#me to me: draw a bird!! it will Not take you three hours to figure out the wings!! oh and also!! how about a shopping cart!! you know-

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

#cod #thoughts™️ #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Brandon the crash dummy

[beenbaanbuun]

country boy w/ mingi

thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.

“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”

as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.

yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.

“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not ready to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?

he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.

“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”

“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.

“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”

a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.

“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”

he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.

still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.

“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”

the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.

they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.

he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.

all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.

he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”

“what about—”

“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”

you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.

“you cried about me?” you laugh.

“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fic #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #mingi fanfic

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Pretty As A Picture (bau x cowboy!reader)

Warnings: a shelter? (I don't know if that's a warning)

taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade

“(Y/N)!” A shriek reaches your ears, and you smile as a small figure rushes towards you, colliding with your leg as she hugs you.

“Hey Ava, how ya been?” You ask, sweeping her into your arms, “Keepin’ outta trouble?”

“Yes sir!” She giggles, “‘Be wants to do your makeup again!”

“Again?” You ask, Ava giggles once more as she nods.

“Yup!” She nods, “But she says we can help too!”

“What are we still doin’ here then?” You ask dramatically, “Where’s Phoebe?”

“Rec room,” You nod, beginning the short walk there, nodding and smiling at the residents when they greet you, the kids running up to you. You stop and say hi to each of them, asking them about their day.

When you eventually reach the rec room (a room with a table and a variety of different board games), you place Ava down, seeing Phoebe crying.

“Hey Ava, why don’t you go find your Mama?” Ava nods, running off and you turn to her sister, “What’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend dumped me,” She says with a sniff, “Says I’m not good enough,”

You push your anger aside for a moment, “He's an idiot. Need a hug?” She nods, wrapping her arms around you as you squeeze her close to your chest. “Want me ta beat ‘im up?” She gives a small laugh as she shakes her head. “I could prob’ly do it and get away with it,” You said, “I am an FBI Agent… Just sayin’,”

“You’re too nice to do something like that,” She snorts.

“Never thought I’d be offended bein’ called nice but here we are…” Phoebe rolls her eyes, laughing again.

She pulls away, sniffing once more before wiping her cheeks, “Right, let’s make you look pretty,”

“You sayin’ I ain’t pretty now?”

“No comment,” Phoebe laughs.

Ava comes bounding up to you again, throwing herself into your lap, and wrapping her arms around your neck, “Makeup time!” She screams, you wince slightly at the volume but nod with a laugh. She cheers and three other kids (Brandon, Eleanor, and Noah) run into the room.

You make sure to sit still (in fear of being yelled at by Ava) as Phoebe draws a line down the centre of your face in eyeliner, instructing the kids not to go over the line. They all nod, serious faces and you have to hold back a laugh.

You must have sat there for an hour as Phoebe worked with precision and the four kids grabbed random eye shadows from a palette Phoebe no longer used. When Phoebe’s done, she leans back and gives a small nod.

“Can I take a picture?” She asks, when you nod, she smiles, quickly snapping a photo on her phone. “Thanks!” You give her a smile, nodding again.

“Stop nodding!” Ava groans and you put your hands up in surrender as she waves a makeup brush in front of your face as a weapon.

They didn’t let you stand up for another hour (and then insist that Phoebe take a picture of their side as well). 

Phoebe grins when you’re done, “There, pretty as a picture,” She grins and her and the kids filter out. 

You turn to the door, hearing footsteps. Sarah, Ava and Phoebe’s mum. “Sarah, how’ve you been?”

“Alright, I’ve got a job interview tomorrow,” Not phased by your face covered in two very distinctly different makeup looks (it was a common sight around here anyway).

“That’s great!” You beam, “You got somethin’ to wear? You need a ride there? I’ve got the day off-”

“No, no, you stay home and relax, it’s all sorted out,” She smiles and you nod.

“Good, you’re gonna smash it outta the park,” You say sincerely, she gives you a smile.

“Thank you, I’ll let you know how it goes,” She says, “And thank you for making sure Phoebe’s okay, but go home, relax, put your feet up.”

“Yes Ma’am-” You’re cut off by your phone. Pulling it out of your pocket, you see Hotch’s name printed across the screen. “Maybe not…”

Hotch gives you the basics over the phone. Child abduction case in Nevada. When he hangs up, you sigh and look at Sarah with a small shrug before saying goodbye to everyone and heading to your car.

You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something whilst everyone stares at you on your way up to the bullpen but shrug it off. It was probably nothing anyway. You carry on, deciding to take the stairs today. You throw your bag on top of your desk as you turn to the others, who are all staring at you, jaws dropped.

“What?”

“You’ve got a bit of makeup just-” Morgan motions to his whole face and your eyes widen because shit shit shit you forgot to take it off!

You groan, knowing you’re never going to live this down - ever. “Are we going to get an explanation for this?” JJ smirks, folding her arms.

“Well, there’s a lovely girl at the shelter who wants to be a makeup artist and the other kids wanted to help, so,” You said with a shrug. Morgan huffs a laugh, “Hey, these kids are gonna be the next Picasso. Mark my words,” There’s a small pause before you turn to JJ, “You wouldn’t happen to have a makeup wipe, would you?”

#bau #bau x male reader #bau x reader #bau x cowboy reader #cowboy reader #reader #male reader #x reader #x male reader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #Penelope Garcia #david rossi

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tta finale (original)

“Last time, on Total Takes Action: our final three competed in an all-out, extra dramatic laser tag challenge with a few… twists. Alliances were formed, friendships were broken, and it was Peter who took the fall to give Scruffy a chance at the finale. With just one exciting challenge left, I’m sure you’re all wondering who will win- and there’s only one way to find out: right here, right now, on Total! Takes! Action!”

The sky is clear and blue, the pigeons are cooing, and the smell of breakfast sausage is filling the air as Scruffy and O wait in a very short line for their complementary “final two breakfast” in the craft services tent. 

Chef heaps a few sausages, eggs, and waffles on each plate and shoos the players off, both of which immediately gravitate towards the opposite ends of the picnic table and eat in silence. Scruffy paces around their end of the table, swiping forks, knives, and spoons, just in case. O draws a little smiley face on his plate with syrup. 

---

O: “Well… this is it,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Today’s the big day,”

---

O: “I can’t believe how far I made it,”

---

SCRUFFY: “I can’t believe how far O made it,”

---

O: “I’m not exactly winning material… but then again, neither is Scruffy,”

---

SCRUFFY: “He’s a big softie. Not nearly as well-trained, unless you count psychology- but then again, I’m an expert at that, too. He’s just gone to- ugh- “therapy”. Who has therapy helped?”

---

O: “I’m thinking that once I get back, winnings or not, I might cancel my sessions with Dr. Anderson. I feel like… I don’t know. Pathologizing my problems has made them worse, somehow. Maybe it’s time to try a different approach. The… Scruffy approach, I guess,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Still, I can’t help but wonder if all of this dedication- all the hours I’ve spent rewatching the original show, all my community college classes, all my reading and training- has really helped me get here. I’ve been missing an obvious pattern. If only I could figure out what that is…”

---

 O looks up from his syrup smile and waves at Scruffy. “Hey, bro. Good luck today,”

Scruffy blinks. “Um… okay,”

“Attention, campers! Your final challenge starts in five minutes out by the trailers. Time to bring your A-Game!”

---

Scruffy and O stand an arm’s length apart as Chris paces between them, humming to himself. “You’ve lived. You’ve loved. You’ve laughed. And most importantly, you’ve lost. Today is the final test of strength, wits, smarts and endurance- both of you will enter, but only one will emerge a hero. And with a big fat check,” Chris chuckles. 

“Today’s final challenge is a multi-part rendezvous across the set. You will start here and make your way through the city,” 

Scruffy immediately jumps into a running stance, ready to take off. 

Chris grins. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The first leg of your race to the finish line was inspired by your very first challenge here- the birdocalypse. Thousands of territorial birds are having their afternoon nap on the city set. Wake them up, and you might have a problem,” he goes on. “After that, you’ll make your way through a ghost-filled maze, inspired by the video game and period flick challenges. Once you’re out, you’ll run the final stretch to Lot B- a functional studio next door. The first to arrive wins the prize. Ready?”

Scruffy and O exchange nervous glances. 

“Go!”

The two don't run, but awkwardly walk off in the same direction, as if taking a pleasant afternoon stroll. 

O’s eyes drift over to Scruffy and he winces. 

---

O: “Is it weird to ask them for advice? I feel like it’s weird, but…”

---

“Hey, dude,” O says, looking over. “I know we’re competing and all, but-”

“Shh!” Scruffy interrupts him, holding a finger to their lips. They point ahead, where a black mass is covering the city set- it’s almost like an oil spill, but instead of the viscous glimmering liquid, it’s hundreds of sleeping crows. 

Scruffy goes first while O hangs back, looking ahead nervously. The former moves through the set, stepping over birds on the road and ducking under birds on the street signs and lamps. They delicately step, roll, and skip through the set with expert agility while O watches on. 

---

SCRUFFY: “This isn't so hard! Just a little yoga moves and some spatial awareness. Maybe I haven’t lost my zing after all!”

---

Scruffy reaches the other side and turns to wave at O- in a clearly taunting way. O crosses his arms and glares. 

---

O: “Yeah- no chance of friends there,”

---

Scruffy reaches the mouth of the maze and chuckles. “Easy. Is this all you got, Chris?”

Chris rolls his eyes and pulls out a large remote. His thumb hovers over the big red button on the surface for a few moments, taunting Scruffy, before he slams it and the maze lifts off the ground and begins rotating on a large metal plate. 

Scruffy watches the ground disappear beneath them and sighs. 

---

SCRUFFY: “WHY would I say that? That’s the easiest mistake to avoid on this show!”

---

Back on the city set, O tip-toes over the birds, nearly stumbling over each one. He’s breathing heavily, and almost falls over at least ten times. 

But, he reaches the end and sighs before jogging off. O reaches the entrance of the rotating maze and gawks at it. 

“Yeahhhh,” Chris grins. “Don’t worry, though, we’re prepared for this.”

Chef wheels out a canon. 

---

Scruffy wanders through the maze, dizzy and unbalanced as it spins around itself. They’re about as green as their hair, but still pressing on nonetheless. 

---

SCRUFFY: “I’ve been trying to improve my gag reflex since island. I’m usually pretty good, but I have… a thing about other people getting sick in front of me. As long as that doesn’t happen, I’m set,”

---

O’s screams echo, growing closer and closer before he slams into the concrete of the maze behind Scruffy, leaving a hole in the ceiling. He coughs. 

“Don’t throw up!” Scruffy shouts. 

O stands, rubbing his head. “Wasn’t gonna. Don’t worry, man, I’ll leave you be,”

Scruffy nods and the two run in opposite directions. 

---

O: “I get it! Scruffy has nothing to get from me, so why would I bother them?”

---

Scruffy steps through the maze, scratching their head as it spins. “This isn’t good. I’m all turned around,”

Chris’ voice blares over the intercom: “That’s the point, Total Drama Genius!”

They sigh and hold onto the wall while stumbling along. The maze suddenly lurches and begins turning in the opposite direction, sending Scruffy tumbling to the ground. They groan and sit up against the wall. “It’s hopeless. I keep lying to myself and telling myself I can do this, but I can’t! I don’t know what I’m doing,” they turn to the camera. “I’m sorry, Jules.”

---

O walks along, faring much better than Scruffy. A light breeze tussles his hair and he turns to where it’s coming from- and just around that corner, a beam of sunlight filters through. He grins and jogs forward. 

As he rounds the corner and sees the exit, though, he hears a loud cry. The sound of Scruffy’s wailing carries through the maze, and it stops O in his tracks. 

He hesitates. 

---

O: “I know I shouldn’t go back. I mean, what if it’s a trap? What if Scruffy is just trying to get my help and then dump me after? But…” he sighs. “I’m not like them. I’m a nice person, and there’s nothing weak about that.”

---

O turns and jogs off into the dark. 

---

Scruffy, curled into a ball on the floor, cries in anguish. 

“Hey? Dude?” 

They whimper loudly. O sits down next to them and sighs. 

“Listen, I’m not gonna try to fix your problems, ‘cause I know that’s not what you like,” O says. “But you should know that… well, you don’t have to win this. You’re not a weak person for not being mean and conniving like the people who get far on this show…”

“But I want to be!” they whimper, eyes full of tears. “I want to be Heather!”

“But you’re not… Heather,” O looks around awkwardly. “You shouldn’t want to be, either?”

“I’ve been studying this show since primary, I’ve taken all the classes, done all the research, trained to perfection- why am I so bad at this?”

O pats Scruffy’s shoulder. “You’re not. You’re good.”

“But not like you. You didn’t even try and you made it to the same exact spot I got to! I don’t get it. Were you a pawn? A twist villain I didn’t see coming?” Scruffy rocks back and forth. 

O raises an eyebrow. “Um… no… I don’t know, man, I’m just nice,”

“You can’t win just by being nice, I mean, that’s… that’s improbable! The nicest contestants always get got!” Scruffy says. “I’m nice! I’m not mean!”

