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themorningsunshine · 1 year

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Be My Muse

Pairing - Aritst!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Childhood best friends to lovers)

Summary - Muse - A person or spirit that gives an artist the desire to create things

Bucky has been in love with you for years, but just can't get himself to say it. So, instead, he decides to show you.

Warnings - None, just fluffy fluff

Word Count - 2.4k

a/n - This is for @buckybarnesevents ‘s Connect 4: June-iverse event. Card Number - C4037 for the prompt C1 - Aritst. Thank you to the lovely @bluehourbucky for motivating me to actually finish writing this.

"Come on, Buck. Just tell me."

You watched as the man you called your best friend shook his head, once again refusing to let out anything about his upcoming art exhibition.

"Oh, come on. Don't be this way." You didn't want to pressurize him, but he was acting weird about this exhibition for the past 2 months.

Every single time when he had an art exhibition coming up, he would ramble about it for weeks to you and you loved it. The way he was excited about what he had made and also the way his nervous ticks showed up always a week before the actual event, you loved every bit of it. But this time, he hadn't spoken a word remotely related to it.

To top it all off, he had said that this was the most important exhibition of his life.

You were bound to be scared.

"Okay, what about this, you give me a hint, about anything, it doesn't even have to be the centerpiece, literally anything, and I will stop bugging you." You were practically begging now.

"Come on, doll. You are going to come to the main event. You can look at it then." He said putting your cup of coffee in front of you, is pretty much one of the only ways to distract your mind.

"See it then? With everybody else? Is that what I am to you, now, Buck? Just a person in the audience? I knew this day would come." You picked up your cup and with a dramatic turn walked out of the room.

Had you stood there for a moment longer, you would have seen the way Bucky scratched his thumb and bit his lips, two of his most prominent nervous ticks.

Only if he could tell you that you weren't just a person in the crowd. No, you were much more than that. You were everything .

He just had to wait.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

The day of the exhibition came sooner than he would have liked, but to you, it couldn't have been further away.

Bucky had been a little distant with you for the past week and you hated it. You hated it more than anything else in the world.

Usually, he would take you with him to carry out the errands related to the exhibition, 'cause he always got super nervous and you would be there to ground him. Like anchoring him back to the shore.

But this time, you had absolutely no idea what even was the theme of this exhibition. Every single time you offered to go with him for anything, he would always make excuses, and you were confident that they were lies 'cause when did Bucky start to go grocery shopping in the middle of the week?

In the almost 2 decades you had known him, ever since you were a kid, he had never hidden something this important from you.

To say that you were scared would be an understatement.

When you finally entered the exhibition, you were proud to see how many people had shown up. You had always known that Bucky would do exceptionally well as an artist and you had taken every chance you got to tell him exactly that.

As you were about to turn the corner and look at the first painting, you almost collided with a wall of muscle.

You looked up only to be met by the gaze of one of your closest friends.

"Steve, hey!!"

You saw as Steve tried extremely hard to hide the huge grin that threatened to spread across his face and you could swear you saw happy tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

You squinted as you took a step to the side to let a man walk in, realizing you were blocking the way.

"Y/n, you need to come with me."

"Not now, Steve. It's Bucky's exhibition. I need to stay here."

"He has asked you to come with me."

You narrowed your eyes as you asked, "Are you sure?"

Steve nodded as he took your hand to try and take you away from the paintings.

Dread filled your chest. Did Bucky really not want you in here so much?

You follow Steve as he leads you toward an isolated door of the arena.

You turn to look at him and he signals you to get inside.

"Okay, if you are kidnapping me, I might as well let you know that no one is going to pay a single penny as ransom to you." You joke. You have been friends with Steve almost for as long as you have been with Bucky and you trusted them with everything.

Steve chuckles before replying, "Just go in, y/n."

You open the door and take a step in, only to realize that it's pitch dark. Before you can turn back to look at Steve, the door closes behind you.

You take a deep breath and call out, "Bucky? I swear to god if it's one of your stupid pranks, I'll kill you."

Suddenly, a small light gets switched on beside you and you turn to realize that it beautifully illuminates a painting.

You take a step forward towards it, only to realize that it is a sketch of an eye and it's beautiful .

You can see the way it shines with a glint even though it's just a sketch and you bring your hand forward to run it across it.

It is then that you notice the little note sitting at the bottom right corner of the sketch.

All the city lights combined couldn't shine brighter than your eyes.

Your lips turned upwards into a smile as you read the words. Even though you had absolutely no idea what was happening, it was a huge comfort to know that it was all Bucky's doing. You could recognize that handwriting anywhere.

You looked around hoping to figure out at least something, but all that the little illumination below the sketch showed you was that it was more probable than not a huge hall.

Not even a moment later, another small light was switched on just beside the first one.

It was a painting this time. A very old painting.

It was a small girl sitting on a swing hanging from the tree. A blissful smile on her face, carefree and oblivious to the troubles of the world.

When you noticed the bracelet that she was wearing, you took a step forward, squinting to focus on the painting.

It was you.

And then the memory of that day placed itself at the forefront of your brain.

"Come on, Buck." The little 11-year-old girl called out to the brown-haired boy.

He just shakes his head and refuses to move away from under the tree he is sitting, a sketchbook in hand.

"Why do you even like painting so much?" She had asked, crossing her arms across her chest, puffing in annoyance at his lack of response before walking away towards the swing herself.

A smile finds its way to your lips at the memory. It was about a couple of years after the both of you had met, and yet, it was as clear as day in your mind. Even after all the memories you and Bucky created together over the years, small - innocent ones like these from all those years ago never left your heart.

You look at it intensely for a long time. A couple of tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

It's been so long. You couldn't help but think. The both of you had grown up but never grew apart. There was always a connection, an instant pull that always brought the both of you back to each other, almost like how no matter how far any of you went, you never forgot your way back home.

After some time, you finally noticed the little note written in the bottom left corner of the painting, just like in the first one. But this one was different. This sentence was the one that would change your whole life for you. In the best way possible. It read :

The day that 12-year-old fell in love, without even knowing what love meant. All he knew was that he was going to love that girl with everything he had, till his last days and beyond.

Your breath hitched in your throat. He loved you.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you.

That's when it hit you.

Everything you have ever wanted. The only thing your heart has ever yearned for, was right in front of you all along.

The love that you had read about in books, the kind of love that swallowed you whole until there was no part left untouched, the love that you have looked for your entire life, has been right there. Right beside you. In the form of the oceanic blue eyes that had enamored you for the last 20 years.

You were in love with your best friend.

The realization doesn't hit you like a truck, or leave you gasping in surprise, it brings with it a sense of peace, a sense of everything falling into place.

You look around frantically searching for the man that you had loved all along without ever knowing it.

You loved him when he fought those bullies to protect Steve and got hurt in the process.

You had loved him when he had brought you cookies when you had gotten sick during Christmas, not being able to move.

You had loved him when you had supported him in his decision to do what his heart desired, in his journey of becoming an artist.

You had loved him when the both of you had said your goodbyes while leaving for college in distant cities when the tears had fallen from your eyes and on the ground and he had comforted you that your friendship won't fall apart.

You had loved him in the nights that were spent staring at the stars together, in the afternoons that had been spent watching movies, curled up beside each other, just the two of you.

You had loved him then, and you love him now and you were pretty sure you were going to love him till the world was nothing but dust.

A light suddenly gets switched on just beside the old painting, and this time too, it's you.

Painted years after the last one, it's you staring at the night sky, a soft, content look on your face.

This time, your eyes frantically search for the note, and sure enough, it's right there, at the bottom.

'Cause, darling without you,

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

You can now feel tears rolling down your cheeks, as your lips turn into the widest grin possible.

You turn around and as you do so, all the lights in the room begin to turn on, each revealing a painting of you. Taken in the simplest moments.

There is one with you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a pout evident on your face as you had tried to bake a cake for the first time.

There was one where you were sitting at the beach, staring into the ocean.

The one that you liked the most was the one in which you were sleeping contently, a blanket loosely draped over you, that you could swear hadn't been there before.

Before you can look at the rest of them, a voice comes from the corner of the hall and you turn just in time to look at Bucky Barnes himself.

Your smile grew wider if it was even possible and you almost ran off to embrace him when he started speaking.

"One day, you asked me why I drew. Why I felt the need to express whatever it was I felt through a canvas. I didn't tell you, then, but now I want to, doll.

It's you. It's always been you. You have been my muse, my pillar of support, my motivation to get up every morning, my need to paint because there was no other way I could express to the girl I was in love with that she was all I ever dreamt about. That she was everything I could ever want.

I love you, doll. I love you with everything I am and everything I'll ever be. There are a hundred ways this could fall apart, and trust me, I have thought about each one of them more than I should have. But if there is one chance that this could work, that I could be yours, not just in movie nights or weekly trips to the grocery market, but in every way possible, I want to take that chance. In slow mornings and in intimate nights, in tough days and in the celebratory evenings, I want you, I need you to be a part of all of them, doll because life just doesn't feel like life without you."

As if your feet had gained a mind of their own you ran towards him, circling your arms around his neck and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was gentle, soft, full of need and unspoken feelings, of time lost, it was everything .

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, not wanting to ever let go.

Finally, when the both of you pulled away, still staying close with the widest possible grins on your faces, you whispered, "I love you too, Buck. So damn much." You say it so slowly, it feels like a dream to him.

You would one day shout out to the world how much you loved him, but for now, it was going to be your little moment. When the city of Brooklyn went about its day just like it did every day, two people who were irresistibly, irrevocably in love with each other stood there, holding each other, in the gentlest of embraces, embers of their love while keeping them warm, strong enough to burn the whole world down.

You stay there for what feels like forever before Bucky whispers. "Doll, be my muse?"

You look up at him, drowning in his oceanic blue eyes, only to reach home, before you whisper, "Forever."

#bucky barnes #aritst!bucky #marvel #oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #artist au #childhood best friends to lovers #love #love confessions #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #art #painting #connect4au

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sku1l-b4e · 2 months

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School Love

(Chapter 3)

As final period ended, I couldn't help but feel my stomach drop. It was the weekend, meaning I wasn't able to see Bill for another 2 days, but as I packed up my stuff and put them in my art folder to be put away within the classroom drawers, I felt a tap on my arm. I look towards the hand and freeze, noticing the black nail polish that belonged to the man I hold in my heart. My heart flutters and my stomach tightens, a smile appearing on my face.

"We haven't talked in a while... Did you want to hang out this weekend? I miss how we were." His voice was soft, as if scared I was going to reject his offer. I stare at him for a moment in silence, my brain trying hard not to overthink what he meant by this. Did he truly want to be friends again? Or did he finally reciprocate my feelings?

We had abandoned our friendship after me, Tom and Bill had gotten drunk on my last birthday. I had gotten so drunk that i stupidly told Bill I loved him. He took it as friendly love at first but he soon realized and left, Tom following him. So I was left alone on my birthday, sobbing alone in my bedroom as I thought I had lost the only person who knew everything about me.

I could see him shifting on his feet, uncertainty in his eyes the longer I stayed quiet. But I soon respond, "Yeah, yeah. Sure... Do you still have my number?" I ask, watching as he took in my question and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He scrolls through his contacts as I wait uncomfortably for him to speak. "Yeah, I still do. Why? Did you block me?" I laugh awkwardly at his question, how did he know? I had gotten so caught up in my emotions that I had blocked his number to try and get rid of my crush. But it only grew stronger each day I was away from him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

He shakes his head, a small smile on his soft lips as he reaches his empty hand forward, gently grasping my bicep to keep my full attention. "Do you want to... Oh. Nevermind... Can I come round yours?" I watch with a raised eyebrow as he struggles with asking me a question but as soon as he finishes speaking, I smile and nod, my attention fully on his brown eyes as the light reflects off them.

I've always known he was insecure about his house as his family wasn't very rich. His clothes used to be old, hand-me-downs from his stepdad and I rarely came round because he didn't want me seeing his house. "When did you want to? I need to ask my mum." I respond, still smiling as he answers me.

"Today."

Sorry it's short, busy busy! Chapter 4 whenever I think of something 🫶🏻

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #love #school #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader smut #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz smut

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beanghostprincess · 5 months

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Sanuso Modern AU in which Sanji works as a waiter at the Baratie and Zoro invites Usopp to have dinner with him because Usopp's art school is close to Zoro's dojo. And so Usopp assumes (biggest mistake. Don't assume anything when it comes to this green-haired dumbass) that Zoro has money and will be the one paying. So of course, when they finish eating and they actually have to pay, Zoro says that he doesn't have any money with him and just assumed (biggest mistake. Don't assume Usopp will ever willingly pay when he could just take advantage of his best friend) that Usopp had money with him.

So, of course, Zoro tells him to wait there at the table. His apartment is close and he can just go there and grab the money! Usopp's second biggest mistake: Don't ever let Zoro walk home alone. Don't ever let Zoro be responsible for money stuff, either.

But Usopp realizes that fairly late when an hour has passed already and the staff is looking at him weirdly. He keeps chewing on the bread they had left and drinking water to look less suspicious, but he's dying from anxiety and Zoro just won't pick up the phone!

They're getting ready to close the restaurant and of course, they just had to send someone to tell him to pay and fuck off or- Or go to jail? What- What do they do to you when you don't pay in a restaurant? Is it like stealing? Usopp is going to die. They're going to murder him with the same knives they used to cut the chicken he ate.

The guy who approaches him with the bill seems exhausted and uninterested and Usopp really, really doesn't want to look up. "Glad you liked our shitty restaurant, but it's time to hit the hay for some and my boss wants me to kick your ass as quick as possible. So why don't you make this easier for both of us and just pay already instead of licking bread like a starving orphan."

Usopp is visibly shaking when he speaks up. "Uh- Yeah! Of course! Can't- Can't you add it to my-"

"We don't do that here, smartass, try something else. Like paying."

"Yes. Of course. I- I'll have you know I am the son of a very rich owner of a conglomerate and I'm just waiting for my chauffeur to come pick me up and give me my credit card! I just forgot I left it on the back of the limousine, silly me!"

There's a silence after that. A long, uncomfortable, and anxious silence that's only filled with the sound of other waiters cleaning the tables and moving chairs.

Then, the guy sits right in front of him. "Your friend ditched you, didn't he?"

And Usopp can't keep lying anymore, so he sighs while he looks up at the guy in front of him. "Forgot the money. He probably got lost on his way home."

The guy frowns, and Usopp doesn't have enough time to process how hot and handsome and classy and effortlessly cute he looks right now. With his long (Yes, Sanji has long hair here) hair in a bun and his tie undone. "That's pretty messed up." And he's being so genuine and serious about it that it almost scares Usopp, thinking Sanji might have taken it the wrong way.

