#; anyway if you need permission from someone i’m happy to tell you: go take a break from your pc if you need it.

[astracora]

Happy Newdawn Day!

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (featuring Nero, Tara, Simone, Greyson, Yvonne, Jeremiah, Thomas and Caleb (mention only))

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5797

Written: 1st January 2025

Notes: Established relationship with gn!MC (using Cat Curse MC) with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm so sorry this got away from me so much I feel baffled by it. I just had to get it down, it's so messy and not beta-read, but I love them all so much. (I'm also sorry for the ending, I got possessed by Caleb's not-ghost). So enjoy... the first actual fic I've written for the Poly!LADs and not just smaus... Now I need to eat.

Masterlist AO3

If someone asked you right now, “Hey, a year ago did you think you’d be stood here?”

Well, you’d have given some incredulous notion of being alive, let alone stood in one of Linkon’s Parks, taking in the sight of your loved ones.

Most of them, anyway.

If, upon meeting Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus and Zayne (again), someone had said, “Hey in a years time they will be the most important people to you.” You’d have laughed in their face. The idea as absurd as it is invigorating… because they are. The most important people in the world to you. The companions you trust to have your back in combat, the people you want to see most when you wake up, the lives you most want to share.

You think back to a hazy childhood, told your heart could give out any minute. A timeline unknown, the nature of your condition hard to track. The core in your chest, a question no one had the answer to. Giving up on a future, on meaning anything.

You think back to days spent in the hospital, for your heart, for injuries gained from fights that even Caleb couldn’t help piece back together, for the arm you lost. Wondering if you were going to hit the wall eventually.

When you lost Caleb, your partner in crime, and rock, you’d expected the tides to rise. Sinking you.

It was folly to misjudge those around you. Kindness, warmth and love, with some degree of greed. Of course they’d grabbed your hand, pulling you back to land. Wrapping you in a towel, bringing you to heat, keeping you shielded against the chill.

The wounds healed, though they left scars behind, but you could breathe again. 

That troublesome little heart beating harder, hope as a lifeblood. Bringing you forward, keeping you moving.

All the way to a new year.

Between the five of you, the gathering had bloomed out for Newdawn Day.

You’re not sure how Rafayel and Sylus had gotten permission to rent out an entire park. Money had to be involved, you also wouldn’t be surprised if threats came into play too. Though you hope not.

You’d been decorating all morning. Flowers, bunting, balloons. Tables set up with food, drinks and an entire section set up with photobooth equipment and props. After all, you’d spent far too much of this year taking photos, what better way to commemorate the end of it.

Xavie’s barbeque has reopened, with Sylus keeping a watchful eye… or being an interference. It was hard to tell.

Rafayel has taken to making drinks, you weren’t sure where he learned how to mix cocktails, but you’re happy to leave him to it. Watching as he makes non-alcoholic ones for Zayne as well.

You sit with Tara and Simone, watching the people around you.

“I can’t believe we’ve been hunters for a year now.” Tara nudges you, grin on her face. Her cheeks are slightly pink, eyes glittering as she leans her head on your shoulder. “I’m so glad we joined together.”

The fidgeting in your chest is ticklish, and you let out a soft laugh under breathe, “Yeah, me too Tay.”

Simone leans back in her chair, stretching her arms out behind her, as she balances on the back two legs, “We’ve been really busy, I bet it’ll get worse too.”

Tara groans, “Come on Omi…”

A bark of laughter is the response as she rights her chair, leaning forwards, “Hey, it’s fine, we’ll be working at it together.” Poking Tara in the forehead, she laughs again.

As she rubs the offending spot, Tara looks over at where Nero is chatting to Xavier, “Can’t believe Nero came, he doesn’t really enjoy these kind of things.”

“Yeah, no offence but I think he likes Wanderers more than us.”

You laugh, it’s not incorrect. You think about meeting Nero, about the shy man who is a living encyclopedia about wanderers, who could talk for hours about Lumiere. You also think about how isolating it is not to share things you enjoy with others, not knowing how to approach people because they think you’re weird.

Odd.

Not fitting in.

You think about how the first time you’d engaged with Nero’s conversation, his eyes had lit up and he’d leaned forwards so far in his chair he’d fallen out of it.

You think about how he attached himself to Xavier, just because the man listened, calm, even if he didn’t always have much to say in response.

Didn’t make him feel like an outsider.

Pride fills your chest even though Xavier’s personality has little to do with you. You still find yourself loving him more for his warmth. His acceptance.

The sleepy smile on his face when he assures someone he has no problems hearing them.

“There’s no Lumiere specials running today,” Simone is talking, looking at her phone, “maybe the size of the gathering and that mixed together to make a Nero appearance.”

“Plus, Xavier.”

“We should have invited Jenna!” Tara exclaimed, grabbing your arm, pulling it. You think that maybe Raffy put a little too much rum in her daiquiri.

“Do you think she would have even come?”

You think about Sylus over by the grill, arms folded and canines on show in his smirk, “I think maybe next time, I’m sure we can invite her next time.”

When the stress of having hunters in the same area as Sylus isn’t quite so high, when you’re not constantly worried about tripping up with his name. When you don’t have to sit and debate if inviting him is worth the risk, despite loving him and wanting him there. Wanting to see him outside of his world of violence and strain.

You’re not sure how much Jenna knows, but it’s not worth pushing a brick in an old wall.

“You should check on those kids though.” Simone reaches over to turn your head, to where to twins are milling around by the dessert table. You can see them fidgeting. Hand twisting in their hoodie pockets. “Either they really want some cake, or they’re uncomfortable.”

You are standing before she’s even finished talking, worry twisting at you like a snake around your chest.

Tara releases your arm and nudges you forwards, grin on her face, “It’s Simone’s turn to get drinks anyway.”

The woman laughs, twisting the end of her ponytail around her finger, “They’re free, this is the easiest set of rounds I’ve ever had to get.”

Your laugh is soft, and warm, and so heavy in your heart, but you lean down to kiss the top of Tara’s head as she smiles so happily up at you, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See ya bestie!”

Simone returns the salute you offer, and you let your feet carry you to the twins.

They’re wearing their crow hoodies again, but with party hats over the hoods. Kieran’s scars are visible, his hood pushed back so you can see his eyes. They’re wavering, unsure. Darting around the place. It’s less controlled, but he looks so much like Sylus does that you pause.

Worried. They’re worried.

Of course they are, there’s hunters here, people who pose some… degree of threat to the person they care most about, other than each other.

Luke is fidgeting, bouncing on the heels of his feet, like he doesn’t know where to put all the pent up energy. You can tell the two are in a feedback loop. Feeding off each others anxieties.

As you approach, they seem to halt, for a moment. Looking at each other, then at the cakes, then at you. Seconds, and then Luke forces a grin. “Hey Hunter!”

Your head tilts as you watch them, Luke pushing his hood back a little so he can look at you properly.

“You’re wearing them again?” It’s an easier question, than the one you want to ask.

“Of course! They’re comfy.”

“Boss keeps pulling them off us to wash them.” Kieran pouts at you, the expression pulling at the scar over his cheek, “Aren’t clothes meant to be worn?”

It’s hard not to laugh at them, they remind you of kids far younger than they are sometimes. Other times the darkness lingering in their gaze is reminiscent of one you’ve seen in your own. In Sylus’… In Rafayel��s.

There’s a sickening in your stomach, that you have to move on from quickly, lest it start to burn like acid.

“You have to take care of them, clean them, and they’ll last longer.”

Kieran rubs his chin, and the laugh comes out this time. They really have picked up so many traits from Sylus.

It gives you some courage, to focus on their expressions, and force through the feeling that always comes, “Are you two ok? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Luke blinks, fidgeting stopping, and droops, “No.”

Kieran nudges him, “He means, no we’re fine.”

“You don’t have to lie.” You move to the table, and despite knowing they haven’t eaten a proper meal yet, you slice some sponge cake and shove it into their hands on little paper plates. “Eat.”

You feel like Zayne is in front of you for a moment.

Eat, then talk about how you’re feeling.

You’re not sure the cake fixes the feeling of struggling through your feelings, but you do know that the distraction of sugar, gives you a moment to ground on something real. Tangible.

The twins take the plates, looking down at them, and then back up at you.

“You don’t have to stay, anywhere you don’t want to be. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to pretend, or lie, or act a certain way.”

You’re relieved when they take the plates, even happier when Luke shoves some in his mouth. He doesn’t bother with the fork, just grabs it. Kieran pokes at it for a moment, before following in his brother’s footsteps.

“There’s a lot of people.” Kieran finally speaks, twisting his fork in the sponge.

“You can borrow my noise cancelling headphones if you like? I’m sure Zayne has his too.”

Luke shakes his head, “Not like that. Too many possible threats.” He winces, “Sorry, they’re your friends.”

You sit on the table, carefully avoiding cake as you look at the two, “They’re my friends, they’re strangers to you. It’s alright.”

“We just feel weird. On edge.”

“Do you want to go back to the base, somewhere safer? Or home?”

The two shake their heads in sync, frowning more, “No. We want to be here. With boss. To celebrate.”

“So how can I help?”

The expression they shoot back is another you’ve seen on Sylus’ face. But their eyes are wider as they blink at you, their faces younger. Their cheeks softer. You wonder, for a moment, if this is what having brothers would make you feel like.

“If you want to stay,” You clarify, “what can be done to make you feel better here?”

They look at each other, hesitating on the precipice. You wonder if they fear revealing too much, like you are. Showing too much of your heart is a risk. It comes with the very real fear of stumbling over the edge, with no net to catch you.

It comes with your chest flayed open, fragile organ revealed, ready for the risk of a knife… or a hand, no matter how gentle.

“We don’t know.”

“Can we think about it?”

You nod, hopping off the table, “You come find me the second you work it out, or go bother Sylus. I’m sure Xavier would appreciate the break from his probable torment.”

They laugh, and you watch for a moment as they resume eating their cake. Some level of buoyancy back in their stances. The relief settles… It’s something at least.

A door they can walk through at any moment.

The smell of grilling meat and vegetables has you drifting over to Xavie’s Barbecue. You’re relieved that Sylus has been keeping an eye over it, because there’s no smell of burning, and Xavier’s successfully making an array of food for everyone.

You didn’t want to think about how much food wastage there would be otherwise…

Nero is talking animatedly, gesturing as Xavier nods. Sylus is half paying attention, smirking at the prince every now and then. He notices you first though, hearing your footsteps even over the grass.

Sharp red eyes, turning molten and liquid as his gaze focuses on your approach. “Ah, there you are kitten.” Is said on an exhale. You’d think it was relief, with the way he breathes you in as you stand next to him and Xavi.

Xavier uses the hand not currently turning burgers, to hold onto yours, squeezing before releasing.

With his chin resting on your shoulder, Sylus indicates towards Nero with a half-hearted wave, “The Lumiere fan was just telling us some new stories.” You can hear his amusement. Clearly enjoying the situation.

The look on Nero’s face, however, is thrilled. You’re used to spending time talking to him, but the glee you see is always somewhere on the verge of scary, and sweet. “I heard that Lumiere took on an Arbiterwing. ALONE!”

You feel ice drip down your spine, and your eyes pin Xavier. Who jumps, almost dropping his tongs.

A chuckle sounds in your ear, as a hand grabs your waist, thumb soothing under your shirt to help ease down your hackles.

“Oh you did, huh? All on his own?”

“Yeah, how cool right? Lumiere’s EVOL is so powerful.”

If you had your fangs still, you think they’d be showing, as your try not to outwardly glare at the hero in question, “So cool. I bet he’s a really impressive person. Lumiere, that is.”

This time Xavier pouts, and you see the light blush moving over his cheeks. He looks over at you, brows furrowing.

“I wonder how his loved ones must feel though, finding out he fought such a terrifying beast on his own.”

Now he has the decency to look guilty, like a sad bunny, ears drooping. You almost feel bad, almost. Wanting to soothe skin in your hands, before you remember he’s the one out there fighting wanderers you’d had to fight with a team, on his own. “I’m sure he was careful.” Xavier grumbles, pleading beautiful starry eyes focused on you.

“Foods burning, prince.” Sylus purrs from his place leaning against your shoulder.

The man in question jumps, and resumes his work.

Nero still has starry admirable eyes, not paying attention to your and Xavier’s starring, “It’s a shame he’s not a hunter, imagine how much more he could do in a team of us!”

You look away from Xavier, whose shoulders relax a bit when you stop spearing him with your eyes, and laugh, “Would be helpful having him around, right?”

Tara and Simone call over Nero, yelling for him to join them. You almost expect him to turn them down, but he seems buoyed by his conversations with Xavier, and trots over to join them.

One you’re alone, you turn around to look at Xavier properly, “Really? An Arbiterwing?”

Sylus growls a little, “Damn things.” You’ve never asked Sylus why he finds Arbiters so difficult, you remember fighting one with him in the N109 Zone, and you certainly didn’t want to fight one again if you could ever help it. Still he seems particularly irritable about them.

“I promise I was careful. I didn’t have time to call for anyone else.” He places a hand on the your cheek and presses a kid to your forehead, pleading eyes bright and beautiful. You sigh, tugging him down a little, planting a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks flare bright, and his fingers twitch against your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You poke him in the chest now, “I’ll hold you to that, oh great hero.”

His groan is accompanied by yours and Sylus’ laugh. Who nuzzles against your shoulder, as he watches Xavier plating food.

“My job is done, nothing’s burned down.” He nips at your neck, “I think your favourite crow deserves praise.”

You mimic him, rubbing your chin with one hand, and titling your head, “Is Mephie around? I thought he had the day off.”

