#I just want to live in a green place where things actually grow

[prismatic-bell]

HEY EVERYONE

Do you enjoy the idea of Sticking It To The Man, but also you’re fucking tired? Maybe you appreciate the idea of direct action of some kind but ADHD, depression, or physical disability has made it nigh-on impossible for you to actually, you know, do shit?

Well, friends, allow me to introduce you to a small but significant thing you can do to Stick It To The Man while also benefiting your own mental health:

I haven’t bought green onions in a year.

If you’re sitting here thinking “holy shit, Nina, those look like hell,” you’re not wrong—they’re recovering from some unintended abuse. They survived two weeks in triple digits (that’s upward of 35 degrees for y’all with the weird sciencey math units) while I, uh. Forgot to water them. The outer layers dried out to protect the inner layers and as soon as I watered these thirsty bitches they went

They literally looked dead three weeks ago. So yeah, they’re not too pretty right now, but you wouldn’t be either, and they’re bouncing back nicely.

So, how to do this simple thing?

1) obtain dirt and a pot. You’ll want to do this first because the next steps go surprisingly fast. My green onions live in a 6” terracotta pot and some gardening topsoil, but you can use potting mix (not Miracle Gro tho, that stuff is trash), dirt from outside if you live in a place where it’s safe to do so, any kind of soil will do provided it’s clean and doesn’t contain pests (although most pests will leave alliums alone because they hate the smell). To be clear, because we love and respect our biosphere in this house, “pests” in this context means “bugs that specifically will attack green onions while providing no benefit to either the onions or any other plants you may have.” The pot is mandatory, however—if you want to do this year-round, you need to be able to move the onions inside/outside as weather allows/demands.

2) buy some green onions. You can skip straight to step 4 from here if you want, but if you’re planning to use them first…

3) cut them only to the tops of the white bits. In other words you ONLY want to use the green part.

4) put the white bits in a ramekin, measuring cup, etc. with some water. I’ve used things as big as juice glasses for this, but that’s really on the big end. Put your container in a window with some sun.

5) 3-5 days later, you should see about half an inch of root growth on the bottoms of your onions, and possibly the beginnings of a tiny green spear at the top. (Maybe a bit more, if they’re overachievers.) Plant them in your pot with just a bit of the white sticking up overtop of the soil.

6) water just a little bit, every other day. You want the soil to always be moist to the touch, but never out and out wet.

7) watch them sprout. This is excellent for your mood, by the way. Science says having and tending green things provides visible benefits to both your physical and mental health. We also know that making tangible things is good for your mental health, and green onions grow quickly, so you get benefits fast.

8) As they grow, you can reduce watering to three times per week because they’ll be able to store more water. The leaves will feel firm and “thick” (you’ll understand what I mean when you get to feel a properly-watered green onion) when they have enough water, much like a succulent’s leaves will get thicker and firmer when it’s well-hydrated, so it’s relatively easy to tell if they need a drink.

9) trim your onions as you need them! I try to never take more than 3-4 leaves in a week—about half a bunch—so it has time to grow more, but if you live with a bunch of people you can get around this by just starting more green onions. Buy three or four bunches and plant them all. They don’t go bad because they literally just grow until you need them. I’ve actually planned meals around “I have not used enough green onions lately and the leaves are bending under their own weight, I need to trim some tops.” Although the ones you see in the grocery store have open tops, you’ll notice closed spears on your new leaves, and these are completely edible. Yes, I regret to tell you they cut off and probably waste the tapered bits just for The Aesthetic. They’re just like any other green part of the onion.

AND YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO BUY GREEN ONIONS AGAIN. Just add a little soil now and again to replenish the nutrients.

Yes, they’re cheap. Yes, this is a small thing. But many small things added together are a big thing. And when you’re confident in your green onions, if you have the desire and ability to do more, there are many other plants you can grow from grocery-store starters.

GO FORTH. ENJOY THIS KNOWLEDGE.

[heartpascal]

i’ll be brave

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: an infected attack leaves you fragile, in more ways that one.

▹— a/n: prepare for many father figure joel fics bc i love him!! also this is not the best thing ever but i love joel so!! hope you guys enjoy <33 planning on doing some more platonic fics where we see them develop more but alas. this is what you get rn!!

▹— tags: @loversdomain

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Growing up in the QZ was all you had ever known, your life limited to the walls that surrounded you, trapped you. You’d heard stories about the world outside, though it was such a foreign concept to you, both of horror and nostalgia.

Until Joel, you were certain you’d never see it. The guards that patrolled were too strict, at least where you lived. It was easier to sneak further in than it was to get out, heading towards where most of the residents lived and worked.

Your father would’ve worked here, you thought to yourself, the very first time you’d managed to get into the centre of the QZ. He would have lived and worked and would have known your mother here. Sometimes, you wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t of died mere weeks after you’d been born. There was a part of you that longed to know where he was from, actually from, before the world fell to pieces. To know his accent, the sound of his voice, the way he acted… anything.

They told you that your mother fled the day he died, leaving you abandoned in a flat crying for hours until the neighbours finally had enough and cracked open the door, finding you there: alone.

That’s how you had lived your life since, alone. Facing the current world with nobody to teach you, nobody to protect you, to help you escape.

You’re sure that Joel finding you was a miracle, though most people didn’t believe in those anymore, or so you were told. But you were certain that if one was to exist, it’d be this man.

The man who, despite his unwelcoming appearance, had hauled you away from the guards who had tried to beat you until you learned the lesson they were teaching. Who had given you shelter even when he knew nothing more than your name, who had lended you blankets and clothes to keep you warm.

Joel himself certainly wasn’t expecting you — your presence scared him. That day, when he saw those guards attacking you, he felt a glimpse of who he used to be in the life before, and he was unable to walk away. It terrified him, more than any clicker or runner ever could, that he may have some humanity left within him after all.

After Sarah, he turned his nose from anyone who could’ve needed his help. Other than those exempt from that, such as Tommy or Tess, he decided that it wasn’t his business.

But when you called out, being struck again by two armed guards, grown adults, something inside of his chest snapped. Like a tether that had been pulled far too taut, frayed away until the tension was too much to bare. He vividly remembers the blood that had dropped from his hands as he pulled you to your feet, remembers the way it matched the droplets that stained your face.

He wasn’t planning on you becoming part of his and Tess’ little… group, but once he found you, you seemed to stick. You didn’t particularly want to leave, anyway, and when the duo didn’t kick you out? You figured there was no harm in staying.

Now, you travelled with them, earning your place among the two adults, even when they suggested you stay home, where it was the slightest bit safer.

They had refused your requests to come with them on runs for a while, but the first time they allowed it was imprinted on your brain as if branded there by hot metal.

The brightness that came with being outside of the QZ was something you truly didn’t expect, though that could’ve just been in your brain. The QZ was dull, full of grey walls and faces and dirt, but out here was full. Greens and yellows and everything between covered the horizon, and you squinted to see as much of it as you possibly could.

Joel had huffed at you, nudging you lightly to keep you moving, but he wasn’t angry. He and Tess had shared a look, something going between their silence that you didn’t understand, and in that moment, you didn’t care to.

By now, you’d been coming on runs with the two of them for a few months, here and there. When they deemed it wasn’t too dangerous, of course.

Which is why today’s occurrence was so odd — it was a regular run, with you spending all your time in the great outdoors admiring everything that surrounded you, something akin to wonder in your eyes. Seeing all the buildings that had crumbled not long after your birth, taken over by nature and its most fearsome monster; cordyceps. As soon as you approached the desired hit of the day, you put your game face on. It was like flicking a switch in your brain — one second, you could have no worries in the world, stuck in your own head as you wandered around. The next, it was like every movement echoed in your ears, the slightest of sounds drawing your attention.

It was meant to be safe.

That is what Joel and Tess had said — god, that was the only reason they let you join them today, on one of their rare daylight outings: the safety factor.

So imagine your surprise when you slipped, ankle twisting as it went through the creaking floorboards of the building, followed by the clicking.

It was like your whole body froze solid, every muscle fibre tensing and pulling taut, eyes wide — a deer in headlights, Tess might’ve described you as, if her heart hadn’t have been beating so fast it could’ve burst.

Your head swivelled towards where Joel stood, just in front of you, to your right. He stared at you, something dark in his eyes, and you swallowed harshly as he held a finger to his lips, shushing you.

Each of your breaths came out silently, the only sound being the echoing clicks before the footsteps started coming towards the three of you, directly from your left. You swore you could hear the drip of blood in the quiet between each footstep of the monster.

You kept your eyes towards Joel and Tess, as much as you wanted to look to your left, where the sounds were starting to get louder. You watched them as they shared a conversation through their eyes, a nod of understanding held between the two of them. Joel’s expression was pained, but Tess put on her best brave face, giving you a wink.

“Hey, asshole!” Tess yelled, before scrambling to run ahead, a screech echoing in your ear, deafening you. Your breath hitched as she ran, and the clicker followed before your eyes.

As soon as its attention was on Tess, Joel was grasping you underneath your armpits, hauling your leg out of the hole it had fallen in. You held in your cries and winces as the broken floorboards left splinters and cuts all along your calf, your ankle hurting like a bitch.

He was pulling you out before you could utter a word, and by the time he managed to get you outside, your blood had covered your shoe. He leant you against the broken wall that had surrounded the building, ensuring you could stay upright — though you couldn’t put pressure on your leg — before he barked out a, “Stay here!” and ran back inside for Tess.

Your heart was beating in your ears, your throat clogged up as you did your best not to cry. This was your fault — had you not insisted upon joining them again, they would’ve never been put in this situation. They could die in there, and you were stuck out here, unable to even stand on your own two feet.

The pain in your leg was worsening now that you weren’t in imminent danger, though you were sure you were going to pass out when you heard the gun fire a single round.

“Are you guys okay?” You all but yelled as soon as you saw them emerging from the door, Tess leading, seemingly unharmed, with Joel following in much the same condition.

“We’re fine,” Tess breathed out as she approached you, leaning against the wall beside you. “It’s dead.”

“Are you alright?” Joel asked, his hand grasping on to your forearm, keeping you steady where you were shaking, holding yourself up against the rough surface of the wall. You nodded, breath still not able to properly filter out past the lump in your throat.

He knelt in front of you, hands reaching out and pulling the trouser leg up to see the full extent of your injury properly.

“Shit, kid,” he sighed out, looking up to Tess, “we’ve seen worse. We can manage.” He dropped the backpack where it was hung on his one shoulder, digging through it to tape some spare cloth around your injury, taping it around your ankle to keep it secure, too.

When he finally got you on your feet, silence lingering between all of you, he had to help you carry your own weight all the way back to your home in the QZ.

By the time you had managed to pick all the splinters out of your leg, Joel and Tess had gone to their beds, leaving you in the ‘living room,’ alone.

You felt sick, knowing you could have gotten all three of you killed today, just because you wanted a taste of the world that had long since decayed past anything worth wanting. Finally left on your own, the tears spilled past your eyelids, cleaving clean lines through the dirt and muck that caked your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but feel terrified, like you could still hear that damned creature coming for you. Like its footsteps echoed in your own home, right now.

With a fearful sob, you looked up to where you swore the sound come from, only to find Joel approaching, frown present on his face. His eyebrows were creased upwards, taking his expression from grumpy to worried.

Without a word from him, he came and sat beside you on the couch, wrapping the blanket that usually stayed firmly on the back of it around your shivering shoulders.

You clutched at it, wanting nothing more than to hide underneath it and pretend the entire day hadn’t happened — you wanted to forget the fear that shredded your veins, leaving your heart hammering. If you could just lose the entire memory of today, you would in a heartbeat, because the idea of leaving the QZ again with Joel and Tess made you feel sick.

Joel sighed, coming to kneel in front of you after you continuously avoided looking towards him. His hands reached out to your leg, the movement sending deja vu straight through you. He checked over your injury again, wrinkles caused by his frowning getting deeper. “You know it’s all okay, right?” He checked, finally, unsure what else to say in the quiet you usually tended to fill.

“It’s not o—okay, Joel,” you sobbed out, barely even breathing between your cries, “I al—almost got you and Tess kill—killed.”

“No, no, listen to me, kid. The… situation today was not your fault. Hear me? Not your fault. We thought it was safe, it wasn’t, that happens. We’re just glad you’re okay. Mostly.” He added on, nodding towards your bruised and bloodied leg.

“I tried so h—hard to be brave,” you continued, now even more hysterical as you thought of the way that thing approached you, how it could’ve killed any one of you had you made the slightest noise.

“I know,” Joel said, and he returned to your side at the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing it with his hand. “You were very brave, and I’m sorry you had to be.”

Part of Joel couldn’t help but feel like this was too much, too reminiscent of the daughter he’d lost. It made his head spin, even as he pulled you closer at the sound of your continuous cries, the way you could bring back that piece of him, the piece with some kind of humanity.

You didn’t have anybody else. All you had was Tess and Joel, and all he had was you and Tess, at least while his brother was out of town. This thing you had built, during the apocalypse and all, was a family.

“C’mon, kid,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his hand, “It’s alright. We’ll go out just to see the outside, next time. No risk of infected.”

“No, I—I don’t want to get you guys hurt again.” You responded, shaking your head and feeling your tears slow, remembering the pain that burned through your leg. You didn’t want to experience anything like today ever again, even if that meant staying inside the walls of the QZ for the rest of your life. “You didn’t even get what we went out for, because of me.”

His chest lurched, and he huffed a frustrated breath. “I don’t give one shit about that,” Joel said, leaving it to you to catch on to the end of that sentence that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. I care about you.

You couldn’t tell him how you truly felt — like dead weight, a burden they couldn’t get rid of. You stayed with them, ate their food and used up their supplies, and now you were ruining the only way for them to get a decent income, too. It’d upset him, hearing you say that aloud. You knew it would.

“I just… I don’t want to end up alone.” You translated, the best you could do to tell him that you needed the two of them, for more than just the ability to survive they provided you with.

You knew they missed the old world, everybody who had lived before the outbreak did, as much as they tried not to think about it. It was a deep longing for something you would never know. While their world was gone, they were your world.

Joel’s arm squeezed you close, like all the words that refused to leave his lips could be heard that way.

In a way, it told you everything you needed to know.

