#why it's so unfocused yellow and bright?

[sakura-chan-25]

Dizzy Day (Rewrite)

Pairing: Lucifer x MC

Summary: MC feels dizzy, hates that feeling, so Lucifer stays with them until they're better.

Word Count: 620

Warning(s): dizziness, a small bit of swearing (literally ’fuck’ just once), pet names (honey), a lot of groaning in annoyance

"I'm dizzy", MC mumbled tiredly as they let their head drop onto the table with a quiet 'thud'. Lucifer looked up from his paper work, worry in his eyes. The human was in his office right now, sitting opposite him and doing some homework. They still hadn't moved their head and Lucifer was starting to think that they may have passed out, so just in case he called out their name.

"Mhm?", they responded with the same tiredness lacing their voice from before.

"Explain to me.", he said and MC groaned in annoyance, lifting their head again. MC just told him they were feeling dizzy! What is there to explain?!

They groaned again and almost yelled: "It's just so annoying! I don't pass out! I have to feel every single thing! I have to feel my heart pounding in my rib cage, I have to feel how air is so fucking hard to get into my lungs, I have to feel my hands shaking, I have to see the room spinning around, I have to feel the weakness of not being able to hold up my body! But does anyone listen? OF COURSE NOT!", the human smacked their head onto the table with a very loud 'thud' and a silent 'ow' leaving their lips. Lucifer was quiet the whole time and listened. He waited a moment before talking, waiting for them to say anything else, but he didn’t expect hearing the softest "sorry" he's ever heard leaving their mouth and his eyes widened. He whispered a little "okay" before standing up and walking to where MC sat.

"Why are you apologizing?", he asked softly as he sat down on the table and cradled their head in his lap. The human didn't answer and buried their head deeper into his lap, appreciating his hand playing with their hair. "There is no need for you to do so. I'd rather hear you yell than seeing you bottle up your emotions."

"Lucifer, honey. That's exactly what you're doing, too. Bottling up emotions, I mean. I don't want to hear you yell though!", they said, quickly snapping their head up and just as quickly lowering it again and closing their eyes while grabbing Lucifer's arm for stability.

"Are you alright?!", Lucifer asked uncharacteristically panicked, MC’s comment completely forgotten as if they never mentioned it to begin with. The human nodded and put their head into his lap again.

They didn't hear Lucifer's question the first time, so he had to ask them a second time. Only to realize that they couldn't really make out the words right now.

They were awfully pale and their eyes unfocused. Lucifer sighed, thinking about another way to ask them.

He poked at their shoulder until the human slightly moved their head and pointed at the couch. MC squinted their eyes, trying to figure out what that spot of blacks and reds (was there something bright/yellow-ish, too?) could be. It took them some time but they guessed that it had to be the couch with the window behind. (The colours wouldn't fit anywhere else in this room)

The demon still pointed and patiently waited for their answer. MC hummed in confirmation after a while, so Lucifer slowly picked them up and carried them over to the couch.

Once they laid there comfortably, he began to play with their hair again, making them feel even more drowsy than before. This time however it was because of sleepiness. Lucifer slowly put the spare blanket over their body as MC quietly whispered in slight confusion: "But... work?"

The only response the human got from him was a gentle kiss on the forehead, soothing them a bit until sleep finally took over them.

A/n: It's so funny to see how my symptoms developed with just reading my fics! When I wrote this the first time (I think pretty much a year ago) that was a pretty bad day, but nowadays I would consider that an okay day (not great, but also not bad). Anyways I hope you enjoyed and have a good day/night! :D

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me comfort #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader

[mintmatcha]

what was higuruma’s relationship like with his ex wife? does he still love her? does she him? need 2 kno mint

cw: alcoholism, mentions of depression and hinted self harm

They met over an Amaretto Sour.

A woman sits at a bar. Everyone is the room finds this noticeable.

When she talks to the bartender, her platinum curls bounce in time with her bell tinkle laugh, a hair sprayed halo. She's the prettiest thing in the bar. She knows that. There's rarely places where she isn't. She savors the faux idol-hood that it affords her. Reverence often comes at the price of solitude, as if she's simply too beautiful to actually exist in the room, so the men just watch from afar, whispering behind hands with those-

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?"

A dark hair man slides into the seat next to hers, empty glass in hand. He's tall, young, and dressed nicer than this place deserves. There's a sway in his voice, a tipsy unfocused glaze to his eyes. He's drunk, the cute kind that blushes his cheeks and gives him the confidence to take to women out of his league.

"Yes," she says. "But you can tell me again."

"You're gorgeous." He's waving down the bartender. "Let me buy you a drink."

....

The cork pops off the champagne bottle and foam sputters after it. She laughs, even though she knows her mother's watching. She thinks her now husband drinks too much, but he only drinks when work is hard or life is too good not too. It's not his fault that both of those things happen frequently.

It will be better next year, when the house is built and a baby's on the way.

The man in question tips the bottle towards her and the pristine white of her dress is speckled with bits of yellow.

"My dress!" she squeals, laughing only because eyes are on her. "Hiromi, my dress!"

....

"I want to wait another year."

She knew this was coming. The talk about children had been dwindling down into awkward silences for a while now. She cuts her dinner with a fork and knife, focusing on even cuts and keeping her upper lip stiff.

Hiromi reaches out for her. When she doesn't take his hand, he grabs his drink- three fingers of vodka over the rocks.

"Bad people are out there, Rin. People who hurt kids." Hiromi pinches the bridge of his nose. "There was this case--"

"I don't want to talk about your work," she cuts in. "It upsets me."

"Yeah." He brings the rocks glass to his lips. "Me too."

....

"I think I want to die."

He pulls the comforter closer. The blanket is night hides his face, but she knows he's facing her; she can taste the mint on his breath. They both pretend that he's still abiding by his New Year's Resolution and avoiding alcohol, even though the brand new bottle of mouthwash is practically drained.

"Don't say things like that."

He turns over. "I'm sorry, Rin."

....

There's a glass of vodka on the table, but he smells like whiskey. She thinks of times he smelt like cologne and can't remember any.

....

The hospital is neon bright, even it the middle of the night. Hiromi is hooked up to machines, but she's not sure why. It's not as if he lost any blood or anything, he just...

Rin was raised to be delicate. To be soft. It was never her job to be someone's rock.

When he wakes, he looks for her.

"You fell asleep in the bathtub," is all she says.

Hiromi doesn't seem surprised.

"You were drunk."

The machines beep their steady rhythms. She has questions that she hopes he never answers.

"I want a divorce."

He doesn't seem surprised about that either.

[hunterbunter3000]

.We're Just Buddies.

Summary: Bakugou's girlfriend is making him feel things and he goes to confront her about it. Sucks that they're bad feelings.

Katsuki Bakugou × black!reader

Notes: Damn how do I suck at summary's as well? LMAO I DONT WRITE ALOT PLS HAVE MERCY this has been in my drafts for a while and its pretty short, so why not-- also why do I WRITE him so much he's not even my favorite🤨 (am I lying to myself rn🫠) ALSO REALLY SUPER SORRY THAT I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG

Warnings: jealousy, insecure Bakugou, suggestive talk and action so JUST TO BE SAFE 18+ MDNI college au(?) Its so quick tho, adult lovers Bakugou is in his 20s and so is reader, hurt/comfort, little drabble of sub!Bakugou because g o d that has me on a chokehold, mention of Kaminari x reader, Bakugou being treated like the princess he is

Reader: black, female, she/her pronouns, use of quirk but it's unamed, same height as Bakugou, bit of a dom!

"Do you like him?"

Bakugou breathes heavily when that question seethes from his mouth. His eyes shielded by his blond hair, not wanting to look his girlfriend in the eyes when she answers the question that has been haunting him for the past month.

"Uhm.." She chuckles. Bakugou dragged her into their bedroom to ask a vague question? "What? Bakugou, what are you talking abo--"

"Do you. Like him." His voice almost cracks, but he wants to keep up his angry facade. No, he needs to. He can't cry in front of her.

She blinks as her face contorts into confusion. "Baby, you're gonna have to be more specific."

Fucking hell. Bakugou grinds his teeth. Does she want to torture him? This is already hard enough, he can't take much more if his heart is already breaking.

"Fuck! Denki! Denki fucking Kaminari! The yellow bitch who you always hang around, the guy who makes you laugh so much, the guy who you're always smiling with!" He yells out. His clenched fists are trembling, just like the rest of his body. Let's dub it as trembling with anger.

Her eyes grow wide. Oh, he's serious about this. "Bakugou--"

He interrupts her again. "Do you like him or not!?"

She sees the desperation and hurt in his bright saffron eyes. His thin eyebrows knitted together, making crevasses in his forehead. A moment of silence passes through the air, making it hard for Bakugou to breathe.

Her face stays neutral, yet her eyes are soft. Soft enough for Bakugou to see the truth. "Not the way you're thinking, no. I don't like him like that."

He doesn't believe it.

She smiles and walks closer to him to rub his arms in comfort. "We're just buddies! I--" He steps back from her, eyes going unfocused.

"Bullshit. I see how he looks at you. Like you made the fucking sun and life itself. And you just-- let it happen! I--"

"Katsuki."

That two-syllable name carried so much power, it made him shut up immediately as her velvety voice sliced through his mind. She never calls him by his first name unless she means business. And she means business.

He looks up at her, now sitting on his bed like a goddess on her throne. She does things effortlessly and gracefully. It makes sense for Denki to fall in love with her. She has him around her finger, just like Bakugou.

She taps beside her, beckoning Bakugou to sit next to her.

"Come."

Bakugou frowns. "Y/n, no." His voice betrays him, making it to be weak and cracked. She says it again, with just the same soft force she uses every time someone doesn't listen to her. "Come here."

He lets out a shaky breath and trudges slowly to her. He plops down next to her, her addictive scent taking over his mind. He always felt safe and small next to his girlfriend. And he feels it now; but he also feels like he's in trouble.

She puts her hand on his naked shoulder, goosebumps already forming from her gentle touch. "Remember what we talked about? About voicing our feelings better?" She says. Bakugou remembers. Instead of killing his vocal cords and exploding everything in anger like he used to do when he was younger, she taught him how to have better communication skills. Not just with her, but with everyone. He's gotten better. But it's just so easy to go back to the old habits.