Another nip, this one a little harder, but not painful, “You’re cruel, kitten.” His hands are now both under your shirt, kneading your skin, warm palms sending small skitters of heat up and down your spine, “I worked hard, keeping the prince from destroying everything with his curse.”

“I’m not cursed.” Xavier spits back, “Some things just… don’t like working for me.”

“The burned down kitchen back at the base, certainly felt cursed.”

“It was your ovens fault.”

“Whatever you say, bunny.”

Your hand reaches up to tangle in Sylus’ soft hair as the two snipe at each other, easing through the strands and pulling his head in a way you can kiss him. He bites your bottom lip, and as you pull away, drowsily tries to chase your lips with his. Purring at the scratching at the back of his head. “You did good, both of you. Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer, just purrs and growls as he nuzzles, and inhales.

Xavier’s smile brightens, pride in his countenance as he nods, “Of course Starlight, whatever you need.”

“Take some grilled fish over to the fish, kitten.” Sylus finally breaks out of his daze, lifting himself up to grab a plate for Rafayel, that is being pilled with his favourites. “He’s been making drinks all day, I worry he’ll fall over soon.”

There’s something funny about the leader of Onychinus making sure Raffy is well fed, because he’d deny he was doing it. Pretend it was just to keep things moving smoothly, a measure to make the day easier to deal with.

Rather than what it actually is, concern for someone he cares about.

For a man so honest with his feelings, he prefers to hide them in smokescreens.

With a final kiss, one pressed to Xavier’s hand, and one to Sylus’ forehead, you leave with the plate.

When you approach Rafayel, he’s making a new drink for Yvonne and Greyson. It has gummy bears sprinkled on top, and a tiny little umbrella stuck in some pineapple. Greyson’s cheeks are very bright red, and you’re not surprised that he’s leaning heavily on Yvonne’s shoulder for balance.

“For you.” You offer the plate to Raffy, who sniffs at it happily, before stuffing a piece of salmon in his mouth.

“Cutie!” He speaks through chewing, pulling you down to join him at his makeshift bar. You grimace, staring at the sticky surface, and the mess he’s made.

Raffy is many things, a clean worker is not at all one of them.

You pull your arms back quickly to not get a horrifying sensory issue.

Your fish doesn’t notice, instead shaking a mixer in one hand, as he eats with the other. Even just looking at him, you can see the blush on his ears, and the slight unsteadiness to his hands. “Let me do that.” You take the mixer, “Eat.” He obliges, frowning only a little bit before he happily begins to clear his plate. Humming in satisfaction.

Xavier is a capable cook, when there’s no active flames or risk of explosion.

“Hey hunter!” Greyson exclaims, leaning forwards, his drink spilling a little over the side. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Yvonne smiles, offering you a glass of… what you assume is a Piña colada based by the pineapple slice. You take it, placing it down in front of you as you shake the mixer. Handing it back to Raffy, as he finishes his food. “I’m shocked seeing Dr Li trying to set up fireworks.”

Your laugh is warm, and fond. Zayne builds such an image of himself around others, “He’s secretly a big child, under the snowy layers.”

“Dr Li checked his watch so many times today, we were all worried we might get an emergency come in.”

“I wasn’t looking to seeing him frown, if that would have happened.”

“He shows his feelings so easily now, when it comes to you all.”

It’s hard to fight the heat in your cheeks, but its true. He has softened so much, especially recently.

Another drink is put down, “For Tara.” Raffy says, “This one for Simone.”

You watch as Yvonne nods, picking them up and wandering off.

“You’ve gained bar staff.” You speak, watching as Raffy puts his mixers down, finished with his orders for now, you assume. “What a successful little bar, our fishie is running.”

He preens, fangs peeking out with his smile, “I’m good at everything I do cutie.”

“Where did you even learn?” Greyson asks, chewing one of the gummy bears.

Rafayel shrugs, “Just one of those things you pick up when you travel.”

Looking at him, you want to ask follow up questions… but Raffy won’t share if he doesn’t want to, there’s always a feeling like looking through murky water with him. There’s always something there, lurking under the surface, but so hard to make out. You have to wait for it to surface, wait for it to come to you.

Better than trying to fish it out, and hurting it.

“I’ll take some water bottles around to everyone in a little while.” You look over at where Tara, Simone, and now Yvonne, are singing to a song playing throughout the park. As Nero nods his head absently, sipping some water. “Though your drinks are certainly popular.”

“Gotta greet the new day in style, cutie.” His head plops down into his hand, elbow on the bar, as he watches you. Beautiful eyes narrowing. Reading every little detail, every change.

Being stared at by Rafayel is a sensation that makes your back straighten.

When he puts his focus on something, he’s picking it apart, seeing every part of it, so he can paint it. In the way his eyes see the world. As art, as a wonder, as something worth protecting.

Your fingers reach out, shaking slightly, without even being aware of it, and brush the hair, that’s fallen right in front of his eyes, back. His skin paints red further, spreading down his neck, and his eyes sparkle. You wish you could paint, you wish more than anything that this beautiful man was kept in a portrait to stare at every moment of the day.

It’s hard to not believe in gods, when someone as beautiful as him sits there, staring at you. Like you make the waves crash against the shores.

He turns his head to kiss the tips of your fingers, before placing the pulse point of your wrist against his cheek again. “It’s a good day to celebrate.” He breathes out.

The laugh to your side pulls you out of your stupor, as Greyson nods in agreement. You pull back a little, though Rafayel doesn’t release your hand, keeping it in his lap as the two of you turn to your companion.

“Is Zayne doing ok?” You ask Rafayel.

“He debated drinking, then remembered how many people would be here, and changed his mind.”

“He’s a stickler for being a good example.” Greyson adds, stirring his drink.

You wonder if it’s really that, and the big snowman is not just stewing and fearing his control. Tightly wound and kept under lock and key, just in case. Always watchful.

At the very least, as you look over at him reading instructions on a firework box, you think he is having fun at least. You can’t say the same for Jeremiah, who is hovering by the photobooth, looking through the album next to it.

Raffy kisses your hand again, smiling at you, “Go be your nosy self, cutie. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Or we’ll be playing spin the bottle much to Dr Li’s disappointment.”

You almost bark a laugh at Greyson, the mental image of Zayne playing spin the bottle or truth or dare, is such an image, you want to see it. Desperately. Pressing a kiss to the top of Raffy’s head as you stand, you wave at them both and head off.

“Sooo.” You poke your head over Jeremiah’s shoulder, who jumps. Looking at you like you’re a ghost. “Are you alright? Looking for any particular prop?”

It takes a moment before you think his brain starts working again, and he smiles… but its not a smile you’re used to seeing on Jeremiah’s face. You’ve seen it on Xavier’s face though. Sorrow lurking at the edges. Tired.

Maybe the passing of years for them both has a weight you’ll never understand.

“I’m alright, just… a lot of people. I haven’t been around this many in a long time.” He forces a laugh, “Silly right?”

You shake your head. You might have different reasons for struggling with crowds, but you refuse to let any of the people you’ve brought into your heart, think you are not a safe space for their concerns. “Not the first time I’ve heard that today. You’re fine.”

He’s got the album open on a photo of you, him and Xavier outside of Philos. Holding flowers in your arms.

It’s… a realisation that you’ve never seen Jeremiah with another person than Xavier. Like he’s become an island, with only Philos as his port.

So you change the page on the album, to some of Yvonne and Greyson. During the preparation for Zayne’s birthday. “We’ve taken so many photos this year.” It settles in your chest again, that thanks to your loved ones… you now have full albums, and many more to fill. “You should talk to Greyson, he likes sunflowers a lot.”

Jeremiah laughs, looking at you like you’re too obvious, “He’s a little drunk for that now.”

“When he sobers up then.” You huff, pushing the album into his arms, straightening the page out.

“I… I’ll try. It’s odd, seeing Xavier like this.”

“You can do it too, you know?”

There’s doubt in the mans eyes, you don’t want to look too close. It gives you a feeling like a fire that’s burned too long.

“Or you can just take some really stupid photos with me, wearing the worst hats we can find, and see how many we can take in under a minute.” It’s hard to look too close at someone’s emotions, you feel. Looking into someones eyes is painful, there are times you can manage it, and times you can’t.

You find some people’s gaze holds yours against your will, not violently, but powerfully. Rafayel and Sylus have eyes that pulling away from feels like tearing part of yourself out. Xavier and Zayne feel like staring into a tranquil pond, losing yourself.

Jeremiah’s right now are wavering on the edge of something, and you can’t keep looking at them, turning your head a little to look at the props on the table. You reach out, carefully picking up a pair of bunny ears, and place them carefully on his head.

“If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to… but if you’re scared and still want to try, then stay, and build bridges.”

You think about the men you’ve made your home, and the fear of overcoming the need to flee from them.

The house in ashes and cinders. The number that never texts you back anymore.

“As grumpy as Xavier asks, he’s there if you need him. Me too.”

Jeremiah reaches up to touch the bunny ears on his head, and smiles weakly, “I do need to get a drink.”

You nudge him, hand gently pushing the man forwards towards where Raffy is now spinning a mixer around his finger, to the thrilled cheers of Greyson and Tara, “Go on then, make it a good one.”

As he walks away, he waves at you a little, but is soon pulled to sitting down by a drunk doctor, and a happy hunter.

Your final stop is the fireworks, as Thomas and Zayne set them up somewhere safe. You’re glad its Zayne setting them up, as you worry Raffy would get excited and set them off too early.

If there’s a flame to put out, better the snowman, than the fish.

As you approach, Zayne looks up, and his forest eyes soften at the vision of you. Smile quirking cool lips. “Darling, have you enjoyed yourself?”

He’s warm, and familiar, and safe. Like a hearth. The irony of the cold skin, versus how heated he makes you feel, is something. As you take his extended hand, thumb brushing over your skin, you settle against his side while Thomas finishes up.

“It’s nice, seeing everyone.” You offer, “Seeing everyone moving forwards for the new year.” You trace the skin under his eyes with your fingertip, down to his mouth. He gasps a little, a puff of breath against the cool metal, before taking your wandering fingers in his own.

“Seeing some of you relaxed, is also quite pleasant.” You tease, bumping him with your hip. His laugh is a soft noise, that settles in your chest. Cool around your frantic heart.

“Our little family has behaved themselves, I haven’t had to put out any fires. It’s allowed for the relaxation.”

“You mother hen.”

Thomas stands up, brushing his hands on his trousers and grinning over at you, “Hey Mx Bodyguard. We’re all done here finally. Has Rafayel gotten everyone drunk yet?”

“He’s trying, I think his plan is going well, while we’re all unconscious he’ll achieve world domination.”

Zayne tenses, releasing your metal hand to rub at the space between his eyes, “The feeling of dread has returned.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some place for us in his new kingdom.”

“You’d make a good jester, Zayne.”

“It’s getting worse.” Your doctor frowns, tugging at your hand to glare unserious eyes at you as you fight the urge to laugh, the quirk to your lips too obvious to him.

Thomas extends the box of sparklers to you, “We can use these later, after watching the show.”

Zayne looks down at what they’ve worked on as the three of you move away, back to the party. He’s often hard to read, but you can see the nerves in him, the worry he hasn’t done it right. So you squeeze his cold hand in your warmer one, and lean against his shoulder, “It’ll be great. Even if the fireworks sputter, we’ll have memories.”

His worries soothe, and he smiles, “Have to take some photos for that album of yours.”

“‘Newdawn Day, we watched some very sad fireworks, then played games for hours’.” You poke him in the side using your joined hands.

“You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

Thomas laughs, “You’re just as bad as Rafayel then?”

“I am not.”

“When did you last get a full 7 hours, darling?” Zayne raises his brow, you want to grumble and argue, but he knows you too well. You rarely sleep well. You rarely get a good amount of sleep.

The nightmares are getting a little better, a little, but there’s never enough time to get rest in-between all the other things you need to do.

“No wonder whenever I check on you two in the studio, you look like two feral cats.”

“Hey, don’t let Raffy hear you call him a cat, he’ll sulk again.”

Zayne’s hand in yours, entwines your fingers, squeezing, loosening, squeezing again. Over and over again. Like he’s using your hand as a stim toy. Or perhaps he’s offering you a grounding physical sensation.

Either way, you squeeze back.

It’s dark now, and there are lanterns set around the area. It’s a vision. Everyone has gathered back in the centre, drinks in hands, sitting in the grass, staring up at the sky.

You can hear laughter, chatter and the occasional too loud voice calling out excitedly.

Jeremiah sits with Greyson, drinking, and chatting, while Yvonne, Tara and Simone have begun clinking glasses together before each sip. Nero is lay down next to the three pointing out stars to them, while Xavier adds additional trivia about the constellations. Thomas walks ahead to sit near where the twins are throwing food into each others mouths, and occasionally at the back of Sylus’ head. Who is holding back the urge to pick them up with his EVOL.

Raffy’s cheeks are bright red, but resting his head in Sylus’ lap, trying not to spill his drink down himself. Xavier is lay next to him, an eye-mask pushed to the top of his head, but now that his work is done, he looks close to drifting off.

Zayne hands you the little remote, that controls the final event of the evening, “When you’re ready.”

You tug his hand, pulling him with you into the little gathering of your partners and friends. Shoving yourself against the heat of Sylus’ side, who chuckles and wraps an arm around your shoulder, to flick a bit of Zayne’s hair out of his eyes. Before pulling you closer.

Then tug the doctor down next to you. You think you’re smiling. You’re pretty sure you are.

It’s more familiar on your face than it ever used to be, and it’s something you hope becomes as familiar as the heart stuttering in your chest.