Your eyes closed soon enough, and you missed the look that crossed Joel’s face, the warmth in his eyes that he never thought would return after the loss of his first daughter. And yet here it was, present and warm as ever, as he looked at where you’d fallen asleep resting against him.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #tlou imagines #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller father figure #platonic joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal imagine #heartpascal writes

[alrightieaphroditie]

just checkin' in | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ 2.4k an *:·ﾟ it's here! the first part in a series i am veeery excited about!! this installment is pretty much straight fluff, but i had a blast writing it and getting back into joel's character. i cannot wait to see where this series takes me, and i really hope everyone enjoys reading it! this is slightly edited, but if there's anything huge that jumps out at you, please let me know! check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ even when joel is miles away, he never fails to check in on his girl.

after checking for what quite literally had to be the millionth time, the folded-up letter was still sitting right where joel had set it before he left; propped up against your bookstack on the end table in your living room. not that you were expecting it to suddenly grow legs and run away or anything. but today was finally the day that you could open it, as specified by the man who wrote it himself, and by god, you wanted to make sure you knew where it was when you finally sat down to read it. 

in the beginning, when you and joel first started up this little tradition of writing each other letters when he'd go off on the hunting trips, you would eagerly rip open his notes as soon as you were able to. joel always left very clear instructions to not open them until a certain date, and you always obliged, even though it wasn't like joel would really know when you actually opened them. you wouldn't be surprised if his senses started tingling if you even dared to go against his instructions, though. joel had a way of being so omnipresent with you; so attuned to your own being that even when he was gone, you swore you could still feel him with you.  

after a little while, though, you learned to tame that eagerness and make a dedicated time for reading his letters. the excitement never left you fully, and you found that opening the letter was still all you could think about on the day of, all these months later. you spent your morning helping in the greenhouses, thinking of what joel could have written. you cleaned up your house during the afternoon, eyes gazing to the paper with your name on it, written in his surprisingly nice handwriting, far too often. and when you had dinner with ellie that night, all you could do was smile as she mentioned opening her own letter that morning, your foot tapping against the floor as you impatiently anticipated getting to open your own. 

now, you were fresh out of the shower (ellie made one too many jokes about how much you had stunk after working all day, to the point where you couldn't really tell if she was joking or not), your hair done up in two braids, wearing one of joel's t-shirts and stirring some honey in your cup of tea. the window in your living room was cracked open, the crisp early spring winds causing your gauzy curtains to flutter across the hardwood floors. now, you finally tucked yourself into the corner of your couch, an ugly green thing that was shockingly comfortable, and tugged the blanket hanging on the back of it over your legs, getting comfortable. 

balancing your mug on the arm of the couch, you reached over and finally pulled the letter into your lap. just seeing your name on the front had those silly little butterflies float through your stomach; something you felt far too often with joel. you steadied yourself with a deep breath, and, after taking a small sip of your tea, settled back into the couch, unfolding the crisp paper. 

just checkin' in on you, sugar. 

the first line of his letter was always the same, and yet it never failed to make you smile. he'd say those same words in person, too, when he came by to visit while you were out working, or when he'd stop by your place early in the morning before he went out to do his duties. you'd never get sick of hearing - or reading - those words. 

hope you've been doin' alright. i can't believe they're makin' me go out again even though i just got back from another trip. swear these men can't do shit without me, especially tommy. i know he's the only reason why i'm out in the middle of nowhere, sleeping in a damn sack when i could be in your bed instead. 

you couldn't help but snort at joel's irritation with his brother. the sibling rivalry between the miller brothers was never ending, though the majority of it was in good fun. joel was right, though. tommy was, in fact, the sole reason why his brother left for another trip so close to returning home from one; maria had told you that tommy complained that the group he was going with couldn't aim for shit and needed at least one more man who knew how to handle a gun. 

the good thing, though, is that they're lettin' me get out of the next couple trips after this. i'll get at least a few good weeks with you, uninterrupted. as much as i like writin' these letters, and as much as i love reading what you've written me, i'd much rather be able to talk to ya in person. that way i could see your grin every time i say somethin' sweet to you, just like i bet you're doing now, huh?   

once again, joel was right. 

i gotta go pack up now, but i'll be back home to you any day now. take care of yourself for me, baby, just until i can get back to doin' it myself. i love you. 

a wave of emotions hit you at once when you finished reading the letter. happiness, for his approaching homecoming. excitement, for those few weeks he'd be getting off. love, for the way he knew you and how he loved taking care of you. and, however faint, loneliness, for how much your heart ached to see him. he had been gone for a week now, and before that, the two of you had only had one day together after he had been gone for two. only a few days remained in this trip, though it still felt like forever. 

you wouldn't let yourself dwell on that miniscule amount of pain, though. joel wouldn't want you to, so you knew better by now. instead, you reread his letter, hearing that slight drawl of his in your head, and grinning again just like he predicted. you held it to your chest as you sipped your lukewarm tea, as if your skin could absorb his words and cement his love into your bloodstream. 

later, after your tea had gone too cold and you dumped it out in the sink, you carried yourself to your room, the hem of joel's shirt brushing delicately against your thighs. kneeling to the ground, your knees hit the worn wood floor as you dug underneath your bed, pulling out an old shoebox. inside were joel's previous letters, the box almost stuffed to the brim with them. you couldn't even imagine tossing them out, these little symbols of his love for you, so this was where you stored them, safely tucked away. 

after placing the most recent one on top of the box and putting it back under your bed gently, you snagged the flannel joel had left from his side of the bed and put it on. now wrapped in his clothes, his scent, you felt closer to him. that silly thread of loneliness fluttered through your heart again, ever so briefly, but you brushed it off as you pulled back your quilt blanket and climbed into bed.  

outside your window, you could just barely make out the moon high in the pitch-black sky and you wondered if joel was awake still, looking up at that same fixture. it was the comfort you felt at that thought that allowed you to close your eyes and drift off, and joel's lingering scent on the flannel was the last thing you remembered thinking of. 

somewhere in the woods, miles away from the walls of jackson, joel sat on the damp ground, propped against a fallen tree log. his hand was in his jacket, his calloused thumb and forefinger brushing against the smooth paper folded into bits in the pocket. 

he had requested first watch tonight, hoping to have at least some time to himself so that he could read your words. unlike him, you never gave any instructions for when to read your letter. you said once that he should just read it whenever he missed you, and he didn’t have the heart to tell you that if he did that, he’d be reading the letter the moment he stepped out of the border around town. 

you had mentioned in passing, however, that you made a little ritual out of reading his letters, and so joel started putting off reading your letter, waiting until the date that he specified for you to open his. he knew it was silly, that the probability of you both reading the letters at the same time was slim, especially when he had to wait until the dead of night, when he had a small moment of free time. but it kept him going, so he continued to do it. 

the last man in the group had just walked back to his sleeping bag, and joel was finally out in the campsite alone. he gently pulled your letter from his pocket, the jagged edges along one side showing him that you wrote this in your journal before ripping it out. the paper was smooth under his skin, and for a moment he simply stared at his name plastered on the front in your handwriting; the way the 'l' at the end of his name sloped off into a small heart. 

a deep sigh parted his lips; somewhat from exhaustion, but mostly from the way his heartbeat kicked up just at the thought of you drawing that. 

he had to shift against the wood slightly, sparing a glance around the site to make sure no one was paying him too much attention, just so the moonlight could hit the letter just right. he still had to squint slightly to focus, but that was more because of his age than the lack of lighting (you kept teasing him about trying to find some reading glasses, and now he wondered if he did actually need them). 

with nimble fingers, he unfolded the letter and immediately his mouth quirked up in a small smirk. 

hey there, cowboy. i hope the camping life is treating you well and not wreaking havoc on that back of yours. i'm starting to wonder if you're getting too old to go on those trips. surely having a senior citizen like yourself tagging along slows y'all down, no? 

joel forced his sudden laugh into a cough, shaking his head at your attempt of a joke. it was no secret that joel was older than you, but that had never really brought up any strife in your relationship. everyone thought that you were both lucky to find something like what you had given the way the world was, that kind of storybook love people dreamed about. the kind he never imagined for himself.

you were the only one who continuously brought up the age difference, solely to crack jokes at his expense. ellie adored it, and your comments made him laugh, so he didn't really mind it. 

seriously though, i hope you're taking care of yourself out there. i know you do, but i can't help but worry a little. you're needed here, so i just want you to do whatever you need to do to come back home. i mean it.  

while you guys are gone, i think we're going to be setting up the patio area again in town since the weather is warming up. i heard maria talk about hosting another dance soon, so i'm putting it into writing that i want to dance with you at least once, miller.

 i'll beg if i have to. 

heat flamed his cheeks, his skin turning warm despite the cool breeze of spring floating through. his head tipped back, resting against the tree trunk as he closed his eyes for a moment. the two of you had only had one night together between his trips out of town, and ellie had spent the night at your house with joel that night, too. not that joel regretted that; he loved spending time together with his girls. 

but god, did he miss touching you, feeling your soft skin underneath his rough hands, your weight on top of him, underneath him, your hair between his fingers, your lips against his. all of it. the first thing he did when he got back into town was remedy that, he'd swear on it. 

i hear you coming down the stairs, so i have to wrap this up. geez, your footsteps are so loud. i love them, though. i love you, too, joel. stay safe, baby. i'll see you real soon! 

a small heart followed the last word, and his gaze lingered on it for a moment while he absorbed your letter. reading your words was like a breath of fresh air to him, letting him fill his lungs with your love even if you weren't physically there. these letters gave him the energy, the will, to continue on. to make a point to go back. 

for years, he never had anyone to return to, no one to really miss him if he were missing. he grew to accept that, felt comfortable being alone in this great, big world. he never imagined anything different, always felt he had no right wishing for something more. and now, somehow, he had two people who were eagerly anticipating his return. 

joel brushed his knuckle against the corner of his eye, collecting the small gathering of water that had collected there after finishing your letter. clearing his throat, he sat himself up against the tree, gathering his gun into his lap to be more prepared for the evening watch. he never let go of your letter, though. the feeling of rubbing it between the pads of his fingers brought him a great sense of calm. 

later, when tommy woke up to relieve joel from first watch, after he set up his sleeping bag and folded his jacket underneath him to act as a pillow, he reread your letter again and again, hearing your sweet voice in his head as he did. when he basically had it memorized, he let his hand fall to his chest. as the wind whistled through the trees, your note close to his heart, he finally allowed himself to fall asleep. 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #afab!reader #afab!reader x joel miller #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller series

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.08 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

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►Harry never expected a conversation over returning Draco's wand. [...] Harry can't cope, especially when his group of peers is sent back to Hogwarts to finish their interrupted Seventh Year. And Draco Malfoy is wholly unprepared for facing the love of his life every fucking day now that he knows.

2. About Everything We Fucked Up and Tried to Fix by @zoooooey0610 [E, 246k]

►The time is the Dark Middle Ages, even with Voldemort defeated, the Wizarding world is still a place where Omegas are seen as properties. Couldn’t sleep, Harry came across ‘The Slytherin Wall of Sluts’ that changed the rest of his life, but the cog wheel of destiny may have started to move long before that. Twelve years later, he was confronted with the presents of destiny, and struggled to deal with the mess. However, every step he took seemed to be another mistake.

3. Cut From the Sky by @mallstars [E, 150k]

►"I'm stuck in a time loop, reliving November 2nd. This is the 111th time I've lived through today." Draco stilled. His moody eyes, the tension in his hands where he gripped onto his umbrella, the careful mask of blankness flickering over his face — everything about him was so difficult and so very dear to Harry. "Ah," said Draco, "and?"

4. After the Rain Falls by @shinigami714 [E, 95k]

►After the events of the war, all Harry wants to do is forget. For everything to return to normal. But things never were normal for him, and the war left many marks on him not so easily forgotten. When he receives a surprising offer to return to Hogwarts in a continuing education program, Harry jumps at the chance, and despite his best efforts to deal with his problems alone, discovers along the way that quite often, two minds are greater than one.

5. guard dog by chrismare [?, 63k]

►The first thing Draco ever loved was the Manor. Not the house- it was too big, too quiet, too cold- but the grounds that surrounded it. He grew up on stinging soles, running barefoot through his own little world. One of the house elves had cleaned the tiny cuts on his feet once and told him that he'd get used to it, that he'd grow calluses and it would stop hurting. It never really did.

6. Dating Draco Malfoy by @queenofthyme [M, 60k]

►Draco Malfoy is dating his way through Harry Potter’s endless pool of ex-boyfriends. With the help of Harry’s expert dating advice, he just might find exactly who he’s looking for...

7. Snogging Lessons by Revolocard [T, 58k]

►Harry Potter thought the hardest part about being the Chosen One would be preparing to fight Voldemort. He didn't expect it might actually be missing out on all the normal teenaged stuff. Now in sixth year, Harry feels like an outsider, too worried about being the subject of another Witch Weekly article to try to take part. When he and Draco Malfoy land in a semester's worth of detention, Draco is delighted and horrified to discover the Boy Who Lived is not only a virgin, he doesn't even know how to snog. Secret snogging lessons. It's not like it's anything more than just catching Harry up a bit. What could go wrong?

8. That Marriage Contract by Umeko [E, 54k]

►What happens when the forced marriage and male pregnancy trope combine to spring a surprise on the Boy Who Lived and his arch-rival turned unwitting fiancé? And they all have two dearly departed grandfathers to thank for the mess.

9. Terrible People by @wolfpants [E, 52k] --- ART by @getawayfox

►What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right? Featuring a holiday-long game of Truth or Dare, a very ill-judged FWB proposition, decades-long pining, lots of gin, and a small pair of green swimming trunks.

10. and i ignite by @pixiedunhoff [M, 51k]

►Draco Malfoy loves attention - and the Muggle world has given it to him in spades. Through a surprising and humbling series of events, Draco has achieved tremendous success in the music industry. He has recouped his fortune, earned legions of adoring fans, and gets loads of attention. Over the years, it has still never been quite enough… Until the subject of his more sizzling songs abruptly barges back into his life, demanding answers.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

The Best and Worst of Times after the War (aka A Tale of Two Soldiers) by WriterwithaWindow [M, 11k]

breathe in, hold it, breathe out by @autisticnightfury [T, 18k]

chasing embers by ryyss [M, 29k]

Firestarter by Justlikewriting [M, 22k]

For each time I see you, things change a little bit by Writelikethat [M, 10k]

i think i might be gay by @stvrlvghtwrites [T, 10k]

Just Nice Things by wodnica [E, 31k]

No One Likes a Mad Woman by @thomasbrodiesandwich [T, 17k]

only the brave by slytheringoddess945 [T, 10k]

Possibly, perhaps be my boyfriend? by @23ster [G, 16k]

Seek, And Ye Shall Find by @nami-writes [T, 14k]

The Switch by @ashiiblack [M, 11k]

Take Me Back (To The Night We Met) by @onelatenight-longago [T, 12k]

What’s Mine is Yours by @fluxweeed [E, 17k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

HD Wireless 2023 | @hd-wireless

HP Bodice Ripper Fest 2023 | @hp-bodiceripper

HP Law of Attraction Fest | @hp-lawofattraction-fest

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #monthly review #2023

[froot-batty]

next batch of designs are done! gotham city sirens time >:) blurbs about them under the cut, along with explanations of flags and neurodivergencies!

