#I wish work didn’t shut my creativity off

[chipmunkweirdo]

Trying to use coloring as a transition out of work and back into creativity stepping stone.

It’s hard to get my brain to switch gears.

I hope the munks have time to post today. It’s hard getting back into things after being sick and then immediately going back to working.

[bookshelf-dust]

soul made of honeybees

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @biillys

word count: 6,418

warnings: brief swearing, mentions of smoking, reader deals with body insecurities/dysmorphia, uses exercise as a punishment, all of the struggles that come with trying to accept oneself

synopsis: on a journey of becoming more active and trying to be happier in yourself, you find billy, who helps you develop a healthier relationship with exercising and shows you that your body should be celebrated for all it does for you.

a/n: well, what do we have here? my creative juices have begun to flow again, and this is the first fic to be born of that particular affair. in my head i’ve set this in the late 80s, maybe early 90s, where i imagine billy still works at the pool during the summers when he’s home from college. this is a situation i’ve found myself in over the past year, and i wanted a chance to explore it in this way and sort through some of my own experiences. i hope you will enjoy it. as always, happy reading! <3

————

Jane Fonda is a fucking fantastic woman. But right now, you hate her. 

She manages to look stunning and effortless with each kick of her legs; while you are sweating profusely, your shorts are up your ass, and your fingers are swollen from overheating. 

You hate exercising in the moment, but once her thirty minute video is over and her group of people in tights and tiny shorts are gone, admittedly you do feel better. Rinsing the sweat from your face, feeling your muscles ache the next day—it brings you some sort of satisfaction. 

Your body likes that you’ve gotten more active. 

But your own hatred for your body was the reason you allowed Jane Fonda into your home to begin with. Sick, right? You know it’s bad, and yet each time you squat, crunch, and press, you can’t stop yourself from wishing you were shaped differently. From looking at the toned and athletic bodies in Miss Fonda’s videos and imagining what it would be like to feel that comfortable in your own skin, to be so graceful and…perfect.

So, you continue to push yourself, in hopes that you’ll become more appealing, that if you keep doing this, there will come a point where you aren’t totally and completely disgusted with the body you’ve been given. 

Because at this point, you’ve truly convinced yourself that you cannot be happy in your body. Even if you have noticed your strength levels increasing and really want to push yourself more. But you won’t let that positivity ring free like the woman on your television always wishes you would. 

“You did a great job!” Jane’s voice rings throughout your living room as the workout video ends, and you scramble for the remote, having had enough of these cheery attitudes for one morning.

You sit back on your hands, stretch out your legs, and try to steady your breath. Your knees have carpet burn, and you can feel sweat dripping down your temples. 

You may be a heaving mess, but you need more. The workouts have gotten easy, and you need something new. 

A woman runs by outside your window in a bright pink leotard and blue jogging shorts, matching pink leg warmers meeting her tennis shoes.

I could try that, you think. Maybe I’d like running. 

You certainly didn’t like it in school, but most of that was the result of shitty phys-ed teachers and the fact that you were never the athlete those instructors wanted you to be. 

You push off the floor and stalk to your room, digging for the sneakers you know are buried in the back of your closet. You have to try this. You need to keep pushing yourself. And if you don’t do it now, with this sudden spark of energy, you probably never will. 

Five minutes. You can run for five minutes. And if you feel like you can after that time is up, you’ll do ten. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you’re tying your shoes, shoving away the thoughts telling you that you’ll definitely not look as cute as that woman on the street or any other woman that goes for a run, their ponytail swaying and their cheeks perfectly pinked. 

But what does it matter? You have to try. You have to be productive and make something out of yourself. You can’t deal with the pulsing, clawing thoughts of self-hatred anymore. Your body has to change.

The only problem is that you haven’t yet realized your mindset must too.

The heat that swallows you up when you step out of your front door is almost enough to send you right back inside. But how disappointed will you be in yourself if you retreat that quickly? 

You let your body begin to walk before your brain can start to argue. Your street doesn’t really have a sidewalk, so you keep to one side as the cyclists and other joggers do, ensuring you won’t be in anyone’s way. Subconsciously, you’re already making yourself smaller even though there’s no one outside to judge you. 

You look down at your watch, noting the time, and start to run. Not as though you’re being chased by a serial killer—or a man—but enough that it counts as a run. Those first few seconds are blissful. You feel like a little kid as the adrenaline spreads through your veins. Like your mom has just called you in because dinner is ready, like you're racing against the sunset so that your feet land inside the door just before the streetlights flick on. 

