#I had to dye the sting red with paint

[mothmanthebreadwizard]

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.

[squiddy-god]

his ugly orange hair

This is a vent fix I wrote so please keep that in mind lol

CW : young! Konig (just joined the military) roommate reader, civilian reader, trans man reader, ftm reader, bad breakup, hurt comfort, panic attack,

1.4k

They had left. You had tried, Lord knows you tried. Again and again tears rolled down your face, cheeks red and eyes darkening with the slow flood of stains that painted you like glass after rain. Your chest heaved with the great weight of your lungs and the world, again… again… again again again Again Again AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN OVER AND OVER. until you choked on your breath and tongue, tears stinging until you gaged and sputtered. Left a hopeless sobbing puking mess on your bed. The bed was cold, soft quilted sheets like a prison. 

Several days were spent in a spiral of thoughts and flurries of emotions. You hadn't told your mom yet, didn't think you could bear to, but the long dragging scrape of your eyelids forced you to blink back tears. It had been a day and in cliche of a cliches you rifled the cabinets of your two bedroom apartment. Yours- you laughed, you had shared it with your roommate for 2 years now. A tall young man about 19 like you. Unlike your study abroad program that had accepted you on a small but feasible scholarship, he was a military man partnered with a pmc. Really it was his apartment. Over the years you grew close as friends when he was home for the time between deployments. You didn't even think in your delirium and haze that today was the day he'd get home. 

The sound of rustling cardboard and the gentle noises of bathroom products sliding against the shelfs of the small closet filled your ears. Half empty jar of manic panic sat temptingly in the back, behind body butters and discarded Colognes. Not what you where looking for. Finally you found it. Reaching in you grabbed a reflective box, iron brand permanent box dye. Better then splat red, you thought to yourself as you cut the box with your kitchen scissors. 

Looking down at your hands you felt the bile rise up in your chest, the burning in your eyes as you blinked back tears. Your hair had gotten longer, shaggy and slightly unkempt in the recent weeks leading up to the cat and mouse game that was scheduling a haircut. It brushed uncomfortably against your neck and that gnawing feeling from your childhood returned. It was like your face morphed in the mirror, hideously soft, lashes too long, and you wanted to look away. Lose ,bright shirt, the sleeves and neck cut off and the thing ruined by stains of black and red and blue. The dye shirt, a staple and testament to your love of this particular activity. 9pm bad decisions. Your chest is devoid of its usual bindings and it eats at you a little until you find yourself rifling to find a hair tie. 

Snip snip snip, clips of uneven hair fall until you are happy with the slightly uneven results and scraggly look it gives. It makes you smile.

First wash, then dry before you once again clumsily drag out a mixing bowl and brush fully determined to make this a masterpiece. But as you slipped on your blue gloves, once a pretty flower design now covered in blue and black from the last incident, you couldn't help but give into that child.the urge to dip your hands into the goopy mix. In goes the bleach, followed by a sloppy measure of vol. 20 developer. 

And the goop called your name- brush discarded as a mixing tool alone you slathered the goopy mix into the strands of your short hair, realizing in panic as you didn't mix enough. Struggling with your nemesis the gloves you cursed under bated breath before managing to get one off so you could once again arduously unscrew the caps and re-mix in another sloppy bit of measuring. 

The counter of the small bathroom was a mess. Neither you nor Konig were particularly neat- a mouth watch in the corner and on the other side a clear blue cup with two toothbrushes inside it. Behind the rim of the white sink were two razors, one missing its guard from frequent use and the other beginning to rust because you forgot to dry it. Sprawling in the mess was a small vial of your testosterone, and also the gell. Closest to the door was a box of tampons and- only now- vol. 20 developer. Ibuprofen next to Tylenol and a children's cough syrup that was God knows how old. Vix vapor rub and a tooth paste. Messy. The hair in the center of your head gradually turned a light blond as your sides and back didn't take the same. Disgruntled you at least hoped for a cool effect. Your scalped itched and nose burned at that familiar comforting smell that was hair bleach. Bowl and brush discarded into Water and sink, you braved the cold frigid touch of the shower head to rinse your bleach soaked hair. 

Should you be going into this right after bleaching and drying? No. But hesitation seems foreign to you as you take out a second brush and bowl, mixing the copper orange until your concoction looks about right. 

You look like a highlighter and it brings out all of your joy. You stare and wait as time ticks by with your head slathered in that ghastly orange. “Heilige Scheiße, sehr orangefarbener kleiner Herr” his voice heavy with his accent and light laughter. He towered in the doorway, arms raised as his large fingertips hug on the top of the frame. He leaned down slightly to watch you and your bright orange hair. Your position didn't go unnoticed by him, sitting on the floor by the tub and showering with a bowl of orange remnants on the toilet. It also didn't go unnoticed by the glassy look in your eyes or the almost imperceptible darkness forming around your waterline from the tears. Your chopped up hair and of course the slightly patchy orange. “I'll help wash your hair, ja Süße?” You smiled and he stalked off the few paces to his room in order to strip his tactical gear away. When he returned he wore a black compression shirt and plaid red lounge pants- the ones you got him last Christmas- and his mask, a nasty habit he picked up from his time serving. He almost never takes it off, when he has it off the gnawing feeling returns. That paranoia and anxious scratching that just won't quit. He doesn't go out much either, preferring to stay home where his face can be on display without anxiety overcoming him in that snippy aggression that seized him. You knew being at home in the little apartment would take a few day before the mask slipped off again, yet to your surprise as he kneeled down he pulled it off. His naturally ginger hair had once again lost much of the length it usually held, although somewhat more lax and not buzzed, you missed the usual small man bun that would hold back his deep auburn hair. His face was aged beyond its years by suffering and work, sharp angles and elegant defined slopes covered with the light scruff of his facial hair that he probably had not had a chance to shave in a few weeks. His cleft lip pulled slightly on the shape of his lips but blended in for the most part with the silver scars littering his face. Next to his mouth and along his jaw, under his eye on his cheek bone, threw his right eyebrow and most concentrated in the area of his mother and lower jaw the pale scars decorated his skin now don't peppered all across him. You smiled seeing his face, interesting and handsome. The latter a thought you beat down with a stick. “Want to tell me why you've been crying huh?” He asked as if he already knew. You nodded and squeaked out a strained yes before leaning over the tub to rinse the dye. His large palm cradled the back of your head as the cold water rushed past your eyes in a stream of orange. Thick fingers pressing ever so gently into your tender scalp scrubbing the remains of orange goop and leaving only one the patchy hair behind. He rubbed the dampening towel  against your hair as you explained to him you ex and how you where now on the hunt for a partner. He chuckled, that deep rumbling sound that was a endless source of delight. “kleiner Schlingel- you don't have to look far” he said confidently, yet his piercing green eyes normally devoid of much feeling searched yours for a sliver of Reassurance. 

You delivered, leaning against his massive shoulder as your ugly orange hair soaks his shirt. But he didn't mind. He loved your ugly orange hair. 

1.4k words

[sincerely-sofie]

She is washing the blood of a child off her arms.

Twig is washing a child’s blood off her arms.

Tints of red sparsely paint the flow of water and dissipates into the pool. The loud silence of the area is deafening, the sniffles and shaky voices having disappeared when Kip and Ark took the children somewhere away from the dread and fear. The stars and the moon, covered by dark grey clouds, have long since been in the sky, so it’s possible the two are trying to help the kids sleep.

She knows Ark won’t rest for the night — he will tirelessly chase away the nightmares tonight. It’s likely he won’t leave their dreams until the time comes for them to wake. It’s possible this will repeat for several nights.

Twig grits her teeth, scrubbing harder and nearly choking when the water still doesn’t run clear. Blood dyes the downpour of water and the soup has a pinkish tint. It just won’t go away. It won’t-

A green hand pulls her arms away from the water, and she snarls as she comes face to face with Grovyle. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear the words at first. He keeps repeating himself again and again until-

“Twig, the blood is gone — you’re scrubbing yourself raw.”

Twig blinks, looking down at her flushed, puffy, and sensitive arms. They throb in protest of their recent treatment, and she can suddenly feel the stinging, hissing suffering she put them through. Grovyle’s hold becomes soft when he realizes that she can hear him now, and he gently pulls away as to not cause more discomfort.

“I have some cream that will help with the pain,” he offers softly, looking at her and through her at the same time — something Twig didn’t know was possible. “Do you want some?”

She nods, adding a quiet “thanks, man” as he leads her into another room. Grovyle grabs a tube from a counter and begins to make the gesture from her to hold up her arms, but he stops midway. His eyes, for a moment, are wide and far away. They whisper of the past and not the present, dancing the ballet of guilt. Twig opens her mouth, but he’s back as soon as she does. Gently, he places the tube into her hand and backs away.

“Grovyle-”

“It may sting a bit when you first use it,” he interrupts, not meeting her eyes, “but it’ll feel much better after a few seconds.”

Twig frowns at the wall between them — a wall that she doesn’t know is glass, concrete, or brick. If only she could reach through and pull him away from the painful, guilt-inducing memory that he has trapped himself in, but her muscles and mind are anchored by an unyielding weight of exhaustion. It takes a monument of will just to get her mouth to open, but it shuts as Dusknoir makes his way inside, his hands covered in a vast amount of red. He stares blankly at both of them, unable to stop the words that come out.

“It wasn’t from the dungeon.”

“What?” Twig turns to him, setting the tube of cream to the side. “What do you mean?”

“The wound of concern isn’t from the dungeon,” Dusknoir repeats, far away from them despite being right there. “It’s old.”

Twig bristles, making her way over with defiance shouting with every step, “that doesn’t make sense. There was too much blood for it not to be fresh. It had to be-”

“It reopened.”

Twig’s heart stops and she doesn’t know when it restarts. All she feels is the roaring silence and coldness of dread, only cut through by Dusknoir’s continued explanation.

