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dreamermonica · 1 year

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BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

#my bllk phase is THRIVING #and it's all because of this fruity german twink named michael jackson #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #har❗fiction

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skeletondeerart · 1 year

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Stories of the Sky People

Sully Family x GN!Dream Walker Reader (Platonic) | Word Count: 1209 Words

Synopsis: Tasked with watching the Sully kids while Jake and Neytiri are away leads (Y/n) to recite the ‘Ugly Duckling’ story by Hans Christian Anderson, one of their favourite stories back on Earth to keep the kids occupied until their parent return.

The reader is the same age as Jake.

I never knew my life would turn out like this, taken in by a world many light years away from my birthplace. I have finally found my place amongst the people of Pandora. In particular. In the embrace of the Sully family.

Back on Earth Jake and I were both marines. Him an ex-soldier since he became paralysed. And me? I was a Captain yet also resigned alongside Jake when I lost my leg from a mine.

It was tough for the both of us. But our injuries bound us together through the worst times in our lives. We quickly became like siblings to each other, and we mourned together when we got news that Tom was killed in action. That was when we were both requested to join the Avatar program. They needed Jake to pilot Tom’s avatar and my own avatar was approved to begin the growing process since they deemed me a suitable candidate to gain information on the Na’vi.

We had nothing left to loose, so we signed the papers without hesitation and began our new lives.

That leaves us with today, I sat in the family home with Tuktiery in my lap. Kiri sitting to my left, Lo’ak to my right, Neteyam sitting cross legged in front of me and Spider laid beside Neteyam. I was one their own, like an Auntie/Uncle to the young Na’vi. I made jokes and orchestrated pranks on their Father just to see Jake flick me the finger as we all ran from the scene of the crime.

“So, what happened then?” Tuk gasped her yellow eyes wide with wonder.

“The Mother duck came to realise that one of her babies didn’t look like the rest, they were grey and much larger than their tiny yellow siblings. Yet that didn’t matter to her. She leads all the babies into the water watching them swim along with her, even the grey baby. The mother was happy that her grey baby swam like the rest and thought to herself “Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard.” My quaking impression got a chuckle out of the kids as my smile also grew at their happiness.

All the Sully Children were wrapped up in the story, maybe it resonated with them in a sense. Being half human and half Na’vi, well in Spider’s case, a human amongst the Na’vi. Feeling like an outlier in their clan.

“The Mother duck’s friends complimented all of her children yet insulted the grey duckling, the grey duckling was pecked at and shunned by all the different animals, the other ducks, the hens, the humans. So, when he grew up, he left.”

A gasp left the five children at this twist.

“Oh no! Poor grey duckling!” Tuk whimpered. I ran my hand up and down her back in a comforting manner.

“The story isn’t over yet Tuk.” I stated with a smile as I continued, “The grey duckling flew away from his Mother, sick of the treatment from all the other animals. He then found his way to a lake that had elegant white swans. The grey duckling said to himself "I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."

“The poor grey duckling thought himself as ugly because that was all anyone, but his mother had told him. But in fact, he was quite wrong. As he lands in the clear waters exclaiming to the beautiful swans to kill him, he bowed his head and caught his reflection. He was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, grey bird. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.”

“He was praised by the other swans and the other animals of the yard. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. He sang out "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."

“Awwwwww~” Kiri cooed, “I’m glad the duck- I mean swan had a happy ending.”

Tuktiery had a big smile on her face as the conclusion of the story. Neteyam had a warm look in his eyes and Lo’ak lent back on his hands with a smile on his own face. Spider has a grin on his as he looked to the woven floors.

“I loved that story when I was little, Mum used to read it to me every night” Jake stated with a warm smile recalling his memories, as he entered the home alongside Neytiri. I gesture to them ‘I see you’ and the kids quickly follow suit, as Jake and Neytiri sign back.

“Got into any trouble when we were gone (Y/n)?” Neytiri asked with a smirk on her face.

I gasp in mock horror. “Me Neytiri? Never” I said with my own smirk. “I was just telling the kids some of the stories from Earth.”

“Yes Mum! (Y/n) always has cool stories from the sky!” Tuktiery excitedly stated, yet stifling a yawn.

“Earth, baby. We came from Earth.” I correct.

“Yeah, Earth!” Tuk giggled.

“That was a wonderful story (Y/n), thank you for sharing it with us” Neteyam thanked with a warm smile and nod.

“No worries Neteyam, anytime.” I smile as I lean forward to ruffle his hair dragging a laugh from him.

“I think it’s time for bed, I think” Jake says as he watches Tuk drift in and out of sleep in my arm. This gets a hum of acknowledgement from Neytiri and I as we all move into bed. Jake gently pries Tuk from my arms as she settles quickly into her Father’s arms. Jake lays down in the middle, Neytiri to his right and me to the left. Kiri curls up by my side as Neteyam cuddles with his Mum and Spider wedges his way in-between Jake and I, that’s when Lo’ak decided to lounge across everyone gaining a groan from all of us.

“Lo’ak move your butt!” Spider groans and he kicks Lo’ak in the shin.

“Owwwww! Spider lay off!” Lo’ak wines yet doesn’t move an inch.

“Enough boys!” Jake scolds through his teeth, trying to keep Tuktiery asleep. That was enough to get Lo’ak to move and let poor Spider breathe.

“Sleep.” Neytiri states with her eyes shut.

I could only smile at Neytiri’s blunt parenting style.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” I murmur.

“Goodnight.” The Sully’s reply before we all fell into the embrace of sleep.

I would do anything to protect this family.

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widowsofchaos · 2 months

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could you please do prompt 168 with carol x fem reader? if you’re comfortable writing that of course:)

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐭

synopsis: Trying to find peace at your job’s gala, but a familiar haunting shadow finds you once more.

pairing: dark!Carol Danvers x brown!fem!reader

ao3 // modern au // 5k words.

warnings: dubious wlw smut (forced stimulation, vaginal fingering), stockholm syndrome, toxic established relationship, domestic violence, mention of childhood abuse.

a/n: Carol’s outfit reference. title is a reference to the song, Mary by Alex G. requested 168. “Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.” from this dialogue prompt list. dog metaphors, because I must write pain. Channeled my inner amy dunne for Carol. I’m sorry that I’m just finishing this 2 years later, but I hope whoever requested this, I hope you see this! <3

“She became the parent, the lover, the friend you’ve always craved for—- and yet, here you are,”

The truth can sting, just the sharp tip of a knife, flickering at the raw flesh. Poking and prodding till there’s small plots of ichor forming.

“——broken…” Her index finger arched, halting her words, still a vivid memory, “…. but not beyond repair.”

A scoff escapes.

“What is love without hate, I guess.” Unconsciously it spewed from your lips, the vowels felt like acidic vomit. A pregnant silence arose.

That all knowing head tilt, with those observant eyes—- always earned uncomfortable tension within you.

“Love isn’t meant to be confused with hate.”

The cigarette burns slow between your clenched fingers, nursing three fingers deep. Brown liquor swishes against the carved rocks glass, its clear silver grooves twinkles under the gala’s vermilion hues.

Fragments of words compulsively knock against the walls of your brain; as you mull at the gala’s open bar. A scorned woman who just wants peace, and quiet. Lingering stains of hurt that can last a lifetime settles to silence for once in a long time.

Showered an ugly duckling with affections, and built the pillars of security. Growing up in a childhood filled with anxiety and fear of attachments, lingering stains of abuse from the very beings who birthed you into this world.

She cleaned you, bandaged the scars, and assured you that she was the only one who adored you—- persisted that she was the only one who would.

Now, fighting violently in the legal battlefield of divorce, these past weeks have been mentally exhausting —- all whilst handling the burdening responsibilities of your profession.

Your very mind and hands helped craft this sophisticated gallery.

Your boss, Mr. Laufeyson, opened a new exhibit in the National art museum—- Norse history, one of his niche fixations. A man birthed on Norwegian soil, but raised in the monarchal land of England.

An established man who often seeks to explore the rich culture of his ancestors with much sophisticated adoration, and esteem. The Norse exhibit is now the largest section of the institution, with vast collections of rare artifacts protected behind hard stainless glass.

He breathed down your neck for long weeks, you had the task of restoring each piece that had been brought in, nearly breaking your damn back from all the hovering.

A gala bustling with a sea of middle-class folk, and self-proclaimed aristocrats of New York. You sought solace at the open bar, smoking a stogie—- and slipping into the whiskey.

