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princehrry-writings · 3 years

Text

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

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buglife · 3 years

Text

Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

----

It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

#hollow knight #fanfiction #my writing #monomon the teacher #quirrel #sickfic #baby quirrel #tiny scholar au #terra lumina #monomom #my niece learned some sign language when she was a toddler and it really helped with communication #she could sign if she wasn't feeling good or if she was tired #so here's how quirrel started off fluent in sign lanquage #hurt/comfort #i think you can call this hurt comfort?

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donttouchmeimwriting · 3 years

Text

Argo ch. 3

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2983 words, 3rd person POV

I'm just as surprised as you are that I'm cranking these out so fast. Thanks, NaNoWriMo!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Saturday dragged so sluggishly for Jason as he waited impatiently to visit Lijah again. He spent the day stalking the outskirts of the camp, trying to watch Lijah as he worked. He was fascinated by Lijah's effect on others; it was clearly shown that it wasn't just Jason who was compelled to change behavior simply by listening to him. The kids loved him, and he was popular with the other counselors as well. Jason caught himself daydreaming a few too many times of being one of them and being able to spend the day with Lijah out in the open like they could.

During one of these moments, Jason stared off across the surface of the lake, the sunlight sparkling across the ripples in the water. He wondered what would have happened over a decade ago if Lijah had been at the camp with him...would the other kids have been enraptured by his presence and listened to him then? Would Jason and Lijah have become friends as quickly as children as they had as adults? Or was it their personal experiences that drew them together now and they were all the better for it?

"Enjoying the view?"

Jason spun to face the speaker, relieved it was only Lijah. Lijah laughed at his reaction and looked out across the lake to see what Jason was seeing.

"It is gorgeous out here, isn't it?" he sighed, his expression dreamy, "I've worked at a few different camps over the years but I think Crystal Lake is my favorite."

Jason's heart still pounded in his chest, despite the surprise having worn off. Why was he so nervous to stand here next to Lijah like this? Did the others feel this way around him too?

"Oh, hey!" Lijah said suddenly, pointing down at the nearest dock where two campers and another counselor stood, "That's Terry and Kira over there with Julie. Kira was bullying Terry since day one of camp, saying she looked ratty and pushing her down - you know, stupid kid insults like that. Terry didn't want to be a tattletale, so she wouldn't say who was picking on her, even though we all knew. The director has a rule that we can't interfere unless the kids come forward so we were stuck for a little while. The other counselors and I came up with a detective game to make Kira realize she was doing something wrong and hurtful and she came forward on her own yesterday to admit it. She's been doing great today at making up with Terry and I think they'll be friends really soon. It's so cool what a little positive reinforcement can do."

Lijah crossed his arms over his chest and gazed proudly out at the two kids, but Jason couldn't stop staring at Lijah. What was it he was feeling right now? Impressed at his ability to handle bullies in a way that the counselors when he was a child never could, certainly, but what else? What was it about Lijah that made Jason want to throw his machete in the lake and never hurt anyone again?

"What's up?" Lijah asked, noticing Jason staring at him, "Did I say something wrong?"

Jason shook his head, but could not tear his eyes away. Lijah had his hair tied back today, pulling it off of his neck and away from his face. There was sweat around his hairline, sticking strands of hair to him in tiny swirls and lines. His freckles were more pronounced in the daylight, and his tanned skin almost glowed, even in the shade of the trees. To Jason, this view was much more appealing than the lake.

"Alrighty then," Lijah said, shrugging it off, "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi since I saw you hanging around up here, but I gotta get back to my group. I'm seeing you tonight, right?"

Jason nodded fervently, excited by every second he got to spend with Lijah. Lijah smiled broadly and waved as he set off back to the camp.

"See you later, Jase!" he called.

Jason gave a small wave back, his stomach full of butterflies. He decided he didn't care why he was feeling this way or what it was about Lijah he liked so much. He felt immeasurably and inexplicably happy for the first time in a long time and he didn't want to overthink it. After all, wasn't that what his mother wanted for him?

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

Jason returned to cabin 5 that evening a little earlier than planned. The sun had set, but the sky was still relatively light and the camp was winding down from the day. Jason looked through the bedroom window, but Lijah was not in there yet. He tested the window to see if it was unlocked, and to his luck, it was. He checked his surroundings to ensure no one would see him struggle to squeeze through the narrow opening. It was embarrassing enough that Lijah had to see it last night. The coast was clear, so Jason pushed himself into the bedroom, nearly getting stuck in the process. Once inside, he straightened up and closed the window so bugs would not get in. It struck him as he looked around that he was in Lijah's private room alone.

A little snooping couldn't hurt, right? Jason allowed his eagerness to drive his actions as he explored Lijah's room. He first looked in the dresser drawers to see what other clothes Lijah had besides his work shirts and shorts. From the brief snoop, it seemed that Lijah liked light, muted colors and pants with deep pockets. He also seemed to be a fan of chunky bracelets and wristbands, probably to camouflage and support his delicate wrists.

