#they asked the fair folk for help and got a child... but then their child was swapped with a changeling after a few months

[innytoes]

Dark fantasy AU?

-In hindsight, as he's being chased through the forest, hunted by mythical creatures is not where Reggie thought he'd end up when his folks told him they were moving to Los Angeles. Honestly, considering how he used to roam the woods and fields near his Meemaw's farm, the fact that he'd stumbled into a fairy circle near the beach was almost insulting.

-It's not even that he manages to outrun them. It's that one night (he thinks it's night, though time moves differently here and light and dark are all tangled up and is the purple haze of the sky supposed to be dusk or dawn or just a dark stop of the forest?) he'd decided to just... give up.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been running, running from the pounding of hooves and the yapping of dogs that did not look anything like what a dog should look like. He couldn't remember a time where he wasn't hungry, or thirsty, or tired, but something inside of him just kept making him run and run and run

-But he'd had enough. So he just sat down, with his back towards the noise, and hoped they'll kill him quickly. And to comfort himself, he sang the lullaby his Meemaw used to sing when he was scared of the thunder.

-That's what saved him. One of the fae, Caleb, was so charmed by the song that instead of doing whatever it is they did with their prey, he bundled Reggie up and took him to his... castle. Dwelling. Domain.

-He was dressed in finery and made to sing as Caleb and the other fae danced and ate and did things that Reggie very much had not wanted to see, thank you very much. But eventually, they slept, and Reggie met... the other humans who were trapped here.

-Luke, a young boy who had run away from home to become a musician in 1875. He was distraught to hear Reggie tell him it was the nineties now. Even more distraught when Reggie clarified it was the 1990s.

-There was Alex, who had been cast out of his village for reasons he did not want to share, but that Reggie figured out pretty quickly when he saw the way he looked at Willie. He'd fallen asleep near a fairy circle, and the promises he'd been made had been so tempting, he'd said yes before he fully understood the deal.

-And then there was Willie. The boy who had been stolen from his parents, a changeling left in his place. Who had grown up here, a part of this world yet not really. Who did not know what the other boys meant when they talked about years, or America, or really the whole concept of 'family'.

-Luke's the one who tells them of their escape plan. Alex is worried they can't trust Reggie not to rat him out to Caleb, and Reggie is like: um excuse me I was just hunted for sport for who knows how long you think I wanna help that guy?

-But before he can Willie just tilts his head and says: his heart is pure.

-Which is very sweet but also a little creepy.

-Anyway, they do manage to escape Caleb's clutches somehow, and end up back in the human world.

-Being yeeted out of a little ring of mushrooms in the soil of a plant Ray overwatered in the big plant wall of the Molina studio was not particularly pleasant, okay. Considering a real human should not be able to fit through that. But Willie explained that as soon as a fairy portal grew, it was only a manner of time that the fairies would notice it and stake it out to see what they could lure to their realm.

-Somehow, Luke and Alex get thrown clear across the room, Luke slamming against the door, Alex dropping onto the concrete floor.

-Reggie's not sure if him crashing against a pretty wooden piano is better or worse. The sound it made was definitely worse.

-Somehow, Willie ends up sitting crosslegged on the little piano bench, and he turns and quickly crushes up the mushrooms to destroy the portal.

-Julie, of course, is screaming, Alex and Luke and Reggie are screaming. Willie is trying to explain to Julie she over-watered her fern and pouts when she runs away.

-No they're not ghosts but they are changed and they all have weird powers. Luke nearly cries with joy that he can still summon his guitar. Alex is really not okay with this whole 'walking through walls' thing. Reggie is sad he cannot summon a puppy or a pizza.

-Willie can teleport short distances and is shocked to learn humans can't just do that? You have to walk everywhere? Or ride a horse. What's a car? What's roller skates? He needs to see one of these skateboad things immediately, let's summon the human girl back to ask for one. What can they trade for a skateboard?

-They're kind of freaked out at the whole 2020 thing, but hey, Reggie's like: at least it hasn't been a hundred years like when I told Luke about the 90s.

-Queue canon but it's even worse and more chaotic.

#julie and the phantoms #I wrote a thing #AUs are awesome #what do I even call this? #kidnapped by the fae au #I had such a hard time sorting out what was dark fantasy vs supernatural vs horror so... had a breakdown bon appetit #spent days going NO WE ARE NOT DOING A(NOTHER) CORALINE AU #I've only had creepy changeling willie who isn't entirely human anymore for 15 minutes #but if anything were to happen to him etc etc #alex does maybe like the whole 'being able to turn invisible' thing #except it doesn't work on Julie #for some reason #(*cough* Rose's great grandmother may have been a changeling) #Caleb of course is unseelie and rose's great great grandparents had trouble conceiving #they asked the fair folk for help and got a child... but then their child was swapped with a changeling after a few months #and they were all: um excuse we want our child back. No we're not giving this one back to you #tough shit a deal's a deal we gave you our magic music box for a kid and you gave us two no refunds because you screwed up #the story has been passed down for generations and Ray thinks it's a sweet fairytale #except there it's real and he's like: ... okay then. And then in true Molina tradition goes: *shrug* it's free children

[patcaps]

you can read my other thoughts on the finale here so i’m not gonna just say all the same things again but

the ending was always gonna be divisive with people loving it or hating it, liking it but wishing some things were a bit different. it’s the ending of a beloved show and nobody is ever gonna agree on what the right ending would be. it sucks to have folks outright rejecting it but it also sucks to see people like “you are wrong for having any criticisms whatsoever” like, i’m all for being able to discuss aspects of media and what we liked and didn’t like. it’s not always a bad faith interpretation, or cynicism, or being poor at understanding the writing and intention. and i love meta and analysis that doesn’t completely pick apart something and refuse it any grace or leniency. i think sometimes we’re way too hard on stuff that is ultimately heartfelt and from a place of love and joy, and unraveling them dampens the magic.

anyway. that aside. i love this show so much. there are things i’d have done differently, pacing choices that made it fall flat in places, but it’s not my show and these guys know their characters and love them as much as we do. and the ghosts and mike and alison never stopped being family - which is, ultimately, the biggest thing that matters. not the house, not where they are, but how they’ve helped each other for the better. alison and mike spent their entire lives making sure the ghosts were never forgotten, always went back to catch up. they got to enjoy all the fun and love of visiting family without the stress of living under each other’s feet 24/7 - and relationships with family often improve tenfold with that breathing space.

the show ended where it started with the plans to turn it into a hotel, but this time instead of the ghosts panicking and being like “drive her out, kill her” they loved alison enough to take all of that change on, safe in the knowledge that alison would never ever just abandon them. that’s such a neat way of showing how they’ve all helped each other. like, robin’s seen that house and the houses and land before it change so much but he felt so good about this change, literally said he felt christmassy finally, because they could do this. for her. for their friend, their family member, their alison.

they existed before alison and they’ll exist after her, but in the meantime they get to enjoy being her family and also know they’ve given them a more stable, secure, less stressful living arrangement that works for them all. they aren’t fully dependent on alison anymore and alison was no longer fearful of leaving and losing them because she knew they’d still be her family no matter what. i’ve seen some people interpret this as “they’re saying having a baby meant her found family weren’t important anymore, they have to go be a traditional family alone” and that was my kneejerk response too, but then i sat with it. and actually, alison goes from being a (presumed) orphan with no family besides mike and his side, to having all of that plus the ghosts, people who love her and always welcome her back to visit whenever she wants. how lovely for her to have her very own family she can go and see, who did such a kind thing for her, however bittersweet a decision it was initially.

and yeah, it’s true that the ghosts have less of alison there to take care of things like personalised entertainment, but that’s the whole point of them leaving - alison wasn’t in a position where she could worry about entertaining them all the time whilst also being with her husband and raising a newborn. it wasn’t fair to keep asking her to run around after a houseful of ghosts when looking after yourself and a small child is hard enough. she could have stayed and ended up resenting them, getting frustrated and angry the way they did with mike’s mum, potentially souring that relationship with the ghosts. instead she moved out and gets to go back and see them and love and enjoy them fully without that responsibility 24/7. i’m sure she took them new things, gifts, let them watch tv and read books, i bet they had requests for whenever she visited which she was more than happy to supply. and i bet they always had new anecdotes and things to catch her up on.

the more time i have, the more i warm to it all. it’s easy to say “they should have stayed together at the house” but this show is about being human, about life and death, how existence is both cruel and kind and beautiful and unexpected and it changes you and you change it. they did stay together, just not under the same roof. home is more than just button house, more than just a dream because dreams change as we go, and belonging is about more than just a destination. alison found home and belonging in the ghosts, and they found it in her too. the rest is just bricks and mortar.

#bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts #quill to paper #ghosts meta

[laf-outloud]

@philemonchambers During the strike, I’ve been trying to figure out ways to use my voice and feed the artist inside. When @july__mag asked if I’d be interested in speaking on the strike, I jumped at the opportunity. I also got todo this shoot with some amazing folks. I don’t pretend to know the severity of everyone’s situation from this strike but I do know that over that hill is a green valley. I stand with all of my brothers and sisters in this fight for a fair deal. Use your voice in ways that help you express yourself and do it with the people you love. - signed me

@philemonchambers “You live below the poverty line, and you still want to do this. It just goes to show that the old system that we had in place is not working. The cost of living has gone up, and we should follow suit.” Thank you @july__mag for giving me the space and time. Go check out the full interview by going to their page.

- signed me

To read the interview and view more great pictures of this cutie, here's the link to Philemon's interview!

#philemon chambers #july magazine #philemon photo shoot

[evan4ever]

I just had the most angsty idea everrr and was wondering if I could request it to you: Kit and a girl reader in Briarcliff are all in love and finally happened to make love for the first time during kitchen duty, they get caught (much like in the show) and are to be sterilized as punishment to prevent a possible "unwanted" pregnancy in the future with their relationship, but reader has always shared to Kit that her biggest dream in life was experiencing pregnancy and being a mother one day if she ever got lucky to be free again, and so being desperate to try and save reader from sterilization and having her only and one dream totally shattered from her possibilities, Kit goes to the only idea he could think of to get reader out of that and lies straight ahead saying he harrassed her and forced her to do things she didn't want to (which was of course the most brutal lie ever, she was the one who had insisted it upon him in the first place btw) and so there would be no need for sterilization since there was no real relationship between them and no possibility of it happening again in the future, and Jude had absolutely no tolerance for harrassment so instead of having Kit being sterilized himself, she orders the guards to beat the hell out of him in front of the reader to make her feel like having justice from his acts to her, all whilst the reader knows what Kit was doing to save her and can't deny it at the same time; then lastly, in the end she visits him in infirmary to check on him and comfort him and also confront him.

Sorry it got way too long lol, but it would seriously mean everything if you could write this down please, and tysm btw! <3

A Lie For Me

Warnings: this is pretty dark so read with caution, it may be triggering. Mentions of rape, sexual assault, harassment. Abuse/beating. Talk of sterilization, infertility, etc. it was a hard one to write folks

—

“What?” Kit’s eyes went wide at your desperate request. You pressed your lips together so tightly the skin began turning white, looking at him pleadingly.

You knew it was a horrible thing to request of him. You knew it was wrong in so many ways, and you knew it would be really awful on his end — the things that could happen to him by “admitting” what you wanted him to. You felt terrible, but you were so desperate.

“Please Kit…” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. His furrowed eyebrows began softening slowly as he studied your face that held nothing but the desperation you felt.

“S’let me get this straight — you want me to lie, tell them I… forced you… to do that with me back there in the kitchen? Y/n, why? D’ya know what they’ll do to me?” His eyebrows re-furrowed themselves as he listened to what he was saying, what you were wanting him to do. It wasn’t the truth, far from. The sexual acts that you were both caught in was completely mutual, wanted by both. He didn’t quite understand it and he needed a further explanation from you first.