“Ready?” You call out, to a cheer of assent, and with a single press of the button, and love surrounding you. The sky is lit up with blossoming flowers.

“Happy Newdawn day!”

There’s a moment of quiet, when you step away from the party, a sparkler in your hand. You spell out names as you walk further out, not too far that you can’t hear everyone, but far enough that no one needs to see the tears lurking in your eyes.

Newdawn reminds you of everything you’ve gained, and everything you’ve lost…

Pulling your phone out, you open his messages. Unread messages fill the screen. Reminding you he’s not there…

Still, you can’t help but send him another one. Maybe, somewhere he’ll hear you.

Maybe wherever he is, he’s happy.

When your sparkler is dead, and your messages sent, you take in a deep inhale. Clearing the shadows from your heart, and turn back to where twinkling lights summon you home. Eyes are turned to you, green, red, blue and pink, and you feel their gazes pulling you back. Where you belong, where you’re safe, no matter what else comes after you.

So you follow their call, like they’re a siren song, willingly and joyfully. Ready to follow them to the depths of the ocean if you have to.

And as you do, for a small moment, you feel the phone in your pocket vibrate.

🍎 partner in crime 🍎: Hey Pipsqueak. Happy Newdawn day.

[scarletwinterxx]

good graces - hong joshua imagine

who else was smiling the entire time while watching Joshua bake cookies??? 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️ istg i cant stop smiling whenever i see him, especially when i see happy joshua🥺

so now we're here😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It’s a rare occasion for you to be out and about after 7pm. You’re a homebody through and through, you like being at home and when the circumstances calls for it the latest you can stay out is 10pm. 

Joshua knows this so when you told him you were going out with your best friend, who also happens to be his best friend's fiance, he just told you to have fun and call him when he needs to come and pick you up. 

He’s the supportive type of boyfriend. Want to start a new hobby? He’ll be right beside you to join along. Want to stay at home all weekend? He’ll come and bring snacks. Want to wear something different for your date night? He’ll help you choose. He doesn’t care what type of clothes you want to wear, he’ll always say you look good in everything. If it’s cute, sexy, anything in between. Doesn’t matter if guys look your way, he can fight anyways. 

It’s been a couple hours since you left, the last text you sent him was an hour ago. A selfie with your best friend in the bathroom and a short message saying you’re kind of drunk now and he should come in an hour to pick you up. 

Now, an hour later he’s walking towards the bar you were at. He’s been waiting at the parking lot since you sent that picture, Seungcheol was also there waiting for his fiance.

He walks in right behind Seungcheol, the two of them quickly spotting their partners. Before he can come to you though, your best friend blocks him

“YAH HONG JOSHUA” 

“Hello to you too” Joshua laughs, clearly the two of you had fun tonight. Meanwhile Seunghceol stands on the side, watching the fun that’s about to unfold. 

“You better not make Y/N cry or else you have me to deal with, and Seungcheol but you should be scared of me mostly” she threatens Joshua, the two guys smiling. 

“I’ll make sure to stay in your good graces” he says. It’s nice to know you have a loyal friend who will pick your side no matter what, Joshua’s glad to know you have someone like that just like how his best friend's are to him. 

“Wouldn’t even dare to let one tear fall from her pretty eyes�� Joshua adds, laying a hand on his chest

“Damn right, do you know how lucky you are huh? How many guys she rejected before you came. She won’t even glance their way, she would literally send them daggers through her stare” your bestfriend tells him. Poking his chest to put emphasis on her words.

And she’s speaking only facts. Before Joshua, you wouldn’t even give anyone a chance. There was a permanent scowl etched on your face whenever a guy even dares to come close. Even Cheol was intimidated by you when he first met you. But to Joshua  it’s kind of hard to believe when you never looked at him any other way than with loving eyes. 

Right from the very start, the moment you met you were smiling at him. The very reason he knew he was in deep with you. It was like a movie slowmo moment when you first smiled at him, he saw his whole future with you flash before his eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m one lucky guy” he breathes out, looking at where you were sitting

“Yeah you are, now go get your girl!” she pushes him towards you, completely oblivious to what was happening since you’re pretty drunk now. 

Seungcheol pats his bestiriend on the back while getting his fiance’s purse on the table, “I’ll take care of this one. We’ll go wait for you outside” 

Joshua nods, waving a quick bye to the couple before turning his attention to you. 

“Hey, baby. You had fun?”

“Shuji??? Oh my gosh you’re hereeee” you squeal, standing up from your seat to tackle him with a hug which he gladly returns. Smiling at the nickname you love calling him

“I missed you” he mumbles in your ear, earning a giggle from you

“Noooo, I missed you more. Did you read my mind, is that why you’re here?”

You clearly had too many drinks tonight, you always get so chatty when you had a drink or two. Joshua finds that habit cute. He gives your cheeks a pinch before getting your purse from you and slinging it on him, one arm around you to steady you. 

“Mhm, knew you needed me so here I am” he answers your question as he guides you towards the entrance. Making a quick stop by the bar to pay for your drinks tonight, he takes out his card and quickly pays before walking outside. 

His car is parked right beside Seungcheol’s. The other couple are still there waiting for the two of you. 

“See you made it out alive, these two definitely had fun” Cheol says, looking at his fiance who is now passed out on the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, well we should head home. You guys get home safe”

“You too, see you”

The two guys get in their cars and drive away. 

Joshua looks over the passenger seat, you have your eyes closed while your hands were clutching his’. Even in your sleep you won’t let go of him. 

Another drunk habit of yours. You also tend to be more clingy when you’re drunk and somehow even in this state you can always tell it’s your boyfriend’s hand you’re holding and not someone else’s. 

When the two of you arrive at his place, he parks the car before getting out first to help you. He unbuckles your seatbelt before putting one arm under your knees and the other behind your back to carry you inside. He carefully makes his way inside, helps you on the bed before getting a change of clothes for you and him, and also gets your make-up wipes from the bathroom. 

He quickly changes his clothes so he can help you and when he’s done, he goes back outside the bedroom to get you water and medicine for later. 

After all of that he gets under the covers beside you. Instantly you scout over his side, laying your head on his chest. 

“Hey baby, thank you” He hears you mumble, eyes still closed

“For what, my darling?”

“Just… everything” you felt his lips on top of your head before he speaks again

“That’s what I’m here for, my love. I’m glad you had fun tonight”

“We should go on a date tomorrow” your words were slurring now, he knows the exhuastion and sleepiness will soon take over but you’re fighting it so you can talk to him. His hand on your back drawing random patterns is making you more sleepy.

“Sure thing, let’s go to that pottery store that just opened. But for now you need to sleep, baby”

“But I want to talk to you, I missed you” he can picture the pout you have on right now, feeling you tuck yourself closer to him. Your head under his chin and your hand splayed across his chest

“I’m gonna be right here when you open your eyes, we can continue this talk tomorrow. For now let’s sleep, mhm? I’m not going anywhere I promise?”

“Promise you’ll be here?”

He chuckles, hugging you even closer until there’s not an inch of space between your bodies. “Promise I’ll say with you, forever and ever”

“Sounds good, goodnight” you yawn then it was quiet for a few seconds. He can feel you relax in his arms, finally drifting off to sleep. 

He gives you a kiss on the head one last time before he closes his eyes, but not before he tells you a quick “Goodnight to you too, my darling. I love you”

[antiquarianfics]

Shower

Sometimes it's all you can do to breathe. Sometimes you need a little help--even with the basics. Bucky's happy to help.

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent comfort fic. Genre: Fluff / Rating: PG Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Themes of mental illness, nudity. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you knew this was pathetic: lying on the bathroom floor, nibbling on a half eaten pop tart, and listening to the shower run.

“Not only am I gross,” you think, “I’m wasting perfectly good water.”

You sigh, willing yourself to stand up, to shower, to not eat on the bathroom floor. But you can’t.

Depression is weird like that, taking seemingly simple, inconsequential tasks and turning them into battles. You certainly didn’t lie on the bathroom floor, eating pop tarts, while listening to the shower run when you were mentally well.

The truth was: You just got back from a mission. A run of the mill recon mission. You were in, you were out. You did your job. But now you were sweaty, and sore, and unable to do anything for the benefit of yourself. Helping other people? No problem? Helping yourself? Mission: Impossible.

You groan, pulling your towel under your head for minimal neck support as you stare at the ceiling. You can see where condensation slowly develops and drips from the fan, and if you turn your head, you can see the fogged up mirror.

“I’ve been here a while,” you note.

You pull out your phone, checking the time. 9:04 PM. You don’t know when you got back, when you turned on the shower, when you dropped to the floor. The time tells you nothing.

You groan again, throwing your arm across your eyes. You’re tired, and you’re positive you could fall asleep here on the bathroom floor. You know you shouldn’t, but you could… and you haven’t been sleeping in your bed… and you let yourself drift off.

Banging. You wake to banging. No—knocking. You wake to knocking. As you come to, you realize someone is knocking on the bathroom door. You don’t have it in you to stand and open it. You never undressed anyway, lying on the floor in your tac suit, so you call out “unlocked!” and watch as the doorknob twists and the door is cautiously opened.

“Y/N?” The intruder calls softly with concern lacing each syllable of your name.

You groan in response, letting your arm fall from your face as your eyes flutter open. You look up to be met with the ever so concerned blue eyes of your best friend: Bucky Barnes. As he makes eye contact with you on the floor, eyes drawn downward at your groan, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he opens his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it.

“Can I come in?” He asks cautiously after a moment.

You nod and he slips into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him. He lets himself sink to the floor beside you, pulling your head into his lap both to accommodate his large size in your small bathroom and in an attempt to comfort you. He lets his hand fall to your hair, quietly playing with it. You hum contentedly, eyes fluttering closed again, and you’re grateful he hasn’t begun interrogating you even though you know he’s confused.

Maybe 5 minutes pass in silence. Your mind is finally somewhat at ease from the comfort Bucky brings you, but you know he deserves an explanation as to why he’s on your bathroom floor holding you while the shower runs.

“I…” you start, trailing off before clearing your throat nervously and trying again. “I know this is weird. I can explain.”

Bucky shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, Doll. Lord knows I don’t always explain to you the weird things I do when I…” have an episode, he was going to say. He doesn’t want to call this an episode, though. He’s still not sure what this is. “We all deal with post-mission stress differently,” he says instead.

You huff. “I wish I was doing this because of mission stress.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, just watches patiently as he continues to run his fingers through your hair. He refuses to force anything out of you you’re not ready to share; after all, you never force him to spit his feelings out.

“Bucky, I… I’m not doing well.”

The admittance takes you off guard. You hadn’t even acknowledged to yourself that you weren’t doing well. You’d been avoiding that simple truth, that small detail.

“Yeah. Healthy people don’t generally run up the water bill while they snack on the floor,” Bucky teases gently. You are aware there’s no malice behind his words; he’s just trying to lighten the mood. You cringe, though, when you realize he had noticed the pop tart wrapper and the clear lack of pop tart. Bucky notices you cringe, though, and his light smile drops.

“How can I help, Doll?”

You shake your head. “You don’t have-”

“I want to,” he cuts you off.

You swallow nervously, but nod. You’ll let him help you.

“I, uh. Can you…” you scrunch your eyes, grounding yourself despite your embarrassment. “Can you help me shower?” You choke out the words, hoping he maybe missed them and will leave you on the bathroom floor to sulk.

Bucky smiles encouragingly, not showing any signs that he is bothered or uncomfortable with the request. Instead of running and leaving you to your self-destructive tendencies, he helps you sit up before standing himself, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your own feet. Gently he helps you out of your tac suit that clings to your body uncomfortably from sweat both from the mission and the steamy bathroom. Once your suit is removed, he helps you pull off your sports bra and shimmy out of your underwear. It’s intimate, yes, but it’s not at all sexual. You can’t help but curse yourself for letting the first time he saw you like this be under these circumstances. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You bite your lip anxiously, closing your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself in a self conscious hug.

Bucky’s gaze is 100% respectful. He keeps his eyes on your face, or the back of your head when you’re turned around, only letting his gaze drop to help you out of your constricted clothing.

He finally helps you step into the shower, pulling the curtain closed as you step in. You let yourself stand under the water, staring at the wall in front of you. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour and are also nonexistent at the same time. You wish you knew how you could think about everything and nothing at the same time.

You hear a soft clinking sound that you’re sure is Bucky unbuckling his belt. Then you hear the sliding of his jeans down his legs, and the gentle grunt he lets out while he takes off his shirt. You’re not sure because you can’t see, but you’re pretty sure you hear him fold his clothes and yours to set neatly on the counter. Finally, he pulls the shower curtain back a little to step in himself.

He smiles reassuringly at you, keeping his eyes on yours. You force a small smile onto your own lips in response.

He’s still in his boxers, protecting his modesty for your sake. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed but you shake your head, chasing those thoughts out of your mind. He’s just your friend—your best friend—and he’s only doing you a favor. As a friend. Not his girlfriend.

Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together in concern as he watches you shake your head, obviously distraught.

“Hey, hey. Sweetheart, look at me,” he says, resting his palm on your cheek. You look at him. “Are you alright?” He asks, searching your eyes for any indication that you’re not.

You only nod. He eyes you suspiciously but drops the subject. Instead, he reaches behind you for your shampoo, squirting some into his hand, before letting his hands fall into your hair, slowly massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

Bucky quietly washes you, stepping back only to let you wash your more intimate parts. His hands on your body are intoxicating. His right is calloused and rough from decades of use and his left is smooth and and warmed from the water, but they’re both so gentle as they run along your body. When he finishes bathing you, he lets his arms drop to his side, and you immediately miss his touch. He looks anxious and unsure of himself for the first time since entering your bathroom, and you realize it’s because he suddenly isn’t sure what to do with himself. Without thinking much about it, you give him a new task.

