#affectionate mockery I love all of the cast

[thatoneluckybee]

Keiji Mockery Compilation

#My phone storage........ #keiji shinogi #affectionate mockery I love all of the cast #yttd #fambles #your turn to die

[theres-a-body-here]

Ghostface x Creep!reader (Smut)

It's been a while since you last hung out with Danny, so you snatched him up from the campfire when you were both free. Now, you're both seated under the shade of a towering tree in the forest beyond the warmth of the fire.

You're engrossed in reviewing the footage you've captured on your camcorder, your attention fixated on the scenes of fear and struggle you've documented. The glow from the small screen casts a faint, white light across your wolf mask as you immerse yourself in your trial recordings.

Beside you, Danny sits in a relaxed posture, his signature knife dancing deftly in his fingers. His actions are almost meditative. There's a comfortable silence that envelops the both of you.

Ghostface glances over at you, taking in the sight of your focused expression on the camcorder. He watches for a moment before speaking up, his voice deep and low-toned.

"You know wolfie, if you wanted to capture some real footage, I could always star in it for you."

He winks at you with a hint of playful smugness as he twirls his knife between his fingers expertly.

A faint smirk tugs at your lips as you listen to his proposition. "You're such a dork," you retort, rolling your eyes behind your mask as you sift through the recordings, discarding the mundane ones that don't meet your standards.

Ghostface chuckles lowly at your response, leaning in closer to you. "You know I'm not just any dork, babe. I'm your dork," he says as he places a hand on your thigh, his touch both possessive and comforting all at once.

A playful grin tugs at your lips beneath your mask. "You're stupid," you tease, a light-hearted retort that carries a hint of affectionate mockery.

You lean into the moment, your gaze meeting his beneath your mask. "Besides," you add with a teasing lilt in your voice, "you'd be a terrible subject."

"Oh really?" Ghostface says, his hand sliding up your thigh slightly. "I think I could come up with some pretty interesting footage for you." He leans in closer to you, his warm breath ghosting over the side of your mask as he speaks.

You don't respond, but your breathing becomes heavy as the sound fills the air. You want to see where this is going.

Ghostface takes your silence as a cue to continue, his hand now resting on your crotch. He gives it a gentle squeeze before starting to rub you through the fabric of your pants.

Your breath hitches as your hold on your camcorder tightens. It makes a creaking sound from how hard you're gripping it

Ghostface continues to rub you, noticing your reaction and enjoying the power he has over you. He leans in closer and whispers in your ear. "Do you like that, Wolfie?"

He then reaches over with his other hand and starts to tug at the mask covering your face. "Let me see that pretty little face of yours," he whispers before pulling off your mask completely, revealing your features to him.

Danny's reaction draws your attention. His low whistle reverberates in the air, an admiring sound that fills the space between you. You feel a subtle warmth creep up your cheeks, your usual composed demeanor momentarily disrupted by his unabashed admiration.

"Well, well, look at you," he comments, his voice laced with lust. His own mask is the next to come off, revealing his face to you. The tension in the air seems to shift as you both stare at each other.

Your instinctive response is to avert your gaze, a mix of embarrassment and flustered disbelief coloring your features. "S-shut up, dumbass," you growl.

Ghostface smirks as he watches your flustered reaction, his hand moving down to grasp at your chin and turn you back towards him. "Don't be shy now, cutie," he says in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine. "I love seeing that pretty face blush."

He then leans in for a kiss. This one is intense as his tongue slides into your mouth and dances with yours. His hand moves down to undo the button of your pants, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear to rub directly against your sensitive skin.

You let out a low moan as his tounge explores your mouth. You manage to grab your camcorder and point it at the scene

"I need.....I need to record this for later," you barely manage to spit out between kisses as Ghostface presses your body against his.

Ghostface pulls back slightly as he sees you grabbing your camcorder, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Well, if that's what you want," he says with a chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again.

He then starts to undo his own pants, pulling them down along with his underwear to reveal his thick cock. It stands proudly erect and ready for action, gleaming with pre-cum at the tip.

you immediately point the camera at his cock. Wanting to get every angle. You want this footage to be something you come back to for a long time.

Ghostface smirks as he sees you pointing the camera at his cock, and he takes advantage of it by reaching over to grab your head and pull you in closer. "Go ahead, doll," he says lowly. "Get every angle."

He then starts to stroke himself slowly, watching with dark hunger as you record him with your camcorder. His other hand moves back towards your crotch, rubbing against you even harder now as he gets more turned on.

"You're such a dirty little voyeur, aren't you?" he murmurs in your ear before nipping at the lobe playfully.

You let out another moan as you feel your body shaking with desire. Your camcorder shakes in your hand as you try to keep a good view of the show.

Ghostface chuckles darkly as he watches you struggle to hold onto the camcorder, enjoying the sight of your desperation. He continues to stroke himself slowly, letting out a low groan as he feels his own pleasure building.

"You like watching me touch myself, don't you?" he asks in a husky voice as his fingers move faster over his cock. "Do you want me to come for you on camera?"

"Yes.....please yes..." You hated how pathetic you sounded. But all shame seemed to dissipate as you focused on getting the perfect angle on Danny.

"Hmm, anything for you babe," Ghostface purrs seductively. He continues to stroke himself slowly while looking into the camera, his eyes dark with desire as he does so.

He then leans back slightly so the camcorder has a better view of him, and starts stroking himself even harder. His hips start to thrust forward into his hand with each stroke, his breathing becoming more ragged.

Ghostface continues to stroke himself hard and fast, his cock twitching in anticipation as he gets closer and closer to the edge. His breathing becomes more ragged now, each exhale coming out as a low groan of pleasure.

Ghostface grunts and moans with pleasure as he strokes himself faster and harder, his body writhing with ecstasy. The sound of your heavy breathing mingling with his own fills the air.

As you keep recording him with your camcorder, Ghostface pulls you in close once more so that you can feel his body trembling against yours. "I'm gonna come all over myself for you," he pants out breathlessly before giving picking up the pace.

"Oh fuck... I'm gonna come..." he growls out before letting out a loud cry of pleasure as he spills his hot load all over his hand, causing you to zoom in closer to capture every detail on camera.

As you watch Danny climax on camera, your entire body is warmed up with pleasure. You shudder as you zoom in on his cock and the hot cum that's dripping down from it.

Ghostface lets out a few more low groans as he finishes coming, his hand slowly moving up and down his cock to milk every last drop of cum from it. He then looks over at you with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Did you enjoy that, wolfie?" he asks in a low voice before leaning in to kiss you again.

This was definitely going into your daddy compilation

Masterlist here

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #killer!reader #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #danny johnson #dead by daylight #dbd #creep!reader #smut

[zealctry]

@cainiine / Abaddon said: " I am deeply in love with you. " (( because Aba is feeling oddly affectionate wtf ))

the gravitas of the words slides along his spine in the worst of ways. ( like being thrown, suddenly and all at once, into ice-cold water. )

              “ . . . ”

for a split-second,  he wonders what Abaddon expects him to say in reply. or if he expects him to say anything whatsoever, let alone anything that he wants to hear ( is there even such a thing? ). wonders how much he knows him, or how much he thinks he does. he doubts that reality and wishful thinking can ever intersect there. on either side. but lingering on that inconsequential thought is unnecessary  —useless, really— and so he casts it aside in favour of the immediate.

eyelashes flutter, and he doesn’t allow himself to be pulled too deeply into the flow of things. resists long enough to brush his mouth against those lips, chasing away ( or is it after? ) those words, and pulls back. ( at the back of his mind, he is hyperaware of just how stiff every muscle in his body has become, and wonders, once again, if he is drawing any sort of (sick) pleasure from that realization ; if he even notices. the thought makes his mind reel, mental fingers darting out blindly for a thread of sanity to grasp onto before he sinks too deeply into the storm of this. there are many things that Hidan is willfully ignorant of, blind to. he is especially oblivious of anything that traverses too close to his heart. otherwise, his world would crumble and burn like a house of cards. )

              “ . . . ”

lips part even as his hands still from their lazy caress across that cheekbone, and for a moment, he looks on the verge of saying something. ( he’s always liked the word retaliation because it meant it was simply returning a favor. . .. no matter how brutally he is inclined to do it. keeping the scales balanced, so to say. )  but then the moment flees, races past, and his mouth morphs in nothing but a thin, tightly-pressed line.

                ( say, if you could erase me from your mind, would you? – oh god. yes. of course it’s only ever yes. to me, you’re dangerously close to becoming a catastrophe. )  something ugly rears its head into his thoughts, and suddenly he wants to laugh and throw it back in his face—— throw his ring back, too, in ( mimicry ) mockery of what Abaddon had once. . .  ( he’ll never forgive him for that. no, not ever. Hidan forgives as easily as he forgets, and he has a very, very good memory. he’s never forgotten a wrong done him, and he’s never once forgotten a face. a dangerous combination.)

              “ . . . ”

instead, he lets his forehead fall, resting against that shoulder, and heaves a sigh. he doesn’t ask for it, but expects to be held anyway. until he builds himself back up, enough to pull back, tilt his head to the side with an amused little expression, the budding traces of a smirk lingering in his voice, and say:

              “ yeah? of course you are~ after all,  I’m amazing, seriously. ”  there’s no trace of hesitation on his tongue, even if his eyes might tell a different story.    “ but you know I’m not built that way, right? ”  I doubt I’m built like that. I’m not a

#modern. #v. 01. #cainiine #( this has been plaguing me since you sent it a month ago. #and now i am sad. adfghk )

[sarah-sandwich]

I posted 20,583 times in 2022

318 posts created (2%)

20,265 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pablothefrog

@butch-himbo

@merlin-made-me-bi

@lucianinsanity

@food-forever-hufflepuff

I tagged 4,466 of my posts in 2022

#parkner - 142 posts

#peter parker - 128 posts

#harley keener - 124 posts

#dndads - 115 posts

#humans are good - 104 posts

#parley - 84 posts

#amazing art - 78 posts

#sswrites - 71 posts

#keenker - 64 posts

#nwh - 59 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#but she said it in a jokey way so i welcomed her sarcastically 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

I sent 2 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Can we take a minute to geek out over fucking Amanda??? Like ep one she was SO quiet while the others were farting around and gleefully ripping up the flooring of Anthony's world to watch him dig (affectionate) but then it was her turn and she was RUTHLESS and EFFICIENT and METHODICAL and that contrast was soooo funny

Then in ep 2 the main cast has the measure of her and they're wary but Beth is going in for the kill in her clumsy oafish way (still affectionate) but Amanda meets every move and spins it back on them ALL WHILE DRAWING BETH INTO HER WEB

Then there's ep 3 where she finally clues you in that she is also unhinged but with such COMPETENCY that you don't see it for what it is until you're already in love with her and you know that she will eat you alive and you will let her

74 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#4

''YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO LOOK AT MY BABY PICTURES GIVE THAT PHOTO ALBUM BACK TO ME'' ''but it's from a time when you were actually likable 🥺''

from the prompt list please??? anyone you want, I just think it’s funny and you could do this justice

So uh, as you know this got out of hand lol

Here it is! The much anticipated fake dating prompt fill that blossomed into a 7 chapter fic :)

Two boys, both alike in dignity--by which I mean they have none. Harley is lying to his family about why he hasn't come home in years. Peter is lying to everyone about pretty much everything. Together they can make everything worse by lying together (heh) in Rose Hill while Harley pretends to his family that Peter is his long-term boyfriend and Peter pretends that he hasn't had a crush on Harley since the day he met him--or no. He DOES pretend he has a crush-- Wait, no he doesn't pretend because he HAS a crush so he pretends to pretend that he--

It's complicated.

Read on AO3

81 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#3

I have to know what “the olive garden revelation” was omg

Omg it makes me wheeze cry laugh every time. Griffin finds out (as an adult! in front of an audience! on a stage!) that Justin and Travis pranked him as a kid by telling him that you can take the raw fettuccine out of the display containers at olive garden and munch on them.

Here is the audio clip (it's from a live show but its decent quality) I just listened to it again and I'm sweating from laughing so hard

88 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

#2

A Peach Like You - sequel to Peaches ain't Pretty

Peter Parker never considered himself special. Maybe, yeah, having radioactive blood and spider-like abilities makes him different and his vigilante career is out of the norm and fine, yeah, he's on the autism spectrum. Call that "special" if you want. But under all that, he's a regular college student juggling three jobs, an internship, a sad mockery of a social life, and saving the city day and night. The usual stuff.

So when he somehow catches the eye of a blue-eyed mech engineering major with an accent that could turn even Aunt May's brick-hard mashed potatoes to mush, he's only thrown for a minute before he writes it off as a fluke. What could a guy like that see in a guy like him anyway?

Chapter One Will Be Posted January 5th CST

Check below the Read More for a sneak peak

Chapter 1: I’m an only child and I’m desperate for attention

Peter’s web-line, tangled desperately between numb fingers, holds as he slams into glass. Air punches from his lungs, but the pane stays intact. He fumbles for his footing, slipping in the smears of scarlet left from his meeting with the window, then begins the slow miserable climb to the ninth floor. His abdomen burns. His head pounds.

He’s not going to pass out. He’s not going to pass out. He’s…

He’s so fired. The pizzas he was supposed to deliver are long gone by now, whether he can remember where he stashed them or not. His boss is going to be furious with him for flaking on his deliveries again. He may have attempted the tried and true ‘It’s not my fault, Mr. Leonetti, I was mugged,’ routine if it wasn’t for all of the cell phones that recorded Spider-Man getting stabbed not two doors down from the pizza shop. He can’t risk anyone making the connection between Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

What was he supposed to do? Not drop everything and strip down to his suit to stop the bodega from being robbed? Not web the clerk out of the way of the stray bullet? Not take the lucky stab between his ribs during his distraction?

Actually, he could have done without that last one. Ned has enough on his plate without having his mess of a childhood best friend slithering through his window every other day with life-threatening injuries.

He breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers curl over Ned’s window sill. His Friend of Spider-Man sense must be tingling because it’s wide open. A strange choice for February, but you won’t hear him whining about his unprecedented change in luck.

He pushes the screen until it pops free of the frame then rolls into the apartment. He lands with a thud on gray carpet and groans as the impact aggravates his stab wound. It’s not until the haze of pain clears enough to see the unfamiliar light fixture above him that he considers how unlike Ned it is to have the window open on a day that’s threatening snow.

Ned hates winter. He hates leaving the window open even a crack and often compromises by stuffing a towel in the crack to keep the draft out because, as much as he hates winter, he loves his best friend more.

As he blinks at the rest of the room, dazed from blood loss, he slowly puts together that this is not Ned’s apartment. It smells wrong for one thing. Like burnt bread and blood (the latter of which, yes, he realizes is his fault), but also there’s a distinct lack of life in this place that’s so contradictory to Ned’s merch and memorabilia-stuffed apartment that for a moment he thinks maybe this one is vacant. No shoes by the door. No pillows on the couch. No DVDs next to the TV. No takeout containers. No books. Nothing.

Other than a mason jar that’s half-filled with odd little trinkets on an otherwise barren bookshelf, the place is lifeless.

Well, nearly lifeless.

In the same moment he decides he ought to haul his broken body out the window and try for the correct window, a tall blond someone wearing a knit sweater and jeans that have been worn soft over time steps into the room waving a towel at the smoke lingering near the ceiling.

The man freezes as they lock eyes.

Oh, mother fudger.

183 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Anthony: and he cuts your head off

Everyone: *SCREAMING*

Beth May: Is she okaaayy???

224 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#SCREAMING #that is not even my longest tag by fucking FAR #but it is one of my most embarrassing moments that still haunts me so THANKS FOR BRING IT UP ffs #this is a hate crime #20k reblogged post asjskaksjs ok #I'm mentally thriving obviously #I am happy to see my dndads posts are in my top 5 tho 😌 #I am a contributing member of 2 communities

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon: Let’s break up on the 30th of February

This work, 我们 2月30日号分手吧, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

Every failed prank pulled on Victor has only served to embolden you. Once again, you’ve come up with an idea on how to challenge him.

“Victor. After giving it much thought, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February.” Exercising your acting skills, you bite your lower lip, standing before him with a pitiful expression. Your eyes are welling with tears as you pretend to be torn between reluctance and resoluteness.

“Mm,” Victor responds simply.

Without lifting his head, he circles some data on your proposal with a red pen, then draws a cross.

Hold on, why is this situation turning out different from what you imagined? Wasn’t he supposed to tug on your hand, begging you not to leave with reddened eyes? Turns out the television dramas lied!

