#i keep drawing all over my maths book

[kellanzy]

I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO SEND SOME RECENT ART AHHH

#omori #omori fanart #fanart omori #art #fanart #omori basil #omori sunny #basil fanart #basil omori #sunny omori #omori mari #mari omori #omori spirit mari #spirit mari #i keep drawing all over my maths book #somehow my teacher doesn’t care so #oh well!

[zombholic]

TATTOOS & ETC. — abby anderson

summary — y/n visits las vegas for vacation before college starts, she gets her first big tattoo piece there only to meet the owner of the shop.

description — tattoo artist!abby, poc fem!reader, obviously older abby, modern au, cant write smut so dont expect it, and ofc its gonna be a long story.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

“So I booked a tattoo appointment for tomorrow, the artist had someone cancel and she filled me in.” You smiled talking to your friend who came along with you on your vacation before university.

“Wait it’s that wrap around tattoo you wanted on your thigh right?” She asked as she took a sip of her alcoholic drink.

“Yes, dude you know how long I’ve been wanting that for!” The piece was gonna break your bank account but your girl math said it was basically free since it would be on for the rest of your life.

The morning of the appointment you decided to wear baggy sweats and a black wife pleaser, couldn’t risk anything rubbing against your new collection to your body.

You walked inside hearing the little bell chime as the door opened, you walked up to the small desk to meet a young girl with tattoos scattered along her arms and neck.

“Hey, appointment or walk in?” She smiled cheerfully looking up from her computer and at you.

“Appointment with Jasmine, I’m y/n” You leaned forward on the desk returning a small smile, she had you follow her to the back and had you sit on the chair telling you that Jasmine will meet you in a minute.

“Hey Y/n! How you feeling?” A short masculine woman sat in her rolling chair sliding over to you with toothiest smile, a small gem glued on her canine that blinged with the light.

“Feeling a little nervous but i’ve been wanting this tattoo for a year now, kinda stalked your page and I love the way you draw floral pieces.” You complimented her work, she was truly talented.

She had asked you to remove your sweats, now in your boy shorts and laying on your side after she applied the stencil. The buzzing of the gun started making you nervous but you being you kept your cool, the needle now digging into your plush thighs had you clenching your jaw.

You went on your phone trying to distract yourself from the painful spots she was doing, you heard the bell from the front door jingle followed by a couple of greetings before a tall, muscular woman who was covered in art walk into the back where you were.

“Hey Jazz.” She greeted your artist, her voice made you want to squeeze your legs together.

“Hey Abby, what’re you doing here? isn’t it your day off?” Jasmine paused for a moment to talk to Abby before focusing back on you. She asked you to lay on your back and spread your legs so she could finish the inner thigh part.

“This part will hurt so just tell me if you need anything ok?” The artist reassured you, nodding your head she came back down with the needle.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You bit down on your fist, squeezing your eyes shut, your chest heaving.

“I’m the owner dumbass, I have paperwork shit to do.” She chuckled, her blue eyes now on you and your tattoo.

“That’s a gorgeous piece.” Abby complimented, her giant arms crossing her chest as she now focused on your thigh.

“Yeah and it hurts like a motherfucker.” You giggled looking up at her.

Abby swore her heart started beating out her chest when she saw you look at her, she was definitely calling you the gorgeous piece she just couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

“Here hold my arm, I know how badly that part hurts.” You took her arm, digging your short nails into her forearm god for some reason she was turned on by you being in pain.

When the inner thigh part was finished you released your hand from Abby, quickly apologizing for hurting her.

“You’re fine sweetheart, didn’t even feel it.” A chuckle escaped her lips, winking at you before walking off to where you could assume was her office.

“Annnd you’re all done girl!” Your artist wrapped your thigh, looking in the body mirror you couldn’t stop cheesing.

“You are literally so fucking talented what?” Your comment made her blush.

“Gonna leave without letting me see?” Abby’s voice came from behind, you looked up at the mirror to see the blonde walk up behind you.

“She can have my whole bank account” You turned around to show her the beautiful piece wrapped around your thigh.

“Here, lemme walk you to the front.” Abby smiled as you had slid back into your sweats and walked over to the desk.

Abby leaned forward while on the computer, you would honestly thank her if she punched you in the face right now.

“Want a picture sweetheart?” She joked, a cocky grin plastering her face as she looked at you.

“I think I want your number more.” You impressed her with your boldness, majority of people being so deathly afraid of her.

“Yes ma’am.” She licked her lips, taking your phone and adding her contact.

“I’ll text you the details for our date on Friday.” Abby laughed but she wasn’t joking, this was her asking you out and you happily accepted.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

authors note — guys was this good … and do yall want another part EHEHEHEHE also like thank you @atomicami for basically inventing tattoo artist!abby 😩🫶🏼

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #abby anderson imagine #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x y/n #tattoo artist!abby

[nqmonarch]

Valentines Day w/ HSR Characters!

Doing Calc homework and am very stressed, i can feel it everywhere in my body. the math is just not mathing mentally today (i looked at trigonometric identities today so maybe thats why)

Just writing out some messy ideas to take a break

Btw if u sent in a request and I haven't answered it yet I am working on it thank you for your uh question ask thingy i appreciate it, i like to know what people like to read bcus tbh i like to write anything altho jingyuan gets like +10 points cus he fluffy

Valentines Day With Some HSR Characters (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Stelle)

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is old school romantic. You cannot tell me he wouldn't arrive home with a big bouquet of roses (does HSR even have roses?) and 20 other gifts, including but not limiting to boxes of chocolate, teddy bears, and at least one gag gift. There's gotta be at least one, he'd make a dad joke out of it too.

Then he'd reserve one of the best restaurants on the Luofu and bring you there. He'd probably have booked a private room, thank goodness because no one wants to hear the general continuously compliment you until you're a puddle on the floor. What he is best at is attacks. But if he gets a compliment in return he'll freeze up for a moment before playfully returning it.

Jing Yuan doesn't put on his normal coy facade today, instead he just embraces how much he loves you because he's happy to still have you in his life.

Blade

Blade does not know it's Valentine's Day. It's not his fault, cut him some slack. Anyway Kafka probably reminds him that it's Valentine's Day about half way through the day to which he goes into a silent panic. You can't tell he's panicking he's just staring at the wall with a blank face, he actually looks like he wants to murder someone.

The two of you end up celebrating though! He... pulls something together, it really is something. Sure he smells like blood and the waiters are scared, and taking over this restaurant for a Valentine's Day dinner was definitely not in the script but... It could be worse. He's trying his best, really.

Afterwards you and Blade share lots of cuddles! Something he's pretty good at! Holding you just tight enough, and keeping you close to his side-- you just won't be able to get up if you want to get water or anything. He doesn't say too much but you can feel the love in each caress.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng doesn't really like going out, why would he when all he needs is right by his side? So the two of you stay on the express in the archives. What matters isn't where you are but the company. He'd probably get you a few trinkets from different places he's collected over the years, a necklace, a sick looking compass, whatever fits your vibe.

Dan Heng would probably also write you a love poem, and make you read it or awkwardly recite it in front of you. If you read it out loud though he will get unbelievably embarrassed and snatch it away from you. He'd give it back but he'd take some coaxing, be nice okay? His face is already red.

Then when the night draws to a close the two of you would curl up together on that sorry excuse of what he calls a bed. The majority of your body would be on Dan Heng's using him as a pillow, and his arms would be wrapped around your body keeping you still and warm.

Dan Heng's bed is not it man. Personally, I'd get back problems.

Stelle

"You are the one who deserves the golden trash the most," Truly romantic words from Stelle as she hands you a golden trashbag. That is just the first of the gifts she gives you tonight, and the one that's most valuable to her. It's the thought that counts right? You still have no idea what she's talking about when she mentions fighting Sampo as a trashcan...

The two of you spend a romantic night together, walking down the quiet streets of Belobog, and-- did Stelle just investigate a trashcan again? You should be used to this. On the bright side, every time she gets something cool she comes up to you with the biggest smile on her face, it's beyond adorable. Sometimes the trashcans even have good stuff, like a scarf Stelle lets you wear that thankfully doesn't smell like trash.

It's just good to spend time with the person you love. She spends her time catching you up on everything new from her adventures, and when it's too cold to stay out any longer the two of you head to the Astral Express. Where you shower together and then doze off on one of the Express' couch cushions while playing games. Your head rests against Stelle's reminding you, you're never alone.

Okay I need to get back to homework, fun break thanks guys. Imagine being alone on Valentines Day couldn't be me, I have my Calc Homework. It told me I was integral to it <3 legit peak partner material.

#hsr #reader insert #hsr x reader #gn reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #stelle x reader #valentines day #me x calculus homework

[geekwritersworld]

Little Artist

Pairing: Peaky Blinders x you (more mentions of Tommy and you though)

Warnings: fluff, one liner angst at the end (I am incapable of not adding angst to everything I write)

Summary: As stated below in the request. @anne-17890

Hello, I could ask one in which the younger sister of the Shelbys, maybe she is 14/15 years old wants to be an artist and she has a lot of talent but the family does not know but the art teacher one day calls the Shelbys at school to talk about her sister and they discover her talent and that she received a letter from a private school in London to study on full scholarship. Thank you for your time

A/n: I've taken forever for this request and I am so sorry about that. My only defense being that ADHD is an absolute pain in the rear :)

Do let me know what you think ❤️

You weren't much of a reader, you didn't care much for music nor did you like being stuck around your siblings all the time. And of course they didn't let you anywhere near the business so you spent most of your time by yourself. You tried out new things, hoping something would stick and become a hobby. And on a whim one day you decided to try your hand at art.

And at some point it stuck. You began frequently drawing, improving yourself each day. And it was becoming more than a hobby. So to escape you turned to art; to the one thing you found almost calming. To express your emotions and to sketch what you pictured the world beyond small heath looked like.

And you were exceptionally good too, you realized. You were grateful for that, of course. Your siblings occasionally noticed your work at the table where you'd forgotten them on late nights and ensured to compliment your skills when you woke, but lately you made sure to conceal your work.

Despite your classmates keeping their distance from you knowing you were a Shelby, you managed to make one good friend-Nancy-to whom you'd grown quite close.

You both found common ground in your love and flair for art. So you'd both spend time at Nancy's house, making mess of her living room floor with all the art supplies. Sometimes you left your sketch book with her, not wanting your brothers fussing over your art.

Taking up an art class at school without the knowledge of your siblings you found solace in the art room. You weren't sure what was keeping you from letting your family know of your art skills. Sure they knew you could sketch and create art, but they never knew the extent of it. They never knew of your capability to create hyper realistic images on paper with mere pencils everyone used everyday.

Of course, Nancy was sworn to secrecy to never reveal to your family. But it wasn't through Nancy that the Shelby's ultimately found out of their youngest sisters talent.

It all began on a particularly dreary morning. When you were relieved you'd left your sketch book with Nancy due to the rain drizzling down on the way to school.

That damp afternoon you walked home knowing something you hadn't that morning and you avoided walking home with Nancy aware that she'd ask you questions about why you'd been pulled aside that morning in school by the head.

"Now Y/n" The professor sat you down with the head on the other side of the table listening intently. Sitting down, hesitating at first, you wondered what you'd done.

"We wanted to talk to you Ms. Shelby" she paused " about what you plan to do once you've finished school" You almost wanted to laugh, if you didn't know any better, you'd assume she was literally sitting on the edge of her chair with how intently she waited for your response.

"You mean for university?" you asked confused.

"Yes" she nodded

"well I don't know really, I haven't given it much thought seeing that I have a few more years to go" you said, nervous.

Your professor smiled kindly and looked at you. You still wondered why you arts professor was here, talking to you when you were due in math class.

"Thing is, your art" she cleared her throat " your artistic abilities are admirable. It's very rare to see such talent" she continued "and we've ..er.... communicated with one of the universities in London, and they're want to offer you a full scholarship in arts, should you chose to enroll at that university, we've received a letter from them as well, for you"

You stared at her, your mind blank. You expected to see John burst into the room laughing at you for the joke they were played on you. Surely itwasn't...it couldn't be.

"what" you rasped, throat drying.

Smiling wider, the head this time, pushed an envelope towards you "here"

Reaching forward with a hesitant hand, you slipped open the envelope and began to read the letter that resided inside.

Once you'd scanned the letter and read the words over and over you held on to it.

"could I keep this?" you mumbled

"of course" both women said unison.

"can i think about it? if that's alright" you looked at them.

Nodding the professor responded "of course!"

So you took your time. Or rather you avoided your professors. Rushing out the moment school was done, reaching at the last possible moment- making sure to take an extra long route to school; you did everything you could to avoid your professors and best friend.

You made excuses and tried avoiding Nancy as much as you could.

You wouldn't tell your family. They didn't need to know.

Of course Aunt Pol noticed your sudden odd behavior. She noticed you were home more often than usual, you didn't sit in the living room as much you used to, and coming home earlier from school than normal and you'd been avoiding your family; barely talking to them anymore.

Pol and Tommy knew you were a shy kid, you had been your whole life. However you were never this quiet with you family, especially with him and Arthur.

Frustrated Tommy slammed the pen down on the table making one of the men in the betting shop to flinch. He couldn't stop wondering what was wrong with his youngest sibling. He didn't get it. Were you in trouble?

Why were you more closed off than usual? Tommy knew you were too much of a Shelby to directly tell them even if they asked you what was wrong.

He got up and decided he needed some fresh air- and a cigarette.

Tommy wasn't sure where he was heading until he got there.

Exhausted, not to mention surprised that your arts professor had walked right past you that morning, you thought it was odd since you'd been avoiding her for over a week; deciding not to dwell on it too long you put your things together and got ready to leave.

You looked forward to going home and getting some sleep and perhaps even meeting Nancy later on.

Once classes were let out, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder and bolted for the door but stopped short when you spotted your older brother standing near the gates looking straight ahead at you.

Standing still as the rest of the children rushed past you- some even knocking into you, you remained still until Tommy tilted his head at you releasing a puff of smoke from his lips.

Taking in a deep breath trying to push through the mist of confusion in your head you walked towards him "what are you doing here Tom?"

You occasionally called him Tom instead of Tommy, and sometimes it bugged Tommy but in a way it was endearing plus if there was one person he'd tolerate referring to him as Tom it would be you.