It wasn’t a preferred choice, but it helps give a quick kick to your nerves. Seeking solitude away from pressures to gallant with faux professionalism, and an particular noisy friend, who should be presenting the Norse gods section.

Earlier, she was pestering with a thousand questions flying by the mouth —- if you ever gave thought to rekindling with Carol.

Dissociating into a mindless static, flickering at your clear square nails, as your cigarette burns slowly. At first, the mention of this exhibit with your boss months ago sent you into a frenzy of joy, but now—- it’s a dreadful experience.

All you long for is to start your weekend, to cuddle with your daug—-

“What an incredible scent you have—-”

Oh God, no.

“—- is that Histoires de Parfums, 1969?”

Fuck.

“I haven’t been around that perfume in a long time.”

It’s as if she can smell you a mile away.

A sensual, purring voice whispers near you. A shadowing silhouette eclipses the shimmering ceiling lights from your peripheral vision.

Your lips wrinkle, restraining the foreboding tears of frustration. Tightly nodding, swallowing a sob. Your breathing becomes heavier.

A hum, “It really smells wonderful.” With precision, the shadow sits onto the empty seat beside you.

“Thank you.” A forced smile curls at your mouth.

“With that scent, I’m surprised you’re not being hounded by the men here tonight.” A subtle wordplay, are you looking for anyone tonight?

As if your mind has forgotten all the bad, and reminisces on the good, all the fun, all the beauty that once blossomed.

“It’s not men I'm looking for.” You whisper, snuffing the cigarette into a provided ash-tray. A creamy hand strokes your knuckles, and your skin shivers under your blouse.

A jolt to your groin, and your breath hitches. All she can do is just touch you, and it’s as if you can get on your knees, and forgive her for everything.

“Why?”

You can see that pearly grin, from the corner of your eye, teasing and twisting.

“They’re too easy to hunt?”

You exhale a chuckle, eyes still trained onto the glistening counter.

“They bore me.”

“So—” Her voice lulls as a moan, “—- see anyone worthwhile?” Her fingers curl around your glass, twirling it by the rim. Your lipstick stain faces her direction, and bold as always, she lifts for a sip. Connecting the lip stain to hers, her eyes never leave yours.

It’s not tacky, nor forceful. How she moves is as if it is her nature.

Your eyes gaze over your shoulder, taking a full look. Finally, to drink in the force of nature that is your estranged wife—- Carol.

Her blonde tresses cascade on her shoulders, milky breasts on display. A pristine, black dress, that cuts and splits at the chest hem, polished nails, and clean skin. Her dress halts near her knees.

“Well, I have my eye on a blonde tonight.” You say timidly. Tenderly, your eyes glance fleetingly, a quick trace over Carol’s bodice, nearly losing your composure.

A pregnant pause.

That pretty pink mouth stretches smugly, as if the cat that got the cream. The hooks caught the flesh.

“You like blondes.”

Her tone lingers as an open question, guising the truth.

“Just one in particular.”

Sinking now, the hooks are tugging.

“Really?” Carol leans, her eyes hooded. “Which one?” Pretending to scan her eyes across the ocean of people.

But your eyes remain fixated on her. As if you were a lost puppy, just gazing at its human. Lucidly, influcating between the spaces of yearning, and guilt.

How at ease Carol is, as if nothing was wrong. The charming woman, the woman you thought she was. The woman she wanted you to think she was.

“The one in the black dress.” You say softly, and defeated brown eyes.

Carol’s eyes gaze back at you from the corner of her oculus, downcasting with a mirth, humming a chuckle. “Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.” She shakes her head, an enticing warning.

A dangerous but delicious fruit hanging at your reach. She wants you to take the bait, urging you to—- to get you back in her grasp, and if she does, she won’t let you go.

This game, a cat and mouse play, is all too familiar. Playing as strangers, attracted together by lust, and curiosities—- the type of curiosity to feel the other’s flesh, subtle carnality. Act out, with playful words, pretend to be different people.

It slowly suffocates you, a twang in your chest, a reminder that this isn’t normal.

She isn’t normal.

Carol can be an array of personalities, she can be the doting wife, the whore in bed, the mother—- she can be the bitch with a violent mouth. Different faces for different folk, no one knows her true self, and she’s good at it —- real good.

So, when you tried to seek help from friends, they couldn’t believe it, nor did they want to. You’re not surprised that Carol snuck into the gala—- your co-worker, Maria, who you thought was a true friend —- the matchmaker from hell, let her in, unknowingly allowing the terror onto you.

But, that’s no surprise. Maria has been Carol’s right hand since their days in the Air Force.

None of your friends believe you—- and, it’s hurtful to admit, you’re too scared to speak about all the hurt Carol made you endure over the years.

Barely spoke of the discomfort Carol used against you, and all your shared friends thought you misinterpreted. All saying that Carol is just head-strong, and that you two are perfect together.

Carol feeds the fire with a ‘She’s just going through a tough time.’

Boundaries aren’t respected, everyone trying to push you back together, inviting Carol in social events —- to the point where you didn’t go out anymore, and just drowned in work.

“I like challenges.” Carol softly leans in, her breath fans the bare skin of your shoulder, “All the more fun when I win.” Her voice drops low, to a wispy whisper.

Her body heat engulfs you, and your eyes droop with haziness for a slick second. You can’t—- not again. No matter how intoxicating she can be, how delicious, it’s not worth your peace.

You’re too drunk for this.

“This cat is too tired to entertain.”

“Who said you were the cat?” Carol’s brow arches, halting you in your step. Carol’s infliction hardens, from the corner of your oculus, you can see the clench of her jawline. That pretty mouth morphed into a restrained frown, the same one you see before a punishment.

An offense has been made.

“I didn’t realize the roles were switched.”

The mask slips.

It’s always her way, her rules. Because no matter how clever, how coy the mouse can be, the cat always wins.

“You’re getting brave on me?” Carol asks.

And now the mask has been dropped.

“I think it’s best I leave.” You quickly collect yourself, a bit wobbly from the alcohol. Leaning against the counter to regain your composure, trying to stand upright.

Not this time. You won’t fall for her charm.

Carol sucks her teeth, “You’re seriously going to leave? Aren’t you tired of this childish bullshit?” Crossing her arms against her chest, lips wrinkling into a scowl. Carol talks as if scolding a child.

Your body twists in a haste, “My bullshit?” Your teeth are gritting harshly, hissing. Angry eyes pierce over the hill of your shoulder, fingernails digging into the leather of your purse; if not the leather, her eyes preferrable.

But this is a place of work, no matter how elegant the night is, you will scream if you have to—- just to escape her. You click your tongue, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I mean I’m usually amused by your brattiness,” Carol laughs sarcastically. “But, now it’s gotten too far.” Her fingertips graze your arm, toying with you, soft and playful—— her fingers grasp your arm in a clutch, earning a whine.

Her eyes are hooded, nearly tugging you downwards. A whine bubbles at the pit of your throat, too terrified to even move.

“You have to come back home.” Carol says, a strain to be sweet, but it’s as if a monster tries to be human. “I miss you.” She purrs, but her eyes … are cold, and agitated.

You remain silent, closing your eyes shut, gliding down in your seat. “Carol… have you signed the divorce papers, yet?” Your eyes stay glued to the sticky counter.

Carol chuckles, “You’re going to try to talk business to me, and you can’t even look me in the eye?” Her baby pink polished nails thump against the bar, thump thump thump.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“And neither do I.” She sips her drink, smirking into the cup, “But it seems my wife likes to play games.” So light, so sarcastic, chastising you as if this was a running joke on your end.

“Carol, for fucks sake.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “You made me go crazy.” You bite on those words, full teeth. Fingers curling into makeshift claws, vowels spilling as acidic vomit.

“Controlled me, like I was your puppet.” Your fingers curl and slither in gesture. “Manipulated me against the world, against our friends.” Your mouth opened again, the words weighing heavy against your mouth, but a hum interrupted.

“Look up at me when you talk.” Carol says, your eyes peer up through your lashes, owlishly. “If you’re going to lie, you might as well make it convincing.” She licks her lips, tasting the remnants of her liquor.

“I —- I—” you can’t find the words to even respond. You stare at her incredulously, she will never admit to it. Even now, she has you questioning your own sanity, if it was even worth fighting against her.

It’s not worth screaming about it. Not anymore.

“I have to go.” Swiftly, you stand up, with a bated breath.

“That’s how you talk to the mother of your child?”

