not normal to want to have a cup of tea with a friend?” He teased as he giggled, holding up his white mug of tea to them. He then lifted his mask up ever-so-slightly to take a sip of his still-hot tea, making (C/N) turn away for the sake of courtesy.

“You gotta warn me before you do that. I don’t wanna accidentally see your face, Amir.” Their voice had a hint of annoyance in it. Cypher was a man of mystery— the man kept his entire identity; from appearance to past a secret for Christ sake! Despite that, it seemed like he had no issue with (C/N) seeing a bit of his face, but he hasn’t told them that yet, which prompts silly situations like this.

“I know, dear. But it’s alright, I know you aren’t telling anyone about what you saw.” He pulled his mask down to hide his smirk. “You and I aren’t so different. We practically think the same! Minus the hidden identity, of course.”

(C/N) sighs at his antics and rolls their eyes. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence falls between the two. It doesn’t feel awkward, but it feels like something’s hung up in the air. Like a question that needs an answer.

“(Y/N), there is something I need to tell you.” The once goofy air suddenly turned serious. It wasn’t everyday people called (C/N) by their real name instead of their code name. Whenever their real name is used, they know the topic is gonna be something rather important. They tilted their head to the side, as if questioning the sudden shift in tone.

Silence once again, but this time Cypher’s nervously fidgeting with his mug, looking down into its contents. A sigh escapes him as he looks back up to meet their gaze. Oh their gaze; so piercing. It was as if they were staring into the deepest depths of his soul, digging through the dark matter that lies within to see even a glimpse of his thoughts.

“I thought about it for a while. My past, Nora— everything really. It’s all been so dark, so dreary ever since it all crumbled for me. But you— when you joined, it felt like a breath of fresh air. Everyday, I look forward to seeing you. Our little hangouts have been the highlight of my days recently. Whenever you’re around, I feel like a sailor lost in the raging sea finally seeing the light from the lighthouse. A beacon of hope, if you will—” He cuts himself off with a cough, slightly tilting his hat to hide his embarrassment.

“I may be too old for this word, but I think I might have a crush on you.” He visibly cringes at the word. “Truth be told, I haven’t felt this way since I first met Nora. It’s strange to feel that flutter in my chest once again. Just thought I had to get my feelings out there. Didn’t want them brewing in me for too long.”

Cypher now refused to look at them, opting to look to the side and focus on any piece of furniture or clutter instead of them. (C/N), on the other hand, only gave him a sigh before standing up. ‘Maybe it was a bad idea…’ He thought, thinking they were just gonna leave him with no response— a rejection.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that (C/N) was now standing at his side, opposite from where he was looking. One could imagine the surprise he felt when they grabbed his chin to face them, raised his mask just right above his nose, and kissed him.

They kissed him.

…

They kissed him.

It lasted only a second, but to him it felt like eternity. A kiss he so desperately wanted for so long, finally given to him. They only tasted faintly of cardamom and honey, but it tasted like sweet, sweet nectar to him; sweet, addictive, and intoxicating.

They pulled his mask back down and scoffed. “Despite being a genius, you’re a stupid man, Amir. I already knew from the get-go. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“So, was that a yes?” He said as he looked up at them. If he wasn’t wearing the mask, (C/N) swore he’d have some puppy-eyed look on his face right now.

They crossed their arms over their chest and stuck their tongue out at him, a rare display of immaturity from them. It was cute. “I don’t know, was it?”

Cypher chuckled at their sarcasm. He then stood up and pulled up his mask halfway to give them a kiss, one they gladly returned.

“Eww, gross! can you guys get a room? I’m about to cook lunch here and you guys are literally making out.” A voice from behind the two interrupted them. It was Jett, and it seemed like she had brought Phoenix and Neon with her. Cypher immediately broke the kiss to quickly pull his mask over followed by (C/N) hiding their blushing face from the group.

Knowing the group, they’ll probably never hear the end of it. They’ll most likely spread it around the Protocol, but for the first time, it didn’t even matter to Cypher. He’s just happy they feel the same, happy that he finally has what he’s wanted for so long.

#valorant cypher #cypher #cypher valorant #cypher x reader #valorant x reader #fluff #the brainrot is real #valorant #I think I love cypher #but fun fact #I love harbor more #I am foreshadowing

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tewwor · 1 month

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sea creature affairs starter call — i won't lie.. got a hankering to rev up some new content with these goons. everyone resides / at least calls harborview their home. just a small coastal town that's 10000% normal and not inhabited by strange things from the nearby sea. creatures of which that were made or in the very least influenced by some lone god found beneath sea foam and abyssal depths.

More sea creature lore here!

like and/or specify who you'd like from habrorview's very own! if you previously liked for a starter ( and/or i already made you one ) and you want another with a different character — please comment and let me know!!! i'm more than happy to have multiple threads with these silly strange creatures

adal — werewolf / sea creature hybrid . carpenter that's just trying his best, so soft and guilt ridden he'll help thieves clear out his own home, designated scout for any trouble brewing on the horizon as he sails most often

altan — basilisk . angry hermit trying desperately to live in solitude, keeper of a barely functioning lighthouse, usually the first point of contact for oram when he waddles his sea monster ass back to land, immediately beams super mean things into orams head to help him remember how to speak the human language before kicking him out.

amant taylor boudreaux — human . just a guy that's been obsessed with harborview's happenings, he's dedicated his life to accurately detail not only it's citizens but also the mysterious people that return from the sea, would 1000% try to get nasty with someone just to lowkey research them, brainrot on god ( oram, even if he doesn't know that weird soggy man is the sea god responsible for all sea creatures )

dane — sea creature . marine biology professor & totally not the son of the alleged sea god, oram, is known to throw the occasional hissy fit if a traveler starts to get too nosy, ignorance is the only thing keeping his father immortal

danny — sea creature . pirate smoted humbled by another god's wrath, runs a pub and very uncanny valley if you look close enough, thinks sitting by him while he soaks in the tub counts as a romantic date, probably eats people

hugh — sea creature . unofficial babysitter of newly turned sea creatures, just wants to run his restaurant in peace but is usually in pieces instead, don’t ask questions if you see him throwing things off the pier

joel — human ( for now ) . ooooo the sea creatures want him so bad, retired saturation diver, plagued with trauma / #1 harborview conspiracy theorist, main character syndrome & literally at his wits end

lior — siren / sea creature hybrid . prior criminal ties, current fashionista, embodiment of 'i told you so', weirdly misses needing souls as sustenance

oram — hunters want him, joel fears him, he barely knows wtf is going on at any time of his unfortunately long life, often found as a wet and soggy man wandering the beach, eldritch vibes all around and does little to hide it

tatsuro watanabe — figurehead come alive . the newest of harborview’s bestiary, still trying to grasp how humans act and why, will try anything once, underestimates his strength often, lowkey something intimidating about him

vincent — imugi . founder & #1 fan of the oram hate club, town-locked against his will, would love nothing more than to never talk to anyone but they love to bug the hell out of him, only cares about joel because he's.. struggling pathetic

#indie rp #indie oc rp #indie supernatural rp #indie horror rp #indie bi rp #* & interaction call .#// idk what else to tag this but uh #// spare interactions for these silly goons

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maries-gallery · 10 months

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wc: 1,7k

Licht had always hated his name.

Licht, meaning Light.

A pretty ironic name for someone whose existence is laced with sin and bathes in blood. For someone who has committed the irreparable at such a young age.

Indeed, Licht has nothing luminous nor bright. Nothing but his name, that hangs over his head like a dark halo, dripping blood in the back of his mind so he never forgets his sins. His name, an omen heavier than any crown. Heavier than any throne.

