#there's the FAINTEST rainbow if you can see it

[riordanness]

better than revenge — [k.jones]

wordcount: 2.1K

warnings: none???

requested: no

“C’mon lass, you get what you want, and I get what I want.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. “Oh?” I question, sipping from my goblet, keeping my eyes on him.

“What do I get out of this?” I ask, my voice hard and my gaze resolute. If I knew one thing, it was to never let down my guard, never show weakness.

The man laughs, tips his head back and gulps the rest of his alcohol down. He looks me in the eye. “I’ll let you live, lass… and I’ll even throw in a few pieces of gold for your trouble.”

I stare at him for the count of four.

“Deal.”

Hours later, under cover of nightfall, I tiptoe down the docks. My leather boots are soft and worn from use, and I have perfected the art of silent footsteps.

My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword, ready to pull it from its sheath the moment I perceive a threat of any kind.

I silently go through my mission once again, knowing full well a single mistake will result in my death. If the pirates aboard this ship don’t get me, the man who sent me on this mission surely will.

I have a simple goal: sneak aboard the Jolly Roger, find a magical compass, and get out alive.

My eyes rest on the ship itself, its name painted in cursive letters right on the waterline, so as the ship moves slightly on the waves, the words appear to dance.

I slip forward, seeing no one on deck. With one swift, fluid movement, I place my right hand on the starboard railing, then I use the momentum from a scissor kick to propel myself from the dock to the deck, dropping without a sound onto my feet.

I quickly shift my body to the shadows, crouching down and moving fast, getting to the doors leading to the lower deck.

Opening it, I slip inside, shutting it quietly behind me. I hadn’t spent the greatest amount of time on boats in my short life, and I haven’t the faintest idea of where to search for a compass of all things.

Luckily for me, I have a locator. I pull it from my pocket now, a shiny white stone, glowing faintly. Apparently, the closer to the compass I get, the brighter the light will shine.

I turn in a slow circle, and when I face the corridor to my left, the brightness of the stone becomes more obvious, in a way I can’t describe. It didn’t become literally brighter, exactly, but it was suddenly very clear which direction I should take.

I follow the stone’s magical light, until it leads me to a small desk inside what I think is the captain’s chambers. Luckily for me, no one is at home. I’m daft. the entire ship is empty. The crew must be out for a night at the pub, and good for me too.

I yank at the top drawer of the desk, its hinges crusty and rough. When the drawer finally slides open, my eyes come to rest on the only object inside.

A golden compass.

I smile, and reach towards the compass. The metal is cool to my touch, and my fingertips glide over it as smoothly as if it was polished merely moments earlier.

I lift it up out of the drawer, dangling it in the air in front of me. I stare in awe, watching as the compass catches the light, glittering and flashing. Rainbows dance across the chamber’s walls, filling the room with colour.

I am just about to drop the compass into my dress pocket, when a voice behind me scares the daylight out of me.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I whirl around, shoving the compass into the deep pocket of my skirts. It was safest there; the pocket easily missed due to the many folds of my skirts. I draw my sword, and stare at the dark figure lurking in the doorway.

Shadows dance across his face, distorting his features. He’s tall, and I can tell his sword is also drawn, the blade catching the light of the only lamp in the room. My eyes drop to the lamp on the desk beside me. Without thinking, I blow out the flame.

It’s completely dark. I use this to my advantage, running fast at the doorway, crashing into the figure. We both land hard on the floor, and I scramble to my feet, ready to run.

But then, hands grab at my waist, hold me fast, and my hopes of escape crumble.

“You aren’t getting away that easily, love,” an accented voice whispers in my ear, before something hits my head, and I remember nothing else.

•••

My head pounds, and I dread opening my eyes. When I do, I immediately cringe in pain as light seemingly floods my vision, increasing my headache by tenfold.

I push myself up to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. I’m in a bed, a simple woven blanket over me. I’m still in my normal clothes, which means no one changed me, thank goodness.

With a slight gasp, I hastily check my pocket. Of course, no compass. I shouldn’t have even dared to hope it remained in my possession. Of course that pirate would have taken it back.

Speaking of that pirate, I frown. Turning over all the events of last night (or what I assume was the last night; I’m not sure how much time has passed since I was knocked out; or even what time of day it is. Whoever’s cabin this is, they clearly hate windows), I shiver slightly. The memory of that voice in my ear, whispering seductively…

I shake myself, and climb out of the bed. I must find that compass, even if I am now a prisoner on this bloody pirate ship.

I leave the cabin, finding my way down the corridor, trying to find the familiar door that leads to the upper deck. When I finally find it, I can hear voices from outside. Pirates laughing and shouting and jeering at each other. At least half of the voices are obviously drunk.

My choice is a simple one, but I still hesitate. Remain a prisoner on this ship? Or risk dying in the battle across the deck?

My father always used to call me his little daredevil, before he died, so I decide to live up to his nickname for me, and push open the door.

The moment I step onto the deck, into the harsh sunlight, the chatter all around me stops. A dozen pairs of pirate eyes gape at me in curiosity. I wonder how often a woman has been on this ship.

Suddenly, someone drops down in front of me, swinging off a top with one hand, and landing on his feet. Startled, I take a step backwards, almost losing my balance.

The man straightens, and locks eyes with me. He smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. I mean, it’s nice. He’s fairly attractive, but his smile leaks devilishness.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, love,” the man says, and I would recognise that voice anywhere. He’s the man from last night, the man who knocked me out.

“I’m Killian Jones,” he continues. “Or as I’m not commonly known as, Captain Hook. To whom do I owe the honour?”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. I am a girl who has tried to steal from him, and yet he seems unaffected by this fact. My guard is instantly up, and I prepare for a fight.

“You are going to let me go,” I say stubbornly, wishing badly that I had my sword. I hadn’t noticed it right away when I’d awoken, but they’d taken it from me. “And I require your golden compass as well as my freedom.”

Killian Jones stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs.

His crew joins in the laughter, some pointing their fingers at me, some jeering and making stupid noises and gestures.

I roll my eyes at them. I have no time for men who aren’t my father. They’re a troublesome species that require a great deal too much effort for my own personal liking.

The captain gains his composure, and stares at me, rather dumbfounded.

“Love, there’s no way in hell I am giving you this compass, just like that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then fight me for it. A duel. Winner gets the compass.”

Killian Jones raises an eyebrow at me apprehensively. “I don’t fight women. At least not with a sword.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Then this’ll be an easy win.” I step quickly towards one of the crew members, elbow him in the chest and pull at his sword at the same time, yanking it from its sheath as he stumbles backwards.

I launch an attack on Killian, my sword coming down on his head. In a flash, he brings his arm up to stop my blade.

My sword clangs against metal, and I stare in shock at what should be Killian’s hand… but isn’t. Replacing his hand is a shiny hook, which has caught my blade mid-air.

I blink in surprise. “You…”

“Yes, I know,” Killian sighs. “Captain Hook isn’t just a catchy nickname.” With his other hand, he gently pries my fingers off the hilt of the borrowed sword.

“Now, love, you’re going to stop attacking me, and do what I say. Or else you’re not going to get a very happy ending.”

I stand, deflated, and watch as he tells a crew mate to tie my hands together, and lash me to the main mast. I slump to the ground, a heavy feeling of defeat clouding over me. I watch in silence as Killian and his crew go back to their loud, joyful drinking. I seem to be forgotten, just like that.

I grit my teeth in frustration, but am suddenly aware of how loosely my bonds have been tied. Clearly, the crew member Killian Jones elected to tie me up was more than a little bit drunk. I smirk to myself as I wriggle my fingers, working at the poorly made knots.

Once my hands are free, I still, watching carefully, planning my escape. Most of the crew have wandered below decks now, and only Killian Jones and another man with a red beanie over his messy hair (who I guess is first mate), stand against the ship’s railing across the other end of the Jolly Roger.

Killian seems to bore of the first mate, and dismisses him, waving his hand at the man. The man disappears into one of the doorways at the back of the ship.

I wait, silent, hoping Hook will follow his mate. He doesn’t seem to have any plans of doing this. For a while, I just sit and watch him as he leans his back against the railing, picking at his metal hook, running his forefinger up and down it, tracing the sharp edges.

“You alright there, love?”

The break in silence startles me so much I barely hear the question. “I–what?”

Kilian looks up, meets my eyes, and smirks slowly, his chin tilting up a little as he does so. His tongue traces his upper teeth, his eyes studying me hard.

“I can’t let you go, you know,” he says.

“Why?” I refuse to believe him. There has to be a way for me to get out of this. Silently, I curse that random, awful man in the tavern for getting me into this mess. Even for a bit of gold and my life, I doubt this is worth it. A whole lot of hassle for not much gain, it was starting to seem.

“Because,” Hook replies, apparently not wanting to elaborate.

I roll my eyes. I am done with this rubbish. I stand quickly, my ropes dropping to the deck.

Killian’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem especially surprised at my escape. “What exactly are you going to do now?” he asks me, a glint in his eyes. Whether it’s from amusement or pure evil, I don’t exactly know.

“Get out of here and kill you,” I say, eyes narrowed.

He laughs. “Okay, love. You do that.” For a moment, he does nothing but play with the hilt of his sword. Then he looks up at me. “You know, you could always join my crew.”

I frown immediately. “What do you mean? Why on earth would I do that?”

He smirks. “Because… I want you to.”

I stare at him, unsure if he’s serious or joking. Then, I make a dumb decision and decide, “Why not.”

#killian jones #ouat #ouat fanfic #fanfiction #killian jones x reader #once upon a time #ouat x reader #captain hook #hook x reader

[daisychainsandbowties]

Avalil + northern lights? There's no way Ava's ever actually seen them in person

thanks to @frozenabattoir for giving me the idea for this ily 💖💖🥰

Lava Kiss

…

Ava opens her eyes and she is kneeling on the shore of a crack that runs right into the earth. Above, dim, like the stabbing of stars through the atmosphere, she can see the faintest flush of colour. The sky bewitched by light.

She knows, she knows what it is. Aurora. (Bea with her voice like warm rain. cold water. like swimming in the pool and the chlorine sticking to her skin. Bea, with her voice)

(i miss you i miss you i-)

The lights, she remembers, are caused by solar wind, by disturbances in the magnetosphere (how Bea’s voice almost vanished around the word sphere, a breathy ‘f’ snuck inside the sound of it). Ava likes her voice. Every sound it makes.

She tries not to think of another voice, the other voice. Breaking in the dark.

The dapple of bloodred light through membrane. The leak of molten orange and her, catching it in a cupped palm before it could touch Ava.

The northern lights are charged particles exciting the atmosphere, and then light. Light.

But you can hardly see it now. Ava, trembling, kneels on the edge of a breakage in the world and remembers.

Lilith.

Walking with her, wings tucked so tight they gasped for air together in the wretched heat. Lilith with her arms around Ava and outside…

Fire. The smell of spitting hissing spitting burning flesh and the grit of Lilith’s teeth. Ava pleading with her in the dark. “Phase. Please Lilith, please just-”

“Can’t.” her teeth. Ava knows how they feel inside her. “I have to leave you behind if I go.”

“Then go.”

Silence.

She didn’t leave and now. And now.

The horizon is a wash of fire, smoke and gas churning thick around them, but the flicker-beat of the halo makes an oasis of light where Ava kneels.

Where Lilith sits, curled into a ball. She is more than half-alight.

Lilith twitches, gasps. Shakes her stupid, beautiful head, the burnt-out ends of hair curled Medusa-like around it.

Ava sees the edge of Lilith’s smile and breaks like a bone. She makes a noise she will not be able to recall later. She moves, she cries, she is always too late.