“It is my biggest dream to be a mother someday. Kit I can’t think of anything worse for myself than being sterilized. If they strip me of my ability to form a child one day… I don’t think I could live on. Kit, I will end it all if they do. I will take my life the second I’m alone. I know it’s not fair of me to ask something of you like this, and if my chances of having a child weren’t at stake, I never would ask it of you. Please… I’m begging of you to just please try to understand.” You pleaded with him, trying your absolute hardest to help him understand where you’re coming from. You’re not a bad person, lying about sexual assault and harassment is such a horrible thing one could do. The false accusations have put many men in prison and you were a very big advocate about it; but now your future of being a mother was making you do the one thing you could never fathom before.

Kit’s eyes looked down at his handcuffed hands before they rested upon yours that were also handcuffed. You were both waiting for your punishment of being sterilized. He thought over your words again and again. He did understand you, he wanted nothing more than to be a father himself someday. But if what you were saying was true, that you’d take your life over being sterilized, he knew he had to do the right thing, for you. He’d do whatever it took.

“I swear on my life I wouldn’t dare ask if it wasn’t im—“

“I’ll do it.” Kit cut you off, his eyes now flickering back up to yours. They weren’t the usual kind eyes that you had gotten to know and love so much. They weren’t mean either, not even cold. They were just dark. Almost emotionless.

But you were desperate, so you didn’t dare start that conversation in fears that he would possibly change his mind. You had him on board. You had him where you needed him. And god, you felt so selfish. You hated yourself right now.

A beat of silence passed as you both just stared at each other, Kit’s face unreadable while yours nervous.

“..thank you.” You finally whispered out. Kit glanced behind you and you turned your head to see what he was now looking at and your stomach dropped as Sister Jude entered the small room, Dr. Arden and a nurse behind her. You swallowed hard and quickly looked back at Kit who glared up at Jude.

“Now, it would be wise of you both to not make this any more difficult than it already has to be—“

“I raped her.” Kit cut Jude off harshly. You sucked in a sharp breath at hearing his words, holding it in now as you waited for her response. Your eyes squeezed shut in shame, but when Jude looked at you for confirmation, she saw what she believed was fear.

“Y/n? Is this true?” Jude spoke slowly to you, softly.

You didn’t dare open your eyes, you didn’t believe you’d be able to go through with the harsh lie that you had begged Kit to see through. Instead, you only nodded in response. A choked back sob escaped from you, your handcuffed hands covering your face as you continued sobbing into them.

Jude believed you were crying because of being assaulted, no idea that you were actually crying because of his terrible you felt.

“I’m..” Jude started lowly, shaking her head slowly as she looked back to Kit, her entire body filling with rage. “I am just so.. incredibly… utterly disgusted right now. Kit, you..” she points her finger at him as she attempts to control her anger, her finger noticeably shaking, “you think being here allows you to do as you please with women?! Th-that you can force a woman to sleep with you on MY account, in MY kitchen?!”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at what was happening before you, only squeezing your eyes shut even tighter if it were possible as you listened to Jude’s voice raise into a scream — a scream directed towards Kit.

“You have some real nerve, boy.”

You tore your hands from your face at the sound of skin against skin, realizing that Jude had made her way in front of Kit and had just slapped him hard against his cheek. Your eyes were wide in seeing how angry and upset Jude was over this, shocked by it honestly. It seems to be personal to her.

“I will not have a rapist on this property.” She spat at him. Kits face dropped towards the ground, his shoulder slumping forwards in his own shame even though he had nothing to be ashamed of.

You wanted so badly to hug him and to tell him you were sorry, to tell Jude he was lying at the cost of your sterilization punishment. That he was lying for you. But before you could even manage to attempt speaking up, Jude had Kit pulled to his feet and was pushing him past you to the door.

“Well, I will just show you what happens to rapists on this property.” She pushed him out of the door, kit nearly stumbling over his own feet but allowing her to push him where she wanted him to go. You stood to your feet now and quickly walked out of the door and following behind them. “Do you realize the trauma you have caused this woman?!” Jude yelled at him as they entered her office, her finger now pointing at you as you stood wide eyed. “Do you understand what being sexually assaulted does to a woman?! Of course not, you’re a man. A pig.” She spits out again, turning and walking to you now.

You sucked in another deep breath as she approached and stood in front of you now, her eyes softening with what looked like sympathy for you. She felt bad for you. And it was so wrong because it didn’t actually happen, Kit never forced you, in fact one could argue that you initiated the sex.

“I am terribly, terribly sorry you had to go through that, my dear. No woman should ever have to. I do understand the pain you’re experiencing.” She spoke softly to you, her finger tips gliding down your cheek gently, comfortingly. But it didn’t feel that way against your skin, it felt like razor blades cutting you deep for your lie. You felt disgusted in yourself by the comfort this woman was showing you, comfort you didn’t deserve in the slightest. “He will pay for his behavior. You will redeem your deserved justice by watching him suffer.”

Her words cut deep like a knife, your heart dropping into your stomach when you realized what was going to happen.

“Show him no mercy.” She said to the men standing beside the two of you, them nodding and immediately walking to Kit.

“Wait that’s- it’s not neces—“

“He needs to pay. A lesson that greedy men deserve nothing.” She cut you off, walking back to Kit who only stood silently. He didn’t object, he didn’t intervene, he didn’t beg or plead. He readied himself for the beating that was to come, to be sure that you wouldn’t be sterilized. He was going to see it through. And you looked at him apologetically for everything you’ve caused by your selfishness. This wasn’t what you were expecting. You surely didn’t want to witness the abuse he’d endure. You honestly thought that they’d maybe lock him up for awhile and forget about it, but no, that wasn’t the case here.

You realized the very big mistake you’ve made.

And Kit quickly realized you were about to slip up, confess. He shook his head at you while Jude was looking away, your face scrunching in confusion as to why he wouldn’t want you to confess. You wanted to stop this, stop him from what was about to happen. But he silently begged you to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes burned into his trying to understand, soon realizing that if you did confess, this wouldn’t just go away either. If you confessed that it was all a lie now, not only would you both be sterilized, but you’d both likely be beat to near death. He was telling you that this was better than what would be if you told the truth now.

So you stayed silent, and you watched in complete horror as Kit was beaten. At some point you could no longer stomach it, looking away and trying your hardest not to vomit. They truly weren’t showing any mercy. The screams that came from Kit were now imbedded in your head, the bloody sight on his on the ground curled up in a ball replaying every time you closed your eyes. It was horrifying to see, and that was your own punishment for your selfishness.

By the end of it, they carried Kit away while you stood hugging yourself tightly, unable to move your eyes from the ground. Even when Jude approached you once more, speaking to you but you not hearing a single word. Jude believed it was shock from everything you had experienced. She had a nurse guide you to the Common Room and help you comfy yourself with a glass of water and a blanket.

And you sat in that chair, curled up, unable to pry your mind away from itself. You felt numb, sick, disgusted in yourself. You couldn’t bring your hand to grab the water for a drink no matter how dry your mouth was. You simply couldn’t move. As if you were frozen in that spot watching Kit be nearly killed because of you, over and over again. It felt cruel that the world would make you relive it, but you knew you deserved to feel this way.

Selfishness is the Devils work.

Hours passed by and you never moved a muscle. Jude noticed and had another nurse guide you to your cell to have you lay down. She was taking such good care of you, care you didn’t deserve. It was wrong and unfair.

When night fell, you finally pulled yourself from your thoughts and decided you needed to see him. You figured he was in the infirmary after the wounds he’d received. So once you were sure everyone was asleep, you snuck from your cell and made your way quietly and carefully all the way down to the infirmary, double checking that no one was around before entering.

“Kit?” You whispered into the silence. The room was dark, you could barely make out anything before you and had to feel your way around, finally making it to the bed. You heard the creaks of it intending someone was on it. You crouched yourself down so you could be eye level with the man who was resting on it. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness allowing you to finally see better, scanning him from head to toe. He was now handcuffed to the side rails of the bed, as if he’d be able to do anything in this state.

You couldn’t see well, but enough to notice the bruises on his face and down his arms. They made you sick all over again. You could’ve hurled if you allowed yourself to, but you held back, swallowing hard before looking back to his black and blue swollen face.

“Kit?” You whispered again.

“I can’t really open my eyes.” You heard him respond, your jaw clenching at his words. More guilt washed over you and you rested your head against the side of the bed as tears formed in your eyes.

“I’m s-so sorry” your voice cracked as you spoke. “I’m so selfish, I don’t know what I was thinking… I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t think about the consequences. God im so sorry I made this happen to you.”

Kit couldn’t move much due to being restricted by his hands cuffed to the rails on either side of him, but he did turn his head towards you, letting his forehead lean into your head. You lifted it when you felt him, furrowing your brows wondering how he could possibly be comforting you right now. You deserved nothing from him, you wouldn’t blame him if he absolutely hated you because the feeling of yourself was mutual.

“They got me loaded up on meds.” He chuckled. “M’alright darlin. I’ll be fine. It’s over.”

You just gazed at him the best you could in the darkness, occasionally glancing at the different bruises and marks on his face. You couldn’t accept his acceptance of the situation. You didn’t want to be forgiven for begging him to do what he did. This was on you and it baffles you that he wasn’t angry.

“I’ll make it right with you, I promise you.” You whispered out, your hands now caressing his cheek ever so gently. He hummed in response, the feeling of your hands against his skin warming and comforting. “Whatever you need, say it. I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes.”

“Be the mother you want to be someday. Get out of this place and fulfill that dream. That’s all I want.”

You felt a tug on your heart, your eyes closing in response and even more shame filling you. You let out a quiet sigh before leaning your head down next to his and letting your foreheads rest against the others again. You only wanted this nightmare to be over, but you knew you owed everything to this man for not allowing them to take your fertility from you. You owed him everything, and you were going to see that through.

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm m @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life @simp4petermaximoff @totta69

#evan peters #evan peters characters #evan peters imagine #evan peters supremacy #evan peters x reader #kai anderson #evan peters smut #kit walker #kit walker imagine #kit walker x reader #kit walker angst #kit walker smut #kit walker x you #kit walker x y/n #kai anderson smut #kai anderson imagine #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #tate langdon imagine #colin zabel #imagine requests #warren lipka #request #send me requests #request imagines #ahs fandom #ahs asylum #asylum #sister jude #ahs

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Laura Cunningham had gone through her daughter's diary and found out she had a crush on Eddie Munson. It's why she tried to make Chrissy date Jason. Although Chrissy thought it wouldn't be fair to Jason, considering she didn't like him at all.

"I don't want to go out with you, Jason. I want to be honest with you," Chrissy said. "It's what my mother wants."

"We all have to do things we don't want. Once you start getting to know me, then I'm sure you'll be glad you listened to your mother," Jason replied.

"What's something that you don't want to do but feel like you have to?" Chrissy asked.

"Well, my dad wants to me come work for him after college. I don't really want to work for the insurance business, but my dad says he makes good money, so you got to have money to live, right?" Jason asked.

"You know, there are other ways of making money, right? If you don't want to work for your dad, then you don't have to. A parent's love shouldn't be conditional on whether their child does something for them. Being happy while making it in this world should be the only thing that should matter to them. If they can't do that, that's on them," Chrissy replied. "Besides, don't you think you deserve better than someone who was asked to date you?"

