#the fear of losing everything you have to a fire is like top 3 of the things that scare me the most

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Summary: Seeing a familiar face but different person. A person you once loved.

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

P.s: I don't know how to feel about this chapter,im sorry that the update is slow but i believe in quality over quantity <3 enjoy spiders!

Today have been moving so fast,first you found out how Gwen got here as you follow Miles after he left the party to catch up on Gwen. The only reason you follow him was because you promised mama Rio.

(Flashback)

You watch as Miles walk away from the party down to the fire escape stairs standing beside mama Rio. You can sense her restless and worry feeling for her own son as you remembered how much Miles wanted to leave from here,to see somewhere new,spread his wings.

“It’s okay mama Rio,you know how Miles is, he'll be alright”You hold her hand try to reassure her. mama Rio sigh turning her head looking at you with a worry expression.

“I know he is but…I’m scared of him wanting to grow up so fast, you both are just teens my dear”She held both of your shoulder turning you to face her,firm grasp on your shoulders she says “Promise me dear…when me and Jeff are not around…promise me you keep him safe,look out for him”

You put your hand on one of her palm and nod your head “Promise,mama”

(End flashback)

How much are you willing to protect him? Your best friend? Currently you held a strong grip on his arm as you watch this Spider-man…with a name Miguel O'Hara is threatening to keep Miles him here in this spider club house thing. Because he is an anomaly…and Miguel also want to keep you here because you’re supposed…to die.

“Because of you Miles,she was supposed to die!”You were destined to die at the collider…when you’re trying to help your mentor,Peter Parker. At the hand of the Prowler,uncle Aaron.  The canon event for your mentor is to lose his uncle Ben…to lose you,his pupil.  

To know you’re supposed to die is like a punch in the guts… you feel sick in the stomach to know you’re not supposed to survive or even breath another day.

Currently you held Miles behind you shielding him from Miguel as he try to destroy the barrier that have been made from the big spider machine that transport any anomaly back to their original dimension. You stare wide eyes at Miguel who is trying his best to stop you both,to see this man trying to tear apart the barrier. Fear grips around you. Suddenly the machine finish its job making both of you float and transported back to your home…or so you though.  

“Aaahhh!!” you  screamed as you are transported into the portal moving so fast it spit out both spiders out on top of a rooftop,the rain pouring down makes everything slippery as you and Miles rolled and slide through the concrete. You and Miles are slightly injured after getting kicked,slammed and thrown around like a rag doll by other spiders. You prop yourself up on your elbow shaking your head slightly, your ears ringing your visions are double as you try to locate where Miles is. “M-miles…?”your visions focus to see him his mask off breathing heavily trying to slow down his heart as he lean back to the wall,hundreds of thoughts running through his head before he stands up “I need to get back home!”He runs and jump from the rooftop swing himself away.

“Miles! Wait!”You stand up try to catch up to him but the pain on your left leg makes you limping before swing your web following him. Miles keep on swinging as fast as he can to his house,to find his dad,his mom. You follow behind him trying to get his attention from doing anything irrational.

Miles stick outside of the wall of his room opening the window and went inside, his heart racing as he take in deep breaths. You swing towards the window and you yelped as you landed on your injured leg holding yourself up on the wall, just as you climb in you heard the knob to the door turn you reach for anything nearby to cover your suit,a sweater. You grip the sweater together tightly trying your best to cover your suit.

The door to the room open slightly follow by a voice, “Miles?”

 You and Miles look at the door, to see his mom holding a laundry basket in her other hand,she look at her son.Rio look confuse to see her son but Miles desperate voice make her even worried.

“Mom..there is something coming for us,somethin terrible”Miles says

“Miles you’re talking crazy whats going on?”Rio walk closer to her son her eyes keep darting towards you.

Miles continue “His name is Spot…he is our nemesis, and we gonna stop him. I know you know…we been lying to you,it’s because that I knew…you won’t love me the same. You won’t look at (N/N) the same way too. Then I went out there and..now im not afraid of anything”

“What do you wanna tell me?”Rio ask her son.

“You gotta promise nothing’s gonna change mom”

“Papa I will always love you”

“You gotta promise”Miles desperately says

“Always,I don’t care what you said,Tu me tiendes?”Rio walks closer to him and hold one of his hand trying to reasure her son.

Miles pull away from her before he turn to the side readying himself to do this, he sigh “Mom” and pull the zip down turning to his mom. “I'm spider-man”he pull his jacket apart showing his mom his spider suit. “A-and (Y/N) is also the spider-man/spider-woman”

Rio just look at her son in confusion before she ask “W-Who’s Spider-man?”

You frown slightly as you are witnessing everything unfold,surely everyone in Brooklyn knows who you guys are. Every news and thousands of video on YouTube telling the world about the spider duo shoving the information to every.single.person.

“And who is (Y/N)?”she ask again tilting her head slightly looking at her son.

The moment she ask that you are stun,your eyes widened again looking through the window,are you hearing this right?. You blink a few times before, keeping your eyes at the familiar woman in front of you yet something in your gut is telling you she is not the same woman who would give you hug and kiss your forehead.

she let out a chuckle before giving his son a small smile “Miles you been keeping a secret of having a partner from me hm?”she turns to walk out of the room with the laundry basket in her hand.

Your spider sense goes off as you watch this woman who look exactly like your mama Rio,your brows knitted together watching Miles run out of his room following his ‘mom’ to the living room trying his best to explain.

You stuck at your spot,with your thoughts run haywire at what is happening,why she doesn’t remember you?, why she acts like you never met?, why does her aura feel different?

You shake your head,you need to focus. You keep watching as Miles is talking to his ‘mom’ before both of your attention drawn to the sound of a door knob unlocking at the main entrance of the house.

You press yourself closer peeking through the window still confuse while Miles seems to figure out what is happening looking scared at the door.

The door open to reveal, Aaron Davis. Miles supposedly dead uncle “U-uncle Aaron?” Miles mumble looking at the familiar figure walking through the door. Your eyes widen seeing the familiar figure walk infront of the open door, Uncle Aaron?. Your eyes darted to Miles,he look like he is seeing a ghost from the past then it all click in your head. You are in a different place, a place with no Spider-man to protect, a completely different dimension…you’re in a dimension of where the spider that bit Miles originally came from. Earth-42.

“Oh my god…”you mumble to yourself pressing yourself to the wall looking up at the sky mumbling “Shit…shit,shit”

You gulp as the anxious feeling and fear grip your throat like a choke hold. How in the hell you and Miles are going to get out of this? You see Uncle Aaron push Miles away slightly making a comment about him taking out his braids?

Miles turning his head making eye contact,you can see It in his eyes. He is scared. He turn his head to his uncle following him out of the house climbing up the stairs.

You crawl up the wall following them as in your head is screaming something is wrong,everything is. Both of you are in danger. You pull yourself up hiding behind the many scraps and metal on top of the rooftop keeping an eyes on Miles. As you walk further to the front your eyes looking around the place before you discover something even more heart breaking…on the wall Is a graffiti Of Jefferson Davis with a writing of ‘Rest in Power’.

Your heart starting to beat faster fear grips you fully, your head snap towards Miles just to see him got knocked out falling straight to the floor.

“Miles!”you jumped out from where you hide swinging your web to his body to pull him to you, to run. But your web got cut by a flashing purple,whatever it is that thing is fast. You ready yourself shooting out both of your web at it but the thing catches it pulling you to it before your head is punch with something metal. Your body flew back but you got yourself on your knee shaking your head to get rid of the ringing in your ears. You push forward charging at where its standing over Miles but suddenly something stinging comes from the back of your neck you hiss reaching your hand to pull whatever it is. It’s a fucking sleeping dart, shit you though to yourself but you try to walk to Miles body but you starting to see double and everything is swaying from side to side. You fall to your hand and knees fighting the urge to pass out.

The figure came closer to you kneeling down to your level lifting your head by gripping your chin to look at the purple Mask before a distorted voice says “duerme, arañita”your head slips from his hand landing on the floor pass out.

Uncle Aaron walk towards the two limp body before saying “A fierce one ay?”picking up Miles body and moves to the other one.

“No,I’ll take this one”the figure says before move to pick the limp body slinging it over his shoulder and walk towards the hideout. Aaron shrug and follows them inside.

(Timeskip a few hours later)

You blink as you slowly gaining conscious, you try to move your hands but it stop by a chain that is hanging you up on the ceiling making your feet hover a few inches off the ground. You struggle in your bind hopping it to lose or break but of course,it didn’t. You try to press on to your web shooter but to find nothing is on your wrist, shit they take your web shooter.  

“Dont even try, little spider”You snap your head to the figure who is wearing a neon mask that illuminates in the darkness. The figure walks closer to you,he walks slowly around you taking in the details of what you are. You are the same as the other one,a spider.

“What did you do to Miles”you hiss out through your teeth trying to look intimidating at the figure,the figure let out a whistle as he stands infront of you. “Calm down,heh it’s not that you can do anything without your web no?”He reply with a clear smug.

“I can take you down just fine with or without the web”you glare at the mask,the stupid neon mask that is mocking you. “Maybe you open that stupid mask of yours so I can fuck your face up like a pulp”

The guy chuckle before saying “You first little spider”he reaches his hand on top of your head gripping your mask. You try to move away your head but its useless as the figure rip your mask off revealing your face glaring at him.

Him on the other hand,didn’t expect to see such face staring back at him. The fire in your eyes staring right into his soul, it sparks something in him. He take a good look of how your lips are shaped,how your hair framing your face. He is stunned,shame that you,re with ‘him’.

“Open yours,what you’re scared now?”you taunting him when you see him just staring at you. The guy chuckle before he open his mask looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Miles…?”

(To be continued…)

yall can come and start a riot on me

Tag list:

@valovesyou @thymom696969 @k-koichi-i @stuckinaoaktree @lovefks @cookieswithay @gayschlatt69 @collaps3r @marrymezombie @ruruisasimp @madz-rulez @mikeikax @libra207 @sakura-onesan @jasontoddsfavoritechair @shyflover-9 @heylosers06 @pturnersblog @randomhumans-blog @keylozinzazane @ok-boke @corpsebridenightamare @kurheahea @ivorycrow19 @anitatvd @hana-yuri @syuriaf @weasleybuns @bluebear142077 @agustdeeyaa @horandog1993 @friendly-reject @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dodoshona @notahappystan @aspenreadsfanfic @bluevenus19

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales #prowler miles

[archie-sunshine]

Sorry if this is a bit long I got carried away, your stuff is pretty inspiring.

Buuuuut imagine-

Ratchet getting tired of the back and forth. The obvious flirting from Wing, and the oblivious jealousy from Drift. He decides to do something about it.

He invites Wing into the hab one night and they end up cornering Drift. He ends up agreeing to a threesome. (Though he's half convinced that Wing’s just trying to show him up in front of his Ratty. He's determined to come out on top this time.) 

Ratchet thinks a threesome is a good idea because yes, it'd be hot. BUT ALSO- what he's got planned might finally convince Drift that he isn't gonna run off with an even crazier hippie than what he's already got, (he likes Drift for Drift damnit. All of him, even the ugly. If only the kid would believe it) and maybe if they team up on him he might realize that Wing is flirting with him. 

Wing thinks it's a great idea because Primus has blessed him this day, he gets to Frag his hot ex with his hot ex's hot conjux? Maybe even with some bullying I mean training to top it off? Yes please.

When the time finally comes Drift has half a mind to back out, because he recognized that look on Wings face. Except his stubbornness has kicked in something fierce, and he can't back down now, he's got something to prove. Besides, he's convinced that they would just frag without him if he left now (they wouldn't, they're here for him whether he sees it or not)

Of course his intuition proved correct, when after Wing had wrestled him down to the birth (despite Drift trying his best to get on top the smaller arena and fear of breaking something put him at a disadvantage), and had gotten his panels open he didn't lay into him like what Drift expected. Instead Ratchet started giving explicit instructions from his favorite chair.

His favorite watching chair.

Wing follows each and every one perfectly. Even when it means bringing Drift to the edge again, and again, and again. (And how does that bastard have so much stamina, isn't this driving him crazy too?!) He loses track of time, track of how many times he's been brought to the edge and back. It feels like an eternity. His array is throbbing, everything burns like sweet fire in time with each spin of his overflowing spark, and it hurts he's become so sensitive. The safe word is right there, but he can't back down. He won't back down. But dammit all to the pit! Ratty is never this mean when it's just the two of them. 

Something about watching Drift with Wing has brought out something evil in his conjux, and he's starting crying with desperate overstimulation, and his knot has become so obvious between his legs, and it's humiliating. It's just like with Rodimus in the training room all over again except-

Except when he looks over Ratchet isn't ignoring him, isn't even looking at Wing at all. Even as he gives each new order. He's looking at Drift. Tracking his every move, every change in expression, the brightening flare of Ratchet's optics timed perfectly to another delayed overload. Gripping his spike hard but barely anything more. Not even self servicing he's too focused on Drift. Like Drift’s the only one in the room. Like Wing isn't even there. 

It's too much. When Drift finally overloads he's knocked into a reboot. He wakes up just in time to feel Wing reach his own desperate overload, as his old mentor chants his name like a prayer.

so this- hrhhgh. this ask inspired me very much actually.

anyways here you gooooooo please enjoyyyy this comic i whipped up <3<3<3<3<3

the imagery of wing repeating drift's name was really important to me actually.