Pamela Isley came from a rural flower farm a long ways from Gotham. Her parents let her run wild from a very young age, and one of her favorite places on their property to go was the pond, deep in the woods, where everything grew just a bit too tall and nothing looked quite as it should've. Pamela didn't know that this pond was actually highly polluted by the dumping of experimental chemicals from a nearby "research" laboratory. She thought being able to communicate with the plants - the Green, she called it - was completely normal.

...Until the people from that laboratory heard about the mysterious girl helping the plants grow stranger. They came to Pamela's parents to ask if it would be possible to study it, and they, not realizing what exactly that meant, agreed. They whisked it away to a facility in Gotham, where Pamela would end up never seeing it's parents again.

She was kept there for the rest of her childhood and into her adulthood, being experimented on until she twisted into the plant beast that she is today. When she escaped, it came after years of hiding the true strength of her powers, so she could build them up enough to turn the facility to rubble.

(It is AroAce, Agender, and Intersex)

Harleen Quinzel always had trouble controlling her impulses. Coming from a very wealthy, very upper-crust family, any step out of line was harshly corrected by either of her parents. As a child she didn't know any better, but after years and years of repression coming from her family, she eventually clammed up and tried to fit into their perfect little mold. This included going to medical school, though she did at least get to pick something she was genuinely passionate about - psychology.

Harley was finally living on their own by the time they started working at Arkham, though they'd not yet broken out of that mental control their parents still had over them. Being in Arkham was like being on an alien planet. They had come from a world where everyone was fake, and Arkham seemed so...real. Talking with their patients opened their mind up even further. Even if what they did was violent, or utterly nonsensical to everyone else, insanity seemed like it was a sort of freedom that Harley never had.

This was compounded by it meeting the Joker. He saw that piece of it that wanted, desperately, to get free, and through their sessions he was able to get into it's head and...push it over the edge, so to speak.

(Harley and the Joker are not explicitly romantically involved in this, I should mention. They've got a weird queerplatonic thing going on. Also they're not toxic they're BFFs forever)

(They are Pansexual, Genderfluid, and have ADHD and Borderline Personality Disorder)

Selina Kyle grew up like an alley cat on the streets of Gotham. With two addict parents in the Narrows who cared very little about her, she was virtually homeless, with how little time she spent at home and how much she spent wandering the dangerous streets. It was in the Narrows that she met one of her closest childhood friends, Harvey Dent, and through him, the elusive Bruce Wayne.

The three of them were thick as thieves all through her childhood, though began to drift away when college time came around. Bruce had up and left the moment he turned 18 without any real warning to the two of them, and Harvey was off to college to try and become a lawyer. This left Selina all alone, once again.

But she had made a pact to herself. She didn't want to live on the streets of Gotham forever. She had started pickpocketing from a very young age, so she would just expand her skills - become Gotham's cat burglar. It started out as only a way to pay her bills, but she found she grew addicted to the feeling of it; the freedom of being able to slip into wherever she wanted and make some poor, rich fool a million dollars short. It was a sort of revenge for her (and the regular cash flow didn't hurt).

She was surprised when Bruce came back to Gotham and tried to reconnect with her. They hadn't talked in over a decade, but they found themselves reconnecting with surprising ease. Their close friendship would drive Harvey mad with jealousy, but neither of them realized that until it was too late.

The scar on her face is from Harvey's attempt on her life, after he became Two-Face.

(She is a Lesbian)

#SORRY THE BLURBS ARE SO FUCKIGN LONG #i debated putting them in separate posts but eh. im too lazy. just putting them here #frootverse #rogues gallery #pamela isley #poison ivy #harley quinn #selina kyle #catwoman #gotham city sirens #batman #my art #rogue design

[sunsetkerr]

10 THINGS Y/N L/N CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT | s.kerr

summary: british gq releases a video of you and the ten things you can't live without. [1k words]

pairing: singer!reader x sam kerr

notes: another singer!reader!!!!!

[STUDIO; BLUE BACKGROUND, Y/N SITTING AT A WHITE TABLE. TEN ITEMS SAT IN FRONT OF HER]

Y/N L/N: Hi GQ, I'm Y/N L/N and these are ten things that I can't live without.

[SHOTS OF VARIOUS ITEMS FLASH ONTO THE SCREEN; A LIP BALM, A PHONE, A VAN CLEEF CLOVER BRACELET, A VOCAL CORD STEAMER]

[CLIP OF AN IPHONE 13]

'1) PHONE'

Y/N L/N: So this is my phone, I don't go anywhere without it. I figured we could get the boring stuff out of the way first (LAUGHS). I know everyone comes and watches these and watches people pull their phones out and collectively groans. (WHISPERS) I'm sorry.

[Y/N CLICKS ON THE HOME SCREEN. A PICTURE OF SAM ON THE BEACH POPS UP WITH THE TIME OVERLAPPING IT]

Y/N L/N: Nothing special really until you see the home screen. It's a picture of Sam from the very first time we went to Fremantle together to meet her family. I had never been to Fremantle before, so it was very cool and I met all of her family, it was one of my favourite trips we had ever been on together. Very special.

[CLIP OF A MACBOOK AIR, THERE IS A NUMBER 20 STICKER SITTING IN THE BOTTOM CORNER]

'2) LAPTOP'

Y/N L/N: I don't ever go anywhere without my laptop. I like having it on me, I'm not sure why. I don't go on holidays without it, or stay at a friends place without it. I never know when I'll need it. She always comes in handy, and because it's a MacBook I can text and FaceTime on it if my phone dies.

[CLIP OF A VAN CLEEF BRACELET SAT ON Y/N'S WRIST]

'3) BRACELET'

Y/N L/N: Okay, so this bracelet is very special to me. Sam gave it to me on our first anniversary. It's a Van Cleef Alhambra bracelet and we both have one which I think is sweet. So if I'm not with Sam, I like to have it on so I can think of her... (PAUSES) That was a little lame, wasn't it?

[CLIP OF A GOLDEN RING, A CLOVER SHAPE]

'4) RING'

Y/N L/N: I feel like I'm just talking about Sam, and maybe I am, but I don't care. Anyway, this is my ring that Sam also got for me, it's also from Van Cleef.

[CLOSE UP OF THE RING; GOLD DETAILING IN THEN CENTRE OF THE CLOVER]

Y/N L/N: It matches my bracelet which is nice. I try to wear it on every red carpet or event that I go to, because usually I'm wearing clothes and jewellery that don't belong to me, so having this makes me feel like I've got a little piece of me on the night.

[CLIP OF A GREEN VOCAL STEAMER]

'5) STEAM INHALER'

Y/N L/N: Okay, so this is my steamer and I don't ever go anywhere without it if I'm working. This thing keeps me sane and sounding somewhat decent if I'm not feeling well. Lots of my friends in theatre had these growing up and I was always so jealous and wanted one, so I finally bought myself one online and I will never go back. After a show, I will shower and go back to the bus or the hotel and just sit with this for an hour.

[CLIP OF A PINK 'GO-TO' LIP BALM]

'6) LIPS!'

Y/N L/N: Caitlin Foord got me onto this skincare brand back home in Australia called 'go-to' and I am literally never ever going to put anything else on my face ever again.

[Y/N KISSES THE SIDE OF THE LIP BALM]

Y/N L/N: This is their 'lips!' lip balm and I take it everywhere with me. I hate having dry lips, or when I'm trying to sing and they crack at the sides. That *BEEP* kills me. (Y/N GASPS AND LOOKS INTO THE CAMERA WITH WIDE EYES) I am so so sorry.

[CLIP OF A WORN NOTEBOOK WITH SOME STICKERS ON THE FRONT THAT ARE BEGINNING TO CREASE]

'7) NOTEBOOK'

Y/N L/N: If you didn't know, I write songs..

[CAMERA ANGLE CUTS TO B-ROLL CAMERA, Y/N LOOKING DOWN THE LENSE]

Y/N L/N: (WHISPERS) Good ones

[CUTS BACK TO MAIN CAMERA]

Y/N L/N: And this is where I write them if I don't, for some reason, have my laptop with me. I don't love writing them down because I change my lyrics so much over time and I waste so much paper and room writing in an actual book, but I live with it.

[CLIP OF A GREEN AND YELLOW BEADED BRACELET WITH THE WORDS 'KERR 20' THREADED INTO IT]

'8) FRIENDSHIP BRACELET'

Y/N L/N: I go to lots of football games. I try to go to most of Sam's games if I can and I always wear this.

[Y/N TURNS THE BRACELET AROUND TO SHOW THE NAME ON THE BRACELET, THERE IS A SMALL WHITE BEAD WITH A RED HEART IN THE MIDDLE SEPARATING KERR AND 20]

Y/N L/N: Taylor Swift's Eras Tour has started a very big thing for friendship bracelets, which I'm loving. So when Sam was playing in the World Cup, a girl tapped me on the shoulder and gave me this which was really sweet. I didn't have a bracelet to trade with her, but I have made one and I'm taking it with me to the Olympic Qualifiers in October in hopes that I'll see her again and I can give it back to her. So if you see this, I have a bracelet for you!

[CLIP OF A MICROPHONE, A PALE BLUE BODY AND WITH A MATCHING RING AROUND THE TOP]

'9) MICROPHONE'

Y/N L/N: This is my mic, I have played every show for the last three years with this exact mic. I don't like not playing without it now, it's become almost a superstition. (CHUCKLES)

[PICTURE OF Y/N AND TAYLOR SWIFT SINGING TOGETHER ON STAGE POPS UP, Y/N IS USING HER BLUE MICROPHONE]

Y/N L/N: Sam took this picture of me and Taylor during sound check (Y/N HOLDS UP A PRINT OUT OF THE PICTURE). I love this picture a lot, we didn't have any fancy outfits or choreography, it was just us having fun before a show. Very special.

[BACKGROUND MUSIC STOPS; CLIP OF SAM WALKING ONTO SET AND SITTING ON Y/N'S LAP]

'10) GIRLFRIEND'

Y/N L/N: Self-explanatory

SAM KERR: I'm honoured (SAM LOOKS DOWN AT Y/N AND KISSES HER CHEEK A FEW TIMES)

Y/N L/N: (LAUGHS)

[BLACK SCREEN; GQ LOGO]

#one shots . * • . #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagine #sam kerr one shot #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader

[riddlerosehearts]

i am so tired of seeing this screenshot about wish's ending reposted everywhere and used to make fun of the movie:

and this is coming from someone who didn't even like the movie very much, but this is misrepresenting what happened. yes, there is a thing where asha wears a cloak resembling that of the fairy godmother and at the end star makes her a magic wand and the kids say she's like a fairy godmother, king magnifico does get trapped in a mirror, etc, and the movie was absolutely filled with easter eggs and references to previous movies--yep, when i saw the movie i did in fact take these scenes as just easter eggs! after all, think about this logically, if all currently existing movies in the disney animated canon were meant to take place in the same universe, and asha canonically grows up to be cinderella's fairy godmother, then...

how can you explain such a drastic difference in appearance? how can you justify asha, a brown-skinned afro-hispanic girl with a face full of freckles and long brown hair, and this old white woman being the same person? you can't, because they're not!!!! if i recall correctly asha doesn't even wear that cloak at the end when they're calling her a fairy godmother, she just wears it during one scene when she's a fugitive and has to sneak around. also...

the creators of the movie have directly confirmed that they were not trying to set up a disney multiverse and that it's not meant to be taken that seriously. rapunzel and eugene's cameo in frozen also wasn't meant to be taken anywhere near as seriously as everyone took it. neither were any previous cameos like belle in hunchback of notre dame or aurora in oliver and company (and if aurora being in oliver and company was canon, she'd be over 600 years old!). and, back to wish specifically, the little easter egg earlier in the movie where magnifico sees a wish bubble from someone who wants the perfect nanny to take care of their kids and says he's "poppin' that one" also doesn't mean the banks family from mary poppins canonically lives in rosas. the scene at the end where a boy named peter who wears all green and dreams of creating a flying machine goes to work with a girl in a blue nightgown whose wish is to fly doesn't mean peter pan and wendy actually somehow lived together in rosas and knew each other before the movie peter pan ever happened. it is literally impossible for all of these movies to take place in the same time period and universe, so it's a good thing that they, uh, don't, and were never intended to. please, if you don't like the movie, that's perfectly fine, but don't say disney is trying to create some convoluted multiverse and "MCU-ify" their movies when that just literally isn't true.

#disney #wish #disney wish #ughhhh #wish 2023 #nobody is even going to see this post or care but whatever. i am Tired. #one person i explained this to said even they KNEW it was all just easter eggs but they hated the movie and wanted to shit on it #and like??? what is the point??? if you hate it that bad then make fun of it for something that's actually true at least 😭😭 #to be completely honest i feel like the fact that there is zero logical way for asha to be THE fairy godmother #should've tipped people off if nothing else!?!?!? #you can even tell that the cloaks aren't the exact same--asha's doesn't have sleeves and has purple inside the hood #anyway i'm so glad princess aurora really was literally there in the 1980s in oliver and company #even though she was born in the 1300s #we stan disney's first immortal vampire queen <3

[georgiapeach30513]

A Snowflake Melts, Part 2

Summary: a blizzard is coming

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  mild language, just one bed, stalking, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

A scent. It wasn’t much. But Jack has gone off less than that before. It was getting a bit close to Christmas, but he had already made early rounds. Who cares if winter is longer than usual? He had bigger problems; finding you. You are what’s important. Your family even said so. They are growing suspicious of him, which means you are talking to someone, but spreading lies about his relationship, and what actually happened.

He never got a chance to explain. Winter relied on him. And you, just like a coward left. He growls, sitting down on the tree branch as he looks at the beauty he created. Once you told him that he made things look magical. That you loved winter, and would always stay in winter. You promised on your stupid cat that you couldn’t live where there wasn’t snow…

He jumps onto the crystallized snow, his feet leaving large craters in the icy white, and he just walks. He smelled you. Marshmallows. The best thing he’s ever smelt. You are close. He knows it. Blowing out a long breath a large gust of wind stirs up more snow. He cracks his neck as he starts to trudge through what you called the most beautiful thing on earth. Fresh fallen snow. Purity. A new start.

He would find you. And you would be his.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you get on to your Mistletoe who perches on the counter beside you. Her judging green eyes watch you as you look out your kitchen window. Winter is getting worse. You thought you had chosen a place that snowed a lot, but this is different.

“I know what this means,” you are out here all alone. And with winter like this, you shouldn’t go outside and care for the animals. The very ones that were keeping you alive. “Missy, they’ll starve if I don’t.”

She snarls and hisses at you, looking out towards Steve’s cabin. “I can’t…we barely know him.”

Meow.

“I can’t go out in the snow even if I wanted to. Jack will find us. And judging by this storm that wasn’t on the radar…Missy, he’s close.”

Meow.