"No! No. He's just a dumbass. And he- He lives literally not even two blocks away. He just can't tell between right and left."

"Dyslexic?"

"He's just stupid, but don't ask him to spell anything, either. I actually think he should go get that checked, though?"

And that makes the guy laugh. Like- Smile. With teeth and everything. And for a moment, Usopp doesn't give a fuck about the money.

"Tried calling him?"

"A few times. Then my phone died. And here we are! Are- Are you going to..."

"Going to do what, handsome?"

Okay. No. This waiter is going to be the death of him.

"Uh- If- If he doesn't come here."

"What would you want me to do?" And he rests his chin on the palm of his hand and whispers that so lewdly that it almost makes Usopp have a stroke. But then he laughs again, and just looks around the room before resting his back on the sit. "What I'm going to do is give you a phone charger, first and foremost. And then I'll keep you company while the dumbass of your friend comes here. Worst case scenario, you stay with us for a week cleaning dishes."

Usopp is starting to wonder if that really would be the worst-case scenario.

Long story short, Sanji gives him a phone charger and they stay at that table together for a long, long while. The restaurant is pretty much closed already but Sanji (that's the waiter's name. Sanji. Sounds good on Usopp's lips) stays with him. He tells Usopp about how he wishes he could be a real cook instead of just a waiter, but his father (surprisingly the owner of the restaurant) won't let him actually be a cook for real until he says so. Which seems to frustrate him, but still he speaks about his father with endearment. Usopp tells him about Zoro being stupid and one thing leads to another and he's telling him about anecdotes of his friend group. Sanji mentions Luffy, a friend of his that always comes here to eat, and how he would probably get along with Zoro because they're both dumbasses.

And the night keeps going. And going. And going. And it doesn't seem like Sanji is staying only to keep an eye on Usopp. It almost looks like he's flirting, and Usopp, somehow, has enough confidence to flirt back.

But of course, they had to ruin it. Someone knocks on the door of the restaurant and they both assume it's Zoro, but it's actually Nami instead. Zoro called her and told her everything, yadda yadda. She's exhausted and by the looks of her outfit, she was probably out partying when this happened. Usopp kind of wants to tell her to go away and leave them alone, but he just can't do that with Sanji in front of them.

Whatever. She pays for him. Adds it to his and Zoro's debt. And walks away, waiting for Usopp outside.

They both want to see each other again, that much is clear. But they're both also stupid, so neither asks for the other's phone number. And Usopp goes away without saying a word besides "Sorry I made you spend a Friday night with a stranger. At work, of all places."

To which Sanji responds with: "Well, despite what I said before, I really like my work. And I really, really liked that stranger, Usopp."

And it ends there.

Or it doesn't, because at some point they see each other again. Whether it's because Usopp goes to the Baratie again or because Sanji shows up suddenly in Usopp's art school. I won't say because I have no idea and this is just a concept, but I found it sweet!!!

#i made sanji a bit too flirty here i need to make him more pathetic #i swear he was internally begging for usopp to kiss him and holding back screaming #sanji falls for usopp the moment he sees him too btw #if you're wondering where zoro ended up he's at luffy's house bc it's the only place he knows how to walk to from any side of town #nami was having the time of her life and zoro ruined it #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso

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renecdote · 1 year

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the tide comes (and goes and goes)

yes this is my third fic in two days. no I am not okay.

@nymika-arts this one is for you 💛

It’s almost funny that Eddie brought him to the beach today. To the ocean. He doesn’t know—can’t know, Buck hasn’t told anyone—but Buck feels unbearably seen by it anyway. He almost wishes Bobby was here too, so he could let his captain wrap an arm around his shoulders and say, “See? It didn’t take either of us.”

(That’s not true though, is it? It took them, it just didn’t keep them.)

Buck, Eddie, the beach, and conversations about okay.

For BTHB: hyperventilating

[Read on AO3]

The water is calm. Too calm for surfing, Buck thinks, not that he’d be allowed to do that anyway. He’s pretty sure surfing comes under the no strenuous activity rule. Swimming, too, so he’s not really sure why Eddie dragged him out to the beach this morning when all he can do is sit in the sand and watch the water creep closer.

“Relax,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to poke at his shoulder. He’s lying on his back, eyes closed behind his sunglasses, and Buck has been trying and failing not to look at the way his tank top has ridden up slightly over his stomach, or the glow of morning sunlight across his skin, or the way his swim trunks stretch over his thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

So no. He can’t just relax.

He’s telling himself that the Eddie of it all is the only reason why.

“Why are we here?” Buck asks, dragging a finger through the sand. He draws a heart, then another, then another, then sweeps them all away with a flick of his hand.

“It’s a nice day.” Eddie doesn’t shrug, but Buck hears it in his voice anyway. “Why not?”

Buck frowns down at the sand between his fingers. He wonders whether he’ll ever be able to say, “you know, I’m pretty sure you jinxed me that day when you said you hoped the lightning wouldn’t strike twice,” without the joke falling flat.

“Why didn’t we bring Chris?” he asks.

An eyebrow raised over Eddie’s sunglasses. “It’s a school day.”

“Yeah, but…”

This is starting to feel like an ambush. Buck glances over his shoulder, half expecting Bobby to come walking down the beach towards them. Maybe Maddie and Hen and Chimney as well. He’s barely had a moment alone in the ten days since he was released from the hospital, someone always at the loft, someone else always calling or texting to check in. It’s unnerving that his phone is so silent now. So unnerving that Buck has to pull it out of his pocket just to check that it’s still on (that it’s still real).

Out over of the water, a seagull swoops down to the surface and arcs back up with a fish gleaming in its beak.

“Relax,” Eddie says again, quieter, and his hand is flat against Buck’s back this time, the kind of steady pressure that makes him take an automatic breath and lean into the touch. Eddie smiles. “There we go. Will you lie down now? You’re blocking my sun.”

Buck huffs. “Well if I’m blocking you sun…”

He lies back on the towel, legs stretched out in the warm sand, so close that he can feel the heat of Eddie’s body next to his own. His turns his head, watching his best friend’s chest rise and fall as he breathes, imagining how easy it would be to reach out and feel it.

I didn’t dream about you, he thinks about saying. I dreamed about everyone else but I think I was too scared to dream about you.

He takes a slow breath and holds it, holds it, holds it. Lets it out in a gust. He hasn’t told anyone that he wakes up in the night sometimes, the memory of feeling like he couldn’t breathe so visceral he thinks his lungs have stopped working again. Maybe he should, that seems like the kind of thing Maddie would tell him a doctor needs to know, but if he talks about it, then he has to talk about all the other shit going on in his head as well.

(That’s not true though, is it? It took them, it just didn’t keep them.)

Buck props himself up on his elbows, watching the waves race up the sand, then just as quickly retreat back to sea. He doesn’t know what time high tide is, but it’s pretty high now, surely it can’t get much higher. He glances down the beach, both directions, a crooked line of seaweed and driftwood dark against the sand.

(“It’s called a wrack zone,” Monica told him long ago, Virginia Beach bathed in golden sunset around them. “It marks the high tide line, where all the seaweed and other crap from the ocean has been washed up.”

“Why is it called wrack?” Buck asked, tracing a finger down her spine, drawing shell patterns on her suntanned back.

She laughed, a surprised kind of sound, like she couldn’t figure out why he would ask. “I don’t know, Evan. It just is. Why is anything called anything?”

He went to the library the next day, looked it up in a book and came back with the answer, and he told himself it didn’t sting when Monica didn’t care.)

“You’re thinking.” Eddie’s voice cuts through his eddying thoughts, his eyes still closed. “Stop it.”

Buck flicks sand at him. “I’m not allowed to think?”

“No.” Eddie opens one eye to look up at him. “I know what you’re like.”

Buck isn’t sure why that makes his heart stutter the way it does. He almost presses a hand against his chest, just to check that it’s still working right, but stops himself at the last second.

“Did you know that seagulls mate for life?” he asks, the first thing that comes to him, because he’s pretty sure Eddie is going to ask him if he wants to talk about what’s bothering him if he doesn’t say something, and Buck really, really doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him.

“Yes,” Eddie answers, surprising him. “You shared all your seagull facts after that call with the hang glider a while ago. They also have excellent memory.”

Buck barely remembers that call, it must have been… two years ago? Three? He can’t believe Eddie remembers it so well.

“What else?” he asks, curious.

“They’re omnivores,” Eddie recounts. “They fly in erratic patterns to avoid predators. They drink both salt and fresh water. And they’re symbols of healing and tranquility.”

Buck rolls his eyes, slumping back down on the sand. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Healing and tranquility.”

Eddie’s teeth poke out of the corner of his smile. “You’re the one who asked.”

He did. And he kind of wants to ask Eddie to keep talking forever, his voice drowning out the sound of the waves, but Buck bites his tongue and holds the words inside. Asking Eddie to talk to him now feels too much like the start of a slope, steep and slippery, ending in a rocky why didn’t you talk to me while I was in the coma?

The sand under his back is lumpy, something hard under his right shoulder than might be a shell, or an ocean-smooth rock, or just the nub of stick buried in the sand. Buck shifts to get away from it and ends up closer to Eddie.

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to move away, but Eddie’s fingers brushing against the back of his hand stops him.

“’S’okay,” he says, and when Buck settles back down, he doesn’t move away. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

Getting there.

Buck closes his eyes, and doesn’t reach out to hold Eddie’s hand properly, no matter how easy it would be to do.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

Wakes with a start to Eddie shifting beside him, his heart suddenly pounding, his breath sticking in his chest.

“Sorry,” Eddie is saying, his shadow cast across Buck’s face. “Sorry, I was just—Buck?”

Buck swallows, and tries to breathe, and finds that he can’t do both those things at once. Should he be able to? He can’t remember. He can’t remember how his body is supposed to work. He shoves himself up to sitting and tries to suck in more air, but his lungs burn like they’re full of smoke, suffocating him from the inside out. There’s a part of him that always thought he’d die in a fire. That he’d die doing something reckless to save someone. It wasn’t supposed to be lightning. Wasn’t supposed to be a freak fucking accident.

“Hey,” softer, closer, Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, “you’re okay. We’re at the beach, remember? Can you breathe with me?”

He takes Buck’s hand and holds it against his own chest, skin and cotton both warmed from the sun, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Inhale, hold for one, for two, for three, and exhale. Inhale, and hold, and exhale, and hold.

They’ve done this before. It was Eddie, then, wild-eyed and gasping after a nightmare, his back pressed so far back against the wall that Buck had to crawl onto the bed, practically on top of him, to pull his hand away from clawing at his chest and press it against Buck’s own instead. He’d been terrified, then. Is something close to terrified now. But this time it’s not Eddie he’s afraid of losing, it’s himself.

He makes himself take a breath. And another. And another. He focuses on the movement of Eddie’s chest, the beat of his heart under Buck’s fingertips, the warmth of his fingers around Buck’s wrist.

“That’s it,” Eddie murmurs, and his voice is low and steady, but when Buck meets his eyes, there’s a wild edge to them that he wasn’t expecting. A blurriness that he thinks is his own tears for a moment, until he blinks and they run down his cheeks, and he finds the blurriness still there.

Buck takes another breath and it trembles, rippling through his chest, his legs, down his arms. A gull caws and he flinches. The sun flashes bright on the water. A lightning flash. Half a memory. Sea mist like rain on his face. Eddie squeezes his wrist, pulling him back before he can get lost in it.

His other hand is tight around his phone, Buck realises, three numbers typed out on the screen ready to hit call: 9-1-1.

He takes a deep breath.

Another.

“I’m okay,” he makes himself say. “Sorry, I’m—I’m okay.”

He has a sudden surge of memory:

What’s wrong with him? Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?

Because he wouldn’t let me, so I called you.

And he’d thought then—must have thought, because Chimney said—

Maybe he’s just having a panic attack.

“How do you feel?” Eddie asks, and Buck knows he doesn’t mean emotionally, although they’ll probably get to that later. He means it the same way he means it on calls: what are your symptoms? where is the pain? what do we need to treat?

Irritation licks up Buck’s spine. He’s so sick of being a patient. Sick of resting, sick of everyone being worried all the time, sick of not being fine. He tugs his hand free of Eddie’s grasp to scrub roughly at his face.

“My lungs are fine,” he says, and it comes out more shaky than sharp. “My heart is fine, my—my hands, and my knee, and everything else is all fine. You can stop looking at me like that now.”

“Like what?” Calm. Even. Always so in control.

“Like I’m going to fucking break,” Buck snaps, and the rush of anger steals his breath again, makes him cough, one hand pressed against his chest, the other held up to hold Eddie back.

It doesn’t matter. Eddie doesn’t reach for him this time. He doesn’t let go of his phone either, though, 911 one finger tap away.

“Fuck,” Buck manages, when he has caught his breath again. He squeezes his eyes shut, curls over his knees and grips his hair, like maybe he can hold himself together. Maybe all he needs to do is hold, and hold, and hold. He wishes desperately that Eddie would touch him and is absurdly grateful that he doesn’t.

Somewhere down the beach, a child shrieks. Another laughs. A parent calls for them to come out of the water and Buck feels a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart. It’s so sudden and visceral he thinks he’s going to be sick, the world tilting on it’s edge, reality spiralling away from him. He has to put a hand down in the sand, warm and almost-smooth and real real real against his skin, to try and steady himself. Fuck. Why the hell did he let Eddie bring him to a beach?

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Eddie says eventually. “I promised your sister I’d have you back for lunch.”

Lunch is still hours away, but Buck only thinks about fighting it for a second.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he’s suddenly too tired to care how tired he sounds. “Okay.”

They’re silent as they pick up their towels, shaking the sand out before throwing them over their shoulders, the cooler bag Eddie brought hanging from one arm, beach umbrella tucked under the other, flip flops carried to the grassy edge of the beach before they put them on. Buck’s skin feels itchy, gritty from more than just sand, and the water from the makeshift shower at the edge of the carpark does little to rinse the feeling off.

“Your hands are shaking,” he realises when they’re sitting in Eddie’s truck, the engine on but the car still in park. He reaches out, but Eddie pulls his hands away, wraps his arms around his chest and tucks them under his armpits, out of reach.

Time stretches, the engine ticking, cold air blowing through the vents. Buck shivers, then shivers again, and when gritting his teeth doesn’t work, he gives in and reaches under his seat for the hoodie he abandoned here earlier.

“I’m okay,” he tries again, fiddling with his cuffs, watching Eddie out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Eddie opens his mouth, probably the start of an automatic denial, then closes it again, his jaw tight.

