#but today is going pretty darn well so here’s this!!

[rollingaroundin-bread]

Dwampyverse themed doodle dump :)

#yeah I missed posting yesterday I just wasn’t having a good day #but today is going pretty darn well so here’s this!! #drew the 1st one at lunch and the rest I’ve saved up :) #phineas and ferb #phineas flynn #ferb fletcher #this is one of my favorite drawings of Ferb I’m just really happy with how it came out :) #candace flynn #perry the platypus #isabella garcia shapiro #zack underwood #baljeet tjinder #milo murphy #amanda lopez #milanda #phinebella kinda sorta #my art stuff #acnh bulletin board

[darylas]

Chapter 1 - Blue Skies

John "Bucky" Egan x singer!fem!reader ♫ next ♫ ao3

When Bucky hears his favorite song begin to play, he does not expect to see a new Red Cross volunteer walk up to the microphone.

1.6k words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

A/N: This was my first time writing in several years! It's short and the pacing is interesting, but gosh darn it I had fun writing this. Special shoutout to @blurredcolour for inspiring me to pick up the pen. Go read their work, it's fantastic.

Bucky sat cross-legged in a chair next to Buck, not-so-slowly nursing his second whiskey. Men and women danced in the center of the officers club as the military band played an obviously well-rehearsed rendition of Glenn Miller’s A String of Pearls. Bucky tapped two fingers on his knee in time to the beat while he watched the dancers. He had already spent three songs dancing with three different women and was now taking a break to sit and enjoy his best friend’s company.

“That girl you were dancing with before, she was pretty,” said Buck before taking a sip of his coke. “She works in the Clubmobile, right?”

“Yeah, Helen. Good dancer, too.” Bucky spotted her on the other side of the room, chatting with Tatty Spaatz. 

Buck took another sip as he watched the band play. “Got a letter from Marge today.”

“She dump you yet?”

“Not if I read the letter right.” Buck smiled and looked down. After a moment, he looked back at Bucky. “She said Peggy was not too happy she hasn’t gotten a letter from you.”

Bucky responded with a puzzled look. “We went on one date. A double date. I swear I didn’t give her any ideas that she’d be expecting mail from me. Buck, I swear. I don’t play like that.” 

Buck gave a soft exhale through his nose. “I know you don’t. I was just passing along the message.” A String of Pearls began to come to a close. “Not sure why it’d be such a bad idea to write her, though.”

“Aww, c’mon, Buck, I’m trying to have a nice evening here.” Bucky’s eyes lit up as the band initiated the next song, loud trumpets and melodic saxophones blaring out the snappy intro to Blue Skies. He broke into a grin. “Now we’re talkin’.”

Buck and at least three other men couldn’t hold in their groans as they too heard the familiar notes. They knew exactly what this song did to Bucky, especially after a few drinks. 

Bucky leaned over to address one of the protestors, Major Jack Kidd. “It’s my song! It needs vocals! You can’t expect me to just sit here in silence.”

“I think you’re gonna have to, John,” said Buck. “Looks like your act’s been booted.” 

Bucky whipped his head around to look at the makeshift stage where the band was playing. He watched in disbelief as a woman wearing a Red Cross uniform strolled up to the microphone in front of the band and began to sing.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Several of the men whooped and whistled appreciatively, and Bucky saw you smile and wink at the crowd as you continued to sing. Every note was sung with confidence and precision, and you continued to smile brightly as you got to the chorus. Everyone in the room seemed to be under the spell of your voice and stage presence.

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you’re in love, my how they fly

Buck hadn’t realized how right he’d been. Bucky had gone completely silent.

He rubbed the lower half of his face to cover his growing smile. He hoped you’d glance his way but so far no luck. He found himself in a strange quandary as he was torn between closing his eyes to listen to your voice and keeping them open to stare at your face. He wasn't sure if it was the whisky, the humidity of the packed room, your performance, or a strange combination of all three, but he was beginning to feel dizzy.

Far too soon for his liking, the song ended, with you hitting the final high note right on the head. The crowd applauded as you stepped back and gestured to the band behind you in appreciation. You stepped back up to the microphone.

“Thank you very much. Let’s hear it one more time for our Air Force Band! Aren’t they wonderful?” The crowd cheered, Buck and Bucky clapping along with them. “While I’m up here, I just wanted to remind you all that this Saturday, the Red Cross will be hosting bingo night in the Aeroclub at 1900. I don’t want to spoil anything but I will tell you that we’ve got some pretty terrific prizes for the winners. Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen.” 

As you departed the stage, several men in the crowd let out cries of disappointment. The band director spoke into the microphone, “Don’t worry, ladies and gents, she’ll be back! Now if you feel so inclined, grab a partner and get back on the dance floor!” He signaled the band to start playing a new song with a count of "one, two, three, four.”

Bucky slapped both hands on his thighs and stood. He quickly downed the rest of his whisky, put down the glass, and straightened his tie. “I do believe I feel so inclined,” he said to Buck. 

“Yeah, I figured you might,” replied Buck with a smirk. 

As Bucky made his way toward where you were seated with another Red Cross Girl, he smirked as he noticed that other officers who had the same idea begrudgingly backed off. As Buck was known to say, rank had its privileges. When you looked up, Bucky greeted you with his most charming grin. “Quite the performance up there; you do autographs?”

You looked at his hands and quirked your brow. “I don’t see anything to sign.” 

Bucky looked down at his hands as well and flipped them over a couple of times. “Damn, you’re right.” He looked back at you. “How ‘bout a dance instead, then?” 

You smiled politely at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t dance.” You motioned to the girl sitting next to you. “Rachel here is a marvelous dancer, though.” 

“Oh, I know.” Bucky nodded at Rachel. “How ya doin’, Rach?” 

With a mischievous smile and her chin resting on her fist, the blonde replied, "I'm just swell, Bucky." 

He smiled back at her. “That’s great.” He looked back at you skeptically. “You sure? I promise to keep you on your feet, Miss…”

You gave him your name then said, “I’m sure. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Major, and don’t forget about bingo night on Saturday.”

Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips together, nodding. “Right, right. Bingo night. Alright then, I’ll see you around.” He began to walk away then turned back around. “I don’t know if the band said anything to you, but Blue Skies is sorta my signature song. S’okay, though. You did alright. Little different than my rendition, but you sounded great.” 

You gave him that same damn polite smile that he couldn’t decipher and said, “Glad you liked it.”

Bucky nodded once and headed back to his seat. He cleared his dry throat after sitting down next to Buck. After picking up his whisky glass, he frowned upon realizing that it was empty. Buck looked over at him. “What happened?”

“Turns out she’s more your type. Said she doesn’t dance.” 

“What’s ‘a matter, Bucky?” He turned to see Blakely and Douglass grinning at him. “The jazz cat have claws?” Both burst out laughing at the terrible joke. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and gave them an exasperated look.

Buck smiled good-naturedly and clapped him on the back. “Had to happen sometime, pal. Maybe getting shot down for once will help fix that king-size ego of yours,” he joked. 

“I didn’t get shot down, she said she didn’t dance.” Bucky pulled on one of his sleeves. “There’s a difference.” Once again, he began tapping two fingers against his knee to the music, trying his damndest not to look at you.

═════ ♫ ═════

Later in the evening, Bucky, Buck, and Curt Biddick were all standing at the bar. Curt and Bucky were animatedly discussing the Yankees for what had to be the hundredth time, leaving poor Buck to his coke and people-watching for a few minutes. 

Bucky saw his friend look quizzically at the dance floor then quickly avert his eyes and take a long sip. Bucky looked back in the same direction and immediately saw what Buck had been hoping he wouldn’t. At the far edge of the dance floor, you were dancing with Lt. “Bubbles” Payne, smiling and laughing. 

“I’m telling you, DiMaggio would never…what the hell are you looking at?” Curt, who was more than a little drunk, turned around and saw you and Bubbles. “That the girl who was singing earlier? The one that gave you the brush-off? I thought you said she didn’t dance. I guess she meant she doesn’t dance with-” He was cut off by Buck smacking him on the arm. “What?”

Bucky was still watching you with your arms around Bubbles, laughing at something else he said. Bubbles. He was a great guy, but what about him made you change your mind about dancing? Or was dancing not the problem at all?

Curt, unaware of Bucky’s worsening mood, casually slung his arm over his shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, don’t feel bad. I’ll dance with you, Bucky. C’mere, they’re playing our song.” 

Bucky shoved the drunk lieutenant off of him and smiled bitterly. “Yeah, cause spinning and shaking is exactly what your body needs right now, Curt.” 

He felt Buck nudge his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance, John. C’mon, I’m beat. Let’s head to the barracks.” 

As they began the walk back and the music behind them faded, Curt appeared deep in thought. Eventually, he said, very seriously, “Maybe she likes his mustache better than yours.” Buck coughed to cover a laugh. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. He didn’t care that you had rejected him. Not even a little.

He wouldn’t spare you a second thought. No sir.

And he absolutely did not hear you singing Blue Skies over and over in his head as he lay in bed that night.

—

♫ next ♫

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john bucky egan #mota #masters of the air #mota fic #callum turner #reader insert #fanfiction #Spotify

[tartppola]

Stranded in another world, with no hope of going back or any magic to defend themselves with, this is the anecdote of the Ramshackle Prefect Yuulis Crowley's first week in another world called Twisted Wonderland.

warning : mentions of blood & dissection, didn't beta this so :P a/n : happy april fools :D

It was a chilly morning on the Night Raven College campus, and Sam’s first day coming back to the mystery shop. Oh, how he missed the purple overlay of the wallpaper; the diamond skulls and taxonomy and other knick-knacks that seamlessly blend together to form something quite avant-garde. Speaking of knick-knacks, he remembered that his new stock of goods his ‘friends’ salvaged from who knows where should be arriving today, how exciting!

His feet skipped up and about, the keys he spun around his finger chiming as he hummed a happy tune from the Port of Jubilee. Sam wonders what kind of faces the new first years would make the first time they step into the shop, or when they meet his ‘friends’ for the first time. 

Just as he was about to make a turn from Main Street, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a pile of huge boxes at the doorstep, that must be his new goods, but there was something else, or rather, someone else. That someone–young enough to be a first year, but not wearing the school uniform–was waiting by the boxes. No student has ever been to the shop this early, and the school hasn’t allowed any of the local townsfolk to visit, so why?

“Excuse me!” Sam called out, making his way towards them, “I’m flattered that a line is already forming, but opening hours aren’t until lunch time!”

They stared blankly at him the moment he stood right in front of them. They held out a clipboard with a delivery receipt that listed the names of various magical supplies 

“I’m here to on behalf of the Headmaster,” Sam barely understood them through their thick accent, “Please double check the receipt and make sure to tell of any errors.”

Since when did the Headmaster hire any couriers.....and one so young at that. Oh well, as long as Crowley’s not breaking any child labor laws, it should be alright, shouldn’t it? The shopkeep noticed that his back grew colder and colder as he went through the new inventory. He stole a small glance at the youth, turning back immediately when he saw how intently their gaze bore through his soul.

“Phew! It’s getting pretty darn cold out here!” The hand that held his keys trembled a bit, “How about we go inside to warm ourselves up a bit?”

He took back his thoughts. This was far from alright.

