#still think about secret sky sometimes he needs to bring that back bc it was a magical virtual experience sob

[jcdu]

And I watched the water unfold It's a feeling I want you to know

my god listening to Nurture again and silently turning into a puddle...🫠

#😭😭😭 #literally so destroyed rn u could break me in half #cant wait for his new stuff if its pop ill listen if its rock ill listen if its indie ill listen #subbed to apple music trial just to listen to the fuckin zane lowe interview on nurture lmfao #i always enjoy how porter describes his process and intention going into each track #still think about secret sky sometimes he needs to bring that back bc it was a magical virtual experience sob #porter robinson #unfold #nurture #random

[kaytrawrites]

QSMP - when a little bird wanders

Summary in which Cellbit is having trouble sleeping. Phil is also not asleep. they talk.

Notes this is noncanon. i also really really really want Richas to observe qCellbit calling qPhil 'dad', bc i think his reaction would be funny.

---

The upside of being a semi immortal being: you don’t need much sleep. The downside of being a semi immortal being: you don’t need much sleep. 

Phil sat on the porch outside his new home facing the wide, calm river, carefully preening his dark feathers. Chayanne and Tallulah were deeply asleep after a long day of searching the new lands for interesting things. 

The wind set the copper wind chimes that hung from the porch roof gently ringing, also bringing with it familiar footsteps. Phil glanced up and saw the familiar disheveled brown hair of Cellbit, who paused in his steps when he saw Phil looking.

“Hi mate.” Phil drawled, giving the much younger man a kind smile.

“Oh. Hello Phil. I didn’t expect you to still be awake.” Cellbit took a half step forward.

Phil chucked and stretched his arms up above his head. His wings followed his stretch. They had been freshly clipped when he woke from that long coma, but far more gently than the first time he arrived on the island. His muscles still ached from that flight in purgatory with Tubbo, but it was now much less.

Cellbit took another half step forward, his eyes drawn to the rainbow sheen of the lamp light across Phil’s carefully tended-to feathers. “They are looking better.” He said, his voice soft.

Phil chuckled, and settled his wings. “Yeah. They are feeling a lot better too.”

Cellbit cocked his head. “But. You flew on them just fine during Purgatory…”

“Pushed myself too hard, flying me and Toby to the boat. Hurt the muscles really badly. The meteors burnt my feathers pretty bad too.” Phil leaned back on his hands. “One of the Fed doctors dragged me into an exam after I got back and told me I needed to work the muscles if I wanted any chance of them getting back to full health. I did get a second opinion from Pac, who said the same thing.”

Cellbit stepped up to the porch and perched on the edge. “Watching you fly during Purgatory… was magnificent…”

Phil laughed. “It felt amazing.”

Cellbit let out a small sigh, and leaned back in his seat. “What’s it like?”

“Hmm?” Phil said. “Well, you flew with those temporary elytra during Purgatory.” He shrugged.

Cellbit shook his head at Phil’s words. “I mean flying over the world. Our world. Not that void of stars.”

“Oh.” Phil leaned back, looking up at the stars painted across the sky. “It’s the most freeing experience I have ever had. But also the most lonely. Watching the seasons change from among the clouds… watching civilizations rise and fall. Some by my own hands… It’s an experience I would both recommend, and caution against.”

Cellbit sat up, and turned to stare at Phil. “Wait. Back up. Civilizations? As in multiple?”

Phil chuckled. “Ah. That slipped out. Yeah. I’m… way older than I look.”

“How old…”

“Oh… bout as old as the concept of death.” Phil shrugged. 

“What?!” Cellbit yelped. “How does that work?”

Phil chuckled. “Death is my Beloved Lady, and I her Angel of Death.” 

Cellbit sat in silence, processing. “Is that why you chose the Death Entity?” 

“It felt like Her. Not exactly, but close enough that it felt Right.” Phil shrugged. “But enough about me. What are you doing up so late?”

Cellbit stared at Phil, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I- I couldn’t sleep.” He admitted. “Às vezes, os pesadelos são demais.” (The nightmares are too much sometimes)

Phil nodded. “Well, if you ever need a place to talk through your night time thoughts, I’ve got a wing” he raised one of his wings, with a slight smirk. “you can whisper secrets into.”

Cellbit stared at the slice of void that Phil had extended, and shuffled closer. Phil held the wing out further, half wrapping it around the broader man.

“Eu menti quando disse que não senti nada quando vi o Cucurucho. Eu senti algo. Senti que não me importava. Que não me importava com o fato de ele existir. Como se ele não fosse nada para mim.” The words spilled out of Cellbit. Going faster and faster. (I lied when I said I didn't feel anything when I saw Cucurucho. I did feel something. I felt like I didn't care. That I didn't care that he existed. Like he was nothing to me.)

Phil nodded. “That’s it mate… Let it all out.”

“E agora que estou de volta, a ilha parece tão diferente. Todos se sentem tão diferentes. Richas se sente diferente. Roier se sente tão diferente.” Cellbit sighed, “Parece que ainda estou naquela maldita ilha…” Cellbit growled. “Do lado de fora, olhando para dentro.” (And now that I'm back, the island feels so different. Everyone feels so different. Richas feels different. Roier feels so different. It feels like I'm still on that damn island… On the outside looking in.)

Cellbit fell silent, then turned to look out toward the river; and the little village Em, Bagi, Mouse and Tina had built. “Só quero me sentir em casa de novo...” He mumbled. (I just want to feel at home again…)

Phil wrapped his wing a bit tighter around Cellbit. “Home is wherever you make it. It’s the people who you look for. The ones you forge a bond with. It’s ok if it takes time to make it.”

Cellbit leaned back to stare at Phil. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you are this ancient all knowing being, or just a silly old man.”

Phil burst into laughter, soon followed by Cellbit’s growing grin then his own laughter. “Oh. Oh man, Cellbit.” Phil panted as the pair’s laughter abated.

Cellbit jabbed an elbow into Phil’s side. “Dad’s giggly.” He teased.

“Mate…” Phil chuckled. “It’s been a bit since I heard you call me that.”

Cellbit chuckled and leaned into Phil’s wing. “While Baghs and I were stuck on that island, I tried not to refer to you as ‘Dad’ when I talked, or even thought about you. I kept on thinking about how disappointed you would be that we stayed behind-”

“Bruh.” Phil chuckled. “I thought you knew me better than that.” He teased. “I was never disappointed in you or Baghs. You both made the best choice you could with the information you had. That’s no reason to be disappointed in you.”

Cellbit smiled. “Thanks dad…” He leaned into Phil’s shoulder, letting his eyes drift half closed.

Rapid steps approached, and a familiar bright yellow shirt caught the lantern light. Cellbit sat up, ready to yell at Richas to go back to bed.

Richas slid to a halt, turned and plonked down one of his deep blue signs, rapidly writing a message. “YOU CALLED TIO PHIL ‘DAD’!?”

Another sign. “WHAT”

Another sign. “WHAT”

Yet another sign. “WHAT”

Phil burst into laughter. Richas whirled around and swung a fist at Phil’s knee. “Ow ow! Mate!” Phil managed to get out between giggles. Cellbit had folded over, trying to hide his bright red face with his hands.

“EXPLAIN. IMEDIETLY.” Richas wrote.

Phil extended the wing that was surrounding Cellbit a bit more so Richas could cuddle in as well. As soon as Richas was settled into Cellbit’s far side, Phil began to speak. “Well, it started in Purgatory. When Charlie Slimecicle suggested we start a gas mask cult.”

Richas plonked down a sign. “WAT??? KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK”

Phil nodded. “Yep. There were some jokes thrown around that I was ‘Dad’ in a cult leader type way. It wasn’t until we had moved from Red Spawn to our second base location that Baghera, Jaiden,” Phil tilted his head toward Cellbit. “and Cellbit referred to me as ‘Dad’ in a less cult leader type way. It was Baghera who started that part, because she was having a Bolas day and was finally coming out of it. If I remember correctly, she said ‘Dad, I killed a silverfish. Are you proud of me?’ And Cellbit basically shoved her aside and said, ‘Dad, are you proud of me too?!’ We went a little insane on that island.” Phil shrugged.

Richas placed a sign. “KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK”

Another sign. “does this mean i should call you ‘avô’ now? KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK”

“If you want to, mate.” Phil drawled, chuckling.

#my fic #mcyt #qsmp #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp cellbit is not ok #(dont like that qCellbit's speaking portuguese? you sacrifice your knees)

[harrysweasleys]

both a little crazy // d.m

request: Hi! Just noticed ur requests r open! Can u please do a Draco x Slytherin Reader in which the Reader is a bad boss biatch and is TOTALLY savage, but her and Draco hides feelings for each other?

warnings: very brief mentions of torture, language?? not proof read bc i am sick and dont feel like it i am sorry

word count: 3.1k

a/n: don’t mind the fact that i based the reader off of rosa diaz. :)))) enjoy! (also yes i reposted this bc my tumblr wasnt working and tags were wonky!)

——

Your head was held rather high as you entered the Great Hall, your eyes pointed straight towards the Slytherin table in hopes that no one would talk to you as you walked over. It was way too early for conversation, in your opinion. Any attempt would just be sour.

You took your usual seat next to Pansy, who’s head was down on the table as she breathed slowly — quite possibly sound asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She was not one for early mornings either. Quite possibly less so than you were.

The empty goblet in front of you was quickly filled with pumpkin juice before you took a big gulp, hoping the familiar liquid would help bring a bit of energy into you. However, that was a failed attempt as you felt your eyes stay heavy, your head swaying to the side slightly before a loud voice startled you out of your dozed out state.

“Crabbe, shut your mouth,” you snapped, silencing the boy sitting across from you who looked over with wide eyes, his mouth closing slowly, “You just woke up half the bloody hall with your laughter.”

Pansy jumped up from next to you, thick red marks across her forehead that resembled the wooden carvings on the table she was just rested against. You let out a low chuckle, eyes darting towards the entrance to the Hall — what you saw made you stop your laughing and sit up straighter.

Draco, accompanied by a brunette Slytherin, waltzed in with a smile on his face. You looked down immediately, hating the bubbling jealousy that threatened to emerge. You had seen the two together before but it didn’t help the sudden onslaught of negative emotions every time you saw him with her.

Maybe, possibly, you’ve had dreams where you use muggle torture techniques to keep her out of your life.

But no one needed to know that.

“Ah, Malfoy’s brought his admirer,” Pansy sighed, resting her chin on her hand, “What a surprise.”

You scoffed, trying to play it off, “When doesn’t he?”

No one knew of your little crush on Draco Malfoy. And if things were to go your way, no one would ever know. Being sly was always one of your specialties and you were rather proud of that. You didn’t let people in on a lot of secrets and you were bound to keep this one to yourself too.

“Fair point,” Pansy said lowly as Draco walked towards the table with an arrogant smirk on his face. A pleasantly attractive smirk, yes, but it was arrogant nonetheless. And you wanted to bite your own tongue off at the knowledge that the brunette was the one that put it there.

He sat across from you, seated between Crabbe and Blaise, but you didn’t greet him. Pettiness was overtaking your mood and you sat quietly, not even turning up to face him as you picked at some breakfast foods to put into your plate. Your day already felt like it was ruined — as dramatic as that was.

“You ready for tonight’s Quidditch game?” Blaise asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of tea and raising his eyebrows at Draco. You hid a scoff.

“Yep, can’t wait,” you sighed, leaning forwards, “The rain will really up the fun factor.”

You looked up at the bewitched ceiling, the heavy rain clouds pouring down on the students below. The drops obviously never reached anyone, but it was still awfully gloomy. You always hated playing in the rain. You’d end up in bed, shivering and wet with the early signs of a cold.

“Only reason I joined the team was to take down Gryffindor,” Draco sneered, “Will gladly get to do that tonight.”

“That’s if we win,” you scoffed, “Potter’s always got one up on you. You should probably fix that.”

After saying the words, you felt guilt blossom in your chest. You knew Draco’s weakness was the fact that his ‘sworn enemy’ Harry Potter always beat him — you had never really thrown it into his face until now.

You could see the change in his mood from the way his eyes grew slightly darker, glaring at you as if he wanted to retaliate. His shoulders slouched downwards and he leaned forwards on the table.

“Well, what’s got your wand in a twist this morning?” the corner of his lip curved up into a smirk and you had to force yourself to look away from him so you wouldn’t cave.

Shrugging, you kept your voice neutral, “Just saying. Maybe it’ll give you more incentive to win and prove me wrong,” you picked up your cup, avoiding eye contact if at all possible.

He eyed you, confusion laced into the creases of his forehead. You had never snapped at him like this before but you just couldn’t help it. The faint smirk quickly vanished and was replaced with a scowl as he turned down to face his plate.

You bit the inside of your cheek, absentmindedly picking at the scraps of bacon and toast on your plate. This section of table grew awfully quiet at your outburst, an awkward air surrounding all of you.

Being friends with Draco, it wasn’t rare that the two of you bickered. He always carried his nose and chin high, and sometimes you liked to knock him down a peg, no matter how much you swooned over the platinum headed boy. His charismatic charm was just one of the endless reasons he always thought he could get his way.

“Seriously,” Pansy leaned over and whispered in your ear, “What’s up? Why’d you say that?”

A blush rose to your cheeks and your snapped your head to her, “Out of my business, Parkinson.”

Her eyes widened and she held her hands up in surrender, “My bad.”

You let out a huff and went back to eating your meal, very much aware of Draco’s eyes piercing the top of your scalp as you kept your own eyes facing down, attempting with all of your might to avoid any more conversation than necessary.

Tonight’s match should be fun.

——

As usual, Potions class was a complete drag.

Snape was in his usual foul mood, nitpicking every single damn thing. You were used to it by now, having been in Snape’s house for nearly six years now, but it didn’t mean you particularly enjoyed it.

Least of all now, after being paired with Draco for a potions assignment.

If this were any other day, your heart would be doing leaps inside of your chest right about now — however the idea of just the two of you having to work together and talk was slightly nauseating after this morning’s outbreak.

“So,” he sat next to you, sliding awkwardly into the empty seat, “You still mad at me?”

You scoffed, flipping through the pages of you book, “Wasn’t cross with you.”

Fun fact about Draco Malfoy; he always saw right through you.

“C’mon,” he nudged your shoulder, causing you to look up from your book, “Don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me like that before.” His soft voice and piercing eyes were so hard to lie to. You always found yourself tempted to spill your deepest darkest secrets.

“I said I wasn’t mad at you,” you forced a smile, “I’ve got... other things going on.”

He didn’t believe you for a second, “What other things?”

You blessed Salazar and all of the Hogwarts founders that Snape decided to do his rounds, cutting your awkward conversation short and placing a piece of paper on your desk — the name of the potion you’d have to make.

Wiggenweld.

Grinning, you re-opened your book and began scanning through, landing on the very worn down page with said potion on it. You couldn’t count how many times you’ve made this, which was great since you could do it easily and get away from Draco as soon as possible.

“Stop ignoring me,” he pushed, a small smile on his face, “We’ve gotta team up and play well together tonight so you might as well come clean.”

“Stay out of my business and I won’t have to hex you,” you said through gritted teeth, your voice low so no one could overhead. You reckon that’d be quite embarrassing.