You step forward into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your cheek against his chest. The action surprises him, but he almost immediately wraps his own arms around you, holding you close. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ve got ‘ya, sweetheart,” he assures. “I’ve got you.”

[slimyalienfreak]

Hmm reader whose a cook making food for the main 4 dissenters (Hank, Deimos, Sanford, and 2B)? Maybe make them dessert as well?

Cooking For The Main 4

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

This is actually kind of cute. Although I’m not that much of a cook myself, when I do I often do it with my grandparents when I visit them. Mostly desserts as well. Anyways hope you like this. This may be shorter than what I usually write but there was more characters to write so that may be why. ~ Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Starvation (Accidentally)⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Main 4 (Hank + Sanford + Deimos + 2B)

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by bismaydraws on Newgrounds + Banner by saturnap (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

Hank. J Wimbleton:

- Honestly, when you first started cooking for him he was a little shocked. They knew that you like to cook and although they haven’t directly said this to you he thinks you're really good at it but when you decide to cook him something for him he wasn’t sure how to feel. He was thankful of course but that’s all they knew how they felt. So they thanked you and started to eat it not knowing what to do and to say his body started to figuratively melt was an understatement, your food tasted really good. He’s surprised at how good you can make food seem and taste.

- After that he in his own way likes to ask you to make certain foods that he likes to which you accept without any hesitation because you liked cooking especially for a friend. They really like discreetly looking at you cooking, the dedication on your face to make sure everything was perfect for them. He couldn't help but feel happy that you willingly want to do this for him.

- I personally like to believe that Hank is more of a savoury person rather than a sweets person but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy them. He occasionally likes having desserts when he thinks he needs them. This definitely increased when they discovered your cooking.

- When they figure out that you baked something sweet he immediately asks permission from you to have some. Sometimes he just straight up just takes some without asking to which you actually find funny the known murder of Nevada secretly taking your sweets thinking you won’t notice but you do you just don’t tell him anything.

- When he has a metal jaw he has trouble with certain food due to it which upsets him internally because he thinks that they can’t have your food but luckily for them you're able to find and cook both savoury and sweet so he could have them. This just makes him appreciate you even more.

Sanford:

- When he sees you cooking he immediately starts asking a bunch of questions. Like when did you learn to cook? What do you like to cook? What’s the hardest thing you cooked? Etc. He’s just so interested in you and your skills he couldn’t help but ask.

- He definitely asks you to cook some of his favourite foods, specifically ones from when his mother used to cook (he’s defo a mama’s boy sue me). He feels at home when you cook his favourites. He can’t help but see a bit of his mother in you every time you do this, it makes him go soft on you. Smiling like a little child around you.

- He definitely prefers sweets over savoury. He has a major sweet tooth but doesn’t outright admit it but it’s pretty obvious that he does even if he denies it. He thinks that he needs to be seen as tough so he doesn’t say that he prefers sweets. But at home he constantly asks you to make him some.

- He prefers cakes over other pieces of sweets. He doesn’t really care what type as long as it’s cake he’ll immediately eat it. Just like Hank he likes to sneak some when he thinks no one will notice but unlike Hank he’s not as secretive as him.

Deimos:

- He’s in immediate awe when he discovered that you can cook. He jokingly refers to you as some lover's nickname. He finds it really cute that you can cook. I personally like to think that he likes it when someone he likes/appreciates can cook. He doesn’t know why he just does.

- Sometimes he likes to join in your cooking but it doesn’t really go well for him so with a pout on his face he results in just watching you do it which equally makes him happy. He sometimes likes to but in about what to add despite you being more of the expert cook

- I like to think he’s the same as Sanford. Prefers sweets over savoury but he’s more open about it. He has no shame in enjoying sweets especially if it’s coming from you. If people see something wrong with it then he’ll tell them off for it. It’s just food to him so he doesn’t care about what it is.

- Just like Sanford, Deimos really likes cakes but occasionally when he is feeling it he may have cookies instead. Whatever he is feeling like. He doesn’t even try to hide stealing it, not that he would be good at it. He just straight up goes to the kitchen, grabs the food and leaves. Not even acknowledging anyone.

2BDamned:

- 2BDamned already knew you could cook just like Hank and like Hank he was a little surprised when you cooked for him. Not that he doesn’t like it, he really appreciates it. It just catches him off guard. He sees you as some positive figure when you do this for him. He looks forward to seeing what you have cooked for him.

- I bet that he sometimes gets too infested in his work and often forgets to eat. He doesn’t mean to do this but sometimes he can’t help it. He needs to get the job done so he does it. This often means that you will have to bring him the food when he is busy with the work. Which makes him appreciate you even more. You must really care about him to do this.

- I personally think that he doesn’t really have a set on liking savoury food over sweets. He likes both the same so he doesn’t really have a preference for either one. Your food, regardless of what food it is, tastes really good to him.

- He doesn’t like to ask or sneak to get the food unlike the other 3. Mostly because he is too invested in his work or because he doesn’t want to bother you. If he’s desperate for your food then he’ll ask to which you happily make/give it to him.

———————————

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 37

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

Now that Sirius has gotten the permission, he doesn’t stop touching.

Remus has never been around a person so tactile, so open and giving about it. So taking about it. Sirius demands for his hair to be stroked and his body enveloped and his neck held. Works himself into Remus’ side on the couch, into his space at the kitchen counter. Under the same stream of water in the shower and the same body of it in the bath.

It’s never ceasing.

Remus has never been happier.

They take a few days off. Just until Kingsley gets them access to a Pensive. It’s at Sirius’ insistence (“we had a massive breakthrough,” he says “we deserve the rest. Let’s rest, Remus.”)

Remus doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to deny him anything.

Peter comes again, two days into their Sirius-mandated holiday. Less combative, he apologises, or something like it. “I got scared when I saw you like that,” he says, “you were terrifying. You understand. And I’m glad you’re out, I really am, but if it was anyone else…”

Sirius understands and agrees and is so happy to have his friend again, the whole thing is forgotten. They have lunch together (Pete brought a pie), and reminisce about the months they’ve spent apart.

“Didn’t you want to go straight to England? To James?”

“They’ve got a tracking charm on me,” Sirius tells him, “and anyway, it’s not like being here with Remus is such a hardship.” He smiles that lovely Sirius smile that’s been showing itself more and more.

To Remus, it sounds like Peter spent most of the time in his rat form, avoiding letters from the Potters and not telling anyone what had happened. It sounds like he should have known Sirius better than to think he’d do something like that on purpose. With intent. Isn’t that the basis of actual crime, intent? 

Remus can’t help thinking that had Peter told the Potters what had happened, instead of scurrying away like a rodent, Sirius never would have gone to prison in the first place. He remembers the bruises and looks at the man who took Sirius’ place on their sofa, and can’t help but hate. Can’t help but blame him.

Kingsley writes with congratulations and affirmations and a date for when Remus can come down to the National Museum of Egyptian Civilisation in Cairo to use the Pensive their wizarding department owns.

“I trust Black has behaved himself while left alone during the full moons,” he writes, “since I’ve not heard from you. If you let me know otherwise, I will send someone to keep an eye on him while you’re gone.”

“I need him with me,” Remus answers. “There may be something in the memory that helps him with any further spell work the Box will require.” 

He knows there are no other curses to be broken on any parts of the Box - that part is a lie. Felt their absence like one feels a limb. But he does need Sirius with him, or maybe he just wants Sirius with him. The line between the two so thin, they’re one and the same.

Peter comes again and Kingsley sends another letter, and Sirius and Remus get three more days of blissful, mind-numbing peace.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

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@procrastinatingstuff

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(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[xcherryerim]

What You Deserve

Vanessa Shelly x gn!reader

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: this so short that it’s literally oral sex (to vanessa) , reader is into Vanessa AND Mike. More plot than porn tbh sorryyyy

So, I had this idea FOR A WHILE before i even started writing and i was waiting for someone to ask me to write for vanessa but no one did ☹️ so I wrote it anyways. It’s not my best writing that is because I wrote it in one go to get it out of the way bc i’m overwhelmed with other ideas and requests for jhutch characters. I might re write this in the future we’ll see.

Summary: Engaged in a situationship with Mike, you can’t help but let your insecurity drive you the conclusion that Mike and Vanessa are into each other, that’s until Vanessa proves you wrong.

“Let’s go!” You excitedly cheer as you win the bowling game, only to realize that Mike, your not-so-boyfriend, was too caught up staring at Vanessa to notice that he even lost.

You tell yourself that you’re not allowed to be jealous, since Mike is technically not your boyfriend. Despite the lack of official labels, you and Mike act as if you’re a couple without one. However, there’s no denying that something is going on between Mike and Vanessa, and you don’t particularly like it.

“Oh, good job!” Vanessa said to you, with a cheerful smile on her face that she would manage to fake, just to hide the bitter truth. She was likely looking you up and down, trying to find an advantage to exploit, so she could feel superior to you.

You could instantly tell that her attitude wasn't genuine, so all you could manage was a quick "thanks."

“Actually…” Vanessa said, turning towards Mike, the person she was more interested in, “Why don’t you get a reward for the winner?”

“Huh, yeah, alright,” Mike responded, before walking off and leaving you alone with Vanessa.

“So,” Vanessa said, as she leaned in close to you while still staying just out of reach. “You and Mike are together or something?”

You tried to stay composed and avoid stuttering, even though you knew that she could likely see right through your lie. “I—we—“

“Friends with benefits?” Vanessa asked with a mocking tone, daring you to say otherwise, as she smirked at you.

“You’re better than some situationship,” Vanessa stated, this time with a surprisingly genuine tone. It seemed to leave you speechless for a moment before you struggled to conjure up a response.

So?” you asked, “We’re grown adults. I don’t need your permission to be with whoever I want.”

“Come on,” Vanessa said as she moved forward, pressing her body against yours, taking your breath away. “You need someone mature, someone that takes you seriously.” she continued, smirking at you, obviously knowing how the conversation was making you feel.

“You need someone to please you, to make you happy. I doubt you’re getting any of that.” Vanessa finished, clearly playing into your insecurities, but in a strangely flirty way.

As she stood back from you, looking directly into your eyes, her words weighed heavily upon you. Venessa’s words were both provocative and challenging, yet they aroused an unexpected curiosity inside you. Your heart raced as you considered her proposition, unsure how to respond. She looked pleased with her effect on you, sensing that she had gotten under your skin.

“Maybe I don’t need anyone,” you retorted, trying to maintain control over your emotions and hide your vulnerability. But even as you spoke, you couldn't help feeling intrigued by the idea she presented. Could there be more to you both than just this casual interaction? Was she genuinely interested, or was she simply toying with you?

Vanessa smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well," she drawled, "I think we both know that's not entirely true." She took a step closer, her scent enveloping you, and whispered, "But you can keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night." With that, she turned around and sashayed away, leaving you standing there in confusion and desire.

“I know you’re doing this because you want Mike for yourself!”

Vanessa stopped mid-step, turning around slowly, her hips swaying seductively. She raised an eyebrow at you, tilting her head slightly. "Oh really?" she asked playfully. "And what makes you so sure about that?"

“Oh please! Do you think I don’t notice how Mike gets around you? I know you guys had something in the past!”

"Isn't it fascinating how people jump to conclusions?" Vanessa retorted, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Just because Mike likes me doesn't mean I like him back.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a challenge evident in her gaze.

"You're projecting your insecurities onto me," she added, taking another step near you. "Admit it, you're jealous. You're afraid I'll take what's 'yours.' But, is Mike truly what you want?”

Pausing for a moment, she stared intently into your eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Mike may be your safety net, but what happens when you want something more?"

“So? Why do you care anyway?” You responded in anger to her treatment.

“You still don’t get it huh?” Vanessa let out a soft chuckle, her laughter ringing in the air like a bell tolling a warning. Her eyes narrowed, her expression growing more serious. "I care because it's obvious you're not happy. I care because I see potential in you, potential you waste on mediocrity." She shook her head, her disapproval clear.

"It's not my business, but if you ever decide to stop hiding behind that safety net and spread your wings, remember - I'm here, waiting." With that, she spun around and strode away, leaving you alone with her words, echoing in your mind. Despite the anger, her words left you pondering. Were you truly settling for less? Could there be something more out there?

“Vanessa wait,” You held onto her wrist. “What do you mean you’re here for me?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Vanessa said with a sly smile, her eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I've made my intentions pretty clear, haven't I?" She took a step closer, her confidence radiating like heat waves.

“I uh, I thought you liked Mike not me,” You responded.

Vanessa chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I never said that," she countered, her lips curving into a wicked grin. She leaned in until her lips were mere inches from your ear. "Besides, Mike is not for you. He's far too predictable, too safe. And trust me, you deserve more."

You couldn’t deny the truth; you were in love with Mike, but it didn’t seem like he was reciprocating your feelings. Now Vanessa was here, and seemingly begging you to be with her, all while exuding a dominating aura.

“And you’re what I deserve?” you teased back, letting yourself be overwhelmed by her presence, yet trying to keep your cool and appear playful.

Vanessa's lips curved into a smirk, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "No, I'm not what you deserve," she said, her voice velvety smooth. "But I'm certainly what you need."

“I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

"That's a bold claim," you replied, trying to maintain your composure amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside you. "But what do you get out of it?"

“A taste of you,” Vanessa replied, making you struggle to suppress your blushing as you felt her hot breath against your neck. “Would you let me?”