“Yeah, man, but you’re kinda… uh, you know… you’re not the easiest to be around,”

Scruffy’s eyes water again. “Wh-what do you mean?”

O sucks in his breath through his teeth. “You’re… kind of intense, dude. All you talk about is the show, and, I mean… you’ve got some serious walls up, man,”

“I-I do not! Ask Jules, she’ll tell you! Julia knows!”

“Saying that one of the meanest contestants on the show knows you more than anyone is… not great, Scruffy. Haven’t you made any other friends?”

“Haven’t you?”

O frowns. “I guess not. But… I mean… I dunno,”

“When you say you’re nice, all I hear is that you’re a pushover. You let people use you!” Scruffy says, crossing their arms. “I’m not like that! I don’t like being pushed around!”

“Says the guy who went nuts cause they thought a girl would like them more if they won some dumb game show,”

“Says the guy who hasn’t had a single steady friendship since the show started!”

“Says the guy who needs to impress everyone with how great they are!”

“Says the guy who does the same thing, Dr. O!”

Both huff and turn away from each other. The intercom crackles to life and Chris’ voice sounds slightly peeved. “Hey, guys, this heart-to-heart has been great, but you are IN A CHALLENGE! Now get to it!”

The maze suddenly starts spinning faster, throwing Scruffy and O to opposite sides of the hall they were seated in. Each grab on to a corner of the black walling and hold on for dear life as they’re thrown around like they’re getting flushed down a toilet. 

“I- can’t- hold- on!” O shouts. 

“Take my hand!” Scruffy throws out an arm as O flies off the wall, catching him just in the nick of time. “Maybe I can be… nice after all!”

O smiles gratefully and nods. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two fashion makeshift ice picks out of the forks Scruffy had swiped from the craft services tent and rake their way up the wall as the maze spins even faster. 

“This way!” O instructs, retracing his earlier steps to the exit of the maze. The two reach the door and look to the ground below, where only a tiny kiddie pool was left to break their fall. 

“Ready?” O shouts. 

Scruffy nods. “On the count of three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

The two hold hands as they jump, both screaming and flailing their free arms until they land in the shallow pool below. 

“We… we made it!” Scruffy shouts with glee as O coughs up a mouthful of water behind them. “We did it together!”

O stands. “We did, didn’t we? Together,” O puts an arm over Scruffy’s shoulder. “No strings attached.”

“No expectations,”

“No value!”

Scruffy nods. “Let’s wing this,”

The two start off on the final track, throwing the doors of a large set building open and running through it, approaching a final set of double doors. 

“Hey,” Scruffy jogs up to O. “May the best man win, right?”

O salutes them. “May the best man win!”

---

“And that’s the story of how I lost my first tooth,” Staci says. “And no one ever found the hammer.”

Caesar massages his temples. “Another fascinating story from Staci. Anyone else have something to add?”

Luckily, before someone else can add on, Bonnie runs on stage. Caesar sighs with relief. “Bonnie, here to save the day again! What’s the news?”

“They’re coming!”

Caesar squeals, and the peanut gallery turns to the double doors backstage in anticipation. “Can we get a countdown?”

“Five!” Ass and Courtney both lean forward, then notice each other and glare. 

“Four!” Sha-Mod and McLovin are busy giving each other crudely drawn stick ‘n poke tattoos of each other’s faces. 

“Three!” Julia shoves Patrick out of her face when he gets to close. 

“Two!” Mal blows a gum bubble and texts something on her phone. 

“One!” Bonnie takes a seat and Caesar puts a hand on their shoulder. 

The doors burst open, and O runs in. 

“The winner of Total Takes Action, everyone!” Caesar shouts. “O!”

A shower of confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling and the crowd cheers. A group of former contestants- Kelly, Al, Michela, and Peter- run from the stands and hoist O into the air, carrying him in. He laughs merrily.

They set him down in the hot seat and Caesar grins. "So, O, you've just won a season of Total Takes- what are you going to do next?"

"I think... first, I'm gonna split some of the winnings with my friends. Then I'm gonna take a long, long vacation,"

"You don't have to do that," Peter states. "We're just happy you made it back in one piece."

McLovin pipes up in the background. "Did somebody say One-"

"Anyway," Michela interrupts. "We were kind of planning on taking you out for a celebratory-or-consolation dinner, anyway. On us."

O smiles.

“What a season, what a cast!” Caesar says. “And here’s our runner up, Scruffy!”

Scruffy jogs in behind him, breathing heavily. Julia stands and runs to the doors, hugging Scruffy. “I missed you!”. The peanut gallery continues whooping and cheering, and O gives Scruffy a big thumbs up as Patrick storms over and tries to pull the two apart. 

Scruffy waves as the crowd cheers for them, then collapses as soon as Julia lets them go. 

Caesar turns to Bonnie. “Thoughts, feelings?”

“Not many. I’m a little hungry,”

“Oh, God, me too. Those finger sandwiches are three parts air, I swear,” Caesar says. “Dinner tonight?"

"You're on. Maybe we can tag with O's crew and eat free,"

"I like the way you think," Caesar winks.

“Well, this has been Total Takes Action- The Aftermath. We’ll see you all soon for- what’s this?” Caesar presses an earpiece, and then bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God- no- really, you’re joking? You’re not?” he turns to the audience. “Chris McLean has been arrested and is currently in custody for illicit activities!”

The crowd cheers even louder, the big screen rolls down and displays a live newscast. Chris is being led from the Action set in handcuffs, Chef and the interns watching from behind a police barricade.

"You CANNOT do this to me! Do you know who I am?!" Chris shouts. "Chef- call my lawyer- call the producers- call my mom!"

"You should've remembered our anniversary,"

"CHEF!"

The police drag Chris into the back of their squad car while he screams. The wind picks up and his hair detaches itself, flying away in the breeze.

"MY TOUPEE!"

Chef rolls his eyes. A white van pulls up just as the cops slam the door of their cruiser on Chris, and a team of hazmat-suited scientists hop out of the back. The broadcast ends and turns back to the studio, where a blonde woman with a tight face reads off the happenings to new viewers. The monitor turns off.

Scruffy sits up from the floor and raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“No official reasons yet,” Caesar says. “In due time, I suppose. In the meantime, we’ll-”

An intern runs over to the host and hands him a letter. He huffs and opens it. “It’s from Scary. It just says “told you so”,”

Bonnie rolls their eyes. 

“Well… if this is the end of the show, I just wanna say I'm glad we met. I'd be nowhere without you guys,” O says.

The former contestants turn to each other with warm smiles. 

“And yet… this can’t be the end,” Scruffy interjects. “We haven’t had a musical season yet!”

“Woah, woah, let’s save that for the Gemmy’s,” Caesar chuckles. “We’re about out of air time, but… I want to say that it’s been a hell of a season, everyone! See you all soon!”

#tta #total takes action

[thelastofhyde]

chapter three ( the butterfly theory ) teaser ! coming 26th of july.

chapter synopsis. two seasons pass before joel’s very eyes and, without the presence of his sol, neither the spring nor the summer seem to heat his aching soul. what’s meant to be a simple drop off at bill and frank’s becomes a whirlwind of events that send you barrelling right back into joel’s arms, and all it takes is one horrified shriek: otis is missing! series masterlist.

warnings. no use of y/n ( reader has the nickname of sol ), pathetic longing from joel, discussions of child-loss and sa, a healthy dose of angst sprinkled with a few moments of fluff, one-bed trope but with a dumb attempt at putting a spin on the trope, kinda forced proximity, smut ( unprotected piv, nipple play, dom/dub dynamics, descriptions of anal sex, a brief mention of hunter/prey dynamics, joel overall just being a little feral over his sol ).

expected word count. 15k+

talking is limited.

instead, what fills it’s place is the sound of crunching leaves beneath heavy boots, and birds cawing and cooing in the trees above, and your insesant need to hum along to some melody playing in your head, distracting joel to a dangerous degree.

this distraction leads to a close encounter, one where it’s only your swallowed scream as you stumble closer to him in fear, body seeking out some form of protection- he can’t tell if you view him as a mere shield or a sworn knight prepared to draw his weapons and, frankly, he winds up too caught up in your hands gripping at his sides and your shaken figure melting against his own to care-, that clears the haze in his eyes and sets his sights straight, gun drawn and aimed directly at the infected creature running towards you both.

he misses his first shot- shaky hands, one he partially blames on your proximity and the adrenaline this brings- but makes up for it in his second one, shooting point blank range and sending the creature crumbling to the ground, a bullet-hole in its forehead.

you both wait a few minutes, listening out for anymore rustling, before joel deems things safe enough to continue and motions you with his head to follow.

from then on, you stick closer, alternating between walking a step or two ahead of him or a step or two behind. he keeps a grip on the gun, unwilling to reholster it, and wordlessly hands you a shiv he has, ignoring the way you seem to perfectly curl your fingers around the weapon and practice a perfect swinging motion, stabbing at the air with a deadly confidence joel’d never have imagined to associate you with.

it forces him to rethink everything he’s come to believe about you over the years, and requestion just how exactly you’d wound up under bill’s roof.

you interrupt his thoughts, the first to speak as always.

“if you don’t mind me asking-”

“i do.”

undeterred, you smile and push through with your probing. “who taught you to shoot?”

“my old man,” it takes him a few minutes to gruff it out. or maybe it’s a bit longer than a few minutes, the sun’s shine seeming a lot more dim from when you’d asked. you say nothing, however, don’t even gasp in surprise at his eventual answering. “dragged me out back to where he’d tied up our dog, poor thing’ad been sick for a while. told me we weren’t goin’ back in till i shot it. must’a stood there for hours.”

and that was that.

as much as joel had felt you wanting to say more, you’d dropped the subject- maybe you’d noticed the dullness in his voice or the way his grip on his gun had tightened- and he’d never been more grateful for your ability to read him, without him even needing to open his pages for you.

you make camp by nightfall.

#joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller series #joel miller angsts #joel miller fluff

[akaridream]

after dark pt. 5: handoff (hawks x reader)

tags: hawks x reader

cw: cursing, afab reader, hawks appetite for flirting is insatiable

taglist: @inkthgoat @pnsduck @animedreamworlds @melxdig @mizvaun @mysideeffectsofyou​ @thecityofspareparts @soleilandpeaches​ @theycallme-becky​​ @escapingjune @erissco​​ @chrisrue15​​

masterlist

Tuesday night’s surveillance was uneventful, other than your private entertainment. Hawks’ singing was goofy and over-the-top, all to elicit a reaction from you. Across town, his face lit up each time he heard your laughter. The music filled the silence between you like a good wingman. He even caught you humming to a few of your favorite tracks. But boy, was Hawks a hopeless flirt. Not that you minded.

Wednesday proceeded much the same, with you arriving at your office in the early afternoon to scour databases and police records for anything juicy. Your surveillance was again rather boring, so you played a few rounds of twenty questions. Hawks burned several questions by asking about you instead of the intended topic. Again, you didn’t mind. He was sincere in his attempts at learning you, and question by question, you let him into your life. He didn’t like to talk about himself much, but you listened intently when he did. Between Hawks’ laid-back personality and your penchant for a snappy comeback, you built rapport easily. It was like reconnecting with a long lost friend: something just clicked.

The day of the Trigger hand-off, you felt on edge from the start. A static in the air kept you from relaxing, even with lavender oil in your diffuser. Unsettled and annoyed, you had trouble focusing and took several breaks to pace around the small office, mindlessly drawing one of your feathers between your fingers. The sensation was nostalgic, a self-soothing mechanism you developed early in life, but it did little to ease your anxiety.

The clock finally made its way around to your scheduled surveillance time after dragging for the past few hours. A bundle of tense muscles, you connected your ear piece and began shutting down your office when your phone buzzed, displaying three hawk emojis as the contact name.

“Hey, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to head out. How’s it going at the Safety Commission?” you asked.

“I’m headed back there right now, but I spent a couple hours poking around earlier and figured I’d give you the update. I overheard Yamamoto on the phone, and he’s heading uptown to pick up the Trigger just before the hand-off to Officer Mori,” said Hawks.

“Hm, alright. Probably wants to minimize the time he has it in his possession.”

“Yeah, seems smart. What’s not smart is saying incriminating crap like that out loud when I’m around,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of tension easing. “Right? When will they learn? But I guess it makes more sense to speak over the phone, since texts leave behind evidence.”

“Damn, I didn’t even think about that. You sure you’re not a criminal too? You seem to know them inside and out.” Hawks joked.

“I went to school for this, remember bird brain?”

“All the more reason why you’d make a great hero! I could always make room for another sidekick.”

You snorted. “Never gonna happen.”

“You might learn to love it, and I’d be proud to have you by my side,” he said.

“As a sidekick or a side piece?”

He cracked up. “Oh damn! I’m not a player like that!”

“Can you imagine if the press got wind of ‘Wing Hero Hawks’ taking one of his sidekicks on a date? Sheesh, I’d never have privacy again,” you said.