“--and where do these charms go, Mr.Sam?” 

“By the aisle near the grimoires, next to the paper talismans,”

It’s been nearly half an hour of restocking, yet they haven’t left the store. Sam tried his best to breathe through the awkward atmosphere, but the tension was so thick he could harvest it, bottle it up and sell each for 500 madol. If only such a thing was possible, if only.

“Mr.Sam,” 

He felt his shadow jump to the ceiling at the sound of their voice. 

“What kind of store is this, exactly?” 

“Well, since you’ve seen my wares firsthand, should you be able to tell right away?” He put on an air of faux confidence, hoping they wouldn’t notice. 

“At first, I thought this was a magic supplies store, but none of them back at home sell dangerous herbs like oleander and wolf’s bane. How did you get a hold of this amount of them anyway?”

“Well, what can I say? There’s only so much exotic ingredients you can grow in the botanical gardens,” 

“But, there are also basic necessities like toothpaste and clothes,” They pondered, “Come to think of it, one of the new deliveries was a box of snacks, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what happens when you’re the only tuck shop in one of the most prestigious schools in the world!” He winked, “It wasn’t easy getting ahold of most of the inventory, but you gotta do what you gotta do, don’t you agree?”

A small chuckle escaped their lips, “That’s not a bad mindset for a businessman.”

In the end, no matter how eccentric they initially seemed, a child is still a child. He felt foolish for being so afraid, what could they do when he had his friends by his side?

“By the way,” it was hard to notice how much time passed by, “Shouldn’t you go back to your dorm and change into your uniform? It’s almost time for morning classes.”

“Ah, was Mr.Sam not present during the entrance ceremony? No wonder you didn’t recognize me,” 

There was some word on the street about a fiasco happening during this year’s entrance ceremony, something about the halls being lit on fire by a beast? He couldn’t believe it when  one of the friends that stayed to guard the shop told him about it.

“I was deemed unworthy to be sorted into a dorm, because I possess no magical capabilities whatsoever. It seems that there was an error during the student selection process,”

“Is that even possible?” his suave expression morphed into worry, “Then, why didn’t the Headmaster send you back home?”

“He tried, but the Mirror of Darkness said something along the lines of ‘The place from whence they came from can’t be found in this world’. 

“And so here I am, doing odd jobs and tasks on behalf of the Headmaster, the students and the staff of NRC,” Sam could hear a small sense of pride at their introduction, “I'm more capable than I look, please don’t hesitate to call upon me if you need any assistance.”

Of all the strange things to make their way into his shop, never in a million years would Sam expect an estranged secretary to be one of them, and one that possibly came from another world to boot. He had a feeling that this year was going to be much, much more eventful than any of the years to have come, and he couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, little demon,” The shopkeep tipped his hat in a fine, gentlemanly manner, “Make sure to drop by again, ‘till next time!”

The gap of knowledge between the first and second year was indeed a big leap to overcome, Crewel knew how unprepared his puppies were going to be.

But by the Great Seven, oh how much he overestimated them.

The likes of Riddle Rosehearts and Azul Ashengrotto couldn’t possibly make up for the utter incompetence these mutts have, even the students with subpar scores like Savanaclaw’s Ruggie Bucchi and Diasomnia’s Silver looked like geniuses. At best, there are students like Kalim al-Asim, who actually tries, yet their efforts seem to seep out through their ears the moment they leave class, then there’s the unpredictable ones like Floyd Leech.

He remembers how the eel turned in blank test papers, or how he mixes whatever ingredients he finds interesting together, bleeding the chemical supply. 2 days ago, he used up an entire month’s worth of imp spinal fluid during potions class. It’s not as if they were hard to get, but their effects are most potent when freshly harvested. The thought of harvesting it himself made him shudder; sure, he’s seen some grotesque imagery as an alchemy professor, but who knows how long it will take to restock if he made a report to Crowley?

Sigh. Looks like he’ll have to put practical sessions on hold for a while and haggle with Sam.

“Excuse me, is Professor Crewel here?” 

The door to the alchemy lab opened, bringing the professor back to reality. Someone he has never seen before let themself in, a plastic bag in hand. 

“Stay! I don’t recall allowing anyone without a lab coat to enter….!” Realization kicked in once he got a clearer look, “Huh--so it’s you, the magicless stray that caused a riot in the entrance ceremony.”

The sound of a whip resonated through the room, followed by faint chattering and murmurs from nearby students scrambling away from the alchemy lab. 

“Only authorized students and staff are allowed in the lab during school hours, didn’t the Headmaster tell you?” 

Most of his students would cower just by hearing his tone grow stern, yet they remained unfazed. Playing bold now are we? Looks like he’ll have to teach them a lesson. 

“The Headmaster,” they brought the plastic bag to his chest, “said that the lab’s storage room needed restocking.” 

Ah, was that it? Making a child do his job; how much of a slave driver was Crowley? Knowing Crowley’s tardiness, it was probably something he had already spent his paycheck on, although the bottom of the bag was unusually cold. 

Curiosity getting the better of the professor, he untied the knot and opened the bag. His face recoiled, from the shock of seeing the contents. Aurora moth’s scales--he had only requested these a few days ago! Not to mention all of that translucent mucus coating the scales, how long ago were these harvested?

“Is there something wrong, Professor?”

Crewel almost forgot about the intruder standing in front of him, “No, it’s just--this is the first time I've seen them so...fresh. The ones Crowley buys usually come preserved in bottles.”

“That may be because I just harvested them this afternoon,” they said nonchalantly.

“You--You what?!” the professor didn’t even try to mask his disgust, “You did this yourself?”

Their head tilted sideways, akin to a confused child.

“The Headmaster said that the locals needed help with pest control, so I’d thought I’d lend a hand, and they let me do whatever I wanted with the moths as payment, ” Despite having experience with that sort, Crewel’s stomach began to swirl, “The Headmaster gave me permission too,”

A scowl grew on his face. Typically a moth would've been killed humanely before their wings were plucked to relax their ligaments, but seeing the mess clinging to the wing's ends, it's clear that they didn't consider such option. He couldn't decide if they had a strong stomach to withstand seeing large bugs squirm underneath them, or an uneducated fool.

“Professor, are you alright? You look exhausted,” 

He snapped back to reality that instant, rubbing circles around his temple. Pull yourself together, Crewel, he edged himself, you’ve lost your composure twice already. Maybe he just needed a good serving of raisin butter with wine on the side, or a joyride on his prized car. He glanced back at the dismembered wings, at least he got what he wanted. Still, this has never happened before, perhaps if he could take advantage of this situation….

“Tell me, pup. Since you have...the appropriate experience to harvest wings, how good are you at dissecting imps?”

They pondered for a while. It’s the most animated he’s seen of them, “I suppose I do how to extract fluids, their lymph is a versatile ingredient in many types of salves after all. Although it has been a while since I’ve ever needed to.” 

Bingo

“Then, how about spinal fluid?”

It was their turn to be surprised, “I-I’ve never done that on an imp before. Just think of the amount of imps needed to fill a single bottle.”

“Tell you what, pup. Are you interested in a side-job?” 

Without giving them a chance to respond, Crewel tossed a few madol and a map of the campus in their direction, “There are some common imps causing trouble in the college lately coming from who knows where. If you can deal with them, I’ll give you the other half of the payment, and of course--.”

He shoved them a basket full of empty test tubes, slinging it over their shoulder, “Fill every single test tube here to the brim before tomorrow's Science Club activity, I won't take no for an answer.” 

And with that, they were pushed out of the alchemy lab. Spending their first sleepless night in another world catching imps wasn’t on their bucket list. Sighing heavily, they picked up their feet and staggered.

‘I wanted to creep him out a little,’ they thought, ‘but I ended up being the one getting creeped out.’

For such an important place, why did Crowley’s office have to be in a place so out of reach? For all his years in Night Raven College, Crewel always dreaded sending weekly reports to the Headmaster’s office, he could feel his leg muscles ache as he knocked against the two large gates. He peeked inside the office to look for the Headmaster. 

“There you are, professor! What took you so long?” 

There he was, sitting cross-legged on his desk as the portraits of the Great Seven floated up and about. Trein was there as well, as cold as usual and showing no sign of fatigue, peering at him as if he could see through everything. Maybe it was because he had a 20 year head start, either way, it was irritating how he was the only disheveled one.

“I don’t know, maybe it was the countless stairs I have to climb every week to submit a report when you can simply hire a secretary to fetch them for you?” 

The crow simply smiled, already figuring out a solution to Crewel’s ire, “How has the first week of teaching been for you, professors?”

“I don’t know which is greener, the topiary maze in the Heartslabyul dorm, or the new puppies I’m in charge of,” Crewel shook his head. 

“For once, I agree,” the history professor nodded indefinitely, Lucius yawning in his arms, “But that could be said for every first year in the history of NRC.” 

Dire nodded, “Seems like everything’s going smoothly then! I shall leave the future of our students in your capable hands!”

Both professors nodded in response, “As you wish, Headmaster.”

“Although, I’d like to inquire about something,” Crewel spoke up before raising his index finger to the large window. From above, the view of the setting sun looming over the campus could be seen, but his finger specifically pointed to Main Street, or rather;the magicless stray walking to the direction of the alchemy lab, with the basket in hand and the direbeast from before by their side.

“What are we going to do about that?”

Without needing to look, Trein simply closed his eyes, “If what the mirror spoke was true, then that child quite literally has no place to go back to. It comes to question how they even ended up here in the first place."

Crowley rubbed his chin. The ultimate decision lies with him, and honestly, there was nothing stopping him from just shirking them off his feathers and leaving them to fend for themselves, along with the cat-beast that terrorized the entrance ceremony.

"It would undoubtedly stain the reputation of our esteemed college if we just kicked them out," the Headmaster groaned, "Oh, why must I be plagued with such problems!"

"Best of luck to you then, Headmaster Crowley," The two professors turned their heels and left Crowley's office with not a care in the world, leaving him with his worries.

The Headmaster leaned against his chair and sighed against the beak of is mask. Dealing with the child was the last thing he wanted to do at this moment, with their odd mannerisms and such, however...

Being unable to return home wasn't an unfamiliar conundrum to the Headmaster.

Perhaps it's his boundless generosity speaking to him, but there was a pang of heavy emotion in his chest that told him he couldn't simply leave that child, Yuulis, alone. Was it guilt? or maybe atonement? Whatever it was, it overrode the rational side of his brain

Dire Crowley was the type of person to judge a book by it's cover, which is why he was surprised how his new errand runner, or rather, the new Ramshackle Prefect was able to hold up better than he expected. The reports he received from the staff members he had tasked them with helping have been amicable, and his workflow was much smoother now that he had divided the more menial tasks to someone else. He had thought he had envoked the wrath of the Great Seven with the mess that was thrown his way, but surely they were more pliant than they initially seemed, and now Crowley had a reliable aide at his beck and call.

That would've been the end of the story if Crowley's worries ended there.

Perhaps it's his intuition as a mage, one that's been sharpened by many years of experience, but there was something off about the Prefect. It was subtle enough for none of the other professors to pick up on it, perhaps not even the prefect the▅self were aware of it, but Crowley co▅ld fe▅▅ it.