You swallowed hard, feeling her warm breath tickling your skin. A tangle of excitement and fear twisted in your stomach. "Are you sure?" you asked hesitantly, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

"Positive," she replied, her voice firm yet inviting. "But bear in mind, there's no going back after this."

You took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. "Okay," you said, your voice barely audible. "Let me taste you too."

With surprising strength, Vanessa pulled you forcefully into the darkened maintenance room, slamming the door shut behind them before pushing you against the wall. Her body pressed against yours, pinning you in place as she devoured your mouth hungrily, tongue wrestling with yours in a fierce dance. Her hands roamed freely downwards, skimming over your abdomen before reaching for your belt buckle.

Meanwhile, your own hands fumbled clumsily at her zipper, determined to reciprocate her advances. Finally, both of you met in the middle, both sets of buttons and clasps coming undone simultaneously. Her panties slipped down her thighs, exposing her wetness to your hungry eyes.

Without breaking the lip lock, Vanessa broke free long enough to whisper, "Do you like what you see?"

“God, you’re so hot.” You said, falling to your knees without a thought.

Vanessa's eyes widened in surprise as you sank to your knees, but she quickly recovered, her grin growing wider. "Good," she hissed, her breath ragged. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

She stepped back, giving you room to worship her. Your hands trembled slightly as they ran over her silken skin, tracing the curve of her hips, and the dip of her waist. You paused at the evidence of her arousal, drawing in a sharp breath. Your fingers parted her folds slowly, revealing the slick wetness that awaited you. Taking a deep breath, you dove in, your tongue flicking out to taste her sweetness.

She moaned softly, her fingers twisting in your hair, urging you on. "Faster, harder," she urged, her voice hoarse. "Make me come on your tongue, baby."

As you obeyed, licking and sucking at her tender flesh, you couldn't help but wonder - was this worth the risk? Was it worth losing everything else for her taste? Oh, but the way she moaned your name was making you dizzy by her siren voice.

As you continued to please her, Vanessa's moans grew louder, echoing throughout the empty hallway. Her hips rocked against your face, grinding herself against your mouth. "More, baby," she panted between gasps. "Give me more."

You did as she commanded, thrusting your tongue deeper into her core, exploring every crevice of her most intimate parts. Each sound of approval spurred you on, fueling your desire. Your hands cupped her full breasts, kneading and squeezing them roughly, eliciting another moan from her lips.

The rhythm of your tongue matched the pace of your thrusts, creating a synchronized symphony of lustful sounds. Suddenly, her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her muscles tensing up. "Ah! Yes! Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her voice strained with ecstasy.

Finally spent, she collapsed against the wall, panting heavily. "That was... incredible," Vanessa managed to utter between gasps. "Now it's your turn."

Before you had the chance to properly stand up, the noise of the entrance door opening froze you in horror. Slowly turning around you see Mike, standing right there in the doorway.

“Is this where I'm supposed to say ‘How could you?’” Mike replied, catching the two of you standing in what was an obvious compromising position.

“And what I'm supposed to say, ‘it’s not what it looks like?’” you also replied, still trying not to let your embarrassment get the best of you, as you were caught red-handed.

[madlittlecriminal]

Hey!

I was wondering if you could do a Hobie x Spider!Reader hcs where the reader is an absolute badass? I’m so tired of seeing meek Y/N, I need some spice fr 🙏🏼

That’s My Love♮Hobie Brown × GN!Badass!Spider-Person!Reader [headcanons]

you know, i normally don’t like meek reader (unless there’s a reason) because of my childhood. i was meek then, but now? younger me would be impressed that i shut people up with words as ive never been in a fight 🤷🏽‍♀️ that’s just me though. ANYWAY! HAPPY NEW YEAR & I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! 💙

Warnings: Hobie falling in love, reader talking back, a mention of ‘no’ not being accepted, but i promise, nothing happens, mention of sparring with Miles, mention of Miguel being impressed, short headcanons

Hobie would probably never defend you unless it got bad.

He knew you could handle it with ease because he loved that about you.

Anytime someone made a comment about you, you quickly gave them one of your own.

If a person tried touch you without permission, they’d get an arm burn from you twisting one end in one direction and the other end in the other direction.

Like I said, Hobie would only step in if the person got too close and couldn’t understand no.

Hobie would tell the person to back off and allowing you to hurt their weak spot (regardless of gender)

Then he’d stare at you so proud, whispering, “I’m proud of you, love.”

Only you would see that side of him and you were fine with it.

Heck, he even let you defend him.

If someone was trying too hard to get his attention, you tell the person to back off.

Miles looked up to you and said, “It would be my greatest honor to spar with you good Spider-Person.”

You agreed, but Hobie told Miles to be cautious.

Miles didn’t get why until you took him down with ease.

“They’re so cool!” Miles exclaimed while lying on the floor mat.

Hobie agreed and kissed your cheek.

Everyone knew not to mess with you.

Not only was it because you’re Hobie’s significant other.

But it was also because you didn’t take crap from anyone.

There was one time Miguel wanted to see how far you could go so he can send you on a mission alone.

When you did, he was highly impressed.

“I guess everyone does have the right to be cautious around you. Be ready by tomorrow morning. You’ll probably be back after lunch…or before since you’re no nonsense.”

It was true. You were.

But you were also plenty nonsense with Hobie when you crashed with him.

You’d go on protests without a second thought.

You’d defended citizens in his universe who would get picked on and whatnot.

Hobie couldn’t help but fall madly in love with you every day.

You didn’t need him, but man, was he glad you wanted him.

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

I was so impressed with your toe-to-toe comment on the French philosophy anon. So happy to have found you, omg! I heard Taylor called her ttpd set as the "female rage musical." I take it she knows the impact of the song Labour by Paris Paloma which has been dubbed as the female rage anthem. So naturally, here is the 34 year old culture vulture, can't-have-any-ideas-of-her-own that is Taylor Swift hopping there wanting to get the attention away from it when that song is quite phenomenal. One song compared to her 31 diss tracks that's nothing to me, at least, but the excessive sentimentality of an infantile woman in her 30s. It's gross the confessions she's put on that album. And even her own fans are comparing her to Olivia Rodrigo. That's she's copying everything about her - song, outfits, the "female rage" theme just to mock her. Somehow, Swift thinks it would do her a world of good. People are catching on to her antics which are absolutely disgusting, btw. I'm hoping one day you write about all these completely ridiculous gross things she's done using her own lyrics. You know what I mean? I hope someone write about her nasty lyrics and that it completely destroys her.

Thank you ha, I'm glad you found something meaningful in that post. I will not lie, that Anon actually hurt my feelings for a second (I got over it by writing my response), but I was upset at being so misunderstood. I'm not out here levying unreasonable criticism at Taylor Swift. All will be based on reality, or interpretation of her own lyrics.  I’m defs out to get her though- in the most legitimate way possible- and maybe someday I will publish for real on her. I have a couple of criticisms that I will not be putting on my blog- because I want to say it on a bigger platform. : )  

I do see a lot of harmful things in her music that I have been resisting the urge to write about for YEARS! Even back in 2009, listening to "Love Story" I remember thinking to myself, oh this is nothing like what Shakespeare meant and it's also a weird appeal to the patriarchy through the "I talked to your Dad/ Go Pick out a white dress." It's so clear that she's just reduplicating mainstream attitudes on romantic relationships by using Christian Conservative social standards of needing the father's permission to ask the girl's hand in marriage. She obviously wanted to attract the Christian- Conservative fan- base with that song, and that's exactly what happened. Her marketing is tied to the phrases she places inside her songs in a way that is extremely calculating. She, Afterall, learned from the best at attracting mainstream, Christian, conservative fans, Toby Keith (hate that fascist, white nationalist freak). (WHoops, that was mean- oh well, he’s dead anyway). (and if he wanted me to be nice- he shouldn't have been a fascist).  

It's so obvious, and I really figured everyone else was also aware of the ways in which Swift interpolates patriarchal standards in her music. I have many more examples- I could write a whole essay on it.  

Apparently, everyone thought she was a feminist? Bro, she became a "feminist" if only to evade criticism and capitalize on mainstream pop-feminist trends. She's not a real feminist. Her use of “feminism” to evade critique ties directly into her other marketing strategy of telling the world “I’m so innocent and young” all the time. 

Also, her co-opting of the phrase Female Rage has made me angry, exceptionally angry. I saw that she's trying to trademark the phrase. I am incensed. I will post about it soon. 

I wish Swift would stop co-opting legitimate terms and pulling only the most shallow- self-centered conception of the term out to use in her mediocre music. She’s like if Pinterest was a person- and I’m tired of it.  

Paris Paloma’s “Labour” is amazing, because guess what- it actually speaks about the experience of women under patriarchal standards in a way that respects the seriousness of the topic. I absolutely believe that Swift saw how viral that song went and decided she needed to cash in on that too.  

And she is totally copying Olivia Rodrigo. Can you imagine being 34 and trying to act 20? I would die of embarrassment. But it's so obvious that it's getting weird.

I have much more to say on this topic- sincerely I could write a book on the conceptual point of “Female Rage” in media. I have thousands of examples, and I’ve been studying this stuff for years. I will, however, ramble on no longer. Thank you for your kind words- and I hope you enjoy my upcoming writings.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for editing my friends cover letter and then telling him I wouldn’t give him my employee number for a referral if he used the cover letter he wrote? (Emojis to find this whenever it posts)

✍️🧠

For some context… I work for a HUGE university that is extremely hard to get a job at. I have friends in HR here now and they said pretty much every job posting (and the postings are pretty sparse) gets a minimum of 250-300 applications. I got extremely lucky securing my job and truly do not take that for granted. And now that I’m an ���insider” I have the ability to make referrals for my friends so that they can at least get an interview and hopefully a job here too and hop on the good pay and excellent benefits train especially since we’re all coming up on 26, therefore, we are all losing our health insurance (yay America).

So, one of my friends finished his masters degree recently and was looking for jobs in my area and saw something at my place of employment he was interested in. I told him I would be more than happy to look over his cover letter and resume before he submitted his application because I know what they look for in those. He said if there was any major changes he would pay me for edits too. I agreed because why not help my friend out. Give him a shot at this place.

And as much as I hate to say it… his cover letter was just… bad. It was so bad I reread it a good 5 times before I was fully able to comprehend just how bad it was. I had to go for a walk around the block to collect my thoughts on it. It literally made me question how he got a masters degree if I am being completely frank. It was also just so atrocious I offered to edit it for free because I felt so bad.

I don’t want to give specifics but think, half a paragraph on things he explicitly states that he has not done and will never do in his masters program, saying “folks” instead of colleagues (which is fine in conversation but like. Not for a cover letter ya know?), talked more about his experience in retail than he did his actual masters program, and just so so so much more.

So to just give him as fair of a shot as I could, I asked him for his thesis and service work that he did in his program, and asked permission to pretty much start from scratch on his cover letter. He excitedly agreed and told me to “go to town and do what you have to” and said “you know better than me what they’re looking for” and once I returned the final product to him he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the amount of jargon I inserted and the amount of changes I made to his “flare”. I had my friend in HR at the specific department I work at read it over and he said it was spectacular and he would interview someone with the cover letter in a heartbeat. I told my friend that and he still felt like I “robbed it of his personality.” I told him he’s welcome to edit it however he wants but my friends in HR said it was really strong how I wrote it and I would highly recommend not making any changes before he applies if he wants to get an interview and told him to just think on it for a bit before throwing in his application.

He didn’t respond for a couple of days and then called me out of the blue and told me he was working on his application now, was planning on using his original cover letter unedited, and needed my ID number for the referral. And I said… no. I am super super lucky to have my job and as jobs here are in such high demand I was scared to stick my neck out for him because I felt it might stain my reputation and reflect poorly on me. And he yelled at me and accused me I was being selfish and uppity about my job and that I needed to just give him the number because “if doesn’t matter anyway”. I tried to explain to him that any referral an employee makes gets added to their file regardless if the person got hired or not.

I did not want to stand by his original cover letter because I felt like it would’ve knocked him out of the running LONG before the interviews would’ve even started getting scheduled. I also feel it is important to add, I never told him his cover letter was garbage. I just told him it needed some work/jargon/fine tuning to the job description. I would never EVER say something like that to someone because I would never want to hurt someone’s feelings

I feel horrible. I didn’t want him to be hurt by the advice and changes I was making but I am in a very interesting and delicate position with my job in that I am one of like 5 people in any kind of administrative role at the entire institution that doesn’t have a bachelors degree. I secured my job because I worked as a temporary assistant for a few months and they loved me so much they made an exception to hire me in fully. I am deeply loved in my department and I truly love my job with all of my heart. It is wonderful and incredibly rewarding to do the work that I do so I really do not want to fuck this up for myself. I have had other friends apply and get jobs here with a little guidance and they love it too. I absolutely want that for my friend I was trying to help. I truly do. But he was not willing to take my advice and I just couldn’t risk sticking my neck out for him. So… AITA?

TL/DR: I work for a hard to get into place. Spent a lot of time fixing my friends app bc he writes like a 14 year old despite having a masters degree. He said he was using his shitty cover letter and asked for my referral number anyway and I told him no it’s not gonna happen because I can’t afford to stick my neck out like that since I got my job in a non traditional way leaving me a bit more vulnerable than most. I never explicitly told him “your cover letter is garbage” because I didn’t want to make him feel bad but warned him it would most likely not make it to the interviews and the one that I wrote him was applauded by my friends who work in HR.

What are these acronyms?