“Hey now, I may be a chart topper, but I know how to handle private matters!” he rebutted.

“I can see the headlines now,” you continued. “Sooo many of your fans would be heartbroken to see you with a lady friend.”

“You are roasting me like a rotisserie chicken today! Am I gonna have to teach you some manners?” he asked in a dangerously sensual voice.

You blushed and bit your lip. “Easy, Lover Boy. We’re still on the job.”

“Ugh, fine,” he pouted.

The sun’s journey across the evening sky was agonizingly slow. Surveillance of normal activities was boring, and your nervous stomach was stealing your focus. Why the hell am I so anxious? It’s not like I haven’t done this kind of thing before. I’ve watched drug deals go down just a few feet from me, so why does this one feel different?

You each tailed your intended targets, only stopping for quick konbini dinner while the action was slow. Finally, Hawks followed Yamamoto to pick up the Trigger. You snacked on some chocolate crackers, silently watching Officer Mori give directions to a passerby.

“What are you eating?” he asked.

“Choco mochi. Want me to save you some?”

“Nah, I’ll grab something for myself later. You don’t usually snack though.”

“No I don’t, I’m trying to keep my stomach from turning inside out. Not sure they’re really helping to be honest.”

“You getting sick or something?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“No, just feeling… I don’t know, something about this has me kind of twisted up.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, angel. Once Mori and Yamamoto meet up, I’ll be right there with you.”

You chuckled and pocketed your snack. “You’re awfully sweet, Hawks. You’re making my teeth rot more than this chocolate.”

“Eh, I’m just soft on you, I guess. You’re like a little baby birdie and I have to make sure the flock is well taken care of, right?”

You grinned and held your cheek, growing warm. “I’m not a helpless baby, silly. Just a little anxious.”

“Oh, I know damn well you aren’t helpless. Offer still stands to become a sidekick, anytime you want.”

Hawks soared across the sky, sun long departed. City street lights sparkled beneath him as he raced over rooftops, just out of sight of the sidewalks below. His target had spent the past half hour in an alley bar and was heading to the nearby park to meet his supplier. Once there, Yamamoto sat on a bench, mindlessly scrolling on his phone and smoking a cigarette until a smartly dressed salaryman sat down next to him with a friendly greeting. Yamamoto offered him a cigarette, which he obliged.

“Dude’s name is Tanaka, and it sounds like they’ve known each other for a while,” Hawks said over your ear piece. “They’re just shooting the breeze and smoking.”

“You were right then, this supply link has been around for some time,” you replied.

The pair then took a casual stroll around the park and over to a side street. Tanaka popped the trunk of an old luxury car, revealing an inconspicuous briefcase inside. He handed it to Yamamoto, who pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and counted some out.

“Just right out in the open with all this, like they’re not doing anything wrong at all,” Hawks remarked.

“Acting like that draws less suspicion, I suppose.”

“Just bugs me how casual this all is. Looks like we’re headed your way now.”

You and the officer arrived at the riverside docks at 9:50 PM where you perched on top of a quiet warehouse to await your partner. Officer Mori had driven an unmarked police sedan and sat with all the lights off far from the main street. A black SUV, lights also off, pulled up right alongside the officer. You laid on your stomach at the edge of the roof and started snapping photos.

“Shouldn’t you be here? Your target just pulled up,” you said into your ear piece.

“Pulled up? Yamamoto’s on foot. Someone else is there?” he asked.

You zoomed in with your camera and two figures exited the black SUV. One had a feminine figure and black hair pulled into a bun, while the other was a substantially taller man, but with upright, dog-like ears and a prominent snout. Mori then got out of his police vehicle and gave a polite bow.

“Two new targets. One male, one female,” you whispered into your ear piece.

“Be there soon,” Hawks said.

Over the clicking shutter of your camera, your sharp ears could make out their conversation, even hundreds of yards away.

“Nice to meet you, Yamamoto has already told me you’ve been an instrumental help in community relations,” Officer Mori said.

“Yes, nice to meet you as well, Officer,” said the man with canine features. “Sorry to hear about the media firestorm, but it had to be done this time.”

“Oh yes, I understand,” More replied.

“Our boss was pretty pissed,” the woman chuckled. “But every now and then when the media catches wind of things, its good for the public to think we’re on top of things. Looks good for the police overall, even if you have to take part of the blame.”

“Why was your boss upset?” Mori asked. “It’s not like the media knew the PSC was involved in it.”

The woman crossed her arms proudly. “Thanks to us, of course! You have no idea the amount of phone calls and bribes we have to organize before we let the media go public with their stories.”

Mori laughed. “Hey, I’m sure all of our paychecks are well worth it.”

“Holy shit. Hawks, I think these people are from the Public Safety Commission,” you whispered, heart racing.

“You’re kidding! I’ll be there ASAP, we’re just around the corner.”

Your stomach clenched as the canine man looked over his shoulder, right in your direction. You snapped a photo of his face, clear and uninhibited even in the dim light. But one of his radar-like ears twitched. Can he hear the shutter? All the way down there?

A small rush of wind next to you made you tense, and Hawks lightly touched down beside you.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked, positioning snugly next to you on his stomach.

“Stay as quiet as possible. The dog guy might be able to hear us,” you warned.

Hawks eyes grew large and his head whipped to the group of people below. “Dog guy? Inumagi?”

He watched them with intense focus and sent a small feather floating on the wind in an attempt to hear their conversation for himself.

Yamamoto emerged from the shadows beside the warehouse. “Well well, look what the dog dragged in!” he said.

The trio laughed as Yamamoto approached them and friendly greetings were given. “How was Tanaka?” the canine man asked.

“Oh, mostly fine. He and his daughter had a bit of a fight. She wants to pursue art, he says medicine is a better choice, you get it,” Yamamoto replied.

“Ah, poor Tanaka,” said the woman. “I’d heard he wanted her to be a doctor. Perhaps she’ll change her mind.”

“They’re all so familiar with each other,” you breathed. Hawks hummed in response.

“Before I forget, of course,” Yamamoto said, handing over the briefcase.

“Yes, thank you,” Officer Mori said and took the case. You took a quick photo and the dog man’s eyes flicked in your direction. Shit, he really can hear it, you thought and placed your camera aside. “So, now that we’re all here,to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting Mr. Inumagi and Miss Ito?”

“Just a small chat on the matter of security,” Miss Ito said.

The canine man, Mr. Inumagi, cleared his throat. “Yes, we have reason to believe it’s been compromised. It could be nothing but we thought a briefing might be in order.”

Officer Mori crossed his arms. “I hope it’s nothing on the police’s end this time.”

“We don’t know much yet, but it certainly could be,” explained Miss Ito. “Someone has been accessing police documents this week, all with a pattern. Trigger-related incidents with PD employees and the chief have been searched for several times, and from a handful of different IP addresses. We’re hoping it’s nothing, but the IPs were masked, likely with a VPN. Not much reason for someone in Slovakia to be looking at Fukuoka police records.”

A painful lump formed in your throat. They must have their records flagged! Are we done for?

Hawks placed his hand on yours and gently squeezed, but his eyes remained fixed on the group below. You tried to keep your breathing steady as you listened intently.

Officer Mori chuckled with a nod. “Yes, very true. I’ll do some digging and see if anyone in the department has been poking around. I’ll let the chief know, too.”

“Good,” said Ito. “I understand you’re in the drug crimes division, but anyone looking into the matter independently should be discretely asked to let it go. There are bigger forces at work here than some rogue officer looking for their big break.”

“Of course, Miss. Understood,” Mori said.

“If you don’t have anyone own up to it, I wouldn’t worry too much,” said Inumagi. “I actually have a hunch at who is sticking their beak in where it doesn’t belong.”

Yamamoto lifted an eyebrow. “Oh really? That’s news to me.”

Inumagi nodded and placed his arms behind his back. “Indeed. In fact, if my nose can be trusted, our little spy is watching us right now. And he’s with a friend.”

Your black claws dug into Hawks’ hand. He instinctively flattened himself further against the warehouse roof. You bottom lip began to tremble.

“It’s no matter though,” Inumagi continued. “He’s essentially a pawn for the Commission. If he or his friend get in our way, we will deal with them accordingly.”

Officer Mori looked around. “Spy? I can’t afford to get exposed in the media again!”

“Don’t bother looking for him, Mori,” said Yamamoto. “You won’t spot him, especially at ground level. Anyway, we’re a government entity. If our little spy thinks we won’t get rid of him and anyone helping him just because he’s special, he is sorely mistaken. And we will make sure to extinguish anything the media tries to get away with.”

Officer Mori swallowed and nodded.

“Well, I think that about covers it here, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen?” Ito asked.

The group dispersed in good spirits and went their separate ways, but you and Hawks remained stone still. Even after the cars pulled away and were long gone, you stayed motionless. Your heart pounded erratically, panic searing through your mind. Your grip on each others’ hand did not relent. He could feel you shaking. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, but it did little to calm you.

Hawks took a deep breath and sighed. “Well… That sucks.”

You couldn’t find words. Your breaths came in strangled huffs. You had always been a predator. It was terrifying to be prey.

“It’s gonna be okay, angel,” Hawks said, gentleness in his voice.

Fear flooded you and tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You tore your hand away from his and stood, pacing around the roof. “How? They know you’re onto them, and they know you’re not alone. What the hell am I gonna do if they catch me? And what the hell are they gonna do to me?”

He eyed you, brows pitched upward in concern. “I know you’re scared, and you have every right to be,” he started. “But I can handle them. I promise you.”

“We can’t go against a government agency, plus the police too!” How the hell are we gonna get out of this?”

He stood and rushed to you, clutching your hands and bringing them to his chest. “Listen. I’ve dealt with this kind of shit before. Trust me, I-”

You shook your head. “This is way bigger than I thought it was. It’s the drug crimes division of the police, working with higher up’s at the PSC. These are people who know you and have authority over you! You can’t just out them and expect to get away with it!”

“No, I can’t,” he admitted, eyes begging you. “But I will find a way to navigate this. Please, just trust me.”

You tried to pull away from him, a tear escaping down your cheek. “I don’t know if I can trust you! I’m starting to think you knew far more than you were leading on!”

He held you close, brows furrowing but voice staying calm. “I promise you, we’re finding out all this together. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“How do I know you wouldn’t?” you cried, still pushing against him to create distance. “I’ve known you for a week and you’ve done nothing but try to charm me into believing everything you say! How do I know any of that is genuine?”

Hurt, Hawks grip on your hands grew painfully tight. “Stop it! Do you really think that? What could I possibly have to gain by lying to you?”

You trembled in his grasp. “I- I don’t know! But I can’t afford my business to come crashing to the ground! I’d be nothing without it!”

“I won’t let that happen! I won’t let them find you! I’ll protect you with my life!” he said, fire in his eyes.

“Your life?” you asked, marveling up at him. “How can you say that? You barely even know-”

“Because it’s my duty as a hero! The only reason I exist is to protect people! Especially when I’m the reason they’re in danger!” He pulled you against his muscled chest and cradled the back of your head.

“Please let me protect you,” he begged, nuzzling his cheek into your hair. You blinked, startled by the unexpected affection.

“I know you didn’t ask to get pulled into all this,” he whispered as he wrapped his wings around you. “And I know it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, angel. But I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

You blinked into his chest in stunned silence.

“It’s just- This is all happening so fast,” you whimpered, resting your forehead against his collarbone and breathing in his scent.

“I know, I know.” He gently stroked one of your wings. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed and leaned into him further.

“I-” you started. “Just… How do I know I can trust you?”

Hawks leaned back and tilted your jaw up to look at him. “It’s your decision whether to trust me or not, but just know that every word I’ve said to you has been from my heart. It’s funny really, there aren’t a lot of people I feel like I can truly be myself around. But almost immediately I knew we just understood each other. Or… Am I wrong about that?”

You gazed up at his gorgeous face, heart aching. “No, you’re- I mean, we do… But I’m scared, Hawks.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. “I know you are. But I promise, I won’t let a damn thing happen to you, angel. You have my word.”

Head spinning, you snuggled into his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. His wings enveloped you both, their supple fibers tickling your skin. He held you silently as you closed your eyes, willing your breathing to normalize. Fear and tension melted from your muscles. His touch was intoxicating and you drank deep. You were hopelessly, willingly, truly under his spell.

pt. 6: date

#hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #bnha hawks

[thebrownssociety]

Tweety really didn't know how he ended up in these situations. All he'd wanted to do was go to Downtown Toontown to do some shopping. Now he was being eyed up as some hungry cats dinner.

"Ooh, dere's a bad ol' puddy cat watchin' me." Tweety said, mainly out of habit.

The sales-girl looked concerned. "Do you want me to get security?" She indicated the tough-looking rat in the corner, who was smoking a cigarette.

Tweety smiled and shook his head. "I'ww be awwight." Heading out, it was no surprise to the young canary to be grabbed by a cat. Not in the mood to be jerked about, Tweety bit the cats thumb hard enough to draw ink and started to fly off while the cat was jumping about like he was on fire. The bird did a double-take when he recognised the young cat. "Juniow?"