He leaned even closer to you — close enough that you could smell some sort of faint cologne and laundry detergent lingering on his house robes. Close enough that you could see the small strands of brown hair in the sea of bleach blond. Close enough that his eyes weren’t just blue; they were turquoise. Green stars scattered amongst a sky of blue.

Close enough that you nearly forgot to breathe.

“I’ll find out eventually, you know?” he looked over the page in your book and began writing the ingredients and steps down on the parchment in front of him.

You fought back a chuckle at his childish handwriting.

He offered to go get the ingredients and you let him do so as you cleaned up your desk, preparing it to become a potion station. You hated working in a dirty environment and so you attempted to make the dingy desk as spotless as possible.

Your partner had been gone for quite a while as you felt slightly guilty. There were quite a few ingredients to Wiggenweld and it’d be tough for him to walk back with everything in his hands. You gazed over to see if he needed help, your heart leapt up into your throat.

Draco was leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest and a smirk on his face as he chatted to the same Slytherin girl from breakfast.

You bit down on your tongue, fighting a deep breathe that would surely give away your overwhelming jealousy. After taking a good long moment to calm down the rapid, angry beating of your heart, you balled your fists behind your back and walked over to him.

“Give me these,” you snatched the bottles and ingredients from his hands, looking anywhere but his eyes as you turned away from him, “When you feel like actually doing the work, that’d be great.”

Storming back to the table and placing everything down in a somewhat organized fashion, you decided to turn over to Blaise at the table next to you, “Wanna switch partners?”

He let out a low chuckle, looking over to the quiet Hufflepuff boy that was chopping away at the other half of the ingredients, “Mine’s actually working so I’d say no.”

“So selfish,” you scoffed, shaking your head, “Mine’s off being a git.”

Dropping the tool he was using to grate a unicorn horn, Blaise crossed his arms and walked over to you, “Lucy? She’s great.”

You let your hair fall from behind your ears to hide your frustrated blush, “Yeah, she’s real great. Taking his time while he should be here working”

If you had looked away, you would have missed the smirk that overtook his face. However, you noticed it, and it only made the blush on your cheeks grow even deeper.

“Oh, I see what’s going on,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“No you don’t,” you snapped, “Go back to work or I’ll cut your tongue off and use it as an ingredient.”

He stepped back, but the smirk and amusement never left his face. Blaise was intuitive, yes — but you were being incredibly obvious, that much was certain. Him putting the pieces together was your fault, really.

“Oi, don’t attack me. If you’re to go after anyone, wouldn’t it be her?” he nudged his head in the direction of the girl that Draco was now walking away from, “after all, she’s the one stealing your man.”

“Shut your face,” you spoke lowly, glaring him down with all of your might as he walked back to his table with a chuckle. You watched as he went back to work before you decided to do the same yourself, picking up a tiny bottle and reading the label before unscrewing the tiny lid.

Draco’s bright head popped up on the other side of the table, “We getting started?”

Fighting the urge to snap, you nodded your head slowly, “So kind of you to join. Now get to work.”

He brushed your comment aside, stepping closer to you and ignoring your demand to get to work, “Do you know Lucy?”

Biting down on your tongue, you shook your head, “Nope. Your girlfriend?” You hated how bitter and insecure you sounded but at the moment, that was really the least of your concerns. All logic has been thrown out the window.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh, “Bloody hell, no. She’s actually interested in Zabini. But I was wondering—”

“Wait, what?” you asked, nearly knocking a tiny bottle over as you leaned into the table, trying to get closer to him as if your hearing was off. Which, by the sound of what he said, you assumed it might be.

“What?” he stopped, “I’m trying to help her get with Zabini. He keeps talking about her.”

Suddenly, you felt like a complete idiot. The blush on your cheeks resurfaced and your heart did a leap against your ribcage.

“Oh,” you looked down, letting out a humourless chuckle, “I’m so sorry.”

Of course, you had jumped to conclusions. That’s what you always did. And now here you were, looking like a complete idiot and making your feelings blatantly obvious. The one thing you had been trying to avoid.

“Sorry? For what?” he was now the one to be confused, “What’s going on?”

“I—,” you blinked rapidly, looking over at him and trying your best to come up with any sentence that could make sense, “Nevermind. Let’s just get back to work.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly put off by how oddly you had been behaving all day so far, but he didn’t press the subject. You knew he’d ask you about it later, but that was for another time. You couldn’t exactly blame him either. If the tables were turned and he was the one behaving oddly, you’d be on his rear about it too.

You made a promise to yourself to talk to him after tonight’s game. The conversation might end up going against your one goal, and it might end up going really badly for you, but you had to tell him. It was time.

——

The Quidditch match ended up being a breeze. You guys ended up victorious by a landslide, Draco catching the snitch with a massive grin on his face. The relief spread through your body like a tidal wave as you watched him hold up the tiny golden ball — but what was even better was watching Gryffindor stalk off the field with glum expressions.

A real victory.

The Slytherin team gathered down on the pitch, surrounding a boastful Draco as he held his head high. A part of you wanted to go down, give him a hug and apologize for the rude comments you made this morning — but the other part of you thought that he was fine celebrating without you. You’re the one who made him feel like complete crap this morning; why would he want to celebrate with you?

You smiled from afar, walking into the Slytherin tent. You were alone, obviously. Everyone was still shouting and cheering on the pitch and you highly doubted the partying would end anytime soon.

The perfect escape for you.

You hung up your broom and removed your uniform, bundling yourself in a comfy sweater and leggings so you could walk back up to the castle without getting too cold now that the sun was gone.

Hoping no one would catch you sneaking off before party plans were made, you began to open the tent door, only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Not sticking around?”

You spun on the spot, facing a rather sweaty and satisfied looking Draco. You cursed his good looks under your breath, knowing that you’d have a hard time saying no to him while he looked like this.

“Not feeling well,” you lied, shrugging and looking down at the ground.

He stepped closer to you, “Right, you’ve been odd all day. What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing again.”

You took a deep breath, biting your lower lip as you gazed back up at him, looking into the eyes that made butterflies fly wildly in your belly.

“I spoke to Blaise and I think I know what your problem is,” he stepped even closer, the space between the two of you now only a few inches.

Letting out a small laugh, you shook your head, “That little git.”

He pursed his lips, placing one of his warm hands on the side of your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat and you leaned into his touch, not sure where he was going with this but enjoying every second of it.

One step closer, and he was nearly flush against your body. He was radiating warmth, his entire body still high off of the win, and you swore he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

Why else would he be smirking like that?

His smirk didn’t last long, however, as his lips pressed against yours.

Many people say their first kiss with their crush is soft, delicate — this wasn’t the case here. His lips pressed against yours with feverish passion, bringing the temperature in the small tent up by at least ten degrees. His lips were hot and wet as they moulded against yours, both hands cupping the sides of your face as he locked his body up against yours.

How many times you dreamt of this, you couldn’t count. But by Merlin, was it better than you could have ever imagined. You felt as if you were dancing with him, letting loose and moving to a rhythm of heartbeats. It was truly a beautiful feeling; one that you hoped you’d get to experience again.

“Well,” he muttered against your lips after pulling away, “Guess I was right.”

You wanted to retaliate and give him a sarcastic comment, but your mind was too numb and flummoxed to do so.

“Sorry I was acting all crazy,” you sighed, looking up into his blissful eyes, “Perhaps it’s true when they say jealousy makes people do crazy things.”

“It’s alright, love,” he smirked, placing hands on both sides of your waist and pulling you even closer, “We’re both a little crazy then.”

It felt like hippogriffs were fluttering around your belly as he kissed you once more, hands tightening their grip as he deepened the passionate act.

This would be awkward to explain when the team walked in, but for now, the two of you were perfectly content as you were.

Finally together.

——

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy one shot

[munku-collar]

may I gently request some hc/writing angst for one of the cats of your choice being/feeling lonely pls 🥺🙏🏻

only bc it's you and you get special privilege

Sometimes Munkustrap feels lonely, which sounds insane at first thought. He's so well liked, always surrounded by friends and family, and there's his human family too. He's never really alone. There's always someone around him, to keep him company or to ask for his help or guidance. But sometimes he feels alone. Sometimes he feels like he's apart from everyone and everything, like he just doesn't fit in, like he doesn't connect right. He feels like the torn and loose strands on the blankets in his and Demeter's den.

Part of him thinks it's because of his expectations. He's a protector, and more or less the leader of the Jellicles, and as such, he has a responsibility to care for others, to keep them safe and happy. And he likes to think he does a good job. Certainly no one has ever said otherwise. But sometimes there's this little need deep inside for something else, something tugging at him that he can't quite bring himself to say or even admit to himself, and it's that maybe, just maybe, being a protector or leader is not all he wants to do or be. Sometimes he thinks it'd be easier to just be another cat in the tribe, to worry about his mate and daughters and that's it, to not be responsible for almost 30 cats. He wonders what it'd be like to trade places with someone else, to pursue his passions and allow himself all the time in the world to do whatever he wants. Sometimes he imagines being somewhere else; he doesn't even know where else, and he doesn't know what he'd be doing, but he just thinks about it, is all.

He loves his role in his community. He loves his family. But sometimes it's overwhelming, and whenever he tries to bring it up, he's hit with reassurances that he's where he's supposed to be and it's a job only he can do, which, although meant as a compliment, really only makes him feel worse. He's listened to, but not heard, and that is something truly terrible. He hesitates to reveal his deepest thoughts because of this. It's easier to grin and bear it when things get tough, too tough to handle, like whenever someone gets seriously ill or a kitten goes missing, than to try admit how tired he really is sometimes. It's a really unfortunate kind of loneliness, he thinks. He has so much love around him, so many smiles and pats on the back and words of praise, but on occasion somehow he still feels like he's standing in an empty dark room.

But Demeter has an empty, dark room of her own, he knows, and she can tell when he's taken up residence in his. She offers what little light she knows how, lends an understanding ear, kisses him softly and takes him seriously. He's not so afraid of admitting such things to her. He knows she'll never dismiss him, or say he's being silly or stupid, just as he always listens to her. Maybe she can't fix the root of the problem, but when her paw is in his the lonely feeling dissipates a bit. He doesn't feel quite so cut off, so other. Maybe it's because she joined the Jellicles later in life, and so she has a different perspective, different experiences than he does. She has gotten to know him for him, not assumed to know him like others despite how he's grown through the years since his kittenhood. Maybe it's because she's so burdened herself, that she understands things such as loneliness or self hatred or disappointment. Or maybe it's just her as a person. But when he admits his secrets to her early mornings in the dim light of their den, his empty, dark room seems as distant as the fading stars in the sky. He knows that when he's lonely, lost, all he has to do is reach for her, and he'll be found.

#asks #my shit #demestrap #munkustrap #demeter #cats demeter #demeter cats #cats 1998 #cats the musical #JH

[bitchiha]

Can you do some fluff headcanons for Kakashi and his gf ? ❣️

A/N: So I really just dyed my hair blonde.. and it looks.. interesting to say the least..

Also, I’m so hyped I got this request I love Kakashi 😫 So I will project all this relationship yearning into this headcanon:

✎ Kakashi Fluff Headcanons

A lil heads up: in order to date kakashi in the first place I think you’d need to have an understanding that he has had a lot of emotional trauma, so it will take him a while to actually fully adjust to a relationship. Just for the sake of these being fluffy hc’s I didn’t really take into account a lot of the angsty shit bc than that would have defeated the purpose but anyways I did try my best

So idc what anyone says Kakashi will be a clingy and horny piece of shit when you start dating. Like he lives for physical contact. I’m convinced both him and Yamato are touch starved. So anyways, what that means is that he loves cuddling. Always wants to be the big spoon, he loves being the big spoon. Will wrap an arm and a leg around you and he will attach himself like a suction cup. Also really Likes burying his head in your neck, bonus if your hair is down.

He loves showing you affection, but if you wanna show him affection? He will die of happiness. Like you wanna come over to the couch and lay down with your legs on his lap? He’ll Melt. Give him hugs from behind? He’s melting alright. Oh boy and if you take care of him after a mission.. you will have him in the palm of your hand for the rest of your life. Like you wanna clean up his wounds and start a shower for him, then play with his hair till he falls asleep? He will become the biggest simp.

He’s also bomb at cooking and he also loves to show off to you tbh. Therefore, he will cook for you whenever he can and the food will be amazing. He also prefers staying at home rather than going out on dates. He’s just that type to want to relax on the couch with his s/o and watch a movie or read a book while cuddling. It’s probably because he’s always busy with Team 7 or he’s on a mission, so when he isn’t he wants to cherish that time to relax.

Secretly adores sitting on the roof of the apartment and talking for a long time. He really likes when you two stay up late just talking. Loves the sound of your voice and will sometimes just make you talk the whole time so he can listen to you.

When he’s away on long missions he’s thinking about you alright, a lot. Like when his squad sets up camp for the night and he lays down to watch the clouds in the dark sky, he’ll think about you and all the conversations you’ve had together on his roof. Will probably cuddle his pillow to make up for the empty space next to him. Or if something crazy happens he thinks about what your reaction will be like when he tells you about it. He’s kinda like a lost puppy, but refuses to let anyone else know that.

As I said before, mans clingy. So when he feels like you’re not getting enough time together because he’s on missions or both of you are just busy, he will bring you with him to train team 7. Don’t get me wrong, team 7 loves you, but when they see kakashi has brought you along to a training day they internally scream because they know he is gonna give them some next level hard shit. They know it’s because he’s trying to keep them busy and finesse some free time with you.

But if he doesn’t bring you along for training, If you stop by to bring him lunch or something like that he will be so happy. He’ll act all cool about it when he’s infront of his squad but when he comes home he will thank you with cuddles or kisses. Also, if you swing by and bring the whole team some food, they will all love you forever.

PDA is a tricky thing with him, for starters he’s always wearing his mask outside so he doesn’t really give you any kisses while in public. He doesn’t mind holding hands but he really likes having an arm around you instead. Whether it’s on your back or around your waist. He loves it 10/10.

When you’re at home and the mask is off, you can expect to be smothered in kisses for a good couple of minutes. He’s just making up for the time could have kissed you when the mask was on. Loves to give neck kisses and forehead kisses, but he loves when you give him kisses on his nose or his forehead and literally anywhere else, but the forehead is his fav.

He can be very trusting with you but can also be the opposite at times as well. He doesn’t want you going on super hard missions and will probably ask you more than once to reconsider. Probably because a) he doesn’t want to lose you, he’s lost a lot of people close to him already and b) if the enemy has run Into Kakashi before and they find out you’re dating him, they would probably more than enjoy the opportunity to take the Copy Ninjas s/o away from him. If you still insist you want to go, he’ll send Pakkun out to tail you in secret, but will feel guilty afterwards. On the other hand though, he has no problem having you hang out with other guys, he’s not the jealous type at all. He fully trusts you and the relationship, but will step in if he can sense you’re uncomfortable.

He can pick up on whenever you’re upset or If there is change to your mood. At first he won’t pry, but when he notices it getting worse he will ask what’s wrong. He wants to help figure it out and doesn’t want to see his s/o upset, especially if there is a way he can stop it. I also think he’s good at talking about emotions and dealing with them for the most part. I mean he has to deal with Naruto, Sakura, Sai and Sasukes emo hours so he has experience.

For gifts he goes with the classics: flowers, jewelry and chocolate. He gets all his romantic tips off of Makeout Paradise and all his other books so expect the most cliche gifts or the most questionable ones.