She slipped out of his grasp and walked away from him. As she walked home, the feeling of defiance weighing heavily on her shoulders, she stopped and got herself a burger. When Chrissy got home, smelling of burgers, she told her mother about rejecting Jason. She also told Laura that she was going to be making her own decisions now. It was the first time that Laura had hit her. Sure, she had called her names and starved her a bit, but she never laid her hands on Chrissy. Laura had hit her hard, too. Chrissy was dizzy, her nose was dripping blood, and her eye was aching. Laura had frozen, which had given Chrissy plenty of time to lock herself in her room and call the police.

Now, here she was, standing in front of her aunt's trailer with most of her things packed in the back of her aunt's car. An aunt. Laura's sister, who Chrissy was told, had died. There were no pictures of her in the house, and though Chrissy had met her when she was younger, apparently, she had no memory of her. Darlene Blake looked at her curiously.

"I know, it's not what you're used to, honey," Darlene said.

"I like it. It's like a little community. It feels. . .cozy," Chrissy smiled. "Can I explore a bit after I unpack?"

"I don't see why not. Most of the folks here are friendly. Some people here they seem like their bite is worse than bark. It's not. They're grumpy bears on the surface, but in the middle, it's nothing but a giant soft marshmallow," Darlene replied, and Chrissy giggled. "It is a good community."

As Chrissy unpacked with the help of her aunt, a question was eating at her.

"Aunt Darlene?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes, sugarplum?"

"Can I ask what happened with you and my mother?" Chrissy asked.

"Honey, don't be afraid to ask me anything," she said and sighed. "You ought to know since you're going to be living with me. When your mother found out that I was only interested in women, she was disgusted by it, and she said that if I ever came near you again, she'd call the cops and tell everyone what I am," Darlene said, looking down.

Chrissy hugged her aunt tightly around the middle. She had a lot more weight on her than Chrissy did, so her arms didn't go all the way around her. It was nice. She hadn't been here long, but already, she felt like this was what a mother should be like. Darlene wrapped her strong arms tightly around her and kissed the top of her head.

"It's not just boys that I like," Chrissy whispered.

Darlene pulled back and cupped her face.

"Thanks for telling me," she said softly, tears in her eyes. "Sweet girl."

After unpacking, Chrissy switched out her skirt for shorts and pulled on a pair of sneakers. Darlene had given her a container to give to the Munsons who lived across the way. It was a little more distance than Darlene told her it was, but Chrissy made it to the Munson trailer. She moved to knock on the door.

"Chrissy Cunningham?"

She jumped and dropped the container. Sitting on the couch that was on his porch was Eddie Munson. He was smoking.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Eddie said kindly.

"It's okay, I didn't see you there," Chrissy said and picked up the container.

"Not to sound rude or anything, but what brings you around here?" Eddie asked.

"My aunt Darlene wanted to give this back to you," Chrissy said, holding it out to him.

"Ah, Lennie's your aunt?" Eddie asked with surprise as he took the container, banging on it like a drum.

"Yeah, she said that I should give you a smack if you called her that," Chrissy giggled. "I won't do that."

"Oh, come on, now," Eddie said, rolling up his sleeves and tossing the container aside. "I deserve it. Lay one one me, Cunningham."

"No!" Chrissy said shaking with laughter.

"Come on!" Eddie said slapping his skin.

"Fine!"

She tentatively smacked him in the arm.

"Harder than that!"

She hit him a little harder this time. He groaned mockingly, collapsing on the couch and clutching it.

"You know not of the strength you wield, Lady Cunningham. You have broketh my arm!" Eddie cried, leaning over and letting his arm dangle. "Yes! Indeed, it is broketh."

Chrissy couldn't control her laughter, clutching her stomach at the sight of him. She snorted. Horrified at the sound she made, she covered her mouth. Eddie burst into laughter and jumped up, moving closer to her to remove her hands from her mouth.

"So, are you just visiting your aunt?" Eddie asked once the laughter died down.

"Moving in," she replied.

"It must be quite the step down," Eddie said.

"It's actually a step up! I love it here!" Chrissy exclaimed with a grin.

"It must have been real bad if this is better than the big house you lived in," Eddie said. Chrissy's smile faltered, and she winced. Eddie realized what he said a moment later. "Hi, I'm Eddie Munson. I sometimes put my foot in my big fat mouth."

Chrissy laughed and shook his hand that he held out to her.

"Do you want to show me that devil music you listen to that I've heard so much about?" Chrissy asked.

He quickly put out his cigarette, grabbed her hand, and dragged her inside the trailer where an older man was sitting on the couch.

"Don't mind me, Uncle Wayne, just bringing a pretty girl into my room to listen to devil music. I promise not to sacrifice her," Eddie said quickly.

Before Chrissy could say anything to Wayne Munson, she was dragged into Eddie's room. As she sat on Eddie's bed, listening to his music, Chrissy was suddenly very grateful that her mother had snooped into her diary.

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham lives #chrissy this is for you #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #hellcheer #hellcheer fanfiction #rueleigh writes #bisexual appreciation #bisexual chrissy cunningham

[miraphoenix]

Right off the bean, this is not a callout post. I'd talk to the person this is about 1-on-1, but a) he's had me blocked for 4 years, and b) it's mutual. This is me venting on my personal blog, something that he decided to vague about me doing back when I had my first blog.

With that out of the way. I'm really fucking tired of people stealing from Valenth/Revecroir, and from its creator.

Years and years ago, when they were a literal child, my bff/queer life partner--for the purpose of this post, their name is Leupai--made lizard-critters with hands on their tongues and called them leupaks. Eventually, they ended up splitting off from Subeta where they worked at the time, making an affiliated petsite called Valenth where the leupaks featured quite prominently as creatures in a fantasy-meets-steampunk world.

Unfortunately, their boss was a piece of work, and following a rather large kerfluffle involving another petsite lifting other elements of my partner's work (namely, a dragon concept and a companion concept), my partner was fired by the Subeta head boss. The leupaks were renamed into leupai, and Valenth expanded into Revecroir. This was in 2014, give or take a few months.

Through about half of the Valenth era and into the Revecroir era, Leupai was dating someone else, who went by Sixar at the time, later Kismeti, and the two had a long-distance open relationship. Kismeti also did a fair amount of site art for Valenth, and described himself as Leupai's biggest fan; when he'd met Leupai originally, his username referenced leupaks, he had a bunch of leupak characters, and a leupak sona. I met both of them in 2013-2014, right around the close of Valenth, and started chatting with them both. Leupai was more responsive, Kismeti was more reserved, but I did the best I could.

Over the years, I kept trying to reach out to Kismeti, but found that Leupai was honestly more willing to talk with me, so I did become better friends with them. Note that I was friends with Leupai, and trying to be friends with Kismeti. We chatted, we sent memes, we played World of Warcraft, I bought folks pizza across the Pacific Ocean, you know the drill.

Through this, I became really familiar with Leupai's world, at that point named Revecroir. I got to know their lore, their worldbuilding, their current projects, and the leupai creatures themselves.

The leupai were--and are!--still fat lizards with paws on their tongues, who can open portals between worlds with acid in their claws, who transfer their consciousnesses to other bodies if one is destroyed, and whose strength comes from the realm of dreams and creativity. In the early days, in lore that wasn't publicized, leupai were roaming around to find a world to live on after Valenth. This was a project that was supposed to be worked on with Kismeti, but nothing really ever came of it. Eventually, Leupai kind of moved on from that storyline to write more about Revecroir itself.

At the same time, I tried asking Kismeti about his worldbuilding, because he had characters and allegedly a world of his own, but didn't really get a lot in the way of answers. I saw a lot of Sonic fanart, I saw a lot of homestuck, I saw a lot of MLP:FiM, I saw a lot of Captain Planet. Eventually, I kind of... Gave up asking? And that's on me, but frankly, if you ask someone to share their stuff and they don't share their stuff, I figure that's the signal to stop asking.

As time went on, though, I was seeing some cracks forming in the 10-year relationship between the two, and I was helping Leupai through a lot. I watched as he yelled at my best friend for not responding to messages fast enough. I watched as he made plans with Leupai and then fucked off to do other things for hours, leaving Leupai in the lurch and worried about his physical safety. I watched as he gaslit Leupai about their ability to use a computer. On one memorable instance, when Leupai's internet was unstable while we were all playing WoW together, Leupai left the voice call to go reset the router, and Kismeti decided that it was a great time to shit-talk Leupai's intelligence to me. For a half hour straight. Until Leupai rejoined the call.

Eventually, I visited Leupai in person and watched as they were broken down to tears by Kismeti failing to respect their boundaries for literal hours, until Leupai caved to Kismeti's preferences. That was a rough night, and I remember wondering why the fuck my best friend's partner was treating them so badly.

About a month and a half after I visited Leupai, they decided to break up with Kismeti, because they'd had enough of him verbally berating them for not responding fast enough to memes sent over instant message, among so many other things. He, to put it mildly, lost his shit.

(For the record, I know what went down, because Leupai had me read the messages sent back and forth, to make sure they were grounded, and were reading things right. I've seen logs going back 10 years. His original vague accused me of not knowing what I was talking about, but boy howdy I was either there, or have read the raw logs.)

Anyway, he begged for Leupai back. Leupai gave him a chance that he fucked up within a day. Leupai said goodbye and blocked him. He then started messaging me about this on discord, clearly trying to use me as a go-between to get to Leupai.

At the time, I was going through some Complex Feelings about my own abuse by various people in my life, triggered by his behavior, so was reblogging a lot of support stuff on my original blog. I guess he decided this was vaguing about him, because he made a vaguepost accusing me of not knowing all the details (unbeknownst to him, I'd read everything) and finally blocked me.

I figured this chapter in my life was done at this point, and moved the fuck on. Made a new blog because I didn't feel like getting all his shit off my old one, moved across the country, got a new job, the whole shebang. Leupai and I entered our odd QPP/partners/bffs/???? phase, and I genuinely didn't think much about him, unless I was helping listen to Leupai talk about stuff they'd gone through with him.

Until this year. When I saw some comment of his break containment and end up on my dash, under the name "riftclaw". I had a bit of an inkling, so I broke my "don't look" rule and looked at the linked toyhouse to confirm it was really him.

Turns out, riftclaws are... Lizard creatures. Who open portals between worlds with acid in their claws. Who are looking for a new world to call their own. And who have some divine properties, that may involve body switching.

And all of Kismeti/riftclaw's old leupai characters are now riftclaws.

Oh, and he was planning to make them into a closed species. To make money off them.

Now, leupai were decently popular back in the day. I still have leupai characters, and make some periodically from time to time. There's a tag on tumblr and everything; if you're reading this, there's a decent chance you remember Vee yourself, as a fair number of my followers were there too. People still talk about Valenth from time to time. Leupai still has a folder of old fanart from back in the day with some 800 pieces of art in it. They were, by all accounts, successful until they weren't.

But the height of popularity was back when Vee was still around, in the late 2000s and early 2010s. The only new stuff in the tags is from an archive blog of old Vee assets.

Despite that, though. And I know this from messages between the pair, I know that Kismeti tore into Leupai repeatedly for "being more popular" and "having more eyes on their work". Even though "those eyes" didn't keep Leupai fed or housed, or really give them any income. Even though "those eyes" meant getting 50 notes on a tumblr post as opposed to 20. Even though "those eyes" just increased thievery and the constant pressure to be a Content Creator(tm), and were a major part of what drove Leupai off the internet entirely starting in 2018.

So imagine. Imagine for a moment. Being so hungry for clout and attention. That you steal your ex-partner's species concept that they've had since they were literally 8 years old, barely file off the serial numbers, and then make that your entire online persona four full years after your partner broke up with your ass twice for being an abusive piece of shit over a 10-year timeframe.

To borrow my own tags from this post, which got me thinking about all of this again?

#This is all to say; if you're jealous of someone else's success? Fine. Go have your emotion. But don't lift their shit.#Your emotions are valid; your actions aren't.