Stiffening, as the hairs that align a cat’s spine, “Don’t you dare!” Your index finger pointing, shouting in a hush. “Stop using Kamala against me—” your voice wavers, throat nearly choking a sob, “You did enough of that in court.” Big brown eyes sheening wet, the last nerve shot.

Trying to maintain a level of calm, eyes fluttering back and forth around, seeing if anyone has witnessed your outburst.

“I don’t even have to do that,” Carol’s open palm gestures to your rigid stance, “she can see perfectly fine how erratic you’ve been.” Carol hisses, making your nose scrunch up.

Kamala adores — idolizes— Carol. So memorized by her strong, willful mother, since she was a waddling baby.

You haven’t dared utter a bad word about Carol in-front of Kamala, fearing to shatter the fragile bubble you curated as a shield for her. You wouldn’t let her witness the court meetings, especially the negotiations of joint custody.

By every fiber of your being, you’ve tried to make this separation as discreet as possible—- but Carol has been a devil, bulldozing those efforts. To make you appear as the bad parent.

You can’t stand her lawyer, Carol hired one who hails from Hell’s Kitchen—- fitting since he’s a thorn upon your rib. Subtlety bringing up your mental health, questioning your abilities as a mother —- no doubt, Carol was chewing his ear off about your past.

All Kamala knows is that her mothers are splitting up, with foreign lawyers, and that she now has to split weekends—- those pained brown eyes, her puffed cheeks, it kills you deeply—- all the guilt weighs on you, it feels as if you’re to blame for all the problems.

“You’ve taken so much from me, Carol.” You lean in, kneeling at her eye level. “My dignity, my peace— shit— even my sanity.” Your body anxiously fidgeting, breath quickening.

“But I will not, let you take my child away from me.” Your fingers dive into your purse, fumbling with irate, snagging the last cash you had—- with the finality of this conversation, slamming the money onto the marble countertop.

You carried Kamala, incubated inside you for nine months, fed her from your breast—- you will not lose her, not over your cold dead body.

“Goodnight, Carol.”

Sharply, you turn on your heel, leaving Carol without turning back. Walking with a gait, faking confidence, but truly at your core, a gnawing sense of uneasiness.

The corridor stretches as a miniature maze, the more you descend out of the gala, the less crowded it is. Turning left and right, trying to find the exit.

The ambiance is of grainy gray, the tinted blurred windows are foggy with the night’s shadows.

The echoes of clicking heels are faint, your mind doesn’t register, as your own feet and mind are stuck on auto-pilot.

“There she goes again,” an agitated voice snags your attention, brows furrowing, “always acting like the little victim.”

Not granted the chance to realize, in a flash, just as quick as you turned your head, rough hands grab you by the curve of your shoulders, throttling you against the chilled wall pavement.

Earning a hiss, and a gasp, stinging pain births and stretches along the muscles of your spine. Quickly, your fingers fruitlessly try to claw at Carol’s, but all it does is make her more enraged.

Carol thrashes you once more against the wall, and another for good measure; airy gasps of pain escapes you, tears beading at your lashes. That militant discipline seeps from her pores, it’s not a stranger to you, the rough edges of her touch is a familiar bruise.

“It may have worked with the rest of the world,” Carol barks in your face, nose to nose, “but it’s not going to work with me.”

Sniffling, your chin wobbles, trying to restrain a sob that burns your throat raw.

Carol hums, that tut of a sympathetic mother, “Look at us.” Her thumbs rubbing your shoulders, pressing on the blooming bruises. “I don’t like it when we fight.

Eerily, she influcates from predator to savior, “You always get erratic, and you know it upsets me.” Leaning in, her pink lips press a kiss on a falling tear.

“Where’s my special girl?” Carol whispers. Fear is beating inside of you, buzzing as tv static. Staring at Carol through your hooded lids, terrified, and confused.

Carol purrs, awaiting for an answer.

“I’m here.” Barely a murmur, you speak softly.

Carol thrives off of her aggression. But it’s not the traditional masculinity that some women possess in their personalities. She feels it’s the only gift her father ever gave her.

“It’s very cute that you try to fight me.” Carol mocks, her knuckles stroke your cheek. Carol hums, her eyes tracing over every facial feature.

“Let me see if she missed me.”

A string of no no no slip from you meekly.

One of Carol’s hands graze over your shoulder, twirling her fingers into your hair—- gripping between her fingers tightly. To then cup the nape of your neck, her thumb pressing slightly over your pulse point.

As she has you pinned by the scruff, her other hand flows down your cavlices, to your clothed breast—- she snags the collar to expose skin.

Groping a handful of your tit, she mutters still so soft, traveling down the path of your navel—- with a quick precision, Carol snatches your groin; more like clawing.

A sharp gasp escapes you, and all she does is laugh.

A quick glance at the end of the hallway, praying that nobody turns the corner. Carol snickers. “Afraid someone will catch us?” You exhale a huff, nose flaring.

“I remember you used to be quite adventurous.”

“That’s when I was young and stupid.”

Her eyes narrow, pinching your vagina in her hand even tighter. With her knee, she wedges her thigh between your shaky legs, spreading you more open.

Slithering her hand through the stitched fabric, her knuckles stroking your sensitive skin. Your breathing becomes heavier, and all she does is smirk.

Moving your panties to the side, Carol’s makes herself home to your body. Ashamed to feel yourself grow wet, and Carol moans.

“It seems she missed me.”

All unbridled frustration hits the hilt, you cry in a stretched whine, thrashing in her hold. In need to escape, you wanted to go home, away from her.

All these weeks of trying to flee from her, do the right thing to gain custody, to live a good life, give your daughter stability —- all of it goes down the drain by her simple touch.

Beating on her arms with fists, slapping and trying to knee her in a weak spot. Carol’s eyes darken—- as if she’s bored of the insolence.

Carol pushes her weight onto you, pinning to the wall. And her fingers don’t cease on her assault.

“I hate you.” You choke on a wail, your head tilting up as a child.

“I’ve saved you.” An expert circular motion of her fingertips, sending a jolt to your bundle of nerves.

“Who else can say that?” Carol leans in, her head tilting, as her lips meet your cheek.

Softly, she kisses you, caressing and grazing against the skin of your cheek.

“I took care of you, and you just want to leave?” Carol’s pink tongue slithers between her lips, licking and nibbling. Boldly, her fingers dove between your folds, playing with your wetness.

“You wanted a savior, baby, I’m it.” The bridge of Carol’s nose traces yours, humming at the wet sensation of your tears. “You were nothing before me—-” another finger plunging inside you, “—- and you will be nothing after me.”

“I — I — would rather be alone.” You say with a stammer, lips wet with tears. Mouth curling into a brave scowl, regaining some bravery, “I’ll be fine.”

Carol’s face leans a little back, tilting her head mockingly. “When I say nothing after me, I mean it—-” Carol’s teeth bare as fangs, “you’ll be buried six feet deep, before I let you go.” Her fingers grip the nape of your neck, tugging you in.

“No one can ever have you.” She whispers.

Your eyes are owlish, you don’t doubt her…. her time in the boot camp was extensive, you felt her trained strength many times—- she loves like a knife. Many bruises healed over the years.

Not brutal beatings, but very handsy.

A glimmer of fear suffocates you, your body keels as a leashed dog.

Her fingers slither against your peach fuzz, slipping between your mound, toying with your wetness. Splitting your velvety folds apart, Carol vulgarly strokes you with her fingers sloppily, staining the hem of your panties.

Carol grinds herself onto your thigh, you can feel a wet spot pooling at her silk panties. Your fingers are digging into her forearms. A rough dance of humping and grinding, both reaching for a high.

Your wet walls can’t help but suck her inside, clenching tight. Fiercely plunging in and out—— it’s been some time. Since the last time, you were touched. It’s bordering on painful, a bit tight.

You did entertain another for a while. A woman you met at a bar. Short dark chestnut hair, a soft posh english accent, a bold yet cheeky mouth. She said her name was G’iah, you never met anyone with such a name.

Despite the attraction, the idea of offering yourself physically was too overwhelming. But, the emotional energy was wonderful. It was a breath of fresh air.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to love another.

Skin screaming for touch, yet your heart is trying to fight back. The flesh only reminisces the good, but all the hurtful memories are chained to your mind.

Carol’s mouth ajar, hovering over the meat of your cheek. Your face scrunches, eyes tight, a whine boils at your throat. She breathes a chuckle. She always finds amusement in your misery.