“She must have sustained this wound not too long ago. It wasn’t looked at by a professional when it should have been. The suture work was abysmal. She sustained injuries from the dungeon and the major wound reopened from the stress and demand of being in such a hostile area. Her recovery will be complicated with the wound being improperly treated and agitated several times. This could have killed her at any moment. Her state, at this moment, is critical and fragile, and-”

“Will she make it?”

Dusknoir pauses, looking up and staring at her as if he just realized she was there. His eye glances away, as it looking for a subtle exit.

“Twig-”

“Answer me,” she pushes Grovyle’s hand aside. “She couldn’t have been able to patch herself up — not where the wound is. Those — those two did this to her. Tell me right now, Dusknoir — is she going to make it?”

Dusknoir looks back at her, and this time he can’t seem to look away or shrink even if he wanted to. He stiffens, then looks down.

“We’re doing everything we can-”

“Dusknoir.”

“-we’re not going to give up on her-”

“GIVE ME AN ANSWER!”

The room shakes with her booming voice, startling both Grovyle and Dusknoir. The ghost type stumbles before recollecting himself, but he can’t stop his eye from trailing down to the floor and the fists shaking at his sides.

“I don’t know.”

••••••

“When we brought you here, a lot of doctors didn’t think you would make it, but then you did. You beat all the odds, Ruby. You don’t know how amazing you are.”

Twig knows the girl can’t hear her. The Zorua has been asleep ever since the start of her recovery, but the peaceful expression on her face as she sleeps is new. The girl’s face is no longer contorted with pain, and her breathing comes soft and deep in her slumber.

“Opal told me a lot about you,” Twig continues. “She told me that you love sweets, you like helping others, how smart you are, how you hate fighting — yet you still did. You fought and you’re still here, and we’re all so glad you did.”

Ruby stirs slightly in her sleep, before falling deeper into her dreams.

“When you wake up,” Twig looks back at the version of her that Grovyle found alone all those years ago. She sees the version of her that broke down in her family’s arms as her pain was ripped into the open for all to see next to that young girl. She sees the fear, guilt, desperation, and pain of her past selves, and with them lays Ruby. “You won’t be alone. You had and always will have Opal, and now you’ll have me, and Ark, and the rest of our kooky family. You can leave the fighting to me, Ark, Kip, Grovyle, Dusknoir, and Celebi then — probably Sen too. She’ll say it’s only to protect Kip, but I think she’s angry on your behalf too. I know it’ll probably be overwhelming to have multiple people that actually care, but I promise it’s worth it in every way. You may not think you deserve it, but you do.”

“I hope I can show you that, just like my family did for me. You won’t be alone ever again — that’s a promise.”

IT IS TOO LATE IN THE DAY TO BE SNIVELING AND SNIFFLING AND BLUBBERING AND BAWLING

Oh my word. Phenomenal writing and characterization, all paired with such heartbreaking storytelling. I love this so much. This is gorgeous work and I absolutely adore it, thank you for this piece!

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

Hair Dye Stains

A Terrickrow fic by Laurie Oak :]

(This was an idea by @justablah56, and don’t mind me randomly making descriptive stuff out of nowhere argh)

The sink was covered in box on box of hair dye, ranging from bright red to purple to light pink. Sparrow stood at the mirror, with her hair tied up, watching the watch on her wrist intently. 

“Has it been 35 minutes yet?” Terry looked up from the sink, where they were struggling to rinse out their hair.

Nope.” Nicky hummed from where he was sitting in the empty bathtub, painting his nails. He’d stolen Sparrow’s red nail polish earlier. Sparrow groaned, flicking at a strand of loose hair. She’d been trying to grow it out past her shoulders but it seemed to be refusing to grow any longer. Her gloved hands were stained with pink and so was Nicky’s old band shirt she was wearing.

“Nicky, when did you last see Lark today?” Nicky looked up, surprised.

“Like two hours ago when we finished band practice? Why?” Sparrow fiddled with her hair, more strands coming loose now.

“Well I promised him I’d cut my hair to match his and I don’t think I want to,” Terry dried their hair, mumbling from underneath the towel.

“Why does he want you to cut your hair?” Nicky sat up in the bathtub now, listening intently.

“It reminds him of Dad, that’s why he cut his hair last month, and you know, with us being siblings and everything,” Sparrow waved her hand, flicking some hair dye onto the already stained mirror. 

“He wanted me to match.” They’d had had a big argument over that last night, Lark had ended up storming out the house to Grant’s that night, and she hadn’t seen him since. Terry put down the towel and threw an arm over Sparrow’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to match anyone if you don’t want too.” They kissed Sparrow on the head briefly, before turning around to face Nicky. He stood up and stumbled, his wings flailing as he caught himself. He joined the two of them, throwing his arms around Sparrow and Terry, hugging them both. 

“It’s kind of a shitty thing for Lark to expect you to do whatever he says,” He mumbled.

“Nono it’s not like that,” Sparrow began, then she trailed off. 

“I think.” Nicky nodded.

“I agree what Terry said, be your own person.” Sparrow felt a sting in her eyes, and quickly wiped them.

“Thanks you two.” She leant over to kiss Terry on the cheek, Nicky’s head resting on her shoulder. She ran her fingers over Nicky’s nail polish, the dark red almost a black. 

“Are you going to give my nail polish back at some point?” Nicky kissed Sparrow and smiled, his fangs showing.

“He’s avoiding the question!” Terry gasped and covered their mouth in fake surprise. They kissed Nicky, Sparrow in the middle, her arms around the two of them, peppering both of their faces with kisses. 

Suddenly an alarm went off, breaking the three of them apart. Nicky’s phone was buzzing, 35 minutes had passed. 

“Finally!” Sparrow untied the plastic covering her dyed hair, letting it fall onto her shoulders. She went quiet, her hands subconsciously twisting her bracelets around her wrists. Her hair was now streaked with bright pink, fading in and out, in a wave of colour. Her hair was actually longer than she thought, now reaching past her shoulders. The stinging feeling returned to her eyes and she let the tears fall, now smiling as they did. Nicky hugged Sparrow, and so did Terry, and she grinned. Everything was going to be alright.

[stt4lk3r]

Caraphernelia - Castiel x Reader

I staggered towards the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I was in a sorry state. My head ached from the large amount of alcoholic beverages I had consumed last night, my purple hair was completely messed up, not to mention my eyeliner, which had smudged because of the tears. I sighed, picking up the toothpaste and putting it on my toothbrush. I brought it to my parched lips, feeling a slight sting in the cuts there.

Pathetic... You can barely open your mouth to brush your teeth...

After a few minutes trying to brush my teeth and have a good shower, I went back to my room, which was in complete chaos.

Bottles of whisky and vodka lying on the floor, a guitar with broken strings in one corner, two empty cigarette packets, and to top it all off, a fat, lazy cat lying in the middle of it all.

I looked for some clothes, even though I knew that in the end it was going to be torn jeans, a t-shirt from some rock band and an extremely shabby all-star.

After getting dressed, I went to the dressing table to apply eyeliner and black lipstick, as usual. I ended up knocking over the lipstick packaging, and when I bent down to pick it up, I found a box of red hair dye lying on the floor.

Castiel...

My ex had his hair colored here at home last week. He slept over, and well, we're a couple, right, whatever happened happened.

But the next day, I woke up alone. All he left was a letter saying that he was going after his dreams, that he was going to get his failing band recognized by everyone. And that he didn't have the guts to break up with me in front of me.

A real asshole, that's for sure.

Since that day, I've started finding things he left here at home, and it's driving me crazy.

I shake my head, trying to wake myself out of my thoughts, and throw the paint in the garbage can in the bathroom. I'm not going to torture myself over a guy who doesn't even have the courage to break off a relationship in a decent way.

I see something glowing in the corner of the room, and I move closer to see what it is.

A lighter with our initials on it...

Damn it Castiel, help me forget you.

[cold--carnage]

Hi! Um. I dunno how it will be recieved but... how I dealt with the urge was a rubber band or hair tie with red food dye or washable paint on it. It had the color and the sting without the... actual. Act. Idk, just a thought.

thank you, I really appreciate the gesture of offering these alternatives. these are all things I've tried in the past, and I usually try to use them to hold off the urge long enough to snap me out of it. sometimes it just doesn't work, and that's okay. relapse is part of recovery. thanks, nonny. it was really sweet of you to suggest this <3

[wine-and-fanficideas]

Unfortunately Your Reputation Precedes you

Part 2

Part 1

Dpxdc TW for fic topics include rape, child abuse, abuse, murder

Sam (15) - Danny (15) - Danielle (15) - Jazz (17)

*Story Starts Here*

Danny would be starting his sophomore year with Danielle. The Fenton Portal was destroyed in the explosion, and Vlad actually closed his portal when he wasnt actively using it. He wasnt sure what to expect of a year without ghost attacks, much less attending a private school.

Sam, at least, would be transfering with him. Tucker, unfortunately, couldn't afford the tuition.

Amity Park Private High School was vastly different than Casper High. Uniforms, for one, and a strict expectation of excellence, preparing the students for their future careers before they even picked their college or university.

Danny wasn't surprised by his class list. Bussiness, Management, Engineering, Economics, everything he'd need to be Heir to Vlad's corporate empire.

Dani's list wasnt much better. Dance, Gymnastics, Health & Beauty, it was like she was being prepped to be a trophy wife.

Danny glanced through the list and realized, that probably exactly what was happening.

"Tools," Sam said. "That's all we are to them,"

Sam's list was an odd blend of the 'twins' lists.

"I'm expected to both inherit the company and marry well," Sam waved her crumpled list. "So wifey classes and business classes."

"This is so messed up," Dani groaned.