(Oh, and this is the smallest thing in the world, the least important piece of this? Riftclaws are already a thing from a game released in 2016 called Grim Dawn.)

#phoenix sounds #leupai #leupak #Valenth #Revecroir #I have a lot of feelings and a lot of emotions and a lot of frustration #Leupai's had their shit stolen three times now #Once when they were a kid; once by another petsite #And now once by their ex #Which is just... Honestly? I guess they've got an original idea because everyone else seems to be cribbing it #This is why the Revecroir setting's forever private now though #Leupai got run off the internet by this kind of thing (and much worse) and they're staying gone now #And this whole hbomberguy vid thing about plagiarism is just making me think about... How many people this impacts #How many artists have had their shit lifted and stolen by someone and how crushing that is #How many people that disenfranchises and removes from communities #I can attest that Revecroir is flourishing but it will *never* be seen again by outside eyes because of the repeated thefts #How many more things are like that I wonder? How many people stop making all together because of this sort of thing? #Ties into the sssniperwolf shit from a few months ago where she was freebooting stuff from much smaller creators and claiming it was hers #In her case we do know that there were small creators who stopped making after she stole their shit for millions of views on youtube #So it's not like this is some victimless crime #Anyway I think the constant searching for clout/visibility/reach/whatever the term de jour is? #Has made everything unfathomably worse in terms of theft and plagiarism #And to confront the latter we have to remove the former

[ashknife]

Hank & Gracie

Another holiday, another @inklings-challenge. I missed the deadline for the Christmas challenge, but I can revisit that next year. This is my entry for the 2024 Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge. This is a retelling of Hansel & Gretel. As always, I do appreciate criticism and suggestions. Enjoy!

I’m Hank. I live with Ma and my li’l sister Gracie. We live in an apartment in the middle of the city. Sometimes there’s a dog or a cat, but it’s mostly just us. Pa used to live here, but Ma said he ran off after some hussy. I don’t know what a hussy is, but I don’t like ‘em. I don’t like Pa, either. I miss him.

The apartment is on the second floor of a tall brick building. I think I counted thirteen floors on the building. I’d look in the elevator, but Ma won’t let us go on it.

“That’s for folks who need it,” she said. “Don’t you let me catch you playing on it.”

I tried climbing the stairs to the top instead. They went on forever! But me and Gracie, we made it. The door said 14 at the top. The door below said 12. We looked all over for 13. Spent all day, but somehow it was missing. Gracie cried. She does that a lot. Ma found us while we was still looking. We got in big trouble.

“Henry James, you know better than to fool around and get lost while looking after your sister! What are you gonna do when you get lost for good? Huh? Now dinner’s cold!”

Ma sure yells a lot. She says I’m the man of the house. I have to be big and look after Gracie. I’m seven, and she’s only four. I say it ain’t fair, but Ma says it ain’t fair she have to work, but she does it anyway. It’s hard to get past Ma. She knows everything. I wanna be like her when I grow up.

Ma works hard. Sometimes she’s home, cleaning up the apartment and cooking supper, but most times she’s gone. During the day, it’s some office. At night, she’s waitin’ at some tables. That seems easy enough, but when I asked if I could wait at the tables, Ma just laughed.

“Thank you, child, but you ain’t old enough yet.”

“But you could stay home and be with Gracie, Ma.”

Ma just looked tired, shook her head, and drank her coffee. She drank a lot of coffee.

“Someday, maybe. Just not today.”

As much as Ma worked, she didn’t have a lot of money. Bills and rent, she said. She’d always talk about the bills and rent when we got holes in our clothes or made a mess or asked for a piece of candy. Bills and rent. They just keep going up and up. Sometimes it gets hard. Sometimes Ma can’t get nothing but the roaches in the cabinets. We’d go to churches more, then. Sometimes they have free food. Ma would cry every time she got a bag of somethin’. She’d cry more at home, when we was supposed to be asleep. You’d think she’d be happy. Ma does strange things sometimes.

The other day, Ma was at the office. She told us to behave and be good. It was payday, so maybe she would bring us home something nice. We didn’t have no food for a couple of days. I was hoping for some chips from that new shop that opened down the street. Some big white guy named Pete opened it and named it after himself. He was a little fat and covered in hair. He sure liked to laugh a lot, especially at Ma’s jokes. Ma said he was trying too hard. His store sure was nice, though. All sorts of candy and chips and soda, more than I’d ever seen in my life. Not even the grocery store has that many. Pete certainly didn’t have a bin of celery. Yuck.

Sometimes, when Ma wasn’t looking, Pete would slip me and Gracie a piece of candy.

“On the house,” he whispered with a wink. “Our little secret.”

We’d pocket that candy and hide it when we got home. When Ma was asleep or away, we’d eat it. It was real good. The candy smelled nice, too. We’d save the wrappers and smell them, especially when we was hungry. We’d dream of something nice to eat when Ma got paid. It’d help us hold on for just a little longer. We’d stash those wrappers under our mattresses. Ma would have a fit if she saw them. She might wonder if we stole them from Pete.

Since Ma was getting paid today, maybe she was gonna get that special something from Pete’s. But that was a whole day away, and we was hungry, and it was hot out, and we didn’t want to do nothing. But we was hungry. It was gonna be a long day. Then Gracie came up with a great idea.

“Hank, you go hide!” she said. She went to a corner and started counting. So, I went and hid behind the couch in the living room. It felt cooler back there.

“Ready or not, here I come!” she yelled.

I heard her go through the kitchen and her room and my room. I tried to hold my breath, which was hard to do because I was trying not to laugh. Then my belly growled really loud.

“Found you!” Gracie said. She crawled behind the couch and tagged me.

“No fair!” I said. “You heard my belly!”

“Still found you. Now you go, and I’ll hide.”

“Okay, okay.”

I crawled out from behind the couch and went to the corner.

“Ooooone…twoooooo…” I started. I have to count real slow for Gracie. She gets mad if I go too fast. It doesn’t help her much. She giggles and laughs while she’s looking for a place to hide. I know where she is, but if I go too fast, she’ll get mad. She gets mad if I take too long, too. I play at looking around in other rooms first before I find her, and then she laughs and calls me dum-dum for taking so long, but she isn’t mad. Gracie is as strange as Ma sometimes. Can’t please nobody.

This time, Gracie hid under the kitchen sink. I stomped down the hallway to Ma’s room.

“Where’s Gracie? Is she in Ma’s room?” I open the door to Ma’s room real slow so that it creaks real loud.

“No, not here,” I said, quickly closing Ma’s room. Ma doesn’t want us to go in. She has a way of knowing even if she ain’t there. I stomp to my room.

“Is Grac–”

She screamed and fell out onto the kitchen floor. I ran to see what was happening.

“What is it? What is it?” I said.

“It’s on me! Get it off! Get it off!”

I saw a roach crawl across her shirt. I didn’t think too much about it. I got up and swat the thing. It smacked against the wall and fell on its back. I got up to it and stomped on it, and again, and again, and again. I’m sure it was dead, but I gave it a couple more just to be sure. I swept it into the dustbin and closed the door under the sink.

Gracie cried and cried. I looked around her and pat her clothes in case there was another one that was hiding. I sat by her and held her.

“It’s gone, Gracie. I got it.”

“Did you kill it?”

“Yeah, I killed it.”

“It tried to eat me, Hank!”

“It’s gone, Gracie.”

Our bellies growled. It was gonna be a long day.

After a while, Gracie calmed down.

“I’m hungry, Hank.”

“Me, too.”

“Can we go to Pete’s?”

“We ain’t got money.”

“Aww…”

We sat for a minute.

“Do you want to go hide again? Somewhere without bugs?”

“Okay…”

“I’ll count to a hundred so you can make sure it’s real safe. If it ain’t, you yell, and I’ll take of it. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

She got up, and then she got this grin on her face.

“Okay, you count to a hundred!”

So, I did. I went to my room and counted loudly to a hundred. It takes a long time to count to a hundred. I figured Gracie might have gotten bored, because she stopped giggling after a while. I heard doors open and close, but there was no screaming. Ain’t no bugs gonna get her this time.

“Niiiiinety-eeeeeight…niiiiinety-niiiiiine…oooooone huuuuuundred! Ready or not, here I come!” I called out. She opened and closed a lot of doors. She must have hid in a closet. She wasn’t giggling like she usually does. Maybe she fell asleep waiting, or got mad waiting for me. I don’t know, but I put on my act just in case. I stomped out into the hallway…

…and the front door was wide open.

I ran and looked out the open door into that hallway. Nothing but a bunch of doors to other apartments. I closed the door and went to the living room closet. She wasn’t there. Kitchen closet. Nope. Under the sink. Nope. My closet, her closet, Ma’s closet, under Ma’s bed, all nothing. I got real scared. Ma’s gonna really let me have it if I can’t find Gracie. My bottom can already feel the paddle.

I ran out into the hallway.

“Gracie! Gracie!” I called out. One of the neighbors told me to shut up. I ran down the stairs.

“Gracie!” I called out again. The old landlady was standing in her doorway, eating some kind of pudding.

“She went out a little bit ago, hon,” she said, pointing to the outside door. “Ain’t your momma home?”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “Ma’s in the office.”

“Mm-hm,” she said, going back into her apartment.

I ran outside.

“Gracie! Gracie!”

I looked left, and then right. The street was empty. There wasn’t anyone walking out. It was too hot. There was a parking lot next to our building, so I looked there first. Not a lot of cars. Everybody’s out to work or something, so there weren’t a lot of hiding spots. I looked, but she wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey!”

The landlady called me to the outside door.

“Your momma’s on her way. You better go find your sister,” she said.

“Where did she go?”

“Don’t know, hon, but you better be lookin’,” she said.

“Oh, no…” I said. So, I ran. I ran down to the corner, watched for cars, crossed the street, and kept running. I slowed down by another parking lot. Ma told me I better watch for cars or I’d get knocked into next week. I saw that happen to somebody. I waited to see them next week and the week after, but they never showed up. I don’t want to end up like that.

Then I saw it. A candy wrapper. It looked like one of the ones Pete would slip us. I smelled it, and it smelled kinda good still. It felt a little wet. I think somebody licked it. And then I saw another down the sidewalk. And another. And another. It was a trail of candy wrappers. Looked like there was some in the street, too. They was leading somewhere. And so I started running again, following the trail. I picked up each wrapper along the way. This went for a couple of blocks, and then it ended, right in front of Pete’s.

There are a lot of tall buildings around with lots of apartments, but Pete’s was a house with a garage. He turned the garage into his little store. Lots of people normally come by to buy something from him, but it’s too hot today. Ain’t nobody around. Pete was sitting at his counter with a fan blowing in hairy face.

“Oh, it’s Hank!”

“Hi, Mr. Pete,” I said, trying to catch my breath. I bent over and coughed. Pete pointed his fan at me. It felt good after running in that heat. His store was full today. There were shelves of chips and sweets and drinks and other stuff. My belly growled hard. Pete put a trash can in front of me, so I threw the candy wrappers away.

“Looking for a snack?” he asked, laughing.

“No, sir,” I said, still breathing hard. “No, sir. Gracie. Did Gracie come by here?”

“Oh, your sister? She’s fine! She’s inside having a snack!” He laughed some more. “Why don’t you pick yourself something out? Get a drink, too. I’ll put it on your mom’s tab.” He winked at me.

“Ma’s coming home. I need to get Gracie,” I said.

“Now, now, don’t you worry. Hey, take a look at this!” He got up from behind his counter. He grabbed my shoulder with one of his massive hands, and then he pulled me over to a box with little bags. The box looked new. The bags said “fried pie” on them. I could smell them.

“Just got these in today. They make the dough and pie filling at the factory, put ‘em in a fryer until they’re nice and crispy, and then coat them in a sugary glaze. They’re something else, and I got a nice, cold Coke to go with it. You’ll have that down in no time.”

I shook my head yes. That sounded amazing. I really wanted that.

“Now, don’t you worry about your momma. I’ll be watching over you two and explain everything to her when she comes by,” he said, laughing.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Pete.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Hank. Here,” he said, handing me a fried pie. He led me to the fridge and handed me a cold Coke. He then pointed to the door to his house.

“Go on in,” he said. I was so hungry, I couldn’t wait. I went to the door and opened it carefully so I didn’t drop the Coke or the pie. I stepped in, and then there was this big pain in the back of my head.

-----

I woke up. I didn’t know how long I was asleep, but it was much later. Probably sunset. I was on Pete’s kitchen floor. I don’t remember falling down or going to sleep, only that I had a Coke and a fried pie. I looked for those, but they weren’t there. The back of my head hurt real bad. I felt around. It was kind of sticky. I don’t think it was that pie, though. It didn’t smell like it. I think it was my blood.

Past a door was the living room. It was hard to see in the setting sunlight, but I could make out Pete. He was crouched in front of a fireplace. There was a fire lit. He looked like he was sweating from all the heat.

“You keep behaving, and I won’t have to hit you again,” he said. “You’re gonna fetch a good price.”

He laughed, but this laugh made me shiver. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at someone else, someone who was next to him. There was a moan, like someone who wanted to cry. He was fiddling with something, and then he had a shirt in his hands. It was Gracie’s! He threw it into the fire!

“What did you do to my sister?” I yelled. He jumped to his feet like he was ready for a fight.

“I think you need another nap,” he said, getting a bat. It looked like a bat, but a little smaller.

I got up and ran into the living room. He brought that bat down on me, but he missed. I got something from a bin next to the fire, a little shovel. He swung his bat again. He hit my back. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was hard to breathe. He swung again. I made myself move out of the way. I grabbed that little shovel with both my hands and swung it hard, not thinking too hard where it might land. It struck him right under his belt just as he tried to swing at me again. He cried out, and then he tripped and landed head first into his fire.

I never heard a person scream so loud in my life. His arms flailed, flinging burning wood into his living room. The room started to smoke up. Some of the paper lying around caught fire, and the curtains, and the couch. Lying in the middle of the floor was Gracie, without her shirt. It looked like someone punched her a bunch of times. Her eyes were black, blacker than our skin. There were bruises and rashes all over.

“Gracie! Come on!” I said.

“I can’t. It hurts,” she said. I picked her up the best I could and got out to the garage, and then through the shelves of Pete’s food. And then we made it outside.

“Henry James!” Ma yelled. “What–Gracie Joy! Who did this? What happened?”

“It was Pete, Ma! Pete tried–”

“You’re dead meat, kids!” Pete yelled. Black smoke came out of his house as he stumbled out. His hairy face was now red and burnt, and some of his body, too.

“What happened to you, Pete?” Ma said.

“These little shoplifters–”

“Shoplifting?” she said, looking at Pete like he was crazy.

“He burned Gracie’s shirt in the fireplace! He beat her up!”

“What?” she said, glaring at him with the full wrath of God.

There was a gunshot. A policeman stood in the street, and the pistol he shot up was now pointed at us.

“Nobody move,” he said. Another cop was in their car on the radio. There were sirens approaching.

-----

It was after dark when we got home. Ma held Gracie in her arms as she led us in, turned on the lights, and closed the door.

“Go fill the bath, Hank,” she said.

I looked down. I knew what was coming and I just couldn’t wait for it anymore.

“What’s the matter, son?” she said.

“Aren’t you going to paddle me?” I said.

“Why would I do that?” she said.

“‘Cause I lost Gracie, and then all this happened, and Mr. Pete…”

Ma laid Gracie down on the couch, and then she knelt down and held me. I cried.

“This all started because Gracie snuck out,” she said.

“But…I could have paid more attention,” I said.

“We could all do better. Be thankful that you both made it out okay,” she said. She didn’t say anything for a minute, and then she let me go, held my face, and wiped my tears with her thumb.

“Ain’t enough paddles in the world to replace what happened today. Mr. Pete was an evil man who did evil things. You don’t understand the half of what just happened, but you will, and there won’t be enough paddles in the world to replace that.”

“Ma, Gracie’s all beat up,” I said.

“And you rescued her. You took responsibility. You looked for her, found her, and even after Mr. Pete fooled you, you wisened up and fought him for your sister. You know where you screwed up, and you took responsibility. Son, you don’t need the paddle.”

“I’m sorry, Ma.”

“I’m sorry, too, son. If things were better, I could be at home, and none of this would happen. It ain’t fair, but it’s what we got. You might not feel it right now, but you did good. Now go fill the bath. We need to clean Gracie up.”

“I’m hungry,” I said.

“When we all get cleaned up, we will go to the diner,” she said.

“Really? Yeah!”

Maybe I was too happy about it, but Ma didn’t shush me like she usually did. She said I already grew up a little too much. My bath felt good, like a bath never did before. The burger and shake was real good. I slept hard that night.

I miss Pa. I wish he’d kick Mr. Pete.

But he ain’t here.

#inklingschallege #theme: storge #hansel and gretel #story: complete

[aquadestinyswriting]

The Origins of Selene's Name

Ok, so here's something completely different. This isn't necessarily a worldbuilding post or a specific story, so much as it is an explanation as to where Selene got her name. Thanks absolutely must go to @druidx for helping me with the folk tale at the end of this little explanation.

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes, @ashirisu, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

OK, so, I wrote about Selene's birth family a long while back and realised that Sel's name does not fit the naming conventions of the rest of her family. Of course I came up with Selene years before this part of her backstory, but I wanted to explore a more in-universe explanation.

Selene was born in the equivalent of early January, on the night of a full moon on a crisp and clear night. Her mother, Rosalie, recalled a word her grandmother had used to refer to the kind of moon present in the sky that night, and decided it would make for a suitable name for her newly born daughter should she survive the 4-5 months until her Name Day.

Selene, when she was a little girl, did ask her mother where the name came from, and Rosalie explained that her grandmother had said the name at one point and made mention of an old fairy-tale passed down through the generations that had been mostly forgotten. While the full story was no longer remembered, parts of it were, and Selene was told it was to do with the moon, mid-winter and this name. Skip forward a few more years, and Selene is talking with Yastromo after her arrival at his tower near the Darkwood. Yastromo notes how unusual Selene's name is in comparison to the rest of her family, and Selene tells him what her mother had told her. Yastromo, as much older and very learned man, realised that the fairy-tale passed down through Selene's family, was the same as an old folk tale from a tribe of nomads that had once lived in the area that the little town of Toreguarde now occupied. While the old wizard could not be certain that Selene's family had any connection to this nomadic tribe, he did decide to regale Selene with the full tale, which has been transcribed for your pleasure below:

A long time ago there was a fair young girl with skin as white as freshly fallen snow and hair as silver as the stars. She lived a simple life with her mother and father in a little house on the edge of the forest. One harsh winter night, the girl's mother got sick and the wise man of the nearby camp told her father that the only thing that would cure her was the heart of a pure white rabbit. The girl's father asked the girl if she would go out and look for this rabbit so he could cut out its heart to cure her mother. So, off the girl goes into the woods in search of a pure white rabbit. The girl spends a whole day searching the woods, but does not find a pure white rabbit. When the sun sank below the ground to go to sleep, the girl started to get very tired and hungry and curled up underneath a tree to rest. When she awoke, the night was lit by the soft, silver light of a full moon, and sitting at her feet, cleaning it's little pink nose, was a rabbit with fur of purest white. The girl slowly brought out her knife from her boot, knowing that the only way to save her mother was to kill the creature. But a pang of pity stayed her hand at the last moment. The rabbit looked up, twitched it's nose at her. The girl started to cry, for she loved her mother and did not wish her to die. But neither did she want to kill an animal so innocent and pure. The rabbit sat up and smiled at her, "Little girl, why do you cry so?" it asked. The girl explained her predicament, that she needed the heart of the rabbit to save her ailing mother, but that she did not want the rabbit to die either. The rabbit cocked its head to one side and looked up at the moon. So full and bright was it that it reflected perfectly in the rabbit's eyes. "You are a good and gentle child. If you promise to return home and never again return to this forest, then I shall speak with Selune to see that your mother's life is spared." it said. The girl looked at the rabbit in confusion, "Selune?" she asked. The rabbit nodded, it's ears flopping. "Yes, my mother. She lives upon the moon, you see, and watches all of Titan's children through the night." the rabbit explained. The girl thought for a moment, then nodded, "I promise never to return to your forest and disturb your rest, so long as my mother survives this sickness." she agreed. The rabbit thumped its foot upon the biggest root of the tree, then turned tail and hopped away. When the girl returned home without the rabbit, her father was furious. He took off his belt to beat her, but was stopped when his wife came through the door and asked why he was shouting so. While she was still tired and pale, the mother was in no danger of passing that night. The girl hugged her mother, then ran to the window and smiled up at the moon that gleamed in the night sky. She then told her mother and father of the promises she and the white rabbit had exchanged, and never again did the girl or her family ever return to the forest.

When Selene heard the tale, it resonated with her so much that, once she turned 16 years old, she officially began using the surname Frigidwake rather than the one she had been given by her birth family. The idea of promises kept also resonated, hard, and Selene has a personal oath to never break a promise she's made if she can help it at all. It also means that she can take sincere promises made by others extremely seriously, especially if they're made by friends or those she considers family.

#aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #selene frigidwake #tales of the librarian #folk tale #writing meta

[scarlettriot]

Heh, yeah, it’s about to be another series folks

Pairing: Demon!Kirishima X Demon!f!Reader

Warnings: Demons (obviously), Character Death (becoming a demon), mentions of cancer, hurt comfort.

Contains: Aged-Up Kirishima, Kiri and Reader both have demon forms. Readers is not described so picture them however you like ♥️, mental break down, and angst!

Word Count: 2.1Kish

A/N: This really was just supposed to be some random ass idea I had but it's kinda gotten out of control... whoops. Hope you all enjoy it though. There will eventually be a part two.

No one knew about the deal with a demon Kirishima made when he was just 15 years old. The one that granted him 20 years of courage and strength to always stand up and protect those in need. 

In exchange, at the end of those 20 years, he’d become a demon himself. His mortal life would be over, and his life as a demon would begin. He’d serve for 500 years. Making deals of his own to gain power he could use once his contract was up. 

To a 15-year-old just wanting to be brave, the deal seemed worth it. He signed his name, and that was that. 

And, so, at the age of 35, Kirishima’s mortal life came to an end, and his life as a demon began.

He left everything he knew behind. His wonderful family, his amazing friends, and his partner, who he loved more than anything. They believed him to be dead, but really, he’d just changed. Become something different. 

Still, he belonged to the underworld now. He had a new place to live. A new body that was definitely gonna take some getting used to. He couldn’t just go back and pretend like nothing happened.

But he did good in those 20 years. He made the most of every second! And he couldn’t take back what his younger self had done, so he tried to focus on the good and not on what he lost. 

Now, he had 500 years to make new contracts and deals. Every one of them would bring him greater power in the afterlife. But that was so much easier said than done. 

The problem was Kirishima retained too much of his humanity to form most of these deals. To take things people held dear because they were desperate for solutions. He still just wanted to help people at no expense to them. And most of the time, he did just that.

It started to break him down, and as his neighbor in the underworld, you watched as every day his shoulders slumped a little further, his head hung a little lower, and you really started to feel for the man.

You'd said hi to him in the weeks since he moved in, and at first, he’d smile and wave. Make some small talk, and you exchanged names. Slowly, you started calling each other friends and opening up to each other little by little, but there was always this sadness in his dark eyes that never really went away. His smile wasn’t as full as you imagined it once might have been. 

And, lately, he couldn’t even meet your gaze, let alone say hello. It was odd to see a man so big look so very small. Until the day he came home and didn’t even bother closing his door. 

Worried for him, you followed him inside. 

“I can’t do this–!” He roared, falling to his knees with tears in his black eyes. You asked him over and over what happened, sinking to the floor with him. 

“A– a mother– I felt her calling for help, so I went.” You nodded your head, following his story. Demons could not only sense each other but also souls of the desperate with nowhere else to turn; it made finding those willing to deal easier. “She was in a hospital. Her baby– her little girl– she’s got cancer. She’s only got a few weeks left to live. The mother wants to make a deal; her life for her daughters…” 

He wept openly in front of you, his head falling onto your shoulder. “How– How am I supposed to take a mother from their child? How is that fair! But, that little girl could have a life–” Kirishima just broke off into rigid sobs. 

Your arms wound around him. You hated the way the system worked. Demons like Kirishima were contractually obligated to obtain years of life from mortals. They didn’t always have to ask for years as payment, but it often seemed like the best deal because those years granted you power and respect, and you gained higher standing within the underworld society. Why would you think to ask anything else of a mortal being? Of course, there was more to it. A deal was never that good. The whole point of contracts was so the underworld could continue to run. Without years of life, the underground would go dark. A portion of every contract would go to ensuring that didn’t happen. Every Contract Demon had a quota to fill, but it was up to them how they achieved it. 

Making deals with the helpless and hopeless was never something you could stomach either. But, deals with mortal garbage… well, you rested easy knowing they got what was coming to them. It was a decent exchange; you got some power and met your quotas, and their lives would end abruptly, and they could never torment anyone again. But those deals weren’t enough to free you from your contract so quickly. 

“Kirishima, do you know there’s another way out of the years on your contract?”

Slowly, he pulled his head back, “What?”

You nodded, “If a demon doesn’t care about power, they can still help people outside of contracts and dealings. Obviously, the help they grant isn’t as great with the lack of power, but for every soul you aid, a year is removed from your contract.” 

“But… the quotas…” 

“Yeah, but there are plenty of horrible people wanting deals, you just have to know how to find them, and I can help with that.” 

“Why the hells would I want to help awful people? They don’t deserve–” 

“Kiri, I know they don’t.” You cut him off, and he quieted, “You give them the bare minimum and then snatch the rest of their lives. It does a lot more good, you meet your quota, and you gain some strength. That strength can be used to help people even more.” 

He blinked a couple times like he was processing everything you were telling him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

“It worked for me. 250 years of service, done in 10.” 

“Why doesn’t everyone just do this then?” 

“Because helping people takes more time. It’s not as easy. And there’s not many demons who retain enough of their humanity to care enough.” 

“It’s not that hard, though. I’ve been doing it since I got here.” 

You smiled softly because that showed just how much of Kirishima’s humanity really was left. You wouldn’t be surprised if damn near all of it was still intact. 

You held his face in your hands and brushed away his tears, “Then you probably already have a few years taken off. C’mon, let’s go to the records office, and we can check.”

It was the most hopeful you’d ever seen the man. He actually stood at his full height, towering over most other demons you passed. He walked so damn fast down the street with his wings tucked in that you practically had to jog just to keep up with him! 

The two of you waited in the obscenely long line at the office and were finally called back to a cubicle.

“You’re sure you want to discuss your contract with another present?” The slender agent asked, looking down their nose at you. 

Kirishima nodded his head. “Yes, they’re completely fine! Could you just tell me how many years remain on my contract?”

The agent adjusted their glasses and looked at the front of his life. Their prompt laughter made both you and Kirishima frown. “You entered your service just this year! What in the hells makes you think you have any time deducted?”

You reached for his hand, offering some support. “Could you please just tell him what remains?”

They rolled their eyes but flicked open the file. Eyes scanned along the pages, down to the proper section, and then they went wide. “Twenty years…” They mumbled, and both of you thought they meant he had twenty years taken off.

“That’s a really good start! You’ve only been here a couple months and–” 

“No,” The agent cut you off to correct, “He only has twenty years left to serve.” 

“WHAT?!” 

There had to be some mistake. The three of you agreed on that right up until the agent noted what he’d done in his mortal life. “Oh, I see you were a Pro Hero.” 

“Um, yes, yes I was.”

“A rather selfless one at that.”

His hand went to the back of his neck. “I dunno about that. I just did my job as best I could.” 

“And modest, too,” They mumbled, quickly leafing through the rest of the pages before addressing him again. “Mr. Kirishima, when a person helps or harms an individual, those actions are taken note of. It doesn’t matter where you go for the afterlife; these instances of help and harm are still called into consideration. What afterlife you end up in dictates what is done with these, let’s call them, points.” 

“Demons use them to either add years if harm has been done or reduce years if help. Now, an average mortal might help or harm a person or two in their life, it’s negligible really, and they often don’t know it’s happening. The exceptions are usually medical professionals and those in careers that protect people, as you were. Those people, when their time comes due, they usually end up, well, not here.”

The agent pulled out a calculator and began entering numbers. “In your mortal life, three people lost their lives as a result of actions you took.” 

You saw the way he shifted uncomfortably in the too-small chair. “Correct. I remember.” 

They nodded and continued. “Right. That would’ve technically brought your total to 503; however, it seems as though the lives you saved as a mortal were high enough that the three weren’t even added to your time. So, as a mortal, you saved 468 lives. Since you’ve become a demon, you’ve saved 12. And that leaves you with 20 to go, and your contract will be completed.” 

The whole walk home, Kirishima grinned. He was quiet but smiling. 

“I– I could go back.” He said the words so quietly you almost didn’t hear them when he closed the door. He looked up at you, “I could go home.” 

The last thing you wanted to do was rip away this newfound hope, but he needed to know the risks. “That’s not really wise, Kirishima. Your friends and family, they think you died. Going back would raise a lot of questions because you’re not who you once were.” 

His smile still didn’t falter. “I still have my quirk! And I will just stay in my human form! I can just tell them I was on some special assignment.” 

“And when you don’t age? When they begin changing, and you remain the same, then what will you tell them?” You took a step forward. “You’ll watch them fade before your eyes.” 

For a moment, he chewed his lip, considering your words and what they meant. “Is that why you never went back? Your service was up in ten years, you could’ve, but you’re still here.” 

It wasn’t something you ever talked about. There was no real reason why you stuck around in the same apartment you started off in. You could’ve moved out. Start over someplace new, either in the underworld or the mortal realm if you were careful enough. You just never really saw the point. And going back to see people from your old life, it just didn’t work out. 

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out like I’d hoped.” 

He nodded, seeming to understand what you were getting at but still, “I’ve gotta try.” He looked so earnest as he spoke, “If I’ve got a chance to see my parents again, my friends, to be with my partner and give them the life I never thought I could. Y/N, I gotta try.” 

His dedication was admirable. It was one of the many things that had you crushing on the massive demon for weeks now. And, so, you’d stay optimistic for him. Keep hoping he’d find a way to make his happy ending come true. If anyone could make it work, it’d be Kirishima. 

“I got twenty more lives to save, and I know you don’t have to by any means–” 

“I’d be happy to help you.” 

He grinned a sharp-toothed smile. The purest one you’d seen in a really long time. With thanks on his tongue, he stepped forward and wrapped you up in a bone-crushing hug. And you decided at that moment you’d be there for him always, no matter the outcome. 

#TW: Demons #TW: Character Death #TW: Cancer #mha #bnha #kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima angst #kirishima hurt comfort

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ OXVENTURE PRESENTS: DEADLANDS / ch2 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'you have to eat that noisy?'

'i feel if you were having some of these beans you'd be making the same noises.'

'you're a growing boy! you should eat more things in general.'

'sit back. it's going to be 90 minutes of pure solitaire.'

'i mean everybody came out covered in gore.'

'love this energy.'

'i can't wait to see this bastard taken down, to be honest.'

'he rose through the ranks particularly fast. last i heard he'd been made a general.'

'i had these wanted posters made up.'

'did you have a follow-up thought, grandad?'

'this isn't a dead or alive situation, let me make this clear.''

'i've had several people come here and say that they've killed him. then he pops up again.'

'i assume it was shot with a very, very big gun.'

'he won't stop talking about how he shot that sasquatch.'

'you can't make an omelette without breaking a few sasquatches.'

'we don't just happen to have fifty yards of hempen rope.'

'i left my horse somewhere else apparently.'

'i've got some grubby old dynamite sticks shoved in my pocket, so no one set me on fire.'

'the wet goods store is right next to the dry goods store.'

'i think we can assume that walking up and plugging him in the dome will pull quite a lot of attention. not all of it positive.'

'maybe he loves jerky. we can put some jerky under a box and a stick and then he'll come out of town, and...'

'i'm not in funds as such.'

'he ain't my grandpa!'

'i don't want to impose or assume, but can we load you up with all this stuff?'

'okay, the story: we are couriering jerky.'

'beats 'jerkin' it'.'

'we can always tuck and roll. i do it all the time! it doesn't hurt as much as you think.'

'will you accept payment in the form of jerky?'

'the jerky was right next to the opium. it's possible some mixing as occurred.'

'i feel like there's a word for that if i knew more words.'

'you're a great shot and frankly you're a little scary when you're riled.'

'miss, can you write fair?'

'i can write passably well.'

'it's been a while since i was mining.'

'i, for one, have never mined.'

'if i were to assign it a fear level, i would give it about a four.'

'that's the second or third smart thing you've said today.'

'you'll have to forgive me: i am extremely old.'

'this presents a unique opportunity!'

'this sounds like a gas!'

'is there any action? is there a poker table?'

'you're pretty handy with those cards, right?'

'kid, you read my mind.'

'looks like you know what you're doing with them cards.'

'what do you think your odds are?'

'yeah, well, they didn't have what we have. which is enormous skill.'

'they don't have what i have! i have three months to live.'

'i don't know, you look like someone just walked over your grave.'

'i can't /possibly/ fail at gambling.'

'the game itself is supposed to be fun, you know.

'if you merely ask questions earlier and shot later, rather than the other way round, you wouldn't shoot so many people.'

'posers.'

'have you done much duelling?'

'i never heard of folks willingly coming to a town looking to get shot.'

'the grown up world is weird.'

'you're awfully young to get shot to death.'

'that's fine, i understand. if you need to shoot me, go ahead.'

'surely he won't agree to shoot a child to death?'

'LOT OF DEAD PEOPLE IN HERE, TOO!'

'the barman seemed alive enough to me. at least in a corporeal sense; his spirit was very downtrodden.'

'you think you have a lot to offer?'

'don't worry son, i'll go easy on ya. i'll shoot the gun right outta your hand.'

'i don't know if this is helpful or even possible, but...'

'i can dig graves very deeply and very neatly! but i can do shallow if it is for someone you wish to disrespect.'

'what i'm trying to do it, um, uh... kill you. so that i can benefit from your death. financially.'

#oxventure #cowboy rp #wild west rp #starter sentences #rp meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #sentence prompts

[crowtrobotx]

your most recent fic destroyed me and now i HAVE to ask— how do you think the chrysalis story/maybe just lottie in general would turn out if she was raised by kris? if something happened to karl but maybe they’re still stuck in the village. obv don’t spoil anything you don’t want to but that little thought experiment killed me.

OHHHH MY GOD Jackal you really do ask the best questions. I had to think about this for a while! It’s funny bc Karl & Lottie are such a package deal in my head and I’m just like… Do Not separate them. Like so much of her personality is just wrapped up in being his horrible little clone and constant shadow that cutting her out of that picture seems almost impossible.

HOWEVER. I can think of several scenarios where they might end up apart (minus him straight up dying bc that isn't fun!!! I say as if what I'm about to talk about is any better lmao.) Like, minor spoiler but this won't happen (obviously) because Reasons - I imagine Karl would want to pay off the Duke to whisk Kris out of the Village before Lottie is born (whether it's because they realize their WHOOPSIE or it's coincidental.) And maybe it happens and Kris of course doesn't hear from him for ~7 years and she forgets a lot of the finer details of his face and his voice doesn't come so easily to mind anymore. And then he does escape and he does get his freedom ending and he finds her and whatever you do, do not think about Karl seeing Lottie for the first time after never knowing her especially in the scenario where he didn't realize she existed oh my god oh mY GOD--

Anyway. To your actual question: I would like to think most of Lottie's gremlin nature is just inherent. It's in the damn HeisenDNA. Like, no matter her circumstances she's always going to be a weird little girl who's a little too into the concept of cybernetic enhancements and bugs and rats. And Kris, being a former weird little girl herself, would definitely support her - but given that particularly the mechanics/engineering part are NOT in her area of expertise, I think she'd have to rely way more on teachers or outside sources to help that part of her blossom. She'd be the mom at the science fair nodding along enthusiastically like she knows what the hell anyone is saying while internally her brain is turning into soup. Would that effect Lottie negatively? I don't really think so, but it might make her less attached because she'd have to seek... enrichment further away from home lol. There’s also the issue of Lottie’s lil magnet powers. Kris would not know what to do with that/how to relate at all obviously. I think that’d cause a whole host of problems - not necessarily resentment on Lottie’s part bc she’d still think it was Neat but I also can’t help but think they’d be more chaotic or out of control after a point. I think it would fuck her up a little bit being the odd one out with no one to relate to and it might make her a bit mad at the world. :( I definitely am inclined to believe Kris would have a metric shitton of anxiety about keeping her away from folks who'd want to study her like a lab rat or worse use her for their goals, and as the child of an extremely obsessive compulsive parent I can tell you that it does rub off and can make you extremely paranoid. Like, Lottie's probably got her own little conspiracy board by age 5 in this scenario lol. Kris only knows protecc, attacc, and panic attacc.

Also, I’m truly trying to avoid saying “she’d be a bit kinder/more thoughtful” bc it feels like gender stereotyping but also Karl is Karl and the bar is on the floor lmao. Kris isn't nice but she does more or less recognize when people deserve kindness. I don't think she'd be better or worse off, overall. But she'd be different, as any of us would. I think what you'd end up with is a more subdued but still slightly feral little mischief maker who is more cognizant of other people's needs and wants but possibly less... funny and over the top in her pursuits as a result lol. I'll let you decide if that's a good or bad thing. Anyway. I'm now thinking too hard about that first scenario I described because you planted the seed lol. Hmmm.

#asks #the short answer is: lottie but goth #lmao. thank you for this truly it was a wild thought experiment and I'm still thinking about it. you might get an au fic out of this. #mourningstarmace

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

*************************************************************************

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

**************************************************

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #cs impossible au #cs au #lieutenant duckling #modern fantasy #angst #cs angsty august #captain swan angsty august #impossible au

[outrunningthedark]

Just got an error message two times when trying to answer someone, so here you go, nonnie.

[Text version] Anonymous asked: This fandom and its “if you don’t like it don’t watch it propaganda” like they don’t consider that someone like me still bitch about this show cause I used to love it so much and it hurts me to see it ruined in this way and I still have hope that it can be saved. And its “ you don’t like this character/ writer cause she’s a female”, it’s not like that for example I adore Andrew, but I still have nightmares about whatever it was 6x08 "Don't like, don't watch" is good advice when you're addressing "fans" who can find NOTHING to be happy about, but tbh...it goes back to what myself and a few others have said re: fandom treating the show like a fanfic. "Don't like, don't read?" Perfectly reasonable. Fanfics cater to specific characters/pairings/tropes and we are able to filter search results to leave out things we aren't interested in. When it comes to watching tv, however...especially with a show like 9-1-1 or other crime/procedural dramas...there is bound to be at least ONE thing viewers latch onto and will make time (while switching channels during the original broadcast or fast-forwarding through the replay on a streaming service).

I find the bitchiness a little...two-faced, for lack of a better term, at least within the Buddie fandom. How are you (gen) gonna tell people everything is headed in a clear direction (and it's not just framed as speculation; when others question the thought process they're told they're just too stupid to understand the narrative - an actual thing that has been said, lol), but then get angry when those same folks (who you wanted to seem smarter than) point out inconsistencies or that things feel far from optimistic?

Is it because you don't want to be reminded of how wrong you were mere months ago? Or you don't want to think about the faith you may have (incorrectly) placed in this show to not be like the ones before it?

The "you don't like this character because she's female" argument is silly when the issue isn't that the woman in question is terrible, but that the show "cleaned her up" so she could portray a love interest (as if the audience was just supposed to forget what they'd seen and heard):

Shannon -> Eddie stuck up for her because he felt like it was his fault that she left (which she made him believe, but then when Eddie *is* present in Christopher's life and co-parenting with her...she's like "Still haven't figured out how to do this whole motherhood thing, sorry!" Having Eddie back helped, but he wasn't the problem. Shannon never made peace with being a mother relatively young (losing her freedom), nor did she make peace with the "added stress" that comes with raising a child that is physically disabled.

Ana -> Apparently never said an ableist thing in her life despite how her introductory episode made it VERY clear that her approach to the skateboarding incident was the wrong one. (And because I always think it's worth noting - Andrew Meyers spelled out that the episode would touch on a disability issue when he specifically put the term ABLE-BODIED in the opening scene: "Attention, citizens of the Internet. We are calling upon every able-bodied viewer for another adrenalized tour of duty for Shay's Army.")

Taylor -> Nobody acknowledges how she wanted to mess with Bobby for the sake of her career in season two. Buck is all-too-pleased to see her again. Zero hesitation. (He's the one person who knew the only reason that footage never made the air is because of her bosses.) Then there was her calling Buck out for not being a good friend...despite never having been a friend to him, either...and the tears for her tv audience...and telling other people's stories because she doesn't want to tell her own...meaning she's allowed to keep her private life private, but anyone else is fair game...one big "ick" all around.

Lucy doesn't apply to the above (unless you count editing her scenes to see how the audience would accept her in the aftermath of 5x11/5x13, I guess), but people are forgetting that many were actually ROOTING for her to be the new Lena (Buck's Version). Yes! Give Buck a female coworker who isn't a lesbian or much older than him and LET THEM BE FRIENDS! Especially when he already had a girlfriend!

If people want to make excuses for the cheating arc (that amounted to nothing in the end - so much for "narrative purpose") or want to swoon over pretty people making out, have at it. But the other side is entitled to reject a version of canon they never asked for. Fans complaining on their OWN BLOGS is not in the same stratosphere as anybody who had no shame in leaving negative insta comments directed at the actress involved.

Finally, as for not liking a writer 'cause she's a woman...Who hates Lyndsey? Or Taylor Wong? And I'm pretty sure we all thought highly of Kristen until Tim opened his mouth about 4x14 and we (then) saw what the show was turning into under her control. Ignorance truly was bliss.

#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

[cthulhu-calling]

Take Your Memory With You I

Carol Danvers x f!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary : There's never anything interesting that happens in your small town of Rose Briar. But when heartbreak, a beautiful stranger and your past come knocking, there's nowhere to run.

Warnings : fluff, angst, reader needs to stand up to her mum, adopted reader, mixed feelings

Author's Note : okay so my reader is a woc but I've tried to make reader's physical appearance of reader as vague as possible. So, reader is obviously Winnie's adopted daughter and Bucky's sister. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter :))

Word Count : 1368

series masterlsit

You loaded up all the groceries into your truck before dropping the shopping cart off. Just as you were ready to pull out of the parking lot, your phone starts to ring. 

“Hey what’s up?” You ask, trying to balance your phone between your shoulder and ear as you slowly pull out of the parking. 

“Just wondering when you’re getting home,” Carol asks and you can hear something sizzling in the pan in the background. 

“Twenty minutes, tops. I gotta drop off groceries for ma and Natasha,” you tell her, driving towards your mom’s house. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you soon?” She asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll be home soon. I love you,” you say and she echoes the same before hanging up. 

You pull up in front of your childhood home, pulling your sweater tighter around yourself before getting out of the vehicle. You wish you’d gotten a thicker one along but you don’t have much time to waste as you quickly make your way to the door, knocking impatiently. 

Winnie Barnes greets you at the door and you can tell she’s mad. 

“What’s wrong now?” you sigh, carrying the two huge bags to the dining table.

“Do you remember Elaine?” you can tell she’s bursting at the seams with anger.

“Elaine Schmidt?” you ask, mostly disinterested.

“Ever since her daughter got married to some rich man in New York, she won’t get off her high horse. She was showing off that red sports car her daughter gifted her. Hah! She’s half blind and she’s gonna drive a sports car?” Your mother scoffs and though she tries to hide it, you know she’s jealous. 

“That sucks. Good for Kelly though,” you shrug. 

“That’s a gold digger if I’ve ever seen one. He’s twenty years older than her, that husband of hers,” she supplies and while you store that information for later so you can share it with Carol, you don’t show it. 

“Is there a point to this?” You sigh. 

“Oh yes, do you remember her florist shop? She sold it to some city folk and it’s going to be made into a dance studio! Can you imagine?” She asks, wholly against the idea.

“Maybe it’ll be good for the town, who knows?” 

“No it won’t, people from the city don’t just move to small towns outta nowhere. They’ve something to hide, always,” she whispers conspiratorially. You can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Ma, I really should get going,” you say, pretending to check your watch. 

“Stay for dinner. I made your favourite key lime pie for dessert,” she tempts but you know you can’t. 

“I can’t tonight ma. Carol’s waiting at home and she cooked. She has something important to share,” you decline her offer and you can already see the gears turning in your mom’s head. 

She might not be biologically your mother but she had been possessive of you ever since you were a baby. She’d always wanted a daughter and finding out that she couldn’t have another child had devastated her. So when you came into the life of the Barnes’, everything changed. Winnie felt that she had her right over you first and foremost. To be fair, she was like that with your brother Bucky too but with you it was on a whole nother level. 

“You don’t think she’s going to ask you to marry her, is she?” She asks incredulously, as if even the thought of it is absurd.

“No! No, we’ve only been together for like less than two years. It’s way too soon, isn’t it?” Your expression of doubt is enough for her to jump on. 

“Of course, dear. Even if she does, know that you don’t have to feel pressured by her okay? If she tries something, you come straight to me, okay?” She says in a honey tone. You know she’s grasping for straws. Ever since you moved in with Carol six months ago, she has been like this. 

“We’ll see, I guess. I should get going, I gotta drop these off at Natasha’s too,” you let her know and you know she’s not pleased. 

“You’re still doing grocery runs for her? Parker is a year old now, she should have the hang of things by now,” your mother scowls. 

“Ma, enough,” you’re stern and she finally lets up with a sigh. 

“Fine, thanks for getting these for me,” she motions vaguely towards the groceries.

“No worries, I’ll see you soon,” you call out as you walk towards the door. 

“Wait!”

“What now?” You ask, not bothering to mask the irritation in her tone. 

“Take this with you. God forbid you go hungry because that woman can’t cook,” she says as she hands you a Tupperware of key lime pie. You sigh, accepting it if just to avoid a fight. 

You get in the car and drive to Natasha’s next. Once you’re there, you grab all the groceries and ring her doorbell. You’re patient, even though the plastic of the carry bags digs into your skin a little painfully now. But when more than five minutes pass of you ringing the doorbell three more times, you’re worried. 