#archie answers #my art #my requests #mtmte #valveplug #drift #ratchet #wing #driftwing #dratchet #dratchwing #/nsfw #/nsft #lemon #dacryphilia

[readyplayerhobi]

Knife's Edge | Epilogue

; Mafia!Jungkook x Reader, Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, mild angst

; Word Count: 3.6k

; Synopsis: The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an  unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

; A/N: Recent interest in this series again has inspired me to finally write an epilogue - it's just fluffy nonsense, honestly. But I hope you enjoy it either way! Thank you for all the love on this series!

Previous Chapter

-

Five Years Later

Humming quietly, you carefully take the baby foxglove out of its pot and place it into the hole you've dug. The dirt is soft and malleable - not too hard to dig, but not borderline mud, either. The plant looks tiny compared to some of the giants surrounding it, but you know this little one will grow taller than them all.

It might not be much now, but in a few months, it will be a few feet high and blossoming with delicate purple blossoms, the petals sighing down to the ground. Beautiful flowers that will hide a dark secret - foxgloves are as deadly as they are pretty.

That wasn't why you were planting it, though. You just thought they were pretty, the reason why you'd planted everything in the extensive garden of your home. The mansion Jungkook lived in, and now you, was huge and the gardens were equally so.

Neither of his parents had ever cared what the gardens looked like, so they'd just hired landscapers and gardeners to care for it. But when you'd married Jungkook and officially moved in, you'd asked if you could take over the garden beds. It was a new passion you'd discovered over the months leading up to your wedding - hours spent knelt in the dirt in between your classes and exams.

Unlike people, plants weren't judging. They didn't care what you'd done, or what you thought and they had no opinions of you. They just existed, and they were happy to get the attention.

It probably wasn't too healthy, but you'd used the plants as therapy. Hours upon hours had been spent with you whispering all your secrets to them, your hopes and dreams and fears and regrets being woven into their leaves as they grew. A real therapist would've been more helpful, but what kind of therapist would be able to help someone like you?

They'd have to be Clan approved, which in turn would mean you couldn't possibly tell them what you really thought. No one knew why Jungkook and you had suddenly had a rift so deep that he'd refused to see you for weeks. And everyone knew that something bad had happened - Jungkook was, and still is, infamous in the Clan for his weak spot for you.

Anything you told a therapist would be spread throughout the Clan like wildfire, the winds of gossip spreading the fires of rumour faster and higher than you could hope to outrun. The whole Clan would know that you'd cheated on Jungkook, that you'd betrayed him in the worst way a woman could in the Clan. On top of that, everyone would know that Jungkook had overlooked it - that he'd opted to forgive you for your transgression and love you still.

You'd be vilified for being unfaithful, and he'd lose all respect from the Clan he now ruled. 

No, you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. A secret you would take to your grave, with only 3 people aware of it outside of yourself. And none of them had any interest in it getting out.

Still, you hadn't wanted the ghost of unsaid anger and resentment haunting your relationship, so you'd done a lot of research into therapy. It’s not as good as going to an actual, qualified therapist, but it's better than nothing. Plus, you can only imagine the judgment if people find out Jungkook had been attending therapy - the backwards views of the Clan would have them screaming that he wasn't fit to lead if he was going to therapy of all things.

So you watched videos and you read things, until you had a basic understanding of how to navigate things. Jungkook and you talked things out instead of keeping secrets, you let him know if you were feeling lonely or sad and he let you know if he was feeling overwhelmed or unhappy. Some things you'd improvised yourself, all in the name of making sure you both communicated.

If there was an argument, then you would both write down why you were angry on a piece of paper and then let the other read it. Jungkook had thought this was silly at first, but getting out his stress and anger on paper instead of shouting it let him think through what he was annoyed over. Most of the time, you both discovered that you weren't angry at the other, but at something else and it had simply bubbled up.

Just last year, you'd both had an argument with you snapping at Jungkook for not taking his laundry upstairs. He'd snapped back, pointing out that he'd been busy all day and the laundry was the least of his worries. Cue a ten-minute argument before Jungkook grabbed a notepad, ripped out two pages and handed you a pen. The two of you had scribbled furiously, brows creased in concentration and jaws tight with frustration.

What had started with you being annoyed at him for not taking his laundry, after asking him many times, was revealed to be that you were feeling lonely in the big house on your own. He'd been busy, true, which meant he'd barely been home for a month and when he had been home, he'd been either asleep or locked in his office. Whilst you'd been able to graduate college and take a job as a teacher - much to the shock and horror of pretty much everyone in the Clan - it had summer vacation. You'd had no work to do during the time off.

As unhealthy as it was, he was still your only friend in the Clan - other women steered clear of you after the Incident - and you'd been desperately lonely and sad. You’d had casual friends - acquaintances from work and a few elderly folks from the gardening club you'd joined, but no one you could be open and honest with. You'd wanted your husband, your best friend.

Ironically, Jungkook had been irritated by his work just like he'd said. But when he drove down into it, he was annoyed that the busiest period had occurred at the same time you were off work. He'd wanted to spend time with you, maybe even go on vacation, yet he'd barely seen you. Add on his irritation at idiotic people in the Clan putting people's lives in danger and he'd been a powder keg of annoyance.

Understandably, you'd both apologised once you'd figured out why the argument had happened. Though Jungkook had felt terrible that you'd been so sad - he'd never quite forgiven himself or the Clan for isolating you, even if it had been warranted at the time.

Patting down the soil around the plant until it's fully compacted, you hum lightly before brushing your hands together. Dirt falls to the floor from the gloves and you sit up, stretching your back with a wince and a groan. As much as you love being in the garden, your back certainly doesn't.

Standing, you grab the empty plant pots and begin to tidy up after yourself. It's meant to rain later tonight, so you don't bother watering the new plants.

Before you even get to the door that leads to the kitchen, you hear the low tones of Jungkook's voice from inside. He's home early, you think, you check the time on your phone before washing your hands in the sink.

“Here's mommy!” He coos, and you turn to see him holding your four-month-old daughter in his arms, her back to his chest. Jungkook grins at you over the top of her head, his hair perfectly gelled into place as dimples dot his tan skin.

He hadn't even bothered changing yet, still in his crisp all-black suit that he'd left in this morning. The only thing he was missing was his shoes - instead, he was just wearing black socks.

Hana squeals with excitement as she recognises you, chubby legs kicking out as her arms windmill and your heart swell with love and adoration for her. For him, too. A few years ago, you'd thought this would all be an impossible dream - yet here you are, married to him and with the perfect little girl.

“Hey, beanie! You being good for daddy?” Leaning forward, you tickle her sides and smile in delight as she wriggles in Jungkook's arms. She's such a perfect baby and has been adored by Jungkook and you since you'd seen the two pink lines in the pregnancy test. Life without her was an impossible thought, and the whole Clan knew that Hana was more important to Jungkook than anything in the Clan. He didn't care if the idea of him being a loving parent shocked some of them, if anything he believed that there were people in the Clan who needed to see what an actual parent should be.

The only thing that concerned you was Jungkook's love for Hana and you were also well known to other Clans. A deep-rooted fear was that one of them would try to attack him through Hana, despite the high levels of protection he put in place. It was something that the two of you could only attempt to mitigate, as there was no way to completely cut off the threat. Even turning whistle-blower to the government wouldn't guarantee protection.

But Jungkook did what he could. You both at least had the relief of knowing that Hana, and yourself, were safe from the rival Clan in your city. Jimin had taken over a few years ago, and even though your friendship was much more sporadic than it had been, he'd made it clear that no one was to hurt you or Hana for fear of a war breaking out.

That was his excuse, but you knew he just didn't want you or your baby girl hurt. Whilst Jungkook wasn't exactly thrilled that you were still friends with Jimin in some way, he'd been grateful to find out that Jimin had given you friendship and comfort when the whole Clan had turned against you. He was even more grateful to find out the protection that Jimin had bestowed, and if it wouldn't have caused issues with both sides then he would have let you introduce Jimin to Hana.

No one could ever say Jungkook wasn't a reasonable person. If anything, he was too reasonable when it came to you, but he'd put aside his dislike of Jimin because he'd been the only person there for you in your darkest days.

“I'm guessing you turned off the monitor, as mine didn't go off.” You ask Jungkook, gesturing to the baby monitor attached to your belt. He liked to surprise you with her, and there was nothing more you loved than seeing your big, tough husband holding his tiny baby girl. You didn't understand the logic of it, but it made you want to do things that could not be spoken aloud around Hana.

“Yeah, she was just starting to wake so I thought I'd take her instead of bothering you. You seemed pretty happy in the garden.” He replies, kissing Hana’s dark hair fondly.

No matter what the Clan thought of you, there could be no denying that Hana was Jungkook's daughter. She'd inherited his eyes, from their shape to the way they seemed to shine at nothing. The two of them next to each other made the family resemblance even stronger.

You'd made some terrible decisions in your life, but you liked to think Hana made up for them. She sure made Jungkook happier than he'd ever been, which was more than enough for you.

Leaning forward, you kiss Hana’s forehead and cherish the squeal of delight she gives at the affection. She adores her mommy and daddy - you won't accept anyone’s comments that she's a baby and they all love their parents that much. Hana, of course, is special.

“Someone's had a good nap, haven't you? You get it from your daddy, he sleeps like a log, too.” Smiling, you tickle her stomach around Jungkook's arms and enjoy the sharp peals of laughter she gives. Pregnancy hadn't been fun, and there were nights when you questioned why you'd done this, but it all went away when you heard that laughter.

“The sleep genes are strong in the Jeon's.” Jungkook laughs, leaning past Hana to press a kiss to your lips. He's not wearing his lip ring, or his earrings, as Hana had a habit of grabbing them and not letting go. Jungkook might be the head of an entire Clan that does plenty of shady shit, but he whined like a baby himself when Hana was tugging on those rings and you were constantly afraid she was going to accidentally rip them from him.

You missed them, but he put them back in for date nights or when he was going to his job. Miss Hana would have to wait till she was older to get to see daddy with his piercings again.

You're distracted away from that thought process by the way Hana starts making familiar noises, her tiny body bouncing in Jungkook's arms whilst her eyes are focused firmly on your chest.

“Okay, looks like someone is hungry.” You say, reaching out and taking Hana into your arms. She almost immediately starts nuzzling, trying to root out her source of food and makes some cranky noises when your top prevents her from reaching her goal. It’s a familiar process by now, and you take comfort in it as you head through to the living room - despite the house becoming Jungkook’s after he took over for his father, the two of you only use half of it, with the other half still housing his parents.

You’d had no interest in kicking them out of their home, especially as you thought this house was ridiculously large anyway. So, instead, Jungkook renovated the mansion until it was technically two houses in one with an office section in the centre for Clan business. It gave you the privacy you needed, without taking away from the prestige it gave to Jungkook. You didn’t have to worry about Clan business being brought into your personal space, as there was no way to access your side from the offices.

The living room was still an obscene size, but you’d chosen an equally large sofa to take up most of the space. It was somewhere that Jungkook and you enjoyed laying on to relax after a long day, and Jungkook had installed a screen projector instead of a TV. Hana was going to love this room when she was older, and you could already see the fights between her and Jungkook when they wanted to watch something in particular.

“Hang on, lemme just sort this-” Jungkook mutters as he moves past you, heading over to where the corner of the sofa intersects with the other part and patting the cushions into place. He was the master at creating a snuggle zone for you with enough support that nursing Hana didn’t cause any backache, but today you wanted to enjoy the fact he was here with you.

“Can you sit with us? Or let me lean on you?” You ask, bouncing Hana lightly as you try to distract her enough until he’s done. She’s getting impatient though, and the soft whining sounds are starting to turn a little more upset. Another few minutes and she’ll start crying.

Jungkook pauses, looking up at you with raised brows before smiling. He doesn’t even try to hide the happiness that takes over, and your heart skips a little at the pure joy and love radiating from him.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He says, rearranging the cushions so it’s comfy for two to sit in before quickly taking off his jacket. It’s thrown onto the sofa without a second glance, and you take a moment to wince at the elegant fabric - it’s going to crease and you know for a fact that jacket is worth a few grand. But he’s never cared about stuff like that, and you need Hana fed sooner rather than later so you don’t mention it.

“Okay, come on princess, let’s get our little bean fed.” Standing back for a second, Jungkook grins at you happily as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, revealing the ink on them that is a colourful contrast to the rest of him. He sits down and holds out an arm, which you happily sink into before readjusting until you’re comfortable enough to sit for a while.

Hana’s face creases and the first sounds of that heartbreaking cry start to leave her. Hurriedly, you coo to her as you lift your shirt and pull your nursing bra down slightly. There’s a brief moment where you’re worried she’s going to start screaming, but her mouth latches onto your nipple and almost immediately she settles as she begins to feed heartily.

Letting out a deep breath, you let your head roll back onto Jungkook’s shoulder before smiling at him.

“Crisis averted.” You laugh, wincing ever so slightly as Hana suckles a little too painfully. Jungkook smiles at you and looks down at his little girl, his smile turning so soft. Being around Hana is always so soothing to him, even when she’s screaming with tears flowing because she’s the complete opposite of his job as the head of the Clan. She’s peace and joy and happiness and love whereas his job is often anger and frustration and violence.