[ridiasfangirlings]

Fushimi is hanging out with Yata and his siblings and they end up watching whatever was the latest Disney princess movie at the time and Fushimi reveals he hasn't watched any before so Yata's sister suggest a movie marathon. Fushimi thought it would be lame but ended up liking them especially the older ones since, while he doesn't want to admit it, he could relate to growing up in an abusive household and wanting out. And Yata was like the prince who helped take him away from all that.

Fushimi watching the wicked stepmother in Cinderella and being like ‘you think that’s wicked, amateur’ XD Imagine post-ROK Yata’s parents are leaving for an overnight trip, maybe Minoru has like something for school so they’re going with him and Yata asked to watch Megumi. Yata figures it can’t be so bad, he can babysit for the night and anyway he hasn’t spent a lot of time with his siblings since he left home so he thinks this could be a good opportunity. He asks Fushimi to come along, Fushimi snorts all ‘I’m not going to help you babysit.’ Yata’s like I’m not asking you to help (and maybe muttering ‘besides, I’ll probably end up babysitting you too’), he just thinks it’s a good chance to spend time together, like in middle school — staying up together with no one else home but his siblings. Fushimi pauses and then he’s like ‘…fine.’

Megumi is extra excited when she sees Fushimi came along too (and Minoru suddenly doesn’t want to go on his trip because he wants to see Saru too, Yata’s over here like what am I chopped liver). Yata makes dinner for the three of them and then says his mom gave him permission to let Megumi stay up a little later. Megumi wants to watch Disney movies and tells Fushimi to pick, Fushimi has never watched these before though so he just stares blankly. Yata says those are girls movies anyway and Megumi gives him the teary face and says Saru should see Disney movies, suddenly Yata has been roped into letting his little sister make them both watch a Disney movie marathon.

Yata quietly apologizes to Fushimi for this, like I know you aren’t into princesses and stuff. Fushimi shrugs and says it’s fine, already having his PDA out and totally ignoring the movie. Yata sighs and resigns himself to watching kids movies all night. They start with Snow White and imagine Fushimi slowly starts paying attention (starting of course with the part where the dwarves show up and being like ‘look Misaki, your people’ as Yata’s like ‘shut up if my sister wasn’t here I’d kick your ass’). I imagine Fushimi becoming the most interested in Cinderella though he starts complaining about how unrealistic it is, she’s just toiling away working for her terrible family and then magic comes and saves her, how stupid. Yata says he doesn’t think it’s stupid though, like Cinderella had to be pretty strong to keep surviving even with her family being terrible, right. He gives Fushimi a significant look and Fushimi clicks his tongue and looks away.

Fushimi keeps watching though, as the prince comes and takes Cinderella away. Yata says these kinds of happy endings aren’t bad right, sometimes there’s nothing wrong with someone taking you away to a place that’s better for you. Yata’s probably thinking about Mikoto here but then he glances over at Fushimi and adds it’s all about ending up where you belong. He coughs and says that anyway, maybe sometimes you need a prince to give you a little push and get you away from all that bad stuff, like homes you don’t need. Fushimi turns to look at Yata then and Yata gives him a soft smile, Fushimi clicks his tongue again but quietly adds ‘I guess even a prince can be a dwarf too’ and Yata’s all I knew I shouldn’t have let her start with that movie.

[jackiehicks]

‘Family’

Spyder Johnson x Platonic!reader

request: none! this came from my very own brain.

A/N: happy birthday pearce!! it’s officially september 6th in the uk so i’m posting a piece about my favourite pearce character (sorry wyatt) i have had this idea in my head for literally a year now and it feels so good to put it into words. this is also Heavy on the ‘projecting onto my oc’ thing so sorry about that. enjoy!!

content warning: mentions of bad home life, homelessness, potentially death? injury, etc.

words: 1.8k

“sorry im late!” y/n shouted as the elevator door opened, then realising she did not need to be shouting, “sorry i’m late.”

“you’re good, y/n, no worries. we wouldn’t start without you anyway.” veracity reassured her.

y/n was the medic of mech x-4. she was still relatively new to the team, having only joined a few weeks ago alongside her best friend veracity. the other guys said it was good to have a designated medic on the team; usually harris would do it all, but if harris got hurt then the others were generally a bit clueless. y/n was tight with the team since the boys transferred to bay city east - especially spyder. the two sort of understood eachother in ways that the rest of the team didn’t quite catch on to.

“yeah, we literally couldn’t start without you. ryan isn’t here yet, or mark. and we’re testing the x-weapon today so you need to be here in case ryan explodes.” spyder explained to y/n. he received a look of concern from the rest of the team, y/n included.

“not that he’s gonna explode,” spyder corrected himself hastily, “i just mean like… what if he gets a nosebleed or a… a brain bleed! no, that’s also bad. yep, ignore me. giving you permission to ignore me now.”

“whatever happened to positive mental attitude?” harris muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment. spyder looked dejectedly at the buttons in front of him. y/n had noticed that he seemed to do that a lot.

“hey,” she whispered to the boy on her left, “5 bucks says ryan gets zapped by the x-weapon’s power.” that seemed to perk spyder up by a lot.

“10 says he gets fried”

-

to say the x-weapon test went poorly would be an understatement. ryan and mark showed up, about 20 minutes after the team had arranged to, with their mother in tow. after a tour of the robot, plus a quick joyride just outside of bay city’s limits, the test begun. not only did it almost blow veracity up, but the test had ended with ryan unconscious in the harness with a sizeable cross burnt into his chest.

everyone was in the medbay, y/n running a scan on ryan’s injuries. luckily, the burns weren’t too severe; the x-weapon had been shut down just in time.

“he needs to go to a hospital!” grace exclaimed, worry wrinkling her face.

“no! no hospitals. besides, y/n is more than qualified to attend to ryan’s injuries.” leo countered.

“y/n is 16! what medical qualifications could she possibly have?”

“uh, my mom’s a veterinarian?” y/n admitted, unsure of how grace would react.

“oh, great. that’s just wonderful. i need to take my son to a hospital!”

“mom, i’m fine. please.” ryan pleaded.

“no. you will not argue with me on this. get up, we’re going. mark, you’re coming too.”

the walkers dejectedly got up and left the medbay, presumably leaving the robot too.

after that, the rest of the gang split up to head home. harris and veracity left to do some more research on gigawatts or whatever sciencey stuff they talked about after team meetings and weapons tests. spyder had gone home for dinner. leo disappeared too, doing whatever the hell he does when he’s not throwing himself into his work, and ryan and mark were at home, packing for miami. the only person left in the robot was y/n, who was researching the best ways to care for minor second degree burns from home and sending her findings to ryan. she was in the middle of telling him to dress the burn with sterile bandages when she heard someone walking around in the hallways.

still new to the dangers of the job, y/n started to panic. what if it was traeger? or grey? what if someone had come to destroy mech x-4 while it was seemingly empty? what would they do to her if they found she was there? not wanting to risk anything, she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find: a steel tray. usually it carried all the tools that could have been used as better weapons, but they were all being sterilised. steel tray would have to do. cautiously, y/n opened the door of the medbay. she walked out into the hallway, keeping a close eye out for villains. she turned a corner and saw a figure in front of her. in a panic, she threw the sheet of metal at the mysterious figure. the figure fell to the floor and let out a high pitched scream. y/n screamed in response, although not quite as high as her victim. she edged closer, and noticed that the figure was wearing a snapback hat.

“spyder?”

“y/n! what are you doing here? i thought everyone left.”

“i had some research to do for ryan’s burns - what are you doing here?”

“uh… weapons checks?” y/n checked her phone, seeing through spyder’s unconvincing excuse.

“it’s almost 9pm, weapons checks couldn’t have started a bit earlier? don’t lie to me, spyder.”

spyder stayed on the floor, looking down sheepishly. y/n sighed and offered him a hand up, which he took.

“have you been home since the test?” y/n asked, walking into the hangout alongside spyder.

“uh, no.”

“have you eaten?”

“yeah, i… uh. yeah. i ate.”

“spyder.”

he looked down at the floor again. he seemed nervous, shy… ashamed? y/n had never seen him like this before.

“i did. went to the soup kitchen.”

“spyder…” y/n was planning on comforting her friend, when he started to turn down a corridor - one that would not lead to the couch.

“spyder, where are you going? the hangout is that way.” she said, gesturing down the hall.

“can i show you something?”

y/n sighed, looking at her friend. he had never been so sincere towards her before. she had no choice but to trust him.

after a few more minutes into the corridor, spyder opened a door that led into what can only be described as…

“is this a bedroom?”

“uh… kind of? i sleep here sometimes.”

y/n looked at spyder, concern visible in her face. her eyes drifted to the mattress on the floor, blankets, pillows, empty soda cans and discarded candy wrappers on the floor, a nintendo switch lying haphazardly on a makeshift bedside table, and an absurd collection of hats.

“spyder, do you live in the robot?”

-

it was nearly 11pm, and spyder and y/n were sitting atop mech-x4, looking over bay city. spyder had confessed that he had been living in the robot for the last couple of weeks. the two had had a hearty conversation after that, with y/n simply trying to understand spyder’s reasoning for not going home.

turns out, his parents argue a lot. like, a lot. his house seemed to be a constant screaming match between his parents and spyder always being caught in the crossfire. he was the only child of two people that should have split up a long time ago but didn’t for the sake of their son, but now their son didn’t even want to go home for fear of what his parents will be like when he gets home.

“i’m serious, y/n, it’s awful there. they hate eachother.” he let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the cold air, “families can be so messed up sometimes.”

“yeah, i hear that.”

“what’s your family like?”

“i mean, i don’t think it’s as bad as yours…” spyder let out a light chuckle and playfully elbowed y/n’s arm. y/n smiled and continued her piece.

“…but yeah, my family’s a little messed up too. i mean, i’m the eldest of four kids - all girls, a full sister and two half sisters - my parents are divorced, we fell out with my dad about two years ago and i haven’t seen him since, my stepdad works away a lot and my mom works so hard and sometimes pretty late. my eldest sister is in her moody teenage phase at the moment so it’s on me to look after the younger girls a lot of the time. then when my parents do come home… they’re just so tired and stressed, i sort of get the brunt of all of those feelings they’ve got built up. my sister gets it too sometimes but the little ones can do no wrong in their eyes, so it’s usually me. i feel like i’ve had to grow up pretty quickly to be able to do all these things around the house on top of school, and i’m old enough to get a job now too so i’ve got that weight on my shoulders…” y/n snapped out of her rant, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “sorry. i’m rambling. you’re the one who’s essentially homeless, i don’t know why i’m complaining.”

“no, it’s alright. it’s kinda nice, talking to you like this. no one usually takes me seriously enough to have a real conversation with me.”

y/n placed a gentle hand on spyder’s arm.

“you’re more than people take you for. you’re really funny, and kind, and smart-“

“i’m not smart.”

“yes, you are. don’t be like that.”

“no, i mean it. i’m not smart. i’m failing almost everything in school, i can’t do any sciencey-techy-buildy stuff like the others can…”

“you’re smart in other ways, spyder. you saved veracity from that plant thing like, a week ago, right? harris didn’t figure that out. you did.”

“yeah,” spyder sat up a little straighter, “yeah, i did.”

“oh, before i forget…” y/n reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. spyder looked confused.

“the bet. you were right, ryan was fried by the x-weapon. see what i mean? you guessed that it would fry him. you’re smarter than you think, spyder.”

“connor.”

“huh?”

“my name is connor.”

y/n smiled, letting the name roll off her tongue a couple times.

“you suit connor.”

“thanks.”

they both looked ahead at bay city in the dark, illuminated by the streetlights and lit windows of people that haven’t settled into sleep yet.

“do your parents know where you are?” y/n asked.

“told them i’m crashing at harris’ place.”

“why aren’t you staying with harris then?”

“dunno. don’t want him to find out, i guess.”

“but you told me?”

“yeah… i don’t know. i trust you. you treat me like an actual person. makes a nice change.”

y/n threw an arm around her friend. she could feel spyder - connor - melt into her touch slightly.

“you know you can always stay at mine, right? my parents don’t mind having guests over, as long as we stay out of mom’s way when she’s working from home.”

“you sure? i don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

“of course i’m sure. you’re my friend.”

“thanks, y/n”

“no problem, connor.”

[alaffy]

Bridgerton, Ep. 3x04 – Old Friends (Spoilers)

Again, I am grateful at the clip this season has been going.  There are things that need to happen for the story to make sense, but they don’t last longer than they need to.  Especially in the case of Penelope and Colin. We don’t need a long, drawn-out love story because we’ve been watching it for two seasons.  In season one, it was obvious Colin still saw Penelope as a friend.  Season two, it was obvious that his feelings were growing for her, even though he probably didn’t realize it at the time.

So, there’s no need to spend most of the season watching them fall in love.  They are in love.  Their feelings aren’t what the conflict is about, it’s what will happen when he finds out she’s Whistledown.  Which is clearly the focus of the next four episodes.

As for this episode, well, we find out the both Featherington girls might be pregnant.  The world is truly doomed.

Will is having a harder time adjusting to his new life.  Or rather, he’s having a hard time seeing why it might be best on letting go of the old one.  But, honestly though, it seems like people’s biggest issue is that he’s working as the bartender?  It seems like he could still own the club?  I don’t know, given this story usually only has a few scenes per episode, it feels as though it’s tacked on to keep the two characters in the show.

Benedict is still dallying with the widow.