Bakugou nods.

She hums. "I understand that you're mad. But, please. Talk to me like an adult. Not a kid."

That's right. They're not kids anymore. They're grown now. In college. Owning a shared apartment. Owning a car. Paying bills. Being pro-heroes.

And with a situation like this, it's best to have a sit down and talk about it thoroughly.

Bakugou breathes out. His fingers playing with each other. He's so tense you could throw a boulder at him and it would break. The quiet makes both of them feel on edge, but Bakugou needs to find the right words.

"When we go over to the dorms, and I see you and Kaminari play those stupid ass games," He can feel the anger bubble up again. He won't let it take over, so he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "And I see you leaning on him, and how..."

It hurts him to say this.

"--Natural, it looks... I get this pit in my stomach that doesn't go away. Even if I leave the room, it's still there. It lingers for a long time. And then I get those thoughts in my head. That I'm not good enough for you. That I'm not caring, or attentive, or funny enough for you to act like that around me. I just... I get so jealous and angry that he--" He sniffs, nose getting runny. He can feel it. The tears welling up in his eyes. "That he might take you away from me. And I don't want that to happen. You- you mean everything to me. I love you so much and I'm sorry if I'm not good enough for you--"

A deep kiss stops him from finishing that sentence. He closes his eyes and melts into it, feeling at home.

"Don't you dare say that about yourself. Ever. Do you understand?" She frowns at him, hurt across her face because he said those horrible things about himself. He whimpers a little and nods. Her hands go up to his face and cradle his cheeks.

"Katsuki, baby, you are enough for me. You're honestly way more than I can ever imagine." She chuckles. She searches for his eyes, and when she finds them she smiles. Eye contact means everything to her. It's the doorway to the soul, and words have more meaning when you look into someone's eyes. "You're perfect for me. Your mind, your body, your soul. Everything. And also, Denki is my friend! I've known him since middle school. I've told you this."

Fuck.

His cheeks start to burn. "Oh. Right. I-"

"Forgot? Mhm, I can see that. But I understand where you're coming from. I have been hanging out with him more than I thought. And I forgot about my darling boyfriend." She kisses his forehead and draws him in for a hug. His arms go around her waist immediately as he molds into her. "I'm sorry, baby. Please voice how you feel more." Her voice is laced with care and sincerity. She cares for me. He thinks. He screws his eyes closed and sighs.

She loves me.

"I will. I will, I swear. I just- I missed you. S-so much." He whispers. Who knew a hunk of a man can shrink down to a vulnerable boy.

Bakugou sniffs, tears now falling on his cheeks. "You just do so much with him... I thought I felt you slipping and I panicked--" She shushes him delicately while massaging his scalp. That action always made Bakugou calm down and find serenity. He cries some more into her chest until she pulls away and looks at him.

"Baby I do such little things with him. He's not my focus." She coos. She bumps her forehead on his before whispering these words that made Bakugou's heart soar.

"You are."

Their lips connect in a deep, passionate kiss. All the insecurity splatters away from his mind. She loves me.

She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.

"Answer me this, Katsu. Who do I kiss every waking moment?"

He gulps. "Me."

She hums. Her legs drape over his lap, big hands going to her supple hips quickly.

"Who helps me when I have trouble doing my homework?" She slowly pushes him on the bed, neither of them breaking eye contact.

"Me."

Now laying on the bed, her nimble fingers go under his tank top. The weight of her fingerpads and the slight scratch from her nails feels heavenly.

"Who do I give presents to?" She says lowly, the moonlight hitting her skin perfectly.

Bakugou can't breathe. He can feel himself submitting to her. He's not complaining. "Me..."

She starts to peck his neck with soft kisses, making him groan.

"Who do I cuddle with at night when we sleep?"

He breathes heavily. "M-me."

They both lowly moan against each other. Her lips still kissing his searing skin, and her hands still caressing him. The tank top flew off somewhere, now his tanned skin now on display. Her fingers feel up his waist, his abs and his chest. Bakugou relishes in the feeling of being touched like this.

And being kissed like this.

He stifles a moan when she places a hickey on his collarbone. She sighs and whispers in his ear.

"Who do I pleasure almost everyday?"

He bites his lip and whimpers, tears forming in his eyes again.

"Me...!"

She giggles when his voice goes up an octave as she tweaked his nipples. It always made his brain turn into mush. Her hand cradles his blushing cheek.

"Who's name do I scream out at night?"

His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. The teasing, plus this? Soul is gone.

His face turns into a shy emotion; eyelashes fluttering. "Mine..."

She smiles widely.

"Exactly. I am yours."

She kisses his lips again, like forming a signature for a contract.

"And who's name do you cry out when you're getting fucked?" She let's out a breath when she feels his hips buck into her. He lets out a broken whine.

"Y-yours."

She kisses him again, but with more force. More tongue. She's signing the contract again, and this is final. He moans in her mouth when she pulls on his hair.

She let's him breathe again, strings of saliva connecting to their lips. She wipes it off with her thumb and smirks.

"And you are mine."

Her eyes sparkle with a neon blue hue, and so does Bakugou's. He feels... different. But it's a good different. Like he can see from her eyes. And feel what she feels. He feels connected to her on such a universal level, he can't explain it.

"We belong to each other, Bakugou. We always will; ever since the first year in UA. That will never change. Understand?"

"Y-yes. I understand."

She smiles as she kisses his cheeks. Her arms go around his neck and pulls him into a hug.

"I love you, my darling baby boy. I always will." She whispers in his ear. Bakugou's cheeks heat up. His lips form into a soft smile.

"I love you too." He mumbles into the crook of her neck.

Such bliss, such peace.

Peace within him, within his mind. Bakugou's so lucky to have some one like her in his life.

After about ten minutes of comfortable silence, she speaks up.

"Denki is with Jiro and Shinso anyway. He doesn't like me like that."

Bakugou jolts. "Wait, whAT"

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! .♡

Or something like that idk

#this was fun to write tbh #black reader #x reader #black fem reader #black!reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #fem!reader #drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x black reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #mha kaminari #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x femreader

[supervillain-smut]

Anatomy Part 3: Simon

Part 1 Markus | Part 2 Connor

Because I write for my enjoyment, too, and I'm thoroughly enjoying writing this series, Simon is up first.

Simon sighed and ran his hands through your hair as you lazily dragged your tongue over his sensor, your arms wrapped around his thighs to hold him to you as you worked. Simon moaned as you pressed your tongue flat against him, licking a slow stripe up to his abdomen, continuing until you reached his navel. You proceeded to lap at him in quick strokes, only picking up the pace once he’d begun squirming and moaning his pleasure frequently. 

“Oh, don’t stop! Please, please keep going! Uhn! F-feels sooo good!” Simon begged through pants as his grip on your hair tightened; you peered up at him through your lashes to keep a careful eye on his LED; it was beginning to turn yellow. You covered his whole sensor with your mouth, running your tongue over anywhere you could reach, and Simon keened, arching his back, obscuring his LED from your sight, much to your dismay. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, I’m so close!” Simon thankfully voiced his pleasure instead, and you continued only for a few moments, stopping once you began to feel his body tense. “No! W-why?” Simon gasped as you sat back on your heels smirking at him. 

“Beg for it.” You teased. “Wh- Please, please let me cum! Please! Ugh, I need to cum...” Simon whimpered as he writhed. “We’re going to take a little pause until you calm down. And then I’m going to let you cum.” Simon groaned at your words, but obeyed, looking down at you with anticipation in his eyes, just waiting for you to say or do anything. “Okay. You can cum.” You dismissed him as you remained sat. Simon waited for you to move, only for you to meet his gaze expectantly. “Aren’t you going to continue?” Simon questioned your actions, confused. “Nope. You can make yourself cum, can’t you? Go on, touch yourself.” Simon sighed in frustration as he lay back and brought his hand to his sensor, rubbing in circles and bringing his other hand to his chest to toy with his nipple.

In minutes, Simon was back to where you had him, approaching the edge of ecstasy, when you swatted his hand away and replaced it with your mouth, licking at him incessantly like a dog that was given peanut butter, relishing in the gasp followed by a loud moan and the many moans after it as Simon cums hard, hand immediately pushing the back of your head further into him as he bucks into your face. Even after he came, you didn’t let up, nor did Simon’s hand move as you got to work to overstimulate him as much as you could before he hit the brakes; you wanted him to beg you to stop. You drove him over the edge two, three, four times. 

“Stop! Fuck, please- oh! Fuuuck, fuck! Stopstopstop! ’S too much!” Simon cried out, finally pushing your head away from him, and you obeyed, sitting back while keeping a hand on his abdomen, lovingly caressing the synthetic skin under your fingertips. Simon panted heavily, his eyes unfocused and his LED a bright yellow for a little bit before it began slowly returning to a cool blue. You took that as a sign to crawl onto the bed next to him and love on him, praise him. 

You ran your hand through his hair, kissing from his neck up to his nose, pulling him into you to which he gladly rolled over to curl up into you, resting his head on your bicep as you ran your hand up and down his arm. “You did such a good job. So good for me, Simon. Are you okay? Do you want anything?” You whispered to him, and Simon tiredly nodded. “Yes, please. A blanket would be great.” You kissed his forehead before getting up to grab him the comforter you'd set aside as you heard him yawn.

#detroit become human #simon pl600 #simon dbh #smut #dbh

[charliedawn]

Hi♥️Can I request for a fic in this slasher series when y/n dies or killed in a story you choose and how they react and who took it hard the most? Just read your slasher fic series in 2 days and I love it! The chapter 34 to 43 are missing in the list and I was wondering why? Michael really made me blush a lot and the Gif isn't helping eather😣💓 Thanks for beautiful fics!

(Hey! Thank you for the request and I have to admit not knowing what those chapters are ? If they are the latest, I'm afraid I didn't add them yet. But, I'll be sure to add them soon.)

It was a day like any other, the day when Y/N L/N died. They were taking a stroll in the forest and thinking about everything they had done so far for the slashers and all the things they would accomplish in the future. But then, they heard the shot.

For a short time, they worried someone had shot one of the slashers by mistake and turned around to return to the facility when..they felt it.