Mistletoe jumps down from the counter, and lifts her paw to scratch at the door. This cat is too smart for her own good. She wants to collect Steve. And you’re sure he doesn’t understand her way of communicating. You aren’t even sure you did, or if it’s because of your seclusion.

“What are you going to do, tell him to get his butt down here with Sugar Cookie, and we live in the cabin for the rest of the winter and make him sleep on the couch?” Missy stares at you, pawing at the door again.

You couldn’t stop looking up the road, waiting for him to come back down here to you. It is ridiculous how everyday you would hope for a visit from him. You enjoyed his company. He made you not feel so alone, while also it was nice to look at him. And he was funny. He was kind. He was everything you had always wanted.

His eyes. My goodness he had the sweetest eyes. His dog is very cute as well. And…

Mistletoe scratches at the air and lets out an angry hiss towards you. “You know I can’t go out in the snow, and I don’t know how to get in touch with Steve. He just shows up at the right time.”

She growls at you again, and you exhale loudly. “Fine,” walking over to the door, you give it a tug, letting her shimmy out. Her toned legs carry her directly towards Steve’s house. With a bit of a struggle, you close and lock the door immediately. Dropping the curtain.

Jack would want your Christmas to be miserable. Bitter and cold. Sighing, you start to close all the curtains around the house. If he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t find you. If you didn’t invite him in, he couldn’t get to you. There is enough stuff in the basement to keep you well fed. Steve had even stacked up firewood beside your heater, even more on the porch.

You didn’t talk about Jack. He just knew you were afraid of winter. And they were the same thing.

—

Steve jolts in his chair when he hears the tiny scratches, and even Sugar Cookie wiggles her entire body as she moves for the door waiting on her owner to open up. Mistletoe dashes in, meowing up at Steve. “Well, hello, you little bully. What can I do for you today?”

Circling Steve’s feet, she walks over to the door, looking back to the man, and Sugar Cookie joins in to look at him. “She’s not in trouble is she?” Mistletoe huffs, looking up at Steve. “So…is your mom just wanting me to visit? Clearly we need to exchange phone numbers. I don’t turn my phone off. Okay, okay,” he grins, grabbing for his phone and coat. Opening up the door to let both animals out, but Mistletoe stops.

Her ears twitch around, and her eyes look all around before she dashes down the road. “Sugar, let’s go, sweetheart. That cat never gets in a hurry.”

His feet slams into the snow as the wind whips around the odd trio. Beating the animals to the porch, he knocks quickly on the door, and it isn’t until Mistletoe lets out a blood curdling meow that you look up from the middle of the floor, “Missy?”

Walking to the door, you press your head against it. Fear courses through your veins after that sound, “Baby, are you alone?”

“Holly, it’s me.”

“Steve? She brought you? I’m being so rude,” you get an eerie feeling when you open the door. Inhaling deeply, just to be sure. No peppermint. You are safe, for now, “Thanks for tapping the snow off,” even if you hadn't known him long he always seems to remember your needs.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You couldn’t deny your splotchy face and red rimmed eyes. But you don’t want to talk about it either. Steve would think you’re crazy. No one would ever understand your family dynamic. Instead you just shake your head, wiping away the stray tears on your face.

“I don’t want to force you, but you gotta give me something. Missy kinda scared me.”

“There’s a storm going on, and…it wasn’t on the radar, and I don’t want to be alone,” unannounced storms always meant Jack’s anger. He still hadn’t forgotten. He is still looking for you.

“Okay, you gotta couch,” even though his fingers are ice cold from outside, when he touches your arm, and pulls your body into his, it’s pure warmth. A coziness that feels like hot chocolate running down into your tummy. “I’ll leave the animals here. Let me get some more firewood loaded up, and clothes, and some extra food because I eat a lot. We’ll have a freeze-in, okay?”

“Did it smell like peppermint out there?” You hate that scent. It always meant Jack was near. He doesn’t laugh or look at you like you’re crazy. His smile softens as he hugs you again.

“No, let me get all that ready. The way this snow is coming down, I don’t have much time. I’m sure it’ll be piled all the way up to the windows. You stay here. Keep the doors locked, and breathe. When I come back, I’ll let you make some of your amazing soup while you tell me what’s really going on. I’ll even make brownies.”

You don’t want him to leave, and still understand why he needs to. Biting at your lip, you nod your head. “Don’t start cutting any vegetables until I get back, okay?”

“Okay,” he bundles himself up before heading towards the door again, “Steve, be careful, okay?”

“I will. You stay right here. Wood, more food, and clothes.”

“Toothbrush.”

“That, too. Stay warm,” he playfully demands before swiftly squeezing through the door.

“So, you gonna tell more about it?” You take a sip of your hot chocolate, your eyes staring blankly at Sugar Cookie and Mistletoe snuggling together by the door. Mistletoe always stayed close to the door in winter. Sometimes she’d hop into the bed with you, but she stood her guard by the main entrance. She is a smart kitty after all.

It had been so long since you fully got to snuggle with someone during your favorite time of year. You should be joyful, and instead you let your photography stop, you quit calling your parents, hell you left the most magical place in the world all because of Jack.

You now lived in so much isolation, you lost a bit of yourself. You turn your head away from Steve as you gaze at the curtains covering the big window in the living room. You loved snow. Loved to watch the tiny little snowflakes drift to the earth. You would have never had the curtains closed. You couldn’t even remember if Jack watched the snow with you.

So much of the good times were forgotten as his forever cold heart couldn’t take your glowing warmth. A joy that burned brightly in your soul like embers in a fire.

“You love and fear the winter,” he isn’t even asking. He hasn’t known you long, but he can see it. You nod your head, still keeping your head turned away from him. Having to wipe away a tear that didn’t want to stay put. “You don’t have to talk about it, Holly. I’m just trying to understand. We got a few days of being trapped in here.”

“You’re right,” sniffling, you turn to look back at the girls, as Steve sweetly calls them. They’re comfortable. Missy actually looks like she’s resting. “It’s hard being alone, and scared of winter, and still, I can’t leave.”

“An ex?” Of course Steve could sense that you were running and hiding from someone.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to fully look at Steve. “He wasn’t always bad. He’s different. Very powerful, and thrives this time of year. He became cold and unkind, and then possessive and obsessive, and…Steve, he wasn’t nice,” Steve looks away for a few seconds, his jaw clenching tight, and his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the couch.

“Did…did he,” he takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “Did he hurt you?”

“It’s complicated,” his hand moves towards you, and you have to look at Missy, and her lazy self is snoring with Sugar Cookie. She was comfortable with Steve. She never had this sense of comfort with Jack. “No, it is complicated. He just…he’s always trying to compete with my dad, and…”

“Did he hurt you?” .

“He’s out of my life though.”

“And you’re still hiding, and afraid to touch something that you love,” even though you can feel his anger, you don’t fear him like you did with Jack. Steve’s anger is protective, and it gives you this strange feeling of importance. He wanted to keep you safe.

“He’s very powerful. You don’t understand.”

There’s a moment drifting between you and Steve, and only the girls’ snores and the crackling of the fireplace can be heard. You aren’t even sure if you’re breathing anymore, just waiting on what he has to say. This is going to be awkward starting off with an argument.

“I want to understand, and I’ll listen whenever you want to explain it to me. For now, why don’t you tell me about your family. Your dad is still alive?” You love talking about your family. They are the best family, and you hate that you’re having to be away from them in any capacity. “What’s his name?”

“Kris. My mom’s name is Carol.”

“There’s that smile. The one you were too shy to share with me. Why do you love winter so much?”

Your body relaxes into the couch again. Finally a topic you didn’t mind talking about a bit more. You can’t say too much, some things you just have to ease into, and him knowing about your family is one of them. Maybe one day things could be different.

“People dread winter, but there’s so much beauty in it. We get Christmas, and the world freezes for a moment. It stops and slows down, and everyone with it. We learn to appreciate the more simple things in life. The world just rests, and we do, too. And if you’re lucky to get snow, it’s beautiful. It looks like glitter. Do you not like winter?” You ask, biting at your lip.

Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at you. With every word you said, you just lit up. You had a calmness about you as you spoke about why you loved your favorite season, instead of hating it. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking even.

“Steve, stop staring at me like that,” Missy peeks open her eyes, and then settles herself right on top of Sugar Cookie. Neither you or Steve notice anything outside this bubble you had created.

You fear that if you say anything else that the warmth inside the bubble would dissipate. You wanted to keep it forever. What is it about Steve that makes you want him closer to your body? So you scoot a tiny bit closer. Close enough that your knees brush against each other, and you feel his warmth.

“W-what is it that your father does?” He hiccups, still not breaking the gaze he has on you.

“He’s a delivery man of sorts.”

“Amazing,” he whispers out. His finger brushes back some of your baby hairs, and they tickle along the shell of your ear. “The hot chocolate. It’s…it’s amazing. And your life sounds incredible,” he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Thanks. I used to put peppermint in it. The smell makes me sick to my stomach now. What about your family?”

“They passed a long time ago. I don’t really like to talk about it. So explain to me, you love your home and your family, and you came here to hide from your ex?” Saying it out loud sounds silly. You’re sure your parents could help you out. In some ways, your dad was Jack’s boss. But did you want them to? Did you want them to know how Jack really was?

“What did you do?” Steve really wanted to change the subject away from his family. Hopefully one day you hope he will open up to you. Even though you had secrets concerning your family, you’re telling him enough for now.

“I take pictures. My social media did well. I focused on Christmas. Traveled to different places to see how they celebrated, and what they ate. What their traditions were. I love every aspect of Christmas. It’s in my blood. Like…kinda like it’s in my blood,” you correct quickly. Steve had that same dopey look on his face as before, and you aren’t sure what to make of it. But it makes you feel fuzzy, “What?”

“I love to hear you talk about your passions. So if you’re not on your social media, who is seeing your work?”

“No one.”

“Can I see?”

You hadn’t logged in for so long. It was a creative outlet for you. Everyone always admired your parents, never even realizing who you are. What you could do. You enjoyed it. “You don’t have to show me.”

It was time that you stopped being so scared. You could turn off locations on your phone, Jack could find you in other ways. Why did you allow him to control so much of your life? It was time. Especially now that you were no longer alone.

Sighing, you stand to go get your phone, feeling Steve’s eyes watching your back until you return. The lazy Missy didn’t even stir. Her comfort relaxes you even more. She trusts Steve. She trusts no one outside of your family.

Turning your phone on, you click on the app, and hand it over to him. Letting him browse through your photos and reels. Each second his smile gets larger. Spreading wide across his face, “The spirit of Christmas, huh?”

“It’s what my dad always called me. Said that my enthusiasm towards the holiday is what made everything so holly and jolly,” you giggle thinking about how winters held so much warmth when you were home.

“So,” he says, putting down your phone. “What are our holiday traditions going to be this year? You don’t even have a tree up,” why and how is this man so adorable? Saying all the right words. “I’m just saying, it is very close to Christmas. What about these cookies? Triple chocolate oatmeal cookies, we should make some for Santa.”

“They’re my dad’s favorite,” you haven’t smiled like this in so long. Even though a blizzard is happening outside, the cabin is so warm and cozy, and it has nothing to do with the fireplace. You didn’t feel so alone. And then his hand naturally lands on your thigh, and you lean into his touch. It feels like flurries stir around in your belly, but you don’t want to pull away.

There doesn’t seem to be this veil of awkwardness looming over the two of you, it just is, and it is so amazing. “Okay, so it is late. Tomorrow we put up a tree of sorts.”

“I have a fake one under my bed. I don’t like walking in the snow.”

“I could pick us one out, but it’s not the same if we’re not together. I think the fake one will be perfect this time. Maybe next year, you’ll be more comfortable venturing out into the snow?” You nod your head with a smile. You already feel more confident about winter. “So the cookies?”

“I always have the ingredients for those cookies,” you look over to your bedroom. You can’t even believer you’re thinking this, much less ready to say it out loud. Steve is such a large man, and this couch was kind of small. What kind of host would you be? You needed him and basically invited him into your home. He is keeping you safe, and you can’t make him think you don’t want to extend some hospitality, “I feel bad that there’s only one bed.”

“You have a comfy couch,” huffing out a laugh, you look towards the girls, and Missy and Sugar Cookie have their heads lifted up, staring at you. If you were a crazy person, you’d think they were encouraging you to invite him into your bed. But you’re not that crazy.

“I have a big bed, too. I mean, lots of blankets, and there could still be enough space between us, and,” both the cat and the dog lay their heads back down, pretending to sleep. Now you worry that you are going crazy, “You don’t have to stay on the couch.”

“I won’t sleep in your bed if you’re not comfortable.”

“I wouldn't have asked if I wasn’t comfortable. But before bed, maybe we can watch a movie or something, and you decide how you feel? It doesn’t have to feel weird. And if you want to sleep on the couch you can, and if you change your mind in the middle of the night, you can.”

“I think that sounds amazing. Only if Missy will let me sleep in the bed with you,” she doesn’t look when Steve says her name, just stretches out a bit more on Sugar Cookie. “Here’s to new traditions,” Steve says proudly with his mug held high.

“To new traditions, and new friendships,” friendship. Even if you wish it could be so much more. “Wait! A new picture for my grid!” You snap a photo of the two half-drunk mugs. Editing the photo in a way that you can’t see nothing but the wooden coffee table and mugs. Your parents will be shocked to see two.

To new traditions, and new friendships.

And you hope to forgetting your ex.

Jack’s hand shakes with fury, and he cracks his neck, screaming up into the frosty air as he slings his phone onto the ground. “Little bitch!” He screams. You are playing games with him. Friendships. Traditions. Traditions weren’t new. They were what you did every year.

He just can’t believe you would come back to social media with a stupid post like that. You were supposed to spend Christmas with him! Winter with him.

Jingle bells.

Why the hell could he hear jingle bells as his snowflakes float to the ground. There is a warm smell in the air…marshmallows mixed with cinnamon. Oh, he’s angry. Furious. You are spending time with someone that is not him. If you want to spend your time elsewhere, he’ll make sure that they can’t get to you ever again.

Wherever you are, you’ll be trapped all alone. And with your scent becoming more powerful, he is close. And he will find you. And you’ll be all snowed in. Just the way you belonged.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke

#a snowflake melts #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #chris evans #chris evans characters #jack o'malley #jack frost

[vera-deville]

Just Like the Moon and the Tide

09/05/2023 - 10/02/2023

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Word Count: 535

Warnings: Nothing here!

Gender: AFAB

Tags: @rose-the-witch1

"When I asked you to tell me about the moon and the tide, I didn't mean give me a full detailed scientific explanation," Y/N stated, heaving a sigh.

Lying next to her, a man of light-grey colored hair frowned at her words. "Perhaps you should have specified what sort of explanation you wished for." Feeling the sand in the part of his hand that didn't lay on the beach towel, he continued, "Besides, what other kind of explanation did you want? A fairy tail?"