You gripe, pinching his ear. “You actually responded with just a ‘mm’!”

“What else?” He creates some distance between himself and the desk, giving you more space to move. Resigned, he covers his hand over yours, rescuing his poor ear from your clutches. 

“Do you not love me anymore? As expected, men don’t know how to treasure what they’ve obtained!” You lunge at him, and the chair swivels backwards along with this action. Fortunately, Victor holds you before you fall.

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” After keeping you steady, he brings you into his arms.

Enraged, you give him glare, climbing up from his body and giving him an angry stomp on the foot. “Who was the one who said he’d never leave me? Now that I want a break up, you aren’t even trying to make me stay.”

Victor’s brows scrunch up in pain. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that the 30th of February doesn’t exist?” 

Seeing that your plot has been unravelled, you chuckle in embarrassment. Trying to placate him, you nuzzle into his arms. “Heheh, Teacher Victor is really smart!”

He encircles his arm around your waist. As though he’s forgiving a playful child for the umpteenth time, he pinches your waist as a small punishment. “Since a certain someone doesn’t have sufficient IQ, I’ll have to make up for her absence of IQ.”

“Victor, there’s no need for personal attacks!

[ GAVIN ] 

Having an off day from work, the two of you decide to stay at home instead of heading out.

He’s currently reading a book while you’re scrolling on your phone as usual. All of a sudden, you come across a pretty interesting prank, and decide to use it on Gavin. “Gavin, let’s break up on the 30th of February.

Gavin freezes, the arm around your shoulders loosening by quite a fair amount. He turns his head stiffly towards you, a dash of pain flashing in his dimming amber eyes. “Have you... thought it through?”

“I have. We’ll break up on the 30th of February.” You give him a nod of certainty.

Gavin retracts his right hand which was around you earlier. With his brows tightly knit, he speaks carefully, his tone filled with unease. “Then... before you find someone who can protect you, could I continue protecting you in the meantime?”

Oh my goodness, I forgot how honest this man could be.

“Gav, look at the calendar.” Knowing that you’ve gone too far, you hurriedly tap open the calendar app on your phone.

“I’m not looking! I know that it’s the 26th of February today, and there are four more days till the 30th.” Gavin cranes his neck away, pushing away the phone you’ve brought to him, tone slightly upset. If he had ears on the top of his head, they’d definitely be drooping.

“Why don’t you take another look?” Suppressing your laughter, you push the phone in front of him again.

“I don’t want to!” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re going to tell me that it’s a non-leap year, which means there’s a year and four days left. But a year passes by really quickly, and the 30th will arrive soon.”

Oh no, I’ve shocked this poor boy silly.

Not receiving a response from you even after a long time, Gavin opens his eyes to find that you’ve been rendered speechless. He lowers his head with a pout. “Am I wrong?”

With a sigh, you lift his head, giving him a gentle gaze as you explain. “Dear, it’s a non-leap year, but there are only 29 days in February even in a leap year. There will never be a 30th February, which is why I’ll never break up with you in this lifetime.”

“...”

Gavin blinks, reacting only after a long while. Reaching out to encase you back into his arms, his fluffy hair nuzzles the crook of your neck affectionately. “You gave me a scare. In compensation, go stargazing with me tonight.”

[ LUCIEN ]

The bathroom is always the easiest place for inspiration to strike.

“Lucien, I’ve made a decision. I’ll break up with you on the 30th of February.” Your expression is solemn as you step out of the bathroom, looking at Lucien as he reads a book.

The light in Lucien eyes dim, and he sets down the book. With a mellow tone, he asks, “Little Butterfly, are you serious?”

You nod, repeating yourself once more with the acting skills you’ve picked up from actors during filming. “I’m serious. We’ll break up on 30th February.”

Lucien pauses for a moment, then lowers his head in thought. The situation dawns on him, and he releases a sigh, casting you a resigned glance. Tugging on your hand so that you sit in front of the dressing table, he takes out the hair dryer and dries your hair slowly. “Sorry. Even though I know there won’t be a 30th February, I won’t agree to it.”

“Huh? Why not?” You turn your head, speaking loudly amid the whirring wind. “Since you’ve already figured it out, just play along with me!”

He pats your half-dried hair, then turns the hair dryer off. Then, he locates the styling brush and tidies your hair. “I don’t wish for us to be tainted by the term ‘break up’, even if the chances of that happening is zero.”

Lucien is indeed pretty sensitive when it comes to this matter. Realising this, you obediently sit still on the chair like an elementary school kid, leaving him to tidy your hair. “Okay okay, I was in the wrong. I won’t joke about such things next time. Also, I can promise that the butterfly will never leave her painter in this lifetime.”

“Good.” The corners of Lucien’s lips curl upwards, satisfied. 

He picks up the hair dryer again. “Since you’ve admitted your mistake, your punishment will be to make me cream puffs, and accompany me to class tomorrow, in the capacity of a family member.”

[ KIRO ]

Once again catching Kiro red-handed as he steals your snacks, you grab a fistful of his hair angrily. “Kiro, since you’re always taking my snacks, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February!” 

“Miss Chips, you saw that post too?” Kiro completely ignores the first half of your sentence. As though lacking even a shred of remorse, he places your favourite snack back in its original position, unable to hide it in time. He stands up obediently, the innocent expression on his face causing your anger to dissipate.

“Huh? You already know about it?”

“Of course. There’s nothing Kiro doesn’t know!” Being able to escape unscathed, Kiro’s imaginary tail wags in the air.

You roll your eyes, chasing him away from the snack cupboard. “Boring.”

“But Miss Chips, let’s not say such things in the future. I’ll admit that I was a little frightened earlier.” He lifts his hand, showing you a gap between his thumb and forefinger. “But just a little.”

“Really! Did I really scare you?” Pleasantly surprised, you turn around. 

Kiro arches his brows in astonishment, then lowers his head as though upset. “Miss Chips, what’s with that excited expression?”

“Ever since we returned from the haunted house, I’ve always wanted to give you a fright, then snap photographs of your expression and make them into memes,” you laugh, taking out a small box from your pocket. Retrieving the lock from within, you clasp it onto the snack cupboard under Kiro’s shocked gaze.

“Miss Chips!!”

On that day, all the citizens within 10km distance had a discussion online about how they heard a man mimicking the voice of superstar Kiro, but his tone sounded so miserable that it was akin to a squealing pig awaiting its demise.

[ SHAW ]

After who knows how many times of facing Shaw’s mockery, you decide to give him a scare by employing a new prank you learnt on the web.

“Shaw, I’m ending our relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend on the 30th of February!” 

Shaw’s eyes flit to you leisurely as he grabs the final chicken cutlet on the coffee table. Revealing a triumphant grin, he begs to be punched as he responds, “Pick another day. There won’t be a 30th February in your lifetime.”

???

Finding this incredulous, your eyes widen. “You little brat - you’re looking forward to the end of our relationship, aren't you?”

“I wouldn't say that I’m ‘looking forward’ to it, but it’s inevitable.” 

He doesn’t explain further, licking the corners of his lips. Then, he takes a sip of mixed cola from your coke. The longer you watch him, the more enraged you are. It’s often said that people tend to lose their rationality when angry. Without much thought, the words in your head leap out of your mouth.

“Fine! Since you’re so certain, I’ll end this relationship with your annoying eggplant head today!”

“Sure.” Shaw feels around in his pocket.

You turn around to leave, never wanting to see this eggplant head ever again.

“Hey, wait.” He suddenly calls you. “I haven’t gotten my household register.”

Puzzled, you turn around with a glare. “A break up is just a break up. Why do you need your household register?”

Shaw stares at you as though he’s looking at a blockhead. “We’re ending our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, so isn’t the next step to start our relationship as husband and wife?”

At this stage, it’s difficult to remain angry. Yet, in order to preserve some dignity, you stutter and stammer, face flushed. “W-who even wants to start a relationship as husband and wife with you!”

“Who else but you?” Shaw digs through the drawer, retrieving both of your household registers. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the house. “Let’s go and get a marriage license.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mlqc shaw #mlqc victor #aeiofjsdklneiowahfsdkl #S H A W

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, angst

1,560 words

He held your hand loosely in his, stroking the soft of your palm with his thumb—an almost ticklish sensation that sent goosebumps rushing up your arm, making your heart skip erratically.

You sat side-by-side on a velvet loveseat whose curling arms were inlaid with patterns of baroque gold—entirely Frederick’s style, but remarkably comfortable nonetheless. One of your legs draped lazily over his, and his arm created a nest for your shoulders. It was wonderful being close to someone whose presence you were completely comfortable in. To feel his soft breathing rising and falling beside you, and the texture of his skin against yours.

The remains of your morning tea rested on the coffee table—a rustic piece of reclaimed farmhouse wood in which the raw natural materials were the focus. Your eco-aesthetic should have clashed with Frederick’s old-world aristocratic style, but somehow the combination elevated both.

Soulmates.

The more you glimpsed of the insecurity behind Dr. Frederick Chilton’s pretentious mask, the more you realized what it meant to be soulmates. It wasn’t about being the same, but different in ways that complemented each other. You kept him humble. He taught you to put yourself first. You filled his loneliness, and he brought out your confidence. But more than that, he was always there—no matter what challenges the afterlife threw at you, you came back home to each other, held each other, and everything was fine.

So long as you had your soulmate, you could face anything.

The steady stroking on your palm stuttered and paused. You lifted your head from his shoulder to see the pensive expression quietly furrowing his brow.

“If we met on earth,” he pondered softly, “do you think we would have...?” Dark notes of distress clouded his voice, as he if already knew and didn’t like the answer to the question he didn’t entirely ask.

“I don’t know.” If you hadn’t been told by an immortal, all-knowing afterlife architect that this was your soulmate, would have ever in a million years given Dr. Chilton enough of a chance to see beneath his snobby crust? You’d rather not hurt him by focusing on a probable no, so instead you said, “I only went to Baltimore once, as a kid. To go to the aquarium. I think it was a side trip from when we visited DC. Were you ever in New England?”

His jaw tensed—the only outward sign of what you expected was a fierce internal debate on whether to correct you for answering whether they would have met when his question was if. He decided to let it go.

“I spent some time there. I went to Harvard, of course, so I am familiar with the region.”

“I went to Harvard. Of course,” you repeated laughing, exaggerating the snobbish drawl of his affected accent. You swung your other leg over his lap to straddle him and peck a playful kiss to his lips.

His green eyes returned none of your mirth as he observed, “You always mock me, and then act as if it is affectionate.”

Your teasing grin fell. A hand lifted to his cheek. The other remained cozily nestled in his hand, but the fact that he didn’t melt into your touch proved how irritated he was.

“Oh, Frederick,” you cooed. “You are ridiculous sometimes”—he must know that about himself, right? The glower he returned suggested, in fact, he did not—“And I love you.”

Your last three words hung in the air and heated his face under your palm. He stared back at you unblinking, some of the hardness evaporating from his eyes at those words. It felt like hours waiting for a reaction before he swallowed thickly.

“Oh.”

He added nothing further than that oh. Though you supposed falling in love was inevitable for soulmates, it was the first time you’d said it out loud, and you itched for more.

“Well?” you nudged. “Are you… happy to hear it?”

“No.” His brow furrowed.

The blunt rejection felt less like a slap to the face and more like leaning back in a broken reclining chair and finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling from the floor. You had expected something different.

“You chose to say it now to avoid blame for insulting me; that is hardly kind. But what should I expect? You… you—” His entire face began to twitch: eyes narrowing in thought, suddenly going wide, then narrowing again. Then he looked at you almost mournfully, the softest, most tender expression clouding his eyes.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking about it like that. I just thought you were so cute—”

“No, no, no. This—this is not right. None of this is right. It is more than that.” He stood and began pacing the room. “I have been bothered by things for some time, but I chose to ignore them”—he cast a pained glance back at you—“because I wanted to believe it was true. But this makes no sense. Why would you love me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Of course I love you. We… we’re soulmates!”

He barked a dry laugh. “That is the only reason, is it not? Because we were told we were soulmates. How can we be sure we are?”

“Michael said—”

“Ah yes, Michael said. Naturally, we can trust Michael, the supernatural being we know nothing about.” His heel scuffed on the marble floor as he pivoted in his jerky movements to face you. “Think rationally. The existence of soulmates is extremely doubtful. How could every person have a perfect match? Are humans created in pairs? What happens if one’s soulmate dies in infancy? Or speaks a different language?”

“Just because they’re unlikely on Earth doesn’t mean they can’t be made for the afterlife.” You convinced yourself even less than him.

“It is not just you,” he said wistfully, eyes casting over your seated form next to the hollow impression he left on the velvet. “I do not think this is even heaven. No one likes frozen yogurt that much.”

“I like fro yo,” you muttered in a small defensive voice.

“But you like ice cream better. Why are there a dozen frozen yogurt shops and not a single ice cream parlor? It was a clue in plain sight. This place is a mockery of paradise. Every moment we have expected a reward, it has been twisted into a punishment, or a… a test!”

You stared back at him silently. Your tongue went dry, and you realized your mouth was hanging open, paused on the brink of something to say—some retort that would explain everything. But none came.

“Pairing us together,” he announced one syllable at a time, regretting his next words, “was never meant to be a reward. It was a trap.”

“But you make me happy! Not every pair makes sense at first, but I love you. We’re in paradise—”

“I would never have gotten into paradise!” The last piece of the puzzle exploded from his throat, a shouted confession. The air went still. “Perhaps you would have,” he muttered, “but I do not belong in the good place.”

At last, you stood and joined Frederick, your hands finding his again. They were warm, and big, and fit yours perfectly. You understood, then. As long as you were holding onto him, you could face anything.

Even the truth.

You shook your head. “No. I never did anything with my life. I tried. I recycled and drove a Prius, but I was too shy to call senators about environmental policy—too afraid or too lazy to lobby for infrastructure changes. I never did anything significant to fight for what I believed in. If the good place only takes the best of the best… I never came close.”

Frederick squeezed your hand. “I thought—” his breath hitched “—I thought I did. I believed everything had been worth it in the end. I finally achieved something; my work earned the recognition it deserved. Of course it didn’t! At least I am sharp enough to see through their farce.”

“But… but you’re my soulmate.” You clung to him like the wreckage of a sinking ship.

Frederick was silent, but you could hear his words in your head: There is no such thing.

“But you make me happy,” you argued.

But he also drove you crazy. But anyone reading the transcript of your lives would have expected you to make each other miserable. If you hadn’t walked in on him by chance while he was sulking and taken pity, you really would have tortured each other.

“Holy fork,” you muttered. “Is this the bad place?”

“That is the most likely possibility,” Frederick whispered.

Fear crept up your spine. If everything was a lie, then what else couldn’t you trust? Who else knew? Who was in charge? Could you even trust Frederick? You took half a step back from his grip and watched him return your glare with equal suspicion.

He wasn’t your soulmate. He was just a man you barely knew anything about.

You lurched forward and re-entered the radius of his spicy cologne, comforted by the familiar scent and the familiar texture of his tweed suit under your fingertips. “Wh-what do we do?”

“I do not know.”

His arms closed around your back, and he held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ 

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Hannibal imagines #my writing

[thecasperanfamily]

Can we get a sock monkey part two? Maybe taking place in the present?