Lady Danbury’s brother seems to have taken a shine to Violet.  I would like to know what, exactly, is going on between him and Lady Danbury.  It’s clear there’s been some falling out.  Or, at least, that’s true on Danbury’s end.  I would would wonder if he was the one who arranged her marriage, but that happened when she was three and he can’t be that much older than her.  He did mention that he ended up happy in his arranged marriage, and we know she was not…maybe that’s it? She resents that he found some happiness? Seems a bit of a stretch, though. So, what could it be?

The Queen thinks that she’s created the perfect match for Francesca.  However, it seems not the case.  Francesca seems to have found that match in Lord Kilmartin.  The Queen is not going to be very happy.  (On a side note, I like how we’re now seeing more of a connection between The Queen and Brimsley.)

I do think Francesca’s story is quite sweet, even though I haven't spent much time on it. The idea of finding someone you just enjoy being around. He literally was able to show his feelings for her by rearranging a song just like she thought it should sound.

Eloise, again, is more there to support Cressida.  But it’s very clear that Cressida is the way she is because of her horrible family.  The more I learn about what Debling really wants in a wife, the more I think she might be perfect if she’s just herself.

So, what does Debling want in a wife?  Well, the thing is, he wants a practical marriage.  He’s about to go away for about three years and he needs someone to take care of his household while he’s gone.  So, he needs someone he can get along with while he’s here, but someone who’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself and having her own interests while he’s away.  And Penelope seems to fit that role, which is why he plans to propose to her at The Queen’s ball.

However, first he must ask Lady Featherington’s permission.  Which she gives and then proceeds to tell just about everyone that he’s going to propose.  Meanwhile, Penelope has just sort of accepted the fact that her marriage is more of a business transaction. 

Colin, on the other hand, is trying to distract himself from his feelings.  Oh, look it’s the two ladies again.  Which again, I’m trying to figure out why suddenly we have a Bridgerton who…well, no, if this had been Benedict I wouldn’t have been surprised.  But it’s like why Colin of all of them?  Like is this symbolic of his going overboard with his newfound personality?  Anyway, even they can’t satisfy him anymore.  Nor can the company of his “friends” who he’s seems to matured beyond. 

Of course, this isn’t going to last long as his mother is Violet Bridgerton and she isn’t going to let any of her children miss marriage opportunities.  When Colin begs off The Queen’s ball, Violet goes for the fucking throat, saying that Debling is going to propose to Penelope that evening and Colin shouldn’t let opportunities pass him by.

So, yeah, Colin ends up at the ball.  And he’s sees Penelope and Debling dancing together and it’s clear Debling is about to purpose.  So, Colin asks to cut in, shocking the Ton.

Cressida uses the opportunity to dance with Debling and mentions how Colin and Penelope live across the street from one another.  This causes Debling to come to a realization.  Meanwhile, Colin tells Penelope that Debling is all wrong from her and she is, quite understandable, upset with him.  As far as she’s aware, Colin does not have feelings for her and is ruining her only chance to get away from her family.

Penelope sees Debling starting to leave and she goes after him.  He tells her that, even though love is not a requirement for the marriage; he cannot have a wife whose feelings are elsewhere as he will be gone most of the time.   I mean, I get it, but it’s clear this was just a way to get him out of the way. 

Anyway, Penelope is pissed and she leaves the ball.  But Colin chases after her and catches up to her carriage?  (I mean, I know it wasn’t moving quickly, but it had already left before Colin came outside.  And he stood there for a moment.  Dude must have full out sprinted after that thing). 

The carriage stops and Colin asks Penelope if he can ride inside so he can talk to her.  Penelope agrees, but tells the driver that they are dropping Colin off at his home.  She then tells Colin she doesn’t want to speak to him.  But he can’t help himself; he has to explain why he couldn’t allow her to agree to marrying Debling.  And he lets her know that he loves her.  Of course, she finally admits her own feelings.  And then they let their passions carry them away in the carriage (which would have been a more thrilling moment if they had closed the curtains in the carriage.  I, instead, got distracted by the fact that it seemed like that the same buildings kept rolling by in the background).

Of course, they aren’t able to go all the way as they end up at the Bridgerton home.  Colin asks Penelope to come inside with him.  Penelope seems surprised as it’s very late at night.  At which point, Colin just straight up asks her to marry him.  Again, this makes perfect sense. Why would he ruin her one chance at getting away from her family, if he wasn't committed to proposing himself? And why draw it out?

And now the fun begins…

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 19 - College AU

This is the Brumaria College AU, more chapters of which can be found on the masterlist. It’s a little glimpse into Kamaria’s first relationship, pre-Bruno. Kane belongs to Izzy and is used with permission! I used the whole prompt song as inspiration for this one.

Taglist: @painful-pooch

The Shadow of Death Masterlist

No. 19: “I’m in love with the way you hate me.”

Contains: lady whump, abusive relationship, hitting, noncon touch, noncon kissing, emotional abuse, references to past minor whump, foster care references, referenced parental abuse

.

He’s nice, at first. Buys Kamaria coffee at the cafe on campus. Recommends the best professors, and tells her which ones to stay away from. Helps her set up her schedule for the semester. Walks her back to her dorm at night. 

He treats her like…a person. Maybe not an equal, because there’s always that underlying thread of superiority, of implications that she’s stupid and weak. But she is weak, and she is stupid, sometimes, so she never protests. Her father treats her the same way, without any of the nice parts, and all the foster parents and social workers did, too, so it’s refreshing just to have someone see her and go out of their way to help her out without it being their job. 

When he asks her to go out with him, she’s…confused. But she doesn’t see any reason to say no. She’d never imagined herself in a relationship, but this is what you’re supposed to do in college, right? Normal girls say yes when a nice, handsome guy asks them out. In fact, she’s sure there are other girls, much more normal and smart than her, who would love for Alonso Kane to ask them out. 

So she says yes. And they start dating. 

The nice, out of the way gestures don’t last. She didn’t really expect them to. He grows more impatient with her, more demanding of her time, and gets upset when she can’t fulfill his every wish. His time is his own, of course, to spend however he wants it, but she’s not allowed to make plans without his approval. 

Kamaria easily falls into the motions of doing whatever it takes to appease him. She’s been doing it since she was twelve, there’s nothing new about any of this. Every foster family comes with their own set of rules, and she went through more than she cared to keep count of in two years. Their reactions to those rules being broken varied greatly, but as an “angry child” she mostly got placed with the ones that had the more extreme reactions. 

Her father is the exact same way, only with even more impossible rules to keep. Kane’s are at least fairly easy to keep track of. 

It’s not all bad, either. He’s the only person she has to talk to, and he still takes her out sometimes to football games or to get ice cream or coffee. His advice might be delivered in a cruel, impatient manner, but it’s still good advice. And yes, he likes to dictate what she eats and wears, but he’s spending his own money on her. She doesn’t have any money to spend on extra things, her father only gives her what she needs for the necessities, so it’s all a treat to her. 

The fact that she hates the way he treats her, that this is exactly what she was happy to get away from when she moved off to college, shouldn’t be important. This is life, this is how life works.

And she deserves it, anyway. As soon as they became officially boyfriend and girlfriend, he tried to kiss her. She may have freaked out a little. He has a right to be angry about that. She lets him kiss her now, but she hates it, and she’s sure he can tell that. She won’t let him go any farther, either, is extremely adamant about kissing being as far as they will ever go, and it’s no secret that he isn’t happy. He still pushes her, tries to put his hands on her, and gets mad when she gets all tense and scared. 

Reminding her of her father is one thing. She never imagined him reminding her of Roderick, too. 

But all of that means she’s a bad girlfriend, and it’s fine for him to punish her for it.

The first time he hits her comes as no surprise. She can take a hit, she’s used to that, too. Kane seems a little miffed when she doesn’t burst into tears, but she apologizes and fixes her mistake, so he doesn’t care too much. He learns fairly quickly that the threat of hitting her is a good way to make her even more obedient, just like she learned quickly as a teen that being obedient was a good way to make sure she didn’t get hit as much. 

Their relationship is exhausting. He picks her up for a football game, compliments the clothes and jewelry that he picked out for her, holds her hand on the walk to the stadium, drinks beer and chats with his frat brothers while completely ignoring her through the whole game, gets mad at her for saying she needs to get back and study when the game is done and nearly knocks her off the bleachers, makes fun of her with his friends, walks her back to her dorm way too late, starts talking about how beautiful she is outside her door, kisses her until her skin is crawling and she’s about to panic, and punches her in the stomach and storms off when she tells him she needs to sleep.

But it’s still better than what she’s used to. There’s nothing else better out there, at least not for someone like her. Fairy tale romances are for stories, and for perfect cheerleaders with two perfect parents and no anger issues. She firmly believes that this is as good as it’s ever going to get for her, that there’s really nothing at all wrong with it.

Until she meets Bruno.

[nirikeehan]

Heeeeeeey! Happy Friday! How about a prompt? For Blackwall/Thalia, Longing or Tangled from the 14 Days of DA Lovers list. Hope the muse talks to you on this one!

Happy Friday, Ocean! I def looked at this one and thought, "Why not both?"

For @dadrunkwriting and @14daysdalovers

WC: 983

---

Thalia had thought she would simply take a stroll outside of the Hinterlands camp in which they’d settled for the evening. She hadn’t counted on the foliage being so thick she would have to beat it back with both hands. As she fought her way through, a spindly branch snagged her hair where she had braided it back from her temple. Every time she attempted to free herself, her scalp seized with pain. Exasperation turned to fear in the deepening dusk.

“Help!” She sounded pitiful and embarrassed; she was both. 

“My lady?” 

Relief flooded her. “Warden Blackwall.” She had not strayed so far from camp that her companions could not hear. 

A lumbering silhouette crashed through the underbrush. “Are you hurt?” His voice, low and velvety despite its gruffness, made her pulse quicken. 

“No, no. It’s silly, really. It’s— my hair.”  

A large man formed out of the shadows. Thalia shot him a grateful grin. “I don’t know know how it happened, but it’s just really stuck.” She pointed to her head.

“Hold still.” Blackwall rose to his full height, resting one hand on her shoulder.  “Let me see.” 

Thalia’s heart beat faster. She stood eye level with his shoulder; his sleeve had been stitched in place with an inexpert hand. Blackwall possessed the look of a man who had been on the road for many moons. This made sense, though she wondered if the Grey Wardens hurt for coin so badly that they couldn’t afford their recruiter a new doublet. 

She swallowed, the sound of his measured breath filling her ears. “Is it terrible?”

“Not so much. Though it’ll be tricky to get you out, unless someone’s brought a pair of scissors.”

“I couldn’t,” Thalia cried, horrified. “Highborn girls aren’t supposed to cut their hair. Not in Ostwick, anyway. I know we’re not in Ostwick anymore, but I—”

“It’s all right, my lady.” Blackwall’s hand moved to her chin, steadying her. “I rather like your hair the way it is, anyway.” 

A thrill shot down her spine. Thalia stared up at him, shocked by the familiarity of his gesture. His face betrayed nothing, though he dropped his hand and slid behind her. “I think I can get it out on my own.”

“Good. That’s good.” Thalia felt the quake in her voice, but hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“I’ll need to remove my gloves to work properly. Is that all right?”

Now he asks for permission to touch me? Thalia swallowed. Maybe he realized his mistake after all. Not that she minded.

She felt his breath stirring the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. She suppressed a shiver. “Of course.” Thalia tried to make her voice sound older, more authoritative. Like a woman used to the attention of a man. She squared her shoulders.

She listened to the rustle of fabric, and then his fingers were in her hair. Thalia inhaled sharply. The warmth of his fingers bled into her scalp, and his light touch sent tingles through her skull. 

“If I’m hurting you, just say so.” 

“Okay.” She hated her own voice, soft and meek, like a child. 

How would he ever think of her as an equal, if she continued to get into trivial scrapes like this one? Even her protest about her hair — how frivolous could she be? She imagined Blackwall among his fellow Wardens, in the company of fierce warrior women who weren’t vain about the length of their hair. She chewed her lip, wondering what Blackwall’s life had been like before meeting her. 

His fingers threaded the strands of her hair, picking at a tangle she could feel at the top of her head. She felt no pain, just tension as he worked. He smelled of the smoke from tonight’s cookfire, a musky undertone she couldn’t place. Was that just what men smelled like? She’d never really been close enough to one to tell. 

“How’s it going?” she asked nervously. 

Blackwall grunted. “Not as well as I’d hoped. Don’t move.” 

He put his hands on her shoulders and moved in front of her. “I might have to do something drastic.”

“O-oh?”

“Do you trust me?” His eyes met hers. Under his thick brows, they bore into hers. They reminded her of the sea by the Ostwick Circle Tower when it threatened to storm: a deep, impenetrable grey.

Thalia stared up at him, swallowing hard. “Of course, Warden Blackwall.” 

He leaned over her, holding her back steady with one hand. With the other, he seized the branch above her head and twisted violently. With a sickening crack, the branch snapped in twain. Thalia was able to stand upright, mobility returned. “That was— incredible.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” It took another minute for him to untangle her from the now disembodied branch, but at last, she was free. Blackwall tossed the branch to the ground. It surprised her how sizable it was — one she might have dared to put her weight on, if she’d been climbing the tree. 

“Your strength is commendable, ser.” Thalia ducked her head, blushing. 

Blackwall shrugged. “Everyone’s good at something, I expect.” 

She pressed her fingers into her hair, feeling the braid that had been entrapped pulled loose and unsightly. She had an urge to let her hair down and redo each plait — but that would be scandalous to do in front of a man like the warden. She pulled the braid loose and tucked it behind her ear. 

Blackwall watched with intense interest. Thalia swallowed, all too aware they were alone together in the darkening wilderness. “I would be grateful if you escorted me back to camp now.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” He gave her a curt bow. She liked that about him; he always remembered his courtesies to a noblewoman. “This way.”