A reminder that inside of him, darkness brews. Nesting and rotting, waiting for him to open the Pandora box. Its putrid flowers blooming in the deepest parts of him, visceral and rooted in flesh.

People thought twins to be a bad omen. They all thought one of them was destined to be good and bring prosperity. The other meant to bring sorrow and chaos in a kingdom full of hope.

The evil one, the cursed twin. The bad one.

That’s what his brother and himself had been taught too, as children. That one of them would be the downfall of Rhodolite if it ever came down to one of them bearing the crown.

So people prayed, held their breath. For any other prince to take the crown. Maybe that’s why Yves cared about Licht so much. He understood what it felt like being shunned by your people.

To Licht it had always been evident that if one of them had to be cursed it was him. For it could never be his brother, right? Nokto whose hands had known blood well after his own. Nokto whom is so confident and outspoken. Nokto whose name means Night but who has always shone brighter than the stars and the moon. And whose wings had always spread over Licht’s head to give him shelter from his own thoughts.

Indeed, if there had to be a monster in their story, Licht would take on this role. Hands already slick with too much blood, mind crowded with too many brooding clouds.

Licht would never forget the fear and the hate in their eyes. The very people he was meant to protect. The very eyes of his mother, too.

His own mother he had loved with all his heart.

His own mother he had-

Licht. The cursed twin.

For so long he had kept everyone at arm’s length, even sweet Yves who had tried everything to get him to open up, to get him to smile like he once did. But Licht could never find it in himself. The taste of happiness and joy foreign to him. Emotions blended in a colourless sea of sadness and self hatred. Years of isolation had made him colourblind.

And he had tried to keep you at arm’s length too. You were too bright, eyes too pure and your smile too kind. Your voice, like Heaven singing in his ears, heart in his chest clamouring at every word falling from your lips like a prayer.

An angel fallen from grace.

You were too good for him. Yet, a part of him found itself constantly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. Like a man lost at sea to the comfort of a lighthouse.

Nothing good can ever come from this.

She’ll get hurt. She’ll get hurt. She’ll get hurt.

I’ll hurt her.

She’ll be miserable. She’ll be miserable. She’ll be miserable.

I’ll bring that upon her.

He desperately tried to keep you from the dark corners of his mind. Aching for you to hold him and find him into the dark, yet crying out and cowering back in fear every time you took a step his way.

He wouldn’t pardon himself if he were to taint you, light incarnate. Scared the beast inside of him would burst from within and snuff out the light in your eyes, claw at your heart and rip it to pieces.

I can’t make her happy. I can’t let her love me. I can’t love her but I cannot not love her.

I cannot be indifferent anymore.

Let me follow. Please let me follow you into the light. Bring me back.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. But hurting is the price I pay for my sins. The price I pay in blood and in-

Yet, when he looks into your eyes and meets his own reflection there, he sees nothing of the monster he claims to be. Nothing but a man. A man whose pain has turned into a lone wolf. A man with a beating heart, a man who loves, and a man who craves for nothing else but tender affection.

Who craves to be seen and found. To be touched and brought back from the land of desolation he’s built around himself.

And every time, you take his hand, and lead him out of the dark forest of his mind. Every time, you bring him back to the light. Bathe his scars in love and soothe his aching heart with warmth.

For the first time, he wants to believe. He wants to believe monsters like him deserve redemption in the presence of an angel. He wants to believe that maybe he can be worthy of your love, of his name. That maybe, some of the light can be for him too.

Licht had always hated his name. But when it falls from your lips nothing sounds purer, sweeter, holier.

So now, as the two of you lie down in his bed, moonlight showering your entangled forms in divine glow, his crimson eyes seek yours, gentle fingers caressing your cheek ever so gently. Afraid to break you.

Pure love flows through his veins as you gaze back at him. Your skin like silk against his own, and his heart catches fire.

Your fingers comb back a strand of white hair from his forehead, and he is putty in your hands.

“I love you, Licht.”

There it is, the words that make his heart swell in his chest, the words that make his lungs ache for air. His thumb draws circles on your soft skin, crimson eyes burning with a mix of unshed tears and raw desire as he hangs over you. Lips hungrily nipping at the skin of your nape.

“Say it again.” He whispers against your skin, “Please, say my name, again.” Despair laces his tone as his hand guides your legs around his hips, fingers digging in the butter of your thighs.

A moan falls past your lips as he grinds his hardened bulge against your core. Fire waking up inside of you and licking at your inhibitions. You want more. You danced too close to the Sun and now you want to taste its flames.

“Kiss me first.” You ask and he complies. Your legs tighten their hold on him to bring you closer and closer still. Until no space is left between the two of you and your lips are so close you can taste his breath on your tongue. “Licht.”

Air catches in his lungs, his skin burns, and every fibre of his being aches for you. For all of you. For a taste of Heaven.

“Again.” He repeats, length prodding between your slick folds. And he loves the gasp that falls from your lips as he pushes in, the way your eyes flutter close as he stretches your walls and comes to sit inside of you.

“Uungh-! Licht!” You cry out, nails digging in the skin of his back as he grinds his hips against yours, teasing at your sweetest spot. “Please-Please, more!”

Of course he listens, sliding in and out of you in slow and languid thrusts, bringing you closer to the edge with every roll of his hips. Your vision blurs as your core melts in a puddle of need and desire.

Licht’s brows knit together as your walls clamp down around his length, sucking him in. And he wishes he could stay inside of you all day, warm and snug in your heat.

“You’re so warm-” He sheathes himself in your walls to the hilt, so deep you taste him in the back of your throat. But you don’t care, not when it feels so good. Not when you’re on the edge of breaking. “So-So good-”

He leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over your heated skin but doing nothing to extinguish the fire inside of you.

“Say my name, again.”

“Ah-! Licht! Licht!” Your eyes flutter close, the tight coil inside of you lashing out flames as your release washes over you in tides. Powerful and merciless, thighs quivering around him under the weight of pleasure.

Licht.

His name you sing over and over again like a prayer to the gods above, until your throat hurts from overexertion and your moans become nothing but murmurs for him only to hear.

And he bathes in it, head tilting back as his hips earn a mind of their own, letting his sins be washed away by your light. Bathed in the cries of an angel.

A sound between grunt and a moan escapes him, warmth flooding his veins as he sheathes himself inside of you and gives you the fruits of his own release. Panting above you as exhaustion crashes over the both of you.

He leans down, burying his head in the crook of your neck, reluctant to pull out from your warmth just yet. And he wants this moment to last forever. The two of you united as one, your arms around him and his head busy with thoughts of you.

He enjoys the idea of his seed remaining inside of you. The idea of filling you with his love, like you do him on the daily with your mere presence.

A tired smile graces your lips as you look up at him, “Licht…”

His name rolls off your tongue and it tastes like honey. And in that moment he finally feels whole, blessed by the Gods.

Is it a sin to adore you? To want to be near you, to feel you, to touch you?

Maybe. But for all it’s worth, Licht does not care. If Hell was another one of your angelic kisses then he’d be a sinner.

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @pockcock @ikesimp100 @ikemen-writer @chaosangel767 @nightghoul381 @o0aj0o @kisuxmalfoy @elleplaysotome @lichtluv

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poorsapadvocate · 1 year

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I am once again asking for the solarpunk community to pay attention to the Wholesome Direct

Full list of games with links under the cut. For the purposes of this list, I tried to single out games that (at least appear to) focus on nature, technology, and community. That said, I don’t think there was a single loser in the entire direct and I can’t list them all, so go watch it yourself!

Solarpunk: Survival game in a technically advanced world of floating islands. Alone or together with your friends, you can construct buildings, grow food, craft gadgets and hop on your airship to explore distant islands in the sky.