(Link to Part One)

I am sooooo sorry about the delay on this one. First I had a solid week of ADHD Brain Doing Its Thing, then a dentist appointment, then my bedroom flooded, then a migraine...ANYWAYS I hope this was worth the wait!

~~~~~

They say that behind every great wizard, there is a great witch. Whether or not this was a universal truth or just a nice-sounding sentiment someone came up with to discourage squabbling between witches and wizards, Lin couldn’t be sure. But he did know that it was true in his father’s case, if nothing else. Hisirdoux Casperan was an immensely powerful wizard in his own right, capable of feats of magic unlike anything seen since the age of the great Merlin Ambrosius. But he was also what Lin’s mother liked to affectionately call “a mess. An absolute disaster. Gods, it’s a marvel you’ve survived this long.” To which Douxie would inevitably reply with, “The only marvel is you, my love.” And Lin would always immediately leave the room because he had no desire to witness whatever came after that. But Douxie did have a point, albeit one that felt a bit lost underneath all the sap and sentimentality. The fact of the matter was that Master Wizard Hisirdoux Casperan likely couldn’t be a Master Wizard without his wife. Archie could protect Douxie in battle, Nari could heal and encourage him, but Zoe was their last and strongest line of defense. Be it a desperate struggle against an ancient and horrifying monster or simply keeping the household running, when all others fell, she continued to stand, often pulling them back up and keeping them on their feet with her own strength. Douxie once said that he could face his own fears because he knew Zoe was standing fearless by his side.

In hindsight, he really should have chosen his words more carefully. Because when Lin handed his mother his oldest, most beloved toy from childhood and asked her to repair it, “fearless” certainly wasn’t what came to mind when beholding the look of intense discomfort on Zoe’s face as she eyed the offending object.

“...It looks normal to me,” she said stiffly.

“It....there’s a massive rip on her side?” Lin replied hesitantly. “That’s not supposed to be there. And Comet tore off one of her eyes, too.” The boy shifted awkwardly, still cradling the abomination in his hands, since Zoe had refused to touch it. “I-I mean, I know it’s stupid, but Georgina--uh, I mean, this old thing...it means a lot to me. Been with me for a long time, and all. I just--”

“Fine, fine, I’ll patch it up for you,” Zoe blurted, snatching the cursed thing from his hands. “Now go get ready for school. You’re running late as is.”

“...It’s Saturday,” Lin reminded her.

“Then go bother Archie or something. I can’t fix this thing if you’re breathing down my neck the whole time. Restorative magic requires concentration.”

“...I’ve seen you piece a broken mug back together in five seconds flat while also fighting the endgame boss of War Dudes 7.”

“Out, Lin.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands placatingly and swept out of the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder “Thanks, Mom!”

The moment he was out of sight, Zoe pitched the sock monkey as hard as she could against the opposite wall. It landed on the counter with a sad little flop, looking no less abominable for its current state of disrepair.

“I hate you,” she told it quietly. “I know you know I do. I can see it in your one remaining eye. I’ve endured your mockery of me for the past seventeen years for Lin’s sake, but this...” She raked her fingers through her bangs furiously. “...Oh, get a grip, Zoe,” she muttered. “It’s just a stuffed animal. It’s only ever been a stuffed animal. It will never best me. I’m one of the greatest hedgewitches of my time. I am Zoe Casperan, I am she who remains when the masters have fallen, I am--”

“Introducing yourself to someone, are you?”

Douxie was very fortunate that he did not touch Zoe when he spoke up from behind her, because the pulse of electricity that surged through her veins would have certainly laid him flat on his back for at least a week. As it was, Zoe’s wand was pointed at his throat before he could so much as blink, a few angry pink sparks spitting from the end.

“Woah, woah, okay, nope, bad time for jokes, I got it! Take it easy, love.”

“Don’t do that!” Zoe hissed, stuffing her wand back into her belt as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I could have hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Douxie replied, taking one of her hands and pressing an apologetic kiss to her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sweet.” Zoe grumbled. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting you from what, exactly?”

“Lin wants me to patch up that...thing that Barbara gave him all those years ago.” She flapped a hand at the sock monkey sprawled pathetically across the counter.

“I didn’t even realize he still had that,” Douxie remarked, taking in the damage with a critical eye. “Mm. She’s certainly seen better days.”

“I want it to see worse,” Zoe seethed. “...But Lin still loves it, gods only know why.”

“Bit of a moral conundrum, eh? Take your vengeance on your worst enemy and break our son’s heart, or grant her mercy for Lin’s sake.”

“This isn’t funny, Douxie.”

“It is, just a little bit.”

“You know I can’t stand even looking at that reject voodoo doll. How am I supposed to cast a restoration spell when all I want to do is douse this thing in gasoline and throw it on a bonfire?”

“Attempting a restoration spell with that mindset would likely end very badly,” Douxie agreed. “My feelings towards the lady in question are far less hostile. Perhaps I should take this one for you.”

“No! No, I-I...” Zoe sighed and ran a hand through her bangs yet again. “...I don’t want this thing to get the better of me. I’ve never backed down from a challenge before, and I definitely don’t want this to be my first time. Besides, you’re pretty sloppy when it comes to restoration magic. Lin will know right away who performed the spell just by looking at it, and I don’t want him to feel like I let him down.”

“With the utmost respect, Zoe,” Douxie replied hesitantly. “I think Lin would prefer a messy patch job over the many ways this spell could backfire if you’re the one performing it. You do understand that swallowing your pride isn’t the same as cowardice, right?”

“Pride or not, I will not let my son experience the shame of knowing his mother was defeated by an ugly stuffed animal,” Zoe countered. She stalked up to the counter and arranged the bedraggled sock monkey carefully, nose wrinkling in disgust as she ran her fingers over the material.

“Zoe, darling--” Douxie tried to protest again.

“Shush. I need to concentrate.”

“I really think you ought to let me--”

“I said shush, Douxie. I know I can do this.” She brandished her wand and, with a few quick motions, guided her aura to surround the sock monkey, which began to float a few inches off the counter. She pushed back against the wave of revulsion that crashed over her as her spirit made contact with the cursed object, and managed to spit the spell out through clenched teeth. “Refectio.”

The moment the spell was activated, Zoe knew she had made a mistake. The feeling of disgust she had tried so hard to stifle refused to detach from her aura. Her magic flowed out of her in a hot, angry rush, and the sock monkey writhed and contorted as though possessed.

“Zoe!” Douxie pulled her back from the counter, arms wrapping around her as his own aura flared defensively. The sock monkey gave one final shudder, then flopped back onto the counter.

“It’s fine!” Zoe insisted. “Look, see? It’s fixed.” Indeed, the sock monkey appeared to have been restored to mint condition. The rip had closed, the missing eye had returned from wherever Comet had hidden it, and the old stuffing had softened and puffed out again. “I told you I could do it.”

“That could have been a disaster, Zoe,” Douxie scolded.

“Any spell has the potential to be a disaster,” she argued. “But I had to try. And I feel so much better now that--”

The sock monkey twitched.

Douxie’s arms tightened around her, and Zoe instinctively brandished her wand again. The toy twitched again. Then it shuddered. Then it flopped over. And then, like a phantom from a nightmare, rose to its feet and slowly turned to face them, black button eyes cold and lifeless.

“...Okay, yeah, this is a disaster,” Zoe breathed. The sock monkey hovered in place for a moment longer.

Then suddenly, it was zooming across the kitchen. Douxie shoved Zoe to the side, but the vengeful toy didn’t seem to notice her at all. It gleefully slammed into the Master Wizard’s head and began wrapping itself around his face. He stumbled back and fell against the counter, sending a few dirty dishes crashing to the floor as he clawed at the soft little demon that was attempting to suffocate him.

“NO!” Zoe screeched, and before she could think twice, there was a blinding flash of bright pink light and the crackling snap of a thunderbolt. The sock monkey exploded into a cloud of stuffing and fibers that fluttered to the floor and dissolved into ash.

Zoe dropped to her knees, wand still outstretched in her trembling hand. Douxie leaned back against the counter, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“...Well,” he wheezed. “At least you finally got your revenge.”

“...No. Oh, no no no,” Zoe whimpered, dropping her wand and burying her face in her hands. “Oh gods, what have I... Lin is going to... Gods, Douxie I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” She emerged from her hands to see him giving her a thumbs-up and a sympathetic smile.

“The only damage done was emotional,” he assured her. “...At least where I’m concerned.” His gaze drifted across the floor, taking in the ashes scattered all over it. Silence hung between them for a few long minutes. “...What do we do now?”

“...Do you have your phone on you?” Zoe asked. Douxie nodded. “Give it here.” He pulled the item in question out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. She scrolled through his contacts list until she found the name she was looking for, then pressed call. Douxie pulled himself to his feet and began searching for a broom. There was a click on the other end of the line.

“Barbara Lake speaking.”

“Hey, Barbara? It’s Zoe. ...Yeah, I’m using Douxie’s phone. Long story short, we’ve had a bit of an accident and I need to know where you got Lin’s sock monkey from...”

*****

“Hey, Lin.” Lin looked up from his sketchbook to find his mother standing in his bedroom doorway. “Catch.” She tossed a familiar grey and white figure at him.

“Wow. She looks like new,” he observed, turning the sock monkey over in his hands. “...Very new.”

“Yeah. That’s...why it took me longer than usual to fix her. Take good care of her, alright? I don’t want to have to fix her again any time soon.”

“Yep. Thanks, Mom.” He watched her leave, then looked back down at the toy. “...Huh. I don’t remember you ever having these tags, Georgina...” The sock monkey smiled up at him benignly. “Weird.” He shrugged and sat the stuffed animal up on his desk before bending over his sketchbook once more.

Meanwhile, Zoe went to brew herself a very strong cup of herbal tea.

A very special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author and @rikalovesrice for helping me with this one, and to @dreamsarelikedragonflies for beta reading. ✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #zouxie #lin casperan #fic #niki answers

[retirementhomecollab]

☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: living room

☾ warnings: f!reader, supernatural themes (kind of), slight mockery of said supernatural themes.

☾ word count: 1.7k

You decide to head to the living room.

You think there’s no better place to get into the swing of the party. Making your way to the centre of the room, you think you see a few people you know, including a certain spiky-haired boy, leaning over a board game.

“This is bullshit,” you hear him grumble as you spot a small group of guys from last semester’s general biology lab (affectionately referred to as the biology for idiots course).

“It’s not bullshit,” Hanamaki argues as he leans forward and places his hands on something in the middle of the board. “Now put your fingers on the planchette, Hajime, I’m trying to get myself a ghost girlfriend tonight.”

Beside him, Matsukawa snickers. “Dude, I don’t even think you’d be able to land the chick from The Ring. Maybe we should just ask the spirits about when you’ll get a job.”

Kneeling across the board, Oikawa lets out a whistle. “Low blow, Mattsun.”

You skirt around the couch to get a closer view when the brunet spots you from the corner of his eye.

“Oh!” he calls out, waving you over with a sudden grin across his face. “Look who’s here!” he calls out to seemingly everyone but you. You watch the same smile form on Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s faces as they spot you too and you suddenly feel very reluctant about joining them.

“Perfect timing,” Oikawa purrs as he motions for you to sit between him and Iwaizumi. “We’d love for you to join.”

You draw closer, finally able to spot the game at your feet. An array of letters and numbers are printed on the board with ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ printed on the top corners. On the very bottom, beneath Matsukawa’s wrists is the word ‘Goodbye’.

“Oh no,” you breathes, the realization hitting you all at once.

“Oh yes,” Oikawa says.

-

You’re slotted right next to Iwaizumi now, shoulders touching as you listen to Oikawa’s lighthearted explanation of how to “properly” use the board. To your relief, it doesn’t look like as genuine as you would imagine it to be; the board itself is shiny and cardboard and the planchette is heavy plastic.

You’re not sure if the spirits care about this though, you never thought you’d be in the position to wonder.

“You don’t have to go along with this,” Iwaizumi speaks up from beside you. You glance at him. He’s wearing a pair of cargos with a loosely-buttoned dress shirt and an unzipped vest. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and from the way he’s leaning over, you can see the broad expanse of his chest from beneath his collar. Oh god. You look away.

“Aren’t you wondering what he is?” Hanamaki pipes up, cognizant of your not-so subtle once-over of his best friend. He opens his mouth to speak again but Iwaizumi interrupts.

“I’m an archaeologist,” he says quickly.

“A slutty archaeologist,” Matsukawa amends and you almost choke on your own spit.

“How am I a slutty—?”

“Your clothes are half off,” Hanamaki argues, cutting him off as Oikawa continues on with something about saying goodbye to the spirits.

“It’s hot in here! The place is packed,” he reasons but you can see the growing flush in his face. Knowing them, it’s certainly not the first time they’ve had this discussion tonight but you can’t help but feel a little flustered as well.

“Okay!” Oikawa claps his hands together. “Everyone in?”

You watch as Hanamaki and Matsukawa place two fingers on the planchette with Oikawa following suit. You hesitate and Iwaizumi does as well.

“Does this even work with all this noise?” you wonder uneasily. In every shitty horror movie you’d seen with an ouija board, the rooms had been candlelit and silent, with the board being the centre of attention. Your situation couldn’t have been more of the opposite.

“Dunno,” Matsukawa admits.

“Figured we’d try for the shits anyway,” Hanamaki adds.

“I’ll just watch,” you say, placing your hands in your lap as you watch them circle around the board.

“Me too,” Iwaizumi nods and you turn to give him a small smile.

Oikawa sticks out his bottom lip for a second before shrugging. “Fine by me.”

Despite the bustle around you, you watch with rapt interest as they take turns asking innocuous questions. It begins with simple yes or no inquiries; whether or not Hanamaki would fail economics this semester (yes) or whether Oikawa would get a girlfriend by Valentine’s Day (no).

“Hmm,” he pouts, clearly disappointed with the answer. “Will Iwa-chan get a girlfriend by Valentine’s Day?” he asks the board in a saccharine tone.

You watch as the planchette migrates across the board to land on the ‘yes’.

“Oh?” Matsukawa smirks.

“Oho,” Hanamaki muses.

“What?” Iwaizumi frowns. “Leave me out of this, Shittykawa.”

Ignoring him, Oikawa continues on. “Is the lucky girl someone we all know?”

The planchette doesn’t move off of the ‘yes’.

“Is she here? At this party right now?”

A second passes and you hold your breath. It still doesn’t move.

You glance at Iwaizumi but he’s glaring at Oikawa with murderous intent. The brunet conveniently looks away.

“Can you spell out the name of his dear future girlfriend?” he asks the board in a faux-hushed tone. Your eyes shift from the planchette to Iwaizumi’s hands, his knuckles white as he curls them into fists.

The triangle moves down the board to land on a letter.

And then another.

It takes you all of five seconds to realize what’s happening now; it’s spelling out your name.

Heat rises up your neck and you train your eyes on the wooden flooring in front of you, unable to look at the board anymore.

Supernatural or not, you can’t help but feel the warm bloom of embarrassment in your cheeks. Sure, Iwaizumi is attractive, and maybe it was incredibly difficult to work with him as your lab partner last term because you’d get caught up with appreciating the view, but you’d forced yourself to not think too deeply about it. Especially after you’d awkwardly parted ways at the end of the semester.

Sure, you see him around campus frequently, but it just isn’t the same as when you’d stay up together, slaving over ten page lab reports and commiserating over lost marks.

“This is stupid,” he mumbles before pushing himself off the floor. You watch as he heads towards the entrance of the apartment without even looking back. Oddly, you feel the urge to follow him out.

“We’ll say goodbye to the spirits for you!” Oikawa calls out cheerfully before turning to you.

“Could you do me a favour?” he asks, tilting his head. “Could you just make sure he doesn’t get lost?”

You could argue that this apartment was right next to campus and that the likelihood of Iwaizumi getting lost on the grounds of a place he frequented everyday was close to nil. But you already have half a mind to go, so you nod and stand up to follow him, brushing off your skirt as you approach the door.

The crowds of people grow thinner and thinner as you make your way back down the hallway and down the stairs, leaving the pounding bass of the music behind as you step into the chill of the night.

You shiver as you glance around the building’s exterior, looking for any sign of your former lab partner. The wind nips at your bare skin and you think you see a retreating figure on your right but before you can chase after it, you hear a familiar voice at your back.

“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi questions and you turn to face him. The streetlamp casts harsh shadows across as his face as he looks down at you apprehensively.

“I was looking for you,” you reply simply. “Oikawa, he—”

“Man,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t believe he fucking told you to—”

“I was also worried,” you interject, biting the inside of your cheek. “I, uh. I don’t know if the board works like that but it didn’t really seem like— it didn’t really seem like it was anything supernatural that was— y’know.” You gesture noncommittally with your hands.

“Yeah,” he says in agreement. “Yeah, I think they were just fucking with me. Sorry you got caught up in that. They can get out of line sometimes.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you insist, eyes flashing to his. “I just don’t know why they’d use my name,” you laugh, cringing when it sounds a bit hollow.

Iwaizumi sighs.

“To be honest,” he begins. “Last semester, I…I kind of had a thing for you. Y’know, probably because we went on all those study dates and spent all those nights staying up together.”

You blink.

“Oh?”

Was he really…? Did he really…?

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I… I don’t know. It’s stupid. You probably don’t want to hear about this, anyway.”

“No,” you shake your head, a sort of giddiness settling in your chest. The wind bites at your cheeks but you can barely feel its chill anymore.

“I—I was so nervous I couldn’t even look at you sometimes!” you blurt out with a giggle as you come to terms with the absurdity of the situation. “You were just so…”

““So…”?“ he questions.