“You don’t have to apologise,” is what he finally says, and Buck hears you’re right, you did scare me. It leaves a strange, almost salty aftertaste in his mouth.

“Do you want me to drive?” he offers.

It gets Eddie to look at him. Whatever he sees makes him frown and he reaches for the fan dial to adjust the AC. Then he sighs, looking back at Buck while he slowly stops shivering, and the last thing Buck expects him to say is, “Maddie is going to kill me.”

“Maddie likes you,” he protests, even though he’s not sure what he’s really protesting. “Why would she kill you?”

Eddie gestures, up and down and then up again, as if to say look at you, you’re a mess. Buck glares, and hugs himself a little, and tells himself it’s not sulking.

“I knew you were conspiring,” he mutters, because this whole trip was definitely an ambush.

“We weren’t—” Eddie starts, and then he bites off with another sigh, frustrated this time. “How long have you been having panic attacks?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, taking his own turn looking out the window to avoid his best friend’s gaze.

“What happened to ‘you need to talk to me’?” Eddie pushes. “I’m pretty sure that goes both ways, Buck.”

“Because you’re so good at talking,” Buck shoots back, and he hates himself a little for the way that Eddie flinches.

He used to argue with Bobby like this too. Used to push them right to the edge, right to the cliff top of regret, and wait to see if Bobby would throw them both over it.

He waits now, braced against the free fall, adrenaline sharp at the back of his tongue.

“You died,” Eddie says abruptly, and it’s not the push Buck was expecting but it almost sends him into free fall anyway, the ground taken out from under him. “You were dead, Buck, for seven fucking minutes before we got your heartbeat back, and it almost killed me too. Is that what you want to hear?”

No. The recoil presses Buck back into his seat. He’s got a hand against his chest before he realises it hurts, pain sharp and sudden, his heart screaming and his lungs seizing. There’s wind whistling in his ears. Everything has narrowed to dead and seven fucking minutes and the smell of ozone in his nose.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, and then he’s unclipping his seatbelt and throwing open the car door.

Wait— Buck wants to say, another surge of panic sweeping through him, but then Eddie is circling the front of the truck and pulling open his door as well.

“You’re fine,” he says, stumbling through the words like he’s trying to reassure both of them. “Deep breaths, Buck, come on.”

Fingers around his wrist again, hand on Eddie’s chest. It turns Buck towards him, sitting sideways in the seat with one leg almost on the ground, Eddie pressed in close while he coaches him to breathe. Inhale, hold for one, for two, for three, and exhale. Easier this time, but that might just be because Buck’s lungs are too tired to keep up the panic. He feels greyed out and rubbery by the time his breathing is evening out, exhaustion rushing in where the panic drains away. He sags, forward instead of back, and Eddie catches him in a hug before he can slide right out of the car.

“I’ve got you,” he says, almost a whisper, the words muffled against Buck’s hair.

Buck lifts his arms just enough to wrap them around Eddie’s back and return the hug, and then he’s just—done. Can’t fight it anymore. Doesn’t even know what it is he’s supposed to be fighting. All he can do is hold on and hope that Eddie doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Eddie is pushing him gently back and wiping the tears away.

“I’m gonna take you home,” he says. And when Buck makes a half-formed sound of protest, he adds, “My place. I’ll tell Maddie you’re not up for lunch.”

“No,” Buck tries, and god, is that his voice?

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, and Buck knows it means you can’t get out of telling your sister about this. Probably also I’ll be calling Bobby too.

He wants to fight it. Wants to insist that he’s fine—that he will be fine—but.

But.

Buck gives in. Lets himself be driven home—to Eddie’s house—and shuffled from front door to shower to couch. He’s starting to hurt, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything that should make him hurt, but that’s pretty much situation normal these days. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Eddie knows him well so he doesn’t really have to.

“Here,” he offers, holding out Tylenol, then water. “Do you want tea?”

“I want coffee,” Buck grumbles, swallowing the painkillers. A headache is setting in and it shows no sign of letting go easily.

Eddie shakes his head, more fond than exasperated. “When the doctor clears you for coffee, I’ll be the first to buy you a cup. Is that no to tea?”

Buck shrugs, hunching down in his corner of the couch. “Tea is fine.”

He closes his eyes, then opens them again a moment later because Eddie hasn’t moved. He’s still perched on the coffee table, worrying at his lip while he watches Buck.

“What?” Buck asks, rubbing self-consciously at his birthmark

A slight head shake: nothing. Eddie stands up, takes half a step towards the kitchen, then turns back.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says, and Buck feels the words in his chest, lodging somewhere around his heart. An affirmation. A promise. A fuck you to the universe and whatever it wants to throw at them next.

“Yeah,” he agrees, offering Eddie a smile. “‘We’re gonna be okay.”

And when he’s alone—when he’s lying back on the couch with the muted sound of the boiling kettle like a shell held up to his ear, the ocean rushing through him—Buck takes a deep breath—and another and another—and finds that he believes it. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day—whenever one day comes—they’re gonna be okay.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #911 Spoilers #fic #badthingshappenbingo

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earthtoharlow · 10 months

Text

Tattooed Heart

Urban Wyatt x ModelOC

Series Masterlist

Here’s the last fic that’s part of my one year anniversary celebration!

Giovanni stood in the corner of the bar as she watched men and women in fancy clothes as they sipped wine and fake laughed at everyone’s shitty jokes. She felt out of place in her custom made outfit. Party girl at heart, she would usually love being in a bar but not with these asshole models who thought they were better than her because they didn’t have face tattoos. After three dirty looks as she approached magazine editors to network, she was over it. Already hitting her social quota for the night, maybe even the year.

Behind her she noticed an employee- only door which took you outside the club. Not being able to stand it any longer any longer, Giovanni quickly exited before anyone noticed.

She sighed in relief as she made it outside as she leaned against the brick wall of the bar, hyping herself up to go back in when she heard a flicker of a lighter, followed by the heavy smoke of weed.

“You look like you could use a puff or two…”

Giovanni immediately turned her head and saw a tall white guy with long blonde hair with a camera hanging around his neck,with his hand held out. It wouldn’t be the first time she saw that while in NY, at least this time, this guy was cute.

She realized she was staring too long and took the blunt out the strangers hand and took a long puff. Giovanni immediately felt her whole body relax. This was exactly what she needed.

It was quiet as the two passed the blunt back and forth, as they finished Giovanni couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the fake drunken laughter coming from the other side of the wall. She really didn’t want to go back in there.

“Yo, there’s a pizza joint like a block from here you wanna hit it up?” The guy suddenly asked.

She raised an eyebrow before answering, “You don’t even know my name and you’re inviting me to get pizza with you?”

He simply just shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, you can stay here with these snobs if you want…but I’m going to get pizza.”

Giovanni looked between the strange but cute man and the door that would lead her back inside and immediately she knew what she was going to do.

“Okay, I’m coming with you but can you at least tell me your name? I've just been calling you “strange guy with weed” in my head.”

The guy let out a chuckle at that. “It’s Urban.” He held his hand out for her to shake.

She grabbed his hand and pulled away almost as quickly when she felt a spark. “I’m Giovanni.”

“Nice to meet you, Giovanni. Now, that we’ve got that out of the way can we go get pizza, I’m hungry as fuck!”

Giovanni nodded before pushing away from the wall and following Urban’s lead to the pizza shop.

“I carry a knife by the way, and I’m not scared to use it.”

Urban looked at Giovanni with a grin. “Cool.”

***

“So are you like a real photographer or like one of those guys who just likes to take pictures of naked women and call it art?” Giovanni asked before taking a big bite of her pizza.

Urban covered his mouth with his hand as he chewed. “I’m a real photographer, my best friend does music so I basically document everything for him.”

Giovanni nodded, not shocked, it’s NY, everyone was into music. It was quiet for a moment before Urban spoke again. “So what’s your story?”

She paused as she reached for another slice of pizza. “My story?”

Urban nodded, “yeah your story. Everyone moves to NY to chase their dreams so what’s yours?”

Giovanni laughed nervously. No one ever asked about her story before, and when she told people what she did they never took her seriously because of the way she looked.

“Well, I’m a model.” She said sitting up straight in the booth.

“Fuck yeah! I figured.”

Giovanni immediately got defensive. “What do you mean by that?”

“Chill dude, don’t pull out your knife. I just meant that I figured you did something with fashion because you look dope as fuck. The outfit, the grills, the face tattoos, plus the fact that you’re stunning…”

She relaxed a bit in her seat, people always used the grills and face tattoos as excuses to not work with her because she didn’t look like the typical model, and here’s this stranger who has only known her for two hours and turned all those excuses into positives.

“Oh thanks, I’m really happy you see it that way. Not everyone gets it.”

Urban simply shrugged his shoulders. “I call it like I see it.”

Giovanni could tell Urban had something else to say, and it was like a light bulb went off on his head when he suddenly dropped his pizza.

“Let’s prove them wrong!”

Giovanni raised an eyebrow “what?”

“Let’s prove those fuckers wrong and show them how damn good a model you are.”

“….and how are we supposed to do that?” She questioned him

She watched as Urban rolled his eyes and waved his camera in the air with a duh expression.

“We can run around the city and take pictures.” Urban started sliding out the booth and throwing away his trash. Giovanni just sat and watched. He turned around when he noticed she was still in her seat. Walking over he grabbed Giovanni’s hand and dragged her out the pizza place. “Ok ok, stop pulling me! I’m coming!”

***

They had been walking on the sidewalk for a few minutes trying to find a good location. Neither of them had noticed they were still holding hands.

Urban suddenly dropped her hand at the empty crosswalk, scooping out the area. “Ok, Gio, pretend this crosswalk is a runway.”

Giovanni ignored how he shortened her name and nodded before walking to the middle of the crosswalk.

She naturally put her hands on her hips and started strutting down the street, but stopped when she noticed Urban shaking her head. “What?”

Urban jogged towards her “Don’t put your hands on your hips. It should be more natural.” Giovanni watched in amazement as Urban demonstrated how he wanted her to walk. She knew he meant well but she couldn’t help but fall over in laughter as she watched his flip his hair over his shoulder as he walked across the street.

“Urban please stop I’m begging” Urban couldn’t help but smile huge at the way Giovanni was bent over laughing at his silliness. He could listen to her laugh on repeat. He watched as she calmed down and wiped the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Act like I’m not here.”

Giovanni took a deep breath and walked across the street towards Urban as he snapped shots of her, she made sure to turn her head to the side as if she was looking out for incoming traffic. Her confidence rose as she could hear Urban praising her from behind his camera.

Giovanni continued to pose, bending down and hugging her knees. When Urban walked closer to get a close up, she flashed him a big smile. Urban’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her beautiful smile. He didn’t even have to see the photo to know that was going to be the money shot.

They ended up taking photos all night long before they noticed it was 5 o’clock in the morning. Thankfully they weren’t too far from their cars. The streets were a lot quieter than it was a couple hours ago, as they walked in a comfortable silence. Feeling a lot more comfortable than she was a few hours ago, Giovanni nudged Urban with her shoulder as she walked beside him to get his attention.

Urban playfully nudged her back. Giovanni was the first to speak. “Ok, you know my story but what’s yours?”

Urban, never the one to like to talk about himself, just shrugged his shoulders. “I told you, I’m a photographer.”

Giovanni rolled her eyes, “If I hadn’t just spent the whole night with you, I would simply just take that for an answer. Tell me about your friend who does music, you say you travel the world with him so he must be good.”

Urban smiled at that, his best friend was pretty good at this music thing. “Yeah, we’ve been best friends since middle school, after we graduated we got an apartment together in Atlanta and were legit working at Chic-Fil-A trying to make ends meet…”

“Wait wait? You were my pleasuring people and served homophobic chicken sandwiches?” Giovanni said as she cut him off.

All Urban could do was laugh and shake his head. “Definitely not, we were just in the back buttering the buns. But anyway he got signed a couple years ago and we’ve been traveling the world ever since.”

Giovanni loved hearing success stories like that, it always inspired her to keep going.

“That’s fucking awesome dude, what’s his name? I’m going to add it to my playlist.” Giovanni asked before pulling out her phone so she could add him to her playlist. She looked up when Urban didn’t speak again.

“Dude, are you going to tell me?”

She watched as Urban nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, his name is Jack Harlow.”

Giovanni nodded and added Jack to her playlist. “Cool, I can’t wait to listen to his music!”

“Wait—“ Urban grabbed her arm lightly to stop her.

“I said his name was Jack Harlow?”

Giovanni nodded, giving him a weird look, “yeah, I heard you. I’m going to listen to his music, what’s the issue?”

“Oh…people usually act really weird when I mention him so…”

“Not gonna lie, dude I’ve never heard of him before.”

Urban widden a little in shock, almost everyone knew who he was. “Really?”

“Yeah really?” Giovanni said confused, making a mental note to look him up when she got home.

They continued walking down the sidewalk before eventually making it to Giovanni’s car next to the bar.

Leaning against the car Giovanni spoke first, “Thanks for walking me back to my car and for saving me from this place.” She said as she motioned towards the building behind them.

Urban rocked on the back of his heels with both hands shoved in his pockets. “Don’t worry about it.”

Giovanni unlocked her car, and got inside. She rolled her window so she could tell Urban goodnight.

“Goodnight, Urban.”

Urban placed his hands on the roof of the car, leaning into her window. “Goodnight, Giovanni” before tapping the roof of her car.

She gave him a wave before driving off. Urban watched as she pulled away and started walking back in the opposite direction. Giovanni didn’t need to know that his car wasn’t close by.

Once he got in his car, Urban cursed to himself when he realized he never got her number.

URBANWYATT

liked by jackharlow, joeywagner, selenosunni,cozane,neelamthadhani and 765,035 others

urbanwyatt: Met this dope model a couple weeks ago, her name is Giovanni. I unfortunately forgot to get her number, can anyone help me find her?

view all 10,579 comments

user: she’s gorgeous holy shit

user: her tattoos 😍

user: hope you find her soon!!

user: we gotta find her and get her on some magazine covers

user: she looks so familiar

user: you captured her beauty so well!

user: she should be on every runway and magazine cover!!

***

AN: My one year anniversary celebration is over! Thank you to everyone who's read everything i've dropped this month and this past year. I really do appreciate it so much. I love you all!

Let me know your thoughts on this :)))

thank you to @harlowcomehome for helping me with this 💜

Tag List:

(message me if you’d like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @blossomluvv @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww

#jack harlow #urban wyatt #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt x y/n #urban wyatt social media au #jack harlow x reader #brieanniversary #tattoed heart

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statticscribbles · 2 years

Text

Shot

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Reader gets trapped at school during a shooting

TW: This imagine involves discussion and talk about school shootings

Support My Writing?