The excruciating pain in their chest.

They slowly lowered their gaze and their eyes watered as an ugly red splotch started spreading on the white cloth of their nurse uniform.

The slashers all felt that something was wrong and ran out of the facility in a same wave of unbridled chaos.

Some would call it an unlucky shot, hunters who had gone too far in the forest and had mistaken you for game.

But, no matter what the reason was..It changed the slashers and left a void never to be filled again..

He tear the hunters who had come to check on you off you and roared.

Penny:

Penny was the first to reach you with his inhuman speed and extraordinary sense of smell.

"DO NOT TOUCH THEM !"

His eyes flashed orange in warning at them and he sniffed your body—desperate to find a sparkle of life. It was the first time Penny wished to smell your fear, to at least know you were alive.

But, he felt nothing.

He cradled you in his arms and felt his voice crack as he slowly turned towards the hunter with the still fuming rifle.

His face started twisting and blood pouring out of his eyes, nose and mouth as he shouted.

"I WILL BRING WAR UPON YOU LIKE THE RED FLAMES OF GODLY VENGEANCE ! WAAARRRRR !"

His voice broke as his face split in two and large sharp teeth sprung out in order to rip off the nearest hunter's head.

The hunters started running after seing Penny's face, but it was already too late.

In a matter of seconds, they were torn to pieces with horrible squelching sounds and devoured until nothing was left but blood and your corpse behind.

Finally, the other slashers found him and when they saw your body, they all shared Penny's grief and didn't try to stop him when he carried you back to the hospital.

The staff was waiting for you, and none dared to speak as Penny entered, drenched in blood and his eyes unfocused..

Penny was inconsolable. He spent days locked up in his cage—scratching and leaving large gashes in his walls and screeched so loud the whole hospital could hear him.

Pennywise :

Pennywise was angry upon discovering your body and it took him a minute or two to realize you weren't coming back.

Once the realization hit, he growled lowly and his claws pierced through the fabric of his gloves.

His eyes flashed bright yellow at the hunters—now huddled together in fear. The bravest pointed their riffles at him, but when they tried to shoot, the shot went backwards and killed them instead.

"You don't know what you have done..You have killed the only person that made me think humanity still had a chance. That you didn't all deserve to be devoured and sent to Hell..Congrats, you idiots. You've just doomed your whole species !"

His head twisted abnormally as he cornered the frightened hunters and his mouth opened wide.

However, they didn't see the lights.

They didn't deserve it.

He didn't leave anything behind, not even a small piece..He then returned to you and held your hand.

He stroked it gently and when he was sure nobody would come and find him in his most vulnerable state, he broke into tears of blood.

It had been so long since he had last cried..But, he knew the feeling in his chest to be sorrow and knowing none of the other ones would be able to bury you in a satisfactory way..He decided to lay you down in a field of wild flowers and cover your body with a thin veil Maturin had given him long ago—one that would allow your body to stay unspoilt for years and centuries to come..

"Goodbye, nice nurse..Know that you may very well have been the only human I have ever loved.."

Arthur :

Arthur was the closest to your location and when he arrived and found you laid down on the ground. He instantly knew.

He didn't cry.

He didn't scream.

"I'm sorry, sweetie..I arrived too late."

Arthur mercilessly shot them all and when the slashers finally arrived, they were surprised to find one of the hunters still breathing.

Their eyes turned to your lifeless form and Pennywise took the last hunter by the back of the neck to throw him unceremoniously before the slashers.

"That little sh*t killed them. Do whatever you want with him.."

"N..No. Please.", the last hunter begged—but was met with deaf ears.

The slashers didn't hesitate and all started beating the man to a pulp until nothing remained.

All the work you had done. All the sacrifices you had made..All gone.

With your absence, the slashers were bound to return to their old ways and Arthur found it ironical.

To think all your work had gone to waste..What a shame.

Once he was out of sight, Arthur stopped and looked up, a crow flying high above the trees—spying.

He smiled.

Maybe in another life, would he find you again ?

But, he shook his head.

Nah. If he knew one thing about life it was that it wasn't fair or merciful..

Game over.

The hunters were dead before they could even take another breath. They had all of their heads cut off in one singular swing of Jason's powerful machete.

He then quickly knelt by your side and tried to wake you up, until he realized it was too late.

The grief took over him and he refused anyone to touch your body for days. He didn't want to believe you were truly gone and took all his frustration out on the trees outside.

It was better than to admit to the slashers that he was crushed, a mess inside..Brahms tried to comfort him, but had to give up after some time.

Then, Jason decided to close himself to everything around him until he slowly started drowning in guilt..

The slashers then decided to send the only person they thought they'd never send..Freddy.

Freddy *kicks open his door* : "QUIT YOUR MOPPING AND GET OUT OF YOUR BEDROOM, YOU BIG LAZY A** !"

It was followed by a big fight where Jason could fight out all his pent-up frustration and anger.

At the end, the both of them were pretty beat up and bloody—but it did help Jason a little as he finally confessed.

"They're..gone."

Freddy sighed before sitting down next to him.

"Yup. They are. And do you really think they'd like you to stay here and cry your eyes out ? They fought for this place. They fought for you..The least ya could do is respect that, yeh ?"

Jason didn't want to admit that Freddy was right, but he was. You had given your life for that hospital and him.

The least he could do was make sure to realize your wish and redeem himself. For you.

Freddy :

The rather cheerful and obnoxious slasher had fallen quiet upon the news of your death.

It was strange not hearing him jeer or complain for days on end. He only stared and whoever would enter his cell would suffer an unfortunate and drastic end.

Having a chatty Freddy used to be a good sign that he was growing softer...But, the cold silence coming from him afterwards was the worst thing and it showed just how much he cared.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart..It seems ol' Freddy wasn't fast enough this time around."

He whispered above your grave and left his hat on your tombstone before walking away.

He had made a promise to you not to let his anger affect him, but he will have to break it. Just this once. Just until he could find the bastards that had taken you away from him..

After all, guilt did make the best nightmares..

Freddy *cackles darkly* : "You'll see, sweetheart...They'll regret ever firing that shot. I promise you that."

It would make Freddy go on a murder rampage and track all of your murderers to the very last one—all of them.

He would make them suffer for what they did—beg for death. And even then, I don't think he'd be merciful.

Michael :

Michael had a short moment of disbelief as he saw your body hit the ground..The bullet had been meant for him no doubt, but the hunters hadn't calculated the risk of him being accompanied.

"Please..", he rasped, "..Don't leave me."

For once, he didn't hear Myers at the back of his head, he was silent as well.

They both couldn't believe it and Michael held you closer.

"Please, sunshine..Wake up. I need you. Please.."

He begged you, but your eyes remained closed. It was too late.

You were gone.

Michael cried over your body and even though the sight of blood had never fazed him—yours made him sick and shake with horror.

Michael had just gathered the courage to tell you how much he was grateful for you, to tell you that he wasn't scared of Myers anymore, because you were there.

But, the bullet had hit its target before he could, and he would never be able to tell you now, to tell you how much he cared about you.

He kissed your forehead lovingly and felt his sorrow turn to indescribable rage as he felt the cold skin under his lips.

Myers took over and he looked in the direction where the hunters had run.

He put his mask on and pulled his knife out.

None of the hunters were ever found..

Brahms :

Brahms thought it was an odd game, or some kind of prank at first.

He laughed it off and tried to shake you awake. But, his smile quickly vanished when he realized you weren't waking up.

"Come on..It's not funny anymore.."

He insisted, but you didn't answer and he looked up to see that the slashers had now surrounded you and weren't looking at him.

"W...Why aren't they waking up ?", he asked with teary eyes—but none of them answered. How were they supposed to tell him ? Tell him that you would never stand up ever again..

Jason finally knelt beside the both of you and laid his hand on Brahms' shoulder with an apologetic expression.

When Brahms realized you weren't coming back, he felt tears well up in his eyes and slowly closed your eyes.

This way, he could imagine for a second more that you were simply asleep..

Brahms had learned to show his face, leaving his mask on his bedside table and go along his merry way with a big smile on his face since your first meeting.

The day you died, he put his mask back on. No one would ever see his face again..

He then went on a bloody rampage to track down all of your killers—followed suit by Jason.

Five immediately teleported to your location and froze at the sight of your body on the floor.

He didn't give a chance to the hunters to find an excuse and butchered them all.

"I never got the chance to tell them how..how much I cared. All because of you.", Five muttered to the corpses now scattered on the ground.

He then knelt beside you and slowly picked you up, carefully bringing you back to the hospital where slashers, patients and staff alike stood out of his way.

He then put you down on the sofa in the living room and a heavy silence settled all around at the realization that you were dead.

Nobody wanted to believe it, Five first and foremost.

He had promised you to never kill again, but what was the point of keeping that promise when you weren't there anymore ?

You were the only one Five had ever willingly listened to and your death took all of the mercy he had for this world with it.

He would go back to his family and let the world burn, let it be destroyed by another apocalypse or natural disaster.

Your death would be the starting point of the world's downfall. No biggie. 😂

Norman went through a long period of depression after you died. He blamed himself for not being there to stop it.

He knew it was bound to happen eventually, he just wished it wouldn't be so soon.

He did make sure your killers were well punished for their mistake, but it make the pain any less excruciating..

He looked up at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his arm—asking with tears streaming down his face.

"My little monster..I'm lost. What should I do now ?"

His question was left unanswered as he remembered all the times you had been there to answer.

You always had the answer to everything—that's what he liked about you.

You always made him feel as if life was worth living and now that you were gone, a big empty hole had replaced you in his heart..

He felt numb and the very thought that he would never see you again was enough to make him sick and wonder if he could just end it all..But then, he thought of what you were discussing before your death. Your wish to help the slashers as much as possible and he started thinking about it.

The slashers had always been a great concern of yours since the moment you had discovered their existence through Norman and he wanted to honor you.

So, he would continue your work and make sure to be a worthy example for the slashers and guide them, as you wanted.

Norman : "I'll make you proud, my little monster..You'll see."

Hannibal Jr. immediately ran towards the sound of the riffle shot and when he found you on the ground—lifeless..Something snapped in him.