“So…attractive,” you admit abashedly. “It was so ridiculous, I couldn’t even make eye contact with you,” you gripe, recalling the dozens of awkward moments in which you felt like you were just going to keel over from being in his presence.

“You think I’m attractive?” he asks, dumbfounded, and you nod while staring at the space three inches above his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you—? Why didn’t we—?”

“I didn’t know,” you exclaim.

“I didn’t know, either,” he breathes, a small laugh bubbling from his throat.

“But now we do,” you offer, daring to meet his eye. The cold of the night does nothing to quell the spark you feel when his gaze lands on yours.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Now we do.”

The flame inside you burns even brighter.

“Let’s go back inside,” he suggests, beckoning towards the entrance of the building.

“I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Pick a different room: > Go to the closed bedroom. > Go to the open bedroom. > Go to the balcony. > Go to the kitchen. > Go to the hallway. > Go to the bathroom.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #the witching hour

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 1} (UF Frans)

🌼Hummm I wonder why this is getting reposted with fully new edits. Could there be a reason I wonder?~ 

It was common for a girl such as herself to be betrothed to another even if she didn't know of him truly. A frightening prospect to promise your life to someone you had never met. Someone she knew so little of. Tonight was the night that they would meet and speak weeks before they would pledge themselves to one another. Just thinking about it made her nervous, hands fiddling with the fabric of her dress gently. Any moment now. 

 She was made up to look the most beautiful she had ever before but even then she was anxious, a shy and timid thing. Her auburn hair was styled in ringlets by her face amongst the bright ruby of a satin dress. Why had her father arranged such a thing? Wasn’t love the most important feeling? What if that was a luxury should would never be able to afford?

The young Lord yawned as he adjusted his cufflinks, going through the motions as always. He figured she would be just another pretty face, no mind to stimulate him, "I give her a month..." he murmured to himself before setting out for his first meeting. She was pretty, of course, and he always played the handsome and charismatic young suitor, "You must be the oh so lovely Lady Frisk."

Frisk didn't know who or what to expect as she twirled slowly to see whose baritone voice was addressing her. Was this him? The young lady picked up her dress taking a little curtsey out of respect. It was the proper greeting for a lady, "Yes Sire, though such flattery is not necessary. Frisk will do just fine." She had beautiful sparkling blue eyes like dazzling sapphires and a smile warm like the first rays of the morning sun.

She watched as he took a sweeping bow, "I would be your betrothed, Lord Red Fontaine." His hand extended out to her desiring the feeling of her own, "My... your beauty is astounding, I do not flatter my dear, there's no necessity for it.” 

Well, he certainly was the charmer, “Forgive me, my Lord. I was uncertain and a lady should never assume. I thank you but I must confess my own thoughts on the matter, beauty only runs so deep. There are far more important qualities in a person.” She gingerly slipped her hand into his own. This was a gesture that most male suitors practiced at the time. The true test for her was his reaction to her confession. 

He lifted that dainty pale hand, brushing his lips over the skin. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he laid on his almost supernatural charm, "Quite right my dear. Beauty fades overtime, but the mind...oh the mind is wondrous in what it can do...It is a true rarity to find both qualities." She was different from the other pretty faces he had charmed over the centuries. Something told him this was going to be quite interesting. 

Most men she had conversed with wanted dull and shallow girls, all things which she was not. That gentle kiss he laid on her hand did cause her cheeks to warm in a sweet pink glow, “Such a refreshing perspective my Lord. I am used to dulling the mind in pursuit of shallow appeals. As you can see I do not hold my tongue.” It was better, to be honest about who she was then proclaim a temperament that she could not uphold.

He could not contain the smirk that twisted his mouth, perhaps she would prove to be a challenge nearly after 400 plus years, "Indeed, I too find your outlook refreshing. It's so rare to see a young lady of the times actually use the mind they possess." His voice was soft as he pulled her closer to him.

Cobalt eyes locked with his as she was brought close enough to feel the velvet of his suit. She considered him swoon-worthy, a gentleman, and he agreed with her view of intellectual stimulation. A rarity if she ever knew one. Her nerves fluttered away, “It is unfortunate. I hope that I do not disappoint. I must confess my nerves have been keeping my attention all day until this point."

One of her many distinguishing features were those eyes that held a vibrancy to them that he hadn’t seen in all his centuries, "As they should... After all, women are expected to bow and behave for their men." He gave a boisterous laugh and waved a hand dismissively, "Bah with that. I want my bride to be herself. Something I suspect you'll do, won't you?"

She seemed like such a sweet little thing. Usually, the ones he chose were vain or dim-witted. They jumped on him as soon as they saw his looks but not her, "A good mindset to have my dear, come let us take a walk and speak more." All he got was that sweet smile and those gemstone eyes filled with newfound curiosity and excitement, “I can only ever be true to myself, my Lord. Nothing more.”

He smiled at her agreement, endeavouring to know her fully and of course more playing to what she liked, but he found he had to lie less around her, "Truly, I've had a wonderful time my dear. I look forward to our wedding and future life."

Frisk was the happiest she had ever been because of his genuineness. She wasn’t quite sure if she loved him but he made her smile and treated her like a human being, not just some prize to be won or a doll to display, “As do I.” That genuine smile practically caused her face to glow.

He kissed her forehead chastely knowing full well he had to play his hand sweetly for now. The young bride to be couldn’t deny his sweet forehead kiss was enough to melt her as his hand slipped from hers. There was no doubt that she was smitten with him. His voice was that baritone that would cause one’s knees to weaken, "Wondrous my dear, I shall see you quite soon~"

As he always intended of course. He left her soon after dropping her off back at her home, slipping into the shadows as he returned to his own estate. His mind wandered as he strolled past the lamps posted at every street corner, their flames bright behind their glass cases. As with every game they played he would relay his findings to his two older brothers. They would exchange their progress and in turn joke about their victim’s coming demise.

His return home prompted a sit down by the roaring fire and a glass of wine as he let them speak. Carthus, the second eldest, reclined upon the ornate fainting couch that rested to the right of the main sitting area. The eldest, Gered, took a seat to his right.

The conversation left him at odds even as he barely processed to the words that slipped from his mouth. His two brothers on the other hand reveled in the drab game they had been toying with for more lifetimes than he cared to count.

Carthus smugly teased his younger brother with her potential thoughts of him as the moon rose to cast its silver light upon the land. The beams slipped through windows casting a somewhat eerie glow within the room. He of course had no such worries of the dark but what about her? He could just hear his brothers mockery about how hypnotized by him she probably was, "Honestly brother what do you think she will taste like?~" 

Despite his emotional confusion he placed a smirk on his face, leaning back, and taking a sip from the wine glass cradled in between his fingers, "She is rather spirited and I believe pure as well. A rarity. It did not take much to have her wrapped around my finger, brother, but you are well aware of what I am capable of." The smirk forced on his lips grew as he spoke, “I believe this time that the game shall be won by me. My bride to be will be easy to please~”

Gered chuckled from his place closest to the flames, "We shall certainly see. I cannot wait to see how this game will come to a close... of course, we shall see how our lovely ladies stack up when the time comes to evaluate."

Carthus was back to his teasing, leaning forward to make a point of it, "I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she finds out what you really are in her last moments of life." It caused him to pause. What would she think of him regardless of the outcome? No mortal had survived to tell others about the brothers. They usually lasted a few months once the wedding vows were finished.

He cleared his throat to respond to his brother’s rather sadistic humor, "Oh it will be quite sweet I assure you." The three laughed in unison as they toasted to their manipulative vice, “Their faces are always precious right before you devour them~" If he was honest he did not even remember most of them. They were a meal and nothing more. Those blue eyes, however, stuck with him even now.

The following day he would meet with her again though the visit was more of a surprise to her. He found her lounging beneath the shade of an old tree and drawing silently. A few sticks of charcoal were scattered about the lush grasses at her feet. 

He put on his best smile as he drew a single red rose from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of her sight, "Good morning my dear one."

She blinked in surprise, that soft flush painting her cheeks, "Good morning. You took me by surprise for a moment. I am overjoyed to see you again so soon." Truly she never felt so affectionate toward another before. Her smile only grew when he took a seat beside her, "As am I my dear, I simply could not wait to see you once more."

Though her joy was genuine she still retained doubts in her mind. The idea of an arranged union was not one that usually ended happily. She gently set her book aside as she smiled at him sadly, "Is such a thing true? I wish for you to be honest with me and I shall do the same.”

Red inclined his head for a moment before brushing his fingers over the soft, cool skin of her shoulder only to find a strand of long auburn hair to toy with, "I am being honest with you my dear, that certainly seems an odd request. Do you think I am only telling you sweet words that you expect to hear?" That was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. 

Frisk looked out over the water as her pink lips curled upward. A smile but one filled with sadness. He had rarely seen such an expression on such a pretty face before, “I apologize. I must keep a healthy skepticism. My heart flutters when you are near and yet it feels too good to be true.” Maybe that was because it was.

How to assuage her concerns? He truly did not know how to do so since he was the root of the deception, "Ahh I see." His back came to rest on the tree behind him as he made himself more comfortable, "I can see why... to potentially find one that we belong with. It's an amazing feeling I think. It truly feels as if nothing else matters."

The look still painted on her face gave off that aura of doubt. He could usually sweet-talk his way out of anything but she was far too sharp to fall too easily for his floral language and sweet promises. Her eyes now remained trained on the ground, “I fear I do not deserve something so wonderful.”

A comment like that shocked him. It was baffling, "why ever not my dear?" Curiosity swam within his eyes as he moved to tilt her chin up. What a sweet and pretty thing she was, so fragile and yet so strong at the same time.

“I am cursed for what runs in my blood is dark. A power unnatural and forbidden.”

A curious response, "Oh? What might that be my dear?" Forbidden? Dark? Unnatural? What could she possibly harbor that would lead her to believe that she deserved ill-fortune? The irony was that he was the worst omen she could have possibly received. 

Her lips parted as she kept her attention on her betrothed, letting the word linger on the soft breeze that lifted her hair, “magic.”

A mortal with access to magic? A mage? A witch? She was rare indeed in more ways than he originally anticipated. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her, "Magic?" His tone housed a sufficient amount of curiosity and he wondered if now he had to be more careful. If the power of the mages slept within her blood then even his own abilities may not work on her. 

She nodded softly, “Yes. It’s a part of me and it feels right and beautiful but... it’s known as something evil.” A lie she had been told nearly the entirety of her life.

As an immortal being infected by dark magic himself he knew that all too well. His past was far from joyous, "Magic.. is one of those things people will..." He sighed pulling her closer to him. How much would he be able to tell her without implicating his rather... bloodthirsty condition? She deserved some form of comfort, "The things that people do not fully understand become a threat. Even if such a thing is no more harmful than the smallest butterfly.”

He truly understood her even better than she could have hoped, “Something that they do not understand they seek to destroy or punish. Even something frightening does not mean it is evil or has ill intentions.” Her eyes fluttered open as her hands began to glow softly, when she opened them there was a small illuminated blue flower nestled in the center of her palm.

He smiled, letting a gentle finger stroke one of the magical petals, "Magic can be beautiful... It can be deadly. It is like a sword. It depends upon how you use it."

Her cheeks darkened further as he spoke, "That is what I believe as well. It is hard to try and hide who I truly am. I fear no one would understand or be afraid of me. It's why no one truly knows but when I am around you I feel as though I can speak my truth. Forgive me."

His hands reached for hers closing them around that luminescent blossom, "There is no need for forgiveness my dear. You need not hide anything of yourself from me. For I hide nothing from you." He smiled at her. Why did he care what she thought?

She scooted a little closer to him as his arm came to wrap around her as he held her closer to him. That gentle breeze soothed her as she enjoyed the afternoon. He would be able to feel how much joy she got from just being in his company, "I have been very lucky. Perhaps this is not a curse after all.”

He had a desire to say more but he kept his words simple, comforting, “Of course it is not. It is a natural part of you that should be nurtured not diminished. You shall never have to fear such judgment from me.” For I am something far worse.

Frisk rested her head gently against his shoulder feeling free from whatever chains kept her prisoner before, “I know. No one has ever looked at me the way you do it’s...” She toyed with the hands resting in her lap, “Nice to know you accept me for who I am.”

He smiled. "Of course I will Frisk. You are quite wonderful.”

She rested there in silence with him. It was so peaceful and all the following days were the same. They both began to know each other better just by speaking their minds. She even practiced some magic when they were alone so that she no longer lived in fear of it.

When the day of the wedding arrived everything seemed to go by smoothly. She had been nervous at first but the moment she said "I do" he could see it was one of the happiest moments of her life.

In the depths of his mind, he thought it was the dumbest choice she could ever have made, but his face remained with an overjoyed smile, exactly what was expected.

Even...perhaps...

When he pulled her toward him for the kiss that would seal their vows, he felt something. This was far more than just a childish game of superiority. She could be different and then this wretched cycle could end. 

Until death do us part

There was only one problem...

Death... had already parted them…

#undertale #sans x frisk #frans #underfell #vampire prompt #writing #drabble #part 1 #quick little thing #Welcome to the Underworld #WTU #red x frisk #It feels good to write for the OTP #vampire sans #gothic #edited #curious how this returns...I wonder why~

[iridescentides]

hi again dia! happy first day of december ❤️💚 i wanted to ask you what, in your opinion, are the 5 most underrated dcoms? i remember you saying before that you've watched all of them so i'd love to hear your opinions 😊 - 🎅🎁🎄

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH secret santa you are so good! asking me all the best questions 💜

okay so i literally had to make a list of all the dcoms i consider underrated and then narrow down a top 5. theres lots of dcoms that i love, but that i think got the right amount of attention and care (like lemonade mouth and the teen beach movies, for example), so this list just focuses on ones that deserved more hype for their quality level.

5. The Cheetah Girls: One World (2008)

okay so even as i type this i feel like a hypocrite. i have only watched this movie one time. BUT i can acknowledge that its one of the most criminally underrated dcoms ever, tons of people didnt watch it simply because raven wasnt in it. thats why i avoided it as a child, and i didnt get around to watching it until i did my big dcom binge in 2016. and it was so good. theres a really long post floating somewhere around tumblr full of specifics on why its actually the best cheetah girls movie (my favorite is the second one purely out of nostalgia), so to paraphrase some points from that post:

its a solid example of cultural appreciation, rather than appropriation, as the girls go and learn about bollywood and indian culture together

the indian characters arent treated like props or unimportant sides, they get their own agency and storylines that are important

the songs are good!!!

basically this movie was overlooked and slept on even though in terms of role modeling and social value, and just like the first two cheetah girls movies it was important and impactful.

4. Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure (2011)

okay so as someone whos very neutral and occasionally negative-leaning towards the hsm franchise (mostly bc its overhyped and not really representative of all dcoms), i was pleasantly surprised by sharpays fabulous adventure. this is another one that i know lots of people skipped right over and dont hold with as much esteem as the main hsm franchise, and that doesnt sit right with me.

i do not agree with the “uwu sharpay was the real victim in hsm” arguments bc in their efforts to look galaxy brained the people who say that overlook the fact that she was a rich white woman who used her power and status to exercise control over opportunities that should have been fairly and freely available for all; they were not “making a mockery of her theater” in the first movie, they were literally just kids who wanted to try out a new school activity that everyone was supposed to be allowed to participate in; and despite allegedly learning her lesson and singing we’re all in this together with everyone at the end of the first movie, she literally showed no growth in the second movie as she fostered an openly hostile environment and favored troy so heavily that it literally cost him his friends, all as part of yet another jealous plan to take things away from people who already have less than her. she was NOT the victim in the main franchise, and she did not seem to exhibit any growth or introspection either.

and that!!! is why sharpays fabulous adventure was so important. in focusing on sharpay as the main character, they finally had to make her likeable. they did this by showing actual real growth and putting her outside of her sphere of influence and control. we saw true vulnerability from her, instead of the basic ass “mean girl is sad bc shes actually just super insecure” trope (cough cough radio rebel), and this opened us up to finally learn about and care about her character. throughout the movie we see her learn, from her love interests example, how to care for others and be considerate. she faces actual adversity and works through it, asking herself what she truly wants and what shes capable of. and in the end, when she finally has her big moment, we’re happy for her bc she worked hard to get there. she becomes a star through her own merit and determination, rather than through money and connections. this movie is not perfect by any means, but it is severely underrated for the amount of substance it adds to sharpays character.