Roughness underneath her. Young stone, warm to the touch, raw as an unwrapped wound. It tears at her knees and her palms as she darts toward Lilith.

There’s a soft hiss, a sizzling that becomes Lilith’s voice. Why can’t it ever sound strange to her?

“Don’t.”

She has one burning hand raised. Palmprint of blood and blisters. They pop. Molten flesh touches Ava's collarbones.

It hurts.

The palm and Lilith behind it. Hurts.

She is recognizable. That's the worst part of it.

“I’ll heal,” Lilith wheezes.

“Bullshit.”

“Watch.”

A quick-spar of traded syllables. She always loses this fight.

Ava sits back, trying to escape the blur of recollection. Of fighting Lilith, of stabbing slicing clawing biting breaking her. Again and again.

And the strange girl next to her letting it happen. Putting her body in the way like that’s all she can do with it.

If not for her, Bea would be-

“I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

Her snarl is back already.

Ava tries not to cry about it. On the way through the fire, Lilith called her crybaby five times.

Halo-light makes her an effigy as Ava sits, watches, waits. Tries not to think at all, in fact, of the halo in her chest, the iron now wrapped tight around her heart and tendril-hooked through her spine. Inescapable.

“So,” she says eventually. Ava is not good at silence and she is worse at watching Lilith try not to scream as new flesh splits the skin of her flash-burned back. “Hell is really-”

other people?

“You weren’t in hell.” Lilith sits, burning, pedantic, on the rock next to Ava. Her skin is a swirl of colour, stone shot through with rainbow lines. “I just chose this way back.”

“You chose the path made of lava!? Are you absolutely batsh-”

“It was the only way to keep you intact. To keep the halo with us. I-I had to shield it. I had to-”

She breaks off. Ava can’t tell if it’s pain or frustration or hatred or pain or please, let it stop.

Lilith notices her staring. Always does. Never comments.

This is how they dance around the issue.

“It'll come back clean,” she says, meeting Ava’s eyes - oh, there you are - as droplets of lava leak down the sweep of her wing, bundled up like an old umbrella.

She leans into the curve of it, so small against her wingspan. Legs bare, leaking blood down to her newly-returned toes. Skin splitting, popping, blistering, burning.

Ava doesn’t flinch. She’s shivering, body aching for the humidity of hell. For the dry dunes, their wavering shapes that seem to walk during the night when you collapse at their feet. Beatrice told her once that there are spiders in the desert who will chase your shadow.

“Not you, just your shadow.”

Lilith has her eyelashes, still. Somehow. They cast shadows on her face as her eyes flutter open. Her voice sounds fresh from an oven, low. Little gouts of steaming air escape past her lips, which are all broken up, strings of whatever the mouth is made of hanging down. Bloody ribbons sticking to her chin.

She's a wreck.

Ava loves her.

#warrior nun #avalil #ava x lilith #technically avabealil #tw burns #tw gore #anon #ty for the prompt! #casper writes #(finally 😭😭) #bdbdbdbd i’m so sorry this is the opposite of what you probably wanted 🫠🫠

[laalaaliaa]

Hey💗 can you do a Sirius black one? Where they are still in Hogwarts and really like each other but aren’t doing any thing about it. But one day Bellatrix or anyone that is a pureblood corners the reader and writes “mud blood” or something foul on her arm (like for hermione in Harry Potter) and he heard the screams but couldn’t find anyone. Then later he finds the reader and she’s acting off and avoids everyone. The next day or few days he sees what’s on her arm and finds out and gets revenge as well as establishing their relationship 🤍

Hi, thanks for the request, and apologies for taking awhile to get to it. I really hope you enjoy. 🤍

Sirius Black X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius doesn’t like when the girl he’s enamored with gets harmed, so he takes matters into his own hands

Warnings: Bullying, Assault, Sirius and Reader being dummies and ignoring their feelings, Reader experiences a panic attack, Sirius cares way too much (even though he says he doesn’t)

Proofread? No

I Solemly Swear - S.B

You were a mudblood, or so you’ve been told. You were a first year at the time, too naive to understand what it meant, and too mesmerized with the lore of Hogwarts. You were a muggle. You knew that, but only cause you were taught that quite quickly by a few pureblood’s who couldn’t stand the sight of you. It hurt, but you eventually realized in your third year that Hogwarts was not so flowers and rainbows as your eleven-year old mind had made it seem.

You were a sixth year now, accustomed with your house, friends, and sticking where you belonged. You were like a stickler, you had a usual routine, and you stuck with it. It wasn’t like you completely disregarded making friend ships with those who were pure blooded. You had James and Sirius to account for. They were your closest friends since first year, being the only ones who came to your defenses when you were unrightfully attacked.

As of right now, you were a stressed sixth year running to her first class of the day. James, with his long legs, was striding farther, and faster. You puffed out a breath, struggling to tie your own tie as your book bag strung loosely on your last three fingers, teasing you each time it nearly fell off. “James, for melin’s sake slow down.” You squeezed out, your concentration stuck on straightening out your tie. James was surprisingly silent, you hadn’t notice him halt in his step, causing you to ricochet off his back.

You held onto his shoulders, a scowl on your face as you found your equilibrium. “I didn’t mean stop completely you bloke.” Once you shifted besides him, you noticed his jaw practically slacked, the faintest blush on his cheeks, or perhaps his skin complexion, and his gaze trained on something, or rather someone. “Y/N, look.” He pointed, helping you easily scout Lily Evans right before she turned the corner, you rolled your eyes, giving him a sarcastic smile as you ran ahead, in hopes of catching your red headed friend.

You eventually caught up to her falling in step as you started up a conversation. Soon after James was between you two, his hands around both your shoulders as he threw a cocky smile at Lily, who only scowled at him briefly before pushing his arm off. The three of you were nearly there, before a thought crossed your mind. You quickly stopped, causing the two to look at you confusedly as you rummaged through your bag, an annoyed groan falling from your lips. You forgot your transfiguration book.

“You guys just go ahead, I’ll be a little late.” James seemed to frown, walking closer as he grabbed your bag. “Y/N, I can go with.” He insisted, causing you to shake your head with a thankful smile. With a wavering sigh, James gestured you to go, keeping hold of your bag as he said—“I’ll keep your baby safe, not a worry dear.” So with that you immediately turned back around, returning from where you came from.

You were quick, up until you saw a few Pureblood’s loitering around the hall you needed to go through to get to the floating staircase. You were in a dilemma, slowing in your steps as you tried to walk pass them, in hopes of being unperturbed. You failed miserably, your steps alerting them and causing them to holler at you. “Hey, mudblood cmere’.” Were you perhaps a fool for not listening and continuing on? Yes, because you were in deep shit.

You felt a rough hand tug your arm, pulling you back and keeping you trapped. You turned behind you, catching sight Bellatrix Black behind you, before turning back to the front, Narcissa Black, and Lucius Malfoy as well. You clenched your fist, annoyance bubbling in your core and before you could bite your tongue, you spoke harshly, “Don’t you have some wizard freak to worship? Leave me alone.” They didn’t seem to take your words to kindly, Bellatrix had her wand pointed at your lower back, causing you to tense as Lucius laughed sarcastically.

“I’d watch the way you speak of Lord Voldemort you mudblood, he’ll have you wiped off the planet.” You only scowled at him, causing him to grab your jaw forcefully, making you squirm uncomfortably. “Just give up while you can, no one will save you. Not even that disgrace of a Black.” His words resonated deeply, anger seeping through the surface of your skin as you spit in his face, causing him to push your face harshly and fall into Bellatrix’s tight hold.

“You’re done for you fucking muggle.” He spat distastefully. He had tugged your hair roughly, exposing your neck before he pointed his wand at your skin, a burning sensation oncoming, causing you to scream in pain, a few screams escaping before your mouth was covered by a grinning Bellatrix. The pain went on for several seconds, your squirming doing nothing to ease the pain nor get rid of their grips. Once he was done he let go of your hair, allowing your head to drop defeatedly.

“It’s good to let everyone know what you are, a good for nothing mudblood.” Your tears fell silently, their snickers and cackles fading from your ears as you felt blood drop from the side of your neck, landing on your hands. Lucius held your head up one last time, tapping your cheek mockingly before dropping you and ultimately letting you fall to the ground exhaustedly. With one last look at the three of them, the only one who seemed to hold remorse was Narcissa, who looked at you apologetically before they were gone.

You were quick to stand, your knees weak and barely holding you up as the assault finally seeped in, allowing you to cry silently as you made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. Just as you had left, a disturbed Sirius Black rounded the corner, only for the hall to be empty, causing him to frown worriedly. He heard it, he wasn’t crazy, or at least he didn’t think he was. The scream was distinct, causing him to worry about you, but why you? You were surely in class by now. With one last glance at the crime scene he walked away, unable to spot the few drops of blood decorating the hallway.

The next few days were blank, your friends barely seeing you, which was not like your usual routine. You concealed yourself, always fidgeting with the hair resting around your neck, as if you were hiding something (which you were). James had grown worried about you, your usual playful banter was scarce, he barely saw you, and he couldn’t find you in places he normally would. So as he sat around the couches in the common room, silence floating around the group of people you called friends, he spoke. “Is anyone else worried about Y/N?”

The silence seemed to tense up, as if you were a sore subject, each teen glancing at one another before another voice piped up, “I’m sure she’s just fine.” Everyone’s eyes fell on Sirius who seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation. James brows furrowed in slight anger, his voice tense as he spoke, “Why are you acting so—so freaking careless about Y/N.” Sirius’s composed stature seemed to falter slightly before he shrugged. “Maybe she just wants to be alone.” James rolled his eyes at that.

Truth be told, Sirius was absolutely worried about you. His feelings had arose for you within the past year, his placid, aloof behavior only seeming to arise whenever you were brought up, or you were around. He liked you, he knew that, he just didn’t wanna ruin the ongoing friendship he had with you. So with a huff he sunk into his seat, going silent as his friends stared at him with indifferent looks. Remus cleared his throat, casting a quick glance towards the portrait hole, causing everyone to look back, and for you to look like a deer in headlights.

“Why do you all look crazy?” You pressed quizzically, the faintest smile playing at your lips, causing each teen to glance at one another before James cleared his throat. “We’re…worried, about you.” You tilted your head to the side, a quirk between your brows as you frowned. “Why would you be worried?” You asked naively, causing Sirius to produce a gruff scoff, you glanced at him, he wasn’t even looking your way. With a roll of your eyes, you reassured the boys, “I’m fine, can you guys just—I don’t know, drop it?” As much as they didn’t want to, they did.

With a quick glance at each of them, and your gaze lingering on Sirius longer than usual. You left the three of them, silently making your way to your dormitory. Once you were for sure gone, James slapped Sirius on the back of his head, causing him to groan. “What the hell was that for Prongs?” James only stared at him as if his attack was justifiable (which it was).

“For being a bloke to the girl you love.”

“Love? I—Y/N and I are just friends.”

He received a look from both Remus and James who looked unmoved. With clenched fists he stood from the couches, following en-suite of the route you took to get to your dorm. He was frustrated, with himself and with you. As much as he didn’t wanna admit how worried he was about you, he wanted to get to the bottom of why you started acting this way in the first place. As soon as he entered your dormitory, he caught sight of you facing a mirror, your hair held up with your hand, as your other hand touched at the words written across your neck.