“Lance said that..” “I heard he was going to build a bomb” “ Where would he even get a gun..” “I heard she wasn’t going to show up to school today?” “Is she here? If she’s here he won’t do it right?” “It’s her fault; she should have just accepted the date; gone out with him.” “If she hadn’t been such a prude none of this would be happening.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out the shaky whispers. You knew they were just as scared; that turning to gossip to find a reason for this was the only way they could find comfort. You stay crouched under the table; you’d managed to be in the bathroom when they’d called the lockdown; when you’d heard the words active shooter ring through the PA system and you’d run for the closest classroom. Don’t stay in the halls; don’t go in the bathrooms. It had been drilled into your head since you were little. Get away from the windows and doors, stay quiet, stay dark, stay alive. Stay alive.

You try not to think about where everyone else is; what your friends are doing; who they might be texting; what they’re thinking. You try to avoid thinking about Sweet Pea; you’re almost a little bitter; the fear in your chest mixing into resentment; at least the southside school didn’t have to deal with crazy Ghoulies.You knew it was because the Ghoulies had gotten it shut down but it doesn’t lessen the sting as you hold your breath; swearing you can hear footsteps pausing outside the empty classroom.

You close your eyes and hold your breath. The footsteps, which are suddenly very real, pass by. You think you can hear shouting. You don’t hear gunfire; you’re not sure why.

You can hear more shouting; more screaming; adult voices, louder, deeper. Angrier. Screaming again. You keep your eyes closed until you hear the classroom door being kicked open.

“Y/N!!!” You crawl out from under the desk; Sweet Pea pulling you into his arms and squeezing you in his arms to the point you struggle to breathe.

“I’m okay; what.. What happened.. Did Lance actually..”

“No the cops grabbed him when he got into the art room; he went around back where that big loading dock is to stake out everywhere; he got the days wrong; such a stupid mistake but he did. There was no art class so he had to loop around again. May have saved everyone’s lives.”

“So the cops are here..”

“Mhm they’re dealing with other people; we can just stay here for the moment. Let’s just sit here.” Sweet Pea keeps his arms around you but sits you on his lap and sits in the chair.

“Hey it’s alright we’ll get through this.” He’s running his hands against your back and you press your face in his shoulder to try to stop yourself from crying more.

“It’s okay baby; it’s alright; don’t worry you’re safe; I got you. You’re safe.” He kisses your forehead as you look up when the police step into the room.

Support My Writing?

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale imagine #riverdale reader insert #riverdale #tw shooting #tw school shooting #this is base din my own experience of being on a bomb lockdown when i was in highschool so yeah

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darlingillustrations · 3 months

Text

I'm Gay

When I was eight years old, I wrote my first poem. I remember the moment the words came to me. I was lying in bed at night, the lines rattling through my brain, startling sleep away. I turned on my pencil-shaped bedside lamp, grabbed my pink diary and huddled up underneath the little roses on my wallpaper to scribble the words down before they were lost to me forever. I re-read them over and over, letting them seep into my mind as I drifted off to sleep, so full of mystery and fascination at this new craft that had opened up to me.

The next day, I showed the poem to my mother. It was a love poem, and the only thing she said was, “Why is this written to a woman?”

I didn’t know.

In high school, I also didn’t know why I enjoyed turning around in psychology class to chat with the girl with the cool beaded purse who sat behind me. I didn’t get it why I was so tongue tied around the girl in college with the mousy brown hair and soft floral skirts. After graduation, I still didn’t understand why the scrawny girl with facial piercing who I worked with at the coffeeshop held such a deep place in my heart that I’d give anything to make her smile.

The day I nervously confessed to my parents that I no longer wanted to be in the Church of Christ, the religion they’d raised me in, and that I’d been going to an Episcopal church, they laughed in relief.

“We were worried you were going to tell us you were a lesbian,” they said, wiping tears of joy from their eyes.

It never occurred to me that I could be a lesbian because I was attracted to guys. I didn’t realize that bisexuality was a thing. It wasn’t until 2016 that I started to face the truth about myself. After the attack on the Pulse nightclub, I felt deeply and inexplicably unsafe, and after months of soul searching, I came to realize it was because the people who had been attacked, the LGBT men and women, I was part of their community. They were me. I was LGBT.

As part of my journey, I was asked to exhibit my art at the Pierce County AIDS Foundation. I wanted to share something that was representative of the LGBT community, and that’s how my Affectionate Animal series was born. I chose vintage photos as my source images because I loved the nostalgic feeling they evoked. I wanted to offer the feeling that being gay was a normal thing.

The funny thing is: when I painted these first nine couples, I didn’t yet realize my own truth.

Coming out to myself was about self acceptance. When I told Matt, he asked me what this meant for our marriage. I said it meant nothing: instead of choosing him over half the world population, it meant I chose him over all of the world population. But when Matt left me (for other reasons), some of my close friends whom I’d trusted with my secret blamed me for him leaving. “He’s been through a lot,” they said.

I was scared to tell anyone. For a long time I only told people who were gay, and I spent a lot of time online, on tumblr, living an invisible life, coming to terms with what my sexuality meant.

That’s where I met my first girlfriend. She flew cross country to visit me and I flew cross country to visit her. We fell in love with each other and each other’s kids, and I was going to fly out with the girls to spend Christmas with her, until she broke up with me suddenly and then blocked my phone number before ever explaining why everything was ending.

They say your first heartbreak after a divorce is the worst. When you get divorced, there’s too much other stuff in the way that inhibits the grieving process, so when your first heartbreak after divorce hits you, all that pent up grief rears its ugly head and devastates you. In short, that’s what happened to me. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept throwing up for weeks. I lashed out at people, then became disgusted with myself for acting like such a monster and fell into a pit of despair. My body felt like knives were stabbing me, raking my arms from the inside out. My chest felt cavernous. I felt beyond gutted. I felt like I was in tatters.

God bless my therapist, because she texted with me through the worst of it, assuring me that this is what grief felt like. I’d tell her I was scared of the depression. She said I was strong enough to weather a little depression. I took comfort in that. Deep down I knew she was right.

I started cleaning my house. It wasn’t much, but a little every day gave me a sense of normalcy. I signed up for the Motivated Moms checklist so that I wouldn’t have to think about what I was supposed to do. I could just do it.

On Friday, my checklist said to spend time on a craft or hobby. I spent more time scratching my head trying to figure out what I was interested in than I did playing my guitar once I finally remembered I liked to sing. On Sunday I was paralyzed by the suggestion to pamper myself. How does someone pamper themselves? I googled it and read dozens of suggestions before I felt inspired by the suggestion to give myself flowers.

I’d always thought that, when I was with my girlfriend for Valentine’s Day, we’d do some sappy romantic thing, and I’d post sappy pictures & let people draw whatever conclusions they wanted to about our relationship. Now that I’m single again, I guess I’m coming out of the closet anyways. I’m not doing it for another person. I’m doing it for myself. Because, at the end of the day, lovers come and go, but there is one person who will love me for my entire life, and that person is me. And it doesn’t take a parent or a husband or a girlfriend to validate my loveliness. I am loved. I am darling. And I am complete, just as I am.

I don’t know why God made me this way, but this is the way I am. I don’t fall in love with people because of what’s in their pants, but because of what’s in their heart. So, in closing, I’d like to share with you the poem I wrote when I was eight years old, long before I knew what the depths of my heartache might bring:

Beauty Your eyes sparkle in the moonlight, Your legs tremble fast, Your voice can sing the wonders, And your ears can hear me laugh, Your nose smells the flowers that I bring to you in prize, Your legs can run freely, And your hands can hold my thighs. But you’re the one in my mind, The wonders that I dream, For you are so beautiful, The wonders of my dreams.

I like to think that, maybe, the woman I’d written it for was, in fact, myself.

[ This essay first appeared on my blog on February 14, 2019, and it is how I came out publicly to my friends, family and the world. I want to repost it here to tumblr in the hopes that it might resonate with you. ]

#coming out story #queer stories #queer artist #queer art #im gay #well technically im pansexual and a few other lgbt terms but i like using gay as a signifier #most importantly #i am loved #thank you for reading along #queer poetry

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marblecakemix · 3 months

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Welcome to my humble domain!! 🫧✨

Hi, I'm Marble, a lesbian in her early 20s from Poland. Just vibing here on Tumblr from time to time. If you want to look into my post/reblogs read my takes on #talk tag.

You can ask me anything you want. I won't shy away, but remember that I'm not your therapist and all my opinions are biased forward women!

More information about me under the cut! 💕

If the part has * in front of it that means I changed something in the text and/or my views are different than before.

*I'm still quite new to radical feminism and I'm trying my best to learn how to take action. In short, I fight for women's rights and freedom from sex-based oppression. Right now I'm looking into creating a small radfem activism group in my area. If you're from Poland and feel comfortable, dm me!

I detransitioned in the middle of 2023. I used to be a non-binary/agender and asexual individual for around 3 to 4 years, but I understood all of that was because of internalized misogyny and homophobia and I actually wanted to have sex and did like me being a woman before I entered the trans community.

I'm an ex-Christian, now I probably would call myself a spiritual person, researching my Slavic roots at the moment.

I believe in critical thinking and triple-checking facts. Everyone can have their opinions, but actions should have a base in grounded reality and unbiased scientific research. Read those books ladies!

I'm mostly talking about my experience as an ex-TRA, a lesbian, a woman, someone who lives in a misogynistic/conservative family and a country that has yet to legalize same-sex marriage, but you can safely transition here even as a minor.

*I'm a trans identified men hater, a terf if you will. I don't care. Fuck all men, I don't care anymore. Gender dysphoria or perversion (autogynephilia) should have never been "solved" with a surgery and/or irreversible "gender affirming" treatment. No other mental illness has permanent body modification as its treatment, same should be for gender dysphoria. The trans movement (men's rights movement in disguise) is the most harmful thing right now and I'm so tired of seeing more people being pushed into it just because they are themselves and aren't scared to dress unconventionally! I'm fuming with rage.

I make mistakes! I'm just a human being and, naturally, I will be in the wrong sometimes. May it be because of the language barrier or me just not thinking things through, doesn't matter. I will try to acknowledge my mistakes and say sorry. I'm still learning and there isn't a better way than through your own downfalls!

I don't block people, unless they're insufferable. We can have different opinions, different lifestyles, different views, but if you're annoying I draw the line there.

I also draw sometimes (I don't have much time for it right now, bc I'm in the middle of my academic years), you can find my work under #my art.

Nothing here is set in stone. As I grow as a person my views will probably change. If you have any questions, just ask them! I'm happy to answer all of them ❤️

Last update: 30th March 2024

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marvelmymarvel · 7 months

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Okay so I have major writers block but I have to share my LOTR idea with yall. And I'm almost certain I am breaking so much cannon lore with the idea but I wanna do it anyway because I can. So please do not correct me, I know I'm wrong just have fun with it.

So here is my idea.

The reader is someone from here and ends up in Middle Earth. Elrond found her and put some of his blood in her to make her immortal. She technically is an elf but looks like a human. The orcs have been chasing after her for thousands of years. so Elrond, to keep her safe, sends her off to Mirkwood to stay with Thranduil. She hates it and manages to sneak out and join the dwarves on their adventures. They don't know she has elven blood in her until they meet with Elrond in Rivendell.

The scene where they are in Rivendell is where my newest idea is placed. Elrond pulls her aside and states that they (Elrond, Thranduil, Gandalf, and Galadriel) haven't been honest with her and have finally decided to open up about her true origin.

Also, all of this is to the song Ptolomaea by Ethel Cain (https://youtu.be/aLy27Xo-gos?si=AcO8odVHGrtgKGIp) Mainly the last part where the darker voice is talking... Art of Elven Sauron below is by Csanikainferna

Elrond eyed you, hesitant with how much to say and how much to show. "I haven't been honest with you... How old do you think you are?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes slid to Gandalf standing beside the fountain. The three of you were outside in the courtyard, the moonlight shining down and illuminating his gray hair. "I'm around 3,000 years old..." you trailed off as you looked back to Elrond who only stared at you blankly as he gnawed on his lip. "Who found you?"

"You did, what are these questions??" you bit back, nerves finally eating away at you as dread fell over your senses. Elrond sighed before moving towards you, "I should have done this a long time ago, but I was afraid doing so would put you in danger-"

You stepped back away from him, hand coming up to stop him from advancing. "I'm scared-"

"3,000 years ago I took your memories away. I'm going to give them back. All you need to remember is that he won't hurt you... Do you trust me?"

You were frozen but slowly felt yourself nod at the one person you trusted more than anyone else on this continent. His fingers came up and rested on your forehead, "You're safe, I'll be here when you come back-"

Darkness sucked you in before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Your eyes blinked open, blearily looking around the dark space around you. Rocks stabbed into your skin and a terrible heat was making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, ugly faces hovered over you and you gasped in fright as the orcs hauled you up from the ground. Your feet were kicking and you screamed out for them to let you go as they dragged you to the castle. It had dawned on you rather swiftly that you were in Mordor.

Fear coursed through your veins as large doors opened before you, showcasing a large room with a man sitting rigidly on the throne. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you at the sight of the blonde man before you. You didn't know how and you didn't know why, but he felt familiar.

He felt like home.

"Why hello there... What might your name be?"

You knew who he was, knew him as the dark lord. He was the nightmare mothers would tell their children about when they were misbehaving. He was murderous. A monster.

And yet, all you felt when looking up at him was peace, as if you had been searching for him for many millennia and you finally found him.

"I'm-"

The scene shifted and suddenly multiple images and moments flashed before your very eyes. Tears started to stream down your face as you took in just how much the feared man loved you. You had begged him to give up his desire for power and control, questioning if he really loved you. That argument seemed to anger him, because he loved you more than anything, and his power would be shared with you.

The both of you would rule the world.

The scenes continued to flash quickly as the conversations morphed into a high-pitched scream before it all went silent and you were looking down at your peacefully sleeping body that was wrapped in black silk sheets. The door to the room opened and you whirled around in fright.

From the darkness emerged Elrond and it finally dawned on you that you weren't saved from Sauron.

You were taken from him.

You stepped in front of your sleeping body but Elrond moved through you as if you didn't exist, only reminding you that this was a memory.

A memory that was stolen from you.

"Oh my... What... Who is she?" Another voice came from the doorway and you knew it was one of Elrond's generals. "I thought she was a myth... But I can already see his magic wearing off... If we don't give her something, she won't last through the night..."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over their shoulder and you noticed the color from your face draining. Elrond scooped you up in his arms, "Gandalf can transfer some of my life force to her, but we must hurry" he said swiftly as they moved out of the bedroom.