From there, Jason moved to the books on top of the dresser. Adventure novels, a couple college textbooks in the subjects Lijah had specified as his course of study, some notebooks, including the one Jason had used to communicate with last night, and one romance, all paperbacks that looked well used. Curious about the romance novel, Jason flipped through the pages. Mother never had these kinds of books at home, so he wasn't sure what to expect. His eyes fell upon a passage that described a kiss between the heroine and her strapping, yet emotionally manipulative love interest:

"...her cerulean orbs meeting his stormy grey ones in a passionate stare before their lips collided in a kiss so fiery, so full of desire, it would warm the hardened coals of even Wyatt's darkened heart. Charlie swooned into his massive arms, surrendering herself to his rough touch. Wyatt growled into the kiss, his stubble scratchy against her smooth face, but not unbearable. He gripped the back of her neck possessively, but Charlie knew it was part of his insecurity in that he never wanted to let her go. Funny, she thought before the intensity of the kiss forced her mind to become a blank slate of ecstasy, He won't talk about his abandonment issues, but I can feel them here in his kiss..."

Jason set the book down, frowning. Did Lijah really see himself in this Wyatt character? It didn't seem right, but it probably wasn't important. Jason turned instead to the notebooks, but they were mostly blank aside from sparse doodles, camp schedules, and Jason's shaky handwriting. He put the notebooks back where they were and opened the door to the rest of the cabin.

Across from this door was the door to the bathroom, but Jason didn't need that at the moment, so he ignored it and proceeded left down a short hallway to the living area. The hallway opened up to a tiny kitchen and dinette on the right and an ancient, faded couch with a rickety coffee table and an old antenna TV and VCR atop it. This area was not as bright and full of Lijah's personality as the bedroom was, but Jason figured that was to be expected. His own bedroom at home was a reflection of what few interests and hobbies he had. The bedroom was a sanctuary for the individual, and held a piece of their soul. At least, that's what a bedroom should be. Mother had told Jason all about the filthy, lecherous activities young people would get up to in bedrooms. Only a married couple should share a bed, she had told him. It was a sin otherwise.

Feeling slightly hungry, Jason made for the short refrigerator, needing to squat down to see its contents. A couple sandwiches wrapped in plastic occupied one shelf with a handful of apples on the lower shelf, some cans of soda on the door. Jason reached for one of each, hoping to finish them before Lijah returned to avoid accidentally showing him his face. He brought the food to the couch and sat down, his weight causing the seat to sink lower than it was meant to. He removed his mask and devoured the sandwich and apple as quickly as he could, feeling somewhat like a ravenous raccoon. He cracked open the soda can and chugged it, realizing too late that it was a bad idea to drink a carbonated beverage so fast. Bubbles surged up through his nose and he sputtered, covering his face so he did not spray soda everywhere. He coughed and gagged, but the feeling soon went away. He made a mental note to drink anything bubbly as slow as possible, but preferred the idea of never having soda again. It was too sweet for him anyway.

Finished with the meal, Jason located a small trash can at one end of the kitchen and disposed of the remains. He pulled his mask back on just as he heard the front door to the cabin open. He tensed, preparing for a fight, but it was Lijah, alone, who gave a start upon seeing Jason's towering figure in his living room.

"Oh gosh, you got me again!" he cried out, laughing nervously, "You're here early."

Jason nodded once and watched as Lijah locked up and set down the pack he was carrying near the door.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, a tiredness in his voice that worried Jason. Would he be able to stay up tonight? Did he stay up too late last night? Jason shook his head and pointed to the refrigerator, silently telling Lijah he had found the food. Lijah yawned.

"Oh, good," he said, shuffling towards the bedroom, "Sorry, I'm a little worn out from today. We can still hang out, but I might crash a little earlier than last night if that's okay."

Jason nodded and followed him. Lijah turned to the dresser and tilted his head at the stack of books.

"You checked out the romance novel?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "Huh, didn't see that one coming. It's not very good, but it was free, so I figured why not, y'know?"

So Lijah didn't choose that book for the plot, Jason realized. That made much more sense. Lijah opened the drawers and retrieved a stack of clothes, brushing by Jason to head to the bathroom.

"You can relax in the bedroom if you want for about fifteen minutes while I shower," he said, stifling another yawn, "I'll try to get my bedtime routine done quick so we have some time together."

Jason had no problem with waiting for him to prepare for bed. He was happy just to be in the same building with him and not anxiously wonder where he was like before. Jason sat on the edge of the bed, having grabbed the notebook and pencil he'd used yesterday in preparation for the conversation he would be having tonight. He heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, and an unwelcome thought of what Lijah looked like in there sprung into Jason's mind. Startled by this, Jason shook himself. What was he thinking? His mother's warning about college aged young adults surfaced and he wondered, horrified, if these thoughts would consume his brain like the counselors he'd killed or if he could fight them and keep his head clear and pure. What would happen to him if he couldn't get rid of them?

Jason struggled with this fear until the sound of the water stopped and he heard Lijah moving around in the bathroom. He squeezed the edges of the notebook to ground himself. What would Mother say if she knew what he was thinking about? Realistically, she would probably forbid him from coming back here and have him read Bible passages until the thoughts went away. Mother knew what was best for Jason.

Lijah entered the room once he was done in the bathroom, his hair still damp and his cheeks slightly flushed from the steam. He wore a loose fitting navy blue t-shirt with an unfamiliar logo on the chest and green plaid boxers. He brought with him a wonderful, clean scent of shampoo and mint flavored toothpaste. Jason wrote on a fresh page of the notebook,

"feel better?"