Danny wanted to be angrier about this, summer had just started and they had two and a half months before school started again, but it was hard to feel anything for any notable length of time.

He couldn't remember the last conversation he had with his parents.

Had it been a fight? Did he tell them he loved them? Did he hug his Mom? Did his Dad squeeze his shoulder? When had it been, their last conversation? If he had known that was the last time he'd ever see them again-

"Which is why I'll have to wash the dye out,"

Danny blinked. "Die?"

"Hair dye," Sam said. "My Dad's blond, and my mother a red head. You really think my hair is naturally black?"

"Your Grandmother could've had black hair,"

"Nope, blonde and ginger are recessive genes. Didn't you read any of the notes on genetics Tucker and I made you last year?"

"...there's a square and the letters match up and that's somehow dna math?"

Sam groaned, half choking on a laugh as she shook her head.

"I'm blonde, Danny. I've been dying my hair black and purple since middle school."

"Why can't you keep doing that?"

"Because AP Private has a strict dress code, including hair dye regulations."

"...is purple your actual eye color?"

" No Danny," Sam said. "Purple is not typically a natural eye color."

"...do you wear contacts?"

"Yep. Did you not know that? Tucker found out years ago."

"Didn't seem important? I don't know I never thought about it."

"Well, I'm blonde," Sam said. "And under my colored prescription contacts, my eyes are grey. I never liked the way I looked, which is why I did all the hair dying and contacts and piercings. I thought, if I was a blank canvas, how would I paint myself? And then I did,"

Days seemed to blend together that summer. It was so weird, living with Vlad. Danny had two cards, one debit and one credit. He knew Vlad was tracking his purchases, but he couldn't sleep in the lifeless room.

He redecorated it, from the ceiling full of stars to the the books on the shelves, he shopped until the cards were declined.

That was also the first time Vlad hit him.

It was different from their fights as Hero and Villain had been.

Before Danny could've fought back, or dodged, or even spat something snarky at the Fruitloop.

But Danny couldn't muster up the desire to dodge right now, much less anything else. Going intangible was more instinct than conscious thought, but Vlad was expecting that.

Danny lay in his room, his face stinging. This wasnt fair. This wasn't right. He rolled over and screamed into a pillow.

[leslie-allen-spillane]

‘Reflections on a Radical Plot’, Charlotte Salter-Townshend in conversation with Clodagh Emoe

Imma magazine

Reflections on a Radical Plot offers insights into the journey and multifaceted engagements of Crocosmia × woven together with histories, folklore, and symbolism of Crocosmia and the various species of plants which have presented themselves in the plot on IMMA’s front lawn.

Clodagh Emoe creates works that explore how meaning is formed through our connection with each other and the natural world. Her collaborative project, The Plurality of Existence… (2015-2018) with individuals seeking asylum led organically to Crocosmia ×, a participatory project that was also developed and realised with individuals seeking asylum. Crocosmia × was commissioned by ‘…the lives we live” Grangegorman Public Art and supported by IMMA. The artwork Crocosmia × found a natural home in IMMA, as a plot of wildflowers on the lawn of this stately building.

Studies indicate the value of plants both wild and cultivated on human well-being. Increasingly, researchers acknowledge the importance of daily contact with nature. Even the ‘plucky plants’[i] that find their niche in urban environments have manifold positive effects. Growing on walls, in gutters, between cracks in the pavement, and along railway lines, these wild plants provide much needed refuge and food for animals including pollinators, but they also have a positive effect on human well-being.

Plants referenced in the collection of folklore are brought back to our attention in her organic, ghostlike prints of nettle, forget-me-not, primrose, herb Robert, ribwort plantain, nipplewort, prickly sow thistle, common thistle, opium poppy, wild violet, and western willow herb.

Nettles are nutritious and are an example of food as medicine: “Three doses of nettles in the month of April will prevent any disease for the rest of the year”.[9] Nettles are also vital for wildlife, the leaves providing food for the caterpillars of small tortoiseshell, comma, red admiral, and peacock butterfly. The stinging hairs protect the plant from grazers, allowing all sorts of insect life to thrive undisturbed. Nipplewort is a ‘weed’ of cereal crops. It has become less frequent with modern agricultural practices. The flower buds were thought to resemble nipples. Hence, it was believed to help heal sore nipples. This is an example of a theory known as the doctrine of signatures, popular in medieval times. Willowherb is also known as fireweed, because it grew where bombs had struck during the Blitz in London. It is a plant symbolic of upheaval and survival. Dandelions are considered the classic ‘weed’. Originating in Europe and Asia, it is estimated that dandelions have been in cultivation since the Roman times. They are used as remedies for illnesses including liver problems, gastrointestinal distress, fluid retention, and skin ailments. The plant is also a tasty and highly nutritious vegetable. During the seventeenth century, European colonists introduced dandelions to North America. Native American peoples also developed their own uses of the dandelion after it naturalised.

For the purposes of scientific record, botanists and collectors press and preserve plants as herbarium specimens. Bridging across science and art, botanic artists paint plants with great accuracy and detail. Clodagh develops this further, using unique ecological printing process that captures an image of the subject using the very essence of the plants. What appears as a mirror image reveals the trace of natural dye from the front and back of the plant left on each page, a duality presenting the plants’ dimension and depth, like the poetry of the asylum seekers who collaborated in The Plurality of Existence… and Crocosmia ×. This ecological printing process captures the complexity of these plants, revealing that being is a process in constant flux and in dialogue with the environment. At times, plants are potential, lying dormant in the soil. Later, they decay and return to the earth, showing us that death is just a part of the life cycle. “Deep in their roots all flowers keep the light” – Theodore Roethke.[10]

[valeriee-dawn]

62. the shower in my old apartment

it’s 10:00pm and my shower is running. my shower is running because I like the sting, hot water seeping into thick red lines they litter my thighs like the subtle scratches on your prius. subtle scratches we don’t talk about. a fresh coat of paint can’t erase what happened, but at least it’s easier to look at.

​

ii. i didn’t know you made a copy of my keys. you made a copy of my keys, you always had a copy of my keys i am stuck in a parking spot at your house my body, my fears, kept in a lock box, you have a copy of the keys, and who am i to stop you from opening me up. you have the keys.

​

iii. the floor of my shower has become accustomed to the red paint, or hair dye, my shower has become accustomed to the red hair dye you love so much. i scrub for hours to remove the stain from my hands. my shower is running to get rid of the red.

iv. my shower is still running and i’m eighteen again. i’m eighteen again and your hand in mine feels like a peace treaty for my trauma, a steady reminder that I chose this. you never had a copy of my keys, you had the only set.

it’s 10:00pm and my shower is running.

published in the spring 2021 edition of "Broadside Literary Arts Magazine"

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

063 of 2024

The Purple Survey 💜

by joybucket

1. Do you like the color purple? Yes, it's one of my favourite colours.

2. List three random things you like that are purple. Amethysts, grapes, lilac plants (not only the colour, but also smell <3).

3. What is your favorite shade of purple? Red-violet and electric purple.

4. What is your least favorite shade of purple? Northwestern purple, I think. And whatever colour the eggplant is.

5. Name three people you've met who have said that their favorite color is purple. My aunt (my dad's sister), my friend Laura, and I can't think of a third person.

6. Would you ever dye your hair purple? Yeah, I've had purple many times before.

7. Are you wearing anything purple right now, and if so, what? No, I'm not.

8. Do you like to eat grapes? 🍇 Yeah, I do. But I prefer these more sour ones.

9. Which of these cartoon characters do you like best: Reggie Rocket, Ursula the Sea Witch, the Cheshire Cat, Rapunzel, or Barney the Dinosaur? Out of these I know only the Cheshire Cat, Ursula and Rapunzel, I'm gonna go with the Cheshire cat.

10. Can you remember watching Barney as a kid? No, this name doesn't even ring a bell.

11. Do you think you look good in purple? I have no idea.

12. List three things you can see from where you're sitting right now that are purple. Notebook, a gift box that I use to keep random things, a pen.

13. Would you rather drink grape juice, grape soda, prune juice, pomegranate juice, or a blueberry pomegranate smoothie? Grape soda.

15. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Violet, Lavender, Magenta, Periwinkle, or Vylette? Violet.

16. Do you like the color orchid? It's not the best, but it's not the worst either.

17. List three random things you dislike that are purple. Eggplants, red cabbage, and thistle (you know, it stings).

19. List three random things you own that are purple. Notebooks, pens, highlighters.

20. Would you ever drive a purple car? Why not? Sounds cool.

22. Do you think purple eyeshadow looks good on you? N/A.

23. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Amethyst, Heather, Orchid, Aster, or Skye? Heather.

24. Have you ever used the eggplant emoji? 🍆 I don't recall using it.

26. What color hair would you have if you were a Lisa Frank character? I'm not familiar with Lisa Frank characters.

27. Which of these words would you say describes you best: royal, deep, noble, powerful, or ambitious? Ambitious.

29. Do you own a pair of purple pants? Yeah, somewhere in the closet.

30. Have you ever seen a purple house? Believe me, I've seen everything. I live in Belgium, our building law is really liberal. You can build whatever you want here.

31. Do you think you would ever paint your house purple? Why or why not? Not really, because for buildings and interiors, I prefer bright or pastel colours.

33. Are you a porphylophile? I don't think so, even though I like this colour.

34. What are two colors that you think look really good with purple? Blue, pink, black.

35. What was the last thing you ate that was purple? Grapes, but it was months ago.

36. What was the last thing you drank that was purple? Probably grape soda.

37. Do you know anyone who has epilepsy? Yeah, myself. I wish I didn't. Thankfully medication works.

38. Do you know anyone who has fibromyalgia? Yes, a few people. But only one IRL.

39. Do you know anyone who has a mast cell disease? Not in person.

40. Would you want to be able to see into the future? Why or why not? 🔮 No. I prefer it to be a mystery, knowing too much is not good either.

41. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Destiny, Epiphany, Royalty, Princess, or Fantasy? Destiny.

43. If you had to pick a purple Halloween costume to where, which one of these would you pick: genie 🧞, witch, princess, dinosaur, or Cheshire Cat? Cheshire Cat, but I don't celebrate Halloween.

44. Do you own a purple dress? I don't wear dresses.

45. Which of these words would you say describes you best: artistic, intuitive, spiritual, imaginative, or thoughtful? Imaginative.

47. Do you consider yourself spiritual? I don't think so.

48. Do you consider yourself intuitive? Kind of, but also I think I should listen to my intuition more.

49. Which of these words would you say describes you best: mysterious, unique, easygoing, compassionate, or insightful? Compassionate.

[yokasaris]

Prompt #16- Deiform

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge (cw: brief mild blood/gore mention) "Yeah, maybe we shoulda brought the wolves." Waes shot him an uneasy glare that conveyed the 'I told you so' better than words could have. Some bells back she'd already taken the initiative to string her bow, which she gripped more tightly in hand.

Even with his diminished sense of smell, the sharp sting of blood managed to fill his senses. Zhan'a eyed the dark stains at road's edge and the flying pests the scent had attracted. He'd seen worse, he thought, as if that were comfort enough to keep the rising panic at bay. Here in the open air, nothing could compare to memories of fetid caverns coated glistening black, the ground so slick so as to deny proper purchase. Even if he held his breath and closed his eyes, the gashes along his arms from their shattered bones were beginning to burn and bits of tattered flesh dripped into his shirt collar. From work he'd always known how much blood a body held, yet seeing it displayed in so violent a manner had- "Oi! Ya good?" A dark hand waved in front of his face, driving away the memories. Zhan'a shook his head, though leapt a step back as he turned his attention to Waes and the streak of scarlet running down her cheek. The younger miqo'te reached back down to a pouch on her belt. Then, she held her hand up once more to show him the red dye on her fingertips before tracing a line from the corner of his mouth to his chin. "Ain't got wolves, so gotta make do," she muttered. "Menphina protect us." If there really were a crazed animal or something on the loose, he doubted it would be intimidated by a bit of paint, Dalamud red or not. That sort of thing was best left to scaring defenseless Gridanians who already feared poachers and raiders. Still, Waes' fingers no longer trembled, emboldened by this simple tradition as she added a few more streaks of red to his jawline. Surprisingly, his own flash of fear ebbed to the point of allowing rational thought. "I've never... worn this before," Zhan'a said softly, reaching up to touch the paint but stopping himself just short of disturbing it. Even the dogs were often lovingly streaked scarlet, all the better to turn the faint hearted away without a fight. But, never him. Granted, he had left, and even if he'd stayed he'd never had the desire for raiding... Still. He cleared his throat. "Let's get off the road. Safer travels that way. I hope."

[fbfh]

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?��� he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

[storydays]

Prolouge

Earth.

Fire.

 Air.

 Water.

 When I was a boy, my father, Avatar Aang, told me the story of how he and his friends heroically ended the 100-year war. Avatar Aang and Firelord Zuko transformed the Fire Nation Colonies into the United Republic of Nations, a society where benders and non-benders from all over the world could live and thrive together in peace and harmony. They named the capital of this great land Republic City. Avatar Aang accomplished many remarkable things in his life, but sadly, his time in this world came to an end, and like the cycle of the seasons, the cycle of the Avatar began anew.

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

Tenzin sighed softly as Jinora helped him load up Oogie for the trip to the South Pole to see his mother and Korra. They both enjoyed the cool breeze and peace until an enraged scream echoed through the temple. "Come back here, you brats!" They turned to see an  irritated you, chasing a giggling Ikki and Meelo down the hall. This was the time you three liked to prank each other, and the two younger airbenders seemed to have really outdone themselves this time. His once (h/c) hair was a raging bright red and rather splotchy.  They knew you had your father's wild locks, but it didn't help that you had taken your mother's thickness as well. 

It was a real pain in the ass to manage. 

Tired of chasing the two, you grinned, before using your waterbending to grab their ankles, and yanked them so they were hanging upside down in front of you, clear surprise on their faces. "Hey!" "No fair!" They pouted. YOu chuckled tickling them before using the water, to clean the dye out of your hair, and splashing the two with the paint, making them squeal. A heavily pregnant Pema came over laughing at the scene. "Come along you three, it's time to start flying." You held her steady as the more excitable kids sent a blast around themselves to hurry onto Oogie, almost knocking your Aunt Pema over. "Hey easy, guys!" You called before walking over to the flying bisons.  

Oogie snorted happily when you gave him an apple, before landing next to Jinora as Tenzin looked at you all, "Ready to go?" he asked tiredly. "Yes/Yay!" Everyone called. "Oogie, yip yip." Tenzin commanded softly, as the bison took off for the South Pole."Off to see Gran-Gran and (Y/N)'s girlfriend!" Meelo shouted as Jinora and Ikki began making kissy faces and mocking the older teen's red face. "Korra is not my girlfriend!" You denied. "But you like her and wish it were true!" 

You groan, brushing your choppy bangs out of your eyes, before settling into a meditation position, and exhaled. 'This was going to be a long ride.'

---Start of the  unexpected vision---

You opened your eyes to hear a soft melody echo through the air. Your (e/c) eyes softened as you followed the music to where a woman was dancing by the ocean, sting ray-otters gracefully circling around her, and it looked like they were communicating. You walked closer, entranced. "I know your there, (Y/N) . But it is not your time to sit and chat with me." She turned around with a smile, and your breath caught. 

"Mother? Mom, wait! Please!"  You cried out, reaching towards her.

The scene changed to see a brunette girl, kneeling in a weird position, a masked man pressing a thumb to her head. Then if shifted again, to see the same girl on the floor clutching her stomach, as a man dressed in blue, and glowing black and red used a water whip to kill something...that looked like Ravaa? Again to show the girl on her knees, with glowing white eyes, and a air bubble around her head, the air literally getting sucked out of her, and the final scene was of her fighting a woman in green and metal armor  in some weird robot thing.

You could feel your heart beat rising as you found yourself in a temple, with statues. And a glowing orb, zipping around the room. "W-who are you?" You whisper, as the orb regards you curiously, before taking your long hair out of your  ponytail and cuddled into you. But you heard a strong voice, clear as day speak in your mind. "Til we meet again, (Y/N)." 

---End of expected vision----

You gasp sharply, coming back to the real world. The airbender kids were fast asleep, and Pema and Tenzin looked at you in concern. It was nighttime, and you knew you were almost there. "(Y/N)! Are you all right?" Tenzin asked, noting you were shaking." "Y-yeah. I'm fine, Uncle Tenzin." You smile, seeing the exhaustion on both of their faces, before stretching your limbs and walking to the front. "Uncle Tenzin, why don't I take the reigns for a while, I have a feeling it's going to get a lot more crazy these next few days." Oogie groaned in agreement as his master walked back to ease his wife into a peaceful slumber. "Wake me when the kids awaken, alright (Y/N)? I don't want you to fall asleep at dinner. My mother will freeze you in an ice block again, for the third time..." He joked before settling next to Pema, and falling into a quite sleep.

You smile to yourself, before leaning back into Oogie's head. 

'I wonder what will happen next..'

[malewifegradyruewen]

An Untitled Original Work, Part 8

y'all are either gonna love me or hate me-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: none that i can think of, ask to tag

word count: 2755

tagging: @fire-sapphics @artemiassamos @honorablescythecurie @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @mermistahawk @dirty-racoon @tommyinnitt @enbies-and-felonies @sofia-not-sophie @imaramennoodle @littlemisscupcake @cadence-talle and lmk know if you wanna be added/removed!!

Gina was pissed, to say the least. Stupid, oblivious Leo, and stupid, oblivious her. What a pair.

Leo had always been oblivious, so she really couldn’t blame him, but it was her own mistakes that really set her off. Sure, they were her mistakes, but that didn’t make them sting less.

Put it out of your mind. That’s over now, and now we can… try again.

After they’d left, she and Sammie had decided that they should go to Gina’s, just to hang out. The only reason Gina had agreed was because she knew her dad had taken her youngest siblings to their grandma’s, and the oldest two of her younger siblings wouldn’t bother her. They might have even gone over to a friend’s house, leaving the Weathers residence vacant.

“So, what did you think? Salt & Pepper, it was good, right?” she asked, hoping to break the tension that had formed.

“Yeah, it was pretty good! Leo was right, the mocha was pretty good.”

She knew Sammie didn’t mean any harm, but hearing Leo’s name brought a bitter taste to Gina’s mouth. She did her best to swallow it before asking, “Have you ever dyed your hair?”

So she was taking the easy way out of discussing what had happened at the café. There was nothing wrong with that, especially because Gina wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but they didn’t need to talk about it. Right now, she needed a distraction, something guaranteed.

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Sammie admitted. “I never had the chance, I guess.”

“How would you feel about maybe, I dunno, doing that at my house?” Gina asked. “I’ve got a couple colours. I accidentally bought some for light hair, too, so that’s been sitting in my closet for a while now.”

Sammie hesitated. Gina could tell she wanted to, but still. It wasn’t something most people did on the fly. Changing your colour was one thing, but doing it for the first time was usually a bigger decision.

“You don’t have to,” Gina added. “Or we can do just like, a little bit. Streaks or ends or-” She gasped. “Under layer would look so good!”

With that, Sammie seemed won over. “Why not? What colours do you have?”

“For light hair, I think pink and blue. And then I have some that’s for darker hair, purple and green and red. And brown. I dunno. Probably pink or blue for you.”

“Pink, for sure.”