To conclude, I feel like Kakashi would be a great boyfriend, 100%

#naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader #kakashi hakate #kakashi headcanons #naruto x reader #incorrect naruto quotes

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

(WHILE COLLECTING THE STARS) I CONNECTED THE                                                                                                                  DOTS

or, how Nesta accepted the bond and decided to give living a try // ao3

Adoption /Self-Discovery/Domestic/Witch!Nesta/Mating Bond/Nessian/found family bc why the fck not/Healing

Heal the scars from off my back

I don't need them anymore

You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars

I've come home

The first thing she notices is how small the girl is.

Her feet are dangling far from the ground and, even though she’s perched on a stroll and Cassian is kneeling on the ground, he’s still towering over her frame. The top of the child’s head barely sticks above the table. Her tucked-in wings make her look even tinier; tiny and miserable, wrapped up with a blanket like an abandoned kitten.

Nesta’s still high on all the magic. There is dark paint smeared all over her skin and her veins are buzzing with the sheer power that she and her coven has just leeched off the very bones of Illyria. She’s only starting to regain some composer and maybe that is why, for a good few minutes, she stays on the corridor and watches as Cassian patiently asks the girl if she wants something to eat or to drink, if she’s warm enough, if maybe she wants to take a nap, hearing nothing in return except for the stubborn, shell-shocked silence.

It’s only when the child pulls her knees up and hides her face in the material of the blanket when Nesta actually makes her presence known.

‘’Hello?’’ she calls quietly from her place on a threshold, not wanting to spook the girl further.

To Cassian’s credit, he does not whip his head towards her – but, after all, he probably knew she’s been here all along.

He always knows she’s near, just like she does.

‘’Hello, Nesta.’’ He says and there is something so heavy, so terribly dark ringing in his voice that she cannot help but shiver. ‘’Sorry, darling, are you fine sitting alone for a while here? I’ll be right back.’’

He raises his hand as if to pat the girl’s knee, but decides not to half-motion; it falls awkwardly to his side when he slowly raises to his full height.

The girl just buries deeper into the blanket.

Something about her – the clear despair radiating from every pore of her body – pulls  Nesta towards her like a siren song. She cannot tear her eyes off her, even when Cassian ushers her to the corridor, his hand burning her lower back.

‘’Sorry for no heads-up.’’ He whispers, face half-obscured by the shadows.

It’s almost dusk; the lovely pink light of the dying sun makes everything less real somehow. Or maybe it’s still the magic, the leftovers of it from the sabbath, she’s not sure.

She knows why he’s apologizing. Strangers still threw her off, especially here, in this – space they’ve created. The space where she walks barefoot and with her hair unbound, only for him to see. But how he knows that she doesn’t feel comfortable with unexpected visitors, she has no idea. Sometimes, she wonders how the hell Cassian even knows half of the things he knows about her, because she doesn’t tell him even a quarter of them.

Unexpected visitors that make her uneasy definitely don’t include little lost girls, though. Especially since there’s an unpleasant pounding in Nesta’s head when her mind starts to mull over why the girl would be here in the first place.

‘’Oh, stop being an idiot. Why did you bring her here?  Is she- is her mother-‘’

‘’Gone? Yeah.’’

Nesta closes her eyes so tightly that the whole night sky blooms on the underside of her eyelids.

That’s Illyria. – he told her the first time when he came home reeking of blood, his knuckles scraped to the raw meat. – It happens.

And there was not an ounce of acceptance in his voice, only this defeated helplessness. The same helplessness she’s hearing – she’s feeling – now.

‘’She doesn’t have anyone else left? No family?’’

‘’No one. Her father was killed in the war, as far as I know.’’

It happens. Females disappear. Females evaporate. Females appear with their wings clipped, with blood running down their thighs. Females find themselves in the wrong place, the wrong time… especially young, pretty widows, trying to make a living in any way they can, selling whatever they have, including themselves.

Nesta does not have to ask for more details, does not have to dig deeper. Cassian fixes her stare on the chandelier above her head and breaths deeply and, when she looks down, she can see dark bruises blooming on his knuckles, turning them all shades of purple.

Her hands are still cool from the autumn air. He shivers when her thumbs brush across his tender flesh.

‘’Those who did it to her – they won’t do it again to anyone else, will they?’’

‘’No,’’ Cassian growls, his fingers curling around hers. ‘’No, they won’t.’’

She lets her lips curl into a smile, the one that makes Devlon piss his pants whenever he throws a hissy about her coven, or rather about her dragging the clipped females to the woods at night to howl to the moon, as he calls it.

‘’Good.’’ She breathes out.

Her eyes slide on the wooden panels on the wooden panels, back to the kitchen; through the ajar door, all she can see are the black curls, the small talons on top of the girl’s wings peeking from the folds of the blanket.

She’s just so small. She cannot be possibly older than five.

‘’What’s her name?”

“Nicassia.’’ Cassian answers without meeting Nesta’s eyes and something akin to a laugh bubbles in her chest. Nicassia. What a pretty name, swishing like a mountain stream on the rocks, like the wind in the valley.

Ni-cass-ia.

It seems the irony has not escaped Cassian too, because he smirks slightly at her stunned silence.

‘’What are the chances, huh?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ She sounds a bit breathless. Nicassia. ‘’What  - where are you planning to take her?’’

She rather feels than hears his hesitance when he says:

‘’Well. There’s an orphanage in Velaris-‘’

Something tightens like a rock inside her core. Of course.

She bites on her tongue. Stop being ridiculous, Velaris is not the source of all evil in the world. She has no doubt that they will take care of her well there – keep her well-fed and clothed, educate her. Give her the care and attention she needs. Maybe she’ll be treated as something … something else, different, but not worse, Feyre would never allow that. Still-

There’s this nagging thought, coming back to her over and over again as she raises her eyes to the small bundle of misfortune on the stroll in the kitchen Nesta has started to think of as hers – what about the things they cannot give her in Velaris?

Nesta’s been living in the Illyria for three years now; she keeps count of every day while pretending she’s absolutely not doing that. And during this time, she has just begun to grasp the magnitude of her ignorance of how these people live and how they think and feel – but she also knows now just enough to realize that there will be no coming back for Nicassia if she’s sent to the Night Court so young.

No one will teach her the songs to keep the rhythm while sewing – no one will teach her how to sew in the first place, how to weave the promises and good fortunes into the fabric. No one will teach her the strange language, full of whistles and hard vowels, impossible to really grasp for somebody who did not grow up hearing it every day. No one will teach her how to put pebbles on the windowsills for protection or to hang bundles of herbs above the fireplace for prosperity and health. No one will make a rowan necklace for her upon her flowering, every hope, and dream that her mother has for her captured on the rope along with the fruits.

No one will teach her the sacred, secret language of Illyrian females, the rites and rituals of their womanhood. If Nicassia grows up in Velaris, she will be forever an outcast in her own home. Not High Fae and not quite Illyrian either.

She will once sit around the fire with other females just like Nesta does with her coven and she too won’t be a part of the story.

And Nesta cannot bear this thought, cannot help but fixate on it.

‘’Nesta.’’

Cassian’s hand is warm and steady on arm, gentle, when he squeezes it.

He’s always gentle with her now, hesitant almost. She’s trying not to miss the times when he was challenging her with every move, every word, driving her insane. It’s better this way, when everything between them is so delicate, fragile like an eggshell. It’s better like that, she tries to convince herself every day, every night laying alone in her bed, her very skin burning from desire.

Sometimes he sleeps beside her to keep her nightmares at bay, but honestly, she almost prefers the nightmares to this unbearable, painful distance between them.  

‘’You cannot – you can’t keep her, Sweetheart.’’

She knows what he means by that – she knows he means all the sleepless nights and the emptiness still present in her eyes more often than not. Her still too-skinny hands, her still-not-quite mastered powers. How she would not touch booze for all days of the year except for the anniversary of her father’s death when she gets so absolutely pissed that she sleeps through the next week. The fact that they share fears and dreams and silence, trade quiet feelings, small kisses, absent-minded caresses every day, but they have still not traded the actual words, did not dare to voice anything they feel for each other.

She knows he only wants to protect her.

But maybe a time for coddling has passed. Not when there is a child sitting in their kitchen, small and alone in this world and this time, she has power – power, and strength, and will – to help her.

‘’Maybe I can’t’’. she says softly, slowly. Nicassia’s dark curls spill on her shoulders. Nesta’s hands itch to braid it the way it’s supposed to be braided, just like Emerie explained to her one time-  first parted in two, then divided into four strands and woven together (Health. Protection. Love. Devotion.). Nesta’s no Illyrian, but she can learn. She can ask her coven to teach her, to teach her how to sing lullabies in Illyrian, which bedtimes stories she should tell-

Ni-cass-ia.

Nesta thinks about a boy of five, dumped onto the cold mud, taught over and over again in the most horrible way that he has to kill, beg or steal for every little crumb of love in his life, that it will never be given freely to him, that he will never be worth it.

Nesta thinks of a girl of eight, burning with anger too vast to be contained, only learning decades later how to be gentle, how to allow others to be gentle to her.  She thinks of Feyre and Elain, of loving too much and not enough simultaneously, of not knowing how to feel anything without this magnitude of feeling devouring her whole.

Nesta turns around to face Cassian, her hands gripping his too-strongly. There’s fire – fire- burning inside her brighter than any magic ever did, hotter than any rage ever did.

She needs us. – she thinks and then: I need this. I want this.

I want this for us.  

She doesn’t remember ever wanting anything more. She doesn’t remember the last time she has felt so much.

How can they continue to pretend they’re walking on eggshells when she feels every rise and fall of his chest as if it was her own? When she could’ve as well grabbed on this bond between them or hang herself on it, that’s how strong it is. Forged from some ancient metal. Hardened in flames.

Cassian kneeling on the floor in front of this girl. Nesta coming home.

‘’But maybe we can.’’

His eyes burn golden, staring down at her. She can almost hear his heart stumbling in his chest. She’s trembling, waiting for him to tell her, no, to tell her that’s insane and wrong, to try to reason with her.

But maybe her own heart is painted on her face or maybe the implication of her words are too vast, too great to grasp, or maybe it’s that fact that all her walls go down for a moment when she’s too desperate to keep them up and he sees her for what she truly is for a moment, or maybe it’s all of those things altogether or something else entirely – but Cassian doesn’t say no.

He looks to the kitchen again, his jaw clenching and eyes turning soft when one of Nicassia’s bare feet emerges from the blanket to dangle above the floor.

‘’Are you sure?’’

One step, two steps before she’s so close she could’ve counted the freckles of hazel in his eyes.

Be brave.

‘’I want this with you. I want her. Do you – do you want it too?’’

And she means more than Nicassia, or rather – she means all Nicassia can possibly mean, the whole ocean of dreams she has never dared to venture into, so deep they could both drown in it.

In her grand romance novels, he would’ve pulled her into his arms, give her a sweeping kiss. But in these books, there seems to always be a perfect moment for everything, the exact seconds when stars align and the realization comes like a lightning strike. Nesta does not believe in this type of love any more- doesn’t believe in the perfect moments. It was always Feyre’s brand of romance. Everything in Nesta’s and Cassian’s story has always been complicated and ill-timed. She doesn’t expect to be swept off her feet or wooed anymore.

She just wants to come home. Finally, after all those lonely years.  

Cassian doesn’t give her a grand kiss. Instead, he raises their linked hands to his lips and whispers against her skin – quietly, like a secret, like an oath:

‘’I do. Fine then, love.’’

And for a second she can almost see that small boy entering Rhysand’s mother’s cottage in the war camp, craving family and belonging above all reason once again.

Her body turns soft, jelly; her arm raises up, palm resting in the crook of his neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw. She’s on her tiptoes before she realizes she has even made a move.

For the first time since they met, they meet each other halfway; his forehead resting on hers, his hand pressing hers to his heart.

‘’Fine then, love.’’ She echoes and, all at once, warmth erupts under her skin like a raging forest fire when the bond tugs on her insides and snaps in place, sweet and familiar, the gravity keeping her feet on the ground.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acosf

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?” You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #canyon moon #sunflower vol 6 #multi chapter fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #dom harry styles

[narutowtfareyoudoing]

Hello! Welcome to the world of Naruto imagines! Can't wait to see more stuff from you guys, I already love what I see haha ❤ anywho, could we pretty please get headcanons for how the sand siblings would handle falling in love with their best friend(the reader)? Like, maybe they aren't sure if their BFF could ever feel the same way, how would each of them handle that? Hide their feelings forever, or eventually tell them bc they can't take it, or what? Just want your HCs on the topic, thanks!❤

So I assumed it’s implied that their BFF also likes them back. Also I’m so sorry that this request is so old. My apologies.

—

Gaara

Gaara treasures you in every meaning of the word. Besides Naruto and his own siblings you were one of the first people in the Sand Village to accept him, one of the first to congratulate him on becoming Kazekage.

He’s still getting used to his own emotions after years of being practically deprived of them so he was slow to realize his ever growing feeling for you until one day. Boom. Helplessly in love. 

He’s tried to trace back to exactly when this happened but there’s no exact date

It could’ve been all those long hours you’d spend with him in the Kazekage office keeping him in good company.

Maybe it happened when you started bringing lunches to him and you’d have small little lunch dates.

Perhaps it was when you gifted him a small cactus for his birthday. It sat on the corner of his desk and served of a constant reminder that he had friends who cared about him.

Had it been even earlier than that? Could it have happened when you’d given him a hello hug? 

Had it been the telltale love at first sight? 

He’d likely never properly know. 

And he’d certainly never tell you about it. He’d forever hold his peace on the subject. Uncertainty simply being to great of a risk to overcome.

He cared for you too much to ever run the risk of scaring you off. He’d come up with dozens of reasons to justify never telling you his hearts greatest desire.

He was the Kazekage and if you were to be with him that would make you a target, on top of that being the Kazekage ate up his life he simply didn’t have the time you deserved to give to you. He knew next to nothing about the world of romantic love and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to tend to you in the ways you would need. Emotionally and Physically. 

The only person he’d ever breathed a word of his feeling for you to was Kankuro. He’d opened up to him when he didn’t understand what he was feeling and Kankuro had been the one to tell him he was in love. 

And Kankuro knew something that was clear to nearly everyone else besides Gaara. You loved his back. It was so desperately clear, Kankuro would never understand how you two were so oblivious. 

Kankuro wasn’t about to let the love of his little brothers life slip away and he knew there was nothing he could tell Gaara to convince him confess and certainly nothing he could do physically to make him tell you.

So Kankuro himself just told you. 

Finding out Gaara was just as in love with you as you were with him made your heart sing and before you knew it your feet were moving.

It wasn’t unusual for you to visit Gaara in his office, the guards let you by without so much as a glance but it was however very unusual for you to just go in without knocking first.

The sudden intrusion startled him and left you a little flustered as you realized you’d barged in here without thinking of what to say. 

His first reaction made sense, he stood up from his chair and asked. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “In danger?” “No.” “Do you require something?” “No.”

Every no just confused him even further as he stared at you and settled on being quiet, he sat back down slowly and patiently waited. Surely you’d tell him what was going on if he gave you the chance.

Your face got hot in the quiet as you desperately tried to think but the thumping of your heart weighed out any rational thoughts.