Station to Station: A minimalist & relaxing game about building railway connections. Grab your conductor’s hat and bring the voxel-art world to life through the magic of trains!

Smushi Come Home: Play as a tiny lil' mushroom who's lost in the forest and can't find its way home. Explore unique areas freely at your own pace, chat with friendly inhabitants, and take on different adventures to get back home!

Flutter Away: A short nature exploration game set in a cozy nook of the Amazon rainforest. Explore nearby tracks, take photos, meet animal friends and journal your discoveries!

Kamaeru: Foster a sanctuary for frogs and restore the biodiversity of the wetlands in Kamaeru, a cozy farming sim where you raise frogs by playing mini-games and decorating your habitat. Hop right to it!

Kibu: A tranquil adventure in the heart of the wilderness. As a solitary monk you must build a temple, brew delicious teas, and journey into the wilds seeking out ancient spirits. Carve out your own special corner of home in a beautiful, mysterious land.

The Guardian of Nature: An exploration adventure and puzzle game. Go with the botanist Henry on a magical journey to save the mother tree. Use your ability to change in size to explore nature from big to small and solve solarpunk puzzles to put nature back in order.

Townseek: Embark on a journey across the world of Explora and discover the lost legacy of Sir Reginald Sharkingston! Discover exotic landmarks, trade with faraway towns, fish, mine, and farm as you complete your journal and make a name for yourself!

Diluvian Winds: A management game set in a small hamlet at the foot of a lighthouse. Welcome weary travelers and help each other to try and survive the unpredictable weather. Grow your hamlet on land, under the sea or among the clouds.

Loftia: A Solarpunk MMO game set on a floating city in the sky! (keep your eyes on this one. no official website yet but it’s set to have a kickstarter and pre-alpha soon)

BONUS: Games that don’t quite fit the solarpunk mood but fit the solarpunk themes

Mineko’s Night Market

Venba

Sopa

The Palace on the Hill

Magical Delicacy

Garden Witch Life

Grimoire Groves

Wylde Flowers

Moonstone Island

Garden Buddies

Orange Season

Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life

Botany Manor

Fields of Mistria

#gaming #games #wholesome games #wholesome direct #solarpunk #including Smushi was probably cheating #but come on it's a little guy and it's their birthday!!!#my personal winners that don't quite qualify for this list were Tiny Bookshop and Cato

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revasserium · 11 months

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fear every raindrop

sasuke; 837 words; fluff and angst but mostly just atmospheric-ness. for @dira333

sasuke has always loved the rain; it has always spoken to him in ways the cloudless blues of a sunstruck sky could never (but he’s certain naruto could have). he has always understood the thick rumble of a horizon line jagged with thunder; he has always appreciated the deep sorrow of each tiny raindrop, which together can form a torrent so large it has the power to drown out a whole village. because he understands sorrow — if nothing else.

and his whole life has been loss, hasn’t it? a constant and immutable stream of losing, of waking each morning wondering what else the world will take today, and going to sleep each night knowing the answer is — always more than you think.

he meets you on a rainy day.

outside a way station, beside a dirt road that seems to run parallel to the turning world, he catches you falling — actually falling, slipping on a patch of mud. his single arm bars across your chest, knocking the wind from you even as you wheeze, your nose nearly catching the drenched earth beneath you.

“careful,” he says, his voice soft as he helps you straighten again. and one glance at you tells him that you’re the furthest thing from a ninja a person could be: innocent. it shines through you like a beacon, beckons to him like a lighthouse on a deserted shore and he finds himself irrevocably drawn to you — a magnet to his compass rose, the moon’s pull to the tide’s endless flow.

“th-thanks! sorry…” you laugh, ducking your head into a short, awkward sort of bow as you straighten to peer up at him through your rain-slicked bangs. he fights the urge to look away.

“are you…”

sasuke bites back a wince for the words he knows will come, the curiosity, the realization, and then — inevitably — the accusation. he braces for it.

and…

“are you hungry?”

sasuke blinks.

you’re grinning up at him, not a single thread of apprehension in sight as you lace your fingers behind your back and motion towards the thin strip of forest path.

“my family owns a ramen place in the town just over this hill — i was running an errand, but i got caught in the rain — thank god you were here to save me!” your smile is bright, so bright and defiantly so against the gloom of the weather above you. the rain has yet to abate but sasuke thinks that he doesn’t mind. your smile is more than enough to shelter him from the storm.

“ah…” he doesn’t know what to say, because no one had ever trained him for this, not in the delicate dance of propriety, not in the precarious balance between casual jest and incrimination. he finds that he has no tools in his arsenal for this, but then —

“c’mon, my treat. it’s the least i can do for my savior!”

savior.

he savors that word, basks in the halcyon glow of his warmth, wishes he could sink his fingers into the heart of its brightness, tip it back into his mouth and swallow it whole. he wishes it was something that, someday, he might be truly deemed to be.

it is not as good as irchiraku’s. but then again, very few things are. though, you make up for it in your animated ramblings, in the way you introduce him to the sweet-faced woman behind the counter as you brush through the doorway of the tiny ramen shop, in the way you crouch down to scritch a fat orange cat behind the ears, stepping aside so he can offer his own hand for the cat to sniff and inspect.

the fat, orange cat levels him with a severe sort of gaze before it slumps back down and opens his mouth his great, big yawn.

“i think he likes you!”

sasuke can only nod, shaking his bangs out to cover his eyes, hiding behind that one last bastion of darkness as you lead him to a back table.

it is not as good as ichiraku’s… but he finds himself hesitant to leave all the same.

outside, the storm still brews, thick and angry just beyond the tops of those faraway trees.

“you should stay till the storm blows out — it’s dangerous to go wandering in this weather!”

sasuke almost laughs, because when was the last time someone had ever put him and danger in the same sentence without the implied causation? when was the last time someone had warned him of the danger, instead of warning of the danger of him?

he drinks his soup slowly, polishing off whole bowl with a soft exhale.

the sweet-faced woman smiles wide as she peers into his empty bowl.

“would you like seconds?”

sasuke sets down his chopsticks.

“please.”

it’s not as good as ichiraku’s but… it’s still the best ramen he’s had in years.

#uchiha sasuke #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto imagines #uchiha sasuke fluff #uchiha sasuke x reader #uchiha sasuke imagines #uchiha sasuke headcanons #sasuke uchiha #naruto x you #uchiha sasuke x you #floofy floof floof #MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #im gonna do that thing where i trust the reader bc yes i trust u #to know to see to UNDERSATND #i had to resist the urge to write more bc i didn't wanna spell it out and i also just really wanted to capture this ONE moment #bUT YEAH WOW. i love sasuke LOL

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j0kers-light · 7 months

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I refreshed my ask box and sweet Gaia I have an ask dating back to August 16th. I have come to the conclusion my inbox is glitched because this makes no sense. I swear I'm not ignoring requests! 😭

So I'm gonna crank this oneshot out and use it as my excuse for not writing the smut for the series chapter. I am not stalling.. nope no.. yeah..... 👀

#chaos is brewing chaos #clicks pen #time to get to work #his lighthouse

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onedaughterofman · 2 years

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You, forever (Chapter V: Kiss the goat under the spell)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x g/n reader

Summary: The Clergy takes something from Copia, but he refuses to let go.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and corpses. Non graphic sex. There's a short stillbirth scene. I market the beginning and the end of it, so you can skip it if it's triggering.

PART I HERE / PART II HERE / PART III HERE / PART IV HERE

The night is beautiful and dark. Naked under the moonlight, Imperator grasps Nihil’s wrist as he holds her close, breathing into her neck.

Imperator’s skin is pale, obscured by the rusty color of blood. It feels cold, so cold and thick on her burning body. And it’s good, almost as good as Nihil’s warm tongue over her veins and arteries, biting and sucking.