The lingering mi▅▅ma ▅▅ p▅rmea▅▅ from ▅▅em, it ▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅ ▅▅▅ M▅▅▅l▅ ▅▅ ▅no▅▅ ▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ , ▅n▅▅d f▅rom the loo▅▅ ▅, if Crowley doesn't get it under control, it might spell disaster for the mages in his beloved college.

They'd succeeded his expectations as a prefect, so why not bestow upon them another act of kindness?

A knock resounded from the door to the Headmaster's office, before creaking open. Under the candles that lit the office dimly, the prefect looked like one of the many ghosts that toiled in the campus.

"Apologies for the delay," they nodded, curtly greeting the Headmaster, "It took a while to convince Professor Trein to let me into the library archives, but I got what you asked for."

"It can't be helped, I suppose. The lecture he gave me that time still rings in my ears," Crowley picked the bundle of files off of Yuulis' hands.

"Rightfully so," the monotone in their voice wavered, "With all due respect, I don't see why what you did was necessary, nor will it benefit you or your reputation, Headmaster."

His fingers intertwined and rested over his mouth, obscuring what's left of his face. A part of him thought that Yuulis wouldn't question his actions, but it seems they had not let their guard down completely. Not that he blamed them--in a world of villains, it's wiser to play your cards right.

"I've made it quite clear that it was a mutual agreement, yes?" he says, "One day, you'll understand, once you've proven that you're worthy of carrying my secrets."

He sauntered towards them, slow and heavy footsteps circling around the prefect, "Besides, don't you want my help? You won't have to isolate yourself anymore, drifting around from place to place, worrying about hurting other people. You'll be able to live a normal life. It'd be easier for me to help you with your more personal matters like this, wouldn't you agree, my dearest nephew?"

It was probably underhanded of him to take advantage of their ignorance, but it's too late for them. The pact has been made, Crowley isn't sure whether Yuulis could feel the invisible link that binds them together as well, but the matching blue vest he gave them, their new surname, was enough to send them the message.

"It's getting late, come now, I'll walk you back to that rickety old--err, Ramshackle dorm," says the headmaster, waiting for Yuulis to trail behind him, like they usually do.

With bated breath, they come to accept their new circumstances. They step closer to the Headmaster.

"As you wish, uncle,"

#happy april fools!!! #yeeeaaaaahhhhhhhhhh #i think i wrote this for twst's first anniversary...time rlly flies lmao #i also changed some stuff from the original.. mostly cus new game info.. & such. and getting a better grasp/having different views on-- #the characters #waaaaa #dont think too much on the writing pls...gdghghghg #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #disney twst #twst yuu #dire crowley #divus crewel #twst sam #mozus trein #yuulis crowley

[jhdyuiee]

Stars on my Scars

♢ pairing: Mark x Y/N ; forbidden love

♢ warnings/tags: smut!, angst, unprotected sex (pls pls pls stay protected), breakup sex (?!), kissing/making out, name calling (baby, good girl), oral (m & f receiving), cursing, multiple orgasams

♢ wc: 1.6k

♢ a.n: hello! happiest 127 day ya’ll!! it seems like mark became the popular choice so here it is yayie! i hope this ones a good one for u all && enjoy it as much as i did. its freaky-ness kekeke. good news though i currently have 4 drafts in my drafts (?) each of a different member, so pls look forward to those releases! school has been a pain in the ass lately so uploads may vary… anyways i hope u all have a lovely day! happy 127 my nctzen! i love u all, jiji out 🤍

The rain poured and poured; the rain fell and fell.

I looked up feeling as the droplets were falling onto me. The weather reflecting my life right now. I replayed the moments of a couple hours ago in my head.

-‘๑’-

“Hey mark?” I asked through the phone.

“Yeah, baby?” He replied.

“Can I go over to you? Or is it-“

“No, no yeah you can. Is something the matter?”

“Ah, well I just miss you,” I replied.

“I miss you too, baby. I’ll be waiting for you here then.”

I bid him goodbye and hung up the call. Today was the day. The day I’d leave him, at least try to. I love Mark with everything in me, but we can’t be together anymore. Our love is forbidden. It was never meant to last. Forever doesn’t exist for us.

I’d arrived in front of his door. I hesitated knocking, this would be the last time I’d come here. I knocked and heard a clicking sound, he’d unlocked the door.

“Hey baby don’t just stand there, come in,” he said, softly.

I walked into his apartment, soaking in everything one last time. The picture frames, art pieces, messy sofa, even the spiderman figure on his coffee table. I walked into his living room, Mark following right behind me.

I turned around facing him. He was a couple inches away from me, so I walked closer to him, centimeters away. I placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it. I wanted to cry, I could feel the tears threatening to spill down.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” he said in a concerned tone.

“I love you,” I said in a whisper. “I love you so much Mark, more than words can ever describe.”

He took both his hands, cupping my face gently. “I love you too baby, a lot more than you think I do.”

His words radiated such warmth, I didn’t wanna end this. Our story though was not a fairy tale.

I leaned in, my lips on his. Our kiss started off as something gentle filled with love, pure love. But then it deepened, filled with desire, desperation, lust.

We continued kissing until there was no oxygen for either of us. “You’re so beautiful Y/N,” Mark said, pecking my jaw. His kisses continued along my neck, jaw, and collarbones. In the meantime his hands worked on my shirt, trying to get that thing off of me. He pulled it over my head, his kisses continuing along the valley of my breast. “Jump,” he said, wrapping my legs around his waist. I could feel his erection against my clothed core.

He guided me to his bedroom, placing me on his bed gently. His hands working on my jeans. I was left in nothing but my underwear. “Take your clothes off too Mark.” He listened, his clothes slowly joining mine.

He came back to me with a kiss. It was filled with desire, I pretty darn sure my wetness was leaking through my underwear. His hands palmed my core causing me to moan into the kiss. His lips dragged along me going down and down.

“Already so wet from kissing?” he said, the nightlight illuminating the small smirk plastered across his face.

“Get up for me baby,” he said. I got up and waited for him to say more. “Take your bra off.” I obliged, tossing it somewhere in the room. His hands groped my breasts, the sensation sending electric shocks through me. I straddled his lap and his head came down to my breasts.

He stuck his tongue out, lapping it around my nipple. It felt so good as he flicked his tongue. My other breast was being pinched by his fingers until his mouth met that one as well. I moaned his name out over and over, “Mark, fuck.”

I felt as he bit my nipple, causing me to wince. I was practically riding him feeling his hard erection against my hot core. I was sure if I got up my wetness would be seen on his boxers.

“So needy baby,” said Mark against my breast. “Turn the other way for me.”

I did just as he said to, my back facing him. “Open your legs,” he whispered in my ear. I opened them a little wider, as his hand made it’s way towards my core, putting my underwear to the side.

“Fuck you’re soaking.”

He slid a finger into me, my back arching at the sensation. It was just one finger but oh god- another finger went in. He pumped his fingers in and out, “look at me baby.” I turned my head, his lips crashing to mine. “Got to get you nicely prepared to take my cock pretty girl,” he said, kissing my cheek and jaw.

“Ah- M-Mark I’m clo-close.”

“It’s okay baby, just let it out,” he said, bringing his thumb to my clit.

“Oh yes- fuck just like that Ma-Mark.”

He chuckled, “Go on cum.” Oh and I did, I came. My legs trembling, my chest heaving. “You did so well baby,” he said, pecking my temple.

I got up from his lap and kneeled down. I wanted him and I wanted him now. “Impatient baby?”

“Mm, I want you Mark. Please let me have you,” I said as I looked up at him.

He let out a curse before pulling his boxers down. His cock sprung out, angry and full of precum. “You look so pretty begging to have me, so here have it.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I wrapped my hand around his cock, licking his precum. I licked up his cock, wanting to tease him for a bit; wanting to savor this moment a while longer.

“Come on baby, stop the teasing,” he said deeply. He was growing impatient, I could hear it in his voice. In fact I was too, I wanted him in my mouth, so I took him in. Slowly, but then his hands gripped my hair. “You got this baby, just a little more deeper.”

Fuck. Mark was big and thick, my eyes were tearing up already. He pushed my head further down, groans leaving his throat. “You’re taking it so well like the good girl you are.”

Mark was always good at saying things whenever we got intimate. It turned me on even more. Once his cock was fully in, I started moving. Bobbing my head, moans coming out of both of us. “Eyes up baby.” I fluttered my eyes to him, his expressed; fucked out. He was enjoying this too.

He looked at me, “Don’t stop Y/N, it feels so good.” I kept going, his tip hitting the back of my throat. “Shit, just like that baby.” He was now controlling my movements, going faster. The tears streaming down my face. He wouldn’t stop groaning, I saw as he bit his bottom lip; he was close.

With a string of curses he finally came, I made sure to take all of his cum, not missing a single drop. “You did so good, baby,” he said, patting my head. I got up and smashed my lips against his, I was sure he could take his cum from my mouth.

“Put it in pretty girl,” he said, grabbing my hips.

I sunk down, feeling my pussy stretch. “Ah, Ma-Mark fuck…” I felt intoxicated, my head somewhere else.

“You’re still so tight huh,” he said, smacking my ass cheek.

I widened my eyes at his sudden action. “Yo-You’re just so bi-“ before I could finish my sentence he pushed me down, finally getting it all in.

His hands went back to my hips and his lips to my breast. “Come on, start moving baby.” Oh and I did, I felt so full. So euphoric. Oh how I love Mark. My trance was knocked out when he bit the side of my throat.

“What are you thinking about? You got right here baby,” he said, his voice deep.

“So-Sorry.”

He smirked, thrusting even more harshly. He was going faster and faster, no mercy.

“Slow down, please Mark! I’ll cum.”

“So cum baby, we got all night.” He slipped his thumb to my clit, abusing it. “Come on now, finish for me,” he whispered in my ear.

With a few more harsh thrusts I finally came. My second orgasm of the night. My back arching and mouth open. “So good,” I mumbled, earning a slight chuckle from Mark who was also close. His thrusts were getting sloppy.

“You gonna let me come inside?”

I nodded furiously, I was on the pill either way. If this truly was the last time I’d get to take his cum then so be it.

With that he came inside me, painting my walls white. Feeling even more full than before. We collapsed on the bed, trying to catch our breaths. His arms wrapped around mine, it felt so warm, I wished time would stop here.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

He took me in his arms, going to the bathroom. By the time we left the bathroom, I had one or two more orgasms; still unable to keep our hands off each other. I fell asleep while in the bath tub, next thing I knew I woke up—it was 4am—his arms around me. Mark slept so peacefully, he was a beauty.

‘I have to leave, I have to leave now,’ I thought. So I carefully snuck out of his warm embrace and slipped my clothes back on. I walked to the bedroom door, stealing my final glance at the sleeping Mark. One tear, then two left my eyes.

“Goodbye Mark.”

-‘๑’-

That was hours ago, now the rain poured on me endlessly. Cars passed by and people with umbrellas. The world continued, but mine had stopped.

The stars on my scars have disappeared now and now those scars have become visible again.

Mark and I was a story with no beginning. Mark and I was a love story that was forbidden.

“You were never going to be mine.”