So without a plan you walked over to him. 

He watched you with careful eyes, unsure of what had come over you, nothing dangerous but the look in your eyes and your flushed face left him grasping for answers.

He instead got a question as you rounded his desk to stand beside him.

“Wanna go on a date?” 

It was all you could think of.

He stared at you wide eyed for a moment, for once his monotone stoic voice failing him. You were asking him on a date? Did that mean…?

You offered out your hand as your heart started to beat with panic instead of excitement. 

He slowly reached over and took your hand in his as his answer since his heart seemed to be caught in his throat. His entire body felt warm in a way that was very different than the desert heat. He got up, paperwork completely forgotten and his undivided attention on you. 

A rare smile slowly appearing on his face as you laced your fingers with his…and now maybe he could pinpoint when he’d fallen deeply in love with you.

Kankuro

Year’s of dealing with his once unstable little brother and the harsh demands of the Sand Village Shinobi would make one think that Kankuro was unshakable, that it would’ve given him nerves of steel and in battle there was no question about that. But here? Standing in front of your house? He could be mistaken for a quivering child.

His feelings weren’t new to him. He’d been aware of his ever growing crush on you for a long time now.

He hadn’t even been bashful about his flirting. He complimented and teased you nearly daily.

And every time you’d throw your head back and laugh, hit his arm and tell him cut it out between giggles. 

Every time he’d join you in laughing but there would be a slight sting to his ego as you lightheartedly rejected his compliments.

He knew it wasn’t out of malice, outside of the battle field he wasn’t sure if you even had a mean bone in your body so he never pressed his compliments any further. 

Until today.

He’d been out with Temari when he spotted you. Talking to a couple of nobody low level Shinobi…laughing…hitting their shoulders like you hit his and hopelessness wrecked his stomach.

“How many times have I told you that you’re not the only one who noticed that Y/N is a great catch?” Temari asked.

She knew she had to say something to light a fire under her brothers ass since he’d let all her friendly advise go in one ear and straight out the other. She sometimes wondered if there was anything in that head of his.

Her words turned the hopelessness in his stomach into pure and unbridled jealousy.

Left with no rational thoughts he marched over to you and threw his arm around your shoulders, demanding your attention. 

You were happy to see him but a little wary of the attitude he seemed to be toting. 

“Hey, Y/N I was just looking for you, come on.” He said completely ignoring the people you’d been talking to, trying to pull you away from them.

“Wow, it is important? I was talking to–” “Anything is more important than talking to these two punks.” He laughed.

But you didn’t find it funny at all.

You moved his arm from around you and shoved him off. “What’s your problem?” You demanded.

“My problem?” He scoffed. “I don’t have a problem! These two punks do! Can’t you see the way they’re looking at you? Come on, I know you’re not stupid.”

Embarrassed and angry you didn’t say anything. You just left.

There was that hopelessness. Back in full swing. Making him realize every jealousy fueled word he said was beyond idiotic…oh no, what’d he done? 

“You know that was impressively stupid…did you think at all that entire time?” Temari asked. Making sure her brother got the message in case it had somehow escaped him how stupid he’d been.

It hadn’t escaped him at all.

The entire day his heart was dangling by his feet, any time he started to feel anything else his psyche reminded him of his mistake and a whole knew wave of distress would wash over him.

He tried to distract himself with work but only felt worse when he stumbled onto the puppet he was helping you build. It was crude at best and instead of a menacing face it had a goofy one you’d decorated with his purple face paint.

And as memories of your friendship were brought to the forefront of his mind he knew he couldn’t just sit around and risk losing his best friend.

So here he was, terrified of explaining himself to you. Terrified of not only losing a romantic relationship with you but maybe even your friendship.

He took a deep breath and knocked on your door but when you answered it his deep breath was shot right out of him, his confidence barely standing an inch tall. And all the words he’d thought of were gone.

“Wow, Temari was right, you look terrible.” You teased nodding a little.

“What?” He could’ve hit himself for such a dumbfounded response.

“Temari came by…said she couldn’t stand your loud melancholy moping any longer.” 

And he froze up as he thought of all the things Temari could’ve told you. Was his secret out? Did you hate him?

“You know, usually you just ask a girl out on a date maybe get her some flowers. Being a tool isn’t really the best way to go about it.” And there wasn’t any anger in your tone, it was soft if not a bit teasing.

A smile grew on his face as he realized what you were saying. His heart racing and his confidence sky rocketing as he asked. “So dinner?”

Temari

How had this happened? One day you were her fellow Kunoichi, woman in arms, best friend and now…the love of her life?

It hit her like a kunai to the chest.

You two were just sitting in her room, painting each others toe nails, laughing and enjoying a room that wasn’t filled with testosterone. 

It felt like a safe space where neither of you had to be tough to prove yourselves has hardened Kunoichi. You just got to be yourselves.

And who knew her better than you? No one. 

You’d been best friends for what like felt like forever, you’d been there for her through everything. Someone she could count on and talk to no matter what. You’d just always been there with warm open arms.

All her secrets she knew were safe with you so when you asked the simple question. “Got a crush on anyone?” It shouldn’t have rocked her world the way it did.

She even laughed at the question at first. “I don’t know.” She giggled. “Come on, you’ve gotta have a crush on someone.” You further prodded 

“I don’t even know if I’ve ever had a crush on someone, I’m way too busy with missions.” She insisted.

“So there’s no one that makes your heart skip a beat? No one that when you look at them the world gets quiet and it all makes sense? No one that makes you feel safe? No one you look at and go ‘Gods you’re a gift.’?” You teased.

She froze up as she thought through the questions and all the answers were the same: You.

You saw the way she froze up, words dying in her throat as she looked away from you. “You alright?”

You reached over to rub her shoulder but she hit your hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Her words were harsh and laced with venom. 

“What?” “In fact get out, leave” “What?!” “I said leave!”

And so you left…unbeknownst to her you took her heart with you.

She felt psychically ill, her stomach ached and her head throbbed as she tried to make sense of all the emotions that clashed inside of her.

The clash of raw emotions however never had a victor as she swallowed down her feelings, refusing to be some fussy, dramatic teenage girl. No, never. She refused to be ruled by her emotions

The only way to keep her feelings from overwhelming her was to stay as far away from you as possible. Demanding Gaara change her mission partner from you to anyone else, dodging your favourite restaurant, the training grounds, anywhere you two had memories she refused to go.

But she couldn’t escape her own room. No matter how many missions she went on eventually she ended up at home. Where her heart ached.

She pushed it all down though, letting her stoic and cold shell keep her together…keep her safe from love and all it’s aches.

Or so she thought.

Who would’ve guessed that nail polish would be the rock hurtled at her that would shatter her glass exterior?

Painful tears gave her no choice as they rolled down her face as she looked at the last bits of chipped black polish on her toes. The last thing you two had ever done together.

Without you it felt like there was no one to turn too, no shoulder for her to rest her weary head, no warm inviting arms to hug her pieces back together…no you to speak of.

She couldn’t go to her little brothers. She was the oldest, she wasn’t supposed to break like this, she could never let them see her like this.

But after months of her heart suffering in silence it seemed Hellbent to be heard in the extreme.

It screamed memories at her, leaving her with no choice but to relive them. Memories of you two danced behind her eyelids like a movie she couldn’t turn off.

The time’s you’d put your life on the line for her during missions, when you’d cheered her on at the Chunin exams, the countless hours you’d spent in this very room, when you’d made her a little fan as a joke, your smile and your laughter tormented her aching heart.

But the last straw? The idea that there would be no future memories to make.

She’d lived though so much heartbreak. She’d watched her mother die, her father become a monster, she’d watched as Gaara had gone deeper and deeper into darkness and even as he’d changed and gotten better all this had left scars on her heart…she just didn’t want love to hurt her anymore.

It left her vulnerable and if she was vulnerable she could get hurt.

But where had this plan taken her? Her heart ached in a way it never had before, it cried out so loudly it practically deafened her. 

She left her house, desperate to just make it all stop.

Blurred vision didn’t let her see where she was going but her feet carried her to the one place she knew she’d be able to feel better.

Her body practically slammed into the door as she lost sight of her footing, tears robbing her of any semblance of where she was.

Warm arms wrapped around her and there was no mistaking them, no mistaking your embrace.

You’d been so ready to yell at her the next time you saw Temari, give her Hell for everything she’d put you through but seeing her a crying pile at your door in the middle of the night? That all disappeared and all you wanted to do was hug your best friend.

In your arms her heart finally relented and let her feel what love can truly do: Heal. 

It would be a long uphill battle but a spark of hope warmed her chest. 

Maybe this love wouldn’t break her heart. Maybe love could be for her as long as she was with you.

—

~Admin Coral.

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#naruto #naruto shippuden #sand siblings #sand siblings headcanons #sand siblings x reader #x reader #gaara #temari #Kankuro #gaara headcanon #gaara x reader #temari headcanon #temari x reader #kankuro headcanon #kankuro x reader #gaara headcanons #temari headcanons #kankuro headcanons #Admin Coral

[alias-b]

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts.  Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

   They say she saw It first.

   They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

   They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

   They say she felt no fear.

   A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake. 

   Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

   “Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

   They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing. 

   She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

   “Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

   A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

   “From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

   “Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it. 

   Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

   She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game. 

   After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

   Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

   Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

   That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

   “Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

   “Yes.”

   Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

   "Who are you?"

   "Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

   Big eyes full and empty.

   “Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

   She said nothing to that.

   “Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable. 

   The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

   Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

   Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

   Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

   “I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

   The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

   “You’ll know.”

   Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

   They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

   Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

   Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

   She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

   The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

   They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

   Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

   Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

   Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

   Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home. 

   Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

   This girl she ignored was all she had left.

   “Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

   “You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

   “Do what, my dear?”

   “Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

   Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

   Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

   Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss. 

   She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

   Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

   Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

   Down.

   Down.

   Down.

   Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

   Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

   A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

   She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples. 

   A gloved hand curled into hers.

   “Am I dead?” She asked.

   “Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

   “Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

   The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

   “Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

   "Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

   “I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

   Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin. 

   She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

   No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

   Existed together in one space.

   Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

   It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

   But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

   Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

   Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

   He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

   “Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

   “Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

   Except love, she thought. Except desire.

   Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

   Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

   There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

   She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

   Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

   The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

   Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

   Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

   There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

   And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

   One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

   “Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

   It was a soft prayer.

   He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart. 

   A squelch.

   Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

   He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

   He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions. 

   A scar thickened.

   Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue. 

   A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

   A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

   “Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

   Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

   “Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

   I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

   Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

   “We were built to last forever.”

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise imagine #mine #writing

[pennylanefics]

Camp Counselors - John “Maz” Mazetti

a/n: i went with maz for this bc i’m still soft for him :) but should i do another one of these with vinnie, dells, or zapata??

•••

Your summers were usually spent being a part of summer baseball leagues since your dad was a coach for one. You were in charge of the drinks, snacks, and equipment during a one-week sleep-away baseball camp for incoming or returning players for the team he coached.

Thankfully, a couple other coaches had daughters around your age, so you were never really alone. Then, there were the guy counselors. Including Maz, your friend from college. The kids constantly teased the counselors, as usual, about dating and liking one another and all that. This year was no different.

It was the second day there, and the kids, who are around middle-school age ranging from eleven to thirteen, continued to tease Maz about you two. They always saw you talking and laughing with one another, since most of them have been at the camp before, so they know you and Maz.

“You like her, don’t you?” One of the younger boys asks Maz. He was standing in the dugout, helping each player get ready before going up to bat.

“What?” He turns to the boy who asked.

“You wanna date (Y/N),” another kid steps in. Maz shakes his head and chuckles.

“No. She’s just a friend.”

“Are you sure?” All of a sudden, every kid in the dugout is surrounding their counselor with interest.

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for four years.”

“But have you had a girlfriend since you met her?”

“Yes, I have,” Maz replies.

“Has she had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, we’ve dated other people. Because we’re not dating. We’re allowed to do that, you know.”

“But you so like her.”

“Also you two would look so cute together.” Maz gives up and shrugs.

“Fine. I may like her. But it’s nothing serious. She’s sweet, she’s cute, she’s funny, it would be stupid not to like her.” The boys begin to mess with Maz now that they know. “But that doesn’t matter. You guys are here to learn about baseball and better yourselves, not pry into the counselor’s love lifes.”

A break is called soon after and everyone heads over to the table that you are standing behind. You were finishing setting out cups of water, bags of chips, cookies, and other snacks for everyone. Maz grabs a bag of chips and water and comes to stand with you behind the table.

“How are they doing?” You ask, taking a sip of your own water bottle.

“Pretty good. The new kids are struggling just a little, but they’re getting used to it.”

“That’s great. It seems like they’re having fun, though.”

“Oh, they’re having tons of fun.”

A couple days later, you and Maz are sitting together in the dining hall, enjoying dinner and chatting. The rest of the team was spread across a long picnic table just a few feet away. As you are taking another bite of your chicken, two boys come up and stand in front of you and Maz.

“Hey Tyler and Kendall, what’s up?” Maz questions. They look between you, then between each other, and finally, back at you.

“Are you guys dating?” Confused, you look to Maz, but he avoids your gaze by looking down at his lap, a look of embarrassment on his face.

“Come on guys. Really? Go finish your dinner.” They run off and Maz continues to eat his food.

“What was that about?” You ask. John just shrugs and looks up at you.

“They think because we talk and hang out, we must be dating. They’re boys, it’s the only thing on their minds,” he chuckles awkwardly. You drop the subject and focus back on your dinner.

As the sun begins to set, the boys all decide they want to have a campfire and make some s’mores. So, the adults begin a fire in the fire pit while everyone takes a seat on the logs around. You sat next to your friend Eliza, the daughter of another coach. Maz sat on the opposite side, surrounded by a few of the boys he bonded with the most.

You and Eliza make a couple s’mores before she heads back to the cabins, wanting to turn in early for the night. That left you alone, staring at the fire and the sunset. After a little while, you start to shiver due to the wind that was starting to pick up with the dimming sky. You had forgotten your hoodie in your cabin, and it was too far of a walk there and back.

“Dude, she’s sitting all alone, shivering with no jacket. Now’s your time to make a move!” Tyler pushes Maz playfully. Maz just smiles and casts his eyes down.

“Guys, stop. I already told you, you need to stop trying to get us together. If we want to date, we will. But we’re fine with being friends.”

“You can still go over there and cuddle up as friends.” Maz ignores them, though he wants nothing more than to give you the blanket he has.

Maz thinks to himself for a while before he suddenly stands and makes his way over to you. The guys are quiet, watching their counselor’s actions and smiling.

“Hey,” Maz greets you, “cold?” You nod in response and he is quick to take a seat next to you, draping one side of the blanket over your body. A smile spreads across your face as warmth takes over your body, curling up beside your close friend.

“Thank you. I forgot to bring my hoodie and I didn’t want to walk back to my cabin.”

“No problem. It’s a pretty big blanket, I don’t mind sharing.” Just then, all of the boys on the other side of the fire begin to hoot and holler at you two, clapping and cheering happily once they finally see that you’re getting closer and closer.

“Alright Jaybirds! Back to your cabins!” Your dad shouts, standing to guide the boys back to the cabins. You wave bye to your dad and within a few seconds, you and Maz are the only ones left, besides one person cleaning up the trash. But he soon finishes, finally leaving you two alone.

“You know,” he softly says, “the team keeps teasing me and bugging me about you.” You sit up a little and look up at him.