Lijah hummed in agreement, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders softly popped.

"Nothing like a hot shower to take the day off and get you ready for bed," he said, climbing up onto the mattress next to Jason, "How's your day been?"

Jason thought about it, but didn't want to be too honest that he had pretty much just been waiting all day for this meeting. He wrote,

"did alot of walking. liked what u said about the bully. ur really good with kids."

Lijah waved him off modestly.

"Aw, that wasn't just me," he replied sheepishly, "I can't take all the credit. All of us counselors worked together on that. They're a good group of people. I'm glad I got the chance to work with them."

Jason tilted his head to one side, his interest piqued by this statement. So all the counselors were good, not just Lijah? Would Jason even need to kill anyone this year, or had the nightmare of wicked counselors finally ended? He wondered what his life would become if he didn't come here to kill every summer. It would probably be much like last year, quiet and content with his mother, having everything they needed and just going day to day, living the life she built for them. But Jason knew he couldn't live that life now. He wanted his life to include his new friend, and he wasn't sure how he could do that, with Lijah going back to college at the end of the summer and moving into an apartment somewhere probably far away.

Lijah tilted his head to mirror Jason and catch his attention.

"What's on your mind, big guy?" he asked. Jason considered his next few words and decided to avoid the topic. He wrote,

"u said u had a sister rite? tell me about her?"

Lijah's entire face lit up with a huge smile and his joy was so infectious, Jason couldn't resist matching the expression.

"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, "She's the best little sister anyone could hope for. We're thirteen years apart, so I'm pretty protective of her, and it was really hard for me to go away to college and leave her behind. I call home once a week and send her letters every month of cool stuff I've learned or seen. She likes bugs and dolls and dinosaurs. Our parents won't let her see Jurassic Park though - that's a scary movie about dinosaurs - but I think she can handle it. She's a tough kid. Definitely way tougher than I was at her age. I used to get beat up in school for being, uh, different."

Jason felt a surge of protectiveness for Lijah, though he didn't know who had hurt him. How could anyone even want to hurt someone like Lijah? He curled his fingers into the bedspread, fists shaking with anger. Lijah noticed and addressed it,

"Hey, it was years ago; don't worry about it! Besides, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'd rather solve my problems with communication than violence."

Jason nodded and forced himself to relax. What was he going to do anyway? Find the bullies and kill them even though they probably haven't been anywhere near Lijah in years? Stupid. Jason tried to explain his thoughts by writing,

"sorry bullies make me real mad. i got bullied to."

Lijah offered a sympathetic look. He moved a hand towards Jason, but rethought the action and stopped, biting his lip.

"I bet they wouldn't mess with you now though!" he said instead, trying to look at the bright side, "I bet they'd take one look at how tall and muscular you got and run away. The machete helps too."

Jason grimaced under the mask. That probably wouldn't be the only reason they ran away...Still, Lijah meant well and he couldn't blame him for trying. It was more effort than anyone had put in before, and that was worth something.

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

The conversation continued for a short while, but Lijah soon began nodding off. In one of their quiet moments, Jason looked over and saw Lijah slumped on his pillows, sound asleep. Jason sighed and took that as his cue to leave. He rose from the bed and set down the notebook on the dresser. He looked back at Lijah, bemused by his awkwardly scrunched limbs and his face pressed unflatteringly into the pillows, before turning off the light and leaving through the window to let him sleep.

It was moments like these that Jason was beginning to dislike his heightened energy levels during night time. It worked great for serial killing, but not so much for spending time with a friend. But he was beginning to have a hope and some confidence that things would work out and that he and Lijah would find some sort of rhythm together.

#friday the 13th fanfiction #friday the 13th #jason voorhees #canon/oc #slasher fanfiction #slashers #argo fic

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till-the-blue-skies-chase · 6 years

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July 10, 2018

The Owl House looks super cool! I have a feeling it’ll have a Gravity Falls-esq atmosphere, what with the horror-comedy genre. I don’t expect it to be anything but gorgeous, and even the skeptic in me saying that every show I love will have a disappointing cop-out ending is quieter than usual. I’m super pumped for this series, and I just wanted a place to collect promotion material and analyze them. Currently I’m going by the description and a few images from Tumblr and the Disney Wiki page, but if you have any other official information or doodles from twitter, I’d love to hear about them!

“The series is a horror-comedy series that follows Luz, a self-assured teenage human girl who accidentally stumbles upon a portal to the Demon Realm. There she befriends a rebellious witch, Eda, and an adorably tiny warrior, King. Despite not having magical abilities, Luz pursues her dream of becoming a witch by serving as Eda's apprentice at the Owl House and ultimately finds a new family in an unlikely setting”

I want to know how to pronounce her name. I call her ‘Luz’ in my head, with a short ‘u’, but I wonder if it’ll be pronounced ‘looz’ which sounds...well, like a term used to describe a certain room in the house. It also sounds like ‘lose’, which is interesting as well.

I’d put her age at around fourteen or fifteen, certainly not lower than thirteen. But this is coming from someone who though Gideon Gleeful was in his thirties, so I’m probably not the best at age estimates.