The scenes morphed again before flashing, showing you the memories you were allowed to remember. From waking up in Rivendell, acclimating to immortality, being transported to Mirkwood, meeting Thorin, to all the way up to now where you were on the ground kneeling in front of Elrond. Tears streaming down your face as he held you close.

You tilted your head down at the sight, confused as to why you weren't in your own body still, but you would soon get your answer. Your head fell backward, mouth opening as a scream ripped from your throat. Your chest lifted up into the air as if you were being possessed.

The scream cut off, leaving you all in silence. Gandalf was gripping his chest in disbelief as Elrond stroked your cheek with his thumb. "Y/n-"

Your head snapped forward, e/c eyes now blazing red, the same red of the lovers they stole you from.

"Y/n, wake up-" Elrond stated firmly as he tried to shake you out of it.

"I am no good nor evil, simply I am and I have come to take what is mine" The dark tone coming from your lips had you reeling back in fear, realization dawning on you that you had indeed been possessed.

Elrond paled at the words as my possessed lips slipped up into a snarling grin. He opened his mouth to curse at the dark lord in your body, but you continued. "I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood. I am here now, as you run from me still."

Gandalf rushed forward, hand coming out to try and rip the dark lord from your body.

Your red eyes flicked to Gandalf, "Run then, child," Gandalf ignored the threat and slammed his hand onto your head, making you start to slump over. The red in your eyes started to fade and you began to feel the pull of your by-standing soul into your once-possessed body.

"You can't hide from me forever."

#lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #hobbit imagines #sauron imagines #elrond imagine #hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #lord of the rings imagines #mairon #imagine

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scarletsaphire · 5 months

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This is the second chapter for my first EI fic, with art from @pokkeshii and beta'd by @pricklenettle. There's no art for this specific chapter, but you can find the art keshii currently has posted here.

Link to Chapter One On Tumblr.

Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Gore, violence, loss of control

Jazz knocked on the door to Danny's bedroom softly. She normally tried to avoid coming into his room; he didn't get a whole bunch of privacy from their parents, and with him being a celebrity half the time, he needed it. She did make an exception when she thought that something was wrong, and she was pretty certain that something was wrong.

It had been a few days since Tucker had messaged her. It was simple and to the point: "We had a fight. Keep an eye on him for us?"

She didn't ask what the fight had been about, just agreed to try her best until they made up. Jazz may have been a part of "Team Phantom," but Sam and Tucker were still Danny's friends, and she tried to keep that distinction clear. It wasn't good for him to only have friends he shared with his sister.

Jazz had kept her eye on him, of course. It was why she was at his door right now. The first day, she'd assumed the moodiness was nothing more than the results of the fight. It was understandable, that he'd be upset for a little while. She wouldn't pry, or try to get him to talk about it if he didn't want to. Danny knew her door was always open, and she made sure to gently remind him as often as she could.

He never came.

If he'd just been moody, than maybe Jazz would still let it slide. But it wasn't just his emotions; he was skipping school for non-ghost related reasons, he was constantly tense, and he'd been flinching away from everyone's touch. He'd go to sleep as soon as he could every night, doing who knows what in his bedroom in dead silence. Jazz knew he wasn't sneaking out more than was necessary. She'd taken to sitting with a clear view of his window while she worked. There was a chance he'd been slipping away invisible and intangible, but if that was the case then Fentonwork's defenses would have at least a record of it.

None of this was a normal reaction to having a fight with friends, and Jazz needed to make good on her promise, and make sure he was okay. Danny was making it a little hard by not answering the door.

"Danny, it's me," she said, just loud enough to carry through the door. "I'm coming in, whether you want me to or not. We need to talk."

There was no reply, so Jazz counted down from three out loud before pushing the door open.

The room was completely dark. The lights were all shut off and curtains had been drawn, blocking out any moon or starlight that might've gotten in. Even the glow in the dark stickers that had been pasted on Danny's ceiling for as long as Jazz could remember were gone. That wasn't a good sign.

It was only the light from the hallway that allowed Jazz to see Danny. He was sitting on the floor, his knees tucked to his chest, his head buried between them. He gave no indication that he noticed Jazz come in, or had even heard her at all. Jazz turned on the light, and he still didn't move.

Jazz walked closer slowly. "Like approaching a scared animal," her brain supplied. "Or a dangerous one." She shook the thought away. Danny wasn't some animal, he was her brother, who was clearly hurt in some way.

"Danny?" she said, lowering herself to the ground next to him. This close, she could see how his shoulders trembled as if he was crying, how his nails dug into his legs, knuckles white. She could see crescent marks covering his shins, some with dried blood still surrounding them. This was worse than she thought.

"Danny," Jazz said again, reaching her hand out to shake his shoulder gently. The moment she touched him, Danny looked up. His eyes weren't bloodshot and tear filled like she'd expected. His eyes glowed bright green, drowning out the overhead light and bathing the room in green. They burned with a fury that Jazz couldn't remember ever seeing, matching his mouth which was pulled back into a snarl, teeth far sharper than they had any right to be barred.

Jazz pulled her hand away, and pretended that she hadn't flinched.

"Get out," Danny hissed.

"No," Jazz said, her voice far sturdier than she felt. "Something's clearly bothering you, Danny, and I want to help. I'm your sister. You can talk to me."

"Get. Out."

"Is it about the fight you had with Sam and Tucker?" Jazz said. "I don't know what it was about, but I'm sure they'd forgive you if you talked it out with them."

Jazz had heard Danny laugh as Phantom plenty of times before, in plenty of different circumstances. None of them compared to the bitter, heartless laugh that escaped Danny's mouth. It echoed in the same way it did as a ghost, filling the small room and seeming to loop on itself. The sound raised the hairs on Jazz's neck, sent a shiver down her spine.

"I don't care about them," Danny said. "They made their choice. But I do care about you." He floated to his feet, towering above Jazz even when she stood to her full height. "Which is why I'm telling you to get out." He floated forward, and Jazz stumbled backwards towards the door completely on instinct.

Jazz tried to formulate a response, but her mind was running faster than words could describe. She knew this feeling, the feeling of being hunted, of being prey. The same feeling that she got when in the sights of other ghosts.

She was halfway out of the room before Danny froze solid in the air, his lowered head hiding his expression. She could still see the green light of his eyes pointed at the floor, mirrored by the flickering of green in his hands. The energy for an ectoblast gathered and dissipated in his hands, never quite going all the way out, and Jazz swallowed audibly, her mouth suddenly very, very dry.

"This is your last warning," Danny whispered without looking up at her. She could barely hear him over the pounding her ears. She had no problem hearing him the second time. "Leave!" As if to punctuate his sentence, he closed his fists. The energy that had been building in them disappeared with a pop, accompanied by the sound of the lights in the hallway and Danny's room shattering.

Jazz didn't remember backing all the way into the hallway, or closing the door behind her, but it must have happened because now she was in the dark hallway, and Danny was on the other side of the door. She was safe.

Jazz admonished the voice in her head again. She'd always been safe. Danny wouldn't hurt her, would never hurt her. She could almost convince herself to believe it.

It still wasn't enough to get her to open the door again.

---

Tucker tried to focus on school, he really did. His grades needed it. But try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about Danny.

It wasn't as gay as it sounded. It was just that he had a good half of his classes with Danny, a tactic carefully planned so that whenever they needed to, they could dip with him. Even the classes he didn't have with Danny, he had to pass him in the halls, and every time Tucker saw him, he looked worse than he had before. It was impressive, in the sad way a lot of things about Danny's life was impressive.

Danny had been looking rough for a while now, even before their fight. Tucker could tell that he thought he was hiding it well, but he wasn't. At least not to someone who'd known Danny when he was in diapers. He'd been jumpier lately, easily distracted, and always tense. Tucker had tried asking about it, but Danny had always given a half baked excuse about not sleeping well, or exams, or his parents, or a thousand other things, and Tucker would let the conversation drop.

If he didn't want to talk about it, Tucker wasn't going to be the one to force him.

After the fight between Sam and Danny, (Tucker refused to say he was a part of it. If anything, he was an unwitting bystander, caught in the tide of Sam's fury.) he'd somehow managed to get worse. He'd always been pale, even before the accident, but now he seemed sickly. He was constantly drenched in a cold sweat, and sometimes Tucker thought he could see the dirty brown of dried blood caked under Danny's nails.

He should say something. He needed to say something. Danny was his best friend, had been forever, and a best friend didn't let the other suffer.

But Sam did have a point. Besides whatever had been bothering Danny lately, he'd gotten more and more distant. Disappearing after every fight, refusing to transform in front of them, never telling them anything about pretty much anything that was happening in his life. They'd tried everything to get him to talk, to tell them anything, but he'd stayed resolutely quiet about it. He'd probably stay quiet about it this time, too.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Danny just needed a couple days to go through whatever he was dealing with alone, just enough time to realize how much it sucked, and then he'd come back to them.

Tucker tore his eyes from where Danny sat in the back of the classroom, hands clenched around the metal frame of the desk hard enough for them to bend looking back at the board. He hoped that was the case.

---

The relief Danny felt when he transformed into Phantom was so palpable he nearly cried. He hadn't gone ghost since the fight against Ember, and the vibrations had gotten so bad he couldn't do anything but sit there and try to ignore them with no success.

Now they were gone, and even the voice in his head was a welcome relief, even if it was so much louder, so much more insistent, and sounded so much more reasonable. He was far too happy about fitting back in his skin to worry about that.

Danny didn't get the chance to bask in the feeling for long. He'd transformed for a reason. Somebody was out and about, and by the number of people in the nurse’s office for freak technology malfunctions? Danny had a pretty good idea who.

The only surprising part was that Technus hadn't come over the loudspeakers to announce his presence to the world yet. It was honestly kind of rude of him. It would be so much easier if Danny could just get to the fun part already.

He floated through the halls of Casper High, grateful that class was currently in session. Sure, he was invisible right now, but that didn't matter. He would still get distracted either way. The voice was impatient, after all. It had been too long without a proper outlet.

Finding Technus wasn't difficult by any means. Just as Danny had suspected, he was camped out in the computer lab, cackling quietly to himself as he transferred between the monitors. There were no students in the room right now. Good. No one would be in the way.

Danny reached into the computer currently displaying Technus's face, grabbing a hold of the only thing in there he couldn't go through and pulled. Technus came tumbling out, catching himself midair.

"Why hello ghost child!" he called as he righted himself. "I see that you have found me, despite my incredible new stealth prowess. No matter! My plans are almost completed, and you will be no match. Behold, I, master of all things wired and WiFi, have created life!" He raised his hands dramatically. Nothing happened.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Be patient!" Technus snapped, before turning around to the computer he'd been dragged out of. He clicked a couple keys on the keyboard, before turning back to Danny. This time, there was a textbox on the screen. All it read was "Hi!"

"Still not impressed," Danny said.

"That is because you do not understand the scope of my genius!" Technus called. "I have created true artificial intelligence, and with its power, I will be unstoppable." Technus started cackling maniacally.

He was through the wall and plummeting to the ground barely a second later, Danny flying after him. "I do not have the patience for you today, Technus," Danny said. Technus clearly hadn't even managed to process what had happened before Danny angled himself to kick him into the ground. The car Technus landed on was totaled, the car alarm blaring loudly.

Danny barely processed the sound, far too distracted by the rush of adrenaline that pounded in his ears and the flood of ecstasy that came from his mind and body finally being quiet. He didn't wait for Technus to reply. He wasn't here to banter. He was here to fight.

He dived headfirst, charging an ectoblast as he plummeted. For his part, Technus had realized what was happening enough to dodge out of the way. Danny didn't bother slowing down to redirect himself. He fired his ectoblast straight down, using it to change his trajectory and launching himself at Technus, landing another kick. Three more car alarms joined the sound. Danny didn't notice.

The pavement crumbled from the force of Technus's fall. He shook off the rubble as he floated back into the air. "I see that we are going all out, as the youths say!" Technus shouted, gathering electricity in his hands. "Well, do not fear ghost child, for I will also-" He was met with a fist in the face, ice crawling across his ectoplasmic skin.

Danny smiled as he watched Technus struggle. It hadn't been a very well thought out idea, just a passing thought really, but it had worked beautifully. He'd frozen his hand to Technus's face, and the only way to separate them would be to peel away the ice and whatever parts of Technus it brought with it. Which meant that while Technus was busy with that, Danny was free to whale on him as much as he pleased.

He made sure to take full advantage of it.

When Technus finally wrenched himself free, the half of his face Danny had punched was a cavity of missing ectoplasm, and his arm hung limply, dripping bright green on the pavement below. "I don't know who urinated on your servos," he slurred, floating backwards. "But I don't want any part of it. I, the Great Technus, surrender. Just put me in soup time."

Danny laughed at this, pointedly not reaching for the thermos that sat on his hip. "Not this time." He took a purposeful step forward despite the fact he was flying. "We're going to do this a little different today. Play a fun little game." Another step. "You're going to go back to the portal on your own accord. You're going to go back to the Ghost Zone, and you're going to fucking stay there." Another step. "And if I catch you before you get there, then I'll make sure there's not enough of you left to return to the Ghost Zone." Another step, and he was inches away from Technus's broken face. "Do you understand?"

Technus nodded.

"Wonderful. Now, off you go!" Danny waved him away, and Technus took off flying faster than Danny had ever seen him fly before.

He was almost about to chase after him, to make good on his promise, when he froze. There was something about Technus's face that was wrong, and not just the damage Danny had done. Something Danny had seen before, but never on him.

Technus had been scared.

And why wouldn't he have been? The rest of Technus's face broke through the relief that had been clouding Danny's brain. He'd been completely mauled, nearly past the point of recognition, all because of Danny. Of course he'd be scared.

Danny looked down at his hands, positively drenched in ectoplasm. His suit was stained green. His mouth was coated with the distinctive acrid taste of the stuff. Had he bitten Technus? He couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember , and it hadn't even been a few minutes ago. Danny fell to the ground hard, not bothering to slow his fall. He landed on one of the already totaled cars, the alarm finally registering. He looked around the parking lot numbly. It was a mess. Even worse than some of his earlier ghost fights had been. He hadn't caused this kind of destruction in months, maybe even longer, and certainly not against a ghost as easy as Technus.

What had he done?

Exactly what you should have done. The voice was back. When had it left? Danny couldn't remember that either. Had it left? Or had it just been so loud that he couldn't think anything else? He wouldn't let himself think of the other possibility. He wouldn't.

Even if that was the most likely answer.

Danny floated back into the sky, slowly at first and then picking up speed. He didn't bother figuring out which direction he was going, didn't bother thinking of a destination. He just chose a direction and flew.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tucker foley #tw gore #tw violence #tw loss of control #ectoimplosion2023

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rottin6 · 4 months

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give me thief james..... snippets please.. im a beggar at ur doorsrtep

got major writers block and cannot for the life of me finish this one but here u go mwah!!!

There was a fucking thief and Regulus was hell bent on catching him if it was the last thing he ever did.

He didn’t realise it at first. Of course, he didn’t. No one ever thinks to count the flowers or notices that someone would be stealing them out of all the things in the shop. But on a Tuesday morning, Regulus refilled the stands, paying more attention to the white roses which he thought smelled quite nice but were drastically overpriced. An old lady came by sometime later on and asked Regulus when they’d be getting a new batch in, and that’s the confusing part. Because not once that day did Regulus sell anyone any white roses.

Now, the thievery didn’t happen for the rest of the week, but Regulus was so sure that whoever it was, was going to strike again the following tuesday. So, like any normal and sane-minded person, he set out to catch them instead of calling the police.

Regulus arrived earlier for his shift that day with a goddamn plan. He’d gone though it in his head at least twenty times and was certain it was fool-proof. He must’ve had around three coffees and four energy drinks coursing through him because what if the thief was a seven foot hench bodybuilder? Regulus may as well give him the rest of the flowers and anything else in the shop because he, albeit studied the art of martial arts over one summer, was about as frail as a feather in a thunderstorm.

Regulus filled the bucket with flowers before promptly ducking away behind the stack of umbrellas. He stayed there for minutes, patiently waiting for the thief so that he could execute his very well made plan. It got to the point where he was beginning to think no one was going to rob him today but as he began to move, a flicker of movement caught his eye and he froze.

Regulus had never spoken to James Potter before, but everyone knew of him. Everyone knew about his football success and how he was the golden boy of the decade, on his way to becoming a huge star. Regulus’ best friend, Remus, had warned him away from pretty, popular boys on his first week at college as they watched James sit on a table with a huge group of friends, rowdy and loud.

“Popular ones aren’t for boys like me and you, Reg.” Regulus did ask why but Remus only shook his head, looking enigmatically stressed as always.

Regulus was sure he was looking the same when he caught James standing in the door of the shop, one leg in and one out. His fingers picked meticulously at the white roses, holding them carefully in a batch. Regulus couldn’t look away—James’ hands moved dainitly from stem to stem, being so gentle that Regulus couldn’t even be angry or scared at the situation. Though, by default, he was both, considering James Potter was stealing from him.

That’s when Regulus, obviously, had to knock into an umbrella.

“Shit,” James muttered, freezing before standing upright and looking around. “Hello?” he called. “Hey, is someone there?”

Regulus didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say and instead settled on resting his palms and his back flat on the wall behind him. So much for a well thought out plan.

“I–I can explain,” James continued, adjusting the glasses on his face. “I wasn’t breaking and entering. Well, I was entering but your door was already open in my defence, so there was no breaking.”

Regulus begged to differ but it wasn’t as though he was about to tell James that. He could barely lift a finger. He knew he had to do something, anything, and he so wished he had his phone so he could text Remus for help.

“Also,” James paused, the moment laying between them as though he could tell Regulus was listening. “I found something,” he said. “A necklace?”

And Regulus jumped out immediately, brushing past the newspaper stands and coming face to face with the boy in front of him. A gust of air swept by him from the late spring winds coming in through the door, wrapping around Regulus, and for once, he was self conscious.

But then James’ face had broken into a grin. “Oh,” he sighed. “Hi.”

His arm was still firm against his chest, the flowers nestled like one of his football trophies. His eyes, clear and golden, were on Regulus, who squinted back and held out his hand, attempting to look as mean as possible. “Give me the necklace,” he said, not budging. “Now.”

In an ideal world, James would’ve given the necklace and the flowers back, apologised and then left Regulus alone forever. But rather, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, his face taken up by his wide teeth grin and dimples so deep that Regulus wanted to sink his finger in.

“Can’t we talk first?” he asked, amusement flowing behind his eyes and Regulus struggled to stand still. “Now that you caught me and all, you know. I didn’t think you’d be all business already, seeing as it’s only what, half eight?”

“Who steals at half eight in the morning?” Regulus blurted out, his hands clenching into a fist shape at either side of him.

“Well, I’m no proper thief but I doubt any of them have schedules and stuff.”

“Stop talking.” Regulus said. “Give me the necklace, or I’m calling the police.”

James raised his eyebrows, his smile stretching further. “Or?” he echoed.

Regulus nodded, “Yes. Give it to me and I won’t report you, and we can just–just pretend none of this ever happened.” He crossed two fingers over his chest, James’ eyes following the movement. “Promise.”

He wasn’t really going to call James in. Not only did stealing flowers seem like a stupid crime to call the police for, but if his boss found out there was a thief, she’d most likely fire him and Regulus can’t let that happen.

So it worked in his favour when James finally took a step closer to him. “Who am I to say no to an offer like that?” he said, the morning sun hitting his face just right. Up close, his eyes were bronze with specks of green dotted around, the same size as the moles scattered across his face.

“Here you go.”

James placed the necklace into Regulus’ palm, the metal cold on his skin and so different from the brief warmth he felt from James’ touch. His pulse spiked and he stuffed the necklace deep into the pocket of his jacket.

“Thanks,” Regulus said quickly, his cheeks matching the red roses next to him. He moved past James and held onto the side of the door, motioning out. “Really, thanks. See you at school—”

“Wait.” James spoke, standing in front of Regulus who huffed. “I don’t know your name.” he said, leaning on the door. “I’m James.”

“I know.” Regulus’ voice stayed calm. “And you really shouldn’t introduce yourself to the workers of shops you steal from.”

James looked down at the roses he held onto, his brows creasing. “Oh. Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It’s fine,” Regulus gritted out, his hand holding onto the door. “We just got that batch in actually, but it’s fine. I just n—”

James interrupted him. “Wait. So, you’re okay with me taking your flowers?”

“No fucking way,” Regulus shook his vigorously. “Definitely not. I’m actually not okay with any of this which is why I need you to leave right now.”

Neither of them spoke for a couple of seconds and for the first time that morning, James’ smile faltered. He nodded, “Okay. Okay, yeah, I’ll leave.” he said. “But I wouldn’t be here if I absolutely didn’t need to be. And I can show you why–”

Regulus formed another great plan at that moment. It was quick and stupid but needed to be done. And as soon as James moved himself from the door, Regulus leapt out of the way and crashed it into the frame, pushing James out while doing so.

He jumped back and Regulus would have laughed at the bewildered look on his face if he wasn’t so committed to his plan, busy locking the door. He let out a long breath, his heart erratic, as he met James’ gaze through the glass.

He mouthed something but Regulus just shrugged, tending to the flowers and umbrellas which fell during his whole scheme. He felt the weight of the necklace in his pocket and the relief that it came with—worth losing roses for, he supposed. Regulus half-expected James to bang on the door at some point, to still be there, but when Regulus looked out and saw no one, he unlocked the door again.

He hesitated only momentarily before standing behind the till and finishing the rest of his shift, with a strange feeling of regret for not telling his name.

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #j/r #james/regulus

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dennissima · 6 months

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Very Closed

Summary:

Aziraphale enjoys reading a book in his bookshop. Alone in the bookshop. But is he really enjoying the time? Without Crowley it is not the same, but he does not want to disturb him because he is always the one who calls him first....

Notes:

It's the second fanfic for me. As Italian, English is not my first language, but I'm trying hard. Feel free to send suggestions for improvements. Feedback is welcome. Fan art too. Thank you for taking the time to read this attempt to spread joy.

On a warm autumn afternoon, the sun's rays filtered through the large window of the bookshop in the heart of Soho. Aziraphale was enjoying the warmth sitting in his armchair, sipping his cup of tea, with the book he had just finished reading resting on his lap. He was in the grip of the usual feeling of satisfaction at having experienced an exciting adventure mixed with the dismay of having finished the book and not having the heart to start another. He thus floated among the emotions of reading, trying to resist the urge to pick up the phone and call Crowley. He had also called him the day before, to be taken to a new place that had opened a few blocks away and to be watched while he tasted the most exotic things. And he had indulged him. He had also called him the day before, because it was raining and he was worried that he would not be locked inside the Bentley all day, tossing from seat to seat, unable to walk as he liked. He had also called him the day before to tell him that they had been invited to the performance of a theatre company that he had encouraged and financed a few months earlier. Well, the invitation was actually for him, but he had asked for a plus one thinking that Crowley would be interested in the play which, at Aziraphale's suggestion was about a certain devil who, deep down, was really a good person…

So today he had given himself over to reading. He had had a book in his hands for weeks and could no longer go on because, for one reason or another, when he found himself with a glass in his hand together with Crowley, time flew by. Now even the book was finished and he was pondering what he could do with that day. So much time on his hands, so many things he could do and not feel like starting any of them.

As he was thinking about which record to put on the gramophone, he noticed a lady wearing a red scarf in front of the shop window, peering into the bookcase and then walking away at a brisk pace. Shortly afterwards, Aziraphale got up to take the cup back to the kitchen and noticed a young boy in a red cap standing in front of the shop window, who, seeing him get up from his seat, quickly moved away. Suspicious, the angel hurried to turn the CLOSED sign on the door before returning to his post. It could have been a mere coincidence, but if any customers were going to try to enter the bookshop, it was better to take cover. Or maybe he had seen right and there was someone who passed by and looked inside the bookcase and in order not to be conspicuous took on different guises, in order, a distinguished man with a briefcase in his hand and a red tie, a courier with a black uniform and a red logo on one forearm, an elderly lady with a handkerchief on her head. Black with red flowers.

Pretending not to have understood, Aziraphale went to the door, all gloating. He spotted the Bentley parked on the corner and went to wait by the passenger seat.

He did not have to wait long for Crowley to arrive. 'So? Are you going into the bookshop or are you taking me somewhere?" he said, crossing his arms. "You didn't call me…," Crowley seemed to justify himself. "You seemed so… busy reading…" Aziraphale takes him by the arm and drags him towards the bookcase. "Next time you can watch me read sitting on the couch if you like, instead of pacing back and forth." He fumbles with his keys to open the door. "You know you scared me? For a moment I thought all those people wanted to come in and buy something! Please, after you!" Crowley walks through the door, removes his hat, takes off his glasses and sets them down in their usual place. Aziraphale closes the door behind him and turns the sign, VERY CLOSE.

#Good Omens #aziraphale x crowley #Aziraphale's bookshop #Crowley in disguise #devil in disguise #between two seasons #developing relationship

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palidoozy-art · 1 year

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Session 74 - The Last Fight

Wish I had time to draw some art here, but alas, Dwarf Fortress has captured my attention for the weekend and I have work to catch up on. :(

I usually wait a few sessions to do a summary but I wanna share how this one went because it was entirely unexpected and I fuckin’ loved what happened.

spoiler alert: the ship was saved. :)

Continuation off of this.

So the party, after fighting a number of vampire spawn, arrives at Ravenloft. They (and the players) have a few moments of reminiscence as they wander the halls, and they head to the cathedral assuming that’s where Strahd has taken the pendant containing Ireena’s soul. He’s not there... but he IS towards the back, off the balcony. They catch his shadow outside and follow him.

The setup:

Note: the orange is a wall of force that Strahd pre-casted, because of course he did.

The party go back and forth a bit with him. Strahd remarks that the party “had a downgrade” as they’ve replaced Luther/Arialoth (in his words, “an attractive redhead and a sexy tiefling”) with Kjosev and Yolihuali (”some kind of tree hobo and a giant lizard”). The party is at this point not fucking around, demanding to know where Ireena is. He tells them Tatyana’s safe, and that he’s going to free her.

He then pulls out the necklace containing Tatyana/Ireena’s soul... and crushes it, freeing her, before stomping on it a few times for good measure.

Once Tatyana’s free, they can’t really, in good faith, put her back in Ireena’s body. Ireena’s effectively dead. The rest of the party knows this, and reacts in abject horror.

Except Ellerian. Who makes a command decision...

... to cast wish.

One of the simpler things Wish can do without completely fucking up is “undoing a single recent action.” That’s what Ellerian was banking on. All he wished was to go back a round, right before the moment Strahd smashed the amulet.

So it does. The pendant reforms. It flies upwards, back into Strahd’s hand. And everyone kind of stands there as time rewrites itself, confused for a moment. And then initiative starts.

Everyone rolls initiative, knowing that, essentially the moment Strahd goes he’s going to obliterate that amulet again. The party spends about two inspiration trying to get Kelogul’s initiative higher up. Sadly, it doesn’t work...

... But luckily for them, there’s a giant blue elf in the party who does get to go first, and is exceptionally pissed/scared of his wife permanently dying.

So Rahadin tries to run up to Strahd and actually runs face-first into the Wall of Force. Thankfully, dusk elves are essentially reskinned shadar-kai in our game, so he just... teleports past it. He disarms Strahd of the amulet, taking it.

But there’s a bit of a problem. Strahd is physically stronger than Rahadin. He knows that when it’s Strahd’s turn, he’s just immediately going to take it back. There’s no way to keep it away from him in combat without leaving Ireena at risk.

... But Rahadin is also standing about 10 feet away from a balcony that, quite famously, is about 900 feet above ground. That Tatyana once jumped off of to escape Strahd.

Anyway long story short Rahadin uses his remaining 10 feet of movement to run to the balcony and jump off with the amulet, removing himself and Ireena from combat.

The party catches up with Strahd at this point. Ellerian’s weakened from the wish, taking backlash damage every turn, but he manages to utilize scatter to teleport everyone behind the wall of force. Yoli uses her corona of light ability to create an aura of sunlight to ensure he can’t just regenerate. And Kelogul kicks the absolute piss out of him, with Kjosev serving mostly as healer/support.

I used the same stat block I did when the party first fought him, meaning that when the man reaches about half health he transforms into a monstrous version of himself with flight. It isn’t long before he transforms, and he keeps sic’ing waves of bats on the party. Trying to position himself to use his AoEs better, he flies over the edge so he can hit the entire group.

Kelogul’s turn is up. The man casts a spell to give himself wings and fly over to Strahd. Me, being, y’know, a sane DM -- I expect him to just have used flight to slap Strahd a little bit while he’s in the air.

No the player flies over to Strahd, grapples him, then goes, and I quote, “Alright, perfect, I want to try to use my remaining movement to divebomb him into the terrain.”