"Actually, yes. I wanted to know if this world had some sort of fantastical tale about the moon and the tide. Something romantic and magical. Not scientific." Y/N replied. Turning her head towards Azul, she cuddled closer to him. The night wind at the beach was cold, but not enough to warrant a pile of blankets (unlike other places they'd been to).

Azul moved slightly, making sure that Y/N was comfortable, and even lifted her head to rest on top of his arm. "Why don't you tell me a tale of your world then?"

"Gladly."

And so Y/N began her tale. A tale of other-wordly beings. One with skin as pale and grey as the moon and the other with skin of seaweed green. The two were not as different as night and day. No, that was a different story for a different time. But the two were in sync with one another. The cold grey one would push and pull with all his might while the warm green one would simply succumb to his will.

There was no remarkable tragedy. No travesty. Just love.

And it was from this love that life thrived. Without the tides of their devotion, no living thing would have sustained on the planet they called home. Life would not be able to go on. And that was why the passion of the Moon and the Tide was worshipped by many.

The only sad thing was, they grew further and further apart with each coming year. It was said from the ancient days that there would come a time where the two lovers would no longer be caught in each other's embrace. And that day would be what finally extinguished life in the otherwise lively planet. There would be no great monsoon to vanquish life. No tremendous fire. No perilous evil.

Simply two lovers growing apart until one day they are lovers no more.

"That's it?" Azul asked.

"Uhhh, yeah? Why, was it bad?" Y/N asked.

"There's no lesson to be learnt, no tragedy that forcefully pulls away the two so-called lovers, no nothing!" lamented Azul. "Tales like that are supposed to have some sort of meaning to them! Not whatever this is supposed to be."

"Firstly, you're the one who asked a story from my world." Azul pouted a bit at that. "Secondly, I made up that entire story." Azul's face contorted to that of a flabbergasted one. "And thirdly," Y/N gently held Azul's face in her hands, "the moral of the story is that we'll never let us grow apart like the Moon and the Tide."

Azul's breath hitched.

"You and I? We're meant to be together forever."

Author's Note: This was VERY rushed, and admittedly not one of my best works. I've been super busy trying to get all my fics for my event for October ready (yes I started writing the October fics starting the previous month), as well as a bunch of other stuff that I unfortunately didn't put enough time for my @briarvalleyarchives fic. Hopefully it still gets added into the fic list for this month's prompt!

Thank you for reading and I'll see you in the next fic!

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland oneshots #twst wonderland oneshots #twst oneshots #oneshots #romance #fairy tail #fluff #cute #love #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #reader #y/n #vera deville #the marchioness #briarvalleyarchives #god i'm late #please forgive me

[xhoneygirlxx]

i just know for a fact Eddie doesn’t know any celebrity names but he knows the most random shit.

i’m just picturing husband or dad! Eddie, somewhere around 30s/40s in age.

you guys are in the car and maybe the basic radio is playing or you’re hooked up to the bluetooth, either way there’s music playing.

Dua Lipa’s ‘Dance the Night Away’ comes on and even though you’re paying more attention to the cars that pass by, a thought pops in your head.

“Baby,” you turn to him, “do you know who sings this?”

For a second he just listens and you can see the gears turning in his head like he’s trying hard to figure who’s voice is coming through the speakers.

“Yeah, it’s Jen Montana.” Eddie says it with so much confidence, smiling brightly that he could remember.

When you correct him and tell him the actual name, he proceeds to tell you that Jen Montana is a real person and she was a very famous popstar. He clearly meant Hannah Montana.

Another time you guys are in your living room sprawled out on the couch, lazing about. Deciding that you had enough phone time, you asks if he wants to watch a movie and he quickly agrees, saying there’s on he really wanted to watch.

Leaving your spot on the comfy sofa, you pad to the kitchen to make some popcorn. When you return Eddie’s got his Ipad in his hand, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, tapping away on the screen clearly looking for something.

“I thought we were watchin movie, baby.” You say and he turns his head up at you, tongue still poked out from when he was concentrating.

“We are! I just couldn’t remember the name of the movie I wanted to watch s’all.”

“Well just tell me the actor or actress and i’ll use the remote to look it up.” Sitting back down in your spot, you place the bowl on popcorn between the two of you.

“It’s that one with Sofia Mascara girl.” popping a handful of popcorn in his mouth, he stares straight ahead at the tv like a small child, excited and ready to watch something.

You’re lost, completely and 100% lost. Who the fuck was he talking about because that clearly wasn’t a person. You’re still staring at him like he has five heads, trying to work every part of your brain to understand who he meant. Turning his curly haired head back to you, his eyebrows furrow at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” It’s almost annoying how unaware he is sometimes.

“Eds, that’s not a person.” you try to say it calmly, not wanting to get upset over something this stupid.

“Yes it is, babe! She’s the girl in that one movie! Remember?” He rolls his eyes at you, like you’re the one who said something ridiculous.

“That narrows it down to like, a thousand people.” You deadpan and he huffs.

“The one movie when she’s like screaming and her boyfriend where a bear costume!”

“That’s fucking Florence Pugh, Edward! Not Sofia Mascara!” He laughs at how angry you get and it makes you even angrier.

“Yeah, yeah, same difference.”

It boggles your mind how he can’t remember a single celebrity’s name, but he can remember things that no one else does.

The two of you are laid out in bed, the darkness taking over the space. You’re eyes grow heavier, sleep about to take over your body.

“Do you ever think about what Aron Ralston is doing?” Eddie’s voice is thick with sleepiness.

“Who?” Your lips are smooshed against the cushion of your pillow, causing your words to sound muffled.

“The guy that chopped off his arm when he got stuck in the Grand Canyon! They made that movie with the Green Goblin’s son.” You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s looking at you in a strange way for not knowing the man’s name.

Either way, you’re too tired to argue or even indulge in this conversation.

“No, I don’t think about what he’s doing during his day.”

“Maybe you should, dude almost died ya know.” He says to you and you almost want to stop talking.

“Okay, well I’ll send him an apology in the morning for not thinking about his daily routine. Can we go to sleep now?”

So yeah, Eddie doesn’t know mainstream artists and actors names but he can tell you any random fact you wanna know.

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson headcanons

[oddballwriter]

Stranger Than Fiction

Summary: Marc moves into a cabin in the woods to escape the risks of being found out as a werewolf but as he lives amongst nature and hears a few tales, he finds that he's not the only living piece of folklore around the forest.

Warnings: Werewolf nonsense. Mentions of forest spirits and fae. The reader is a forest spirit/fae type being in the forest. The reader is referred to using she and her and with fem-associated adjectives. Marc is kind of emo in the beginning but honestly, he's always been like that, like that's just how he is. Only Marc is here and there is no mention or implication of Steven or Jake.

Author’s Snip: I wrote this in one sitting late at night so if any of the grammar or sentences are weird then I'm sorry and also blame my grammar-checking software for not getting it.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 1,691

Living in the middle of nowhere woods seems like it would be a given for a man inflicted with being a werewolf to live, but this would be the first time Marc has actually taken on that life. Regardless of the fact that he's from the city of Chicago, the exact opposite of a vast untouched green of nature. In the end, it was for the best, for everyone. He wouldn't run the risk of getting hunted down for what he is, and no one would panic over a wolf creature running loose in the city.

Marc wanted to fade away into the forest and live alone where the forest could hide him both when in and out of his monstrous state. He had found and bought a cabin property deep in the forests of southern Illinois, a very different place than he's used to, but he can adapt. He always has.

When he made it all the way there he got a good in-person look at it. It was nice. Homey. It would do well and he could see a comfortable living in it. It's far from the nearest official town but that's how he wanted it. It's far enough away that no one will bother him or catch the sight of him on a full moon. Even with the nearest cabin considered it was a good enough distance. It was perfect. He could hide here.

Marc did have to meet his 'neighbor', so to speak. He was the man who lived in the cabin nearest to him, as mentioned before. He came saying that he was aware that someone new had come along and wanted to give him a warm welcome. Although Marc wasn't much of a social person he decided to humor the man since he had driven the whole way here and came bearing gifts. Those gifts were food from his personal garden saying "I know there's a market in town but nothing beats the ones you grow in unaltered nature. They're pure and clean, nothing added but what the dirt's already got in it.". Some hippie-ish stuff about Mother Earth and all that. Marc could tell that this man was one of those old men who was tired of the world and wanted to live off the land. Power to him, but Marc couldn't shake off the feeling of being preached at.

Eventually, the man wrapped up his speech, or so Marc thought. Apparently, the pause that Marc took as a wrap was actually the man rerouting his topic. "You ever hear the legends, son?" the man asks. Marc scrunches his face in confusion, "The what?" he asks.

"You know, the legends! About the things that exist here in woods like this." the man exclaims as if Marc was kidding around with him, "The fae folk, the forest spirits, nymphs, what have you." he lists off. Marc shakes his head, "I'm not really a folklore and mythos kind of person." Marc says half-heartedly with a shrug. "Oh, they aren't just stories. I've met a few people who claim to have seen a thing or two here." the man smiles.

Marc crosses his arms unsure of where this guy is going with this. "I'm guessing you're going to tell me about some local cryptid?" Marc asks. "Oh, she's no cryptid, son. She's real. And she's everywhere." the man laughs in a way that is meant to be lighthearted but seems slightly ominous with the words he's said. "And... who is she?" Marc questions. The man clears his throat from his laugh and spins this small tale, "She's believed to be some kind of forest spirit who lives and watches over this part of the forest here. Wandering around making sure no one takes more than they need and occasionally watching those who are here from a distance to see what you're up to." the man explains.

"Some say they see her and that she's as beautiful as the land itself and changes with it in the seasons but she's a hard chase of you try to catch her, running as fast as a quick breeze and disappearing into the trees and the sound of the leaves rustling. but those who try to chase her say that you can hear her giggle in the rustling like it's a game of tag. If you stay on her good side then she has the breeze carry the scent of the forest for you to enjoy and has wild flowers grow around your cabin or helps grow any plants you might have." the man says further.

Again, just some hippie-spiritual-mythos junk, but that story sounds amusing at least. "And what if I make her mad?" Marc asks and that man begins again.

"Oh, well if you get her mad then she has all the trees pent you with their seed pods and nuts or she gets the animals involved. She sends them down to either dig up your property or scare the hell out of you in the middle of the night. Let me tell you something, son. Stags and deer are pretty in the day, but at night when it's just them and their bright unmoving stares in the middle of the darkness it's the thing of nightmares. And if she's real mad by hurting nature then she lets it take a bite right back at you, and Mother Nature is a fearsome thing when scorned." the man tells Marc, with occasional add-ins.

Marc scoffs at the stories and nods along. "You laugh but I swear to it. She's here and she keeps to her deeds. I got greedy last hunting season and shot an extra rabbit. Soon after that, a whole hoard of the little bastards came and ate up all my home-grown food and the squirrels were throwing the scraps in their burrows at me from the trees." he swears. "I still get pelted with one every now and then and at this point I think she's just trying to be funny." he adds.

After some more back and forth, the man leaves to let Marc have his first night in peace as the sun sets and baths the forest in a golden glow. Marc takes the luxury of not having it be a full moon any time soon and watches as the light goes from gold to a soft deep blue and purple and then the black of the night. He can hear the distant sounds of crickets talking in their chirps. As Marc settles into bed and lies in the quiet he finds himself thinking about the story that the man told him. He still feels disbelief in the tale but there's a part of him that doesn't want to be too skeptical. He is a werewolf who came to hide in the forest after all.

After a brief amount of time living in the cabin and counting down the days till his next turn with the full moon, Marc finds himself simply existing in the area around his new home. The trees are still lush with green leaves that shield away the sun but still allow it to be bright enough. He's been using his time outside of going into town to get supplies for the cabin occasionally picking up litter and trash and getting rid of all the dead leaves that have gathered while the cabin has been unoccupied.

He jokes to himself, calling out "I'm cleaning your forest. I hope that's okay with you." to the air as if the tales are true and you truly are watching him. However, he does notice that in the passing days, the patches of dirt around his cabin are being taken by green grass and some wildflowers are starting to bud from miscellaneous spots, and sometimes he smells the scent of the trees as the wind blows by occasionally but he just deems it a coincidence each time.

The first time he had a sign that he was wrong in his dismissal came soon after though on the night first turn here and the morning after. It happened like any other full moon. He painfully turns, runs and wanders the area, all of which is in a blur that feels like watching a slide show of photos taken and various moments. It all happens as it normally does but as he wakes he sees glimpses in his memories of a figure who is illuminated by the moonlight just away from sight but as he looks at them in his memories he feels no sense of danger. Instead just watches from afar as he moves along.

But when Marc truly wakes up, his body aching, and the morning sun burning his sore eyes he finds something strange. He's lying with a ring of flowers around him and some on him. He sits up in shock despite his muscles still recovering after the stress of changing twice in the span of the night. He catches some of the flowers as they roll off seeing that they are picked wildflowers and dandelions, and so are the ones around him.

Marc is reasonably confused and fearful. Did someone find him? Did they see everything? Why did they pick flowers and put them around him? Where the hell are they now? The flowers are still fresh and haven't started sagging yet. All these questions ran through his mind. But just as he's about to call out, he feels a soft breeze pass him and the smell of the forest come to his nose.

Marc looks around and his eyes fall on you a bit away blending in with the colors and hues of the trees and foliage, almost in beautiful camouflage with the surroundings. Marc calls out to you and stammers to get up, but his legs give and he falls back down. He looks back up but you're gone just like that.

Marc is at a loss for words but settles on a confused but still appreciative "Thank you." for the seemingly kind gesture of covering him in flowers, whatever that means, feeling that you're still around to hear it.

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #werewolf!moonboys #werewolf #werewolf au #werewolf!marc spector #fae!reader

[lookedlikethebins]

holiday party (plus one)

surprise! have a (belated) holiday oneshot written on a whim because i was thinking about our producer george x TA matty this past break! just wanted to write something fun, something sweet, and see what came up! enjoy this little glimpse! [set ~4months since meeting each other] ~3k words xo

Technically, where Matty lived was considered student housing. He could have friends over for parties, could bring boyfriends back after dates—had brought quite a few boyfriends (and a few one-date-only boys) back—without issue. Matty just couldn’t bring George back after any of their dates. The new hire in the archeology department was more of a local celebrity—known for being the youngest professor on faculty, just a year older than Matty—and not the same as the international kind. Matty had assured George that it wasn’t particularly personal. Simply put (although few things Matty said were to George) if George wanted any bit of his private life to remain within his own control, be his story to tell, he couldn’t be seen wandering around campus, alone or with Matty.