He shot them all. They didn't even see it coming.

You were the only person who had ever believed he could be better—the only person willing to see past the indifference and false pretense.

Foolish dream, as he was now staring at your dead body with nothing but cold numbness.

He wondered if he should eat you ? He would probably start with the liver, the heart and finally, the brain...He caressed your cheek. Tender. Cold. Pale now..He remembered when those cheeks were painted a pretty pink with delight and joy.

He had never even seen you angry.

His other hand balled into a fist.

"...How dare you ? How dare you make me feel like this and leave me so abruptly ?"

He asked—but no answer was given.

He had already lost a lover. He asked himself if he was cursed ? As if to answer him, rain started pouring, hiding his tears from sight.

It wouldn't be known how Hannibal Jr. cried over a mere human. It wouldn't be said...that he has a heart after all.

When the rest of the Hannibal family found him a few hours later, he was still holding your body in his arms and refused for any of them to touch it.

"I loved them.."

He admitted after a moment and the rest of the family remained quiet—knowing the weight and pain of such confession..Now, that you would never hear it.

Hannibal Jr. looked up at Hannibal Sr. and his eyes widened at the sight of his crestfallen expression, taken aback by the desperation he found in his son's eyes as the man asked—his voice trembling.

"Tell me, father..Tell me, you who has already loved and lost many times over..Does it ever stop ?"

Hannibal Sr. considered sparing his son's feelings and lie, but quickly set aside the idea. He had lied. Many times over for various reasons, but he wouldn't to his son.

"The thing about the heart is that it is double-edged, son. Their memory will remain. Forever. In your heart. The good and the bad. All of it.."

He answered genuinely and Hannibal Jr. held your body closer.

"I...see."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #slashers #michael myers x reader #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #freddy krueger x reader #arthur fleck x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #five hargreeves x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader

[2btheanswertothequestion]

“I’m not calling for El.”

Jonathan, just drawing breath to shout El’s name, pauses. Puts the receiver back to his ear with his brow furrowed.

“You’re not?” he asks.

“Nope,” Max says on the other end. There’s movement where she is, rustling and footsteps, and her television is playing what sounds like a car commercial. She lowers the volume before he can catch for which car. “I wanna talk to you. Will said you have a skateboard?”

“I do.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Jonathan puts the pile of mail, and the butter knife he was opening it with, on the table and slouches against the wall. He does know how to use it, or at least he did. It’s been years since last. Once he started working, there’s wasn’t any time to squeeze in skating for fun between homework and chores. Once he got his driving license, there wasn’t any point in using it for transportation either. But before that, the skateboard saw more wear than the soles of his shoes did.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, because though it’s been years he still knows how, right? It’s like swimming or riding a bike. Once you know, you know.

“Great. Then I have a favor to ask.” She breathes deeply over the line. “Mom doesn't want me out on my own. Because of my eyes and my legs. So, could you, like, help me out?”

––  –– –– –– –– –– –– –– –– ––

The area by the Mayfield trailer isn’t great for skating, with the cracked pavement and the seemingly permanent layer of gravel, and every other area that isn’t actually designated for skating but so used anyway is bound to have other people there. It’s because of that, he guesses, Max tells him to meet her by a little cul-de-sac south of the park. He arrives thirty minutes early to test the road and his rusty skills. Perhaps simply skating there would have been enough to refresh his muscle memory, but why take the chance?

It’s a nice area. The asphalt is even and the lawns are mowed. A few houses have fruit trees in their yards, and every window has the kind of curtain retirees like. A dog, small by the sound of it, yaps from inside one of the houses at one point, but calms quickly. After that, the only noise is the wind and his squeaky wheels.

He was right – it is just like riding a bike. It’s not as smooth as once upon a time, and he can’t go as fast, but he never eats shit. He even nails a kickturn and a tic tac on his first try, and a basic ollie on his second. By the time the Beemer turns up, he’s back to 100% confident in his abilities.

Max jumps out of the car, and for a moment it’s like nothing happened. Her spine is straight and her head is level. Her bright hair is loose and she’s wearing a yellow T-shirt.

Then she looks toward him, and her eyes are just a little unfocused. She walks and her movements are a tad too stiff. It’s impossible to forget the fact that she turned her back on death twice.

While she retrieves her skateboard and crutches from the backseat, Steve rolls down his window and beckons for Jonathan to come closer. He doesn’t have much to say apart from “Hey, man” and “I’ll be back in two hours” and, after leaning in close to whisper, “she won’t admit it, but she gets tired after standing for twenty minutes, so make sure she takes breaks”.

Jonathan promises with a nod and then the BMW drives off.

The first thing she asks is if he brought his board. He replies “yes”. Then she wants to know if he still remembers how to skate. “Yes” again. She nods, pushes a long tress out of her face, and drops her own board onto the road. The crutches, just a precaution according to her, are left lying on the sidewalk as she steps on the board.

When he asks how she wants to do this, she admits she hasn’t ridden in months – only balanced in her room, by her bed – and needs to figure out the basics again. So they start with pushing and stopping. 

He leaves his board behind for it, opting to run next to her as she rides. It’s slow-moving at first, with lots of stops and starts. She wobbles but never falls, the one close-call when she veers too close to the curb and almost crashes aborted by Jonathan grabbing and steadying her. After thanking him she points out it might be a good thing for her to fall, and that he should let her.

He says he’ll consider it if she wears a helmet. She rolls her eyes and makes sure to ride farther from the curb on her next try.

Twenty minutes in he suggests a break, which she manages to delay for an additional five minutes before sitting down to drink some water and eat a banana. Above, the sky turns a shade grayer. She’s unconcerned when he lets her know, instead throwing herself back on the board. The uncertainty from before has all but evaporated off her.

She attempts tricks. Riding switch is easy for her, as is the kickturn and manual. The nose stall is harder since she can’t see when it’s time to shift her weight and balance. They solve the issue by having Jonathan stand on the curb and talk, letting her hear how far away she is. A few dozen or so tries in, she’s memorized the distance and succeeds without him. Cackling, she raises her hand for a high-five; he obliges.

By their second break, Max is almost smiling too wide to drink from her water bottle. Buzzing with excitement, she wants to continue immediately, but he puts his foot down because, happy or not, she’s exhausted. The corners of her eyes droop and despite the high temperature she shivers, goosebumps erupting across her bare arms. She still waves him off when he offers her his jacket.

At least until it starts to rain.

It’s nothing major, just a late summer drizzle. But it might become more, so he’s grateful when she huddles underneath the dark denim, resting it on top of her head to keep her arms free. And then they simply listen.

The clouds keep rolling in, the sky growing darker each second. Both it and the wet pavement are slate gray now, but the leaves are vivid green and the air smells like warmth and earth. Max’s head drifts back and forth, seeking the sounds, zeroing in on the heaviest droplets as they hit the asphalt. His too-big jacket hangs like a curtain around her, shielding her from rain and darkness alike. 

Actually, no. Just the rain. She wards off the darkness on her own. Her sunshine-yellow shirt, her flame-orange hair, her smoke-white skin, so pale it’s almost translucent, the veins running fluorescent on the insides of her wrists. 

She’s glowing like a candle.

“Thanks,” she says. “For being my eyes today.”

“No problem. Thanks for making me finally use this again.” He kicks at his board, the wheels spinning slowly.

“I want to skate at the park or the lot later. When I’m ready.”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

Max nods, a small smile on her face. Untangling her crossed legs, she pulls them to her chest to rest her chin on her knees.

“Have you heard what Dustin’s been researching?”

“No, what?”

“Well. He has a theory,” she says, and Jonathan actually snorts at her imitation, both expression and cadence a perfect copy of Dustin’s, “on human echolocation.”

Jonathan draws a breath. “Human… echolocation.”

“He thinks that, by studying echoes or whatever, I can learn where things are by snapping my fingers, or doing this,” she says and clicks her tongue. “So, I guess that’s a backup in case that doctor won’t make it work with the surgery.”

“How’s it going with that?”

“I dunno. They’re ‘figuring it out’.” Max makes a face that tells exactly what she thinks of that. “Guess, right now, Dustin Henderson is my best bet.”

She shrugs, her lips curving into a smile’s likeness. The lines around her mouth and shadows by her eyes make her appear both impossibly old and unbearably young. She sniffles, which might be due to the cold, might be something else.

Jonathan says, “His success-to-failure ratio is in your favor.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says, now smiling for real again.

Anything else they might have to say is cut short by the appearance of Steve’s BMW. It hasn’t been two hours yet, not even one and a half, but the rain is starting to come down harder, so they stow away the items in the trunk to make space for Jonathan and drive off.

The Beemer smells like pine and expensive leather. Steve has the heat on high and the stereo low, and together with the rain smattering on the windows, it creates an ambiance one could fall asleep to. Jonathan sinks into the backseat, draping his jacket over his legs for the sake of the seats, although he’s pretty sure they’ve been through worse things than rainwater. In the front, Max’s pointer finger squeaks against the misted-over window, and as Freddie Mercury sings about losing his way in the darkness, she draws perfect flowers and suns despite not being able to see them.

#*throws this at you* HERE TAKE IT #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #jonathan byers #max mayfield #my writing #editing isn't quite up to standard but whatever

[ninjigma]

RexObi Week Part 3/7 - First / Previous / Next

Day 3: Amusement Park Track: 'Friday I'm In Love' - The Cure (Spotify / YouTube)

"The more of these games I see the more I'm surprised there isn't people fighting everywhere."

"Well, I do believe people are not here mainly to win cheap stuffed animals. There are many other things to enjoy."

"Is that why you keep using the Force on the clearly rigged games?"

Obi-Wan raised his nose slightly, carefully tucking his hands behind his back after one last flick of his wrist at a rubber duck with a tiny loop on the top. The squeal of joy from the young child holding a much too flimsy hook nearly drowned out his prim response. "My dear, are you suggesting I would cheat?"

"Well," Rex grinned crookedly. "Never for yourself, but yes."