October’s moon is high in the sky, a blazing lighthouse that illuminates both of them and the altar around. It’s mesmerizing the way the pale light shines on her skin, bathing it with a silver halo. The long, black dress lays forgotten on the ground, outside the casting circle and right next to Nihil’s clothes.

Counting the minutes, Imperator breathes. The sacred hour is soon to come. The distant chimes will break the spectral silence of the woods to consecrate the ritual, and soon, she’ll know if all these studies and preparations have been worth the effort.

In front of her, Nihil leans down to kiss her again. He tastes like blood and strong alcohol, leaving behind a burning sensation on her own tongue. There’s a remnant of herbs, of rosemary and a bit of blackberries and chocolate, too. Nihil drank the brewing as soon as he entered the circle, signaling the beginning of the unholy process.

Imperator may not belong to the most influential circles of the Clergy, not yet, but that doesn’t mean she can’t have hope. She, and only she, managed to bring the long distanced son back. She convinced Nihil to take his righteous place in the church; she initiated him under a blood ritual. A powerful one, meant to seal his destiny and ordain his duties.

At this time, Imperator also dreams. This ritual is ancient, written in an archaic language that required years of her life to decipher. Gathering the necessary items was a time consuming duty, too. Now, everything lays in front of her own eyes, barely illuminated by the faint light from the black candles.

Tonight, Imperator will do it. She’ll summon Satan himself.

The Devil is a supreme figure, a king among kings, an Emperor of Hell. Still, he’s also a gentleman. He’ll come if he’s called upon by a lady, by an Empress.

“What are we waiting for?”

Nihil’s lips graze every little corner he can reach, never stopping for more than a few seconds as if he is hesitant of where to touch and taste. Imperator’s fingers are red when she allows them to curl around his neck, bringing him closer.

“The chimes,” she replies, whispering in his ear. A shiver runs down his spine, bringing every nerve on his skin to life. “Once they chime three times, you can do anything you want to me.”

The smell of incense and herbs is dazzling, dark smoke swirling around their bodies. It burns on their lungs, heavy and intoxicating at the same time. Nihil’s pupils are wide, eyes big on his face when he smiles at her, tracing her cheekbones with his fingertips. “I’ve never heard about this Hunter’s Moon ritual.”

“Because you never paid attention to any class.”

Her voice never falters. The confidence is strong, almost as strong as Nihil’s hold on her. It’s good he trusts her with his life, blindly so. Obviously, this long lost ritual is not in any type of book. She found it hidden in an old scroll nobody wanted to translate. The ink was almost faded and the paper was stained and yellow, thin like a veil. Despite that, she worked so hard during nights and days, for months to come. Book after book, scroll after scroll, she uncovered every secret.

Satan’s invocation, the key to becoming the Prime Mover the prophecy anticipated… it’s all in her hands, within her reach. Imperator can practically feel it at the tip of her fingers, tingling.

Tonight is the night. His kingdom will come, and she’ll be the one to welcome Him to this world.

The sound of the distant bells brings shivers on her skin. Imperator sees the fire inside Nihil’s pupils, experiencing the raw potential of his poorly contained excitement. At any moment, she knows it. She can feel it coming.

Breathing deep doesn’t help fill her lungs with oxygen. The air is heated, moist and saturated with smoke. Imperator senses the rise in temperature, the sweet and sour smell of sulfur and burning wood. Then, Nihil’s body becomes tense, so tense she almost fears he will double down and faint.

He doesn’t. Muscles shaking, he leans harder on her. There’s a glint of sweat on his forehead and his pupils are blown, so dark inside his light irises. When his eyes close, he falls like a lifeless puppet. Following him to the ground, Imperator rushes to place her palms on his cheeks, chest heaving almost as much as his.

At long last, the sound dies. The bells are silent, and the only noise is the soft creaking of fire. Under the dark veil of the night, Imperator feels the bile rising up her throat as the knot in her stomach tightens. When Nihil’s eyelids twitch and open, she can’t hold the tears from falling down her face.

He is here. She can feel Him, deep in her bones, right to the core. His eyes are made of fire, a gaze so intense it sets her body ablaze. It’s a burning light, brighter than the moon and any other star, but so deep at the same time. Imperator feels like she’s staring at the vast immensity of the void, only to find the void is staring right back at her.

His fingers are hot when he reaches up to wipe away a tear. Imperator gathers a quivering breath, letting her mouth fall agape. He is… a force she has never encountered before, a heavy embrace both comforting and terrorizing at the same time. He is a pulsating, enthralling entity with eyes like a vortex in which she can’t help but to fall.

Tonight, to his arms she leaps. Drowning right into the depth of Satan’s eyes, Imperator looks up to the moon and prays.

The melody is gentle, an airy hum that resonates inside her rib-cage and deep within her throat. The vibrations travel down her chest, through her stomach and low into her abdomen, where her hands rest as her fingers trace the intricate pattern of the worn black sweater.

Alone in a dimly lit room, Imperator sings a song that lives in her memory only. She no longer recognizes the face of the person who sang it to her when she was a child, whether it was her own mother or just one of the Siblings of Sin in charge of the orphans inside the Ministry. It doesn’t matter. The melody sparks a wave of warmth in her body, a tender feeling of coziness that she treasures nevertheless.

The bulge on her abdomen is barely discernible under the thick wool. Even so, she knows the slight curve is not a product of her imagination, but of her sacrifices. Imperator’s fingers close over the sweater, allowing herself to rest her eyes as she breathes. The window is obscured by condensation, blurry with the droplets of water that cling to the surface.Outside, the wind blows strongly, a loud howling that runs through the room before disappearing in the distance.

It’s raining. It always rains lately. The apartment she rented a few weeks ago feels foreign and humid, too empty for her taste. A part of her misses dearly the ancient statues and colored glass of the Ministry, wishes she could confidently walk through the interminable corridors again.

It’s useless. Imperator doesn’t consider herself someone to dwell in the past. She can’t, when there’s a new life thriving with potential inside her womb. The ritual worked, and Satan blessed her with a child she already loves even if she doesn’t know his face.

A boy, the nurses said. A baby boy, small but healthy, who should be born in only a few months.

Imperator can’t wait. Over the silence, her voice repeats the melody a bit louder, enjoying the vibrations in her throat. A child will come, a product of all her love and devotion towards the Lord. It’s the greatest gift that has been given to her.

A child. Her child. And she only needed to sacrifice everything to get him.

Imperator’s throat constricts as she inhales. The frosty air makes her insides shiver, tremble with anticipation. Her whole life she devoted it to tending the Ministry, to escalating inside the ranks and making her own name known inside those walls.

The Clergy didn’t like that someone like her, who came from no one and was no one, became fundamentally important and prominent. Yet, she has managed to secure her place. She fought and conquered everything she desired, just to prove them wrong.

Imperator lived a whole life of fighting and searching for a place to belong to, of yearning for something to make it all make sense. She earned it all, and then offered it to the Dark Lord in exchange for something even greater.

Satan accepted.

Now, Nihil is gone, just like her position in the Clergy and her home in the Ministry. Imperator tries so hard not to think about it, but the nights are cold and long and she’s only a woman who used to love a man. A man who, in the end, never knew how to love her back the way she needed.

It makes sense, somehow. What you give away, you can’t reclaim. Imperator offered Nihil to Satan, gave Him their conjoined power and their soul. Satan took it. Nihil never treated her the same after the ritual, almost as if he suspected something was awry, as if he knew she had set him up. He became distant, colder, more tempted by the Siblings and then the groupies that swarmed around him.

And, as always, Imperator had to accept the harsh reality. Nothing belonged to her only. All she has possessed, since birth, was borrowed from someone else. A poor orphan, lost in the long hallways, condemned to search forever for her place, destined to fight for the right to occupy space.