‘Accidentally stumbles upon a portal’? I wonder if it’s a sort of rip in reality, a magical artifact, a magical portal opened accidentally by a spell, or a villain's doing? Like perhaps they were trying to gain entrance to the mortal realm? -Like another demon we know?-

(That aside, I wonder if we’ll get a little Bill cameo. Like I’m guessing well see a little triangle doodled on the corner of a book. A really tiny easter egg.)

Back to Luz; what about her family? Does she have parents? She goes on to (I’m assuming) live in the demon realm for a while, so I’m super curious about her mortal world family. Is she an orphan? Are her parents awful? Does she have any siblings? Friends? I worry for them and I worry for her.

Is Luz safe in the demon realm? Will she have to be wary about being a human surrounded by supernatural creatures?

How will she get to know Eda and King? Will they rescue her from some sort of threat? Will they be the first people she meets?

How old is King? What about his family? Was he training to be a warrior? How do he and Eda know each other? Was he an acquaintance of hers before she started rebelling?

I’m very interested in the magical system and this world in general; who rules the place? Who is Eda rebelling against? Societal convention or an authority figure?

What exactly is “The Owl House”? I’m taking a guess and saying that it’s either the name of a class in this world or is a name given to people who associate with Eda, given that she’s known as ‘The Owl Lady’ (more on that later).

I’m also intrigued by the fact that the description implies that having ingrained magical abilities is one thing, and being able to perform magic just by training is another. I’m wondering if she actually has no potential to do magic and trains to be able to from scratch/ learns how to use the staff, or if she actually does have some magical abilities and has to work to discover and hone them.

Luz’s character design is so cute!

She and Eda have the same gold eyes; I wonder if this has to do with magical abilities or is symbolism. OR *puts tinfoil hat on* Luz is actually Eda’s daughter, and she was sent to the mortal world- yeah, probably the former. In fact, there seems to be a sort of gold motif around these three; Luz and Eda’s eyes, the latter’s nails and necklace (or whatever that gold thing on her dress is), King’s collar, the sparkles all around them...food for thought.

I see the creepy looking building in the background with “The Owl Sh-” (I can only assume it says ‘shop’) written on it; more on that later. I’m assuming this is where Eda lives/works. I suppose she runs a shop of sorts?

There’s a massive stained glass design of a red eye on the top of the building. Hmm.

Eda looks a little villainous in this image, so I’m wondering if she will be introduced or come off as sinister. King is also so darn cute.

Cool mom nonchalantly throws magical bug at son, unfazed by daughter’s bewilderment.

Luz seems to have a slightly different outfit here; the pink gradient on her shoes is gone (maybe that was a trick of the lighting) and so are the pink shapes on the bottom of her leggings. The strings of her shirt are gone, and her irises aren’t visible here, though that may be because of that expression. The irises return in later drawings.

So, front and center in the background; ‘The Owl Lady’ is at large with a comically heavy price on her head.

So, first of all, she freaking framed her ‘wanted’ poster. I’m guessing Eda is quite proud of this. I love her for that.

This photo also implies that she’s known King for a while, and he’s likely wanted as an accomplice.

I’m curious as to whether this reward was placed by a personal enemy or by a governing body or other authority figure.

She’s known as the ‘Owl Lady’; she’s probably a bit of an enigma. That being said, the building on the first photo probably said ‘Owl Shop’ on it, so...Maybe whoever wanted to capture her could search the building that looks pretty darn suspicious? This points to the building being either abandoned or obscured heavily by magic. Or the fact that they know where she is but can’t actually capture her.

Has she failed to have been captured because of her power or because of her being in hiding?

The shop thing is so weird. I don’t even know what to make of it. I guess she owns or lives in this store, but maybe I’m taking the ‘living in the workspace’ thing straight from Gravity Falls.

It seems that they use a dollar sign to represent whatever currency they use.

On to the rest of the background; Eda has an accordian. I need answers. Somebody came in second place for something at some point and she felt the need to hang the medal on her wall. Eda, you better have a good explanation for the friking hand on your wall because otherwise I’m dubbing you ‘Hand Witch 2.0’.

She also has a foam finger and radio; does the demon realm just have similar technology to the mortal world or is it something that perhaps ‘fell through’, maybe through a portal like how Luz did? If so, how interested is she in these items to have kept and displayed them in her home? Was this a reason she was interested in Luz and agreed to teach her magic?

It’s a little hidden by Luz’s hand, but it looks as if there’s an eye with a slitted pupil as a decoration in the center of the couch. HMMM.

The lamp, I’m assuming, is lit by magic, but it would be pretty darn cool if the demon realm had electricity.

Other notable items; an umbrella, what looks like a small photograph of sorts, or something else in a little frame, an askew corner of what looks like cardboard or paper thumb-tacked to the wall, a cow skull, the thing in a oval frame that King is obscuring, the sword and axe.

I suppose the satchel belongs to Luz; it looks brighter than everything else and has a little purple dinosaur sticker that matches her shirt. I guess this may be her school bag?

Why is King wearing a collar? Is it an identification thing from when he was working/training as a warrior?

I’m so curious about the recurring owls! The frame has an owl on it too. Is Eda known as ‘The Owl Lady’ just because of her staff?