3. The Swap (2016)

okay i know im gonna get shit for this but thats why its on this list!!! just like sharpays fabulous adventure, its not perfect and definitely misses the mark sometimes, but it deserves more attention and love for all the things it did get right!

the swap follows two kids who accidentally switch bodies because of their emotional attachment to their dead/absent parents’ phones. and while i normally HATE the tv/movie trope of a dead parent being the only thing that builds quick sympathy for a young character, they definitely expanded well enough to where we could root for these kids even without the tragedy aspect. we see them go through their daily struggles and get a feel for their motivations as characters pretty well. as a body switching movie, we expect it to be all goofy and wacky and lighthearted, but it moves beyond that in unexpected ways.

the reason the swap is on this list is for its surprisingly thoughtful commentary on gender roles. its by no means a feminist masterpiece, and its not going to radicalize kids who watch it, but it conveys a subtle, heartfelt message that deserves more appreciation. the characters struggle with the concept of gender in a very accurate way for their age, making off-base comments and feeling trapped by the weight of expectations they cant quite put their finger on. we watch them feel both at odds with and relieved by the gender roles they are expected and allowed to perform in each others bodies, and one of the most interesting parts of the movie to me is their interactions with the other kids around them. as a result of their feeling out of place in each others environments, the kids inadvertently change each others friendships for the better by introducing new communication styles and brave authenticity. 

the value of this movie is the subtle, but genuine way it shows the characters growing through being given the space to act in conflicting ways to their expected norms. ellie realizes that relationships dont have to be complex, confusing, and painful, and that its okay to not live up to appearances and images. jack learns that emotional expression is good, healthy, and especially essential to the grieving process. one of the most powerful scenes in the movie comes at the end where, after ellie confronts jacks dad in his body, jack returns as himself to a very heartfelt apology from his father for being too hard on him; the explicit message (”boys can cry”) is paired with an open expression of love and appreciation for his kids that he didnt feel comfortable displaying until his son set an example through honest communication. this is such an empowering scene and overall an empowering movie for kids who may feel stuck in their expected roles, as it sets a positive example for having the courage to break the restrictive societal mold. for its overall message of the importance of introspection and emotional intelligence, the swap is extremely underrated.

2. Freaky Friday (2018)

this is my favorite dcom, and probably my favorite movie at this point. ive always assigned a lot of personal value to this movie (and i love every freaky friday in general), for the message of selfless familial love and understanding. i know i can get carried away talking about this topic; i got an anon ask MONTHS ago asking me about the freaky friday movies and i wrote a super super long detailed response that i never posted bc i didnt quite finish talking about the 2018 movie. and thats bc on a personal level, i cant adequately convey all the love i have for this movie. so i will try to keep this short.

first lets state the obvious: the reason people dont like this movie is bc its not the lindsay lohan version. and i get that, to an extent, bc i also love the 2003 version and its one of my ultimate comfort movies, and grew up watching it and ive seen it a billion times. i even watched it a couple days ago. but the nostalgia goggles that people have on from the early 2000s severely clouds their judgement of the wonderful 2018 remake.

yes, the 2018 version is dorky, overly simplistic plot wise, a bit stiff at times, and super cheesy like any dcom. the writing isnt 100% all the time. the narrative takes a couple confusing turns. the song biology probably shouldnt have been included. i understand this. but at the heart of it all, this movies value is love. and its edge over all the other freaky friday movies is the songs.

on a personal level, the movie speaks heavily to me. i cried very early into my first viewing of the movie bc i got to see dara renee, a dark-skinned, non-skinny actress, playing the mean popular girl on disney channel. that has never happened before. growing up, i saw the sharpays and all the other super thin white women get to be the “popular” girls on tv, and ultimately they were taken down in the end for being mean, but that doesnt change the fact that they were given power and status in the first place for being conventionally beautiful. so, watching dara renee strut around confidently and sing about being the queen bee at this high school got to me immediately. and in general, the supporting cast members of color really mean a lot to me in this movie. we get to see adam, an asian male love interest for the main character. we have a second interracial relationship in the movie with katherines marriage to mike. ellies best friend karl is hispanic. and we see these characters have depth and plot significance, we see them show love, care, and passion for the things they value. the brown faces in this movie are comforting to me personally. additionally, the loving, blended family dynamic is important to me as someone in a close-knit, affectionate step-family.

but on a more general level, this movie is underrated for its skillful musical storytelling and the way it conveys all kinds of love and appreciation. in true freaky friday fashion, we watch ellie and katherine stumble and misstep in their attempts to act like each other. its goofy and fun. but through it all, the music always captures the characters’ intimate thoughts and feelings. the opening song gives us a meaningful view into ellie and katherines relationship and the fundamental misunderstandings that play a role in straining their connection. ellie sings about how she thinks her mom wants her to be perfect, and her katherine sings about all the wonderful traits she sees in her daughter and how she wants her to be more open and self assured. this is meaningful bc even as theyre mad at each other, the love comes through. the songs continue to bring on the emotional weight of the story, as ellie sings to her little brother about her feelings of hurt and abandonment in her fathers absence. the song “go” and its accompanying hunt scene always make me cry bc of the childlike wonder and sense of adventure that it brings. for the kids, its a coming of age, introspective song. for katherine who gets to participate in ellies body, its a reminder of youth and the rich, full life her daughter has ahead of her. she is overcome with excitement, both from getting to be a teenager again for a day, and from the realization that her daughter has a support network and passions that are all her own. today and ev’ry day, the second to last song, is the culmination of the lessons learned throughout the movie, a mother and daughters tearful commitment to each other to love, protect, and understand one another. the line “if today is every day, i will hold you and protect you, i wont let this thing affect you” gets to me every time. even when things are hard and dont go according to plan, they still agree, in this moment, to be there for each other. and thats what all freaky friday stories are ultimately about.

freaky friday 2018 is a beautiful, inclusive, subversive display of familial love, sacrifice, and selflessness, and it is underrated and overlooked because of its more popular predecessor.

1. Let It Shine (2012)

this is another one of my favorite dcoms and movies in the whole world. unlike the other movies on this list, it is not the viewers themselves that contribute to the underrated-ness of this movie. disney severely under-promoted and under-hyped this movie in comparison to its other big musical franchises, and i will give you five guesses as to why, but youll only need one!

let it shine is the most beautifully, unapologetically black dcom in the whole collection. (i would put jump in! at a notable second in this category, but that one wasnt underrated). this movie was clearly crafted with care and consideration. little black kids got to see an entire dcom cast that represented them. the vernacular used in the script is still tailored mostly to white-favoring audiences, but with some relevant slang thrown in there. in short, the writers got away with the most blackness they were allowed to inject into a disney channel project.

the story centers on rap music and its underground community in atlanta, georgia. it portrays misconceptions surrounding rap, using a church setting as a catalyst for a very real debate surrounding a generational, mutlicultural conflict. this was not a “safe” movie for disney, given its emphasis on religious clashes with contemporary values. it lightly touches on issues of image policing within the black community (cyrus’s father talking about how “our boys” are running around with sagging pants and “our girls” are straying away from god), which is a very real and pressing problem for black kids who feel the pressure (from all sides) of representing their whole race with their actions. its a fun, adorable story about being yourself and staying true to your art, but also a skillful representation of struggles unique to black and brown kids and children from religious backgrounds.

on top of crafting a fun, wholesome, thoughtful narrative and likeable protagonists, let it shine brought us what is in my opinion the BEST dcom soundtrack of all time. every single song is a bop. theyre fast, fun, and lyrically engaging. “me and you” is my favorite disney channel song of all time due to its narrative significance; i will never forget my first time watching the movie and seeing that big reveal unfold onstage, as a conversation and a plot summary all wrapped into a song. the amount of thought and care that went into the music of this movie should have been rewarded with a level of attention on par with that of other musical dcoms.

if disney channel had simply cared about let it shine more, it couldve spanned franchises and sold songs the way that other musical dcoms have drawn in success. i would have loved for a sequel that explored and fleshed out cyrus’s neighborhood a little bit more, and maybe dipped into that underground scene they caught a glimpse of. i wanted a follow up on the changed church community once cyrus’s father started supporting his sons vision. i want so much more for these characters and this world than disney gave them in just one movie.

for its bold, unabashed representation of blackness and religion, subtle, nuanced presentation of race-specific issues, strong, likeable characters, and complex, thoughtful songs, let it shine is the most underrated dcom.

and because i made a full list before i started writing this post, here are some honorable mentions:

going to the mat (2004)

gotta kick it up! (2002)

tru confessions (2002)

dont look under the bed (1999)

invisible sister (2015)

#this took me embarassingly long to write #i cant help myself i literally think about this all the time #youre doing a great job with these questions secret santa! #dcoms #disney channel #answered asks #anons #gcwca secret santa #Anonymous

[webcricket]

Paradise

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Jack Kline and the Winchesters Word Count: 1764 Summary: Before he was born, Jack Kline showed Castiel a vision of the future; in it, the seraph saw paradise. Returning to you and Jack after a hunt with the Winchesters, Cas apprehends that the future is now. Please note, this is written with early season 14 powerless Jack in mind. Introspective angel. Fatherly fluff. Family.

“I saw the future. I saw a world without pain or hunger or want. I saw the world that this child… that your child… will create. And it is a world without fear and without suffering and without hate… I saw paradise.”

[Castiel, 12X23 All Along the Watchtower]

***

Interconnected by a network of river-like asphalt crevasses threatening to part and swallow a mis-stepping wanderer seeking sanctuary from the stormy night whole, inky rainwater ripples a sea of potholes spanning the parking lot. Swirling about a motel – the building a comparatively sunny island oasis in the murk – whose pallid green peeling façade has been moldering since it’s late 50s interstate-side family-fun road tripping hey-day, an ethereal fog faintly reeking of highway exhaust and weighted with the musk of damp earth rises from paved ground where the heat of day absorbed by blacktop thwarts the cooling effect of the downpour. Oily darkness seeps unhindered into the perimeter of pock-marked pavement; the crimson glare of a vacancy sign and choked yellow light blurring the nicotine-tinted windows of the motel’s main office fail, for the most part, in their combined effort to keep at bay the incursion of night; the artificial gleam coalesces – eerie influence heightened now and then by lingering lightening lashing the horizon – to illumine Castiel’s aspect with a celestially subversive hellish hue.

Hands pushed into his pockets out of habit more than to protect against the dank atmosphere, the rain-spattered host of Heaven treads carefully, pausing to let pass a plump earthworm making its way across the roughened concrete walkway; the simple creature toils – a ringed tube of muscle pulsing as its body stretches opaquely pink then contracts again to the color of mud – to Chuck only knows what terminus; and Cas, knowing we all have somewhere special we long to be on tempestuous nights such as these waits so as not to impede its slimy progress.

Standing thus, sodden chestnut curls crushed into the permanent tracts of worry etching his brow, the angel glances upward to determine the source of a steady streamer of droplets smattering his trench coat lapel. Focus following the roof edge, he tarries for a few of his vessel’s heartbeats to appreciate the rhythmic drip-drop-drip sputter of an overworked gutter; the mournful bellow of a fly-by-night tractor trailer interrupts the melodically and moistly saturating song.

That, and the argumentative tones carried in the muggy air of two brothers as they plod, battle-weary and bloodied, bickering over who called dibs on a shower first. The younger concedes to the elder with a sweepingly derisive gesture indicating defeat on account of sheer exhaustion. The elder, ever happy to accept a win – any win – grunts in smug satisfaction and flashes his teeth.

At the sight of them safe – unperturbed, presently anyway, by anything supernatural – the angel permits the subtle softness of a smile to smite some of the usual seriousness squaring his jawline; he keeps an affectionately tempered watch on the men until they reach their destination.

The humidity-swollen door of suite 11 gives way to the ungentle nudging of Dean’s shoulder; the pitch within engulfs his bow-legged form.

Trailing behind his brother, Sam braces a palm to the threshold. Swiping the other across his forehead, he smears at the wet of rain and caked sweat collected there that trickles to sting his vision. Sensing the concentration of a gaze at his back, he turns to peer at the sentry-like seraph situated along the opposite row of rooms; he offers him a tired smile and a courteous nod, the micro expressions a summary of thankfulness they made it through another day – together, and mostly unscathed – and a sincere wish for a goodnight.

Cas lifts a hand from its pocketed confines to acknowledge Sam’s unspoken sentiment before the hazel-eyed hunter, too, disappears from view. Gaze falling to his water-specked boots, seeing no sign of earthworms laboring near the soles, he shifts his attention to the closed door at his right marked 23.

The door appears utterly unremarkable, like any of a thousand other doors; and yet, the two beings lodged behind the wooden barrier – a soul resplendent with a love he strives in all he does to deserve whose fitful breathing pattern he recognizes for one of tenuous slumber over the din of a television left on for distraction in his absence, and a son, not of his conception, but nonetheless his progeny by providential circumstance, choice, and a reciprocal devotion too deep to be anything less than a bond between father and son – are to him of paramount importance.

Superficially speaking, he notes the paint eroded around the knob with repeated use – a once bold hue faded to grey; studying the lock scarred by countless misaimed keys, he sifts through his trousers to locate the puzzle piece of notched metal required to garner entry. Key eluding him, likely long lost in the late kerfuffle with several lately departed demons, he concentrates his intent on the bolt and flicks two fingers to free the mechanism; the latch relents to its divine undoing with a muffled click and the door swings inward.

Warmly caressing the two precious sleeping figures within, a rush of sultry air surges along with the seraph’s irrepressibly welling grace – an angelic greeting of sorts he cannot suppress that swathes your bodies, reassuring him directly of your well-being. Irises sparkling blue, their shining surface reflecting the black and white Western ambling across the television screen, fix on Jack in the nearest bed, and you beyond, curled into yourself and clutching a pillow in lieu of your preferred bed partner, as he endeavors to quickly re-secure the door without disturbing the prevailing peace.

Feeling the familiarity of his grace smooth every inch of your skin, a small sigh of delight escapes your lips as your respiration settles to a restful regularity; even in unconsciousness, you sense the seraph’s energetically charged arrival and respond with relief.

Carpet discoloring where it drenches beneath his feet as though he is a vagabond washed ashore by the tide from a long and aimless voyage at sea, Cas divests himself of his signature – and by convenient chance, weather appropriate – coat, casting it aside to dry on a chairback, before drifting further into the room. Fingers slackening the knot of his tie and unfastening the topmost buttons of his shirt, each initial step inward liberates boots and socks and lightens his heart with the emotion of a homecoming where you discover what you remember with especial fondness endures outside the bounds of time itself. It matters not to him that only a few meager hours have passed apart which may seem to some no time at all; the iterant angel cherishes every minute fortune blesses him with a family; and not just any family – his family – the one he forged and fights for on an unshakeable foundation of faith and fidelity.

Rounding Jack’s bedside, Cas’ regard lands on a comic book loosely hanging from the boy’s grasp; the colorfully graphic pages poise in a precipitous gravitational battle between insensate fingertips and the floor. He collects the comic, reads the title of Constantine plastered across the cover, and stares for a moment at the sight of the trench coat clad centric-character. The soft smile Sam caught a glimpse of earlier eases roundness into the angel’s cheeks and fractures the flesh cornering his blues in a charming chaos of creases.

Setting the comic on the side table for safekeeping, Cas reaches down to lightly comb the hair from Jack’s cloistered eyes; stooping, he tenders a kiss to the bared forehead. “Sweet dreams, my boy,” his lips brush the gravelly murmured hope into the Nephilim’s mind, crowding out the doubt Cas knows dogs him therein; knowing well that very same pain, it hurts the angel’s heart witnessing Jack struggle to find his way in the world – between worlds – just as he did. Cas is grateful he’s here to help him navigate, to pick him up with unfailing belief and forgiveness when he falls down because he understands from experience that is what it takes to go on when it’s so much easier to give in.