"No reason" the look in his eyes told you different.

Rolling your eyes, you moved past him, intending to walk home "why didn't you tell us?" Tommy's footsteps were slow behind you against the wet gravel.

"what?" you snapped your head to look at him, your fingers turning cold despite the humid air.

"I think" Tommy caught up to you slowly, staring ahead "you know what."

"so she fucking tattled" you snorted suddenly "how mature for a grown woman" you were infuriated but nervous at Tommy's reaction.

"she didn't have much of a choice considering I asked her how you were"

"Why the fuck are you asking my professors how I am ?!" you looked at Tommy like he was deranged. Maybe he was, you didn't know. All that smoking and drinking was probably catching up.

"Because you won't talk to us" your brothers nonchalant attitude was beginning to frustrate you even more.

"Well you never asked did you?" you sassed.

Tommy stopped walking and you stopped a few steps ahead of him turning to look at him "would you have told us if we asked?" Tommy raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes "no" you mumbled "fuck off" and continued walking.

Tommy let out a mirthless chuckle.

The rest of the walk back home was in silence, you could feel your brothers eyes boring in the back of your head and you did your best to bite your tongue and not snap back at him.

Shutting the door behind you Tommy spoke with an uncharacteristic soft tone "y/n"

letting your shoulders drop, you took a deep breath to avoid crying then turned to look at Tommy.

"Look, Tommy, I'm not going so leave it alone" you walked into the kitchen and picked up a glass to pour yourself some water.

"Why not?" Tommy leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

Instead of responding you stared right back at Tommy with unrelenting gaze that you knew your aunt held so often with your brothers too.

After a minute of the two of you standing and staring at each other in silence you said " 'cause I don't want to go. Now let it go will you" Pushing past him you went up the stairs to your room.

You didn't see Tommy again that day until the next morning when you opened the door with your school bag in hand and almost walked into him standing right outside your door.

"morning y/n" sarcasm laced your brothers words.

"What?" you narrowed your eyes looking at him.

"You" he reached forward and pulled your bag off your shoulder " are coming with me today" he shoved your bag onto your bed and put his hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes widened "where" you looked at him

He didn't respond rather he nudged you out of your doorway and downstairs.

"There's the bloody artist!" Arthur shouted when he spotted you coming down the stairs.

you immediately turned to glare at Tommy and caught him rolling his eyes at Arthur.

"Where ya goin' Tommy?" Arthur ignored the obvious annoyance his siblings felt toward him in the moment.

"Nowhere" Tommy mumbled

Taking his distraction from you as an opportunity you ducked from under his hand on your shoulder and bolted back up the stairs.

"Y/N" Tommy yelled bolting after you. Arthur laughed watching Tommy run after you.

Rushing into your room in time, you slammed the door shut and locked it. Ignoring Tommy's knocking on the door.

Grabbing your bag you slid open your window and threw it out. And then slipped your left leg out the window and securing it safely on the edge you ducked and climbed out completely, still hearing Tommy ordering you to open the door.

Managing to climb down safely, you dusted your clothes and turned around and walked right into Aunt Pol standing there arms crossed watching you, not impressed, and Tommy stood behind her smirking.

"might want to take the front door next time " John snickered walking out to where the three of you were.

"Right" Aunt Pol moved forward while guiding you back into the house- through the door- she continued "you're going with Tommy, I don't bloody know where he's taking you but he's told me it's important".

"But I have school!" you fought back " for which I'm probably late thanks to Thomas" you exclaimed.

"well then you better go along with him quickly so you don't have to skip another day" Pol smirked.

Truth was, Tommy knew, that Pol of course had noticed the change in your behavior as well no doubt, and when he told her last night that he was going to pull you out of school for the day for something important, she didn't argue knowing her nephew must obviously know something and if he wasn't telling her now he would later.

Tommy didn't tell her cause he wanted you to tell them yourself. He didn't want to push you away any further by revealing something you still preferred keeping to yourself.

You knew it was hopeless fighting back if Aunt Pol was involved and siding with your brother.

Grumbling, you let your bag fall of your shoulder, put it on the sofa and turned to Tommy "fine" you stomped outside.

Tommy, who had a cigarette in between his lips, let out a puff of smoke and then walked after you.

Slamming the door shut to the car, you sulked. Your frustration grew stronger the more you kept thinking about Tommy doing this because of yesterday. You didn't understand why he couldn't just let it be.

Tommy didn't speak at all on the drive, he juts looked ahead. And you didn't bother asking him where he was taking you. You were too stubborn to ask. Instead, you leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes.

Having fallen asleep you didn't realize how long the car ride was, and only woke when Tommy nudged your shoulder calling your name.

Looking out the window yawning, you felt your breath hitch the moment your eyes adjusted on the massive building in front of you. The red bricked building stood in front of you with a field of grass stretching wide in front of it. The grass was greener than you'd ever seen grass to be. You opened the door and got out standing still, afraid that if you moved you'd wake up back in your damp room in Birmingham. The air, it was-clean- it wasn't damp with a lingering smell of something stale, like in small heath.

Tommy watched you take in where he'd brought you. His chest tightened noticing the disbelief in your eyes. He felt a sudden rush of pride and love. He wanted this for you. He wanted you to be able to get away from small heath. He wanted you to have this, he knew you deserved it more than anyone.

You'd kept to yourself your whole life. Content with the little you had, never asking for anything.

And god, Tommy knew you were so smart and capable of making something of yourself. He didn't understand why you didn't want this -or rather- why you were refusing it when it was being handed to you.

He so desperately wanted you to go here. Moving to stand next to you, he put his arm around your shoulder.

"What do you think?"

You were too struck with amazement to actually speak aloud, instead you whispered "I don't know"

And you didn't. You wished so desperately to go here now that you'd seen where you had the opportunity to come. But the same questions haunted you in the back of your mind, how would your family be able to afford financing your stay. Just finding a place for you to live would be a big expense.

You couldn't ask this of them. You couldn't move to live such a life in London, when your family would still be breathing the toxic fumes of small heath.

Tommy could almost feel your longing. To come here, to make a life for yourself. But he couldn't figure out what was holding you back, why you were adamantly refusing, why you hadn't told them either.

He couldn't understand it.

"Would it be selfish Tommy?" you whispered, shifting your weight on your left leg.

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows "no it wouldn't" he said softly.

He didn't think his heart was capable of breaking again, but apparently he learnt that it was the moment you asked him that question. It broke his heart to think that you were willing to let your future go just because you thought it would be selfish to ask this of your family. Because you didn't want them to spend their money on your education.

"I want to come here Tommy, I really do" you couldn't help it anymore. You turned to look at Tommy, tears brimming your eyes and you slipped your hand in his and held it tightly.

He wasn't expecting to see the tears in your eyes, so when you slipped your hand his, a few seconds later he let go and instead slipped his arm around your shoulder again and pulled you into his side.

"then you're going to come here eh" he rubbed your shoulder.

"How are we going to afford it?" you hiccuped.

"you're the first Shelby to be offered a fuckin' scholarship and that's what your worried about?" Tommy chuckled.

You were always the more grounded Shelby, but it never occurred to him just how far your selflessness went.

"Listen to me" he made you look at him "we'll afford it alright, we've got more money now than before and by the time you have to leave we'll have even more, plus I've got Ada a place you could stay with her, after she finds out I've got her a place of course"

"Tommy-"

"It's not for you to worry about money, you leave that to us" your brother clarified.

You said nothing further but continued leaning into your older brothers side until he finally asked you if you were ready to leave.

Watching the building fade past you, you turned back around looking in front "they know then?"

"Only that you've been told you've got exceptional art skills" he gave a small smile.

You were grateful he hadn't told your family of your scholarship opportunity yet "thank you".

You spent the trip back to Birmingham wondering how you'd tell your family. You were beyond nervous and the bundle of nerves only worsened as Tommy turned into the familiar streets of the Small heath.

When the car came to a halt you almost refused to get out but you had to get out at some point. So you did. With shivering legs and a pounding heart.

Only when Tommy nudged you into the pub did you realize that you'd never told Tommy that you were going to tell your family today. But somehow he knew you'd agree once you'd seen the place you were being given the opportunity to go to. And seeing your family gathered at the table when you entered the pub only confirmed this realization.

"Ada will be here soon" Tommy walked over and sat down next to Arthur-a decision he knew he would regret the moment you told them.

The chair scraped against the dark wooden floor as you took one from another table and sat down. In the same instant that you sat down, Ada strolled into the Garrison, taking off her hat.

Once she'd sat down grumbling about how this better not be a meeting revealing one of Tommy's fuck ups.

But Tommy had rolled his eyes and clarified "we're here 'cause Y/n has something to tell us"

You sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling, and then looked back at the unflinching gaze of your entire family focused on you.

"right-um-well" you cleared your throat and shifted slightly in your chair. "I-um" you began bouncing your knee.

You realized in that instant that the only way you'd be bale to tell them was if you didn't look at them directly and avoided the look of disappointment they'd inevitably express at your selfish-ness of asking something like this of them.

So instead you looked at your fidgeting hands and came out with it in one breath "I've been offered a scholarship to a university In London for-um-art and I've decid-thought of taking it"

There it was. The heavy disappointed silence. Your heart dropped at the silence. Even Harry it seemed had stopped wiping the bar behind you.

You could hear everyone's breathing in the loud silence, more so you could hear your own heart beating quite rapidly and were sure everyone else could too.

"A shelby going to bloody university!" Your head snapped up to meet Aunt Pol's tear brimmed eyes. She was beaming, and you realzied you'd never actually seen a smile on her that actually reached her eyes- before this that is.

The relief washed over you like a wave, you could physically feel the relief in your skin, your shoulders felt lighter and you felt as htough you were giong to start fully sobbing at any second.

Arthur sat stunned for a few more minutes while Ada and John hugged you, raving about how proud they were of you. Finn congratulated you Arthur seemed to come to and started literally bellowing out of happiness. You were pretty sure he was just making noises and not even shouting proper sentences, "little one's going to fookin' University!", Tommy instantly took a deep breath looking at the ceiling standing up.

Chcukling, you said "I'm not litt-oh" Arthur hugged you tighter than he had before, unable to contain his happiness for you and you had to tap him on the shoulder letting him knowing you couldn't breath.

Once he let go John, Finn and Ada continued talking excitedly making lists of things you'd need for university, and you leaned your head past Arthur and looked at Tommy who was now leaning against the wooden beam; smiling at you.

"how come you got a scholar-whatever-it-is and I didn't?" You heard Finn say behind you.

"Maybe cause you never fucking went after the first day of 6th grade" John laughed, making Finn roll his eyes.

You however walked to Tommy and engulfed him in a hug. Squeezing him as tight as you could. And Tommy did the same.

He looked up at Pol who and gave him a nod. Tommy knew it was his aunts way of letting him know he had done the right thing in doing whatever he had done to convince you to get away to a better life.

"hang on" Ada said then "we've all been here talking about how fuckin proud we are of you for your scholarship, but we've barely seen your bloody art"

So of course the next thing you knew you were being dragged down to watery lane to show them your art book. Which you didn't have, seeing as you'd left it at Nancy's so John then accompanied you to pick it up and watched you tell Nancy you'd explain everything later.

John was itching to grab your book from you and take a peek on the way home, but he also knew you would chew his ear off for it and decided against it.

The moment your family's eyes glimpsed the first page, they proceeded to compliment you, but Ada made it a point to let you know you were a downright arse for keeping your work from them.

Tommy and Pol stayed up that night, long after everyone else had gone to bed- after Tommy had carried you to your room.

Sitting down next to his aunt with a drink, he leaned back on his chair.

"y/n's going to have a better life Pol" Tommy sighed, smiling a little.

"god knows if there's anyone that deserves it more than anyone, it's that child." Pol nodded.

And he knew it was true. He doted on you from the moment you were born. When you opened your eyes and looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, Tommy swore he would kill for you.

And not once since did he take his job as the older brother for granted, if anything he always went the extra mile to make sure you were safe.

Of course the rest of your family protected you too, but Tommy like always, went beyond what was necessary sometimes. But he would rather do too much than too little and end up having you hurt.

A few months later, it was this very habit of Tommy's, the one that kept you safe for 15 years, that made the new Irish Inspector in small heath, watch you from the alley as you walked home one evening.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders one shot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby x you #john shelby x sister #ada shelby x sister!reader #john shelby x sister reader #arthur shelby x sister!reader #finn shelby x reader

[actual-changeling]

Family breakfasts with Tommy have become somewhat of a routine.

He comes over on the days Maria leaves for her work early (which is more often than not), eats her granola and drinks Joel's coffee, and they talk about whatever they feel like, though Ellie loves asking him about his recent patrols. She kicks her feet up into Joel's lap and draws it out as long as she can before sprinting all the way to school, but it's worth it if it means just one more story.

Today, though, she's late. Really fucking late. It's not her fault she got a bit distracted by the new book Tommy had brought her last afternoon (it's about SPACE Joel, that trumps school and sleep by a mile), but now she had about five minutes to get out of the house and into the classroom. Ellie barrels down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder, and has to catch herself on the banister to not slip on the floor once she jumps over the last few steps

"Careful, baby," Joel calls over, worriedly watching her put on her shoes while standing on one leg, jumping to keep her balance. Tommy, on the other hand, looks majorly amused, and she can hear him chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, old man, I can keep my balance just fine."

She ties her laces so she doesn't trip once she starts running and is about to leave when Joel whistles to call her back.

"Breakfast, Ellie."

Fucking Joel and his stupid rules, but Ellie spins on the spot and uses the kitchen door frame to propel herself toward the counter and pick up two apples for later, stuffing them into her bag with a happy? thrown over her shoulder.

"Mh, have a nice day at school, kiddo," he tries to sound all parental, but she can hear the softness bleeding through and just knows he's holding back a grin. Ellie crosses the distance between them with two big steps and slings her arms around his neck, allowing herself the luxury of melting against him for a few precious seconds when he gently rubs his thumbs over her wrists and lifts her clasped hands to press a kiss to her knuckles.

With a heavy sigh and a silent fuck you to whoever invented math, she pulls back, but not without pressing a kiss to Joel's cheek, basking in the smile he gives her; it's so easy to make him happy, and she does it as much as she can.