A profound sigh exits her lips, halting the melody. Nothing matters anymore. This baby, her son, belongs to her. Satan presented him to her only. Those days of not having anything or anyone to call her own will soon be gone. They'll become nothing but a bitter memory that will cling to the back of her mind until she buries it under new, fonder memories.

Her baby, her child, her son. The chosen one, the one whose arrival was foretold by the prophecy. And it’s all thanks to her, to her pain and devotion, to her love and thirst for power. For the first time in her life, someone looked into her eyes and chose her first. Satan did, and oh, how loved she felt.

How loved she still feels. She’s thrilled, fortunate. This baby growing and developing from her will have such a promising, amazing future. He’ll be loved and will love her the same. They’ll rule, together, and no one will ever hurt them again.

As the wind howls and the rain falls, Imperator closes her eyes and sings to the moon.

--- --- ---

The boy is born dead.

Through the pain and the medication, Imperator’s hands reach into thin air. The ghastly lights of the hospital room are too bright, almost blinding in her weary eyes. Her pupils are blown, coated by tears that run down her cheeks and mix with her sweat.

This can’t be happening. All her pain, her rage, her sacrifices and devotion… Was it all for nothing? Hasn’t she given up enough? Doesn’t she deserve love and happiness, too?

Around her, the noises become nothing but a loud, incessant rumble that is barely discernible over the wild pounding of her own heart. Imperator’s fingers reach out to the doctors, even when her sight is blurry and obscured and she can feel the viscous blood dripping from her thighs.

Her child. She needs to see his face.

Her baby.

Her greatest gift…

An eternity passes in front of her. Imperator’s skin feels sickly, extremely pale and waxy. Still, it’s nothing compared to the gray color of her son when the nurses place him on top of her body, wrapped in light blue blankets. She disregards the sorrow in their eyes, dismissing their condolences as her lips stretch in a trembling, tight smile.

Imperator’s fingers are rigid, cramped when she secures them around her son’s fist.

Oh, how small and cold he is. But, also, how beautiful. He looks so much like her, so tiny and delicate. Her baby, her own child…

Is dead.

The tears start dripping down her neck, getting lost somewhere in her hospital robes. Everything hurts so much, outside and inside her body and mind. The thoughts run fast, crashing against the walls of her brain and jumping from one place to another, screaming, yelling to the void.

On her chest, the baby is light as a feather and delicate, so precious. He’s the chosen one. Why is he dead, then?

Hasn't she given enough?

Hasn’t she…?

The prophecy never foretold the death of the infant. The demise of the mother, maybe, but that’s a risk Imperator was willing to take. She offered so much to Satan to sweeten up the deal. She even sent a couple of souls his way, just to beg for a chance to live to see her son become the One. And now, Satan is silent and cold, almost like her son.

It’s the silence, in the end, which bothers her the most. The beeping of machines and the rumble of doctors and nurses voices is gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Imperator can’t take it. Gradually, her voice rises in that familiar melody buried deep in her heart and memory.

To a small corpse, she sings. For hours and hours, she prays.

In front of her eyes, when the tears are dry and her arms are stiff, the baby begins to faintly cry.

--- --- ---

The child in front of her is crying. Imperator kneels down, a slight smile on her lips as she offers her hand to him. He takes it, as always, rushing into her arms and hiding his little face on her chest.

“What happened now, C?”

For a long moment, the child only sobs. Memories resurface in Imperator’s mind, of nights and nights of wailing and crying before she had to inevitably entrust him to the Siblings of Sin. Sacrifices are required, Satan said, and the child had to grow surrounded by occultism and knowledge exclusively available inside the Ministry.

How much they both cried that day… How big the pain was, how hard the sacrifice. Imperator left the baby on the chapel’s steps before disappearing into the night, shaking and swallowing her sorrow. The pungent taste of her own anguish never subsided, until Nihil called her back years after, pleading for help.

Even after all that time, she recognized him. The moment she saw him, shorter than other kids and covered in bruises and scratches, she knew it was her boy.

Her baby. Her little C.

Oh, how much she held on for the moment to go back to him. Still, she had patience. Imperator knew she couldn’t let Nihil or the Clergy know the kid was part of the bloodline. She heard the horror stories, knew the pressure and the dangerous rituals they were put under to prepare the heirs to take a place as leaders of the church.

It’s not a secret that the Ministry is built on the blood and pain of a bloodline cursed since birth. Imperator doesn’t care about what kind of suffering and tests Nihil’s kids are forced into, as long as they don’t fall on Copia.

Long time ago, Nihil confessed to her how he used to feel so trapped inside the Ministry, so scared. He saw things no other kid his age should have seen and the blood, fire, destruction and pain marked him deep to the core. That’s why he ran away when he was a teenager, until destiny inevitably seized him.

It doesn’t matter what it takes. Imperator can’t let the same people raise her baby alone. No, she will do it herself as much as she can, hiding in the shadows and pulling all the strings that she needs to.

Nothing will harm him. Not when C clings to her clothes, staining them in tears and snot.

“You came,” he says, voice gentle and trembling. His little fists struggle to clean the wetness of his cheeks, before Imperator’s fingers sweep away the tears, lightly caressing his skin. He’s always covered in scratches and dirt, due to being targeted by other kids stronger and bigger than him.

Even if Imperator knows she can’t be there all the time to protect him, she's sure one day justice will come. And how much she prays and wishes to be there to see him rise to his destiny.

Nothing, and no one, will ever cast any evil upon him again. Until then, the task falls on her. She’ll do anything to shelter him.

Anything.

“Of course, little C. I’m with you, always.”

The kid laughs. The sound is airy, light as the wind, and it awakens something so tender inside her abdomen. A long, lost feeling of life growing in her, of hope and dreams for the years to come. Imperator has to gather a deep breath before speaking up again. “So, tell me. What do you want to do?”

As always, the kid shines when she’s with him. Imperator’s hands pat his hair, fixing his hair behind his ears. “Let’s play outside, Sister,” the kid says, pulling on her sleeves. “Everyone is in the Chapel, so we’ll be alone!”

She follows him when he bolts, running and jumping in excitement. A blindfold over her eyes, Imperator chases the kid around the backyard, enjoying the way the sun caresses her skin with the last dying rays.

Standing on the same patio where they used to play, Imperator looks up to the moon. It feels incredible to bask in the warm light coming from the pyre. The heat is welcomed, maybe only a bit overly harsh on her exposed skin. Nevertheless she remains in place, eyes closed, lips lifted at the corners.

On an old armchair behind her back, Copia only stares. He’s silent, a deep furrow plastered on his face. The shadows dance over his factions, making him look older than he genuinely is, sharper at the edges. By his side, two Nameless Ghouls stand in guard, like restless gargoyles.

Those piercing eyes, Imperator endures them digging on her flesh even when she sleeps. The pungent smoke inflates her lungs when she inhales sharply. The air leaves behind a strong, sour aftertaste on her tongue. Tonight, the pyre is huge. There must be dozens of bodies piled up together, turning into ashes and dust under the ruthless flames.

What a beautiful sight it is, to see the fire dance and grow under the hazy sky. And to think everything started with Saltarian and the other influential members of the Clergy. Then, Cardi wanted more and more. The anger stored in his guts couldn’t be tamed with only a few murders.

No, it demanded blood and sacrifice. Imperator is proud, immensely proud of the boy. Copia is bearing the mark of the devil now. He has become a whole different person since his rebirth, someone who has an incredible resemblance to his father in Hell.

Death after death, he has gotten stronger, more dangerous but also colder. They are all gone, Siblings, Cardinals, Bishops, elderly scribes, apprentices and teachers. The Ministry is in shambles, falling into decay.