A static tingle of awareness runs his vessel’s spine, climbing all the way to pill the hair peppering his nape, a sure indicator of clandestine observation. Steeped in sentimental thought, he missed the signs of you rousing. Straightening, moving with deliberate slowness of action to relish in the escalating uptick of your heartbeat as you eagerly wait for him to turn, he tugs the blanket over the boy’s shoulders and tucks him in.

As soon as the angel’s chin slants in your direction, your eyelids squeeze in a mockery of sleep; you cannot, however, repress the waking of the smile curving your mouth. Swiftly, he’s on you. Arms caging, lips seal over yours to quiet a giggle; unable to subdue the gladness of greeting where mouths meet, the shared smiles meld into something even sweeter.

It’s you – always you, human frailty an affront to the unending potential of angelic passion – that begs mercy for a breath first; pardoning yourself from the kiss to pant into the collar of his shirt, you embrace him round the neck, demanding with gentle insistence he join you in the bed.

He surrenders to the promise of loving comfort without struggle; clambering over you to collapse on the vacant side of the mattress, he notches himself in the welcoming fold of your arms.

Fingers tangling his still damp hair, you draw his head to rest on the cushion of your bosom.

Serenity, safety, and love sheltered within these walls, evenness of your breath calming, he gives himself permission to fully relax. The spectral silhouette of wings unfurling dances upon the wall in the TV's undulant light; blanketing you, the feathery tips stretch across the gap between beds to shroud, too, his son. Contentment hums in his throat.

“You guys take care of those demons?” The hushed query echoes through the laddered rungs of your ribs and into his ears.

“Mm-hmm.” He vibrates in answer.

“Sam and Dean, they’re okay?”

“They’re Sam and Dean,” he teases, volume equally low so as not to wake Jack, “they manage to be fine in spite of themselves and just about everything else that tries to prove otherwise.”

Your chest bounces in a silently contained laugh. “And what about you, angel?”

The question needs no consideration. He’s never been better. This is the future – the paradise – Jack showed him once upon a time: a present without the pain of doubt, the hunger to belong, or the want of purpose. Castiel sees now that paradise isn’t a place you go to, it’s the people you’re with – the people you love and who love you in return. Outside a storm rages and darkness forever encroaches; in here, he nestles nearer, tells you he’s, “Good,” and means it.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity  @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx  @moon-and-stars-cas  @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @sherlockedtash88  @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim  @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson  @iminlokisarmysofi  @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #jack kline #dadstiel x reader #castiel reader insert #castielxreader #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #reader x castiel #you x castiel #castiel imagine #castiel fluff #spn x reader #cricket writes cas

[suicidalalarmclock]

Prompt: Emma is a rebellious princess whose nighttime patrolling adventures bring her face to face with the probable love of her life.

Emma Elizabeth Charming was dramatically beautiful as most princesses are assumed to be, but rarely ever are. She was slightly above average height with a delicate slender build. Her complexion held a milky white irradiance that gave lead into the monotonous sheltered life style of palace living. The more pale the complexion, the more royal the subject. Another way of saying that she was never allowed outside without at least a parasol and elbow length gloves. Her blonde hair was thick and so long that many of the popular braided styles took hours to complete. She’d threatened her mother to cut it off on more than one occasion, though it may have been the only empty threat she’d ever repeated. Emma’s slanted green eyes balanced evenly upon high cheeks bones and her fine lips were colored the most feminine shade of pink.

For all her apparent femininity, and her mother’s insistence on extensive etiquette and decorum training, Princess Swan (a nick name given to her by her father for his daughter's obsession with the animals as a child) cared little about being a princess. In fact, she resented the title completely. The tedious lessons in embroidery. The arduous classes in arranging cut flowers. The boring balls she was forced to attend in order to find a proper suitor before her age became undesirable, made her feel as if she was being held captive in a world founded on traditions of which she was an alien.

She was educated well over all of her female peers and had taken to reading at a very early age. She was most beguiled with mystery novels, ever entertained with ascertaining hidden clues and piecing them together. It was an honest gift that she began training with her readings. She started striving to solve the mystery before the novels end. Emma had gotten so good that she’d soon surpassed the most cunning of authors. With that her rebellious side could no longer be fulfilled living upon the pages of fantasy. She needed some real action.

She’d started solving petty disputes amongst the palace staff. Who took what from whom and who did what with what. Her parents were never ones to stifle gifts, but to include their daughter’s gifts in their day to day lives would mean to put her in more danger than they would ever allow.

Sitting up high on her vantage point atop her four poster bed Emma could see that the chamber maidens had retired for the night. She stealthily slid out of bed pulling her unruly locks into a high ponytail and dressed quickly in an all-black riding ensemble that was borrowed from the stable boy and her good friend Daniel the night prior. She finished the look with a dark hooded cape before sneaking out under the cover of night.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” Daniel chastised after listening to Emma’s latest plan for adventure.

“Geez Daniel. Lighten up.”

“You do remember what happened last time?”

Emma cut her eyes up from the blade of hay she’d been worrying between her fingers.

“Don’t look at me like that! You broke your arm! Who knows what would have happened if the Blue Fairy hadn’t been in residence.”

“I would have healed like a normal person.”

“You think this will play out like one of your books Swan? These are real people with real secrets and real weapons. What happens if you get caught? You’re the princess!”

“I am more than proficient with a bow and arrow thanks to my mother and I can wield a sword as gracefully as a knight thanks to good old dad. No one will guess that I am the princess.” Emma made a stern face as to stress her point. She was a woman desperate to be useful and this mission required her specific skill set.

“But Emma! It’s not as if you can do magic!”

Daniel’s instance irritated her. Of course she couldn’t do magic. Her parents would never allow it. The Enchanted forest was more of a misnomer at this day an age.

“Look will you stop? I don’t care about that.What I do care about are the children that keep disappearing from Ginger village!”

“Why not tell your father and have the knights investigate?”

If Daniel only knew that she’d in fact overheard the information from a Knight as she eavesdropped on a round table briefing. Her father’s plan had them doing everything honorably or, more accurately, his plan had them doing everything obviously.

“Because they’ll do everything by the “code of ethics” and give themselves up before they even start!”

“Fine, since you insist.” He begrudgingly acquiesced, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Daniel had prepared her most trusted steed for the excursion. A jet black stallion she affectionately called, Twilight.

“Good evening Twilight.” Emma greeted the horse in a hushed voice and Twilight huffed back mutely. He was just as excited as Emma and smart enough to know that they were on a clandestine mission so he was trying his best to be quite.

The ride was made clear by the fullness of the moon. The journey wouldn’t have been possible without its light. As she finally made it past the palace walls to the outskirts of the Enchanted forest she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A figure hid behind the first row of trees, the moon casting the person’s lanky shadow across the ground. Emma’s heart skipped a beat and her hand reached back over her shoulder for her bow.

“Pst. Put that down! Come on, before the guards see you.” Emma relaxed instantly. It was only Daniel. “Don’t tell me you thought I was going to let you go off alone?”

Emma smiled from ear to ear very pleased by this. She would never admit to anything as pedestrian as nerves, but it was obvious that she had been having second thoughts. Daniel ascended Twilight with the trained ease of an equestrian while still allowing Emma to hold the reigns.

“So Swan, how would you feel about tackling two good deeds in one night?”

Emma was more than keen to add onto their roster. This was the first time she’d ridden cross saddle in months and the first time she’d been in the Enchanted forest without an entourage in over a year.

“Duh, what did you have in mind?

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Hun?”

“I’ve been seeing someone.” He repeated with a bit more volume.

“Do you hear this Twilight? He’s finally admitting to it!” Twilight made a neighing sound that was eerily close to a chuckle.

“You knew?” Daniel seemed genuinely shocked.

“You’re my best friend Daniel. Of course I knew something was going on. You never miss our rides and this month alone you missed three.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She is very private . . . a royal.”

“Royal?” Emma wasn’t sure if she should be offended. “That’s why you waited so long to tell me? Do I know her? Not Anastasia? Oh! Don’t tell me it’s Elsa . . . I know she is very pretty and all, but I promise she’s nuts.”

“Swan stop. You do not know her . . . not really. And I know all about you and Elsa. From where I stand you deserved it.”

Emma’s cheeks became hot and she elbowed Daniel in the ribs indignantly.

“Don’t try to change the subject! Who is she?”

“The daughter of the Former King Henry . . .”

Emma’s eyes went wide and she was happy to not have been facing her friend as she had a moment to compose herself.

“You don’t mean former King Henry’s daughter.”

“Yes , I’ve been seeing the Princess Regina.”

XXX

Princess Regina pulled her traveling cloak tightly around her waist to stave off the cold night air. She was agitated. Looking at the position of the moon she counted just after 1 in the morning and there was still no sign of Daniel.

In the realm of the Enchanted Kingdom the truth of Princess Regina is little known, though the gossip surrounding her title is known all too well. The story of a jealous princess from a foreign land across the great sea, who plotted to overthrow the throne from her mother and failed miserably. The cause of her rebellion was a hot topic for speculation, but it was generally agreed upon that Regina used magic and that was enough to make her undesirable. Many had no clue as to why King Charming and Queen Snow allowed the woman and her father asylum amongst the Enchanted Kingdom. If only they knew the real story.

An oppressed and emotionally abused princess found the strength to right the wrongs of her mother’s evil practices. Regina had been prepared to die for her cause, using a spell that had very high risks. Her mother had anticipated her final moves and instead of killing her she decided to banish her instead. Finding it far more of a punishment to make a mockery of the former King and his treacherous daughter.

Now her father now forbade all magic. So where better a place to make a new life than the Enchanted forest.

Magic was one of the only things Regina and her mother had in common and even with that they both practiced so differently. Regina had been born into magic. It was essential to her being. If they didn’t want her to practice in this land than so be it. But to have had her magic physically ripped from her body was cruel. She felt weak and empty on the inside and was desperate to have them back.

The sound of hooves trotting caught her attention and she fell back into the cover of the brush not sure who was approaching.

"Regina?"

She released a breath. It was Daniel. She quickly uncovered her hiding spot only to come face to face with the most striking pair of green eyes she'd ever seen. It threw her off completely while Daniel slid down off of the back of the same horse obscuring her view.

He then bent to kiss her lips, but she pushed him away toward her cheek.

“You’re late.” She admonished. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

“I am sorry.” Regina watched his blue eyes contort under the stress of having annoyed her. “It was this one’s fault.” He pointed back up to the woman with the striking eyes giving Regina a chance at a second look.

"Regina, this is Emma."

Emma? She took a moment to apply the name to the figure before her as Daniel stepped aside so the two women could properly meet.

The rumors of the princess’ beauty were not exaggerated, but she was wary to admit that. Regina pushed her shoulders back in a show of confidence though she really had none.

"Miss. Swan." She acknowledged with a slight bow of the head.

Emma took her time to look Regina over carefully. Her doll like features were quite impassive and after a painfully long silence she responded.

“You would do well to call me Princess.”

Regina’s cheeks colored. She’d put the Miss to be polite, but of course a princess would be offended by another princess not acknowledging the title.

“I didn't mean to offend you.” She tried her best to sound sincere for she truly was. Regina rarely apologized, but felt her faux pas called for further explanation. “Daniel simply calls you Swan and I did not want to seem familiar, Princess.” This time she added a curtsy.

Daniel was back at her side in an instant.

“Swan hates being called Princess.” Regina watched the other woman’s face, she visibly bristled at Daniel coming to her defense. “What’s gotten into you Swan?”

“Well it’s clear she’s gotten into you.” Emma retorted haughtily. Her face still stone cold while Regina’s face fell in shock. Namely because she and Daniel’s relationship had yet to progress that far, also it was completely none of her business. And here she was trying to be civil.

“Princess, there’s no reason to feel . . .” she searched for the right word. Jealous would be too presumptuous and she’d rather not be gauche. “intimidated by my relationship with Daniel. I know you two are close.”

It gave her great pleasure as she now watched Emma’s mouth drop wide open.

“Intimidated? You and Daniel? No!” Emma quickly defended before jumping down off of the horse to bow her head down in a formal gesture. “I’m being an asshole & I don’t know why . . . I never get to meet new people and another princess nonetheless. You’re beautiful *cough* I-I think I’m in shock. Please call me Emma.”

The sudden change in tone had Regina on alert as it was currently she trusted no one. Though Daniel was very kind to her. He said he loved her, but love was too much to ask of her at the moment. It shouldn’t matter that this woman found her beautiful, but for some reason it did. Steeling herself against the sudden wave of emotion she fixed her face in a look of practiced modesty.

She appraised Emma again. Taking a bit more time to carefully map out her features. Her hair fell out of the side of her hood in a tangle of dense glimmering ringlets slipping free from her bun. She bowed before her at the waist as if she were a gentleman. Regina’s eyes then fell to the ill fitting low male cut of her pants and the ornately expensive sword hooked expertly upon her belt. This princess Emma was a tomboy.

“Princess Emma Swan,” Regina tried again. “Are you always this rude?”

The question caught Emma off guard and she fumbled a little before her smile brightened immensely.

“Me rude?” She exaggerated “Hardly ever.”

Regina managed to smile at that. Her brown eyes softening around the edges. She felt Daniel grip her waist tighter in an encouraging manor. Happy his two favorite people were playing nice. He knew first hand that royalty had a hard time socializing, but never thought that Emma could be classified as real royal.

“Well that could’ve gone better.” Daniel began awkwardly as he let go of Regina and stepped in front of the two women. “But now that everyone knows each other let’s move along. We have very little time before daylight.”

This seemed to put Emma back on track.

“Great. Are you ready to finally tell me why you dragged my ass two hours opposite the direction of Ginger Village? Besides meeting your new girlfriend?”

Regina could barely roll her eyes before Daniel spoke again.

“ Regina knows how to use magic.”

Emma paused in her tracks before turning around again to face the fallen princess. Her lips curled to one side as she spoke.

“That explains your lack of weaponry. I was afraid you’d left Daniel’s sorry ass to defend you.”

“Cool it Swan. I’m trying to impress this one. She’s kidding by the way.”

“Sure I am.” Regina watched as Emma shot Daniel a teasing glance before gracefully mounting her steed. “And little good that will do you here. If you haven’t heard the Enchanted forest isn’t so enchanted.”

“Well, that is where you come in Swan.”

“Not sure I’m following.” Emma uttered a tad distracted. She seemed to be counting something which in turn made Regina realize the same thing.

“Dear, why didn’t you tell me to bring a horse?”

“I was supposed to have Radiance, but the King requested him last minute.”

“Dad asked for Radiance?” Emma looked properly vexed by this for a moment before seeming to drop it completely. Her eyes cut to Regina’s again for the third time that night and still all Regina could think about was how it made her feel something. Good or bad she still wasn’t sure. Her gaze was so heavy it almost felt intrusive.

“I vote Daniel walks, and you princess Regina, would you like to ride with me?”

XXX

#enchanted forest #swanqween #emma swan #regina mills #excerpts of stories #writers be like #fanfic #once upon a time #writing on tumblr #young love

[fayewonglibrary]

Melting of the Ice Queen (2000)

Once the music world’s Ice Queen, Faye Wong warms up to motherhood and new love as Rebecca Li uncovers.

AS Faye Wong walks into the photo studio at Chai Wan, Hong Kong, casually dressed in baby-blue pants and pink No Name sneakers that look like a cross between sports shoes and ballet slippers, she looks relaxed and girlish.

The colours of her outfit suggest that her life is absolutely bright and sunny.  Even without makeup, her eyes obscured by aviator shades, she still looks completely stunning.

Well-known for her nonchalance to the media and her chameleon-like image changes, Asia’s most charismatically enigmatic chanteuse seems to have mellowed.  Does it have anything to do with the birth of her daughter Jingtong in February 1997?

“The greatest change in me came not after the birth of my child, but after I converted to Buddhism in 1992,” says the 31-year-old.  “I used to ask myself questions like ‘Why is it so?’ But not everything in the world can be explained.  If it is so, it is so; there is no why.  If it is fated, then it is so!  You can only learn to accept your fate.  A simple principle, but easier said than done.”

LIFE GOES ON

With her divorce from Taiwanese rocker Dou Wei out of the way, Faye seems to have moved on.  The big news now is that she is dating a younger man, and not just any younger man too, but Hong Kong heartthrob Nicholas Tse, who’s all of 19.

The source of the rumor?  The pair was snapped by paparazzi earlier this year, kissing at a party in Hong Kong club Greenspot…during a drinking game.  And to add fuel to the fire, they have also been spotted having intimate dinners together on several occasions.

Gossip aside, it’s amazing how the public just cannot get enough of this long-limbed, 1.72 metre-tall Beijing-born beauty, who first set foot in Hong Kong in 1987 at the age of 18.

Back then, the artiste formerly known as Shirley Wong Ching Man didn’t even speak a word of Cantonese, and out of boredom, she enrolled herself in singing classes that helped her develop that ethereal voice that she is now so famous for.