Ellie can feel Tommy's eyes on them, he always watches them with a gleeful mixture of amusement and affection, and over the last year, he has settled into the warm parts of her heart, too. He is right between her and the door, sipping on his coffee, so, really, it's not even a conscious choice, more of a reflex.

Her hand comes down on the table when she steps toward the front door and away from Joel, balancing herself so she can lean around the back of his chair and press a quick kiss to his cheek, too. Ellie bites back the small laugh bubbling up when she sees the expression on his face, mouth slightly open, eyes seeking help from Joel, who simply shrugs and picks up his cup again.

Another minute ticks by on the kitchen clock, and she is finally on her way out, the goodbye she yells at them cut off when the front door slams close behind her.

-

("What the hell was that?"

"She is laying her claim on you."

"Whatever that means, Joel, she's your kid, not mine."

"Better get ready to give up your personal space and half your closet."

"My clothes, really?"

"You never know what she might do next, prepare for the worst."

"Are you sure she's not yours? 'Cause this sounds oddly familiar."

"Oh, she is, she just found me all on her own."

"Glad she did, haven't seen you smile like that in twenty years."

"Give it a week and I'll tell you the same thing.")

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie and tommy #ellie williams #joel miller #tommy miller #miller family #ficlet #losing my fucking mind here guys #have some breakfast fluff written over breakfast #uncle tommy #we're really in it now guys there's no coming back from this new obsession #writing ellie this happy is still weird but i like it it suits her #it suits ALL of them #i might torture them a lot but boy they deserve this

[annymation]

Reimagining the characters in Wish

(Part 5- The Goat)

This will be the last one of these blogs about the characters. I was stalling on this one because honestly there’s really not much to Valentino in my rewrite.

Will his existence influence the plot tho? Yes, definitely way more than the movie Valentino did… Although that bar isn’t high.

So let’s go, animal companion time!

Personality

- Valentino is a one month old baby goat, a little ball of energy, too pure for this world, doesn’t know basic math and we must protect him at all cost.

- His main gimmick is that he follows Asha EVERYWHERE to the point it’s comical, like, I didn’t write him much so far in my rewrite (we’re currently on chapter 3 and he was alive in only 2 of them, so no wonder) but even when I don’t mention him just assume, he’s there… All the time.

- He cares a lot about Asha and sees her as his mother, since well, she technically is, she took care of him all his life (a month).

Main Traits:

- Curious

- Loyal

- Silly

- Innocent

- Determined

Backstory

(Because it wouldn’t be a rewrite of mine if the character didn’t have at least some angst, not even the 1 month old goat is safe from me)

- A month before our story begins, Asha was drawing animals at one of the farms in the kingdom, to practice, when suddenly she heard a new born goat all alone.

- She asked the owners where his parents were at, and they explain they didn’t notice the little guy under the hay earlier, they sold their goats to be exported to a neighboring kingdom.

- Asha felt really sad for him, so she asked to buy him, the farmer said she could keep him for free, taking care of baby goats without a mama goat around was too much trouble anyway, Asha was basically doing them a favor.

- Valentino obviously doesn’t know all that, but even if you told him it’s not like he’d care, he sees Asha as his mama and that’s all that matters.

- He’s very thankful for her taking care of him, getting him a nice sweater and a cozy little bed… He wishes he could thank her.

Which leads us to:

This Book

- So hear me out, there’s this kids book, “The Grateful Goat”, about Valentino, and it’s adorable, it’s my main inspiration for his rewrite.

- In this book we follow Valentino trying to communicate something to Asha and her friends, but they can’t understand him, since we’ll, he’s a goat.

- They try over and over to guess what he wants but nothing makes him stop bleating.

- Then, once Star came down and granted his wish, it turns out all he wanted to say was “Thank you”

Oh

That

That’s cute, I like that.

- Imagine this, in my rewrite, once Aster does grant Valentino’s wish and makes him talk, it’s a cute scene of Valentino going like:

“THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS TAKING SUCH GOOD CARE OF ME!”

(And he sounds like a child by the way, because that’s how a baby goat should sound like DISNEY)

- Now, am I saying that Valentino is just gonna speak once to say thank you?… Kinda, but not quite.

- You see, Aster’s wish granting magic is only effective on you if you really really REAAALLY want it to be.

- As he makes animals in the forest talk for example, or brings the tress to life, they only remain like that as long as they really want to, and what do you know, turns out most trees are chill just being tress so his magic fades away from them in a short while.

- Valentino’s wish won’t be to permanently talk, he just wanted to thank Asha, so once he’s done doing that Aster’s magic fades away after a few hours.

-… However, some of Aster’s magic remains deep inside of Valentino, so if for whatever reason Valentino reeeeeally wants to communicate something… Something urgent perhaps… Then he regains the ability to speak.

- Oh yes I CREATED TALKING GOAT ON DEMAND! HE ONLY SPEAKS WHEN ITS RELEVANT TO THE PLOT BABEEEEY!!!

- Not gonna lie, I’m really happy with this, because that just means I won’t have to come up with lines for him all the time, he’ll only speak when necessary.

Design

- So. Many. Cute. Designs… AND WE GOT THE WORST ONE GAAAAH DISNEY WHEN I CATCH YOU-

- It’s fine, I’m fine *breathes* we can fix him.

- First of all, he has horns, because believe it or not 1 month old goats already start showing their horns.

- Second, I debated a lot on this but we’re keeping the little sweater, yeah I’m surprised too, I hated it at first (still do hate it in the way that it is in the movie) but then I was informed it’s a reference to how Walt Disney used to put clothes on the animals of his family’s farm when he was a kid, and that’s the type of deep cut and cute reference I wish we had gotten more of.

- But the sweater won’t be so tight on him, like, let it be a little bit more loose, and maybe don’t cover his lower half.

- This concept art I used for the second chapter of my rewrite kinda illustrates it perfectly how I’d like him to be:

- The fluffy tuff of hair, the big eyes, the long ears, the lil horns, it’s perfect, that’s it, that’s our boy. Tho I don’t imagine him being all white, lets say he has some brown spots.

Final Thoughts

This post actually made me really mad because I wrote it all once and it was perfect, but I forgot to save it before closing tumblr, so I lost it all, ughhh why don’t they have auto save on cellphones??

I have plenty of ideas on how to make him more plot relevant than he was in the Disney movie, he won’t be like THE MOST ESSENTIAL CHARACTER OF ALL, definitely not, but little things that he does move the story forward.

If my calculations are correct he’ll most likely be useful on chapter 4 of my rewrite (or chapter 5, cause like, I’m trying to make them a bit shorter)

Not gonna tell how he’s gonna be useful in the story tho cause I think it’s better as a surprise.

A bit of a quick tangent here, but have you guys ever noticed how some Disney animal companions are the opposite of their human friends?

Ariel is brave and curious - Flounder is a coward

Pocahontas is wise and calm - Meeko is a dummy and Flit has anger issues

Alladin is generous - Abu is a kleptomaniac

You get the idea.

We didn’t get that at all in the Wish movie.

I was trying to come up with ideas on how to make Valentino have an opposite trait compared to Asha, but I don’t really know how to incorporate that into the story, oh well, I might just figure out as I go.

Anyway, that’s our goat, hope you like him!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish #wish 2023 #wish star #wish asha #wish disney #wish movie #wish rewrite #wish reimagined #wish valentino

[star-girl69]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: like maybe some slight bullying? tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Two- Savior

—-

“First day of school! How are you feeling?”

You sigh at Grace’s words, already tired from waking up so early.

“Wanna sleep,” you murmur, and she frowns, eyes bright and picks you up. When she’s in her Avatar, like this, you’re practically a feather to her.

“Well, it’s not like school you normally do. You’re just gonna play, help some kids your age learn English. No math, I promise.” When you don’t perk up, she sighs, digs her fingers into your side. “There. There’s that smile, yeah?”

—-

“Grace,” you say, tugging on her shorts, and she simply smiles and places her hand on your head.

“It’ll be fine, baby, relax,” she soothes, but you’re young and scared of newness, so you tug on her anyways. Her hand is comforting, her scent, but you still want to be high up in her arms. No one can reach you when you’re up there.

“Grace! Grace!” the children chant as she walks in, and even through she said that they’re your age, they still tower above you. You feel small, like you’re nothing. Like whatever fire inside of you Aunt Grace says you have is nothing more than an ember.

She told you you’re a wildfire. And maybe you are, but you don’t feel like it.

She greets them in Na’vi, a langage which you know very little of, but enough to make it out. “Hi, hi, how are you?” she laughs as the children reach out to grab her, touch her hair, her clothes, anything.

She hasn’t seen them in weeks- something about tensions, you had heard, before she spotted you trying to hide behind the wall and ushering you out.

Tensions, but what? Grace says you’re too young. But you still want to know. She blames herself for your curiousness, says you got it from her.

Augustine’s are a blessing and a curse, she would say.

Eventually, the children calm down from the excitement, and Grace turns to you.

“Come on out,” she taunts, drawing you out from behind her. “This is my niece, Y/N. Now, she’s the same age as you, but you have to remember to be very careful when you play with her, hm?”

All of the children look at you, some accusatorially, some the same way they looked at Grace. They’re not scared of newness. They’re not like you.

You smile, even though you don’t mean it, until Grace is pulled away to talk to another adult and all of the children go back to playing. The school is simple, one room in a small building, carpet and posters on the wall. Bookshelves on the far side- where one of the lights is dim, casting a shadow, and you find yourself gravitating towards it.

All of the Na’vi children are too engrossed in their own games to notice you, a tiny little human, so you sit and lean against the bookshelf anyways. You sigh, until you look up.

A girl sits just near you, eyes wide like yours, behind the large chair.

You gasp, and hope she doesn’t feel offended, but she seems as surprised as you.

“Sorry,” you say, calming your racing heart. “I can- I can go.”

You see her chest rise and fall, fast, but her face doesn’t betray anything.

“No, it’s fine,” she whispers.

“I’m- I’m Y/N. Grace is my aunt.”

She stifles a laugh. “Your Na’vi bad,” she says in English, and you smile and laugh yourself. She frowns, thinks over her words. “Is bad. Your Na’vi is bad.”

You nod, and she smiles to herself, seemingly proud.

“I- I am Neytiri.”

“Hi, Neytiri,” you say, in Na’vi, and she laughs at your pronunciation.

—-

“You’re a human.”

You look up from your coloring book, red pencil dropping to the table, eyes meeting with the Na’vi boy in front of you.

“Yes?” you say, although it sounds more like a question.

“My father says the humans are skawngs.”

“Okay?” you mumble, tucking your chin to your chest, wishing someone would save you. A door to open. A star to fall.

You knew that some of the kids would taunt you- but had you truly done anything other than be born into the wrong body?

When Neytiri sits next to you, it’s not a surprise. The two of you gravitate towards each other, have similar flames. You burn the same way.

What is surprising is the force which she slams the box of crayons down with.

You look up, eyes wide, only to find her staring down the boy in front of her, one hand on the box and the other digging into the table.

“Go away,” she hisses, a break of pure rage in between her words.

The boy scoffs, and she tilts her head. Taunting him, challenging him. He falters, but covers it up with a mumble about how it wasn’t that big of a deal and walking away with his friends trailing behind.

She pulls out the chair next to you, a noticeable difference from where she was sitting across from you before, you you choose not to mention it. Her eyes are still stuck on the group of boys in the corner, daring them.

“Thank you, Neytiri,” you say, because Grace was always adamant that you had good manners. She has good manners too, she just didn’t use them all the time.

“It is nothing,” she says, picking up a green crayon.

“You saved me,” you joke. She stops, and you can’t even look down to see what she’s drawing because her eyes are staring so deeply into yours.

“It is nothing,” she repeats, almost as if she would do more for you.

—-

“Come on, Y/N,” Neytiri pleads, tugging you along.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” you hiss, and she shoots you a look over her shoulder.

“Lying.”

“‘M not!”

She smiles and rolls her eyes playfully, and you scoff.

She leads you deeper and further into the forest, and if you were with anyone else, or by yourself, you would be scared. But it’s Neytiri. She would never hurt you.

“Where are you even taking me again?” you grumble, and Neytiri looks over her shoulder again.

“You will like it!” she exclaims. “Promise.”

Even so far away from Hometree, from Grace, you know nothing will happen to you with Neytiri here. She has always saved you, whether it be from a falling book or from a mean Na’vi boy at the school.

You don’t know why. She says you have a strong heart, that your fire burns bright.

That’s all anyone has told you all your life. That whatever fire is inside of you, inside of everyone, it bruns bright. It burns like a wildfire.

But you don’t feel that way.

Neytiri points to a tree just off the path. “You see that? I know that tree. It means we’re close.”

“To what?”

“You will see!”

The foliage is thick and overwhelming, hanging over you and crushing you in. Neytiri’s hand slips from your wrists, fingers melding with you own. She tugs you up the path, closer, next to her, a bright smile on her face.

Finally, the plants seem to start to thin, lean another way, until Neytiri guides you around a large grey rock and you see it.

“It’s beautiful!” you gasp, walking forward to lean in front of the water, dip your fingers in, ruin the stillness.

“Look,” Neytiri guides, and you follow her hand to the patch of flowers growing, hanging over the edge. They look over it like something sad, something vain, always needing to see the reflection. “They only grow by ponds, like this-” she continues.

“Aunt Grace doesn’t have this one in her book.”

You lean forward, thumb the velvet soft petal.

“Her book?”

“She has a book, all about the different plants on Pandora. I’ve read it front to back- this one isn’t in it.”

“Oh, I see.” Neytiri mumbles, crouching down next to you. She touches the flower too, fingertips pulling down on edge of it. It’s a blue flower, fading right into the blue of Neytiri. But it’s decorated with little white spots, like the stars on her face.

“It looks like you.”

You look toward her, only to see her staring at the flower accusingly. “Like me?”

You bite back your laugh. “Yeah, you see?” You grab her hand, unfurl her palm and place it under the edge of the petal. She blends right into it.

“Oh,” she smiles, “you’re right. And- the little white dots, just like my stars?”

“Yeah!” you smile, turning back to the water after seeing something move out of the corner of your eye.

She tells you what kind of fish live in this pond, but her eyes keeps going back to the flower.

It’s silent, for a minute, just the two of you in the midst of everything.