She followed him back to camp. She suspected she would follow him almost anywhere, given the chance. 

[doberart]

Dober Mike: ¡¿What the fuck, Who are!? (Grabbing a bat from the basement). (He just enter the basement to search for tools for his uncle)

(He just have happen to appear in this place by miscalculations of dipper)Mike Pines:¡¿Wait put the bat down, I AM-, uh man do I seriously still have that!??

Dober Mike:¡¿Still have what!?

Mike Pines:¡¡¡My Mulett!!!, I mean jesus i think I...I mean we leave the punk phase behind us after the accident!!

Dober Mike: Well, at least I don`t look like a walk out of Terminator or Rambo: First Blood.

Dober Mike: ¡¡Enough I am going to send you to dreamland until I get answers you robotic doppelganger!!

Dober Henry:¿What happen, Michael, couldn`t find the tools? ¡¿What the heck, two mikes?! (He just enters the basement to see what the heck is yelling about and what was taking too long)

Mike Pines: Look see it's what it looks like, well, it does actually, but I am not a doppelganger of father, I just landed in the wrong place on the wrong time!

Dober Mike: Yeah and I am Mary Poppies, ¡say your prayers!

Mike Pines: Coming from the dimensional counterpart with bad hairstyle choice.

Dober Mike: ¡Watch it, you-!

Dober Henry: Wait he is telling the truth, Mike, he is you.

Dober Mike/Mike Pines: ¡¿What?!

Mike Pines:¿But,how?

Dober Henry: I mean, you didn`t expect that your own Uncle will forget his own nephew sarcasm or what.

Mike Pines: Well, he does have a point.

Dober Mike: Agree.

Hey, it's me again, I'm here to ask you a favor or more permission to write a one-shot story with your Michael Afton and SonicCrazyGal Michael Afton in Ao3, but if you don`t want me to do that is okay, but I would like if you can draw this dialogue in your iconic art style of this idea, I know there isn't so much about your fnaf au, but I am a fan of both your fnaf, batim, and batdr art and aus too, and it will make happy if you could draw this into a little comic and free to alter the dialogue if it's needed (I just 18 yr old) so you know and if you can then at least I am happy that I show this to you because I enter to animation was because of you and your art. And I think some people also see you that way as a way to improve in our own ways if you know what I meant. Anyways have a good day and afternoon!

That would be a silly scenario. Haha. I appreciate that you like my AU idea and my Mike, but at this time I’d like if you wouldn’t write for the AU just yet. I haven’t fleshed out many details and I’m not sure when more will get developed, so for now I’d like it to stay unwritten. I don’t mind fan art of my designs, but this AU so far is just a few drawings and scrambled ideas I have yet to put together. I don’t know when I’ll get back to it or when I’ll make more, just depends on when inspiration strikes. :)

I’m glad you like my art and ideas and thank you for your kind words and for asking first. It’s always nice to know I can help inspire someone in their art journey. I always love to hear about more and more people getting into art. I wish you the best of luck with your studies and journey in that. Hope you have a good afternoon/evening as well!

[dancedance-resolution]

ex catholic thoughts and feelings that i need to get out of my brain (read at your own risk lol)

now that i’m taking some really big steps in my life with leaving my catholic life behind me etc. i’m realizing that i think it might be really healing for me to Tell Someone In My Old Catholic World what happened. i had a dream two nights ago about telling a beloved english teacher from my catholic life one of the things that happened. when i was working with someone from my old catholic life shortly post my final departure, i felt the urge to tell her. she knew some of the story and it was like my brain wanted to tell her the rest. and now i have my most beloved english teacher from Middle School that i still keep in touch with lol, i usually text her once every summer and we meet up for lunch but i didn’t text her this summer yet. i think i’ll text her when i start community college again since that’s like. A Proper Reason. idk i know it’s a dumb fear but i’m feeling a bit self conscious i guess that i want to contact her for no good reason other than it’s summertime and i love her and wanted to check in with her. but anyways. i monologued telling her what happened while driving to and from work today. she’s the most logical of persons to tell. but i don’t want to put that on her you know. anyways lastly a person from my old catholic life apparently is a client at my new job lol and we got to talking after not seeing each other for 3ish years and she asked me about career goals and college etc and i mentioned that i’m really attracted to the idea of working in a library once i have college under my belt and she was like oh! [my old church] is hiring an intern for their archive/library! you should inquire! and in my brain i felt optimistic for like 0.6 seconds where i was like. oh. i have an in on a possibly cool opportunity bc i’m literally obsessed with catholicism and want work experience in library settings…. then the reality hits of LOL no you can’t go back there. and you don’t want to go back there anyways. and i felt so so tempted to joke to her. well i don’t think id be welcome there haha. but i didn’t ofc bc it’s work and also why would i you know. we weren’t even close in my old life.

i’m afraid of forgetting everything too, in a way. there are a lot of parts that i don’t forget per se but don’t think of until something reminds me of them and it’s like oh, i’m glad my brain told me about this again bc it like. validates how hard that time was for me. bc (i know this is a bad thought bc i’d never tell this to a friend so why would i tell it to myself but) i feel like. lol bitch why are you so broken over just x. and then it’s like oh wait no remember y and z. they’re part of what hurt you too. and it’s like ah okay i have permission to have more mercy with myself

i’ve been really missing my ex still too ofc. i want to tell my one old teacher about her even though i don’t know what i’d say. i feel the urge to talk to her about how even though i’m not catholic anymore, i feel like my catholic-ness is such a huge part of me that will be with me forever, for better and for worse, and one way that manifested for me is that it made me so happy that my ex had a catholic family. like i was going to go to a knights of columbus softball event with them (we broke up before then but yeah) and. even though i can’t show my face around at least 2 of the knights who would probably be there, i still wanted to experience it with her and her family. i loved her catholic family. i loved her as an individual way way way more lol but the fact that i loved her family too made it hurt worse bc it’s like. this is a person who i could so so so fucking easily see myself having a future with. i love her and her family and i love how she gets along with my family, and i want that. but yeah

so i feel the urge to talk to my old teacher about that for no particularly good reason other than maybe she’d understand the catholic part of it. the thing is she’s still a practicing catholic lol so i don’t want to insult her or anything. she’s definitely not like super catholic to the extent that i know if i tell her i’m not catholic anymore, she won’t make any earnest attempt to convert me back to it other than maybe a stray comment about praying for me.

i think another interesting level to my desire to tell her about it is that, of course, she was my hugest crush ever until my ex herself lol. i don’t have a point related to that it just makes me laugh that my brain wants that lol.

anyways i think telling her could be healing maybe, but also she’s decently far removed from my old catholic life which is why i feel safe possibly telling her. part of me is worried i won’t feel “satisfied” until i can write a long form letter to someone like sister maria martinez. she cared about me deeply and i trust her more than i trust sister mary madeline regarding this particular subject lol. and i know nothing bad could come of me sending a letter to sister other than Her Responding lol 😅 which terrifies me lol but idk

i won’t send her a letter though bc if she didn’t respond i don’t think id feel better, and if she did respond i think id feel worse lol 😂. at least with my old teacher i feel like she might tell me “that was bad. i’m sorry that happened.” whereas sister might respond “i’m sorry it affected you negatively” rather than saying the actions taken themselves were bad. sister could surprise me though. and sister could make a difference - she still works for the church unlike my old teacher and maybe telling her my story would make her hesitate before doing some of the things that affected me so negatively (bc i wouldn’t be surprised if the one incident with kayla had her fingerprints on it lol) (though i cant remember it in perfect detail like i used to, which makes me feel weird about telling her about it bc i don’t want to misrepresent what happened). (also makes me feel weird that i’m losing the memory in general lol)

og dance dance resolution fans who were with me back when i was either procrastinating squirrel or george foreman grill (i forget which one i was when i did this) will remember a cazzie fic i posted and have since deleted about one of the first of my really influential bad catholic experiences lol. i remember even back then feeling the same thing of like i need to document everything that’s happened bc i need to remember it. i wonder if it was a control thing. “if i remember it exactly as it happened then i can never let another person tell me it didn’t happen how i know it did or wasn’t as bad as i know it was.” or my general anxiety around not knowing things lol; if i know it then it can’t surprise me and hurt me all over again. (LOL).

i want to talk to my old teacher about gender too even though i know that’s something that’s way too un catholic even for her lol. i want to express to her, maybe, how i’m only now feeling comfortable exploring femininity bc it used to be forced on me. i was so masc presenting when she knew me bc i felt the need to rebel against that femininity forced upon me, i think. and when i left my catholic life i finally had a break from having to be feminine and having to be it in their way. and then after like a long while of letting myself be as androgynous and genderless as my little heart desired lol, i finally felt able to do things like dress up for the paramore concert and now painting the nails on my left hand. and i want to tell her about how my relationship with my ex opened my eyes to so much gender stuff. how i used to feel like i had to be more masc than my partner - honestly probably related to some of the trauma that teacher herself witnessed first hand lol - but how falling so hard for my ex made me feel safe in being perceived as “the girl” in the relationship. comfortable with that and not having it in my head in a warped way that if i’m too girl and dating a dyke who’s “basically a man” then all of the struggle i’ve been through with the homosexuality thing is invalidated.

that feels less crucial though. like i want to share it with her but i don’t need to. whereas the other stuff it’s like. if i don’t tell her i probably have to tell sister maria rip 😂🫨.

i feel icky thinking about taking the time to write a letter to sister that i’d never send, even though it would also help me with my brain fear of forgetting things. why would i choose to spend that time making myself feel like shit lol. but if i already feel off due to heartstopper s2 triggering some of these feelings in me then maybe i should address it etc etc.

another option is to text the teacher tmrw. i know her county goes back in 10 (or less???) days now so if i want to meet with her for lunch like we’ve done the past few years, i should text her sooner than when i start school.

i would be like. greeting. A client at work told me that Frederick county school teachers are going back on the 14th this year (!!), so I wanted to say hi before school started for you :) I’m starting community college over again starting on the 26th haha! and then continue from there.

and then maybe if we are able to schedule lunch, i’d write out a script for telling her. and if writing it felt right, then i’d tell her. if not then i won’t.

i should probably talk to my fucking therapist about this lol. i see her again on tuesday. i feel a bit unsure about asking her about it though bc i’ve only had 3 or 4 sessions with her so far and we haven’t even started talking about the catholic stuff other than me giving a half sentence summary in my intake paperwork (and in the second half of the sentence saying i felt pretty at peace with it and didn’t feel the need to work on it more 😂). so i feel like it might be A Lot to fill her in on everything that happened quickly enough that i can also be like “and now i want to telll this teacher oh also here’s my super long and complicated back story with her too lol” LOL idk

im just shocked in a way that heartstopper made me feel this intense 😂😂😂😂😂😂. i see all these posts about like “this show is healing, it’s free therapy, this show is a comfort show” and it’s like LOL if this show is this triggering for me then maybe. perhaps perchance. i have some shit to work through 😂

i feel like if i do decide to tell my teacher about some of my catholic stuff, i’ll need to tell her that i am before doing it. like maybe start the conversation in person like. (ASSUMING WE’RE ABLE TO GET LUNCH AT ALL). so i obviously am mainly here to see you and catch up haha but i must admit i also have an ulterior motive of sorts. now that im going back to school i’ve been re-dealing with a lot of stuff from my old catholic life and i’ve been feeling the need for a while now to Tell Someone who will understand the catholic side of it if that makes sense? /// the only issue with that plan is then how do i transition to actually telling her stuff lol. what all do i want to tell and what do i not need to say. and also i think i risk limiting our conversation to catholic homosexuality stuff if i start off like that and i also just want to generally catch up with her.

hmm it would almost be useful if i knew i would cry bc i could. come out to her (oh also she doesn’t formally know i’m a homosexual lol 😂 but like she was my teacher and in middle school the whole class loooved calling me a dyke so she’s at least familiar with the concept of me being a homosexual. and also im not worried that she’ll react poorly. i trust her. like she would attend a homosexual wedding i think. ) ANYWAYS like if i could find some way to naturally integrate into the conversation like. i experienced my first real heart break i think. “oh i’m sorry tell me more” well. i don’t know if you’ve like already implied or assumed or whatever but i am a lesbian. [and then i start crying] and then bc i’m crying i can be like sorry i didn’t expect to get emotional about telling you it just feels. weird to have someone from my catholic life who i am choosing to tell. and then expand that into how i was outed etc. BUT ALSO. maybe i would actually cry at the idea of being able to choose to tell someone from my catholic life for the first time but even her i’m sure she already implies SIGH lol.

maybe that’s an angle that doesn’t require me to cry though. if i tell her and then like take a deep breath like. you know you’re the first person from my catholic life who i’ve Chosen to tell. and then go into how it feels weird you know. to even make a deal out of coming out anymore bc it’s 2023 and we’re in md and everyone’s gay nowadays lol it’s not a big deal. and she already mostly knew!!!! so it feels weird for this to feel momentous about choosing to tell you. but i guess it is sort of bc it’s like. not only are you the first person from my catholic life who i’ve trusted enough to be able to tell AND be in a place where i’m able to tell you but also. for most of the ppl from my catholic life i didn’t have a choice. (and then lead into the outing and then that has its own segways to the other stuff i need to tell someone)

ofc that all presupposes that the conversation and her reactions and my own emotions at the time go how i expect them to. i can only script so much you know lol.

i think i’m going to text her tmrw though. whether or not it leads to me telling her stuff, i want to see her again soon.

okay that’s all i have for today lol