He’s made it clear to you that Hana will get to do whatever she wants when she grows up. If she wants to go to college, she can or if she wants to join the Clan, then she can. Jungkook refuses to let her gender hold her back, and even though he doesn’t want her involved in the dark side of his life, he’s going to let her decide. If she wants to walk away from the Clan forever, then he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’ll live a safe life. There’s going to be those in the Clan who will bristle at these decisions he’s making, but he’s already told you that he doesn’t care. His daughter and her happiness are more important than anything else, and you’ll support him 100%.

Sighing quietly, you let yourself relax and just watch Hana as she feeds. Her life is so uncomplicated right now, and she’s got so much to look forward to as she grows.

“Are you happy?” You ask Jungkook, not even realising you were thinking the words until they’ve left your mouth. There’s a moment of silence as Jungkook processes what you’ve said, and you feel him tense ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” The tension in him is from confusion more than anything else, and you let out a soft sigh before shifting until the back of your head is resting in the crook of his neck. Of course, he’s happy, why wouldn’t he be? But deep down inside, you know that you’ve never forgiven yourself for what you did, and there’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The small part of you that’s terrified you’ll make a mistake one day and Jungkook will throw you out again, only this time keeping your daughter. It’s ridiculous, and you know that he’d never do it, but you’ve never been able to get rid of that tiny voice that says dark things to you in the back of your mind.

“Ignore me, seriously, ignore me - I’m happy and I know you’re happy. I love you. Hana is perfect, and I love her so much. She’s the best present you’ve ever given me. I dunno, I’m just tired and taking crap.” Letting out a huff of laughter, you inhale deeply and let it out in a slow motion. You’re not lying, you are tired lately and still hormonal. A four-month-old baby who relies on you to feed her means that you’re exhausted, and you’re already feeling your body start to shut down as you sit comfortably in the arms of your husband with the warm weight of your baby against you.

Jungkook presses his lips to your temple, letting them rest there for a moment.

“One day, you’ll finally believe me when I say I forgive you. But I’ll say it again - I forgive you, and I love you, and I don’t want to spend a day of my life without you. If I died tomorrow, then I’d die happy knowing I got the chance to love you and Hana. So yes, I’m happy and I’ve been happy and I’ll be happy. Please, stop beating yourself up for it.” He kisses your head again, and you’re too tired and hormonal to be hearing his words rationally. 

You start to cry, your chest heaving in a way that makes Hana grumble at being jostled but the thought of him being gone makes your heart ache so painfully. 

“Please don’t die, please.” Your plea makes him laugh quietly, and he wraps his arm around your front, just above where Hana is, and hugs you.

“Okay, okay, those were the wrong words to say when you’re nursing. My bad, forget I said it. I’m not gonna die, okay? Just…focus on that I love you. I love you, princess. Always have, always will.” Tears falling down your face, you tilt your head up until you’re able to kiss him. It’s nothing vulgar or intense, but the depth of emotions in that small kiss makes you feel so much.

“I love you, too. And Hana, I love her so much.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #jungkook fluff #jimin fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jimin fic #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader

[moeitsu]

Song Lyrics That Remind Me of Arthur Morgan

Nobody asked for this, but I listen to A LOT of music, and this boah is constantly on my mind 24/7. So I thought I'd share some lyrics that remind me of him and his relationships <3

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Hard Believer - First Aid Kit

"So you ask for my opinion. Well, what is there to say? To be honest and just foolish, won't make you wanna stay. You've got to go on and get moving. And I can't do that for you. Got so many plans and so much you wanna do. Love is tough, time is rough on me."

To a Poet - First Aid Kit (Mary & Arthur)

"You said, 'Don't give me nothing you don't wanna lose.' I said, 'Darlin' I'll give you everything I got, if you want them to choose.' Though unwillingly I left and it was so, so hard to do. Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break. And every morning that I wake, God, it is the same."

Afraid of Heights - Boygenius (Dutch & Arthur)

"I know I fucked up when I told you I'm afraid of heights. It made you wanna test my courage. You made me climb a cliff at night. You wanted me to jump and I declined. You called me a coward, I replied, I don't wanna live forever, but I don't wanna die tonight."

My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit

"I don't know if I'm scared of dyin', but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow. Regret, remorse, hold on. Oh no I've gotta go. There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on. You've just gotta keep on keeping on."

Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

"If they strike once, then you hit 'em twice as hard. But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, Then this heart would break and fall twice as far. We all know how it goes, the more it hurts, the less it shows. But I still feel like they all know, and that's why I could never go back home."

Saviour - George Ezra (Mary & Arthur)

"Time was young and you were mine. Take me back to that midnight moon. Cradle me, at that midnight moon. All of me is all for you, and what I got to give is not enough. It's a dark night. Being your own savior, is it saving you?"

Cowboy, Gangster, Politician - Goldie Boutilier (Mary & Arthur)

"We said goodbye, but it never ends. 'Cause you can't get away from a woman who loves you. 'Cause you can't run away from feelings that haunt you. No, you can't separate a fire from a flame that already burns. Every saints a sinner, we all have our past. Forever is a fiction, nothing lasts."

Let Him Fly - Patty Griffin (Mary Gillis-Linton)

"Ain't no talking to this man, ain't no pretty other side. Ain't no way to understand, the stupid words of pride. It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so, I'm gonna let him fly. You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just where or why. So there was really nothing to it, I said I'm gonna let him fly."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (Dutch & Arthur)

"And if you don't love me now, You will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, we would never break the chain. Run in the shadows. Damn your love, damn your lies."

Devil's Resting Place - Laura Marling

"I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place. Water won't clean you, you only hold yourself to the things you do. Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine. Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine. You sold your life away to be with me tonight. Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine."

Through the Valley - Shawn James

"I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all, and my mind and my gun they comfort me. Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come. Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell on this earth forevermore. Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill. Called himself the savior of the human race. Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said, how can you save the world from itself?"

Youngest Daughter - Superheaven

"It's useless, I tried, but to no avail. To tell you how much I know, how much I care. Breathe until your lungs fail, you can sing 'til you go deaf. I am sick, I am horrified at everything I hear. Everyday repeats itself again, the cycle of our misery, It drives us all insane."

The Fall - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"You heard blood was thick, brothers and sisters. But ya don't know where anybody's at. Time was a bust, you thought you'd better be tough. Nobody gets past the trembling wire. All eyes on you now, on you. We're all holding our breath."

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind. Oh my heart was all black but I saw something shine. Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine. I could share it with you, if you gave me the time. I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home. If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone."

My Mind - Paris Paloma (Dutch & Arthur)

"What did I do wrong? Will you tell me what I did wrong, what did I? Was it a first offense? How long had you been harboring that vemon? You could have used your words then, you wanted them to hurt and so I let them. Never would I beseech you, to endure what you put me through."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #mary gillis #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanart #john marston

[savannahsdeath]

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

♯infection

mdni please<3

summary: youre on a patrol with ellie🏌️

warnings: 18+!! blood, weapons, angst

writers note: it is very very bad but its sitting in my drafts for months so why not post it .. also the pic fits the story sm🥰🥰(me when i lie)

You and Ellie were patrolling together for a long time now, it was a part of your rutine.

Today wasn't different - you were exploring an abandoned house with your friend near.

Everything was going smoothly. Ellie kept a lookout while you searched for supplies, trying not to make a sound, while she did the same. You were both on edge, and you felt jumpy at every little noise. You were both quiet, careful, as to not alert any infected or scavengers that might have been hiding out in the house.

But then, everything changed. A noise, distant at first, quickly grew louder. You and Ellie exchanged nervous glances as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew closer. You had no time to think, the infected were already nearby and you didn't have a chance to react before one was on top of you.

The infected grabbed you, and before you could do anything, Ellie came out of her hiding and struck with her knife, slashing your opponent.

You grabbed the shotgun off the ground and fired at another one, the noise drawing the attention of most of the infected in the vicinity. You knew sound attracts them, but you were too surprised to defend yourself manually.

The infected recoiled instantly as your buckshot connected with it's chest. It's body hit the floor and lay motionless, smoke rising from the bullet hole.

You quickly aimed the shotgun at the other infected, which started to charge towards you. You waited for it to close the distance, and when it was within range, you pulled the trigger. The second bullet hit the infected square in the forehead, and it collapsed down.

You fired again, hitting another infected in the side with a shotgun blast. It stumbled back, wounded, as Ellie quickly finished it off with a brutal stab to the head with her switchblade. The sound of more footsteps drew your attention, and sure enough, more infected were coming. They must have heard the gunshot and were coming to investigate.

"What do we do?" Ellie asked, frantically looking for a way out. You didn't have much time to think or act.

You only managed to look around and mumble three simple words; "Run and hide."

Without any hesitation, you and Ellie ran as fast as you could, ducking and weaving between walls and furniture to try and lose the infected. As you ran, you could hear the shuffling footsteps following behind you and the infected growling at each other. You ran through another door and hid, quickly whispering to Ellie to remain completely silent.

The infected came through the door, and you could hear them grunting and listen carefully, trying to locate you. After what felt like an eternity, they left, and you began to relax.

You stayed put for a while, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. Ellie was still tense, the adrenaline from the encounter still coursing through her veins. She looked at you and you could tell she wanted to say something, but was afraid the slightest movement would give you away to the infected outside.

After a few minutes, you heard the sound of shuffling footsteps getting fainter and fainter, until they were completely gone. You were in the clear.

"Are you okay?" Ellie finally asked, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

You managed to nod, the fear and adrenaline still lingering. You noticed she was holding her arm, and it took a moment to realize that there was blood on the sleeve of her shirt.

"You're hurt!" You exclaimed.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with concern. "It's nothing." She said, trying to hide any pain or discomfort.

"Nonsense." You replied. "Let me take a look."

You gently lifted her sleeve up to examine the injury.

You saw that there was a nasty-looking cut on Ellie's arm, the blood slowly oozing out. She looked uncomfortable, but remained still. It was clear that she didn't want to make the situation worse by causing a fuss, but it also didn't seem like something minor.

"It looks pretty bad." You said, gently dabbing at the wound with a cloth. "We should get this bandaged as soon as possible."

Ellie winced as you put pressure on the wound, and you could see that the pain was growing worse as she tried to keep herself composed.

"Hey, hey... it's going to be okay." you said, trying to be as calming as possible. Ellie looked up at you, relief and gratitude in her eyes. You could tell this was stressing her out.

"Don't worry," you continued. "I'll have this bandaged up in no time." You took some materials and quickly patched up the wound, cleaning it and wrapping it tightly to restrict the bleeding.

Ellie looked relieved, "Thank you." she said. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"I don't plan on going anywhere." You smiled and looked around. "They're probably still near, we should wait some more time."

You kept looking around, trying to make sure there were no unexpected surprises around the corners. As you were keeping watch, you looked over at Ellie, who was observing you. There was a certain warmth and comfort in the way she was looking at you. It was a subtle gesture, but the feeling it invoked was anything but subtle. You got a strange sense that Ellie was feeling vulnerable, but was trying to hide it.

"What's that?" She pointed at blood on your sleeve, clearly worried.

You looked down at your messy shirt. "It must get dirty while I was patching you up." You smiled. "I'm fine."

Some time passed, you were joking with Ellie, hoping to distract her from the pain. It was safe for you to exit this building now but none of you even thought about it. It was quiet and you finally got to spend time with your crush friend alone, without other patrolling residents.

You looked at Ellie, who was looking at you too, with a level of concern and tenderness that hit you like a ton of bricks. She didn't know what was happening to you, but you knew that telling her would only make things more painful.

You hesitated but decided to be truthful with her, she was smart enough to figure things out on her own otherwise.

"Ellie..." you began. "There's something I need to tell you."

Ellie looked at you, concern etched on her face. She could probably tell by your tone alone there was something wrong.

You took a deep breath and continued. "One of them... must bit me— I didn't even notice at first too... I was— fuck, you know, a lot going on..."

Ellie's face twisted into one of shock and despair as she took in the information. She tried to process it all, but seemed to be stuck in denial.

"Are you- are you sure?" She asked, her voice faint.

You simply showed her your wound, not wanting to say it out loud. You knew it would be hard for her to accept, but you had to be honest with her.

"This can't be..." Ellie whispered, her face blank.

"I know." You said.

Ellie remained silent, it almost seemed like she was expecting some miracle to happen and for the infection to disappear.

"It's real." You tried to convince her. "and... irreversible. I'm not immune like you, I already feel, you know— not well."

Ellie continued to look at you with blank eyes, unable to process the severity of the situation. She was still in denial, hoping against hope you were wrong. But you weren't, and you knew the truth soon had to come.

You stuttered, trying to find the right words. "We don't have much time."

She looked at you, the weight of everything setting in on her. Fear, sadness, anger, frustration, all swirled in her eyes as she desperately tried to think of a solution. She knew there was no escape, but she couldn't accept that.

"We... We have to do something." She said, the desperation clear in her voice. "We can't just..."