© jhdyuiee

2024.01.27

final a.n: I was scared to write for someone other than jaehyun tbh but I think it ended well! I hope u enjoy my first Mark fanfic && ill be back in the future with more!! as i previously said i have 4 works currently in my drafts so look forward to them! happiest 127 day nctzen’s ! i love u all && pls enjoy this fic - jiji 🤍

p.s- u guys know where i got my title idea from 🫢 ?!

#lee mark #mark lee #mark #mark nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct angst #mark smut #mark angst #nct #kpop fanfic #kpop #nctzen #mark x reader #mark x you #nct x y/n #nct x you

[tblsomedoodles]

Donny's info from my 03 separated au (which i think i'm just calling the Ninja Club au for now. b/c it's stupid and gives me high school vibes.)

But yeah! I wanted to post Mikey here as well, but he's not done yet. (my cringe son will have to get his own post. Darn lol.)

ANYWAYS! Details!

Donny, of course, was raised by the Jones family after they all got separated during a sewer collapse (or something. I may rework the that later) when they're about 2-3 yo. Donny gets found and brought home by a 9 yo Casey.

Splinter finds him when he's eight and spoke with him briefly. But Splinter was in disguise so Donny didn't recognize him past a vague feeling of safe (which he fought against b/c this is Donny.) After realizing that Donny is safe and well taken care of, Splinter leaves him be. (the best splinter could offer was a place in the sewers and if Donny was able to not live in the sewers, Splinter was not going to take that away from him.)

They gets reunited with most of his mutant family (Raph's still missing) when their fifteen. And that's only b/c Mikey refused to wait anymore and surprised him late at work before Splinter could tell him not to.

He's pretty confused about it all, at first, but he eventually happy to have contact with his siblings. (tho he's less stoked about the adventures he keeps getting dragged out on during school nights.)

for the first few months, he's very against learning to fight. He's a high schooler. Sure Mikey and Leo can fight, but that doesn't mean he has to learn.

But then there's an incident involving Shredder, Leo, and a very breakable window, and he realizes he needs to learn so he's not the weak link and so he can protect himself and his brothers. (it also helps that they found out the Shredder had been targeting Donny for said treatment first due to his lack of training and how easy it would be to grab him from school. But Donny hadn't went to school during those days so they went after Leo instead.)

I have so many stupid ideas for this, you have no idea. anyways, that's all for now. Mikey's might be up later today, but i have work to get to rn.

edit: Links for Mikey, Raphael, and Leo's info dumps

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #ninja club au #i guess #03 donny #my doodles #i love them #i hadn't intended to mess with pronouns for this au #but Donny just had the vibe when i drew them #and now #the only turtle with straight He/Him pronouns is Leo #(Donny and Raph may also be biologically female but i haven't quite decided yet) #(like in the 'assumed male until puberty' way) #(its a thought i had yesterday i'm still processing) #i came up with the au title at like 3am last night #it made me laugh

[flowersbane]

a scenario with a baker!reader gifting Joshua a little cake… which he happily eats (it’s carrot cake and he has no clue lol)

Idk but I wanted to share my silly little thought because I enjoyed your writing :’3

pls, this idea is so freaking cute!!! i'm so glad i finally got to write it, thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope you enjoy

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

The Trojan Cake

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

I might write another, shorter version of this where the reader bakes him a carrot cake without knowing about his carrot aversion, but, idk, let me know if anyone wants to see that. It would have to be a bit further in the future because I have some other things I'm working on that you can learn about here.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Lots Of Appearances From Other Characters, Fun, Cutesy, Joshua Is Just A Big Golden Retriever

A new shipment of baking supplies was due to arrive today. You sway on your feet as you wait. Water laps at the wood beneath you, but you pay it no mind. Cursebreakers and laborers work on moving boxes off the ship and onto the Hideaway’s Pier.

“Carrots? Again?” Gav’s voice sounds from nearby. “And what are we supposed to do with all of these? We still haven’t gotten through the last shipment of them. There’s only so much carrot bisque a man can stomach. Soon enough, half the Hideaway’ll have orange hair and orange skin.”

Otto sighs. “Food’s food, Gav. We’ll find some use for them.”

Gav’s disgruntled expression doesn’t fade. “Unbelievable.”

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name. Mid waves you over from the ship’s deck. “You’ve got to come and see this! You’ll be grinning from ear to ear when you see how much stuff they’ve sent for you!”

You’re already grinning from ear to ear by the time you reach her side. Crates of flour, sugar, and yeast are tied down to the deck with sturdy rope. “And this is all for me?” you ask.

“You’re the one best suited for it,” Mid points out. “Now, I don’t mean to rush you but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Hideaway can already smell all the fresh baked sweets!”

“Oh, certainly,” Cole agrees as he and a handful of other Cursebreakers approach. “We’ll get these supplies to the Ale Hall,” he assures you.

“What are you going to make?” asks Mid.

You miss a beat before answering, “it’s a surprise.” In truth, you have no idea. You know the people of the Hideaway would be happy with anything you baked, but you didn’t want to fall into a boring routine. You wanted to try something new, even if you didn’t need to.

Mid only makes an excited sound from behind sealed lips. “The suspense is killing me!”

You laugh, but you know how she feels. The frustration of not knowing what you’ll bake weighs on you as well. “Well, best get to it.”

You descend from the boat and make your way back up to the main floor of the Hideaway. There are plenty of boxes that still need to be moved, so the lift is somewhat crowded. You wait for a path to be cleared before darting out.

“Have you tried chopping them up and hiding them in a stew?” Tarja’s voice catches your ear. She and Jote are crossing the Boarding Deck, clearly on their way to the Infirmary.

“If he sees them, he’ll claim he’s not hungry and refuse to eat,” Jote replies. “Not to mention, I can’t say I feel very comfortable trying to deceive His Grace.”

“They’re just carrots, Jote. I’m sure your decree says nothing against ensuring the Phoenix eats well.”

“If it were up to His Grace, I’m sure there would be.”

You continue your way into the main hall. It’s not uncommon to hear Tarja complaining about Joshua’s bad habits. You suppose this time it’s his aversion to vegetables. Especially carrots. Unfortunate, given that seems to be what the Hideaway has most of these days.

You’re halfway across the Main Deck when someone else calls your name, their voice sounding from your left. Speak of the devil. Joshua approaches with an easy skip to his step. The smile on his face tells you that he’s heard about your new arrival of supplies, but not that of the carrots’ reinforcements. Well, he might’ve and is simply choosing to ignore it. In fact, that is more likely to be the reality of things.

“I heard about the shipment of goods. Will you get to baking soon?”

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging uncontrollably despite his cool disposition. You nod, your own smile creeping onto your face as an idea begins to form. “And you’ll be the first to get a taste.”

“Really? I will?”

You nod again. He’s always terribly eager to sample your new recipes.

He’ll have no idea. “Ah, my love, you’re brilliant.” He places a hand on either side of your head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“You should.” You certainly are.

As he disappears on to the Boarding Deck, you dart over to the bar. 

“Psst. Cole.” You wave the cursebreaker over.

“What is it?”

“Could you acquire me a crate of those carrots that just arrived? I have plans for them. Oh, but don’t let Joshua know. Keep this between us.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you ask without question. You ask another of the cursebreakers to keep Joshua distracted for the time being. Your plans would be ruined if he were to walk in midway through.

“What, exactly, are you planning?” someone asks from behind you.

Jill runs her finger over the wooden boxes on the counter. You can’t help the little, proud gleam in your eye. “I’m going to get Joshua to eat carrots and like them,” you declare.

“Oh?”

“A carrot cake! He won’t even know they’re there.”

“I’m not sure if eating carrots in a cake counts as Joshua getting a proper intake of vegetables,” she points out.

You shrug. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Lots.” 

You, Jill, and a handful of other helpers get to work immediately. With no time to waste, the work is made lighter with more hands to share in its labor. The only thing you can’t speed up is the time of actual baking.

“Do you truly believe this will work?” Jill asks.

“I do. Although, it would be a little funny if he could tell anyway. Like some sort of carrot-sniffing bloodhound. A carrot-hound.”

“Who’s a carrot-hound?” Clive stops at Jill’s side.

“Depending on the results of this experiment, Joshua.”

Clive gives you an almost pained look. “Please do not tell me you’re planning on experimenting on my brother.”

“I promise it won’t become a regular occurrence. Probably. Most likely.”

Clive only sighs and shakes his head.

The cakes finish baking and the air is filled with the scent of freshly baked sweets. You and your assistants–now including Clive–are just finishing spreading the frosting when Joshua arrives, eyes alight with excitement. He says your name with a boyish eagerness that makes your heart squeeze. He truly has no idea. “I hope no one has prevented you from keeping your promise to me.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes. He can still be so childish at times, despite himself. “No, of course not. In fact, you’re just on time. I was about to cut the first slice.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

He doesn’t even seem to notice how everyone pauses to watch as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes to savor it. You press your lips together to keep your mischief from showing. “This is delicious, my love, as always.” Your heart soars. You’ve done it. And he’s none the wiser.

You exchange a knowing glance with Jill and Clive. Jill looks mildly impressed while Clive simply seems to be marveling at his brother’s obliviousness. “Alright, everyone,” you announce, “you’re all free to dig in!”

- 

Gav arrives about a half an hour after everyone has already begun eating. He and Otto approach, standing on the other side of Clive, who has taken a seat at the bar beside Joshua.

Gav takes note of the remaining cakes. “Ooo, carrot cake, one of Otto’s favorites.”

You, Clive, and Jill freeze, eyes darting to Joshua. You practically see the life drain from his face. He turns a betrayed expression on you, like a pup who’s found his medicine at the center of his treat. By now, he’s already finished two large slices and is halfway through his third. You can’t help, you begin your apologies but the laughter in your voice steals any sincerity from them.

He practically whines your name, saying, “how could you?”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Before you knew what it was?”

You can practically see his invisible tail and ears drooping. You’ve never seen him look so unlike the Phoenix before. It only makes you giggle more.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”

“Alright, my love, no need to be so overdramatic.”

He pouts. He actually pouts. “You’ll have to find a way to make this up to me.”

“Up to you? I did all of this for you.”

“You did all of this for yourself. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

You lean over the counter, smug as one could be. “Oh, I have.”

“Mhm.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can still taste the frosting. “You better have. Otherwise, I will have eaten this for nothing.”

“You would have, at the very least, learned that you can stomach carrots. Isn’t that something?”

He laughs. “No, absolutely not. Just promise you won’t do something like this again.”

“I promise,” you draw out the word, “that it won’t become a regular occurrence.”

He rolls his eyes, but a smile toys at the corners of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Something really good, I imagine.”

His smile grows. “Must have been.”

#ff16 #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy 16 spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #joshua rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield #ff16 spoilers #fanfic

[thetomorrowshow]

“Griiaaaan! It’s cold.”

“It’s not cold. Be quiet.”

And the stupid thing is, it is cold. Grian’s never lived in a desert before, but he’d expected it to be hot all the time, not just during the day. It’s the desert, after all—the only things that grow here are spindly leafless bushes, and all the animals that he’s spotted spend most of their time in the shade of sand mounds and rocks.

Most of the nights have still been a bit warm for what Grian’s used to, but apparently the winter’s coming on fast, and it surely has nothing to do with a certain Red King. An execution had occurred just this morning, and now Ren is Red, and apparently the rest of the world has been suffering from it.

“Yes it is,” grumbles the pile of blankets beside him, and Grian sighs.

He’s supposed to be on watch alone, for half the night, then wake up Scar to watch the other half. Scar, however, thinks that keeping watch is stupid, even when Grian has repeatedly stressed that he is no longer the only Red on the server, and one of the others is a very dangerous enemy to them.

“If you’re cold, get in bed,” Grian tells him, and Scar shifts and bit before speaking, teeth clacking together exaggeratedly.

“It’s c-cold there too!”

Grian rolls his eyes, wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. His sweater’s getting pretty scraggly these days. He just had to darn the elbow last week, but that’s about the extent of his knitting skills. If it falls apart completely, he’ll be stuck in just his undershirt, nothing to keep him warm in the approaching winter.

“You know, there’s a way to make us both warm,” Scar teases, his head emerging from the blankets to wink at Grian. Grian shoves him.

“Scar! Stop it and go to bed!”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean anything!” Scar says innocently. “I just meant if we were both in bed right now, we could be sharing body heat! I don’t know what you thought I meant. You have a dirty mind, Grian.”

Grian buries his face in his hands. He never should have signed up for this. Out of the ten-some other players in the immediate vicinity, why couldn’t he have blown up anyone else? Why couldn’t he end up with loyalty pledged to Tango, or Etho, or literally any other player on the server?

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar wheedles. “Nobody’s gonna attack! We have the cactus walls, and the lava moat, and the alarm system you rigged today! Even if someone did try to take some sand, we’d know.”

“Right. The alarm system that consists of a bunch of bells and string, which goes off at the slightest breeze. I have so much faith in it.”

“Great, we’re on the same page! So it’ll be totally safe for us to sleep together.” “Scar! I will push you off my mountain!”

“Hey! I resent that—it’s as much my mountain as it is yours.”

Grian lifts his head. Enough of Scar is visible that he can see the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

And somehow, he’s half tempted to agree with Scar just to get him to go to bed.

It is pretty chilly out, after all. And he’s very tired. He’d only volunteered to take first watch because he really didn’t want to be woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle. First watch just means staying up a couple of extra hours and then sleeping soundly.

He glances at Scar again, who—oh, he’s making the puppy-dog eyes—

“Fine,” Grian grumbles, hauling himself to his feet. Scar scrambles up as well and runs for the house, sand flying behind him.

“At least shake the blankets out!” calls Grian. Scar ignores him.

Does he really want to get into bed with a madman? All it takes is the Red haze getting to Scar, and he’s dead in an instant. No armor, no weapon, nothing to protect him from being stabbed in the gut by his supposed ally.

Then a bitingly cold gust of wind blows sand in his nostrils, and Grian decides he’s rather fed up with all this desert stuff and would much rather be asleep, Scar or no. They should be safe to not worry about watches until tomorrow—after all, Scar’s done nothing to torment anyone (other than Grian) this week! Never mind that it’s Monday night. 

He heads inside, shucking off his sweater right outside the door to shake it off. His bedroom is the first one on the left, putting Scar deeper in the house and therefore safer, so he turns to go in there—

Of course. Scar’s in his bed.

He’d held onto some strand of hope that maybe Scar had been joking about sleeping together, maybe he’d just been trying to get Grian to go to sleep so he could set out on some dastardly scheme without anyone to hold him back. But Scar’s there, blanket pulled up to his chin, a nightcap (where did he get that?) on his head.

“Why, hello there, Grian!” Scar grins at him. “Ready for some sleepy-times-with-Scar? I’ve been warming the bed up for you.”

Grian almost walks right back out the door. Suddenly, being on watch doesn’t sound that bad.

This might be the last full night of sleep he gets for a while.

“All right. Ground rules,” Grian says, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Scar cheers, arms up in the air, the blanket falling off to reveal a grey six-pack and copious amounts of sand.

“Scar! Put a shirt on! That’s the first rule, wear clothes!”

“But-but-but skin contact, Grian!”

“I am putting my foot down! Clothes on in bed!”

Muttering darkly to himself, Scar rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but his nightcap and a pair of shorts. Grian takes the opportunity to tear the sheets and covers off the bed, shaking them out before stretching them back over the thin mattress. He really ought to change the sheets, but he doesn’t have the wool nor the time to make an extra set. They’ll have to make do with this for now, and maybe he can take a moment tomorrow to wash them.

Scar’s put on a t-shirt, which Grian supposes is the best he’s going to get. He kicks off his shoes and socks, strips out of his jeans and dusts his legs off. There’s enough sand clinging to his leg hair that his skin has practically changed color, a clear line separating the brown and starkly pale from where his socks had been. That’s just awful. Of all places, why on earth did Scar have to pick the worst one?

He can dip into the river to bathe tomorrow, and maybe he can convince Scar to wash off as well (not likely, seeing as Scar has as much aversion to a bath as a feral cat, but it’s worth a try).

He’s washing the sheets anyway. It won’t be a problem to get them this little bit dirtier.

Grian climbs into bed, and Scar hops in next to him immediately. “Second ground rule—” Grian starts, but before he can finish, Scar has almost entirely enveloped him in a burning hot hug.

He can feel the tension just ooze out of Scar’s body as they lie there, Scar’s body burning his at every place they touch. The man sighs, burying his nose in Grian’s hair.

And Grian. . . .

Grian relaxes too.

Just a bit! And it’s just—it’s really just because he’s lying down, and he’s been so terribly tired. No other reason.

Still. He’s hesitant to push Scar away. He does, of course, sitting up to pull up the covers and thereby disrupting Scar’s hold.

“Second rule,” he repeats. “No touching. No cuddling, hugging, or anything of the sort.”

“That’s a bad rule.”

Grian sighs. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Scar gestures wildly, almost knocking the candle off the bedside table. Grian leans over him and grabs it just in time, blows out the flame. “Well—well, the whole reason we’re sleeping together is for shared body warmth! No touching totally ruins that!”

Grian shouldn’t give in easily. He really shouldn’t. But now bereft of Scar’s touch, he feels even colder than before. All the burning points of contact are just numb, now. And Grian really wants to be warm.

“All right, fine.”

Scar tackles him before he can even lie all the way down. Grian decides to just accept it, honestly. What else can he do?

“Third rule: no talking. We are here to sleep.”

Scar nods, releasing Grian for a moment to mime zipping up his lips.

Good. Grian lays back against his pillow, pulling the blanket up to his collarbone, and sighs. It’s not too bad, really. At least this way, if someone comes to kill them in their sleep, they’ll go out together.

That’s . . . a weird thought to have. Grian’s in the middle of decidedly not analyzing it when something ice cold presses against his legs.

He definitely does not screech as he kicks against it. “Scar! Get your cold feet away from me!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that I’ve been so cold ever since I died, and you’re like a mini space heater over here!”

Grian groans, trying to maneuver his legs in such a way that as much of the covers as possible are between his legs and Scar’s. “I’m about to bring back rule number two, so behave.”

Scar falls silent again, and Grian tries to relax (in his arms). It’s not difficult to feel the pull of sleep. It’s not difficult to let sleep claim him, his limbs heavy and brain slowing to a soupy mush. It feels so nice to not be poised for battle, not be planning their next move. He hasn’t felt this peaceful in weeks.

“Grian?” comes a whisper from beside him.

He’s suddenly aware that he’s been drifting. He's not sure how long it’s been. Hours? Minutes?

“Rule number three,” he grouses.

A shifting of the covers, pulling them taut. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it!”

Reluctantly, Grian drags his eyes open. The world is still dark, the air as still as before. Scar had started to ask a question, and curse him for it because he knows that Grian’s too curious to let it go now. He has to know what Scar wanted. “No. Wha’ is it?”

“What do you miss most about Hermitcraft?”

Hermitcraft. He hasn’t properly thought about it in a while. It’s not that he’d forgotten it, but the longer they spend in 3rd Life, the farther away it is in his mind. This is—what, the sixth week?

Six weeks since he last did anything with his mansion. Six weeks since he restocked the Barge.

“My diamonds,” he says after a moment. “I was so rich, Scar. I had stacks of diamond blocks. Not that I don’t miss other things,” he adds. “Good community, and my mansion, and all that. I just miss the security of so much money.”

Scar hums into his hair, a shiver running down Grian’s back at the tingly feeling. A minute passes, and while Grian’s still barely keeping his eyes open he’s also still curious.

“What about you? What do you miss?”

“Jellie,” Scar says instantly, some sort of wistful longing in his voice that Grian hasn’t ever heard from him.

It’s understandable, of course. It’s his cat. It’s just that the entire time they’ve been playing this death game, Scar has never wanted something as badly as he wants Jellie right now. It’s touching, in a way—the idea that his love for that cat is so strong that even his Red name can’t make it waver.

And in another way, it’s annoying. Because somehow, Scar has retained the capacity to love and want and he’s only felt that way about a cat.

And Grian is definitely not jealous of a cat, of all things. That would be—that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

If he were fully awake right now, he’d probably stomp off to his creeper farm or go dig sand for a couple of hours until he's completely forgotten about these gnawing feelings and can focus.

But sleepy Grian acknowledges them, holds them close to his chest, and lets himself feel how desperately he wants to be wanted.

Right now, he’s as close to Scar as he can get, head pressed against his chest and strong arms around him. If anyone happened upon them right now, they would instantly assume the obvious.

Yet Grian’s never felt more alone.

“Scar,” he whispers before he can stop himself. “If I wasn’t here, would you miss me?”

Scar's been shuffling around every couple of seconds, so it’s apparent when he goes utterly still.

“Um. You’ve taken me a bit by surprise here, G,” Scar laughs nervously. Sleepy Grian takes that exact moment as a chance to listen to the rational side of Grian’s brain, which is screaming for him to shut up, run away, hide.

“Sorry,” Grian immediately says, face burning. “I—forget I said anything—”

Then Scar presses a kiss into his dirty hair, and Grian’s brain short-circuits.

“Of course I would miss you,” Scar murmurs. “I mean, we all would, but I would miss you the most. I didn’t put you on a llama and carry you away to the desert for nothing.”

Scar’s voice sounds so very fond that Grian can’t help it when his stomach flips a little. He pushes his head up against Scar’s chin, curls a little closer into his body. Scar really is as cold as he’d said. Grian finds himself wondering if he runs warmer normally, which of course makes his brain send him all sorts of ways he can find out when they get back to Hermitcraft.

Not that that will ever happen. This is—this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two bros, cuddling and falling asleep together. Hermitcraft—and even just tomorrow—will be back to normal.

And perhaps most importantly, Grian cannot allow Scar to become a weakness. He cannot let their enemies see him like this, exhausted and yearning and lonely. He has to be strong to keep the both of them safe.

For now, though, he can just pretend like the game doesn’t exist. He can press closer to Scar, his skin burning in such a good way, and live in Scar’s arms.

In the morning, things will go back to normal.

And when Scar whispers, rasping words loud in the silence of the room, “Grian, I really really like you, I think,” Grian pretends to be asleep.

#3rd life smp #trafficblr #scarian #desert duo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #mas writes #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. #sometimes you just gotta rewatch 3rd life and spiral #this will be uploaded on ao3 under the title 'so taut it taunts the song' #fair warning this is a bit sad

[periwinkla]

Character Parallels

I've been replaying the trilogy recently, and it made me think... there are so many parallels? Some may be unintentional perhaps, but still. But what fascinates me the most is that all the paralells have pretty blatant contrasts by the end - somehow emphasized by the 'ending' of it all. Gregory - Phoenix Both become parents at 26, but Gregory loses Miles when he's 9 and Phoenix gets Trucy when she's 8 - so the difference is that basically Phoenix resumes where Gregory left off. Trucy - Miles Both adopted by lawyers at around the same age - both lose their parents in a courthouse - both precocious children who excel in their chosen path at an extremely young age - both somewhat extravagant, Trucy with her magician getup and Miles with his formal way of dressing and fancy talk. The difference between them is obviously that Trucy was lucky enough to have a decent, loving parent while Miles was not. * the above stuff is also why I really want Miles to co-parent because it would just come full-circle and would be fodder for great character development for both him and Trucy but I digress Phoenix - Miles The contrasts between them are mostly about their attitude towards things and nothing too specific, so I'll focus on the similarities here. They're both manipulated by someone they trusted, both accused of murder because of that person's plot - both kinda try to rush to their deaths because of it (Phoenix eats a necklace(d) with poison, Miles confesses to a crime that would lead to a death penalty). The difference here is basically that Phoenix tends to prefer taking care of things himself - he likes to help, but hates to be helped. Probably didn't even let Miles be in the country during the whole thing, he probably only him help with the implementation of the jurist system from afar. Both try to hide their emotions and are secretive (but Phoenix is more successful, while Miles kinda sucks at it) - both accused of forging evidence (although Miles doesn't get disbarred because of it). Both try their darn hardest at helping people because they've helped each other and were inspired by the other's words and actions in the past and become the person they are today because of it. They're mentors, but they also learn from their mentees, and each other - okay this is turning into narumitsu real fast I'll stop Kristoph - Manfred Both manipulative, egotistical and prideful to the point where a minor blow to their ego makes them go murderous and vindicative - both dedicate their life to ruin the one that offended them. In Kristoph's case, it's both towards Phoenix and Zak, actually - Kristoph also murders a father (well, actually, he murders two fathers), like Manfred killed Gregory. Both also have a relative that needs to cope with what they did (Franziska and Klavier). The contrast here is mainly that while Manfred ultimatelly confesses fully, we never discover what Kristoph's black locks were truly about. Franziska - Manfred Both shot, but in different circumstances - Manfred takes a vacation in order to recover and make sure absolutely no one knows anything, but Franziska tries to go straight to court and wears her injury with something akin to pride (a bulletshot won't stop her, neither will what people think of her) Dahlia - Kristoph They both manipulate their sibling to do their bidding (although Klavier was unaware, unlike Iris) - both fans of poison - both destroyed by the person they despised the most - the difference here is that Kristoph did everything by himself (he manipulated Klavier, but he wasn't aware), while Dahlia conspirated with multiple people (Iris, Morgan, Valerie) There are probably others, but these are the ones that stuck out to me the most. Gosh I love Ace Attorney's writing.

#ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #musings #aa musings

[buffyromanoff]

Little By Little

Summary: Your girlfriend is dealing with ptsd after a difficult secret mission and its your duty to let her know she doesn't have to hide her pain from you. This is a sequel to ''Let it out'' but also works as a oneshot so don't worry if you havent read it ;)

Warnings: Ptsd related panic attack.

Genre: Slight angst, fluffy comfort

Word count: 1114

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

The small but heavy paws of Liho walking all over your body woke you up. "Mghrr," you mumbled sleepily. "Morning, sweetheart," Nat said as she gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. Last night, she had fallen asleep in your arms, but now you were the one being held by her strong embrace.

"Your cat hates me," your groggy voice said, making her laugh.

"Well, technically it's our cat now."

Liho curled up next to her, purring.

"Are you feeling better today, Natty?"

She smiled. "You're pretty darn cute when you wake up, malyshka." Of course, she ignored the question. "Also, when you call me Natty, it makes me feel young again… It's weird how the smallest gestures can make such a big difference, isn't it?"

You yawned before sitting up and kissing your girlfriend on her plump lips. "Oh, okay grandma," you teased her.

"Oh, c'mon y/n, you know what I mean, silly."

You knew Natasha had a dark past and it made you emotional to have these little cute moments with her at home. You knew she felt the same way. She longed for a normal domestic life and loved being part of a family, no matter how small or big. Right now, having Liho and you was more than enough for her.

After some morning cuddles, you got up and made breakfast for the two of you. The need to demand her to open up and tell you what happened during her last mission was extremely strong, but you knew you didn't want to push her, considering her current mental state and the bad panic attack she had last night.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing you say is ever going to scare me or push me away, you know?" God, you were not subtle.

"Mhm," she nodded and then continued eating her pancakes in silence. "Thanks for breakfast." She stood up, giving you a quick kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen.

"She's mad, great job, y/n," you thought to yourself. Why couldn't you just leave her alone? Why couldn't you let her come to you instead of pushing her to talk? Although… you just told her that you were there for her. That's not bad, is it?

In an attempt to stop overthinking, you decided to go grocery shopping.

"Nat?" You peeked into the home gym you and Nat had. She was boxing. Her punches were frantic,and sweat was covering her bruised skin. "Yea?" Her fists still swinging. "Going to the store, do you need anything?" you asked her.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"You're absolutely sure you don't need anything?" It was clear you were not just talking about groceries.

Natasha stopped punching the bag and walked towards you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "I'm alright, babe. Go ahead. I promise I'll be less sweaty when you come back."

--

You opened the door, holding paper bags filled with groceries, letting some of them drop to the floor. "Shit."

Nat walked in, letting out a small chuckle. "Here, let me help you." She grabbed the bags and started sorting them out.

"You smell good," you kissed her hello, "no stinky gym stench," you joked, making her laugh. "Exactly as I promised," she replied.

"Gonna make some coffee, you want some?" You looked at her and smiled. "You know I always do."

The two of you were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and watching some random TV show.

"That guy kinda looks like Tony, don't you think?" you said, pointing to the TV.

"I went back to the red room," Natasha let out a nervous sigh, "He's dead now."

She definitely took you by surprise.

"You mean Dreyk-" Nat interrupted you before you could finish saying the evil man's name. "Yeah…and his daughter—all the other widows, they're free now." The redhead was doing her best to keep it together.

"Oh my goodness, Nat…that's great news!" You were expecting her to smile back at you, but she didn't.

"I want to tell you more about it. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't trust you enough to share my feelings, but-"

"Baby, it's okay. I know it's hard for you to open up. I'm so proud of you for trying," you spoke in the sweetest tone.

She was trying to say something, but her breathing was accelerating, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, c'mere, baby, you're alright." You pulled her close to you, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I love you so much, remember to breathe in deep and then let it out slowly, okay?" Luckily, it was easier for her to calm down, considering there was no sensory trigger this time.

"I don't know what I would do without you, y/n." It was still strange for you to see your girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but that just made you realize how much you truly loved her and that you were willing to do anything to protect her.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Natty."

The TV show kept playing in the background as the two of you snuggled, and of course, Liho joined you.

"Y/n, I forgot to tell you something," Nat said.

"You can tell me more about it tomorrow. Take your time, darling." You caressed her cheek with your fingers.

"No, no, it's something else." Her tone was definitely different now, more relaxed.

"Oh, okay then, spill." You replied with curiosity.

"My… my family is coming to visit," she looked you in the eyes.

"Cool! I haven't seen them in AGES! I actually have something I want to give to Steve, an old vinyl he might like-"

"No, it's not them… it's my other family," she said, and you couldn't look more confused. "From Russia."

"WHAT?! How come you never talked to me about them?!" You were shocked but mostly excited by this new information, and that made your girlfriend smile. "I have a younger sister, Yelena. I feel you'll get along."

"Oh my god?! When is she coming? When are THEY coming? Oh, and is she a widow like you? Is-"

"Okay, okay, slow down there, detective," Nat interrupted. "Yes, she is a widow like me. And they're coming over next week. Yelena, Melina, and Alexei."

"I'm so excited, Natty." You hugged her.

"I don't know if I am, to be honest… they can be quite embarrassing," she let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, then I'm even more excited. Can't wait to hear embarrassing stories about you," you teased, and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm SO gonna regret this."

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x fem #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #black widow x reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #black widow imagine #scarlett johansson #marvel

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1912 home in Lake Bluff, Illinois didn't look that bad, but someone, (known only as MKE), didn't have the money to buy it, and hated what the current owners did, so he made a scathing webpage to plea for someone to make it right. He called the page "Rescue Me. Sincerely, David Adler" on behalf of the late architect who designed it. Here are the before & after pics of the 7bd, 5.5ba home. It's on the market again for $6.995M. But, does MKE approve?

I expected the entrance hall to look terrible, but it looked pristine. The top pic shows how perfect it looked. The bottom is how it is decorated today.

MKE wrote: The trouble begins after the dreamlike entry.  Let’s wander into the music room.  It is, well, green. However, the essential French details remain, just waiting to be uncovered. -It isn't easy being green.

The music room is now the dining room.

MKE wrote: The next room, likely the main salon, is decidedly pink. Pouf window treatments obscure perfectly proportioned French doors.  Adler surely paces through here in the darkest hours, spectral paintbrush in hand. -Oh please, rethink the pink!

The salon, now. Does it look more French? I think it does.

MKE approved of the library. He says: The library is pretty darned close to being perfect.  Nothing a little floor refinishing and wood oil can’t restore. -With a bit of restoration, the library will be a best seller.

The library is looking fine.

MKE wrote: Imagine taking breakfast in the solarium, and watching the seasons change. There is some weather-related damage, but it is certainly repairable.

Well, it's not really a breakfast room or solarium anymore. And, it looks like some of the doors were also eliminated.

MKE liked the fountain. He wrote: A wall-mounted fountain adds whimsy to the solarium.

Well, have no fear, the fountain's here.

MKE wrote of the dining room: Uh-oh, it’s time to tour the dining room. What happened here?  A ruin.  A magnificent one, but very much a ruin. The room is reminiscent of the dining room in the home Adler designed for the Ryerson family on Chicago’s Astor Street.  The amazing Louis V influence, the symmetry.  Under all that green, the impeccable bones are still intact.

It is no longer a dining room.

MKE wrote: The poor kitchen.  Adler must shed ghostly tears when he wafts through here. Yet the possibilities are endless.  Nothing that a gut job and some Peacock or Smallbone cabinetry won’t fix.

Well, they certainly did gut it. No doubt about that.

That concluded MKE's critique. Let's go on with our tour. This is the spacious primary bedroom.

A lovely bath. I always like a striped wallpaper, it just looks classy.

This secondary bedroom is a pretty plum.

And, here's another stunning bath.

The beautiful guest house.

Very nice.

Large patio along the pool.

The lot is 8.26 acres.

https://www.redfin.com/IL/Lake-Bluff/1010-Green-Bay-Rd-60044/home/17669471?

#before & after homes #mansions #houses #house tours #home tour

[f10werfae]

Designer Love

Pairing: Husband! Chris Evans x Pregnant! Reader

Word count: 833

Summary: Y/n can’t find any darn clothes she loves, so Chris takes his role to the next level

Warnings: None?

————-

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

—————

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“This sucks, the clothes I’ve wanted for ages are not in my size, and they’re not restocking”

I huffed, scrolling down on the website. Sure they’re just clothes, but it’s so hard to find nice maternity clothes.

“What’s wrong honey?” Chris asked walking in from the bathroom, shirtless with sweatpants, his hands on his hips.

“N-nothing fits me and the clothes I want don’t have my size anymore” I stuttered, my hormones playing with my emotions again, tears building up for the seventh time this morning.

“Honey I think your summer maternity dresses are wonderful on you” He said smiling, a hint of a playful smirk on his lips

“You’re only saying that because it means you can take me anywhere” I laughed in between tears, remembering how we’ve basically christened every surface in our new house, Chris had taken a leave from acting for the foreseeable future. He had done enough projects in one year to earn him a long time off, time we’ve been spending well I say.

“Not only that, I just think you’re so beautiful, keep in mind you’re growing a life in this precious body of yours” With a finger poking into my stomach playfully, he nuzzled into my neck pressing kisses feverishly.

“Stop it and let me sleep, your son needs some nap time”

“Alright baby i’ll leave you to it”

“You not gonna join?”

“Unless you want my snores then-“

“Yeah okay enough said handsome, night night”

“Okay bub i’ll wake you up for dinner”

(1 week later)

“Chris what’s in this massive box?” I asked inspecting the massive amazon box, taking up a lot of our coffee table.

“Just something for my gym babe, nothing to worry your pretty little head about” He shouted from the kitchen, walking into the living room and picking up the box, walking towards the makeshift gym in our basement.

Not thinking anymore about it , I just headed into the kitchen to stuff myself up with more blueberry pancakes, made by yours truly.

“Hey babe, you don’t mind if I go over to Ma's today right? She needs me to paint her walls”

“Can I come Chrissy?”

“Babe you know how I feel about paint fumes, especially when you’re pregnant. I do happen to know though that a certain person called Scott wants to go baby shopping”

“Don’t have to tell me twice hun, let’s get me changed”

(3 hours later)

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Ma how do I work this thing” I asked banging the top of the sewing machine I ordered from amazon, stress evident on my face.

“Press the button to start, hold this part and pull the fabric up slowly” Ma said demonstrating it before passing it back over to me, a smile on her face.

“I’m proud of you son”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sitting here learning how to use this machine so you can literally make your wife clothes, that’s a husband if I know one”

“Thanks ma, it just breaks my heart to see herself so upset over it, because to me she’s genuinely so beautiful and she just doesn’t get it”

“Well you keep working at it son- Oh here she is now calling me”

“Ma if she asks i’m painting walls”

“Heard loud and clear”

(3 weeks later)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“Bub can you come in here please”

“Coming” I called out waddling into the bedroom, Chris standing there with a big smile on his face, a box in his hand.

“What you got there hun, not another snake is it”

“Not this time babe , no. Jus open it would ya?”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pulled the box over and took the top off. Seeing exact replicas of the clothes I wanted from the site, reaching for the label on one of the tops I see my size gleaming at me.

“H-how? I thought the site said they were out of stock?”

“I know, I made them”

“YOU MADE THESE?!”

“Damn right I did, look at these needle pokes” He proudly showed off his thumbs, both covered in bandages.

“I love them” I pouted, hugging the fabric close to my chest, my heart swelling with love and pride.

“Hey hey I made those so you wouldn’t cry again”

“I can’t help it baby, i just- you love me so much”

“Damn right I do, or else I wouldn’t have knocked you up” Chris said laughing, his arms coming round me to bring me in for a hug, my head on his chest.

“you are so vulgar sometimes” I sniffed out

“So what’s the verdict Mrs.Evans”

“Yeah you’re getting lucky tonight”

(Bonus Scene)

“What do ya think” I asked trying on the jeans and cute crop top that Chris made

*snap* "Hey no pictures"

"I cant help it bunny, you look so cute n sexy"

"Don't push it, I already said you're getting lucky tonight"

"Two rounds?" Chris quirked up a brow

"Yeah, if you can keep up"

#chris evans #romance #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction

[dragon-ascent]

Crystalfly Catcher

Zhongli gets roped into helping you catch crystalflies.

★彡 pretty platonic, reader has messy hair, Zhongli has…his pillar

Guyun Stone Forest - a place Zhongli visits every now and then; sometimes to relax and other times to reminisce. The salty breeze, coupled with the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the stony shore, makes for a most remarkable backdrop indeed.

Except, there’s something interrupting that backdrop. Or rather, someone.

Zhongli is pulled out of his contemplative state by someone’s long-drawn-out groan, followed by a loud thud. Two crystalflies glide up into the air before vanishing into a glittering cloud.

Then, you come tumbling into the picture, quite literally. With another groan, you pick yourself up and dust yourself off before spotting a crystalfly and leaping towards it desperately.

“What are you up to?” Zhongli watches, bemused, as you miss the crystalfly and utter a string of curse words. 

“I’m catching - or at least trying to catch - crystalflies.” You push some of the hair out of your face, but the breeze is unkind.

“Might I ask what for?”

“Just crafting and adventuring purposes,” you answer, finally jumping down from the ledge and approaching him. Zhongli thinks he should perhaps purchase a hairclip for you, what with the way you hair whips around your face even wilder now. “I would have finished my crystalfly run here if the darn creatures weren’t always so high up...”

Zhongli nods, sympathetic, and opens his mouth to give you some kind words of encouragement, but then stops when he sees the look of pure contemplation on your face.

“Zhongli,” you say slowly, “you’re a tall man.”

He nods along, a small frown marring his nearly-porcelain face. “Yes...”

“And I’ve seen your powers. You summon, like, a climbable pillar or something.”

“A stone stele, yes,” he responds, waiting for where this will go. Although, he probably already knows the answer.

He watches as a wide grin spreads across your face. “You can help me catch crystalflies!”

*****

Thus Zhongli’s day takes an unexpected turn as you make him jump around for crystalflies. His suit and shoes are dirty, his dignity trampled, and his hair disheveled. Today, Zhongli truly learns what it means to feel frustration, as his fingers miss a fleeing crystalfly by a mere two centimeters. 

“Come on, use your pillar! Pillar!” you call out.

Sighing, he summons his stone stele and climbs up, swiping at the air - too slow, again. It’s disappeared. 

However, another up begins to flit up in the air from the ground-level, just barely halfway up the length of the stele, and Zhongli leaps off and snatches it, landing to the ground with elegance and a glimmering crystal core in his hand, the golden sheen of the crystalfly already fizzled out.

With a cheer, you run over and take the crystal core. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“How many do you require?” he asks, a small sense of pride welling up within him for this small feat.

“Like...twenty more?” You grin, and Zhongli’s eyebrows rise up. More labour on his part, then? Although, there don’t seem to be any left today.

You know this as well, and so you bid him goodbye. Gathering your things, you offer an apologetic smile. “Thank you, Zhongli. I’m going to try my luck at Dawn Winery - I just hope master Diluc won’t mind...”

As Zhongli, smoothing out his hair and clothes, watches you depart, he wonders to himself how he will get you to return the favour. 

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #sini writes #zhongli x you #drabble #platonic

[disappointing-my-kid]

Luigi is pretending to be Peach when he gets kidnapped but Bowser knew instantly.

It was one of his kids who did the kidnapping this time. To show their papa how strong and brave they are so something.

Bowser doesnt even need to look Luigi in the eyes to know this isnt Peach. She never shows such fear when being kidnapped. He can easily see whoever this is fidgeting and shakin in their boots (or heels) but hes a good father. And the look on his kids face. How could he ruin this. So he plays along.

A booming laugh shakes Luigi to his core as he slowly looks up to meet Bowsers gaze. He feels like those fiery red eyes are looking into his soul. Suddenly the mask on his face feel straggling. Then Bowsers gaze finally leaves him and goes to the Koopaling that captured him and softens. “Fantastic work! Now tell me who helped you in such a feat!” The child bounced up and down on the spot “No one Papa! I did it all by myself!” Luigi had never seen Bowser this way before. Sure he knew he had kids but he never imagined him actually being a good father. The way Bowsers fave shifted into the facade of shock. “Surely not just you! No no someone must have helped you. Why something of this caliber? You must have taken the whole army!” At that the child giggled as Bowser made a show of looking around. “No papa it was just me! No help at all!!… well grandad did show me a map to the mushroom kingdom.” The child was nervously fiddling with claws at the mention of help. Bowser now put on a display of wonder. “Really? Thats all the help you got?” Then he boomed “Wonderful my child! Fantastic work!” His child giggling as Bowser lifted them up into the air a few times, Bowser laughing along with them.

Completely stunned by this, Luigi just stood there unsure of what to do. Did Bowser forget he was here? Who knew the man or well koopa had such a soft side, he was wonderful with his kid. Maybe he could escape while they both are distracted. He felt bad for the lil one seeing how happy they had been about capturing him. Which is why Luigi was so easy to capture in the first place, having a soft spot for kids himself. But he couldnt let Bowser figure him out. Tho the moment he shifted to move Bowser instantly looked at him, causing him to tense up. His Anxiety getting the better of him and he just gave a sheepish awkward wave. Hes so going to die here. The look Bowser was giving him, if looks could kill. Yup this is it. The moment hes found out hes done for. Bowser turned back to his child and in a more serious tone “Now i have some things i need to discuss with the Princess.” The way he said it made the hair in Luigis neck stand up. Peach had said Bowser never hurt her but boy was he terrifying. “So why dont you l” but before he could finish what he was saying the child interrupted him with a whine “but daadd i wanna play with the Princess!” Giving him father the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Which in Luigis opinion was pretty darn good. He could clearly see Bowsers internal struggle. Something else won out though when Bowser glanced back in Luigis direction. “Im sorry but this is rather important. Why dont you head down to the kitchens and pick tonights dinner.” At this the child quickly jumped up “Can I pick dessert too!!” Bowser chuckled at his childs excitement and nodded “yes yes dessert too.” And just like that the kid was off. Rushing past Luigi without even glancing at him.

When the door closed instantly the mood shifted into something heavy. Every part of Luigis being told him to run. Slowly he turned back to look at Bowser. All softness gone from his face. His eyes narrowed as to get a better look at this “Princess” and then he stood. “So Princess” he began has he walked from his throne towards Luigi. “How are you doing today?” Though the words themselves had been pleasant they had been spoken with such sarcasm that Luigi knew he knew. Frozen in fear as his mind raced on what to do. He should say something. But how. What to say to not get burnt to a crisp. “I asked you a question Princess” Bowser was now right in front of Luigi, who looked up with horror at the anger on Bowser face. “Im waiting” well its now or never. Taking in a deep breath and mustering up all the courage he had “Im” was all he got out before a punch right in the gut cut him off and lifting him off the floor slightly. He gasped as all the air was knocked out of him. Bowser then let him crumple to the floor. Doubled over Luigi clutched his stomach.