From the ruins of an established kingdom, another new one will rise. It will be stronger, better. A new dark era is rising, just as it has been forewarned. The gates of Hell are now wide open and the demons roam the earth, hungry for blood.

And then, coated in the same bloodlust, Copia’s voice rises over the creaking fire.

“We are alone in the Ministry, Sister.”

Folding her hands over her abdomen, Imperator turns around and faces him. In the distance, the bells toll just like they did decades ago, when it all started. The old, distorted melody resonates loudly in her ears, an omen she inevitably recognizes.

Tonight is a beautiful night to die.

PART VI

Ps: I wanted to post this before moving. I'm probably going to be really busy next week, so I'm not going to be able to post as much as I'm used to.

This chapter is made to mirror the first chapter of the fic. I feel like, in this story, Imperator's love towards Copia resembles Copia's love for his s/o (although one is platonic mother/child and the other is romantic). In the end, they both share the same obsessive/idealizing way of loving someone, and they are willing to commit all types of atrocities just to guarantee their wellbeing.

I used the songs Kiss the Go-Goat, Prime Mover, Depth of Satan's eyes and Under the Spell (from Me and That Man ft. Mary Goore) as inspiration.

#ghost band #ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #evil cardinal copia #antichrist copia #ghost band x reader #the band ghost #sister imperator #papa nihil #cardinal copia x reader #my writing #my fics

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xcherrypie · 5 months

Text

Like mother, like daughter

Summary: When Sam suprises you by coming home early, it’s hard to tell who’s missed him more, you or your little girl.

Words: 1.2k

You grab your cuppa from the kitchen side and make your way to the sofa, after a busy morning of washing, cleaning and taking your daughter to nursery, you were finally glad to put your feet up. It was only two weeks until Sam was home from tour and quite frankly you couldn’t wait, as proud of him as you are, part of you wishes you could keep him at home, with you and your little girl forever, but until then nightly factime calls were the next best thing.

Just as you brought the warm mug to your lips you hear the doorbell ring. Sighing, you put your mug back down and lift yourself up from the comfort of your blankets to go see who was at the door. You wasn’t expecting any deliveries, or guests for that matter so you a bit confused as to who was ringing the bell so unexpectedly. Before you could draw anymore possibilities you opened the door, revealing a surprise better than you ever could of imagined, Sam.

“Oh my god” you stood with your mouth draped open, overwhelmed with a mixture of complete happiness and shock. “Nice to see you too babe” Sam chuckled, quickly filling in the space between your bodies, engulfing you in his big arms. God you’d missed him, his laugh, his scent, his voice, everything. “Why are you here? Is everything okay on tour? I’ve missed you so much!” You blurted out, letting all your emotions run free. Sam looked down at you, smiling, he planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Everything is fine babe, I just missed you both so much and I had a little break between shows so I thought I’d come surprised you” You didn’t even reply you just smiled up at him and kissed him, the kiss making you long for more. “This is all very nice love but can we go inside now, I’m freezing out here” Sam responded jokingly. You both laughed and made your way into your shared home.

You made your way to the kitchen and turned the kettle on to make Sam a brew of his own, you figured he’d need one after the drive. As you done so, you felt his arms snake around your waist from behind, his lips attacking your neck. “You look so good” he mumbled between kisses. You loved that about Sam, you was literally wearing some of his jogging bottoms and a sports bra yet he still found you the most attractive woman in the world. “You don’t look too bad yourself” you smirked in response. “But as much as I’d love to continue this further, I need to pick y/d/n up from nursery- omg she’s gonna be so excited to see you!” You continue, already picturing your little girls face when she sees her dad for the first time in months. She is such a daddy’s girl and Sam being away wasn’t easy for her, but you made sure you made use of the time by making Sam cards and sending him lots of video messages from his little one.

“I’ll go get her love” Sam responded looking down at you. “Are you sure, I really don’t mind” you replied already knowing its what Sam wanted. When he is home it is his favourite thing to do, pick his baby girl up from nursery and listen to her ramble on about her day, to then take her home to you and spend the evening with his two favourite girls. “Of course” he said planting a kiss on your lips. “You stay here and we’ll both be home before you know it” he continued. In that moment everything felt whole again and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Sam leave to go bring your baby home, to bring your little family together again.

It’s safe to say y/d/n was not expecting her dad to be getting her from nursery that day, but when she saw him stood at the gate she ran to him without hesitation. “Daddy daddy, your home?” She squealed, her chubby arms reaching out for him to pick her up. “I am baby! I’ve missed you” he replied lifting her onto his hip, peppering her face with sweet little kisses. “It tickles daddy” she giggled grabbing his face , burying her head into Sams neck. Sam took a moment to admire yours two beautiful creation, a face he had missed all too much. Your daughter was the perfect mix of you both, with your button nose and plump lips and Sam’s blue eyes, Sam nearly burst with pride whenever he looked at her.

The whole journey home was filled with laughs and general chatter while Sam asked his daughter about her day and what she’s been up-to. “Me and mummy missed you lots daddy” she admitted making sam smile to himself. “I’ve missed my girls too” he replied smiling, looking back at her in his rear view mirror. “Does that mean we can get some sweets” she asked grinning, knowing her dad couldn’t resist her little smile. “Of course we can, but don’t tell mummy you had them before your dinner or daddy will be in trouble” he chuckled in response.

You were made aware of the pairs arrival by the sound of two feet skipping down your hallway yelling “Mummy mummy, daddy’s home!” You smiled to yourself, putting the tea towel to the side, deciding the washing up can wait until the morning now. “I know baby!” You cheered in response, picking her up for a cuddle. “And he got me sweets on the way home, but sorry there is none left, I ate them all already” she continued sheepishly. You glance over at Sam, a questioning look on your face, “Did he now?” you replied, smiling in Sam’s direction. Sam stood leaning against the entrance to your kitchen, arms folded, admiring his view. “Sorry babe, you know I find it hard to say no to her” he answered whilst walking over and placing a kiss on his daughters cheek “and to her mum too” he winked, pecking a soft kiss too your lips.

Before you could respond, y/d/n had already took Sam’s hand and lead him to her playroom, obviously Sam obliged, wanting to spend as much quality time with his little girl as possible, and you didn’t mind one bit, you knew later when y/d/n had gone to bed you’d have Sam all to yourself. After lots of playing dress up, reading stories and your family dinner, it was time to put your baby girl to bed. As usual you gave her a gentle kiss goodnight, reminding her how much you love her, and headed for the kitchen for a glass of wine, leaving Sam to tuck her in for the night. Twenty minutes later your little girl was fast asleep, completely warn out from the days antics, and you stood in the kitchen scrolling through your phone waiting for Sam.

As he entered the kitchen you naturally walked towards your living room, preparing for a cosy night infront of the tv, snuggled up in Sams arms. He however, had different ideas. “Where do you think your going?” Sam smirked, pacing towards you, picking you up bridal style. “Your coming with me, mrs” he continued cheekily as he carried you up-to your bedroom, attacking you with kisses along the way. You squealed in response. Your whole heart felt full, it was so good to have Sam home again.

Notes: I’m really enjoying writing and can’t wait to write more! If anyone has any requests that would be lush, thank you for reading my angels <3

#sam fender imagines #imagines #sam x reader #sam fender #fanfic #fluff #family #Spotify

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wanderingcas · 1 year

Text

title: where there is darkness pairing: dean/cas tags: historical au (1950s), angst with a happy ending, gay but in sepia

Posting a (long) sneak-peek of this fic, because I'm getting restless not sharing this. Enjoy!

***

As with most things in his life, Dean has a love-hate (but mostly hate) relationship with this lighthouse.