“Y/N,” Neytiri asks, and when you turn she is sitting behind you, neck craned to look at the flower.

“Yes?” you say, and she turns to you.

“You never said. Do you- do you think that i- it’s pretty? The flower?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say with a smile, and she waits for a moment before smiling back.

—-

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Neytiri,” you smile, looking up from whatever you were doing- now long forgotten.

“How are you?” you smile at her question, because she only says that when she’s nervous.

You tilt your head to the side, and she sighs.

“Okay. I- I have something for you?”

Your heart skips a beat and you feel like you’re being consumed by the fire that roars inside you.

“A gift?”

“Your- your book,” she starts, sitting down next to you on the floor, your knees touching, her hand behind her back. “The one about the plants? The flowers? This one…” she moves her hand out from behind her back, “is from high on the mountains. Where the humans aren���t allowed. I thought-”

She trails off, looking at you oddly, but your eyes are fixed on the soft pink flower in front of you. It looks like something from earth- a tulip, maybe, not like something from Pandora. Isn’t that amazing? That some things like that can surpass the universe? Simple, soft beauty like that.

“Y-Y/N?”

“Ah!” you shout, finally coming to your senses, leaning forward to wrap your arms around her shoulders.

She’s still for a second, silent, until she lets out a small laugh, one arm carefully wrapping around your waist.

When you pull back, on your knees now to even reach her height, she smiles and hands you the flower.

You grin up at her before looking down, entranced by the flower. Your hair falls out from behind your ears, but Neytiri is quick to push it back.

She looks at you like you are the most beautiful fire, swirling and raging like a storm, held back by nothing but your own will.

“My human,” she says, not knowing this will be the last time she’ll see you burn like this for years.

—-

taglist:

@kitkat1690 @tiajk @reallysparklychaos @behindthearcane @neteyamforlife @aeslenya @ghoulbli @luvvsnae @personapersonally @bubble-blu @ameriesworld @itsyoboysparkel @ok-boke @arschbohrer @ambria @ssc7514 @w3ird11 @vane28282 @littlexscarletxwitch @erenjaegerwifee @eywas-heir

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

[gremlin-bot]

Messages From the Formally Deceased

This was Beta read by my lovely platonic spouses @half-dead-ham and @bewitched-forest!!! This was suppose to be for Ship week but it got way out of hand! So enjoy some soulmates with multiverse shenanigans!

Ao3 link: Here Master List: Here

Summary: The Fenton children have always been different, even before the increased ecto-contamination and ghost hunting. Not that most would notice the ink on their skin that they couldn’t have drawn on themselves. They're kids, they get messy. By the time they got older all other factors in their lives overshadowed the messages exchanged in ink on their skin. After all who would notice a discussion on literature scribbled in two sets of script on Jasmine's arm, or the compliments tucked under drawings of constellations crawling across lanky limbs.

Chapter 1: How did we both become vigilantes‽‽

Danny has always loved the writing on his sister's skin. He would trace the curly letters next to his sister's chicken scratch handwriting when he was upset and his parents were too busy to comfort him. He didn't think he would get his own writing, or that's how Jazz explained it to him. She said that she had a soulmate and because no one else had one, she was a special case and it would be very rare that it would happen again. 

Turns out Danny was special as well. On his 7th birthday his parents gave him markers but no coloring books to use them on. So like any kid who has older siblings would do, he copied Jazz and drew on his arm. He drew Saturn as he found the rings around the planet to be cool. He was outlining it in a dark blue when he noticed the shaky lettering. 'That's pretty' is now sprawled under his drawing. Danny couldn't barely contain himself as he grabbed the marker tighter and wrote 'Thank you' underneath the other's message. He spent the rest of the afternoon drawing on himself, covering his body in planets, stars and unsteady letters. By the time Jazz got home from her friend's house, his arms were covered completely and his legs were no better. He didn't give her time to scold him before showing her the writing on his skin. 

"Jazz, look!! I'm special just like you!!" Danny shoved his arm into Jazz's hands. Her eyes widening as she takes in the drawings and childish handwriting. Slowly, a smile spreads across her face. 

"It seems like you are! How about next time you borrow my markers? I'll even give you some of my old ones. It'll be easier to wash off." She leads Danny by the hand up the stairs.

"Okay! Can I get my own markers like yours, too?" Danny's excitement was infectious as he all but hopped behind Jazz into her room.

"I'll ask mom about it later, but I don't see why not," Jazz said while grabbing her spare set of markers and handing them to Danny. "Here they are. Please don't lose them, okay?"

"I'll be careful, promise!!" Danny takes them carefully, like they are the most precious thing in the world, and for him they are. He is finally special like Jazz! He has someone he can always talk to! 

—---------

Danny was never without a marker or pen after that day. He often has several of both on his person and even more in his bag. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't fill his skin with stars for his soulmate. Over the years he's learned more about them, him. 

They talk about everything and nothing, all around Danny's drawings. His soulmate's name is Tim and he loves taking pictures and solving puzzles. He can't draw to save his life but he's good at math. His city has real heroes and villains that fight each other. Danny thinks that's cool but still wishes that Tim would stop following around the vigilantes. He knows Tim can keep himself safe but he still worries. It's not like Tim would ever try to become a vigilante.

Danny really should have known Tim would prove him wrong. Danny was working on an essay in his room when, after not hearing from the other boy for 4 months, Tim's blocky handwriting slowly crawled across his arm. Each line being placed with increasing speed. This happens sometimes; the long gaps of replies followed with a reply written too fast, or a message that takes days to slowly show on his skin. Tim has a theory that time changes based on their universes shifting closer or farther from each other. Danny doesn't have time to think about theories or even a reply before his inner forearm is covered in Tim's handwriting.

'Danny you got to promise me not to be upset when time decides to work. You know how I was looking for Nightwing so he could come back and be Robin for Batman again. Well I found him and he said no, but I did convince him to help Batman again. Unfortunately that meant that he still needed a Robin. So, I may or may not have become a Robin…' 

'Tim wtf, why are you like this,' If Danny could rip a hole into Tim's universe and shake some common sense into him, Danny would be doing that now.

'Because someone has to. I've gotten tons of training from Batman and he's not letting me out of sight when on patrol. I'll be fine,' Tim's reply was written at his normal speed. Time seems to be on their side for a little while.  

'Okay, but if anything happens, write as soon as you can. I want to know that you're okay.' 

'Of course! Even if I couldn't write to you myself I would make sure someone did!' Danny shook his head. Not like there was anything he could do about Tim. Maybe he should tell Jazz, but no. Jazz looked sad whenever he talked about the writing on his skin recently. He remembers her mumbling about goodbyes when he asked. He just doesn't know and really doesn't want to make her any more upset.

Danny does what he always does when Tim is considered, he draws galaxies on to his skin. He decides that his thigh would be the best canvas for the drawing of the Andromeda galaxy he has been planning. Essay completely forgotten for the stars he wants to show the other boy.

—--------

Danny was going to fight his arm. It wouldn’t stay tangible long enough for him to write a message to Tim. This sucks, he just wants to tell the other boy about him maybe also being a hero now, but his dumb powers will not work with him. He takes a deep breath and holds it. Letting it out slowly, using what Jazz taught him to calm down. Getting frustrated won’t help him. 

Gods, he was tired. The fight with the lunch lady ghost was just the beginning of the hoard of spirits that would come through the portal. He started to skip classes and hasn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep since. Tonight was one of the rare nights that nothing came through. It would be perfect to write to Tim, If only his body got the memo. 

The green marker dropped to his desk as intangibly flickers through both arms. Danny almost topples forward, but regains his arms in time to catch himself. Holding his position he waits for his powers to activate and… nothing happens. Relief washes over him, he can finally write to Tim! He’ll have to clean the marks left on his desk from this incident later, but that isn’t important. 

‘I have good news and bad news. What do you want first?” Danny decided that it was best to start with this. It will be better than the info dump Tim did to him.

‘Let’s go with the good news first.’ Seeing Tim respond was calming for Danny. The other boy was there for him. He’d understand.

‘I can no longer make fun of you for being a teen hero.’

‘Danny!” 

Tim definitely figured out that he was a hero from that. Well, time to rip off the Band-Aid. Danny takes a deep breath as he grips the marker more firmly. Writing as fast but neatly as he could. ‘Bad news, I may have died and come back to life leading to me becoming half ghost and my town’s hero.’

‘Danny what the FUCK‽‽ Are you okay now?’

‘Kinda… I spent the last hour fighting my arms trying to make them stay tangible enough to write to ya’ ‘Dude, that doesn't sound okay. What exactly are you dealing with? I want to help.’ Danny can't help but melt a little at the words the other boy had written to him. Tim was so caring in his own way that the other boy rarely recognized. Gods, Danny might be a goner for the other boy if it wasn’t for the fact that he would never get to see him. He spent the rest of the night explaining to Tim about what happened to him and the powers he got because of it. Falling even more for the boy with a sharp mind and caring heart through it all, no matter how he denies it.

#dcxdp #tim drake #danny fenton #tim drake x danny fenton #Messages From the Formally Deceased #soulmates #chapter fic #Writing on the walls

[foreverindreamlandd]

Locker Drama

Pairing: Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Summary: Your locker neighbor, Tommy, can't seem to stop being an asshole to you. Even though they're technically friends, Steve draws the line when it comes to picking on someone who is apparently extremely important to him.

Warnings: Bullying, body image, fatphobia, protective Steve, does not contain spoilers for the show Stranger Things. Unedited because I am a piece of human garbage :,)

Note: Okay....so this is going to be the first fic within the Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader world. It's going to be a very loosely-structured series, friends to lovers with no real timeline (next fic could be them married with ten kids....kidding but you get the gist lol....hopefully). I hope you enjoy it! :)

*****

“All I’m saying is that when I grow up, I’m going to become Vice Principal of a school and tell any student athlete who thinks they have the right to skip finals and not do their homework to fuck off.”

You blanched at your best friend, shaking your head as you put your math books in your locker. “Robin, I’m pretty sure if you told a student to fuck off you would be fired on site.”

Robin groaned, head tilting up in frustration and leaning against the closed lockers beside yours.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just give them the detentions they deserve rather than just letting them off the hook for being the golden children of the school. Us band kids have more brains and talent than any of those boneheads and we get diddly squat.”

“At least we can find solace in the fact that we most likely won’t peak in high school.” You grabbed your supplies for science class. “Well, you might actually, if you end up working at one, Mrs. Vice Principal.”

Your lips quirked up into a smug grin as Robin groaned again, this time turning to lean her forehead on the locker.

“Okay, new plan,” she said. “How about-”

“Can you believe Mr. Cooper gave me an F on my paper?” You fought back a groan as the whiney voice of your locker neighbor approached. “I know I got every answer right because I was copying off of that redhead’s work!”

Tommy Hagan - whom you affectionately referred to as Freckles - strolled over to the locker next to yours, head turned in the other direction at his girlfriend Carol as she pressed her body against his.

Though she was tiny, it was enough force to knock Tommy back and bump into you.

He turned to sneer at you. “Watch it, Tubby.” 

Your heartbeat quickened as both rage and shame flooded through you. At least the nickname you had given Freckles was somewhat tame. Tommy gave you one look up and down at the beginning of the school year and immediately deemed you as Tubby.

The first time he said it, you had thought you were hallucinating. It had always been your biggest insecurity, ever since you had put on weight in middle school, and kept putting it on up until this point no matter how many miles you ran and how many diet programs your mom had you try. Still, most of your peers had the courtesy of not saying anything, just letting you exist as long as you kept quiet and didn’t cause any problems.

Not Tommy, though. He just liked to push people’s buttons, and although he was dumb as rocks, he had a knack for identifying the things that hurt you the most.

The nickname stung like salt to a wound, but you knew to keep your head down and stay quiet. You saw what happened when people tried to fight back with Tommy. It only made him want to ramp it up.

He relished in the attention.

Your dearest, hot-headed best friend did not understand that, though, so when she heard his crude remark she scoffed. “Excuse you, numbnuts. But you’re the one who crashed into her.”

You narrowed your eyes at Robin, silently telling her to stop as Carol mewled. “Watch out, baby, you’re upsetting the freaks.”

“Yeah, well, I’m upset that I have to be in such close proximity as them all day!” Tommy’s voice grew louder as he opened his locker, side intentionally bumping into you once more to make a point. “All I’m saying is that it would be nice to have a locker next to someone who took up so much space! I can barely move around here.”

Carol giggled as tears started to burn your eyes. You kept your face in your locker in an attempt to hide your large frame from the world.

Maybe if I stand still for long enough I’ll just blend in and no one will notice me.

With your locker door still open, Tommy was out of view, so you only heard the slam of his door and a small yelp from Carol.

“That’s enough, Tommy,” a familiar voice declared.

Tommy scoffed. “Come on, Harrington. Just airing my grievances.” You could hear the dumb smile on his face.

“No, you’re just being a dick.”

You allowed yourself one small, almost unnoticeable smile.

“Why your panties all up in a bunch, King Steve? Am I being mean to your girlfriend or something?”

Your smile dropped.

There was a few moments of silence, and you could only imagine the type of disgusted face Steve was making then. 

“Just shove off and get to class before another teacher flunks you and you can’t be on the team anymore,” Steve responded, the fight gone from his voice, switching to the charismatic popular guy that almost everyone knew and loved.

This Steve made you sick to your stomach.

Regardless of the disappointment you felt, Steve’s shift in demeanor was enough to distract Tommy. “Ms. Pine would never flunk me, especially now that her daughter is on the cheerleading team. Gotta make sure our team makes her look as good as possible, which means I get a free ride through history.”

You heard him mumble a let’s go, baby to Carol and then the hallway immediately became less tense.

You still couldn’t move, though, still horrified by the public humiliation.

“I’ll kill that asshole,” Robin muttered, crossing her arms.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, quickly wiping your tears. 

“Hey.”

The familiar voice, now much softer and more sympathetic, was right behind you.

You closed your eyes for a second and willed the tears away before turning.

Steve Harrington stood in front of you, hands in his pockets and shoulders sagged, hair perfectly swooped to the side.

His lips were pressed into a thin line. “Sorry about that.” He shrugged. “Tommy’s an idiot.”

“He’s also a jerk, and still your best friend,” Robin cut in, glaring at Steve.