With Matty’s flat off-limits, naturally, George never found it presumptuous when Matty would text George after his evening class to see if George would help grade papers that seemed to show a negative correlation between level of coherency and number of words. Actually, George sort of counted on it. He liked that Matty would invite himself over; never asking if it was okay if he spontaneously dropped by, instead wondering if George simply wanted to keep him company—to which the answer was always yes—then arriving an hour later and knocking on George's front door with said papers and a bottle of wine.

One night in mid-December, George was impatient waiting for Matty’s post-class text. He was nervous Matty would be too exhausted to come over and George would have to figure out another way, and fast, to ask Matty to join him his label event the following night. He didn't think he could face it alone—

But Matty texted, as he always did: last student just left. forgot something in my office but then i’ll be over? x

Matty arrived within the hour, standing outside his door with twice as many papers and wine bottles.

“Final essays.” Matty answered the question George hadn’t yet asked. He pecked George on the lips—George’s preferred form of hello, if he was being honest—and hurried inside from the cold.

Matty looked exhausted, as he had the past few weeks of the term, but at least he’d recently shaved. George was beginning to worry—not only about his general well-being, but Matty’s ability to grow the patchiest beard but the most solid moustache. Meanwhile, George had success with neither and was losing his own ability to grow hair on his head before thirty. Some guys just had all the luck: the looks, brains, sense of humor, charm—

“Which class is this for again? You had three of them.” George said, shutting and locking the door. He flicked off the porch lights, expecting and inviting no other visitors now that Matty was there. He followed after Matty.

Matty was back in his usual spot at George’s kitchen counter, placing one wine bottle down between the barstools before shouldering off his worn, nearly-beaten, leather briefcase onto his seat. Matty always claimed the stool closest to the wall. He began leaving—most likely forgetting—pencils and pens on the lip of the counter that extended up the wall. Even though they’d only been seeing each other for four months, George figured it wouldn’t be too much of a gesture to wordlessly replace his napkin holder with a pencil cup.

“This was the intro class. Other classes finished last week.”

“Right, right.” George nodded. This classifier helped him very little; every class Matty described to George felt introductory. Made him feel like he was sitting in the desks himself, green and confused, just trying to scramble together some foundational understanding.

“I told them: short and succinct. Six pages maximum. They don’t have to show off—I’ll know by how they write it if they are copying, bullshitting, or absolutely clueless. I took the same class—same professor—during my very first term. I know the subject and am their intended audience. I told them seven times last week the only person they were writing to was me. Not Dr. Wriley, not even each other; just me. And you know what they did?” Matty exclaimed. He threw his one empty hand up in exasperation as he looked at the top-most essay in his other hand. “They all wrote me dissertations on Euripides. Which means that I will have no time to work on my own. It’s like they heard I cancelled my trip home and thought I was just planning on fucking about.” Matty rolled his eyes. He paused, lifting his eyebrows in consideration before scowling again. “George, I swear, they gave me so much to read, I’m going to have to call my optometrist again by New Year’s. I'm going to be blind before I graduate."

“I’m sorry, love.” George said, trying to translate the regretful, apologetic look on his face into his voice; Matty hadn’t looked up at him since they greeted each other at the door. With every second that Matty stayed distracted and frazzled, George began to think his entire plan that evening was not a good idea. Not what Matty wanted to be asked after such a taxing day. "Is there anything I can do—”

“—and I know there’s no way you’ve studied the Murray and Woodruff translations so I can’t exactly ask you to read any of these for me so…” Matty paused and grumbled away alternatives to his sentence. “It’s just going to be a very long night. You can help by keeping me awake.”

“Do you have to read them all tonight? Pretty sure you can let yourself have an hour of sleep. Maybe actually have dinner with your boyfriend,” George said. “Think I can convince you of at least that?”

Matty let the full stack of essays thud onto the counter and sighed. His shoulders fell with his exhale as he finally looked back at George. Before he could respond with his usual, quick-witted quip his eyes fell from George’s face to his clothes: his pristine, pressed shirt and polished belt buckle visible just above the countertop; his necklace resting in the gap left by his intentionally neglected shirt buttons; his rings dressing the fingers wrapped around the two stemmed wine glasses; the silver earring George had accidentally taken from Matty’s spot at his bathroom sink—he only ever wore one of them anyway.

“Wait. You’re all dressed up.” Matty seemed startled by the realization. He looked down at his own clothes—a sweater, slacks, and polo combo he wore frequently when he was running on little sleep; comfort and professionalism without having to think too much—and looked back up at George with a look of panic and apology. “You’re all dressed up and I—”

“Look very handsome.” George assured him. He placed both glasses down before grabbing a bottle of wine. They were two different labels: end of term gifts from faculty or perhaps an older, friendlier student. “As you always do—usually I’m the one in slippers and joggers when you come over. Your jumper’s got buttons on it. That’s pretty sophisticated for this place, you know that.” George was hoping Matty would laugh, but concern kept his expression tight and furrowed.

“Are you supposed to be going out—am I interrupting something? Fuck! Oh, shit. Is your stupid little elbow-rubbing holiday party tonight?” Matty gasped as he looked at his watch—before gasping and swearing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s not stupid, George. I didn’t mean it like that—” His words began to gain speed and George held out a gentle hand to hopefully slow him back down.

“Don’t be sorry. Label holiday dinner parties are stupid little elbow-rubbing events. You’re completely right. Per usual.” George laughed. “But, if it makes you feel better, it’s tomorrow. I didn’t skip anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matty nodded.

George knew what Matty looked like when he understood something—his face relaxed and he slightly offset his jaw while he dipped his head in slow, steady nods, blinking each time. Standing in his kitchen, Matty’s eyebrows were still knitted together; his eyes were looking between his papers, his keys, his bag, and the door; and he was pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth so harshly George was afraid he’d draw blood.

“Let’s try another one: would you believe I was waiting for you?” George chose to focus on the corkscrew in his hands rather than Matty’s face as he spoke. George was being sincere and he had been waiting for Matty’s arrival since he’d texted him about his first class around noon that day, but George wasn’t sure he was ready for the look on Matty’s face when he admitted the gesture—or if he knew how to minimize the look on his own face in case the act was too much or too soppy when really Matty just wanted to come in and have a quick rant and a hasty glass or two of wine, before sinking deep into his work. George's only job then would be to make sure by midnight Matty was at least no longer in creased trousers and a belt, lounging next to George in bed while he continued to read.

“You didn’t have to do that, George. It was an exam day—and that’s always a crapshoot as to when the students all finish, you know that.”

“But exam day means end of the term, right? Well, minus the grading.” George winced as he waved the removed cork toward the stack of essays. “But that’s something to celebrate, right? You’re free—for at least a little while.”

“Oh, I see. Celebrate, huh?” Matty caught George’s attention again with a short, low laugh. He looked at George with lifted eyebrows. “You know, I’ll never understand your pretense to get dressed up when your main goal is to get undressed. You keep doing it, George. Just answer the door with about fifty percent of an outfit and I’ll get the idea a lot faster. I’m a smart man. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, because you come over after an exhausting day of teaching and dealing with end of year administrative hoop-jumping and the first thing you want to deal with is me practically steering you right to the couch.”

Matty seemed to mull the idea over. “You know, I wouldn’t hate that… But, I guess you’re right. Maybe answering the door fully clothed is a better idea. Perhaps you are sensible, George. I keep forgetting. Thank you.” Matty reached over to touch George’s forearm holding the wine bottle—and about to pour the contents all over the counter. Matty was looking at George with an expression that always took him by surprise. Made him freeze in place and thought. Made him feel in awe, for a split (hopefully) undetectable moment, of the life he’d found himself in.

Matty’s eyes were locked on George’s, not moving even as their moment of connection drug on into an extended silence while George scrambled for his next charming response—just trying to keep up. Matty’s smile was subtle, almost timid, compared to what George knew to be his full, squinted grin. It was all in Matty’s cheeks, in the subtle roundness at their peaks, just under his eyes. A small hint for George; the single location that was a giveaway to George, in an otherwise seemingly neutral expression to everyone else, he was being seen in a startling private and intimate way, even when they were alone.

George knew, once he handed over the full wine glass, he had a limited amount of time before his window of opportunity would close and the night would shift over to a blur of Matty growing chatty and trying to explain the faults of his students papers—and hopefully a few successes—while George gulped down his own wine and sounds of confusion; both of them giggling as the papers were forgotten and empty wine glasses nearly clattering to the floor as Matty climbed to sit on the edge of the counter, legs on either side of George and feet resting on the horizontal back rung of George’s chair; George only wanting to listen to the way his name sounded when being gasped and sucked in through clenched teeth—

“Actually," George began speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "there is a reason—there’s something I wanted to ask you.” George came around and sat down in his chair at the counter. Matty moved his bag and joined George, taking the other wine glass with a quiet thank you.

“Oh, yeah?” Matty kept the subtlety to his smile but let his eyes change from even and gentle to intense and direct. George was going to lose his courage—because he definitely didn’t have the will to resist Matty, sitting in his kitchen without any early classes the next morning, looking sharp and clever in his work clothes, freshly shaved, and looking at George like that without even a drop of wine in him. “What else is there you could ask me to do, George? If you’ve thought of it and I haven’t tried it, you’ll really surprise me.”

“Would you like to go with me tomorrow?” George said. He took a gulp of wine from his glass. “Be my date to my stupid little elbow-rubbing dinner.”

Matty’s confusion returned faster than before. “Wait—to the label holiday party? W-Work? You want me to go to a work function with you?”

“You asked me if I wanted to go to a faculty dinner the other week.”

“Yeah, because half the department is over sixty-five, doesn’t actually know my name, and hasn’t listened to any music that came out after the year they first started getting laid. They probably would’ve thought you taught there too! But your work… that’s a real dinner, George. Those are important people.”

“And so are you.” George said. He hated how immediate his response was, if only for how canned it sounded. He’d already thought of each of Matty’s arguments; he wanted to bring Matty to a party filled with people that pretended to know him best. If they were going to market him and his personal work (and personal life), they could at least know just who that involved. “My work is important to me, but you are too, equally so. I don’t see the issue. Sort of a natural combination, I’d think.”

“George,” Matty said with a quiet sigh of pity. “I barely knew who you were when we met. I-I should not be in a room with… with… pioneers of culture. I will make a fool out of myself, and worse, you.”

“You won’t make a fool out of me, Matty. You forget I’ve been attending these things for ten years. I used to bring ‘girlfriends’ with me. Absolutely no one has made me look more like an idiot than me at important, career-defining label functions, let me assure you.” George said with a laugh. He reached over to place a hand on Matty’s leg. “I know this is a big ask though, coming to something like this. But it’s a close-door dinner party—just, well, I guess they’re my co-workers. The boys will be there, definitely. But if you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say that. Never said I didn’t want to go, but...” Matty placed his hand on top of George’s, his finger mindlessly tracing the ring on George’s pinky. “Am I really the person you want to bring along and introduce to... genuinely your entire social circle? Social and work circle? Talk about pissing where you eat, George.”

“Matty, I’m pretty sure everyone on the label being my friends is the example of pissing where I eat. Not bringing you to a party.” George said, shaking his head. “People asked me if you were coming, if you must know.”

“Probably because they don’t want me to be there—” Matty cut himself off with a long sip of wine.

“Matty,” With two fingers, George carefully grabbed the stem of his glass and eased it away from his mouth—without spilling it down the front of him. “First off, even if someone didn’t want you to be there—for whatever reason: you’re new, you’re not industry, you’re a man—I’d still like you to be there. Me. As my date. Not theirs... If you wanted, of course.”

Matty paused and began to bite his thumbnail. “Are you sure no one’s going to mind if I’m just… sitting there in the corner, awkward and quiet?”

“Babe, what do you think I do at these things?” George laughed. He waited for Matty to smile, his mouth preoccupied and unable to chew his cuticle, before using one finger to lower Matty's hand back down to his own lap, where George was holding his other hand. “It’ll be nice to finally have someone join me in the corner.”

Matty inhaled slowly, squeezing George’s hand before speaking again. “I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?” George’s relief—his joy—came out as incredulity. As the immediate questioning of Matty’s decision—and accidental chance to rescind his response. George held his breath but didn't have to wait very long.

“Yes! Yes, I want to go with you. Corner and all.” Matty managed to say before George kissed him.

In a breathless giggle, hands resting on George’s shoulders, Matty said he was very lucky there was a wall behind him.

#gatty #gatty fanfic #matty x george #george daniel x matty healy #producer george and TA matty fic #andfacedown fics #this isn't going on ao3 (yet) so shhh just for you guys #enjoy and thank you for indulging this au that happened bc of my stretch of listening to abiior interviews while copyediting #producer george oneshot

[inklyqueen]

Things I Noticed About Velvet and Veneer Specifically

And a small thought I had about Crimp

Because I'm on the Trolls 3 Brainrot. Some headcanons might be in here too. Idk I heard that cover of Fame/Remember My Name and the Freshman theatre kid in me started crying tears of joy because I was in the high school version

Disclaimer that I am not an attorney or licensed anything. I grew up watching Game Theory, so I've learned a lot of MatPat's research methods. That being said, information I've found could be incorrect because, after all, it's the Internet. This is all in regards to a work of fiction, though do consult an actual attorney or legal team if you see a need to.

Content warning for topics in this including torture, kidnapping, and murder. Also Long Post warning.

- As time went on with their songs, I noticed that Velvet was beginning to overpower Veneer. Idk if it was an intentional detail on the director's/music dept's part, but if you go through all of songs in the order they're sung (including Sweet Dreams in John Dory's flashback) you'd notice the following:

- There's an even audio/equal turns in their duet during Sweet Dreams. Velvet has her riff moments but she's not overpowering Veneer. The song itself is also mildly ironic because of the lyrics in context:

...Some of them want to use you/Some of them want to be used by you/Some of them want to abuse you/Some of them want to be abused...

I'm sure the context is obvious, what with Floyd and the rest of the boys being outright abused by the both of them. Though my thought on it goes mildly deeper because when you listen to Watch Me Work, the arrangement is like this (I recommend listening to the song with headphones on/both earbuds in btw):

Purple for Velvet, Green for Veneer, Blue for Both

Never gets old no matter how much I'm told, I'm amazing, You're amazing

Hard to get tired when I'm always on fire, I'm blazin', ooh, you're blazin'

All my greatest, It doesn't come for free (yeah)

All my talent, It doesn't grow on trees

Take a breather (ooh), Then take it all away

If the top is where you wanna stay

You gotta work hard (uh-huh) To make it look it easy

You gotta live fast to keep makin' that money (ooh)

If you want to be as famous as me

You gotta work, gotta work, gotta work

Watch me work...