"Ellie," you said, cutting her off. "We've been fighting for every second of our lives, hoping for survival against impossible odds. There's nothing more we can do... I- I don't want to turn, and I think you don't want me to either. There's one thing we can do." You handed her your gun, failing to hold back tears. "Shoot me, now, while I'm still a... human."

Ellie looked at the gun in her hand, frozen in shock. She couldn't believe what you were saying, and you could tell she was trying her best not to believe it herself. She was afraid, but knew in the back of her mind that you were right.

You tried to sound as comforting as possible. "I can't live with the knowledge that I'll end up hurting someone else, that I'll be just like... them."

Ellie looked at you once more, the water in her eyes slowly streaming down her face.

"I know what I'm asking for isn't easy but... I know you're strong." You wiped her tears off and without pulling your hands off of her cheeks you kissed her. "I love you. I regret not telling you earlier- and I probably shouldn't now. I just... couldn't die, taking this secret with me. But that's the best last words I could think of. I love you, Ellie." You took a step away, motioning her to do it.

You could tell she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, and was still trying to hold on to hope. But she knew, just as much as you did, that this was the best moment you two could ever have together. That this was it for you two.

"I love you too." She simply said, her voice quivering.

With that, she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. As time slowed to a crawl, you let out one final breath as the bullet ripped through your head and you finally fell to the ground, knowing that you were safe from the fate of the infected. The sun faded away and your vision slowly faded to black, the last thing you saw was Ellie's face, tears streaming down her face.

You weren't afraid of death, after all that you've seen, all that you had fought and lived through. No, you had no fear. There was only one thing on your mind.

"I love you, Ellie.

I love you too."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams #reqs open #ellie the last of us #angst #ellie williams angst

[sunsetshifting]

Important Things to Script For Your DR!

Now above all else, safety is the most important thing to script. ‘Safety’ is, of course, also quite relative to one’s DR, so when examining this list, please keep in mind what is and is not relevant to you.

That said, here’s my list of 20 important things to script for your reality shifting journey!

You cannot die - Arguably the most important one to script, unless you’re experiencing some sort of Minecraft hardcore-esque DR. Dying in a DR is no less traumatic and terrifying than it is in your Original Reality, so please exercise caution and remember to script that you cannot die.

You have a high pain tolerance - This one is a bit of a matter of preference, but is generally a good idea to script in. Some people script out pain entirely, but this generally makes the DR feel less ‘real’, and so the safest bet is to simply make sure your pain tolerance is high.

You will never be tortured or kidnapped/You will never be SA’d - This is a given. Even if it seems unlikely in your DR, this is still good to have just in case.

You cannot lose any teeth or have them knocked out - I don’t really see this aspect talked about much, but I would personally prefer to err on the side of caution, especially considering just how likely I am to be punched in some of my DRs (MHA, for example.)

Time pauses when you are not in your DR - This one is easily within the top 3 of most important things to script. You certainly wouldn’t want to return to your DR after a shifting break only to discover that several months had passed without your knowledge!

You cannot be dragged out of your DR against your will - This is a good one for making sure you don’t accidentally shift back to your OR. Of course, it may still happen if you haven’t properly grounded yourself (don’t worry, it’s easy, you just have to touch and look at things around you) but this is still a good measure to take.

Nobody will know that you’re a reality shifter unless you tell them - This is a good one to have just in case. You never know how someone might react to this information. On that note…

The people in your DR are accepting of shifting - Another good bit to include if you plan on telling anyone (not necessary, but some people like to.) This ensures that nobody cuts ties with you or freaks out on you!

Everyone around you has good hygiene - This one is deceptively important. Whether you’re attending UA or slumming it in TWD, you definitely want to avoid as much rank smell as you can.

You cannot be maimed or permanently injured in your desired reality beyond scars that do not impede your ability to perform any sort of task - This is entirely personal preference. This just sees to it that you don’t suffer a non-fatal injury that debilitates or disables you in some fashion (such as losing fingers or an eye.)

You cannot be brainwashed or otherwise forced to forget how to shift out of the DR - Another safety precaution, just in case you come into contact with someone or something that can change your memories or take over your mind.

You will be safe from all potential diseases and illnesses/You will never be arrested or sent to prison/You will always have enough money to purchase whatever you want - These are moreso to fluff up and boost the experience of your DR, but some people choose to avoid these for the sake of a challenge or realism. I, personally, enjoy them. :3c

There will never be natural disasters or a risk of tragedy such as shootings or fires - As someone with a severe fear of both thunderstorms and shootings, this is essential.

You will remember everything your clone experienced while you were in your DR - This is a good measure to make sure that things are perfectly in order when you get back^^

You will never be involved in a car crash or plane crash - Good to make sure your DR experience doesn’t end prematurely/randomly, as well as to avoid unneeded trauma.

You will not remember the plot of your DR - This one is only relevant if your DR is based off a fictional piece of media. This helps to prevent you from 1. messing up the plot, 2. revealing things before you should know them.

People respect your name/pronouns - As someone who’s trans, this one is completely necessary regardless of where I shift.

You automatically know everything your DRself knows - Just a bit of insurance to make sure that there’s no problems with you slotting into your DRself’s position!

Your eyes open automatically once you arrive in your DR - This helps take away the guessing of when to open your eyes for awake methods, as well as comfort for other methods.

A SIGN! - This one is more abstract, but this generally just means something to make yourself aware that you’ve shifted! Generally, people will script that they either hear birds chirping, smell coffee, or taste something bitter. The key here is to use one or more of your five senses! Anything goes, beyond that point!

#shiftblr #reality shifting #reality shift #quantum jumping #quantum jump #shifting #shifting guide #scripting #shifting script #shifting ideas #sunset shifting #Things to script #desired reality #desired reality ideas #safety

[spooky-circuits]

Well the snack attack poll isn’t over yet but it looks like the funk twins reunion is the majority so far and I’ll go in order from there once the poll ends probably. This is a longer one lol.

Prince D has a good life with the Funk trolls. His family is very supportive if over protective of him due to his twins egg getting taken by a bird 14 years ago. His family still searches but he’s never been off the ship in fear of losing him too. Darnell feels like he should be doing more to find his brother his twin shouldn’t be out in the world by himself! He starts thinking maybe someone just needs to be looking closer to the ground. He had been practicing at his hoverboard long enough that he could probably navigate the forest with it. So he leaves a note for his parents to keep them from panicking (it doesn’t work) and sets off hoping that a more thorough search is what they needed to find his brother.

Prince D is in the forest for 3 weeks when he suddenly wipes out on his board after not eating for 2 days he’s passing out when he can faintly hear “Cooper? Where did you fall from?!” And “I thought you were back at camp!” From a different voice. When two pop trolls run up to him but he fades out before he sees their faces.

Branch and Creek were out getting firewood when the new troll comes crashing out of the tree tops. Creek looks at Branch and goes “So he definitely looks like Cooper yeah?” Branch looks at him with a face that conveys exactly how dumb of a question he thinks that is. “Oh calm down mate I’m just making sure we’re on the same page before we start dragging him back to camp.” Branch rolls his eyes at that and says “Yeah I guess we have to don’t we.” Creek looks at him “Well I don’t think Cooper and the rest would appreciate us leaving him here considering how long we’ve been on this bloody trip. Now grab his back legs.”

Prince D wakes up next to a fire being stared at by a group of strange trolls feeling unsettled by how intensely everyone is looking at him when he locks eyes with Cooper and everything else becomes quiet as he realizes he just found the brother they’ve been searching for for 14 years. When Cooper runs up to him suddenly and grabs his hand “Wow you’re right Branch he does look just like me! Hi I’m Cooper whats your name?” Shaking his hand so hard Darnell is physically being pulled along with it. Once things calm down Prince D explains the whole situation.

Once things have settled Guy Diamond says “You know I kind of wish we got Branch those autographs before finding Cooper’s family. No offence Branch but it’s going to be pretty lacklustre in comparison.” Branch rolls his eyes but Creek speaks up “I don’t know about that maybe Branch had a juicy secret of his own.” Branch glares at him but says nothing.

#snack attack au #trolls au #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls prince d #trolls cooper

[guardian-angle22]

Tagged by @beautifulhigh & @welcometololaland to list my top 5 Tarlos scenes.

This is really going to show my Season 3 bias ngl.

#5. 2.12 "Don't make me twist your arm."/"Please do."

Their chemistry is insane when they're teasing each other downstairs and then they kiss each other so softly once they get upstairs. I'm a sucker for a good soundtrack moment and there's something iconic about having their house literally light up on fire under them while obliviously making out as Fever by Elvis Presley plays in the background. Peak cinema tbh.

#4. 3.04 "Hey, baby. Breathe."/"Welcome home, TK."

We can all agree to have these two can count as one scene, right? they go back to back. The way TK reached for Carlos as soon as he woke up and immediately noticed that Carlos wasn't breathing right even though he just woke up from a coma, is still groggy, and barely has his eyes open? soulmate shit right there. If you haven't watched this without the music. my god. do it now. & then add in how happy they both look as Carlos leads TK into the loft with his hands over his eyes, and then when TK looks around and you can see on his face when he realizes he still gets to have this despite everything? Beautiful.

#3. 3.18 "For the first time in my life, the love that I feel is infinitely more powerful than the fear of losing it."/"A thousand times yes."

I mean can I even say more about the proposal that hasn't already been said? the urgency TK felt that prompted him to wake Carlos up in the middle of the night. His speech to Carlos. All the little touches throughout. The way they both were crying by the end. It was beautiful and it was perfect for them. (the only way it could have been better is if they maybe stopped to turn on a fucking lamp)

#2. 3.08 "Hey, look at me."/"I love you."

This was their first mutual "I love you" shown on screen and while the context was heartbreaking, it was still so so sweet. Carlos being the loving caregiver, kissing TK's forehead, rubbing his knee, wanting to make sure he eats. The way Carlos tells TK to look at him and he does immediately, even though TK has been basically avoiding eye contact with everyone the entire scene will live rent free in mind for all of time, I'm sure.

#1. 3.13 "Do you have any idea how proud of you I am?"/"You're just so sweet."

Can I put the entirety of 3.13 on the list at number one? Because it's my favorite episode for them. It has so many things. It has them being domestic and flirtatious. TK being distracted by Carlos in yoga clothes. It has them fighting a bit, overcoming those obstacles, and communicating. It showed Carlos as a multidimensional character with flaws like jealousy and pettiness, but then growing through it to come to the realization that he can't be everything that TK needs at the end of the day.

But if I absolutely had to pick just one scene from it, I would chose the opening scene. TK sharing with Carlos about his meeting, finding a sponsor, & the realization of not having Gwyn around affecting his mindset. Carlos waiting up with his adorable glasses, reading articles to educate himself, telling TK how proud of him he is. TK calling him sweet and flirting with him. I just-- 🥰🥰

----

Because I'm doing this pretty late in the day, this has made it's rounds through a lot of my mutuals already. so I'm just going to tag a few people that I haven't seen do it yet (no pressure though if you're not feelin' it. but also if you have done it and I missed it let me know so I can read yours!): @morganaspendragonss @ourlegendwillbefitforverse @detective-giggles @noxsoulmate @ladytessa74 @autistic-lesbian-story-lover @tkstrandreyes @pragmatic-optimist @reyescarlos @spencessmile @poledancingghostson @sunshinestrand @mandiiigurllll

#tag game #911 lone star discussion & meta #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #my gifs #sorry but i can't make lists like this without gifs added in for visual reference lol #911 lone star

[karatekels]

Hello:) first time with an ask. I have to preface by saying I absolutely love your account and your fics and just everything about what you've created ❤️❤️ may I ask, can you write something about CK Terry falling for a 30 something young woman in an adult class? She's learning and new to karate, yet Terry sees potential and asks if she'd like to grab dinner (or have his chef cook for them), then maybe "train" a little in his private dojo 😉

Thank you so much for your comments – they make my heart sing and make me blush horribly. I’m happy to write this for you – enjoy! ❤️

Shoutout to @terrysilv for helping me brainstorm some ideas for this!

---

Legacy

---

“Asa!” you cry out, the kiai escaping your lips in a short grunt as you lay into the punching bag with your fists and feet, the bag supported by your sparring partner. “Ya! Isa!”

“Okay okay!” your partner exclaims from behind the bag after awhile. “Jesus Y/N, you’re gonna knock me on my ass – can we take a break?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the bag, helping the man up before moving to your bag to get a drink of water. You were here to put the work in, and intended to do so the entire time, not wanting to waste even a minute.

You had been training with the Cobra Kai dojo for a few months now, and had gotten good; very good. You knew you were rather late to the game, starting to learn karate in your early thirties, but you were determined to prove yourself. You had quickly exceeded the introductory levels of the adult classes, and had worked your way up to the top of the expert class as well, having impressed the senseis of the dojo the whole way.

You didn’t like doing anything halfway – if you were going to learn karate, you were going to do it right, and not stop until you had perfected your skills.

The owner of the dojo, Sensei Terry Silver, walks past you, moving to snap at another pair of students whose form had gotten sloppy. That right there was another reason to do the best you could during these lessons; that man was likely twice your age, and incredibly fit, still able to instill fear in anyone he came across. You knew he was the best in the Valley, and you wanted to get to that level yourself. You wanted to be respected, you wanted to be able to take care of yourself, and karate was the perfect avenue to get you there.