You forgot what it was like to move your body in this way. To feel this momentary freedom. You make it about three minutes before your side starts to hurt, a telltale sign that you haven’t done this in far too long. The heat is starting to get to you too, but you said you’d go for five, and that’s what you’re doing. 

It’s pitiful, the way you press yourself to the inside of your front door, trying to catch your breath from that little bit of work. Why did it hurt so much more than everything Jane Fonda tells you to do? 

Maybe you’re not meant to be the athletic type. Or maybe I need to eat something, you think. I need to make a plan for myself. That could make it easier. 

You can’t eat with your shirt sticking to your back though, so you strip and turn the shower on, practically jumping under the cool stream of water. But not before you glance at your body in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Your hands find your stomach, eye each stretch mark and bit of cellulite. Each extra-soft spot of skin, every part of you that doesn’t conform to the vision you have in your head. 

You wish that five minute run had fixed everything. That you could magically look like an aerobics instructor and be happy in your own skin. Your eyes fill with tears, and you think for a minute that it could be better to just stop before you get ahead of yourself. What’s the point? You don’t know if you have it in you to wait and see results. And you know you won’t turn into someone else, won’t form a new shape…and then you’re spiraling. You can’t think of a single reason why exercising is worth it.

Because it can be fun. Because it pushes you and makes you stronger. You shove this tiny voice away and let your gaze flick back to the shower, where you’ve completely abandoned your cold sanctuary. You hop in and start scrubbing your hair, trying to think of anything that isn’t your body in that mirror, anything other than how much you looked like a fraud trying to fit in with everyone else. 

————

You continue on this way for a while longer: running in the mornings, doing as many of the Jane Fonda videos as you have access to at work, drinking more water, blah blah blah. One of the perks of working at the library is that you can check out as many tapes as you want. But you’ve done all of Jane’s workouts, and you need more. 

You could swim, but when is the community pool ever not full to the brim during the summer? You could try jazzercise. No. That’s just not for you. You could…go to the gym. 

The pool also has small gyms for both women and men, and you know the men’s one is usually very busy, but most of the women in Hawkins take part in other forms of exercise. And if you went in the mornings…you might have the place to yourself. You might could try and tone up. 

God, this sounds so stupid. 

And your heart rate picks up just thinking about doing this very new and very big and very embarrassing thing, but you want to do it. You’re going to try. 

Hopefully you’ll just go unnoticed. This is a totally normal thing for people to do, right? 

The community pool opens at ten during the week, but the doors to the gyms open at seven. And that’s what time you get there, out of pure fear that you’ll have to interact with another human and make a fool of yourself. But the universe must be looking out for you on this particular morning, because the door is unlocked, and you slip in without any hassle. 

Billy isn’t a morning person. He never has been, but an excuse to get out of his hellhole of a house before anyone else is up to fuck with him? Yeah, he jumped at that opportunity. 

Usually the manager opens the gyms and stays to open the pool during the summer, but he volunteered. Especially because he can usually get in a workout before his shift technically even starts. 

He’ll bench as much as he can without a spot, work on the pull ups he never tells anyone he struggles with. It just feels good to be able to use his muscles and push himself. Billy is proud of what his body can do, what it does for him, how it protects him—and he’s not ashamed to admit that.

His body is one of the only things he has control over, and he’s heard his share of people talking about how vain he is, how he shouldn’t spend so much time doing this or that. But he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s built a body he’s proud of and feels comfortable in, and truthfully he feels like everyone should be comfortable in their body without anyone else pushing them to look another way. 

Billy is leaning against his car, hands tangled in his hair in an effort to tie it up, a cigarette dangling loosely from his full lips when he sees you for the first time. 

He watches you get in your car, bag slung over your shoulder, interested only because he never sees another soul here this early. 

You’re pretty, he thinks. Your hairline shines in the morning sunlight, damp with sweat, your neck the same. Your sports bra peeks through your pale shirt, and one of your slouchy socks is hiked up higher than the other. You’ve clearly just finished working out, but he thinks you look breathtaking. 

There’s something about you. Something light and sweet that he can feel even from this distance, like something is telling him you have a good soul. 

The next time Billy sees you, you come out of the door looking frustrated—he assumes at yourself. He doesn’t want to bother you, but he would like to talk to you at some point. 