... Go ahead and watch me work

Haters wanna be me or be with me

Yeah, they're f-f-freakin', Ooh, they're freakin', yeah

I just keep on workin', lurkin', smirkin'

When they think that I'm peakin', never peakin', yeah

Velvet is starting to overpower her brother, not in a social or public image sense, but he's heard less in the music now. On top of that, the song seems to be specifically about Velvet (and the fact that this entire performance is a lie). Veneer is singing to Velvet in agreement of her claims. It's not, "They think that we're peakin'," it's "I'm peakin'," and "All my talent." The only time Veneer sings is to riff/add under it with flair, or to agree that Velvet is blazing on the charts. I'm 99% sure that the idea alone to use Floyd for personal gain was her idea. I still want context as to how they learned that the diamond perfume bottle works that way, and how they ended up grabbing him in the first place okay it's KIND OF IMPORTANT INFORMATION DREAMWORKS

And again in Mount Rageous and the use of Fame/Remember My Name:

Same colour code applies, anything in black are the background/back-up vocals, or a combination of Velvet, Veneer, and Back-Up Vocals together

(Fame!) I'm gonna live forever, I'm gonna learn how to fly

(High!) I feel it comin' together (oh, yeah)

People will see me and cry (Fame!)

I'm gonna make it to Heaven (Heaven), Light up the sky like a flame (Hah!)

I'm gonna live forever, Baby, remember my name...

... All my greatness, It doesn't come for free

All my talent, It doesn't grow on trees

Take a breather, then take it all the way

If the top is where you wanna stay...

...You gotta work hard

I'm gonna live forever, (keep makin' that money) Learn how to fly

If you want to be as famous as me, You gotta work, you gotta work, you gotta work

You gotta work hard...

...If you want to be as famous as me, Famous as my name

Notice how Veneer didn't get a chance to sing alone once in this number, not even for a riff or extra flair. The end of the song when she sings Name she's riffing the highest she ever has alone. Though I do believe that Veneer had had enough at this point and stopped singing, as he didn't want to do the encore. He knew they already won; all they had to do was take the award, finish the night out and go home. PR would most likely be the ones to handle the media with questions regarding why three little Trolls rolled up claiming they kidnapped four other Trolls, and then immediately began jumping at them repeatedly at a specific part of their outfits that they'd covered from the cameras in the first place. (Unless of course, the police got involved. Love how Bruce was the only one that thought to say "Call the authorities," and even if they had the authorities could've at least retrieved Floyd for them maybe so the abuse would stop? I'm sure there's an AU Fanfic in that somewhere—)

- Continuing on this in regards to Veneer, he is the definition of a morally grey character to an extent. There's some minor issues here and there, but I haven't seen a good grey character in animation in a while, so props to the Trolls III team on his development.

But instead of calling it there, Velvet, high on the adrenaline and the fame now lodged into her core, demands he sings again. She refuses to let the Trolls walk away with what they want, even though she's already won and made it to the top, and even if she'd stop there, she wouldn't let any of those Trolls leave if she had anything to say or do about it. So, looking to make more history, she screws herself over in the process. One part on Crimp's "betrayal," (more on that in a minute), but also in one part that Floyd would not have made it through that first song in her encore, and she would have croaked and embarrassed them both. Veneer outright told her he wouldn't make it and she did it anyway (or attempted). Hell Floyd barely made it through the ending chorus with his brothers by the the tip of his black eyeliner pencil.

- Adding to this, I noticed that Veneer never had Floyd in his shoulder pad slot things. In fact he wasn't ever truly the one that had ahold of Floyd's diamond cage for longer than a few minutes at a time. Velvet always spritzed herself first. Velvet almost always had the diamond in her hands. The only time Veneer has the diamond is when he spritz himself, and the two-to-three minute conversations between him and Floyd. When Veneer catches Floyd, he's immediately prompted to hand him back to Velvet. Velvet is almost always in full control over Floyd. Even during "What's with your vibe and your face?" She moved the diamond away from Veneer as if she were defending the bottle. (If I remember correctly. I need to watch the movie in full again and not a bunch of snips and clips.) She doesn't even trust her own brother to be alone with the bottle for longer than a few minutes.

The issues I noticed was how, despite going back and forth about how what they were doing to Floyd was right or wrong, he leaned more towards his sister's viewpoint when reminded of small things, i.e. the illegal pet monkey, but then leaned away from his sister when he stopped and saw what his actions were doing to a little guy like Floyd, who probably only wanted to visit Mount Rageous like a tourist or something. AGAIN I NEED ANSWERS DREAMWORKS

Veneer suggested ways to ease off using the perfume bottle, but didn't push the boundary when Velvet shot him down, and he's outright blunt that she kind of has no excuse to continue the charade. "We grew up in the suburbs, our parents were dentists." (You know they were rich kids if BOTH parents were dentists.) And with the cash they were making off their careers, they could hire a vocal coach AND require a signed NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement). (Also how do you tax evade when purchasing a yacht??? You literally have to like— Do a credit check or something- Unless they paid with cash in full—) It wasn't until he realized that he'd almost killed Floyd (for real at the end) that he said enough was enough. His mini-panic attack upon Floyd's fake out shows that he has morals, but is ignoring them. He stops to listen to what Floyd has to say and is open to the conversation, rather than shutting him down. ("Just because she's your sister doesn't mean you should let her treat you like garbage." "Doesn't it?") I would not be surprised if Velvet ended up outright leaving him behind in her further climb in fame and the charts if they'd continued beyond the movie without intervention.

As for Crimp:

My biggest question with Crimp is how the hell she managed to get away with her involvement in the kidnapping and torture of a Troll.

Hear me out: I'm assuming now Trolls have more protections after the liberation and total turn around and revival of Bergen Town and the Rock Apocalypse, since she explicitly states "Troll-napping, Troll Torture," rather than just Kidnapping and Torture in general.

Upon her hire-on as an assistant to the twins, I assume she'd have to sign a NDA with their record label to protect their livelihoods and whatever music and songs she sees them working on, but a NDA does not protect a company or person from the law. (Noting that I'm going off USA Law here since these are about the same across most of the fifty states, and I honestly could compare Mount Rageous to Hollywood or Los Angeles, CA at this point?)

NDAs give a company the right to file a cease and desist against an employee if it's found they're giving out private corporate or internal information. This isn't the same as a HIPPA or other kind of protection law that prevents an employee's personal information from being aired out or an HR case being put in the open (think when a customer wants to complain about a retail worker and asks for their last name, you're not allowed to give that information. Or if someone comes to customer service asking if a specific person is working at the moment, you're not allowed to answer that. (At least the store I work at has those rules.)) In the USA with most states, you are usually required by law to report a crime if you know of it. Failing to do so is called a Misprision of a Felony. So if you know your boss has murdered someone and covered it up (*cough cough* Sing 2 *cough*), you are required to report it. If you know your assigned pop stars are holding a protected citizen (or species? I guess?) hostage and are exploiting their powers through means of ESSENTIALLY torture, you'd be legally required to report it. Otherwise you'd be at risk of being held accountable of aiding and abetting. Which technically she could be held accountable anyway because she made that "fruit extractor" for them on Velvet's lie that it's for smoothies on stage. Hell she was LITERALLY getting ukulele lessons from Floyd.

A NDA does not exempt you or your employers from the law or reporting illegal activity. A judge is likely to take that NDA and throw it away when it comes to information regarding the case. The excuse that the NDA prevented Crimp from reporting the crime doesn't hold. Hell I didn't even see a hint of blackmail or threat of harm to herself in this case, unlike Jimmy Crystal in Sing 2, where he outright threatened to kill Buster Moon multiple times and then attempted to commit the murder in front of thousands of people. The only real thing Crimp could ride on with a defense attorney is the fact that Velvet lied and told her that it was for smoothies. She also had a whole cell phone and could have called the authorities when they locked her in the closet. (Internet cell service is not the same as mobile phone service. Phones, even ones that don't have a SIM card or unlocked phones, are required by law to allow phone calls to 911 or numbers that are required emergency services in the USA. It's why your hidden phone from your parents say SOS where the reception bars would be, and also why that hidden phone still got that emergency alert system text.)

I actually did a detailed research post on Jimmy Crystal's offences and what he could face for prison time here if you wanna read over it :3

Anywho, I love them a lot, I hope this post was helpful or gave you some new thoughts and insights :3

Bonus Floyd Gif bc I love him

#trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls #velvet and veneer #mount rageous #please veneer has my heart #;;trolls au InklyQueen #to think i literally only went to see this movie because of them #and Floyd ofc #love floyd sm

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi Lena I was curious: Before joining the shepherds, were there any misconceptions the norm members had about the different diminished races that were disproven by meeting their current group? Or things that surprised them/they didn’t know about the diminished races? (Or stuff that some of the diminished members didn’t know about other races as well?)

Hi anon, I think most of the misconceptions that the Norm officers held about Diminished races were pretty much covered in the post about Shery's thoughts about the Diminished races, since she was acting from some of the same common stereotypes that a lot of them were. I think the most prevalent is that a lot of Norms were under the impression that Ket are bloodthirsty, aggressive, barbarian warriors who will pick a fight with you for looking at them the wrong way and, like, don't teach their kids to read in favor of learning how to decapitate people or beat them to death with a bludgeon. Like many people believe they're basically one step above grunting, warlike Neanderthals. It was definitely a surprise to discover that Blade was more cool-tempered and had more sophisticated manners than Trouble, and enjoys a cup of tea and reads poetry more than Red! It's actually often the opposite case: Ket are less inclined to randomly pick a fight with you because they're either not interested in deviating from their current mission, or aren't emotional enough to get in a fight with a stranger, and their culture is so honor-based and rigid that such unseemly behavior would typically be beneath them!

The other big misconception was that Mages are basically volatile, walking time bombs (and also esoteric nerds with their noses constantly buried in books, which, like, is a bit less inaccurate). A lot of Norms (and other races) are taught to believe that Mages will lose control of their magic at the drop of a hat: they might sneeze and a candle will burst into flame, or the sky will cloud over and a hurricane will land when they're the least bit angry. They also think the presence of magic in most Mages' lives is very overblown and fairytale-like, more like what you might think of a green witch living in a cottage covered with toadstools and cauldrons full of stray children's bones, or trammeled up in arcane towers where they fly around instead of walking places and grow long beards while conversing with spirits about the stars, and they have candlesticks soaring around talking to them like in Beauty and the Beast. Then they're surprised to meet a mild-mannered twenty-five-year-old who is fairly normal and just wants to talk at you about their work in like sterilizing infirmaries safely or growing a new, more resilient type of grain and then it's sort of this "oh you're just another person." I think they tend to be pretty surprised how non-intrusive the presence of magic can be, and even when it is being used, how fast and easy it is to get used to it: no one really blinks an eye at a Mage coworker lighting a campfire in an instant (you still have to gather the kindling and whatnot, so it's really not that different from the normal way), and there's even allusions to this in the latest serial story on Patreon, where Halek (forgetting that not everyone can practice magic as freely as the Shepherds do) asks a Mage civilian if they can talk to animals and they're like "uhhh no I can't do that because it would be illegal and I don't know how..."

For the Elves, the stereotype is that they're really cryptic, hard to read, and frustrating to deal with because they move so slowly (think the sloth at the DMV in Zootopia, if you've seen that). This is probably not that far off the mark when dealing with certain hardline traditionalists, but because Tallys was well-acclimated to dealing with non-Elves and was already accustomed to using "War Manners" when people joined up, they were surprised to find that she was perfectly succinct and direct and were like "oh that stereotype was so inaccurate"!

I think there is a vague misconception that Hunters are on the whole extremely pious, religious, and sort of priestly (their traditional black garb and their exorcist profession as well as their devotion to Narthax led to this idea), as well as very stern and secretive and harsh; and then everyone met Halek, the least disciplined, most chill Shepherd to ever exist, and were also like, "oh. where tf did that idea even come from?"

Hope that all makes sense!

#Shepherds of Haven #worldbuilding #races

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question of Loyalty IV

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

“I remember you at their age.” You reminisced those years, easier years in Driftmark where your only care was not to eat too much cake and play with your siblings. Laena was with child again, you meekly rubbed her belly.

“They look just like you.”

“I was always following you around. Just like Rhaena does with Baela.”

“Well, I was the eldest sibling. Still am.” You quipped.

“I have the fresh memory of you on top of Silverwing. You were grounded for a moon and then I was grounded for a moon for letting you flee your chambers.”

“You enjoyed the ride, didn’t you?” She busted a gut.

“I did. It was because of you that I gathered the courage to claim Vhagar in the first place, otherwise I wouldn’t even thought it possible.”

“I’m proud of you, little sister.” She smiled heartily.

“How are things with the Queen?”

“She gave birth to Daeron. I adore that boy. It's almost as if he were mine.”

“You do have a gift with children. And what about Rhaenyra?”

“We are… still sorting it out.” You said vaguely, she was detaching more every passing day.

“You do not sound convinced. Is your heart troubled, Y/N? Don’t close yourself off to me. You can trust me.”

“I know, Laena. It’s… hard. Living with her yet being so far apart.”

“Has Alicent’s infatuation faded yet?”

“Infatuation?”

“I do not claim to know her, we barely shared a few words when I was in the Capital but that woman, sweet sister, that woman sees the stars in your eyes. When at Leanor's wedding, only a fool wouldn't realize her heart was calling out to you.” You regretted your actions on that particular date, you went to her out of desperation, a need to feel something. It doesn't mean that you didn't cherish it, or that you didn't like it. But you played with her strings, and it wasn't something the Queen could just forget.

“Are you still oblivious?” The twins came sprinting in before you could answer to something that you didn’t actually have an answer for.

“Oh my beautiful dragons!” Rhaena perched on your lap whilst Baela put her small arms around your neck. “The Capital would do you wonders. Come visit me soon.”

“Can we, mother? Please?” They pleaded.

“We will have to consult it with your father first.” Laena spoke, you sighed with disdain at Daemon’s mention.

“We want to meet our cousins!”

“In the meantime, perhaps a letter would lift their spirits? You proposed.

“Yes!”

“Daemon is reluctant… he still feels spurned by the King, and by most of the Court.” Laena declared.

“I wonder why.” You mumbled.

“I do miss Laenor, and mother & father. Send them my regards; and all my love.”

“It would be good to have you back, we could arrange a feast in High Tide instead. Send a raven anytime and I will see to it.” She bade you safe travel, you both lingered in each other’s familiar touch.

“I will, I promise.”

When the news of your sister’s passing reached you couldn’t believe your ears, for not so long ago you had seen her… chatted with her. She was alive, she was well. She wanted to come home. She wouldn’t have wanted to perish in some foreign land, she meant for her girls to grow up in Westeros.

Daemon objected, would not let her return. In your soul, accumulating hatred was not something you were proud of, blaming someone for another's death was low when it wasn't deliberate, yet the very sight of him unsettled you. You had to be strong now, for Baela and Rhaena.