“Y/N, what the fuck.” He had shouted, his eyes wide as he clenched his fist. You were quick to drop your hair, quickly covering the engraving as you glanced back at him with a glower. “Sirius, get out.” His stance didn’t budge, only walking closer as he grabbed your face. You pushed his hands away, pushing his chest in the process as you turned back to the mirror. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” You said glumly, only for him to scoff as he pointed an accusatory finger at you. “Lemme’ guess, because your gonna keep acting like everything’s fine, when it’s clearly not.”

You frowned at that, turning to face him as you poked your finger into his chest harshly, pushing him back with each word, “Why would you care? You haven’t been the greatest friend in the world, so look if they sent you up here, tell them I’m fine.” Sirius grasped your wrists loosely, a discouraged look on his face as he chuckled lowly. The sight alone, made you feel sick, his demeanor reminding you of Lucius, causing you to try your best to pull away. “Sirius—L-Let me go.” You struggled in his hold, tears springing in your eyes as you fought an internal battle.

He continued to hold you, up until you yanked away, falling to the floor and covering your face as sobs racked from your body. “Y-Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—Just talk to me, please.” He pleaded, sinking down beside you as he lifted your head slowly. Your eyes were already red, mascara stains under your eyes as you sniffled. He frowned as he rubbed the back of your head comfortingly. “Y/N, who did this to you.” You were silent for a moment, your head eventually falling onto his shoulder as you whispered softly. “Lucius and Bellatrix.” If it weren’t for how quiet your dorm was, he wouldn’t have heard you.

He was mad, and as much as he wanted to beat Lucius for even touching a hair on your head. He refrained. He wanted to be with you, comforting you, helping you, and whatever else you wanted him to do. “Can you stay?” You whispered one last time. Although he looked so calm on the outside, his heart felt like it’d explode from how fast it was beating. “Yeah.” He mumbled awkwardly, causing you to laugh softly. “If you don’t—I do.” He cut your statement off, getting comfy as his back rested on the side of your bed. He’d spend the entire night like that if you wanted him too.

The next day felt much better for you. After having Sirius hold you the whole night, you felt much better, even having the energy to socialize with you friends. You walked with Lily on the way to your first class, only to be stopped by a group of students forming a crowd, laughs and snickers falling from their lips. You and Lily pushed through the crowd, your jaw falling at the sight of Lucius Malfoy beating himself up. Sirius towered above him his wand pointed at Lucius as he kept repeating—“Why are you beating yourself up Malfoy?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, Lucius groaned weakly, his arm forcefully raising itself up before he punched himself again. It was absolutely hilarious. “I see you’ve taken matters into your own hands.” You joked, Sirius could only smile, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke, “It’s gonna last all day.” You smiled at that, mouthing a ‘thank you’, but he only waved you off. It became silent between the two of you, not even the laughter of those surrounding you two was able to break the silence you two formed.

“I’d do anything for you Y/N, I care about you, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been the greatest friend alive.” You opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the sound of Mcgonagall’s voice, “Sirius Black, what is the meaning of this?” She asked, her face devoid of any emotion. Sirius only smiled at her, his voice bittersweet as he spoke, “Minnie, this what we call sweet revenge.” She only tutted, granting him three weeks of detention as she helped Lucius stand, telling the crowd to separate.

Soon after it was just the two of you. You both smiled at each other like lovesick puppies, up until Sirius spoke, “So three weeks of detention.” You nodded awkwardly, up until you both laughed. “How can I make up for that?” You asked sweetly, watching as ideas racked over his brain. He soon after snapped his fingers as he smiled at you.

“After my three weeks, how about a date?”

“Deal.”

#sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black x reader #harry potter imagine #marauders #harry potter

[seriowan]

please can you write a fic where tech takes dear reader bird watching (or...like...whatever the star wars equivalent of that is) i crave wholesome fluffy goodness after.........THAT

{ doves - tech x gn!reader } · warnings: none, just fluff and suggestive implications at the end · word count: 981 · a/n: SOFTNESS. FLUFF. DELUSION. just for you and your comfort ♡ love u moonie!! · radio: the sun is in your eyes, jacob collier

Sunlight kisses his face like golden fingers against his skin. There isn’t a cloud that can overshadow the peace in his eyes. Nothing but contentment while he watches the skies. With a hand on his chest and the other on his stomach, he lies in a rare bed of ease. 

   Relaxed by the sun’s warmth, the cool winds, and the gentle tickle of grass against his legs, Tech sighs gently through his nose. 

   “Have you drawn your birds yet, mesh’la?”

It’s a serious question, but the way he says it in the faintest jesting tone has your cheeks flushing red. 

   You look down at the empty pages in your sketchbook, clearing your throat. 

   “No,” you reply, setting your pencil down against the spine before closing the journal. “And I don’t think I’ll be seeing any of those doves. It might be too late in the day.” 

   The slight disappointment in your voice causes Tech to sit up, brows pinched in concern. “Perhaps you will have better luck tomorrow if we leave earlier in the morning. The rainbow doves leave their nests near dusk or dawn and it is midday.” 

   You shift, sitting crisscrossed on the blanket, and glance up at the sun with closed eyes. Its warmth beats against your face, gentle and comforting. After a moment, you sigh. “Maybe it’s best if we just move on. If the doves won’t come out on the sunniest day in the week, I’ll doubt I’ll get lucky tomorrow.” 

   “Mesh’la.” 

   You look at him, furrowing your brows when you notice him staring behind you. Slowly, you turn, eyes widening at the sight coming from the colorful trees in the distance. 

   Rainbow feathered birds come fluttering out from the shelter of the trees, the faintest sound of dove song greeting your ears like a hello. The sight of multicolored birds soaring into the sky is so beautiful that you nearly forget why you’re birdwatching in the first place. Quickly, you grab your sketchbook and begin to draw the scene, acutely aware of the blanket’s rustle. 

   Tech’s hands snake around your hips, hauling you in the space between his legs. He hooks his arms around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder as he watches you sketch. You feel the beat of his heart against your back, causing you to smile at the welcomed distraction. 

   “You’re hovering,” you murmur in a teasing tone. 

   He hums, adjusting his goggles. “I’m observing. Your artistic skill is fascinating.” 

   “Fascinating?” You giggle, brushing eraser shavings off of the paper. “Thank you. I love being fascinating.” 

   “You’re more than fascinating, mesh’la,” he adds, tightening his arms around your waist. “You are passionate and kind and I find your adoration of birds to be endearing.” 

   You smile, cheeks flushing red with a blush. “Can I tell you something?” 

   “Of course.” 

   With a stroke of your pencil, you finish the sketch and hold it up. With the birds flying across the sky, it looks as if you took a picture of the moment and put it on paper. “On this planet, the doves mate for life. They usually find their partners five to seven months after leaving the nest to live on their own and once they mate, they stayed paired for life.” You turn to look at him, catching the faintest trace of adoration in his eyes. Shy words leave your lips ever so slowly. “Will you be my dove?”

   “Your dove,” he echoes in amusement. The look makes you giggle while you lean back against him, allowing him to take the sketchbook out of your hands. Tech eyes your drawing with a gentle gaze, lip twitching up in a small smile at the sight of your work. 

   “I would love to be your dove, cyare,” he says sincerely, gently thumbing the page. “My only request is that you draw me onto one of these pages among the other birds.” 

   At this, you move off of his lap and sit in front of him, eagerly snatching the book out of his hands. Pencil in hand, you face him and give him a cheeky grin. “Get comfortable, dove. This’ll take a while.” 

   “You’re being awfully eager,” he noted, smiling. “You’ve thought of this before, haven’t you?” 

   “Drawing you?” You chuckle shyly. “Maybe. I’ve just never mustered the courage to ask.” 

   “Well,” he grunts, lying down on his back to face the sky. After adjusting his goggles, he places his hands on his chest and looks at you, arching a brow. “Now you do not need to ask.” 

   You watch him with eyes full of love as he relaxes against the blanket. The sun’s golden hands gently cradle his cheeks until they turn pink, his eyes fluttering shut at the light. The wind combs through his curls, ruffling them up as his chest rises and falls with a deep breath. 

   “Hey, Tech?” 

   “Yes, dove.” 

   You lean over to curl a stray hair around your finger. It falls against his forehead and you smile at how cute he looks. With a lean, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and smile when he returns it without hesitation. When you pull away, he gives you a pleasant but questioning gaze. 

   “You’re… you’re beautiful.” 

   “Ah,” He clears his throat, shyly looking away. The only sign that gives his true feelings away is the flush of his cheeks, now red. “Th-thank you, cyare.” 

   “Always,” you murmur, brushing the curl away before sitting back. “Now, sit still. I need to get every detail.” 

   “I’m still.” 

   “You’re fidgeting.” 

   “That is not something I can control.” 

   “Then go to sleep.” 

   “If I could, I would attempt to-” 

   “I can tire you out.” 

   Your suggestive comment causes him to turn his head swiftly, lips slowly curling up into a small smile. “Finish your drawing and if we have time-”

  “Alright, alright! I’m going as fast as I can-!”

taglist? taglist.

@discarded-beskar @lucyysthings @dangraccoon @burningfieldof-clover @cyarinka @zaddymaul @echos-girlfriend @ladykatakuri @sol-oya-6116 @corona-one @eloquentmoon @maulslittlemeowmeow @misogirl828 @theclonesdeservebetter @frietiemeloen @torchbearerkyle @witchklng @ivela3 @kaminocasey @sunflowerrex  @nekotaetae @literallydontlook @agenteliix @starqueensthings @fives-lover @sunshinesdaydream 

@chicknstripz @sskim-milkk @queenquazar @jedimastersovi @mo-i-ra @boomtowngirl @nahoney22 @techs-ass @babygirlrex0504 @questforgalas @littlebluebatbrat @crosshairs-wife @jambolska-grozdova @get-wr3ckered @arctrooper69 @thetiredtoad @edlix @sinfulsalutations @aconstructofamind

-

#tech x reader #tech x reader fluff #tech fluff #tech #the bad batch tech #the bad batch #bad batch tech #tech bad batch #tbb spoilers #< just to be safe

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Candles

Present 3: Sharing

(A Marching Hare Story)

For the past month leading to her 5th birthday, Charlotte had been preparing for when the Marching Hare would return. She invited everyone she knew, pretty much the entire town, to the party. Now, the reason why everyone was invited wasn't given to them, they just saw it as a gesture of goodwill. But Charlotte had something in mind, something that she'd show everyone, and hopefully, they'd join in.

Susan and Grant had been helping their daughter prepare for the party, getting the cake ordered, making the decorations, the like, while Dee had handed out the invites. Everything was coming up nicely.

The day before the party, most of everything had been set up. The cake had been completed, sealed up tight, and their yard was adorned with streamers and brightly colored lights. There was only one more thing that was needed. A gift.

Charlotte had gotten a piece of construction paper and a marker, and went to work. She had her mother make sure it was readable, it was important for the receiver of the gift to understand. She spent all night trying to find the right words, what to write down. And, finally, with a finishing touch, the gift was ready.

It was the day of the party. A majority of the town was there, all the kids that could make it were there, they were playing, and all the parents talked amongst themselves. Susan was the only one still out of the loop, even after the night she returned home she still had no clue what this "birthday bunny" was, and why everyone else seemed to take it at face value.

"Oh, it's just a little thing the kids made, I believe."

"Are you sure? They all take it so seriously."

"Well of course they do, mein freunde, what child doesn't?"

Susan took a moment to reflect. Why question this, it's just kids being kids, after all. But why go through so much effort, inviting all of these people, just for something made up? Why not, if everyone has a good time?

Charlotte was anticipating his arrival every second she was there. She had her gift for him in hand, never letting it go, even when playing with the others. She was optimistic, why wouldn't he show up? It was her birthday, he had to.