Carol loves to play God—- the Old Testament God. In the carnal sense, and in spite. Worship her, and only need her, obey every command, but commit a sin—- and she shall see to it, that her pettiness will rule over your life.

Her fingers spread, your slick connects to her fingertips, flickering the gossamer thin threads between her expert fingers, diving into you.

Her teeth grazes your cheek, her warm breath cascading against your mouth. Torn between closing your thighs to stop her, or thrust your hips into her hand.

Carol’s tongue slips out, and kitten licks your parted lips. Her pink tongue licks your canines, inhaling your breath. Sweet scent of liquor coats your tongue, Carol suckles into her mouth, moaning at the taste.

A lewd pop comes from Carol pulling back on your tongue, as her fingers curl harsher. Bordering on pain, the pleasure is electric. Pulsing through you, as her thumb toys with your swollen clit.

Her moans are animalistic, you can feel her pussy splitting, a sensation of silk and waxed bare skin. Her clit is grinding fully onto your thigh. It feels so damn good.

A part of you wants her to cum on you. To use you.

Carol’s face tilts away from yours. Her brown eyes swirl with malice, narrowing for a split moment. A smile stretches.

“Kamala would be so hurt to lose her mommy—” Carol’s words earn a mean eye from you, but all she does is laugh humorlessly. “How could you abandon our child?”

Like a stab to your heart, Carol just twists the edge deeper. Her fingers still deep inside you, clenching in need for her to finish— to get you right at the precipice.

“I would never leave Kamala,” you speak with a strain, a rough slice at your throat. “I love her.” Bordering on pleading, your eyes water-sunk.

“Then why do you make her cry?”

“What?”

“Every night she asks why her mom isn’t home,” Carol leans more of her weight on your belly. Her fingers fucking you harshly, hitting that sweet spot so perfectly. Your juices are now soaking down her hand.

“She cries till she falls asleep. She thinks you hate her.”

Torn between rutting your hips into her palm, grinding and fucking her fingers as if it was one of Carol’s toys —- and the need for space, to free yourself from these clutches.

Salty tears fall to your wrinkling lips, shaking from silent tears.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Carol says, her voice smooth and affectionate. Her lips pouted, “We can be together again.” Her shiny blonde hair kisses her lashes, in the grainy city lights, she looks innocent.

“Don’t you want to be a family again?”

She pushes her fingers further, slowly playing with your clit— and then stops, edging you. She can feel your spongy walls nearly spasming. Carol knows how to play the strings of your flesh.

Damn her.

“I do.” Your voice gurgles in a sob.

You know she’s tricking you… and you enjoy it.

In some deep seeded—- an absolutely fucked —- part of you, relishes in it. Because it’s all you know. But, it’s that glimmer of tenderness, the kisses, and honeyed words that pulls you back in.

Back to mutilate yourself on her knife over and over again. And isn't that what love is? Carol would say, time and time again, after the dust settles from her fits of rage.

Wet squelching floods your ears, echoing throughout the empty hallway. Your hand trails to her waist, gripping her dress, roughly grazing the smooth skin of her waist.

Legs entangled, and Carol’s thrusts are getting faster, sloppy. Her moans are getting high-pitched, away from primal and more girlish.

You cling to her, in this moment, you just need to feel anything. And you know she needed it too.

A burst of euphoria, hanging onto each other, as if both would fall apart. Carol felt it, how you spasmed on her fingers. Clenching so tight, trapping her hand for a moment.

Bated breaths dance against each other, hair flying by the breeze of huffing. Yours are gasps of relief.

In a desperate plea, you reach for a kiss, but Carol pulls away.

“I hope you learned something …” Carol hisses, her fingers stroking between your slippery folds, agitating your over-stimulated clit. The meat of your thigh quivers, tailbone pinching as you try to mesh into the wall, far from her.

Carol takes her fingers out, leaving behind an empty feeling—- like a void. Without blinking, Carol unabashedly suckles on her two fingers, tasting you.

“I hope you make the right decision.” Carol whispers against her tips. Pulling her warm weight off of your bodice, a chill sweeps against the tepid sense of your belly.

Carol hums for a moment with a stony face. She tugs on the collar of your dress, the top of your bosom exposed —- it was a stiff gesture.

Without a word, Carol posed her spine, and walked away, a snide side-eye.

Leaving you behind with an ache between your thighs, love bites across your chest, and fresh bruises. Left behind in the chilled hallway, and in wrinkled attire —- as if you were a used whore.

Your head falls, crying into your chest. Your fingers pulling your dress down, your inner thighs tender. Your fingertips touch the wet spot Carol left behind near your knee.

A pause.

It’s wrong, but you crave her taste. Suckling your fingertips into the cave of your mouth.

You can still smell her fragrance lingering—- and yet, you crave it, hoping it clung to your dress.

Timid footfalls carry you through the high-end residential hallway. Bated breath, and in wrinkled clothes, you lift and loosely drop your luggage in your grip. Pacing back and forth, trying to salvage any scrap of courage to knock.

Your head is bowing down, chin to chest. A stop in-front of the door. The reasoning motivating your surrender blurs—- is it for Kamala only, or is it also that a loyal dog who always forgives?

A silent white flag has been waived.

A lonely dog always comes back.

Dull steps creep closer, syncing with the beat of your heart. One unlock, and another follows. Defeat seeps from your pores, a bone-rattling warning siren echoing in the rush of your ears.

The door knob slowly twists, as if she’s mocking you. But not a second more, the door creaks open. Green eyes blink back with mirth, and a smile.

No words are needed.

Carol hums, stroking your hair, fingers gliding down the terrain of your neck, guiding you inside by the nape of your neck.

Awaiting on the bed is a silk nightie, and skincare, curated by Carol’s choice. Pristine, wrinkled-free silk. Not one flaw in sight.

She knew you would come back. A cocky woman, and yet she’s never wrong. A stir of irate coils in your belly, but it’s snuffed before it can disrupt.

In the dark, you tip-toe down the hall. Elated and relieved, it felt like a century crept by, but it was only a week of separation.

Weekends weren’t enough. You needed to see her everyday.

Brown fingers slowly grasp at the knob, twisting open. The white walls are adorned by the flash of a night light that glows small stars glimmering against the ceiling.

A room of action figures, anime, music posters and a wall dedicated to her drawings. That familiar scent that never really went away, that baby smell that clung to her as an infant.

Kneeling into her bed, curling under the blanket. Legs curling underneath you, knees bent, as you caress Kamala’s scalp, furling her hair behind the shell of her ear. Your brown fingers melt into the onyx shine of her tresses.

Her sleepy cheeks puffed, she looks like a sleeping cherub. Silently, tears cascade against the hill of your nose, staining the pillow sheet.

For months, you’ve tried to conjure ideas on how to run away from this life with Kamala, but all your ideas end up in the possible reality of being arrested with charges of kidnapping, and never seeing your daughter again.

The truth of the matter is -— you will crawl skin bare in the deepest parts of hell just for her. Suffering silently in these marital ruins, for the sake of being able to raise your only child, is what you will do.

You don’t know what you want with Carol —- you don’t have anything else to offer as a wife, besides submitting your entire being as a sacrificial offering.

It’s all she ever wanted. Wholesome love is seen as a defect in Carol’s eyes, a trait taught to her by her father. Control over everything is what brings her peace. And being cared for is what brings you solace.

The only person in the world Carol doesn’t unleash her wrath upon, who she adores entirely, is Kamala. Never once has Carol raised her voice, nor her hand at Kamala.

It’s disturbing, to see Carol be so genuine in her affections.

But, you’re ever so grateful. Despite being a masochist, under all the rubble harboring in your cavity— is a little girl suffocating for tenderness. For anything, just for someone to hold her.

Carol is a peculiar creature, and yet she has driven you to the brink of madness over the last stretched months, because she can’t bear to lose you —-- that has to mean something, right?

But as you lay here, wallowing in the dead silence, staring at Kamala slumbering —-a thought came to you; a lingering fear. Paranoia gnawing at you, chewing away bit by bit.

You wouldn’t want Kamala to suffer like this one day.

#widowsofchaos wrote this #carol danvers x reader #dark Carol Danvers x reader #carol danvers x female reader #dub non con #dark elements #lesbian Carol Danvers

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blackopals-world · 1 year

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The Twisted Wonderland OC (Yuu)niverse Writing Challenge

In the past, I've written plenty of AU stories and a few have featured cameo OCs. These OC were temporary characters but I'd like to introduce more standard characters to do cameos. So to my followers, I'd like to give you a chance to submit your own characters based on a list of obscure or lesser-known stories or characters that we haven't considered.