“Good, because we’re here,” Gina said as they pulled into her driveway. She quickly parked outside and hopped out of the car. “Do you want a soda or something? We’ve got some in the garage.”

She led Sammie into the garage and to an old, white fridge. Sammie pulled it open and Gina grabbed a Sprite. “Go on, you can take something.”

Sammie grabbed a Sprite of her own before closing the fridge. Gina then pulled open the door to the back hall, a tiny doorway that led into the kitchen. “Shoes on or off?” Sammie asked.

“Either one,” Gina said. “I keep mine in my room.” She then bolted upstairs. “My room’s up here.”

As Gina walked down the narrow hallway, she suddenly felt very… inadequate. Everything seemed too small, too dirty, too embarrassing. It never felt like this when Mally or Andre were over, because they’d been coming over since they were little. But somehow, Sammie seeing it for the first time as a high schooler, the most judgemental group of people on the planet, terrified Gina. What if this was it? Maybe Sammie would stop hanging out with her. Plus, there was the added terror of having your crush see your bedroom. That usually didn’t happen so early, did it?

Gina ran out of time to go over worst-case scenarios as she opened her bedroom door. Luckily, she’d cleaned up a bit before going to pick Sammie up, so it wasn’t too bad. Her bed was made, there were no dirty underwear on the floor, and the dresser was organised.

“Aww, your room is so cute!” Sammie said as Gina stepped out of the way to let her in. “The nail polish is so fun!” She pointed to the row that Gina had lined up in colour order. There were only maybe a dozen bottles, but they took up a decent amount of room on her dresser.

“Thanks,” Gina said as she internally sighed a sigh of relief. ��Maybe we can paint our nails later, if we have time.”

“That would be fun,” Sammie agreed.

Gina could tell that there was something Sammie wasn’t saying, but she decided not to push. “Okay, here’s the hair dye,” she said as she opened her closet and grabbed a small plastic basket off the floor. “Here’s the pink.”

She tossed the box to Sammie, who caught it with ease. “Should we do this in the bathroom, and do you have some old towels?”

“Yeah, they’re right here.” She reached into her closet again and grabbed two stained towels. “I know they look gross but they’re clean, I promise. I just washed them.”

“That’s okay,” Sammie said as she took one of the towels from Gina. “Here, you put the basket away. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Right next door, first door on the right,” Gina said, sliding the basket back and closing her small closet. She followed Sammie into the bathroom.

“Okay, what’s first?” asked Sammie as she opened the box.

“You should wash your hair. I can do that in the sink, and then I have some clips in the sink so we only dye the bottom layer.”

“Alright, I’m doing this!” Sammie said as she placed one of the towels around her neck like a cape.

“We’re doing this! Here, I’m gonna go grab a chair so you can sit by the sink,” Gina said. She ran back downstairs to the garage, grabbed an old folding chair, and brought it back up. When she got back to the bathroom, she found that Sammie had found a handful of hair clips in a drawer and had pulled the gloves out of the box.

“Here.” She set the chair down facing the wall. “Sit.”

Sammie sat as Gina grabbed her shampoo and conditioner from the shower. She put them on the counter next to the sink and turned the water on. “Sit back so your hair’s actually in the sink.”

Gina could see Sammie hesitate. “Hey, it’s not too late to chicken out. I still haven’t been able to do Mally’s. You’re fine if you don’t wanna do it.”

“No, I wanna,” Sammie said. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be! This stuff is only semi-permanent anyways, so it won’t last for more than six weeks, if you wash it the same amount as usual.”

Gina could see Sammie take a deep breath before sitting back. “Let’s go!”

She placed Sammie’s hair in the sink and started washing it. “So, how do you like it here?”

“I like it. It’s different from where I lived before, but I like the people here. I think I found a good group, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Gina said as she started adding shampoo. “Good crew. I’ve known Mally and Andre since elementary school. I think we’re all pretty likeable.”

“Yeah, and the other people in my classes are nice, too,” Sammie said. “Not that I’d hang out with most of them, but they’re nice.”

“Mhm,” Gina said absentmindedly as she rinsed the shampoo and started combing conditioner through Sammie’s hair.

“I can’t wait to just get to know more people, you know? Like I’ve been talking with some of my other classmates and I forgot how fun it is to talk to different people and get their perspectives on things.”

“Yeah,” Gina agreed. “Sit up, your hair is clean. I gotta dry it a bit.”

Sammie leaned forward in the chair as Gina pulled the towel that was sitting on her shoulders up to rub her hair dry. “I’m overall liking it here. I was nervous, but everyone has been really nice and no one’s really bullied me or anything.”

“Yeah, most of the people at our school are nice. It’s actually not too bad. I’ve heard South is way more toxic than our school.” Gina grabbed the clips and then pulled a comb out of one of the drawers. “Hold these,” she said, handing the clips to Sammie. She then ran the comb around Sammie’s head, grabbing the top section with one hand and a clip with the other. “Turn around, does that look good?”

“Yeah, that’s not too much,” Sammie said as she looked in the mirror.

“Okay, I’m gonna straighten out the part there then. Uh, you can continue what you were saying,” Gina said as Sammie turned back to face the wall.

“It’s just a decent environment, better than my old school. Even the worst people here are generally better than at my old school.”

“Yeah,” Gina said. “Okay, hair dye next. You ready?”

“Do it.”

“Okay,” Gina said as she slid on the gloves and opened the package of dye. She mixed it up and started scooping small handfuls onto Sammie’s hair. “Yeah, I’d say the worst person at our school is probably Logan, and she’s pretty bad, so the people at your school must have been terrible.”

“She’s not that bad,” Sammie said. “She’s in my English, and she seems pretty nice.”

“Trust me, she’s not.” Gina combed her fingers through Sammie’s hair. “She’s rude and a bully.”

“Huh, I haven’t seen that,” Sammie admitted. “She seems pretty… normal, I guess.”

“Don’t hang out with her, trust me. Mally and Andre can vouch for me. Just don’t.”

“Okay, I guess I can do that.”

They sat in silence, Gina combing her fingers through Sammie’s hair to make sure it was fully covered. “Your hair looks good, now we wait,” she said, pulling the gloves off and throwing them in the garbage next to the toilet. “Uh, do you wanna do nails while we wait?”

“Sure,” Sammie said. “I can do yours, if you go grab colours.”

Gina nodded before heading back to her room. That was… strange, right? How Sammie had talked about Logan? What was up with the two of them, anyways? Gina wasn’t sure, but hopefully it was just a misunderstanding on Sammie’s part. Logan was bad news, and the two of them hanging out was worse news.

She grabbed a couple colours; sparkly black and her favourite purple. She brought them back to the bathroom and sat down on the floor in front of Sammie. She’d been doing something on her phone while Gina was in her room, and Gina sat for a moment before she put her phone away. “Sorry, I had to respond to a couple messages.”

“That’s okay. Here, here’s my colours.” She put one hand up and Sammie opened the bottle of purple. She started applying the colour with an ease Gina had never been able to master.

“We should listen to music,” Gina said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. She opened her Spotify and scrolled through her playlists until she found one that wouldn’t totally embarrass her.

“Oh, this is a bop,” she said as the first song came on.

“Oh, yeah!” Sammie said, grinning. She started singing along. “You would not believe your eyes…”

Gina joined in. “If ten million fireflies…”

“Lit up the world as I fell asleep,” they sang in unison. They sang the whole song, relishing each other’s company. By the time the song was over, the first coat on Gina’s nails was finished, and Sammie was on the second coat.

“That was good,” Sammie said, almost breathless.

“Yeah,” Gina laughed. “Ooh, this next one is good. I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know when…”

“So I made up my mind, it must come to an end,” Sammie joined in. She finished the final coat of polish on Gina’s nails before the song ended.

“Alright, your nails are done, just let them dry and we can rinse my hair.”

“The bottom drawer on your left, there’s a hair dryer. We can dry my nails faster,” Gina said. She paused the music as Sammie plugged it in. She put her hands out in front of her as Sammie turned it on and aimed it at Gina’s nails.

They sat in relative silence, the only noise being the hair dryer. Not quite silence, but one sound enveloping the small room. After about five minutes, Sammie turned it off and said, “Try that.”

Gina tentatively touched her pinky nail. “Dry,” she said, standing up. “Now for your hair.”

She turned the sink back on as Sammie leaned back once more. Gina combed her fingers through Sammie’s hair, turning the water in the sink bright pink. After a few minutes of rinsing, she said, “I think you’re good. Let’s blow it dry.”

Sammie handed her the dryer from where it had been sitting in her lap. Gina switched it on and started blow drying her friend’s hair. She pulled the clip out and ran her fingers through until she determined it was dry. Gina turned off the hair dryer and unplugged it. “Ready for the final reveal?”

Sammie nodded with a nervous smile. She stood up and turned around. “Oh my gosh I love it!” she cried. “It’s so beautiful! Thank you!”

Gina smiled. “It turned out nicely,” she said. “Not gonna lie, I was a bit nervous too.”

“You were?” Sammie asked. “You did it so well! I can’t stop looking at it!”

“Ah, it was nothing. But my nails! You made it look so easy! I always get it all over my fingers and then have to wipe it off.”

“I did my nails a lot in middle school.”

“Makes sense.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Gina added, “We should clean this up, and it’s getting late. I can drive you home.”

“Yeah, you’re right. A ride would be great.” Sammie grabbed the towel and the chair and asked, “Where do these go?”

“Uh, the towel can go on the hook behind the door there,” Gina pointed. “And the chair goes in the garage. Do you mind taking it down there while I finish cleaning up the garbage?”

Sammie nodded and took the chair downstairs. Gina grabbed the rest of the garbage, threw it away, and brought the nail polish and the rest of the hair dye back to her room. She set them on her dresser and ran downstairs.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she said to Sammie as she entered the garage. She hopped in the driver’s seat as Sammie climbed in next to her.