“What about me?” He gazes right into your eyes, the fire making them look even more beautiful.

“I like you,” he whispers. “I’ve liked you for about a year now, but I never wanted to act on it because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.”

“They forced you to admit you like me?” You smirk. He nods, a little embarrassed at the fact that tween boys basically peer pressured him into admitting it.

“Yeah.”

“Be thankful they gave you the courage, otherwise it would’ve stayed a secret that I like you as well.” His entire face lights up at your words and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer.

“So, would you like to go out sometime?” He asks shyly. Smiling, you lean up and press a single, soft kiss to his lips, answering his question.

“I’d love to. Go on and tell the boys that you scored the girl.” Maz laughs kisses your forehead.

“I finally did, didn’t I?”

#john mazetti #maz #john mazetti imagines #john mazetti x reader #maz imagines #maz x reader #aaron tveit #undrafted #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[mousehole5000]

more tgcf chapters 143-173 lets goooooo

PEI MING BOO HISS except actually okay he’s mostly funny i think but still boo hiss

“hey who’s this guy who’s really pissed at you?” “oh thats my sword. i broke it.” alright then!

i think i need to go back and reread the banyue pass arc bc im still confused as to whats going on with banyue and pei su

“Banyue dropped from the sky with two pots raised. Without a word, she plummeted with the mouths of the pots facing down, trapping and detaining the shocked Ming’guang and the roaring Ke Mo within.” - THATS MY GIRL

“It must be known that, to heavenly officials, it certainly was more than natural for kingdoms of the mortal realm to fight and annihilate one another; the acts of these plays progressing on endlessly. But when it came their own turn, it was often hard to let things go. If one must stand in the same court as the one who annihilated their own kingdom, and that man cavorted in the heavens, exceedingly flashy, then it must be vexing.” - hmmmm!!

“I’ve spoken too many words in this lifetime. What are you referring to?” - okay to be fair thats a mood

okay its nice to get some pei ming backstory and its funny that he and xie lian are bonding but also still whenever pei ming interacts with a female character my hackles rise like a cat lol

“Xie Lian watched as Banyue thought really hard before cheerfully pulling out a few long, wine-red scorpion-snakes, and putting them into the bubbling pot.” - THATS MY GIRL

“Although “smell” was something colourless and formless, the instant Banyue removed the pot cover, it was as if some mysterious physical object had twisted all the air around the mouth of that pot. The group stared at the sight within the pot for a long time. Their pupils reflected an endless, bottomless darkness; like it could pull them into the abyss. No words could describe the sentiment expressed within their eyes. A moment later, Xie Lian patted Banyue’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up.” - like father-figure like daughter-figure. amazing.

“However, what if one day mortals discovered something completely new that ran faster than horses? Then, when this new invention overtook horses, worshippers of this heavenly official who controlled horses would inevitably decrease. Such heavenly officials, flashing by like shooting stars, made up the majority of the heavens.” - obsessed with this, genuinely. life and change. worship and its purpose. my religious studies diploma on my wall is screaming at me rn. ALSO i am once again thinking about celebrities

“...” It was only then that Pei Ming seemed to notice, and started to contemplate this question. A moment later, he answered, “A habit. In a dark, creepy place like this, isn’t it normal to hold women in your arms, to comfort them and calm their fears?” “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t scared,” Banyue said.” - BANYUE I LOVE YOU. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. god this takes me back to every college party i ever went to

LING WEN BACKSTORY????? shoeseller chosen for godhood bc she wrote a political essay and got arrested...... and now she’s face to face with the official who appointed her..... do go on.....

“Ling Wen laughed out loud, seeming to be enraged, and her voice dropped. “Very well! You said I couldn’t reach that high. Then, might I ask you: had the prominence of the Palace of Jing Wen at its peak ever reached even the knees of my Palace of Ling Wen??” - GET HIM!!!! BOO HISS JING WEN

“Compared to you, I’m not that bad,” Ling Wen said. “You’d personally order me to stay in the Palace of Jing Wen until midnight, then turn around and say I shamelessly hang around ‘til late to harass you. Words murder without form; I was much nicer responding with blatant violence.” - ling wen im love you..... also this bit... feels Real

BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN!! FLOWER PETALS TRANSFORMATION!!! see hua cheng? look as how cool it can be when you leave the story for a little while!! bc then you get to return and make an entrance!!

“Not only can you bring forth bloody rain, you can also make flowers shower. I didn’t know that. How fun!” - cute!! and in that moment we were all xie lian

“Everyone was stunned by his deed, and Ling Wen arduously gave him a thumbs-up. ”Ol’ Pei, what a man!” Pei Ming gritted his teeth. “WELCOME!” - aww three two tumors buddies!!

okay yin yu is here and xie lian did the equivalent of asking someone when the baby is due only to find out theyre not pregnant at all. then rong guang taunts yin yu and no one says anything. i do love the amount of awkward moments in this book tbh sometimes there are no words.

“All around was sand and mud crushing at him, exceedingly suffocating. The sand and mud was also moving endlessly; the feeling was like he was swallowed into the stomach of a giant monster, and that monster had also eaten a bunch of other things besides him, tumbling everything in its stomach, trying to digest” - ooooh creepy!!! the red string thing... is cute.... also xie lian being able to see hua cheng’s butterfly vision by looking directly into his eye is kinda cool. and obviously homoerotic.

“Are lower-ranked heavenly officials below other people?” Quan Yizhen asked. “No,” Yin Yu replied. Were they not? It was obvious that he himself didn’t believe in his own words, and Quan Yizhen also noticed. A good while later, he said bluntly, “I don’t like it here.” Yin Yu said nothing.” - im having emotions. and then yin yu also saying he doesnt like it there either.... also idk how this scene is going to play out but as much as im enjoying quan yizhen being an icon i can also possibly see how yin yu could eventually get to the point of “i am tired of being nice. i do just want to go apeshit” even if he really cares about qyz. it happens </3

“Indeed,” Hua Cheng said. “Half a year later when Quan Yizhen actually ascends, he won’t find it so funny anymore.” “Can we watch that part too?” Xie Lian asked. “We can. Hold on,” Hua Cheng replied.” - quan yizhen king of taking things literally. also why did this turn into hualian having a movie night

jian yu seems like the kind of asshole who would purposely give someone regular soda when they specifically asked for diet soda. god yin yu is really having a bad day i really feel for him in the whole situation with the brocade immortal

awww okay at least jian yu tried to take responsibility. im still mad at him tho that was objectively a terrible idea. god this whole situation sucked :(

“Rocks and earth crushed at them from all around, forcing their bodies to press tightly against one another, their faces brushing, their ears warm. Although it wasn’t the right time, a thought flashed through Xie Lian’s mind: “‘To die buried together’ doesn’t feel so bad.” - okay... im kind of emotional.... gay people....

okay obviously these murals and the prince of wuyong have some connection (im guessing pretty direct) to xie lian and are important but everytime they start analyzing one i feel like im back in art history class fhadskfhskjdhf not that thats a bad thing!! i liked art history a lot tbh

“Don’t worry, they’re not human,” Hua Cheng said. “It’s precisely because they’re not human that we have to worry, alright….” Xie Lian thought.” - goth ghost bf problems

xie lian: well, there is one person i trust more than anyone else, someone who’s first in my mind hua cheng, oblivious: oh :/ xie lian, also oblivious: what? hua cheng: you shouldnt trust so easily its dangerous xie lian: oh. haha. yeah. well. wanna,,, know who it is? hua cheng: its :) fine :) it :) doesnt :) matter :) but of course you can tell me if you want to gege xie lian, internally: well now ive made it weird hua cheng, 5 minutes later: actually i need you to tell me. right now. its totally for your security me: gay people smh

“As they suspected, he had been captured by Qi Rong. Although no one was bound by ropes, there were balls of greasily green ghost fires hovering over every one of their heads.” - completely off track but anybody else remember the great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts song

“Could there actually come a day when Qi Rong was embarrassed that someone might see the manner in which he ate? Before Xuan Ji entered, she put Guzi down. Guzi, ta-ta-ta, ran in, rushing straight to Qi Rong’s side. But when he saw him, he pointed his finger. He cried, “Dad is eating bad things in secret again!” “I’m not!” Qi Rong retaliated.” SCREAM IS QI RONG LEARNING THE POWER OF LOVE NOOOO also god that poor man whose body he has im starting to doubt if he’ll ever be free jimmy novak flashbacks

everytime we get another ghost king power somewhere someone should be writing hua cheng the cyborg bf in a high tech futuristic au i think thats the only other potential setting that could truly capture this wild ride

“In truth, throughout history, there was no man in the world who didn’t love bragging. A breeze could blow the handkerchief of a brothel girl into a man’s hand, and he would turn around and say the most beautiful of renowned escorts had fallen in love with him; holding shoes and wiping benches for the emperor’s mistress’s uncle’s grandson’s cousin’s mistress would for sure become him being an important administrator at the residence of royal relatives, raising his status. Thus, men who didn’t brag were a rare species.” - SCREAM this is going in my favorite tgcf quotes folder god... mxtx come here let me shake your hand

read the story of rain master yushi huang’s ascension. why am i crying. also this bit im crying again me with my stuffed animals “Thus, while Yushi Huang was cultivating at the Temple of Yulong, every time when she went to seek water and passed that door, she would rub the head of that ox. The door knocker soaked in her essence of life, and when the Rain Master ascended, the ox ascended with her.”

okay thats enough for now i have 7 more chapters to book 4!!! woo!!!

#tgcf liveblog #bedtime now but im excited to be moving on #mouse mumbles

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Their first walks on the Wayne’s garden - Chapter 1: Dick Grayson

A glimpse into Bruce's relationships with his kids, seen through the first time he took each of them on a walk through his garden.

Or: Bruce Wayne actually tries to communicate and care for his children. Because fuck canon.

Word count: 1806

Notes: Hello! This is a multi-chaptered work. It doesn't exactly follow canon (bc canon had Bruce being an awful dad) but also doesn't disagree with most of it. It's simply short stories of the batfam, all set in the same environment. Each chapter will focus around Bruce and a certain kid. This one, as the title says, is focused on Dick and Bruce.

TW// This chapter talks about racism and bullying. I used a slur in one of the characters lines, but in no way do I (or the character) condone it's use. It's there because said character is reporting a bad event. Those mentions are not graphic and shouldn't make your experience reading this unpleasent, however, if you feel unconfortable with this, please, skip this chapter.

Bruce Wayne is an introspective man with too much to do. Inside the manor, there was usually this unspoken pressure he put on himself and other to always be occupied with something. Of course, living alone, that was probably due to the fact that everyone but him was working on something - working for him. So he felt his quiet restlessness was only fair. If he ever needed to be alone with his thoughs, he would take walks around the garden, when the gardeners – who also worked for him - had already left. Every afternoon, just before the sun would set, he’d stroll through the vast green area that surrounded the building, appreciating every tulip, lily and carnation planted there. He particularly liked the roses Alfred cared for.

He jokingly called them Alfred’s children once. The buttler had told him that if this were true, then Bruce could consider himself the plant’s foster brother.

When Dick moved in, he also took a liking of the garden, although for very different reasons. He liked to be there early in the morning, basking in the sunlight before he went to school, when it was brimming with life and movement. The gardeners treated him like a son, showed him how to care for all the different flowers and plants they had and allowed him to check the bushes for bugs he could save before they’d prune and shape them. Of course, Alfred wasn’t exactly pleased with the habit, since he would always get dirt all over himself before school, and would need to change into a new uniform after being called back inside. However, no matter how upset the extra laundry made him, he would never deny the boy such a simple pleasure; when he first got to the manor, his smile was a rarity to be cherished. Alfred kept a brief mental list of everything that could put a grin on Dick’s face.

One day, after school, Bruce’s stomach felt cold and tight. Something was up with Dick. He knew it, but couldn’t explain why the small boy was gloomier, less fidgety and more still than usual. When inquired, his answer would invariably be:

“It’s nothing B, I’m fine.”

After the third attempt, he decided to approach this matter through a different strategy.

Dick was sitting next to him on the couch, pretending to watch a movie.

“Come with me,” He said, extending his hand to him as he got up “Let’s take a walk.”

He hesitated for a moment, but decided to go. The sun was starting to set, but the clouds still painted the sky white. Bruce’s pace was slow; he wasn’t in a hurry. Dick kept his head down as they walked in silence, but grew more and more nervous by the second. He couldn’t bring himself to speak right now, even if he wasn’t the type to enjoy quiet. Thankfully, Bruce noticed his discomfort and started to talk.

“I do this every day.” He explained “For some reason, it’s almost like I can’t think properly inside. Like there’s not enough room.” Dick kept himself quiet, wich scared the man a little “Of course, that sounds a little silly considering where we live.” At least he could bring a little smile to the boys face. Good. Keep going. “Still, for some reason, my head clears out when I’m outside. I noticed that when I was sixteen, and then the walks became a habit. It’s almost like my version of venting.” The sky was starting to turn pink at that point, and the clouds took on warmer colors to match it “Sometimes, everything can be so chaotic. But here, it’s always so quiet. So beautiful.”

He stopped and kneeled down, examining a pink carnation between his fingers.

“I know something’s up Dick.” He said, trying to sound understanding and caring, unsure on whether he was succeeding in it or not. “You can talk to me, if you want to. Or Alfred. It’s also okay if you prefer to deal with it on your own, but you don’t strike me as the type to keep things to yourself.” He smiled a little, standing up.

“You think I’m a crybaby, don’t you?” Dick sounded more doubtful and hurt than angry as he asked.

“No.” Bruce answered “I think you have a healthier approach to life than I do. You share things. You learn to let go, eventually. I keep silence and carry burdens because I don’t have that skill anymore. You know how to trust people in a way I’ll never be able to. I don’t want you to lose that because you don’t think I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Do you?” He asked, still uncertain and scared. “Want to listen to me, that is?”

“Of course I do, Dick.”

“Okay.” The boy still reflected for a couple of moments “It’s... silly. Some kids at school are making fun of me, and, well, it was harder today I guess.” Bruce had questions. Who were these kids? For how long had this been going on? Why were you keeping it a secret? Still, he bit his tongue. He knew he had to listen now, the questions could come up later “There’s this girl, Lisa. Mr. Hans, the gardener, he told me to give her a flower and tell her how I feel, and Alfred gave me one of his red roses for me to give her. She’s really pretty.” He sighed, ashamed “But she didn’t want it. She laughed and...” His eyes got a little teary and he choked on the words, words that tasted like iron on his mouth and felt like poison on Bruce’s ears “And she told me she’d never be with a dirty gypsy like me.” Dick couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, so he hid his face in his hands before finishing “It’s just... I never thought she’d think like that too. Just the boys was bad, but... It hurts. It hurts so much.” Bruce kneeled down to be at his height, and placed a hand on his shoulder “And then Thomas came up and stomped on the flower, called me a charity case, a circus freak, and pushed me down, and I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t want the reporters to talk about me like they did last time.” He was sobbing now, and Bruce pulled him in a hug, wrapping his arms so tightly around him, desperatly holding his child as he fell apart in front of him.

The last time he mentioned was when he got in a fight at school for the same reasons, on his first week with Bruce. The newspaper wrote a small commentary on him, titled “Richard Grayson-Wayne: Perfect heir or Problem Child?” Dick was so angry. He cried himself to sleep that night. He didn’t tell anyone, but Alfred heard him as he walked away from Bruce’s room.