I’m curious about that staff too; Eda holds it here but other official doodles show only Luz with it. I’m guessing that the staff helps her enhance/control her powers, or it’s just a sort of broom, and that she will eventually pass it on to Luz.

Eda reminds me of Pearl for some reason? Just the way she looks, and seems to carry and present herself, coupled with the fact that she’s rebellious and carries a long, stick-shaped weapon. I doubt her personality would match up, though. I think she’d be a bit more like Garnet in that she’ll be hard to impress and powerful, and a bit like Stan Pines in that she will be very sly and deceitful along with wanting to bond with and protect others. Of course, you can’t always describe a character completely in terms of others. She’ll likely be an interesting person nonetheless. I’m looking forward to seeing what she’s like and seeing just how wrong my guesses are.

I have a feeling Luz is going to be a smartass. She looks like a snarky person, but also a little bit of a dork.

I love King already. I’m guessing he’ll be quite loyal to both Eda and Luz. I feel like he’s going to be a sort of younger brother type to Luz.

Other photos of interest, though I’m not sure how official they are;

Luz doing some magic with her hand. I’m wondering again about the magic system; is she only able to do this because she’s holding the staff or because she’s practiced?

Is she reciting a spell or just speaking or yelling while doing magic?

So her staff doubles as a ‘broom’ sort of thing? Interesting!

Please tell he that owl isn’t sentient. I’m hoping it falls more into ‘magic that works like technology’ than it does full on sentience like Aladdin’s magic carpet.

Confirmation that King has two eyes; when I first saw the first two photos, I was worried because his right (?) eye was closed.

They’re eating ice cream here, and again I’m wondering about how technology will work in this show. They had to get this ice cream from somewhere and had to keep it cool somewhere, so it looks like there’s a market for ice cream in the demon realm and Eda either has a freezer or keeps them cold with magic.

Or maybe I’m completely wrong about the premise and Luz is hopping between realities. I’m so worried for this child. Is she going to get home she’s probably been reported missing are her family/friends okay.

There’s...another eye shape on the side of the couch. What. Is. With. The. Bill. Cipher. Eyes.

Eda is unimpressed by tiny demon trying to steal her ice cream. Threatens to light him on fire. I wonder what that little guy is doing there. Perhaps those little creatures are the equivalent of mice.

More evidence for King being a little brother type to Luz! I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to love their interactions! Cuties!

The fact that King is eating ice cream from a cone suggests that they got it in the demon realm. You can get ice cream in a cone prepackaged (like with those drumsticks ice cream) but it’s more common to get it at an actual ice cream store.

Or maybe I’m just over analyzing a couple of doodles for an animated kids show that’s not going to air for almost a year from now. I don’t know what I’m doing. I wrote five pages. Twelve if you include all the photos.

Some plot predictions;

I imagine Luz will be adamant about wanting to learn magic, and Eda will be skeptical about teaching her. I’m thinking they’ll have a bit of tension going into it.

I don’t know where the exact tweet is, but Alex Hirsch described it as ‘making the censors want to quit’. Gravity Falls definitely pushed the boundaries (hard) for the creep factor, but I’ve got a feeling this show will do much worse. I’m looking forward to seeing a deeply unsettling world and some very dark story elements.

I’m sure that all of them will get to be badass together at some point and I look forward to that day.

Just waiting here to see how yet another ‘goofy kid’s show’ tears my heart out. Fun times for all.

Images and description pulled from:

http://danaterrace.tumblr.com/tagged/the-owl-house

http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/The_Owl_House

#the owl house #the owl house meta #luz #eda #king #reuploading bc my stuff just wont show up in the tags #super exited for the show though! hoping to do more meta soon...

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butterflypov · 7 years

Text

Hummingbird

Summary: Peter Parker falls for lab partner!reader when he notices her drawing a bird during class and turns to his pal Spider-Man to follow her to a cafe where she loves to draw and he loves to admire her

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: literally 1 curse word, all of it is just fluff

A/N: i didn’t proofread as usual so sorry if it’s complete shit and i apologize that literally every single one of my stories has ended the exact same i’m an awful writer sjksjsksjsjk btw when will Tom finally show us his new hair he’s making me so nervous uGH

Words: 2347 (srry if it drags on and is super boring)

It was a normal 3rd period in chemistry class as the teacher droned on about the names of certain elements of the periodic table.

Peter’s boredom level had surpassed extreme as his eyelids began to droop closed. He had been losing excessive amounts of sleep having to stay out until the late hours of night saving lives and stopping robberies. He was slowly starting to grow used to his sleep schedule though, sometimes too tired to slip off his Spider-Man suit when he snuck in through his window at three in the morning.

When the clouds in the sky unmasked the blinding sunshine showing through the classroom’s windows Peter’s eyes widened in a desperate attempt to stay awake. As he went to stretch he caught a glimpse at his lab partner, Y/N.

Her hair had fallen loose in her face as her mechanical pencil worked it’s magic on her piece of notebook paper.

Peter kept his gaze on her hands, watching her sketch out the details of a gorgeous bird. His heart seemed to warm up at her drawing, eyes switching to look closer at her face. Her eyes narrowed at her doodle, head resting in the palm of her hand lazily.

A tiny piece of a smile was snug comfortably in the corners of her mouth. She looked at peace, her eyes flicking to the nature outside every once in awhile. Chunks of sun radiated against the left side of her face, wedging themselves in between her eyelashes making her look velvety soft whenever she blinked.

Peter didn't realize that he was staring until the teacher called his name.

“Peter?” Mr. Smith mustered again and Peter’s head twisted in the direction of the teacher.

Everybody’s eyes, including Y/N’s, trailed to his figure, waiting for him to retort.

“Oh, uh, the equation to find the percent yield is laboratory yield over theoretical yield. One hundred is equal to the percent yield.” he replied, hoping his answer wasn't completely different then the question.

Mr. Smith turned his back to the class and began to write Peter’s phrase on the chalkboard. “That is correct.” he mustered, pressing the piece of chalk to the green surface on the wall.

Peter looked at Y/N again and she was back to pressing pencil to paper, peacefully sketching out the lines of her bird. He shook his head, blinking away his obsession with staring.

When the last period of the day ended and Peter was eager to sneak into his Spider-Man suit he decided to search for Y/N, hoping to walk her home or start a conversation about her drawings with her.

His eyes found her walking out of the doors while he was striding down the hall, people bumping in his way as he tried his best to catch up with her.

Stepping outside, looking left and right, his chest heaved out a big sigh at the realization of losing her. He had given up at his journey in finding her, choosing to just go to the alleyway to change instead.

After getting on his tight red and black clothing he went to locate more crimes and more people to teach a lesson, until when he spotted her figure walking down the street.

He shot a web to swing closer to her.

She reached a cafe, pulling the door open and stepping inside. Peter could see through the building with it’s clear windows as she greeted the cashier, telling him a few words before taking out her wallet and handing him a couple of dollars. Y/N picked a perfect seat in a booth where Peter could see her face perfectly but couldn’t exactly recognize the words on her phone screen even if he asked Karen to zoom in for him.

Y/N fished out her sketchbook, earbuds, pencils, and erasers from her backpack, setting them on the table. A waitress set a cup of what looked like coffee in front of Y/N and said a few more words to her before leaving.

Minutes had passed of Peter admiring her smile and draw, occasionally taking a sip of her drink.

“Karen, is it weird that I’m watching Y/N?” Peter asked his computerized companion, embarrassed of himself. Karen kept quiet for a couple of seconds before answering.

“Who is Y/N?” she questioned. Peter briefly chuckled. “Uh, well, she’s this girl who sits next to me in chemistry. She’s really pretty and nice and she can draw really well. We’re sort of friends I guess.” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Karen asked and Peter went into deep thought.

Did he?

The question never really popped up until now and he really had to think about it.

He liked the way she laughed whenever he told her a stupid science pun while they were supposed to be working on a project together. And he liked watching her concentrate so hard on an equation. For God’s sake the realization of him adoring her as she drew had just seemed to hit his brain.

“I mean,” he muttered. “now that you say something about it. I guess I do.”

A smirk was evident under his mask at his comprehension of his liking for Y/N. He really did like her and it was exciting to him that he could actually speak/had spoken to somebody he liked for once. Actual words and not gibberish.

It had become a daily occurrence for Y/N to go to the cafe everyday after school and work on her drawings. Peter or Spider-Man had seemed to unknowingly tag along with her, sitting on the fire escape of the apartment building across from the coffee shop, watching her doodle along while listening to her music and sipping on the exact same coffee she orders every time she walks in there.

Peter had perceived that Y/N was working on the same drawing whenever she would open her sketchbook and begin to scratch the paper with her pencil. He didn’t exactly know what the subject of her big piece of art was but he imagined it was another bird.

Every boring lecture in chemistry he would slyly look in the corner of his eye and see her drawing a bird in the corner of her worksheet.

Although each scribble was different. Sometimes it would be a bird drinking out of a bird bath or a bird soaring through the clouds.

Peter noticed that on rainy days she liked to draw hummingbirds. He didn’t have a reason for why she did but of course it didn’t really throw his train of thought off of it’s tracks.

The bell for the next class rang and Y/N routinely shoved her worksheet inside of her notebook and put it in her backpack. When she picked her backpack up though her sketchbook fell to the ground with a gentle thud. Peter’s hand landed on it first, picking it up, some of the pages brushing close to falling open. He did sneak a peek at some though, but wasn’t quick enough to recognize what they all were.

“Sorry about that.” she apologized with a giggle. His eyes met hers while her small smile stayed pasted on her face as he gave the book back to her. “It’s no problem.” he blessed.

“Thank you.” she mumbled. Her heart was beating out of her ears at the secret intimacy that they were both feeling for each other at the same time. She dropped it in her backpack, letting her eyes trail to the floor in bashfulness while tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

School ended the equivalent time as always and Peter was thrilled to change back into his alter-ego, anxious to watch Y/N continue to draw again.

Except when he swung to same old fire escape it came to his attention that she wasn’t there this time. She wasn’t waiting for her coffee or scrolling through her music library to find a new song like usual. She was nowhere to be seen.

Peter’s eyebrows turned down in confusion. He looked down the street. Nobody but regular pedestrians.

“Okay, Spider-Boy.” he heard somebody say. He turned to face them and there she was climbing out of the abandoned apartment building’s window onto the rusty metal below her feet.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Uh.” he stuttered nervously. “Tell me why you’ve been following me for the past week?” she ordered, throwing her backpack to lay beside her legs. He cleared his throat, anxiety burning in his lungs. “What? I h-haven’t been following you?”

She rolled her eyes, a devious grin on her lips and her right eyebrow raised. “I’m not stupid,” she told, crossing her arms. “I know you come here and sit on the edge of this exact same fire escape and keep an eye on me like you’re part of the police.” She noticed a familiarity in his voice but ignored it like she didn’t really care.

Spider-Man sighed and waited awhile to answer her. “I-” he began but paused himself like he was almost scared to tell her the truth. “I like to watch you draw.” he said but faded his sentence out like he didn’t want her to hear it.

But she understood every word he said.

She swallowed the saliva in her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him. “You come here everyday….to watch me draw?” she repeated like it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. “Yeah.” he confirmed.

Her face kind of lit up at her awareness of his cute action. “Seriously?” she asked, a softer facial expression spread on her face now that she had thought it was quite adorable that he was fond of her drawings. “Mhm.” he murmured.

“That’s sweet,” she acknowledged. “how can you see what I’m drawing from all the way over here?”

He cackled. “I actually can’t really see what you’re drawing, you’re more of my attention most of the time.” he admitted, turning embarrassed. She smiled, her cheeks heating up and making sure to look everywhere but at him.

“Well do you at least want to look at some of my sketches?” she offered.

Peter smiled behind his red mask, happy to see this whole situation wasn’t turning into complete shit.

She took her sketchbook out of her backpack and gave it to him. What she didn’t want him to know was that she was practically handing over her whole life to him but for some odd reason she felt like she could trust him.

He flipped it open revealing all kinds of subjects and ideas. The pages were filled with fantastic pencil drawings of people, flowers, birds, and-

Peter ceased his fingers from turning the next page when his eyes settled on the lead marks.

It was a drawing of him.

“You stopped?” she recognized.

“W-who’s this?” he asked, in hopes to get her to drag on about what she knew about him.

She walked over to stand beside him and when she saw who he was talking about a smile spread across her face. “Oh, that’s Peter Parker,” she replied and giggled. “he’s the guy I like.”

Peter was left speechless.

She liked him back. She just admitted to liking him and she didn't even know it was him behind all of the red and black.

“This is an old drawing though,” she said and began to flip several pages until she reached the last page that was filled before the blank pages she hadn't filled yet. “I’ve been working on this for a couple of days.”

It was beautiful. The detail of his face and his hands were absolutely breathtaking and it looked so close to looking like an actual photograph instead of a drawing. He felt so in love with her. “I really love sketching out his eyes and his smile the most. I’m not sure why. I just think those are my favorite features about him I guess?” she explained.

“You know, I’ve actually heard a rumor that you two know each other?”

Spider-Man looked at her and really took in her beauty. The colors of orange and pink that mixed together from the sunset to made her skin glow, her eyes that twinkled when she looked at him, and the light breeze that blew her hair back. It all made her look perfect.

She was quite aware that he was adoring her once silence descended into the air. She didn't mind at all though, she actually liked it. It made her feel treasured.

“C-can I kiss you?” he asked politely, hands closing her book simultaneously.

Peter was definitely not used to being this confident but of course he didn't seem to care at the moment.

Y/N wasn't really taken back because for some reason she had been oddly enough waiting for him to make a move.

“Hm, now that requires revealing your identity Mr. Superhero, would you really want to do that?” she teased. Peter turned his body in her direction.

Peter felt the urge to do it, like he really did trust her, like he knew in his heart she wouldn't dare to tell a soul about his biggest secret.

“Can I trust you?” he asked like he needed confirmation for himself.

She looked away from him for a couple of seconds and then set her gaze back to it’s original spot. “You can trust me.” she promised, biting her bottom lip.

He grabbed the red material from the back of his head and yanked it forward, his hair flopping in his face.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't move at all.

She almost didn't feel surprised, like somehow she had known all along that it was him.

“Peter Parker,” she purred, moving his singular curl that had fallen out of place back to where it was. “I should’ve known.”

He grinned at her reaction, taking her chin between his fingers and leaning in, pressing a warm kiss to her lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagines #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagines #spider-man: homecoming #smut

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emma-poole · 7 years

Text

As a child, I stared at women undressing in the YMCA locker rooms. I fixated on dimpled thighs, pubic hair peeking out from white cotton hanes, taut stomachs adorned with perky breasts, sagging skin and faded tattoos, tiny nipples set against wine-colored stretch marks. Back then, the female form on display was captivating, and new. Especially in locker rooms, which were essentially large corridors where women gathered privately and openly. And especially as a three (four, five, six) year old wearing a body which had not yet developed into the woman it would become.

In one of the only home videos that exists of me, I am three years old at swim lessons, doggy paddling my way through the long lanes, looking shy and proud. My mother’s voice in the background, yay Ems! My ninja frame susceptible to her encouragements-paddle faster! In lieu of a life jacket, I have an egg-shaped styrofoam buoy attached to my little back. Cone-headed bathing- capped nugget.

I had a tight little body- shortish arms and legs, and determination to emulate everything my older sister did. In the same home video, she and I dance like marionette ballerinas before her recital, hair slicked back in perfect buns, petite wool sweaters over dresses with tights. My sister comes close to the camera, hamming. I twirl like a stubby doll behind her, Kayla, come he-uh. Kayla, dance with me. We had that perfect rosy skin that children have, free of blemishes and naturally pigmented. Mossy eyelashes and baby rice teeth.

Years later, in middle school, I’d detest a slicked back bun, bunching pieces of my hair up to make “bumps” in my ponytail. It was my era of padded bras and acne, braces and eyebrows plucked too thin. I had my first kiss, first taste of body envy, the fleeting feeling that I would never get over the boy I liked, despite the subject of my desire changing weekly. I look back at cringeworthy school pictures, barely recognizing the girl staring back. Tracing my finger over the glossy photo, I imagine slipping into the paper and whispering to my former self: Keep your head up, my girl. No one knows what they're doing.

I still check out women in locker rooms. More subtly now- a quick glance in the mirror as I blow dry my hair, or use the various miniature amenities the gyms are equipped with these days. Adulthood renders me bashful about being caught and I carefully avert my eyes like a dog who knows he's guilty. I think of all the notebooks I filled over the years with doodles of curvy women sporting intense features. My note-taking accentuated by giant eyes and wavy hair flowing off pages. Did other women do this as girls? Do they not, too, see hip bones as works of art, the curve of a good ass, awe inducing?

The first date we ever went on, he put his hand on my leg in the passenger seat of the car. Soft heat radiating beneath a thigh-sized palm. It was presumptuous, but I liked it. When I sat perched on the balcony of the giant staircase that overlooks my neighborhood, he held my hips like handle bars. It felt like trespassing to an abandoned insane asylum in the sparsely populated backwoods of upstate New York as a teenager. Fifteen of us packed like sardines in three cars equipped with booze, weed and flashlights. We lied to our parents and drove too fast. Some hillbilly sicked his dog on us. Another pointed his hunting rifle at the roof of our jeep and shot. A warning. We felt the bullet skim over the top. Screaming, speeding. We were foolish. And so alive.

Now, instead of trespassing, I wait until the sun goes down to get the thrill. When all the people are painted pretty in violet, my conscience softens. I make decisions based on the absence of light. He comes to me clean and eager, begging for sex. I let him inside because I've stopped trying to say no to something that a part of me wants. It's been almost two years since that first night together. He is still presumptuous. He smells like spiced soap and Hennessy, which smells like our memories. There is an entire existence I live with him that is separate from my other world, one of a genuine effort to be and do good. Find things that make your blood quicken, says revolutionary yoga teacher Ana Forrest. But what do you say to a quickening that maddens? A mind distracted by a hunger- that which heaves an uproarious rumbling to my chest each time I see him. How do you manage a heart that beats stronger when it feels a beautiful river of blood rushing through its chambers? I am losing my mind, I think, as I move my hips on top of him. Faster baby, he coaches. This is yours.

I have completely lost it, I think, when I believe him.

He closes his eyes, maddened by me. Yet my madness is waning. The bad suddenly no longer feels good. I want to be sixteen years old again on the dirt roads of a town I can't remember, driving under a moonlit sky with the people who saw me go through puberty. I want to feel the quickening of blood that comes from taking an impromptu field trip to an abandoned insane asylum in the middle of the night with the boys and girls of my youth. Boys whose glances turned my hips into works of art overnight, girls who glanced shyly in school locker rooms at each other's tiny breast buds forming beneath gym clothes. I want the knowing that comes from growing up alongside familiar faces in small towns. The peace that surfaces from the remembering.

I have the pleasure of spending Mother’s Day with my niece. She is seventeen months old today. She mimics everything with sound and gestures, stares wide-eyed at other toddlers in restaurants and parks. She is life manifest, precocious and curious, enthralling and enthralled. Spend enough time with an almost two year old and you'll be exhausted and blissful, reminded of simple magic like soap bubbles and cherub-lipped mouth kisses.

I lay down on the smooth carpet of my niece’s bedroom next to my sister while she nurses her. At once, she becomes the newborn I remember, attached to Kayla’s breast like a mussel clinging to its shell. Kayla has skin the color of milk, dotted in freckles. She is porcelain, my mother's side, and I, dark like my father. Ever modest, she unclasps her nursing bra with abandon. Her engorged breasts spill out across her chest, offering milk to Felicity. I ask my sister what Felicity would do if I pulled my breast out, promising milk. I don't know, try it. She answers, amused. And so I do. Like a moth to a bright light, my sweet niece comes close to my chest, staring at my nipple inquisitively. She goes for a quick taste and outsmarts me. Alas, no milk. Scrunching up her little face, brows furrowed, she climbs back on her mama and begins again. We laugh. The human body is incredible, I think, watching my sister and her perfect creation. I stare at Felicity’s rosy skin and mossy eyelashes. A heart not yet blemished by loss. A brain whose remembering is that of womb, flesh and food. Innocence. Brilliance. Baby rice teeth.

Little human bones newly formed. Works of art.

She has twelve of them now.

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