“This was fun,” Sammie said Gina started backing out.

“Yeah, it was.” Gina realised this was the perfect time to admit something that had been pulling at her stomach all week. “Uh, Sammie, uh, I dunno how to say this. It’s only been, what, a week since you came, but I really-” She stopped herself and swallowed.

“I like you.”

The words hung there, suspended between them for what felt like an eternity. Gina couldn’t take her eyes off the road, wouldn't let herself. She was scared, but she couldn't take the words back.

Sammie gulped loudly enough for Gina to hear before saying, “I think I might like you.”

They didn’t live far apart, and that short ride had already brought them into Sammie’s driveway. Gina parked and neither girl said anything. She turned to face Sammie and saw Sammie staring at her.

Gina could see Sammie unbuckle her seatbelt, but nothing could have prepared her for Sammie to lean over and kiss her. It was so sudden, she hadn’t even registered what was happening until it was over. Sammie had opened the door and was climbing out of the car.

“Bye!” she called as she slammed the door shut and ran into the house, and just like that, she was gone.

Gina sat there, absolutely shocked. Of all the things she had expected to happen that day, that was not one of them. But Sammie had disappeared inside. There was nothing for Gina to do except drive home and hold the secret tight. That experience, that moment, was going to stay in this car, and Gina couldn't do anything about it, so she didn’t try to fight it. Instead, she drove home and tried not to think about it. After all, what else could she do?

[youshouldhavepaidattentiondad]

Slow Descent: Chapter 4: Bring Me a Dream (Or Would You Prefer a Nightmare?)

Day 4 entry for @hatchetober

Prompt: Song

Ao3

Arlen races through the Witchwood, bursting through low limbs and bushes. The low hanging limbs and thorns shred his clothes like paper to claw desperately at his skin. Blood oozes from the stinging cuts. Fearfully, he glances behind him.

Wiley's strolling leisurely behind him, tossing and catching a rotting green apple as he moves. From his cruel, twisted lips, he croons a haunting rendition of Mr. Sandman.

No matter how fast Arlen seems to run, Wiley keeps gaining. The sound of the song just gets closer and closer-

With a gasp, Arlen's eyes fly open. His chest heaves, as if he really were just running. His eyes dart around wildly, taking in the suede furniture, the plush rug, and the fireplace before he realizes he's at home. He takes several deep breaths before sitting up on the couch. He grabs his phone to check the time. 6:47pm. Cursing, he scrubs a hand up his face. He must have dozed off.

The past few days have been rough. He had tried to convince himself that he had bought that apple during his last grocery trip. That had been believable enough. He liked apples. He must have grabbed it that morning and set it on the counter. Easy enough, he's scatterbrained sometimes. He probably meant to take it with him as a snack when he went to meet Duke and, in his anticipation, forgot about it. He wants to believe that, but no matter how many times he repeats it, he can't shake how wrong it is.

He stands, groaning as he stretches out. He needs to get out of this house. He can't count how many hours he's stared at the Polaroid on the fridge and thought about what Duke told him. He needs some fresh air, something to get his mind off of it.

-

Arlen sits at the scratched up bar of the Birdhouse, sipping a whiskey sour. The smokey air might not be fresh, but it's still a welcome change. His eyes scan the bar idly.

"Lookin' for somebody in particular?" Comes a smokey voice from beside him.

He twists around on the barstool to an older woman with a bad blonde dye job and mousy roots. Her lips are painted almost an offensive shade of red. Her tank top fits tightly in an unflattering way.

"No, I'm not," Arlen answers before taking another sip. She was probably gorgeous when she was younger. She has gorgeous blue eyes, the beauty offset by deep crows feet.

"Well…" she leans towards him, her breasts almost falling out of her top. "If you was smart, you'd be looking for me." She winks before ordering a beer.

This is a mistake. Arlen recognizes that clear as day. He leans in as well. "Oh? And who would you be?"

"My name's  Pamela," she answers in a sultry voice. She looks him up and down, her bright red lips curling in a pleased smirk. "I ain't see you around, hot stuff. Who are you?"

"I'm Arlen." He watches in distaste as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "I moved here not too long ago."

Pamela accepts her beer from the bartender and takes a deep drink. "Oh yeah?" She takes a drag from her cigarette. "What brought you round to these parts?"

"Work," he answers vaguely.

That doesn't seem to bother her. She drains her beer quickly before giving him a predatory grin. "How's abouts me 'n' you get outta here and I can show you some real good hospitality." She winks again as she brings her cigarette to her lips.

That is definitely a bad idea. Arlen gets the bartender's attention and pays for his and Pamela's drinks.

"So, did you drive here?" Pamela asks as they step out of the Birdhouse.

"No," Arlen lies easily, "Did you?"

She leads him over to an old, beat up pick up truck. Almost reluctantly. Arlen climbs into the passenger side.

A short ride later, Pamela pulls into the yard of a small, rundown trailer near the back of a trailer park. Arlen considers bolting as soon as he steps out of the truck. Instead, he finds himself following Pamela up the stairs into the trailer.

Once inside, Arlen looks around cautiously. It seems clean enough. He takes a few steps forward before the sound of a ukulele reaches him, carrying the sounds of Mr. Sandman. He looks in horror, expecting to see Wiley standing in the trailer's narrow hall.

"For God's sale," Pamela mutters before raising her voice to an obnoxious yell. "Nanners, fuckin' knock it off or I swear-"

A door down the hall swings open and out storms a familiar looking teenager. "Don't fucking talk to her like that!" She seethes as she steps into the living room. She catches sight of Arlen and scoffs. "Oh, so now you're bringing men back here? Fan-fucking-tastic move, Mom."

"This is my home, Lex, and I'll do what I damn well please !" Pamela shouts back. "You're lucky I still let you live here, you ungrateful-"

Arlen starts backing up for the door. He glances down the hall to see a younger girl peeking out from around a doorframe. Her dark, serious eyes and braids are also familiar. He can't quite place-

"Hey! Stop fucking looking at her, you creep!" Lex shouts at him, moving to block his view of the hall.

Pamela yells something unintelligible as she grabs Lex's arm. Arlen doesn't bother hanging around. He opens the door and darts out,  letting the door slam behind him. 

He jogs back to the Birdhouse. He doesn't slow until he sees his car in the parking lot. He stops beside the Corvette, doubled over as he breathes heavily.

It's not until he's back home, scrubbing the smell of smoke off his body, that he remembers: the girl was the one who mentioned the Witchwood and Lex was the one in the Toy Zone vest beside her.

He turns off the shower, thinking hard. He definitely doesn't want to be around Pamela Foster again. He could go to Toy Zone to ask Lex if he could speak to the girl, but judging how she's reacted to him, that's not a good idea either.

He needs to find out more about that family.

Note: I am falling behind. I am so sorry. Arlen Mercier is my original character, please do not use without my permission.

[crimsonwolfie]

Fortuitous Love — Theo Raeken x Werewolf!Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) are a werewolf in London who live with Jackson and Ethan. You all travel to Beacon Hills to help Scott’s pack fight against the hunters, only things happen unexpectedly...

Warnings: occasionally swearing, trigger of dying/pain, fluff and general happy ending

Word count: 4,799

Masterlist

“You know, you’re asking for your death certificate by doing this.”

“I’m part werewolf, part kanima, darling. They’ve got nothing on me.”

“What about us, my love? We’re only werewolves. Sorry for not having the intolerance to wolfsbane unlike you!”

Carrying your head in your hands, you sigh dramatically at the two loverbirds in the front seats. Jackson and Ethan have been your friends (more like parents) for the past 2 years, after they found you alone and scared on the night you turned. Ever since then, they’ve taken you under their wing like their own and helped you control yourself - they were there for you when no one else was. During those 2 years, they’ve confided in you completely, telling you about Beacon Hills and their friends back there like Lydia, Stiles, Scott and Derek Hale. Being in London, you don’t really make any run in appearances with other supernaturals so your knowledge of them is remotely vague...but ever since your date took you out on a walk through the woods and bit you, you’ve wanted to know everything you can about all of it. If it wasn’t for Jackson and Ethan walking home from a dinner date and heard you scream, then you wouldn’t even be here to tell your story.

A cold, refreshing breeze hits your heated pink cheeks as your hair is swept back from the car window being down. Peering up through the sunroof, you see the moon full and as bright as the heavens above, bringing a small smile to your lips. As the reflection of the moonlight appears upon your glossy eyes, your mind wanders into reminiscing what your life was like before you changed...how you couldn’t hear everything in a 3 mile radius, how you had to ask how people were feeling instead of smelling their emotions...how you didn’t have to be weary of people hunting you down just to kill you for personal gain...

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” you’re snapped back to reality by Jackson turning around in his seat, his eyes soft and his dimples merry.

“I’m okay, a little nervous i guess” you reply, shifting in your seat slightly whilst tugging the sleeves of your hoodie onto your hands “but hey, what about you? I mean...you haven’t seen these people for 3 years”

“It’s okay, not like they’re strangers. It’s just a shame it’s not under better circumstances” Jackson drops his head slightly in guilt. You know he thinks he should have visited them at least once a year, but with so many supernatural occurrences that have happened in Beacon Hills over the years, he knew it wasn’t the right time. And you knew that too.

“Look, you couldn’t see them before this. It was too dangerous, okay? You’re not in the wrong.” You place your dainty hand over his large one, gripping it tightly in a way to say “it’s going to be okay.” He returns this with a gentle squeeze of your hand and a small smile, before letting go and turning back to the front.

You, Jackson and Ethan were on your way to Beacon Hills to help the pack fight against pretty much the whole town, who have been turned by their own fear to fighting and killing all supernatural creatures. Hunters had been sent to London to hunt down you three, obviously they didn’t succeed but you guys were absolutely pissed. In a way, this is all a blessing in disguise to you, as you’re now on your way to meet people who are meant to be like a second family to you. You’ve heard so much about them all, that you feel like you have already met them...it’s...weird.