You watched him bite the inside of his cheek as his eyes flashed to Robin, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine.” It seemed as if those were the only two words you were capable of saying.

“It’s not fine,” they both said at the same time, Robin with much more bite and Steve with a quiet assurance.

They both locked eyes in shock that they managed to agree on something, horror painting across their faces.

You couldn’t help but giggle at it.

Steve’s eyes went back to you, smile spreading across his face at the sound of your laugh.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, head tilting down a bit, making it so that his large, deep brown eyes stared into yours through his long lashes.

You fought the butterflies as they tried to swarm your stomach. 

“I’m fi- okay,” you said, switching words when Steve’s eyes narrowed.

He nodded. “I’ll deal with Tommy. Meet you after school?”

You nodded back. “Sounds good, Steve.” 

His smile grew ever so slightly when you said his name, and after making eye contact with Robin - who continued to glare at him - he walked down the hallway to his next class.

“You know I love you,” she said, shoulder leaning against the locker, “but I’ll never understand why you let that guy breathe the same air as you.”

You huffed. “It’s not like we’re besties, Robin.” Well, you used to be, but that was before Steve started high school and became an instant celebrity at Hawkins High. When Steve Harrington was just Stevie, and he was your favorite person in the entire world.

Now?

“He’s just my ride. As if I’d give up the BMW so I can ride the bus where the rest of the bullies dwell.”

She pursed her lips, still not buying it.

You sighed. “He’s a good person, Robin, I promise.”

At that, she scoffed, shaking her head and wrapped her arm around your neck to lead you to your next class.

“You’ve spent too much time in close proximity with Freckles, Y/n,” she muttered. “His idiot brain is starting to run off on you.”

*****

“How the hell do you have a B in chemistry?” Steve asked, shaking his head as you both got out of the car. “Erikson is brutal. I barely managed to get a D.”

“Hate to break it to you Steve,” you said while swinging your backpack over your shoulder, “but some studies show that doing your work and paying attention in class helps you learn enough to get a good grade.”

He whined, steps falling in line with yours as you approached the school building. “I bet it’s all a hoax. You actually suck at school and have found some new top-secret method of cheating.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “How dare you try to unveil my master plan and risk destroying my reputation as the school nerd?”

Steve laughed, opening the door for you as you walked in. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you shared a small smile as you headed down the hallway. Your locker was closest to the entrance, so you prepared to break away and not see Steve until the end of school.

So it confused you when his stride continued to match yours, slowing as you both veered off to your locker.

Your eyes narrowed at him, slowly putting in your combination. “Listen Steve, I know you promised to keep things with Tommy handled, but I promise you don’t have to be my bodyguard anytime I’m at my locker.”

Steve’s head jerked back as he gave you a confused look, raising his hand to the lock of Tommy’s locker. “What do you mean? This is where all my stuff is.”

Your fingers began mindlessly turning your own lock, suddenly forgetting the combination as you stared at him wide eyed. “What…”

“I switched lockers,” he said with a casual shrug. You could see the corners of his lips twitch as he fought back a smile.

“You what?”

“What? It’s no big deal, Y/n. Tommy seemed to have such a big issue being here, whereas I think this is prime real estate.”

You bit your bottom lip, stomach turning to knots. “Steve…”

“It’s fine, Y/n. Besides, it makes sense that we’re neighbors in school and at home.” His face turned serious for a moment. “I told you I’d handle it. Now, you don’t have to worry.”

You scowled. “He’s still your friend, though. So he can come here and harass me anytime he wants-”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Told him if he stepped foot anywhere near here that I’d have coach put him on the bench for the rest of the season.” He opened his locker, tossing his bag in and grabbing his books. His brows rose when he turned back to your still stunned expression. “Are you going to open your locker yet? Don’t want to be late for class and ruin that master plan of yours, Miss Cheaterpants.”

A bark of a laugh erupted from your chest and you lightly slapped Steve on the arm, pulling giggles from your new locker neighbor.

It brought an overwhelming sense of relief, having him by your side instead of Tommy. For months, you dreaded stopping here between classes, shielding yourself for another snide comment from Freckles.

Now, you didn’t need to worry. Steve was here, and though you weren’t the best friends you had been your whole lives, having him by your side made this spot finally feel like a safe space.

You turned your attention back to your lock, opening the door and grabbing books for your first class.

The worst part about Tommy’s complaints were that technically it was sometimes true. You did take up more space than others, meaning that your arm would inevitably wiggle around in his area as you moved.

And so, of course, the same thing would happen with Steve.

When your hip bumped against his, any sense of relief you had felt crumbled in seconds, the familiar feeling of shame the only thing left in its wake. 

Steve felt your body go rigid, and he rested a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he said, turning your body to face him. There was a tenderness in his face that you hadn’t seen in years. “The shit that he said yesterday, what I assume he’s been saying…it’s all bullshit, Y/n.”

You tried to shrug and force a smile, but Steve knew you better than that, and his hand squeezed your shoulder. “No, listen.” His eyes pierced yours, face leaning forward until it was inches from yours. “What he said was absolute bullshit, and he’s a complete idiot for not realizing how lucky he was to be so close to you all the time.”

His breath tickled your skin, causing you to blink a few times as you tried to identify the tone he was using as he said this. This was nothing like the Steve you grew up with, nor was it the voice of King Steve, ruler of Hawkins High.

This was something different, and it brought heat to your core.

He seemed to lose himself for a moment, leaning less than an inch closer and the movement was so overwhelming your breath hitched. That seemed to be enough to break the tension, and Steve swallowed, standing straight and grabbing his books.

“I should get going,” he murmured, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. He gave you a small smile. “See you next period?”

You blinked a few more times, bobbing your head up and down slowly.

Steve bit his bottom lip, staring at you for a few more seconds before closing his locker door and heading down the hallway.

Your gaze remained on the spot he had been standing at moments ago, a part of you wondering if you were dreaming.

Maybe the new locker situation wouldn’t be as easy as you thought….

*****

Thank you for reading! :)

Main Masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #neighbor!steve harrington #plus size!reader #neighbor!steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine

[prof-ramses]

Here’s a wholesome Charlie and Mammon idea I’ve had for a while:

Often when Mammon babysat little Charlie, she’d more or less climb all over him like a little monkey or have him carry her around like the little princess she was. This would frequently lead to Mammon have to go about his day with Charlie perched on his shoulder or sleeping on top of his head. None of Mammon’s employees or servants would comment on this for fear of provoking him and the other Sins (and Lilith) would either fawn or jealously fume at the sight.

Going off of the above, I can also imagine a young Charlie laying on a Mammon’s stomach, My Neighbor Totoro-style.

YESSS!!!!!💚💚💚

Mam is a soft lad and a loving uncle. I love the idea of him being Charlie's favorite pillow, so forgive for ranting about it with the following HCs.

The Sins had a rough schedule for when they would babysit and Charlie would get super pouty when Mammon could make it.

I like to think that out of all her aunts and uncles, Mam talked to Charlie the most when she was just starting to talk and one day she called him "Unky" and he damn near sobbed on the spot.

The nickname stuck over the years and made the others, especially Ozz, really butthurt. Example:

----

*during a meeting*

Amsodeus: So, Luci, need me to fill in tonight?

Lucifer: Oh, no, that reminds me actually, Mammon, do you think you could look after Charlie tonight, she really wants to see you again.

Mammon: Sure, love t-

Asmodeus: Hold the fucking phone, what do you mean she "wants to see him"? How do you know that? She can barely speak!

Lucifer: She drew this. *Pulls out a drawing with a little red triangle labeled "ME" and a bunch of green triangle labeled "Unky"*

Mammon: Aww... Can I keep it.

Lucifer: No. This is going on the fridge.

*after the meeting*

Asmodeus: Why do you get to be Unky? >:{

Mammon: Cuz I'm her favorite. >8)

Amsodeus: No you're not! (Author's note, yes he is)

----

Another idea I had was that when Charlie's a little older her private tutors would give her homework and she'd always work on her math when Mam was looking after her.

Since Mam's the businessman to end all businessmen he sure as shit wasn't gonna let his niece be bad at math. He'd keep her company while she was doing her homework and give her some tips if she got stuck, without just telling her the answer. Usually they would do this routine while he was laying down and holding any books Charlie wasn't currently using as Charlie laid on top of him.

I know this was way more than you asked for but I love the money spider and think about him probably more than is healthy.

#helluva boss #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #hb Mammon #helluva Mammon #hellaverse Mammon #hh Charlie #hazbin Charlie #hellaverse Charlie #hb Asmodeus #helluva Asmodeus #hellaverse Asmodeus #hh Lucifer #hazbin Lucifer #hellaverse Lucifer #hb headcanon #hh headcanon #helluva headcanon #hazbin heacanon #hb headcanons #helluva headcanons #hh headcanons #hazbin headcanons #Ramses Answers #Mammonposting

[doodles5555]

Mary's Song (Oh my my my)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Adopted Sister!Reader

Summary: This fic will follow the lyrics of the song “Mary’s Song” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: None! A little angst at the end that is unresolved, but since this is just a blip in the character's lives, it will be ok by the beginning of the next chapter.

A/N: Here is some probably necessary information before starting: In this fic, all of our characters are a bit older than in the last one. Timelines and some details may be a bit wonky, but that's ok. I hope you enjoy!

p.s this is not a lyric fic, but instead, a fic that was inspired by the song

Chapter 2:

Sitting on the ground underneath the shade of the biggest tree in your backyard, you are focused on your favorite book, and your brother, Steve, is quietly humming to himself while working on some of his math homework. You can see the tip of his pencil moving around in smooth motions. You look over to the bright paper and see him doodling some pretty flowers on an expanding landscape, and you can imagine them in your mother's garden, the one your father built himself as a gift for your mother's birthday last year.

“That’s very pretty Stevie. You’re so talented, y’know that? I hope you do. One day, I’ll get to see your amazing artwork in a gallery. I just know it,” you ramble out before you even think about it. 

You see the corners of his smile tug upwards. You only wish he knew you really meant it. His skill is beyond his years. His teachers often comment about the doodles left on his classwork, about how he should take some art classes, to further his knowledge and skill. 

You had overheard your mother and father arguing about saving up some extra money, cutting any extra expenses to pay for any costs regarding the proposed extracurricular. Still, it ended up the same every time – Times were getting tougher, money was harder to come by, and panic was starting to settle like dust in the community. Any leftover profits from previous years were going to support your family. The stock market crashed only a few months ago, and you and Steve were none the wiser to how bad it truly had gotten.

“Maybe one day buttercup,” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease for the commonality of its use, making his words sound sweeter than the undertones. Steve understood that your family was in an unfortunate situation and had grown poorer in the more recent months, noticing smaller dinners on the dining table and less familial outings, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from practicing and utilizing his drawing as a creative outlet. It helped him keep in touch with how he feels.

“Hey, Punk! Buttercup!” Shouting could be heard from the other side of the fence. As you turn toward the sound of the voice, you spot Bucky in the act of climbing over the worn-out fence surrounding your house. As his feet reach the ground, he races over to the shade the tree provides. He plops down at Steve’s feet, his eyes gazing upwards towards the paper in his hands. He snatches it, almost tearing the frail sheet with his tight grip. His blue eyes scan the paper intensely. The wide-eyed expression that lights up his face is priceless.

This wasn’t the first time that Bucky had seen one of Steve’s impressive drawings, but this one seemed to strike a chord in his brain. He just seems to be fascinated by the image.

“Wow, just wow,” Bucky is in awe of the gift that his best friend possesses. “So when will I be seeing this in a museum?” Bucky continues. Steve lets out a small chuckle, the idea absurd in his head.

“As cool as that would be, I already know that will not be my future.” You knew Steve always dreamed of joining the army and battling alongside other determined men and women defending the country, but that fantasy just wasn’t possible in his current state. You would never say anything to crush his persistence since the idea made him so happy, but you would always worry about his safety if he ever went through with it.

“As long as you’re happy, then we will support you, no matter what!” You smile. You meant what you said, and you know Bucky shares the sentiment. 

—--

As the sun passes through the sky and falls below the horizon line, you and the boys start running around the yard and playing tag. Steve was huffing and puffing, needing to sit out for a second to avoid an angry asthma attack. You and Bucky had been playfully bickering while the time-out was called on Steve’s behalf.

“I was goin’ to get you, I just know it!” You exclaimed through hard breaths.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you were,” Bucky said with a good-natured eye roll. 

Sensing his playful spirit, you sprint towards him intending to knock him to the ground, but you can only slightly shake him off the spot where he stands.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Buttercup!” He tries to grab you from where you are, but you swiftly dodge his hands, barely escaping his grip. You run in towards Steve, trying to hide behind him while he is still recovering. Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt Steve by accident just to get to you, right?

Before you can even test that thought, Bucky manages to get a hold on the back of your shirt, slowing you down just enough for him to be able to strengthen his grasp on you. He throws you over his shoulder, and you shriek in surprise.

“Let me down, you goof!” Giggles are pouring from your mouth as Bucky carries you towards the big oak tree. You start to lightly hit his back as a signal for him to put you down on the solid dirt. As he starts to do so, your unstable legs accidentally make you stumble and start to fall. Unluckily for Bucky, he was still holding on to you, so you end up as a clump of bodies on the ground. You can hear Steve shout from the other side of the yard, most likely asking if you are both okay. You holler a confirmation before assessing the situation you have gotten yourself into.

Bucky adjusts himself so that his body is hovering over yours, his body being propped up above you. You can’t seem to stop staring at his eyes. They have you in some sort of powerful trance; you can’t escape if you try, but you don’t want to stop. Bucky seems to share the sentiment because your eye contact goes unbroken for what feels like minutes. You see Bucky’s mouth start to move, but what he says doesn’t register in your ears. Before you can process what you are about to say, it spills from your parted lips.

“Kiss me,” your words are breathless. Your face surely mirrors Bucky's expression; The shock is evident, but he isn’t off put by the idea. He nods, the motion so small that you barely catch it. 

He wants to kiss you. You want to kiss him. This recurring dream is coming to life right before you. This is all you have wanted since you realized your emotions for Bucky are more than platonic. He leans in, now inches from your face.

You freeze.