Returning to your punching bag, your partner represses a sigh, bracing himself against the bag once more.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry glides past you, his feet silent on the training mats as he moves to scold a pair of students who were goofing off yet again. Really, how the majority of these people were accepted into the expert-level class baffled him. He’d need to talk to Kim at some point about her selection process.

There was, however, one student in particular that had been able to exceed his expectations…

He circles the dojo discreetly, positioning himself so that he could watch you, seeing you approach the punching bag for another round, fire in your eyes. Your form was perfect, and you were so graceful in your movements he found himself hypnotized.

You had been dedicated to your training since day one; he couldn’t think of anyone (other than himself, of course), who so fully encapsulated the 3 D’s: desire, devotion, discipline. He had taken notice of your beauty immediately, from the moment you entered the expert class, but had dismissed his attraction immediately. He didn’t sleep with students, and he didn’t date students, the work and romance spheres of his life remaining separate by his design.

He'd never had an issue abiding by that rule, until you’d shown up.

The better you got, the harder you trained, the more you wore down his resolve without you even realizing it. You had captivated him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen for anyone this hard. He had tried not to let his attraction for you interfere with his work – if you took offence and left, he would lose his only means of seeing you.

No, he had to play this perfectly, find an opportunity to test the waters with you, find out where you stood. Something away from here, away from everyone else, where he could turn on the charm and bring you around to his way of thinking. He was now a man past middle age; he didn’t have time to waste.

He’d have you eventually.

---

Terry waits until almost everyone else has left the dojo before approaching you. Yet another benefit to your dedication to karate: you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He lets you finish your cool down stretches, then walks over to you.

“Great work today, Y/N,” he compliments, savouring your pleased smile at his praise. You valued his approval; that was something, at least.

“Thank you, Sensei,” you reply, moving to retrieve your water. He follows smoothly behind you, not done with you yet.

“You’ve really improved during your time here,” he continues, determined to draw you into a conversation. “What’s driving you?”

You look over at him as you put your shoes and socks back on, considering the question. You were so contemplative, the type of person that thought things through, and he loved that about you. Everyone seemed so hasty these days, rushing headlong into situations without giving them thought, and it frustrated him to no end.

“I don’t like to do anything halfway,” you say after awhile. “If I’m going to do something, I want to do the best. I want to be the best,” you add, getting more passionate as you speak to him. He finds himself transfixed.

“I see the respect that you command around here, and I’m not a big tall guy like you, and I may never be a sensei, but that’s something I want,” you confess, looking up at him with that same fire in your eyes.

You were envious of him? You looked up to him? He could work with that.

“How do I become the best, Sensei Silver? What can I do next?”

Terry thinks about how to play this. Part of him did truly want to help you succeed; Cobra Kai was his legacy, and you were now not just part of that, but one of his shining stars. The greedy, primal part of him wants to promise you the best training money could buy if you would only become his. He settles for something in the middle.

“This dojo is really meant to cater to a group, and the lowest common denominator, even in the expert class. I don’t know if you can get the full attention that you deserve…” he begins, hesitating briefly, as though considering something, but he’s already finalized the plan in his mind.

“If you’d like, I could offer you private lessons at my personal dojo, where I could focus solely on you,” he offers, ever the generous benefactor. As if you weren’t already the centre of his attention every time you walked into the same room as him. Your eyes go wide, shining with delight at the thought.

“Wow, that would be incredible,” you breathe, and he feels his cock stir against his thigh at your excitement. While your interest wasn’t out of desire for him, it was about spending time alone with him, and that was enough to have his mind racing. Picturing you coming to his home with him had him nearly giddy.

“I just don’t think I could afford private lessons, Sensei Silver…” you say, and he resists the urge to scoff. Screw the money. This was about you, getting you, having you alone… but he had to be careful. You were fiercely independent, and proud, and while he admired and respected those traits in you he also knew to be wary of upsetting them.

“I would be happy to charge the same rate as you’re currently paying for the expert class,” he offers. “The success of my students is my main objective here with Cobra Kai. You are easily one of our best, and have clearly outgrown the expert class.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, clearly not wanting to take advantage of him, and he bites his tongue to keep from beaming at the thought.

“It would be an honour, Y/N.”

The grateful smile you level him with has his heart pounding in his chest. Were you really so oblivious about the effect that you had on him, on everyone in any room you were in?

“Thank you, Sensei. I won’t let you down.” He plans on taking that promise to its absolute limit.

“One stipulation, Y/N, if you don’t mind,” he presses, giving you a slight smile. You cock your head at him, waiting, though he gets the sense that you’ll accommodate anything he asks for.

“Allow me to speak with you once beforehand, to get a better sense of your goals and to develop a training regimen. Perhaps over dinner?”

Christ, when was the last time he had felt nervous about anything?

You blink, seemingly speechless. Terry thinks he detects the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks, but doesn’t want to give himself too much credit.

“You want to take me to dinner?” you ask, tone slightly incredulous.

“I could ask my personal chef to cook us a meal. It would give you a chance to see the dojo before we get started.” He pointedly doesn’t address your shock at him asking you out, hoping to subtly reframe the evening as a purely professional one; he can’t have you getting cold feet, not now. He just had to get you there, get you alone, and he could win you over. The thought of training you in a dozen other things before you even get started on karate dances through his mind, and he suppresses a groan. It wouldn’t do to lose focus now; you always kept him on his toes.

“Could…could I go home and change first?” you ask, looking down at your gi. It’s strange, seeing this more hesitant, shy side of you, but he finds that he enjoys it just as much as your typical fierce attitude. And, more importantly, this wasn’t a no.

“Of course. I can have a driver pick you up in a few hours – my home is rather difficult to find if you don’t know where to look.” He knows he’s laying it on thick with the show of wealth, but he can’t contain his excitement; if he has his way, he’ll be spoiling you for the rest of his life and beyond.

“Oh, that’s… wow, alright. I guess being the best student has its perks, huh?” you joke, and he smiles encouragingly at you. You scribble down your address – as if he didn’t already know it – on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, then?” you say hesitantly, and he’s fully enjoying your nerves, now.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he replies, trying to keep the purr from his voice. You give him a shy smile as you throw your bag over your shoulder, exiting the dojo and missing the pleased grin he directs at the back of your head. Having watched you leave, Terry immediately moves to collect his own things and head home.

There was much to prepare for.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The car finally breaks through the treeline after what feels like ages, driving smoothly up to a gorgeous estate. You knew that Mr. Silver was very well-off, but to live in a place like this… then again, he was offering to train you in his private dojo, so perhaps this shouldn’t be so surprising to you.

Looking down at your hands, twisting around themselves in your lap, you hope that you’ve dressed appropriately for the evening. What, exactly, was one meant to wear to a private dinner at your sensei’s gigantic house to discuss karate? You had settled on a simple summer dress, the green complimenting your hair and skin tone wonderfully, and a pair of wedges, keeping your hair down in loose waves and your makeup simple.

The driver stops the car – having a driver, that was strange for you as well – and you nervously hop out before he can come around and open your door for you. You weren’t the Queen of England, you could get out of a vehicle on your own. He guides you up to the front door, ringing the bell, then nods to you and turns to, presumably, go park the car.

“Thank you!” you call after him, not wanting to be rude, and then you hear the door open behind you. Turning, you see an older woman at the door, smiling warmly at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N. Please come in, and I’ll take you to Mr. Silv –”

“No need, Janet, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Silver approaches from a room off to the left, looking decidedly more relaxed in a pair of tan slacks, a white button-up shirt and a royal blue blazer, his hair out of its signature ponytail and framing his face. You hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to appear so at home in a place as luxurious as this, but he does, and you’re happy for him. Hopefully, these private lessons from him would help you become even half as successful as your sensei.

“Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he greets you warmly, and you smile at him. You would not ruin this opportunity for yourself, even if you were a bit nervous about how to behave in this situation.

“Thank you, sensei, and thank you again for sending someone to pick me up,” you reply graciously.

“Sensei is reserved for training, Y/N. Please, call me Terry outside of the dojo.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, hoping to keep things straight in your head. You didn’t often have relationships with people that transcended more than one social circle; it complicated things, made them messy as the lines blurred. You didn’t think that that would happen with Terry – he was on such a different level from you in every way – but you wanted to be aware of the possibility.

“Thank you, Terry. It’s so… strange, seeing you outside of the dojo.” You want to acknowledge the difference in the setting, but think that you may have come across a bit standoffish, and try to recover. “I’m so used to the ponytail,” you joke, gesturing to his hair, and his lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes, well it doesn’t get in the way when I’m just relaxing at home. You look lovely,” he compliments, approaching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just spoken with the chef, and we have a half hour before dinner. Would you like to see the dojo now, or can I offer you a drink?”

You pause to consider this, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You didn’t want to refuse his hospitality and make it seem like you were only here for the training he would offer you by wanting to get right into the dojo, and perhaps a drink or two would help you loosen up…

“A drink would be lovely, Terry, thank you.” He smiles, gesturing down the hall with an arm, and you follow him, taking in each new room with a sense of wonder. It was all warm, comfortable, relaxed… not at all what you would have expected from viewing just the exterior of the house.

Eventually, he leads you into a parlour with a collection of liquor bottles, one wall made completely of glass, looking out onto a large balcony and the gardens below. Smiling at the dwindling sunlight streaming in through the windows, you find yourself briefly distracted.

“Wine?” Terry asks, having selected a bottle of red. You nod to him, and he seems to take a long moment to look at you before pouring two glasses. Bringing both with him, he hands you a glass, which you accept gratefully, thanking him quietly.

“Come on, I’ll show you outside,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. He was so good at reading people, anticipating their thoughts and actions; you supposed it was a necessary skill to have, both for teaching and for karate. You smile, and follow him to the door leading out to the balcony, walking up to the balustrade to get a full view of gardens below. They were massive, seeming to stretch out forever, and were so lush and full. You sigh longingly as you take in the view.

“You get to come home to this every day?” you ask, awe evident in your tone. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate it,” Terry replies, coming to stand beside you. “I think I’ve come to take it for granted.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this…” you murmur. Terry is quiet, seeming content to let you take in your surroundings, the two of you drinking your wine in a comfortable silence. After awhile, a member of the staff finds the pair of you out on the balcony to inform you that dinner is ready. Following him through more spacious rooms of the home with Terry, you find yourself feeling far more comfortable than you had when you had first arrived, and couldn’t attribute it all to the wine.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The evening had been very successful so far, Terry thinks to himself as he surveys you from across the table. He can’t remember the last time he’s shared a meal with someone in his own home when it wasn’t for some business matter or another, and he finds that he has missed it.

He had been awestruck upon first seeing you at his front door; having never seen you in anything other than your gi, you were particularly striking in your soft green dress, your hair flowing down your back. You had been clearly nervous at first – hell, he couldn’t judge you for it; he was nervous himself – but had adjusted quickly, and he found himself impressed by your tenacity.

The look on your face as you had taken in sight of the garden, the sunlight illuminating you, had briefly taken his breath away. You were radiant even without the sun’s glow, but in that moment you had looked so serene he had been positively enchanted by you. He hadn’t planned on taking you outside, but he couldn’t resist giving you exactly what you wanted. He could see that happening a lot with you, should things progress the way he intended for them to.

You had opened up more once you had moved inside, telling him about yourself and asking about him in return. Ordinarily, Terry was rather cautious – if not outright reluctant – to divulge personal information about himself, but he found it easy to open up to you.

Having asked you further about your motivations to study karate, you had become more animated in your responses, speaking about your desire to make something of yourself, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. Again, Terry finds himself recognizing the similarities between you, especially in how you saw the world and your respective places in it, and he finds himself in a difficult position.

What would be the greater legacy for him to leave behind: training you to be the best and being your mentor, or pursuing a relationship with you that would, if he had his way, last as long as you both should live? He finds himself wrestling with complicated feelings, wholly unaccustomed to trying to prioritize someone’s hopes and dreams over his own.

But he had sacrificed before; he could do it again, and being your mentor would most assuredly connect your names together in history. There was something beautiful, poetic even, about that, and it eliminated the possibility of rejection, of failure. Terry decides to shift his goals again; he’s put love on the backburner his entire life, and he can do it again, at least until he’s cemented himself as a keystone to your success. He would have something that tied the two of you together, at least, and perhaps that would be enough.

He can’t help but take in the way your eyes glimmer in the candlelight with a slight smile, ignoring the slight clenching of his heart. Let him do something good and selfless for once in his miserable life.

You both finish your meal, and he offers to show you the dojo, the excited smile you give him making him ache in a way he hadn’t experienced.

--- Reader’s POV ---

After several months of intensive training, you truly felt like you were on top of the world. You felt almost as tall as Terry, your confidence having reached new heights. Terry had been incredible, working with you as often and as hard as he had, like your success was intrinsically tied to his own. You had appreciated everything he had done, and was doing for you more than you could ever say.

Having finished your session for the day, you both step off the mat, moving to get water and take a brief rest before you went home for the day.

“So, what’s next, Terry?” you ask, always excited to learn more. Terry doesn’t respond, and after a moment you look over to him seated on the bench, radiating tension.