“Don’t be scared, darlings” Ethan disturbs the comforting silence with a soft tone “i can sense the fear from both of you, it’s thicker than a bowl of oatme-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” you lean forward poking your head between the two seats in front, glaring at Ethan with beady eyes. Both men wheeze as you breathe out a slight laugh.

“-and anyway...i’m not scared.” You retort, placing your hands on your hips and tilting your head slightly whilst staring into Ethan’s eyes in the mirror. He stares back at you, crinkles on his eyelines and cheek bones high as he cackles softly at your words

“Yeah right princess”

“It’s true! I’m not!”

“It’s okay if you are, sweetie” Jackson pouts sarcastically, earning a middle finger from you. “Hey, don’t be mean little lady!” Jackson wiggles his finger at you whilst tutting your choice of actions.

“Love i will not hesitate to bite your finger off and throw it out this window” you hiss as your eyes glow a bright golden colour. Since you’re London born and raised, you have a british accent coating your words, making it all that more humorous for the two americans in front of you. Your accent has always been something they find both fascinating about you, but also a way to tease you about how you say certain words. You look up to the window reflection to see your eyes are glowing and quickly look down and shake it off.

“You know, i think you’ll get on very well with Theo Raeken” Jackson pipes up, you look up to see him smirking, knowing it’ll wind you up even more.

“Who is this Theo Raeken guy, anyway. I thought you said you both left town before he appeared?”

“Oh we did, only it’s a pretty small world and that guy gets around..” Ethan side eyes Jackson, wearing a confused “just tell her” expression

“...okay maybe because Lydia calls me every week to tell me what i’ve missed.” He sighs as he rolls his eyes. You smirk sweetly, quite enjoying the view in front of you.

“So what’s he like?” You ask, intrigued to know more about this ‘Theo’ guy

“He’s a dick”

“And a liar”

“And a snake”

“Wait how’s that even possible?! I didn’t even think you could have a snake hybr-“

“-no not literally silly, you can’t trust him. He’s a snake that way”

“-oh.”

...

“Is he fit though?”

“Y/N STOP”

—

The car comes to a sudden halt outside an old, abandoned building. The night sky darkens your surroundings, taking away any sort of comfort you had before. Had you reached your destination? Or was something stopping you from reaching it? Remote darkness surrounds you all with not a glimpse of light in sight - no street lamps lit, no lights in the buildings and no cat eyes in the road. It’s almost as if you’re standing in the middle of a ghost town, or even a graveyard.

“This...this can’t be right?” Ethan begins to fiddle with the satnav displayed in front of him “it’s saying ‘route malfunction. No route calculated?”

“It was fine when we got here?” Jackson retorts whilst rubbing his eyes of tiredness. You can feel it too...the fatigue. After an 11 hour plane ride, you’re surprised you’d lasted this long without any sleep. But there’s something else your senses are picking up on...fear? Or even anger?

“Let me try my phone” you hesitate as you open the car door, stepping one foot out ever so cautiously. Picking up your phone from the seat, you hold it up in the air in hopes of getting a signal - nothing. No bars at all...weird.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, causing your entire body to cover in goosebumps. Pulling your hoodie over your body more and bringing your arms up to hug yourself, you get back in the car, rolling the window back up. As if by magic, the air turned from a cool summer breeze to a winter snowstorm with an unsettling feeling running around in the air, and you nor your wolf side liked it.

“Do...do you feel that?” You ask

“I don’t know what it is but...yeah i feel something”

“It’s called love dumbass”

“Jackson this is not a time for your sarc...” Ethan trails off suddenly, sticking his nose up in the air and sniffing. “It’s blood...i smell blood”

“What are you...wait, yeah i smell it too” you retort, opening your car door up once again and stepping out “i’m gonna go and follow it, stay here” you say

“Y/N you’re basically our child, it’s YOU who should be staying put, safe” Ethan replies, his hand on your shoulder

“Eth, it’s okay...i can handle myself” you flash your eyes “if i’m not back in 10 then get the hell out of here. Don’t look back.” and with that, you stalk off, following the scent of fresh blood. Using your wolf vision allows you to see more in your path than you would normally, and with your senses heightened due to a completely unfamiliar setting, you know you’ll be okay.

There’s tall brooding trees everywhere around you, but no sight of life of any kind. Running faster and faster you start to gain a stronger track of the scent, seeing a type of clearing ahead of you. Just as you’re about to leap forward, you hear something flying through the air, only you have no idea where it’s coming from. As you stop and stand behind the tree bark, your vision starts to blur and your muscles begin to weaken. You feel this sharp sting in your side, looking down to reveal an arrow sticking out of it. Panic overwhelms you as the thought of dying here in the darkness, in the cold all alone, scares the hell out of you. A hot, single tear drops on your rosy cheek and into the corner of your mouth. You want to scream, to rip someone’s throat out, to run and hide, but you can’t move. The sound of more arrows flying through the darkness surround you, until all you can hear is the same swooshing sound of this death trap.

“Hunters” you moan under your breath, squinting your face in both pain and anger. The blood is oozing out fast, and you’re not healing. You lift your hoodie up to see the damage whilst wincing...and it’s bad. I mean...really bad. If you’re not healing, then it can only mean one thing...

“Oh for fuck sake, wolfsbane?” You growl as blood seeps into your leggings, painting your once grey hoodie now a tie dye of a piercing crimson shade. The pain begins getting worse as beads of sweat drip from your forehead, mixing with your salty tears. Red laser beams strike through the darkness ahead of you, searching for your body. Scrunching up into a ball on the floor, you try to rock yourself to ease the pain, but it’s useless. You’re looking around for any sort of plan, and start to think of Jackson and Ethan, hoping they’ve gone and are out of harms way. ‘If anything ever happens to them i swear to god i will kill anyone and everyone who inflicted harm their way’ you think to yourself, as you tug the arrow out of your body with a heartbreaking cry. So many emotions are crossing your mind right now to the point you don’t know what is right to feel and what is wrong. Killing someone? It feels fucking right at the moment. Especially the son of a bitch who hunted you.

You know you couldn’t howl to alert the others as they would just race towards you, not away. You have no choice but to face the hunters to get to the clearing, to find someone to help, and with that...you get up. It takes all your strength, but you do it, determined to escape alive.

“Cmon Y/N, you got this” you whisper to yourself in a brittle voice, chin trembling from the pain you’re enduring. Your golden circles glow brightly with determination, as you step forward...but as soon as you do, you look down to see a red laser beam pointed directly at your stomach. Luckily your adrenaline instincts kick in as you grab the flying arrow mid-flight before it hits your body. Breaking it into two pieces, you look up, anger and rage boiling inside you. Your fangs rip through your gums as a ground-rumbling growl leaves your throat, cutting through the space around you like a thousand knives. Running towards the clearing, a dozen more arrows fly around your body...some missing...but also some hitting. Taking a few arrows to your chest, back, legs... your vision gets blurrier, fading by the second until you can’t take it anymore, the wolfsbane kicking in a lot quicker than before. Collapsing on the ground of dried leaves and fertile soil, you reach your hand out to the clearing, trying to grasp at it one final time. Gripping a handful of soil in your blood soaked palms, your eyes brim with tears. ‘This is it’ you think, your fear of a painful, cold and lonely death becomes too realistic. The sound of arrows flying from all directions starts fading away as your body slowly starts giving up on you. As you’re about to give up completely, you see a small blurry blob in the distance getting bigger and bigger the closer it comes. The last thing you see is a hand reach towards your body, then pitch black.

You awake with a gasping breath, back shot up straight and eyes wide. The last thing you remembered was being on the brink of death in the woods, yet now you’re in somewhere that looks like a clinic...an animal clinic maybe?

Looking down at your hands, you see dirt and blood still dug in-between your nails...but there’s white bandages wrapped around your arms. Your bare back shrieks in pain as your skin burns underneath, screaming to be ripped apart. The steel table is cold to your touch as you sweep your legs off onto the side, examining your body for injuries - you’re patched up with bandages everywhere instead. As you’re about to get off the table completely, you hear footsteps approaching the room. Quickly, you decide to grab the needle to your right side for defence, only freezing once seeing the figure walk into the room.

It’s a boy, roughly the same age as you, only he seems a lot more muscular, taller and maturer than you. His hair is a dirty blonde, with longer bits at the front that fall in front of his face Leonardo Dicaprio style. His complexion is dashing, with eyes as blue as the sea and chiseled jawline, his nose pretty much perfect and his lips...oh they look succulent. Upon seeing you, he smirks with perfect lips, as his brows raise.

“And what do you think you’re going to do with that?” He asks, his voice deep but attractive. He places the clipboard in his arms down on the counter next to him, bringing a hand to his hip.

“I...you could have been the hunter” you reply, captivated by his features still

“So i try to kill you, patch you up here and then try to kill you again?” His lips part as a chuckle leaves his throat

“You never know.” You snap, pouting your lips as your brows furrow in defeat.

“So...you must be Y/N?’” The boy asks, tilting his head slightly whilst scanning you up and down. You step back suddenly, surprised he knows who you are, as if he’s been expecting you.

“Wait how’d you know that?” You ask, slowly placing the needle in your hand on the table. He steps forward, closing the space between you two slightly

“Well for one, the accent” he points towards your mouth with a single finger, “and second, Lydia never stops talking about the ‘girl who Jackson saved’. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Well you’re acting like i’m not what you expected..”

“Because you’re not.” He smirks whilst getting closer, closing the gap between you two more. You can’t help but stare into his eyes, then look down at his luscious lips and think of what they’d feel like pushing against yours, moving in synchronisation-

“Hey, stop thinking about me” you snap out of your trance, looking up to see him winking at you with that famous grin of his that everyone talks about, granted he is who you’re thinking he is...

“I-i’m not thinking about you” you push him away

“I can smell the attraction on you” he scoffs.

“I take it you’re Theo Raeken, then.” Sighing, you look up at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“The one and only” he says as he comes closer to you, bringing his face inches away from your own.

You understand what everyone means when they say Theo Raeken is no good - The guy reeks of selfishness and cockiness. He went against Scott and his pack, even killed him at one point and spent a year in hell...if you could see red flags then he’d be drowning in them. But that’s your problem - you go for the bad guys...you always have. Jackson and Ethan knew this already, which is why they knew you’d get along with him when no one else does.

“So what brings you to Beacon Hills, gorgeous?” Theo takes a few small steps forward, which is making you take small steps back until your back hits the wall of the clinic, your frame pressed against the hard surface. Theo raises his hand and presses his palm against the wall, leaving you nowhere to escape...that is...if you wanted to (but hey, being sandwiched between a wall and a really hot - actually insanely hot guy, was not that bad).

“It’s the hunters, we came back to help.” Your eyes glimpse across his face once again, as you bite your bottom lip. You lean on the wall with your feet planted into the floor, keeping you completely still.

“You’re willing to risk your life for complete strangers?” Theo’s face falls in concern, his deep blue eyes squinting slightly in disbelief. ‘What kind of girl would do that?’ He questioned himself, starting to get more intrigued by you each second.

“They’re not strangers, kinda?” You reply, looking away as you try to explain “they’re Jackson and Ethan’s friends, so i trust them.” Scratching your neck, you look back to him. Theo stares at you as if he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. “You don’t need to stare at me like that”

“Like what?” Theo questions

“Like you can’t trust me. Because you can...and anyway who’s to say you’re the one to be trusted? You don’t exactly have the best representation” you retort, earning a scoff from the boy in front of you

“I saved your life; you should be grateful?” He hissed

“Gee, thanks for not killing me like you did with Scott Mccall, you’re my hero.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“I do not like your attitude, pretty” theo scoulds, his eyes glowing.

You flash your eyes back at him, growling “i don’t like your loyalties.”

“Yeah well maybe if you went through what i’ve gone through you’d understand”

“You don’t need to pity yourself, Raeken. Some people are just born monsters. Accept it.”

“You don’t even know me!” He’s practically screaming now, with his teeth gritted and fangs shining in the moonlight from the windows above

“I know enough to know you’re a no good, rotten waste of space!” You hiss back, as you go to swipe at him...but he blocks you, gripping your wrist in his hand.

You both stand there facing each other with your fangs dripping and eyes golden, faces inches apart and heavily breathing. You can practically feel his chest on yours, his breath tingling on your cheeks. Staring into each other’s eyes, neither of you move. His hand is still wrapped tightly around your wrist...only after around 10 seconds of staring into each other’s golden orbs, he loosens his grip. He doesn’t let go, just hovers his hand gently over yours. You yank your wrist from his touch and bend under his other arm, which is still palmed to the wall. Walking around the the other side of the table, you focus on controlling yourself...which Theo notices from the corner of his eye.

“You still have trouble controlling yourself, don’t you?..” he begins, only you shut him up by running towards him, shoving your hand over his mouth. Theo’s eyes widen, fearful for your state...but there’s something else in his eyes - sympathy? Suddenly a heart-wrenching pain tears through your side, causing you to kneel over screaming with pain. Still with your hand over Theo’s mouth, he gently places his own over yours as long, black lines start trailing through his skin.

“Wha-what are you-“ you yelp loudly “-you doing?” gritting your teeth and clawing your claws into your palms, he places his other hand over the small of your back. Theo gently moves your hand with his, off of his mouth, so he can talk.

“I’m taking your pain away” he softly speaks, his eyes soft and his touch delicate over your fragile skin. You look up to him with a layer of tears glazed in your eyes, fear hidden deep within your orbs. Theo never looks away when taking your pain. As you start to feel it going away, your eyes soften slightly, guilt clouding your conscience after remembering what you said to Theo. ‘Clearly he’s not what they paint him to be’ you think to yourself.

“You have to care, to take pain away...” your voice is shaky, wobbly. As you bring your legs together, Theo gives you a small smile, as he still holds your hands after taking your pain.

“Of course i care...i can tell you do to” he simply replies, looking down at the ground. His soft, silky hair flops with his gaze, covering part of his forehead. All you want to do is run your fingers through his perfect head of hair, feel it through your fingertips and put your hands on his cheeks...

“But you don’t know me?” You whisper, as you reach forward and place your fingers on the side of his head. He leans into your touch, replying “i just feel like i know you, already”

He brings his hand to yours on his cheek, lacing your fingers in his

“I’m really sorry for...for everything i said earlier” you hiccup quietly “it’s just i thought you were this big bad guy that everyone says you are...” your words trail off as you glance away to the side, thinking of why Theo was being so nice to you “...Hell changed you...didn’t it?” You mention, your voice barely above a whisper. Theo grunts at your words, flinching at the thought of what he went through down there.

“It would change anyone” his eyes welled with tears as he chewed on his lower lip. A sob leaves your lips as you realise what torture he must have gone through, seeing the genuine look of hurt and pain in his expressions. It makes you want to just hug him and never let go...

“...no one’s seen this side to you, have they?” you lift his head up by placing your fingers on his chin. His head is heavy, tears now streaming down his face as memories are recapped in his wracked brain. You bring both hands to wipe away his tears, sobs quietly leaving his mouth.

“No...” he begins, choking up. You pull him into your body, hugging him tightly, rocking sideways in a way of comforting him. He returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you tighter and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You both stay like this for a while, as your hand rubs his back softly and the other hand runs through his hair.

Everyone had no problem telling the bad side of Theo Raeken’s story, but they seemed to have missed out the path of redemption. The path Theo wanted to take, and with your help, he would stick to. For this, you felt anger unlike anything before, for he was a boy who made mistakes. Hell, you’ve made mistakes before...but everyone deserves the right to prove their redemption - to make things right...and Theo Raeken...was never given that opportunity.

Slowly sitting up, he wipes the rest of his face of tears, resting his back against the wall of the clinic. He never expected to meet you, and like you. He’d heard things about you, much like how you heard things about him, but he never saw sympathy as one of your qualities...especially sympathy towards him. You release him from your touch, about to get up, until he grabs your hand back in his.

“Please, don’t leave me Y/N” he begs, his state so fragile and broken. As his soft fingers lace around your own, you obey his wishes and sit back next to him, intertwining your fingers together. He turns towards you, a sweet smile on his face, his red bloodshot eyes tired. You lean your head on his broad shoulder, and just sit with him. He leans his head on your head, his breathing calming. It’s almost like you two are each other’s anchors...but it’s impossible - you don’t know each other...not really?

“Do you believe in people being anchors?” You whisper. Theo adjusts himself closer to your body, instantly creating more heat between you two

“I guess...Liam’s is Hayden. When she left, he really struggled. He still does” he hums. It gets you thinking...you never really had an anchor. You only had Jackson and Ethan telling you this motto “the sun, the moon, the truth” to help control yourself, but most of the time it never worked...

“Wait” you gasp, starting to get fidgety and panic setting in your heart “where are Jackson and Ethan? They were in the car and i left them. I left them, Theo” you turn to him with tears settling in your eyes, your face growing paler through panic. Theo quickly grabs your shoulders to steady yourself, pushing your hair behind your ears, out of your face

“Hey, hey Y/N it’s okay - they’re safe. I got to them, too. They’re with Scott and the others.” He reassures you, rubbing your arms. “It’s okay, breathe. Just breathe, you’re okay”.

“I can’t lose them, they’re all i have” you whimper, Theo strokes your cheek with thumb, pulling you into his chest.

“You have me” he whispers, making you look up at him in adoration. You two had met a couple of hours ago and it already feels like you’ve fallen for him...only he felt the same way. It’s like you two were each other’s soulmate, and that everything feels safe and okay when you’re with each other.

“I feel like...and please don’t think i’m crazy-“ you blurt out, hand on Theo’s chest “-but i feel like you’re my anchor...”

Theo smiles at your words and leans forward, crashing his lips into yours with pure desire and passion. You return the kiss by moving your lips sweetly along with his, hands roaming everywhere on each other’s bodies. Sparks run through your body and burst into fireworks as the kiss deepens. Theo places his hand on the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his lips. Your fingers trace through his hair, tugging at times. Your urge to rip each other’s clothes off increases, as Theo gets slightly aggressive in the kiss, his hands leaving imprints in your skin and biting your lip. Your breath is rigid, wanting more and more. Suddenly, the lights flicker and the sound of a door creaking open breaks the connection between you and Theo, as Jackson and Ethan walk through the door. You and Theo freeze in your position of tops half off, Theo on top of you, his hair an absolute mess and your hair tangled around your neck in sweat

“I knew it!” Jackson cackles, clapping his hands together as Ethan stares at him in annoyance. He reaches into his pocket and places a 10 dollar bill in Jackson’s hand, who smirks and kisses his teeth

“-woah woah you guys BET on this happening?” You gasp, pushing Theo off you enough so you could sit up

“No, we bet that you’d like him...we didn’t bet that you guys would actually click like that” Ethan replies, shrugging.

“Okay i love you guys but...get out.” You scowl, staring at the two men in front of the door

“Y/N we didn’t me-“ Jackson starts

“GET OUT” you flash your eyes, causing the two men to dash out of the room sniggering like two school girls. You flop back on the floor, smirking towards Theo, who climbs back on top of you, about to press his lips to yours once again

“What actually happened he-“ Ethan’s head pops behind the door frame

“GET OUT”

Hope you guys like this! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other Teen Wolf requests! Xo