“I miss... I miss the circus Bruce.” He went on “I know it’s been years now, but I still miss it. I miss moving, and I miss performing there, and I miss my mom and my dad. I wish I could have it back.”

“I know kid.” Bruce said, rubbing circles in his back.

“It was so much easier. So simple.” After a while, the tears subdued a little “I’m sorry Bruce. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. You gave me so much...”

“It’s okay Dick, you’re not ungrateful. It’s normal to miss it.”

They held each other for a little while longer. Dick was the one who let go, when he was ready to. The sky was almost entirely navy blue when they resumed walking. This time, Dick lead them to the white roses and sat down in front of them.

“They are my favorites.” He smiled, taking in their strong scent. “At least for now.”

Bruce sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back.

“Dick, I don’t want to upset you,” He started “But I need to know who’s been making fun of you.”

“It’ll only make things worse Bruce.” He answered, looking down.

“Dick, this is serious.” Bruce insisted.

“It’s just bullying Bruce, I’ll be fine. If you do something, it’ll get worse, trust me.”

“It’s not just bullying Dick.” Bruce turned around to face him, but the boy averted his eyes “Dick, those kids... I know it’s hard, but... Lisa said a very racist thing to you.” His eyes were still fixated at the ground, avoiding Bruce’s “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take action against it Dick, and I’m only trying to protect you, but...”

“It’s Thomas Kline.” Dick interrupted “Thomas Kline, Matthew Peterson, Calvin Harrington and... Lisa Randolph. They are the ones who call me that.” Both of them kept silent for a while, Dick writting patterns on the dirt while Bruce watched him.

“Thank you Dick. I’ll talk to the principal tommorow. And if those kids ever treat you like that again, well...” He smiled “You are Robin. And the media would surely belive you have jiu-jitsu lessons, should things get out of hand.” Dick chuckled a little at that.

“Thanks Bruce.” Dick launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and burrying his face in his chest.

“No problem.” Bruce smiled as he ran his fingers throug Dick’s dark, messy hair.

...

“Alfred,” Bruce called as he pulled his suit on “I just tucked Dick in. I need to go out for the night.”

“As Bruce Wayne? Or should I worry, master Wayne?”

“Andrew Randolph is throwing a party. I wasn’t planning on attending, but due to current events...” He smoothed his shirt and he walked through the door, Alfred following suit. “We need to talk about his parenting skills.”

...

The next morning, Bruce made the front page. Dick woke up to “Good Morning Gotham!” showing picture’s of him punching Andrew Randolph’s teeth in, in the middle of the socialite’s ball room. The kid’s hair was still smushed on the side, his eyes were a bit puffy and he wore his pajamas as he watched it.

“I don’t know, Charlotte,” One of the anchors commented “The attack seems completly unprovoked.”

“Well, Peter, we have no clue on the content of that conversation.” Charlotte answered “What happened that led the sociable and easy-going billionaire to lose his temper like that?”

“Actually,” The third person, a woman named Nadia, began speaking “When asked about the incident by one of our reporters, Bruce Wayne answered with a simple ‘I don’t appreciate any kind of prejudice. Especially if it’s directed towards my son.’ It’s safe to say that what provoked the fight was, most likely, an unnapreciated comment on Richard Grayson-Wayne’s romani heritage.”

Dick turned off the TV and turned to the man queitly sipping his coffee behind him.

“What did you do last night?”

#Their first walks on the Wayne's garden #Walks on the Wayne's garden #Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne #Batfam #batfamily #batboys #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[zeravmeta]

fuck it. soma cruz fgo servant profile bc i make my own content

Servant: / Servant Class: Soma Cruz / Alter Ego

Origin: / Region: Castlevania Series / Japan, 2035

Alignment: Lawful Neutral(?) “Yeah, not sure how I classify as Lawful given my past life, but whatever.”

Aliases: The Dark Lord, Dracula, Soma Cruz

Parameters: STR (B) / END (A+) / AGL (B+) / MP (EX) / LUK (A) / NP (???) 

Class Skills: Authority of Beasts (Fake), Core of Chaos (A), One Who Severs Fate (A)

Character Info: “In order for God to be perfectly Good, there must always exist an embodiment of Chaos, a Dark Lord to emerge from the evil of humanity’s hearts.”

For one thousand years, the Belmont bloodline had opposed the terrible night that Count Dracula would bring with his powers. After generations of suffering, the Belmont’s latest mantle bearer, Julius Belmont, along with their generational allies, the Belnades clan and a nameless soldier, had managed to permanently defeat Dracula with the help of the Hakuba Clan’s shrine magics. Severing his connection to his power and sealing Castlevania, the embodiment of his power, within a solar eclipse, Dracula had finally faced his demise in 1999, prophesied by Nostradamus one millennium ago. Thus, the strongest Dark Lord had fallen, his throne empty and awaiting a new master.

In 2035, Soma Cruz had visited the Hakuba Shrine to meet with his childhood friend Mina, unaware of the birthright he would claim.

Skills:

Chaos Ring A: An extremely powerful construct that channels the very essence of Chaos. It can only be found by the one who can traverse and control the Chaos Realm, the Dark Lords personal right. Wearing it grants the unlimited magical power of the Chaos Realm, but actual output depends on the user. If the Demon King’s Ring is the symbol of Dracula and his reign, then the Chaos Ring could be considered the symbol of Soma and his new beginning.

Thematic narratives aside, it’s a very convenient tool for Soma.

“It’s weird, but it feels like…it was made for me. Almost like a welcome gift.”

[5->3 Turns] [Charge NP (20%->30%), Increase NP Gain (10%->25%) (3 Turns), Gain a Delayed buff 1 turn after skill use (Unremovable): [Charge NP (20->30%)]

Armament Master D: Soma is extremely proficient at using any and all forms of weaponry. Due to Dracula’s vast reach, Soma has a vast number of different modern and mythical weapons and gear at his disposal, notable weapons including Excalibur (sealed in the stone), Hrunting, Caladbolg, Mjolnir, and even a Positron Rifle, to name a few. However, one weapon unique to Soma is the Claimh Solais, an Irish sword of light mentioned in many legends and defining the archetype of “Sword of Light.” It provides a great boost to parameters and is surprisingly light weight despite its size. Another unique weapon he wields is the Valmanway, the “Blessed Wind” that is always ‘cutting’ even when still.

(The rank is D because despite his proficiency, Soma has never had any formal training.)

“I mean, it’s just a sword, right? How complex is it? You can just swing it and things die. Though…considering I have ol’ Drac’s memories…sorta, maybe I’m just remembering it?”

[8->6 Turns] [Increase Atk (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Gain Critical Stars (5->15), Increase Critical Star Absorption (3000%) (3 Turns), Increase Critical Damage (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Apply Special Attack against Sky, Star and Beast attribute enemies (20%->40%) (3 Turns)]

Power of Dominance (EX): Soma’s inheritance from Dracula, or more fittingly, the Chaos Entity opposite to God. The Power of Dominance is a unique ability that grants a complete mastery over the abilities of any and all souls Soma can acquire from the enemies he defeats. All the monsters that Dracula unleashed in his crusade against humanity are the countless souls under his domain, even that of Death itself, and their powers rightly belong to him.

Soma can differentiate between the types of Soul Arts he uses, and this reflects accordingly in his Noble Phantasm.

“I never wanted this power, but I guess I’m stuck with it. I’ll always carry the target on my back, but at least I can look awesome as hell while doing it, I suppose.”

[5->3 Turns] [Decrease Enemy Charge by 1 (20%->50%), Select own NP Command Card’s type between Quick, Arts or Buster for 3 Turns. Effect of NP changes depending on which Command Card Type is selected. This skill is immune to debuff effects (such as Skill Seal)]

Noble Phantasm:

Advent of Sorrow – He Who Severed His Fate Against Chaos and God / Anti-Divine, Anti-Self / Rank (???)

A manifestation of Soma’s power truly made his own, separate from the title of Dark Lord and Dracula. Having defeated the Chaos Entity, he managed to sever its connection to his soul, and be saved from his Fate. Even so, he carries the Power of Dominance with him always, and the countless souls and followers of Chaos always wait and offer themselves unto Soma to lead and command them. In his own imperfect way, neither holy nor demonic.

After all, he’s only human.

(Note: If used by the true Count Dracula, this would be considered an Anti-Humanity NP)

[Type: Buster] – [Deals massive damage to a single enemy (1200%->2400%), Chance to Decrease Charge by 1 (80%->100%). Overcharge: Increases own Buster Card Effectiveness (20%) (1 Turn) and NP Damage (1 Turn) (20%) (Activates First)]

[Type: Arts] – [Deals heavy damage to all enemies (400%->800%), Chance to decrease Atk (15%->25%) and Critical Chance (20%->30%). Overcharge: Inflict Curse (5 Turns).]

[Type: Quick] – [Apply Debuff Immune (1 Time), and Restore HP each turn for self (3 Turns) (1000->1500), and Increase NP Gauge each turn for self (3 Turns) (5%). Overcharge: Apply Def Up for all allies (3 Turns) (25%->50%).]

Bond Lines: 

Bond 1: “Heh, thanks for having me! I’m still not too sure about how all this stuff works here, but if you need a monster taken down, I’m your guy.”

Bond 2: “So the rest of those dudes call you ‘Master’? Kind of awkward, but I guess they’re magical familiars at the end of the day. What? So am I? Sorry but, vampiric powers aside, I’m just a normal guy. I was even in University before I got dragged here. I’ll just call you [name] for now.”

Bond 3: “Do you like curry? Arikado said I shouldn’t be using these monster souls for dumb stuff, but they don’t mind. They always talk to me and really want to help me out wherever I am. Except Death, that guy sucks. He’s always breaking into my home and trying to convince me to become the next Dark Lord and to ‘accept my throne’ and stuff.”

Bond 4: “…It scares me, sometimes. Knowing not only what I am, but what I’m very capable of.”

Bond 5: “Y’know…you could always come back with me to my world, if you want to escape. I’ll take you to meet Mina, and Hammer and Yoko and Julius and Arikado and…Hm. Sorry. I know you can’t abandon this world, it’s where you grew up. There’s…a lot of people here who love you. You should always remember that and hold it close. It saved my life when I thought I couldn’t go on, and I know it will also save yours.”

Voice Lines:

(1): “I’m glad this place is a lot simpler than the castle. That place had so many hidden rooms and puzzles that I felt like I was going insane…No, as a matter of fact, DON’T tell me about all the secret workshops here.”

(2): “Hm? What’s up? I’m just relaxing here. Sorry if I’m taking up space. It’s nice to just take a moment.”

(3): “No, no, don’t worry. Even if I could, I’m not the type of guy to just go around stealing souls. I only do that to monsters, and even then, they become complacent once they return to me. I could show you some of the fun ones, like the Skeleton Gardener, if you’d like.”

Likes: “What I like? Curry! Oh, and Mina. She’s been with me for my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Dislikes: “This is gonna sound cliché, but garlic. It just tastes bad.”

Event: “Whoa, a party! Let’s go, I’m super bored cooped up in here.”

About The Holy Grail: “Wish granting? No thanks, I’ve read a ton of comics and things always go wrong. What? Of course, it’s a valuable source!”

Summon Quote: “Yo! My name is Soma Cruz. I’m just a regular high school student. Um…Where am I, exactly?”

Happy Birthday: “Happy Birthday, [name]! I’m so gonna throw you the coolest party ever! I’ll even invite Mina…If, uh, if that’s cool with you?”

(King Hassan): “D-Death!? Why are you…Oh. Uh, sorry about that. You reminded me of...someone. I’m sure you’re a cool guy underneath all that armor.”

(Vlad/Vlad III (EXTRA)): “Huh. So, in this world, the legend of Dracula is just that? A legend? Well, that’s a huge relief. I’m not exactly the kingly type.”

(Gilgamesh/Gilgamesh (Caster)): “Hey [name], could you give me a hand? This gold idiot keeps saying I stole his weapons, but they’re mine! …Hey! Stay back with those portal things! Someone, help!!!”

(Scathach): “Jeez, I bet Arikado will get along with that slave driver. Seriously, Arikado’s method of teaching me my powers amounted to locking me in a room with monsters and a pocketknife. Huh? She’s stomping over here!? [name], help me!”

(Marie Antionette): “I don’t know why, but…Looking at you makes me sad. I’m sorry.”

(Sessyoin Kiara): “Master, this lady is coming onto me WAY too hard. She keeps telling me to ‘embrace what I am’ and junk. I already get enough of that crap from cultists back home.”

(Sakata Kintoki/Astolfo/Romulus/Romulus-Quirinus/Ashwatthama): “Hey, you’re a pretty cool dude, huh? Finally, someone with some style!”

(Amakusa Shirou): “Ugh, you remind me of Fortner. And stop using rosaries around me, I’m not Satan, you jerk!”

(Mephistopheles): “Please, leave me alone. I’m not evil, nor will I ever be the Dark Lord. Just because I have those powers doesn’t mean I’m defined by them. Also, the alarm clock you gave me exploded, so I don’t think you’re all that trustworthy anyways.”

(Beni Enma): “Aww, you’re so cute...Wait, from the Underworld? A yokai? Guess you’re one of mine, then. If you want, I can loan you some Skeleton Waiters for your chain.”

(Any Avenger-Class Servant): “Hey, you guys are kinda like me! Everyone says you’re evil, but you’re actually really nice!”

(Arcueid Brunestud): “Master, that girl is shooting me some pretty weird looks....Huh? Reincarnating vampire? Oh, I guess I’d look pretty weird in that case. That’s not her fault, though. Maybe I’ll go say hi.”

QQABB Deck:

Buster Card: 2 Hit / -Soma raises Excalibur (still in the stone) and smashes it into the enemy-

Quick Card: 5 Hit / -Soma holds Valmanway in front of him, turns around, and multiple slashes envelop the enemy-

Art Card: 3 Hit / -Soma does two horizontal strikes, then a third overhead strike with Claimh Solais-

Extra Card: 6 Hit / -Soma punches twice, does a spin-attack with Claimh Solais, then jumps back and fires his Positron Rifle-

Level Up: “Whew…I feel so powerful.”

Ascension 1: “Whoo! Good job, [name].” 

Ascension 2: “This…This is just like then…[name], maybe don’t do this anymore.”

Ascension 3: “Please…stop. I don’t know if I can pull myself back this time…”

Ascension 4: “I see. Well…as long as you’re by my side, I’ll never succumb. So please…don’t die.”

Battle Start ½: “Just how many monsters out there!? In any case, let’s do this thing!” / “I’ll carry the mantle and defeat this terrible night!”

Skill ½: “Bullet, set…Enchanted, set…Guardian, set…” / “How about some of this!”

Attack Selection ½/3: “Hmm.” / “Seriously!?” / “Nice.”

Attack ½/3: “Hraagh!” / “Take this!” / “You’re going down!”

Extra Attack: “Let’s see you handle THIS!”

Noble Phantasm Selection ½: “Are…Are you sure?” / “I’ll trust you on this.”

Noble Phantasm: “I will never be the Dark Lord…You, God, and The World will just have to deal with it!”

Noble Phantasm Damage: “I won’t…Submit...!”

Regular Damage: “Gah!”

Defeated ½: “Mina….” / “Julius…our promise…”

Battle Finish ½: “That was a close one…” / “Anyone need some healing? I have some spare spoiled milk…Oh wait, none of you have a Ghoul soul, huh?”

#fgo #fgo fanservant #soma cruz #castlevania #read this and catch my disease #fucking LOVE this funky little pimp coat lad #'but zerav this is way too op'- shut up i deserve this my cock is huge and yours can be to if you let go of such foolish notions and go ham

[evolsinner]

⊱┊24

days go by, another one comes across. however, today is that day, and by ‘that day’ i mean, can we all please have a drumroll, it’s fucking parent~teacher interviews! aka an interrogation under the guise of pleasantries. i thought if i didn’t think about it, it’d just fucking disappear, but hey no, it’s still here.

but that’s okay, you see my parents don’t know a thing about it. i shredded all the notices they’ve sent us and made sure to cut the line every time my sneaky ass school called home. so when it came to my last class for the day, which is english lit obviously, i was quite happy that i didn’t have to stay behind like some students.

the class is empty, it’s almost 4 sharp.

“it’s only interviews,” i try to ease mr killian’s nerves. “just tell them what they wanna hear ~ easy peasy.”

“i wish, but it doesn’t work like that, luv. you know,” he looks up from his paper and removes his reading glasses to rub his weary eyes, “believe it or not, but we hate this day just as much as you kids do.”

“really?” i’m shooked. “thought you teachers just loved taking your sweet as revenge on students on this devilish day. it’s practically reverse halloween where the educators aren’t in costume for the first time, huh.”

mr killian places his pen behind his ear, entertained. “‘reverse halloween’, aye?” he leans back on his chair, arms folded and an ankle~on~knee. “you’re too funny.”

“‘funny’?” i walk over to him, admiring the tantalising dark circles underneath his scintillating eyes. “yeah? and what else?”

he possessively pulls me in between his legs, squeezing my booty in fistfuls. “and sexy and fierce and delicious.”

“do you want a bj?”

“oh, and very fucking naughty too!”

“what you gonna do about it?”

“gee, you’re tempting me.”

“mhm,” i bite my lip.

“you are in serious need of punishment, little girl,” he flicks an eyebrow up. “slide down your panties and lean over my desk.”

my eyes open wide, “no.”

“pardon?”

“i mean, there’s no space on y~y~your desk,” i glance at it. “there’s those booklets, essays, midterms, finals, your laptop...”

“i’ll make space.”

“uh, umm,” i step back.

“nuh~uh,” he pulls me in again so that i’m standing with my thighs directly opposite his thingy. “slide ‘em down right in front of me.”

“that’s too close,” i squeak, going red.

“what difference does it make? you a step back or not, i’ll still see it. c’mon,” he feathers a finger down my bare thigh, “you can’t still be shy? i’ve seen every part of you, every inch of you. the hills, the slopes, the blemishes... want me to go on?”

ok, imma prove him wrong. i undo the button and zipper on my shorts, exposing the bright red lacy panties i got just for him.

“you were hiding those from me?” he points to them, sounding offended.

slowly, i rub my hand over the skimpy fabric, sticking a finger behind the elastic.

“such a tease,” sir leans back. “congratulations, darling, you’ve earned yourself 5 more spanks.”

the thought of him spanking me…

“want me to go easy on you?” he asks, and i see rare mercy dancing around in his eyes.

i nod, prolly a goner if i were dumb enough to take my chances with this guy.

“then touch yourself, sweetheart,” the mercy evaporates from his eyes completely. he just went from a saint to a sinner in a millisecond. “mhm,” he nods to my hesitant expression, “slide your hand through your panties and touch yourself for me. if you don’t moan my name whilst finger~fucking your cunt, i’ll give you the belt.”

heck no, i don’t want to get spanked with a belt! that’ll hurt so much more!! i’ve seen it on 50sog!

“y~you w~want me to m~masturbate for you?”

“did i stutter?”

no, but i did.

shocked at how strangely turned on i’m feeling, i slide my fingertips under the double thin lines of the red covered elastic bands. tell me, why did i wear this again? i inch my fingers down further, my breath hitching up and pelvic muscles contracting.

sir slides his hand into his pants and gently strokes his cock, scarring me with imaginary ciggy burns from the way he’s staring at me doing me. “hurry it up, little one, time is of the essence.”

3 knocks on the door and it swings open with a, “hello?”

mr killian speedily sits up.

and i step back right away, pulling my hand out and tugging my shirt over the open zipper. “mum?”

“roséah,” she squints, “what on earth... dear lord, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

i refuse to blink. i think i’m having something like a heart attack. “w~what do you mean?”

“well, for starters,” she struts up to me, “you didn’t tell me that today was parent~teacher interview night.”

i exhale deeply, relief has never felt this good.

“mr killian, i presume?” mum says, holding her hand out.

i quickly fix myself up behind her.

“please,” he smiles, shaking her hand, “call me isaac.”

why the fuck would mum come here without informing me about it?!?

“apologies for not booking in a time slot and barging in like this. had i known,” mum gives me an irritated look, “i would have been more prepared.”

“it’s no worries, mrs blackburn,” sir tries to downplay it. “i reckon i can squeeze you in before my first interview. so please,” he motions to the two seats preplaced in front of the desk, “have a seat.”

“christella will do just fine,” and she takes no time in making herself comfortable.

i roll my eyes, so fucking annoyed and anxious at the same time.

“if you don’t mind my saying so,” sir gracefully says, “but now i know where your beautiful daughter gets her beautiful looks from.”

mum titters, tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear and straightening out her pencil skirt.

tf.

sir glances at me and it’s so provocative in nature that i can’t look away, hence he does it for me. “do we have a common friend that can get both of us acquainted with one another?” he causally asks my mother with a chuckle.

aren’t they supposed to be talking about me?

“i don’t suppose so, isn’t that a shame?” mum smiles.

“‘shame’ would be an understatement, stella…can i call you stella?”

“you can call me whatever you want, isaac.”

“ahem!!” eww. ew. “mum,” i shake my head at her like ‘did you forget you have a husband?’, “you might wanna..”

“oh, yes, of course! silly me. so do tell, isaac? how has my daughter been doing?”

“well, to be candour, i’m rather impressed at how dedicated rosé is on learning.”

“hm, is that so?” she gives me a suspicious glance.

“indeed,” mr killian sends me a secret wink.

“does she slack off? because you’d tell me if she did, right?” mum asks.

“mum,” i grumble, she’s so embarrassing sometimes.

mr killian chuckles, “you’d be the first to know, stella. fortunately, that isn’t the case. rosé has quite the eye for accomplishing her goals.”

i’m getting lost in him again...

“gets all her work done on time, doesn’t send inappropriate text messages in class,” he proceeds professionally, kinda cocky, “nor does she ever has to stay back late.”

all of which i do the opposite of, i give him a guilty grin.

mum looks rather very taken aback, considering how i am at home. “seems like she’s quite the student?”

“you’d be surprised by what goes on in these walls.”

that not so hidden half~smile sir gives me pauses my mum in her tracks with her next question. i look at her sudden stiffness and notice how she’s surveying mr killian intently, her eyes narrowed into slits. oh crap.

“ahem!” i shift in my seat quickly.

sir coughs and swiftly brings in another topic.

mum gradually returns to her usual manner.

that was close.

when they finally say their farewells, i feel relieved as a fucking kite flying high up in a blue cloudless sky. mum did a few more interviews before she finally decided to go home. mr killian had given her false hope and high expectations, so it was funny when my other teachers informed her that my grades were declining from b’s and c’s to d’s and e’s.

oops, my bad.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

it’s late, a major thunderstorm has hit and maxi being the scaredy~cat he is has crept into my room for the night. incoming call from isaac. i decline it. so he calls me again. and i decline it again. busy tryna shoot him a text which he keeps interrupting with phone calls.

daddy🔐 is my furry baby avoiding my calls?

tf he just called me??????

me im not avoiding ur calls jus ctrn cuz baby bro is sleeping in my bed thunder isnt his strong suit :/

daddy🔐 why am i jealous?

lol, seriously? i smile, rolling over to the edge of my bed.

daddy🔐 can’t stop thinking about you...

me jus stop its not dat hard

god, i suck at this.

daddy🔐 i really need to be fucking inside you right now!

uh, what the fuck do i text back?!

daddy🔐 would it be inappropriate of me to ask you what you are wearing since you’re with your kid brother?

haha.

me wow, ur quite the gentleman, arent ya ?

daddy🔐 i try my best.

feeling kinky, i silently remove my oversized graphic tee and take two pictures of myself. then i quickly pop my tee back on before curling up on the bed and hitting ‘send’.

daddy🔐 mmmm leopard panties and no bra, sexy. though i do wish you could move your arm out of the way so i could see my two girls?

no, my boobies are too small and i’m shy!

daddy🔐 such unspeakable things i could to your body right about now. would you like to know, baby?

i’m so tempted to text back ‘yes’, but that’d just get me too hot and bothered which is not a good idea when your lil brother is lying right next to you.

me behave (;

daddy🔐 how about we finish off what we started back in the classroom?

me we hv company rmbr ?

daddy🔐 right.

there’s a while with those 3 flashing dots before he texts back.

daddy🔐 considering we have an audience tonight, i’m willing to keep it pg. on the contrary, was nice talking to your mother today.

me were u flirting w her ?

daddy🔐 i don’t know. was i?

me u so were ! nd evry subtextual sentence u uttered !! she cud hv caught on yanno ?!

daddy🔐 that, i couldn’t help. the look on your face was hilarious. hers too.

i almost lol by just picturing my mum’s face, but i suppress it.

me jus bc u made me laugh dnt mean im not still mad !

daddy🔐 allow me to make it up to you?

me go on...

daddy🔐 there’s this soirée i’m holding with my crew for the long weekend. lakehouse, few beers, great view - thank kinda thing. i want you there.

me y do u want me der ? (;

daddy🔐 ‘cause i wanna fuck you hard on my mate’s couch whilst everyone else is out by the lake.

oh?

daddy🔐 and also because i want you to get to know my people more. (:

he used a smiley face! he never uses smiley faces!

me hmm, guess ill hv 2 think bout it

because i have to ask my mum first!!

daddy🔐 hope this helps?

he sends me a photo or two back, like it was a trade or something. but jesus christ, isaac killian! he was definitely not kidding about having me on his mind!

daddy🔐 don’t ponder too much. goodnight, love.

“rosé..?” maxi murmurs behind me, rolling around.

shit. i drop my phone in an instant and cringe for my luck. “yeah?”

“you’re taking all the blanket and i’m cold..”

“oh, right...” i exhale with relief, placing my phone on the bedside table. i turn around, shifting the blanket over him and putting my arms around him. phew.

i rest my eyes for a second when maxi is like, “what was that?”

“hm?” i smile as he snuggles between my arms.

“that big cucumber looking thing on your phone.”

i almost choke on my saliva. “t~t~that was...you’re dreaming, maxi. this is all nothing but a dream...” i add some whooo noise effect to make it more believable.

“no i am not!” he asserts.

“yes you are! now shut up or go back to your own room.”

thunder cracks intensely and he doesn’t say anything further. thank you, sweet jesus.

#daddy #story #teacher #student #teacher x student #words #quotes #thoughts #poetry #poems #love #relationship

[for-ests]

Always Enough- Peter Parker x Reader

Okay so this imagine was an anon request that I had previously posted, but I accidentally deleted. I didn't mean to, so here’s a re-upload. Happy finals & sorry my dumbass clicked the wrong button on tumblr mobile because im stupid

Summary (bc the request deleted w/ the post): The reader realizes she had been neglecting Peter because she was stressed over school. Peter thinks there might be another reason because she has become distant. Confrontation and angst follows!

Word count: 2, 360

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Finals were a killer, especially for a nursing major like yourself. The stress of it all made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Cry for hours until you couldn't cry no more. 

But that wasn't an option. What you dreamed of becoming, something simple, yet incredibly difficult, was growing out of reach. Your hours of studying had led you nowhere, only to barely tangible grades. Grades that were barely above average. You were disappointed, discouraged, and running out of options.

What else would you do with your life? Becoming a nurse was the only thing you had ever wanted to be, it was all you knew. Ever since aliens rained in the sky, your only motive was to help the ones who couldn't help themselves. But how could you ever hope to do that when you couldn't pass biochem?

What didn't help your anxious mind was the house you had to stress over, and your minimum wage restaurant job that didn't add to your required expertise. Tears welled in your eyes as you remembered you had to lay a payment down on your ever-increasing student loans. Maybe college wasn't for you. Perhaps it was never meant to be. Your summer money was running out and fast.

Just breathe. You repeated. I don't have time to cry.

You could cry after you studied. And right now, you had barely glanced at your flashcards for more than ten minutes. It seemed like you were paralyzed, sitting in bed with your flashcards scattered around you, all of them laid out and waiting for involvement.

Just as you were about to pick up the first card, your phone buzzed beside you. Instinctively, you glanced at it, your heart dropping when you saw Peter's name flash across the screen.

Date. You had a date night, and you forgot.

"Fuck!" You cursed out loud, the tears you had tried so hard to control seeming to burst over your eyelids. How could you forget?

Peter: I'll be there in 15 minutes :D

You replied immediately, glancing at yourself in the phone's reflection. You looked terrible and distraught beyond compare.

Y/N: Peter…im so sorry I forgot, i'm not ready

Peter: oh

Y/N: i have a huge exam soon, maybe its for the best that we rain check? i'm sorry I know ive done this before but im really stressed about it

Peter: we havent talked for days, y/n, i think theres more going on than what youre telling me

Y/N: what? of course not wtf

Peter: im coming over anyways, ill be there soon

Y/N: why?

Peter: we have to talk.

Your heart dropped down to your stomach. Those words were what you had been dreading, and all focus you had managed to gather vanished into thin air. You knew you had been neglecting Peter's affections. Even if every fiber in your being wanted to make him the single most important thing in your life.

It had been almost a week since you'd seen him, and honestly, it was painful in the most innocent way.

But Peter didn't have to worry like you did. He was gifted and already had his entire life ahead of him, set in the middle of Stark industries. But you never asked for a handout, you never asked for help. Even though you knew he was the smartest young man around. You were proud to be his, and the thought of that disappearing was more detrimental to you that failing your upcoming exam.

Y/N: ok, front door is open

Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point. You had been with Peter for over a year and had gone without seeing him for longer, but he was right. This time was different. This was the third date you had canceled without wanting to, but sometimes apologizing wasn't enough. Peter deserved a lengthy explanation of what you were really going through.

You were so used to holding back your emotions, that times like this were an occasional reoccurrence. You had always been so afraid of unloading your burdens onto others that you still sometimes forgot that having a boyfriend came with that perk. He was still going to love and cherish you if you asked for help and advice. Hell, you needed to realize that he wanted to.

That was a factor of why you were so in love with Peter. He always listened, and sometimes, even push the truth out of you when he could tell you needed it.

"You're already crying, huh." A sad smile was on Peter's face as he opened the door. His sudden appearance startled you, and you managed to chuckle despite the circumstances.

"You know me." You sniffled, immediately embarrassed by the state he had caught you in. Instinctively, you brushed your hair to the side and dabbed the tears from under your eyes. You could feel the remnants of Make-up drying to your skin.

"I didn't mean to ruin your study-"

"But we need to talk." You finished, shoving your school supplies to the edge of the bed. You made enough room, so he was able to sit comfortably.

Slightly embarrassed, you kept your gaze averted as best as you could. Just Peter's presence made your heart flutter, and a part of you was trying to prepare for the worst. You might really lose him this time. And for what? Yes, school was incredibly important, so, so important. But so was Peter, and you needed to find a balance.

Your silence was enough to beckon Peter's thoughts into the open.

"I just need to make sure you're still serious… about us." His voice was soft as if it was struggling to stay neutral.

Finally, gaining the courage to look at him, you locked eyes. Peter's gaze was heavy and forthcoming, and it took all of your willpower to swallow the knot in your throat.

"Of course, I am." The conviction was entirely evident in your tone. So much so, that Peter fell silent. His accusations seemed to die in his throat, but he knew that if he didn't get them out now, they would creep back to him later.

"It's hard to tell sometimes," Peter muttered, unable to gaze at your confused expression. You looked so hurt.

Your silence beckoned him to continue.

"I haven't properly talked with you in a week. You've canceled our last three dates… it seems like you never want to hang out with me anymore."

Peter winced. He was a grown man, and he sounded like a child. Yet, he had let so many things slide, hoping you would come around, hoping you would make it up to him. Perhaps he had been selfish to only think of himself in the relationship. He failed to realize that maybe in attempts to please him, you were putting your own future on the line. 

"I know you're going through a lot, but you can't even seem to talk about it." Peter's shoulders felt tense, his eyebrows knitting together in an agitated expression. His leg was bouncing up and down uncontrollably. He looked like he was about to burst.

"I'm sorry." You said, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. Pausing, you tried to gather your thoughts into cohesive sentences that would soothe his anxious mind.

"There's nobody else, right?" He suddenly blurted, actually turning his head to look at you. Insecurity was glazed in his eyes for the first time.

"Why would you even think that?" You said, startled. The question felt as if he had shoved your head underwater and held it there just long enough for you to choke on the liquid.

His expression was blank for the first time. Vulnerability at its finest. "My life isn't perfect, you know. I overthink just like you. I need reassurance."

Peter was so calm, so calm that it worried you. Though you were already afraid of how this conversation would go, it hurt you to realize that this conversation was the result of your actions. You failed to make Peter feel special like you had promised. Like he had promised you. Relationships go both ways, and for the last couple of weeks, it had only gone one.

"No, Peter. There will never be anyone else."

He sighed, relaxing slightly. "You've been acting weird. I don't really know what to think."

"I told you a billion times, I'm studying. After work, that's literally all I do. And I need to focus."

"I feel like there's more. It feels weird to not see a text from you when I wake up. It feels weird to not hear your voice. I don't… I don't like it, Y/N. Even if that's selfish."

And selfish it was. Peter expected you to be transparent while he was hiding possibly the biggest secret in the world. Maybe that was why he was so worried about how much you loved him. Peter wanted to be honest with you. He wanted you to know he was spider-man, but right now, he still couldn't bring himself to. Perhaps he was looking for a reason.

"I'm sorry." Your hands were clenched in your lap. "I've never had to deal with this before. Everything is so new, even if we've been together for a year. I've never cared about anyone like this, and I can't manage my time."

Peter paused as if every word in this conversation pained him to no end. His eyes were glossy, his mind unclear. He was desperately trying to understand why you were isolating himself. "You can't make any time for me?"

"That's the thing, I can't focus on anything else when I'm with you." Your lip quivered. "And that's a problem."

"It's not for me." He said quickly. "I make time for you, and you don't for me. And you need to tell me why."

You glanced away, embarrassed. No matter what you said, the reason wouldn't be good enough. You were just a bad girlfriend.

Peter reached his hand out and pulled you to him. You rested your chin upon his shoulder, soothed to feel his warmth once again. "You need to tell me, Y/N. We've made it work for this long, and all of a sudden, it stopped."

Your body started to shake. Trying to muffle your sob, you brought your hand to your mouth. It was all too much.

"-You have your whole life together, Peter. I have nothing, I still have to work for it. I'm not as smart as you, I'm-"and that's when the tears started to flow. It was a literal flood, tear after tear poured over your eyelids until they were bloodshot, until pressure pounded through your head.

Before you could finish, your face was pressed against Peter's chest. He held you tightly, his sweatshirt dabbing up your tears of sorrow. You gripped tightly to him, releasing the stress that had been building up inside of you for the last two weeks.

He did not know what else to do. Showing you that he loved you seemed like the most viable option. Sometimes all you had to do was listen, and that was enough.

"I got a bad grade on my midterm exam, one that I didn't study for because I spent my time with you—I thought-"

"Shh." He stroked your hair, understanding what you meant without a complete explanation.

"I work so hard, and it's never enough-"

"It's always enough, Y/N."

"I got so caught up in it that I neglected you in the process. So much so that you thought I was cheating on you" you inhaled sharply, whimpering against him, so many different emotions swirling through your mind. "You're the best thing in my life, and I put you second…"

"Look at me, Y/N." He cupped your cheeks in a swift movement, forcing you to look at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are enough for me. That's why I bothered to have this conversation with you. That's why I care." He pressed his lips against your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too, Peter." You tilted your head up to kiss him wholly on the lips. You were a mess, but Peter had always told you that you looked beautiful when you cried.

"Rosy cheeks." He whispered, patting down your hair, inhaling your scent, and appreciating the beauty you constantly radiated.

You chuckled, sniffling loudly. Peter always said that after you had a successful mental break down, your cheeks brandished a rosy shade.

"Shut up." You whispered, tightening your grip around his torso. His back fell against your bed, and you shifted to lay completely on top of him. The firmness of his chest underneath you caused instant relaxation, instant relief. Maybe, just maybe, being in his presence was enough to get rid of the stress from everyday life.

The corners of your eyes were raw and red, yet it complimented your shade. Peter vowed from the moment he had met you, that he would never let any harm come to you. The last thing Peter had ever expected was that he might be the reason, instead of the world.

At least, for now, he had the power to fix it. You were the love of his life, and he had never felt so gratified to be in anyone else's presence.

Peter's fingers traced light, small circles on your back. He could hear your heartbeat slow. The softness of your finger against his was enough to help him close his eyes.

He was at peace, real peace for the first time in weeks.

"We need to remind ourselves to talk about shit more." You mumbled sleepy, almost inaudible. "So this doesn't happen again, because I hate it."

"Me too, babe." He whispered, content with watching you rise and fall in sync with his breathing.

"I couldn't bear to lose you."

#tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Rose Puppetry Ch2

Chapter 1.

Originally, I was just going to post Rose Puppetry chapters to AO3, but I realized, when I get to post one of the last 2 chapters, I’ll finally get to reveal the other ulterior motive behind the fic’s existence (other than, you know, really wanting to write something steampunk-y).  

(like, when I first thought of this fic, I had a very specific scene in mind (but we’re still not there bc I keep Going Off On Worldbuilding And It’s Fun).  Anyways, the reveal of what that is, I think, would work better on Tumblr.  So, for the sake of keeping everything together, I’ll post chapters here too.

.

The Path to You

The pilot expertly navigates the drop ship around Prime’s Flight Engines.  The sharp breeze created by the churn of the engines’ massive propellers whips Penny’s hair around her head.  One error here on part of the pilot and they’ll all be dead.  Their ship ripped to shreds by the blades and those of them lucky enough to survive that left to plunge back down to Mantle.

With the exception, of course, of Penny, who has flight capabilities of her own.  

So far, she’s been lucky enough not to be the sole survivor of an operation.  Penny dearly hopes that day will never come, although she’s constantly aware of the possibility that it might.

Thankfully, they make it around the Flight Engines in one piece and steer up towards one of the unauthorized entrances to Atlas’s Prime’s notorious Underbelly.

To build their city, Atlas’s founders ripped a great mass of earth from the ground and launched it into the sky.  In the gaping hole it left in its wake, Crater Town, the poorest of Mantle’s slums quickly grew.  Populated by desperate people displaced when the very earth beneath their homes was yanked away and lifted to where they could not hope to reach, it remains a harsh and bitter place to live.  Though most of Crater Town’s inhabitants are honest folk just trying to eke out a decent enough life, the crime lords have long since settled in and taken control.

Up above, in Atlas, Crater Town’s twin quickly formed.  Sure, on the surface, Atlas may be an elegant, gleaming, polished city, but it still needs workers to constantly make it so.  When they realized this problem (and that absolutely no one amongst themselves was going to just volunteer for the unsavory, menial jobs), the highest ranking of Atlas society started offering employment to Mantle’s working class.  In return for their hard labor, those Atlas’s creation displaced could come up and live out their very own Atlesian Dream.

Given the alternative was staying somewhere where, if the various gangs’ enforcers didn’t kill you for not paying your debts on time first, lung sickness or another disease quickly would, almost all the offers were quickly snapped up.  However, instead of being embraced into Atlesian society, Crater Town folk soon found themselves shunted off into an out-of-sight, out-of-mind underground city carved out of the very soil stolen from them.  The Underbelly.

Life in Mantle may not have been good, but the Underbelly’s inhabitants consider their lot worse.  Their hopes had been raised on the prospect of achieving a better life for themselves and their children.  Instead they were told to rot in a dark, twisting, labyrinthine city directly beneath the Atlesian streets they keep shining clean day in and day out.

The drop ship reaches its destination.  No one who isn’t looking specifically for discrepancies would be able to recognize the section of Atlas’s underside as fake.  The false cover slides out of place to reveal a gaping tunnel entrance into the rock.  One by one, Penny and her team climb up out of their ship and into it.  They don’t stop moving until they reach a small chamber some distance inside the tunnel.  

A couple members of the Rebellion’s Atlas cell are there to meet them when they arrive.  They hand off the fake uniforms Penny and her team will need silently, and then depart for their own assignments.  Atlas surveillance tech shouldn’t work this deep in the Underbelly, but the city prides itself on its innovations.  Their mission is too important to jeopardize by saying the exact wrong thing and this being the one time the drones successfully made it this deep.

As she changes into the maintenance worker clothes, Penny lets her mind briefly wander to happier times.  Sunlit days in Vale.

Her friendship with Ruby had started out as just another part of her mission.  What better way to learn about Vale was there than getting to know one of the locals, after all?

Penny can’t say she knows the exact moment when things changed.  She’s tried time and time again to pin it down exactly.  Was it their visit to the fair?  The movie theater?  The way Ruby laughed or the way her eyes sparkled?  What was it about her that made Penny feel like she never had before?  That made her want to never return to Atlas.  That made her stop sending her reports back because she was far happier in Vale.

With Atlas so far away, Penny had thought, they wouldn’t be able to reach her.  Her greatest mistake will now forever remain underestimating the reach of the General King.

For all she can’t remember the precise moment she fell in love with Ruby, Penny does certainly remember the night—the last one she ever had in the cute, little apartment she and Ruby called home—that they came for her.  She remembers the melody of the song she and Ruby were listening to on the radio.  It had been a slow, sweet, song.  Penny can’t remember the words.  They’d been too busy dancing, getting lost in each other’s embrace, to listen closely.

There’d been a knock at the door; the briefest of warnings.  A canister shattered the window as it flew in, popped open, and let out a cloud of knockout gas to invade their home.

Penny had been restrained before she could make the first move to fighting back.  The knockout gas didn’t—couldn’t—work on her, but she’d watched in horror as Ruby inhaled it, her eyelids fluttered, and she crumpled to the ground.

That was the last Penny ever saw Ruby before a black hood was pulled over her head and she was forcibly shut off.

Penny came to in Atlas, in the throne room specifically.  Ironwood lauded her for her ploy.  For gaining the trust of a Vale huntress.  For knowing the General King would send the AceOps, his right hand, for her when she severed contact.  For rightly assuming they’d capture the huntress they found with her.  For delivering what they needed to win the war once and for all.

She would be a hero for her actions, he said.

Penny fled the first chance she got.

Finding where Ruby was imprisoned was much more difficult than she thought it would be.  Penny’s love wasn’t in any of the usual prisons, or even the handful of secret ones Penny knew of.  Eventually, she caught wind of the rumor that Ironwood had given Ruby to his top scientist, Dr. Watts, for reasons no one seemed to know.  Not that they really needed to.

Everyone knows the name Arthur Watts.  The boogeyman in almost bedtime story told to overly rambunctious children.  He may not be a threatening figure when he makes the rare public appearance, but he’s responsible, parents will warn their offspring in hushed tones, for the monsters who they never, ever want to cross.

Hazel, the Law Enforcer who no longer seems able to feel pain after an extended stay in Watts’s lab.  A giant of a man with the ability to inject Dust directly into his body.  He’ll offer candy to children and speak to them in a kind-sounding voice to get them to let him in their homes.  Then, once he’s inside, he’ll lay waste to their families.  Just look at what happened to the Pines after the Enforcers were tipped off that they were spies leaking intel to King Ozpin in Vale.

No one speaks the name of Tyrian Callows in fear simply saying it will summon him to their location.  Technically a wanted criminal, but one who’s never been arrested.  At least not for very long.  Sometimes either a green or overly cocky detective will try to bring him in.  Some even have managed to get him into a prison cell.  The next morning will see them (and anyone in the general vicinity of the jail, if Tyrian’s in the mood, which he always seems to be) dead, poisoned wounds scarring their chests.

A couple years back a homegrown protest movement against Ironwood started in Mantle.  In the first week or two, almost every leadership figure within it was dead, marked by those same slash marks.  Sure, there’s no hard evidence that Tyrian did it under orders from Atlas, but when one takes into account the law’s ineffectiveness against him and his shiny, expensive-looking, Atlesian-made, prosthetic scorpion tail, they figure they have enough of the picture to come to the right conclusion.

Then there’s Cinder Fall.  The less said about her the better.  Some say she’s the creation of a much darker, much more sinister force than Arthur Watts.  No one ever wants to imagine what that is.  So they say, her dark arm, whatever disturbing substance its made out of, originated in Watts’s lab.  Sure, it’s still a nightmare, but a lesser one.

And those are just the recent ones.  The most well-known ones.  People disappear off the streets sometimes and then something similar to them will appear out of Watts’s lab.

He’s not someone Penny can take on.  At least not on her own.

Penny was recognized immediately by the Rebellion’s leader, Robyn Hill (one of the few survivors of Tyrian’s protester massacre), when she found them.  Not many knew of Penny’s existence or what her face looked like, but Robyn is sharp, clever.  She hadn’t survived this far by not knowing this things.  There wasn’t trust between them, not in the beginning.  But Penny was honest about her motives, what she wanted out of all this.

Penny hadn’t been sure what was best for everyone when she stood on the Rebellion’s doorstep.  She was still struggling with separating her own sense of self from what Atlas intended for her.  She could not say she was joining the Rebellion because she truly aligned with their values (at least, not then, that would come later).  But, if they would help her save Ruby, she would swear her life to fight for them.

And so, she had.  Until this day, when they finally have their opportunity to raid Watts’s lab and rescue Ruby.

Penny and her team make their way through the Underbelly until they come to one of the service entrances leading into Atlas itself.  They pause, each making peace with their lives, before exiting into one of the most beautiful cities to ever exist.

#rwby #whirls writing #rose puppetry