Bowser demanded “Get up.” But when Luigi made no move to stand Bowser growled out “Get… Up” slowly Luigi placed one arm out and pushed himself up. He staggered for a moment but once he got his balance he slowly looked up to Bowsers face. All color draining as his eyes met with the Koopas. Pure rage is all Luigi could find. “Im still waiting on you to answer my question.” Bowsers features smoothed out as Luigi knew this was a trap. He knew he was already stuck in it. He needed to figure a way out of this that didnt end in him dying. “B-Bow” was all he got out before his entire middle wasn yanked up. Arms pinned to his sides as Bowsers grip held him firmly. Then the pressure increased. Luigi gasping at the pain from his earlier blow. Bowsers voice dripped with venom as he spoke “Did you really think you could fool me? With this pathetic displace?” He gestured to Luigis entire form. “Do you take me for a fool?” He spat. Luigi quickly shaking his head as he wriggled in Bowsers grasp. Bowser who at the display only tightened his grip a bit more. Luigi letting out a pathetic squeak as air became hard to get. At the sound Bowser scoffed “lets see who you really are.” Unable to move at all Bowser ruffly ripped off Luigis mask, scratching his cheek deeply as he did so. Then everything froze. Luigi had his eyes screwed shut waiting for the final blow to come. Bowsers gripped loosed as he just stared. This caused Luigi to slowly peak his eyes open. The moment he looks at the kings face he saw the shock. Then it transformed into anger. Instantly Bowser grip came back in full force as he yelled “YOU!!!” Luigi winced not just from the yelling but at the pain in his abdomen. Hes not sure his body can handle much more of this. He had do something and quickly if he didnt wanna be crushed to death. “B-b-bowser.” He stammered out, no longer sure if it was his nerves or the pain causing it this time. Of course speaking just caused Bowser to tighten his grip. Oh he cant handle any more of this. “P-please I-I” he started to beg but he was cut off as Bowser once again yelled “HOW DARE YOU AND YOUR BROTHER TRY TO FOOL ME!” Raging. “I- I ca-cant please” Luigi struggling but his vision is started to go black. This is it. This is how he dies. Everything gone all because he wanted to dress up.

A sickening crack resounded and everything went black for the plumber as he passed out from the pain and lack of air. The sound caused Bowser to freeze once again. Looked at the unconscious form, unmoving body in his grasp. Blood at the corners of the mans mouth and running down his cheek. Eyes widening with realisation he quickly opened his hand as if Luigis body was burning him. What had he done. Sure he was angry but he never wanted to. He didnt mean to. Realisation hit him as hard as Luigis unconscious form his the floor. No no no no, he panicked. Hands shaking Bowser slowly reached for Luigis body. Gently placing one on the mans chest he could ever so slightly feel it rise and fall. Not dead. A wash of relief flooded over him. Then he felt the chest stop. Long moments later it started again. Quickly Bowser called out for Kamek. Just as quickly the old man appeared at his side. “Yea your Majes” his sentence cut off has he gasped upon seeing Luigis body. Kamek was pulled from his shock as Bowser spoke “quickly we have to get him to the infirmary.”

Sorry yall it was supposed to be fluffy. I cant write fluffy very good. The og plan was foe Bowser to end up having a good time playing with his kid and Luigi. But then i just dismissed the kid and it got darker and darker. I wish i wrote it better tho. Its kinda lame i think lol i can do better but jts my first time writing anything mario related. So i dont have a good grasp on the characters. Ill get there. Also couldnt decide which kid i wanted it to be so ill leave that up to yall.

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi #angst #my writing #writing prompt #mario bros

[jurakan]

I got a weird prompting to ask for a fun fact about someone who came up with a whole system of writing and then just disappeared. Odd, I know.

Well, you came to the right place, friendo! Today You Learned about Sequoyah.

[I had hoped to do this around Thanksgiving, or for Indigenous Peoples Month, but no one asked for it then so better late than never!]

Okay, maybe you have heard of the man. But if not, here ya go: Sequoyah was a Cherokee man born in Tennessee around the year 1770. When he grew up, his day job was actually being a silversmith, trading with trappers and merchants that came through Cherokee territory. He was pretty darn good at it too, and signed off on all of his work.

Something he noticed, though, was that the Europeans who went through had a written language, and that it was helpful for recording information and talking to people far away. That’s handy, Sequoyah thought. We should have our own written language. Because at that point, Cherokee didn’t have a written language. So, apparently, this man decided to just… make one up.

I say “make one up” as if he came up with it on the spot without thought. No, that’s not what happened. In 1809, Sequoyah began to study English, Greek, and Hebrew, and developed a written system for the Cherokee language. Each symbol represents a syllable, rather than a letter like in the English writing system, leading to a total of over 80 symbols for the alphabet.

Everyone thought he was crazy, but I want to be clear: he did it. This man, a silversmith by trade, created a written language system that within twenty years of its creation became the official written language of the Cherokee Nation. 

That’s insane, guys! Where is this guy’s biopic? If you lived in a place with heavy Cherokee history, like the Carolinas, chances are you’ve heard of him–the NC Museum has a small exhibit on him in their section on Cherokee history, and we covered him in school in an article/essay/non-fiction story (I don’t know what we call those things) called “Sequoyah and the Riddle of the Talking Leaves”, but it’s nuts to me that he’s not a more famous figure in American history, considering this.

Sequoyah actually taught the language to his daughter Ayokeh first, so that he could prove that it worked and made sense. Then he spent a ton of time traveling through Cherokee territory to get people to see its usefulness and learn it. Apparently, it worked.

So the US government thought this was awesome and gave Sequoyah a mansion to live in, right? [/sarcasm] No, you can probably guess from the timeline what happened. He went to Washington D.C. to protest and argue with other Native American leaders against the Indian Removal laws the government was enacting, but wasn’t successful, leading to the Trail of Tears. His interactions with other nations led him to decide to try to create another system of writing for all indigenous Americans to use. I don’t think it ever got completed, but someone with more knowledge on the subject can probably tell you more.

He died in Mexico, on an expedition based on the rumor that some Cherokee had gone there–the reunification of the Cherokee people was a big deal to him, after all.

We think he died there, anyway.

See, we don’t actually know where his body is. Officially, he died in 1845 of a lung infection; we don’t know where his body is. The Cherokee funded an expedition to find his grave in the 20th century, but while they found a grave in Coahuila, Mexico, they aren’t sure if it’s his. In 2011, a newspaper argued that actually he wasn’t buried, his skeleton was found in 1903 in a cave in Oklahoma. 

I found this out by seeing that he’s listed on Wikipedia’s “List of People Who Disappeared” (which I do not recommend reading if you are sitting alone in a house at night).

Well, he’s still an important national figure. He’s got some recognition–his statue is in the US Capitol, he’s got a sculpture in front of the Cherokee Museum in North Carolina, and! Along with several figures from world cultures credited with inventing/teaching writing, he’s on the doors of the John Adams Building of the Library of Congress.

YMMV may vary on whether or not it’s good that he’s on there with a bunch of mythological figures.

#Sequoyah #Cherokee #Today You Learned #Fun Fact Friday #US history #language

[greencheekconure27]

Speaking of Airk, I've been thinking- remember how at the feast some girl starts asking about his sword skills and he hesitates and awkwardly tells her he's "probably second best"?

Now at this point it we're still supposed to think he's just a useless womanizer so it comes off as empty bragging. Except in hindsight I don't think it was. Not entirely at least.

First of all, Airk's thing in this series is that he's given this establishing character moment early on ("I wonder who he's *hunting* today etc etc.) that sets him up as a familiar stock character. He then proceeds to subvert it at every turn. We think he doesn't know/didn't bother to learn Elora's name ? Well he does, he just chooses not to use it. We think he's a useless fop? We'll he just pulled off some pretty darn necessary diplomacy off screen while Kit and Sorsha were too busy screaming at each other. We think he's gonna walk towards the creepy voice promising him power? Nope, no way, he's out of here. Well surely he'll get seduced by the pretty girl? Nope, he didn't do that either, in fact he rejected her because he's with Elora AND figured out she's the Crone! Etc.etc.

Second of all remember how in the movie Madmartigan kept going on about being the *greatest swordsman that ever lived* and everyone (audience included) is like "yeah, Sure"🙄🙄 and then in the second half it turns out he really Is great ? Yeah, that.

(Don't know how much of the final fight was meant to be the Crone controlling him but he Did hold his own well & also showed absolutely no hesitation to grab a sword and go defend the castle in the first ep.)

All of which in turn makes me wonder- if Airk says he's the *second best* who does he consider the *best*? Madmartigan? Kit? Sorsha perhaps? Some random other person? Did he mean to say he's the third (or lower)then remembered his father is dead/lost and he's moved up a spot, and that why he looked so uncomfortable and sad there for a second? Or is the*best* meant to be Kit but he's hesitating because he figured out/suspects Jade is throwing the sparring matches?

(If they handed out degrees in overthinking I'd probably have a doctorate by now lol😂)

#willow 2022 #willow theories #analysis #airk tanthalos #kit tanthalos #madmartigan #jade claymore #sorsha #willow series #ramblings

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/31/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Trans Day Of Visibility; Cast&Crew; Vico Ortiz; Rhys & Rosie; Adopt Our Crew/Glaad; SaveOFMDCrew/CoolPirates; Love Notes

Hey all, I was trying to to get the recap up this morning for yesterday but my work went a little nuts. So today I'll get both today and yesterdays out, but they'll need to be separate since there are so many darn pictures!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

== Vico Ortiz =

Vico posting about their changes in life, and things that stayed the same 🌾 🍂 🌿 🪹 🪴 🍃 🪺

Src: Vico Ortiz IG

== Rhys & Rosie ==

For Rosie's birthday, a friend made a lovely picture for her and Rhys.

Src: Rosie's IG

== Adopt Our Crew ==

@adoptourcrew Put together a thread bout LGBTQ+ Rep in the 22-23 TV Season (tracked by GLAAD) for Trans Day of Visibility

Checkout the Where We Are TV Report for 2022-2023

Src: AdoptOurCrew IG

== SaveOFMD Crew / Cool Pirates ==

Another day of #CoolPirates! Today featuring several members of the Fandom, OFMD Cast & Crew. There were quite a few listing so I'm going to put as many in as I can :) Please let me know if I missed anyone!

You can check out all the posts about cool pirates on and of @saveofmdcrewmates ' socials. Visit the linktr.ee here

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! This message today is for our Trans and NB siblings, and even though it was meant for yesterday (TDOV), to be honest, I'm glad it's a little bit late. You know why? Because every single day you deserve to be seen.

Every single day you deserve to be loved,

Every single day you deserve to be celebrated,

Every single day you deserve to be proud of who you are,

And every single day you deserve to be your authentic self-- Period.

Whether you're not ready yet, or still figuring out who you are, or you're exactly where you want to be, you deserve the absolute best this life has to offer, and you deserve to be safe, and loved, and have access to all the things that help you be you.

You are so incredibly strong lovelies, I know it's hard to fight for who you are in a world that's still catching up, but you're so brilliant, and incredible and loving, and you're doing such a great job, no matter where you are in your journey. We're so very glad you're here with us every single day of the year, and I hope you know how much we love you.

To quote Next Goal Wins... "Imagine a world without flowers. Well [you] are our flowers. It'd be a pretty dull world without [you]. [You're] beautiful. "

Keep shining lovelies <3 You're beautiful.

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #vico ortiz #nathan foad #nat torres #ruibo qian #david jenkins #con o'neill #save ofmd crew #save ofmd #adopt our crew #long live ofmd #save our flag means death #trans day of visibility