It’s easy to take care of on sunny days and clear nights, but it’s grueling during a storm or fog. Sun shines through the window in the midday, providing warmth, but it’s ever-loving cold the rest of the time.

It provides him with shelter from the outside world.

But it traps him in, like a caged animal.

Love, hate—day in and day out. And right now, standing against the railing of the balcony with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and the wind whipping at his back, it’s hate.

The light’s ready for the dusk that’s beginning to settle on the harbor. Dean’s cleaned the lens and brewed the meths. He turned on the tap, set a match to the mantle. The routine is so familiar, he could do it in his sleep. The light rotates behind him, illuminating his back briefly before turning its watchful eye to the rest of the harbor.

Bright, dark. Bright, dark. Around and around like a carousel.

Him and this lighthouse go way back, like a bad relationship that he can’t quit. When John moved him and Sam to Kittery and started work on this light, Bobby would bring Sam and Dean to visit during the fortnightly supply runs. Every visit was like a further punch to the gut to remind him of what he’d lost. It wasn’t like the light they’d all lived at when Dean’s mom was alive, with a cozy house that always smelled like freshly baked bread. This was a cold, sterile environment that smelled like three guys living in close quarters. And John—

He could barely look Dean and Sam in the eye when they visited.

After a few months at Whaleback, John seemed to relax into the work and his smile came more easily, but Dean would smell the whiskey on his breath.

After a while, Bobby stopped taking Sam and Dean at all.

The lighthouse took John and swallowed him whole. During his brief few days of shore leave, he’d just sit with a bottle at the table. Dean came to dread it, since it meant that the money he’d squirreled away in the coffee can on top of the cupboard would inevitably be pilfered for booze money.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s thinking about all of this, or about John. Maybe it’s because of where he’s currently standing.

Muttering a curse, Dean pulls the zippo out of his pocket and lights the cigarette.

“Got you.”

Dean turns as his brother comes onto the walkway, collar popped and hands deep into his coat pockets. His cheeks are already pinched red from the cold.

Dean adopts an easy posture, arms settling on the railing as he leans back with a grin. It hides the bitter taste of nostalgia still on his tongue. “I said I wanted to quit, not that I was going to quit.”

Sam rolls his eyes, then joins Dean at the railing. “Light all set?”

“Yup. Everything’s good. Go get some shut-eye.”

“I thought it was my shift tonight.”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Not tired. I can take the whole night.”

“You took the whole shift last night, too,” Sam says with a frown. “What about that chamomile tea Bobby brought last week? Did you try that?”

“Not drinkin’ a flower. I’ll sleep the old-fashioned way.”

“Clearly that’s not working.”

“I’ll take the shift tonight.” Dean levels his brother with a stare. “Okay?”

Lips twisted into a frown, wind sweeping at his hair, Sam suddenly looks like a younger snot-nosed version that had that same miserable look when Dean tried to tell him that Dad volunteered himself for a double shift that month. Before the Coast Guard took over during the war, things were more relaxed—less regulated. John was able to take all the double, triple shifts as he pleased, drinking himself stupid with all the bootlegged liquor in the cellar.

It always upset Sam, when their dad didn’t come home. He was a sensitive kid.

Just like all those years ago, Dean’s heart is punched out with a desire to make that frown leave Sam’s face.

“You wanna sneak back with Bobby tomorrow when he comes for the supply run? Go see Eileen? I can cover things here.”

Sam rolls his eyes with a scoffed laugh. “That’s a pretty terrible first impression to make on the new keeper Bobby’s bringing in.”

Fuck. Dean had forgotten about that. “That’s tomorrow?” he asks with a wince.

“Yes, and we need him to last more than a week, unlike the last guy. Otherwise the Coast Guard is not going to let us have a say in who comes or stays anymore.”

“Last guy was a pansy,” Dean grumbles around his cigarette.

“You punched him in the face, Dean.”

Dean glares out at the thin line of the distant shore and doesn’t reply.

“Since you’re a vet, they’re taking it easy on us,” Sam continues, “but Bobby was talking to someone up in a higher rank the other day and—I think this is our last chance.” He clears his throat. “Your last chance.”

“The hell you mean?” Dean asks, drawing up to a straight back. “They’re gonna sack me?”

“Move you, I think. To a solo light on the shore.”

Dean throws up a hand. “Well, fine. Let them. What’s the problem?”

There’s that miserable look again. Sam won’t raise his head as the unspoken words hang between them. Dean stays silent, challenging Sam to say it.

“You know what the problem is, Dean,” Sam quietly says.

Yeah. Dean knows. He knows that without Sam, Dean at a solo light would probably end with him hanging from the rafters.

Blowing out a drag of smoke into the wind, Dean hunches back over the railing. “I’ll try,” he concedes. “But if he’s a dumbass—”

“Then I’ll train him,” Sam interjects. “You don’t even have to be in the same room as him. We’ll put him on the early morning shifts, make him sleep in the afternoons.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Make him stay in the service room listening to the radio.”

A grin forming on Sam’s face, he adds, “Tell him that shore leave is ten days instead of four so he stays off the lighthouse for longer.”

“Yeah, the Coast Guard won’t notice that.”

“Whatever it takes for you to cohabitate with this guy, I say we do it,” Sam says with a shrug. “Get creative.”

Dean makes a move to flick the stub of his cigarette away; Sam grabs his arm to stop him. “I just cleaned the landing, Dean.” With a scowl, Dean tosses it into the ocean instead.

Sam runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs, the disapproval evident in his frown. “Need anything before I go down to the bunks?”

“Nah. Get some sleep, Sammy.” Dean gives his brother a smack on the chest in dismissal. “I’ll wake you for the morning shift.”

“Okay, but actually wake me this time. Don’t let me sleep in until nine.”

Dean taps out another cigarette from the carton he fishes out of his pocket. “No promises.”

“And let me actually make breakfast tomorrow, too!” Sam calls before he disappears through the door.

“I would if your eggs weren’t shit!” Dean barks back. His words are snatched up by the wind. He turns back toward the ocean, clicking the lighter as he holds it up to the cigarette butt. “Seriously, who raised you?”

Blowing out another puff of smoke, the cigarette still caught between his teeth, Dean eyes the shoreline. Their new keeper is probably staying at Bela’s place, if it’s still even running. The inn nearly went under last year after her parents declared bankruptcy. He ran with her a few times in high school before he cut town—she was sharp around the edges. Misunderstood. Just like him.

He remembers the new guy’s resume. It had stood out to him among the rest, mainly because he seemed the least qualified. Didn’t make sense at all why the Coast Guard chose him as the new rookie, when five men before him—way more experienced, to boot—didn’t last.

No family, no money. Maybe that’s why they took him. That’s better, for these stag lights—bunch of single men with no families means there’s a better chance of them staying. It’s why the Coast Guard is itching to get a new keeper for the light, what with them eyeing recently married Sam, and Eileen, who’s in the family way.

It would make more sense for Sam to leave, get a position at a light with a house. Where he could see his family every night.

What Sam and Dean used to have, before Mary died.

Dean runs a hand down his face, letting out a curse. Whatever the word is for wishing for a time that he can’t get back to, ever—that’s what tonight is. Memories he didn’t ask for turning around and around in his head like a wheel. That’s what the sea does when you look out into it: shimmers back at you, showing you what you want to see. And sometimes what you don’t.

The door behind him creaks open again. With a grumble, Dean lets out a breath of smoke, a reprimand on his tongue for Sam to get the hell to bed.

A bang echoes through the air.

Dean drops his cigarette in surprise, whipping around to face the door. It yawns open, mercilessly blowing in the wind, banging against the side. Dean strides over to it and pulls it firmly closed before it breaks one of the windows.