Obi-Wan made an affronted noise, though the mirth in his eyes couldn't fool anyone in the galaxy, as he slid an arm through Rex's and began walking a bit further. They were in absolutely no rush, the sun beginning to set and stars already blinking above them. It meant that dozens if not hundreds of lights were flicking to life, bright and vibrant in a way that almost reminded Obi-Wan of Force signatures when he was younger. Unfocused, youthful, undetermined futures; a swirl from hot to cold and so much life it was near overwhelming to open yourself to. In fact, Obi-Wan wasn't fully sure how to really feel about this date suggestion, mostly going through with it for the adrenaline of the rides and the sweets he thought Rex would enjoy trying, but leaning into Rex's side and watching that little one proudly accept the stuffed bantha from a perplexed looking worker was quite worth it.

He also found he minded the heat and overall stickiness of things even less when, five minutes later, Rex was crouched behind a water gun with a look of utter clone stubbornness and efficiency, and Obi-Wan was trying not to literally cheer as the clone won his second round in a row. It was all Rex here, beating the neigh impossible game and gathering a few further youngsters around him that wished to watch as he nailed the target perfectly.

"That's insane!" a child to Obi-Wan's right whispered to their friend, who only nodded wide eyed back. "I have never seen anyone win even the first round of this!"

"Do you think he is a bounty hunter?" another murmured.

"Maybe he's a Jedi!" 

This last one was said much louder, and met with a small outbreak of whispering that Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh at, much to the upset of the child that said it.

"He could be!" They defended, small yellow cheek markings rising with his scrunched nose, and the face paint of a rainbow crinkling. 

"Well, I can assure you he isn't, young one." Obi-Wan gave a soft smile, as more curious children looked to him.

"Why should we believe you?" the first one asked, their friend still clinging to their side and watching Rex. "How else could he be so good?"

"Because he is one of the best," Obi-Wan answered simply, without specify who exactly Rex was the best of, seeing as Obi-Wan believed it was just about anyone anyhow. "As for how I know he isn't a Jedi..."

Rex then won the fifth round, maxing out the prize and earning the stuffed animal that had caught their eye to begin with as the perfect gift for Cody when they returned home. Though before the stunned worker had the chance to fully process he needed to unhook the creature and deliver it, Obi-Wan had raised a hand for the children to easily see and twisted it up and towards Rex to use the Force to toss the waiting clone his prize. 

"It is because he told me himself he isn't." Obi-Wan finished firmly. And before the kids could close their mouths or Rex had finished rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan was once again next to his partner and linking them together to stride away into the crowd.

"Showing off again sir?" Rex asked, handing the plush animal, a varactyl in a strikingly familiar pattern, to Obi-Wan.

"Me? Showing off?" Obi-Wan curled an arm under the plush. "I was merely correcting assumptions."

"The assumptions of a child?" At this Rex had slid behind Obi-Wan more properly, giving an accusing squeeze of strong, lean arms. 

"The assumption that you are a Jedi," Obi-Wan turned his head to smile more properly at Rex behind him. "First, I have heard you plenty of times state otherwise, which, in a way you are fully aware of, I am more then grateful for. And second, I know that nothing of the skill you just showed has to do with being born Force sensitive. That was all my lovely, talented, handsome rún."

And though Obi-Wan knew Rex still didn't know the exact meaning of the word he used, he had said it enough to bring color to the clones cheeks even as he shook his head. the he had declared it over in a dozen different circumstances of praise to Rex to make it clear. Knew he had put enough truth in his smile and joy in his eyes to make the adoration obvious, even past how Rex pulled Obi-Wan back into himself more firmly, with a quip already clearly set to make Obi-Wan blush much worse. 

So, when Obi-Wan cut Rex off to press a kiss to his lips that gave a much more obvious hint at exactly how much Obi-Wan appreciated watching Rex win the stuffed plush, he was met with more love then Obi-Wan had ever dared want for, and would be grateful every day to have.  

@rexobiweek

#amusement park #I loved making the art for this one #like way too much honestly XD #so carried away with light and color #and I just have literally zero regrets about that #they deserve it #rexobi fest 2023 #obi wan kenobi #clone captain rex #boga the varactyl #rexobi #obirex #obi wan x rex #star wars #clone wars #fanart #my art #my writing #ahhhhhhhhhhhh

[greycaelum]

Yo ! I’d like to request #25 for your new event :D Congratulations on 1k btw 🤍! [Gentle Affection Collections]

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X Baker Reader

[Gentle Affection Collections]

Request 25: [ List is here ]

—chasing his/her lips after they pull away

Notes & Warning: Satoru and his addiction to sweets, fluff, Word Count: +900

"Yoh~ Thank you for joining!" —Grey,

Frosting

The bells of your kitchen door chimed and Satoru strode in wearing your extra frilly apron, looking proud and all pumped up to start his lesson with you today. Flexing and popping his joints, his towering shadow loomed in front of you.

"You're late," you deadpanned, displeased by his daring grin after making you wait for 15 minutes.

"Awww, 'm sorry Cupcake, I got caught up in the bakery shelf, tehehehe~" his thumb subtly wiped the frosting on the side of his mouth, hoping you didn't see anything. Surely you can't blame him for acting like a glutton when the cinnamon roll you made is a chef kiss—a work of art, it makes him wanna kiss the chef too!

"Would you stop grinning? Get on to work, chop-chop." You kicked his shin and Satoru hissed, rubbing the spot, and went to wash his hand then joined you.

"Separate the egg white and yolk, like this." You crack the egg on the counter and separate them using your hands, "Or maybe you can use the slotted spoon after you put every egg in the bowl."

Satoru observed your slender fingers alternating the delicate egg and getting a perfect yellow yolk. Maybe that's why your hands are just so heavenly soft against his skin. No wonder you wince from time to time when he forgets to control his force, his hands are large and callous that they roughly graze against your dainty ones.

You made your cookie batter while instructing Satoru how to make the cupcake batter.

"Cupcake, I'm done." Satoru set the oven timer and watch you make the frosting for his cupcake.

A bright idea lit up his head.

"How do you know the frosting is ready?" He peeks over your shoulder while the mixer beat the ingredients in the bowl.

"When the mixture is creamy."

"How about the taste?" Satoru pouted, he should've stuffed a croissant or some muffin in his pocket earlier, his hands are tingling to latch on something sweet and feed his sweet tooth. The frosting you're making looks promising and another excuse to mess around with you.

His eyes landed on the stray strand of hair from your ponytail it is kissing your nape and Satoru is having the strong urge to pull your ponytail and tie it himself.

"I think..." You turned the mixer off and dip a teaspoon to taste the frosting. "It's great," you hummed and smiled at Satoru.

"Really?"

You blink at Satoru's dreamy stare, gazing at your lips. Oh, he must want to taste it. You dip the spoon and offered it to him. Satoru quirk a brow and pursed his lips shut.

What's wrong? You look at him in question, usually, he would be licking the spoon and asking for more.

"Let me..." tugging on your apron, Satoru held your hand with the spoon you were offering and delivered it to his mouth, licking the confectionary he delve down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, wetting your lower lip, asking for permission.

The moist sweetness coated your lips, melting down between Satoru's kisses. Pliantly parting your lips you accepted the offering, letting Satoru explore your cavern whilst sharing the sugary aftertaste of his lips and the frosting. His hand found your hips, kneading and circling his thumb as you moan.

"Very sweet," Satoru chuckled when you push him away to breathe.

"That's how you should taste the frosting," He teased tilting your chin up, and dipping his finger in the bowl, smearing the white frosting on your lips, then descended his head down to chase your soft lips back‚ but in a much deeper kiss that, inevitably melted you against him, he lightly tugged at your hair, all while gently nipping at your bottom tender lip. Instinctively you twined your arms around your lover's neck.

"Unfocused student." You breathe between your kisses while Satoru pepper the corner of your mouth with feather-soft kisses.

"Me?..." Satoru teased "Really?" and seals in each word in each kiss he gives on your swollen lips. "My," a kiss "Whipped," one more, "Teacher," and another.

You pouted. There's no use to this lesson. With Satoru starting his frivolous antics it'll be hard to get anything done.

Satoru's smirk widened and hummed, he motioned to dip his finger in the bowl but you move and shove it away. Satoru dramatically gasp at your denial and whined in protest. Pushing you against the counter, trapping you between his body and legs on your sides while he reaches for the bowl you're trying to move away from his long limbs.

"Enough!" You hissed he's practically crushing you underneath him.

"Bleh," he stuck his tongue out and press you down the counter, grinding your bodies as he gets his hands on the bowl and stole it from your hand.

Capturing your lips in a sweet fleeting kiss he dots the frosting on the tip of your nose.

"Hehehe, I'll be on the bread shelf Baby!" He ran away with the bowl clutch on his chest.

"Satoru come back here you frosting thief!"

"But I already paid you with kisses! Love you Cupcake!" He yelled back and you can hear the bread shelf opening and Satoru's delighted sound of eating.

Seems like you have to make him work harder by making batches of cinnamon rolls.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned image(s) and song(s) used belongs to their respective owner(s)

General Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya

#[gentle affection collections] #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x baker reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo fluff #jjk gojo #greycaelum

[coldshrugs]

all that we did, you undo

a gift for the lovely @roxaro for the @wayfarer-exchange!! featuring: neavh trahern & aeran kellis word count: 1230 summary: reunited in karth, neavh doesn't find the welcome ey expects in aeran.

Neavh is staring.

Aeran is tired and dirty in the middle of Karth, but he still draws eir gaze like a beacon just set ablaze. He shifts restlessly, waiting for em to answer his very simple question. Is he uncomfortable with the attention? Neavh can sympathize; these last few years have been lonely, and solitude is almost second nature. Still, ey cannot tear eir eyes away from him, to have confirmation that he is here with em right now, discomfort be damned.

"What was that?" Neavh shakes out of eir reverie.

Aeran rubs at the back of his neck, the hint of his familiar smile tugging at his lips. "Should we find an inn? Seems a bit dense to camp in the desert when we just got paid."

Neavh nods, though where ey sleeps isn’t important, as long as Aeran is around.

They stroll through Karth's high street, a dusty strip of dirt that bends like a horseshoe toward a small stream trickling down from the Gairlochs. A few side paths branch off the outer perimeter, leading to family homes and shared tenements, painted in shades of bright white, yellow, or blue to provide natural cooling in the desert heat. The middle of the horseshoe holds a sprawling bazaar, just bustling to life as the sun sets the western sky ablaze with red-orange hues.