She waited. An hour passed, no sign, lunch had been served. She waited. 2 hours, no sign, all the games had been played. She waited. 3 hours, no sign. All there was left were cake and presents. Her optimism withered with each hour. If he didn't show before the party was done, then what was the point.

"Alright honey, do you want to do cake or presents first?"

"Cake, please. Just in case he arrives."

"Alright, Charlotte, go and sit at the table. Daddy and I will light the candles."

She took her seat in front of the cake, 5 long, rainbow candles adorned it.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, all were lit up.

"Alright everyone, are you ready? 🎵 Happy bir-"

A loud clang was heard in the distance, silencing everyone. Another clang, and another, the faintest sound of static alongside them.

"HE'S HERE! MOMMY, DADDY, DEE, EVERYONE HE'S HERE!"

Indeed, he was. The Marching Hare, there for everyone to see. As he took his steps, he started to notice just how many people were there. So many, just to celebrate that little girl's birthday. The static almost sounded like giggling. He marched only a tiny bit quicker, before finally stopping right in front of everyone. All but the children stood in shock. The parents couldn't believe it, Susan especially. He was real.

It had a great, big pinecone in its mouth, dropping it. He bowed, slowly starting to turn around.

"WAIT!"

Charlotte cried out, stopping the Hsre in its tracks. She stepped down from her chair and walked over to him, her gift in hand.

"Can you read, Mr. Bunny?"

He nodded slowly, tilting his head in confusion. She handed him the gift, a note.

"Dear Mr. Bunny. When you first visited, I was very happy. And when you visited everyone else, you made them happy. You gave all of us gifts, but you didn't get anything. I want to fix that. I don't know when your birthday is, so all of our birthdays are yours too. And presents are included. Thank you, Mr. Bunny.

From Charlotte Reed"

And below, a little drawing of the Hare, a big smile on his face. A tear started to form on his beady eyes. The static was increasing in intensity, he wanted to say something. After a bit, he managed to get it out, as warbled as it was.

"T̸h̶a̷n̵k̶.̴.̶.̷.̶y̷o̷u̴.̷.̸.̴.̶ "

He put the note in his mouth, and then marched away. Charlotte walked back to the cake, blowing her candles, the pinecone in hand. Everyone turned around, clapping as one would at any other birthday party. Charlotte, with a few tears of her own, stood in.her seat, shouting.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Bunny!"

Bunzo giggled. He'd be getting really old, wouldn't he? A few more tears wouldn't hurt.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime au #cryptid au #cryptids of spielzeit #cryptozoology #cryptids #bunzo #bunzo bunny #poppy playtime bunzo #marching hare #The Marching Hare #birthday bunny #writing #original writing #short story #story #candles

[chthonicgodling]

(April’s)Huevember - Day 4!!

featuring: Alena & Hess

[in which I’ve made my very own #Huevember wheel this year (that you can use too! Pls tag me I’d LOVE to see!) - unabridged version continues, including a wide array of Elysium’verse characters across the rainbow!]

the lightest faintest palest orange that you ever did see 🤪 this one came out so cute here’s some character notes!!

Alena and Hess here are first of all missing their third partner Meno, who is Green and thus does not get to be included in this kissy, sorry dude

”oh that kinda looks like a snake tail behind them” yeah it IS, that’s Alena’s whole bottom half 🤪 Alena’s a Lamia, and she does do all the things the Lamiai do like….. eat humans but it’s okay it’s fine she’s nice 🥰

fun fact from what i recall, when the throuple was getting together - Meno and Alena were casually on/off dating - Meno and Hess were also casually on/off dating - while Meno was anguishing about which one of them to officially Choose, Alena and Hess meanwhile paired off together themselves and just. lmao dragged him over so. all that drama and for what!!

Alena belongs to @fenixethekid & Hess is mine uwuwuwu,, stay tuned tomorrow for day 5, which is one of my faves!! click the link up above to see the whole Huevember wheel - feel free to use the tag AceprilHuevember if u want to play too - and my tag this year can be found here!!

#AceprilHuevember #AceprilHuevember 2023 #Huevember 2023 #huevember2023 #huevember23 #my art

[dreadfutures]

happy happy HAPPY FRIDAY BLUE💜💜💜 I'm still on my dirthxchel kick, so could we perhaps see those two with: "one lives in the hope of becoming a memory." from the quotes about death prompts?

happy writing friend, mwah🥰

Thank you so very much!!!! For @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Ixchel Lavellan x Dirthamen (#sunbird, Elvhenan AU)

Rating: um there is an off-screen mass sacrifice mentioned

words: 1841

notes: imagine this is the Haligtree from Elden Ring, at blazing sunset.

-:-:-

The sun filters slantwise through the great tree and paints the world in blood and flame and gold. She finds the metaphor flitting into her mind before she can stop it, and then she thinks that perhaps it is not so much a metaphor as the truth. It would require a Dream to discern if that is so, but before she can ask her companion, he has climbed up onto the stone balustrade that guards against the precipitous drop—and he drops.

She is still unused to these things, and she flinches toward the edge, half expecting to see him falling. Logically, she knows what she will find: her lord drawing the Fade close to warp his form, the darkest of spectral rainbows made into corporeal feathers to grant him flight. That is indeed the case, and today he has let himself embody his spirit-self fully, for gone are all traces of manhood as this serpentlike raven flaps its mighty wings and takes off over this once-great city.

Ixchel clambers onto the stone railing as well, brushing aside rust-red leaves and the bleached-white remains of vines, and takes a seat. Dirthamen warned her not to stray far into this place ("the Husk," Deceit had called it) until he has done his reconnaissance, so she will keep vigil here over this vision of decrepit beauty. On either side of her, braziers burn with eternal flame, and as Dirthamen flies through the city, more light up in response to his presence. They blaze, too hot for the weather; this place is in the early stages of a perpetual autumn, where the summer sun stickily lingers as long as it can. Or perhaps this place was never meant for this season. She has heard of places crafted so that time may never touch them and where the perfect moment is preserved, undying, as long as its dreamers live.

It would be difficult to say. As far as Ixchel can tell, all life has fled this place. No birds call, no reptiles whisper, no insects hum. The only sound is of the dead leaves falling, and the distant whisper and groan of the giant boughs above her jostled by the wind.

She imagines what it might be like to see the city in a more…vigorous state. The bones are there in the stone of this tiered city, ringed around the petrified tree; each level is connected by raised pathways, each featuring a watch tower or bell tower (or both) that points skyward, roofs jagged as though to spear the very heavens. She imagines the sounds of those bells and the occassions that might call for them to ring, although from what she can see they are tangled in the same dead, dry vines that have infected the veins of this place. Carpets of leaves cascade like waterfalls down the intricately-carved walls of the towers, and they glow blood red in the dying light of day.

She looks down, following their spillage, at the raised, circular avenues that top each of the walls. They are so wide a drake might crawl down one, wings comfortably unfurled, and she wonders if that was who once lived here. She knows drakes like cliffs honeycombed with caves, and beneath these avenues, set in the walls, are dwellings and plazas open to the air—perhaps they are similar enough to satisfy spirits-made-serpent?

As her vision scans down the face of a wall, she sees vases full of wilted flowers and mostly wooden stems, and every surface—yes, every surface bears the faintest trace of gilding, long stripped away by the elements.

Shadows fill the courtyards and alleys far, far below, at the bottom of this ringed basin of a city. She can see the ghosts of once-grand trees (mere sprouts, in comparison to the one this city clings to) dimly lit with the glow that pervades the air, reflected off the dull, dead walls. She wonders if the sun ever touches the ground nestled so deep within these walls or if, instead, these trees had to be sustained by caretakers with constant, living magic.

Outside the city walls lies a vast sea of silver water. It is the only thing here that is not burnished, browned, by this static sun. Somehow it, and the sky above, remain pale and nearly white, untouched. Ixchel is almost dizzied, looking at the motion of the waves and their ephemeral caps. They break against the bases of watchtowers that stick out like spokes from the city's rings, connected by thin, crumbling bridges; the waves and the wind contrast with the stillness of the Husk, the crypt, the empty echo of a civilization.

Ixchel is startled from her reverie by another motion, this time from the periphery of her vision. She nearly loses her balance but catches herself with an iron grip on the cracked granite balustrade, and a startled gasp leaves her as she looks to where Dirthamen approaches. His black cloak is covered in dust, as is his hair—or maybe ash, white as it is. He seems not to have noticed her fumble, for his eyes are downcast and a pensive frown creases his brow.

"Did trouble find you?" she asks in a low voice as she hefts herself back onto the appropriate side of the railing.

He does not even glance at her. "None," he replies, "nor did it find those who once lived here."

Dirthamen extends his hand for her, and she reaches out to meet him.

Into her palm, he presses something small.

It is…

"A seed?" she guesses.

Dirthamen nods. "The center of the tree was once reachable by pathways hidden in the city," he says, "but no longer. There is only thick overgrowth where those portals once lay, and I was only able to breach it from above." He took a heavy breath. "It is like the crater of a volcano but so much deeper, and it is scorched and blackened within. I thought to alight upon the bottom, but I sank into a sea of ash so deep and cold I might drown."

Ixchel can almost feel her throat close, breath stolen at the thought, and she clutches the seed closer. She can feel how precious it is, if it came from such carnage.

Her lord blinks his yellow eyes with lashes frosted by ash, too.

"The people here worshiped the Sun, for they grew up around this tree from the time it was a sapling, and they afforded its might to the light it basked in. Thus, when it began to die, they called upon the Eldest of the Sun himself to burn it all."

Dirthamen swallows, then licks his dry and cracking lips. He still stares at the seed in her hand, though she does not think he sees it, or her.

"And them in it."

His words catch in his throat, and Ixchel cannot tell if this discovery makes his voice hitch with swallowed sobs or choked laughter or both. Ixchel is horrified at the thought—how many people must have lived in this city and within the great tree, and what might drive them to such a terrible death by fire. But she bites her tongue, because no matter her unease with it, she knows there is no end to bloodshed in Elvhenan…but sometimes it is given for a beautiful purpose.

She hopes that this is one such time. Dirthamen's manner is not reassuring, however. There are tears in his owl-like eyes; he scrubs at them with the back of his hand quickly, but they splatter across the parched stone and leave unmistakable dark scars in the dust.

"What I thought were cries of anguish rose up, an entire civilization bound in ecstasy and gratitude to Elgar'nan's fire." His smile is joyful, and agonized, all together at once. "The seeds of this tree are coated in a thick resin that is nearly indestructible. Generations of its caretakers collected them. And when it came time for them to die—when they gathered within the hollow of this tree—each resident held a seed in their mouths. Their voices lifted, their senses overcome, they died in flame so that these seeds might find new life!"

Dirthamen draws a shaky breath and pushes back his hair from his forehead, looking up at the Husk with wild eyes. More tears drip from his chin and water the stones beneath their feet. "Isn't it beautiful, Davahn?" he asks. "They freed each seed with their death, and now they await fertile soil—soil that I can give them in my orchard, and across the Fade and the Waking, in places known only to me—where each one may live in hope of becoming a new memory!"

His words are spoken like a fervent oath or prayer, perhaps to the spirits that hold memories of this place, or perhaps to the seeds, or perhaps to the tree itself. Ixchel cannot deny that something in this tale has touched her, too. It still seems senseless to her, but…maybe it is the senselessness of the sacrifice itself that gives it weight. Those lives, if willingly given, put a hefty price on every seed. They demanded action, reverence, remembrance.

They demanded their hope to be fulfilled.

Dirthamen is not one to let such acts be performed in vain, Ixchel knows. But for the first time now… Ixchel feels drawn not merely to bear witness to the strange customs of the Elvhen, as she has before. Instead, she feels called to participate.