Every other thought bouncing around seized to a stop at that moment. You start to scramble out of Bucky’s gentle hold, untangling your body as quickly as you possibly can. Your panic is palpable. You hustle to your feet and book it towards Steve. You look over your shoulder to interpret the situation you ran away from. The regret starts to simmer beneath the flush on your skin.

Bucky’s face doesn’t show much emotion, but you can read the disappointment in his body language. His shoulders are slumped and his demeanor is troubled, almost as if he is grieving the loss of your body from under his. You automatically feel like a jerk. In your frenzy, you didn’t even think how Bucky would react to your sudden frantic disinterest in an innocent kiss.

The tears started to well in your eyes. You stammer out an excuse to head back inside the house to the comfort of your room before you let the drops roll down your cheeks.

—--

A few days have come and passed since the “incident” with Bucky, and you have been trying to avoid him. You know he feels whatever it is that is bubbling inside of you, but your embarrassment has stopped you from trying to fix the mess that you created. The consequences of your actions are starting to catch up with you. You are miserable without his companionship. Even Steve has started making comments about Bucky’s sudden absenteeism from your days under the oak tree. You want to mend the tear you created in your friendship, but the uncertainty of how Bucky may react is sending you in the complete opposite direction. 

Growing up alongside each other has created a special bond between the two of you. You never had many friends, seemingly always on the outside of everyone in your year at school. You were also not a stranger to rude remarks and getting into fights trying to defend your honor. Everything culminated in your only friends being your brother and his best friend. 

Were you lonely at school? Yes, but that didn’t matter because once you reached your front porch, you had everyone you needed at your fingertips. 

Now that one of the members of your tiny group was consistently missing, it felt as though a piece of the puzzle was missing, just shy of being complete. You know you need to fix the mess you created, but you are unsure of how to do so.

Oh my my my…

—--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I am a very busy college student, so it may take a while for me to get to writing and posting part 3, but I will do my best for it to come out sooner rather than later. Have a great rest of your day/night!

#fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #x reader #steve x adopted!sister reader #steve rogers x adopted!sister reader #james buchanan barnes #writing

[canmom]

another night where i can't sleep...

it has long felt like, while in some respects certain things have come easy to me that most people find difficult, such as maths or computer shit or academic writing, in many other respects the rest of the world had a ten year head start on me. stuff like relating to other people, stuff like art and music, the basic activity of living. it's The Autism, and it's the habits I've accrued over the years.

head in the clouds, full of knowledge and theories and technical this and that, still that smoldering anger that's so abstract, aimed at the nature of the world and all the things that i don't know how to change. personally... i write and write and write on here, because i know how to write, i know how to talk about, i can expound and extemporise, but i feel like so often i don't know how to emerge from behind the scripts I've built up for navigating this or that situation, my ignorance of how I'm seen and what messages i give off, the idea of whatever it is people interpret me as (even those very close to me), and just... connect. see and be seen.

when i get the right kind of work of fiction, it feels like... at last, I've found someone who thinks in a way that i understand. this is what is so intoxicating about seth dickinson's books i think. the earnestness of the feelings that animate them, the way they construct people and motivations, the web of philosophical and scientific and emotional connections, the rhythm as they unfold into a desperate searching for the right question, the wicked humour and abrupt violence and the type of body horror imagery that they reach for. all of it feels like I've finally found someone who gets it. that's why i go crazy about it.

(and it means the world what seth has said about my articles - it feels like a mission.)

i don't know if i can expect anyone else to get what i get out of them. there are criticisms you can make - what i take as fearlessness you might call arrogance, overambition. my partner found it too sincere, too direct and 'mannered' in laying out what it's addressing. these are a matter of wanting different things, i suppose. it's not that i can't see why they say it, i just don't see any of it as a flaw.

but... because I've found that connection, because i want to reach back and say, i see what you're doing, i get it, i feel it too - i write the long exegesis articles, to hold it up to everyone and say look, see, this is how it works.

the last article in the series on The Tyrant Baru Cormorant was to be titled Replication, and it was supposed to attempt to ask how to draw out the spark that animated such books into existence. i had an outline in my mind, to talk about the fingerprints of sff culture of the 2010s and how it affected me and perhaps also seth - and about the determination to take the questions seriously, to push and push. the vulnerability to lay your soul bare.

but from there? i don't know what the answer is, only that i haven't managed to do it with any of the things I've created. what is my baru cormorant, my psycho nymph exile or serious weakness, my nier? what is the thing that only i can make, that will resonate with other souls in the dark? am i getting closer?

I'll keep searching.

I'm halfway through Exordia. i don't know how much I ought to say before the book comes out 'for real', but I'll definitely be writing a spoiler-light advance review. I'm so hooked. i can't sleep, even though i have to work tomorrow. it's 'just a book', but... it's what it's all about.

#baru cormorant #exordia #fiction

[zephrunsimperium]

Okay so I've been thinking a lot about what I want to draw cause I really really want to art but I've found myself in an inspiration drought after Inktober. And I was like, "I want to draw stuff from me and @ch4rl13-ch40s's AU but I don't think people on tumblr would love that" and then I realized that I should take my own advice and draw what I want dammit!

Zeph's Human Bill AU: A Summary

I will provide context for each individual drawing, but here's a summary of the AU beneath the cut. I've made it as brief as possible, but it is long please read it I spent hours on it. It's also BillFord stuff, I know this is primarily a FiddAuthor blog.

TW for religious trauma, child abuse/neglect, and drug use/addiction.

Part I: Bill's Backstory

William Cipher was born in the year 1951 in middle of nowhere Oregon. Shortly after entering kindergarten in 1957, Bill received an autism diagnosis (or what was autism in the 50s) and his mother was distraught, especially so because the local pastor told her the autism was caused by a demon possessing him.

Bill's mother quickly pulled him out of kindergarten to "home school" him and broke his leg to keep him from leaving the house. Bill would spend the majority of the next 7 years alone in the attic, reading old books left from the house's previous owners, favoring the thick and dusty math textbooks over the rest. Any time he got to leave the attic, he would collect things - anything to call his, random objects like bottle caps, spare change, pieces of thread, rocks - a habit that would later develop into kleptomania.

Bill grew extremely malnourished with a leg that never healed right. His father rarely interacted with him, but his mother made sure that Bill understood he was corrupted and needed to heal the only way anyone could - through Catholicism. Of course, as time passed, Bill didn't get "better" so his mother got angrier and angrier while Bill's anxiety got worse and worse, his religious rituals developing into crippling OCD. Triangles and the number three in particular became something of a holy symbol of the trinity to him. Arranging objects into threes, drawing triangles on himself and his possessions, counting by threes during panic attacks...

One day, Bill lashed out after his mother discovered the items he'd pilfered from downstairs and tried to take them away along with his precious books. As punishment, his mother splashed acid on his face, an injury that blinded his left eye. In his anger, out of pure impulse, Bill started a fire, fully intending to burn the house down with his parents inside. But while he waited outside, hearing their dying screams, 14 year old Bill realized too late that he regretted it. The police and firemen discovered him nearly catatonic outside the smoking building.

Part II: Backupsmore

After being passed around the foster system, Bill finally graduated high school. Grade school had not nearly been the utopia Bill was hoping it would be, but he still had a little bit of hope left that college would be a bit better. Though he didn't remember much from his childhood, his memories teaching math to an old teddy bear inspired him to declare a major in mathematics education.

Although Bill initially regarded his roommate warily, it didn't take long for him to find common grounds with Stanford Pines. The two bonded over being labeled freaks as children and found comfort in the strange new experience of being understood and seen. Eventually, after battling some internalized homophobia, the two started a secret romance

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Summer separated the two lovers and in the terror of being alone, Bill turned to hard drugs to cope. Although he was happy to see Ford again their sophomore year, hiding his budding addiction became a constant anxiety. And to add to his paranoia, Ford made a new friend out of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Bill despised the skinny blonde southerner immediately, terrified that Ford would replace him. After months of tension and open hatred between the two, Bill's homicidal impulses reared their ugly head again and he broke Fiddleford's arm. He would have done more, but Ford was able to separate the two. Naturally upset, Ford initiated a roommate swap as soon as he was able.

Part III: Gravity Falls

Bill graduated college out of pure spite and moved back to Oregon since it was familiar. Bill's students there had very mixed opinions of him. Sure, he was a little creepy and his dark humor wasn't for everyone and everyone had a different story to explain his limp and his eye patch, but one thing was undeniable: if you wanted to learn complicated mathematics, he was the best teacher you could hope for. Students from several small Oregon towns took his class for college credit.

After four years however, Bill's teaching career would come to a screeching halt when an accidental meth overdose landed him in the hospital. Unable to find any family or valid emergency contacts, Ford was contacted. Though it was not his initial plan upon being summoned without warning, pity and the softening of memory over time drove Ford to pay Bill's bail for drug possession and take him in with the hopes of keeping him clean.

It only takes a week for Ford and Bill to fall back into their old romantic patterns which come with mixed feelings; Bill is terrified of being abandoned again and Ford is worried about being let down again. Things go quite well for them for about a month or so - and Ford buys a cat for Bill which he names Pythagorus - until a familiar face fresh off of divorce proceedings arrives in Gravity Falls.

After Ford broke up with Bill in college, he and Fiddleford had a brief fling before Ford admitted he was just trying to get over Bill. Fiddleford arrives with the hope of getting back together with Ford, but is horrified to find Ford right back in Bill's "evil clutches." Fidds gets more and more unhinged as his memory gun usage ramps up and Ford tries to keep things civil between the two men.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #stanford pines #human bill cipher #zeph's human bill au #billford #gravity falls au #fiddleford mcgucket

[minniesmelody]

Hi it's my birthday ( I know, that last thing I said is not that important ) , but I love your fan fic, especially if they all have Gareth as the main protagonist, I would like to know how is Gareth socializes with a girl, who tries to get friends on her first day of school , girl of which no one takes importance because that typical nerd , as Gareth would approach her to strike up a conversation with her.

First impressions

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : Gareth Emerson x Fem! Nerd!Reader

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: first day of school in the town of Hawkins was many things, Y/n never expected a warm welcome by curly headed boy to be one of them.

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝘀: pure fluff. Some cussing but very little.

𝗣𝗼𝘃: first person- Gareth

𝗔/𝗻 : happy birthday my love! I can absolutely write about that and thank you for your kind words! I hope today treats you good and hope most of your birthday wishes come true, with love- 🐭🎀 x

It was a normal boring school day. It was a Wednesday for crying out loud, one of the worst days of the week if you ask me, and the fact that-

“Gareth, hey Gareth” Jeff said to me as he caught up with me, as I walking to first period, it’s too damn early for this.

“Yeah man, what’s up?”

“Did you see the new girl?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye.

New girl? Who? What? Where? Huh?

“Wait- have you not seen her yet? She is in the same grade as you dude, she made quite the first impression” Jeff said, a small fit of giggles escaping him afterwards.

“What do you mean quite the first impression?” I asked.

“She tripped on the stairs and fell on top of Carver when she first walked into the door, I kinda feel bad cause she did sorta embarrass herself not even a whole Minute of into the school” Jeff explained to me.

Yeah no that does sound kinda bad.

“Well this is my class, see you at lunch” Jeff said as he parted ways with Gareth.

Gareth soon reached the math classroom which was assigned his first period and took his usual seat in the back row. Class had started, usual boring nonsense of numbers and symbols filling his ears. All of that was interrupted though when someone had entered the classroom.

“I’m sorry but is this classroom B29?” The person said, voice belonging to a girl.

“Ah yes, you must be Y/n, the new transfer student, got lost is my guess in why you are late to my class?” The teacher asked her.

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry it won’t happen again”

“Yes well, welcome to Hawkins high Y/n, please take a seat somewhere, I was just recapping everyone on how to get the area of a triangle”

I slowly looked around me…damn…the only place left to sit was next to me in the back row. She spotted the seat and took it, slowly sitting down and get trying to get comfortable.

Her outfit was simple, jeans with a red fuzzy cotton sweater and a pair of converse. She had managed to make something so simple look absolutely amazing.

I had caught myself staring, only because she must have felt my eyes burning onto her that she turned her head towards me and shot me a small smile.

Time felt like it froze, like If the world had become Ice.

I didn’t even give her a smile back, just quickly whipping my head back to the chalkboard and trying my hardest for the entire period to keep it that way.

That was the first time I saw her.

The next time was 3rd period, science.

And of course, Mrs. Smith, had placed us next to one another.

We didn’t say anything to one another. But during the class I frequently looked over and watch her. She was doodling in her note book for most of class, different things from stars, to planets, and she even drew a perfect detailed picture of a light saber. What I didn’t expect her to draw next was little dice, mostly D20s, and then it donned on me.

‘Holy shit’ I thought to myself, this girl likes dungeons and dragons. I’ve never met a girl who likes the game, most girls wouldn’t call it a satanic game, the game of the devil in other words. But this girl…not her.

That was the second time I saw her that day. The next was last period. I hadn’t seen her in the cafeteria at lunch, if I did maybe I would have picked up the courage and introduced myself but she wasn’t there, so I didn’t get the chance to.

Last period was P.E, my least favorite class. Coach had given us a free day to do whatever we liked in the gym, I looked over and saw her take that opportunity to go and sit behind the bleachers.

Not very athletic huh? It’s okay, I’m not either. That being one the main reasons why I failed P.E, everyone else ended up with 80s and 90s, while I was stuck between 50s and 60s. But that’s not important right now.

I decided this would be a open chance to introduce myself, so I slowly followed her, stopping a few times along the way to make sure coach or no one else saw me.

There she was, sitting there, a book sitting in her hand, sitting crisscrossed on the floor underneath a bleacher.

She looked so…calm. So care free. Like she was in her own bubble or world, one that included only her and her thoughts. The sight was almost an-

“You know I can see you right?”

My head shot up, I wasn’t expecting her to say something, let alone say something without even looking up, without taking her eyes off the book.

“I- uh- I’m- I just-“

Good job Gareth. Stuttering and making a complete fool out of myself was most definitely the best way to go.

She finally looked up. Her eyes burning into my own. Her eyes were beautiful.

“Hi” she said, a small smile forming on her lips “I’m Y/n”

Y/n. Why did it sound so…good? It definitely fit her. Pretty name for a pretty girl I guess.

“I’m uh- I’m Y/n….WAIT NO..I’m sorry you are

y/n, I’m um…I’m Gareth…”

Good. Fucking. Job. Gareth. Emerson.