The Rules:

The list is first come first serve but chose wisely. Don't rush because you might not be happy with the results.

You can call dibs on 1 prompt on the list but you have to finish within a timely manner (24 hours) before the prompt is available again to everyone. I will update this post everytime a prompt is taken or open.

After a prompt is completed the character's name will appear as a new tag in any future works they appear in.

Be as creative as possible, no self-inserts. That would be against the spirit of being as creative as possible. I want you to think outside the box (so I have more to write about them)

Don't be mean. If a prompt is taken and someone does it anyway I discuss giving them their own prompt or letting them make their own if they like. We must be welcoming. This is for fun.

If you have questions don't be afraid to ask.

Your template must be completed in full with character info like appearance description added. You don't have to do the art but it would be appreciated.

Submit by reblogging your finished templet and profile so that it's visible.

Template: (credit goes to the original creator @yxmechii)

The prompts:

The red hot iron shoes (Cinderella)

Br'er Rabbit (African American folklore)

Arachne (Greek mythology) (Taken) (finished)

The Sundrop Flower (Repunzel)(Taken)(finished)

Mother Gothal (Repunzel) (BTW I've considered making this one a teacher. Tell me what you think)(finished)

The fox wife (Inuit folklore)(finished)

Ronno (Bambi)

Mother Holle (Grim brothers)

Rumpelstiltskin (Rumpelstiltskin)

Little brother and little sister (Grim brothers)

Thumbelina (Thumbelina)

Princess and the Pauper(taken)(finished)

The golden goose (Jake and the Beanstalk)

The willow tree (cinderrella)

Anansi the spider (African folklore)

Shuten dōji, oni (Japanese folklore) (Taken)(finished)

Puck (Shakespeare's A midsummer's nights dream)

Sun Wukong (Journey to the west)(finished)

Indra (Indian/Hindu mythology)

Puss in Boots (finished)

Baba Yaga (Russian folklore)(finished)

King Midas (taken) (finished)

Morgan le Fay (King Author)(finished)

The wicked witch of the west (the wizard of oz)(finished)

Ganto(lilo and stitch)

Tamatoa (Moana)

Pain and Panic (Hercules)(finished)

Mrs.Teapot (Beauty and the beast)

Moonstone Opal (Tangled series)(finished)

Updated: added characters

Centaur (Fantasia)

Dr.Hamsterviel (lilo and stitch)

Stitch (lilo and stitch)

Bagheera (The Jungle Book)

Sabor (Tarzan)

Tod (fox and the hound) (Cooper is an Oc I've already made)

Captain Hook (Peter Pan)(I'm sorry but he has to be an adult character for obvious reasons)

Chernabog (Fantasia)(finished)

Madame Madusa (The Rescuers)

Brutus and Nero (The Rescuers)(we could use another pair of twins with an evil master)

Diablo (sleeping beauty)

Iago (Aladdin)(taken) (finished)

Sir Ratigan (The great mouse detective)

Darla Dimpleton (cats don't dance)

Steele (Balto)

Hans (frozen)

The flying carpet (Aladdin)

The ugly duckling (finished)

The black swan (Swan Lake)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #writing challenge #twisted wonderland x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland incorrect quotes #vil schoenheit #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #twst kalim #twisted wonderland oc #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 3 months

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THE GIRL IS A SWAN : THE SYMBOLISM OF BEAUTY & MAGIC. BEAUTY TIPS & MORE

Every girls dream is to be as pretty & elegant as the swan.

I want to go in deeper about the perception and symbolism of the swan, which is my inspiration for this post I'm making.

The swan is a symbol of beauty through the enactment of gentleness, creative expression, femininity and grace. In this post, my focus is based on the spirituality of beauty, grace, and the prospering of the divine feminine code. The beauty that is Venus, and that Venusian power is full of love, compassion, & understanding. It is imcomparable to other forms of its nature. And has been a blessing to humanity for ages.

The beauty tips I want to express to everyone is through the art of creating a new look and flow for yourself. How the divine essence that you carry can express itself through the power of grace, and doesn't need to be tainted by outside forces.

The swan is a symbol of methamorphasis. Have you ever seen a baby swan grow into itself? Or have you ever heard of the story 'The Ugly Duckling?' Transformation is a theme when dealing with our looks because it's always growing, changing, and trends around beauty are constantly moving. Always on to the next big thing, but one thing that will always stay true is that vibration and energy never lies. And even if beauty and the standards around it change, it doesn't mean that you have to.

So with that being said, let's get into some beauty tips and embracing some swan magic !

Start slow.

There is never a need to rush, darlings. The gentleness that is needed to pamper ourselves is to simply bask into every bit of experience that is left throughout the day. When we force ourselves to rush into an experience, we are taking away from its pure beauty. And that itself is exhausting. If there is one thing that I've learned throughout my years, is that to fully comprehend the energy that is displaying itself all around us is to simply stop, and enjoy the show. The swan is never seen rushing.. even when flying it shows forth its magnificence through its slow burning movements. Its wings carry a force by simply taking it's time. Not trying to speed through anything.

When it comes to beauty, and applying makeup or putting on our clothes, what's the rush? Do you take your time to put things together? To find something worth meaning, authenticity or do you occasional rush from time to time. This works for some but not everyone, being spontaneous is sometimes out of the swan's reach. But for you, it's not always bad. However.. it needs a little bit of thought. And that shouldn't be a problem.

When it comes to our hair, our clothes, our skin, and anything in between we gotta first come to terms with what is it that makes us feel good. The art of taking your time is a sensual grace that can become a powerful force.

Expressing your divine femininity.

Okay, so first off. Let's talk about divine femininity not always being about the most girliest things. Dresses, makeup, lashes, heels. All these things don't make for a feminine individual. It simply has no filter.

So what those this mean? When it comes to your self expression, the power of your creativity is through the act of emotion. The way you flow into the room and make your presence known is your feminine flow. But again, it has nothing to do with being 'girly', you simply just have to walk the walk.

When expressing our divine femininity, it can be through an outlet of some form. If its fashion, cool. If its dance, great. If it's your speech, even better. All in all, practice expressing your femininity through what you love most. That's how the world see's your beauty, through embracing your divine feminine energy in the way you see fit is all that matters.

Always. Stay. Calm.

Swans are notorious for being peaceful, and aren't too prone to being aggressive. Now I'm not saying you can't tell a mf off, but please be discreet. Not everyone deserves it. It's time to start easing yourself into a more relaxing aura. Be cool. Be smart. And stay to yourself. If someone tries to get you out of character just know its them and not you. Some things are better left unsaid, and to be honest with you, some things are just beneath you. It is what it is.

Enjoying The Experience

Being in the now is always perfect timing. You could've been anywhere else, but you're right here. Where you need to be.

Enjoying the moment is all we have in this lifetime, not getting too caught up with whatever is outside of you, and focusing on whats within and around you. It's an art to being in the present, and just taking in the joy of the reality you set foot in. How more magical can it get? It starts with you.

And now, my favorite part of the post. Is getting into the metaphysics of this animal symbolism.

If you believe in animal spirits, and the energy they symbolize then hey, this is for you. Glad you could make it :)

The Swan's Magic

So what I want to start off by expressing is that everything has a vibration. Energy is everything and nothing at the same time. And what I want to express to you guys is that with swan magic increasing into the forefront it means to creatively express your unique senses in every part of your finger tips. Your presence is an authentic source of creation and the flow that you carry is an artform in itself. I said this before but differently, I just need y'all to get it into your school. You are a masterpiece, a canvas, an ocean of art, life, & beauty. You gotta feel that. And own it.

So when I speak about the vibration of swans, it's more of a dark force that can be deeply felt but not easily meant to be explored.

We're not meant to be fully perceived in all our glory. A Muse's beauty is meant to be on a pedestal and to be seen in all her light, what's most alluring about her always stays in the shadows for the right people to see. Most will never be able to see her true light, its a treasure. That's what being a goddess is primarily about.

The vibration focuses on etherealism. A remarkable essence that is built off inspiring others into a calmness, delightful magic. That is the aura of the swan magician. <3

This is a little post on my thoughts on swan magic, and overall embracing the energy that is divinely feminine. I hope you all enjoyed!