I point out that since he’s used most of his movement getting to Strahd, he’d only move about 15 feet -- which isn’t enough to divebomb anyone. I tell him that to drop effectively, he’d probably have to dismiss his wings.

So he goes “ah. then yeah dismiss my wings.”

I then have to double-check grappling rules to see what the fuck this means for Strahd, since grapple reduces your movement to 0 and now Kelogul is rapidly plummeting 500 feet a round. I decide fuck it, it’s funnier this way, and there’s a phase 3 fight anyway.

So Kelogul basically leaps off the balcony, grabs Strahd, then just DROPS.

It takes two whole rounds for the two to hit the ground. In this time, Kjosev, Yoli, and Ellerian also all jump off the edge of Ravenloft and use slowfall immediately before hitting the ground. Everyone plummets 900 feet into the enormous mass of bones at the bottom of the pillar stone.

Kelogul takes about 66 damage from the fall. I tell him that he’s not escaping a lingering injury for falling 900 feet, because “just” 20d6 damage doesn’t cut it. We use Maxwell’s Manual of Malicious Maladies for our lingering injury rules, so I tell him to roll on the bludgeoning table...

... and it’s... a black eye. Which I think is fucking hilarious. Man suplexes Strahd 900 feet and all that happens is the dude takes less damage than Strahd deals per round with his basic-ass attacks and gets a black eye. That’s appropriate for a level 20 martial. So I tell him a skull bounces up from the impact and hits him in the face, giving him a shiner.

Phase 3, at this point starts. I had plans for Strahd to merge with the bones of Argynvost for the “final” phase, so they get to fight a blood dragon. Cliche? yes. Cool? also yes. I did NOT, however, have plans for them to LEAP OFF GODDAMN RAVENLOFT AND SUPLEX STRAHD. So I have to actually put the combat session on a brief pause to go find another battle map and reposition everything.

But I get everything running, and Strahd turns into a weird blood dragon who immediately opens up combat by halving the party’s maximum HP.

The fight is pretty gruesome from that point forward. Ellerian is taking backlash damage every round he casts due to wish. Healing isn’t as effective, and the party is running out of resources. Kjosev summons a lightning storm and a star field, in one of the first times he’s actually useful as a damage dealer. The party depletes the dragon’s HP... up until the last sub-100, which takes forever, as they’re trying to play defensive at that point. The dragon’s tail fucks up the party, and it’s to the point that the party is at legitimate risk of dying from exhaustion (note: we play with rules that make it so if you go down and are brought back up in combat, you earn a level of exhaustion. So you can be killed if you yo-yo too much).

Ellerian decides in the end that fuck it, it’s better to put pressure on Strahd even if it means he goes down. He casts one last ice spike and takes enough backlash damage to knock himself unconscious. Yoli’s got like 10 hp. Kelogul delivers the final blow, crushing Argynvost’s skull, and the sunlight from Yoli’s corona ensures that Strahd simply doesn’t return to his coffin. Once again, the sun shines in Barovia.

... The party drags themselves up. Yoli contacts Rahadin, asking him where he went. He tells her he’s “at a place Strahd never goes.” The party manages to track him down by heading east and the trail of blood he’s left.

... They find him at a place that I had actually written for the party to discover in the original campaign, but they never did. The reincarnations of Tatyana’s bodies had to go somewhere. One of the thoughts I had was that Rahadin had been the one to “dispose” of them for a distraught Strahd, taking them to a small spot in the woods east of Ravenloft. Each of the 14 reincarnations has a gravestone. Rahadin used to upkeep the graveyard himself. But with him gone, its overgrown by now.

Dude’s leg is shattered beyond usability (he did not fair as fortunately as Kelogul did on the injury table), but he’s alive. He asks the party if Strahd is dead. They tell him for the time. He apologizes for being more helpful, but tells them that at least Ireena is safe, showing them the amulet he’s been clutching onto this entire time.

The session wraps up with Ellerian casting sending to contact an old friend. Well, okay -- FIRST Ellerian casts sending and his HP is so low that he actually knocks himself unconscious. Then after Kjosev heals him to bring him up, he casts sending to contact Ezmerelda, who remained behind in Barovia because she was convinced Strahd would return. She is their only surviving friend. She is in absolute disbelief, questioning why the hell they even came back... but she agrees to meet them again.

And that’s the end. Next session will likely be the last wrap-up before the players begin the Legacy campaign (i.e. the campaign starring their kids) at level 1. It’s been wild that this is effectively the... soft-end of a campaign that’s gone on for 3 years, all the way from 1-20. I don’t think it’s quite hit me yet, lol. But I guess it continues on still -- the players will still be playing in the same world, just as their kids. 16 years will pass, the world will grow and evolve, and they’ll get to start as baby adventurers again. I’ll have to ask what kind of campaign they want and begin planning.

either way what’s most important is:

1) the ship sails on my friends (once they save Ireena -- a pretty easy feat at this point)

2) strahd got suplexed

#palidoozy rambles #d&d #from the mists #i legitimately 100% believed that the party would not be capable of saving ireena #my players did too #it was only one of them that #apparently like the night before went #NO I DON'T ACCEPT THIS. I'M GOING TO FIGURE A WAY TO SAVE HER #and he did

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sugarakis-p2 · 2 years

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Shigaraki's songbird ch2

art shared by Jaime Grant

You wouldn’t be on his radar if hadn’t stolen from him on a very bad day. When he kidnaps you he needs help, Kurogiri is super helpful, to keep you around but he puts up with it since you are such a sweet singer and screamer for him.

Sensei and Kurogiri are gone. Shigaraki needs to find a place to sleep for all of the LOV while making sure his darling is safe. He's slowly growing out of his gremlin phase.

Warning: Non/con yandere Shigaraki, fluff, lov being jerks, mild torture, threats and music.

@juuxo

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Shigaraki's little songbird was used to a low standard of living. But this was grim even for her.

When his Master was arrested, Shigaraki was worse before slowly getting better. Too damn slow, in her opinion. He forced her to share her prison with a bunch of total psychopaths. The house was shabby before, but these guys came in and thrashed the place.

"Hey, whaz yer name? Play something? This place is depressing. No, it's not! Best hideout ever!" The chaotic guy slurred to her drunk. She had already learned better than to ask what music exactly. She sighs and plays the entertainer on the rotting piano. Some know it as the ice cream truck song. That seemed to cheer him up, which was good because this one was always on the edge of a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Another!" he wept when others trickled back in. She sighs and plays another.

Aside from having one of the many weirdos crashing here at all times as her babysitter. They asked her to perform like a music monkey as a punishment. They try to take what she loves and warp it—jokes on them.

Dabi shows up out of the blue. He's not here often, but when he is, she hopes he makes a mistake like he did the first time and lets her escape.

The introduction was cold and quick when they first showed up.

"This is my songbird. Don't talk or look at her. Lock the door from the outside," Shigaraki growled, throwing a blanket over her. He tossed her some convenience store onigiri as he turned back to the group. She was confused as to what was going on. He never brought anyone here. Are these guys now living with her?

Shigaraki never bothered to talk to her much. He spoke of nefarious plans to the group before dragging her to the only bedroom in the place. Calling it a bedroom is generous.

A few days later, Dabi shows up all swagger.

"Toga and Spinner are arguing," he announces to Shigaraki. Shigaraki snarls and gets up to check on it.

"Shiggy. I still want to talk about going out. I can earn some money for us. I'm so hungry, and I have been good," she begged before he left.

"Baby. I told you already. Your voice and body belong only to me. Don't worry. I will get you more food," he rasped. For a long moment, Dabi just stares at her in awkward silence.

"Do you have a name? I'm not calling you songbird," Dabi asked in his smoky voice. She jerked in surprise he was talking to her. She checked the door to ensure Shigaraki wasn't hidden in the shadows.

"Song," she says quickly. Dabi's eyebrows shoot up.

"Song, huh. So that's why he calls you his songbird. How cute," he says. When you don't respond, he chuckles, "Has you scared of him, doesn't he? What's your quirk? Is it a music quirk?"

She nodded and picked up her ukulele and played him over the rainbow.

"Weak quirk. No wonder he is terrorizing you. I have a soft spot for pathetic little birdies. So, I'll tell you what. If you can run out the front before I shut the door, you are free to go," he said with a cruel smirk. He was itching to slam the door on her face.

He clearly didn't know about her real quirk. She wiped that smug look off his face as she kicked him in the balls before escaping. It didn't take her long to realize why there were bars on the windows of the rundown place before she arrived. The neighborhood was rough.

After robbing plenty of scumbags that thought she was an easy mark, she performed on the streets. The area five blocks away had good foot traffic with people looking to party. It was easy. Song normally liked earning with her music, but she was so hungry she turned to something she hated. Pickpocketing.

Now that she thinks about it. She could have pickpocketed a key from anyone of those dirtbags back at the hideout. She thinks of this now as several shady characters start to surround her. They couldn't grab her here with all these people around. She had to think quickly before she finished singing.

"You know, I've seen a lot of what the world can do

And it's breaking my heart in two

'Cause I never want to see you, sad girl

Don't be a bad girl

But if you want to leave, take good care

Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there

But just remember there is a lot of bad everywhere

Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world

It's hard to get by just upon a smile -♪"

When she finishes the last notes, she bows and thanks to the crowd. When the public dispersed, two of them tried to grab her. Using her quirk she went up the building. She couldn't go far, though, she was fast enough to avoid these clowns. It looked like she had disappeared. Song watched them from the fire escape.

"Dammit! I told you she was quick! She was right here," Dabi growled.

"He told us not to bother trying to grab her. She took her mini guitar and her change hat! He told us to give him a call when we found her," Spinner huffed.

"I'm calling Tomu-kun right now," Toga announced.

"Don't need to," Shigaraki rasped. He idly scratched his neck as he looked up and spotted her, "Little songbird. It is time to come home."

She looked down at them and shook her head.

"No way. Not without some rules. I need to be seen and heard. I don't feel that way living with you guys," Song states.

"Don't be a brat tonight," Shigaraki hissed. Touching the wall, she could see the decay crawl up towards her. She can't outrun it going up, blooming like a poisonous flower. She had to jump. Twisting her ankle falling in the arms of Spinner.

They had carried her back. Song handed over all her cash. The masked guy tenderly wrapped her ankle while Shigaraki went to buy supplies and over-the-counter painkillers. Song got up to hobble to bed. But not until Dabi grabbed her ankle.

"The boss gave me a dirty look and called me a fool under his breath. Things almost got heated. All because you are a little liar and tricked me. You are going to be Shigaraki's little music box. Making him happy while he turns your crank," he snarled and dug his thumb in. She screamed in excruciating pain that shit up her leg.

"My, that is a pretty singing voice. I think I like this tune. A piece of advice. Figure out a way to keep all of us in a good mood. You wasted our time looking for you," Dabi gave one hot last squeeze before leaving. She cried into the pillow until Shigaraki came back. Surprisingly, kind.

"Poor girl. I know it hurts. My little songbird broke her wing. It's ok. I will take care of you," he said, wrapping himself around her, "Sing that song you sang to those people. Wild world?" He asked, holding her close throughout the night and sleeping like a baby.

She ran her fingers through his greasy hair as he declared this was another one of his songs. Those are songs she can only sing for him.

"There is nothing to eat. It's like I'm the only one working," Dabi griped.

"I can earn money. I was earning about thirteen thousand yen a night on that corner," She said when Shigaraki walked in behind him. She made a strangled little eep when he grabbed her and yanked her to her feet, dragging to to their room, and tossing her on the bed.

"I'm in a bad mood," he announces when he flops on the bed laying his head on her lap.

"Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right

Singin': "Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right-♫"

Song sang to him, stroking his hair. He must have washed it recently because it was soft and fluffy. He sighs, melting into her touch. The tension left his body.

"Sing me that one that makes me feel … sad and happy," he demands.

"You are my sunshine?" she asks. He nods. She never thought about the lyrics that deeply until she met him. His songbird was all about the rhythm and the beat. Her father had made her practice with a metronome for hours, day in and out. But when she thought about it, aside from its upbeat, the lyrics are about lost love.

When it comes to Shigaraki, the lyrics are meaningful because they affect his mood. He reaches in his coat and pulls out a cell phone. An indication that she had pleased him.

"I got you a present. Give your leader your cellphone," he orders. She eagerly hands him the phone. He has taken the sim out of it so she can use it as a music player. He synced it up, uploaded the music, and then decayed the phone.

She loves this. Song doesn't like thinking of the victims he picks up the phones from. But discovering new and intriguing music she wouldn't typically look for is fun. She giggled and bounced with delight while scrolling through a new playlist of Tom Petty remix folk music and Baby death metal. Things she didn't know existed until Shigaraki.

Crimson eyes studied her face. It could be the effects of her singing, but his heart flutters at her smile. He reaches out with the faintest touch with the back of his fingers on her cheek. She winces at his touch. His eyes are kind which surprises her.

"Don't try to manipulate the others. You have been punished enough. I will talk to them. Do you know why those songs are mine alone? Why I won't allow you to go out to earn money?" he asked.

Song sensing a trap, only shook her head and played dumb.

"Your voice is naturally beautiful and haunting. Like the tears of a ghost, they can be tears of joy or anguish, but one cannot deny the sound of tears. I get jealous and worried others will hear it and try to take you from me. Your voice plays through my head all day. I want more. It has been the only thing that eased my tortured soul," he said, running his thumb over her trembling lower lip.

"I think that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," her voice wobbling. She grabbed Shigaraki's face, aggressively forcing her lips on his. Her tongue grazed his bottom lip, and he parted his cracked lips. This was the first time she had kissed him. It was different than his. Her kisses are slow, demanding, and sensual.

Deciding he liked it. And let her take the lead. Ever since he took her, there had been a change drifting on the wind. She showed him silence and that words have power. That's a lesson only he gets to keep. He felt heated by her sweet mouth, her warm tongue playing with his. Her gentle flavor lingered on his tongue. He fell back, pulling her with him.

Song pulled away, panting, chest heaving, and flushed. Shigaraki wanted her to sing for him in a different way now. Long pale fingers started to work their way under her shirt. His shy little songbird wrapped her arms around her chest, squeezing her thighs together to hide her wetness from him.

"So cute," he grinned as he tugged at her clothes. She knows she will take them off if she wants to keep them intact. She did, ever so slowly. His throbbing cock twitched at the sexy sight of her pulling her shirt and bra over her head. Her breast bounced from being freed.

His heart pounds harder when her face has no obstruction of her pretty features. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall. The tussling of her hair made her look like a wild pony needing to be broken. She kicks off her converse sneakers. Standing to take off her skirt, he stops her with two fingers hooking in the front and pulling her to him.