You turn around when you go to unlock your car door and lock eyes with him. Your heart stutters at the fact that someone has caught you, probably knows you were exercising. But he is gorgeous. You give him a small smile, and climb into the driver's seat. All you can think on the drive home is that it must be nice to be so effortlessly gorgeous. 

————

You continue on this way for weeks. Close to a month. You workout, you wave and acknowledge one another. This other person who you share this tiny thing with and who you are not judged by. 

On this particular day, you decide to be brave though. You packed a swimsuit, and you’re going to speak to that gorgeous boy and hope he doesn’t get freaked out by you. 

You place your weights back on the rack, the muscles in your thighs pulsing, your arms feeling like jelly. You’ve only worked your way up to the set of fifteens, but that’s something, right? 

You’re sweating, and dread walking outside into the swath of steadily climbing heat and humidity. Your heart pounds at the prospect of speaking to him. 

With your bag over your shoulder, you push open the door and step outside, jumping almost immediately. “Shit!” 

Billy laughs at your reaction, both because he hadn’t expected to frighten you, and because your jolt was pretty entertaining to witness. 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, “I didn’t mean to make you lose your shit, it’s just too hot to stand anywhere without shade.”

You lean against the cool metal door behind you. “Fuck,” you sigh. “My survival skills are clearly not what they should be.”

Billy laughs into his drink, taking a swig from the Coke he bought at the vending machine. 

“You headed out?” he asks, subconsciously fussing with a belt loop. 

“Well, yeah, I was. But um, I was going to ask a favor from you, if that’s okay?” You must sound like a dumbass, speaking to this man for the very first time, only to ask him for something.

“Shoot,” Billy responds.

“Do you think it’d be okay for me to swim a few laps in the pool? I know it’s not open yet, and I haven’t even told you my name, but I promise not to be a bother or anything. I just kind of wanted a chance to swim when there was no one else around, you know?”

Billy finishes his drink and tosses the can in the recycling bin inches from your hip. It lands with a resounding ping. 

You start to think this was a very stupid idea, and that maybe you should’ve just kept yourself at home like always.

“You can totally say no—”

“Yeah, sure I don’t see why not—”

Your words clash together and the both of you start to laugh. You raise your hand, gesturing for him to continue his thought. 

“It’s fine by me if you swim a little. I doubt you’re gonna trash the place.” He grins at you, dimples forming in his cheeks. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

A heat rises up your neck and washes over the tips of your ears. You tell him your name and thank him for letting you bend the rules. 

“Ah, fuck the rules. It’s just a community pool,” he winks, opening up the gate for you and telling you to have at it. 

You’d put your one-piece on underneath your workout clothes this morning, and you try to ignore the prick of shame, even disgust, that you feel having put your body in it as you wade into the pool. 

The water is cool, and as it drenches you, you feel lighter, somehow. You swim out to the deep end and push off the wall with your toes, propelling yourself underwater and kicking for as long as you can go while holding your breath. 

The little girl that still lives within your soul leaps to the surface, giddy with each push off the wall, each stroke of your arms underneath the water. She is excited. Free. 

She isn’t thinking about what your stomach looks like in this swimsuit or how stupid you probably look with your sloppy swimming skills. 

You swim for maybe twenty minutes, or at least until your shoulders are aching. You kick over to the wall, hoisting yourself up just that little bit so you can prop your elbows up on the warming concrete. 

You feel so light here that it almost makes you forget why you came. 

You hear footsteps and Billy appears from around the corner, a fluffy white towel in hand. 

“You getting out? I figured I’d come and make sure you hadn’t drowned.” 

You giggle. The sound makes him smile, pearly white teeth on display. Your eyes are drawn to his, where the summer sun has multiplied his freckles so much that they blanket his nose and the tops of his cheeks, washing over his temples. 

“I appreciate you looking out for my safety,” you say, climbing up the short ladder. Billy holds out a hand to help you steady yourself as you stand. You’re hesitant to take it because you’re all wet, but your hand moves before your mind takes control. “Thank you.” You give him a shy smile.

He grins at you and hands you the towel. You wrap it around your shoulders and follow him back under the awning when he starts walking away. Billy leans up against the cold brick wall and you stand, a little nervously, in front of him, trying to think of what to say. 

“I’ll admit, uh, it’s been nice to see someone else here so early in the mornings.” Billy lets out a huff of a laugh. “I was gonna ask though, why’d you pick this shithole to workout in?”