There is no one else, after all.

"How can I help?" she asks.

Dirthamen looks back at her with an expression of unschooled shock.

She tightens her fist around the seed, against her breast. "I was here," she says. "I heard the story. You have made me responsible for these memories by telling me, and I want to help."

The sun is setting. It catches the tear tracks on Dirthamen's cheeks like the cracked and fading gilding on the walls,  like he is as ancient and brittle as the land they tread. But in his eyes is a heat, a flame, that is more alive than she has seen it in weeks.

"Very well," he says. "I would not deny you, vun'ean. Let us begin our first task: gathering the rest of the seeds.

-:-:-

Later, she will ask him what and why 'vun'ean.' He will not quite look at her as he describes her: framed by the flaming sunset, the ferocity of her gaze in the face of such a monumental task, the way she speaks to him—as she has always spoken to him—as an equal. She is more fearless and far quicker than he can predict, in spite of or despite her status…like vun'ean. Little sunbird.

"A sparrow?" she repeats, fists gripping the hem of her dress tightl so that she will not spill the seeds gathered in it like an apron.

He does not look at her, but she can hear his smile.

#da drunk writing circle #lavellan x dirthamen #dragon age fanfic #sunbird #ixchel lavellan #elvhenan au

[multifandom-worlds]

Waltzing in the Rain

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1k

Authors Note: Reposting some of my favourite works from my AO3. This one was from 2020 with some 2022 revision

Link

5pm, Friday afternoon. No more meetings are required to attend, and Goldman can finish the paperwork for me. Whatever he can't complete can wait until Monday. I'm going home.

I called out to my assistant, informing him of the plan. "Goldman. Have this paperwork on my desk by my return Monday morning."

"Yes sir!

Goldman takes the stack of papers and leaves my office. I close everything down before I take my leave. With my phone to my ear, I make my way out of the office. No answer. Again. What could she possibly be doing?

Stepping onto the sidewalk, the summer sun is slowly replaced by an ominous rain cloud. On the drive home, I tried her again. Still no answer. What on earth could my dummy be doing? She's rarely without her phone.

The house was oddly silent when I arrived home 10 minutes later. Setting my keys down in the bowl by the front door, I glance around the house, trying to locate her.

"Where are you, dummy?"

My voice echoes through the empty rooms. Where could my wife be? I try her phone again, hearing it ring in the bedroom. Napping? At this hour?

Following the sound, I push open the door to find her not in the bedroom either. Just her phone. While I'm here, I might as well get changed.

Entering the room, movement outside the window catches the corner of my eye. Making my way over to the window, my eyes are greeted by a beautiful sight. 2 stories below me, amongst the green of the grass and the rainbow of colours stands my wife, my favourite blue and white dress gracing her flawless figure.

Whenever the sun shines, her red hair ignites into fiery crimson. Like a vision she walks through the yard, barefoot in the grass, stopping every so often to delicately pick a flower from the garden and add it to the ever growing bouquet in her arms.

It's times like these I fall even deeper in love with her. To see the world through her eyes would be a treat beyond any imaginable. I lean against the window frame, mesmerized by this ethereal beauty that goes about her business without a care in the world.

Before long, the sun gives way to clouds which open themselves up, pouring from the heavens a gentle rain. I expect her to come inside within a few minutes so I remove myself from the window, the reason I entered our room leaving my mind.

When she hadn't come inside after 5 minutes, I resign myself to having to go collect my wife from the rain. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom cabinet, I remove my suit jacket, and roll up my shirt sleeves up to my elbows before opening the back door.

To my great surprise, my love has put her flower bouquet down and is twirling in the rain, much like a young child would do. The faintest of smiles tugs on my lips. I love that despite everything that's happening in her life, she is still able to appreciate the small things, like dancing in the rain. Although I do wish she'd cut it out, she's going to get sick.

I open the sliding door and yell, "What are you doing, dummy?"

"I'm dancing! Come dance with me," she replies.

"Darling. It's raining. You're soaked."

"And? Please Victor?"

Her heterochromatic eyes meet mine. I've always been intrigued by her eyes. One is as blue as the summer's sky, the other as dark as the dirt of which everything beautiful grows.

She saunters her way over to me, absolutely dripping wet from the rain but a smile on those perfect lips tells me she's fine. Her delicate little hand grasps onto my tie, slowly pulling me out into the yard and into the rain with her.

How does one say no? Here I have the closest thing to a goddess, the rain sticking her dress to her body, further accentuating her curves.

With a sigh, I place one hand on her waist, taking her other hand in mine. Her eyes sparkle with such happiness. How the littlest thing can make her happy. She places her free hand on my arm.

I lead us in a slow, romantic waltz around the garden. It may not be a proper waltz but right now, the only sound around us being the raindrops, I cease to find any reason it needs to be proper.

I dip her backwards, her laughter echoes through the garden as the rain lands gently on her face. I pull her back up, her body ever closer to mine. She rests her head delicately on my chest as we dance, listening to my heartbeat, soft and steady.

Outside we dance for what feels like an eternity but it very well was only a matter of minutes. The clouds open up more, the rain falls heavier and harder, as good a time as any to retreat back into the safety of our home.

"Come on Mrs. Li. It's due time we exit the rain."

My love picks up her bouquet before following me into the house where I have a towel waiting for her. Removing her dress, she wraps the towel around her body before she moves deeper into the house to further dry herself.

I follow suit, peeling my wet shirt off my body, followed by my pants before donning a fresh, dry pair of pants and a t-shirt. Gathering up our wet clothing, I place them into the washing machine while she showers.

10 minutes later she emerges clean and dry, except her hair of course. She sits on the couch, beckoning me to join her. Two cups of tea in hand, I join her on the couch. The only sounds in our house being the rain on the window and our soft breathing.

She rests her head on my chest, my fingers drawing indiscernible patterns along her spine. Not my ideal way to spend a rainy Friday afternoon but I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it.

#love and producer victor #mr love queen's choice #mr love #mr love: queen's choice #evol x love #victor mlqc #victor li #li zeyan #victor #mlqc fluff

[sunny6677]

My Little Spooky Month: Season 1.

(An MLP X Spooky Month Crossover Fanfiction)

(Disclaimer: Yes, I am aware that this could be considered cringe-worthy. But I personally do not care, for I like writing about my interests. And I like writing crossovers. If this type of stuff isn't for you, you can always scroll past.)

(Oh, other disclaimer by the way. This takes place after the first and second episode, counting the part 2 of the first episode, of MLP.)

Summary: A portal transports a few citizens of the town in Spooky Month into a land that would change their lives forever.

Chapter 6: An Unexpected Flight.

TWS: NONE.

————

As Roy shut his eyes in pure disbelief, he waited and waited to see where whatever it was that was carrying him was going to take him. Or what it even planned on doing to him. His heart raced, and his mind became foggy with fear. He hadn't the faintest idea of what to do. He didn't even know what was going on.

Then, he suddenly felt himself slip from the things grasp, but he hadn't begun to fall. In fact, he actually felt it lightly put him down onto something. He opened one eye, unsure of what that thing had put him on. Though it became clear once his vision had processed it.

He had still been high up in the sky, but he hadn't been falling because he was on something. It felt damp, but poofy. It felt wet even, yet somehow he didn't get water on his.. well, hooves. He then realized that he had somehow been placed upon a cloud. But he wasn't falling through it despite that basically being how physics were supposed to work. How on earth was he not falling through it?

In any case, the moment he saw how high up he was, he began to let out shrieks of fear again—feeling himself almost tumble off of the cloud out of shock. But before he could, he felt limbs wrap around him again. And he could feel something press its back limbs against the cloud. The scrawny voice he heard in the harsh winds suddenly spoke, and as he looked up, he saw where it was coming from. A.. pastel blue horse muzzle was where it was coming from.

"Woah, woah, chill out!" It practically begged. It wasn't a person that was talking, but.. rather a pony that for some reason had wings. It had a rainbow colored mane, and hot pink eyes. And for whatever reason, Roy could have sworn he saw some sort of symbol on both sides of its flank. Roy blinked. He was beginning to wonder if he was dreaming. That was the only explanation he could give for this.. situation.

Roy didn't have any words, for he could not find them in his mind. Normally, he'd pinch himself in a situation that seemed like a dream, but.. he didn't have hands. He had.. hooves for some reason. And all of this had felt so real. It didn't feel like a dream. Was it.. a lucid dream perhaps? Maybe that was why everything felt so real despite the odd impossibility of the situation at hand.. or hoof.

Then, the pony spoke again. It's voice sounded feminine, yet tomboyish nonetheless. The pony lifted Roy back up onto the cloud as it spoke, slipping its hooves off of him. Somehow, it seemed to be standing on the cloud too. "You okay, kid?" It inquired, tilting it's head. "How come you weren't flying?"

"..w—what?" Roy muttered. He was so surrounded by his own shocked thoughts that he found himself unable to process the pony words.

The pony gestured with its hoof. "...you know. Flying. With your wings." Its wings wiggled around a little, as if it were trying to gesture with them too. "You have them, so why weren't you flying?"

Roy paused. And glanced to the back side of his body the best he could, since he wasn't an owl who could just turn his head all the way back. Then he blinked, realizing that the pony was right. He had wings just like it did. But how come he didn't notice that while he was falling from the sky? He must have been too in shock to even notice.

Even so, he let out a shriek of surprise yet again, and tumbled toward the pony as if to desperately seek emotional support. The pony looked down at him, arching it's brow. And then, it asked, "Why were you even falling out of the sky anyway?". It paused for a moment, and then added slowly, "..can you not fly?"

Roy didn't know how to answer. He meekly said for a moment, "I—I dont know, I..". He then shrieked, trying to sound as aggresive as he could. He didn't know why, but he had a strange habit of pretending to be angry instead of scared. Maybe deep down he thought this would intimidate people. "Just shut up! This is probably a dream anyway!" He looked away. If he knew how to fly, he'd try and fly away from the pony. But seemingly, he couldn't.

The pony furrowed it's brows. "Look, kid, this isn't a dream. You fell out of the sky and I saved you. Why dont you just tell me whats going on?" It sounded somewhat frustrated. Roy could feel a slight breeze from behind him, though as the ponys face suddenly popped up in front of him, he realized that it must have just flown right by him. Seeing as it was no longer standing on the cloud, and it's wings were flapping.

Roy began to heavily breathe. This wasn't a dream. Then maybe he had gone mad. Crazy even. Yes, maybe that was it! Maybe he had finally lost it. But even so, that was an even more stressful outcome if that were the case. He shouted, "Why should I tell you?!"

The pony furrowed it's brows even further, and grumbled in a more frustrated tone, "Because I wanna help you, kid—now just tell me whats—". The pony tried to place its hooves on him, yet he attempted to fend it off the best he could. It was like he thought it had the bubonic plague or something, with how intent he seemed on avoiding it anyway. He shoved his hooves onto its body, trying to push it away. Yet it seemed intent on getting him closer. The two made grunting noises, struggling in... whatever was happening.

Then, the pony stopped, and flung its hooves right back. Roy grunted in surprise again, nearly falling onto his back. But narrowly, he managed to catch himself. His front hooves wobbled slightly. He then felt a breeze on his back again, and this time, he heard the pony speak on the other side of him. It seemed to have flown that way this time.

"Hey.." The pony arched a brow, and spoke slowly, "..you're a teenager right?"

"...yeah. So what?" Roy aggressively grumbled.

"..then how come you don't have a cutie mark already?" The pony asked.

Roy paused. "..a what?"