“Nice to meet you Gareth” she said with a small giggle.

How did my name sound so good from her? I’ve never loved the sound of my name so much in my life.

I looked down and there sat the book she was reading, it was a Dungeons and dragons guide.

She followed my eyes, hers landing back on the book.

“Dungeons and dragons huh? You play?” I asked her.

“No but I always wanted to play, most people aren’t fond of the game so no one really is up to play”

“Hellfire” I said as soon as she was done saying what she needed to say.

She gave me a puzzled look “sorry?”

“I uh- hellfire, it’s the club I’m in, we play it, Eddie our DM, I could ask him if he could consider you joining” I offered

She just gave me the warmest smile I’ve ever seen “I’d like that”

I knew after that I would try my best to make her feel as welcomed, excepting, and loved to the best of my abilities.

Promise.

#stranger things #hellfire club #gareth emerson #stranger things imagine #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson x reader #dungeons and dungeons #dungeons and dragons #nerdy!reader #gareth the great #minnie speaks🐭🎀 #pls i love this request #hawkins high #corroded coffin #unhealthily obsessed with this man

[strawbs-screaming]

☆ the boxers at a escape room ☆

did this because i felt bad about not posting, will post a weekly update during the weekend + some art hopefully, ive had this on my shoulders for a while, this is so cringe fail

Build-Up

Okay so i made up lore for this escape room:

It's an abandoned hotel, decorated all fancy, theres old couches, fake rotary phones and a bunch of weird symbols used later in the puzzles.

It's really colorful but the theres barely any lightning because the vibes need to be settled, theres a lot of puzzles, including: puns, math and the weird symbols mentioned

The lore starts as a hotel shutting down after a serial killer takes over & goes on a massacre, theres a time limit of 2 hours, when the time is over the game is done & a dude with a really bad voice effect says "the killer has got you" Before the doors open

When theres only a few minutes left, a buzzing sound effect plays

Theres a lot of "fake" spiderwebs with cryptid texts too so enjoy that

Glass Joe

- struggling with the puzzles, his brain is melting

- "we have to turn on the TV for clues i think"

- "or a baking show"

- "either way im watching"

- hes not taking this seriously, at all

- keeps using a prop phone like its real & talking on it, ended up getting into a argument with the air

- laying down on the decorative couches "draw me like one of your french girls.." style when hes tired

- "we're gonna die, is the killer hot at least?"

Von Kaiser

- complete opposite with Joe, hes taking this seriously, too serious

- "I WILL NOT LET THEY EVIL HOTEL MAN KILL US ALL. NO!"

- acting like the evil hotel man will actually get him

- doing really good with the math puzzles, hes a natural

- dialing 911 on the fake rotary phone

- runmaging through everything, no chair left un-thrown, no couch left un-turned, no drawer left closed

- when the 10 minutes notice ringed in he screamed like a goat

Disco Kid

- Just bored, he got dragged along and doesnt feel like doing anything

- "does the TV have anything interesting on it"

- "Disco we are being chased by a evil serial killer i dont think you should be so calm"

- escape rooms dont have enough charm for him like haunted houses

- doing cartwheels across the room, accidentally knocked over a bookshelf and revealed a clue

- hes already done with this shit, let him out

King Hippo

- doesnt have any idea whats going on, hes just confused

- doesnt know whether to help kaiser or laugh with Joe

- thinks the argument between Joe and the air is real

- hes so lost

- "mom i frew up" pose while watching everyone do the puzzles

Piston Hondo

- calmly trying to do the puzzles

- trying to help kaiser calm down

- laughed at disco toppling over the bookshelf for a solid 20 minutes

- hes SLAYİNG the puzzles

- "Joe did you take your meds?? You're arguing with the air"

- "wait i got too caught up"

- He isnt taking this seriously but isnt fucking around like Joe either, hes doing his best to have fun, not too much fun

Great Tiger

- also messing around with Joe, both of them are hysterically laughing at everything knowing damn well they dont know whats going on + cant solve a puzzle to save their lives

- "whens the baking show coming on??"

- reading the books on the bookshelf disco kid rko'd

- He could be helpful but he refuses to because seeing everyone go batshit is hilarious

- keeps tripping over the carpets

Bear Hugger

- him & hondo are peacefully doing puzzles while everyone else is going apeshit, hes having fun

- re-organized the bookshelf disco kid slammed down on, he knows damn well they dont get paid enough for this bs

- cheering Joe on his fight with the atoms

- cleaning up behind everyone because hes a decent person

Don Flamenco

- very confused, he thinks theyre all stuck in a silly room for nothing, cannot do puzzles & cannot be silly at all

- Just wandering around & looking for clues

- hes concerned, not only for the boxers but the employees

- thinks the decorations look great, taking notes for his room

Aran Ryan

- doing his evil gremlin thing, chucking stuff, sneaking around, rolling on the floor, hes simply thriving

- scaring people for fun

- hysterically laughing at everything because the lightning is shitty & that makes everything funnier for him

- saying the dumbest shit

- got inspired by disco kid wrecking the bookshelf and decided to throw a couch across the room

- laughing at the wall

Soda Popinski

- Really confused along with King hippo

- hes just following everyone around like a sick puppy

- sad that he cant bring his soda but understands because he has spilled soda multiple times on his stuff and suffered the consequences

- awkward shrugging anytime someone asks him whats going on

Bald Bull

- also hysterically laughing with aran, bad lightning with cheap horror music fits too well for him

- him & aran are cackling at kaiser knowing damn well they both need therapy

- Just having fun

- He doesnt give a shit about anything right now, this is one of the only times he can maniacally laugh at thin air and not get stared at

- was the one to convince disco kid to do a cartwheel

Super Macho Man

- pretending to understand whats going on, Just as confused as soda

- Really bored

- not much to say, hes just.. neutral

Mr Sandman

- Really calm & carrying the entire team

- concerned for aran & bull since he was the only one to notice them maniacally cackle at thin air

- suprisingly not ready to punch someone out into orbit

- extremely worried for disco's bones because no one throws a entire bookshelf onto themselves and walks away fine

- brought a camera to get some real gems

- keeps coughing like hes on life support because of the ridiculous amount of dust

Extra

They made it out suprisingly thanks to hondo & sandman (barely)

Don realized he has some problems with his lungs after that trip because holy shit he was fighting for his life

Sandman convinced aran & bull to go to therapist (somehow)

Joe enjoyed taking out his anger out on a cheap fake rotary phone

Disco needed to go to the hospital after the bookshelf incident, no one is letting the fact that he broke his back thanks to a bookshelf go

Piston Hondo & bear hugger do sudoku together now since they realized they both enjoy math puzzles

Great Tiger still laughs about the bookshelf incident at night when trying to sleep

#punch out #headcanon #punch out wii #punch out headcanons #don flamenco #bald bull #piston hondo #glass joe #aran ryan #great tiger

[walviemort]

Expecting a Secret [3/3]

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right? a/n: Here’s the final part of my bday fic for @sancocnutclub !!! This is the full fic from the manip I posted last week. Hope you've enjoyed this little adventure! rated T | AO3 | 4.7k | part 1 | part 2

The next day was much of the same. Based on the book and his math, Killian was roughly around 32 weeks along—but found it hard to believe there was still time to go, based on his size. The new clothes he’d bought fit fine; it was just—so big, it seemed. His center of gravity had greatly changed and he felt terribly cumbersome. He didn’t think he was waddling yet, but he wasn’t moving with as much ease as he had just a few days ago.

He was just so keenly aware of all the changes going on within (and without, as he was reminded every time he passed a mirror—which was often) that he was losing in the effort to keep abreast of goings-on in the rest of town. Perhaps that was for the best; perhaps if he pretended he wasn’t here, others would forget as well and he could get through this without attracting any unnecessary attention.

He didn’t even draw the curtains to look outside, lest he risk anyone seeing him. But he didn’t need to open them to tell that it was a gloomy, overcast day; much the same as his mood. He was sore all over; it was impossible to get comfortable; the babe would not stop moving; and even the book he was trying to read couldn’t hold his attention (perhaps the title should have been Withering Heights instead).

Well, he was no stranger to brooding, so he gave himself over to that for the bulk of the day. By evening, he was in a terribly rotten mood that not even Oreos could soothe. He was looking forward to simply taking a bath—and hopefully getting some sleep—when there was a knock at the door. He sighed; he supposed that was inevitable—likely Granny ready to tell him off for all his pacing.

He cracked the door open enough to peek around and bit out a “What?” at his visitor.

“Jeez, I was just trying to invite you to dinner, not get my head taken off,” Emma rebuffed. “I thought this was Hook’s room; not Grumpy’s.”

“Ha,” he replied, unamused. “I’m afraid I’m still not quite fit for company.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Okay, something’s up. You don’t usually avoid us like this.”

“Is a man not permitted his solitude at times?”

“Not when he’s being fucking weird. What aren’t you telling me?”

He nearly spat out the truth, but managed to close his mouth before he slipped. “Why does it matter?” he retorted. “I thought you couldn’t trust me.”

His heart nearly broke at the way her face fell at that; it was a low blow, but half his frustration came from trying to keep his distance. He hated keeping this from her, especially when there was a significant chance it was going to cause more trouble for her later. But he couldn’t risk more harm to her or her family. 

“I told you—” she started, in a small voice, but he cut her off. 

“Aye, well, I don’t quite believe it yet,” he said. “Don’t worry about me; just focus on the witch. Good night.” He punctuated the statement by firmly closing the door.

He waited for the sound of her footsteps to move away—and really hoped that wasn’t a sniffle he heard through the walls—before he himself stepped back from the door—and brushed away his own tears.

Then he shuffled off to the lavatory and began to draw a bath, though he knew it wouldn’t make him feel any better for being an utter arse to the woman he loved. But, hopefully, it would keep her at bay until he got through this.

He hissed as the babe then sharply connected with his ribs, seeming to chastise him just as much as he was already doing to himself. “I know,” he muttered. “I’m a bloody bastard.”

Two more days. He could do it—right?

—---------------------------------------------

A sudden jolt of pain woke Killian the next morning. He was ready to strike out at Zelena again, but when his eyes flew open, no one was there. And yet, the ache persisted.

His entire midsection, globe that it was, felt like the muscles were clenched—but he didn’t know how to relax them. He took a few deep breaths, which eventually worked, but his stomach still felt sore (or, at least, more sore than it already felt with its fairly rapid expansion). What the bloody hell was that?

The pregnancy book was sitting on the bedside table; he immediately reached for it to skim through. (He hoped Belle wouldn’t mind how dog-eared and beat up it was becoming.) He was at, what, 35 weeks now?

Ah, right—practice contractions. Lest he forget, birth still lay ahead of him. He massaged his rounded belly, saying a silent prayer that the babe within didn’t grow much more; he wasn’t sure entirely how the little one was to emerge, given that he didn’t have the traditional parts for it, but perhaps it would be easier on him if they remained on the small size.

The day continued on much like the previous had, although the practice contractions kept catching him by surprise; he yelped more than a few times at them.

After one, he did hear footsteps rush to, and then pause outside his door. He knew the sound of Emma’s gait by this point, and waited to see if she did anything, but the floorboards creaked as she inevitably walked away. 

Rather than frustrated, he was simply mad at himself for how he handled that interaction with her last night—but it had at least worked, so that was one less thing for him to worry about over the next day or so.

The next novel from Belle was much more enjoyable, even if he dozed off in the middle of reading. It felt like he was constantly on the edge of sleep, but the pregnancy manual had implied as much when he was as far into the third trimester as he was.

He was once more on the cusp of a nap when a persistent rapping sounding at the door—much different, and more forceful, than Emma’s usual (surprisingly polite) taps. Hopefully, whoever it was didn’t hear the groan as he shifted to standing; his belly was starting to drift southward as the little one moved closer to resting on his pelvis, and he could tell by the way they were wriggling that they were starting to run out of room.

Which meant it was getting harder to keep his bump from view of the door; he had to prop his left forearm on the edge of the frame to support himself this time. “Dave,” he greeted, surprised, when he cracked it open. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

David, however, seemed less than thrilled to see him. He crossed his arms and leveled a rather fatherly stare at him. “To figuring out what the hell is up with you.”

“I’ve just been feeling under the weather,” he said, thankful that Emma hadn’t inherited her lie-detecting abilities from her father, even it was somewhat true.

“And that’s reason to be a jerk to Emma? Especially when, for the last few weeks, you couldn’t seem to stay away from her?”

“No, it’s not,” he conceded. “I…intend to apologize once I’m feeling better; hopefully in a few days.”

David’s expression didn’t change. “You know, her last couple of magic lessons haven’t gone well.”

That made his heart sink in a different way, and he swore the babe was kicking nervously. “No?”

“No. She hasn’t been able to do much of anything with it. I think we all know what that means.”

Killian swallowed; any chance of defeating the witch—of keeping this child, and the Charming’s, safe—depended on her magic, as much as he hated to put it all on Emma’s shoulders alone. 

“Is…is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, knowing full well he’d be useless for a bit more.

“You can pull your head out of your ass!” David hissed.

“Beg your pardon?”

The prince huffed and stared at the floor. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, and she’d probably kill me for it, but the reason she’s been having trouble is you.” He looked back up. “You’re good for her, much as I hate to admit it, and whatever the hell this is you’re doing? She’s worried. So…figure it out.”

Before Killian could come up with any sort of reply—not that he had one ready—another practice contraction hit, and he curled in on himself a bit as he winced.

“Shit—are you okay?” David asked, trying to look around the door.

“‘M fine,” Killian waved off. “Or I will be. Just a—stomach thing.” (A rather large stomach thing that was also pressing on his bladder—again.) “Besides—it’s not like she plans on staying anyways,” he finally threw back. 

“Maybe she needs a reason to,” David countered. “Take care of yourself.”

He turned around and left, but Killian remained slightly stunned. Eventually, he did have to shut the door and head to the toilet, but David’s words lingered in his head. “ You’re good for her .”

Bloody hell, he really had been too rash in his agreement with Zelena. He should have known his tendency towards self-flagellation would mess things up one of these days. But there was nothing to be done at this point than to see it through, and just pray he could apologize to Emma fast enough to help get them out of this disaster.