You pull the damp towel tighter against your torso. “It’s a quiet shithole,” you say. “And this whole exercising thing is pretty new to me, you know? I didn’t want to be somewhere people could see me like that.”

You realize how self-deprecating that comment was, realize you’re being too upfront, and try to quickly cover your ass. “What about you?” you ask, daring to make eye contact just to make sure he’s not disturbed. 

“Well, it came with the job,” he laughs, “and I love working out. Always have. Plus, it might be a shitty place, but the older equipment is a lot better than what newer gyms are using. So it works for me.”

Huh. 

“Oh. Nice.” You chew on your thumbnail. What a fuckup you are. 

Billy tilts his head, trying to encourage your gaze to raise to his. “What just happened?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You look at him, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’s nothing…I just don’t really know what to say to someone who enjoys the gym? Who has a positive relationship with it and everything.”

A crease forms between Billy’s brows. “You’ve been crazy consistent with it, but you don’t like it?” He asks you, but based on your body language and how you’ve acted the past month every time you head out, everything adds up and Billy knows the answer before it even leaves your mouth. 

You shake your head, ashamed that you even brought this up. “No,” you laugh nervously. “I hate it. I only started because I’m unhappy with myself? So it’s more of a punishment than something that brings me joy.”

Billy’s chest squeezes at your words. That is exactly why he started working out all those years ago. To make himself stronger because he was ashamed his father had power over him. Because he wasn’t good enough for anyone, so out of anger he made himself more powerful.

But he doesn’t want you to feel that way. You shouldn’t be working out purely to punish yourself for some absurd reason your mind has come up with. 

And even though Billy has had very minimal interactions with you, he likes you. He wouldn’t wish the horrible thoughts he’s had for himself on anyone else, but he gets the feeling you already know. 

“Well, I’m not gonna berate you or nothin.’ But uh, if you ever want help, or want to workout together so it’s not so miserable, let me know alright?”

You smirk at him, hoping to make the situation a bit less awkward. “Are you implying you’re the reason working out would become less miserable?”

Billy laughs, glad to see you’re not totally opposed to the idea of him offering help. “Yeah. But really, you shouldn’t have to hate it y’know? If I can help you figure out not to hate it…I’d like to try. And we could get to know each other better.”

Billy fidgets with the lighter in his pocket. He’s weaned off cigarettes, but he keeps loads of lighters around so he has something to occupy his hands with. If not, it’s usually not a good situation for him to be in. 

Your heart squeezes at the genuine quality in his words. You feel like you’re a lost cause at this point, but there’s a big part of you, the soft and squishy and easily flustered one, that wants to take him up on this offer. 

You nod, wrapping up your towel so you can drop it in the bin and go get changed. “Okay. I’ll think about it, Billy. Promise.”

————

“One more.”

“I can’t, Billy. I told you, I’m not strong enough for this shit.”

You swear when you’re frustrated. Billy has learned that over the past few weeks. 

He crouches, leveling with you. Your knee bounces, the dumbbells in your hands sitting on the tops of your thighs. “Yes, you can. You’re already up to twenty-fives for your presses. Try one more for me and then you can rest a minute.”

Your eyes well with tears that you quickly blink away as you settle back against the bench. This is the point in a workout where you just start to hate yourself. You think it’s pointless, you know you’re body hasn’t changed enough, you feel like total shit—everything just feels fucked.

You use your knees to help lift the dumbbells and slowly lift them to the appropriate height, making sure to protect your shoulders like Billy taught you. You inhale and raise them up. Your arms are shaking, especially your non-dominant one which is really fighting this shoulder press, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to lift them fully until you do. 

“Fuck, yeah!” Billy’s voice reaches your ears just as you’re lowering your arms, completely out of breath. You set the dumbbells on the floor. 

Billy is thrilled for you. He can see the progress you’re making, how much stronger you are and less hesitant to try new exercises.

When you look up at him the expression on your face tells him you are not thrilled. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

You stand and walk over to the mirror that covers one whole wall. You put your hands on your hips and bite the inside of your cheek. “Billy, will you look at me, honestly?” You gesture to your body. “This is the matter. I don’t look any different than the first day I showed up here, do I? Even if I’ve been busting my ass, I’ll just never—”

You stop, rubbing your hands down your face and over your bloodshot eyes. 

“You’ll never what?” Billy locks eyes with you in the mirror. 