"Yo—You know, a cutie mark. Like.. like that?" The pony gestured to the symbol on its flank, which he could see more clearly now. It had been a symbol of a cloud striking lightning, but the lightning had been colored rainbow. In fact, most of everything about this pony seemed rainbow themed.

Roy only stayed quiet, looking at the pony as if it were crazy.

The pony then.. err.. hoofpalmed or facehoofed, and said in a slightly impatient tone. "Do you not remember anything? Like at all?"

Roy stayed silent for a brief moment. "..well, I don't remember having.. that." He seemed to be referring to the 'cutie mark', his tone filled with confusion. "Look, all I remember is some random portal showed up and I ended up here. And I'm either dreaming, or I've gone completely insane! And it's probably all thanks to those two brats because they always pull that stuff!" He spoke with anger in his tone.

The pony raised a brow again. "Wait—portal? Two brats?"

Roy slowly nodded.

The pony paused. "Well, kid, do you remember where the portal showed up? What do you mean by two brats?"

"..nothing." Roy grumbled. "All I remember is some stupid portal showed up in my town while I was hanging out with my friends, and I ended up here. And.. now I look like this!" Roy gestured with his hooves, speaking with disgust at his new form. He then groaned, pressing his hooves against his face. The pony went silent again, and said, "..wait, so are you saying you weren't a pony before you got sucked in?"

"Yeah.." Roy scoffed. He then mumbled something unintelligible to himself, though the pony could hear words along the lines of, "...stupid.. kids.. always..".

The pony then slowly said, "Well, I don't think I know anything about portals, kid. But I think I might know a pony who does."

The pony then hopped onto the cloud, as Roy looked up at it with a raised brow. Roy kept a cautious demeanor though, ready to back up incase it got aggressive. He didn't know why this pony was being so friendly. But he didn't want to assume it was being truthful either.

As it stopped flapping its wings, it tried smiling and said, "Why don't you hop on? Well.. that is if you can't fly. Then.."

Roy was a little confused. Why was this pony helping him? He was a little appreciative, sure. But he was still so puzzles by everything that was happening. Or why this pony could apparently talk. Hell, he hadn't even thought of that until now. And now he was really wondering if he was going insane. Perhaps in reality, Ross and Robert were trying to snap him out of it. Or maybe he hit his head, and now he was in some sort of coma while all his loved ones sat by the hospital bed.

Finally, Roy sighed. "Fine.. whatever..". He then began to try and walk over to the pony, but he struggled with that slightly. His hooves wobbled, and his pace was incredibly slow. Yet even so, he somehow managed to slip a hoof onto the ponys back, and he slowly began to support himself onto it. As he did so, the pony awkwardly asked, "..can you not walk either?"

Roy grumbled again. "I can.. I just.. get flying already!" He defensively stated. If he still had his arms, he would have been crossing them. But all he could do was look away.

"Uh.. okay.. but before we do, would you mind telling me your name first?" The pony asked, speaking in a friendly but somewhat frustrated tone still.

"...Roy.." Roy hesitantly answered. The pony replied with a slight smile, "..weird name, but.. I'm Rainbow Dash."

'Rainbow Dash' then spread its limbs, it's wings going upwards. "Hold on tight, kid!"

Roy did as requested, slipping his hooves around Rainbow Dash's upper torso. Then, he began to feel harsh winds against his face, along with the fierce flapping of winds as everything quickly passed by.

Rainbow Dash was flying at an alarming rate.

And he was too in shock to even be able to scream.

The only thing he could do was keep his mouth agape.

————

The only thing Ross remembered was a bright flash of light. He could remember the cool feeling that he felt before he passed out. He remembered walking with his friends along the street, having a good time. Then.. everything in his memory was sort of foggy from there too.

He groaned. He could feel a warm feeling now, most likely coming from the sun. It felt like the sun's light too. He lifted his head, saying in an exhausted manner, "What happened?". He opened his eyes slightly, only to be greeted with a very much different sight. It was.. a forest. But it was broad daylight. From what it seemed, he was laying on grass. And he was surrounded by dozens of trees. He even spotted a pink butterfly flying peacefully, and rather slowly. He could hear birds chirping from all around him.

It was beautiful, but.. where was he?

He tried to lift himself up, wanting to get a better look at where exactly he was. Ross then swore he heard familiar masculine and high pitched groaning from behind him. And he even heard the sound of a familiar feminine voice groaning too. It sounded.. almost like his mother.

He wanted to turn around and see where the noises were coming from, because he could clearly hear that they were behind him. But.. he realized something. He couldn't feel his fingers, or his feet. "W—What the.." He quietly stammered.

Ross then tried to lift his hand. But that was the thing. He didn't have a hand. He.. he had a dark blue hoof in place of his hand.

Ross wanted to scream so badly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hand had been.. contorted into something it wasn't. His voice wavered as he looked at his hoof. The only thing he could do was stare in silent fear.

Then, he heard a voice utter his name. No.. his mothers voice uttering his name.

"...Ross?"

///////////////////////////////

E

#spooky month #read the tws #spooky month au #roy spooky month #ross spooky month #rainbow dash mlp #my little spooky month

[jomiddlemarch]

I wish you would write a fic in which Mary Phinney has a good time (either facetiously spoken, or seriously) in the Grishaverse!

“The War is over, Mariy,” Jedediah said, leaning back in the rudely made chair as if it were the Tsar’s golden throne in Os Alta, his legs crossed at the ankle. His kefta was unfastened, the panels hanging loose at his sides, the white linen shirt he wore beneath it open at the throat, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think him responsible for the empty bottles of kvas and medovudhka that were scattered across what passed for a yard behind the field hospital. “You can relax and stop scrutinizing the horizon for any errant Fjerdan warriors. They’ve all gone home. It’s only us still here.”

“You’re awfully certain for a Healer who was up half the night,” she said, with only half her usual bite. She’d been up as well, signing the documents that were left behind after the last few patients had been taken away, most of them waving. Sergei and Katalin had between them conjured a rainbow and a shower of almond blossom, an impressive feat given that they’d both been brought in nearly dead and had spent the majority of their convalescence at each other’s throats before they admitted they were in love. “It doesn’t hurt to be cautious. There could still be a sneak attack—”

“A sneak attack?” Jedediah laughed. “You spent too much time with General Kirigan’s deputy Ivan. A sneak attack here is as likely as an otkazat’sya flying or the Tsaritsa scrubbing out a bathtub.”

“Still,” she said. 

“Still, what? Can’t you believe it, that it’s over?” he asked, gentle instead of mocking, with that tenderness that had once been a rarity, now common enough she’d half-wondered if merzost were involved and what the cost would be. “That we could be happy?”

“Those aren’t the same thing,” Mariy said. Yes, General Kirigan and the Sun Summoner had prevailed and were now assembling a new Council in Os Alta with Prince Nikolai, the Fjerdans and Shu-Han battalions had officially surrendered and retreated to their homes, and Mariy had just that afternoon received a much-handled, travel-stained note signed with Nina Zenik’s distinctive scrawl announcing her safe arrival in Ketterdam and reunion with Matthias, complete with waffles and missing even the faintest hint of herring, but Mariy couldn’t quite accept that meant happiness.

“No? Well, that’s a relief,” Jedediah said. 

“What?”

“That you aren’t so easily satisfied,” he replied. “That it will take more than the absence of brutality and terror to give you joy. I’d begun to wonder, you see, all that calm imperturbability in the face of sheer horror, that indomitable fortitude you’ve drawn around you like a queen’s mantle. Or a Sankta’s consecrated veil. It was very worrying.”

“You were worried? About me?” she said.

“Naturally,” he said. “My own flaws are myriad and obvious, for all that I’m a Grisha and a frankly exceptional Healer, if I may be excused any false humility. You, on the other hand—”

“I’m just as flawed,” she said.

“Not at all,” he said, serious for once. “But I’m glad you need something more to be happy. I only wonder, what will it take?”

“To be happy,” she repeated.

“To let me see Mariy Olnhauskaya having a good time,” he said. He waited and she was quiet, looking at him watching her, his regard so acute and suddenly so ardent, his dark eyes impossibly lovely. “Don’t you know?”

“I have a few ideas,” she said, shrugging and then flicking the fingers of her left hand. The vine that clung to the roof burst into bloom, the heady fragrance of white yasemin filling the air, the scent of a ballroom or a boudoir, a well-tended, walled garden behind a brick house whose windows were all lit to gold.

“But you’re a Healer, Mariy, Corporalki,” he said, startled and then quickly curious, entirely as she’d expected. “What you did, that’s a Durast’s ability and to be so finely wielded—”

“I dabble,” she said. “For fun.”

“You dabble,” he said, standing up and plucking one of the blossoms from the vine and offering it to her. “I don’t believe it. You’ve never dabbled in your life. What else can you do?”

“You want me to show you?” she said as she took the flower, letting her fingers touch his longer than necessary, letting her gaze drop to his lips. In the next instant, she was in his arms.

“Later,” he said. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“As long as you hold me,” she said and he smiled before he kissed her. And then Mariy Olnhauskaya was indeed having a very good time.

#prompt fill #tortoisesshells #mercy street #shadow and bone #crossover #phoster #post-war life suits them #romance #humor #helnik cameo #mercy street pbs #mary and jed as Grisha Healers #Ivan

[artzychic27]

Sneak peak of Lethe?

One 'Miraculous Ladybug!' later and everything was restored. By that time, Jean had already sung a quarter of the songs from Hamilton, leaving the poor demiboy nearly out of breath and dramatically gasping for water as Denise carried them out of the auditorium.

"Water! Please!" They let out a weak cough. "I need water!" Denise rolled their eyes.

"Jean, you're not dying," they simpered while tussling his hair. "I've seen you sing more songs from that show with no breaks, and besides, all that rapping is good practice for when you end up performing Hamilton or Starlight Express on Broadway."

Aurore smacked her forehead. "Damn! We should've sang AC/DC! That song is my fucking anthem!"

"Language, Aurore," Mendeleieve chastised, but she had just the faintest smile. Aurore sheepishly apologized.

"Now let's be real," Ismael started, sounding serious. "And I think we can all agree that I would make an amazing Elektra." Reshma smiled and tussled the shorter boy's hair, earning herself a pout. "What? I've certainly got the passion for it!"

"Yes, but I can change my voice's frequency," Marc retorted before clearing his voice and singing a line from the aforementioned character's introduction song in the same voice, "AC/DC, it's okay by me. I can switch and change my frequency." This earns him some applause (Reluctantly from Ismael) and a look of amazement from Nathaniel.

"Rainbow, why don't you sing around me like that?"

Marc grinned cheekily. "Because you never asked." Seeing the redhead was pouting, trying to look upset, the writer kissed him. This immediately broke Nathaniel's facade and caused a sweet smile to grace his face. "That's better," Marc crooned.

"God, that was close!"

The students and teacher turned to the front of the school, and making their way into the restored courtyard was none other than Mme. Bustier's students, followed by a few other students who were caught in the middle of the Akuma attack. By the sound of it, they were talking about the Akuma battle- How they nearly had gotten hit by the Akuma a number of times and what it was like helping Ladybug and Chat Noir during some moments. Alya seemed like she was going to faint when she mentioned how she got to hold Ladybug's yoyo.

'Seems like they didn't even notice you weren't there.'

"Nino, I might leave you for her!"

"I'm glad we all managed to stay together!" Rose cheered while pulling Juleka and Ivan in for hugs.

Kim chuckled. "Yeah, too bad we lost Mari and Adrien, though," he sighed. "Hope they're okay."

'Wow, they really didn't notice you were gone.'