The ends of the horseshoe lead back to the desert, so they head inward, toward the scattering of inns and alehouses near the water. The sandwraith's head earned enough to spare for a night or two of decent lodging, food, and drink before hitting the road again.

Together this time.

They enter a squat, two-story inn and tavern constructed from sun-bleached wood. They're accepted without much fuss, as long as they promise not to poke at the security wards. Neavh glances toward the exits, and the protective magic is so faint that ey'd feel shitty about even unintentional tampering.

"In that case, maybe you could bring some food and a few bottles of your worst up to the room. To keep us from wandering," Neavh winks at the innkeeper. It's an easy tradeoff and they agree.

Neavh and Aeran find their room on the second floor, furnished with two down cots, a small round table, a single wooden chair, and a wash basin. An oil lantern sits on the table, and another hangs by the window. They light both and warm light floods the room through the yellow, soot-stained glass.

Ey removes eir hood, freeing eir lustrous lavender braid in the safety of this space, then turns to Aeran. "No hearth, but it can be home for a few days." Neavh hopes for a wisecrack, some dumb joke ey can hit back at with one of eir own.

But he stands silently at the stone water basin, washing the desert off his arms and face. His eyes are unfocused like he's very far away. Like he doesn't even hear em...

"Aeran?" ey asks.

Aeran glances at em but doesn't hold eir gaze. His eyes fall to his hands, clean now, but he keeps wiping at them. "Yeah?"

For a time, eir world had fallen into an abyss, eir life yawning before em like an unnavigable cavern, empty save for the echoes of eir own voice. Trying to find a place to belong only exacerbated just how misshapen Neavh's self-image had become. Ey pressed on, alone and lonely, carrying the grief of finality and singularity until it seemed like this world held nothing else for em.

Just hours ago, the clouds parted, and Aeran stood before em, helping em finish off a random contract. They'd embraced like the old friends they are, forehead to forehead, and everything in Neavh suddenly felt set to right. Aeran, eir family, was there in the flesh and that is more than enough.

So why doesn't this feel like a happy time? Why does he seem so... lost?

Neavh, flinging emself onto eir cot (the one on the right, out of habit), decides to change the subject. "So where've you been?"

Aeran freezes, blue eyes going wide. This was not the casual question Neavh hoped. Hm.

"All over, I'd imagine. Just like me. Any favorites?" Ey verbally tiptoes back until Aeran relaxes and perches on the edge of his own cot. "Or any towns you're unofficially banned from for punching another magistrate's son?"

"That was one time!" He chuckles brightly, his face illuminated by the memory even as he covers it with his hands. "And that asshole deserved it. He was threatening you!"

"He was threatening to cut off my hair if I beat him at cards." Neavh shrugs, basking in the warmth they've slipped into.

"And?" Aeran waves a hand expectantly.

Ey sighs. "I beat him at cards several times, took all his crowns, and he tried to slice off my braid with his dagger."

They stare at each other, reliving the moment, both so bold in their youth and more than a little intoxicated at the time. Aeran breaks first (he always does), laughter bubbling out of him the way boiling water spills from a pot.

Neavh can't help but join him, knees up to eir chest as ey erupts in uncontrollable giggles. Ey ignores the twinge of pain in eir hip. The lightness in Aeran's voice is worth paying that small price.

When the laughter dies, their smiles remain. Neavh relaxes on the cot with an arm under eir head and a strange feeling in eir stomach.

A sparkling wholeness. A lonesome restraint.

This familiarity is fragile. Already, ey clings to it so tightly it chokes. But ey just got Aeran back, and clinging is the only thing ey knows how to do.

"Nea," Aeran starts. The nickname feels heavy and right. An acknowledgment that they're still in this together, regardless of what "this" is. But his voice is strained. He doesn't want to say this. "Listen, I've been to a lot of places in the last few years. Done a lot of things I'm not--"

A soft pounding at the door. "Kearse sent me up with some food for you," a young voice calls.

With a grateful sigh, Aeran bounds the few steps to the door, wrenching it open to find a half-melusine in their teens carrying a loaded tray. It holds a clay tagine filled with a meaty, spiced stew, a deep bowl of cooked grains, and two large glass bottles of beer. Neavh's stomach rumbles at the new smells filling the small space; ey hadn't expected such a feast in exchange for staying out of the way.

Aeran thanks the kid for their trouble, and Neavh calls eir thanks as the door closes, rising to help set the table.

Ey opens eir mouth, nearly asking Aeran to continue what he was going to say before the interruption. But ey watches him, pulling his cot over to the table so Neavh can be comfortable in the chair, smiling as he tucks into the decadent homemade meal, and the question dies in eir throat.

Aeran hums approvingly through a mouthful of food. "Wouldn't think Karth was a culinary destination."

"That's quite the claim, Kellis," Ey says instead, choosing to let Aeran have his secrets. Something tells em learning one will just lead to more. Maybe neither of them are ready for that, after all. "But I trust you."

#azia writes #wayfarer exchange #i hope you like this roz!!!! #i did my best! and tried to capture the more uhhh toxic side of their relationship :> #it was really fun tbh! #and i'm kind of in love with my description of karth #neavh is everything. ty for letting me borrow em~!!!

[buck-yyyy]

alright, i'm about to go full on delulu, but HEAR ME OUT

so i was just watching @/nancysglock's fucking incredible edit, when something in the background of one of the shots caught my eye?

regular scene, right? just mike being a dork and trying to recruit nancy to play dnd with the rest of hellfire.

but what the fuck is that.

it's really interesting, because it stands out SO MUCH, even though it's really unfocused. it's on the white part of the wall, and though the room and the poster both have orange, it's a completely different color scheme than the rest of the room because of the undertones of the orange shade and the extreme black shadows.

for an example of some other posts that don't have that same contrast, seehere!

the posters behind el don't stand out in the slightest, even though they should be catching your attention even more than the one above, because they're in the middle of the screen. they compliment the scene's blue, yellow and orange color pallet, and they blend in. they don't bring any focus to themselves.

even the posters in mike's room that we love so much don't stand out in the same way. they're bright and colorful, but they match the color scheme of his room, with red and blue tones dominating the images.

but why is this one so different?

anddddddddddd this is where i break out the clown shoes and the tinfoil hat.

just saying. similar color pallets and landscapes shapes. JUST SAYING.

to be clear, i don't think that that poster is an image OF the upside down- but i DO think that it's just a little easter egg of a landscape that LOOKS like the upside down that says, "hey!!! viewer!!! come check this out!!!"

although i DO suppose you could argue it's some kind of foreshadowing to do with fred's death and nancy's vecna'd-ing, since they're having a conversation right before this comes on screen. but like- mike comes on screen right after. wink wink nudge nudge whatever could that mean?

anyways. the set design on this show is fucking wild, and i want hot chocolate.

#stranger things #byler #<- intended audience- you guys get me

[sakura-chan-25]

Dizzy Day

Pairing: Lucifer x MC

Summary: MC feels dizzy, hates that feeling, so Lucifer stays with them until they're better.

Word Count: ~690

Warning(s): dizziness, a LOT of swearing, pet names (honey), a lot of groaning in annoyance

-------------------------------------------------------

"I'm dizzy", you mumbled tiredly as you let your head drop onto the table with a quiet 'thud'. Lucifer looked up from his paper work, worry in his eyes. You were in his office right now, sitting opposite him and doing some homework. You still hadn't moved your head and Lucifer was starting to think that you may have passed out, so just in case he called your name.

"Mhm?", you responded with the same tiredness lacing your voice from before.

"Explain to me.", he said and you groaned in annoyance, lifting your head again. You just told him you were feeling dizzy! What is there to explain?! You knew however that he meant more than that as soon as you looked into his red eyes. Your Symptoms, something that's bothering you...

You groaned again and almost yelled: "It's just so fucking annoying! I don't pass out! I have to feel every fucking thing! I have to feel my heart pounding in my rib cage, I have to feel how air is fucking hard to get into my lungs, I have to feel my hands shaking, I have to see the room spinning around, I have to feel the weakness of not being able to hold my body, because it's so heavy! But does anyone listen? NO! It's always 'well, maybe if you took your vitamins, you wouldn't feel that way.' WELL, MAYBE I took my vitamins and MAYBE they didn't help! Ever fucking thought about that? OF COURSE NOT!" You groaned for a third time and smacked your head onto the table with a very loud 'thud' and a silent 'ow' leaving your lips. Lucifer was quiet the whole time and listened. He waited a moment before talking, waiting for you to say anything else and you did. You let out one of the softest "sorry" he's ever heard and his eyes widened. He whispered a little "okay" before standing up and walking to where you sat.

"Why are you apologizing?", He asked softly as he sat down on the table and cradled your head in his lap. You didn't answer and buried your head deeper into his lap, appreciating his hand playing with your hair. "There is no need for you to do so. I'd rather hear you yell than seeing you bottle up your emotions."

"Lucifer, honey. That's exactly what you're doing, too. Bottling up emotions, I mean. I don't want to hear you yell though!" You said, quickly snapping your head up and just as quickly lowering it again and closing your eyes while grabbing Lucifer's arm for stability. "Are you alright?!", Lucifer asked uncharacteristically panicked, your comment completely forgotten as if you never mentioned it to begin with.

You nodded and put your head into his lap again. You didn't hear Lucifer's question the first time, so he had to ask you a second time. Only to realize that you couldn't really make out the words right now. You were awfully pale and your eyes were unfocused. Lucifer sighed. He couldn't ask you to move to the couch nor could he point to the couch. He still tried though. He poked at your shoulder until you slightly moved your head and pointed at the couch. Your eyes squinted, trying to figure out what that spot of blacks and reds (was there something bright/yellow-ish, too?) could be. It took you some time but you guessed that it had to be the couch with the window behind. (The colours wouldn't fit anywhere else in this room)

Lucifer still pointed and patiently waited for your answer. You made a confirming humming sound after a while, so Lucifer slowly picked you up and carried you over to the couch.

Once you comfortably laid there, he began to play with your hair again, making you feel even more drowsy than before. This time however it was because of sleepiness. He even put the spare blanket over your body! "But...Work?", you whispered out into the silence. The only response you got from him was a kiss on the forehead, soothing you a bit and finally letting sleep take over you.

-------------------------------------------------------

A/n:

Did I use that same "prompt" in my very first post? Yes

Do I care? No

That was not supposed to be this personal, lol. I hope you enjoyed and have a good day/night! :D

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me non-agere

[starrypeeps]

I ship WILL and MIKE with this image (will as the flustered wreck and MIKE WHOS GAY YUH as the flirtatious but not jerky person)

(byler4life if you couldn’t tell..)

~ ~

“Mike?” Will whispered as he slowly turned his head to Mike’s side of the bed. “Are you awake?”

No response.

Will nearly jumped with joy when Mike didn’t respond. His guilty pleasure was pouring the milk before the cereal, but Mike didn’t approve of that and thought very negatively of how Will made his cereal.

So for about three weeks, Will had been waking up at around 3am to make his cereal the way he wanted to. Mike always questioned why Will wasn’t as hungry for breakfast as he usually was, but he just used the excuse that he just didn’t feel like eating as much anymore.

Will slowly rolled out of bed, making sure to tiptoe to not wake Mike up. It was pretty cold, Will’s arm hairs standing up as if they were waking up with him.

The steps down the stairs were annoyingly louder than usual, but he managed to get to the kitchen with as much limited noise as possible.

“Jesus Christ,” Will whispered as he opened the fridge door with lots of noise. “stop making so much noise!”

“Agreed. I tried to stay asleep but you were too loud to pretend.” Will slammed the fridge door in surprise, whipping around to see a tired Mike with dropping eyelids.

I wish I could see his pretty eyes.

“M-Mike!” He stammered, back against the wall as he hurriedly tried to come up with a reasonable excuse.

“Will.” Mike blinked tiredly at Will, head slightly tilted with a questioning expression. “Why are you always up so early?”

“W-what? Always?” Will glanced around desperately still trying to find an excuse.

“Yeah. For the last 3 weeks or so you’ve been waking up really early and going downstairs.” Mike was more awake now, eyes blinking slowly as he took in the bright light of the kitchen. “Is there something you’re hiding from me?”

Mike took a step closer to Will, unnoticeably cornering him. “N-no, Mike. Just go back to bed, I’ll come with you.” Will was trying to get out of this situation and failing.

“Will, I won’t judge. Please just tell me.” The gap between Mike and Will had suddenly closed up to as little as a hand’s width.

Will froze as Mike‘s eyes stared straight into his.Mike’s left hand reached over Will’s right shoulder, body weight supported by his arm as he leaned almost onto Will.

Will could feel warmth blossoming on his face and he looked down to his yellow fluffy slippers so Mike wouldn’t notice.

“Nothing.” Will murmured, desperately trying not to turn completely red like a ripe tomato.

What happened next completely shocked Will, making his jaw fall to the floor.

Mike tucked his right hand under Will’s chin and his lifted his face up, forcing Will to look only at him.

“Will, I’ll kiss you if you tell me.”

what…?

“I-I.. Mike?” Will eyes unfocused, seeing a blurry version of the boy he secretly loved.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Did I overstep?” Mike jerked back, taking a step backwards and withdrawing his hands to his sides awkwardly.

He stared down to the ground, looking quite anxious at what he did.

Will took a step forward and put his shaking hands on Mike’s drooping shoulders, his face really close to the other’s.

“Mike.” Will whispered, a slight smile forming on his face.

“W-Will..?” Mike murmured softly, eyes lifting up to glance at Will’s face.

“I love you.”

“I-I thought I overstepped?” Mike whispered, their foreheads touching.

“No, it just gave me a little push to tell you.” Will reassured, pushing their bodies closer together.

“I l-love you too, Will.”

Will gently kissed Mike’s slightly chapped lips, tasting a faint flavour of the cheap cherry lipbalm Mike always bought instead of the good quality ones.

Mike deepened the kiss, arms reaching up from his sides to gently grasp at Will’s soft brown locks.

“What conditioner do you use?” Mike asked, a joyful smile on his blushing face.

“Mike!” Will groaned, digging his face into Mike’s shoulders. “You ruined it!”

“Sorry. Will you tell me what you were doing now?” Mike asked.

“I.. I woke up early to pour the milk before the cereal..” Will admitted quietly, feeling Mike suddenly tense up.

“WILL YOU PSYCHOPATH, YOU ALWAYS POUR THE CEREAL FIRST AND THEN THE MILK!” Mike exclaimed, hiding a smile.

“Do you still love me?” Will made sure to add a tone of sadness in his voice, his mouth twitching as he fought to keep a smile from forming.

“Of course I still love you, Will.” Mike pulled Will impossibly closer. “Do you still love me?”

“I’ll always love you, Mike.”

~ ~

yuh i was just bored and i <3 bylerrr so much

mileven = 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🙄 heheh

Word Count: 751 words yuhhhh

#byler fanfic #fanfic #stranger things #gay kiss

[hopepaigeturner]

Bridgerton appreciaiton week: Day 5

Day 5: Favourite episode & colours

2x03: Bee in Your Bonnet.

Honestly adore this episode for so many reasons—ofcourse Pall Mall must be mentioned. So, here’s a little something—the significance behind the sibling’s mallet preferences. (mix of book and show, done chronologically)

*~*~*~*~*

BLACK: ANTHONY

Summer 1792

“Here Anthony, take this one.”

The eight-year-old stared, wide-eyed as his father handed him the black mallet—the grip rough from years of being fashioned to his father’s winning grip. Reverently Anthony took it and, with a solemnity years greater than his small stature, lined up to the wicket.

That was the first game of Pall Mall Anthony won—and not his last.

PURPLE: BENEDICT

Summer 1794

“Mother why do you not play?” Benedict asked as his mother reclined under the canopy with two babies of various ages sprawled around her.

“Oh, I used to, but since having all of you I have not had the time! Or the arms.” As if to illustrate her point, Daphne crawled into her lap.

“That’s a shame.”

“Truly, my dear, I do not mind.” His mother lifted Daphne into the air, a bright smile mirroring Daphne’s delighted giggles.

“Which was your mallet?”

“The purple one—or Violet one as your father used to call it…” his mother’s eyes got that unfocused look in them, as it always did whenever she dwelled upon their father. “It is a little sad that it has been forgot for so long…”

Benedict scrunched his brow, looking at the collection of sticks.

“I can fix that.”

He ran over and pulled the purple mallet out and ran back to her. “I shall play it always, then it is as if you are playing as well.”

He gave her his best beam and was rewarded with one of her own.

“Oh, my lovely Benedict,” Violet kissed his brow, “I do love you so.” Benedict’s chest swelled. “Now go, my brave paladin—go secure our victory!”

Every game since, Benedict takes a moment’s pause to bow to his mother, violet mallet in hand, much to her amusement.

GREEN: DAPHNE

Summer 1800

“I want to play.”

“You cannot play.”

“I wish to play!” Daphne cried at Colin, crossing her arms.

“You are far too young to play,” Colin huffed, picking up the red mallet. “And this is a boy-only game.”

“You can play next time, Daph,” Benedict placated, resting on his violet mallet, “we have been planning this for days.”

“Just because I am a girl does not mean I cannot play. I shall tell mother!”

“Daph, Daph,” Benedict rushed forward. “We must not disturb mother, she is resting.”

Indeed, their net sibling was due in mere weeks.

“Look Daph, if you can find the green mallet, I shall let you play.” Anthony offered, sharing a smirk with Colin. “Careful, the last time we saw it was over there,” he gestured to the dense shrubbery at th edge fo the lawn. “It has been a whole year since it was last seen. Good luck.”

“Anthony—” Benedict sighed.

“Deal.” Daphne turned on her heel and strode off.

*~*~*~*

Colin just missed Anthony’s ball. Anthony crooned and walked over to his ball, perfectly positioned for a shot through the final wicket.

Suddenly a green ball smacked into Anthony’s, sending it rolling down the hill.

The brothers looked up to find Daphne, ripped dress and twigs in her hair, smirking.

Unfortunately, that was not the last time the brother underestimated Daphne at Pall Mall—nor the last time they paid for such ignorance.

YELLOW: COLIN (ofc)

Summer 1805

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to stay with you Pen?” Eloise asked a bandaged Penelope. The girls had accidentally fallen out of a tree the day prior.

Colin commended his sister. All could see that she was practically raring to sprint onto the Pall Mall pitch.

“No, no. I do not mind watching—I fear I would be no good.”

“Nonsense—Benedict still plays.”

“Hey!”

“Are you sure?” Eloise asked once more.

“Absolutely El, do not let me spoil your fun.” Regardless, Penelope looked rather forlorn as Eloise grabbed her red mallet.

That would not do.

Colin always liked making his little sister’s friend smile or laugh—he liked Penelope’s laugh.

“Come on Colin—grab a mallet.”

Colin took one last glance at Penelope.

“In honour of our guests then…” he whipped the mallet out with a flourish. “I shall pick yellow.” He winked at Penelope and Penelope giggled.

Yes, he did like Penelope Featherington’s laugh.

RED: ELOISE

Summer 1806

“No, I do not want it.”

“You can have it next time we play Francesca,” Daphne tried to placate.

“But I wanted the blue. Orange is an ugly colour.” Francesca cried, all eight years of insolence bursting out of her.

“Red can be a very lovely colour, Frannie,” Colin said twisting his favourite yellow mallet in his hand.

“No—it is monstrous!”

“Francesca!” Daphne cried. Francesca’s eyes widened when she took in little Penelope, two steps behind Eloise, twirling a red-orange curl between her fingers.

Eloise’s eyes narrowed and a flush of feeling welled through her.

“Give it here,” she snatched the mallet out of Francesca’s hand. “I want the red one. I think orange is a lovely colour—like fire! And fire is fun and very pretty.”

Eloise gave her family a resolute expression, when no one complained she gave Penelope a small smile. Penelope returned it.

Later when Eloise was only third—third, a record! —Penelope came up to her.

“You did not need to do that,” she whispered.

Eloise took a moment, remembering how they had spent their first afternoon together dreaming up an adventure with female pirates while laying on the nursery floor. Their place of dreams and worries.