You drop the bags and start moving the plants around, looking for that spare key you know she hides somewhere. You throw open the door when you finally find it, forgetting all about the groceries. 

You rush inside, calling out her name. You check the spare bedroom and the bathroom, finding both empty. When you throw open the door to the master, it’s loud enough to wake Natasha up. 

“Natasha! Oh my goodness, you scared me,” you gasp, finally catching your breath. 

“Sorry, Parker was sleeping so I just dozed off. Did I scare you?” She asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Uh, yeah?” You say. 

“Sorry,” she offers sheepishly. 

“It’s fine. I dropped your groceries on the way in so I can’t guarantee the survival of the eggs,” you declare and she laughs, letting you know it’s alright. 

“I couldn’t find the OJ at the store, they’d run out so I got apple juice instead,” you say as you place all the groceries out of the bag and onto the kitchen island. 

“That’s alright as long as you got my mushrooms,” she says. 

“Yeah, they’re real fresh. How’s things by the way?” You wonder. 

“They’re alright, we’re finally settling into a rhythm. I think I’m ready to go back to work,” she tells you and you can hear the genuine joy in her words for the first time in months. 

“That’s great,” you say, impulsively grabbing her hand and squeezing it. She smiles, squeezing it back. Her hand is soft in yours and you can’t resist turning it around to trace a tiny heart onto it. 

Natasha sighs, stepping closer and your heart’s like a butterfly in your chest. The past few months, little touches and looks have become commonplace but you’ve never been this close to her.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and just as it seems like something might finally happen, that maybe one of you would break this stalemate, your phone goes off and in a blink of an eye, Natasha is all the way across from you, on the other side of the marble island.

You rush to answer Carol’s call and hope the guilt doesn’t bleed through your tone. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten, I’m sorry,” you tell Carol when she asks why you’re not home yet. You’ll explain later. 

“I should really get going, you take care, okay? And call me if you need anything,” you tell her as you grab the empty bags and tuck your phone into your pocket. A sense of disappointment lingers between the two of you. 

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing my groceries. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, tucking the cash into your sweater pocket.

“It’s the least I can do since, you know,” you mutter awkwardly, cursing yourself for bringing him up.

She just hums, walking you to the door and you leave with just one last look at her. 

You love Carol, you really do. But it’s not her who’s on your mind on the drive back home. 

#carol danvers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #fluff #angst #cheating #female reader #small towns #heartbreak #mixed feelings

[tomodachipersonalitycentral]

Got some more characters for ya!

Lackadaisy

Rocky Rockaby

Freckle

Tylvinian Tales

Luka Mikaelson

Olivia Bo

Kaleb Killian

Child's Play

Chucky

Tiffany

Andy

Sorry if this is a lot but I love these a lot and really wanna know what you think of these folks ^-^

Ooo thank you, I've been really wanting to do Rocky to be honest, and these are fun ones. Let's get to it!

Rocky and Freckle

Rocky is a surprisingly tricky one. You think it'd be easy, but there's an argument for why Rocky could fit in almost every category. Let me show you what I mean.

Outgoing: Comfortable in almost any situation, and makes new connections easily.

Well, I wouldn't say he makes new connections easily as most people find him odd, but he is comfortable in pretty much every situation. I mean, the comic starts with him remaining ever the wise crack despite being nailed to a literal railroad.

Easygoing: Does things at his/her/their own pace in a genuinely honest and kind manner.

Rocky does go to the beat of his own drum, and he is honest with what he does. Kind? Arguably not always in retrospect, but in his own head it's clear he thinks he's helping (like his situation with Freckle).

Confident: Tackles any challenge head-on, and has great faith in his/her/their own abilities.

This is the only one that doesn't really fit Rocky. He constantly doubts his own abilities and he doesn't always tackle things head on (even if he'd like to).

Independent: Comfortable doing his/her/their own thing and thinking outside the box.

Rocky is more independent than he looks and absolutely is an out the box thinker, which usually ends up isolating him.

However, I think personalities from Easygoing and Independent have the most potential for fitting Rocky the best, so I'll tackle potential personalities from both of them.

Optimist: Positive, enthusiastic, and always beaming. He/she/they smiles not only for himself/herself/themselves but to make sure everyone else has a good time too.

Rocky certainly puts on the performance of the optimist, but, he often shows he doesn't truly feel that way and is a lot darker than that, so I think it's fair to say this one does not match.

Dreamer: Idealistic and romantic. Often has his/her/their head in the clouds...but also comes up with a lot of great ideas as a result.

Rocky certainly is idealistic and romantic, and he certainly comes up with great ideas as a result. But he also is a bit more grounded than constantly having his head in the clouds, working towards his dreams instead of just dreaming, so no.

Artist: Imaginative and inspired. Happiest when creating something. Able to find beauty in everyone and everything around him/her/them.

Rocky loves creating, but I wouldn't say he sees the beauty in everyone and everything, if anything he is quite negatively poetic when he dislikes someone.

Free Spirit: Unique, carefree, and creative. Laid back and does things his/her/their own way. Self-reliant and always thinking way outside the box.

Rocky is the prime example of what it means to be a Free Spirit. He doesn't care about literal or social laws, and he lives his life the way he sees fit even when other's don't understand. He often relies on himself, or sometimes his ability to convince others which still ultimately comes from attempting to make things work with his skillset, and thinks so outside the box it's kind of terrifying.

Therefore, I think Independent Free Spirit suits Rocky the best.

Freckle, in comparison, is a lot easier. He's pretty much the definition of an Easygoing Buddy:

Does things at his/her/their own pace in a genuinely honest and kind manner. Trustworthy and considerate. Puts his/her/their friends first, and works hard to make sure everyone gets along with each other.

Freckle is constantly trying to manage conflict between Rocky/Ivy and others, he goes along with Rocky's plans because Rocky asked for his help, and he does everything in his power to protect both of them. He might have a wild side but, deep down, Freckle does want to be honest and kind in everything he does, and that comes from his drive to help others.

Luka and Olivia

I'd say Luka is the same type as Freckle (Easygoing Buddy), though for different reasons:

Does things at his/her/their own pace in a genuinely honest and kind manner. Trustworthy and considerate. Puts his/her/their friends first, and works hard to make sure everyone gets along with each other.

Luka has a good heart and, therefore, he wants to spread love to the people he interacts with, and especially the children he helps take care of. He is literally their mediator, which is 100% Buddy material, I can not see any other personality for him.

Olivia is a lot harder, since I don't know that much about her. Based off what I do know, Easygoing Softie:

Does things at his/her/their own pace in a genuinely honest and kind manner. Sensitive, emotional, and very in tune with the feelings of those around him/her/them. Highly empathetic, and also quite sentimental.

Kaleb Killian

So, remember when I said the language for Go-Getter sounded too harsh for Davina? Yeah well, we're getting back to that now. So, Confident Go-Getter:

Tackles any challenge head-on, and has great faith in his/her/their own abilities. A determined self-starter. Cuts his/her/their own path in life, and doesn't let anything stand in his/her/their way. Quick at turning plans into action.

The difficulty with villains is Tomodachi Life doesn't really have a personality for "sneaky people that do sneaky things" so the idea Kaleb faces his issues directly head on isn't fully the case when he's such a manipulator. But the rest, faith in his abilities and the personality itself rings true.

Kaleb isn't afraid to cut his own path, doing whatever is necessary to get the results he wants or needs. I doubt he hesitates to put his plans into action either.

Therefore he is a Confident Go-Getter.

Chucky and Tiffany

Chucky is really difficult because, similar to Kaleb there isn't really any personality perfectly befitting of "evil stabby person".

If I had to classify him as anything, it'd be between Outgoing Leader and Confident Go-Getter, and Confident Go-Getter also wins for Chucky:

Tackles any challenge head-on, and has great faith in his/her/their own abilities. A determined self-starter. Cuts his/her/their own path in life, and doesn't let anything stand in his/her/their way. Quick at turning plans into action.

Chucky would have literally murdered a child to get a body again if he'd had his way, enough said.

It might sound strange, but I'd classify Tiffany as an Easygoing Dreamer in the worst of ways:

Does things at his/her/their own pace in a genuinely honest and kind manner. Idealistic and romantic. Often has his/her/their head in the clouds...but also comes up with a lot of great ideas as a result.

So many of the things she does because she's a romantic, and she's typically nicer than Chucky because of this. Replace great ideas with terrifying ones though.

Andy

This one is also tricky because I'm mostly familiar with Andy as a child, and adult Andy kind of confuses me. But I think it's safe to say Confident Adventurer fits quite well:

Tackles any challenge head-on, and has great faith in her/his/their own abilities. Risk taking and ambitious. Full of energy, and does almost everything on a whim. Once started, nobody can stop her!

He rarely cowers in fear of anything, in the second movie he even tried to kill Chucky himself. If Chucky is around to be killed, he'll go for it.

#tomotyping #tw murder mention

[azurescaled]

Connor Info

Name: Connor Lucas MacIntrye Species: Werewolf/Fae Hybrid Age:24 Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Bar Worker Birthday: January 9 Zodiac: Capricorn

Bio:

Connor is an oddity among most werewolves, being that he doesn’t have a pack he belongs to, not anymore. He was never formally exiled from his pack, he just ran off one day and never looked back. Though, most werewolves give him a wide berth, as they sense something…off about him. Connor himself doesn’t particularly care. 

When he was a child, he exhibited the standard qualities of a perfectly healthy wolf, though he never knew his mother, and was only really bought up by his father. He was curious, but it seemed to cause his father some pain by talking about the situation, so eventually, he backed off. As he came up however, with many wolves being so wary of him, for what he believed to be no reason, he began to get in trouble a lot more often and got a chip on his shoulder about it. 

His father left on a trip one day, standard fare for him, given that his father worked long hauls as a trucker, but he began to look around the house, going up into the attic to see if there were any hints of his mother. Old photos, perhaps something that belonged to her? To his surprise, he found everything he needed, including a letter that detailed just why she wasn’t in his life. 

His mother was one of the fair folk, or fae as most people called them. Given that werewolves tend to avoid them, it’s natural that they assumed he would exhibit signs of it. While they expected full on magic from him, his special ability was being able to communicate with nature in and of itself. Though perhaps that would lead to the use of magic at some point for him. This of course, marked the day he took on his solitary and nomadic lifestyle, taking what money he had and leaving Scotland. 

Nowadays, he can usually be found driving around or on street corners playing music for money. Though he’s also a reliable courier who doesn’t ask questions and goes where the money takes him. He’s got a fairly old fashioned car, not many people drive a Chevy Impala, but he loves the car. He fixed it up with some help during the earlier years of his runaway phase. He spends most of his time either tuning it up, or when he’s not playing music or delivering packages, he can usually be found in a local restaurant, racking up a fairly substantial bill.

Connor finally settled down and makes his living as a bartender. Most of the time, he can still be found doing odd jobs around town, but most people who meet him notice that even though he's quiet, he's fairly down to earth. A good listener and someone who's got a strong sense of right.

His fae blood also imbued him with blessings, due to being a direct descendant of Dagda, High King of the Tuatha De, he is not only exceptionally strong, but he’s also gifted with the unique ability of being good at whatever he decides to take on. His blood is also capable of not only healing others, but also acts as a beacon for the supernatural. He’s gifted with control over fire, and can now produce it on his own, though he still tries to keep himself from using his magic too much.

#drive around the world (in character; connor) #i roam from town to town (musings; connor) #they call me the wanderer (visage; connor) #with my two fists of iron but i'm goin' nowhere (aesthetic; connor) #well you know that i'm around (desires; connor)