Nathaniel honestly didn't know what he was expecting when he would run into his classmates after Ladybug's Miracle Cure. Maybe a short string of apologies for leaving him behind when they realized it during the Akuma attack, promising they would make it up to him or definitely them being clueless for a bit until he mentioned that they had left him and only noticed Marinette and Adrien were gone followed by some awkward apologies. He didn't think the second one would hurt as much, but the redhead could feel the happiness he felt just moments ago diminishing with each smile and laugh his friends shared with each other... Without him.

Marc pulled Nathaniel close to his chest and began stroking his hair, seeing as that would calm him down when he was having one of those days. "School's almost over. Do you wanna head home?" Nathaniel seems hesitant for a moment, but Mendeleieve reassures him that it's okay.

"I'll write you two notes." What that, the two bid the class goodbye and made their way through the small crowd of students making their way into the school, careful to avoid Nathaniel's classmates.

"Mari, there you are!" Alya cheered as the bluenette rushed over to her friends. "We've been looking all over for you, girl!"

Noticing that Nathaniel was slowing down a bit with each comment from his classmates, Marc took to carrying him the rest of the way out. "It's okay, we're almost there."

"Dude, I was worried as hell!"

"Yeah, we tried calling you."

"Good thing we all made it out."

'So they do call to check on each other. What does that say about you?'

'I'll tell you. You're nothing to them.'

"... You okay?"

'Why else would they leave your sorry self behind so many times?'

"Okay?... Nath?"

'It's so they don't have to put up with you, be forced to wait as you try to catch up with them.'

Nathaniel blinked a few times as he was brought out of his headspace. Slowly, he became aware that he was outside and in Marc's arms, causing his face to turn scarlet. "Are you okay, Nath?" Marc gently asked.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Rainbow," he said while Marc begins to set him down. "Just need to go home, n-now."

Marc frowned as he watched his boyfriend leave. He knows it's best on some occasions to give Nathaniel his space when he gets like this, but as rare as it is for Hawkmoth to strike twice in one day, it can still happen. So, pushing down any uncertainty, Marc runs after the redhead, taking his hand before saying, "Just in case Hawkmoth decides to try again." Nathaniel doesn't say anything, only giving him a kind smile before continuing his way home.

#sneak peek #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc x nathaniel #marc anciel #ms. mendeleiev #ao3fic #akuma #lethe

[zarvasace]

A nanowrimo server I'm in does cute little end-of-nano post-a-line games to share a few things we wrote. I really like how mine turned out for HCoPA, so thought I'd share! (totally not procrastinating.) The ones I participated in were called "rainbows," "find the word," "first lines," and "playlist." These are all just selected quotes from the fic I wrote over November, which you can find here if you're so inclined.

Rainbows

(Red, Green, and Blue are character names, of course, so I did the other colors of the rainbow!)

Orange: Vio had no expression as he looked over his own numbers, peeling an orange with his fingers. "I did much worse with that."

Yellow: Their round table, one of many mismatched ones in the large dining room, had two new chairs pulled up with two new people Vio didn't recognize—a tall girl with her hair just slightly askew, and someone with a ponytail and a fashionable yellow tie.

Indigo: Shadow hummed to himself as he double-checked his addition. The red for five, the indigo for six, and the phonecian red for a whopping twenty. This was going to blow through the money he had, but... it was going to be so worth it, too.

Purple: Vio stood on stage, now, dressed in the first of the outfits Green had picked out for him—his usual trousers tucked into his tall adventuring boots, along with a shirt the perfect shade of purple, tailored to fit him across the chest better, but with absolutely massive sleeves, layers of lace that hid pockets for spell components.

Find the Word

Reference to the sun/sky/moon/stars:

"I like it when this happens," Shadow said, quieter than he meant to. "When what happens?" Shadow laughed once. "This. I don't know." "Which part?" Vio pressed, the faintest smile in his voice. "Being under a blanket? Being outside when it's cold? Seeing the stars? Not being with the others? Cuddling?" "I don't know," Shadow whined, squishing his chin into Vio's hair. It smelled like flowers from the strong soap everyone had started using to fade the dye faster. Vio's hair was a nice shade of lavender at the moment. "All of it."

Emotion word:

"You found him!" Red said, looking up as soon as they walked in. "That was quick. Oh, no. Blue, that's your guilty face. What did you do?" "I'm not guilty!" Blue snapped, defensive. "I don't feel any guilt." "But you still did something." Green hung up his coat. "All right, what was it?" Blue crossed his arms and sighed. "Broke Hector's nose. Punched him in the stomach. Got knocked over. Got detention and an essay."

Food or drink:

Red tapped the wooden spoon in his hand against the wooden cutting board like a gavel. "This supplementary meeting of the Hyrule College of Practical Arts Unofficial Baking Society is now in session. Purpose: make apple pie. Because I burned it. Again." He held up a fist and closed his eyes dramatically.

Piece of clothing:

"I thought you didn't like the cold." "I don't," Blue all but snapped back. He tucked his ears into his hat. "Why do you think I'm wearing three scarves?" Each was a different shade of blue. He was predictable, so what?

Plant or animal:

He continued moving pansies from the box beside him into the ground. The flowers had been outside, but it was cold, and these pansies weren't doing very well out there. They were so small and delicate. It was odd to think that they were alive, and could perhaps respond to stimuli around them. Vio found himself hoping they'd get better.

First Lines

(chosen more-or-less at random!)

"I have to admit," Master Gerard said, staring at the four boys in front of him over steepled, ink-stained fingers, "this is a strange situation."

"So," Red said, a notebook and pen in his hands. He sat at Vio's desk, kicking his feet against the bar under the chair. "You really didn't eat anything interesting when you were out causing problems?"

"Time for creepy dark magic ritual in the basement number two," Blue muttered, holding a lantern in one hand and a stuffed bag in another. "How did we get into this mess?"

Contrary to popular belief, Red actually did like combat. Well, sort of. He liked this kind of combat, where nobody was actually at risk of anything worse than a few bruises or maybe a broken arm. He liked seeing his brothers shine, and they didn't do that better anywhere else.

Swinging a hammer wasn't about the weight. Sure, you had to pick the right weight, but the end goal was about momentum, and more than that, it was about control. Momentum couldn't be achieved without control.

Playlist

The chapter I chose was 12, which is the one where they do magic to get Shadow, if you remember. That is this one here. I chose the song Tonight by The 69 Eyes, which has a very different genre than I expected myself to use. I chose this song because it's intense, like the chapter is, but with some hopeful lyrics.

Honorable mention for this chapter was The Dark Side by Muse. It's dramatic, talks about darkness, and I think Shadow would like Muse in general. Vibes, you know?

For the whole fic, I chose the song Hakugin by Eve, since the song just feels like nostalgia. Also, snow.

Honorable mention for the whole story goes to Comedy by Gen Hoshini, which is, in fact, the first ending song for Spy x Family, which is where I found it. The music video is adorable, though, and the whole message of the song is just domestic love, which is 100% the vibe of this fic. :)

#my writing #i speak from the coffin #you can ignore this it's just me yelling #hcopa #four swords #sort of? #it's just my fic

[surohsopsisofclouds]

A Hope, A Dream, A Wish, A Thought, by Moon Sopsis

I think I'll always prefer swings to park benches, no matter how much time passes.

I'll always absentmindedly mimic the calls of that one bird that I've never known the name of, but can repeat the call of reflexively by this point.

I'll always miss making wild strawberry jam that isn't really jam on a pinewood counter, and eating it with breakfast on toast, or waffles, or maybe one day in-a-dream-in-a-hope-in-a-wish I'll try it on rainbow trout, my favorite. Why haven't I thought of that before?

I miss trying and failing to skip stones across lakes and the faintest maybe-memories of watching my big siblings do it better. I hope I get the chance to see that some day. I think this one might be a wish.

I haven't forgotten- no, no. Wait, this one is for the sweet memories, and the bittersweet ones. Let the dark could-have-beens take a rest, just this once, dear.

I like to think that I've always called myself pet names, even back before one became two became more than that. It's silly but it's sweet, you know? Like a five year old being told that they're the best strawberry-picker that an adult has ever seen, and proceeding to invent a recipe that's still used almost two decades later by the same person, taught fully to almost no one else, though not for a lack of trying.

I hate and love in equal, confusing measure the way words clump together on our tongue when we talk, like too many things going through one small gap.

I love the ways that thoughts spill onto any surface we get the chance to drip them on, like water staining priceless papers quicker-than-a-snap.

I love the way that even after all this time I still love to cook with my sister. I want to learn to feel that comfort with the other one, too.

I love how much my smaller self loved our big siblings, trusting them with all their heart even while they were distant.

I hate how much it hurt when they gave up on ever having that connection they craved. I hate how they didn't even notice it slipping, even as they desperately grasped for something to fill the void. Brother? Brother? Sister? Kin? Love? Sibling-mine? Sibling? Sister? Brother? I missed what I had been deceived to believe learned I could not have.

It hurt. It still hurts. But I forgive them. They never meant to hurt me, and they tried not to, they tried so hard not to. ...But more importantly, they are trying now to change.

We never demanded apologies in trade for forgiveness, even when we really should've. We just... wanted people to change. To try to change.

And they have, and they are, and my younger self who gave up so long ago would weep tears of relief and joy to know that they are. That the siblings that they clung to so fiercely in their unknowing desperation loved them back. That they wanted them.

Because I know that that's all my younger self wanted, was to be wanted, not just loved, but wanted, and listened to. And now we have it.

I still love the look of a cloudless day and the moon from a swingset seat.

#writers on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #original poetry #suroh writes poems #moon writes

[little-bi-kingtrashmouth]

Kenneth, Eudora, and the Tumbleweed evening sky. 

#rdo #rdr2 #oc: kenneth shaw #there's the FAINTEST rainbow if you can see it #i love my boy please look at him and love him #arthur got him Eudora and he would do anything to keep her safe and healthy #talk to me about kenneth!!! i could literally go on forever about him #youll get to meet him officially as soon as i actually finish writing

[allegra-writes]

"Itsy Bitsy Spider"

Billy Russo x Reader

Teen and up

Warnings: none. Suggestive themes (come on guys, it's Billy we're talking about)

Just a quick lil something I wrote during lunch break to get the juices flowing, so don't take it too seriously. Based on a request. Unedited, no betas, we die like we wish Krista did.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

Billy had to admit, when he had first met you in that elevator and told you with a wink and voice dripping with innuendo that if you ever needed anything, he was always available after midnight, this wasn't exactly what he had had in mind.

A loud bang followed by a crash resonated from the floor above you, and he caught your grimace, noting it was disgustingly cute. He seriously needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up doing something he would regret...

Like falling in love.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one of those laying around here somewhere, would you?" You asked, gesturing at the beloved Berretta in his hands. Billy shook his head,

"Nah, this babe is one of a kind. You can have the Glock, though" He pointed towards his bedroom, "'s right there in the bedside drawer"

You walked past him in the hallway and he watched you go, biting his lip to stifle a groan. Damn, but your ass looked good in those boy shorts...

Your scoff was loud in the silent apartment,

"A nineteen? What's next, glitter bullets?"

He chuckle, amused by your disdain for the girly gun.

"I'm assuming you like' em bigger, then" He could feel you roll his eyes at his innuendo, but it wasn't like he could stop himself, his brain went automatically into foreplay mode, his basest instincts completely overriding his fight or fly response. When fifteen minutes before he had been woken up by the faintest of noises coming from his living room, only to find his neighbour from upstairs standing there in her underwear, his first reaction -his, lieutenant Billy Russo, former marine, former special forces, trained assassin- had been to ask you if it was his birthday.

