#''imagine a bunch of warm air bubbles floating up''

[kelgrid]

Hey so guess who finally understood the basics of fire animation

#it took 8 years but here we are #the tutorials I found were always like #''imagine a bunch of warm air bubbles floating up'' #WHICH IT IS #but I had trouble visualizing it that way #so I ended up trying stuff until I found a quick way to do it :D #my art #original art #my animations

[paddie-ut]

Soriel Week 2020 Day 1: Dance More of a subtle reference to the prompt in this one. Yes i’m back at it with the angst on day 1. The pic is just a bonus for the real entry, which is the oneshot I wrote below the cut. You can also read it here on AO3: X (TW for implied blood, death and violence. The usual stuff that comes with references to the no mercy run)

It was cold.

It was cold when he hit the tiled floor, body rapidly going to pieces. And it was cold now. Wherever he was.

Everything still ached. Like acid eating through his bones. The pain was always strangely familiar, expected. But that never stopped it from hurting.

He curled his crimson stained mitten tighter over his ribcage, not even sure if he was facing up or down. He didn’t dare open his sockets, wanting more than anything to slip away from all this into sleep. He was so unbelievably tired.

The sounds of a small child’s body repeatedly slamming into the floor and against the walls kept swimming through his skull, ruining any chance of that. Paired with the hazy visions of a gold hallway littered with bones and awash in great stains of red, it was like a cruel joke. So much for this process being peaceful.

How long had it gone on this time? How many times had he killed them?

It didn’t matter anymore. So he wished his mind would stop asking.

With every moment that passed though, he did start to notice the cold all around was losing its grip on him. Something warm had come to combat it. Something physical… soft. Something… that smelled like cinnamon… and butterscotch?

The oddity of that alone was enough to calm the chaos of his thoughts some, and convinced him to attempt to open his weary sockets. It was more effort than expected, but he managed it.

What met his eyelights then when they were able to focus was… unexpected to say the least.

Soft scarlet eyes stared down at him, set in what seemed to be a sea of white fur. Long creamy white ears framed their face and two horns crowned their head. Strangely, there were also what appeared to be shining specks in their fur, glittering like tiny stars. Those same specks were also lazily floating in the air around them, bright and twinkling against what seemed to be all encompassing blackness in every direction.

Judging from the angle he was seeing them from, he realized they were holding him in their large arms. making him feel utterly tiny… but safe. The monster shouldn’t have been familiar, yet somehow he knew exactly who she was.

“Oh thank goodness…” She sighed with relief before smiling down at him. “I was starting to worry you may not wake up!”

He just stared up at her for a few moments, mind awhirl with questions he was too tired to focus on. But he eventually managed a weak smile.

“heh… well this is new.”  Was all he could think to say, thinking aloud more than anything.

He had been expecting his brother. Surely that was who must have greeted him all the other times he’d ended up here. It only made sense. But thinking about it too much would only add a skullache to all the other aches consuming him. So he didn’t bother to question it. Worrying about the logistics of what happened in this place didn’t have much of a point.

Besides… he’d be lying if he denied seeing her didn’t stir the first positive feelings he’d felt in… gosh… how long had it been since he’d saw Papyrus’ scarf half buried in the snow at the outskirts of Snowdin? Whatever… if she was here, he must be here too.  

“Greetings, my friend.” She said warmly, though her eyes were still noticeably sad. “It is I, Toriel. I know you may not recognize me, but my voice may sound familiar to you, does it not?”

“yah. nice to see you tori.” He said, finding the words oddly natural.

She blinked in surprise at that, tilting her head a bit in a way he couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Did... did you already-?” She began to question, but he interrupted her with a few shaky coughs.

“heh, don’t worry about it.” He rasped once he could speak again. “i just started connecting the dots over time, i guess.”

It was not a full lie, but not a full truth. He knew that. Though in that moment, he couldn’t have put into words just why that was. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Not here.

She frowned, as though upset with her past self for potentially giving away her true identity unbidden. But her attention was drawn back to him as he stiffened up and winced from another wave of pain.

As much as he wanted to keep focused on her, the wound he carried that nearly split him from shoulder to pelvis was pretty darn good at demanding his attention. He squeezed the front of his shirt tighter, feeling that it was still soaked. When he shakily lifted his free hand in front of his face, he could see the splashes of dark red staining his mitten.

For some reason it made him want to laugh, but he didn’t know why.

“Do not worry, it stops hurting after a little while.” She assured him softly, giving his arm a consoling rub.

She turned her head a bit then so he could more easily see the scar on her face. A faded, but still noticeable remnant of a gash that stretched from her cheek up to under her right eye.

His breathing went funny for a moment, as something akin to a mix of nausea and anger briefly bubbled up inside him. But it wasn’t long before he forced his weary grin back into place with practiced ease.  

“good to know.” He rasped, wheezing out a chuckle. “was worried i might end up as half the skeleton i used to be.”

As if on cue, she laughed that brilliant laugh of hers. The kind that all but left her breathless. And though it was strained with the heavier emotions no doubt pressing down on her, it caused his grin to grow so much it made his cheekbones hurt.

He’d missed this. He did the best to avoid chuckling in turn though, as the action would no doubt further aggravate the gaping slash through his ribs.

Once she had calmed down and returned her ruby red gaze back to him, he shook off his ruined mitten, lifted his trembling free hand to her, and gave the best smile he could manage.

“the names… sans.” He croaked out. “sans the skeleton.”

As usual, he slipped the whoopee cushion he always kept in his hoodie sleeve up into his hand. Maybe the red stains all over it kind of ruined the effect, but he saw no sense in spoiling his routine if he could manage it.

The sound of artificial flatulence sounded somehow more hilarious when echoing through an ethereal void, he found.

She burst into laughter again, and his soul felt light.

...

Shortly after, he found himself being carried by Toriel down some winding, faintly glowing path through the darkness. Everywhere her paws stepped, the “ground” glowed for a few moments in the shape of her footprint before fading away. It reminded him faintly of waterfall, if waterfall also had a bunch of sparkling stardust floating around.

At the end of the path, in what could maybe be called “the distance”, he could see a place that was glowing far brighter, like a city floating in the middle of a pitch black sea. He tried not to look at it, it only made a new pain lash out at his soul.

Instead he looked back up at Toriel, and found that she had been looking down at him too. She played it off and returned her gaze to their destination, but Sans could see the conflicted emotions in her eyes. He debated staying silent, maybe just closing his eyes until whatever came next, but the words seemed to tumble out of him without his permission.

“so... i figure you must of seen what happened, huh?” He asked quietly, feeling the dulling pain of his wound thrumming beneath his phalanges.

Her breathing stalled and she momentarily struggled to look at him. The soft scarlet of her eyes was awash with what he was worried he may see there, guilt.

“Yes… we all did.” She admitted, holding him a little closer and swallowing hard. “Y-you… you fought bravely, my friend. Please just rest now.”

In a move that was all too familiar to him, she worked a smile back onto her face and quickly changed the subject.

“Everyone is waiting for you. Your brother included. Not too far from here.” She said, motioning towards the bright place in the distance. “He is a wonderful monster, so cheery and kind hearted despite all that has happened. I can see why you spoke so highly of him.”

His eyelights must have given away the inner surge of emotions he felt at the mention of his brother, as she added to her statement quickly.

“Oh, he wanted to be the one to come get you of course…” She assured him. “But it seems that since I am among those who have been here the longest, it is easier for me to traverse this place. I… I do not fully understand it myself yet.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, seeing the logic in what she was saying and not bothering to question it further. He was in no shape to imagine how such things worked here, though there was some small part of him that still held that interest regardless. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn't help but think for a moment about how the other monsters must of reacted to Toriel, their long lost queen, suddenly reappearing to them in this place. Given the circumstances... if they knew all that had led to this... it was easy to imagine the majority of them would be less then pleased to see her.

 Perhaps there was more to the fact she'd come to meet him alone than it seemed. If that was the case, and even if it wasn't, he figured the best thing he could do for her was try to keep her smiling. 

“what, you weren’t just eager to see me?” He teased, wheezing out a chuckle despite his best efforts when she gave him a playful glare for it. It left his ribs freshly aching, but it was worth it.

“Well, I am very happy to finally meet you in person, my friend.” She said upon regaining her smile. “Just as I was happy to meet your brother and the others… We all have so much to talk about… and all the time in the world now to get to know one another.”

Just as quickly as it had come, her smile faltered again, and he could feel the conflicted emotions from her powerful soul radiate off her. She swallowed hard and let out a shaky sigh.

“I know… it is difficult to feel anything truly positive after all that has happened.” She said, voice noticeably trembling. “But at least… it is over now, and we will all be together. Just try to remember that.”

Sans couldn't be sure if she was really talking to him, or herself with that last bit. In any case, she kept walking, a bit faster than before. She kept her eyes on the path ahead, but he just kept his gaze fixed on her.

“right…” He responded quietly, trepidation beginning to wind tighter around his soul.

He couldn’t just keep ignoring it. No matter how much he tried to avoid the thought, it was growing like a weed and inevitably kept choking out any opposing ones.

He should keep his mouth shut. He shouldn’t say anything. He should just go to sleep and let it happen. He should spare her from this. But...

His gaze met hers again, and he felt like his soul was being squeezed.

“tori… listen…”

The words had barely left him before they both were hit by a powerful wave of... something. Strong enough to make Toriel stop in her tracks and look around in alarm. Sans didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew what it meant. It felt like all the vitality he had left drained from him in that moment.

“What on earth was that?” Toriel asked quietly, more to herself it seemed.

“nothing good.” Sans replied, internally wincing a bit as she looked down at him in surprise.

Her gaze silently demanded to know what he meant, fear creeping bit by bit into her expression. He sighed in defeat, knowing there was no backing out of it now. He could already feel the tips of his phalanges going numb, and hear a dull whine in the far distance.

“tori, we… we aren’t gonna make it back to the others.” He said, shutting his sockets briefly.

Toriel stiffened, and he could feel the faint prick of her claws against him as they slid out of their own accord.

“Wh-what?” She stammered, clearly hoping he was setting up a joke somehow. “What do you mean?”

The hollow expression on his face no doubt banished any hope she had that this was some poor excuse for humor on his part. Even though her eyes were painful to look at then, he did his best to keep his wits long enough to explain what he could.

“tori... the stuff with the human… it goes beyond just what they did to us.” He said, ignoring the now creeping numbness in his phalanges. “they... they are causing something a lot worse to happen… i dunno what it is. but i’m pretty sure it’s happened before. i’ve uh… seen the data.”

There was no time to explain that last part, and it reminded him too much of his encounter with the kid anyway. He had to get to the point.

“for some reason… everything disappears at the end of this. and i do mean… everything.”

Toriel just stared at him in silence, mouth opening and closing but not finding any words. He could tell she wanted to argue, but surely she was feeling what was coming just as much as he did. And just as it seemed she may finally reply, another wave, stronger than the last nearly knocked her off her feet.

She staggered, clutching him tightly in an effort not to drop him. Once the initial shock had passed, her gaze quickly snapped to the lights in the distance. Sans didn’t have to look to know they’d be flickering, feeling the effects of what was coming as well. The sparkling bits of stardust around them were also winking out one by one, leaving them in further darkness every moment. It wouldn’t be long now.

It was then that it became clear Toriel wasn’t going to question things further. She didn’t fully understand, but she really didn’t need to. The idea had sunk in, as he could sense the weight of it slowly taking hold of her. Despite all her fur keeping her warm from the chill of this place, she began shivering lightly.

“i’m sorry.” He murmured without thinking, resisting a far harsher shudder of his own. “this is what happens when people like me take it easy.”

He didn’t expect a reply to that. If anything he expected anger from her, as she realized just what his failure to stop the human had truly meant. But instead it was that guilt he’d seen from her before that made itself known.

“Please, you must not blame yourself.” She implored in a dazed tone. “You... you fought so hard to stop them in the end… If anything… I am to blame for asking you to protect them…”

He closed his sockets with a soft sigh at that, all while feeling the numbness had consumed his hands and feet entirely. He considered arguing with her further, insisting his lack of earlier action against the kid far outweighed her wanting to give them a chance. But there was just no time. There were better things to focus on in what little they had. 

“well... for what it’s worth… i think your heart was in the right place, y’know?” He assured her, resting the side of his skull against her slightly. “you couldn’t have known. and i doubt the other humans were anywhere near as bad as this one, otherwise you wouldn’t have given this one a chance in the first place.”

He knew he couldn’t free her of her own guilt no more than she could free him of his. But he didn’t want her last thoughts to be those of self hatred. Not if he could help it anyway.

He tried to think of some last knock knock joke, knowing it was the only real sort of comfort he could reliably offer her. Pathetic as that was. But the increasing signs of their certain doom’s rapid approach all around them kind of made it hard to come up with any decent material.

It was her who ended up speaking again first, in a surprisingly calm tone all things considered.

“Then... this is it?” She asked, her eyes growing hazy. “Why then… why were we brought here? I..." 

She turned her head away, stifling what sounded like a sob.

"I never was even able... to find my children..." She croaked out, the words heavy with despair. "Wh-what was the point of any of this..?" 

It was a question he could never answer. It was unlikely anyone really could. But she knew that. The question was rhetorical, but he played along anyway. If only to keep from giving into the icy fear that wanted so badly to ensnare him.

“i wish i knew...” He replied weakly, breath hitching a bit. “guess it’s just... one last dance before the curtain call.”

He meant it to be that last twinge of humor he wanted to get out. But the strain in his voice robbed it of any joviality, making it humorous in a different way perhaps, but not how he intended. Maybe if his funny bone hadn’t just gone numb as well, it would have been better.

Toriel didn’t reply for a long moment, staring at where the bright lights in the distance had once been. Now they were so dull, they were barely visible amongst the sea of black. He struggled not to think of his brother and the others, frightened and having no idea of the secondary and final fate that was bearing down on them. Or perhaps that had already claimed them.

Instead Toriel’s voice brought his wavering focus back to her, as she subtly tightened her grip on him. Her face remained impressively stoic as she spoke, even as a few tears silently spilled from her eyes.

“Will I… ever see you again, my friend?” She asked softly, looking down at him as though trying to memorize every element of his face.

The question was so raw, he wondered if she’d even meant to speak it aloud. His soul got all tight in his ribcage, and he felt what may have been long withheld tears of his own wanting to well up in his sockets. But he kept his usual smile in place all the same. If only for her sake.

Part of him wanted to lie again, to give her some last comfort before the end, but for some reason… he found he just couldn’t. Not with her looking at him like that.

“can’t know that for sure.” He admitted, giving a small shake of his skull. “we don’t have any say in what comes next. but... there’s a possibility that after everything’s gone, things might... start anew... reset, y’know?”

All of his limbs had gone numb now, and his vision blurred to the point he could no longer make out her features. Whether that was from tears or from the world’s imminent destruction, he didn’t know.

“you can be sure if we end up back at the start of all this...” He gave her a wink. “i’ll come knocking again as always.”

Those statements surely must have confused her, but the sentiment seemed to be enough that he could feel that she’d stopped trembling, and a flicker of warmer emotion emanated from her soul. Like a spark in the ever growing darkness. 

“Perhaps then… there is at least a chance things will be better next time.” She said quietly, and he felt her chin rest upon the top of his skull as she held him close.

He closed his sockets and pressed a little closer to her in return, feeling his awareness starting to steadily slip away.  

As much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t share her optimism. Not after this. But she spoke with that same integrity that had made him soften enough that day at the Ruin’s door to break his personal rule against making promises. And just like back then, despite everything, she was getting to him again.

As foolish as it was, he allowed himself to hold on to that possibility as the last wave hit, eradicating everything in their world along with it.

“yah… maybe next time.”

#soriel #sorielweek #sorielweek2020 #sans #toriel #undertale #my art #my fic #blood tw #angst #no mercy run

[rosarenn]

The Details

What enchants me?

The question feels too big to approach straight on. The answer, I'm sure, is too broad to approach in a single writing session. I'm sure an endless number of things enchant me, and that I will discover and rediscover the details throughout my lifetime.

So the question then is what is one thing that enchants me? What feel approachable to me right now?

Let's imagine an enchanting bedroom. It doesn't need to be mine, and it doesn't need to exist. What are the details that would make a bedroom enchanting to me?

The bed must be in the center of one wall, granting free access from three sides. There must be at least five feet of free space on all three sides, to create a feeling of spaciousness. The mattress must be soft yet firm, lush and comfortable yet still support my body. It must not be so plush that getting in and out is like fighting against quick sand, and it must not be so firm as to leave my hips aching. At least six full sized pillows of varying firmness and thickness must be provided, in addition to as many throw pillows as will reasonably fit on the bed. These must be in a variety of shapes and sizes, and must not be purely decorative, meaning they must be nice to the touch and soft. Cotton or linen sheets must be provided, as well as a feather down comforter. This should be thick and plush, and provide a satisfying weight, yet be lightweight enough to be used even in the middle of summer. It must be a comforter and not a duvet with a separate cover. Pillows and comforter can be white, though colours and prints are also acceptable, but sheets must be a dark, solid colour, such as black or navy. The mattress should be elevated, not so high that it's a struggle for me to get in, but high enough to feel luxurious. It must be either directly against a wall, or if there is a headboard it must be solid - no bars or other shapes that are uncomfortable to sit propped up against. A weighted blanket should also be available. The lighting should be warm and comfortable, and should be dimmable. A directional reading light is a must. A side table must be within easy reach at all times. This must contain a water glass that never empties and always remains at just the right temperature, not too cold and not too hot. The light controls should also be within easy reach from a single place on the bedside table. A Leuchtturm1917 notebook, which never fills up, and a Pentel EnerGel Tradio Pearl 5 mm black pen, which never runs out of ink and is impossible to lose, should always be available. The pen lid either always replaces itself or does not exist, never existed and is unnecessary. A stack of interesting books are also within reach, and I read with the ease, focus, and passion that I did in my childhood. When I snap my fingers the books should read themselves aloud to me so that I can sew or crochet or accomplish some other task while listening. Failing that, someone must be available and happy to read to me.

In the bedroom there is huge bay window with a window seat, padded, as comfortable as the bed and with just as many pillows. Extra blankets are always within reach, as are the contents of the bedside table. Perhaps the bedside table is on wheels. A small tray of snacks appears, with warm croissants (the good kind), salted butter, strawberry rhubarb jelly like my nana used to make (but one of the batches that set properly!), fresh raspberries, green grapes, a few squares of dark dark chocolate. A small bowl of warm water for dipping my fingers, and a cloth napkin, the good kind, the 100% linen kind that really leaves your fingers feeling clean and dry.

There is no TV in this room. My phone does not exist and neither does social media, or at least they are left far behind before entering this room. Cars and planes and trucks and leafblowers and lawnmowers and powertools and anything else I choose are banished from a 1 km radius. The room is maintained at the correct temperature but does not use a noisy central air system. The floor is warmed, perhaps by in-slab heating, so that I don't need to wear socks and my feet don't get cold. When I want some air flow there are windows for a gentle cross breeze. The weather is dry and not humid, the sky is blue and clear with big fluffy white clouds, the kind you can sit and watch for hours as they transform. The day is bright and warm but not too warm (about 26 degrees Celsius is grand) and the nights are cool and crisp but not cold (about 12 degrees is a good low). Somehow I can see both the sunrise and the sunset from the magical picture window.

There is a fireplace, a real wood burning fireplace but with a switch to turn it on and off like a gas fireplace. Failing that little magic trick, someone should tend the fire, and anticipate my needs in the regard. There is also a big bathtub. I want to be able to see both the picture window and the fireplace from the tub, so the tub cannot be confined to the bathroom. It must be deep and wide, with moulded "seats" for comfort. I must be able to lean against the back while the water comes up to my neck. I don't have to fight the buoyancy of the water to remain comfortably in place. There are jets, and they aren't on a timer, they run until I say so. There are bath salts and bath bombs and a thick layer of bubbles that never dissipates before I want it to, and the water always remains the right temperature. There are candles surrounding the tub, and flowers in vases too - red roses, and orchids, and liliacs, and bunches of lily of the valley. I'm surrounded by greenery, vines, ivy. My books are also within reach and waterproof. I can sip sangria and never feel drunk or like I've had too much sugar. The towels are plentiful, plush, and enveloping. They must be the biggest size possible. There is a linen robe waiting for me, white, plush, 3/4 sleeves and the skirt reaching to my lower calves. The robe has a generous overlap, stays in place and does not need adjusting after being tied, and the sash never falls off or gets twisted.

Outside the picture window is a small private courtyard. The double glass doors swings outwards and are framed by sheer curtains, which float in the breeze when the doors are open. The courtyard is surrounded by greenery, likely a hedge, and there is a big old ancient tree and a garden. There's a hammock, and a firepit, and a small creek with a little round bridge over top. There's a little gate in the hedge that leads into the old-growth forest. Wasps do not exist, and neither do biting or swarming flies. Bees don't sting people or fly into their faces. Ants and spiders and flies and moths and mice and squirrels, etc. don't enter homes unless invited, like vampires. The view of the stars at night is incredible; you can see the milky way.

The house has no clocks, no watches, no way to mark the time. Time does not exist here, except as told by the sun and the moon. There is nowhere to be, anyways. We abolished the systems of oppression, exploitation and waged labour long ago, and now everyone has everything they need and we live easeful, joyful lives. Friends and neighbours come to visit, though they never come too early or too late, they never come too often, and they never overstay. I dabble, I create, I write, I forage, I garden, I rest, I play, I dance, I dream.

#bewitched #real life enchantment #practical magic

[vannahfanfics]

Tiny Terror

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hitoshi Shinso

Hi, all! Here's my entry for @bnhabookclub​'s Bingo Event for the prompt "Adopt a Pet"! Hope you all enjoy some cute Shinso fluff~

Hitoshi scowled when pounding rain, not pleasant sunshine, greeted him as he strolled through the glass doors of the convenience store. The small fabric awning shielded him from most of the onslaught, but the sheer volume of water falling from the sky was inescapable; the canvas overhead bulged with pooling rainwater, and a sheet of fat droplets cascaded from its edge. The force of the drops propelled them inward, leading them to splatter over the soft cloth of his white tee-shirt. Beyond the waterfall streaming from the awning, puddles blossomed in the streets, rippling with the continuous rainfall. 

When on Earth did this storm blow in? he wondered with a weary sigh. He tossed the plastic bag of canned coffees and mochi snacks over his shoulder while using his other hand to scratch the tufts of his lavender hair thoughtfully. The weather report hadn't predicted a rainstorm, so Hitoshi had neglected to bring an umbrella. It wasn't a terribly long walk back to the U.A. dorms, but in this deluge, he would be drenched within ten seconds. He pouted up at the cloud-choked sky. There's nothing for it. I'll have to wait it out, he decided. He walked to the large glass window and eased himself down on the sill, pushing aside a small flowerpot of violets to make himself comfortable, then pulled out his phone to scroll through his social media feed.

"Bah," he mumbled. Ninety percent of the posts refused to load. The convenience store wasn't a dead zone, so he surmised that the torrential downpour deadened the signal. He closed out of the app and shoved his phone into his back pocket, then disinterestedly stared out into the street. Despite the storm, people were still strolling out and about. The air thrummed with splashing water and the smacking of raindrops against the rubber umbrellas. Occasionally a car would zoom by and throw up an impressive arc of the dirty rain puddles, sending it washing over the sidewalk like a great wave. When the car was going fast enough, the sloshing water would kiss the tips of Hitoshi's Converse. 

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow as a little mew drifted into his ears. The lavender-haired boy searched for the source of the sound, but there was no animal in sight. He began to wonder if he had imagined it until another tiny meow floated out of the alleyway on the side of the building. Hitoshi eased off of the windowsill to creep along the brick wall, not wishing to startle whatever little creature was voicing its opposition to the pounding rain. His eyes widened, and he blinked confusedly when all that greeted him was a big green dumpster and some sodden flyers that had blown in from the street. Just as he was about to turn around and resume his perch, the mew sounded again. He glanced down at his feet.  

"Oh. Well, hello there." The sodden white kitten toddled on its unsteady legs to paw at the equally white front of his shoes, then raised its bobbling head to meow curiously at him. Hitoshi grinned and squatted down to observe the wee creature. It was incredibly small, most likely too young to survive without its mother. "Where's your mom, little one?" The kitten responded with another miserable mew. "Gone, huh?" He concluded and peered down the empty alleyway. He spotted no mass of fur, nor any nook or cranny a mother cat could hide. "Unless some cruel person dumped you here," he muttered angrily under his breath.

Hitoshi glanced down when the stumbly kitten thumped its head against the hem of his jeans, leaving a circle of dark blue smudged with brown behind. The water streaming down the small incline of the alleyway crashed against the kitten's stubby thin legs, making it stagger and wobble in the current. It whined and jumped on its back two legs to sink its tiny, needle-like claws into the jean fabric and steady itself in the speedy flow. Hitoshi chuckled and gently rubbed its wet tummy, displacing the clumpy sodden fur. "Whatever the case, you're a long way from home, huh?" The kitten meowed sadly. 

"First things first, let's get you outta this rain," Hitoshi smiled and plucked the kitten up by the scruff to cup it in his palm. The corner of the awning shielded them some, but the ferocity of the pounding rain and bubbling current from the overflow dampened them both. Hitoshi kicked his feet annoyedly when he realized his socks were soaked through with the dirty water, and similarly, the kitten shook itself. Hitoshi smirked as tiny little water droplets spattered down his front, leaving coffee-brown dirt stains behind. "You little asshole," he laughed and used his index finger to scratch it under the chin. The baby cat began to rumble with a thundering purr and tilted it's head back so Hitoshi could pet all along the column of its throat. 

Hitoshi cupped the cat to his chest and returned to his perch on the windowsill. Now subject to the breezy wind, the little thing was beginning to shiver terribly. Hitoshi shrugged off his jacket and set the kitten down on his lap to wrap the thick cloth around its body several times. The kitten's head poked above the mound of material, sniffing the dark fabric with its small pink nose. "What do I smell like? Coffee? Mochi? Exhaustion?" He joked. The kitten meowed matter-of-factly and gripped the metal zipper in its pin-needle teeth, tugging on it fiercely and growling. "What a tiny little terror you are. First, you splash me, and now you try to destroy my jacket after I'm kind enough to give it to you." The cat stopped yanking on the metal piece and blinked up at him with big blue eyes. "Yeah, little man, I'm talking to you." 

The cat went back to terrorizing his jacket zipper. 

Ignoring the squirming cat warming up on his lap, Hitoshi glanced out at the street. The rain was letting up; it was dripping more slowly from the overhang, allowing him to see more of the road and stores across the street. The puddles rippled more peacefully, as smaller drops caused less of a disturbance. People were venturing out from within the shops to jog quickly to their cars or destinations. Squinting, Hitoshi glanced up at the sky; what were once ash-gray clouds were lightening to a light hue, and spears of sunlight punched through their wispy frames to beam down to the earth. Puddles of light began to appear alongside the water puddles, golden and warm and bright. 

"Well, what am I going to do with you?" Hitoshi wondered aloud and glanced back down at the kitten. It was now purring loudly, near-asleep, and staring at Hitoshi with bleary squinty eyes. Smiling, the lavender-haired boy softly stroked the patch of fur between its ears, and its purring jumped in volume. The kitten then yawned, flexing its pink sandpaper tongue and squeezing its eyes shut. When it finished, it smacked its lips and stuck out a little paw to nudge at his finger. Hitoshi smiled at the flash of its small pink pads when it wound around his middle finger and pulled his hand across the bunched-up jacket so it could snuggle into his palm. "I guess there's nothing for it…" he sighed and used his phone to snap a picture. He sent it to the Class 2-A group chat. 

Me: I've made a friend. His name is Tiny Terror. 

Ochako: T. T. for short! He's adorable. :D

Fumikage: He doesn't inspire much terror just looking at him. 

Eijirou: Tokoyami, I can see you grinning from here. You think he's cute, don't you?

Fumikage: Be quiet! >:(

Tenya: You are NOT bringing that home.

Denki: He's got a name, RUDE. Come on, Iida! If you ask nicely I'm sure Hitoshi'll let you hold him. 

Tenya: That's beside the point!

Tooru: He's so small! Did you rescue him from the rain, Hitoshi? How admirable~ \^u^/

Momo: I have some cream I can give him! 

Izuku: I saw some DIY cat toy recipes on YouTube the other day! Let me find them.

Mina: Why were you looking at DIY cat toy videos?

Izuku: … I like to see the kitties play with them… >///<

Ochako: Aw, Deku, that's so cute! 

Tenya: Why are we still discussing this? I said NO! Put him back! 

Kyoka: Wow, way to be heartless. >.> 

Katsuki: No one cares about your "orders," Four-Eyes. 

Tenya: You guys are mean. :(  … He is cute, I'll grant you that much. 

His phone continued to ping with message notifications as the group discussed the newest addition to their lives. The rain was but a sprinkle now- certainly manageable enough to trot back to the dorms. Hitoshi bundled the tiny cat in his arms and stood up. The kitten peered up at him and meowed fearfully. 

"Don't worry," he smiled kindly and bopped his little pink nose with a fingertip, "we're going home."

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​ @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​

#bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub event #bnhabookclub bingo event #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku hero academia #my hero #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

[highqueenofelfhame]

25 Days of Christmas.

wildest dreams - part one

The city that stretched out far below where he stood was absolutely stunning, but entirely too stifling. Inside, everyone was enjoying themselves, downing flutes of champagne and milling about in their finest attire. Black and silver balloons floated to the ceiling, had been scattered about the floor, and tied to the chairs. Confetti had been sprinkled over the tables; hors d'oeuvres were being carried around on polished silver trays by men in tails. It was the perfect New Years celebration, except that it wasn’t. 

Rhysand leaned against the balcony, eyes glazed over as he stared out over the city below. Random bits of snow flurried in the cold and crisp night air, disappearing into the mountainside that the house was perched on. A cigarette was tucked between his pointer and middle finger, the end of it sending curls of smoke into the air. He brought it to his lips and took a long drag. It was bad for him, he knew that, but he smoked when he was stressed; it was a compulsion that seemed to be the only thing to take the edge off, and it seemed to be a better idea than getting blackout drunk. 

It wasn’t that he was upset about the breakup, he wasn’t. He’d fallen out of love a long time ago, and the relationship he had with Amarantha had been abusive and toxic at best. It’d never been good for him, it was unhealthy almost from the get go, but there had always been a reason that the timing was wrong. He couldn’t leave her because she was already having a bad week, or problems at work. Then her sister died, and he couldn’t leave her while she was grieving over that loss. It took some time, but he finally cut those ties, and it felt good. He felt like he was getting back to his old self. 

But Rhys was tired. He was so tired that it felt like he wasn’t able to get a good clean breath of air. Velaris was his favorite place in the world, it was beautiful and had a pulse that no other place ever had. There was nothing like the City of Starlight. But there were so many people, and that pulse became a little too much to handle sometimes. 

“Are you okay?” He had just put the cigarette to his lips and began to inhale when her voice pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes, unfocused on the landscape, refocused as he turned to look over his right shoulder. Feyre Archeron stood steps away from him, wearing a glittering gown that sparkled even under the moonlight. With every breath, it caught the low light, shimmering and glowing like she herself was one of the stars, plucked straight out of the heavens and dropped at his feet. He looked back out to the city and took another slow drag, a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“I guess so,” he said, trying to keep himself from looking back over at her. It was hard not to stare at her when she was dressed in plainclothes, much less like she was now, in a dress that made her look like liquid starlight, when she had rosy cheeks and a matte red lip. Her eyes were too stunning, especially when they were smudged with navy blue that matched her dress, the chilling gray-blue of her irises stark and alert. Mother above, she was the picture of beauty. Always had been, if he were to admit the honest truth. Feyre Archeron was someone he’d had one too many a wet dream about, someone he’d had a perpetual crush on that just wouldn’t go away. 

Feyre leaned against the railing, her shoulders bunched up. Up close, he could see the sprinkling of glitter across her cheekbones, could make out the row of earrings that lined up her ears. Stars and mountains. How fitting. How completely and utterly stunning. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was soft, calm. There was no pressure in her words, just an open invitation. They weren’t great friends, their relationship mostly just carried on running in the same circle. The two had never hung out alone, save for the times Morrigan was late to this or that, and they ended up making small talk until she or the rest of the group arrived. They knew each other well enough to be comfortable around each other. They’d joked around, she’d borrowed his jacket at college sporting events and had even slept in one of his t-shirts once. Friendly enough, but nothing more than that. Just friendly. 

“I want…” he trailed off, midnight black hair ruffling in the icy breeze that swept through the mountains. Feyre looked over at him, a perfectly arched brow raised in question. “I want out of here. I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.” As soon as the words left his mouth his shoulders sagged and he dropped his head down onto his arms where they lay folded atop the railing. He flicked the cigarette, ashes from the end of it scattering into the wind. 

Rhysand’s heart thundered in his chest, which felt more constricting with every icy breath. The anxiety wasn’t as extreme now as it had been earlier this evening, or as bad as it was when he was alone, but it was still suffocating. Mildly embarrassing even, given that his lifelong crush was mere footsteps away. It almost made it worse, until her hand slid over his arm and her fingernails began scratching light circles between his shoulder blades. A movement meant to soothe, and soothe it did. After a few minutes he lifted his head and she dropped her hand, taking a fraction of a step away. He took a moment to look at her, his eyes raking down her body before he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

It wasn’t necessarily how he’d imagined their first kiss. It wasn’t soft like he had imagined, but was hard and bruising in its intensity. She made no movement to stumble away from him, the only stumbling that occured at all was the way they both stumbled until her back was pressed flush against the wall. She tasted like champagne, and despite the chill in the air, her skin was warm.  So was his - the flush of his cheeks spreading down his neck as he tugged on her bottom lip until he pulled away, her lip slipped from his teeth. Their breath mingled between them, hanging in thick clouds as they looked at one another. Feyre’s face was just as red as his surely was, both from the kiss and the frigid air nipping at their skin. Her lipstick was surely smeared across his mouth, but he didn’t particularly care as he dropped his hands from her face, his eyes flashing with mischief for the first time in quite awhile. 

“Where are you going?” she asked him as he jerked the door to the house back open. He paused, light coming back to his eyes as he took a final drag of the cigarette before tossing it over the balcony. 

“For a drive.” His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip before he added, “Are you coming or not?” He grinned at her before he slipped inside and after a dazed moment standing on the balcony alone, she moved after him, the skirts of her dress fluttering around her. Rhysand only paused to snag two bottles of champagne from a bucket of ice, one of which he held behind his back and Feyre took it into her own hands. He snagged an entire platter of hor d'oeuvres from one of the many servers that milled about the room, cleverly ducked behind a large gentleman to avoid Morrigan hailing him down, and then slipped out the front door.

 Rhysand was an expert at ducking out of his own parties, everyone often reaching a point in the evening where they asked each other if they’d seen him lately. It was bizarre to Feyre, as she followed him down the stairs toward his garage, that he would throw such elaborate get-togethers only to bail before they were even over. The ball hadn’t even dropped yet this new years, and wouldn’t for quite some time. Some guests were still in the process of arriving, very late, to the party in their elaborate gowns and tuxedos and the host was already sneaking out. 

They drove for what felt like ages until they came to a stop on a cliff at the top of a mountain. The horizon was already starting to cast a deep purple glow - a promise of the sunrise that was to come. The stars were still shining brightly, twinkling and shooting across the dark sky as Rhysand opened the convertible top of his car. He reached behind Feyre and tugged the headrest out of her chair as she watched with confused eyes. He did the same to his own then pushed himself up so he was sitting where it had been moments before. Feyre followed suit, noting how vaguely uncomfortable the sitting arrangement was, but supposed there was no better way to watch the sun come up over the earth. 

Reaching behind them, Rhys tugged one of the bottles of champagne out and held it over the side of the car to open it. It popped, bubbles fizzing and oozing out of the top in a dramatic arc. Feyre couldn’t help the bubbled laughter that slipped from her lips as she took the bottle from him and sipped. 

“What made you drive all the way up here with a stranger?” Rhysand asked her, taking the bottle and having a swig of his own. Feyre arched her brows. 

“You’re not a stranger.”

“No?” His brows were raised in surprise, and Feyre snorted.

“Your brother of sorts is married to my sister, we’ve been around each other plenty. I’ve seen you around most of my life. Maybe we have something in common. Maybe we’re both getting away from the people and the noise… and all the insincerity.” She shrugged then, her eyes shifting back out to the horizon that was slowly started to glow shades of lavender, pink, and light blue. 

What she didn’t say was that Rhysand tended to be the most sincere person she had ever met. But instead of tacking that onto her quiet confession, she kept her eyes fixed on the horizon as she brought the bottle of champagne to her lips. 

tags: @starseternalnighttriumphant @mariamuses @keshavomit @faefromthenorth @ifyouwouldseemysoul @murlymoo150 @faerie-queen-fireheart @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyre-therabeaux​ @runawayrowan​ @someonemagical @starseternalnighttriumphant​stormymeow @singme-t0sleep @tswaney17 @shyvioletcat​ @city-of-fae​ @kandasboi​ @mynewdreamwasyou @tangledraysofsunshine​ @aelin-is-my-heart​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @mynameiscelaenasardothien​ @myfeyrelady​ @schmlip-scribble​ @musicmaam​ @nalgenewhore​ @westofmoon​ @aaronwarnvrs @acourtofrowaelinandfeysand​ @im-not-rare-im-rarr​ @darlingod​ @darling-cas​ @goldfishh20​ @crackedship​

#feysand #wildest dreams #feyre archeron #wd1 #25 days of christmas #25 days #day four #day4 #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #rhys #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #taylor swift #songfic #acotar songfic #song fic #writing #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #feysand fic #feysand fanfic

[the--highlanders]

4. Curvy

on ao3.

“So.” Scuffing his boot against the ground, Jamie ducked his head to grin up at the Doctor. “That was poetry, eh?”

The Doctor was gazing up at the sky, apparently oblivious to the gentle teasing in Jamie’s voice. “Wasn’t it just? A very fine example of Ts’uiin verse, I’d say.” Bringing his eyes back down to earth again, he exchanged a wave with a cheerful huddle of aliens peeling off from the crowd of chattering theatregoers. “And they’re such friendly people, too.” Jamie craned his neck after them, trying to figure out of they had been the group they had sat beside or the ones they had spoken with during the interval – but they were too far out into the dark, and he had not quite mastered the art of telling Ts’uiin apart by the shape of their fins.

A shower of powdery white dust tumbled over him, working its way in between his jacket hood and his hair to tickle at the back of his neck. The sensation made him flinch, and he slapped his hand against it as if to squash an insect. “What was that?”

More of it was falling around them now, and the Doctor was turning slow circles as they walked, hands held up to catch a few flakes. “Just dust from the asteroid system making planetfall. Perfectly normal.” He beamed up at it, as delighted as if it was first snow. “What did you think of the poem?”

“Wasnae exactly what I was expecting,” Jamie said. “I know ye’d told me it was a bunch of numbers, but – I thought maybe it’d rhyme, or somethin’.”

“Oh – oh, my word, I quite forgot you were hearing it in translation.” The Doctor linked his arm through Jamie’s, steering him away from the crowd and down a cobbled, haphazard side-street. No light shone from any of the windows, but the vents on the edges of the street were blowing out warm air – excess steam from the heating system that kept the Ts’uiin’s blood warm, the Doctor had said. It was a strange thing, he mused, to be walking down a street that he might have seen in his own time, back on Earth, and to know that he was thousands of miles away, amongst aliens that wrote poetry in numbers and travelled amongst the stars. But perhaps it was a night for topsy-turvy things. “There’s rather more of a rhythm to it in the original Ts’ii, I would imagine. But, ah – it’s an equation at heart, whatever way you hear it. Most of the beauty is in what it describes, rather than the words.”

“When ye put it like that, it sounds like -” Jamie snapped his mouth shut hastily. He had intended to say like real poetry – but it had been real poetry, just of a different sort. And besides, the Doctor had been so ecstatic about the whole thing, and he had no desire to burst his bubble of enthusiasm. “Sounds like any old poetry,” he finished clumsily. “But it’s no’ really, is it?”

“It is and it isn’t.” The Doctor nodded to himself, as if he had said something profound. “I’m sure there’s poetry from your Earth that wouldn’t sound any more familiar to you than that did.”

He was fond of saying that, Jamie thought. Your Earth. As if he was trying to distance himself from the rest of them, even as he wandered along clutching at Jamie’s arm and tilting his head over to bump it against his shoulder. The thought sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the chill that was settling into the night air.

“What’s it describing, then?” he asked, a little too loudly. “The poem we heard.”

To his relief, the Doctor gave no sign of having noticed his sudden awkwardness. “The shape of the universe.”

Jamie blinked at him, then stared up at the sky as if it could offer up some explanation. The stars simply glinted back at him, as distant and inscrutable as ever. “Does it have a shape?”

“Well – well, it’s made of stuff, isn’t it?”

“Stuff?”

“Mm. Stuff.” The Doctor nodded along like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So it has to have a shape, doesn’t it?”

Jamie shrugged. “’Spose so. What shape is it, then?”

Pursing his lips, the Doctor tilted his head back and forth thoughtfully. “Sort of – curvy, I suppose.”

The thought was so absurd that Jamie had to throw back his head and laugh. He quietened himself down when the Doctor made hurried shushing motions, glancing pointedly at the darkened windows of the houses around them, but his softer giggles were not so easily suppressed. “The universe is curvy.”

“Mmhm.”

“Curvy.” Jamie shook his head, gesturing wildly, but all the words he knew had flown out of his head. He had never imagined that the universe was finite enough to be curvy, of all things – but then again, he supposed, the asteroid they were standing on seemed flat enough until you got high enough above it. What would the whole universe look like, he wondered, if he were to float over it and see its shape? The thought was too much for him to give voice to, and he settled for, “why?”

“For the same reason anything is shaped like anything. It grew that way.”

“Could it have grown differently?”

“Of course.” The matter-of-fact way the Doctor said it made his head spin faster. “Plenty of others have. And our universe might still decide it wants to be a different shape.”

“Oh.” It was hardly the most intellectual of responses – but Jamie could not imagine what else he could possibly say. “Aye. Well, then.” He glanced back up at the sky, trying to imagine that out there, through the darkness, there were other universes that were a different shape to his, of all things. Maybe they were like bubbles in a fast-flowing river, all pressing up against each other, sometimes bursting open and leaving others to crowd up into their place. Or maybe they were like leaves, overlapping and casting shadows over each other. Or maybe they were nothing like bubbles, or leaves, or anything he could possibly wrap his head around. “An’ they think it’s beautiful, do they? The Ts’uiin, I mean.”

“Yes, they do.” The Doctor was smiling softly to himself, as if he was cradling something small and precious in his hands. “What could be more beautiful than trying to capture the essence of the world? Your poets do the same, you know.”

“Some of them, maybe.”

“Some of them.” Swinging their clasped hands between them, the Doctor skipped a little faster along the street, pulling Jamie after him. “What do you think? Is the shape of the world beautiful?”

Jamie’s thoughts were still whirling around inside him, too quick for him to grasp one tight enough to put it into words. He was still not entirely sure how a poem could be made out of numbers, let alone how it could tell someone what the universe looked like, or how a whole theatre of people could nod along and understand. But the Doctor was looking at him expectantly, and the soft sprinkle of dust and ash falling from the sky looked like show settling onto the rooftops and over their shoulders, and the night was bitingly cold but heat was radiating out from the houses they passed, and the world felt like it was holding them in a quiet little bubble of their own.

“I think it probably is,” he said.

#second doctor #two/jamie #fanfic archive #my writing #sketchtober 2020

[bowieandqueen11]

Real Monsters / 2019! Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Request: Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do an imagine of Eddie where the reader is pregnant and pennywise comes to get her but Eddie saves her? I hope you can if you can't it's okay! Love ya!

This is sooo cute @denise-puddin​!! I hope you don’t mind the setting! <3

Saying a final goodnight to Richie as he wanders aimlessly down the hallway to his own room, his footsteps fading against the coarse red carpet and dim, flickering wall lights, Eddie clicks the door shut with a sigh.

It was a bed and breakfast that could have doubled as a set in a Kubric movie. The wallpaper had a dull tint at the peeled edges and the fragrance was mothballs and mildew. The bed had grazed the wall right back to the plaster in long grey scars. To make it even more special the light bulb was many watts too dim, the yellow light slopping lazily on the scene like a rushed painting.

‘Are you alright, pumpkin?’

‘Nothing a little lying down and cuddling won’t fix. I never thought I’d be back in this bloody town.’

You gaze through the glass towards the ever changing colour of the sky, towards the clouds that swirl like little steam boats on their infinite journey of beauty. As the duvet scratches underneath your fingertips, the pillows surrounding the bed nearly suffocating you as you leans back, drowning in their blue and purple hues, there was something akin to fear bubbling in your gut as you spent that moment gazing into the dark blue, trying to lose yourself in it.

‘Correction- you never thought we would be back in this bloody town.’

‘Honestly, I thought you’d pass out before we reached the Jade. But you’re right, we... for a while back then it felt like we would never leave this town.’

‘But look at us now, eh?’

‘Eds, are you sure you’re alright?’

‘Hey, hey apple-solutely, but isn’t that my line? Isn’t it my job to look after my beautiful, gorgeous, very pregnant wife who refused to stay home and in safety and instead came back to fight a child eating clown who nearly killed both of us over twenty years ago.’

‘What can I say, I like a challenge. I won your heart, didn’t I.’

‘Y/N!’

‘Plus, we did both make, you know, a blood oath.’

Holding out your scarred hand up towards the light, Eddie comes over to sit warily on the duvet next to you, careful not to rustle you too much as he begins to take off his jacket with tired shrugs and throw it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He opens his mouth slightly to let out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head back, before he feels a flaring pain in his temple which he reaches up to rub with his thumb. However, when he feels your worried hand rubbing against the expanse of his back, scratching lightly over the blue cotton of his shirt, he tilts his head, smiling at the way you’re still fumbling in your jacket pocket for a spare inhaler after all these years. He grabs your hand, reaching up to press a warm little kiss against each part of your fingers, his grip tightening as you lay further into the bed.

‘Are we crazy, Eddie. I mean, Stanley-’

He presses a gentle finger against your lips. ‘Hush, love. Nothing’s stopped us before, nothing’s going to stop us now, okay. I promise, I’ll do the mashed potato all over that clown, especially when you need me. Nothing’s going to hurt us.’

~

‘Eddie, for the love of- ow! Can you move your foot?!’

All you get in response is a loud, hiccuping snore as Eddie jolts over onto his side, the heel of his foot hitting against your shin again. You sigh in frustration, trying to yank the thin blanket back up to your shoulders, but only finding empty hands as they bunch up under Eddie’s pulling arms, his nose smushed up against the pillow. Sitting up, the pale moonlight bathing the room in ghostly light through the broken blinds, you thwack him against his thigh, chuckling gently as he just murmurs slightly in his sleep. Deciding to walk a little around the room to try and soothe your mind a bit, you slide your legs over the floor, placing your feet against the oddly sticky carpet and wiggling your toes a bit, placing a comforting hand against your stomach.

‘Oh baby, I promise you’ll never have to go through what we did.’

As you smile down at your stomach for a moment, feeling Eddie’s hand reach out subconsciously in his sleep, as he had done for years, to land against the stretch of your back with a heavy thunk, you feel for a fleeting moment that everything was going to be alright. Looking up towards the moonlight that bathes your face, you, however, begin to squint in confusion, seeing a twinge of blood red plastic reading ‘I LOVE DERRY’ float past the window.

The next thing you feel isn’t the warm hands of your husband, but instead the cold claws of the clown as it’s gloved hand grabs onto your leg and yanks you down onto the floor. Trying to grab desperately onto the bed frame, you kick and yelp with muffled screams as you feel pain flare in your back, not daring to look down into the bright, dancing lights that float underneath the bed.

‘If you come with me, y/n, you can finally float. We all float down here. And soon, so will Eds.’

Finally letting out a gasping scream, the air being knocked out of your lungs again as your back cracks down onto the ground, its strength increasing, your fingernails fill with blood as they scrape against the ground, shuffling your thighs away from the blank darkness that seems to seep around you and swallow you whole.

Red. Everything went red. The next thing you feel is the sprinkling green glass of Eddie’s Perrier water bottle as he smashes it down onto Pennywise’s hand with a loud yelp, his hands tugging desperately onto yours as he falls down behind your back, tugging you both across the floor. For a moment, he doesn’t even notice the clown had given him one final bloody scratch against the cheek before receding back underneath the bed with a slow wave.

His brain went into overdrive as his heart turned ice cold and slunk into the shadows. The flames in his stomach rose up to his chest and crawled through his veins, taking over the rest of his body. Waves of fury rolled off him as the blood rose to his cheeks, the term anger barely even touching the tip of the volcano that he so clearly was in that moment.

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your middle. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms so protective and familiar that you allowed your body to sag, your muscles to become loose as your breathing began to shallow. In that embrace you felt your worries lose their keen sting and her optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“Please don’t leave me alone again.” The words hardly managed to break out as the sob’s choke in your constricting throat. Resting his chin against the top of your head, he clenches you tighter.

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2019 #james ransone #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it imagine #it 2019 imagine #bill hader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak imagine #eddie kaspbrak fluff #eddie kaspbrak angst #Jack Dylan Grazer #james ransone imagine #it 2017 #it chapter one #losers club #losers club imagine #richie tozier imagine #kaspbrak #edward kaspbrak #pennywise #pennywise imagine

[d-a-anderson]

She pulled a final drag on her cigarette, looking at me over the lounge’s little round table. She blew out the smoke, its gray wafting cloud folding patterns in the air.

“You know, I’m a geologist,” she said, stubbing the cigarette out in the glass ashtray in front of us. “Let me tell you something:

“The earth is a very old organism. We’re less than fruit flies. We’re gone in a blink of an eye. Our projects, our desires, our careers—one of the things I take comfort in is the long view of things. Might not be for everyone, but it keeps me moving. There’s no longer view than geologic time.

“You’re concerned about plastic in the soil? You take a moral high ground because you recycle? You know that continents shift and, at their rifts, one pushes up while the other gets pushed under. The one that gets pushed under, beneath the oceans or beneath those land fissures, gets wedged beneath the Earth’s crust. As the newborn continent expands on one side—that pure, virgin rock holding all sorts of neat minerals that plants and animals crave—the other side gets pushed toward the mantle.

“That mantle is hot. So hot that it can melt stone, metal—doesn’t matter. Of course it can—it’s what forms the stuff we stand on now. It burps up stuff our best laboratories and factories can’t make, and it does it on a planetary scale. What we call land, what we call the ocean, sits on the epidermis of a furnace of heat and pressure that outranks anything we could make ourselves; it’s the next closest thing to sitting on a star.

“Imagine that the mantle is an ocean of magma, and our land is coagulated dust on the surface of that simmering pot. At the edge of our floating dust island, each edge is getting pushed around by forces beneath us. It’s not quite fair to say that it’s like magma down there. It’s not orange and red; it’s not even white-hot. At pressures that intense, it actually gets denser, not looser. It’s thick, almost goopy. It’s like a glaring greenish jello, and it’s churned by convection currents and the earth’s magnetic field, which itself is created by the iron and nickel core at the center.

“So as our continent gets pushed below the crust, a piece of it breaks off. It falls down into that molten fudge. Because it’s colder in temperature, it gets pulled down further and further. Cold things fall, hot things rise. Eventually the whole tectonic plate will get melted down, with all its fossils, all the abandoned cars, all those microplastics and broken cities. It all gets turned back into baser and baser elements, like how the sun performs fusion in its core.

“But mother Earth isn’t done. Remember those convection fields, made by temperature and pressure, and stirred by magnetism? It’s a lot like a lava lamp. As one cooler glob falls, a warmer one begins to rise up. Our hard crust of land diving down is that cooler glob. A hot bubble of primordial rock rises up through the jello, moving all those broken and forgotten continents out of the way. When it reaches the top, it pushes up on the crust, creating fissures in the rocky ceiling. If the ceiling happens to be the sea floor, it creates undersea mountains that cool instantly. That’s how we get the Hawaiian islands. If it hits some already-made land—well, that’s how we get volcanoes.

“So all the stages of evolution that came before—generations of organisms, unique landforms, precious gems, folded up and sewn together like fabric, are floating down there beneath us, like icebergs of history swallowed and sublimated in the mantle. Can you imagine what ancient cities must be down there? Can you imagine all those fossil records, those ages of ancestors that were just Earth giving itself a fresh start? The stuff we find here on the surface is a scratch on the skin—and we call those scratches ‘ancient history’.

“And it’ll continue like that. Even with global warming, if we totally screw up the Earth as far as humans and animals are concerned, the Earth is a primordial titanness that will far surpass any kind of damage we can do. Of course, if we shit the bed it’ll be bad for us and anyone around. It’ll be up to some future civilization to dig up our bones, take to the stars, and find curious the layers of iPhones, flatscreen TVs, and generations of the Volkswagen Beetle buried beneath their feet—if they end up having feet. But if and when they do, that will be one percent of all the history mother Earth invented. The rest of the ninety-nine will already be on its journey to the core, and not even the best geologist can tell you what the goddess’s heart is like for sure.”

She paused, picking up her drink from the table. She gave the glass swirl and looked at me in the eyes.

“So sip the salt in those tears. It came from the Earth—that sodium chloride is made of processes you can’t control and can’t imagine. I’m not telling you it doesn’t matter; if history matters at all, it’s because we make it matter. It hurts—it’s a bunch of hurt right now. Maybe it’s a cold comfort to take this long a view of things. Maybe the best way to think about it is that for every heart broken, every civilization ruined, every continent swallowed, there’s another born anew at the other side. And that new one’s never experienced the hurt you and I know. It has no fossils; it has no microplastics in its soil, it has no need for recycling. It carries no misgivings. It’s a blank canvas, and Earth is the ultimate artist. She always replenishes, always regenerates, and she does it by sheer force of will, by powers that are awesome to us, but to her are trivial, like it’s trivial for you or I to squish an ant with a finger.

“Life is precious—don’t mistake me. Every individual, every iteration is important and beautiful. If there’s something you happen to hate, you can at least grin an awful, spiteful grin that the hateful thing will inevitably be gone—and from Earth’s perspective, it will be gone soon. If you want a god to worship, worship goddess Earth; she’s what you spring from, and she’s what sublimates everything to purity again when its time is up.”

She sipped from her glass, downing the rest.

“Kiss the ground you walk on. It’s your mama. She’s got a fiery love—and she don’t give a damn.”

–

Illustration Source: Volcanoes: what they are and what they teach, Judd, John W. (John Wesley), 1840-1916 - “Interior of a rhyolytic lava stream...showing broad sigmoidal folds produced by the slow movements of the mass.” Internet Archive

#daily #writing #prompt #stoic #geology #stoicism #earth #nature #volcanism #geological

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Teen Romance Logicality // Part Seven

Taglist: @loveyatothemoonandback @datoneidiot @doepuffsss @katie-the-noble-fangirl @awkwardcat @pheonix-inside-reblogs @sanders-sides-love-astronomy @lallyphant

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five and Six.

Logan was walking on air, his head so high in the clouds; it was unusual. He felt like he was on a whole new planet, and everything was so much different than before.

Those nights wondering if Patton loved him flew from his brain, because Patton did love him. And he knew that as a fact.

And Logan couldn't argue with facts.

He felt so much lighter, probably more than he should have, but it was nice and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Patton was such a bright light in his world of darkness, a breath of fresh air in a polluted world. Logan wasn't sure what he'd do without him at this point; but to be fair, his mind didn't want to face that issue unless it had too.

Logan hummed, such a soft tone deeply inside his chest, as he sunk into the covers. Dreams of lost dates and picnics at sunset vividly flashing in his mind with a certain blue-eyed beauty.

It was his mother's call that woke him up from his daydreams, throwing his body up; he rushed down the stairs, absolutely ecstatic at the idea of Patton again.

And when his mother (with a tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes), handed him two notes instead of one, the biggest grin he'd swore he'd ever had split onto his face. His heart skipped in his chest out of fear or joy, he truly couldn't tell you; as he rushed back up to his room with a polite thank you, of course.

He was quick to open them, pulling up a chair to his desk so fast, he wasn't sure he had blinked within the whole time. Which had to be concerning medically, probably.

'Heyo, Lo-Lo!

I know it's kinda redundant, but I'll start this letter off with the obvious: I love you, bee.

But, I wanted to talk about things; because the key to relationships is communication, right?

Before that actually, are we together? Like long-distance boyfriends? I know it's a little weird to ask these now, but I think we've both been through a lot in love department, and we need to be clear.

Um, the other part. Well, I'm just going to be straight with you (even though I'm gay :P), I want to kiss you, like a lot.

Like I know when we graduate we will be together, but I'm a very touchy person and just honestly wanted to know like where are your boundaries?

Because at my current mindset, the second I see you I'm going to attack you with affection and I just wanted to know if that... was... okay?

Because I want to love you with kisses and cuddles and hugs, and I need to know if you can love like that too.

Er, if you're okay with loving like that too.

Now that that is out of the way, I'm happy to comply to your boundaries bee, we just probably need to talk about them.

Love you to the moon and back.

~ Patton'

Logan felt hot, his cheeks a vivid, burning red and his ears were probably even worse. Imagining a kiss from Patton was enough to make Logan faint, and at the moment he felt like he couldn't breathe.

And on top of that, he had never kissed anyone. What if he messed it up?

He shook off the feeling, carefully taking the smaller note onto his hands with a hint of confusion but a deep sense of joy from it.

'Hey Honeybee,

This is my second letter becauseee I talked to Virgil, my best friend who was off on vacation, about my issue; and my dark, strange son had an idea.

My number should be at the bottom of the letter, and I want you to call it as soon as you get this.

Maybe hearing your voice will help me wait out junior year??? If you're okay with it, that is.

Anyway, just call. We can still send letters if you'd like, I just... might possibly need to hear your voice.

Love you bunches,

Patton <3'

Logan stared at the number, his heart a deep thunder in his chest; as he texted Roman brisk and fast.

And after a few moments, Roman blasted into his room with a supporting grin and motivating words; that spoke to Logan so much his heart was pounding but he typed in the number without hesitation.

• • •

Patton was laughing with Virgil, stories of fantasy animals and alternate universes echoed into the air without hesitation.

It was nice, as Patton's fairy lights twinkled down on their faces; the hushed words and giggles floated there in the clouds of nostalgia looming over the sky.

Just until the consistent chime echoed through his room, the chime of his phone.

Cloudy blue eyes meeting dark brown, a sense of understanding smoothed over their skins; as Patton hopped up with a nervous sidestep.

He knew what it was, the number flashing over his screen; his heart almost stopped in his chest at the idea that it'd be Logan on his phone.

Virgil, antsy, practically bled nervousness, as Patton picked up his phone and answered the call.

It was quiet at first, no voices and Patton almost lost hope; just until russling echoed through the line, someone was nervous.

"Hello?" a clean, crisp voice spoke with a sense of confusion; and Patton nearly fainted with the swell of his heart.

Virgil with eyes wide, watched as Patton opened his mouth; his voice hesistant and almost afraid, but at the same time, welcoming.

• • •

"Hi," a voice, as sweet as honey echoed through the phone, and Logan felt a surge through his skin.

Roman's eyes widened, as he moved his hands frantically; portraying a tone of: "Go on."

Logan, a bit flustered and confused; held it together as much as he could, and continued.

• • •

"Y-You are Patton, correct?" the voice, a little more uncomposed than the first greeting, sent Patton smiling; his stutter was cute.

• • •

"I would hope so, Lo-Lo," he spoke, so kindly that Logan could swear he felt the warmth through the screen.

It sent a flush to his cheeks, and he was pretty sure his heart had skipped a beat.

• • •

"I... I like your voice, it's nice to finally hear it after all these years," he spoke, so genuinely that Patton was sure he was stating the sun would rise again.

• • •

"Your voice is very calm, and really tranquil. I love it... Just like I love you," Patton spoke with such a stable tone, Logan though he was going to faint.

• • •

"I..." his voice began, careful and considering, "I love you too, Patton."

His eyes fluttered shut, as he absorbed the words deeply into his skin; like a flood of cool water on a hot summer's day.

• • •

"I could listen to that all day," his voice unhesitating and sweet, slowly edging into more comfortable than before, giggled.

Logan's heart raced, remembering that giggle from such a long time ago; it was somehow even cuter now.

• • •

"I missed your laugh, it was always so warm and bubbly. I should get you to laugh more often, I like it," his voice hummed with a deep chuckle in his throat, that struck Patton right in the heart strings.

• • •

"I... I missed you, Lo," his voice spoke sincerely, a sense of relief etched deeply in his tone.

And with a pang to the chest, Logan realized how much they missed for those years he didn't send letter; but instead of recognizing it, he just said what he felt.

For the first time, in a long time.

• • •

"I missed you too."

#sanders sides #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #roman sanders #ts patton #virgil sanders #logicality #teen romance logicality #teen logicality #light prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #sanders sides fic #ts logicality #logicality fic

[yagumokyoji]

fic: a drop of gold

ffn ao3

Sunset after practice, and Endou and Kidou are walking home. Gouenji is staying behind to work on an as-yet-unnamed hissatsu the team has jokingly suggested should be called Fire Hurricane, and so it’s just the two of them, walking along the same old path; the high school is some ways away from the middle school, but after a mile the route rejoins what it used to be, on the way home.

Endou sighs and says, “Can’t believe Someoka and Captain fought again.”

“It’s unfortunate,” agrees Kidou. “Someoka’s not used to being treated as a junior member of any team. After Inazuma Japan, I think he was expecting more.”

“I think it’s the same for all of us,” says Endou, looking down at the ball in his hands. “We’ve all had to adjust, haven’t we? He’s just not taking it well.”

“It’s his pride,” agrees Kidou. And underlying insecurity. “He should get used to it by the end of the year, though.”

Their first year on the high school soccer team has been interesting, to say the least. There’s the typical shift from being the most senior in their school to the most junior, but complicating that is their reputation. They’ve sailed into high school on the wings of their global victory; you don’t just treat someone like that the way you’d treat any other underclassman, no matter their classmates’ best efforts to remain impartial. A strange dynamic has resulted, equal parts admiration and bitterness; their coach has been having them do cooperation exercises to try to soften the bitterness and reduce the admiration to a more even playing field. It seems to be working, but slowly.

“Course, maybe next year’s captain will know how to coordinate everything,” says Endou, bouncing the ball a little in his hands as they walk; a light toss, a light catch, repeat. “Since the current one is graduating this year, and all.”

“He certainly is,” says Kidou, then, because he knows Endou is thinking it, asks, “Who do you think is going to replace him?”

“Ah…” says Endou, flustered, and shifts the ball to one hand to rub at the back of his neck with the other. “Well… to be honest, I think it’s probably going to be either you or me.”

“I’ve been thinking the same.” There’s a faint blush spread across Endou’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s the obvious conclusion.”

“I guess,” says Endou, and drops the ball in his hands to bounce it off his foot, catch and repeat with each step. “I just… feel bad for the second-years.”

“I know,” says Kidou, and won’t admit it’s been gnawing at him. They’ve been working so hard, and none of them will get a chance at captainship because a bunch of world champion first-years have swanned into their club and taken all the good stuff. It’s hard not for the old self-blame to set in.

“I’ve been wondering,” says Endou, face in a little set frown, “if I could get Captain to pick someone else. Someone who really needs the experience, you know? I’ve already been captain. Someone else should have a turn.”

“I’ve thought the same,” agrees Kidou. “But unfortunately, I don’t think that would work out. The fact that you were captain through a world tournament means you have a lot more experience, and have acquired all sorts of skills through that experience. It would be detrimental to the team to nominate someone who didn’t know what they were doing.” Sometimes, he thinks, life just isn’t fair.

Endou elbows him. “Hey, hey, you’re a candidate too! Give yourself some credit, it’s not just me!”

Kidou shrugs. “I’m a candidate because I’m smart,” he says neutrally. “It’s just how I am, it’s not something I earned or worked for. I’m not sure how deserving it is.”

“It is too deserving.” They’ve reached a stone wall running alongside the sidewalk; Endou stops and leans against it, and Kidou does too. “And you did work for your strategy skills, and they got us all the way to nationals. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I suppose,” says Kidou, a slow warmth running down from his head to his toes. This topic feels dangerous somehow, like reaching a hand too close to a wonderful fire, so he changes it. “Who on the team do you think would make a good captain?”

“Hm.” Endou frowns, thinking; sets aside the ball on the stone wall and crosses his arms in focus. “Tatsuki-senpai, for starters. He always seems to know exactly what the opponent is thinking.”

“True, but he sometimes misjudges his plays,” says Kidou, and leans back to stare up at the sky. “Fuuta-senpai, maybe. Everyone listens when he speaks…” He trails off. The fact of the matter is that, try as he might to think of various teammates as captain, match the armband to their face and imagine taking directions from them, there’s only one person he can ever imagine as his captain, and that’s—“But—I’d rather it be you, Endou.”

“Ah…” The blush that spreads across Endou’s face, reddens his ears, is rose-petal soft. Endou rubs at his neck, gives a little “Hehe,” and says, “Thanks, Kidou. I appreciate it.”

“It’s the truth,” says Kidou, and then, on a natural impulse, takes Endou’s hand; it’s warm and comforting as he always is. “If you became captain next year, it’d feel right.”

Endou squeezes his hand, and a ripple of warmth goes through him. “Thank you, Kidou. That’s really nice to hear.” A bird flies overhead, tracing the sunset sky. “You’d make a great captain too, you know? You already have the experience, back at Teikoku, and I know you did a great job then.”

What Kidou won’t admit is that he barely even remembers half his time at Teikoku, swallowed up as it is in repression, murky darkness, and a self he’d rather forget. What he says is, “Maybe. A lot has changed since then.”

“So have you,” says Endou, in a tone of pure and simple trust. “You’ve gotten even better. You’re really a genius, Kidou.”

Kidou finds his tongue, unties it after that compliment. “I just hope,” he says, light, teasing, pretending he doesn’t mean it, “I don’t pose too much competition to your shot at captaincy.”

“Competition? Never.” Endou leans into him, gives Kidou’s shoulder a friendly bump with his. It only brings them closer together and Kidou’s heart gives a little skip. “Whoever gets the position, I’ll be happy.”

“Me too. I’m fine either way. I hope you get it.”

“That’s good,” says Endou softly. At length he adds, “I wouldn’t mind if you became captain, Kidou. You’d be amazing at it.”

The compliment drops into Kidou’s chest, spreads warm like melting butter. “Thank you.”

“I’m just stating facts,” says Endou lightly, the words brushing Kidou’s mouth like feathers, and Kidou can’t respond because now Endou is kissing him, or he is kissing Endou, something rare and magical that has happened without either of them consciously initiating. As though a kind of magnetism decided to descend upon them and interrupt their conversation. Endou pulls away, makes a thoughtful “Mm” noise deep in his throat, readjusts, and then they’re kissing again. It’s like warm honey, something to sink into and float in. Their mouths move against each other, gentle, exploratory, and Endou’s mouth is soft and warm, and Kidou, who spent years being taught to repress his emotions, nonetheless feels something uncontrollably vast and tender well up in him and fill every corner of his body, something that has been waiting for this moment. His free hand comes up to Endou’s face to pull him closer; Endou’s cheek is soft.

After a moment they separate. They are still holding hands and neither of them speaks for a while; Endou makes a noise like he’s about to, then falls silent. The moment feels serene and untouchable, like a bubble floating in the sunset air.

Finally Kidou clears his throat. “It’s going to get dark soon.”

“Sure is,” says Endou, and pushes up off the wall, picking the ball back up in one hand, not letting go of Kidou’s with the other. They set off again. Houses pass by, shops and buildings, and after a while Endou says, “Kakera-senpai’s pass to Kazemaru today—don’t you think that’s hissatsu material?”

Kidou nods. “The way it angled around Tsuchida-senpai’s block… We should bring that up to Captain, see if they can drill it—”

And the moment sits on the stone wall behind them, the ripples of it fading.

reblogs and comments highly appreciated!

#inazuma eleven #endou mamoru #kidou yuuto #enki #there has to be a more searchable pairing name s2g #writing.

[aticklishtem]

Cat’s Out of the Bag

((Request for @mylittlemystery from this post + “Are you scared?”~  I hope you like it!! <3 ))

“Boys, boys! Get back here right – I said stay! Heel! Play dead…?”

Djimmi wished he could say it was an uncommon occurrence to be roused from his lamp by a flurry of rowdy barks, indignant yowls, frantic pleas and plastic palm trees crashing to the floor – and maybe once it had been. But, it was safe to say, those days had all been long before his life had had the – occasionally mixed – blessing of having Beppi in it.

He materialised in a puff of smoke to be met with a predictably chaotic picture: a bunch of Beppi’s balloon dogs all yapping and growling; his own sarcophagus cats, arched up, hissing and spitting back at them, and in the middle of it all, almost literally tying himself into knots trying to keep them from colliding, while several hot pups nipped at his heels and another tugged fiercely at his collar in an attempt to get at the kitten that had somehow gotten its claws stuck into the other side, his colourful chum.

“Djimbo! Hiya!” Beppi exclaimed, flashing him a slightly more frazzled smile than usual. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“In my own tent, yes, fancy that,” Djimmi answered dryly, wry amusement turning to concern as his cat dangled precariously from Beppi’s collar. Sensing an imminent fall, he hastily floated over to retrieve the little one, cradling it carefully in his arms while planting himself as a more effective wall between the dogs and the rest of the litter.

Beppi let out a sheepish chuckle, just about twisting himself back into shape as most of the dogs retreated behind his legs. “Sorry about that – didn’t mean to disturb your little catnap. We were just out for walkies when several somebodies…” he shot a glare towards the dogs, who paid him no heed, “decided to start playing chase instead. Say sorry, boys!” He got nothing but a lone, contrary growl in response, which Djimmi couldn’t help but smile at – he knew just how unruly sentient show props could be, after all. “Ignore them, they’re full of hot air. They’re just being grouchy ‘cause I haven’t fed them yet.”

He lifted his hat, somehow revealing a long string of balloon sausages – Djimmi was no slouch when it came to magic, but Beppi’s unique brand of absurdity mystified even him at times – and lobbed them over towards the tent flap, successfully diverting the dogs’ attention as they bounced eagerly over each other to get at the rubbery feast.

“Dogs will be dogs, I suppose.” Reassured that his pets had come to no harm, Djimmi yawned and stretched out in the space, bending and flexing his muscles with a satisfying pop – it was cosy in his lamp, but took its toll if he slacked off for too long. “It’s more traditional to rub the lamp, but that’s...certainly one way to wake me up.” The customers would be coming in soon wanting their fortunes told, so he arranged himself gracefully across the plush pile of cushions scattered across the sand; as he did so, a few of the more skittish cats that had been hiding from the dogs behind his chest of ancient artifacts scampered over, soothed by his presence.

“Oooh, do I get three wishes?” Beppi made himself equally at home, sinking into the cushions next to Djimmi while a few curious cats padded over to inspect the newcomer.

“If you were several thousand years earlier, maybe. But I’ll tell you your future for three coins.”

Beppi poked his tongue out playfully in retaliation. “Don’t need your hokey magic. Maybe I’ll just start my own act...Beppi the Brilliant! Has a ring to it, don’tcha think?” As Djimmi chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly, he leaned over to peer intently into the crystal ball on the table – it didn’t actually show anything until Djimmi channeled his own magic into it, but Beppi was nothing if not committed to his act, wiggling his fingers dramatically above it, “I predict...lots of laughter! After a bit of a ruff start.”

“Ruff!” one of the dogs barked, its ears perking up.

“That’s right, you tell ‘em, buddy.” One of the kittens that had made its way into his lap mewed softly, diverting Beppi’s attention as his eyes widened in tender concern. “Oh, hey, little guy! Don’t be scared – they’re good boys really. They just play a little ruff.”

Djimmi kept a watchful eye as they got acquainted; his little ones could be fussy, and he rarely saw them take to anyone easily. And when they did, he had to admit he never imagined it would be Beppi, who only seemed to have two settings: loud and louder. Yet here he was, lifting them up as soft and gentle as anything to babble nonsense baby talk, giggling delightedly when paws batted at his colourful buttons and occasionally meowing himself as though they were having an in-depth conversation. Like so many things he did, it was both bizarre and inexplicably adorable, and Djimmi felt something warm and fuzzy stirring somewhere deep in his own old soul.

His fleeting moment of tranquility was soon disturbed as a few balloon dogs, having finished their snack and apparently disgruntled at their owner having the nerve to pay attention to anything else, floated back over, prompting a couple of cats to scramble back into the safety of Djimmi’s arms. While Beppi was busy reassuring them that he had plenty of pets to go around for everyone, a soft, metallic tail brushed across Djimmi’s bare stomach and he jumped, inadvertently dislodging a few cushions and drawing Beppi’s gaze back to him in the process.

“Down, boy.” Beppi patted his most persistent companion as he glanced up into Djimmi’s eyes, expression somewhere between amused and and suspicious, with just a hint of concern. “Djimbo, you’re not scared of old Frankie, are you? He couldn’t do a pop of damage – look.” He booped the pooch on the nose and it growled playfully, nipping at his finger. “See? Not sharp at all.”

Djimmi smiled, grateful that his natural hue should hide any resulting reddening of his cheeks. “No, of course I’m not scared of you…!” His voice rose to a strangled yelp as he reached over to pet the pup; the cat was settling in by pawing at his lap, its fur rubbing relentlessly at the exposed skin there. He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble up while maintaining a facade of normalcy – if Beppi caught on, he knew, the cats would be the least of his problems.

His friend cocked a bright blue eyebrow, evidently not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’re acting kinda kooky, and this is me saying – ohhh.” Too late, much too late – realisation dawned and his golden eyes lit up like he’d just hit the jackpot at a slot machine. “I see what you’re scared of now. It’s the monster, isn’t it?”

“Beppi…” Djimmi adopted his best warning tone, despite the slightest of nervous flutters in his stomach as he folded his arms protectively over it – he recognised that scheming smile all too well, and it meant whatever zany idea had popped into his head, Djimmi wasn’t going to like it. “Don’t be ridiculous – alright, more ridiculous. There’s no monster here.”

“Djimbo, I am utterly, completely, eleventy-hundred-per-cent sincere here,” Beppi insisted, fluttering his eyelashes and almost managing to look halfway innocent, despite the malicious mischief glittering underneath. “Tickle monsters are no laughing matter. In fact, I think I just saw one riiiight…” his fingers, which had been slowly walking their way across Djimmi’s back, dug into his side, “there!”

The laughter he’d been repressing immediately burst free as nimble fingers scrabbled their way up his sides; they tumbled sideways, Djimmi ending up on his back sprawled across the cushions with Beppi straddling him, bearing down on him with a maniacal grin that in no way resembled the face of mercy.

“Oh no, looks like they’re multiplying!” he mock-gasped, confirming this fact when Djimmi attempted to push him off without doing any lasting damage by wriggling his fingers under his biceps and into the hollows of his armpits, any protests or threats dissolving into a stream of uncharacteristic, embarrassingly high-pitched giggles. “Whatever will we do?! Who will come and save our poor, helpless hero?”

He barely heard the familiar soft tinkle of paws over his own laughter as several cat sarcophagi padded over to investigate the kerfuffle; to Djimmi‘s frustration, they chose to “help” by licking his neck with tiny, soft tongues, while a few others nuzzled at his waist, apparently trying to burrow inside his vest.

“Lihihhihittle ones!” he managed to gasp out, reduced to simply clenching and unclenching his fists uselessly – he didn’t dare squirm too much for fear of sending their fragile bodies flying across the room, but his fate was now truly sealed, with Beppi having switched to lightly tapping out a tune along his ribs, just enough to keep him laughing. “Gehehehet ohohohoff!”

In perhaps the cruellest twist of fate that day, he only succeeded in drawing a bundle of balloon dogs bouncing over to his other side instead – and Beppi was right, their blunt, rubbery teeth didn’t hurt at all when they started nibbling at Djimmi’s waist and hips as though he was another giant sausage: it was so much worse.

“Would ya look at that – we got a full house!” Their ringleader clapped his hands together in glee, briefly distracted by the gathering menagerie, but soon redoubled his efforts as his fingers dancing lower to trace the outline of Djimmi’s abs, slowly at first and then picking up the pace.

“Y’know, Djimbo, you really shouldn’t taunt the tickle monster like that – leaving this cute lil’ tum-tum all exposed!” He spoke with the same teasing coo he’d addressed the cats with moments ago – almost as if Djimmi was an equally tiny, helpless creature, and it somehow intensified every nuzzle of fur, nip of teeth and swirl of gloved finger against his skin to the point where he could hardly think of anything else. Djimmi might’ve even suspected some form of malevolent magic, had he not known that it was all Beppi. “Next thing you’ll be leaving weapons around willy-nilly…”

Djimmi’s eyes, previously screwed shut from the potent combination of mirth and embarrassment, flew open in horror as he realised what Beppi was reaching for.

“Beheheheppi – don’t you even think about –“

“Now don’t tell me you’re scared of this fluffy fella too.” Beppi plucked the feather from his turban and wielded it like a seasoned swordsman, fluttering under his vest, across his chest, over every bit of skin he could reach with the lightest yet simultaneously most unbearable touch, as though painting a mural of giggles that turned to louder snorts and guffaws while evading Djimmi’s attempts to grab it back.

“Gihihive that bahahahack!”

“Aw, don’t be such a party pooper – the fun’s only just gotten started!” Beppi reprimanded him by twirling the tip of the feather across his broad shoulders – blessedly, a less sensitive area, but he scrunched up his neck instinctively anyway. “Hey, are you blushing? Kinda hard to tell – we should probably keep going, just to be sure. Whaddaya think, fellas?” Djimmi felt, rather than heard, a few responding mews as if his traitorous pets were agreeing, the sly devils. “‘Cause I think the tickle monster’s getting hungry. And I heard...that ticklish little genies are his faaavourite snack!”

Before Djimmi had any hope of finding the necessary coherency to point out the absurdity of Beppi calling him ‘little’ – though with the ludicrous nom nom nom noises he was growling against his trembling belly, practically one with his pack, he probably wouldn’t have heard anyway – he inhaled deeply and blew the noisiest, longest raspberry he could muster, which, given the proportions he could inflate his head and lungs to, felt to Djimmi like an eternity.

The ticklish sensations vibrated ceaselessly through every inch of his being, finally undoing the last of Djimmi’s self-control; his deep, booming, unrestrained laughter reverberated through the room, shaking the walls of his tent as he pounded a fist desperately against the floor. Startled by the outburst, the cats and dogs scattered, leaving only a trail of tingles lingering on his oversensitive skin.

Whether out of mercy or satisfaction with his grand finale, Beppi hopped off of him too and let Djimmi float upright, gathering his breath and what remained of his dignity before flashing him an unrepentant grin.

“Alright, alright, good hustle, guys,” he told the cats and dogs that had clustered around his feet, petting one with each hand – at least they seemed to have reconciled, somewhere in the process of uniting to torment Djimmi instead. “I think the tickle monster’s had his fill – for today, anyway…”

That smug satisfaction wavered as soon as Djimmi narrowed his eyes, picking up that damned feather and affixing it back to his turban; before Beppi could make a dash for it, he swiftly sealed the tent entrance with a flick of one hand while effortlessly scooping up an armful of squirming clown with the other.

“Funny you should mention, about these tickle monsters,” he hummed, cradling Beppi on his back just as he would a misbehaving kitten – he even curled up like one, drawing his knees up to his chest as if that was going to protect him from the powerful, wiggling fingers advancing ever closer, “because I heard there’s only one way to truly defeat them...”

“Djimbo – wait, wait! Just listen – we can cut a deal, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t – dohohohohon’t…!”

It also wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for his tent to shake with hysterical squeals and shrieks and snorts, the kind that doubtless made passers-by wonder what in the world was going on in there – but, fortunately, it was one Djimmi wouldn’t have traded for the world.

#tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #cuphead tickling #cuphead tickles #will i ever write about anyone other than these huge dorks #evidently Not This Day #tem writes #my fic

[heloisedc]

Pygmalion Relations

Hair

Wandering in the public square, a lit lantern in hand in the middle of the day, […] A garden more inviting than Eden would […] meet my eye.[1]

Once you arrived, I studied you and was pleased with what I found.[2]

I went to see him the next morning, and received an invitation to dine there, which I accepted.[3]

He was of utter beauty, grazing perfection. The reproduction of the image of the Vitruvian man […][4] He was transparent but impenetrable.[5]

The situation of this house was beautiful, though chosen for convenience.[6] So far as this technic expression of size and power are concerned, I look on the hall as nearly perfect, and were this the highest or even a high class of beauty we need not go further[7] In this sense, it came closest to the idea of perfection, which is the starting point and goal of all art.[8]

His face was distorted[9] And his nose was misshapen, too. Not much, to be sure […].[10] But the perfect proportion and symmetry of his body and frame rendered him beautiful. His skin texture was perfect, the individual hairs on head and body had been lovingly and intricately manufactured and placed.[11]

Oh, how beautiful and stately wast thou on the high couch reclining in the hall![12] He had given great attention to realistic detail, rendering each feature with painstaking precision, whether or not it could in actuality be so seen within the image as a whole.[13] The dishes gave as much pleasure to my imagination as to my palate; sometimes the little piece of nature from which they had been extracted, the rugged holy water stoup of the oyster in which lingered a few drops of brackish water, or the gnarled stem, the yellowed branches of a bunch of grapes, still enveloped them, inedible, poetic and distant as a landscape, evoking as we dined successive images of a siesta in the shade of a vine or of an excursion on the sea […]. [14]

This dinner, although without preparation, was splendid.[15] And The evening was extremely calm and beautiful.[16]

After scaling a ruinous staircase I was shown a bed chamber,[17] where I was invited to stay the night.

Brain

After some passing of time, we had gotten to know each other, and found that we were perfect for each other. I gave him all that I could, while he did the same for me.

It was evidently a case of “love at first sight” […][18]

I had done everything that I could for him I had already banished the shadow of the negative […].[19]

I had learnt that There is the care of the body to consider, health regimens, physical exercises without overexertion, the carefully measured satisfaction of needs.[20]

We would often spend the evenings in the living room, admiring each other.

Mouth

Everything happens, then, during the seconds of complete veiling. Hardly had it begun than a strange light, yellow and tawny, resembling nothing else, neither the evening nor the dawn, invaded the environment; the glory of orange light intercepted by the walls of my abode disappeared, giving way to a somber and magic bath […].[21]

The variant was the surprise bath, where I was taken down the corridors to the ground floor, and arrived in a square room with a vaulted ceiling, where a large bath had been constructed; I was then tipped backwards into the water. [22] Mild water? I found suds forming on my body and I rubbed hastily here, there, everywhere, judging it to be the wash cycle and knowing it would not last long. Then came the rinse cycle. Ah, warm.  Well, perhaps not warm, but not quite as cold, and definitely feeling warm to my thoroughly chilled body.[23]

If a man is covered by an eruption you will mix flour of malt little by little in oil, you will apply (it) and he will recover; if he is still not cured, you will apply hot simtum and he will recover; if he is still not cured, you will apply the warm residue and he will recover.[24] If we employ extracts, they must have been recently prepared and preserved with great care.[25] Oiling out, making out, polishing, scraping, etc.[26] This new development came from the perfecting of the arts that imitate the human body.[27] When he awoke, he looked at his body and found it clean as virgin silver, […] whereat he rejoiced exceedingly and his breast expanded with gladness.[28]

Stomach

Now for his diet: for lunch honey, for dinner a biscuit and vegetables, meat infrequently.... In this way his body kept the same condition, as if on a straight line, without being sometimes healthy, sometimes sick, and without growing heavier Even outside the strictly Pythagorean context, regimen was regularly defined with reference to these two associated dimensions of good health maintenance and proper care of the soul.[29]

You can imagine my surprise when I had discovered a tremendous thing, it seemed to me.[30] The layout of a modern kitchen, […] designed to streamline all processes, from food storage and food preparation, to cooking on the stove and serving the finished meal on the dining room table, to dishwashing and the storage of cutlery and dishes.[31] The Greeks were not wrong in showing us the immortals constantly feasting, drinking ambrosia, and laughing endlessly.[32]

And there were always drugs around—most notably, the jars of white crosses and other uppers that he kept in the fridge next to his protein fortified milkshakes.[33]

I experience food beyond the meal not only while consuming it but also in the selection of certain products over others in meal planning and preparation.[34]

In the succeeding month, our health improved [35] even beyond what I had thought was the limit.

Muscle

The most striking interior volume is the central, double height hall that at once evokes memories of medieval great halls and is bathed with light from huge windows. […][36] Everything is mirror […] [37] It contained all sorts of apparatus: an exercise bicycle, wall bars, a rowing machine, a massage machine etc.[38] I begin by taking a mirror, look at my shoulders, examine my loins and thighs.

Entrance of the gymnast in gymnopedy, entrance of the gymnosophists, entrance of the professor of gymnastics.[39] How magnificent. By gymnastic exercises it was intended to harden his body, to sharpen his courage, and to prepare him for the fatigues and dangers […].[40]

The double ecstasy of the muscular effort in the thighs and calves, a powerful, almost metallic leap, a pause in the air that seems eternal, during which the body assumes positions and performs.[41] That there is absolutely no imperfection, is indeed, […], a proof of his being wanting in the highest qualities of architecture; […] and may well be studied for the excellence he displays in methods of levelling stones, for the precision of his inlaying, and other such qualities […].[42]

For almost nobody, except he be trained from the start and equipped with complete reason, can develop to perfect proportions, understanding when he should do certain things, and to what extent, and in whose company, and how, and why.[43]

No sculptor can possibly produce a first class work of art here on Gaia without a well-crafted Participation and the ones I produce of this particular type are considered excellent[…][44] We seem never to be altogether prepared for the resulting distress. If we do not literally shake, as I did […], we may experience an internal shudder that is the subjective equivalent of the overt trembling that occurred […]. While my physical shaking […] was observable by anyone standing near me, the inner shudder at my own bodily pain may not be visible to others even though it is felt intensely by myself, and felt as foreign to me. Some part of my body has become alien to me, split off from a coherent and unitary sense of self.[45]

He clearly abused himself, but in so doing rendered a stature I had never before had the blessing to see. Ideal form of excellence![46] But For what purpose?[47] He seemed beautiful and strong because he was not like me. I had found a new fascination for this incredible man, a man who seemed to have the ability to do anything.

My eyes alighted by chance on the massive mirror that hung opposite and I let out a cry: our reflections in its golden frame were like a picture of extraordinary beauty. It was so strange and fantastic […].[48]

I had found the strong man I needed and was as happy with him as it is possible to be on this funny ball of clay.[49] I had opened myself up to him.

We were now mutually bound together, the lighter being restrained by the heavier, so that he cannot fly off; while, on the contrary, from the lighter tending upwards, the heavier is so suspended, that I cannot fall down.[50] But there remain a double door, behind which I had never been allowed to go. A secret he was hiding from me.

So these two beings lived in this manner, high aloft, with all that improbability which is in nature; neither at the nadir nor at the zenith, between man and seraphim, above the mire, below the ether, in the clouds; hardly flesh and blood, soul and ecstasy from head to foot; already too sublime to walk the earth, still too heavily charged with humanity to disappear in the blue, suspended like atoms which are waiting to be precipitated; apparently beyond the bounds of destiny; ignorant of that rut; yesterday, to day, tomorrow; amazed, rapturous, floating, soaring; at times so light that they could take their flight out into the infinite; almost prepared to soar away to all eternity.[51]

 Heart

Here the day has come; here the week of the lectistemium had begun.[52]

The physical effort was small, but the mental effort of trying to control without controlling was enormously difficult.[53] His only aim, his only possible aim, was to please me.[54]

I believed, however, that the soul could achieve temporary separation from the body in an ecstatic trance.[55] Is it truly possible to think without arriving at beauty, without penetrating the secret place where life bubbles up, without the transfiguration of the body?[56]

Prepared?[57]

A single locus of sexuality was acknowledged in social space as well as at the heart of every household, but it was a utilitarian and fertile one: the […] bedroom. [58]

At the sight of him, I felt myself bewildered — every sense was absorbed in ecstasy.[59]

Then begins the body to body of discourse with and against silence.[60]

 Air fills the thorax; ten liquids circulate through the vessels and pores; fire sets the heart, the genitals and the brain ablaze; the humus models the human.[61]

The glorious light makes us drunk with joy and our sense of wonder has no limits. This pleasure is truly divine! What pure happiness we feel in the bottom of our hearts at this spectacle! What ecstasy! No, we cannot possibly give expression to it! At this season nature’s work is done; everything is the image of perfection; everything has acquired a clearly defined form that is full blown, accurate and pure. Outlines are clear and distinct; their maturity gives them noble, majestic proportions; their bright, vivid colours have acquired all their brilliance.[62] Then the engine was started, the machine ran along the ground, gathered speed, until finally, all of a sudden, at right angles, I rose slowly, […] as it were static ecstasy of a horizontal speed suddenly transformed into a majestic, vertical ascent.[63]

Now, drawn out from his body, his sinews formed a bundle of dark, shiny stalks, not unlike the bundle of lightning bolts that lay beside him, although these were bright and smoking.[64] Now between the dry head, more than dead, almost abstract, empty and dessicated, suitably objectivized, wholly exterior, pierced, visible, nameable, articulated, analyzable, between the skull and the rest of the world, a circumstantial halo of light, like the ones worn by the great saints, replaces, at bone level, the lining of flesh, fat, muscle, organs, skin, veins, tendons, hair, radiance, charm, beauty, glory. Thus the body thinks. The body thinks therefore shines.[65]

the body becomes an architectural structure, moving masonry, a ship; the skeleton becomes a firm framework, with tie beams and rafters; the muscles form the wall and partitions.[66]

Moments are points of rupture —ephemeral, euphoric, revelatory of the total, radical, sometimes revolutionary possibilities latent in everyday life.[67] Everything that I can see in this body produces in me ecstatic wonder.[68]

Then, having risen to so high a pitch, having been sustained with so much vigour, the chant, mingled with a murmur of supplication in the midst of ecstasy, seemed at times to stop altogether like a spring that has ceased to flow.[69] This music makes me cry because I am not like it, not something complete, which turns toward the lost sweetness of life like a distant quotation. Happiness can only be thought of as something lost, as a beautiful alien. It cannot be anything more than a premonition that we approach with tears in our eyes without ever reaching it. [70]

I was absolutely in a state of ecstasy, and, involuntary, sinking on my knees, I passionately extended my arms towards him, certain he could not hear, and having no conception that he could see me; but there was a fireplace at the end of the room that betrayed all my proceedings.[71] And when I got into the open air, I heard distinctly, as the night was still, the distant sound of a door unlocking.[72]

When the door in front of him finally opened, he stared straight into a hallway, [73] which seemed to stretch out into the infinite. At the end of this couloir, a door.

I prudently walked towards it.

Womb

As I opened the door, I heard a sort of echo in the roof; it sounded like voices and it began to shake my Roman courage.[74] I entered and was taken aback by The blackness, […] the vast emptiness stretching out infinitely.[75] Deep, dark, dank, dismal silence.[76] the infinite void of space[77] But is that emptiness not also the ultimate plenitude?[78]

The darkness embraced him lovingly.[79]

There are beauties that are more palpable and explicable, and they are hidden and secret beauties.[80] I walked into the vastness, the door closing behind me. I almost slipped after taking a step Because the ground was wet.[81]

His hands were stroking my body anxiously, but with care and love. And it did touch me in somewhat the same way; it also brought close to me things of the kind which we not only see with our eyes but feel also in our hearts.[82]

I felt my way along the moist walls, until I let go and walked freely. My feet touched something, laying on the floor. Something that felt like A small bit of steel.[83]

That was the little thing, or the beginning of the little thing, that was soon to become the big thing.[84]

[…] the ‘first chaos’, the absence of order in perfect order, the absence of all relation.[85]

Thus, the creation began. A primordial action, statuary repatriates mass— strange, inevitable, ceaselessly returning, equilibrium and content of the world, first object—by unifying it, like a thing; by individuating it, like a body; by localizing or marking a space by its means; by stabilizing mass like a dead thing or body; by therefore stopping time; by giving mass limits it cannot leave, by defining it or even by inventing the act of defining.[86]

Through this technique, […] a new object was being formed; slowly, it superseded the mechanical body, the body composed of solids and assigned movements, the image of which had for so long haunted those who dreamt of disciplinary perfection.[87]

It shall be perfect therefore, as its Father which is in heaven is perfect.[88]

 After Twelve years, three months, and four days,[89] it’s complete![90]

Finally, all the parts that have contributed to the perfection of the work which we admire[91] came together, forming the one, most sublime, most charming, most graceful, most splendid, most touching being.[92]

[…] more safely guarded by its walls, more superb in palaces, more ornamented in respect to temples, more beautiful by virtue of its buildings, more illustrious in its porticoes, more splendid in its piazzas[93]

In an ecstasy of joy, […], we reiterated, stroking and patting it as though it were a horse that had just come first past the post: “You’re the most beautiful being we know, do you hear?”[94]

[1] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[2] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[3] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[4] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[5] Hugo, Les Miserables

[6] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[7] Fergusson, An Historical Inquiry into the True Principles of Beauty in Art

[8] Mallgrave, Architectural Theory

[9] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[10] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[11] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[12] Seneca, Complete Works

[13] Chilvers, A Dictionary of Modern and Contemporary Art Oxfor

[14] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[15] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[16] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[17] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[18] Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex

[19] Deleuze, Difference and Repetition

[20] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 3

[21] Serres, Biogea

[22] Foucault, History of Madness

[23] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[24] Serres, History of Scientific Thought

[25] Laennec, A Treatise on the Diseases of the Chest and on Mediate Auscultation

[26] Gombrich, Art and Illusion

[27] Younes, The Historical Dictionary of Architecture of Quatremere De Quincy

[28] The Book of the Thousand and One Nights

[29] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 2

[30] Serres, Hermes Literature Science Philosophy

[31] Teige, The Minimum Dwelling

[32] Serres, The Parasite

[33] Davis, High Weirdness

[34] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste

[35] Laennec, A Treatise on the Diseases of the Chest and on Mediate Auscultation

[36] Cruickshank, A History of Architecture in 100 Buildings

[37] Deleuze, Cinema 2 The Time Image

[38] Bourdieu, Distinction

[39] Serres, Genesis

[40] Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations

[41] Serres, The Five Senses

[42] Ruskin, The Stones of Venice

[43] Seneca, Complete Works

[44] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[45] Casey, The World on Edge

[46] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[47] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[48] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs

[49] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs

[50] Pliny, Natural History Volume 1

[51] Hugo, Les Miserables

[52] Serres, Rome

[53] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[54] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[55] Schmitt, The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy

[56] Serres, The Five Senses

[57] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[58] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 1

[59] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[60] Serres, Hominescence

[61] Serres, Biogea

[62] Mallgrave, Architectural Theory

[63] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol V The Captive The Fugitive

[64] Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony

[65] Serres, Statues

[66] Serres, The Five Senses

[67] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[68] de Montaigne, The Complete Essays

[69] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[70] Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason

[71] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[72] The Book of the Thousand and One Nights Supplementary Nights

[73] Kafka, The Trial

[74] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[75] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[76] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[77] Serres, The Birth of Physics

[78] Foucault, History of Madness

[79] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[80] Harrison Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648 1815

[81] Hugo, Les Miserables

[82] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[83] Hugo, Les Miserables

[84] Zizek, Less Than Nothing

[85] Serres, The Birth of Physics

[86] Serres, Statues

[87] Foucault, Discipline and Punish

[88] Tyndale, Doctrinal Treatises

[89] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[90] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

[91] Harrison Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648 1815

[92] Frankl, The Gothic

[93] Smith, Architecture in the Culture of Early Humanism

[94] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[summylise]

Long Time, No See

A/N: yeah yeah I know I know. I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter of NSEND but DON’T WORRY because I still am. This was just a warm up with my OCs but then I realized that it could be a cute one-shot and tbh y’all are going to need it after this next chapter. soooo HAPPY B-DAY @unashamed-shipper !!!! You said the other day how you needed fluff so here ya go!!

prompt: imagine your otp, warm up

pairing: nalu

words: 2355

rating: T bc I say two swear words whoopsie

It’s been three years, two hundred and seventy days, and God knows how many hours since I last saw him but I could never forget him. Not the way his hair fluffed back when he ran his fingers through it, or the way he’d fiddle with the strings of his backpack and his Adam’s apple would bob when he was nervous, or the way his lips would quirk and light up any room he walked into. I can never forget the way his shoulders slumped and how he couldn’t meet my eyes when his drenched form stood in my doorway that night. I can’t forget the subtle way his breathing hitched when he told me and tears had pricked my eyes. I can’t remember the hint of salt I tasted when I kissed him for the last time, whether they were my tears or his didn’t matter. I won’t forget how I had laid in bed for the rest of that week, refusing to see anyone and responding only to my mother when she tried to console me.

He mentioned something about his work or danger or something, but frankly, my ears had stopped working after he said: “I’m leaving.”

It’s been three years since I’ve heard one word from him. Since I’d seen his face, heard his voice, felt his skin.

But today, something felt…different.

I get up a bit earlier than usual; sadly the only train straight to Narcís leaves at 4:30 opposed to my usual 9 am. Get out of bed is more of an overstatement though seeing as I about fall on my face when the alarm makes me about have a heart attack. If it isn’t the near-death experience that wakes me, it’s definitely the cause of the massive bruise probably forming on my lower back.

The rest of the morning goes by in a blur, but I’m luckily conscience enough to brew a fresh pot of straight black tea. If I’m going to make it to the train station without committing at least one felony, I’m going to have to down like a gallon of this shit.

I click the stove lighter and mentally go over the packing list in my head. I’ll only be gone a month, so the bare necessities are all I really need to worry about. Makeup isn’t that important; I’m just going for a personal vacation before college starts, so there’s no point in impressing anyone. I tap each finger as I check off box after box. Undergarments: check. Seven pairs of outfits: check. Toiletries: check. Spare money: check. Boarding pass:…

Dammit, where did I put that thing? My lip sneaks beneath my teeth as I fish for the ticket amongst the various piles on the dining room table. Probably should clean those up at some point.

Bill. Bill. Grocery ad. Bill. Bi-

The pot whistles just as I’m pulling out the white slip. I almost drop the darn thing when I race to stop the kettle before it wakes my mom in the other room. I let out a sigh of relief and tilt the water into my to-go cup. The pass goes in my purse, and I slip out the door with a whispered “I love you” to my mom.

                                                       ~~

The ride to Narcís was generally uneventful. It took about ten hours, but it honestly felt like three. Turns out sleeping through a vast majority of your trip distorts your perception of time a bit. Luckily though, I’m feeling much more refreshed and awake than I had that morning which is probably a blessing to those that have to deal with me for the rest of the day. I order a small lunch, just a sandwich, and some fruit along with a bottle of water to give me a bit more energy when the food cart rolls by.

I’m surprised at how much the scenery changes in the matter of a few states. Gone are the barren, rolling hills of Magnolia and here are the thick, colorful forests of Narcís. The sheer number of trees and wildlife astound me. I mean I had seen forests before when I had lived in Hargeon, but this was something else. They were everywhere, and where they were, they were deep. Thousands of pines lined the tracks for miles at a time. The area behind the vast rows was immersed in shadow due to the heavy presence of trees and brush and undergrowth. It was like I had entered a brand new world filled with life and comfort. Something about it felt…like home, like I belonged there and something was calling me back.

I snack on a sliver of pineapple as the last of a particularly thick patch of woods whizzed past my window. I quickly place the bowl on the empty seat across from me and leaned towards the window to see the town I would call home for a little while. It’s pretty small compared to those I had lived in in the Magnolia, its central area only spanning a few miles all around. Compared to my little pile of buildings in Hargeon, this might as well be a kingdom. The town itself was surrounded at all points by thick pine trees and maples. To the west sat the port to the ocean where they no doubt got their supplies seeing as the only way by land into the town is by train. The stores weren’t all that much, just a bunch of small, one-story buildings. They lined either side of a long road that spanned the entire length of the town, connecting it as a branch holds onto leaves.

I stumbled across this place when I was researching port towns for some history project in eighth grade or something and just happened to see my project when I was cleaning out my closet. The walls had been pressing in on me at that point, and I had decided to do something about it. I then started saving money and picking up hours at the coffee shop to begin funding my expedition. Now I was finally here, and the anticipation was killing me.

We pull into the main station, probably the biggest building in town, about five minutes later and I don’t waste one second before leaping onto the platform, almost losing my floppy hat in the process. I instantly collide with a gust of fresh, salty air and can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of my chest. My stomach leaps. I was here. I was finally here. I pull my suitcase behind me and approach the overlook facing the sea.

My mouth about drops to the floor. Water. Dark and blue and everywhere. From as far right to as far left as I could see. That vast expanse spreads up and over the far horizon in the distance. White seagulls fly overhead, cawing and begging for scrap that the few visitors drop in their haste to leave the metal contraption. I don’t turn back though; I can’t turn back. My eyes are glued to the blue and how the sun peeks out from behind dark clouds above to shimmer on the ocean’s surface. It really was like a sapphire, I noticed. The blue was slightly off, opting more of a dark, midnight hue, but the way the sun caught waves that crested and moved was spot on.

Another gust rushes through me, ruffling my hair and raising the hair on my arms. I almost shudder with the wave of freshness and belonging that hits me when the spray of salt caresses my face. My eyes drift back open, and I realize that I can suddenly feel the sun on my head. It takes me a second to piece together that my hat was no longer on top of my head.

I whip around, eyes grazing the concrete floor searching for the golden straw and pink flowers of my hat, landing, luckily, only a few feet away. I start towards it. Then stop dead in my tracks.

Because I see it. I see him. I first notice his hair then his rich, sage eyes then the way his mouth parts. The handle to my suitcase slips from my grasp. The hat floats away, all concerns of it blowing right along with it. Time stills. People filter from my vision until it’s just him. Just him and me.

I feel my lips part, my hands rising to cover them. I feel myself mouth his name. I hear my own, his voice floating towards me effortlessly in all its deep, whispered glory.

Then I’m running. And he’s running. And I have my arms wrapped around him so tightly I don’t know if it’s too hard or rough, but I don’t care. I don’t care. Because it’s him. And he’s here. And…and…

“Natsu,” I murmur, my whispered voice breaking.

I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. I don’t bother to hide my sobs, and I tighten my hold around his neck. He tightens his grip, making it hard for me to breath. I know he’s struggling too, but I can’t bring myself to let him go lest he slip between my fingers again. He nuzzles into my neck. He mutters something against my skin. I feel something wet slide down my skin, and I know he’s crying too. I don’t pull back to see. I don’t loosen my grip in the slightest even though my body is shaking violently.

I pull back when I’m finally unable to get enough air in my lungs, but I don’t untangle my arms from around his neck. I realize that I have to lean back to meet his eyes this time. His rich, olive eyes shimmer with tears that also streaked thin lines down his face. His features are harder, stronger than before and his hair a bit thicker, a bit lighter with sun-kissed streaks of gold mixed with the now light rose. He now stands a head taller than me opposed to level with me all those years ago.

“Lucy,” he mutters back.

I can’t help the way my heart leaps at how his deep timber whispers my name as if he can’t believe that I’m here just like I can’t believe that he is either. A smile explodes across my lips.

“Yeah. It’s me,” I say back.

A toothy grin spreads across his face, and a thick laugh rumbles out of his chest and into mine. The sound sends my heart into a frenzy and reminds me how much I missed that sound. I can’t help the laugh that bursts past my lips at that noise. I feel his grip around me tighten, and my feet lift off the ground, and he spins me. And I laugh more. Because it’s silly. Because I’m happy. Because it’s him.

He sets me back down a moment later. My breath hitches again as I stare back into his eyes. I realize then, with a crushing sense of finality that he’s actually here after all this time. I feel my vision blur and a ball rise in my throat when it hits me how much his presence means to me and how much it hurt when he was gone. Not because he was one of the very few in my heart. Not because we were together. But because with him, I felt home; I finally felt right. And it was Natsu. And he was now a part of me, and I was whole again. And I just…

“I missed you,” I choke out. “I missed you so much.”

His smile softens, and he lifts a hand to wipe the tears streaming down my cheek.

“I missed you so much it ached. I missed you too. So, so, so much.”

His own eyes shimmer, reminding me for a moment of the ocean and how the sun made it sparkle like a jewel.

My smile grows, and I hiccup. I pull him down until his lips meet mine. My eyes slip closed. And it’s just us.

I kiss him with everything I have, all the pain, the loneliness, the longing. I press my lips so hard against his own, I know they’re going to bruise. He presses back with just as much intensity if not more. I don’t care that our teeth clack together when we collide or how our lips tingle with the other or the roaring of the blood in my ears. I just want to drink in as much of him as possible. The taste of salt and strawberries slips across my tongue when I slip it between his parted lips. My fingers weave into his hair and slide against his skin, basking in the warm feel of his skin against my own, the way his hair glides through my fingers. He groans against my mouth but continues his assault. His hands slide up and down along my back, trying to feel as much of me as he can. His fingers find the bottom of my t-shirt and slide under. I try to hide my shudder, but struggling is proving pointless.

I have to pull back, whether it’s to breathe or stop myself from caving in, I’m not sure. We both stand there panting, foreheads pressed together, taking each other in. We still can’t believe our eyes, our lips, our hands. I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t bear to open my own. I don’t want this to be a dream. I don’t want to wake up again only to find him not next to me.

I slowly slide my hand down his neck, down his chest, and around his back. I lean forward and press my face into his shoulder. My fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a sigh and wraps his warm arms around my back beneath my shirt. His head buries into my hair, the movement so familiar, so…him. I allow his scent, the warm smell of a campfire and sandalwood washing over me, covering me, swallowing me whole.

And I let it. Because it’s Natsu. And I’m home.

#summer writes #nalu #fairy tail #ft fanfics #nalu fanfics #nalu fanfiction

[hiraeth-doux]

Furiously Falling For You

Summary: “Stay.” He felt the word fall from her lips rather than heard it, so close… And everything around them stopped. 

From the inn scene onward. 

A/N: I can’t even begin to tell y’all how obsessed I am with Wonder Woman, and honestly, this movie is the best thing that happened to us all. I’m feeling all the things right now, and this fic just had to happen. Have fun!

AO3

Deep down, Steve Trevor knew he was not a good guy.

Decent to a certain degree, if had to put a label on it. Good enough to care for the choices he’d made. Brave, perhaps – there was no way around it in his line of work.

However, a truly good guy would have walked out of that door because it was the right thing to do, for Diana’s sake as well as his own. They were in the middle of the war that was bigger than both of them, and he knew better than to be disillusioned by one victory that could mean little in the long run.

A good guy wouldn’t have put his wants above anything and everything else because he was scared he might not get another chance.

A good guy wouldn’t have wondered if he qualified as one.

In the flickering candlelight that was casting dancing shadows around them, Steve allowed himself a moment of hesitation before throwing caution and reason out the window.

Two steps toward her--

“Stay.”

He felt the word fall from her lips rather than heard it, so close… And everything around them stopped.

His breath hitched in his throat when Diana’s mouth brushed against his, tentatively at first but not at all uncertain, nimble fingers trailing down his cheek. His heart pounding, he pushed his hands into her hair, feeling its silky softness and fullness against his skin, intoxicated by the taste of her. Pulled her closer, unable to resist the need to feel her - something that was lingering in the periphery of his mind since the moment he saw her, so beautiful it almost hurt to look.

Her lips parted, deepening the kiss, his bulky jacket bunched in her fists, and there was only so much he could do to stop himself from floating away. If she wasn’t holding him, he’d turn to dust and smoke there and then.

“What?” She asked, confused, when he chuckled against her mouth.

Steve brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his calloused skin seemingly so much rougher than hers. “You taste like snow,” he breathed out, and swallowed hard, his head spinning, when she smiled that heavenly smile of hers, the one that was like sunshine, lighting him up on the inside.

It was impossible to imagine that they’d left London only this morning, freed the village of Veld a few measly hours ago. One day that felt like a lifetime, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The time bending and twisting around them in the intricate pattern he couldn’t figure out.

She deserves better than this, a thought flashed through his mind. Better than this senseless war and carnage and the madness that the people brought upon themselves, all gods be damned. She had the biggest heart, the kindest soul of everyone he’d ever met. Sure, she deserved someone better than him. Yet, he was all Steve had to give, and the thought was flushed out of his mind when she gripped the hair on the back of his head, kissing him hard, claiming all he was willing to office.

“Are you sure?” He rasped breathlessly before the last sliver of logic got shattered under the sheer force of need coursing through his veins, his mind oddly blank as he tried not to fall off the edge of the world.  

Without another word, she stepped back, still holding his gaze, the world around them hazy and unfocused. She flicked her fingers, and just like that her black cloak fell down to the floor, pooling at their feet, the gold of her armor glowing in the flickering light of the fire. Steve stared back, drinking her in, transfixed, scared to so much as blink for fear of having her disappear. She leaned into him, hands framing his face, thumbs running over the scruff on his cheeks. He sucked in a sharp breath, catching her, tasting her smile, allowing her to devour him whole.

A pause.  A nod. And then her hands were sliding under his sweater and pushing it up and over his head, each gesture carefully controlled to keep the electric desire at bay, make the moment last.

She unbuckled one of her wrist guards and let the gravity take it. “Let me.” Steve caught her arm and slipped the other one off, somewhat surprised to find out what were made of tough leather rather than metal, smooth and cool to the touch; lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, all without breaking the eye contact, watching Diana’s eyes go almost completely black, the stutter of her pulse not lost of him.  

Outside, he could still hear the people laughing, the music spilling from the open windows of the tavern on the other side of the plaza as the snow continued to fall, melting on the dark windowpanes, but it all felt unreal somehow, removed and cut off this space, and the warmth of her touch, and her hands mapping his face, and he could barely hear the outbursts of laughter through the deafening blood rush in his ears and the thunderous hammering of his heart that threatened to break out of his ribcage any moment now.

His hand curled over Diana’s jaw, lifting her face to find her mouth with his again.

“Here,” she murmured, guiding his hands to the clasps that held her bodice in place. The skirt followed suit, and then she was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as their lips continues to meet in hasty, desperate kisses. Not made of porcelain and steel as he somewhat expected after seeing her singlehandedly disarm half of the German army only a few hours ago, her skin was silky-soft and warm, and he wanted to put his hands all over her, kiss every inch of her until he knew her body better than anyone else.

Soft and languid in his arms, she followed his lead, and the trust that it enticed made him ache on the inside. Stripped off her armour in every sense, she was willing to give as much as she wanted to take, the low sounds of appreciation in the back of her throat setting his blood on fire, filling him with inexplicable, fierce protectiveness. It was ridiculous, really. Diana of Themyscira, Princess of the Amazons didn’t need him, of all people, to shield her from the world. Didn’t need anyone, for that matter – hell, she could probably snap him in half without even noticing - but when her hands moved not at all uncertainly over his body, when he was breathing in her sweet scent as his lips danced over whatever part of her he could reach with the urgency of someone who knew that this was not going to last, all he wanted to do was hold her close and never let go.

He caught her wrist, pressing it into the pillow above her head, and while Diana’s eyes kept dropped shut, her back arching into him as he started to move above her, he never tore his off of her, his gaze following the gentle slope of her forehead, the straight line of her nose, the slightly parted red lips.

“Steve…” His name fell from her lips like a plea, and he snagged her mouth with his in a long kiss, swallowing her moan.

And then suddenly she rolled them over, pinning him to the mattress, so gorgeous above him he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, suspended in this moment where nothing else existed but her. Her hair was falling like a veil over one side of her face, hiding her features from him, save for a playful smile, her eyes locked one his. Hands clasped over his forearms, she swayed her hips, watching his gaze go wild. He’d never wanted anyone more.  

“I think I’m getting a hang of it,” she whispered, dipping her head to trace her mouth along his jaw, her breathing erratic and matching his.

Steve cupped the back of her head, fingers tangled in her wild mane, pulling her mouth to his again. “You are,” he muttered, spinning into bright, sparkling oblivion.

---

A giggle bubbled up in Diana chest, the sound bouncing off the walls and reverberating into Steve’s very core, the only thing he wanted to hear. Tangled in the sheets, she pressed her forehead into his shoulder, her body shaking with a soundless laughter.

Still breathless, his heated skin pricking with goosebumps as the cool air of the room wrapped around him. He should have gotten up, threw a log or two into the fire perhaps. Before they froze to death, Steve thought. Except it was too much trouble, his muscles unresponsive and his bones too liquefied to move, his breath nowhere to be found still.

“What?” He asked nonetheless, turning to her.

“Cleo was wrong,” Diana glanced up, her mouth curved into a contemplative smile.

Steve chuckled, feeling the colour rise up his cheeks. “What? Men are not useless after all?”

She propped up on her elbow, looking down at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Not entirely,” she admitted, and he let out a hearty guffaw. He lifted his arm, and Diana ducked under it, scooting closer, allowing him to tuck her into him.

Half-draped over him, one of her calved curled over one of his, she rested her chin on the back of her wrist, watching him in the dim light.

“I never thought it could be like this,” she said softly.

Steve brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, unable to stop smiling (looking like a total moron probably, he suspected). Unable to stop touching her. “Like what?”

She studied him for a long moment, head tilted pensively to her shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly. His heart skipped a beat under this gaze, then another, then plummeted down into his stomach. This was what free-falling felt like, he figured. Only better.

“Like magic,” she shook head at how it came out.

He smirked, one eyebrow arched. “You said that about the snow.”

Warm lips brushed a feather-light kiss to his collarbone before she tucked her face under his chin, Steve’s fingers threading lazily through her hair.

“Everything feels magical,” she murmured, a smile in her voice.

You are magical, he thought, but it sounded corny and silly even in his head, and so he simply pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his hand curled over hers lying on his chest, his thumb absently tracing her long fingers.

“Is this what people do, too?” Diana asked quietly, rubbing her nose against his jaw, her voice barely a whoosh of breath on his skin. “When there is no war?”

Despite his drooping eyes and the exhaustion that was threatening to overtake his mind and body, Steve’s attention snapped back to present, a laugh rumbling deep in his chest. It was incredible, really, how her wisdom and intelligence and god knew how many years of combat training mixed with an almost child-like naiveté, the kind of openness he hadn’t seen in another person in a very long time, if ever.

That was it, he thought. That was the reason he wanted so badly to shelter her from the rest of the world – so she could keep holding on to this pure innocence and utmost trust in the goodness of the mankind.

“More than anything else, I guess,” he responded, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

If only they could make it through tomorrow, and a few days after that… He didn’t dare think that far ahead, didn’t dare hope, not since the war broke out, but if – if – they could get to the other side of this mess… They could go to Paris, and once the thoughts started pouring in, there was no stopping them. They could go to Paris, take a cruise down the Seine River, have breakfast in our of the myriad cafes scattered all over the city, climb all the way up to the top of the Eiffel Tower and have the world at their feet. And quite frankly, after Diana vs. Revolving Door, he couldn’t wait to introduce her to an elevator.

Or they could go to Italy. She’d love the winding narrow streets of Rome, the turquoise waters of Venice, the magnificence of Vatican. He knew she would. If nothing else, she would certainly appreciate Italian ice-cream – he’d heard it was the best in the world.

His thoughts skidded to a halt – it had been so long since he allowed himself to dream of tomorrow, leave alone of anything beyond that that it didn’t even feel natural anymore. He’d always been good at what he was doing because he had little to hold on to, or at least that was what Steve kept telling himself. For years.

A few days ago, if he suddenly disappeared without a trace, the world wouldn’t know, and quite frankly, he wouldn’t have cared much, either. Now, he refused to close his eyes for fear of having this moment end before he was ready. He’d flew an airplane that had only half a tank of fuel, worked for months amidst the enemy, never knowing if he was going to see the light of another day, he was shot, even stabbed once, but he’d never in his life been more terrified than he was now, thinking that he might never have a chance to walk the streets of Italy and dance under the stars with the woman who fitted against him like she was sculpted from clay for him and him alone.

Curled into him, Diana shifted, shivering slightly.

“You cold?” He asked. She was shaking her head a no, lips brushing in reassurance against his shoulder but Steve was pulling the covers over them nonetheless. She might be invincible, but the basic human comfort was certainly not an alien concept to her. “Better?”

She looked up, slipped her hand from underneath his and reached over to run her fingers over his cheek, touch the cut above his eyebrow, the one that only now started to heal after his plane crash, pushing his hair back from his forehead, dark eyes taking him in.

“She was right. Antiope.”

His eyebrows creased. “About what?”

“The fight is never fair.”

He was twisting a lock of hair in his fingers, eyes locked on hers, anchored by her solid presence. “No,” he said simply, the wistfulness in his words matching hers. “It’s not.” A pause. His throat closed up. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed, pulling away, hovering over him, her face an inch away from his, fingers curling in his hair. He could feel the shift in her like it was a physical thing, an electric shock that surged through her and into him. “But I can make it be worth it.”

He pushed up, meeting her mouth halfway, the weariness that felt like lead pressing his body into the old mattress gone without a trace.

Steve pulled her to him, catching her gasp that morphed into a moan. On the other side of the night was only uncertainty and death, but they had tonight, and he needed to sear every moment of this night into his memory strong enough to last several lifetimes.

---

It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to stay. It was splotched over the slanting roofs here and there, but the small cobbled plaza in front of the inn was dark and muddy as the night before. Unlike the previous night, however, it was empty and eerily quiet, and if it wasn’t for a few wispy trails of smoke rising from the chimneys here and there and a soft rumble of someone’s – Steve was fairly certain it was Sammie - snoring somewhere downstairs, it’d be easy to believe that the place was completely deserted.

Add crumbling buildings and half-collapsed walls to it, and the landscape before him looked so much more devastating.

His gaze skimmed over the rooftops and then the field and the forest behind it, its bare gnarly hands scraping the low November sky. There, on the other side of it, was where everything would end today, one way or another. Charged with odd energy coursing through his veins, Steve felt his insides twist. He was no fatalist, he never believed in premonition and was very careful about the concept of a gut feeling, but the mere thought of what was waiting for them at the end of this journey was making him sick to the stomach.

“Steve?”

Startled, he glanced over his shoulder to find Diana sitting on the bed, a sheet pooling around her and dark hair cascading down her shoulders. So breathtakingly gorgeous he didn’t know how his heart wasn’t bursting in his chest with every beat.

“Hey,” he breathed out, a corner of his mouth curling up in a smile he couldn’t bite back, his mind trying to capture this moment, save it forever.

“Is everything--” Her eyebrows creased in alarm and she reached for the sword propped against the wall by the bed, her body tensing visibly.

Steve shook his head in a hasty reassurance. “No, it’s ok. We’re good.”

Diana paused, dropped her hand, assertive eyes roaming over his features. He could practically see the weight of concern left off her body.

She climbed out of the bed, the sheet trailing behind her – not in shame or self-consciousness, neither of which seemed to be an issue for as long as he knew her, but rather because untangling out of it was too much trouble. Two steps toward him, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing to his back.

She brushed a kiss to his bare shoulder and tucked her face into the hollow of his neck as he hugged her arms to him, feeling her breathe slowly behind him, her hair tickling his skin.

In the harsh daylight, however soft yet, the room looked even smaller, even more cramped than it seemed the night before, and he couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time the place saw anything but blood and tears. It was a goddamn miracle this whole village wasn’t wiped off the face of the Earth like many others that were far less lucky. And yet, these old walls contained his whole universe now where even the texture of the air felt different, crackling with static.

“Is it time?” Diana asked softly, resting her chin on his shoulder, her eyes following his – over the half-destroyed village and past the forest, searching the horizon hidden in the early morning mist.

“No.” Steve turned to her, found her gaze. “It’s early, we still have time.” Tried to keep a straight, solemn face. “You don’t want to deal with Charlie at the crack of dawn, I’m telling you.”

She didn’t take the bait.

“Do you believe me, Steve?” She tilted her hear quizzically, searching his face for something. “Do you believe that we can stop this madness?”

He turned around in the circle of her arms, his hand anchored on the small of her back holding her close. Tucked her hair behind her ear, studying her expression as she watched him, waiting for his response. Steve’s throat closed up, his mouth going dry by the second. Her gaze was open and earnest, and it hurt him so damn much to think that no one ever trusted him like this – blindly, unapologetically. He traced his fingertips down her cheek as if trying to read her like she was written in braille.

Everyone always said that honesty was important, but one on ever mentioned what a massive responsibility it was, too. Her words, her whole world went against everything he ever believed in, against logic and common sense as he knew them, so much so that Steve wasn’t even sure that the island was real until they reached London and his world shifted back into place where it belonged. Until he knew for a fact that Diana wasn’t a figment of his imagination. But gods… the connection between the mayhem and the influence of something ethereal was beyond him, beyond his wildest fantasies.

But how could he look into her eyes and think that? How could he be doubting her after having lived through yesterday and seen what she’d done with an army of people possessing the most advanced weapons on earth? How could he not return the same blind trust?

He’d follow her to hell and back if he had to – and by the look of things, that might just be the plan – and would put his life in her hands without thinking twice, and maybe the gods were not at fault here, maybe the humanity was not as inherently good as she thought it was and this was the price they were paying for their greed and selfishness and arrogance, but if this was her reality, if this was the way she saw the universe, who was he to wreck it for her?  

“I want to,” he responded honestly. And he did.

She studied him for a long moment, then nodded, and the tightness in his east eased. Palm cupped over her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, wishing he could seal this moment in time, make it last forever.

Diana tilted her head, finding his mouth with hers, the aching need inside him flaring up with such a force it all but knocked him off his feet.

“Come to bed.” Her voice was barely a whisper, echoing his own thoughts.

A grin spread over Steve’s face, his worries chased away for the time being. He couldn’t know wat was waiting for them on the other side of that forest, behind the hills, but here, in this small room, they had some time still, and he knew better than to waste it.

“Only if you promise me something,” he murmured. Diana’s eyebrow arched curiously, and he tugged at the sheet still wrapped around her like a cocoon. “Take this off.”

She let go of the knot she was holding with her hand and a piece of white fabric fell down to their feet, and suddenly nothing was funny anymore…

---

Later, when the sun came up, flooding the room with soft light that filtered through patchy clouds floating above the roofs and the village started to wake up, they got dressed in easy camaraderie. The feeling of being alive, intense and electrifying, was surging along Steve’s skin as he glanced up at Diana who was affixing her armour in place. Black hair thrown over one shoulder, eyebrows creased in concentration. Majestic.

She glanced up and caught him looking, and Steve moved toward her without a word, reaching for the clasps on the back of her bodice, snapping them in place.

“I could do that, you know,” she noted, half-pleased and half-amused.

“I know.” He thought he could drown in her eyes, and there wouldn’t be a better way to go.

All geared up, his heavy coat hanging over his uniform and a rifle slung over his shoulder, Steve opened the door for her, allowing the rush of chilly air from the hallway into the room. The mood had shifted already, her entire form coiled like a spring ready to snap, and Steve could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Outside of the inn, the world was waiting, the mission bigger than all of them looming before them, ominous and inevitable.

There was a fine line between bravery and recklessness, and they were going to cross it today. Their plan was insane, he could feel it in his bones, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure about anything.

Diana picked up her shield, the sword that looked feather-light in the battle clutched in her hand. She paused before him on the way out, her gaze softening momentarily.

“Steve?”

His mouth opened, then closed, the words nowhere to be found. In the early morning light, she looked so radiant, so powerful, so consuming… A real goddess that she was. He loved the sound of his name when she said it, couldn’t get enough of it, wanted to hear it for as long as they both lived.

“Whatever’s going to happen today… it’s going to be bad, as I’m sure you know, and whether Ludendorff is Ares or not… I—I don’t want to lose you.”

The words rushed out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them, bite back the things that he’d been feeling for a while but only now managed to put into a coherent realization. His voice was hoarse and tight, desperate in a way he wasn’t familiar with, not for a while. Her lasso was nowhere near him, hidden safely under her black cloak, but he felt about as exposed as he was on the island when his will no longer belonged to him.

Her palm handed flat on his chest, grounding him like he could float into the sky, her reassuring gaze searching his stormy one. Steve touched his hand to her hair, smoothing it down. She’d put her tiara on, the metal cool against his skin when she tugged him closer, bringing their heads together.

“I will never let it happen,” Diana whispered.  

Just like that.

A statement. A sure thing. Like saying that the sun would come up tomorrow – not a promise, but something that simply was.

---

He did, Steve thought as the sky was rushing toward him and the world below him was nothing but chaos. He believed her. Not in gods and not in greater good because everyone, every single person on Earth was making their own decisions and sometimes, these decisions had to be paid for. Sometimes, the humankind got what it deserved, and maybe this was it, or maybe she was going to truly wipe the evil off  and set them free, but suddenly, it wasn’t the point.

He might not have believed in the world the way she saw it, but he believed in her, in the good inside her, in the beauty of her soul. People did not deserve her, that much he knew for certain, but maybe they didn’t need to deserve to be saved. Maybe the humankind simply needed someone to care enough to do it despite its flaws.

The sky was black around him, his head foggy. This airplane was not meant for this kind of altitude, and Steve was starting to feel dizzy, the change in atmospheric pressure and lack of oxygen making themselves known. He didn’t have much time, but his finger on the trigger of his gun seemed frozen. What felt like a sure thing on the ground suddenly became far less doable. He wanted to turn around and go back, let someone else deal with this mess. For once, he didn’t want to be a hero. What he wanted was to know if she’d heard what he told her because these were probably the most important words he’d ever said to another person.

His ears popped, his head feeling weirdly empty. He only needed to make sure—

Something bright exploded on the ground, so far away he could no longer make out the forms of the structures at the base he’d left behind. Could be nothing, Steve thought. Or could be everything. He wasn’t scared of dying. He was, however, scared out of his mind of not living anymore, of never finishing the things he’d started. For the first time in his life, he wanted more, and the anxious exhilaration in his chest grew unbearable.

Now or never.

He closed his eyes, summoned Diana’s face the way it looked this morning when he woke up the second time, soft and delicate and his.

“Forgive me,” he mouthed soundlessly.

And then he pulled the trigger….

---

The field was cold and empty and quiet, and his whole body hurt. Steve blinked, tried to take a breath, wincing when it proved being a harder task than he thought.

The sky was brilliant-blue above him.

And the world felt brand new.

#wonder woman #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #otp: i wish we had more time #i hope this makes sense #fluff #angst #this is trial run before i launch into something multi-chapter #be warned

[bowieandqueen11]

All Was Right / Beverly Marsh Imagine

Request: Can i request an adult beverly marsh x fem reader where they defeat pennywise and when they are at the quarry at the end bev kisses reader and they jump off together. Just pure fluff and everyone is alive? I need that happy times not the sad times like the movie :) 

;’3 <3

I have so many Uni stresses at the moment, so all comments really help <3

The yellow ball of fire changed to hues of orange, and then almost tangerine as it clouded over the Derry skyline like a herald. It merged with the clouds, like drops of blood dripping into swirling blue water. The clouds were cotton-candy, as though they blushed at the warm touch of the sun. Silhouettes of birds flew home across a sky that was now magenta; and the sun was half into the water, but its reflection in the quarry made it look complete. It made them feel whole again, like they’d come home. 

From where they stood on the edge of the cliff that rose like towering ramparts of stone that glinted jade-blue and dull crimson, curving away above the waving emerald water of fronds and leaves, it almost looked insurmountable, that giant palisade with its sheer curtains of solid rock in which bits of quartz winked dazzlingly in the sunlight.

There was a shyness to Beverly, a hesitation in her movements and a softness in her voice as she wandered away from the boys and sat down next to you. She was right there, the child you knew, but her eyes seemed to have gotten brighter, more brilliant. They sparkled in the sunlight like a pair of luminescent diamonds, radiant and beautiful, her cheeks slightly sprinkled pink like peonies as she glances over at you with a shy smile, her hair still damp but just as radiant as ever. She brushed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, gently brushing her high cheekbones as she did so. 

‘Your face is so dirty’, she whispers, her eyes squinting at you, ‘just like always.’

You thwack against her shoulder with a dull thud, a breathless laugh bubbling out of your lips as she quickly looks over at you, a dopey smile quickly lifting her face before she turns back to the water below her dangling feet. It was peaceful, beautiful, and as Bev snuck sneaking glances over to you, her hair caressing her forehead like winter fire, she thought the moment was perfect.

Grabbing her hand, you intertwine your warm fingers with her slender ones, placing them gently in your lap.

‘Will you tell me again? How we met?’

With a soft, careless sigh, she nestles her head into the curve of your neck, shifting her bottom across the cliff edge until her hip bumped comfortably against yours. She rolled her eyes up to yours so you could watch the adoration that burst like stars in her swirling irises, before she started again.

‘Well, when I was younger, I got a whole bunch of garbage dumped onto me, because the people in Derry aren’t the nicest in the world-’

You nudge her in the shoulder as she starts to laugh deeply, staring at her as she squeezes her eyes shut.

'I didn’t want to go home to my dad, so instead I ran- ran straight into the face of the most beautiful person in the world. Literally knocking them off their feet. And we grew together, and faced a lot of strange dangers, and although I left, I never forgot them. Because I couldn’t, something in my heart wouldn’t let me. And then I came back, and we set everything right again.’

You stared back at each other for what seemed like hours until Bev finally dropped her gaze. 

‘And there’s one more thing,’ her voice was quieter now. She looked back up at you, vulnerability in her eyes as she lets out a slow breathe. You hold your breath as she leaned up slowly, eyes flashing like fireworks in the scarlet light as she tentatively presses her soft lips to yours. Her lips were so soft and silken against yours, and as her hand reached up to cup your cheek, her thumb sticking roughly as it rubbed down your face, you swear your blush had only grown tenfold.

For a moment she sits frozen once you pull apart, from both fear and excitement. She leans in, so her forehead rests against yours, her breathe shaking.

‘Thank you,’ she says in barely more than a whisper, before pushing you off the cliff edge and into the uncommonly clear water below with thunderous laughter.

‘Come on, chickens’, she shouts to the rest of the guys as she swirls around, her legs leaping off the edge as she gracefully floated through the air without a care in the world.

You and Bev rise up from the water with soft smiles on your faces, such gentle love radiating from every fibre of your beings that even Big Bill can’t help but smile. Mike only shakes his head with a knowing look, the heaviness in his heart lifting slightly as he knows it’s all over.

You’re torn out of your daydream by a Richie’s loud squeal as he splashes off Eddie’s shoulder, having been knocked off by Stanley, into the shimmering water that sparkles like broken glass, covering the tips of your hair in small water droplets. You smile broadly, gazing around at your friends who begin to wrestle each other, their legs kicking through the water familiarly, bright smiles on their faces as they all just forget their worries for a moment, just acting like the children you used to be, reliving the life you should have all had. 

And in that moment, all was right.

#it 2019 #it chapter two #it chapter 2 #bev marsh #bev marsh imagine #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #it 2017 #it movie #it spoilers #bill hader #james ransone #bev marsh fluff #beverly marsh imagine #beverly marsh x reader #beverly marsh fluff #it 2019 imagine #it 2019 fluff #it 2 #jessica chastain

[littleblondesoprano]

Can you tell me stuff that makes you happy? I've had a rough day and am feeling pretty down. -🍒

Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! Of course! 

(I’m not gonna lie, this is gonna be a pretty long list!) 

What makes me Happy: 

Fluffy

Tom Hiddleston (and ANY of the characters he acts as–especially Loki)

Loki

Writing and singing!

Writing a paper for class and completely demolishing it!

Singing for people who have never heard me sing before and making them cry/feel something. 

Mythology (namely Greek and Norse) 

Getting new books!

My friends! 

Disney!

Going to the airport, that rush of adrenaline that you get knowing you’re travelling and you’re gonna have an awesome time and gain new experiences! 

Autumn and Spring!

Flowers! (Namely roses, baby’s breath, and white daises) 

History in general! But what I love is the time of the Vikings (so like…8th-9th century beginning) and the Victorian-Edwardian era of Europe!  

Crystals! (Citrine, Silver and Rainbow Moonstone, Emeralds, Rose Quartz, Clear Quartz, and there’s one that I absolutely love, but I don’t know the name of! It’s a black stone, but in it, it looks like captured stars!)

Shiny rings and necklaces! I like shiny stuff.

Really, really old books–like, the kind where the pages are turning orange and the cover is worn out and cracking; it shows that someone really loved that book enough to hold onto it and read it again and again! 

Peppermint vanilla mocha!

Milk chocolate ANYTHING

Macaroons and brownies and cheesecake, oh my! 

Marble–usually white marble with grey veins–but I absolutely adore it and I want it everywhere in my future home!

Big windows letting in bunches of natural light!

Hot showers after a really long day, getting out and feeling clean and ready for bed!

Alternatively, cold showers after working out, getting out and feeling refreshed!

The beach!! Laying out on the beach!! Sharks teeth on the beach!! The little shops at the beach!! 

Crystal shops! (Good ones) 

Organizing my little areas and checking off all of my responsibilities for the day. 

Swimming to the bottom of my pool and those few moments when I’m just suspended in water, completely engulfed, and I see little bubbles involuntarily escape my lips or my nose!

Swimming in the later afternoons, when the sun is low through the trees and creates little broken waves in the water and I come up for air in a little pool of light! It’s almost like the sun is winking! 

Looking through old pictures in giant bins we have (we’ve got like, four or five–plus or minus a few books–and they’re huge) because mom loved buying the disposable cameras when I was little! Going through them and remembering those moments–or being told stories of those moments. 

Decorating for Halloween!! I would literally beg mom and dad in September to put up the Halloween decorations, and like, second week in they would always agree! I love setting it all up and then sitting down that night and watching the entire living room glow orange from the tree and the big, glowing pumpkins we have up! 

Going for walks when it’s chilly outside and bundling up!

Blanket scarves! 

Cinnamon-Sugar baked Pumpkin seeds! 

Picking out the pumpkins after going on a hayride and trying to find the biggest one! (Or the biggest one that I can carry)

Learning about the Baroque composers and listening to their music ( J.S. Bach, Vivaldi, Handel, Telemann, Monteverdi, Albinoni, etc.) 

 Ivy climbing over older Victorian houses! 

Chicken Salad! (Not with grapes in it–that yucky.)

Crab, Lobster, shrimp, salmon, flounder–and I feel guilty about this, but I’ve eaten mako shark before and it was good. 

I love seeing squirrels, cats, hawks, deer, foxes out in nature! 

People being nice to other people

Reading back over my own writing and rediscovering how good I was/am at it–not to be vain–but just like: “I wrote that?! What?! That’s too good!”

Harry Potter before everyone died. 

Game of Thrones! (In this house, we are TARGARYENS. And, well, we also root for the Starks, buT THE TARGARYENS.)

Little day trips with my friends to the mall or out to eat somewhere!

Similarly, sleepovers with my friends where we stay up late and do fun stuff! 

NEW YORRRRKK! And definitely Broadway and Times Square! Those bulbs and the buzz of activity and huge cool stores and new experiences always jazz me up! 

Sherlock Holmes! And classic literature like Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, Emma, Candide, literally all of Shakespeare’s stuff (especially Antony and Cleopatra!) Frankenstein, Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Dracula, The Journals of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! Literally everything except for Mr. Dickens–he’s too sad for moi. 

When it starts to snow and we go for a walk while the little flurries flutter down from the clouds! 

Sitting down at night in the living room (and Fluffy sitting in my recliner with me–mostly because I steal her favorite blanket and put it on the end of the ledge…thingie…and she sits on it!) at night and watching our favorite shows–be that Forged in Fire, Last Chance U, The Defiant Ones, Game of Thrones, Alone, Broadchurch, or any other silly show we find ourselves watching! We have the warm glow light bulbs and we strung some Christmas lights over our ‘logs’ in the fireplace and turn that on too, so the whole room is just washed in this beautiful, warm, golden bath and it’s so, so cozy. 

Going to little antique stores and finding something you’d never thought you would find–or never expected to find. 

Really, really cold Diet Pepsi Cherry.

The fountain drinks from Sheetz that you can add Cherry and Vanilla to! I usually add a lot of both to it–usually to Diet coke–and get the bigger drinks!

Tater tots in a bucket from Sheetz! 

Brewing spiced tea in a teapot

Bottling and organizing spices in the kitchen!

My William Shakespeare bust at my desk (he yells at me when I don’t write enough)

Finally laying down at night and daydreaming to fall asleep!

Eating little snacks–like some hoop cheese and an apple–for snack! 

Going to my Grandma Bonnie’s house and then going out to lunch with her at the Graham Soda Shoppe and getting two hot dogs all the way and splitting a basket of onion rings with her! Then, hitting Tasty Bakery right next door and getting some yummy treats! 

The hot chocolate at this one specific bakery on I-70; it’s the greatest I’ve ever had, I swear it! Nothing can top it! 

During winter break last year, I was performing with a group of other girls and I got that hot chocolate before rehearsal, and then we sat and watched the few acts before us perform–the house was beautifully lit golden and it just made me feel at home. 

France and England! 

Taking bunches of pictures during the day, on outings, and then at night looking over them and laughing!

Hotels that serve warm cookies at night! 

Peppermint sticks! 

Dipping slices of warm hoop cheese in ranch–I always did it at my Pawpaw’s house when we’d have these big lunches, and then we’d all go swimming in his pool or lay around the living room–that always reminds me of those times. 

Pineapple pizza! (No ham tho)

Going to the movies late at night and seeing an awesome one, then going to McDonalds and getting a M&M McFlurry! 

Getting my nails done!! 

Always having something yummy to eat at home

Mattress foam flip flops and my awesome swimsuit! (Er–it flatters my figure) 

Shark Week!!! 

Getting my makeup On Point. 

Nerding out with other theatre/musical nerds in person and singing duets with them (because none of my other friends will sing with me). There was this one guy in my chorus I sang “All I Ask of You” with and it was SO GOOD; we loved it! Every time we saw each other I would be like: “Saaaay yoouu love me every waaaakeeeinngg mommennntt–” we were awesome and I really miss that.

Going to the theatre and seeing musicals with my mom–that’s always fun! Last time, we got these huge cupcakes since my blood sugar was low–I think we saw Matilda (it was okay).

Ironing my dad’s shirts for my mom so she doesn’t have to after she gets home from work. 

The smell of sage burning

The smell of coffee being made–like, Tim Hortons and Harry & David’s coffee! 

Doughnuts with chocolate icing on top and vanilla icing inside! (We call that the manager’s special) 

Chick-fil-a sandwiches and fries! 

Vanilla cupcake cookie goldfish! 

Trying on an outfit for the first time (that you planned in your head the night before) and it looking even better than what you imagined it to be!

Lavender! 

Those purple vines/flowers that bloom in the Spring and hang from trees!

Golden sunsets! 

Cats doing funny stuff–or cute stuff–or just being cats in general!

Mother of Pearl inlays, pearls, and white fire opals! 

People getting me flowers! (It’s only happened once, and they were given to all the Seniors, so I don’t know if it counts, but…I really loved it!) 

Burgundy/wine red shirts!

Yellow/mustard shirts and dresses! 

Velvet! 

Red and gold stage curtains on a dark stage with remnants of ten different types of colored duck tape. 

Crisp sheet music–clean lined and dark inked! 

Alternatively, used sheet music–faded out a little, written on with pencil and once accidentally with pen, crinkled pages dog earred and maybe a staple or two barely hanging on. 

The absolute applause after you know you just kicked ass on that song! 

The confidence and the way my voice swells so powerfully when I perform! 

Gold plated–or gold–anything. 

Rocco/Baroque style decorating, clothing, anything! 

Watching the clouds drift by when floating on the surface of the pool. 

The trees finally turning color in the fall! 

Riding around in the Impala (just make sure to put on some sunscreen!) 

Downloading new songs to my phone and then really listening to them that night when I’m laying in bed daydreaming. 

Ghost tours in old towns! (We’ve done Charleston, South Carolina; Wilmington, North Carolina; Savannah, Georgia; Charlotte, North Carolina; St. Augustine, Florida!) 

Taking showers while the sun is still out and it’s kinda daytime! 

Staying out all day with my friends and coming home when it’s kinda dark outside/driving home with my friends when it’s sunset. 

Visiting/going to old castles and mansions! (Biltmore has been the best thus far!) 

Curling up in bed on a really cold day outside, and feeling warm on the inside! 

Making cookies/baking pastries in the oven and them turning out wonderfully! 

That’s all I can think of right now–and my gosh–I know there’s more! I’m just so tired from all that travelling! I hope you feel better after this, my friend!! I wish you all happiness!! 

Oh!! I forgot one!! My car, Pumpkin, and all other little minis make me happy!!