“You know, Y/N, I’m not sure if I have anything more to teach you,” he replies, his large body caved inward slightly, like he’s being crushed by some heavy weight. You had learned to read him somewhat in your time together, and think he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Terry. I don’t think it’s possible for you to run out of knowledge,” you say, smiling encouragingly, but he scowls.

“Well, I have. This is over,” he says firmly, harshly. Some of his hair has come out of his ponytail, and he’s got a frustrated, defeated energy radiating off of him that you’re not sure what to make of.

You bite your lip, debating what to do. While you had definitely become more comfortable around Terry during this time together, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself his friend. What were the boundaries of this relationship after all of this? Should you give him space or offer to listen? Throwing caution to the wind, you decide on the latter.

“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?” you ask softly, sliding closer to him on the bench, trying to coax the truth out of him. He barks out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back, before he levels you with a serious, almost cold expression.

“It’s you.”

“I…what?” you ask, confused and hurt, and he seems to burst, leaping off the bench to his feet and whirling around to face you.

“It’s you!” he repeats, getting louder, and you’re not sure which emotions you detect in his voice, only that there are many of them and that they all seem to be entangled within one another.

“I am an old man, Y/N. I am old, and I am alone. I’d come to terms with that years ago, really I had,” he rambles, words flowing quickly from his lips without much thought. He was never like this; he was like you, looking before he leaped. What had happened?

“And then you walk into my dojo, and it’s like I’m seeing the sun rise for the first time.”

You stiffen, your eyes going wide, but he’s not even looking at you right now, pacing up and down the edge of the training mats like a caged animal.

“I thought I could be professional. I thought I could be your teacher, your mentor, and that that would be enough. Then, I thought up a dozen ways to try to win you over, to sweep you off your feet, to make you see… I’ve gone back and forth so many times, and every time you’ve done nothing but draw me in deeper. I’m trying to do what’s right, harder than I’ve ever bothered to try before, and now that’s it!” He turns suddenly to look at you, his eyes wide and searching, though for what you’re not sure.

“I’ve taught you everything I could, and now there’s nothing for you here anymore. Nothing to keep you here with me.”

He looks broken, and you’re stunned into silence by his revelation. Terry had feelings for you? The very idea seemed ridiculous. He was older, wealthy, successful, talented… you had never bothered to even consider him in that way; what would be the point, since it would never be reciprocated? Thinking about it now, though…

You had admired him from the moment you met him, respecting his dedication to his craft and his students. He had shown such wisdom in the dojo, and had fascinated you with his stories and experience. Over the past few months, you had become so comfortable with each other, and you had gotten to see his humour, his kind heart, his passion… And even you had recognized from the very beginning that he was incredibly attractive, especially for a man of his age, but again, you had pushed that kind of thinking out of your mind the second you accepted that it wouldn’t do anything for you but get you distracted.

He had been supportive, generous, shared his life and his home with you, and you had come to cherish the connection you had together. What was that if not love?

Looking over at him, where he had retaken his seat on the bench, slumped in a defeated position, it’s like you’re seeing him with fresh eyes. This man had loved you, presumably for quite awhile, and instead of acting on it had been nothing but professional, putting you and your needs above his own without you even realizing it. He had sacrificed so much, and even now was only upset that he had nothing else to offer? What a ludicrous notion. He had become your everything.

Getting up off the bench, you move silently to walk around in front of him, bending to his eye level. He doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re there, his eyes closed in defeat with his head in his hands, and now you feel like the idiot for not recognizing your own feelings sooner.

Tilting your head, you lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his softly.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, staying perfectly still, and you pull back a bit, looking at his face. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, confused.

“Why would you do that?” he demands, his voice low and hoarse. You nibble your lip nervously.

“To apologize, for not recognizing your feelings,” you say, and you think you see the light leave his eyes, pain evident on his features.

“And for not recognizing my own,” you add in a whisper. His gaze snaps back to yours, intense once more.

“What…?” is all he manages to get out in a choked voice.

“I never thought you would see me in that way, Terry, so I didn’t bother letting myself see you like that either. We’re from two different worlds, you could have anyone you wanted –”

“Not anyone,” he corrects pointedly, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes,” you counter, reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. “Anyone.”

He seems to freeze again, his eyes staring past you into the distance, into nothing, and you wait, knowing he needs a moment. Sure enough, his eyes soon snap back to yours, and he slowly stands up, closing the space between you with his large body so close to yours. He reaches up slowly, as though he doesn’t want to startle you, taking your face gently in both of his large, warm hands.

“You want me?” he whispers incredulously, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You swallow.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now… Yes, Ter –”

Your confession is cut off suddenly as he pulls your face none-too-gently up to his, kissing you with a fierce joy that takes your breath away. His arms wrap around you, one at your waist and one around your upper back, hand tangled in your hair. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch the top of his gi, pulling him down to you, overwhelmed by the desire that courses through you.

You could kick yourself for how stupid you’d been these past few months, wasting all this time together, but that would mean you would have to stop kissing him, and you’d already spent more than enough time doing that.

He is the one to break the kiss first, his blue eyes dark as he looks at you in his arms with thinly veiled wonder, and you feel your knees go weak. No one had ever looked at you like this before; you hadn’t thought that anyone ever would. You smile up at him shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete, standing in his arms.

“I adore you, Y/N,” he admits reverently, resting his forehead on yours. Tears spring to your eyes at his words, and he wipes them away gently with his thumb before you even realize they’re there. You let out a breathless laugh, hardly able to believe your ears, your heart singing.

“I love you, Terry,” you reply, and the smile that he gives you in return nearly brings tears to your eyes again. He scoops you up into his arms, sitting on the bench with you on his lap, kissing you soundly. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his hair, toes curling in delight. Gradually, you move to shift in his lap, straddling him, never breaking your kiss. His hands come around your hips, and you feel something primal course through you as you feel him getting hard against you.

He leans back from you, breaking the kiss again reluctantly, almost shyly.

“We don’t have to do this now, or here,” he tells you, considerate and gentlemanly as always, and you grin at him.

“It seems oddly appropriate though, doesn’t it?” you reply coyly, gazing at him with lust in your eyes. “And you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, sensei?”

His eyes go nearly black in desire and he growls at you, taking your gi in his hands and somehow shredding the clothes off of you in his haste to get at you. You may have poked the bear a bit too much with that comment, you think to yourself as he tears your bra from your body, leaving you in only your underwear on his lap.

“I think I have more to teach you after all, my dear,” he purrs, his mouth closing around one of your nipples and making you moan, digging your nails into his scalp and clutching him to your chest.

“Please, Terry, show me everything,” you beg desperately, throwing your head back as he toys with you.

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises, picking you up and turning to deposit you on the bench, taking off his own gi. You find yourself licking your lips as he pushes his pants past his hips, whimpering as his cock is bared to you. Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

Trembling slightly, you come to stand on the bench, now almost the same height as him as you push your underwear down your legs. His arms come around you, hands gripping your butt firmly, and your knees nearly buckle, but he’s there, he’s everywhere, supporting your weight with his body.

You pull his hair out of its ponytail, tangling your fingers in it as you tug him closer to you.

“Take me, Terry. I need you,” you ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes, reading the love in them and hoping that your own eyes reflect the same growing devotion.

Not hesitating, he takes you in his arms once more, your legs coming around his waist like they were always meant to be there, and he carries you over to the wall of the dojo, bracing you against it before gently lowering you onto his cock. You whimper as he enters you, and his eyes roll back in his head as he sheathes himself fully in your tight, wet heat.

“Oh God, Terry!” you groan, feeling so deliciously full of him, your nails digging into his back. Supporting you with his hands around your butt, he sets a slow pace of lifting you up off his cock before dropping you back down again. Slow and rough, it’s perfect, and you can’t get enough, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I knew you would be,” he croons in your ear, and you’re again stunned as you recognize how long this man has desired you.

“Made for you, Terry, only you!” you cry out, lifting your head to capture your lips with his own again as you grind your hips against him, feeling deliciously sinful. The pace of his thrusts increases, as though he’s urgently needing to make you his, but you meant what you said. This man was it for you; there would be nobody else.

“Yesss,” he hisses against your lips. “My woman, my everything.” You both tighten your grip on one another at his words, like you’re wanting to claim the other even more. Your orgasms hit you at the same time, and you both cry out the other’s name in your ecstasy, your pace slowing until you’re both just wrapped up in one another. You realize you’re crying again, and he kisses your tears away as they fall.

Reluctantly, he lowers you to the ground, but keeps his arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go completely, and you share the sentiment, nuzzling into his chest.

“You have given me everything, my treasure,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing the top of your head, and you tilt your head up to look at him, still teary-eyed.

“So have you,” you admit with complete sincerity, and he smiles at you, stepping away to retrieve your clothes.

“Oh, you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you. We’ve only gotten started,” he promises, handing your underwear to you. He pulls the pants of his gi back on, but holds his top in his hands, taking in the scattered scraps of fabric that were your gi. Smiling at you, he approaches, wrapping his top around you and tying it to you, big enough on you to look like a full robe.

He ties the obi around your waist, taking in the kana on either end that read Sensei Silver. It seemed appropriate. He takes your hand and looks you over, hair mussed, face flushed, smiling brightly at him as you wore his gi, and feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Come with me, my dear,” he purrs, leading you to the exit of the dojo. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

---

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #smut #sensei targaryen #brb made myself cry #kk3 #karate kid #the karate kid 3

[deputy-morgan-malone]

OC Aesthetics for the Entities (Magnus Archives)

I'm not sure how much new Spooky Month content I'll be doing this year, I'm pretty tapped out at the moment, but I have had this for a while (created by @sagamemes) and it's pretty spooky, so I figured I'd do it for the start of the spooky season \o/

Tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @turbo-virgins, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @direwombat, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @cassietrn, @unholymilf, @strafethesesinners, @paganminiskirt, @henbased, @deputyash, @roofgeese, @fourlittleseedlings, @josephslittledeputy, @jillvalentinesday, @corvosattano and @voidika to do it too - ONLY if you want to <3

aesthetics for the entities.      bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5 OC)

i.  THE BURIED.          weighted blankets.   drowning.   the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots.   letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.   walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.   dragging the last second before you have to inhale.   lonely subways.   feeling like one with the earth.   a layer of dirt on you.   looking for something below.  cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts.   hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you.   a storm drowning you out.  dust & sand speaking to you.

ii.  THE CORRUPTION.          insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.   an untreated wound.  containment.   breaching containment.   unbreathable air.   fungi.   one with that you love.   one with what loves you.   a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs.  honeycomb patterns.   an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.   trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever. food that’s gone off.   pandora’s box.   death behind a glass.

iii.  THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves.   the feel of cold marble.   a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white,  clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night.  time before light was created.   a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.   staying unperceivable.   winter months in the north.   an empty church.

iv.  THE DESOLATION. senseless pain.  warmth of faith. wax where skin should be.   a blazing fire.   heat without a source.   the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for,  gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.   touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.   plastic explosives. burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  THE FLESH. body horror.   factories.   a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone.   long nights working out.   more than one heart.   appearance that shapes like clay.   a bag of bones.   bone broth in a pot.   knowing to fear pigs.   the butcher’s shop.   plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only.  teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.   cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  THE END.          the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.   a skeletal hand.   the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.   existential pain.   ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul & spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it.   a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.   an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.   causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  THE EYE.          googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.   witness reports.   hidden libraries.   eyes of different colors.   feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.   a tragedy you can’t look away from.   endangering yourself for knowledge.   truth.   analog records.   a symbol of an eye.   a watch tower.   compulsion to document.   turning on recording devices without thinking about it.   saving the evidence before the person. extracting information.   truth or dare,  without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you.   coordinated shelves.   cataloguing systems.   voyeurism.   police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  THE HUNT.          sharp canines.   sore calves after a run.   the scent of blood.   an adventure for the journey’s sake.   the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.   the woods.   the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.   being tracked.   fear of someone knowing your every movement.   hunting down monsters.   hide & seek.   running away only to end up where you started.   staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.   a set of footsteps behind you.   blood dripping from bare hands.   barks & growls.   focused eyes.   a victim going limp under your hands.   a mouth full of fresh blood.   catching the scent of something monstrous.   perfecting your craft.   peering into the dark & running after it.

ix.  THE LONELY.          an apartment too small for a double bed.   completely vacant streets.   waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.   your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  THE SLAUGHTER          a game of tag.   senseless violence.   a true crime hobby.   improvised weapons.   blinding rage.   intent to kill.   a horrific day in a quiet community.   a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.   history books that spare no details.   an injury you want revenge for.   war.   counting kills.   songs of soldiers.   a knifeblock on the counter.   a pool of blood.   shellshock.   unspeakable horrors.   anger pushing you forward.   unimaginable pain.   not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.   a fully human monster.   an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.   kill or be killed.   unedited wartime memoirs.   a weapons collection.   not knowing the names of who you kill.   too many to remember.   loss of hope.   there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  THE SPIRAL          sleep deprivation.   corridors you can get lost in.   maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.   losing possessions.   losing people.   losing your sanity.   corkscew curls.   rows of funhouse mirrors.   optical illusions.   a separate reality.   walking through the wrong door.   delusions.   not knowing what your hands are doing.   blank spaces in documents.   hallucinations.   wrong proportions.   a nameless thing.   a place that has never existed.   doubting your own mind.   blind faith.   losing track of names,  labels,  categories.   distorted sound.   an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.   loss of time.   a garish colour.   doors that open to nowhere.   lies.   an unnatural laugh.   jokes & tricks.   illusions.   a doorway.   a sculptor with a wild imagination.   limbs in impossible angles.   doing what’s fun,  not what’s sensible.   fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  THE STRANGER          wax figures.   a close approximation of a human face.   a borrowed appearance.   a strange smell.   glass eyes.   furs & pelts.   a dance.   a song of a choir.   the uncanny valley.   stitching yourself together.   the colours of a circus.   a puppet with no strings.   mannequins.   glitter & sequin.   a stranger you’ve always known.   someone strange in the place of someone you knew.   stolen identities.   stolen skins.   a machine imitating humanity.   the anonymity of a service worker.   hiding in plain sight.   uncomfortable to look at.   a faked accent.   concealing.   forgetting who you are.   forgetting who others are.   a replacement no one notices.   images that look posed.   the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  THE VAST.          open spaces.   carnival rides going up & down.   fear of heights.   endless infinity around you.   your insignificance in an universe.   stomach turning at a drop.   fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.   the sway of a cable car.   an adventure holiday.   losing track of where the surface is.   miles & miles of nothing around you.   staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it.   loss of control.   a fall that doesn’t end in death.   glass floor to the view below.   terminal velocity.   the sound of wind in your ears.   a reach over the railing.   a jump from the top of the building.   falling into nothing.   feeling your feet let go of the ground.   a leap of faith.   motion sickness.

xiv.  THE WEB.          undecipherable code.   a puppeteer holding the strings.   power over the weak—willed.    strings of fate.   manipulation.   an arranged accident.   a hundred minions doing your bidding.   cobwebs.   spiders.   a laid trap.   never voicing discomfort.   outwitting a cheater.   doing things without realising it.   red string across a corkboard.   finding something lost where you were sure you checked.   power over the unrealiability of chance.   watching others dance for you.   an entangled death.   a thousand tiny legs & fangs.   shady forum threads.   something important gone missing.   suspiciously disregarded case.   a missing witness.   connections.   the world wide web.   power of victimhood.   gullibility.   no control over your own decisions.   an invisible leash.   mass psychology.   a horror film in the making.   scapegoat.   never remembering to ask for a name.

+  THE EXTINCTION.          the end of an era.   apocalypse movies.   the alarms of warning systems.   a desolate landscape.   end of the world cults.   nihilism.   the last written history.   a changed world.   no survivours.   old prophecies.   a thousand predicted ends.   a new chapter.   an end with no escape.   catastrophes.   a calendar counting down.   breaking point.   overindulgence.

#i tried to do a mix of morgan's canon life and pre-canon life - and then a few of her more regular aus for the 'situational' occurences #she honestly got the most 'definitely''s for Slaughter but that's mostly because of what others do in the reaping tbh #and she got one more 'never' in Slaughter than she did in The Hunt #so I would say overall she got the Hunt #i didn't actually know that much about the magnus archives and all the entities before this so i didn't know all the options #but i'd say the Hunt suits her frankly #between her 'lust' for life and adrenaline junkie nature - she is a bit of a hunter at heart #couple that with a love of nature and predators and a bit of dabbling in actual hunting herself #and the general nature of what happens during the Reaping #the Hunt probably is the one that typifies her life the most #with some dabblings in the Slaughter (due to her experiences in the reaping) and the Vast #with honourable mentions I think to the Extinction (also due to the reaping) the Eye and the Web #aesthetic games #bold your aesthetic #tag your aesthetic #spooky month 2023 #horror #blood tw #gore imagery #the magnus archives #the entities #tag games

[tea-reads]

Steph’s December Writing Challenge - Day 12: Breaking Point

A/N: ngl writing the action to transition to the soft, comfort fluff was intense. I hope I did it justice. This is the second last part for Agent Whiskey as I’ve got a bonus coming up. Enjoy :)

Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey x reader

WARNINGS: non-explicit violence; brief use of guns; timed bomb; explosion; crying and a lot of feelings and comforting

.

.

.

“Where the hell are you!?” Whiskey shouted angrily into the earpiece, running out of the entrance gates of the castle, closely followed by a group of the enemy’s remaining henchmen. You were supposed to be out with him, but you stayed back for revenge. Little did you know, the psychopath set off a timer bomb inside the castle, and you now had less than a minute to escape. He knew how you’d act.

“You’re not gonna make it… but go on… try…”  He breathed his last words.

“I’m coming out now — just hold on!” You yelled, frantically jumping down from a flight of stairs and rolling to cover your landing. You reached the entrance and raced back to Whiskey. 

Whiskey fired his guns at the oncoming men and they dropped within seconds. The missions you did together were always quick and easy. You always had room for banter and even when in danger, the two of you were unstoppable. He never really worried about you because you have always showed your competence to hold off on your own. 

But for once, karma took control.

And for once…

Whiskey was terrified of losing you. He regretted going ahead of you. 

“WHISKEY!” You cried and a wave of relief washed over him when he saw you running out.

You mustered up what little energy remained from your tired muscles to push for another sprint. He was just near the end of the path, but he was running towards you.

“Stay there!” You shouted as you and dove towards him.

5....

4...

Whiskey caught you and you both crashed into the ground - Whiskey protecting you mid-fall. 

3....

2...

You had a device ready to set up a shield that formed a small dome over the two of you once you immediately jabbed it into the ground.

1....

0...

The explosives set off, destroying the castle inside until it was left in flames. 

You closed your eyes, embracing for impact, but the shield protected you both as chunks of glass, stone and other debris bounced off and the smoke never reached you. 

The two of you stayed still and waited when it all calmed down and it was safe to deactivate the shield, but you wanted to stay in the protective bubble. You wanted to stay in the dark for a little longer. 

“You can open your eyes now, darlin’… we’re safe.” You heard your partner say softly.

Whiskey.

You peeked your eyes open and you realised you have never felt more happy to see his face. You didn’t care that you were clinging onto each other for dear life and he was carefully caressing your the back of your head. You were still processing everything that happened. But one thing kept ringing in your head: you were happy that it’s over and that you were still alive. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

Then it hit you.

“You okay?” Whiskey checked in with you. 

You loved him.

For so long your hearts ached for each other, and the way you came to terms with were opposite - Whiskey accepted his love for you, but you kept denying what you felt for fear that intimacy or attachment would hold you back. You were afraid that the signs Whiskey was showing recently were fake, but you knew better. All the times spent with Whiskey felt right. You liked being with him just as much he liked being with you. 

You buried your head into his chest and began to sob. You held on to him tighter as you released years of heartache and longing. Neither of you have seen each other at their most vulnerable, and as your first time showing your rawest emotions, Whiskey held you and comforted you. Neither of you had to say anything because the two of you knew. 

The feeling was mutual. 

You continued to cry and Whiskey hugged you tightly, rubbing your back up and down to soothe the emotional pain, and pressed kisses against the top of your head, whispering “I’ve got you, darlin’” and “we’re safe now.”

You held on to each other for as long as you needed, and Whiskey comforted you until you were ready. Whiskey cupped your cheek and tilted your head up so that he could look at you. Your eyes were puffy and red, cheeks stained with tears, and you lips trembled. You felt embarrassed he had to see you like this, but Whiskey smiled softly, his eyes filled with empathy and admiration. He wiped the remaining tears and kissed your forehead. 

“Ready to head home?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded. 

#stephsdecemberwritingchallenge #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey

[josephseedismyfather]

OCs as aesthetics for the entities

Thank you to @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, and @simplegenius042 for this tag! 😘 And apologies now, because this is gonna be a loooooong post! I sucked it up and did all 3 of my babes 😳Feel free to skip on by if you want!

aesthetics for the entities, part i. bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Harley Jane ❤️

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Evangeline Rose 💛

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

The Dep 💙

i. THE BURIED. weighted blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust & sand speaking to you.

ii. THE CORRUPTION. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

iv. THE DESOLATION. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

v. THE FLESH. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi. THE END. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambling with death. as old as the universe. soul & spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii. THE EYE. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colors. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t look away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyeurism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

viii. THE HUNT. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide & seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks & growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstrous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark & running after it.

ix. THE LONELY. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. THE SLAUGHTER. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. THE SPIRAL. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallucinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes & tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. THE STRANGER wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs & pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter & sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii. THE VAST. open spaces. carnival rides going up & down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles & miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

xiv. THE WEB. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak—willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs & fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

+ THE EXTINCTION. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

Woowww that's a lot! Mostly did this one for me, but tagging everyone anyway in case you want to take a peek! @wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @villageofshadow, @ocdemon-747, and whoever else wants to play. Tag me! 😘

#oc: harley jane #oc: evangeline rose #untitled john wip #tagged 🖤 #far cry 5 wip #far cry 5 ocs

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

Ben’s character arc: the summary and the highlights

In other words: why do I love Ben Pincus so freaking much

// spoilers for season 5

Ben is an extremely inspiring character to me. I firmly believe that he has the best character arc in the entire show. I also think, this is obviously biased, that out of all characters he has matured the most. And so I decided to briefly break it down to you because I felt like it.

Season 1

Ben’s just a kid who is afraid of life, kinda ignores that there are things he might be missing out on, and kinda doesn’t want to explore that. That fear or nervousness affects his relationship with other people.

Ben is just an anxious shy kid, who has a strong core but is still afraid to take an initiative; he isn’t big on crowds and people and prefers to keep some stuff to himself. For a while, he feels like he doesn’t fit into the group (everyone pretty much arrived at the camp somewhat excited, Ben was simply terrified). 

Slowly, Ben reaches out to touch and explore things that seemed beyond his reach – budding friendship with the campers, Bumpy (!) and, of course, his decision to fully get out of his shell to save the day on the monorail.

ft. Don’t get me started on the entire “it’s okay to be different” speech (10/10, that one was for history books)

Season 2

aka The traumatic experience.

Ben falls from the monorail, suddenly he is on his own in a situation that is very unfamiliar to him. It’s just him and his fears and he has to face the questions like “who am I?”, “how is this going to affect me?”, “what do I have to do to survive?”, “how do I face my fears?”

ft. “What? You’ve never seen a ghost before?”

Season 3

Finding a way back to “an old life”

On an emotional level, Ben doesn’t click with the other campers instantly, finding the connection is hard, and he struggles a lot. He feels like there’s a gap between him and them. While he knows that they care about him, it’s hard to bond over the same things as before; there are also things that Ben thinks are “uniquely his” and he’s very attached to them (Bumpy). These are all the marks left by the trauma, things that helped him find himself, things that in a way reshaped him. They are important to him.

He also finds out that there are aspects of his life, like Bumpy, that he has a hard time leaving behind even if it’s the right thing to do. It hurts too much. He learns how it feels to mourn over friends (Bumpy) that you have to leave behind.

ft. He likes to play with fire a little bit too much

Season 4

Being thrown into a new environment&the fear of “failing”.

Ben finds himself in a similar situation to Ben in season 1 and it affects him heavily. Once again we see this fear, this nervousness, and his insecurities make themselves known once again.

At the same time, he faces his biggest fear: pteranodons. Just when you think that he’s going to glitch, that he’s going to panic and freak out, he simply decides to, in a way, stop running. The scene with pteranodons is probably one of the most important scenes for Ben’s character in the entire series.

ft. Ben learns to trust a person “out of his safety zone” – it’s not easy, it takes time but eventually, he decides to trust Mae

ft. Ben’s entire conversation with Yas.

Season 5

Fully embracing both his insecurities and his courage. 

It may not be obvious but everything about 'season 5 Ben' speaks “confidence”. He’s confidently scared but also confidently brave. He doesn’t overthink his reactions to particular situations. It's obvious to be that he has a very healthy relationship with himself. He accepts the world as it is. He is also not as stubborn as before – in the end, he is, surprisingly enough, the first one to forgive Kenji. Probably one of the top 5 moments of the entire series for me personally.

ft. Ben and Bumpy episode/reunion call it however you want – I think that the moment he refused to control Bumpy even if it meant "getting her by his side" proves that he is emotionally one of the most mature characters. He would rather lose her again than do something against her will (even if her will is, or at least seems, unexistent at that point).

ft. Ben being the one who gives Yas the proper push. He might be awkward when it comes to feelings, especially anything romantic-related but, in the end, he’s a good supportive friend and others know that they can rely on him.

Season 5 post-time skip

Ben doesn’t stop. He doesn’t return to his shell. He fully embraces his interests and who he is. I truly, truly believe that there’s nothing that can stop him. He deserved happiness and that’s what he got.

(I probably missed a bunch of stuff but yeah. i just... I love Ben so much, he made a space for himself in my heart and I don’t think he will ever fully leave. thank you for all those beautiful moments, Ben. I know that you are just a fictional character but gods, among all fictional characters you are one of the best.)