After spending a couple of years in New York studying music, she returned to Hong Kong in 1992, changed her name to Faye, and released an album entitled COMING HOME.  The rest, as they say, is history.  In 1993, she was voted “Most Popular Asian Singer” and over the years, her star has just kept rising higher.

Within a short span of time, Faye has attained the kind of pop icon status that took her favorite singer Teresa Teng an entire lifetime to achieve.

Fans from as far as France devote entire websites to her.  Film critics in Sweden gave her the “Best Actress” award for her role in CHUNGKING EXPRESS.  Sony Playstation felt she was appealing enough to the youth market to pay her US$1 million to sing the ending theme song for their popular video game Final Fantasy 8.

If you’d holidayed in China last year and felt a thirst for Pepsi, you would have seen her gorgeous face emblazoned all over the can (that is, before the limited edition ran out).

A Japanese cellphone company used her for their commercial, but that perhaps is not even half as flattering as the fact that a Taiwanese artiste, Kung Mei Mei, released a debut album entitled I LOVE FAYE WONG.

QUEEN OF MODESTY

Faye has proven herself as one of the very few singers who have made a successful crossover into acting, with CHUNGKING EXPRESS, LOVE AFFAIR IN OKINAWA (which hit Singapore screens on 9 August) and the yet-to-be-completed 2046.  But she still remains unimpressed by her own thespian talents.

“Actually I don’t have much acting to do in LOVE AFFAIR IN OKINAWA… and it is nothing as crazy as the character in CHUNGKING EXPRESS.  It is much more normal and easy-going.”

And contrary to what others say, the movie has not been tailormade for her, she clarifies.  “Maybe they just know this is how I am, I simply can’t act.  Maybe it is because it is a different director (Peter Chan).  I have only worked with Wong Kar Wai before.  I’m more familiar with what he wants… I’m afraid of the demands from other directors, that I may not be able to meet their requirements…”

Faye says that she does not like acting because it involves teamwork and requires a lot of patience.

“For me, when you are making a movie, you have to wait.  It takes a lot of time, and it can be boring.  When you sing, you just need to go to the studio.  I would know if I have not sung a line well, so I can ask to do it again.  When it comes to acting, I wouldn’t know which way is better.  When the director says it is okay, then it’s okay for me, I wouldn’t have any opinion of my own.

"I have also sought advice from many actors, like Carina Lau, for example, who never went through formal training either.  She said, it will be fine, just keep doing it, it will come with experience!  Maybe that’s true, I’ve only made three movies, which is not much of an experience.”

While most actors eagerly dissect every film they can get their hands on, Faye says she is not even a movie buff to begin with.  “I don’t like to watch martial arts movies, war movies, period movies,” she says, without pausing for breath.  “I do watch comedies, but if it is blatantly slapstick, I will definitely not watch it.”

And contrary to how so-called “serious” actors try to get into their roles by trying to get under the skin of the character they’re taking on, Faye prefers not to get in too deep.

“When you are doing a Wong Kar Wai movie, you can never be quite in it, because you won’t even know what the story is all about.  When I was filming CHUNGKING EXPRESS, I really didn’t know what I was doing.  You have to read the script a few times to understand what he’s trying to say.  As I was playing the role, I was feeling that this girl is so irritating and inexplicable.  Haha…"  Self-mockery has always been a virtue of survivors.

LOVE ACCORDING TO FAYE

Now that she has reclaimed her "single” status, perhaps Faye will reveal the kind of man that attracts her?

But this line of questioning doesn’t get much information out of her – Faye would rather speak in generalities, and not about any specific person.  Nicholas Tse’s name is not mentioned throughout the interview.

Sexiness, Faye says, is a matter of personality, a kind of feel.  For her, there are no criteria to speak of.

“I have always been one to follow my intuition.  When it feels right, then it’s right.  The most important thing for a man is to be upright, frank, not to make me do any second-guessing, not to say one thing and do another thing.  Whether he is sexy or not is secondary.  There is not particular look that I go for.  Except that I don’t like guys that talk to much.”

Still, despite her ice queen persona, there’s still a hint that the man who manages to make her thaw will find a hopeless romantic underneath.

“I feel that everything is fated.  When a person is in love, it is like having a magic spell cast on you, you just can’t wriggle out of it, and you can’t be so level-headed as to examine yourself objectively.  Some would calculate various factors while choosing a marriage partner and decide according to one’s requirements.  But I’m definitely not someone like that.”

Translated by Ts’ Ming.

FAYE ON HER LEADING MEN

Tony Leung Chiu Wai - “I have worked with him the most number of times but never really talked to him.  I don’t understand him too well.  He doesn’t talk much, but sometimes he would behave like … he would be very affectionate, it’s rather odd.  I guess he is harder to fathom.”

Leslie Cheung - “He is a buddy.  He is someone who makes clear distinctions between what he loves and what he hates.  He would explain why he likes something and why he doesn’t like something … a headstrong type of person.”

Tony Leung Kar Fai - “He is a very agreeable character, he would share his private matters with others, things like where his family has gone traveling, what they have encountered, how his daughter is doing … I think he would make a perfect husband, very nice, caring, and attentive.”

Takuya Kimura - “Kimura is a very smart person.  But sometimes he’s very playful too.  He’s actually a very professional actor.”

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

On hobbies - “Shopping for clothes is no longer my hobby, I only shop for 'working clothes’, so that doesn’t count.  Recently, I haven’t’ had any hobbies.  Apart from work, I just lie around at home, or meet up with some friends.  I have not played mahjong for a long time."  (Right, who has time for mahjong when one is too busy dating?)

On music - "Thinking back on my first record, it was released without much thought, and it was not very me.  I tend to be more carefree while recording in the studio, other than that I behave very awkwardly.  I’m not one who needs to listen to music everyday.”

On pursuits - “I’m not very worried about what to eat, or what to wear, just as long as I have a place to live comfortably.  Actually I’m usually not so concerned about my appearance.  I think the only thing I care for is my records, choosing my songs, recording a good album.  Although there are some works that I’m satisfied with, I still hope to do more.”

On happiness - “A lot of times, that’s just a state of mind.  As long as you know how to let go, you will be much happier.”

On her daughter - “I never planned to have children.  I’m not a patient person but I tend to be nicer to children.  Fortunately, Jing Tong is not naughty at all.  I will not interfere with her future, my responsibility is just to raise her.  Whichever path she takes from then on would be her own, that’s beyond my control.”

MAKING OF A COVER GIRL

Faye Wong has a habit of browsing through magazines while making up.  She would rather stay a while longer than to rush an interview while making up and doing her hair.  Such insistence is rare among entertainers, but how else to share your thoughts with so many people around to interrupt?

So this reporter had to watch her making up, doing her hair, trying her dress and taking the polaroids for a full five hours.  But that helped her to warm up and made it easier to strike up a conversation.

As expected, her daughter Jing Tong turned up at 5:30 pm sharp, insisted on a hug and kiss, and on being Faye’s personal dresser – she followed Mum into the changing room.  Faye looked completely transformed as she emerged, and her daughter started to mimic her, much to everyone’s amusement.

During the interview, the cute little girl interrupted three or four times, but she also knew when to back off after every act, without being told off.

As the interview drew to a close, Jing Tong grew more and more impatient.  She shouted with all her might:  “Mum, Mum, let’s go home!"  It sounded like a little wish that was too long suppressed.

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

SOURCE: ELLE

#2000

[goldanna-blog]

Uhh can you do “Can you keep holding my hand, please?” with Varric?? I'm so excited that you made a DA blog haha

soft sentences!↳  varric tethras / lora hawke.

notes: set in inquisition after the whole nightmare demon problem. my kids are not all right, but i think?? it’s a little more hopeful than my usual fare.rating: teen, again!!words: 914

Off the path, Varric’s found, when alone is just another path. And he has to check himself often to prove that he still feels.

The Fade ate a life, some might even speculate in exchange for Hawke’s. Part of him knows the guilt that’ll seep into her bones, she always was a little soft for sacrifice. Varric leans against the snow-topped battlements, staring out into the snowy field.

He feels a pull to mourn, though it isn’t the closest call they’ve ever had. The first Fade field trip comes to mind, or the business at the Chantry. Still, what happened feels oddly real. Upsettingly real. Hawke almost lost, the rest of the world might’ve moved on but she almost lost.

Varric would’ve lost, too, more-so than he’d ever be able to let on. But to throw oneself into thoughts like that scares him worse than any nightmare demon. His shoulders tighten and he focuses on the colours glinting off the ice, cast by the setting sun.

He turns after half an hour, his face red with cold and retreats back inside. His pace is calm, cool, collected. But he wants to run headlong in the direction of Hawke, who’s already packing to leave for Weisshaupt. She was never one to let matters lie.

Varric doesn’t have to wait long before an expectant friend wanders towards his spot by the fire place. She knows where he is by heart.

“I was waiting for you to come see me,” she says. Varric turns quickly, her lip is busted. Lucky woman, that’s all the damage done. He makes a noncommittal noise and gives a shrug.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, etcetera, etcetera,” he’s not really trying to defend himself. Her attacks have never been vicious in his regard, he’s cared for too much to attract any real ire. Lucky man.

“You know, absence doesn’t actually make the heart grow fonder,” she continues, circumnavigating the long table and coming to stand by the glowing hearth.

The hall’s empty enough to talk. Masked Orlesian’s and court representatives have moved on to bed. It’s just Varric and Hawke before a roaring fire, warm to the touch.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he cocks his head to the side, glancing at Hawke in a losing attempt to be inconspicuous. She catches his wandering eye and smiles. “I missed you, after all.”

“Varric,” she says, looking wistful all of a sudden. He shifts, slightly uncomfortable with the way she says his name. He’ll never know what to do with real intimacy. “I miss you all the time. Absence makes it harder.”

“Please,” he all but scoffs. Varric steps closer to the fire, watching the flames leap and dance. “You’ll have your back to Skyhold in a couple hours and be better for it.”

“This place is cozier than I expected,” Hawke admits. Her smile’s a little sad, now, when Varric turns to look. “You have it good here. I’m glad, you deserve to be part of very big things.”

“Cassandra might disagree,” Varric says, “but it’s interesting to be included in major events twice. Some might even consider it flattering.”

“Fate knows how important you are, clearly,” Hawke smirks at him, leaning in his direction and nudging his shoulder with her hip. Varric’s glower holds no bite or hatred, it’s pure mockery.

“Or how someone needs to be here to write everything down,” he tempers her idealism, as always. In the process, he pulls a laugh from her split lips.

Her arm’s near enough to grab, Varric reaches out and takes her hand. Proof that she’s solid sure is something. It’s been years of letters and close calls, long nights wondering in the dark if that’s all it might ever be— until one of them dies, that is.

The path alone is boring, she understands that just as keenly as he does.

So, he holds her hand. The gloves are off, the pressure’s affectionate. All that time apart melts away easily, it’s kind of scary how simple things can feel when she’s standing next to him.

She feels it, too, Varric knows by how she tries to pull away. Not for a lack of affection, because that’s what she feels, but out of a desire to spare him that all-consuming devotion. He won’t let it happen.

“Hawke,” he says, “can you— can you keep holding my hand, please?” it’s not much of a question, he already knows what her response will be. She changes just as suddenly from reserved adoration to more open fondness.

She holds his hand at her side with perhaps a little too strong a grip. But Varric’s tough, he knows it comes from the best place in the world. Hawke’s going to leave in the morning, he knows it. She’s usually gone by breakfast, anyway, but it never gets any easier.

Who’s afraid? He is, it’s not a new fear. He’s afraid he’s never going to see her again, just like he always is when she goes. Varric worries more than he lets on that he’ll be left in this unfair world with a broken heart and an empty hand.

When will we meet again? She wants to ask, but doesn’t.

Will we meet again? His question pushes at his mind with a force, but it goes unspoken.

Varric and Hawke look at each other, nervous but loving. Regardless of what’s said or not-said, the answer is exactly the same. We must meet again.

#varric tethras #varric #hawke x varric #dragon age: inquisition #varric x hawke #oc: lora hawke #Anonymous #this has only inspired me to write them messing around in kirkwall after trespasser lmao #my lovelies need a break

[this-is-your-heichou-speaking]

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Potter/Salazar Slytherin Characters: Harry Potter, Salazar Slytherin Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Character Death, drugged Harry

Asleep Salazar found him at the top of the Northern tower, staring listlessly out into the dark. There were no stars, and the moon was a thin silver-white sickle hidden behind dark clouds. He was shivering, his frail shoulders trembling under the thin material of his nightshirt, and Salazar couldn't help the concern rising up inside him. It was cold enough that he suspected it might snow, cold enough that he could feel the wind biting at his nose and cheeks until they were flushed red, and here his lover with only the flimsiest piece of cloth to shield him from harsh winds. "Harry," he called, striding forward, and a touch to the delicate back verified what he'd unfortunately suspected already - the man hadn't even cast a warming charm to shield against the cold. "It's freezing out here," he murmured, his brow creasing as he failed to garner a response. "What are you doing?" Finally Harry shrugged, just a slight movement of small shoulders. His mouth worked upwards in a mockery of a smile, looking far too sad to even pretend to fool Salazar. The older man's frown deepened, but he was unable to think about anything but the weather, and how his lover might catch something. "Come inside, love," he whispered encouragingly. He lowered his voice and repeated himself, this time hissing in the language of serpents, "come inside where it's warmer." The Parseltongue seemed to snap Harry out of whatever fey mood had befallen him, because he straightened suddenly and shook his head. "I think I prefer it out here, actually," he said softly, but his voice was firm and Salazar knew immediately that his lover would not be swayed. The man was stubborn like that. So instead he removed his outer cloak and draped it over Harry, using the excuse to wrap his arms around the shorter man and pull him to against his body. Harry automatically nestled his head underneath Salazar's chin, the two of them slotting together perfectly, and they stood in silence as soft, pure white snow began to fall. 

Salazar bent his neck to press his lips against the skin where Harry's ear meet his head, scenting the wild fragrance of berries and flowers that clung to his beloved, and suddenly Harry let out a shuddering breath, as if he were crying. He froze suddenly as the peaceful atmosphere crashed and his heart began to race in panic. He'd never felt so foolish as he did when, upon turning Harry in his arms to see his face, he indeed found the wet tracks that betrayed Harry's tears to him. He'd thought them to be enjoying a brief moment of peace, of affectionate proximity, and yet he'd read the situation so badly that Salazar began to doubt other moments too, other conversations and late nights spent with Harry's back pressed to his chest. He'd imagined then too that they were happy, content, but had Harry been upset then too? How long had his little wizard been unhappy, and how terrible a lover was he to not have noticed? Harry was crying louder now, biting his lip to keep the sobs at bay, and Salazar felt so utterly useless, not knowing what to do. Eventually he just pulled Harry's face into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly about the slim shoulders and pressing a kiss to wild black curls. "What's wrong, dear one?" he murmured, rocking them slightly from side to side where they stood. "Why do you cry?" Harry's fingers were tightly entwined with his robes, but as Salazar spoke he balled up a hand into a feeble fist and hit him - or pushed him really, in the chest. And then came the whisper that froze his very soul. "I can't do this anymore." He felt as if his heart skipped a beat, as if his blood raced faster than ever possible though his veins. He felt warm despite the cold wind, and he prayed that he'd heard wrong. He must have heard wrong, he told himself. Harry could never leave him, would never leave him. Harry loved him, more than his own life - he could not possibly have said what Salazar thought he'd said. And so the taller wizard asked, hesitantly, "What did you say?" Harry took a deep breath, clearly calming himself before pushing away from Salazar's embrace. "I said," he says, his voice hoarse and quiet but sure, so sure, "I can't do this anymore." Salazar stared at Harry, reaching a hand up to pull a stray lock of hair behind the delicately shaped ear. Harry closed his eyes and winced, almost as if Salazar was hurting him but allowed it nonetheless. The older wizard swallowed a few times, then laughed hollowly. "I don't understand," he admitted, as if it were a great burden to reveal his shortcomings. Harry's face practically morphed with a suddenness that caught Salazar off guard until he was practically snarling, and he pulled himself away from Salazar's lingering touch with a violence that shook the wizard. "You don't understand?" he asked incredulously. "You don't understand?" And he pushed at Salazar again forcing back a step. "I can't stand it! I can't live like this anymore!" He seemed incensed, his eyes flashing green with fire and energy like it hadn't for a long time. Salazar wondered why he hadn't noticed that either, but the thought quickly passed as he too became angry. "What are you talking about, Harry!" he exclaimed. "You have everything you need, everything you want! What are you so lacking, what is troubling you so much that you'd rather this than talk to me?" "Talk to you?" Harry's face darkened. "I've done nothing but talk to you! I've tried being kind, I've tried being civil, and I've even tried to threaten you, but you won't listen!" Where before Harry had been crying in sorrow, he seemed more prepared to curse Salazar now. He gazed at Harry, a realisation dawning inside him, and Harry seemed to read his face right, because he glared. "Don't you dare pretend not to know what I am speaking of," he said darkly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" And though he did not want to admit it, Salazar indeed knew exactly what bothered his lover so. He sighed, as if Harry had sorely disappointed him or let him down. "So big a fuss, over such a little matter?" he said, annoyed, but it only seemed to incense Harry further. "Little, is it?" he practically growled, freezing in place like it was the only thing keeping him under control. "You think I don't know what you've stashed underneath the castle, beloved?" And Salazar froze, because how on earth did Harry know? He'd been so careful, so discreet in his doings, that he'd been sure nobody else knew of his plan. He'd taken every precaution he possibly could, and yet- "How?" He asked. Harry's eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You know," he started conversationally, and yet his tone was absolutely frigid, "despite all of your intelligence and smarts, you've always had a tendency to underestimate others, and overestimate yourself." "What in the name of Hecate is that supposed to mean-" Salazar started angrily, only to be cut off. "I mean," Harry interrupted, "that you like to forget you're not the only one who speaks Parseltongue unless it suits you. I mean that you seem to think nobody will notice your absences, coupled with pathetic excuses every time you return. Do you think we're all idiots, Salazar?" There was an awkward silence as Salazar tried to think, tried to speak, but failed. Harry watched him with a strange sort of vindictive, righteous pleasure, and Salazar irked at the all-knowing nod of Harry's head. "Yes," he whispered, as if Salazar had proven his every suspicion true. "I imagined so." He took a step back, gazing at Salazar as if he was already far away. He looked as if his face would once again crumple under the force of tears, but then Harry breathed in hard and blinked long and slow. "I think, Salazar," he murmured, "that I'll be leaving tonight. There is nothing more to be said here." And he turned, his back and shoulders looking a lot less fragile and a lot firmer now, despite that they suffered the same cold under the same thin material. Salazar watched, silent, as Harry walked away from him without once looking back, and felt a strange sort of crushing in his chest. He couldn't let Harry leave him, but he had never felt more powerless. Harry knew him, knew his words and his expressions, and knew what lay behind them no matter his Salazar tried to conceal. None of his words, none of his promises would do any good here - Harry would see right through them all. He looked down from the tower on which he stood alone, and watched as the snow began to fall. He imagined Harry, rummaging through their shared rooms and slowly removing all the pieces of his existence from the room. He imagined Harry wiping himself from Salazar's reality like one would wipe a spill of milk from the table, leaving no evidence that anything had ever been to the contrary. He imagined returning to that room as the sun climbed it's way to a new day, and finding a room that told naught of their shared life, and abhorred the very thought. A strange desperation overcame him, and perhaps later Salazar would think back on the emotion and name it madness. Now, however, he was caught helplessly in its tangled web, and in a sudden rush he hurried his way down to the dungeons. Harry had changed, his robes now a thicker, warmer black meant for winter daywear. His cloak lay to the side - a gift from Salazar, sometime a year ago. He'd packed his belongings into his small satchel, and was just lacing his boots up when Salazar entered the darkened room. His back was still to the taller man, and the teacher did not hesitate in raising his smooth black wand at the unprotected back. Harry must have heard him, because he turned with a small, almost imperceptible frown. "Salazar?" he said. "What-" His eyes widened at the sight of the wand pointing at him. He opened his mouth, no doubt to discourage the man from whatever he was thinking, but the regretful shaking of his head made him desist. Harry looked so lost then, so young, that Salazar was reminded painfully of the young man he'd met so many years ago, of the late night talks and quiet, comfortable dancing in the privacy of their quarters. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and he meant it. Harry's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating, and looking into them Salazar could almost pretend it was a look of attraction and not panic. Want, and not fear. There was a flash of light, and then he was gathering the frozen body to his chest, murmuring promises of love and care softly to the unresponsive man as he lifted Harry into his arms. After a second's consideration, he flicked his wand to hover the pack behind him, and made his way to the chamber Harry had only alluded to knowing the existence of. He'd had concerns, before - setting Parseltongue passwords meant the other founders couldn't get in, but it did not stop Harry from discovering it - Harry, who was by far the most perceptive of them all anyway, especially when it concerned Salazar. Of course, that was no longer an issue now. There was a potion he had in mind, an idea forming just as he'd induced sheep in his lover and held his still, limp body. It'd take him maybe a day's work to brew, and then his Harry would never be able to leave him again. He laid the smaller body down with all the gentleness of a gardener handling rare and valuable flowers, and covered the body with a thin blanket before getting to work. Harry awoke twice during the process, both times attempting to stumble off the cot he lay on and potentially leave, but both times Salazar managed to catch him just before he fell and return him to his calmer state. He woke for the last time just as Salazar was bottling the potion in question, but this time he didn't move. Salazar sighed and went to sit by him, running his fingers through the beautiful, thick black locks in as soothing a motion as he could manage. Harry looked at him, his green eyes almost luminous in the dim, flickering light of the torches, and they stayed like that for a time that seemed to almost last forever. The older wizard smiled in what he hoped was a comforting expression, and reached calmly for the freshly-brewed potion. Just as he went to un-stopper it, he felt hesitant fingers on his wrist. He looked back questioningly, and Harry's mouth had twisted sadly. "Please," he whispered, so beautiful, so scared. Salazar looked on in silence as Harry gazed, beseeching but already defeated, until eventually the younger man dropped his eyes. Still saying nothing, he reached behind Harry's head to encourage his pink mouth open, and without preamble poured the viscous liquid in. "Sleep, dearest," he murmured, and watched contently as bright green eyes turned delicately hazy before finally shutting. Harry never saw the daylight again. He barely woke again, only opening his eyes for the brief hours that Salazar could escape and feed him the antidote, but by the end of their time together Salazar would once again send him off to sleep. He tried to fight, at first. Salazar tried to explain why it was necessary, that he was only doing this for them, for their love, but time and time again the younger man would try to hit Salazar, or run when his back was turned. One memorable time he'd tried to feed the potion meant for him to Salazar, and had almost managed except that the continued unconsciousness for such long periods of time had made him week and slow. Salazar could easily defend himself. However, despite that Harry would potentially do him harm, Salazar never held it against his lover. Instead he tried his best to make the younger wizard understand, and then to hold him when he couldn't. Eventually, despite his best efforts, Harry just became desensitised. He'd sit there, completely unresponsive as Salazar tried to talk to him. It was frustrating, and outside of his time in the Chamber it pushed him to increasingly violent lengths. He began being more and more open about his distaste for impure blood, his dislike turning to hate until the founders would not abide by his purist ways. His friends, who'd once stood in solidarity by him as he mourned the loss of his lover, now stood behind him as they pushed him out of Hogwarts castle, his home. Though he tried several times to return and see Harry one last time, to talk to him before he himself passed, he never managed to retrieve Harry. The man remained in his spellbound state until Salazar died of old age and loneliness, and even then Harry slept in the chamber without ageing, looking as young as he once had when he and Salazar had been happy. But even though he looked like he was merely asleep, by the time a young Tom Riddle found his way into the chamber on whispered promises of power, Harry Potter could no longer be awoken.

#Heichou writes #Harry Potter fanfiction #Salazar Slytherin/Harry Potter #tw: kidnapping #tw: non-consentual drug use #tw: character death

[isroselalondebisexual]

Heya! If you're still doing trollswap stuff, how do you think John Peixes (there's a Jade and Dave Peixes and I wanna see this boy as tyrian), Rose Ampora (Idk I like Rose as seadweller purple but! that's just me), Jade Leijon (Dog girl...turned cat girl? :0, also Jade as a Witch of Heart is an interesting concept to me!), and Dave Maryam (Idk, Dave as a jadeblood would be cool, especially given that I think the jade caste is female majority?)

John Peixes, raised with as much wealth and power as a troll can have, with a lusus that makes demands but also loves him. Tbeh the idea of John using his power to hurt others is laughable, but I absolutely think that he’s the kind of person who would take advantage of his station to make sure that he’s first in line to see whatever cool new movie/game/interest of his that’s coming out. Is he going to burn down your neighborhood for the sake of a selfie background? No. Is he gonna post hella untagged spoilers for that movie you were looking forward to? You bet your ass. He’s well-intentioned over all, he likes all the warmer castes and has opinions ranging from “I mean what they’re up to is kind of not my business” to “they’re all so funny” depending on the mood of the night, a little condescending but never out of any malice. Nobody’s sure what to make of him because on one hand, it sorta sounds like he could have ideas for radical social reform in that he’s NOT mean to warm bloods and that’s usually how treason presents itself, but on the other hand he’s like… really endearing and his jokes are genuinely funny so most people actually really, really like him and are pretty pleased to be able to say “yes this one is our heir. He’s a little dumb but by god he’s doing his best.” There’s a sort of mutual back and forth of him looking at all of his subjects and going “aw cute” and them looking at him and going “fuck he’s adorable.” It’s possible that John, after maybe getting prompted from Rose or smth, uses his charm and social media presence (he’s got a sizable following, but no one is obligated to subscribe to his various channels) to start up a system where if someone in an area next to you dies, you can inform the heir and his orphaner and those lususes are donated to the cause of “Keep my horrorterror lusus from killing everyone by screaming.” He really doesn’t like killing things, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he gets. Weird. When he has to deal with death. So he’s really, really grateful he has a moirail like Rose to help take care of him! As Heir of Life, he’s got a pretty ridiculously high sense of empathy, especially considering the society he was raised in, and sometimes it can get so overwhelming he just shuts down. He’s compassionate, and interested in fixing things, but he isn’t sure how to DO that, aside from just, well, being himself. Taking things as they come to him. The universe is vast and cold and uncaring and he’s only one person in the midst of it all, and he knows that even though he was hatched into a position of pretty high political power, he’s still only ONE troll, and all trolls are killable. So he finds his balance by doing what he can, with what he has, where he is at. His quest is to embody the idea of giving his all, and he is truly awakened when he comes to the conclusion that what he has to give is enough. He is kind enough, tries hard enough, he is good enough just as himself, always bettering the situation around him to the best of his abilities and letting the rest of the universe sort itself out.

Rose Ampora, the most powerful and wealthy troll in Alternia except for one, who she is conveniently pale with. I think she’d be pretty similar to Rose Peixes in that she is driven and ruthless. She is second to no one, she’s top of the hemospectrum, a princess, royalty, she’s smarter, stronger, faster, better and she likes it that way. Her lusus is pretty lax, all things considered, content to go along with whatever she asks Seahorsemom to do, and it’s sort of frustrating that her lusus doesn’t share the same drive as she does, but convenient too, because that means whatever she wants, Seahorsemom will agree to, or at the very least acquiesce. If Rose starts misbehaving, Seahorsemom isn’t likely to enact any discipline, so Rose sort of has the run of the hive. Rose can be pretty mean when she wants to be, convinced of her own authority and superiority and raised on a violent, unfair planet in the deep waters of a violent, freaky ocean. Razor sharp and whip-fast reflexes are necessary to survive the deep sea, and transfer over into her everynight life and conversation styles. John is her best friend, and is the calm to her storm. He’s the one who tells her when she’s being too mean, or when someone wasn’t really trying to pick a fight with her, the one who laughs at other people’s jokes and clues her in that she shouldn’t be tensing up and reaching for her needles, the one who soothes her down and blurs the sharp edges on her, and she’s really, really grateful she has a moirail like John to help take care of her! As Seer of Hope, her goal is to stop focusing so much on the bad, on the violent way things were, she needs to stop thinking that all and any words thrown her way are threats or veiled mockery, and instead try to look towards the good, the prospects of the new world, the way things can become better without having to fight fang and claw for it. She’s always wanted better, you know. Always wanted to be better, herself, better, for her moirail, better, always trying, always clawing desperately for better, but she’s so focused on the negatives that that became impossible for her. As Seer of Hope, she must learn to change her perspective. Also, somewhat unrelated note, but violet Rose would be the best dresser Alternia has ever seen. Just sayin. She’s a disaster at all times always but that sure as hell doesn’t mean she needs to look like one.

Jade Leijon! Raised in a cave in the middle of the woods by an oversized, two-mouthed housecat who loves her! Pounce always seemed pretty spunky, from how Nepeta described her, so Jade still has a high-energy lusus that she can go out gallivanting about with! Jade, I can’t really see being a huntress, which may frustrate Pounce bc go!!!! Hunt!!!! It’s for food!!!!! We are cats!!!! But Jade is very likely content to just eat normal troll food and keeps her rifle on her for protection reasons. Of course, if anything in the forest decides that Jade is prey, it’s gonna lose that fight, and she’ll eat that, but she doesn’t like, go out of her way to hunt things. Having an affectionate cat for a lusus probably means Jade has a good understanding of “tell me to stop touching you and I will” but ALSO is the type of person to get aaaaaaaaaaaaall up in your personal space just like, casually, because she loves you and why wouldn’t she be here!!!! What do you mean you’re busy on the computer no you’re not, it’s time to cuddle with Jade now! Very likely still has her vast variety of interests, but her attention is more apt to flit between them, getting bored with something means immediately dropping it and going to something else. So he’s very smart and very impassioned about her interests, she just has a very non-linear way of going about it! Still super duper friendly and the local sweetheart of everyone, good at finding the way people like to communicate and successfully mimicking the other person’s communication style. This leads to her not being entirely sure of what her own personality is, because she’s a pretty big people pleaser and she feels like she puts on a different “mask” every time she talks to a different person, but really all that means is she’s very in tune to the emotions and personalities of the people she’s engaged with and very skilled at context-based decisions! As Witch of Heart, this is only emphasized, as she is the kind of person who is able to change emotions and the way her soul operates to best fit the needs she is presented with! Her nuanced capabilities are what let her really flourish as Witch of Heart, though sometimes the things that seem obvious to her make her come off as, paradoxically, emotionally distant. OBVIOUSLY her friends feel x way about y things, why are they making everything so complicated??? It’s simple, couldn’t be plainer, her friends are so silly and they can be sorta dumb sometimes, wow! But in reality Jade is the one who has that emotional clarity, and her friends aren’t being dumb, they’re just dealing with feelings and thoughts that are really complicated to them, despite seeming simple to Jade. She’s got a little bit of trouble with understanding that her experiences are not universal- there are some disconnects she’s gotta work through- but she’s deeply caring and very smart so it all works out for the best in the end.

Dave Maryam! So you said that the jadebloods were a female-majority caste and what immediately came to mind was “Dave is trans confirmed” so Dave is trans, confirmed. He lives alone in the desert, with a mothergrub for a lusus and we know the mothergrub really loved Kanaya and was very close to her so Dave has a good lusus, always blessed as a concept 10/10. I imagine he’d actually be really sick of the cold, since deserts get fucking chilly at night, and so he’s more of a daytime person, despite not really knowing why. Obviously he’s not a rainbow drinker, John, that’s absurd. Like how Dave in canon is all “lmao obviously I’m not gay” until he takes the time to figure out that yeah, yeah he is, despite overwhelming signs, that’s Dave with his own rainbowdrinking nature in this. Jade thinks he’s dumb and doesn’t understand what the issue is here. Dave thinks maybe SHES the dumb one, how about that! They’re dumb children and I love them. Isolation is exceedingly not-fun, and Dave can’t really get into photography cause there’s not a lot to photograph out here in the middle of nowhere. Not a lot of shit to die for him to put in jars, either. The ruins he lives close to are very interesting, though, so he ends up something of an archaeologist, digging up those ruins, trying to decipher them, funneling endless hours into those weird rocks and carved frogs and cryptic symbols because it’s one of the only things for him to DO out there in the middle of nowhere. He creates a VAST wealth of comics, also because art is one of the only things he’s able to do out there in the middle of nowhere, and the responses he gets from people who read (but generally don’t fully understand) his comics might be empty and artificial but so is the flimsy validation he gets from seeing his follower count rise and the notes go up. As Knight of Space he is similar to Dave Harley, in that he upholds the balance of the universe and needs to breed the new one, which STILL just means he’s the weird frog dad now. It’s interesting for him bc he always knew he was gonna be working with weird babies of one sort or another, and he was pretty comfortable with the role of fatherhood being something he would eventually assume, but instead of bug people he’s just got. Like. A bunch of weird frogs. Jade come check this out these things are NASTY lol. He enjoys them, but doesn’t form as close of an emotional attachment to them, because he’s been conditioned by Alternia and the structure of how his species reproduces to know that while they’re temporarily in his care, he must eventually set them off to go do their own things (like, say, becoming the universe, for example). His role as a father of these weird paradox frogs is the method by which he protects the universe and it’s existence, which is something that makes him feel incredibly important and gives him a sense of wholeness, which he deserves. 

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