The baby kicked against his side, and his hand flew to the spot without thought. The more time he spent with this little passenger, the more he also was determined to save them. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to be a father, given the low success rate of his past attempts at it, but he’d be damned if he let any harm befall his—and whoever else’s—child. “I don’t know what lays ahead, little one, but I’m going to do my best to keep you safe, too,” he murmured to the bump—and just hoped he hadn’t told yet another lie.

Quite obviously, his mood fell from whatever relative high it had reached that morning to the lowest of lows once more, especially with the continuation of the practice contractions.

He was laying listlessly on the mattress that evening, tracing the babe’s movements with his hand, when he heard a gentle knock. But he wasn’t fit for company and the lights were off, so hopefully they assumed he was asleep. 

Outside the door, he easily recognized the sound of Emma sighing. “I know you’re in there, even if you can’t hear me right now,” she said. “Probably passed out, if you’re still really feeling bad. But I…I feel like it’s not just that,” she continued. “I don’t know what I did to make you pull away. Okay, I know some of it, but—something else happened. I just wish I knew. Because I miss you,” she confessed to his closed door. “And I want to be with you again. Or hang out or whatever.” She sighed again and he thought he heard her forehead clunk against the wood. “Well now I really know you’re sleeping, because that would have gotten your attention if you were awake. Probably for the best.” She paused again, then added “good night,” and he heard her move across the hall to her own room. 

He suddenly sniffed; bloody hell, these emotional shifts were getting tiring. But he hated— hated —that he was the cause for her emotional distress, and worse, that it might have bigger implications for everyone else, including his child. (Perfect time for a practice contraction to start, eh?)

He’d well and truly fucked this up. 

So he gave into his heightened emotions, curled in on himself (which was no small feat—nor very quiet on Granny’s mattress), and cried himself to sleep.

———————————

Rising from the bed the next morning was the most arduous it had been yet—not just because of his babe’s consistent growth, or the practice contraction that had once again woken him, but his belly had also finally “dropped”, as the book said; the little one was well and truly resting on his pelvis, getting ready to make their escape—which could happen at any moment, most likely. 

His nerves were constantly on edge, consequently. The baby seemed to echo it—or was just anxious to get out; he wasn’t sure. But honestly, if it meant keeping them safe until the witch was defeated, he’d rather they stay there—safe—even if he was horrendously uncomfortable. 

Until another practice contraction hit and the babe shifted atop his lower pelvis. Never mind; he wanted them out. 

But for the first time, he realized just how alone he’d be for it. David hadn’t left Snow’s side when they were in the hospital, and he knew it was common for women to have any number of supporters during the process. But if he was still to be keeping it a secret…

However, that was when he heard Emma’s door open across the hall. What if he just…let the door open? Just a crack? It wouldn’t be his fault if she ended up barging in, would it?

He waddled to the door and unlatched the bolt, then reached for the knob—only for it to disappear as soon as his hand neared. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Zelena’s voice called out. He whipped his head and lifted his hook, ready to strike, but she wasn’t in the room. “That’s cheating,” she went on, and finally he saw her: staring out from the standing mirror next to his dresser. “Surely you can sit on this for just a few more hours; you’ve definitely kept other secrets longer.”

“What if something goes wrong?” he countered. “What if the child needs medical attention, eh? You really expect me to do the rest of this unsupervised?”

“Psh, you’ll be fine—I made sure of it when I cast the spell,” she waved off. “Just try not to get too loud, alright?”

“You know there’s a werewolf downstairs, right? They’ll probably hear.” The odds that he got through the day without Granny yelling at him for all the creaking he was causing were already slim.

“Oh, you’re right.” She waved her hand, and the walls briefly glowed green. “Silencing spell. Yell all you want, then; no one will hear it. See you in a few hours, Captain.” And then she disappeared from sight, leaving his own sorry reflection staring back at him, looking tired and morose. 

He sighed and shifted his weight from side to side, observing his reflection as he did. Perhaps his belly wasn’t quite as big as it felt, but it did protrude quite a ways in front of him, fully rounding out his stomach and resting heavy on his hips. While bracing his lower back with his left wrist, he lifted his shirt to properly view his belly. There were quite a few stretchmarks along its lower curve, and his belly button even stuck out. The little one moved then, and he could see the whole thing eerily shift as they did. 

Perhaps Zelena’s interruption had been good for another reason: did he really want to subject Emma to this view? Even he barely wanted to look at it, even if it held some novelty. But the babe wriggled again and he pulled his shirt back down; he could feel it plenty—he didn’t need to see the alien-like sight in better detail.

There was only one thing left to do at this point. He went to the odd canister by the door (he believed Henry had called it an “umbrella stand”) and retrieved his sword from its scabbard. He flexed his fingers around the grip and rested his brace on the apex of his bump. “Well, little love, wish us luck; I’m going to do my damnedest to keep you safe.” He liked to imagine the subsequent kick was an affirmative response. 

(Not for the first time, he also wished he had a way of contacting Smee; the man would have easily been able to slip the child away safely. But he had no idea what digits to use on his room’s telephone. Alas.)

As the day wore on, the practice contractions got more consistent—and stronger. He wasn’t entirely sure what would mark the start of labor, so he continued to alternate resting and pacing as they went on. 

More than once, he caught himself on one surface or another as they increased in intensity; this must be it then. He tried to skim over this section in the book, but couldn’t focus long enough for it to be of any use. 

So he breathed, and paced, and rested, and breathed, and paced, and rested, with sips of water and restroom breaks scattered in as needed. 

By mid-afternoon (he thought, at least, based on the light outside), he was sweating hard, gripping the back of a chair for support. It felt like the child was nearly ready to come out, but there was one thing that hadn’t happened yet. 

It came on his next restroom trip, thankfully: his water broke. He didn’t even bother putting his pants back on, and his shirt had long since been hiked up above his belly (there wasn’t much sense in keeping it on but he needed something for whenever the witch showed up).

“Alright, little one; let’s do this,” he murmured, shuffling back to the main room (and his sword). But he hadn’t gotten very far before the next—and strongest yet—contraction stopped him in his tracks, drawing a shout and forcing him to curl in on himself, catching himself on the back of the chair for support. 

Which of course was when the door to his room flew open. 

Emma stood, staring at him, mouth agape. “Oh…oh my god,” she eventually stammered. 

“Swan, I…” he started—but how the hell could he explain it?

Shockingly, he didn’t have to. “They were right; you’re pregnant. Holy shit.”

“They?” he asked, panting. 

“Belle,” Emma explained, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “And David. Just now—Belle mentioned the book you borrowed and my dad told us what happened when he saw you yesterday and—”

He didn’t mean to cut her off, but he yelled out as another contraction commenced. “You shouldn’t be here, love,” he said once his breath came back. “The witch—”

“Who gives a shit about her?” she said angrily, rushing to his side. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

“I cou—ahhh!” Any attempt at explanation was cut off by the sudden increased intensity of his labor. “Love, just—go,” he tried to argue, but there was no strength behind it. 

Not that she would have listened. “Like hell I will. I am not leaving you to do this on your own. Just tell me everything after, okay?” He nodded. ��Okay. Let’s have a baby.”

(He desperately hoped it was hers, cruel as that might be.)

She reached for his hand and guided him to sitting on the chair. “How long have you been going?”

“I don’t know,” he had to answer. “It’s all happened so fast.”

“Really? God, mine felt like it took forever.”

“No—all of it,” he clarified in between breaths.

“Wait—all?” she asked, placing her free hand on his belly.

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Just the last 10 days.”

“Shit,” she said, but it could have also been a reaction to the way he suddenly gripped her hand fiercely as yet another contraction came; they were incredibly close together now. “Um, Killian, I—I have to look—” She didn’t finish her sentence, but pointed downward.

He nodded again, though it was undoubtedly a terrifying sight. She took her own deep breath and knelt in front of where he was perched on the edge of the chair; her eyes went wide when she got a look. (This was so far from what he’d hoped her first encounter with his private parts would look like.)

“Oh wow, you’ve gotta push,” she said, in a slightly panicked tone. “I can see the head.”

“I can certainly feel it,” he answered, trying for some levity. But then the next contraction came and he found himself bearing down unwittingly.

“Just like that,” she coached. “I’m right here.”

“You really don’t have to be.” He was trying to give her an out.

“Hey.” Now she was the one squeezing his hand, intensity in her green eyes. “I want to be.” 

He managed to crack half a smile before his body forced him to push again—and again, and again. Emma gave enthusiastic encouragements the whole time but he was just in so, so much pain. 

“The head is out; you’re almost there!” she exclaimed, unfortunately having to take her hand back. “Just a few more—you can do it.”

He could, and he did—but he wasn’t quiet about it. But finally, the babe was out—and he was spent.

“It’s a girl,” Emma said softly, and the little one began to cry—but he didn’t dare look, and instead focused on catching his breath.

He could see enough to notice Emma pulling the little one to her chest and moving closer to him. 

“Oh, Killian,” she cooed. “She’s perfect.”

He was sure she was, but he couldn’t look. He couldn’t see the babe, because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let her go. And he quickly needed to build up the energy for a fight; his sword was sitting on the table next to him.

“Don’t you want to see her?” Emma asked softly. He just shook his head, feeling a tear crawl down his cheek.

“I can’t,” he murmured.

“Killian, what’s wrong? Do…do you not want to keep her?” There was no doubt that was giving her some unpleasant flashbacks of her own, even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Oh, no—I think he does, and that’s wherein the problem lies.” Zelena had arrived—and was gloating, but unphased by the way he was now staring daggers at her (but still decidedly not looking at his daughter—bloody hell, he had a daughter).

“Go to hell, witch,” he spat, reaching for his blade.

“Someday, yes, but not now. Now, I think I’ll be taking what's mine.”

“She’s yours?” Emma exclaimed, holding the baby tighter to her and casting a questioning glance between Zelena and Killian. (Gods, they hadn’t even had time to cut the umbilical cord yet.)

“Well, not ‘mine’ mine. Biologically speaking. She’s yours, really,” she said, gesturing at both of them.

Did she just say…? “Mine?” Emma asked, surprised.

“Yes, indeed. And what beautiful babies you make,” the witch said, coming closer. “If I can’t have a child of confirmed true love, then one of potential true love will just have to do.”

Summoning energy from somewhere unknown, Killian grabbed his sword and stood, leveling the blade at Zelena’s neck. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her,” he growled.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, Captain,” she hissed. “Unless you’d care to explain to the in-laws why I still kidnapped their baby?”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Emma interrupted, and faster than either of them were aware—in a flash of white light—Zelena was on the floor—and her broach was in Emma’s hand (the one that wasn’t still holding tight to his—no, their —baby).

“No—no, no, no!” the witch cried, seemingly attempting to summon the pendant back—do anything—with her magic. “Oh, you’ll pay for that,” she roared, pulling the Dark One’s dagger out—but Killian struck out at her arm before she could summon the Crocodile, making her drop it, and then kicked it away.

The witch let out a shriek—but it was cut off by a cloud of grey-ish magic. “Fat chance of doing anything to us from the cells below the hospital,” Emma quipped, then turned to Killian. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“A long story,” he sighed as he relaxed, adrenaline fading just as fast as it had come, his sword clattering to the floor. “One I will gladly tell you shortly; just—can I—?” He hoped the way he was reaching towards the babe finished the question for him.

“Of course,” she said warmly, putting the little girl in his arms. And he finally got to look at her, and, oh—she really was beautiful. She’d calmed down a little bit, at least since Zelena had been dispatched, and was looking around the room with large eyes; he hoped she’d inherit Emma’s color there, seeing as she had clearly acquired Killian’s own pointed ears. 

His body was beginning to tell him there were some things that hadn’t yet been dealt with; he held the little lass as Emma helped him through that. “You wanna tell me just what all this was now?” she asked, firmly but gently, once things were cleaned up. 

“I was a bloody idiot,” he summarized, but told her everything else that had happened since the night at the docks. “Swan, I cannot apologize enough for being such a fool. But…I also don’t fully regret it.”

“I get it,” she said, running a finger over their now-sleeping daughter’s head. “And I’m sorry for making you feel like you had nothing else. But…I guess I can’t complain about the product either.”

For a long moment, they just stood there—the three of them, in awe over their new little blessing. Aside from the incredible ache he felt, it was near perfect—and he was finally able to breathe for another reason (and not just because the precious little toes in his cradle were no longer digging into his lungs).

“Congratulations, love,” he said.

“For what? You just did all the hard work.”

“You defeated the witch. You saved this one, your new sibling, all of us,” he explained. “That’s something to be equally proud of, if not moreso.”

She blushed. “Yeah, but in the moment, all I could think of was saving her—and you.”

“Me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. Did you not hear what Zelena said?”

He had, but he didn’t dare acknowledge it. So he just nodded.

“My magic has never been stronger than it was just now—especially not earlier this week.”

“Aye, your father said as much.”

“You know why?”

He was starting to get the picture, but wanted her to say it.

She chose not to use words, but actions, and leaned toward his face.

“Hold on—the curse,” he said, regrettably pulling slightly away.

“It should have gone away with her magic,” Emma said, “and I don’t care anyways.” Then she insistently pressed her lips against his and, bloody hell, he couldn’t remember a sweeter, more meaningful kiss.

Though he would have preferred it not be cut off by a sudden interruption from the doorway. David stood at the now-open threshold, coughing (and clearly averting his gaze). “Granny said she heard some weird stuff and made me come check it out. I think I saw too much, though.”

Emma laughed; Killian tried, but it hurt his core. “Come on; I never thought I’d say this, but we need to get you back into some pants and get you two to the hospital.”

He passed the baby to her while he shuffled around to get dressed, and she caught up with her father, who thankfully drove them both to Storybrooke General.

Dr. Whale was shocked by the turn of events and insisted on keeping both Killian and his daughter overnight for observation; Emma stayed by their side the whole time. (And used her magic to accelerate his healing a bit…well, a lot, thankfully, though he wasn’t sure his midsection would ever be as firm as it once was.)

There was still a lot to deal with—emotionally, obviously, and they had to decide just what to do with Zelena; not to mention Snow giving birth still lay ahead. 

But as he walked out of the hospital the next morning—with Emma in one arm and tiny little Alice Margaret Jones, wearing her little sailboat onesie, in the other—he knew it would all work out; maybe, just maybe, this could be their happy ending.

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