“Nonsense, I meant every word. Your hair matches your spark Penelope—the spark we share. Just think of all the things we are to do!”

She hooked her arm around Penelope’s and squeezed.

No matter what they used their spark for, Eloise knew the pair of them would always be side by side—nothing would ever break that.

ORANGE: HYACINTH

Summer 1815

“Why do you always lose at Pall Mall?” Hyacinth asked her favourite, and only, brother-in-law.

Simon sighed and smiled ruefully at her.

“It seems I have not got the skill. Perhaps you Bridgertons have an inherent knack for this game, one passed over the generations.”

“But you married Daphne, so you are a Bridgerton.”

Hyacinth didn’t notice Simon touched expression.

“W-well…why do you not play Miss Hyacinth?”

He always called her that and it made her feel ever so proper.

“Apparently, I am not old enough.” She stuck her tongue out at her family spread across the lawn. “Their loss, for I shall have years of analysing their tactics, ready for the day I step froward and knock all their balls the lake!”

Simon chuckled at her fervour.

“Hmm, say Miss Hyacinth. Perhaps you could practice,” he gestured to his orange mallet.

“It is against the rule to collaborate among players.”

“But you are not a player, Miss Hyacinth, as you said, you are a spectator.”

Hyacinth beamed at the twinkle in his eye and grabbed the mallet, surveying the field.

“So, teammate—what is your move?”

Hyacinth’s eyes landed on Benedict’s ball causing her to grin.

“Chaos,” Hyacinth whispered.

BLUE: FRANCESCA

Summer 1824

Typically, Francesca did not make a fuss. Eloise never returning her book? Fine. Daphne borrowing her ribbon and losing it? Fine. Being ignored by her elder brothers whenever they went riding? She could live with that.

But the blue Pall Mall mallet was hers.

No one knew why. But gradually they had accepted it—after all, Francesca never quarrelled too hard for anything else.

One night, when the guilt of lying in Michael’s arms was swamped by the utter bliss of fitting into his embrace, she told Michael the truth.

The day before her father’s death the family had played Pall Mall. In that match she had held the blue mallet, while her father directed her shots, hands gently adjusting hers as warm as his words of encouragement.

That had been the first Pall Mall game she ever played.

PINK: GREGORY

Summer 1827

Unlike his siblings, Gregory never had the chance to pick a favourite mallet. More often than not he would be left with the pink mallet—much to his chagrin and Hyacinth’s delight. Consequently, he always blamed the mallet for his lack of Pall Mall wins or tried to bargain with anyone to swap.

Until finally, fate aligns, and he grabs the black mallet. (It does help that half his siblings are sequestered with their various spouses around the country). And he does so right in front of the beautiful Hermione. The pink mallet lands in Lucy Abernathy’s hand—the colour suiting her.

That is—until she starts playing…ridiculously well. The pair bicker around the entire course, giving each other pointed glares or smiles of triumph whenever the other inches ahead.  

Gregory barely looks at Hermione.

Nor does he find himself sulking when Lucy beats him at the final post. Because, for a moment, when Lucy seems to be lit from within, holding the pink mallet proudly above her head—his heart flutters.

#bridgertonweek2022 #dailybridgerton #bridgerton family #pall mall #is this a drabble? #a ficlet? #headcanon? #idk anymore #hope you enjoy it regardless :)

[enoshima-division]

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”

Introduction

Fumio Shimizu, also known as Dissector in rap battles, is the third member of Solar Siren. The cowardly childhood friend of Yudai who gets dragged into his shenanigans a lot, much to Fumio’s dismay. His meek demeanor makes it easy for others to pick on him, so he joined the tournament in hopes of becoming more courageous.

Biographical Information

Name: Fumio Shimizu / Shimizu Fumio

Fumio (史生) - “Living history.”

Shimizu (清水) - “Pure water.”

Aliases:

Vidar - Danish name

‘Mio

Guppy

My love / husband

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Birthday: May 26th

Star Sign: Gemini

Ethnicity: Half-Japanese, Half-Danish

Hair Color: Yellow with blue streaks

Eye Color: Green

Height: 176cm / 5’9”

Weight: 155 lbs / 70kg

Piercings: Shell earring on his right ear.

Markings: None really.

Family:

Unnamed father (Alive)

Unnamed mother (Alive)

Unnamed grandfather (Alive)

Fun Facts

MC Name: Dissector

Occupation: Botanist at the Samuel Cocking Garden

Division: Enoshima

Team: Solar Siren

Position: Third Member

Favorite Food: Danish pastry, specifically cookies. He likes most sea food too.

Least Favorite Food: Oysters

Likes: Lo-fi music, flowers, treasure / jewelry, and the number 35.

Dislikes: Horror, large bodies of water, and getting dragged to abandoned places by Yudai.

Appearance

Fumio is a slightly tall young man with pale skin and a petite build, being rather scrawny compared to his more athletic teammates. There’s a permanent pink blush on his cheeks at all times. His blonde hair reaches a little bit past his neck, and there’s a few blue streaks in there; it’s usually covering one of his green eyes. On his right ear is a pearl earring with a light purple clamshell attached to it.

Fumios head is usually covered by the beige garden hat that he wears. He’s normally wearing a light yellow rolled-up sweater and green overalls, with dark blue tennis shoes. His gardening gloves are a light green too.

Personality

Fumio is a bashful, shy man who usually keeps to himself, quietly minding his own business. When interacting with others, he’s very polite though a bit awkward. He’s often the voice of reason to his more outgoing teammates, constantly needing to apologize for whatever trouble they’re causing. Fumio’s a “cute brother figure” according to others.

To say Fumio is cowardly would be an understatement; he is jumpy about everything—Fumio flinches when he sees something even slightly move. He gets scared so easily that it’s actually become concerning instead of funny. Luckily, in times of actual danger he pushes himself to be more brave!

Fumio is quite uncomfortable around older women though; specifically the ones that are rather motherly, as they remind him of his own mom. That’s not a good thing. When he’s uncomfortable he becomes even more quieter than he already is, and tries to look everywhere except the person who’s making him uneasy. Whatever happened in the past really affected him huh…

Hypnosis Mic

Fumio’s mic takes the form of a yellow and blue flower, just like his hair, that’s bloomed enough just to envelop the mic grill.

His speakers take the form of a greenhouse with a giant bright speaker hanging from the ceiling, acting as a “sun” or “moon”.

His rap ability is Snip, which allows him to “cut” his opponent’s words in half, making it non-effective. There’s no limit on how much he can use it per say, but it does have a one minute cooldown. However, this ability affects his mentality; the more that he uses it, the more that he becomes drowsy and unfocused, thus making his lyrics weaker as well.

Trivia

As mentioned in the opening post, Fumio is also a TWST OC who’s twisted from Flounder.

His birthday is the release date of the upcoming 2023 Little Mermaid film.

His quote is from Audrey Hepburn.

He’s left handed.

He was born in Esbjerg, Denmark, but lived in Copenhagen for most of his childhood.

He considers 35 his lucky number which is why he likes it so much.

Despite being scared of horror, there are a few horror films that he can actually watch…Because he cries instead of screams.

He has extreme thalassophobia since he ironically can’t swim. Also his mother attempted to drown him once in a lake so there’s that.

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #enoshima division #solar siren #fumio shimizu #oc profile

[libraryduck]

First Biology Class

Eden at this point regrets his choice in classes.

He has been in this class for less than ten minutes, yet he feels like he’s missed ten classes.

Maybe it was the constant chatter and tip tapping of the students around him but he could not focus.

Every word that Professor Engle speaks seems to wax his ears to the point his next words just slip through his mind.

All he could latch onto was occult and colour.

Now that he thinks of it, the oppressive humidity of the room was not helping, or was that his body was heating up. 

Now he has shivers down his back, what was wrong with him today?

Fiddling with the size to big, maroon jumper he wore, Eden could swear that his lecturer was side-eyeing him as he drew a diagram of a human body.

‘Eden, which protein affects a person's hair colour?’ 

The words seem to infiltrate all his thoughts, dipping their spindly fingers between the pink ridges of his brain, entracing his every thought when moments before they slipped right on by.

‘Melanin, Professor?’ Eden was confused, why would a professor ask such a simple question - he could swear that Professor Engle was discussing something else only a moment before. 

‘Please Eden,’ Professor Engle began, his every word punctuated by a slight pause, ‘just Eugene, we are all friends here and since you seem able to listen while fiddling with that crime against humanity you call a jumper,’ his words took on a sickly sweat quality as he strode towards Eden, ‘what was the first major scientific discovery in the field of the Occult in reference to Biology?’

Eden knew the answer, his dad told him the tale many times of how a doctor back in the Roman Empire noticed that people with orange hair had a strong leaning towards the fire occult, but the answer stuck to the tip of his tongue.

Eden’s mouth muscles felt like molasses, the spindly things that had invaded his mind seemed to pull upon his conscious as Professor Engle stepped up to Eden’s desk and leaned forward, coming to be eye level with Eden.

Eden’s focus and last remaining brain power seemed to focus on his teacher's greasy features. 

‘Bright yellow pores covered his face which seemed to be unnaturally even aside from his bent nose, beady, soulless eyes accompanied by a sly grin were framed with thin wisps of hair framed. He could swear that Mr Engle was related more closely to a toad than to a human.’

‘Thank you Eden for such a glowing review - see me after class as you seem to be unfocused at the second - but the correct answer was that discover that melanin, specifically the strand that is involved with one's hair colour, is closely tied to what occult they are destined to be involved with.’ 

Eden balked, not so much at describing his teachers surprising ugly face, but at not answering his lectures question. What was worse was that he could not remove the image of those beady eyes staring into his being.

Eden decided that he should scratch out just regretting, something like hates now fits better.

#feedback welcome #writing #biology is bull #writing on tumblr #late night ideas #feedback needed #orignal writing #look at first post for more details on what this is about

[aenslem]

Doctor Who: The Ghost Monument

#dwedit #doctor who #jodie whittaker #bbelcher #userstream #tvandfilm #cinemapix #timelordgifs #jodiewhittakeredit #sd* #mine* #why it's so unfocused yellow and bright? #i deserve a cookie for even trying to color this season