#swans #swan spirit animal #swan symbolism #beauty magic #manifestation #feminine energy #divine feminine #witch #tarot #divine expression #deja's blog #beauty blogger #magic

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crumpetsancheese · 1 year

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I think this is one of the funniest pokémon ever made. there's been such a wide berth of fan duncesparce evos, flying ones because of the wings, ground ones because of the drill, or even dragon as a kind of ugly duckling transformation.

So what does gamefreak do? DUNCESPARCE, NOW WITH 50% MORE DUNCESPARCE!!

wings? doubled.

eye lines? doubled.

chin spine? eh, just add another one.

body segments? doubled.

drill? YOU KNOW IT!!

literally the only original thing i've managed to find is a dark blue swirl on its tummy.

now, what IS this mon called anyways? Duduncesparce. just duncesparce, with an extra du. if you google its name there's zero results.

is this pokemon real???

#pokemon sv spoilers #new pokemon #dudunsparce

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ceilingfan5 · 9 months

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familiar story

You are a duck.

You are a duck and you have always been a duck.

What else would you be?

You’re an odd duck, always have been an odd duck

(and the things they said when you were a duckling weren’t nearly far enough out of earshot)

But you made it. Sure, a few things aren’t quite right,

and you feel the unsameness

dripping from you,

contaminating you,

marking you–

The other ducks know (they’ve always known there was something).

You know (you picked up on it eventually)

But you can swim and you can fly and you can make a joyful noise

And if it swims like a duck and it…well, you wouldn’t call it a quack.

But what else would it be?

And you go about living a duck life

among the other ducks

knowing that whatever kind of duck you are it isn’t the right kind

isn’t the right way

but what can you do but paddle on?

You’re pretty sure you’re doing it, as best you can.

You’ve heard of other strange birds, but that can’t be you.

You can swim, and you can quack, well enough to get by.

You aren’t something else. You’re just a shitty duck.

Aren’t you?

So maybe you float it by a duck expert,

and look directly at the pond when you suggest perhaps, maybe,

There’s some kind of swan thing going on here?

And the duck expert is skeptical, but you run down the list–

You’ve got a lot of friends who are swans, and they are perfect and wonderful

And so much easier to fly with.

Perhaps, in fact,

as they have started pointing out,

you swim like a swan,

And you honk, like a swan,

Even when you make it as quacky as you’ve practiced all these years.

And you could go on and on on swans-

But that isn’t necessary.

So you are pronounced a swan.

And you can treat yourself like a swan,

Hold yourself like a swan,

Take care of swan needs,

instead of trying to subsist as a duck.

What a relief. What a joy.

But you reflect, in the cool water of the pond,

And see the truth.

In fact (you try to hold it in)

(you cannot hold it in)

(there is grief, and there is anger, threatening to pull you right out of the sky)

you have to wonder how anyone looked at a bright eyed little cygnet and said ah yes,

What an ugly duckling.

#poetry #original poetry #poem #original poem #i wrote this #hopefully it resonates #cut to me writing this last night very emotional about a poem that uses the word quacky

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mistilteinn-magolor · 6 months

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hey guys do you wanna see old doodles that range from 6 months to a year old?? no?? well sucks to be you i guess

under the cut we fly

we got:

the first time i drew taranza over a year ago!! also WOW i could not draw magolor- tho tbh i still like the ranza except for a few things lol

return to dreamland 11th anniversary art! traditionally bc i didnt trust myself to finish a whole digital drawing in a day lmao

an iono!! actually this is the best iono ive ever drawn i think... SHES SO HARD TO DRAW HELP

stuff went down in a gc with irl friends... yeah

susie tells penny that her name is a currency

insert cash or select payment type

VERY old but also no context. Except that i found a comic by @/daily-magolor where magolor accidentally said two things at once

yes i know the proportions fell off a microwave and died help-

umm also old but me and my mom were watching tangled and uh. i started making the characters into kirby/pokemon ones... this is based on that scene in the ugly duckling where rapunzels hair is like going through many mens hands or something

n from pokemon was rapunzel (it really fits haha-), magolor was flynn i mean eugene for some reason?? oh yeah because they both stole crowns- and dmk is no specific dude haha

um no context from an old comic except its the best comic ive ever made

also yes it was mainly kirby fhghfgfgf this was when i was going from pokemon brainrot to kirby brainrot haha

this is one of my favorite things ive ever drawn. enjoy

annnnnd last but not least a 2 imager yay!! tbh i dont even remember the context for this one...

ghetsis bad dad

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serafinas-harem-extras · 3 months

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*turns your blorbo lizards into dragons* fuck you @mod-jazzy for making me work on this instead of anything more important.

-dragon serafina is much much bigger than the harem, like the size of the dragon in dragonshy, while the rest are more "normal" dragon size.

-griffon sialia has horseworld dwarfisim, so he can still be small

-probably would be phosphine's adoptive brother in this AU. picturing an ugly duckling situation where his egg ends up in a dragon nest and nobody ever realizes he's not theirs.

-arsine has difficulty flying because of his lack of a tail, though his tiny wings don't help matters.

-they could probably all keep their names the same. wanna come up with a griffon name for sialia, but couldn't think of anything cool.

also bonus ringo. he doesn't have a name either

#mlp au #siriussalandit #serafinasalazzle #sialiaswablu #askserafina'sharem #pokeask #pokemon ask blog #pokemon askblog #phosphinesalandit #dichlorosalandit #telluriumsalandit #arsinesalandit #azidoasalandit #kindlesalandit #ringomeltan

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mintartem · 5 months

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I have this idea in my head ever since I found out that Genya’s Halloween 2022 fairy tale is “The Ugly Duckling.”

Not a fic but more like a really long brain rot

Urogi was flying around when suddenly it started to pour heavily. Night had fallen and the cicadas chirped along with the sound of the rain. Urogi was flying back to his home when he caught sight of a little duckling running under a tree. Curious, Urogi landed and found the duckling drying its wet feathers. He also saw the how the half-bird was thin, sickly looking and trembling on such a cold night.

“Hey buddy. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?” Urogi asked as gentle as he can. The half-bird bore its teeth at him in a snarl, distrustful. Urogi can see a scar running through his face from one cheek to the other.

Sickly thin? Body appears to be in pain? Fading bruises that looks like could’ve been done by throwing rocks at him? A scar on his face that doesn’t look like an accident? Urogi isn’t human but even he can tell that this duckling had a bad life.

A random noise caught his attention. He looked at the duckling’s face and almost chuckled at the sight of the red faced duck looking away. His stomach was growling. He’s hungry.

“Here” Urogi handed him an onigiri. It was supposed to be his snack. He wasn’t the type to share to anyone that isn’t his brothers so he doesn’t understand why he was willingly sharing this to the duckling.

The duckling looks at the food and then back at Urogi, distrust clearly on his face. Suddenly, the duckling grabbed the food in Urogi’s hand so fast, as if scared Urogi will take it away. The duckling devoured the food like a starving animal. Well, the bird is probably starving isn’t it?

The half-bird finished its meal within seconds, clearly not having eaten for awhile.

“Any reason why you’re out here alone in a dark stormy night?” Urogi asked. The bird just stared at him, contemplating if he should answer or not.

“What’s your name? I’m Urogi” he said with a joyous grin. The bird still continued staring, scrutinizing him whether he should trust him or not. Finally, he replied: “Genya.”

“Alright, Genya what are you doing out here alone?” Lightning danced and thunder roared across the sky, catching the attention of both half-birds.

“Why don’t you come with me to my home Genya? It’s raining really bad and I’m sure you don’t want to be out on this storm.” As if to prove a point, the rain started pouring heavier.

The thought of staying at a nice warm home sounds so pleasing to Genya. He never got to experience such luxury. He wants to say yes, but a part of him wants him to say no, reasoning that he might end up hurt, or worse.

Yet, the tengu still has his hand out to him, waiting. A smile on his face that doesn’t look menacing at all. Should he gamble on it? He didn’t made fun of Genya when he saw him. In fact he looked almost concerned (that’s impossible no one ever gets concerned for him). He even gave Genya his food and didn’t took it away. It’s not filthy food or rotten food either. It was the most delicious thing Genya has ever eaten next to watermelons.

Shyly, Genya took Urogi’s outstretched hand. This brought joy to the tengu. He carried the bird (so light! He needs to eat!) and told him: “Hold on tight!” Urogi flew quickly and straight to his home.

He introduced Genya to his brothers. Sekido was reluctant to take care of him. Karaku doesn’t seem to mind. Uncle Urami just grunted (but that’s a good sign). His dad, as usual, cowered but lets them decide. Zohakuten was a child so he decided to play with the new comer. Aizetsu’s face turned red and he ran.