#ben pincus #jwcc ben #camp cretaceous ben #camp cretaceous season 5 #camp cretaceous #jwcc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jurassic world #camp cretacerous spoilers #jwcc spoilers

[witchsickness]

Thinking about pyro!Billy, per usual. How do you think Billy would react to Neil when it comes to his powers? I have the hc that Neil doesn’t know shit about Billy’s powers but can snuff them out with one look, because, although Billy may have an inferno at his beck and call, he’s powerless in the presence of his father. Although, on the other hand… Neil could be the victim of a stress and fear induced bbq. 🤷🏻‍♀️

HELLO i am in love with this ask sorry for having zero chill and writing you a fic <3

it’s not his fault. billy’s born like that. he’s a kid, laughing until the playmat rug catches on fire, the cars and the roads so charred his mom has to throw it away and tell neil she spilled apple puree on it. it’s the first time billy’s left watching, helpless, while the back of neil’s palm connects with his mother’s cheek. neil’s too busy teaching her a lesson to notice the tiny ball of fire in his son’s hand.

neil’s out of the house most of the day, so he’s none the wiser. billy’s mom fireproofs the house as best as she can, replaces wooden toys with plastic and metal, laminates all of billy’s kids’ books. before she leaves, leaves him behind, she makes sure billy knows never to let his father find out. teaches him breathing exercises to reign in the powers whenever he feels overwhelmed. she does that, at least.

the day billy wakes up motherless, a note is waiting for him, slipped between the pages of his favorite book. he’s not a kid anymore. won’t ever be again. he burns her apology, watches the ashes snow down on the floor. then, he storms into his parents’ room. a few of her less-worn dresses are still hanging in her closet, swaying mockingly at him. he snatches them, goes out to the back yard. he throws them in a trashcan, and then, for the first time in his life, uses a match to light them up. he doesn’t bother sticking around to watch them burn. she didn’t bother sticking around, either. seems to be in their blood.

the fire’s—not billy’s deadliest secret. he’s thirteen, sitting on the beach. not her favorite. not that one. leaning back on his hands, fingers sinking in the warm sand. sal is next to him. close. so close billy has to check in case his father appears in a cloud of smoke to raise hell. he’s sweet, sal. smells of toffee and apricot, and a little bit like his asthma inhaler. when he curls his little finger around billy’s, billy wonders if he could have a puff of that inhaler, feels lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. sal smiles at him, and gets up. it’s almost dinnertime. when billy looks at his palms, charred sand is coating them, like the burned sugar on his mom’s favorite dessert.

he’s always been good at hiding. gets better now, one secret piling up on top of the other. he’s a dead boy. he learns to recognize the same doomed look in other boys. for a while, he gets to be half of himself with them. he only picks up those he’d never fall in love with, and makes them lose their mind with his hands, with his tongue. none of the boys are allowed to touch him. billy pulls out of reach every time, smiles his sweet, sixteen-year-old smile that makes people forget their own name. makes people stop asking questions. every night, he lies in bed, an ache between his legs. the flames are licking at his fingertips, begging to be let out. this house is nothing but thin walls. it would be so easy, billy thinks, to burn it down. he never touches himself, either.

one day, neil announces the move. it’s not fair. billy’s been so careful, and it’s still not enough. the day he says goodbye to the ocean, the fire inside him dies out. everything goes silent. no more crackling and simmering. nothing. he doesn’t go near the beach for the two months it takes neil to uproot them.

without the fire, billy’s—numb. gets into trouble just to feel his father’s rage rain upon him, see if it wakes the flames. nothing works. he gets in the camaro, turns the music up loud to drown out max’s road trip excitement, and doesn’t say a word for the three days it takes to drive to hawkins.

on the first day of school, everything’s blurry. across the parking lot, among an ocean of dull, unfamiliar faces, billy catches two brown eyes watching him. shit, billy thinks, skin boiling hot, no, no, no. the back alley is the second hawkins high spot he gets acquainted with, slumped against the brick wall, breathing like his mom taught him to. the fire’s down to a low heat, now, but. it’s there. billy thought—it was lost forever. the second his lips close around a cigarette, the whole thing turns to ash. he’s too excited to be bothered.

billy can’t get too close, but he can’t stay away. he’s the flame, but harrington draws him in, makes him feel like the moth. jesus, man, harrington says, billy plastered against his back, pretending to be chasing the ball, you’re burning up. billy fakes a pulled hamstring and makes a beeline for the showers, skin sizzling when the water falls on him. behind a cloud of steam, he doesn’t see harrington watching him.

the first time harrington kisses him, billy goes up in flames. an enveloping, full-body fire, licking pleasantly at his arms. harrington pulls back, smiling. so cute, he says, looking nothing like billy’s idea of a boy who’s just kissed another boy, or freaked out by the flames. now that billy’s looking closer, harrington looks like—he’s seen things. just mind the hair, he says, and leans into billy’s touch. this time, billy allows a boy to touch him back.

he gets careless. next time he’s shoved against the wall, his eyes light up, and suddenly neil is pulling back, hissing. billy can see two angry handprints scorched around neil’s shoulders. you know, neil says, in his quiet way that always leads to a bloodbath, i always thought that bitch was crazy when she called you special. but i guess that’s one thing she was right about, you pansy. his arm’s lodged against billy’s windpipe. billy—can’t breathe. this world’s not made for freaks like you, neil says, get the fuck out of my sight.

while waiting for harrington to pick him up, billy sits on the sidewalk and keeps snapping his fingers. nothing but feeble sparks come out. his throat hurts too much, breathing coming out as a wheeze. harrington pulls up, crouches in front of him. lifts billy’s face with a finger under his chin. we should have a witch hunt, he says, start with that asshole. light him up. he pulls billy up, ghosts his knuckles across billy’s face. then his mouth blossoms into a snarl, and billy turns around the find neil watching them. harrington rubs their lips together, giving neil hargrove the finger, and billy—glows brightly.

max shows up at their place with an ugly purple peeking under the collar of her shirt. billy looks at the bruised skin for all of two seconds, and then drives like a madman until he’s pushing the door of neil’s house open, almost tears it off its hinges. neil’s standing in the middle of the living room, billy’s own monster under the bed, and billy falters, for a second, before the memory of max, sniffling to push back tears, reminds him who the freak with no place in this world is. d’you remember that time, he says, you held my palm over the burner, told me i’d went too far? that’s what you did, dad. you went too far. he takes neil’s hands, capable of so much evil, in his, and doesn’t stop until the house is reeking of cooked flesh, and neil’s begging for mercy. doesn’t make up for everything, but. it’s a start.

the day max and susan move to a new place, she calls him. wanna burn it down? harrington’s ear is pressed next to his on the receiver, fingers scratching lightly at billy’s elbow. billy hangs up, presses a kiss to harrington’s temple. how ‘bout it, he says, and laughs when harrington doesn’t wait a beat, says, oh, fuck yeah, kisses him silent.

they’re standing on the abandoned front yard. max brought matches, just in case. with harrington’s arm around his waist, billy’s lighter than he’s ever been. he shakes his head, and lets the memory of rage wash over him, one last time. the fire starts from the ground and licks its way up, until the whole thing’s hidden behind thick, black smoke. he leaves max in charge of calling the fire department, and walks away, harrington’s hand in his. he doesn’t need to stick around and watch it burn. it’s not in his blood.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #saltstuck #ask #this is...........a lot #like so much more than you asked for but uh. hope you like it? #my stuff

[blorbologist]

hmmm top 5 favourite cr campaign moments? 👀 from any campaign or from ur choice

!!

This is Long because I Cannot not gush

1) The Cathedral in Campaign 2! The fucking AESTHETICS, the DRAMA, Caleb smashing the window, Yasha nearly killing Beau, Pumat Swole, the shift from glorious cathedral and stained glass down into the bowls of the building, Matt and Ashley's HDYWTDT. It's beautiful and hits so emotionally hard and I simply adore it

2) All of The Fancy and the Fooled, but lets say the party + After especially. Fancy formal dress Mighty Nein is Divine, for one! The Bjreaus jamming out to the Ruby of the Sea's performance while Beau trips balls, locking out the creepy fuck on a balcony 2 electric boogaloo, the maneuvering to get Essek out of there and confront him, and the incredible Shakespeare Liam fuckin OBrian brought when Essek was finally cornered? "You were not born with venome in your veins, you learned it"??? Hi hello?? And ofc Welcome to the Mighty Nein ;;;;;

Also, Fancy and the Fooled was the first episode I ever caught live, and I watched it with @insyndiar, so itll also be special to me for that reason <33

3) The conversation with Syldor in Heredity and Hats. Everything - Laura fuckin Bailey's incredible emotional range, "If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would. I want no part of you", the contrast between Vax and Vex, how Tal tests the waters for titling at intervals prior during the conversation, The Title, "So good sir, despite your relationship with her, do watch your manners", the Literal Mic Drop. The meaning of the moment too, with the Twins confronting their father and letting him have it, and how it ties into Percy and Vex's convo the night before and he found just the perfect way to support Vex in this time (and show he loves her because Oh Shit he Loves Her). And how giddy she is to bring up her new title for the rest of the episode!!

Ok this is getting hard now Fuck

4) Can I just put all the moments between Imogen and Laudna after storm nightmares here? Hell lets include those nightmares, too. The panic and fear and frustration Laura brings to the table, every time, every fucking time, the imagery, the desperation. And how Laudna is so gentle and supportive and just *there* and their dynamic is so soft and strained and im. So excited for Imogen's first nightmare after their fallout last episode because i love them but they need a dose of Angst

5) The Hag. Just. What everyone offered, how much we can speculate about those that didn't get to offer anything? Beau had me devastated, because she was regressing and Marisha was so cmearly mourning potentially losing her character,,,, Yasha going in right after Beau bc she just realized she loved her not long ago, NOTT OFFERING TO RESTART THE WAR?? FUCKER?? And of course Jester's incredible fucking power play because Laura Bailey wins at D&D

Honorable mentions:

- Saying bye to Frumpkin :c because my childhood cat was a white tomcat and he just left one day (keep your cats inside people please). I started bawling 30 minutes into the 7 hour episode boy it was A Time

- Nonagon final battle, just. Holy shit. Everything. Marine layer, Beau's double nat twenties, 'Caleb they need you', almost got a mind controlled Essek, the heals the love the fear the horror visuals ughhh

- Kaylie revealing her identity and Scanlan's reaction

- 'darling take off the mask' 👁👄👁

- the escape from the King's Cage

- inviting Essek for dinner and the hot tub

- "do you want to talk before or after"

- Sunken Tomb :))

- Jester wingmanning Yasha / Beau tripping on Yasha / The Poem

- I could beee herrrr Beacon

- Vex testing out the broom (especially when Percy freaks out over it being unsafe)

- Wall of Fire

- Three orcas chasing Avantika

- Keg <33

- when Beau and Caleb act like siblings, or Vex and Vax do <3

@fatal-blow fuck u <3

#ask game #cr spoilers

[upthebrackets]

what are your favorite national songs and why?

This is such a good but also impossible question!! I’ll just do a top 5 because honestly I probably feel something special about every National song out there.

1. Green Gloves: The nostalgia and love and heartache of old and fading friendship and trying despite everything to still hold people close and know them as they are… This song makes me think of everyone I love and have loved. The Coffee and Flowers episode on it probably changed my life a little bit.

2. Gospel: The opening lines “I got two armfuls of magazines for you / I’ll bring them over”… So my mum and stepdad have a little furnace in the main room of their house and they have central heating too, but this furnace is their main heating source in the winter, because their place is quite small and it warms up well etc ANYWAY they use newspaper as kindling for the fire and so my grandmother saves all her old newspapers for them to use, and that’s what those lines always make me think of. And “hang your holiday rainbow lights in the garden” always evokes such a clear image in my mind. Hanging holiday lights in the garden even when it’s warm and you’re having an icy drink. You can just see it all, hazy the way summer evenings are. And then this is obviously just my very personal interpretation/projection onto these lyrics, but “darling, can you tie my string?”… It’s just soooo much some kind of suicide metaphor in my mind (I’ve spent the winters of too many years listening to Boxer on repeat while feeling unwell) and it’s so… Comforting, loving, painful, beautiful? I don’t really know how to explain it. I’ve spent so much time with some of these songs, particularly off Boxer, that they almost feel like living things I have a relationship to and it’s hard to quantify, you know?

3. Terrible Love: Anthem… My best friend… Instagram handle inspiration… You name it! The words “It’s a terrible love and I’m walking in it’s quiet company” have held my hand through so much. Like when I’m losing my mind a little and I come running to this, it calms be down but lets me go a little crazy at the same time. The drums and repetition are so grounding to me. It’s the one I always wait for in a live show and it’s more cathartic for me than even Abel or Mr November.

4. The Geese of Beverly Road: Just makes me think of being with one person and feeling you can do anything and survive anything and fight anything if you’re together. “We’re the heirs to the glimmering world…” Hopeful and loving and fearful and kind and comforting. We sensing a theme here for what I get from The National’s music yet?

5. Daughters of the Soho Riots: “Break my arms around the one I love and be forgiven by the time my lover comes”!!!!! God the things I would do for a writing class taught by Matt and Carin, honestly. The warmth and dare I say tenderness I feel in his voice and in every part of this song… I love her :’)

#its under a readmore cos it gets a little personal lol <3 #basically i spend september through february every year in the national’s comforting and steadying arms… etc #all their stuff is so special to me. thank you for making me think about this ❤️ #anonymous #ask