Her arms are back over her chest. Her eyes are watching, and she is biting her lip. This is another first. Usually, it is because she is shy. Now it's to watch him pull her panties and skirt down. He kisses and looks up into her eyes. He feels like he can down in the pools of her eyes. He rubs his face back and forth on her mons pas, inhaling her scent. She squealed, trying to step away from him. He grabbed her ass.

"I'll stop teasing. You can keep your knee-high socks on. Come here, pretty little songbird," Shigaraki beckons. She straddles his lap while he quickly undresses. He is about to free his cock when a stray thought interfered.

"Do you like sex with me?" He asked. Her eyes widened. Song looked like a deer in headlights, too afraid to answer and too scared not to. She started to tremble and quickly hugged her, "Don't cry. You can be honest with me. I won't get mad. I want you to like it."

"Well…..You are normally pretty rough. But it mostly is because you have a huge monster cock, and it hurts," she said timidly. He almost laughed in her face until he saw she was not joking. A part of him felt giddy. She thought his dick was big and painful. He picked up his cell and looked up what to do about that.

"Lay down and wait for me," he instructed, leaving. There was a chorus of "ew," then an argument that he should buy his own bottle. Own bottle of what? She wondered, shivering in the darkening room. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and breasts. The nights have been getting cold. She pulled on his hoodie while she waited for him.

He came back with a huge grin. Shigaraki's heart stopped when he saw her in his hoodie. He clutched at his chest and panted. Her eyes widened, intimidated. She started to take off the hoodie.

"No! don't you dare," he pants. His blood feels like it is thrumming with need. The sound of his zipper coming down was loud in the silent room. His cock springs free, hard as a rock, as he pours lube over his length. Stroking his length to coat himself fully. She gasped because he had always been too quick to shove himself in. She never saw it until now.

He is as thick as a coke bottle. It's too heavy to point straight or up. She is shocked that he fits in her. No wonder she felt stretched and sore. It could be because he lost weight, but his member looked too thick, especially in contrast to his extremely toned abs and slim waist. She watched as his abs strained and flexed with each stroke.

"Spread your legs," he said gently.

He's fast as he places himself between her legs. Wide-open and ready for him. She is already wet, but he still pours more on her folds. His cock feels like it's burning with desire when he rubs his member over her tender bud. She moans her knees jerk with each glide over her clit. Shivers of pleasure travel up her spine.

"Do you like that?" he asks, jerking his hips and little faster when she nods yes. Lewd wet sounds of flesh rubbing mingle with her sweets sounds.

"Please. Fuck me," she moaned.

He is trying to be kind but hearing that drives him wild. It was permission, and he will take it. He notches his cock to her little hole. Pushing himself in deeply all at once, past her tight entrance, sliding achingly along her slick walls. He feels like steel as the head of his cock kisses her cervix.

She yelps in perfect pitch as her bliss and pain mix. He was letting her adjust to him as the article recommended. A light scrape of nails on his back sent a shudder of pleasure up his spine. Whimpering and twitching in the cutest way. Pressing down, he embraces her, kissing her along her jaw.

"Kiss me like before," is his breathy command. She wraps her arms around his neck. She was plunging her tongue in for a deep passionate kiss. His hips begin to buck lightly. Picking up the pace with each breathy gasp, pumping into her with delicious even rhythm. She was getting too hot. He helped pull off his hoodie. It should smell like her now anyway.

Her nipples harden as they brush his chest. Shigaraki loves the feel of her. Pulling away for air. He sees her pretty face, lips, and cheeks red with a high blush. Her eyes are growing dark and blown with bliss.

"You feel so good. Bend your knees and spread yourself a little wider for me," he requests.

She instantly does as he asks, writhing under him, jerking her hips to meet his cock with her greedy pussy. This was as good as the first time. No better. He has an epiphany. This is what sex is supposed to be like. He looks at her beyond lust in her eyes.

"What?" She asked, confused. Brow knitting him concern.

"Nothing," he moaned. Kissing his songbird more. He is not sure if he understood it himself. It was hard to concentrate on anything when her body sent tingles of pleasure through him. Got more excited by her sudden enthusiasm. Both groan in unison as he thrusts and grinds. Playing her body like his favorite instrument. Hard as a rock, watching her tits bounce, pressing down to capture a nipple in his greedy mouth,

"Fuck, you're so beautiful and perfect. You feel amazing, so god damn tight," he growls. Hips snapping faster, his balls taut, aching for release.

"Ahhh…uh…ah," she gasped. Music to his ears. Her legs wrap and arms around him, nails digging in as he relentlessly pounds into drooling pussy. Her heels dug in his upper thighs. Beads of sweat form on his brow and back as heat spread over their body. He plunges into her core as his need builds. He is getting dizzy from the kissing. He loves the high feeling.

Each thrust created hitching gasps for air around his invading tongue. His girth slides along her silky walls, repeatedly hitting Song's sweet spot. It's pure euphoria as Song's pussy grips him. Doubling his stroke until she unravels on his perfect length. Feeling full when he bottoms out.

Arching up into him, she claws his flesh. He doesn't care as long as her body doesn't stop constricting and tightening on his dick.

She screams magnificently. Milking ecstasy from him with her pulsing walls. Her slick flesh is gripping him tighter than his fist. He snarls as the hardest orgasm he has ever felt in his life rips through him. Dipping in and out of her sweet cunt feverishly.

Nails dig into his muscular back as she writhes under him. Shivers of pleasure flow over both, crushing your pelvises together. A pathetic stifling whimper slips from her as his dick twitches and throbs, shooting hot cum in her. Her greedy cunt sucking all his cum straight from his tight sack.

Panting and trembling cock drunk. He smiles down, watching his songbird's chest jiggle with each shaky breath, feeling her toes curl against his skin. Heart thumping in his ears, sweat stinging his back from the new marks she left. He doesn't want to ever pull from her. He feels like she has melted into one with him. It felt right.

Shigaraki's cock softens, and he is starting to feel cold. As much as he wishes to stay, he must pull away. His load spilling from gaping hole, she whines, missing the feeling of fullness of his cock.

Pulling his songbird to his hot chest, holding her tight as he runs his fingers through her damp hair. He grabs a towel and wipes both of them off before pulling the blanket over them—a sweet husky tune dances to his ears as she sings him a lullaby.

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

Say Nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me-♪"

He snuggles with her, kissing her shoulders, holding her tight.

"I promise I'll get you more food. My poor songbird has been roughing it for too long. Why were you homeless when we met? You have the voice of seraphim," He asked, drifting to sleep.

"My parents kicked me out when my quirk turned out to be speed based when they thought it would be music based. I didn't meet their expectations. It's impossible to pull yourself by your bootstraps. How can anyone when they are standing in the boots? Most times, what people need is real help and basic needs," she said cautiously. He nodded in understanding.

"If anyone other than my master helped me, I would not have the endless depth of hate eating away at my gut and flesh," he chuckled, touching his scares, "Your parents are stupid. You do have a music quirk. It's just based on rhythm and pace. You don't need one for your voice because it's already perfect." He yawned before drifting to sleep.

Silent tears streamed down her face. Shigaraki had given her a revelation. A guy who abused and held her prisoner understood her better than anyone else. He had made her feel safe, cared for, and good tonight. He is trying, which is more than she can say for anyone else in her life.

Sometimes all it takes is one night to fall in love.

[Writer's notes: I might have one more chapter in me but it will take a moment.]

#yandere shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #tomura smut #spicy fluff #yandere tomura #yandere #yandere male #yandere shigaraki #shiggy #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #tomura shigaraki

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woodsfae · 1 year

Text

Babylon 5 s02e07: A Race Through Dark Places

s02 Table of Contents • previous episode

Station budget relies on the civilian traffic, but the military traffic has been higher than usual, so they’re running on a deficit, since the military doesn’t reimburse the station for funds lost by the mandatory re-routing of civilian business. And they want want to charge Sheridan and Ivanova 30 credits a week to stay in their current quarters, which are a whole 7 square feet bigger than the next size down which would remain free. All this sounds exactly some some bs the USA would pull and is completely believable.

My!!! guy!!!! Bester is back! And on a day when I’ve found a totally legal and normal way to screencap for some gifs again. hell to the yeah. Prediction: I’m gonna like this one. He’s got a new, scary sidekick.

Oh I love him, he’s so terrifying and perfect.

Telepath: “He’s dead.” Bester: “It doesn’t matter. I caught it, just before he died. Betrayed by his final thoughts.”

He’s my special little guy. But does this mean Talia is involved with the underground telepaths?? She was really not down with whatsherface not going to PsiCorps.

Sheridan is just down to fight whenever anyone squares up even a little. What is 30 credits? I have nothing to compare it against. Is it like, a nice meal for two? A month’s wages for a dock worker? I feel like this is the first hard number for a price I’ve seen so far.

Going for the easy questions I see, Delenn! Just quickly, explain humanity. Awww she’s so cute. Dinner date with Sinclair! He was dtf (down to fight) 2 seconds ago and now he’s dtf (down to flee) and figure out if this is a date or not.

Sheridan: “One day they’re shooting at you, the next they’re taking you out to dinner. Hah! What a universe.”

He looks bemused and delighted. I’m delighted. This episode will have everything if only Susan and Talia will be allowed to be onscreen at the same time.

OMFG they’re in the same room at the same time!!!

Sheridan: “I’d like to talk to my people for a moment.” Bester and Talia: *leaves the room* Me: “Talia where the fuck are you goin...oh. Telepath. well frag that.”

Garibaldi: “Want, agree, that has nothing to do with it. The law is the law.”

And that’s ACAB baby. When the law is unjust, those that uphold the law are unjust.

Garibaldi: “That’s damn ironic, isn’t it? That the corps got started because we were afraid of telepaths? Now we’re victims of our own fears. And we took away every right they had and shoved them into a big, black box called Psi Corps. Now look at em. Black uniforms, jackboots, giving orders. Some days they scare the hell out of me.“ Sheridan: “Yeah If you ask me, we created our own monster. And maybe we deserve it.“

Good advice by Ivanova. Read the logs about the Jason Ironheart Incident.

Lots of good background info being dropped. Talia wouldn’t notice a surface scan, she keeps walls up to block out the background noise, but Bester wasn’t and heard someone calling him a murderer.

“Bester will try to stop up, so we don’t have any choice. We have to kill him.”

I agree, but also, oh man my special guy. :(

DELENN YOU BABE. Well no wonder Sheridan falls for her. She’s humaning it up like a bossbabe for this date.

It’s genuinely astonishing that Ivanova has nothing whatsoever to do with the underground (that she’ll admit to). I think odds are relatively good that she actually does. Perhaps Dr Franklin is? He’s been a little revolutionary.

Date’s going well. Humor is an excellent bonding point.

Bester reaching out to Talia civilly. We love to see it, only for the drama.

Love to see the return of Jason Ironheart CGI Ascended!

Also love the lingering, artful shots of Talia being angsty in profile.

The penny!! Is she or isn’t she a telekinetic?? I am once again asking for Talia Telekinesis Skills. AND YES THERE IT IS BABYYYYY. Now that’s some self defense.

Earthforce locked them out of their rooms! Those asshats. It’s so sweet how willing Susan is to go along with all Sheridan’s schemes.

Mary Had A Little Lamb has never been so ominous.

OK, so now that they’re sleeping in Sheridan’s office she’s quite a bit more disgruntled.

Ivanova: “Were you like this when you were married?” Sheridan: “Yeah!” Ivanova: “That woman was a saint.”

John you have a huge crush. Repeating all the jokes you heard from your dinner date and practically blushing over thinking about it is peak crush behavior.

DS9 nod? Those are raktajino mugs that Bester and Talia are using.

Fishing for info, fishing for informants, and unfortunately not so distracted that he missed the assassins. Who should really learn to shield their thoughts if they’re gonna be assassinating level 15 telepaths. And throwing Talia in a closet. A literal closet. lol.

This is the one and only anger fit Garibaldi can throw that I support.

Oh well, not really a closet I guess. Man, she gets manhandled a lot.

I agree, wake up girlie. The Corps are not benign and you don’t even believe what you’re saying.

Dun dun dun! Franklin does have connections. Called it.

Oh, the gloves are a PsiCorps requirement! Continuing yikes. Excellent control mechanism. They’re a high control cult. What you wear, where you live, who you talk to, who you touch, how you live, where and how you work, who you marry. About as high control as you get.

oooof, and forced pregnancy. I wonder if the baby got a guide for a year and then it was on its own as soon as it could walk.

“You’re asking me to take everything I believe and turn it upside-down.”

yeah, that’s hard to do when you’re ready to deconstruct from cult life, let alone when you’re kidnapped by kindly telepaths who insistently tell you horror stories of PsiCorps as some kind of guided deconstruction.

Invoking Jason Ironheart is absolutely the way to get Talia to help. I’m rooting so hard for them! And for Bester to survive and continue to commit atrocities for my viewing pleasure. I’m a simple person.

DOCTOR STEPHEN FRANKLIN YOU DUPLICITOUS BADASS! This episode is everything. I’m vibrating. Generally I like to feel good about predicting things even partially correctly but I only said maybe Dr Franklin has connections, not that he’s running the whole operation, and I’m gonna own that being only very partial. This is baller.

He’s a conspiracy theories that are real guy like Sheridan is, but only for telepathy! Secret doctor network!! The unofficial clinic!!

Alas, Sheridan, but “I agree but the laws“ is not moral best practice.

Bester! My evil little fellow.

Talia grew a hell of a spine in the last ten minutes.

Collective telepathy!!!

“The corps is Mother. The corps is Father. I know where my loyalties lie.”

I don’t see how this could play out any way but that these people are dead, but that would also be totally bonkers considering she just planned something with Dr Franklin and Sheridan.

LITERALLY all faked? d a m n

I am extremely into collectivist telepathy. It’s super tragic that they are discouraged from touching even each other. All of them must be just so touch starved.

Doctor Franklin has just shot up a mile in my estimation of him as a person. He got a lot of points for treating Poor Murdered Child, but I also don’t like thinking about that episode. (0/1 stars, will never watch again)

Ah, so Sheridan also has a way with pedantry. Is this a commentary on how rigid military regulations makes for twisting-the-hell-out-of-the-rules geniuses?

Insert incoherent babble here about gloves-off Talia smiling at be-robed Susan smiling at her! Oh this episode is everything I could have wanted. Definitely a 5/5 star one for me! And certainly my favorite of the season so far!

next episode

#babylon 5 #talia winters #Alfred Bester #woodsfae gif #woodsfae b5

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