Sylvester's son- the spitting image of his father - glared and sucked his thumb. "Who wants to know?" His eyes went wide when he recognised the bird. "Tweety? Oh, Tweety!" He grabbed the bird and hugged him tightly, while Tweety gasped for air. "I'm lost! And so hungry." The young cat said, pitifully.

Tweety rolled his eyes. "Yes, weww. You'we not eating me. What awe you even doing hewe? Whewe's youw fathew?" He looked around, aware that this might be a trick, but the lack of father-cat and the despairing look in Junior's eyes made him think this might not be the case.

With that the younger cat launched into his story. It seemed he'd been dragged against his will to a clothes shop to get a suit for the premier of 'Goldimouse And The Three Cats.' While there he and Sylvester Sr had had an argument, which had escalated quickly and Junior decided to make his father suffer by running away. He was intending to go back home, but instead of saying 'Uptown Toontown' to the bus driver he'd said 'Downtown Toontown' and here he was.

He'd been to afraid of the 'mean-looking' bus driver to ask for a ride back [and he didn't have the money anyway.] so figured he'd hang out Downtown until either his father turned up or he found some money. One of the two. Three hours later and he was hungry. Cue the situation...

"I see." Tweety said. "Weww, in that case we better get you home. Fowwow me." So led to the slightly strange sight of a bird leading a cat by the hand onto a bus and basically guarding him on the journey home. Tweety distracted Junior by playing I-Spy with him as well as quizzing him on all the times he'd outwitting his father. That was quite a long game that kept them entertained until the bus drove into Uptown Toontown's station.

Tweety caught sight of a familiar-looking set of pussycats outside the window and grinned. "Eh...Junior. I tawt I saw some puddycats...." At the bus station was a anxious-looking Sylvester who was pacing up and down, while his wife stood next to him, foot tapping and steam gently coming out her ears.

Junior lit up. "Father! Mother!" He didn't even wait for the bus to stop properly, teleporting himself outside and into their arms.

Tweety flew over and hovered next to the family. Eventually he was noticed by Sly, who glared at him. "What are you doing here, pipsqueak?"

"Father, Tweety saved me." Junior said, indignantly.

Both Sly and Sylvia looked alarmed, and Tweety quickly explained what had happened.

"Well." Sylvia said, warmly. "Thank you! You must come to dinner one night."

Tweety must have looked cautious, because Sylvia quickly added. "As a guest, not dinner."

The bird nodded. "Yes...that would be...nice." He smiled. Sylvia smiled back and took Junior by the hand leading him away.

Sly looked fondly after them, then turned back to Tweety. "Hey...listhen. Thanksth. For looking after him. Eh..." The older cat stuck his hand out.

Tweety laughed at the formality of it, but shook his hand anyway.

#looney tunes sylvester #Looney Tunes #Looney Tunes Tweety #Looney Tunes Fanfiction #sylvester and tweety

[onioneyez]

Hello to my several followers! I’m participating in @fandomtrumpshate this year, which means you can bid for the chance to get a custom work of art from me!

I’m offering one full-color painting for one of these three fandoms:

Good Omens

Our Flag Means Death

Sherlock Holmes (ACD or Granada)

Bidding starts March 1st and ends March 5th!

Below is the link to my auction page! (I can’t figure out how to make a word a link on mobile 😎)

The winning bidder will donate the amount of their bid to any charity from a long list of progressive causes, and in return you’ll get a print-ready digital painting from me!

And if my stuff doesn’t float your boat, be sure to browse the many other offerings this year! Might bid on a fanfic myself.

Details of my offering below the cut:

Highest rating: M (Mature)

Length/scope: A digital painting, either color or black and white, not exceeding 6”x9”, and up to 300dpi. $25+ for a full color painting featuring up to two characters against an abstract or minimally suggested background. $50+ for a full-color painting with up to three characters with a fully fleshed-out background.

Especially interested in:

I’m all for any lovey-dovey or sexy or hurt/comfort or sad or funny scenarios you can think of. I love painting faces best of all. I’m an ace at anatomy and likenesses if you need them (went to school for it) but I love bending the rules for fun shapes. I live for golden hour and playing with saturated colors and I have a special interest in funny scenarios or wacky action scenes. I love any and all AU’s, I love painting rumpled birds and smoke and water and if you let me paint a ghost I’ll throw it in for free.

For Good Omens:

I love me some ineffable husbands, whether it’s platonic or romantic or nasty. I adore both the book and the show.

For OFMD:

Stede and Ed are my fave pairing, though every face on this show is super interesting and paintable. Ed is also very very pretty.

For Holmes:

I used to be active on the Watsons_Woes lj, so any “poor Watson” type stuff I’m super into. Bonus: I will know what you’re talking about if you bring up something obscure from canon.

Unwilling to address: No non-con, no pregnancy, no marriage, no young babies, no watersports, no spit-related stuff (like drool) no animal death, no poop stuff, no Omegaverse, no furry-adjacent stuff, no underage stuff, no de-aging stuff, no slashing the actors that play the characters (I will draw the actors though if you want, just no lovey stuff).

Also please no cars, I can do them but I dread it.

For Good Omens:

No T or M rated ineffable bureaucracy please.

For OFMD: No Steddyhands or Blackhands please.

Notes: After you tell me what you’d like, I’ll give you three thumbnails (very rough sketches/ideas) to choose from. When you pick your favorite, I’ll use it to proceed with the final. I prefer to pick my own color scheme, but I’m open to requests and can send you color studies to choose from if you like. The painting will likely take me several months to complete, but when I’m done you’ll receive it in your preferred file type, at a size that is suitable for printing out if you so choose. If you want a specific size, please let me know before I start.

Special Interests: Canonically trans or nonbinary characters, Trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters

Minimum Bid: $25

Extra stuff!

If you’ve read this far, you deserve some examples of my work so you know if I’m what you’re after. My portfolio is mostly kids’ book covers and chapter illustrations but you’ll get the idea.

Here’s some examples of the $25+ tier of paintings (no/ minimal background):

Here’s some examples of full backgrounds ($50+):

And here’s a very old drawing I never finished to show I can do likenesses lol. (Keep in mind I’m not offering sketches, only full paintings):

#fandom trumps hate #fth 2023 #fandom trumps hate 2023 #good omens #good omens fanart #ofmd #ofmd fanart #acd holmes #granada holmes #ineffable husbands #sherlock holmes fanart #onioneyezart

[astral-express-family]

Bennett & Bianca birthday fic yippee!! ^-^

(Shhh ik it's basically midnight this is on-brand for me)

The sun streams through the window, forcing Bennett to open his eyes. He can already hear birds chirping, so he swings himself out of bed. For once, he doesn't fall out of his bed. He glances around, a bit surprised, before he changes into his usual outfit.

When he swings open the door, there's a figure on the couch. At the creaking door, the figure turns to face him. Dark green eyes, an upturned lip, white hair pulled into a ponytail...

"Bee?" he asks, confused. It does explain why he didn't fall out of bed. For the first time ever, he has his twin sister to share his birthday with. She smiles, a genuine one, and hops up from the couch. Her ponytail wisps back and forth as she approaches him. She pulls her twin brother into a hug, and Bennett squeezes her just as tightly. They pull apart, and Bennett's eyes sweep over her. She's dressed in her usual outfit, including the heeled boots. She has ditched the feather boa, interestingly enough, drawing attention to the necklace hanging loosely around her throat. She clears her throat and says, "What do you say we get our day started?"

Bennett smiles, claps his hands, and takes off through his house.

A chorus of "Happy birthday, kiddos!"s follow the twins through the house as they approach the dining room. Several of Bennett's dads sit around the table, chatting fondly. They all greet Bennett and Bianca fondly, laughing and clapping the twins on the back and ruffle their hair. Bianca huffs, but the fond smile on her face betrays her true feelings.

The small family sits and talks for about an hour, before there's a knock at the door. Before anyone can get up, somebody walks into the room. A familiar figure dressed in knee-length boots and shades of blue. She crosses her arms and leans on the wall, clearing her throat.

"Azzy!" Bennett exclaims excitedly, rushing over to embrace his adoptive sister. Bianca is close behind, and Aslia wraps her arms around her chosen siblings. She wishes them both a happy birthday genuinely, and then greets Bennett's dad before the three of them leave.

Bennett skips ahead, dragging Bianca right behind him. Aslia walks a bit behind them, a smile on rose face.

The day is spent running through the countryside, battling hilichurls and just generally having a good time. Even the usually harsh and closed-off Bianca is light, airy, and friendly. Everything goes well for the trio, and Aslia insists that the twins keep the loot. Every time Bennett finds something, he lights up like the sun that beats down upon them. Bianca giggles at that, socking her brother in the shoulder good-naturedly. Aslia rolls her eyes, smiling so wide it practically cracks rose face in half. Grass wisps around the twins' ankles as they run through it, pure and free. It brings a smile to Aslia's face, before ro jumps when Bennett playfully calls for rose to join them. And ro does, tackling Bianca into the grass. A smudge of dirt gets on her usually-pristine dress, but she just snorts and playfully shoves Aslia off of her. This somehow turns into the three siblings wrestling in the grass, rolling in the dirt and shoving each other.

As sun starts to dip lower in the sky, Aslia hops to her feet and brushed herself off. "We've gotta get back to town. C'mon, guys," she says. She holds out her hands, and each twin accepts one. Aslia pulls them both to their feet, before reaching up to pick a blade of grass out of Bennett's hair. Bennett blinks for a moment before saying, "Oh yeah, it is kinda late. Huh."

"And I am beginning to get hungry. Let us return to Mondstadt," Bianca adds.

They rush back to Mondstadt, making it back just as the sky starts to become painted in beautiful shades of pink and orange. Cyrus is seated at the bottom of the stairs to the Cat's Tail, and Katheryne is conspicuously absent from her usual post. Aslia calls, "Dad! We lost track of time, but we're back now!"

Cyrus stands up and greets them all fondly, hugging them one by one.

Bennett follows Cyrus and Aslia into the tavern, Bianca at his side.

"Happy birthday!"

A chorus of voices ring out the moment the twins cross the threshold of the tavern. Banners and hung all around, and large cakes are thrust into the field of vision of each twin. Lumine and Aether are holding the cakes, both smiling. Paimon pops a party popper, giggling as confetti rains onto the twins.

Wiping the confetti from his eyes, Bennett looks around the tavern. Diona is seated on top of the bar, waving. Fischl and Razor light up, both smiling and blowing a kiss Bennett's way. He doesn't see much else, though, because Marjorie runs over to squeeze him and his twin sister in a bone-crushing hug. She exclaims, "Happy birthday, you two!"

Bennett gets out a thank you, and Marjorie releases them with a small chuckle.

Bianca extricates herself and vanishes into the crowd, whilst a voice calls to Bennett from over at the bar. Kaeya is leaning there, raising a glass as he calls Bennett's name. The young adventurer beelines towards the knight, pausing to give Paimon a pat on the head and the Traveler siblings each a quick hug. As he draws closer he can see Diluc behind the counter. It's strange, seeing him behind this bar rather than that of the Angel's Share.

"Happy birthday, Benny," Kaeya chirps when Bennett draws near. Diluc echoes the sentiment, and so does a distracted Diona. She wanders off as Kaeya talks, Bennett listening intently. When arms wrap around his midsection from behind, he jumps. It's just Razor, though, so he relaxes. He continues his conversation with Kaeya, Diluc joining in as well.

Footsteps approach, and Bennett looks up. Surprisingly enough, he sees Katheryne standing before him. She offers him a small gift, and wishes him well. That explains why she wasn't at her stall. Huh, he'd never seen her outside of her little booth. Weird. Well, whatever. He thanks Katheryne warmly, and she ruffles his hair with a gentle smile.

There's talking, cake, and presents. Aslia is the last one to give a gift, claiming ro was "saving the best for last".

Ro gives each sibling an oddly-shaped wrapped package. Peeling back the paper, Bennett spots a small plush toy. Pulling it out fully, he sees it was obviously handcrafted. The stitches are messy in some places, but it was clearly made with great care. A small dog, with golden fabric and long, floppy ears. Bianca gets an owl, made with similar care.

"I hope you like them," Aslia murmurs, "I was working on them for a while."

Both twins launch themselves at her, wrapping her in the tightest hug they can.

This is the luckiest birthday of Bennett's life.

#selfship fanfiction #self ship fanfiction #familial selfship #familal self ship #familial selfshipping #familial self shipping #🔥⚔️ a blazing adventure | bennett #🍀🌑 a lucky adventure | bianca #s/i | aslia | genshin impact #not tagging everyone bc basically everyone's here lmao #💛❤️💜 brought together by fate 💜❤️💛

[tomtenadia]

Rowan week - Day 3 - Rowan’s birthday

Here I am with a quick one shot. I hope you’ll like it. Not my greatest work, but I wanted to celebrate the birthday of our Buzzard. I hope you will enjoy it.

1.4k words

CW: innuendos, very minimal smut

@rowaelinscourt

-----

HAPPY BIRD-DAY

Rowan was not bothered by birthdays. For him it was a day like any other. Maybe he really was an old grump but really could not grasp all the need to create a big hoopla about getting older.

His wife and kids had other ideas. He was turning forty and Aelin had told him that it was a big birthday and she was going to have a big celebration with their friends. She had told him to sit down and let her do the magic. She and Maya, their fifteen years old daughter, had been having secret meeting about the shindig they had been working on.

Aelin had woken him up in a very special way and that part of his birthday he had loved very much. To be honest he’d have more than loved to spend his day in bed with his wife, now, that was a celebration he could agree upon.

All morning they had come up with tasks to keep him busy and now he was relegated to the driveway to shovel the snow. It was January and during the night the sky had dumped a copious amount of snow, covering the path and the cars too. Aelin had told him that he could use his big muscles to clear the area in front of the house to facilitate the arrival of their friends.

It was a good hour later when in the distance he spotted Lorcan’s towering figure, accompanied by Elide and their two kids. Allison was the same age as his eldest, same for Aidan, Lysandra and Aedion’s first child. All the kids of the three couples were in the same age range and all good friends. 

“The wife relegated you to hard labour on your birthday? Been naughty?”

Rowan lifted a middle finger to his friend and Elide roared that there were kids about and they had to behave.

“Go inside, I am almost done.”

By the time he was done, most of the guest had arrived and Aelin popped outside on the porch. He walked up to her “Am I allowed in? My arse is freezing.”

Aelin grinned and moved closer and kissed him languidly, while her hands landed on his backside “we need to preserve that magnificent arse of yours…” another kiss “you can come back in my love.”

Once inside he saw the house decorated with green and silver balloons and decorations and in the living room a huge banner hang from side to side reading Happy birthday, Buzzard.

As he got in his five year old son Thomas and ten years old daughter Freyja ran to him to hug him at his knees “Happy birthday, dada.”

He kneeled down and kissed their heads “Thank you, kids.”

Aelin took his hand and pulled him on the armchair and pushed him down and placed a silly crown on his head “sit down, my king.”

Rowan looked up and a smirk spread on his face “Later,” she whispered in his ear, guessing what his expression meant.

One by one all their friends made their way to him to congratulate him on his big day. Lorcan and Gavriel joked that finally there was another old man in the club.

Before all hell broke loose, Aelin announced that food was ready and in that instant Lysandra and Maya helped her carry the food out “dad, I promise we have all savoury stuff, there is a cake but it’s for us regular human beings.”

He nodded at his daughter as a thank you and in that instant Thomas walked to him and claimed his attention, something that Rowan did not deny him. He picked up the boy and settled him on his lap “Dada, I made you a present.” The boy revealed a sheet of paper from behind his back. Rowan took it and realised it was a drawing of him with what looked  like a bird of some sort. At the bottom it read happy bird-day in a very shaky calligraphy. Rowan laughed hard and kissed his son “Tom, this is beautiful.”

“I did it all by me. Mama did not help.”

“I love it,” the boy grinned showing off his missing teeth.

Freyja followed next and presented him a green mug with dad written on that she had made in class “Thanks darling, I will take this to work and show off how good you are.”

Freyja grinned and went back playing with Aidan.

When all the presents were exchanged, Maya stepped up and as he looked at his wife, he saw her trying to stifle a laugh. Which meant she was involved, and all of a sudden he was afraid.

“Happy birthday, dad.” Maya almost burst out laughing in his face.

He grabbed the present and started opening it. A book, nothing wrong with it. Except that when he read the title he froze: Kamasutra for the elderly. Maya and Aelin burst out laughing.

“Show us! Show us!” The shout had come from Fenrys.

“Come on, Buzzard. Don’t be shy,” had added Aelin who had finally stopped laughing.

His brows turned in a frown and reluctantly he lifted the incriminated book.

All the adults in the room exploded in crazy laughs, apart from Fenrys who stood with a smug smile. Rowan did not miss that “Did you help her buying… this?”

The blonde man grinned “I asked your wife and she said it would be fun to ruffle your feathers. Maya wanted to give you a funny present.”

“Yes, dad, I know what it is about.” Added quickly Maya at her father’s dark frown.

Aelin walked to him and brushed his head “It’s a useful gift…”

“Hey, maybe Lorcan wants to borrow it…”

The dark haired man whipped his head at Fenrys and glared at him, while Elide patted his arm and giggled “well, we might find some good ideas.”

Lorcan sighed and promised to strangle Fenrys at a later date.

While the adults were laughing and talking, no one noticed Freyja, Marion, Isobel and Thomas who had grabbed the book and were sitting on the carpet flipping through the pages. The four wee ones were giggling, until a shout from Aidan shushed everyone. Lysandra bolted and grabbed the book from Thomas’ hands.

“Funny pictures,” said Isobel who was four. Aedion grabbed his daughter in his arms ���We’ll read a better book at home.”

“What’s the kamasutra?”

They had all forgotten that at ten Freyja could read, same for Marion.

“It’s a sport for people as old as your dad.” Replied Fenrys deadpanned.

Maya looked at her dad and mouthed an I am sorry but he nodded and she relaxed.

“Come on, old man, we better have that cake and put some sustenance in you if you want to be good at sports.” the joke had come from Fenrys, and in that instant his twin slapped the back of his neck “you should really be kept on a leash.”

Fenrys was about to reply but Aelin shouted at him to stop “Fen, do not say what you are about to say. There are kids and we have done enough damage.”

Later on that night, once the little ones were in bed and Maya in her room Aelin had ran upstairs and got changed very quickly changed in a black set of lingerie that she had bought with Lysandra. It was scandalous and was hoping to have her own personal celebration with her husband.

She lay in bed in a very sensual position, ready for him.

The door opened and finally saw Rowan in his shorts and at his expression of pure lust she felt heat rise in her.

“Ready for bed old man?”

He walked slowly and once on the bed crawled to his wife “I will show you who is an old man…”

His voice was almost a growl and Aelin pulled him to her “did you remember to stretch? I have a heavy session planned for us…” Rowan kissed her deeply and a loud moan left Aelin “are you sure you know what to do?” She grabbed the book abandoned on the nightstand but his hand took it at the same time and threw it on the floor. Then in a powerful move lifted Aelin in a seated position on his lap…

Aelin removed the bra part of her lingerie set and enjoyed the lust spreading on his features “Happy birthday, my love…”

#rowan week #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelinandrowan #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

WIP Wednesday Apr 26.23: Feathers, Flames and Wands

TW: Blood is mentioned under cut

 Quirks adapted to help the person who had it along side that. Hawks wasn’t sure if he’d originally always could lay eggs or if his Quirk just gave him that ability after he’d figured his identity out. He knew of a girl with a high powered telepathy Quirk who had lost her physical voice at age three who could project and read thoughts, unlike her mother who could barely get a glimpse of emotions. The girl only got her Quirk at age eight, making her a late bloomer. Brought on by her muteness they thought.

 For Hawks, he’d never gotten a period. Ever. Even though he hadn’t been on hormone blockers, he never had one. (The lack had been worry due to how much his body was affected by his mutation and bird tendencies. They wanted him to get a bit older to make sure he could handle T and to make sure his body was fine.) No, instead every few months he’d lay eggs. One to three. 

 The first time they’d all freaked. But Hawks felt he was a pro at it after almost a decade of doing it. He took the day off and got ready. Some light stretching down there, a warm bath, and just waiting.

 Though for some reason Hawks felt off. On edge. He kept looking around and fiddling with blankets. Arranging them into a circle, and adding pillows. Feeling an urge to order yakitori meat, to buy cigarettes or to get some sort of special shampoo. He didn’t get it.

 (He did. His mind was draw back to that night, to watching Dabi eat his yakitori as obscenely as possible, to tasting cigarette on lips while seeing the packs on a coffee table. His mind remembered the special dye shampoo in a bathroom and the rough skin of Dabi.)

 “Get a hold of yourself.” Hawks muttered to himself as he reached up to pinch his nose. “It was two weeks ago.” 

 Two weeks wanting to be back with Dabi. Wanting to be under or over or- 

 “I need water.” Hawks sighed. He moved to the kitchen to grab said water, wincing at the pain in his gut.

 It felt like a big one. Which sucked. Give him the smaller eggs that slid out easy. Hurt horribly but it wasn’t as bad as a big one.

 Hawks grabbed some painkillers to take as he waited, heading to the pseudo nest he’d made. He drank his water and settled in for a painful day. 

 It started around five in the evening, a hard pressure in his gut. It burned as he tried to push, stomach clenching. He could barely breathe. When he finally pushed it out, Hawks collapsed next to it, subconsciously wrapping himsef around it before passing out.

 When he woke up, the smell of blood was thick in the air. 

 “Fuck, must have been big,” Hawks muttered as he cracked his eyes open. It felt like it had been. The hero tenderly sat up before checking the egg unconsciously. He froze, eyes wide. It was very big.  About the size of an ostrich egg, white with gold flecks that seemed to be glowing. 

 Glowing. None of his other eggs had done that. And none of his others had been that big, or felt so warm.

 “Are… are you alive?” Hawks breathed.

 He had a feeling he was right. He didn’t know how long he stared at the egg until he snatched up his phone form the bedside next to him, calling the first number that came to mind. He needed help.

 “Hawks,” the scratchy voice of Ito came over the phone. “It is four fucking thirty in the morning. If you don’t have a reason I will use your feathers-“

 “The egg I laid is alive.”

 “… what?” 

 “I just had a baby. Kinda.”

 “… give me an hour.”

#bnha #bnha au #feathers flames and wands

[toournextadventure]

A lil bonus infor about the comic: the semi-transparent text in the second row (which is partially obscured by other panels) has a bit of Wednesday's internal monologue/response to thinking Bird is planning a murder. I can't remember exactly (i.e. word for word) what I wrote and it'd take, like, three minutes to check, but it's roughly as follows:

"She's going to get her fingerprints all over the crime scene. Does she even have the anger to take a life? I can't believe she didn't consult me first. And she's openly plotting out on the quad?" babygirl can't believe how many murder mistakes her gf is making lmao

It's hard to tell how many layers I actually used, considering each reference and section had their own layer, each of the crows has its own layer (even if it's just two drawings manipulated in different ways), and some panels were colored separately, but my program tagged the final layer as 70. I'd estimate there being maybe 25 active layers? If I merged them together in groups (all the panel lines in one layer, all the dialogue on another, etc) there would probably only be, like, 7.

I genuinely have no idea how long I actually spent on the comic, considering there was some multitasking, as well as a lot of it being done while I was Not Aware of the Passage of Time. I'd guess at least six hours of Working? but, like, mainly because this is not my usual format and I had to figure out how to do what I had in mind

PS I'm gonna be grinning like an idiot for a week, I am Loving this serotonin :D glad you like it!!! ❤️❤️❤️

-signed, your friendly neighborhood crow

Poor Wednesday, she's like "god she's so stupid, what an amateur, can't even plan a murder properly"

Bestie that is INSANE, you put so much hard work into it! God, that's absolutely amazing, you did so good! I still can't believe it, I've been looking at it all evening, you should be so proud! AND it's not your usual format? Stunning, beautiful, amazing, jaw droppingly gorgeous

Here, as a thank you, I drew a picture for you too. It's us holding hands inside a heart because I appreciate you and all the hard work you put into that lil comic :)

#answered #your friendly neighbourhood crow

[wonderfulspectacularthings]

Memoirs of a Twenty-Something Post-Apocalyptic Scavenger

1

The chill in my bones woke me before I heard the dead approaching my camp. I groaned loudly trying to undo the damage done by sleeping on a frozen picnic table.

"Day 189," I thought out loud.

I began packing up my small campground before the first birds began singing. It was still dark, but by some miracle, the puny fire I had made the night before was still crackling. Typically, I preferred to go without fire, so as not to draw attention to myself. However, in the middle of a particularly icy winter, this was not a choice. I thought back to the days of sitting in front of the tv with my dad, watching endless reruns of "Wilderness Men" and "21 Days Alone: Survival". Yeah, the shows were all bullshit, but my dad would be yelling at the tv as if he were an expert survivalist.

"Stupid. Dumbass. Well, you're fucked now, idiot," my dad would bristle.

"You know this is all fake, right," I would question.

"Well he's really lucky if that's the case"

My dad was a hunter, so I'd be lying if I said he knew nothing about survival. He had to, or else getting lost in the woods could become a death sentence. The shows were bullshit, but they did have important survival facts. My dad and those bullshit tv shows were just about my only source of information on what the fuck I was doing out here. Oh, and I was also a Girl Scout for about three months in the first-grade, but arts & crafts won't get you very far in the apocalypse. The truth is, I was alone and I was almost constantly flying by the seat of my pants. I didn't really kn-

-THWACK-

A branch to the left of me cracked under the weight of what I could only assume was the dead.

-Thwack thwack-

Two more crunches still to my left. I needed to leave- quickly. I shoved the last of my shit into my book bag and made my way to the right. Avoiding as much dead as I possibly could. That was how I had made it this long. My complete avoidance of any and all conflict- amongst the living and the dead. The world had fallen to ashes and I didn't intend on going up in flames. I wasn't much of a runner in the beginning, and to be honest I'm still not much of one now. I had always been more of a hider. However, thanks to a lack of food in the apocalypse I had lost about thirty pounds and without all that extra weight I had been able to move a little quicker. I tiptoed further away from my camp, only to hear a snarl coming from my right side. First thought, run. Second thought, no don't do that you idiot. I snapped to life, grabbing my dad's favorite hunting knife. One stab through the eye, and the zombie was down. I cringed as I placed on boot on his head for leverage and yanked my treasure back out of his skull... taking the eyeball with it. Gross. I wasn't squeamish, but living in the apocalypse could be a little... repugnant at times. I did not enjoy that. I made my way through the dense woodlands and scurried in the opposite direction of the dead.

This isn't a story about some kickass, warrior girl chick. This is just my life now, and I can't believe I've lasted this long.

I traveled down the side of an overgrown highway still hidden in the woods. I couldn't be seen by any threats. I had quickly come to find that the only thing more dangerous than the dead was the living. I avoided those who were alive like the plague that was the dead... maybe even a little more fiercely. I had lost track of where my social anxiety ended and my survival instincts began- they might've just been the same thing. I looked at the endless road ahead of me. I had no destination in mind, but I figured I'd maybe come across an old pileup and find some supplies.

Hours passed, and I still saw nothing in front of me aside from open road. I wrapped my jacket around myself a little tighter. The sun was high in the sky, so it was as warm as it would get for the day. I was still a popsicle,

"This is hell," I trekked onward.

One more hour flew by, and finally, restitution. I saw a cluster of abandoned cars and readied my knife. I was sure that there would be at least a few zombified drivers and passengers strapped into their cars. As I came upon the wreckage I scanned for any people-dead or alive. It was common for those who were alive to use these situations and turn them into traps. It was just as common for one of the dead to come up and try to take a chunk out of someone. It seemed pretty deserted, but still I kept my guard up.

It was intimidating being out here all alone, but I had been alone from the start. I was used to it by now. My dad passed alway about ten months before the shit hit the fan. He was ill, a complication from years of chemotherapy. One day he got pneumonia, the next day he went into a coma, one more day after that he was gone. In a way I was happy he went before all of this. I knew either way he would've passed on from the frequent illness or trying to protect me. However, those ten months in between his death and the death of the world were like a fever-induced night terror. I didn't do much of anything honestly. Most days I sat on the couch and watched reruns of survival shows. Every once in a while I would look over at his recliner to make a remark and remember that he was dead. It was like that for a long time.

"Aggression," the scientist began, "can be expressed in a multitude of ways. Watch for physical attacks such as biting or scratching. If you or anyone you know has been bitten avoid contact, and if possible go to the nearest hospital."

Internally, I groaned. This did not sound like your normal flu outbreak. Holy shit this didn't even sound like something they would've said during the plague. I panicked- hard. Immediately I began running around the house essentially packing a Bug-Out Bag like a doomsday prepper. I mean... I was bugging out, but little did I know I was prepping for doomsday. I grabbed my old high school backpack that was covered in cats- it would have to do. In the bag I threw an assload of medications my frail body took every day; inhaler, leftover antibiotics, ibuprofen, and others. I made sure to also toss in a makeshift first-aid kit. My next items were less well thought out. I made sure to grab a few non-perishables, but damn if cans aren't super fucking heavy. As I thought about how heavy my bag already was I realized I wasn't halfway through packing,

"WATER," I exclaimed to myself, "pretty important, Amelia".

I gathered two or three water bottles and tossed them in. I thought about my dad's gun cache and then suddenly remembered I knew nothing about shooting. Plus, those things were damn heavy. I had no business participating in the apocalypse. Still, it wouldn't be terrible to have one hand gun on me... I could practice. I made sure to grab the right ammo and quickly locked the other guns up in the safe. It would be better if they didn't fall into the wrong hands. Quickly, I sprinted out of the garage and into my dad's room... my sanctuary. This was the place where I felt the most safe. I looked through his drawers: socks, socks, more socks, big underwear, lube...

"Oh Jesus Christ," I grimaced uncomfortable with the product in his drawers.

Back at the dresser I finally found my prize. My dad's favorite hunting knife. It was also a utility tool, so it would be perfect for the current situation. He had always used it from when I was young all the way up until his last trip, about two years prior. I smiled, remembering the time he had told me why he refused to get a new one,

"Amy, this knife is older than you," he began.

"Okay, my point exactly. Don't you think it's time for something new?" I rebutted.

"No that's not the point at all. New is crap. Everything made nowadays breaks in one or two years. I've had this thing since 1983, it's never going to break," he finished.

It was perfect for the end of the world if that was true. For my own sake I really hoped it was. I grabbed the knife and it's little holster strapping it to my pants,

"Okay, okay important stuff only," I thought pacing around my house.

After my fifth loop around the fortress I walked by the fridge and stopped at an old picture. It was one of me, dad, and our old cat Ripley. I snatched it quickly folding the photo in half and shoving it into a small section of the bag. Suddenly it dawned on me... underwear would be useful. I cringed at the thought of survival movies where people just acted like nothing was wrong wearing the same outfit for months. Maybe they eventually just went commando. My bag was beginning to get full.

-SMACK-

I was jerked out of my thoughts by one of the dead slamming his or her head into the window over and over again. Spotting me, a tasty morsel. I sighed and looked around at the rest of the cars seeing if there were any that weren't... occupied. I spotted a red crossover a few cars down with its trunk already slightly ajar. I readied my knife and opened it,

"Please don't be picked over. Please don't be picked over," I repeated to myself hopeful.

The trunk's hydraulics kicked in and it sprung open to life. As it opened I readied myself for an attack from and eager zombie, but nothing came. I let out the breath I had been holding and began scavenging through the items in the trunk. Baby clothes- I cringed, but was pleased to see that there wasn't a zombified baby in front of me. I continued on my search hopeful to find some food. As I dug through items I stuck useful ones in my bag and left the rest behind. I did this from car to car pleased to find out that most were in fact not cleaned out. I found food, water, and some better clothes to protect me from the cold. After I finished scavenging I moved onward. I decided against setting up camp so close to the wreckage. I figured I was only asking for company. I continued marching on down the highway until I stopped in front of a small gas station. As I peered in through the dirty windows I saw that it had been emptied. I could only assume a few straggling zombies were lurking in there and thanked whoever closed the door behind them.

There was one lone car parked around the side of the building. I quickly scanned it and saw that it was empty. I tried the handle- locked. Cursing I thought of any other way to open the door without breaking a window. I wanted to keep as much cold out as possible. Finally, I reached my hand under the car above the driver's side tire. Bingo! I smiled to myself as I swung the keys around in my hand and carefully unlocked the door. It wasn't much warmer, but it felt nice to be out of the wind. Finally relaxing for the first time that day I lowered myself into the seat and reclined back a little. I rifled through my backpack and found dinner.

"Mm beans with bacon," I groaned out distastefully, "my favorite".

Prying the can open with my utility knife I dug in and finished my meal in about five minutes. It was less than satisfactory, but it wasn't starvation. I rustled through my bag and pulled out an old book. My dad's bible. It was in tatters, and I had come to terms with the fact that one day I would probably lose it or have it taken from me, but until then I would enjoy it while I had it. In all honesty, the Bible was a heap of shit to me. It all felt too patriarchal and made up, but it was my father's favorite book as shown by its use. It was actually the last item I packed in my bag that first day.

I had completed about ten more loops around my house before I felt like I was finished packing. I walked to the bathroom last. In the bathroom I found tampons, my toothbrush, and some toothpaste. The last thing I wanted was to look like George Washington. I saw out of the corner of my eye my dad's old bible. I laughed- he didn't do much reading except for when he was on the toilet. I couldn't leave it behind. I shoved it into my now full backpack and headed out of the bathroom after quickly using it. Hey, who knew when the next time I would use a toilet would be? I then made my way out to the garage and climbed into the old truck. The remaining space I had in the truck was crammed with extra supplies, but honestly I had no idea how long this thing could even drive for. I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I was leaving my house for what would probably be the last time. Unless my anxiety was just taking over and it wasn't actually the end of the world... but we all know how that turned out.

I flipped through the pages of his bible finding his favorite verses marked by pressed flowers I had picked him as a child. As I flipped through the pages I found the folded picture I had stolen off of my fridge so long ago and smiled. I didn't really remember the day it was taken, but I knew it was probably a good one. Eventually, I decided to put my things away and try to get some sleep and I pulled my cover out of my bag. It didn't take long for the exhaustion to settle in and for me to fall into a dreamless sleep. Tomorrow was a new day.

#zombie #survival #post apocalypse #post apocalyptic #this is self indulgent #Amelia x Rory #memoirs #zombie apocalypse #original short story #original character #it me #zombies

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

Man, it’s like- Sometimes, I get too caught up in everything bad in the world, all the Sadness and pain that people are experiencing, or just the fact that in the same moment in which I am typing away on my phone, terribly bored and sad, someone is dying, crying, going through something so much more terrible.

But then. I hang out with my friends and we laugh at a very stupid joke. Someone tells me I made their day better by being Nice to them. I see a pretty flower and it smells good.

I see the sun setting, the moon barely visible in the sky, the evening is warm and I’m smelling like smoke bc I had a bbq with my family. I make a child smile. My favourite song plays, my best friend texts me.

Someone hugs me and plays with my hair, my sister says she’s proud of me and sees me as her idol. Someone tells me my singing is Nice, I hit a high note in a song where I wasn’t able to before.

My linework is cleaned in my drawing, I get an amazing story idea, I bake something that tastes good and share with my friends and it makes them smile.

Someone listens to me ramble about my favourite book/show, or just asks me how my day was, a stranger compliments my outfit. I see a chonky bird, I drink a Nice cup of tea.

I finish an annoying and hard assignment, get a good grade from a test, I eat a homegrown grape or a strawberry. I convince my mom to go to a coffee shop and just talk for two hours.

I buy really good ice cream, hug my favourite plushie, take a fucking amazing shower, a cat lets me pet it. My English teacher compliments my writing.

My Dad takes me to a hockey match, watches my favourite show with me, I swing on the swing set, I finish a great hike.

I order good food and it arrives earlier than it said it would, I manage to throw a corny pun. Someone tells me they like talking to me. My hair looks Nice, I don’t feel dysphoric, I wear a dress.

I manage to catch a great stream live, I find the BEST fanfic, I watch a wonderful animatic. My favourite youtuber posts a new video, my roomie and I have a deep talk.

I figure out what brand of deodorant I like to use, my friend gives me a hug and I make them laugh. My bread dough rises the way it should, I drink water at three in the morning, someone reccomends a song that I fall in love with.

The love of my life says they can’t wait to meet me, they promise it will be soon. I understand a particularly difficult topic in school. I wear a comfortable hoodie, buy a skirt.

My back doesn’t hurt, my friend asks me to go out, I finaly get that one achievement in my favourite game. I like the face and clothes of the character I just drew, I stim so hard I get out of breath.

Someone gives me a gift, the bus driver knows which stop I’m getting off at, I paint my nails. Someone comments on my fanfic, someone reblogs my Tumblr post.

I win a Mario Kart game, I make a good pasta, I remember a funny situation. I breathe fresh air, I see a funky rock. My roommate brings me water, my mom makes me breakfast.

My sister plays so well on her guitar. I will play the piano once more someday. I get home after a long week. I call with my love.

Life is so full of beautiful things. Even if it hurts, it’s worth it. I’m not saying the stupid ‘it will get better’ bulshit.

No, I am saying that you deserve to be alive, despite everyone who tries to make you think otherwise. You deserve to see the pretty flowers, you deserve good food, long hugs, friends who adore you, family that has your back.

Every Single good thing on this earth is here for you. For you to see, to smell, to hear, to laugh, to love, to LIVE. Just. Don’t forget that, please. You matter. Even if you think you don’t.

You matter to the cat you pass every morning on your way to work, you matter to neighbour you helped with their groceries, you matter to the child who smiled at you. You matter to your friends, even if you don’t have many of them. You matter to your family, biological or not.

The good things are here for you, but you are also one of the good things to so many other people. Hey, I love you. Even if only one person sees this, I love you. You deserve the world.

Stay in it and it will come to you.

#eerie’s feelings #so many feelings #mental health #i love y'all #life is beautiful #don’t cut it short #even if you don’t see the point #there doesn’t need to be a big reason #just stay a bit longer because you like drinking tea #stay a bit longer because you just bought a Nice perfume #because you want to pet a cat #hear a song #see a flower #just #look for the little things #you will get through this

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tta finale (alt)

“Last time, on Total Takes Action: our final three competed in an all-out, extra dramatic laser tag challenge with a few… twists. Alliances were formed, friendships were broken, and it was Peter who took the fall to give Scruffy a chance at the finale. With just one exciting challenge left, I’m sure you’re all wondering who will win- and there’s only one way to find out: right here, right now, on Total! Takes! Action!”

The sky is clear and blue, the pigeons are cooing, and the smell of breakfast sausage is filling the air as Scruffy and O wait in a very short line for their complementary “final two breakfast” in the craft services tent. 

Chef heaps a few sausages, eggs, and waffles on each plate and shoos the players off, both of which immediately gravitate towards the opposite ends of the picnic table and eat in silence. Scruffy paces around their end of the table, swiping forks, knives, and spoons, just in case. O draws a little smiley face on his plate with syrup. 

---

O: “Well… this is it,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Today’s the big day,”

---

O: “I can’t believe how far I made it,”

---

SCRUFFY: “I can’t believe how far O made it,”

---

O: “I’m not exactly winning material… but then again, neither is Scruffy,”

---

SCRUFFY: “He’s a big softie. Not nearly as well-trained, unless you count psychology- but then again, I’m an expert at that, too. He’s just gone to- ugh- “therapy”. Who has therapy helped?”

---

O: “I’m thinking that once I get back, winnings or not, I might cancel my sessions with Dr. Anderson. I feel like… I don’t know. Pathologizing my problems has made them worse, somehow. Maybe it’s time to try a different approach. The… Scruffy approach, I guess,”

---

SCRUFFY: “Still, I can’t help but wonder if all of this dedication- all the hours I’ve spent rewatching the original show, all my community college classes, all my reading and training- has really helped me get here. I’ve been missing an obvious pattern. If only I could figure out what that is…”

---

 O looks up from his syrup smile and waves at Scruffy. “Hey, bro. Good luck today,”

Scruffy blinks. “Um… okay,”

“Attention, campers! Your final challenge starts in five minutes out by the trailers. Time to bring your A-Game!”

---

Scruffy and O stand an arm’s length apart as Chris paces between them, humming to himself. “You’ve lived. You’ve loved. You’ve laughed. And most importantly, you’ve lost. Today is the final test of strength, wits, smarts and endurance- both of you will enter, but only one will emerge a hero. And with a big fat check,” Chris chuckles. 

“Today’s final challenge is a multi-part rendezvous across the set. You will start here and make your way through the city,” 

Scruffy immediately jumps into a running stance, ready to take off. 

Chris grins. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The first leg of your race to the finish line was inspired by your very first challenge here- the birdocalypse. Thousands of territorial birds are having their afternoon nap on the city set. Wake them up, and you might have a problem,” he goes on. “After that, you’ll make your way through a ghost-filled maze, inspired by the video game and period flick challenges. Once you’re out, you’ll run the final stretch to Lot B- a functional studio next door. The first to arrive wins the prize. Ready?”

Scruffy and O exchange nervous glances. 

“Go!”

The two don't run, but awkwardly walk off in the same direction, as if taking a pleasant afternoon stroll. 

O’s eyes drift over to Scruffy and he winces. 

---

O: “Is it weird to ask them for advice? I feel like it’s weird, but…”

---

“Hey, dude,” O says, looking over. “I know we’re competing and all, but-”

“Shh!” Scruffy interrupts him, holding a finger to their lips. They point ahead, where a black mass is covering the city set- it’s almost like an oil spill, but instead of the viscous glimmering liquid, it’s hundreds of sleeping crows. 

Scruffy goes first while O hangs back, looking ahead nervously. The former moves through the set, stepping over birds on the road and ducking under birds on the street signs and lamps. They delicately step, roll, and skip through the set with expert agility while O watches on. 

---

SCRUFFY: “This isn't so hard! Just a little yoga moves and some spatial awareness. Maybe I haven’t lost my zing after all!”

---

Scruffy reaches the other side and turns to wave at O- in a clearly taunting way. O crosses his arms and glares. 

---

O: “Yeah- no chance of friends there,”

---

Scruffy reaches the mouth of the maze and chuckles. “Easy. Is this all you got, Chris?”

Chris rolls his eyes and pulls out a large remote. His thumb hovers over the big red button on the surface for a few moments, taunting Scruffy, before he slams it and the maze lifts off the ground and begins rotating on a large metal plate. 

Scruffy watches the ground disappear beneath them and sighs. 

---

SCRUFFY: “WHY would I say that? That’s the easiest mistake to avoid on this show!”

---

Back on the city set, O tip-toes over the birds, nearly stumbling over each one. He’s breathing heavily, and almost falls over at least ten times. 

But, he reaches the end and sighs before jogging off. O reaches the entrance of the rotating maze and gawks at it. 

“Yeahhhh,” Chris grins. “Don’t worry, though, we’re prepared for this.”

Chef wheels out a canon. 

---

Scruffy wanders through the maze, dizzy and unbalanced as it spins around itself. They’re about as green as their hair, but still pressing on nonetheless. 

---

SCRUFFY: “I’ve been trying to improve my gag reflex since island. I’m usually pretty good, but I have… a thing about other people getting sick in front of me. As long as that doesn’t happen, I’m set,”

---

O’s screams echo, growing closer and closer before he slams into the concrete of the maze behind Scruffy, leaving a hole in the ceiling. He coughs. 

“Don’t throw up!” Scruffy shouts. 

O stands, rubbing his head. “Wasn’t gonna. Don’t worry, man, I’ll leave you be,”

Scruffy nods and the two run in opposite directions. 

---

O: “I get it! Scruffy has nothing to get from me, so why would I bother them?”

---

Scruffy steps through the maze, scratching their head as it spins. “This isn’t good. I’m all turned around,”

Chris’ voice blares over the intercom: “That’s the point, Total Drama Genius!”

They sigh and hold onto the wall while stumbling along. The maze suddenly lurches and begins turning in the opposite direction, sending Scruffy tumbling to the ground. They groan and sit up against the wall. “It’s hopeless. I keep lying to myself and telling myself I can do this, but I can’t! I don’t know what I’m doing,” they turn to the camera. “I’m sorry, Jules.”

---

O walks along, faring much better than Scruffy. A light breeze tussles his hair and he turns to where it’s coming from- and just around that corner, a beam of sunlight filters through. He grins and jogs forward. 

As he rounds the corner and sees the exit, though, he hears a loud cry. The sound of Scruffy’s wailing carries through the maze, and it stops O in his tracks. 

He hesitates. 

---

O: “I know I shouldn’t go back. I mean, what if it’s a trap? What if Scruffy is just trying to get my help and then dump me after? But…” he sighs. “I’m not like them. I’m a nice person, and there’s nothing weak about that.”

---

O turns and jogs off into the dark. 

---

Scruffy, curled into a ball on the floor, cries in anguish. 

“Hey? Dude?” 

They whimper loudly. O sits down next to them and sighs. 

“Listen, I’m not gonna try to fix your problems, ‘cause I know that’s not what you like,” O says. “But you should know that… well, you don’t have to win this. You’re not a weak person for not being mean and conniving like the people who get far on this show…”

“But I want to be!” they whimper, eyes full of tears. “I want to be Heather!”

“But you’re not… Heather,” O looks around awkwardly. “You shouldn’t want to be, either?”

“I’ve been studying this show since primary, I’ve taken all the classes, done all the research, trained to perfection- why am I so bad at this?”

O pats Scruffy’s shoulder. “You’re not. You’re good.”

“But not like you. You didn’t even try and you made it to the same exact spot I got to! I don’t get it. Were you a pawn? A twist villain I didn’t see coming?” Scruffy rocks back and forth. 

O raises an eyebrow. “Um… no… I don’t know, man, I’m just nice,”

“You can’t win just by being nice, I mean, that’s… that’s improbable! The nicest contestants always get got!” Scruffy says. “I’m nice! I’m not mean!”

“Yeah, man, but you’re kinda… uh, you know… you’re not the easiest to be around,”

Scruffy’s eyes water again. “Wh-what do you mean?”

O sucks in his breath through his teeth. “You’re… kind of intense, dude. All you talk about is the show, and, I mean… you’ve got some serious walls up, man,”

“I-I do not! Ask Jules, she’ll tell you! Julia knows!”

“Saying that one of the meanest contestants on the show knows you more than anyone is… not great, Scruffy. Haven’t you made any other friends?”

“Haven’t you?”

O frowns. “I guess not. But… I mean… I dunno,”

“When you say you’re nice, all I hear is that you’re a pushover. You let people use you!” Scruffy says, crossing their arms. “I’m not like that! I don’t like being pushed around!”

“Says the guy who went nuts cause they thought a girl would like them more if they won some dumb game show,”

“Says the guy who hasn’t had a single steady friendship since the show started!”

“Says the guy who needs to impress everyone with how great they are!”

“Says the guy who does the same thing, Dr. O!”

Both huff and turn away from each other. The intercom crackles to life and Chris’ voice sounds slightly peeved. “Hey, guys, this heart-to-heart has been great, but you are IN A CHALLENGE! Now get to it!”

The maze suddenly starts spinning faster, throwing Scruffy and O to opposite sides of the hall they were seated in. Each grab on to a corner of the black walling and hold on for dear life as they’re thrown around like they’re getting flushed down a toilet. 

“I- can’t- hold- on!” O shouts. 

“Take my hand!” Scruffy throws out an arm as O flies off the wall, catching him just in the nick of time. “Maybe I can be… nice after all!”

O smiles gratefully and nods. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two fashion makeshift ice picks out of the forks Scruffy had swiped from the craft services tent and rake their way up the wall as the maze spins even faster. 

“This way!” O instructs, retracing his earlier steps to the exit of the maze. The two reach the door and look to the ground below, where only a tiny kiddie pool was left to break their fall. 

“Ready?” O shouts. 

Scruffy nods. “On the count of three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

The two hold hands as they jump, both screaming and flailing their free arms until they land in the shallow pool below. 

“We… we made it!” Scruffy shouts with glee as O coughs up a mouthful of water behind them. “We did it together!”

O stands. “We did, didn’t we? Together,” O puts an arm over Scruffy’s shoulder. “No strings attached.”

“No expectations,”

“No value!”

Scruffy nods. “Let’s wing this,”

The two start off on the final track, throwing the doors of a large set building open and running through it, approaching a final set of double doors. 

“Hey,” Scruffy jogs up to O. “May the best man win, right?”

O salutes them. “May the best man win!”

---

“And that’s the story of how I lost my first tooth,” Staci says. “And no one ever found the hammer.”

Caesar massages his temples. “Another fascinating story from Staci. Anyone else have something to add?”

Luckily, before someone else can add on, Bonnie runs on stage. Caesar sighs with relief. “Bonnie, here to save the day again! What’s the news?”

“They’re coming!”

Caesar squeals, and the peanut gallery turns to the double doors backstage in anticipation. “Can we get a countdown?”

“Five!” Ass and Courtney both lean forward, then notice each other and glare. 

“Four!” Sha-Mod and McLovin are busy giving each other crudely drawn stick ‘n poke tattoos of each other’s faces. 

“Three!” Julia shoves Patrick out of her face when he gets to close. 

“Two!” Mal blows a gum bubble and texts something on her phone. 

“One!” Bonnie takes a seat and Caesar puts a hand on their shoulder. 

The doors burst open, and Scruffy runs in. 

“The winner of Total Takes Action, everyone!” Caesar shouts. “Scruffy!”

A shower of confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling and the crowd cheers. Julia stands and runs to the doors, hugging Scruffy. “I missed you!”

O jogs in behind them, breathing heavily. He notices Scruffy and Julia and gives the former a thumbs up. The peanut gallery continues whooping and cheering as Patrick storms over and pull the two apart. 

“What a season, what a cast!” Caesar says. “And here’s our runner up, O!”

O waves as the crowd cheers for him, then collapses. A select group from the peanut gallery- Michela, Peter, Kelly, and Al- run to help him off the floor and into the stands.

"You did well," Michela says.

Peter grins. "You did awesome!"

"Even though I didn't win?"

"Hey, man, you have integrity. That's what counts," Michela continues. "Dinner tonight, on us?"

O smiles. "Deal,"

Caesar turns to Bonnie. “Thoughts, feelings?”

“Not many. I’m a little hungry,”

“Oh, God, me too. Those finger sandwiches are three parts air, I swear,” Caesar says. 

“Uh, hello? SCRUFFY WON!” Julia shouts. 

“Oh, right,” Caesar says. “Scruffy, do you want a sandwich?”

He grins as Julia huffs. 

“Well, this has been Total Takes Action- The Aftermath. We’ll see you all soon for- what’s this?” Caesar presses an earpiece, and then bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God- no- really, you’re joking? You’re not?” he turns to the audience. “Chris McLean has been arrested and is currently in custody for illicit activities!”

The crowd cheers even louder, the big screen rolls down and displays a live newscast. Chris is being led from the Action set in handcuffs, Chef and the interns watching from behind a police barricade.

"You CANNOT do this to me! Do you know who I am?!" Chris shouts. "Chef- call my lawyer- call the producers- call my mom!"

"You should've remembered our anniversary,"

"CHEF!"

The police drag Chris into the back of their squad car while he screams. The wind picks up and his hair detaches itself, flying away in the breeze.

"MY TOUPEE!"

Chef rolls his eyes. A white van pulls up just as the cops slam the door of their cruiser on Chris, and a team of hazmat-suited scientists hop out of the back. The broadcast ends and turns back to the studio, where a blonde woman with a tight face reads off the happenings to new viewers. The monitor turns off.

Scruffy raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“No official reasons yet,” Caesar says. “In due time, I suppose. In the meantime, we’ll-”

An intern runs over to the host and hands him a letter. He huffs and opens it. “It’s from Scary. It just says “told you so”,”

Bonnie rolls their eyes. 

“Well… all I have to say is that if this was the last time we got to be together, I’m glad we met,” Scruffy says. “I love you guys.”

The former contestants turn to each other with warm smiles. 

“And yet… this can’t be the end,” Scruffy says. “We haven’t had a musical season yet!”

“Woah, woah, let’s save that for the Gemmy’s,” Caesar chuckles. “We’re about out of air time, but… I want to say that it’s been a hell of a season, everyone! See you all soon!”

#tta #total takes action

[foodandfolklore]

The Grimm Variations, Episode 3

A new Netflix Anime has caught my eye. It's Called the Grimm Variations; which feature retellings of Original Brothers Grimm fairytales. But rather be a beat for beat, they are more reimagined. A "What If" kind of thing. I figured I'd share the original Fairytales these stories are based on for those interested.

The third episode is where things really got interesting for me. If you have no seen the show yet, the retell the Story of Cinderella. One of the most well known Fairytales to ever exist. However, they come at it from a different way that I quite liked. What if Cinderella was a massive manipulator, and made everyone around her think her step family was terrible? I think that's a fantastic spin on the story for modern times, as Narcissism and Manipulation is being talked about more.

But for those curious, here is the original Brother's Grimm story (In English of Course) It's quite different from the Disney Version. There is no Fairy Godmother, and the built up relationship is over a few days rather than a few hours. It's well known that the step sisters cut of parts of their feet to fit into the lost slipper, but the Prince set a trap to cause Cinderella to lose her shoe in the first place. Oh and her Father never dies; he's just cool with how his daughter is being treated.

Cinderella

There was once a rich man whose wife lay sick, and when she felt her end drawing near she called to her only daughter to come near her bed, and said, "Dear child, be pious and good, and God will always take care of you, and I will look down upon you from heaven, and will be with you." And then she closed her eyes and expired. The maiden went every day to her mother's grave and wept, and was always pious and good. When the winter came the snow covered the grave with a white covering, and when the sun came in the early spring and melted it away, the man took to himself another wife.

The new wife brought two daughters home with her, and they were beautiful and fair in appearance, but at heart were, black and ugly. And then began very evil times for the poor step-daughter. "Is the stupid creature to sit in the same room with us?" said they; "those who eat food must earn it. Out upon her for a kitchen-maid!" They took away her pretty dresses, and put on her an old grey kirtle, and gave her wooden shoes to wear. "Just look now at the proud princess, how she is decked out!" cried they laughing, and then they sent her into the kitchen. There she was obliged to do heavy work from morning to night, get up early in the morning, draw water, make the fires, cook, and wash. Besides that, the sisters did their utmost to torment her, mocking her, and strewing peas and lentils among the ashes, and setting her to pick them up. In the evenings, when she was quite tired out with her hard day's work, she had no bed to lie on, but was obliged to rest on the hearth among the cinders. And as she always looked dusty and dirty, they named her Cinderella.

It happened one day that the father went to the fair, and he asked his two step-daughters what he should bring back for them. "Fine clothes!" said one. "Pearls and jewels!" said the other. "But what will you have, Cinderella?" said he. "The first twig, father, that strikes against your hat on the way home; that is what I should like you to bring me." So he bought for the two step-daughters fine clothes, pearls, and jewels, and on his way back, as he rode through a green lane, a hazel-twig struck against his hat; and he broke it off and carried it home with him. And when he reached home he gave to the step-daughters what they had wished for, and to Cinderella he gave the hazel-twig. She thanked him, and went to her mother's grave, and planted this twig there, weeping so bitterly that the tears fell upon it and watered it, and it flourished and became a fine tree. Cinderella went to see it three times a day, and wept and prayed, and each time a white bird rose up from the tree, and if she uttered any wish the bird brought her whatever she had wished for.

Now if came to pass that the king ordained a festival that should last for three days, and to which all the beautiful young women of that country were bidden, so that the king's son might choose a bride from among them. When the two stepdaughters heard that they too were bidden to appear, they felt very pleased, and they called Cinderella, and said, "Comb our hair, brush our shoes, and make our buckles fast, we are going to the wedding feast at the king's castle." Cinderella, when she heard this, could not help crying, for she too would have liked to go to the dance, and she begged her step-mother to allow her. "What, you Cinderella!" said she, "in all your dust and dirt, you want to go to the festival! you that have no dress and no shoes! you want to dance!" But as she persisted in asking, at last the step-mother said, "I have strewed a dish-full of lentils in the ashes, and if you can pick them all up again in two hours you may go with us." Then the maiden went to the backdoor that led into the garden, and called out, "O gentle doves, O turtle-doves, And all the birds that be, The lentils that in ashes lie Come and pick up for me!

The good must be put in the dish, The bad you may eat if you wish."

Then there came to the kitchen-window two white doves, and after them some turtle-doves, and at last a crowd of all the birds under heaven, chirping and fluttering, and they alighted among the ashes; and the doves nodded with their heads, and began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and then all the others began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and put all the good grains into the dish. Before an hour was over all was done, and they flew away. Then the maiden brought the dish to her step-mother, feeling joyful, and thinking that now she should go to the feast; but the step-mother said, "No, Cinderella, you have no proper clothes, and you do not know how to dance, and you would be laughed at!" And when Cinderella cried for disappointment, she added, "If you can pick two dishes full of lentils out of the ashes, nice and clean, you shall go with us," thinking to herself, "for that is not possible." When she had strewed two dishes full of lentils among the ashes the maiden went through the backdoor into the garden, and cried, "O gentle doves, O turtle-doves, And all the birds that be, The lentils that in ashes lie Come and pick up for me!

The good must be put in the dish, The bad you may eat if you wish."

So there came to the kitchen-window two white doves, and then some turtle-doves, and at last a crowd of all the other birds under heaven, chirping and fluttering, and they alighted among the ashes, and the doves nodded with their heads and began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and then all the others began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and put all the good grains into the dish. And before half-an-hour was over it was all done, and they flew away. Then the maiden took the dishes to the stepmother, feeling joyful, and thinking that now she should go with them to the feast; but she said "All this is of no good to you; you cannot come with us, for you have no proper clothes, and cannot dance; you would put us to shame." Then she turned her back on poor Cinderella, and made haste to set out with her two proud daughters.

And as there was no one left in the house, Cinderella went to her mother's grave, under the hazel bush, and cried,

"Little tree, little tree, shake over me, That silver and gold may come down and cover me."

Then the bird threw down a dress of gold and silver, and a pair of slippers embroidered with silk and silver. , And in all haste she put on the dress and went to the festival. But her step-mother and sisters did not know her, and thought she must be a foreign princess, she looked so beautiful in her golden dress. Of Cinderella they never thought at all, and supposed that she was sitting at home, arid picking the lentils out of the ashes. The King's son came to meet her, and took her by the hand and danced with her, and he refused to stand up with any one else, so that he might not be obliged to let go her hand; and when any one came to claim it he answered, "She is my partner."

And when the evening came she wanted to go home, but the prince said he would go with her to take care of her, for he wanted to see where the beautiful maiden lived. But she escaped him, and jumped up into the pigeon-house. Then the prince waited until the father came, and told him the strange maiden had jumped into the pigeon-house. The father thought to himself, "It cannot surely be Cinderella," and called for axes and hatchets, and had the pigeon-house cut down, but there was no one in it. And when they entered the house there sat Cinderella in her dirty clothes among the cinders, and a little oil-lamp burnt dimly in the chimney; for Cinderella had been very quick, and had jumped out of the pigeon-house again, and had run to the hazel bush; and there she had taken off her beautiful dress and had laid it on the grave, and the bird had carried it away again, and then she had put on her little gray kirtle again, and had sat down in. the kitchen among the cinders.

The next day, when the festival began anew, and the parents and step-sisters had gone to it, Cinderella went to the hazel bush and cried,

"Little tree, little tree, shake over me, That silver and gold may come down and cover me."

Then the bird cast down a still more splendid dress than on the day before. And when she appeared in it among the guests every one was astonished at her beauty. The prince had been waiting until she came, and he took her hand and danced with her alone. And when any one else came to invite her he said, "She is my partner." And when the evening came she wanted to go home, and the prince followed her, for he wanted to see to what house she belonged; but she broke away from him, and ran into the garden at the back of the house. There stood a fine large tree, bearing splendid pears; she leapt as lightly as a squirrel among the branches, and the prince did not know what had become of her. So he waited until the father came, and then he told him that the strange maiden had rushed from him, and that he thought she had gone up into the pear-tree. The father thought to himself, "It cannot surely be Cinderella," and called for an axe, and felled the tree, but there was no one in it. And when they went into the kitchen there sat Cinderella among the cinders, as usual, for she had got down the other side of the tree, and had taken back her beautiful clothes to the bird on the hazel bush, and had put on her old grey kirtle again.

On the third day, when the parents and the step-children had set off, Cinderella went again to her mother's grave, and said to the tree,

"Little tree, little tree, shake over me, That silver and gold may come down and cover me."

Then the bird cast down a dress, the like of which had never been seen for splendour and brilliancy, and slippers that were of gold. And when she appeared in this dress at the feast nobody knew what to say for wonderment. The prince danced with her alone, and if any one else asked her he answered, "She is my partner."

And when it was evening Cinderella wanted to go home, and the prince was about to go with her, when she ran past him so quickly that he could not follow her. But he had laid a plan, and had caused all the steps to be spread with pitch, so that as she rushed down them the left shoe of the maiden remained sticking in it. The prince picked it up, and saw that it was of gold, and very small and slender. The next morning he went to the father and told him that none should be his bride save the one whose foot the golden shoe should fit. Then the two sisters were very glad, because they had pretty feet. The eldest went to her room to try on the shoe, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her great toe into it, for the shoe was too small; then her mother handed her a knife, and said, "Cut the toe off, for when you are queen you will never have to go on foot." So the girl cut her toe off, squeezed her foot into the shoe, concealed the pain, and went down to the prince. Then he took her with him on his horse as his bride, and rode off. They had to pass by the grave, and there sat the two pigeons on the hazel bush, and cried,

"There they go, there they go! There is blood on her shoe; The shoe is too small, Not the right bride at all!"

Then the prince looked at her shoe, and saw the blood flowing. And he turned his horse round and took the false bride home again, saying she was not the right one, and that the other sister must try on the shoe. So she went into her room to do so, and got her toes comfortably in, but her heel was too large. Then her mother handed her the knife, saying, "Cut a piece off your heel; when you are queen you will never have to go on foot." So the girl cut a piece off her heel, and thrust her foot into the shoe, concealed the pain, and went down to the prince, who took his bride before him on his horse and rode off. When they passed by the hazel bush the two pigeons sat there and cried,

"There they go, there they go! There is blood on her shoe; The shoe is too small, Not the right bride at all!"

Then the prince looked at her foot, and saw how the blood was flowing from the shoe, and staining the white stocking. And he turned his horse round and brought the false bride home again. "This is not the right one," said he, "have you no other daughter?" - "No," said the man, "only my dead wife left behind her a little stunted Cinderella; it is impossible that she can be the bride." But the King's son ordered her to be sent for, but the mother said, "Oh no! she is much too dirty, I could not let her be seen." But he would have her fetched, and so Cinderella had to appear. First she washed her face and hands quite clean, and went in and curtseyed to the prince, who held out to her the golden shoe. Then she sat down on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and slipped it into the golden one, which fitted it perfectly. And when she stood up, and the prince looked in her face, he knew again the beautiful maiden that had danced with him, and he cried, "This is the right bride!" The step-mother and the two sisters were thunderstruck, and grew pale with anger; but he put Cinderella before him on his horse and rode off. And as they passed the hazel bush, the two white pigeons cried,

"There they go, there they go! No blood on her shoe; The shoe's not too small, The right bride is she after all."

And when they had thus cried, they came flying after and perched on Cinderella's shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and so remained.

And when her wedding with the prince was appointed to be held the false sisters came, hoping to curry favour, and to take part in the festivities. So as the bridal procession went to the church, the eldest walked on the right side and the younger on the left, and the pigeons picked out an eye of each of them. And as they returned the elder was on the left side and the younger on the right, and the pigeons picked out the other eye of each of them. And so they were condemned to go blind for the rest of their days because of their wickedness and falsehood.

#food and folklore #fairytale #folktale #folklore #brothers grimm #grimm variations #cinderella #classics #fairytales #witch #dark fairytale