Your uncle Vaemond delivered the eulogy in High Valyrian, in which he included pointed remarks about Velaryon blood remaining “pure” while glancing at Rhaenyra’s sons, Daemon was somber at her death, and he started giggling at Vaemond's pettiness in bringing this up now, you paid no mind to your uncle. You glared at Daemon, a lack of respect to his wife, to all of your family.

“I don’t want mother to be gone.” Baela was wretched, Rhaena was still crying a river of tears. You wished you could unburden them, bring Laena back and shield them from all dangers in the world.

“She’s going to watch over the two of you, from the Heavens. You will feel her in the sun that warms your skin. Nobody is gone forever, my darling girls. Let the memories remind you how to smile.” You offered them consolation, and they did the same.

Laenor had more cups of wine than you would have preferred. He lamented the fact that he should have brought his sister home when he was still able to spend more time with her. Rhaenys slumped as she read the words written in the letter, you kept each other company until slumber came to subdue your sobs at night.

Rhaenyra was the first to approach you, Laena was her cousin after all and she was sadden for it too. “Laena was well loved by all of us. Your sister was one of a kind.” She dithered to give you a hug, instead she squeezed your shoulder and went to her sons.

Jace was devastated, for Ser Harwin and the late Hand Lyonel had also recently perished in a fire at Harrenhal, "the cursed castle". You may have felt jealous of him for stealing the Princess' heart and time, but there is no denying the role he had played, protecting and coddling Jace and Luke, for which he will always have your respect.

Alicent was determined to deliver some comfort as well, and so she did with an embrace. “My deepest sympathies, my lady.” You dawdled in her arms until the bereaved court was scattered around.

After a long evening at the cliffside courtyard for the wake, The Queen came forward once more, she commanded a view of hopefulness. “I know this is not an appropriate time, mayhaps. But I wish to consult it with you firsthand.” She commented. You cracked a little smile her way.

“Do tell, your Grace.”

“The proposal Rhaenyra presented back in King’s Landing… about marrying Healena to Jacaerys, I will agree to it.” Your eyes growing wider by the revelation.

“Really?”

“I’ll be announcing it tomorrow before departing High Tide. Jacaerys is a gentle boy, he will make an excellent match for sweet Haleana. He’ll treat her with respect and devotion, same with their children. Aegon wouldn’t.” You grippingly nodded, for you knew beyond doubt that Jace would be perfect for her.

“Jace will be faithful to her, and kind.”

“I’m counting on it. She needs someone to look after her.”

**********

You would never have thought the night would turn out the way it did. It is sad, tragic even, that Alicent and Rhaenyra met first, were friends... only to have the bad blood between them intensify.

You knew some of the blame resided on you, and that was even worse. And what was the consequence of it? Aemond was maimed, Luke was beyond frightened of Alicent, she had cut your chest open. Surely Lucerys did not intend to attack him if it was not utterly necessary, and a child's mind acts before it thinks. How was this allowed to happen?

The pitiful thing was that Viserys didn't seem very moved by it, not that you supported mutilation or anything of the sort fell on Luke, however, the King simply doesn't care, those Targaryen children are not loved by their own father, you softened your heart at the most obvious avowal.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had yet again argued about you… The princess was so sure of herself, she thought she had you in the palm of her hand… that you were still that naive girl. And Alicent has begged you more times than you can recall, to speak out loud about the feelings you've been putting aside since that night together. For them to make amends seemed so impossible and it ruptured you. Silverwing helped ease your dismay, you actually talked to her while you were in the clouds, and she harked.

You found yourself heading to the dinner Hall, where Alicent was just finishing breaking her fast, along with Ser Otto.

“How are you, Your Grace?” You took a seat at the grand table, Otto was leering at you and Alicent noticed. He’s never liked you.

“Father, would you give us a moment, please.” He flashed a warning look to her and he exit.

Alicent’s countenance was dimmed. “I do not want this to come as a thunderbolt for you, my lady. I’ve had a change of heart.” You faintly frowned. “I’m announcing Aegon’s betrothal to Helaena, later today.”

“But… what about her and Jacearys? You said-“

"I know what I said, Y/N. It was only a few days ago that I was beginning to be convinced by the match. I trust you fathom that I cannot now allow my daughter to marry the boy. Her brother hurt my son for life, defending him or not, who knows what he could become. Helaena doesn't need something like that near her. My job, my crucial job is to protect my children. I hope you can understand that."

“I.. I do, Your Grace, I do.” You managed to say, shaken by the confession.

“Good. You’ve come to say something?” She was quick to ask.

You realized that the more you let your feelings for her go behind a cloud of smoke, the more you were going to later repent it and the more she’s going to feel rejected by you, so you shaped up the courage and woman up before vocalizing again.

“I have. Alicent, I am sorry for being partial on the matter of the dispute that broke days ago. I am sorry I spoke to you as I did when you came to apologize. You are a mother and I myself cannot know what it is like... the helplessness you felt when the King didn't bat an eyelash for his son. You deserve so much better, and if you let me, I'll make sure those children do not feel unwanted.” You promised her.

“After that night, Y/N, I’m not quite certain the children will agree to that. They feel betrayed. I feel betrayed. But guess it shouldn’t be a surprise, after all, you do favor them. Even if you won’t admit it out loud.”

“Your kids are my family. We share blood.”

“Water is thicker than blood, it would seem.” You knew exactly what she meant with that, it stung all over.

“I don’t wish to be at each other’s throats about it anymore.”

“Then leave.” The Queen coldly chided, you grimaced. You were losing her, you could feel it and you weren’t just prepared to do so.

“Alicent—“

“Do you love me?” She inquired with exasperation, with yearning and anguish making their way to reflect on her articulation.

“I do.” She intended to withdraw her hand but you grasped it firmly over the canteen. “I do love you. I suppose I just… I was too blind to see it, to admit it. I didn't want to imprison you with your own emotions.”

“Rhaenyra claims otherwise.”

“No one is ever enough for her.” Little did the Queen or you knew, that this last part of the conversation was falling directly into the ears of the alluded princess, nor did she retaliate until she made the terrible mistake of glimpsing at you. “Could I be enough for you?” You purred, inches apart you slanted towards the Queen, she greeted the affection with a handful of tears streaming down her cheeks. You wiped them away with your thumbs, and this kiss was not like the ones you’ve shared before, no, this one held meaning, this one felt right.

Rhaenyra could’ve easily interrupted the intimate moment you were having with the Queen, could easily have made a scandal out of it, but instead, she swabbed harshly her own bitter drops, stealthily stormed out and started to feel that excruciating pain she did when you were both fifteen at Dragonstone.

When the intensity wore off, you stood in silence for a long minute, Alicent cupped your face softly. “I'm not saying it's too late for us. I don't think so myself. But I can't do this now. You... you're crazy about her. She's your number one, always has been. I doubt I can ever top that, or earn that place in your heart. How long must I keep biding here to wait for an answer? You will be running after her next time you see her, and I don’t think I can endure it any longer."

You couldn't swear on your knees that your feelings for the Targaryen were going to fade into the dark forever, because that would probably never happen, so you spoke no more, knowing it would make no difference. You knew that what you felt for her was genuine, pure.

**********

Alicent publicly announced that Aegon and Haleana would marry before autumn’s end. Her reputation was freshly tarnished, yet she stood with authority, and Viserys did not oppose the union. Aegon, discontent with it, sweet Haleana ethereal as only she knew how to be. Aemond increasingly filled with hatred, convinced more than ever that his nephews were nothing more than bastards whose claims were mendacious.

“I wish you could come with us, aunt Y/N. You protected Luke, mother and me. The only one who has done that is Ser Harwin and now he’s gone. Those people are dangerous. We would protect you the way you did us.“ Jace said, worry in his voice, you crouched and washed away his concerns.

“The knight you would be, my darling prince. I won’t go to King’s Landing, I’ll be staying home where I belong. These are hard times, but you know what? We must all be united. Do not let loathing grow thick inside of you.“ You remarked when Luke joined you.

“He hates us now, they all do.” That shadow was looming weighty on their heads, they could spot it.

“They do not. You are decent young princes. An apology is not enough, it cannot bring back the eye of your uncle, but it will demonstrate you didn’t mean ill will. That it doesn’t make you superior.”

“He didn’t apologize to Baela and Rhaena—“

“Prove you’re different, sweet boy.” Little Luke looked up at you, and nodded.

“I will, aunt. I’ll apologize to him.”

Subsequently, the ship set off where Alicent and Viserys were on, and the three Dragons, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre & Vhagar carried the kids on their backs.

You were lounging on the grassland, feeling the breeze on your skin. You didn't want the "Rogue Prince" to overstay in your father's seat, he was a walking insult. And you wondered if you should go after Alicent - have you lost her without even having her?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Laenor laid beside you, and it reminded you when you were six and he was five. The flash of his grin coming to you in a warm wave. “Look Y/N! He’s going to be the largest dragon in the world! Even larger than the Black Dread. But he’ll be more beautiful.”

“I miss the old days.”

“So do I. Wish I could relive them. When the three of us took wing, we were the rulers of the sky. We were invincible. We took different roads”

“But in the end, we never changed. We remained true to ourselves, to each other. Little Laena is resting now with our ancestors, we will meet with her again.”

“I know we will. I never laid with her Y/N, I could never do that to my sister. Not when I knew she was the woman you loved.” This was hurting Laenor, because he loved you deeply, and he knew this would devastate you, he also knew how strong you were. He couldn’t live like this anymore, he dithered, he did.

“You are a good man, with a heart of gold, but you’re even a better brother.”

“You possess that heart of gold, Y/N. You are the very best of all of us. You are an honorable woman. Never lose that spark.” Something was.. amiss, you should’ve peered closer.

You cursed yourself a thousand times for not having been smart, for not having delved into Laenor's mind, for not having clung to him and protected your little brother from all dangers, because the atrocity that occurred hours later paralyzed you. They found his corpse shoved head-first into the fireplace, horrifically burned beyond recognition.

After a week or so, you were able to digest it. Having not eaten for days, Silverwing's appetite diminished as well. Rhaenyra left your home for the Island shortly after his demise. You learned Daemon went with her…

Ser Qarl was the apparent murderer, he had fled High Tide, but he cared about your brother, he was smitten by him since they met, you were there that day. It didn't make the slightest sense.

Rumors began to spread, the whole kingdom learned of Daemon and Rhaenyra's marriage. You'd be lying if you said you didn't see it coming, but how convenient was it to eliminate the princess's husband, so that fucker could take her as his wife? Both your parents were convinced that he had something to do with his death, and they had no doubt that she was an accomplice.

You at first refused to believe it was true, she wouldn't be capable of such a thing, of hurting him, and hurting you. But she had done it a hundred times before, time and again as the breaking point came crawling into your brain, the idea that it was possible broke through the heavy grief and mourning. Laenor would never leave Seasmoke behind, never leave your parents, never leave you to bear another loss...to consider it made you feel sick to the bone.

Rhaenyra didn’t choose you, she chose the ugly path. She chose her uncle, somebody else, over you, again. The beginning of the end of your love for her.

Tagging: @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog

#game of thrones fic #house of the dragon fic #got #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #alicent hightower #house of the dragon

[fiepige]

More Sea Serpent Hobie thoughts!

(been thinking about this au all day, it's completely consumed my mind!)

I was kinda toying with the idea of Hobie being able to take a human form. (In this version most people wouldn't know that sea serpents exist so he uses it as a way to interact with humans without revealing his true nature to them)

He visits a small local fishing village from time to time to hang out with the locals- mostly at the pub, but he also likes hanging around at the harbour

Cause he just gets lonely sometimes and humans make fun company- he finds tales about daring trips to sea entertaining, but he also loves to hear stories about places from far within the mainland as he's always stayed close to the ocean.

Nobody in the village knows what he really is- they all just think he's this odd but kind loner who visits from time to time.

He's well renowned by the people in the village, both for being a nice and helpful guy and because of his unique skills*

He never pays for anything in cash but instead in old trinkets and treasures he finds while out at sea - this resulted in a few arguments at first, but now people have come to accept it, some even look forward to seeing what he'll pull out as payment whenever he visits

if he doesn't have any treasure to pay with he'll offer to pay in favours- specifically favours that involve diving.

*If you need a diving job done he's your guy

He can stay underwater forever and go far deeper than any of the locals.

So if you need to retrieve something from, let's say a sunken ship, he's your guy!

He insists on going on missions alone- it's just easier to get it done if he can dive unseen in his serpent form.

The only people he doesn't get along with are authority figures and whalers!

There aren't any whalers residing in the village but sometimes a whaling boat will come by to restock. Every time they do Hobie terrorizes the crew as much as he can get away with. While also being very vocal about his opinion of them in general. He's gotten in fights with them more than once.

It's also not unusual for the whalers to find their ship vandalised if they stay overnight.

When he's in his human form he lives on a small island near the village, but far enough away that he can't be seen changing from serpent to human form and vice versa

He has a small hut where he keeps some fishing equipment (mostly for show in case a human comes by and wonders how he's able to feed himself on this tiny island) as well as a small garden where he grows different greens.

He'll trade his food for stuff with the villages, he mostly trades for clothes, sewing equipment or beer at the pub

Sometimes he'll disappear at sea for weeks at a time- if any of the villagers question him about it he'll just say he was out fishing- despite him only owning a small rowboat with a small engine, that doesn't work half the time. - He uses it to get to and from the island in human form as to not alert the villagers to his true form.

At some point he befriends Gwen**, who's a newcommer, when a local overhears her lamenting the loss of her mother's trinket at sea, and they suggest she asks Hobie for help- since the guy has a way of finding things lost at sea

Gwen doesn't really believe he can actually find it but seeks him out nonetheless cause it can't hurt to ask

Hobie accepts the job. In exchange he wants Gwen to tell him about the places she's been to before she moved to the village.

(** you can kinda replace Gwen with any character you want. I'm kinda considering making a small fic for this au where the reader takes Gwen's place, but I don't have the time nor energy to write it any time soon. Also I've never written a fic from the first person point of view so I'm not sure how it would turn out lol.)

Lemme know what you guys think! 💙Any input is welcome- it can be world building stuff, story stuff, ideas for hobie's serpent form or something else!

#oh yeah I'm normal about this au #it's not like I'm constantly thinking about it- imagining all the stories and interactions you could write for this au #I've even drawn a few scetches of hobie's sea serpent form but I can't really settle on what I want him to look like #cause on one hand I kinda want him to be humanoid/mermaid like- but on the other hand I want him to actually look like a serpent! #might share them at some point but I haven't really drawn one that I want to consider his true form yet so idk #all I do know for certain is that I want him to be BIG in his serpent form #also any thoughts and inputs from you guys is greatly appreciated! #cause this au is still very new so I'd love to hear other people's ideas going forward #hobie brown #spider punk #sea serpent hobie #across the spider verse #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse au #spiderverse #my post #my au