You returned, glock in hand, just in time for the ringing of his doorbell to get him out of his reverie. A heavy sigh left your lips,

"I really don't wanna do this..."

"What, afraid of a little confrontation?" Billy smirked. No matter who was out of that door, he was Billy fucking Russo, he could take them. Hell, he could make them regret ever coming for you.

"Not really, I just got my nails done this afternoon..." You held up your hands for Billy to see the rainbow french mani, and he had to admit, he liked it, he could really picture those pretty little hands around his-

Alright Russo, focus! She's talking again...

"Do you have a panic room? A bunker?"

"Honey, take a look around, this entire apartment is a bunker. That door? That's solid iron, it would take an army to throw it down. And the windows? They're not only bulletproof, they're impenetrable"

"When you remember to close them, you mean..."

He smiled a genuine smile at your jab.

"Yeah, when I remember to close them" He conceded.

The ringing became more insisting, followed by some banging. Billy took the safety off.

"Wait!" He halted at your order. "I have another idea"

Without any further explanation, you closed the distance between you, smashing your lips to his, and this time, Billy's brain completely short-circuited.

Because you were pressed against him from chest to toes, miles of warm skin against warm skin, wicked hands tugging at his hair, making him moan only for you to swallow the sound before sucking onto his bottom lip so hard he knew it was going to bruise.

The pounding on his door returned, and you released his lip with a pop.

"Go open the door, I'll hide"

Still dazed, Billy did as you told him, tucking his gun on the waistband of his boxers at his back, opening the door to come face to face with what was very obviously an East European thug.

"Yes?"

The guy took in Billy's state of undress, his messy hair, glassy eyes, swollen lips and very obvious erection, and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Sorry to bother you, sir" He shifted, very pointedly not looking down, "Have you seen this woman? She's dangerous and we think she's been hiding in the building"

Billy took a brief look at the very outdated picture of you. It didn't do you justice at all, you were grown now, body fuller, the angles of your face sharper.

"Not since last week. She lives upstairs, but we have very different schedules, you see"

"Daddy, are you coming to bed?" Your voice called out from his bedroom in the most obnoxious, most perfect valley girl accent he had ever heard. He turned to the man again,

"Anything else? I'm kind of in the middle of something..."

The obviously not very bright thug flushed.

"No, sir. Sorry to interrupt, goodnight!"

Billy closed the door, listening to the footsteps disappear out the hallway.

"Well... That was easy"

"Yeah, Ivan was neve the sharpest tool in the shed" You commented, right next to Billy, making him jump. How the fuck had you managed to sneak up on him like that?

"So you know these people" It wasn't a question. You shrugged, the movement making your breasts bounce slightly.

Goddamit, Russo, fucking focus!

"You're a black widow" It wasn't a question either. At your stunned look, Billy went on, "Look, you're hot as fuck, know your way around weapons, and the Russians are after you. I know how to put two and two together..."

You threw you hands up in exasperation, leaving his side to march towards his bar and pour yourself a glass of his most expensive whiskey.

"Fine, it's not like my dearest sister hasn't blown all my covers already"

He thought back to the last few days, to SHIELD'S fall and Natasha Romanoff's face all over the news, exposing all of the organisation's secrets, including her own.

You downed your drink.

"Wait, you're Natasha Romanoff's sister?!"

You poured a second glass, passing it to him, and Billy didn't need to be offered twice. The night was turning out to be too much even for him.

"You're a Avenger's sister"

"Not biological"

"But still by blood" Just like him and Frankie. You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Yeah, still by blood..."

You stood in silence for a few moments, each lost in your own thoughts, until Billy raised his glass in a toast,

"To our siblings, in arms and in blood"

You clicked your glass against his, smiling for the first time in the night.

"You know, when I first saw you tonight, I thought it was a booty call" He confessed, "But this? Finding a kindred spirit I'm my hot neighbor? Just might be better than sex..."

You put your glass down, throwing an appreciative look up and down his body.

"Who says we're not having sex?"

His jaw fell open, making you chuckle. Without another word, you turned away and walked back to his room, as Billy scrambled to pick his jaw off the floor.

Holly shit. He had hit the jackpot.

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #marvel #the punisher

[c-e-d-dreamer]

"are you flirting with me?"

- GWYNRIEL PWEASE 🥺👉👈🥺

It took me so long to fill this prompt, and I am so sorry, but I hope you still enjoy, and thanks for sending :)

Are you flirting with me?

The first thing that hits Gwyn is the sound. The screams of excitement and the whirling of machinery floating on the wind. As they cross the parking lot, the sights start to take shape. The twinkling lights, a sea of blinking rainbow colors. The large painted banner declaring ‘Velaris County Fair’. The groups of teenagers and couples on dates and families alike all bustling about around the entrance.

A large booth is set up to the right for tickets, and their little group joins the queue. Gwyn can’t help but smile softly at the sight: Nesta curled into Cassian’s side and Emerie with Mor’s arm around her waist and hand dipped into her back pocket as they all chat to pass the time waiting. It’s nice to see her two best friends so happy and at ease. As they get closer to the front, Gwyn roots around in her bag for her wallet, letting the others go ahead of her.

“Here.”

Gwyn looks up to see Azriel standing in front of her. He’s holding out his hand, one of the bright yellow tickets between his fingers.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Gwyn tells him.

“I don’t mind,” Azriel replies, the corners of his lips twitching up in the barest hint of a smile.

Gwyn gives her thanks and takes the proffered ticket, offering Azriel a smile of her own. Their group heads inside the fair, taking a moment as they all admire the rides and booths, the bright lights and sounds and the distinct smell of fried fair food.

“Let’s find the alcohol,” Mor declares, leaping onto Emerie’s back as they go speeding off along the line of booths to the left.

“Come on, Nes! Let’s go on the tilt-a-whirl,” Cassian says, pulling Nesta by the hand to the right.

Her friends all vanish deeper into the fair and crowds, and Gwyn finds herself standing with just Azriel. He shuffles slightly in place, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Do you want to get some food?” Azriel asks after a beat of silence passes.

“Sure,” Gwyn agrees with a nod.

They turn and make their way down along the booths and food trucks stationed together in a line, dodging children running around on sugar rushes. Gwyn takes a deep breath in of all the sweet smells, following the scent of fried dough and powdered sugar until she finds the booth declaring funnel cakes. Gwyn’s stomach practically leaps in excitement at the sight and smell of it. She starts for the booth, but notices Azriel has continued walking, so she reaches out an arm, snagging her fingers around the sleeve of his jacket and pulling him toward the queue. He looks down at her in surprise, and Gwyn swears she can see the faintest dusting of pink starting to flood into his cheeks, but Azriel doesn’t say anything as they wait their turn. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for them to make it to the front.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gwyn cuts in when she notices Azriel reaching for his pocket.

“I’ve got it,” Azriel replies easily.

“You already bought my fair ticket. I’m not letting you buy this as well.”

“And as I said before, I don’t mind.”

Gwyn is about to make another retort, but Azriel is faster, handing over money to the woman working the funnel cake stand. Gwyn sends Azriel her best glare, even as the woman hands over the paper plate topped with the funnel cake, the delicious scent filling her nostrils. Gwyn holds the plate out to Azriel but he declines with a shake of his head.

“You paid for it, but you don’t want any?”

“I’m not really a fan of sweets.”

“Your loss.”

Gwyn happily eats away at the funnel cake as she and Azriel continue to walk around the fair. They pass by a booth offering the milk bottle game, and Gwyn’s eyes snag on the brightly colored bears hung around the edges of the stand, purple, blue, and pink. Azriel turns to her when he realizes she’s stopped, a confused expression pinching his brows, before he follows Gwyn’s line of sight. Once he realizes what’s caught her attention, he strides up to the attendant and hands over the money, the attendant setting down the three baseballs along the tabled edge for Azriel to try his luck.

Gwyn watches the way Azriel picks up the first baseball, tossing it gently in his hand as if testing out the weight of it. He stares down the three silver painted milk bottles stacked perfectly, hazel eyes glinting with determination. His mouth pinches slightly to the left, and Azriel takes a deep breath before he’s throwing the first baseball toward the milk bottles. It hits the stack of milk bottles square on, all three toppling over with a clatter.

The attendant raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he steps back forward. “Which prize did you want?”

“Which one did you want?” Azriel echoes, turning to Gwyn.

“Oh,” Gwyn says, taken aback by the question slightly, but then she’s turning toward the attendant who’s waiting expectantly. “Can I have the blue one please?”

The attendant nods and gets down one of the blue bears, handing it over to Gwyn. Gwyn can’t help but smile down at the stuffed bear, running her fingers through the soft fur and along the little ribbon tied around its neck.

“Thank you,” Gwyn says, turning her smile on Azriel.

“Of cour—”

“I’m the strongest man!”

Gwyn and Azriel’s eyes both snap to their left to find Cassian and Nesta walking toward them, Nesta with a bright orange stuffed monkey cradled in her arms. Cassian is flexing obnoxiously while Nesta rolls her eyes, but Gwyn doesn’t miss the small smile her friend is barely tampering down.

“I am the strongest man,” Cassian says again once they’re closer. “Only had to swing the hammer once to ring the bell.”

“You’re embarrassing is what you are,” Nesta teases him.

“Then give back the prize I won you.”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” Cassian remarks, leaning down to press a kiss to Nesta’s cheek.

Gwyn is admiring the sweet moment between her friends when her mind snags suddenly on the similarities. The very obvious, in her face similarities. How did she not see this before? She looks at the orange monkey in Nesta’s arms before her eyes dart down to the blue bear nestled between her own hands. Her eyes dance back to Azriel, but she finds him already looking at her, those intense hazel eyes almost sparkling under the bright twinkling lights of the fair.

“Do you want to go on the ferris wheel?” Azriel asks her.

Gwyn blinks a few times at the question, her mind still caught up on the realization from just a moment before, but she nods. They head toward the ride and after a few moments, settle into one of the seats. Azriel’s hands fidget before they settle in a tight grip on the metal bar draped across their laps and securing them in. The way the ride’s seats are built has them both pressed closed together, thighs and arms brushing, and Gwyn can feel Azriel’s body heat. The temptation to lean into it to help fight off the biting wind as the ferris wheel carries them higher and higher is strong, but it does bring Gwyn’s mind back to a question she needs to ask.

“Azriel,” Gwyn starts.

“Yes?”

“Are you flirting with me? Have you been flirting with me? This whole night.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Gwyn wonders if she was too blunt, if she pushed too far. At least here on the ferris wheel, he can’t run away. Gwyn glances toward him out of the corner of her eye, tries to gauge just how shocked he is by his expression, but instead she finds Azriel turned toward her. And instead of shock written across his face, he just looks… nervous. Eyes wide, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Even his grip on the safety bar has turned white knuckled.

“Is it working?” Azriel finally asks, his voice quiet. “I’ve been trying, but I wasn’t sure if it was working.”

Now it’s Gwyn’s turn to feel shock. That wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting to come out of Azriel’s mouth. She just blinks at him a few times, the cogs in her brain desperately trying to turn and catch up to what’s happening, to get her bearings straight. She realizes she’s been quiet for too long, and Azriel’s nervous expression has begun to morph into fear, and well, Gwyn can’t have that. She leans forward across the small space between them and presses her lips gently to Azriel’s. Barely a breath passes before Azriel is kissing her back, one of his hands coming up to softly cradle her jaw.

“Next time, though,” Gwyn says when she pulls away. “I expect a proper date just the two of us. Not whatever weird group date this is.”

“Deal.”

#my fic #acotar #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #azriel #gywnriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic