#I will die on this hill people are on my LAST NERVE

[hogans-heroes]

In case anyone tried to whitewash your Battle of Britain lately. I present receipts of the countless Jamaican, Haitian, Indian, and Māori fighter and bomber crews in the RAF. Fully integrated.

[grandlinedreams]

This is totally calling myself out with (why I’m anon 😭), but would you be comfortable doing unexpected pregnancy trope w/ Law. Or just the pregnancy trope in general. I absolutely adore it, but I do know a lot of people don’t/aren’t comfortable with it

Ough i have a request in my drafts that I'm working on that's got a tad more of an angstier spin on this so I'm gonna use this one to give him the happy ending we all hope he'd get :')

[Heads up!: fluff, married!law makes me wanna gnaw my arm off, afab/fem aligned reader, I think Law'd do his best to be a good dad and I will die on that hill]

Truth be told, Law never thought he'd make it this far. There have been a hundred odds stacked against him, tipped the scales in their favor over his ㅡ and somehow, he's still here.

There are days where he wonders if it's worth it, if he's worth it ㅡ and then he remembers Sengoku's words about Cora's sacrifice for him.

"Don't ever attach a reason to the love you've been given."

He's been loved ㅡ by his parents, by Lami, by Cora. By his crew, his friends ㅡ and you. You, who've been patiently by his side this entire time, fighting for a future that's worth sticking around for.

And now he has it. The metal band around his finger is still new to him sometimes, and he fiddles with it when he's lost in thought, rotating it as the little stones shimmer. It's not anything extravagant ㅡ but neither of you had wanted that.

"Who cares about rocks and the money for them when I have you?" You'd said when he asked, staring at him with such conviction his chest hurt.

"Law?" Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, finding you standing a few feet away from where he'd been zoning out as he stared out the kitchen window over the sink. The house the two of you own is modest, but it suits the two of you and Law still has a tough time accepting the fact that he owns a house now, rather than just a submarine. (For man who's spent most of his life uncertain he'd get a tomorrow, he's settled into domesticity surprisingly well for the most part.)

"You were gone when I woke up," he says by way of greeting, catches the nervous fidget of your arms, tucked behind you as you rock back and forth on your feet. "Where'd you go?"

"Town," you answer and when he frowns, you sigh. "I wasn't there long, and I've never once seen a wanted poster. We're not pirates anymore, you know."

"Can never be too careful," he intones, watches you mouth the words with him in a way that suggests it's far from the first time you've heard him say it. (It's true. He's said it a lot.) "Does it have to do with what you're hiding behind your back?"

"Maybe," you singsong before you bring your arms out from behind you, a neatly wrapped box extended towards him. He blinks, then his brow furrows.

"Did I miss an anniversary?"

"No."

"Is it your birthday?"

"No."

"Is itㅡ"

"Just open it, Law." There's an undercurrent of nerves to your tone as he takes the box from you, watching him as he sits down at the table to unwrap the thin bow of red ribbon around it.

You wait with baited breath as he sets the ribbon aside, pops the lid off of it ㅡ and pulls the contents out. You know exactly what it is, having spent the last few days trying to come up with the perfect way to tell him.

Law stares at the cloth in his hands. It's small, made of soft fabric and little metal buttons at the bottom, spaced between where two legs should go ㅡ oh. Oh.

And all at once, it clicks.

"You're pregnant?" He doesn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, only that he's aware neither of you'd been really trying yet ㅡ content to take one day at a time, together.

You nod. "I'm way late on my cycle, and given how lousy I've felt recently..." You watch him stand, leftover nerves making you ramble as he approaches. "I mean I know we've talked about kids but haven't wanted to really try yetㅡ"

His arms wind around you, holding you to him gently. There are a thousand thoughts that race through his head, of what-ifs concerning your health, the baby's ㅡ the fear that he's somehow passed on the disease he's long since been rid of.

He exhales against the top of your head, pushes the worries and fears back. He can deal with those later. Instead, he focused on what he can handle right now. "How far are you?"

"Not sure," you answer. "If we go by cycle, a month or so? Could be earlier than that."

His grip tightens. "You're pregnant," he mumbles, almost to himself. "We're having a baby."

You nod, letting yourself cling to him the way he is to you. "You're going to be a dad, Law."

The thought of fatherhood both excites and terrifies him ㅡ what if he's a horrible dad? He knows absolutely nothing about babies beyond what he remembers from when Lami was born, which is hardly much of anything.

"It's okay to be scared, Law." Your voice is soft, whispered against his chest. "I am too. But we'll do this together, okay? We'll be fine."

Law holds you to him, presses his lips to the top of your head as he thinks of the future. You, him, and the little piece of you both, growing inside you.

"Yeah," he finally says. "We'll be just fine."

[daisies-and-domming]

Hey!! Would you do a sub!billy hargrove/dom!reader smut? Thank u <3

Boy Next Door (NSFW)

S3 spoilers in my author’s note, and vague reference to how S2 ends!! 

Summary: You’ve lived in the trailer park nearly your entire life, long enough to know that nothing in Hawkins was ever normal. So when the new king of the school starts dropping by your trailer at ungodly hours, you don’t even blink - why would you? Weirder shit’s happened here, and you’re certainly not complaining either, not when the king decides to get on his knees for you.

Warnings: swearing, smut, dom!reader, reader has an undefined hole, p in said undefined hole, sub!billy, oral (reader receiving), frottage(?), edging, praise, little bits of degradation (reader calls billy “slut” and talks condescendingly at some points), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it kids!!), a lil bit of a breeding kink, billy likes when reader pulls on his hair <3

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Oh my god anon I didn’t know I needed sub!billy until you sent this in and now I’m scouring the website for more… I’m a whore for subby men, what can I say 🤷 He’s a little ooc but I firmly believe that billy is secretly a soft with people he trusts - sure, he’s mean to max, but I think that’s because he doesn’t want her involved in his life of alcohol and flirting - and I’ll die on that hill. This is set between S2 and S3, but in my universe billy doesn’t die during S3 anyways because I’m the author and I said so >:O Anyways, I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the request!! It takes like 1000 words to get to the smut, I’m so sorry ;-; But the smut is like 2000 some words, so hopefully that makes up for it ahaha I went batshit

– – –

You’ve lived in this dinghy trailer park in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, your entire conscious life. When your parents were really drunk (which, in all honesty, was far more often than you were willing to admit) they would talk about their “golden days”: when your parents were something other than full-time alcoholics, living in the suburbs of Cleveland in a nice neighbourhood. You were told you were born there, in that nice suburb house near the coast of one of the great lakes, but you’ve never had the nerve to ask what happened that landed them here, in Hawkins. 

But Ohio was none of your concern now. There were supernatural beings practically on your doorstep and the only people that seemed to care were the children that your friend Steve seemingly adopted, which would make for a good movie. But the fact that a ragtag bunch of kids were the ones saving your very real world left a nauseating pit in your stomach. Sure, the angry buzz cut kid who they called “Eleven” put an end to the last thing that came after Hawkins, but something tells you this was just the beginning. No matter. At the moment, you had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that there’s a soft knocking on your door, despite the little analog clock reading a blinking “2:34am”.

Peering through the peephole, a clearly drunk Billy Hargrove stood, wobbling slightly. You’d seen him around school - it’s hard not to when he drives a flashy car and insists on poking at Steve - but certainly hadn’t spoken to him before. Opening the door slightly, you make eye contact with the man in question.

“Hi,” you say, tentatively. “Can I help you?”

“l/n!!” he slurs, eyes lighting up. “What’re y’doin in my trailer?”

You frown at him. “This is where I live, dipshit. Your trailer is more than a few down.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he said, nudging at you. “Lemme in, will ya?”

You stood firm, skeptical. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he drawls. “You’re pretty, I’m pretty, we should do pretty people stuff together.”

You snort, but move to the side. You didn’t know what his home life was like, but, nevertheless, sending him away in the middle of the night, piss drunk, was dumb. If he had gotten hurt on the way back to his trailer because you had sent him away you would never forgive yourself. Sure, he seemed like a pretentious douchebag, but even pretentious douchebags deserve a chance. Besides, the ‘rents were out, which meant there wouldn’t be any “did you use protection?” or “you aren’t pregnant, are you?” questions the following morning.

“l/n,” Billy whined out, making you turn in time to see him flop onto your couch. “Why aren’t we doin’ pretty people stuff yet?”

You shut and lock the door, plopping yourself down on the floor in front of the couch in an attempt to set an unspoken boundary. “Because you’re drunk. You’re welcome to come over here sober some time and try this whole song and dance then, but I believe in full consent when doin’ that tango. You’re inebriated, so no ‘pretty people stuff’ for you tonight.”

He whined dramatically. “But that’s half the fun of getting drunk!!”

“God, you’re really drunk,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the smell. “We can talk if you want, but you’re not getting any tonight, lover boy.”

“Ooooh, you wanna hear about the crazy shit that Tina did at the party today??” – – – 

This became a recurring event. Billy would go out and party, then come over, drunk out of his mind and strangely soft. You had learned a lot about him - about Max (who he seemed to truly care about, despite how he acted when sober), about his dickhead father, about his mother, about why he drowned himself in people and alcohol all the time. You weren’t sure why he chose to keep dropping by, but you weren’t too perturbed. In any other situation, you might even consider him your friend. But, you remind yourself, he’s always drunk or high or some combination of the two. You don’t make friends when you’re drunk. And you certainly don’t fall for them, either.

A knock resonated at your door and you froze, staring at the clock. It was 3:24pm on a Saturday afternoon, unless Steve had decided to give you a surprise visit there should be no one at the door.

“l/n! Open the goddamn door,” a voice rang out, one that you recognized immediately. “I don’t have all goddamn day!”

You stumble to the door, opening it embarrassingly quickly. “Hi???”

“Hey,” he said, shoving his way past you.

“Wait wait wait,” you said, spinning around to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I normally do, dickbag,” Billy said, refusing to make eye contact. “We gonna talk or what?”

You close the door gently, clicking the lock almost tentatively. “You’re sober.”

A flash of hurt crossed his face, but he quickly covered it up. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“That - that’s not what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “I just - I kinda figured you didn’t want to talk to me, normally. I’m not exactly your usual crowd.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Look - how do I say this? I… don’t think you’re that shitty, or whatever. Sure, Tina’s a hot piece of ass, but if I tried to actually, I don’t fucking know, talk to her, she’d just laugh and tell me to ‘shut up’ or somethin’.”

“I don’t think you’re that shitty, either,” you say, slowly. “Is that all you wanted to talk about…? We could’ve done this on the porch.”

“It’s a trailer, there’s no goddamn porch,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes but still not making eye contact with you.

“You’re dodging,” you say, walking over to him and crowding him a bit. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I don’t want to go back home,” he said bluntly, still dodging your prying eyes. “Deadbeat dad is on a rampage again. Dropped Max off at the arcade and found myself here.”

You blink up at him and back up a bit, feeling awful for prying. “Shit man - sorry I pushed you. You’re welcome here whenever you want to escape your place, sober or not. Or if you just want to come over. You can bring Max, too, she seems nice!! My ‘rents are never around, like ever, and even when they are they’re drunk and hiding in their room, and there’s a key under the doormat in the back if you need an escape and I’m not here - though I’d be careful about my parents, they get pretty drunk sometimes too, it’s not pretty. That’s not the point though! Point is, you’re always welcome, I’m sorry for prying-”

He pushed you to the couch, a small smile on his face, and were his eyes a little teary?? “Shut up, loser. I got it, I’m welcome to be here. Not shocked, though, people love me, of course you’d want me around.”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, trying to tug him down to the couch. However, you hadn’t anticipated him resisting, and your knee jerk reaction was to just yank. He stumbled and landed on top of you, knees straddling your legs. He blinks at you, owlishly, face flushed and pupils beginning to dilate.

You grin up at him, jokingly winking. “Just where I wanted you, baby.”

“Can I- can I take you up on your previous offer?” he said, voice lacking its usual bravado and confidence. 

“Previous offer as in…?”

“Sex,” he said, straightforward. “You said if I was sober we could fuck.”

“What eloquence, Mr. Hargrove,” you said. “And I believe we referred to it as ‘pretty people stuff.’”

“That’s a yes, yeah?” he said, hands resting on the couch on either side of your head.

“Aw, look at you, asking for consent,” you said, grinning up at him deviously. “Mmm…maybe if you beg me.”

He looked at you, incredulous. “If you think I’ll ever beg for something, you’ve got something coming-”

You cut him off, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. He groaned into the kiss, grinding down into your clothed sex. When he pulls away, he smirks down at you, cocky.

“You’re going to be the one begging for me, babe,” he said, head tilting. “So how ‘bout we hear it, hm?”

Well that wouldn’t do. Using all your strength, you flip your positions, grinding down on him once you’ve settled above him.

“If we’re doing this, baby boy,” you said, sultry. “We’re doing this my way, got it?”

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and began to grind down on him lightly. 

“Come on, sweet thing,” you murmured against his lips, rolling your hips in a way that had his eyes rolling back. “You can be good for me, can’t you?”

“Mm- yeah, yes, I can be good for you,” he groaned. “Now get on with it, will you?”

You frown at him, faux pouting. “Thought you were gonna be good. But that’s fine, we can play that game, I don’t mind.”

He opened his mouth to object but was cut off when your grinding turned harsh and fast, his words turning into a breathy moan. He slapped a hand over his mouth but you weren’t having it.

“Listen here, Hargrove,” you growled. “You’re going to let me hear those pretty little sounds or you’re not going to come. Understand?”

“No way in hell-”

You reach a hand down to his straining cock and squeeze, hard, revelling in the way his head rolls back and his hips jerk up into your hand. His mouth opens and closes uselessly, and you lean your weight onto your knees so you can shove your fingers that aren’t cradling his cock right down his throat. He gags, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“God, look at you,” you groan, voice strained. “Made for this, made for me to use, huh?”

He tries to respond but all that comes out are choked moans, drool dribbling down his chin as he gags on your fingers. You other hand kickstarts, rubbing him not-so-nicely through his pants. He looked gorgeous like this: choking on your fingers, eyes unfocused, hips bucking uncontrollably into your harsh touches. God, you just want to drown yourself in the feeling of the power you had over this man, this man who insisted on so much control in his everyday life. But here he was, on your couch, gagging on your fingers like he never wanted anything else. 

His bucking gets more erratic and his breaths get shorter, signalling an incoming orgasm. You paw at his cock a little harder, removing your fingers from down his throat so you could hear him when you tear his orgasm away from him.

“You wanna cum, baby?” you coo, letting your hips take over for your hand and grinding down on his clothed erection. “Wanna cum for me?”

“Yeah - gonna cum, gonna cum, let me cum-”

“No.”

His hips jolt upwards as you lift yourself from his lap, chasing after your heat. You smirk sadistically at him, chuckling at the glare he gives you in exchange for your denial.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, hands clenching at his sides (but not moving to change his predicament, you noted). “I was so fucking close, why would you-”

You put a finger on his lips, shushing him. “You were a brat earlier, so I’m treating you like one. Maybe if you get me off I will consider letting you come.”

“Yeah?” he said, still panting from his lost orgasm. “Yeah, I can fuckin’ do that.”

“Good,” you say, getting up. “Get on your knees in front of the couch.”

He snorted at first, but his face contorted when he realised you were serious. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? You’re not going to get me on my knees, sweetheart.”

“Then you’re not going to cum,” you said matter-of-factly. “Eat me out on your knees like the little slut you are or you don’t get to cum.”

His nose scrunched up angrily but he moved to get down in front of the couch. “There. That make your sick little heart happy?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a mouthy brat we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” you said, discarding your pants and undergarments god knows where. “Don’t touch without permission, m’kay?”

He growled but kept his hands obediently at his side. In spite of all his back talk, Billy didn’t ever make a move to take control. He wants this, you realise, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“How cute,” you coo, pinching his cheek as you settle yourself in front of him. “Now eat me out - no hands though, baby. Just put your pretty little mouth to better use for me, mhm?”

He begrudgingly folds his hands behind his back and buries himself in your hole. Your head rolls back, a low groan escaping your mouth. If he wasn’t drowning himself in you he might see your composure slipping, but he seemed just as out of it as you. Hips jerking up into nothing, hands clasped behind his back, face red and teary, Billy looked like so fucking good that you felt yourself clenching around his tongue, rolling your hips into his lapping. 

“God… so good with that tongue, baby, shit - keep doing that, y-yeah, just like that,” you blabber out, a hand flying to grip at his hair. You give an experimental tug and grin when he moans, breathy and high. 

“Y-yeah? You want me to tug on your - ngh - hair? Shove you deeper into me?” you say, chuckling lowly when he nods into you. “Your wish is my command, sweet thing.”

You could feel your orgasm drawing nearer as Billy’s talented tongue ruined your insides. His movements were precise, even without the use of his hands, and when he nicked your sweet spot you came, clamping your thighs around his head as you tugged harshly on his hair. 

Panting, you try to regain enough composure to address Billy. “God, sweetheart, your so fucking good with your tongue.”

“Yeah?” he said, tone cocky despite the straining bulge in his jeans. “You gonna let me use you now? I know you want it darlin’, you can’t keep pretending to have contr - mph!”

You yanked him up in a kiss, effectively shutting him up. Your legs were a little shaky from your previous orgasm but you were stubborn: there’s no way in hell after all this you would give Billy the satisfaction of fucking into you.

“Get on the goddamn couch,” you said, panting as you pulled away. “I’m going to ride you until all you can think of is me.”

“Fuck, pretty thing,” he groans, dropping onto the couch. “You better hold true to that or I might have to take over.”

“If you think you have a say in how this goes you’re dead wrong,” you said, straddling his hips. “You don’t cum until I say, got it baby?”

“Easy peasy,” he said, ever the fucking brat. “Think you can hold it sweets? Because I can guarantee that you’ll be creaming around my cock in no time.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, unimpressed as you help him wiggle out of his jeans and underwear. “Whatever you need to help you sleep at night.”

“You scared you can’t take it - shit!” he moans, cock twitching as you sink down on him in one slide. “Fuck, you gotta give a man a warning-”

You don’t. Bouncing up and down on his cock at a harsh pace, your trailer is filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. You’re sure the neighbours can tell what you two are doing - hell, the whole trailer park probably knew - but you didn’t have the heart to care. His cock stretched you wide, so goddamn girthy that every bounce had white bouncing at the edge of your vision. 

Billy wasn’t much better. He had a death grip on your hips, finger-shaped bruises already forming. Tongue sticking out, eye half-lidded and staring up at you reverently, Billy was a fucked out mess already and you’d just started.

“Mmngh, feelin’ good, pretty boy? God… just look at you, takin’ - ungh - t-takin’ it so goddamn well, shit,” you said, still slamming yourself down on his cock like your life depended on it. 

“Mmm, fuck, please, please please please-” 

You couldn’t even tell what he was begging for anymore. “What do you - ngh - what do you need, babe - fuck, just like that pretty thing - huh? Got to be specific, darlin’ - god…”

“Cum,” he moans out, eyes shut tightly as he bucks into you. “Need t’ fuckin’ cum!”

You clench around him as he bucks, eyes rolling back a bit. “Ngh, yeah? You wanna cum? Wanna fill my pretty little hole - ahn, do that again, jesus - fill my pretty little hole with your cum?”

“Yeah, shit. Gonna let me?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know…” you said, pretending to ponder like you weren’t desperate to feel him fill you up. “Have you been - jesus fucking christ - have you been good?”

“‘ve been good!!” he wails, eyes teary as he stares up at you. “Been so good, such a good boy, please let me cum, please, jus’ wanna be you good boy, please please please!”

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, you hadn’t expected him to beg in return. Slowing down a bit, your bounces send him slow and deep, causing you to clench. His eyes cross and his grip on the couch turns his knuckles white, trying so goddamn hard to hold himself back.

“You can cum,” you groan, his cock rutting against your sweet spot just right. “You can cum, baby, cum with me, want you to cum with me-”

Your vision goes white and you clench, gripping his cock harshly. He near screams, fucking himself up into you as he came. You both melt into each other, a panting, post-orgasm mess tangled on the couch. When your brain was finally back online, you winch, gently sliding his softened cock out of you.

“Fuck, really did a number on me,” Billy murmured, ragdolled on the couch looking like he never wanted to move. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” you say, trying your best to walk (or waddle, rather) your way to the kitchen to start cleaning off.

“You love me and you know it!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it. God, he was such a doofus. You couldn’t believe that the rest of the school considered him the king, but maybe your friendship was something special. You sure hoped so - you were certain he wasn’t just submitting himself to anyone, after all. 

“Where the fuck did you go, dickhead? The great Billy Hargrove demands cuddles!”

God, he was such a dork sometimes. You snort, but make your way back to the living room, water bottle and damp washcloth in hand. 

“Have patience, great Billy,” you said, handing him the water bottle before gently cleaning him up. “Great things come for those who wait.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, melting into your touch. “I didn’t come here for you to philosophise.”

“Course, course,” you say, jokingly. “Okay, all done. Let’s pick up all our shit and go to my room, yeah? Really don’t want my parents to come home and find us naked in the living room.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re boring,” he jokes, wobbly as he stands to help you grab your discarded clothes. “Half the fun is getting caught.”

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Says the one who rode me on their parents' couch.”

“Ew!! Don’t fucking say that, I don’t want to think about my parents in the afterglow!”

“You’re the one who brought them up!” “Yeah, because I don’t want them involved in my post-orgasmic haze!!” you say, exasperated. “Cmon, this way.”

Dumping your clothes unceremoniously on the floor, you lock the door and drag Billy towards your bed. Wordlessly, the two of you melt into each other. You’d worry about sneaking him out under your parents’ radar later - right now, you had much more pressing concerns.

Word Count: 3374

[fayetape]

“Flame” by Fayetape

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1854

CW: Angst, typical THG stuff

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Important note: The reader starts out very young but there is a time skip, don’t worry!

Hey everyone! My name is Faye. This is my first story I’ve ever published on here. I’m very new to this. This is the first part of my series “Flame” I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave any constructive criticism or suggestions in the comments :)

Chapter One: Promises

A short white dress was displayed on her twin-sized mattress. The dress was beautiful. White and lacy. Tied with small, delicate ribbons on the shoulders and in the middle of the chest. Any other day she would have been delighted to have found such a gift. She knew what it meant. Reaping day. Her first one too. All the people of district four get dressed up in their sunday-best to be forced to watch as two of their children ages 12-18 get sent off to the games, almost certain to die. This time her life was part of the draw. She had no other choice but to put on the dress. Against her own will she kept thinking about this process as if it was one of her last times ever to do such a simple thing. Last time undressing. Last time tying a ribbon. She sighed anxiously and put on a pair of white tights and black buckle mary-janes. It felt like she was preparing herself to die or dressing herself up for her own funeral. She heard the sizzle and cracks of her mom cooking in the kitchen. Her mother had been quiet lately. She had a thought. It’s because she knows her daughter has a chance to be taken from her, even when her daughter is all she has, the capitol spares no mercy. Disturbed by these thoughts, the girl walked past her mother without saying a word, only exchanging a sullen glance as she turned the handle of the front door.

“Y/N! Hey!” a recognizable voice yelled in the distance.

“Finnick! Hi.” She was excited to see him, but today there could only be but so much happiness in her voice.

He walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder, “I like your dress.”

She didn’t say anything in response.

“Look, I know today is scary, but your name is only in that bowl once out of hundreds of other slips. You’re gonna be fine.”

Finnick was older. He had already gone through the horrors of being part of the reaping for two years now. He knew how to navigate it, at least more than she did. He took upon himself some unassigned duty to protect her from the moment they met. This was the one thing he couldn’t shield her from and it made him feel unsettled. The very least he could do is be realistic and try his best to console her. He looked down at her. She was still quiet. He let go of her shoulder and held her hand. He stroked her hand with his thumb and led her into a nearby field. They would go here when things got hard. Not that they would talk about it much. Not many people knew about it or dared to explore it. Technically it was off-bounds to district four and they knew they could get in a lot of trouble with the peacekeepers. Regardless, they both agreed that a little bit of risk was healthy. He checked in all directions to make sure nobody was watching before he reached ahead to pull branches aside to clear a path. The landscape never failed to hypnotize them. A luscious field with an array of diverse greenery and wildflowers sloping down a hill to the marsh. The sound of light wind blowing through the grass and the small creek bubbling instantly calmed their nerves. Even Finnicks, as much as he tried to hide his fear.

They pushed through the tall grass onto the path they carved out several years ago. Walking until they got to the bottom of the tall, gentle hill. He always loved the water. He let go of her hand and he sat down on the damp ground. He shot her a glance proposing her to sit down.

“I don’t want to get my dress dirty.”

“You mean your MOM doesn’t want you to get your dress dirty. Since when did you care about dirt?”

He was right. She lifted up the skirt of her dress and sat down on a patch of grass that looked cleaner than the rest.

He looked over at her, a few feet away, “Not gonna dare to get any closer, huh?” He always flirted like this. Bold enough to get her attention, but sly enough to give her plausible deniability.

“Today is the one day I can’t get messy. Tomorrow I’ll take more of a risk, okay?”

He laughed, “See? You do know that it is going to be okay!”

“What?”

“You said tomorrow. You know deep down that it’s gonna be fine.”

She rolled her eyes, “I just forgot about it for a second..”

That was good enough for him. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the bugs and frogs in the marsh.

“Hey,” he said.

“I’m not moving closer.”

“Fine.” He scooted closer to her.

Instinctively she put her head on his shoulder. He smiled.

“Finn? Can you promise me something?”

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll always take care of me like this ?”

“Yes.” He said without any hesitation.

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she said.

“I promise. You know I’ll always take care of you. I won’t leave you alone, love.”

After that she just stared at him for a while, “Okay,” she said and looked back at the morning sky.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice.

She looked over at him and he nervously grabbed her chin and pulled her in. She didn’t resist. The two stared at each other with their faces so close before he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips before letting go.

They sat in silence for a bit. “Was that okay?” He asked nervously.

Through slightly labored breath she said, “Yeah. Of course.”

He smiled, “Was I your first?”

“No,” She giggled playfully.

Matching her demeanor, “Yeah right.”

“How would you know? Maybe I kissed that boy on Dove Street.”

“You don’t even know his name!” He exclaimed, “Plus I worked my ass off to keep those dumbass neighborhood boys

off of you.”

“Yeah whatever!” She said and swept sand onto his lap.

He dramatically put his hand over his chest, “How could you!” and splashed dirty water in her direction.

“Finnick!”

“You started it!” It was too

late, her dress was already muddied. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Sorry. Was that not okay?” he asked her.

“No. No. It’s okay,” she paused, “Are we dating?”

He laughed at her innocence. “If that’s what you want.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then,” he confirmed.

Just as he was about to kiss her again, they heard the sound of the warning bell.

“Shit.” He pulled her up and they ran back up the hill away towards their town.

Once they got out of the field they ran their separate ways towards their houses, breathlessly exchanging goodbye glances.

Panting and sweating she ran across the railroad tracks towards her small house. Slowing down once she could see the white paint chipping off the frame. She heard the front screen door slam shut.

“Where have you been?” Her mother yelled, “What the hell happened to your dress?”

Catching her breath she tried to find a believable excuse. Before she could explain her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.

“Were you with that boy again? He’s so disrespectful.”

Her mother was always one to hold a grudge. She couldn’t let go of the time that Finnick purposely broke one of her daughter’s toys when they were younger. Ever since then she thought of him as a bully, even though he was only eight at the time and wasn’t trying to be malicious.

“No,” She tried lying.

Her mother didn’t say anything in response and just continued to wipe down her dress with a wet rag.

Her mother smoothed out her dress, “Come on. Let’s go.”

They hurried their way to the town square.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

They separated and she was pushed forward by the peacekeepers before she could even look back. They pricked her finger and checked her into the drawing system. Her throat burned and there was suddenly a deeper hole of anxiety in her chest. Reality was setting in. Her eyes darted across the space searching for Finnick. Panicking when she couldn’t find him.

“Hey,” He said on the other side of the barrier.

Her shoulders untensed ever so slightly. She smiled at him.

The chatter of the crowd stopped as the stage microphone rang out ear piercing frequencies.

“Ahem,” the announcer decorated in a ridiculous, loud purple dress spoke, “Welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games!”

As if waiting for an applause the woman paused, “Alright then. We won’t waste anymore time here.”

She dipped her hand into the bowl swirling the strips of paper. “And the female tribute for the 65th annual Hunger Games iss…”

The girl held her breath. Feeling like she was going to faint or die right then and there.

“Julianne Halmbern!” the crowd gasped.

The pit in the girl's stomach disappeared for a split second. Not her this year. Then it set in. A girl who lived on the poorer side of the district. She hardly knew her but she still felt sickenly guilty for being relieved. Another person she knew would be sent to almost certain death. She watched as the crowd parted, making a path for the poor blonde girl, Julianne. She was stiff in fear and disbelief as she was guided up on stage.

“And the male tribute iss…”

“Finnick Odair!” The announcer exclaimed as if she had just announced the lottery.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. No. No. The crowd parted and revealed sweet Finnick. She watched his every move. She watched as he stood there in utter shock, then as he took small steps up to the stage.

“Finnick!” she cried out.

The peacekeepers were getting impatient as they ushered him to the front. “It’s okay!” he yelled out to her.

She wanted to run to him. The older girl next to her noticed her expression and held her arm protectively preventing her from charging the boy. “Finnick!”

He stepped onto the stage, hiding tears in his eyes as she yelped out for him. He thought the sound of her screams was more disturbing than getting chosen like this. Even in this moment he felt the need to console her. Before the woman in the obnoxious dress could say anything else he yelled, “Y/N! I promise! Okay? I promise!”

She nodded through her sobs. She knew he was promising to make it back to her. He vowed not to leave her alone. She tried her best to believe him. To trust him. Her thoughts raced. He was a career. He trained for this. He’s going to be okay. No. He’s fourteen. He can’t. I can’t- No. She cried harder.

And they took him away.

[0shewrites0]

Okay Rae, it’s my turn to ask questions— TOBY?????

What are our chances of a lil redemption fic where he makes the right choice and pies Amelia???

Bestie, I’m FUMING AFAGSHSHDJJF 😭😭😡

Look, I’ve seen people say it but I never wanted to believe it. Now, stupid me because they were right: MC is not the MC of this season. No, it’s stupid fricking Amelia and I’ll die on this hill URGH

The way her head gets turned by literally every new boy is so annoying. First she wanted Roberto because she knew he wanted us and she got him because I wasn’t into him. Then she got the ick and ran head first into the next wall (the wall = Marshall. Obviously). I CONSTANTLY told her I didn’t think he was trustworthy and whatnot and she never wanted to listen. Well, guess what? Turns out he’s the second dude to give her the ick and I’m so OVER it.

The worst part of it all is definitely how Toby was literally choking on his own saliva for her 🤢🤢🤢

At first I thought he was doing the same thing as Lucas when he took MC as the last person on a date because he wanted to save the best till last, ya know?

Yeah no. That was me hoping and getting outed as a clown straight away, yay. Karma is a bitch.

I chose to make Lewie a bit jealous on my date with Toby and honestly? The things he said made my heart flutter a little. I DO NOT want to believe that he said what he said without it meaning anything. I REFUSE to believe that. Not to mention he’s literally my dream LI 😭😩

- his blue eyes 😩

- the fact that he thinks there’s nothing better than late night gym sessions 🥵 (please, that’s something I do so often and it’s srsly the best)

- his chest ugh, shoot me dead. Now. I’m such a sucker for a big ass chest idc

- he wants a big family I’m going to cry

- literally the only thing that’s missing is tatts (but like, those neck and throat and back of the head pattern-tattoos, chest tattoos and at least tattooed arms all the way down to the fingers)

This is literally my faceclaim for him:

Fabien Tietjen

Anyway, Snog Marry Pie:

I mean, I’m flattered that quite a few of the islanders wanted to marry me (Lewie, Elliot, Bella) but WHERE WERE MY SNOGS??? Wtffff?? And again, Amelia Ratmelia got kissed by basically all of them, how unfair is that?

When Toby snogged Amelia I was like, okay so maybe that means he’ll marry me 🥹👉🏼👈🏼 I basically died inside when he “cupped her face gently”, I’m telling you. It was absolutely, positively brutal. AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO GET DOWN ON HIS KNEE IN FRONT OF AMELIA!!??? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s the only one who broke the rules and he chose to do so with Amelia? It sucks. No, it doesn’t just suck, it actually hurt me so bad.

Also, the fact that I didn’t even have the chance to snog Toby OR marry him OR pie Roberto after the latter was a complete prick? No, I was forced to pay 17 gems to do so? Like hell I was going to pay those bahahaha what are they even thinking? I’m so pissed, I didn’t even want to finish the volume. And I’m not sure I’m going to play the last episode until I’ve calmed down a little.

But is there a chance I’ll whip out a little redemption/fix-Toby fic? FUCK YEAH. I’m not taking this lying down.

[royal-wren]

It's not really a Saturday if I'm not hit with thoughts going a thousand miles in a minute.

I'm thinking about Hermes' intricate and deep connection to life and death, the god that stands between both states and exists in both of them simultaneously. He's my personal god of death and god of the dead to fall more in line with the seats he used to occupy and were effectively given to another and yet he still maintained the most important role/domain in relation to it. The attempt to strip it away never really worked out in the end with him, he's still the one doing all the work at the end of the day.

The god who turns invisible, the one with the sickle (and scythe), growth and loss, the god of the earth -- the wealth and bareness of the land, god of silence beyond silence, and god of noise beyond your imagination or capacity to understand. God of gold, god with the golden and silver tongue, god decked out in gold, god with a heart of precious metals. God among the graves, of the graves, he who mourns and feels great pain for the living and dead that lost a life they greatly valued even though he cannot be hurt or be wounded. Guide in life and death, around all corners and seconds regardless of time or space. The god of caves and mountains, the lowest and highest parts of the world and natural earth we can reach. He of memory, who never forgets and cannot be touched or impacted by the river Lethe, reincarnation eternal. God of the conscious and unconscious, God of light, and the night, the god who bears torches in darkness. The god with eyes everywhere, ever watchful and all-seeing, a god I connect most to eyes and any visuals and concepts/aesthetics to eyes where Athene comes second and Hekate third.

When am I not thinking about him as the lord of the dead and death itself though? Well, it's just especially bad and more at the forefront of my mind right now and I need to write it somewhere. Honestly I never really felt a need to really have Hades or Thanatos come to mind or enter my thoughts in either way, and it was always a feeling and connection I had with him for years now. I felt it so deep in my bones and it always felt right, and reading about it in multiple places with him being the og Pelasgian or Minoan, or at least a very local pre-Hellenic (depending on preference or consensus for whether they are one and the same or not) deity for both, in a similar manner to Enodia being the og Thessilian goddess of paths and crossroads and so on was insanely validating. It was like completing a puzzle, the one last piece I needed to get the full picture.

I will die on this hill no matter what anyone else might try to say, call me crazy or a heretic. I don't care, I live by my own gnosis and sensibilities (or lack their of) and this is one of them.

Oh beloved son of Diwia Agêtôr, older than the soil One with and without guile God with the golden sickle Breather of life and bestower of death Ruler of the Dipsioi, those you join as Deilakrion You know their weight of memories and forgetfulness, of their hunger and thirst as they feast upon the earth Marineus, another name I also call you While you dance among the trees As you find joy lying on the grass Creating gifts without harm from sheep to man A reveler in animals and people alike Dear Araios, with horns divine God of rams and sheep Potnios Theron, relishing in his favorite company Among the infinite animals who flock to him

Trisheros, the hero that sees three ways The one connected to the respect and honoring of the dead Deity holding the many mysteries between truth and lies Akakêsios, without pain, will always take every hand God that sees and feels human emotion, Agônios He will dry every tear and give all calm and serenity

Kharidôtês, God of touch, the nerves, feeling, and pleasure The one all delight in and yearn for The one sung highly by the Kharites and Aphrodite alike Hearts cry merrily with you, never a bitter soul around you

Most ancient god with an appearance and heart of youth As this body struggles, as my knees go weak and my energy drains As love stirs again in me no matter the time of the absence of feeling Set me right while I rest in the palm of your hand With the utmost love, you cup my cheek With a kiss, with a ghosting stroke, I gain vitality

Tbh, writing that was a hell of a lot of fun to mostly just use a lot of his older epithets and names I connect to him that just go with the whole topic of this post.

[spacetravels]

I am insane abt noah too… I’d love to know some of your hcs or thoughts or anything you have in that doc you’ve written, if you don’t mind sharing 💓

[insert sickos meme]

YEAH i think in my meta i just wrote too much about how the it lives series is like. the heart of it is mc & the marshall twins. i'll die on that hill. and also ofc the entirety of it lives being about breaking cycles. & like ofc bias here as a noah apologist but here have some paraphrased bullets frm my essay LOL I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS ALL DAY:

Essentially my thesis is like. The Marshall twins: Noah was Jane's whole world and he’ll always feel guilty that he couldn’t save her. MC’s her best friend and the love they had for each other was strong and real and MC will always feel guilt and blame for her her death.It’s a fucked up little circle of grief and blame because they’re both like: Why didn’t I stop this/Why didn’t I save her/Why was it not me/This is my fault

the way the horror genre is often about loss… like the horror of It Lives lies in how painful grief is, and exploring how grief can manifest itself and pain breeding pain and stuff. and it's so different across the book 1 cast but i think noah and mc are so similar in just. they blame themselves and carry jane's death the hardest... and uhhh

the fact they’re in their senior year. And how after this they’re “grown ups” and they have to go to college or get jobs or both. And how redfield/jane represents the youth they lost and will never have again. And red/jane bringing the gang all back for one last game because there’d be no games after that--all of jane’s friends will have to grow up. All of jane’s friends will become adults and she’ll be left behind in this terrible limbo state where she’ll never get to move on the way everyone else could. Like they have to grow up, they can’t stop and stay and play games in the woods like they used to anymore because then they'd never let go of what happened to them. And the end scene where everyone, if they're strong, can declare they're not scared--that's it. They've learned they can let go.

And it aches and it aches so much in the finale when you realize that this happens for everyone EXCEPT MC and Noah. everyone grows up. They played together. They finish the game. They can move on. Their arcs are wonderfully done. But these two people literally don't have the option of that!

so sacrifice MC and Noah have that choice to make that like. They both can’t make it out alive by this point, and they have to choose (assuming like. you get the choice lol the tragedy of noah flying off the handle and killing mc is another thing entirely re: nerve mechanic and whatnot)

And like definitely up to player perception and completely fair at this point if ppl make their choice becuz Fuck Noah Marshall or other reasons to save MC lol no judgement but my thoughts on like. the choice is like.

MC dies, because MC thinks Noah has to live. Despite it all and no matter what consequences he has to face, Noah Marshall has to keep being alive because he’s spent his entire youth stuck in a limbo state of wanting to disappear and be gone and he can’t even have the grace of dying now. He has to live.

Noah dies, because Noah thinks MC has to live, because MC saved him. He’s made peace with his death a long time ago, and this was his fault. MC has been nothing but grounded and carries in them the optimism and belief that grief does not end in pain, but you carry it with you, and you live. MC has to live for the person who can’t

anywyays i'm like. i'm TOTALLY fine and having a NORMAL one

[veryloovy]

jfc it continues ("Dollzi drama")

Can we accept that Dollzi isn't problematic (unless Nori and Yeva are confirmed siblings) like sensible people? This was the weirdest fucking hill to die on and I'm only partly talking about the recent drama at this point. There has been so much negativity posted in the tag about it over the months. I don't ship it, I don't like it either, but I think people should be allowed to ship it. No power imbalance, age gap, or familial relation (as far as we know), I think it's fair game enemies to lovers territory.

On god, the amount of really negative takes about characters or shipping in the tag was getting on my nerves. "Oh great, another Dollzi post, let's see what the beef is here today" or whatever the fuck the evil Tessa stuff is about. Like, I GET having theories, but it got to a point where it felt like genuine apathy towards specific aspects of the show at best and at worst veiled attempts to justify a dislike towards certain aspects using headcanon. Not everyone is going to agree with how you see the show, that's a given, but I think maybe we shouldn't get caught up in talking about it so negatively.

"The drama isn't over shipping anymore" according to the last post on it, apparently not! I just have my head in my hands here wondering why this was the hill to die on. This could've been avoided if quieter methods were taken before the ship bashing became a reoccurring thing. Block people or mute tags if this ship scares you so much, don't spout hate for it in the fandom tag every time you see it. When you're negative that much, people are GONNA turn that back onto you and that's exactly what happened here. I am being mindful of my own negativity, which is why this will be my only post on it.

[witchthewriter]

Thank you for doing ships! I've always wanted to have one done for me, so I'm truly greatful for the opportunity.

Level: Four (if you have the time and energy to do three ships that would be fantastic, but if not don't worry about it)

Basic things: I'm 5'1. I use she/they pronouns. I'm bisexual. I'm a capricorn sun, pisces moon, and cancer rising. Last but not least I am an INTP. Last minute addition I am Ravenclaw.

My three randoms are: Peaky Blinders, Stranger Things, and The Umbrella Academy.

In depth info:

I can be described as independent, stubborn, intelligent, eccentric, and cold–hearted (as I have been given the nickname Ice Queen).

I get anxious and stressed pretty easily but I hide it well and try to move on if it's not too severe. I am very family oriented even if they get on my nerves. I find it very funny because I am one of my parents youngest kids, but have lived as the oldest in the house, and I'm the middle child of the youngest three. Essentially I have oldest, middle, and youngest child vibes.

I mimic others easily especially if I'm around them for a while. I have a fantastic sense of humor and am in love with puns and dad jokes.

My taste in everything is very all over the place. I like all music and will watch or read almost anything you put in front of me. I love to sing, read, play piano, learn, watch crime shows, and write.

I tend to be very quiet until I have known the people I'm around for a bit then I don't know when to stop.

I love animals and most often get along well with them. Pitbulls are my favorite dog breed and I will absolutely die on that hill.

I dress how I want when I want. For example one day I'll be in a very pretty dress and look fabulous then the next I'll be a disco girl and after that I'll look like the handsomest little guy there is.

I have a very keen sense for observation and try to be three steps ahead. I love to be prepared as it makes me nervous when I am not. I tend to predict how things will turn out and am very good at sniffing out who likes who (including myself).

I did a bit of a ramble, but I know the more information the better. So I really appreciate you reading my ramble and all. Thank you!

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Hello, my darling! You sound like such a lovely person <3

What each ship has in common: ⋆ Headstrong ⋆ Independent ⋆ Notable  ⋆ ‘Man in charge’ ⋆ Admirable

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Thomas Shelby. I think he would connect with your traits such as your keen observational sense, intelligence and the fact that your nicknamed the Ice Queen. By this I mean he isn’t one to show emotions, and I think he would go well with someone who can overcome their stress/anxiety to focus on the task at hand!

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・I think you would meet because he needed something (from your family shop, the place you work etc.) 

・He has a keen observation as well, and is able to sniff out people who have useful aspects. I definitely think he would see this in you, and therefore want your intelligence and knowledge to help with the business

・Sitting at his desk when he gets back late, you doing some of the paperwork. He’ll just lean against the doorway, light up a cigarette and smirk at you

・Calling each other by your last names

・Having the respect of his brothers

・Getting to know Polly and actually really liking each other

・Having insightful discussions with Ada about politics, literaure and just ... life

・He would always make sure you’re safe. Once you have the Shelby name than you will be protected even by title. No one would fck with you. Like ever. 

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your ability to see more than others around you do. You’re able to acclimatize into groups and situations, which he finds impressive. Also, the fact that you like to be prepared. He doesn’t like spontaneity, or rather, he doesn’t appreciate it. 

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

I think Ada would be your best friend. She would love having you in the family, more girls to outweigh the guys. She loves your intelligence and likes to pick your brain. You would have such great conversation!

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I SHIP YOU WITH EDDIE MCBEAUTIFULFACE MUNSON <3 <3 <3 THE MAN OF EVERYONE’S DREAMS. THE METAL HEAD THAT CHANGED A UNIV- okay sorry I’m going too far. But honestly this man right here, this one, yeah he’s amazing. Enthusiastic, charming, kind-hearted!!!!!!!! His heart <3 is SO SOFT, He loves loves loves to make people feel comfortable. Literally you would suit each other so well!

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・BRAIDING HIS HAIR, if you don’t know how to braid then just playing with it. He will literally moan at how nice your fingers feel on his scalp. 

・He would follow you around like a lost puppy unless he’s focusing on DnD, then his whole concentration would be on that. I think he would love your input too

・Singing along to both of your favourite songs, like full air guitar, jumping around, making so much noise!!!! It would be such a blast!!!!

・Dustin would absolutely love you, anyone that Eddie adores, Dustin would too

・Sitting in between in his legs reading while he watches a movie or reading to him. He would absolutely adore your voice

・Kissing each other’s knuckles

・Having so many inside jokes

・Uncle Wayne thinks you’re such a good influence on Eddie and he has hope for his nephew’s future 

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Your smile. Your brain. He just loves the way you work. He finds you so interesting. Like he’s so stumped that someone like you would ever want someone like him. I definitely think Eddie is a tad insecure and hides it with his loud personality.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

I think you would have such a fun time having Robin as your best friend. I was going to say Nancy, but I think with friendships, you deserve someone who is out of the box, who has great enthusiasm and can make you feel at ease. 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Diego! I think he would absolutely suit you so fricken well. You would bond over being so hypervigilant and feel at ease around each other. There’s a hidden piece that Diego realises you fill inside of him. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・You guys would definitely start off as enemies. Like even if you’re just an ordinary person working at a cash register, he would come in and be like “oh ... it’s you...” 

   And you’d just roll your eyes. 

・It would evolve because somehow he either needed your help or you were thrown into some sort of apocopyptic catastrophe and needed to be rescued. And Diego came as your knight in shining armour. 

・I can see there being such witty banter, like the sarcastic comments never stop once you get together

・Learning about Diego’s past and feeling really upset about it. You hate it when people having a horrible upbringing and to see someone who is still carrying that weight of that ... it breaks your heart

・He would be such a good cuddler - like imagine him wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight against your chest

・SO PROTECTIVE, YOU ARE HIS BABY AND HE WILL DIE FOR YOU.

・Hand holding <3 he doesn’t want to at first and tries to deny all the lovey dovey stuff but you don’t take it personally. But he is just teasing and as soon as you start to walk away, he’ll grab you and pull you back

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

That you’re stable within his life. He didn’t grow up with love, he didn’t grow up with a proper family. There was so much consistency around traumatic behaviour from his father that having a loving partner, who is stable - is such a change. Diego absolutely loves that he can count on you. 

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

I honestly think you and Viktor would get along so well. He would understand your sensitive side (especially that pisces moon and cancer rising!!!) I can definitely see Viktor having pisces and/or cancer in their big 3. 

You would bring a lot of love to the Hargreeves family as a whole. And they all cherish your friendship!

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

I gotta say, I am happy the SL fandom has been more... calm, during the past year. Or, well... not calmed down, but I guess I have settled with it more?? Or y'all have settled with me?

Cause I stumbled across my liveblog posts from when I watched the show for the first time, and a lot of them had comments to them. Which, of course, was very fun! But a lot of comments I remember I got a bit stressed or intimidated by.

I have a way of writing and have a certain energy and I guess it takes a while to really get to know me. I also noticed that, as a newbie, people seemed to want me to think a certain way or want me to know how I was supposed to feel about things. I have noticed I can be the same with newbies, it's often well-meaning. But I didn't feel like that when I was in it myself.

I said that I liked Lumon, people told me "You will forget about them when you meet Simbar, cause Simbar is SO much better!" I said that I saw Nina as ace and I got an anon ask almost immediately asking me to explain myself why I would think that. I could write that I found a scene funny, and get a comment on the post, "this character really gets on my nerves here". Very often it was about Luna, or Jim or Yam. Three characters I often find very funny and sweet, so it wasn't the most fun when I just wanted to write something positive and I got the comment that people found them annoying in the scene - it was like, I was wrong for liking them in the scene. I could express that I didn't like Lutteo and get the comments "HOW CAN YOU NOT?!?!? THEIR CHEMISTRY IS OFF THE ROOFS?!?"

So what happened? I started to do the opposite out of spite.

I never forgot about Lumon. I did love Simbar a lot and I am happy they're endgame, but I never forgot about Lumon.

I don't think Nina is ace anymore, but I did for a very long time. Perhaps because, to some people, this caused a reaction?

I am still very defensive over Luna, Jim and Yam. Especially in season 3 - cause every time I see anyone say that they "pushed Nina to be with Eric" I just hope they'll see one of my thousands essays about it. They did not, and I will die on this hill. As much as it sucks, it was Nina herself primarily who got closer to Eric. Her friends encouraged it because they wanted their friend to be happy. Is it annoying when they go "ooh, I think he likes you". Yes. But guess what? Nina does that to them too. She actually has done that more than they have, they literally really only do it to her in s3. It just feels like you blame everything on them. And in the end, her friends don't give a damn who she dates as long as she's happy. I even think it would have been a little worse if her friends were like "No! You have to try to get back with Gastón! You have to keep thinking about him!" Did they do it perfectly? No, they're literally like 17 years old. They just go from their own life experiences, and yes, they might project their own thoughts onto Nina's situation, but Nina also does that to them. No one is innocent here. Every time I see a "they pushed her" post, I literally wish the person would rewatch season 3 or perhaps, actually watch it properly instead of jumping to conclusions. And if they have watched it then I am so tempted to send them one of my posts. This got very long, and I also have other examples - anyway, if I love and praise them, do not come and be like "they're annoying :/" in my comment section. Literally people being like this has caused me to always be on edge when mentioning them - even though no one has acted like this since last year (as mentioned above, the fandom has calmed down imo), I legit feel like I constantly need to be ready to defend them.

And yes, I still absolutely do not like Lutteo and I will like them even less if you tell me that I will like them. You can't tell me what to do??

Also I think due to how people reacted the first time, this may be one of my fave scenes out of spite, but weirdly enough one of my favorite scenes in the show is the girls talking about lutteo and niric in 3x56. I absolutely dislike both ships. I want them to not be a couple at all. BUT, the girls?? Being so excited for each other?? Luna joking that "what, should we tell everyone at roller to not be close to them" and Jim and Yam going "YES!! IT'S A GREAT IDEA!!"? IT'S NOT A GOOD IDEA, BUT IT'S SO FUNNY JUST BECAUSE IT'S SO TYPICALLY JIM AND YAM TO THINK IT IS (and guess what, Nina was happy they did that). And I've liked scenes like that before, for example in S1 when Luna and Nina dance away like "someone likes Ramiro!". I don't ship Yamiro at all either, but friends being supportive, teasing and excited for their friends just makes me so happy.

Anyway. Conclusion is, people in the SL fandom I feel aren't as much... questioning me anymore, like I felt people did when I first watched the show. But, as you noticed here, I do go off very easily, and that's because I have I am just used to having to defend myself. Even though, at this point, people are chill, people are fine, it's all good. You never know...

[forjustice]

🖨 my opinions on callouts

🔑 my favorite type of threads

📫 my favorite type of ships

My opinions on callouts

Sometimes I see a callout going around and I think oh yeah that was definitely warranted. A lot of the time, I see callouts going around that I don't fully agree with or that in some aspects could have been written better but I understand the other parts. I tend not to reblog these though because when it comes to serious things like that I only want to reblog things that I endorse 100% unless I add commentary, and I don't usually add commentary because it's not the hill I want to die on. And sometimes, whether a callout is warranted or not, it will have been done out of spite--which is not something I would ever want on my blog. A lot of the time though, if a callout is very long and involves a situation I have no familiarity with--to be honest, I can't even read it. Not even because of the content or anything. It's because my brain is just completely unable to parse that much text & that many screenshots' worth of information about conflict. I also don't end up reblogging these even if I do see enough to know I should avoid the people called out because given the fact I don't reblog anything serious that I don't completely endorse, I also don't reblog anything serious that I haven't read all the way through because when it comes to accusations I am a massive stickler about seeing everything with my own eyes.

No matter what, the reason I don't feel like doing them anymore--or even trying to warn people in private as much as I used to in my now-long-ago college days--is because I've learned the hard way that no matter HOW justified your callout is, SOME FUCKSHIT is going to happen in the backlash that makes the situation a whole lot harder. I just don't have the mental capacity or the energy to get involved because callout = you get yelled at and even if I'm 100% sure I'm right I don't like getting yelled at. If one wants to do a callout it involves weighing whether the emotional toll is worth the benefits such as putting your story out there and speaking out about something important to you…Usually for me it isn't.

My favorite type of threads

As you've seen I hate getting involved in OOC drama…But I can't get enough of stirring up drama IC! One of my favorite thread types is anything involving conflict. I have a special love of petty drama type threads, heck in the past I had multiple Pokémon Contest RP events centered specifically around petty drama in the Coordinating scene and my last one even resulted in one of my characters losing his whole-ass CHAMPIONSHIP POSITION because he was a petty little shit. On the other hand, I also love hardcore serious angst--characters getting called out for their faults, villainous/morally grey muses going ham on their targets, threads touching the nerves of deep trauma or muses' deeply-held personal beliefs, horrible fights where everyone says something they regret…If anyone's looking to start a fire, I'll show up with matches and gasoline!

But of course, I can't have angst all the time. I also love seeing my muses happy and especially healing from all the horrible trauma I like to inflict on them--the endgame for all of my morally grey blorbos is finding at least some measure of redemption, healing and happiness. As such I also love tooth-rotting fluff! I haven't threaded these things yet but I have a lot of plots planned and wishlist ideas where my characters show affection and care toward those they love and they get the same back, where my muses mostly Volo engage in lighthearted mischief, where they have fun with and bond with their Pokémon--and since some of them are shapeshifters where they even get head scritches and belly rubs as Pokémon! Man, I always thought I was bad at fluff/slice of life type things because I viewed it as like "small talk" which my autistic brain cannot do, but with sweet events like @floccesyfluff-fest that I had an absolute blast at and the type of threads I'm doing right now, I think that's changing.

My favorite type of ships

I notice that over the years as my desire to write stories covers more and more characters in my hyperfixation regions (and more and more interrelations between my characters in general), I've started shipping a lot more of my characters with each other. The unavailable status of muses like my Steven/Wallace/Zinnia polycule might cause some people not to want to RP with those muses, but when I get a beautiful mental image of two of my characters together I just can't help it, I have to make them kiss LOL. I will, however, do polyamorous ships where my paired-up characters also partner up with other muns' characters in a polycule. So I think now that is my favorite type of ship! GDLSKFJDLKFJ

In theory when shipping with others my favorite type of ship is a slow burn, but in practice I usually end up not having the energy or headspace to write it all out. I usually also stumble into ships rather than approaching someone specifically to ship, which I feel is a much more natural and organic way of doing things--I don't think I've ever thought of shipping my muses right off the bat with any of my partners outside muns of muses who have canon romantic relationships with mine. Once you get to ship with me though, unless your muse doesn't want kids, it's a guarantee that I will dive straight into making fankids because honestly I love fankids as much as I love the actual ships. GASLKDFJDSLKFJASDKLFJLDASFJ

[rottinghellhound]

The thought of dying is the only thing that seems to give me peace, that calms my nerves. It's the only way I can see out of this mess. I have nothing anyways. It'd probably be better if just disappeared. I've hurt everyone I've ever cared about. I don't know why the people who seem to care about me still care. If I could just do it and succeed. What's one last time that I'd hurt them. Then I'd never hurt them again, I'd never hurt anybody again. But I can never do it right. I'm so fucking tired. I'm so fucking scared. I'm sick of it. I can't take it anymore. I'm just so tired of being in pain. I just want it to stop. That's all I've ever wanted, and it's only gotten worse. I've wanted to die for as long as I can remember. And every time I think I've hit rock bottom I somehow end up lower than I've ever been before. I work and work to get better. I've put in so much work to get better. But it doesn't matter. I still end up here. I can't do it anymore. What's the point of pushing this stupid fucking boulder up this stupid fucking hill, when it just keeps running me over. I'm so sick of being in pain

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“I’m not telling you again.”

If you’re still doing the sentence prompts?

CW: Vampirism, blood drinking, minor whumpee (OC is 17), captivity, referenced dehydration and starvation, forced turning, wishing for death, religion

1905, somewhere outside New York City

-

"Come here, little one."

The boy presses himself back against the cold stone wall behind him. There's a cuff around one ankle, dull iron, and a chain that scrapes the floor when he moves. He swallows, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. Dirty hair falls dull over eyes that sparkle vibrant green in the near-total darkness.

He can't see her.

But she can see him.

"No." His voice is a whimper, a nearly-animal whine, pure fear. "Please, please, please no, not, not, not tonight, not... not tonight, please."

She sighs, chuckling fondly, and pulls a match across her palm to light the lamp that hangs on a hook down here. The wick catches flame, and now he sees the pale, pale skin, the deep red lips. The predator's gleam in glinting dark eyes.

She crooks a long, sharpened fingernail . He can see the hem of her dress, lace-edged, the skirt that sweeps up to curve her hips, the narrowed waist, the high neck. He's stared at illustrations of the Gibson girl put up in shop windows in stores that sell to richer women than he's ever known. She's an echo right down to the soft, upswept hair.

Like a man with an expensive coat hiding a knife, he thinks, that he means to slaughter you with. She's a monster who looks like an angel.

"I'm not telling you again. I'm hungry," She says, and gives a little pout. "I want you to feed me."

He pulls his arms in close, shaking his head again. Tears already threaten. He's so tired, all the time. There is never time enough to heal from one bite before the next and the next and the next-

"Come now, little pet. It's just one last time." Her voice is gentle, but he knows they lie. They all lie to get their fangs in you.

"What, what, what d'you mean?" The boy has a thick country Irish accent, still. Fresh off the boat, they call him when he tries to speak to the boys his age in his tenement. Half of them have accents like his, or thicker.

Not that he'll see any of them ever again.

Not since his parents-

Not since-

He chokes on a sob he can't quite hold back, turning at the waist to rub his fingers over the rough, cool stone. It helps. The motion, the texture, it helps. It calms him down, a little.

Everything here is wrong.

He misses home. He misses the green hills that were never so full of dirt ground in as the city streets are. He misses the air that didn't smell like offal day and night. He misses a world where it was all less overwhelming. He misses a world where his parents were alive to help him understand it.

"Oh, you're sad tonight," The monster wearing a woman's face says, taking the lamp off the hook and carrying it closer. The shadows dance off her cheekbones, they seem to give her a sneer rather than her soft smile. "Let Malorie be of aid to you. Tell me what you need, sweet boy."

"Can, can, can I have a-a drink? Miss?" His voice is hoarse from thirst, and he's parched. It has rained for two weeks and he's drunk the rainwater that leaks in through the walls, plus the few sips they give him each day. Food is a bit of moldy bread, cheese, maybe a thin soup. It isn't enough.

They don't seem to notice, or care.

But then food or water is something they left behind, isn't it?

"Hm." She steps forward, closer to him. Her eyes flash in the dark, reflect the bit of light, and he cringes back from her fangs as she smiles down at him. She moves to crouch before him, and sets the lamp down on the floor beside her. "Is it thirst that drives you, little one?"

"Please." His lips are chapped and cracked. He tastes blood, sometimes, and spits pink-tinged spit to blend with the soil beneath him. He tries to look pitiful - it's not hard to succeed. "Please. I'm, I'm so so so so... so thirsty, ma'am, just a cup, please-"

She looks down, unfastening the line of tiny pearl buttons on one sleeve, then rolling back the fabric to expose her wrist. A stray curl of dark hair falls down to brush her perfect cheekbone.

"Ma'am?" He can't understand what she's doing - none of them had ever started to undress in front of him before. "A drink, ma'am? Please?"

She looks up, and her eyes gleam like a cat's in the dark. Her teeth are very very white. He can see the venom shimmering on her fangs.

"A drink you want, you beautiful boy," She says, and he stares with uncomprehending horror as she moves her wrist towards her own mouth. "And a drink you shall have."

She tears her own wrist open with her teeth.

He gasps and tries to get up to run, but he's weak and dizzy and when she yanks at the chain that binds his ankle to the wall he goes down hard and lands with a thump, the breath knocked out of him.

While he wheezes air into lungs that won't take it, she pushes him onto his back and forces her wrist against his mouth, her other hand pinching his nose shut.

He cries out in horrified disgust against her cold skin and the thick brackish fluid that flows over his tongue. She stares down at him, avid, with huge eyes.

"Drink, sweet boy," She murmurs. "Quench your thirst."

He must drink or suffocate, and his body chooses for him. He swallows even as he gags, and swallows again, and she lets go of his nose so he can frantically pull in air, tears streaming to pool in the shells of his ears and soak into his grimy, dirty hair.

She is a blur through his terror, but her smile is written in stone in the yard beside a church.

"My turn," She says, and when she buries her fangs into his neck, the boy screams again.

And then goes limp as the venom takes hold, and the vampire begins to purr, her fingers gripped like claws into his shoulders.

There is no pain.

Only the fear.

I'm going to die, he thinks, and stares up into the darkness that wipes out even the lamplight. It seems like it's growing, within him and without.

His mouth is full of blood. It tastes better than it did when first she made him drink. The heaving of his stomach stops. He starts to swallow willingly, even eagerly. Nothing has ever quenched his thirst quite like this. It doesn't taste at all like he'd thought.

I'm going to die.

He wants to go home.

He wants more to drink.

He's so hungry.

He wants more blood.

When she pulls her wrist away, he whines and tries to grab at it, to pull it back. She laughs, swatting playfully at him.

"Not yet," She chides, wagging a finger. She licks her open wound and it closes. She laps at the remaining blood and he tries to sit up, to get some too, only for her to push him down again.

Then... pain.

Agony hits, a bright stripe straight up his spine, and he arches away from the ground, throwing his head back and screaming loud enough to bounce off all the walls. It recedes, and then comes again, through his stomach this time. The throb moves to his hips, thighs, into his calves and all the way to his toes.

He curls into a ball on his side, but the pain keeps growing. It takes over. He can't feel the floor he lays on, only the constant spark of nerves blaring alarm. He feels like he is being crushed under a rock, burned by the hottest fire, stabbed with a hundred knives.

"Wh, what, what's happening-... t'me?!" He coughs, and then sobs as the action hurts more than anything else ever has in his life.

"You're dying." She picks at her fingernails, already bored.

He turns to look up at her as she stands, licking her chops like a cat. Tears run down his face, and every time he blinks the air seems pink-tinged. "What...?"

"That's your body shutting down. You know, you're very fortunate." She wipes a droplet of the boy's own blood from the corner of her mouth and then sucks her finger clean. "Very few people get to be born twice. I'll see you tomorrow night. I would prefer if you didn't call me your mother."

Before he can even begin to form a question, she turns to walk away, hanging the lamp up on its hook as she goes, blowing out the flame.

The pain ripples again, he is broken like a brittle shell against the shore. His very bones feel as though they're tearing apart inside him.

He's going to die here.

And he won't stay dead. His parents will wait in Heaven for a demon son who will never be allowed to step foot into Paradise.

He gulps in air, lungs burning, and tries to remember the prayer through his panic. "Our Father, wh-who art in Heaven, hallowed be be be Thy Name-"

His throat blisters even saying the words, and when he tries to cross himself, his hand shakes too much, his joints crack and shatter. He can feel it, he can hear it. They crack and reform, break and bend.

He screams.

He screams until his throat is raw, until it bleeds, until his heart stops beating and blood runs from eyes and ears and from under his nails.

He whispers every prayer he's ever known when he can. He begs for salvation, he begs to be spared eternal bloodlust, he pleads for something other than damnation. He prays he'll see his parents in death and not become a monster like this.

His prayers are swallowed whole by darkness.

He dies, but he does not die for long.

-

Tag list:  @mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[technowoah]

thinking about angst prompt 'you're right. you're useless' with c!jschlatt where all reader does is try to help him and they eventually get to a breaking point because all they do it give and give and give and get nothing in return so schlatt just turns around and scares the fuck out of them :D

Have a Heart

You end up helping Schlatt after hating his guts. And even though you give every thing to your new president he dosent seem to fucking care

- c!schlatt x reader

- gender neutral reader!

- prompt: 25) "You're right. You are useless" (angst list)

⚠︎: swearing, drinking, smoking, angst, mentions of vomit, c!dream makes an appearance 🤭 not proofread

An// I LOVE THIS SCENARIO UGHH! THANKS FOR REQUESTING AS WELL BUB! I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

"Where's my fucking decree at?!"

"It's in my room Schlatt, please stop yelling." You tried to calm the ram-man down by talking calmer than him, but it only seemed to rile him up more.

"In your room?! Sounds like another fucking excuse that you didn't even finish them." Schlatt waved around his hands which one of them contained a lit cigarette in them. "Look at Tubbo he re-wrote one of my decrees before the festival, which is tomorrow may I add, and gave it to me. You havent even done anything I asked you." He scoffed.

You closed your eyes and held back a huge eye roll. You had done everything that Schlatt asked you to do, the decree was actually sitting on your desk in your room. This has been happening ever since Schlatt became president. He was more nicer, well as nice as Schlatt can get, but now he's been drinking like a moster and it never fails that he shows up to an important meeting drunk and makes you and Tubbo do all the work while Quackity and George are running free doing God knows what.

You had been loyal to Schlatt even when you didn't want to be, you had swallowed your pride along time ago. Every. Single. Task you do. And Every. Single. Time you get more put down that you already do.

Your head was hung low while he still spoke. "Hey! Were you listening to me shithead?! I need those papers by tonight!" Schlatt dug his finger into your chest pushing you back a little.

"Also get me my beer and bring it to the meeting room because apparently that's all you're good for." He finally left the long hallway, stumbling a bit as he walked.

You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding until you saw him walk away. You walked away to find Schlatg that beer and try to put on a smile for the meeting you are currently dreading. Quickly you stopped by your room to grab the stack of paper Schlatt was yelling about earlier and grabbed a beer from a random room. Schlatt always has alcohol and cigarettes in every room just in case he needs one.

Dragging your feet along the marble floored hallways you mad your way to the meeting room. You didn't want to get there first or even last so your mind switched up from speed walking to continuing your slow pace. You started to walk faster when you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!"

You turned around to see Tubbo waving behind you. You stopped in your pursuit to greet your friend.

"Hey Tubbo!"

"Going to the meeting I see." He smiled.

"Sadly yes." You sighed. "I already got yelled at twice today so-"

"Hey! It's better than three!"

"Tubbo!"

"Im sorry! But am I wrong?" Tubbo laughed a little.

"Well I wish it was zero. I give everything to that bastard and I get nothing." You breathed out.

"Really?! I get a lot of-" Tubbo stopped talking after the shock on your face was prominent. "You know what nevermind!" He waved off.

"Of course he would favor you." You walked off keeping a brisk pace with Tubbo apologizing for Schlatt's favoritism right behind you.

Once you reached the door to the meeting room you slowly opened the door to be greeted with, once again, a drunken president and his right hand man looking smug as ever when he had no right to be.

Schlatt's cabinet was a mess. Quackity was only the vice president because he partnered with Schlatt and George became, well, the vice president to the vice president. George was barely around anyways. Then Tubbo and you came from L'Manburg, hating Schlatt's guts at firsy you two learned to be okay with the treatment. And while apparently, Tubbo had better treatment than you, you still gave that president everything you had.

Everything you worked for was for that drunken man sitting at the head of the table. You basically devoted your life to him, writing decrees that represents Schlatts policies because "you dare not write something Wilbur would". You had pulled him from sleeping at his desk at nights, cleaned up his spilled wine and beer, picked up cigarettes from the clean marble floors. He pushed you around and you let it happen too, some people woukd say you've become weak and they were sadly right.

"Aye! Look who it is!" Schlatt slurred his words together. "There's my beer!"

"And your decrees!" You plopped the papers down on the desk as he snatched the beer bottle out of your hand.

"You have an attitude with me?" Schlatt asked quickly.

"No! No why?"

"'Cause you just threw my decrees on the table like they are some sort of scrap." Schlatt tried to find the right words. "Some sort of shit like its not important! Fuckin' have some nerve huh?"

You didn't respond and went to go sit by Tubbo across from Quackity. Schlatt apparently noticed and took it upon himself to say something.

"Asshole! You gonna respond to me?! I am your president!"

You fought the urge to snap back at him so you bit your lip as he continues to yell and make everyone in the room uncomfortable, even Quackity.

"Dammit!" Schlatt slammed the table. "Fuck you! I could kill you! I have so much power over you! I can control everyone in this damned kingdom that I'm second best to! This kingdom was owned by a tyrant! I saved all of you! And all you have to do is respond!"

He stood up during half of his breakdown, but you didn't know when. You could hear every single word he said, but your eyes were threatening to spill tears and you could feel Tubbo's hand grab yours underneath the table.

Schlatt huffed smoothed put his suit and sat back down in his chair.

"So! We're here for the festival."

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

You softly closed your bedroom door not wanting to make more drama by slamming it. This whole week you held in your emotions and tears, but today was the breaking point for you. Your back slid down the door and you started crying, and crying. There was no need to try and deafen your sobs, because you couldn't even if you tried.

Your mind kept reminding you of every single event if today.

First. Tubbo didnt tell you he was still in contact with the former citizens of L'Manburg, and the only way you found out was that today at the festival you saw them and you asked Tubbo. He finally told you with his head hung low as you two stood on the podium. You felt betrayed.

Second. Schlatt gave you an extremely hard time making sure everything was intact for today's festivities. You were stressed out of your mind.

Third. The festival went down hill hard and fast. So fast everything seemed like a blur. Tubbo gave his speech, really fidgety may you add, and then Schlatt and Quackity began trapping him in cement, you tried stopping him, but you were pushed away multiple times. You knew who Technoblade was, so when you heard Schlatt call him up to the podium you started to freak out. Your heart started to pound out of your chest when he brought out an explosive crossbow and pointed it right at Tubbo's chest.

The next thing you know a huge, bright, colorful explosion went off and with you on the podium with Tubbo's murderer sparks flew and hit you, Schlatt and Quackity making all of you have some sort of burn marks. Tubbo was gone, soon to be revived again for his last life on this earth, but seeing him die like that was the breaking point for you.

You stayed on the ground with your knees to your chest sobbing loudly. It was too much for you. Your lungs felt like they had no air inside of them, and your heart felt like a million weights were hung on it. You kept crying until you heard a harsh knock on the door, that felt like they were trying to break down the door than get someone's attention.

"Stop sobbing so damn loud!" Of course it was Schlatt you rolled your eyes and stayed on the floor.

"Leave me alone!" You cried out.

"Damn you sound like you're in pain huh?" You heard him from the other side of the door.

It was silent until the door was forced open and you were pushed with the door on your side. You sat up again to see Schlatt, who was out of breath, above you and had another beer bottle in hand.

"Why did you open ny door?" You asked softly.

"Why didn't you let me in?"

"Cause you didnt ask."

"Excuse me!?" Schlatt grew angry.

"You heard me." You stood up facing the taller man with horns. He was scary, but somehow you got the confidence today.

"I dont think you know who you're talking to shithead!" Schlatt got closer, but this time you stood your ground.

"Im talking to a drunken, egotistical, ram-man who let someone kill the only person I had left!" You yelled in his face while tears fell on your cheeks.

"You do got some nerve! I saved you!" He turned around, his back facing you.

"You made my life hell!" You yelled at him. "You- you made my life worse! You made me feel like I have no purpose, but to serve you and your ragtag cabinet! You made me feel like a useless sack of shit, you-!"

"YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU ARE USELESS!" Schlatt quickly turned around his faced filled with pure anger and his eyes bloodshot. He was breathing heavily and all the confidence left your body as soon as he stumbled towards you.

"You're fucking useless! You're even worse than Tubbo and he was working against me!" Schlatt then let out a strained stream and smashed his bottle on the floor letting the left over alcohol spill onto the floor.

"Do me a favor and leave, go. I dont need you! I dont need this damned place given to me by chance! By a fucking vice president that dosent even do his damn job! I dont need you! You! You and those bastards ruined everything!" Schlatt yelled and then rushed out of the room while holding his mouth.

You followed him quickly into the hallway and watched as he stumbled into the nearest bathroom to throw up the alcohol consumption of today. The tears kept coming as you ran down the hallway hoping that you can get as far away from these ivory buildings as your feet can take you.

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

Your feet hung off the edge of the prime path and underneath there was a small river. You had stared at the water running for about ten minutes since you got there. You noticed immediately when you set foot on the prime path that you had no where else to go except for pogtopia you learned about.

You sighed tilting your head up towards the night sky.

"Lonely?" A voice asked next to you.

You turned your head and saw the well known man dressed in green. Dream had his mask on, as usual, but hood was down letting his blonde hair show.

"Yeah actually." You responded not looking at him.

"I know what happened at the festival."

"Everyone does." You scoffed.

"What happened with Schlatt?" He asked and you turned your head with a confused look on your face. "Dont think I don't know anything that goes on around here."

"I don't know how you found out, but long story short I'm not allowed back there. I dont wanna go back there." You said while standing up facing the man.

"I have someone that can give you a place to stay. If you want to take the offer. Also I wanted to check up on you. You were so close to Tubbo and its hard to lose a friend." Dream spoke softly, but you could still hear him loud and clear even through the mask.

"Thank you. I would want to take the offer for a place to stay." You airly laughed. "I dont want to see Schlatt or Quackity again."

Dream chuckled while giving you a paper with an adress on it before getting ready to leave.

"Don't worry. He'll be dead soon." Dream said before turning around and walking down the prime path.

You should've stayed.

Taglist(s)

MCYT Imagines: @annshit @bobaducky @malfoysslutt @egorldevi

[darling-i-read-it]

Next Year

Pelle x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: sickness, throwing up, loss of appetite, drugs

Author’s Note: actually i believe in pelle supremacy believe it or not so if any more of you have requests for him just….slide em on over

Requested: by anon, Request, if you want it: Pelle’s girlfriend comes to Sweden but has an adverse reaction to drugs the Hårga use? She gets really sick; high fever, loss of appetite, in and out of consciousness, etc. Pelle was scared his intended was going to die! “But you’re better now! My family and I took such good care of you, so we can go forward with planning our coupling ceremony, my love!” Or some mildly alarming statement thinly veiled as fine. A weird comfort fic. You know Pelle is Like That.)

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif) (pretty boy! pretty boy!)

Pelle was beyond excited for you to come to his home. How pleasing it was to finally have all the things he loved in one place. He knew you would adore it. You had a love for the same things he loved. He even believed you would understand everything that went down and that you possibly had a chance to become May Queen.

But he was thinking much too far ahead.

The two of you sat in the car as he drove, the road bumpy underneath you. Usually he would bring a whole group of people like he had the year before but this time it was just the two of you. He was worried if he brought more than the Hårga would think you were expendable.

Which you were not.

“So what should I expect?” you asked nervously.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Everything will go smoothly, I know it,” he said pleasantly. You looked out the window. It was a sunny afternoon.

“You’re probably right. I just feel the need to make sure everything goes to plan,” you said laughing. He put his hand on your thigh and rubbed with his thumb. You felt the familiar butterflies in your stomach mixing with your nerves. For a moment you were comfortable.

“Everything will go to plan I promise,” he reassured. “And here we are!”

The car came to a sputtering stop. You looked out the window. There were small groups of people over the hills of long blades of grass. Pelle parked the car and both of you got out.

You rubbed your hands together as you looked around. They looked like a nice group of people, just chatting pleasantly. A woman ran up to Pelle and wrapped her arms around him. You waited patiently as Pelle pulled away.

“This is Dani, my sister!” he exclaimed. “Dani, this is my girlfriend Y/N.” You and Dani shook hands. You smiled brightly at her warm gaze.

“Very nice to meet you! Can’t believe someone managed to catch Pelle’s gaze,” she said. You nodded a bit and stepped back.

“Are you here to bring us the mixtures?” he asked her. She nodded a bit.

“I won’t be taking them though. I have bad trips,” she explained. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit.

“I’m sorry, you sound very American,” you said. She nodded.

“I am! I came here from America last year and decided to stay,” she told you. She handed Pelle a small baggie of plant type things. You eyed it. “It’s a wonderful place.” You nodded tightly and Pelle gestured to the baggie.

“Shall we?”

“Are you sure?” you asked. He put his hand on your arm.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” You looked at Dani and her comforting gaze and then back at Pelle’s. You swallowed and nodded again.

“Alright. Only if you do it with me.”

====

Just minutes after taking the drugs you started to feel sick. You sat beside Pelle beside a tree in the field of people and your mind started to get fuzzy. Your stomach got queasy and your head started to pound. You grabbed his hand.

Pelle looked over at you worriedly as you held your stomach.

“Are you alright?” His voice sounded far away. You gagged, leaning forward into the grass.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” you said. He tried to grab onto you but his touch felt faint. You felt alone.

You tried to stand and then everything went dark, your legs giving out underneath you.

====

Pelle walked into the room the Hårga were keeping you. He had personally carried you the way over to where the main commune was. He felt terrible that you had passed out and worried. The drugs didn’t affect him as much as they used to and he failed to think about how you may be affected.

He was worried sick but he trusted in his family to keep you safe.

“She is likely just having a bad reaction,” one of the elders told him. She looked down at you as sweat dripped down your forehead. She pressed her hand against your cheek. “She’s got a fever. She will come down in a couple of days at the longest.”

“Are you sure?” Pelle asked. A part of him wanted to take you out to civilization again but he decided against it. His family could take care of you.

“Yes, quite sure.” Pelle grabbed your hand. You were burning up.

“I wish to stay with her. I’ll miss some of the festivities,” he said. She nodded.

“You may.” He nodded and she left the room. He looked down at you. He hated to see you in pain and to think he had helped cause it just tore him apart. He had promised nothing would go wrong but something went wrong immediately.

Your eyes opened. You felt your body ache as you looked around.

“Darling?” he said quietly, leaning over you.

“Pelle?” you spoke, voice dry and crackly. He smiled and brushed his hand over your cheek. Just like that you were out again, asleep before he even got to say anything more.

“You’re alright,” he promised. “You will be alright.”

====

You woke up again the next day. You were still feeling ill and had no appetite but he forced some food down your throat and stayed with you as you came in and out of consciousness.

It was a couple days before you started to feel better. You were walking around and holding down food. Pelle helped you bathe and promised you would be alright again and again.

You rubbed your head and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry we missed most of the festivities,” you said sheepishly. “I wish I could have gone.” He shook his head.

“There are still a couple more left, you’ll get to see them.” He grabbed your hand gingerly, bringing it up to his lips. You brushed your free hand through his soft curly hair.

“I want to go to them then,” you said. He nodded.

“Now that you’re alright you will be prepared for our ceremony,” he whispered. Your eyebrows wrinkled.

“What ceremony?” He shook his head. His mind had wandered.

“You’ll see in due time. You’ll love it,” he promised. He let go of your hand and placed his on your cheeks, cupping your face. You fought a smile. “You are so beautiful.” You shook your head but he kept his palms firmly on you, not letting you move. “You are.”

“Thank you Pelle. And thank you for taking care of me. I wish I hadn’t had such a reaction.”

“It’s alright my darling. You’re going to love it here.” The door to the small room opened and Dani entered. You both looked up at her, Pelle dropping his hands.

“It’s almost time for breakfast. Do you feel well enough to come?” she asked. You nodded.

“I would love to come.” She smiled warmly, grabbing your hand to help you up. She handed Pelle your clothes.

“You can change and meet us out here. Pelle knows the way.” You nodded. “Next year I suppose it will be both of us handing out the herbs without taking them, huh?”

“Next year?”

[batgirlsay]

Cold Like Winter

Vampire AU Playlist for Obiyuki AU Bingo 2022 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I used this AU as an excuse to make another Obi fall/winter themed playlist…

Started rearranging some fall/Halloween themed playlists and ended up with a story where vampire Obi falls for Shirayuki and has a lot of doubts about them being together. Eventually, after sharing his feelings, Shirayuki becomes the “final girl” and thinks about becoming a vampire too. The Anthony Green and Matt Pond songs fit perfectly for this theme!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green Your Ghost- The Decemberists Ghosting- Mother Mother The Haunting- Anberlin Halloween- Matt Pond PA Last Light- Matt Pond PA Final Girl- Chvrches

Summary lyrics are cited after the bonus vampire obi!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green

Anyone who walks down my path after it snows Will cover up their footprints

Anyone who walks through my door is already done for And if you walk a mile in my shoes, you'd never choose You'd never come back here

As far as I can tell, you never got it right And everyone I know is all but turned away Scattered in the dark

You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green

Faces of doubt Haunted by the memories of everything minus the bad stuff

Sorrow and all Don't tell me if you care, come alive with it, let it show And don't wistfully believe I would die for it

Your Ghost- The Decemberists

Along the old seawall Inside the banquet hall Below the cellar stair Maybe you'll find me there Your ghost

And at your final end When you are free again No longer long to be You will belong to me

Ghosting- Mother Mother

I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms When you're tossing, when you turn in your sleep It's because I'm ghosting your dreams

And this is why I have decided To pull these old white sheets from my head I'll leave them folded neat and tidy So that you'll know I'm out of hiding

I remember, I remember the days When I'd make you oh-so afraid

I will be kind and I'll be sweet If you stop staring straight through me

And this is why I have decided To leave your house and home unhaunted You don't need poltergeist for sidekicks You don't need treats and you don't need tricks

The Haunting- Anberlin

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house The wind makes this place creak, the lights they are flickering The moon she is lurking, the clock it stopped working At a quarter past three

There's something dancing here in the shadows And I wish it were us

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight

Can't get your memory, off of my mind Just want your heartbeat, on top of mine

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house Your spirit I can't see, but I still believe I can feel your breath on me

Halloween- Matt Pond PA

Went to where the people were on a Saturday night Seems like it always seems Where I go, I want to leave

I surprised myself as my mouth started speaking There is nothing left of my nerves As I lean over to ask her Pardon the intrusion Could we leave before it gets bad?

Last Light- Matt Pond PA

Night comes in and takes our light As we turn once again in the sun We don't have to drift out of sight But shadows will fall and run

Green turns gold and the gold turns green As we turn one more time past the sun Light like no one else has seen As the shadows will shift to none Yeah, they'll run, they will run, they will run As the day's last light soon is done

You thought it was your time To give into the endless night No, you were not right

Sky hangs heavy in the lowest light As the day slips down past the sun Black and blue in the forest green Shadows are gone, they have run

I can feel your hand let go of mine Drift you to where there isn't any light And I can never sleep enough, that's right Something makes me nervous 'bout the night

Final Girl- Chvrches

Keeping secrets until everything became a bit too loud

And it feels like the weight is too much to carry I should quit, maybe go get married Only time will tell

Don't want to find your daughter in a body bag So I need to get out now while most of me is still intact

In the final cut In the final scene There's a final girl Does she look like me?