“Aizetsu is quite shy and doesn’t like meeting people that much” Urogi thought.

They all decided to keep Genya. After days of the duckling staying with them, they decided having him is not so bad after all and he was even helpful. They told him he could stay. It came as a big surprise when the duck’s tough face broke into tears and he started sobbing. Sekido panicked, not knowing what to do. When Zohakuten cries, it was Karaku that calmed him down.

Turns out, Genya cried out of happiness. He has a place to call home and wouldn’t have to be constantly moving and searching for a place to stay to fight off the elements.

More days have passed when Genya finally told them why he was always alone and on the move.

Genya’s ugly.

A stupid reason, Urogi thinks. Everyone, humans and yokais alike, drove Genya away for being ugly. Urogi can’t see ugliness as a good reason to throw rocks at someone. Can’t they think of something more fun than that? If they want to throw rocks, have they tried skipping stones? Those are fun. (Or maybe Urogi should throw stones at them. Now that sounds fun)

Have they met their dad’s (Hentengu) friend? He lives in a pot and looks super creepy!

In Urogi’s eyes, Genya is admittedly not the most good looking person around. But he certainly isn’t terrible looking either. He’s fine. But Genya won’t believe them. He believes that he was ugly since the moment he hatched.

“If you saw what I looked like when I hatched, you’d probably drive me away as well” he heard Genya whispered to himself after Aizetsu told him that he wasn’t ugly and in fact “quite cute.”

Urogi, his brothers, Urami, and his dad took care of Genya treating him as one of them. As seasons flew by, Genya grew up along with them.

It was on a beautiful spring morning when realization hit Urogi that the “ugly” duck he took in grew up to be completely different.

When Genya smiles, it seems like the flowers and sun smile with him. His laugh sounds as nice as a silver bell. His dull grey feathers were silvery white, glowing and shimmering under the sun (wonder what it will look like under the moon). Raven hair, as dark as the midnight sky. Genya has pretty lavender eyes that no longer look at the world with anger and hate.

Genya’s beautiful.

It feels like beautiful isn’t enough to describe him, however. Ethereal perhaps? Maybe that one’s too much…

Urogi and his brothers hated the fact that Genya is being pursued now by both humans and yokais alike. Those same creatures that ridiculed him when he was young. He was bullied and hurt for his looks, but now they are interested for his looks only?

It was at that realization that Urogi and his brothers swore they’ll protect Genya. Like hell they deserve him! Humans, yokais, gods, it doesn’t matter! They got to prove they like Genya more than just his looks if they want to be his spouse! (They hate the fact that Genya still thinks he is ugly though.)

~END~

Their feelings for Genya can be familial, platonic, or romantic up to you. This idea has been in my head and I wanted to share it.

#demon slayer #urogi #genya shinazugawa #shinazugawa genya #kimetsu no yaiba #this is just a random idea #if you saw aizetsu x genya there #you did #it’ll never leave my system #it is intended to be familial between Urogi and Genya though

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daily-hayley568 · 2 years

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ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ//ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ

ａｕｔｈｏｒ：Hayley ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：Following the song of Killer Queen by Mad Tsai, see the insight of Y/N’s school and love life, and her strong need for revenge. ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ：death, murder, blood, does not follow books or movies ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ（ｓ）：tom riddle x fem!reader

There was this girl, the most beautiful in the world She had all the boys in town wrapped 'round her finger, oh

Her hair was gorgeous. The beautiful y/h/c locks fell to her mid-back with a natural straightness to it. She always had the prettiest smile that she saved for the boys who would try to flirt with her, but she was never interested in such scoundrels. She’d flash them a fake smile and continue down the corridors.

Once, Y/N dropped her books and two Ravenclaw boys scrambled to pick them up for her. “Here you go, Y/N.”

She’d just smile and say: “Thank you, boys.”

Of course this happened a lot. She’d need something and before she could get it, boys would hand it to her. It was exhausting having zero personal space.

She would walk the halls and everyone would whisper and talk 'Cause all the girls in town wanted to be her

Y/N straightened her skirt as she stood from the library table and entering the corridor. She heard the whispers about her, but of course, she paid them no mind. Honestly, who had time to gossip about such petty things like what kind of hairstyle she had in today or anything else.

There was better things in the world. Like Revenge.

“Y/N is so pretty. I heard ten guys asked her to the Valentine’s ball, but she already agreed to the first guy who asked her.”

“I heard Y/N slept with Hufflepuff’s seeker.”

“Well, I heard she slept with Tom Riddle.”

“I’d date her if she gave me a chance.”

But behind those emerald eyes

She's a devil in disguise

Y/N had the most interesting of eye colors. Her eyes were a deep emerald with a piercing stare to those she glanced at. Though to as many she deceived. Y/N was not innocent, she was not sweet, but she was a devil in disguise.

Y/N was prone to acting as she was heaven-sent to all of her professors and most of her peers, but her thoughts were penetrated by the most of evil of things. She kept her anger cool, the facade of an angel mixed in with the cunning Slytherins. She cared greatly for success and revenge and she’d do anything to get it.

Once a first year bumped into her, her eyes seemed to be so full of anger, but she would just subtly shake her head with a small smile relieving the first-year of their panic.

Another time one of the girls were talking about Y/N,

“I heard she got a lot of work done over the holidays. There’s no way she went from how she was to that.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked over to the two girls walking past her as they openly talked about her. The menacing voice in her mind taunted her, Curse her. Make her feel humiliated in front of the whole Great Hall. They’ll never suspect you.

Do it.

Obeying the voices in her head, Y/N used a nonverbal spell to make the girl’s books spill and fly in the hallway. The two girls began to scramble their things together and y/n stepped around them. The two gossipers gaped as they noticed Y/n was by them.

The prom queen has blood on her hands

Every boy and girl she dates disappears without a trace

So be careful when she asks you to dance

At the Valentine’s ball that was being hosted, they decided to take the tradition of crowning a king and queen at the ball.

“This year’s Cupid Queen is Y/N L/N!”

The girl casted a pageant smile as she stepped on the makeshift stage, taking her crown. She gave a little thanks and got off the stage. She was stopped by a fifth year Ravenclaw boy who she was sure made fun of her back in her ‘ugly duckling’ stage.

“You look so gorgeous tonight.”

“Aw, thank you.” She smirked, as she cocked her head to the side, “Would you like to have this dance with me?”

The boy eagerly accepted her invitation to the floor. He began to twirl her in the midst of everyone.

“Have you heard about the mysterious disappearing? I think they’re going to cancel all trips to Hogsmeade.”

“Oh?” Of course, Y/N knew. She knew where the missing people were. “Let’s talk about this.. Somewhere more private?”

Since she knew people would be watching her every move she and her dancing partner moved to be unseen by the crowds of people. The couple fled down the corridor, with goofy smiles on their faces as they moved along. Well, he had a childish grin and she had a smirk behind him.

The corridor was empty only filled with her heels clicking and his shoes slapping the ground until they reached their destination. The destination was in the middle of the corridor with no one else around.

“Where are we headed?”

“You’ll see.” She simply replied with a small smile on her face.

Then there was a loud noise, and the most beautiful girl was dragging a petrified body off into the depths of the bathroom.

She's a motherfucking killer queen, a psychopath at 17

That wasn’t the only time she was involved with murderous activities. Y/N was a cold-blooded killer looking for success and revenge and love is what she found on the way.

“Avada Kedrava!” Her wand pointed at the girl’s heart. The girl dropped dead onto the equally as dead grass they were standing on.

The birds chirped a slow, depressing song as if they knew the type of tone this situation was. For strictly good measure, the girl kicked the body watching the corpse’s muscles twitch in the moonlight. Casting a disillusionment and a floating charm, the girl’s corpse followed behind her back into Hogwarts.

And another time.

“You’re crazy!”

“Possibly.” The girl’s smirk turned vicious as she smiled at her next victim the wand twirling between her fingers.

“You’re the one behind the disappearances!”

“Oh my, your Ravenclaw brain figured it out!” Y/N tilted her head to the side watching the boy’s confusion turn into panic.

“Killer!”

“Killer Queen sounds nicer, my dear.”

They were arguing in the corridor and I a prefect, heard the arguing walking onto the scene. “What is a Y/H and Ravenclaw doing in this corridor at night?”

“Riddle, please, help me!” I smirked turning to Y/N and then back to the Ravenclaw.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Y/n jerked her head over to the Ravenclaw watching them suspiciously. Maybe if he would’ve ran, he could’ve gotten away.

“Avada Kedrava.” I stated with a careless flick of my wand. I turned to Y/N and with two strides I was leaning down in front of her giving her a peck of affection on her lips.

She entangled herself into my arms and I smiled down at her. “So, Killer Queen, what’s next?”

“I’ll meet you in your dorm about twenty minutes or so, Darling.” I nodded casting the two charms on the body for her and she dragged the body by his foot into the bathroom.

A beauty in a blood-stained dress

As expected, twenty minutes later, Y/N walked into my dorm. She looked gorgeous from her naturally straight hair to her emerald eyes to her bloody dress.

“The basilisk was starving.” Y/N groaned as she slipped her dress off her body and threw on one of my shirts.

I was leaned against the headboard my arms crossed behind my head as I watched her. She was just one of the prettiest sights I’d ever seen and she looked so nice even if she was stained with Ravenclaw blood over her dress or if she was just in one of my shirts that she found comfortable. Y/N used a charm to clean the blood off her dress and then she climbed into the bed next to me.

“I love you, you know?” She gave me a small sleepy smile before she responded.

“I love you more, Tom Riddle.”

She'll fill your heart with kerosene

And light you up 'til you can't breathe

It was dark and murky in the Chamber of Secrets, just how Y/N liked it. The basilisk was sleeping currently, but Y/N and I were doing other things in the chamber.

A Gryffindor boy was tied by a spell to the chair he was sitting on. “Truly I didn’t mean it! You were ugly admit it.”

“Gryffindor brazeness is honestly on my nerves.” Y/N muttered as I let the basilisk out for his dinner.

If you cross her path you just might end up dead

“There’s my killer queen.” I smirked as Y/N came into my room again. She placed a simple kiss on my lips before placing herself on my lap. She sat sideways to me and her legs hung off the arm of the chair and her arms were linked behind my neck.

“I’ve thought of it!”

“Thought of what my dear?”

“Your new name. Voldemort.” I looked at her with a beaming, proud smile.

#tom riddle #y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #mad tsai #killer queen #slytherin #voldemort #tom riddle imagine #tom marvolo riddle #daily hayley stories #basilisk #tom riddle x reader #fem!reader #Harry Potter #writing #wattpad #harry potter #gryffindor

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softquietsteadylove · 1 year

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Thenamesh Ballerina/Boxer AU

Heyyyy I absolutely LIVE for ballerina/boxer AU

Could you maybe do one where you give a name to one of the mean girls, like create a character y’know? And can these mean girls just consistently get on Thena and Gil’s nerves (similar to the last one) except instead of thena scaring them off, Gil does 😌

I love your thenamesh fanfics btw ❤️

"Knock, knock."

Thena stood from the dressing room chair, flying over to him and into his arms. "Hey."

"Hey," he greeted back just as softly, holding her in his embrace as she sagged against him. She was always exhausted after these shows, and he was very familiar with how it would soak in physically before full realisation hit. "You were amazing."

Thena leaned up to kiss him, purring against him in contentment. "I'm glad you could come."

"Of course!" he laughed as she parted from him just enough to finish brushing her hair. "If I didn't have to pay, I'd be here every night!"

Thena shook her head at him, rolling her eyes in the mirror. "I told Sersi to go on without me."

"Late dinner date?" he suggested as he came over to her again, holding up her coat to slip into. Her arms settled into the sleeves like wings unfurling--so elegant, his Swan. "Or do you wanna just get takeout and go home?"

"Home," she sighed again, turning and burying herself against him again.

He let her, happily taking his time with his cuddly girlfriend. She was really feeling fatigued if she was being all cute and clingy.

"Thee!"

Gil and Thena both sighed at the voice calling and the name it was blaring through the backstage. He looked down at the top of her head, "what do they want?"

"Probably just to harass you," Thena grumbled, just barely pulling her face out of his chest before the door was slammed open.

The usual flock filtered into the room they had already finished leaving a mere half hour before. Lara spearheaded them, as always. "I knew you were dragging your feet."

Thena glared at the much taller woman, holding onto the lapel of Gil's jacket. "I didn't think it was a secret I would be picked up. I hardly asked you to wait for me."

"But it's the cast party, Thee," Lara pursed her lips at her in a unique mix of condescension and disdain. "Everyone's going."

"I'll pass."

"Don't your little ugly ducklings want to meet your handsome boyfriend?" another one giggled from the edge of the room.

Thena bristled, "my goslings are quite lovely little cygnets, it seems. The crowd seemed far more engaged with their piece than ours."

Gil couldn't help but smile; Thena's pride and joy was in the classes she taught. She had no problem denouncing herself and her colleagues if it was in the defense of her little goslings.

Lara rolled her eyes, "kids have it easy."

Gil gripped Thena's hand, hoping to make an escape before he found himself in the middle of another conflict, "sorry, but we were just-"

"You can come too, y'know!"

"It's true," Lara added, leaning a little closer to him (until Thena yanked him back to her side). "Partners are welcome, and I'm sure the girls would just eat you right up."

All the better reason not to go. Gil traded a look with Thena before looking up at the ring leader of the group. He tugged at his already partially undone tie. "You'll have to break the news to them that I'm taken."

Lara - making no progress with Gil - looked at Thena again. "You've got him well trained, huh? What are you feeding him, Thee?"

"Enough."

All the ladies in the room looked at Gil as he dropped some of the usual warmth and charisma he naturally carried. He put his hands in his pockets but looked at Lara head on, Thena still holding his arm beside him.

"Look, I don't care what politics you have going on here," he frowned, somewhat eyeing the passive but complacent posse around them. "But I don't take kindly to people who have a problem with the woman I love."

All ladies in the room practically gasped.

"If she says we're not interested, that's that," Gil continued, moving an arm but only to wrap it around Thena and squeeze her hip. "And I'm not interested in humouring you or anyone else who thinks it's funny to imply I'm not in a happy, committed relationship."

Lara actually took a step back as Gil started leading him and Thena out of the room, past their group of assailants.

"Maybe the partners you have don't know what loyalty really means, but I do." He held Thena on the far side of him, grasping the door to pull it closed behind him with one final glare. "I'm where I belong: with Thena. And I don't wanna hear another word about it."

Thena stared at him in somewhat of a stupor as he pulled the door closed and started walking out with her.

Only once outside the backstage door did he let out an anxious breath. She giggled as he tugged his tie all the way off and fanned his shirt a little. "God, that woman has a mean mug."

"She's not particularly pleasant," Thena agreed as her poor, sweet - non-confrontational - boyfriend gathered himself.

He looked at her with a frown, "is she gonna give you an even harder time next time you see her 'cause of that?"

Thena shook her head, slipping her hand into his again and kissing his cheek. "I won't know until I see her again, and that shouldn't be for quite some time, now."

Gil led her away from the door, looking back a few times to make sure a hoard of angry swans wasn't going to follow them to his car.

"I love you, too."

Gil's head whipped around to look at her. The parking lot lights had a yellow glow to them, and even though there wasn't snow falling into her hair, she was still as breathtaking as she always had been. Her cheeks had a soft pink to them as she squeezed his hand.

Thena let him tilt her head up to kiss her. He nuzzled the tips of their noses together, making her giggle again.

He moved his hand from her cheek to her hair, brushing his fingers through it and moving it over her shoulder in one - hopefully - smooth move. "I imagined that going differently."

"What?"

"Telling you," he blushed this time, "for the first time...y'know."

Thena tugged at his sleeve to hurry their pace along, "you can keep telling me. I'll be quite happy to hear it."

Gil followed her beckoning blissfully, thinking about all the opportunities to shower her with just how much he loved her from now on.

#Thenamesh Ballerina/Boxer AU #thank you so much my love!!!#I hope you like how it's turned out!#I quite liked the idea of the adversarial rest of the company last time #so I'm glad I could use them again!#maybe it's a little cliche #but I think Thena was always so devoted to the craft #maybe she didn't play particularly nicely #not mean just not friendly either #and anyone who doesn't kiss Lara's ass at least a little is probably not popular #anyway so then Thena leaves the company and they all think great #finally Odette is done being coach's pet #but then she's back and now she doesn't even look up from her phone unless they're actively rehearsing #and they find out it's because she has a hot boyfriend???#that is not gonna fly #he's sweet and handsome and a boxer???#no ma'am not on Lara's watch #but Gil is not here for #Gil-I-love-my-girlfriend-gamesh here

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