The lens, green and opaque, flashes across his eyes; he squints as the light rotates away. Turning back to the railing, spots dotting his vision, he sees a shadow.

One taller than him, broader; stumbling toward the railing with a groan.

Dean closes his eyes, briefly; chest constricting. A trick of the light. It happens.

“It’s haunted!” one of the failed keepers had shouted as he stuffed his clothes into a carpetbag, stumbling down the stairs. “This place is fucking haunted!”

But that keeper had got it wrong—it wasn’t the lighthouse doing the haunting.

It was the person inside of it.

***

(If you enjoyed this, I have a taglist! Just let me know you want to be added. Thanks for reading<3)

#destiel #destiel lighthouse keepers au #literally i'm sitting on 5 chapters and want to start posting SO BAD but i want to wait until it's 80% finished #it's killing me guys lol #so i hope you liked this little bit of it

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mathiwrites · 3 months

Text

the lighthouse, an au fanfic where orm is raised alongside arthur on the surface

Chapter 3

“Lana.”

Tom’s voice drifts from far away, like a piece of wood cradled by the waves.

“Lana?”

Tom’s voice is distant, muffled by a whole world above the waterline.

Atlanna blinks slowly, listening to the relentless storm. It has worsened since her arrival and gives no sign of stopping. She hadn’t felt it brewing, either. There was no soothing moisture in the air, a cool reprieve to the dryness of the air. She sees past the blurry glass, hearing the march of soldiers in the rhythm of the rain. This is no feat of nature—it is Orvax’s wrath risen to the surface.

His touch startles her. The surface slows her down, but she still has enough strength to pull him over the shoulder and stop the momentum, half-catching his body before it slams against the window. It’s an awkward maneuver that leaves Tom half-laying in her lap and mostly staring up at her in shock. For a moment, he forgot that she is a warrior, first.

“Tom, I apologize.”

“Nope, no need.” He raises a hand and waves away her worries. “Help me up?”

“Of course.”

She still wears her armour, minus the sling and her child. As soon as the boys were put to bed, she planted herself at the living room window, the same one that Arthur had been playing at, and watched the rain.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through,” Tom confesses. He’s just a lighthouse keeper. His life has been pretty simple. The most exciting thing to ever happen to him is sitting in front of him, and the other two are sleeping soundly upstairs. “But you can rest.” He doesn’t dare to presume, so he offers her a small smile. “At least for a little while. I’ll keep watch.”

Atlanna stares at him, cocking a slender blonde brow. “You’ll… keep watch?” Her words are slow, either reasoning with his offer, or trying to make sure he understands what he’s offering.

“Yes, I can do things, princess.”

Her eyes darken, despite the hum of his laughter. He means well, but the endearment reminds her of all that she has lost. She is nothing here. She is undeserving of that title.

“Lana, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” she says, clipped.

Tom had always found that strange, how beings of the sea could sound so dry. Their time together had brought colour to her features and her voice. He swears that he taught her to laugh—at least, the kind of laughter that made her belly hurt and tears crest at the corner of her beautiful blue eyes. The Lana she grew to be at his side is gone now, but he has hope. She’ll find freedom again, one step at a time.

“Tom,” she starts, and stops. The journey across the states has given her time to think about what she would say once she found him again, and yet, she doesn’t know what she wants to ask. “I had nowhere else to go. We will leave as soon as we can, I just—”

“Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about?” He reaches out to rub her shoulders, to soothe in that way he always does when she gets caught in the tides of her own mind.

Atlanna shrugs him off. She does not deserve the comfort; she is unused to such a soft touch. Beneath her armour, there are bruises that have yet to heal. Some wounds have not healed correctly from time wasted, barred from getting help by her own husband. She takes responsibility for each of these scars because they are her fault. It was her complacency that caused this. It was her doubt that allowed Orvax to have so many chances . She left a good man thinking that love would be enough to foster kindness.

She left a man she loves for a man she loved .

There is no world where this makes sense, and so, this is her fault. Why should Tom fix a heart he did not break and why should he help a woman who did not choose him?

His hands hover in the air, and his fingers curl in hesitation, before he drops them at his side.

“You have a place here with me and Arthur. Always. You’re his mother.” Even if she doesn’t want Tom, Arthur loves her.

“I’m not—”

And that strikes a chord before she can even finish her sentence. Tom’s face shifts into mild horror. Atlanna is Arthur’s mother. She carried him and birthed him. The nursery still has her attempts at painting happy fish over his cradle. (‘Attempts’ being the imperative word, her artistry gives the mural a lot of… uniqueness, Tom had said.) They spoke about family and giving Arthur a brother. The stars have aligned and they have that family. Except, only a simple man with a simple life could think such things.

“I left him to have another child, one who stands to inherit everything that belongs to him.” Not once did it occur to her when conceiving Orm that she was giving Arthur a brother. “I have birthed enemies.”

“That’s… horrible.”

“As soon as I can, I will take my horrors with me.”

Tom scrubs a hand across his face. Raising a child alone has aged him as much as it has blessed him. He has always kept to himself, and his time alone at the lighthouse has taught him patience. Patience and forgiveness which he teaches Arthur to have. It’s only right he leads by example and offers Atlanna all the kindness that she missed these past few years.

“That’s not what I meant . Stay. I’m not suggesting it. I’m telling you. Stay, Lana. Let me help you.” He steps out of her way and lets her stare out the window. “I don’t have to stand guard if you don’t think I’m good enough, but Arthur didn’t turn out half-bad. It’s an expression,” he clarifies, before she thinks he is making a comment on his mixed heritage. “I can help with the kids. It’s not easy alone.”

Tom kneels by her and looks up towards her as he speaks. The position is so disarming, it creates a jarring contrast to the past couple of years under Orvax’s rule. It makes her want to get out and run. The house is suddenly too small and his open affection is too much .

The chair clatters behind her as she stands suddenly, if only to create space between herself and him. The sound cuts through the rain and the silence of children sleeping. After a beat, Orm’s gargled wail echoes through the home and then—

And then it goes quiet just as quickly.

Orvax.

Her son has been silenced; her son is being attacked. She needs to be beside him. Atlanna pushes past Tom, dashing up the stairs with her sword in hand. Her heart hammers louder than each step she takes. (Slow, so slow. The surface is a weight upon her shoulders. Beneath the sea, she could soar .) She crashes through the door, and the baby starts crying again.

Little Arthur’s eyes fill with tears, suddenly startled by her entrance. He had climbed into bed with his little brother. He had soothed this child that was meant to replace him. Orm remains clutched in his arms, against his chest. Between hiccups, Arthur hushes the baby and hums the same songs his father did when he was even little-r.

She hadn’t meant to scare him. She thought—

Atlanna watches them in confusion. Her heart grows weak and her mind wars against it, trying to understand what this means. For too long, she could only count on herself. When Orm was born, she was the only one who could protect him, soothe him and teach him kindness. Happiness hinged entirely on her , and she had forgotten what it felt like.

Her knees buckle as she slides to the ground. A clawed, choked sound escapes her.

“Mama!” Arthur shouts, openly crying now.

Tom’s steps quickly follow; where she goes, as long as it is on the surface, he is never far behind. He holds his hand out and mumbles words of comfort in his native tongue to his son. Calm, stay, I am here . He remains by her side, coaxing her to lean on him.

“Mama needs to rest, Art. You did a good job.”

“Help,” Arthur adds.

“Yup, you helped a lot.”

“Mama sad?”

“Mhm.”

“Is Arthur fault?”

“No, son. You did nothing wrong.”

#my fics #dccomics #aquaman #arthur curry #orm marius #ocean master #tom curry #atlanna #ao3 #dc fanfic #fanfiction #ao3feed #the lighthouse

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