You set a hand on your chest, nails digging into your skin. “My body will never be good enough for me. I’ll always look at every other person that walks by, jealous that they have the figure I want and I’ll never have. Why did I have to get stuck with this shit? Why couldn’t I be given a body that I’d be happy with. Life if fucking hard enough, why couldn’t I have this one thing?”

“And you’re just so effortlessly gorgeous, you know that? I wish it was that easy for me, too. It’s just like, why am I even doing this anymore when I know I’ll never look the way other women do? I’m bullshitting myself, aren’t I, Billy? Working out like it’s gonna do anything.”

You exhale and drag your arm across your nose, avoiding Billy’s gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.” Billy’s tone is firm. “Listen for a second, will you?”

“You are getting stronger. You’re using heavier weights all around. Shit, you’re up to fifty for your deadlifts. Hold your arm up for me—yeah, and squeeze, yep. Look at that.” 

He taps his index and middle finger on your bicep, on the bit of muscle you’ve grown and shape you’ve built. “You are absolutely not bullshitting yourself, you hear me? If anything, you’re bullshitting yourself by thinking you can’t be happy in this body. You don’t have to look like other women. Who the fuck put that idea in your head? I don’t know if you see how I look at you, but I think you’re gorgeous, and I love to see you becoming more comfortable in the movements you do, in your own strength. Your body does so fuckin’ much for you.”

Billy is still keeping eye contact with you in the mirror. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and you swear you sweat more because you know he’s right and you know you are getting stronger but fuck you just can’t believe that. You look at him and you just wish you were that lithe, that comfortable in your own skin. 

“I’m doing this with you—hey, take a deep breath, alright?” He clocks the way you’re shaking out your hands, trying to keep yourself from breaking. Crying. Screaming out of frustration. “I’m doing this with you because I used to be just like this, you hear me?” 

He hates being vulnerable, fucking despises it, but he knows that giving you this information, giving you this little pathway into his life just might save you right now. 

“I worked out all through junior high and high school because I fuckin’ hated myself, and I thought if I could get bigger, if I could make myself look intimidating, then maybe other people wouldn’t treat me like shit. That part worked in some places, but I didn’t like myself any more because I hadn’t sorted through any of my mental shit.”

He says your name. Slowly. You like the way it sounds when he says it, hating the way it sounds when it leaves your own lips. 

“I know we aren’t all that close yet, but I see so much fuckin’ potential in you. I’m not gonna let you suffer with all this shit alone. I know you hate your body, but this is the one you were given, and there’s no point spending so much time destroying yourself over that simple fact.”

You turn around to face him, your hands on the sides of your neck, rubbing as if that will stop the emotion from rising in your throat. It doesn’t work. Billy’s eyes move back and forth between yours, across your face, tracking every change in your expression. He recognizes what you’re doing, trying to suppress all of this. 

“C’mere.”

You go before your mind can fight back. Billy takes you in his arms, tucking your face into his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

You breathe unsteadily into his skin. You don’t care that he smells like sweat and you smell like sweat and that you’re shaking and tears are slipping from your eyes. His arms are strong, and the feeling of his biceps squeezing you closer, his hands running up and down your back, it makes it all feel like it’s okay. 

“It’s just so fucking hard, Billy,” you mumble, lifting your head up slightly. “It’s not fair. I just want to be pretty and normal and have a body I can accept like everyone else.”

Billy gently touches his index finger just below your chin, coaxing your gaze up to meet his. “I know it is. And I mean it when I say that you are pretty. Honestly, you gotta think about how many ‘pretty’ people there are out there, people who have the bodies the tabloids tell them to have—and are absolute dicks. Hell, that’s how I was in high school.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, signaling that he did get a little joy in you having admitted that, even if it’s not a full on smile. His thumb swipes down your cheek, mopping up the little track left by a tear. 

“Point is, this, what I’m holding right now, is your body. No one else would know it like you do, know how to take care of it, know where each mark has come from or each thing you’ve put it through. Each thing it’s gotten you through. You can accept it, because I’m going to help you get to a point where you can look in the mirror and not shit-talk yourself.”

You pull back a little, pressing the palms of your hands to your face, your elbows slightly poking the top of Billy’s rib cage. “I’m just so scared.”

“I got you, you hear me?” He pulls your shirt away from your collarbones just so it’s not sticking to your skin so much. “You don’t need to be scared. Not with me.”

You nod. And you keep doing that until it feels a little more believable. 

————

Billy can’t stop looking at you. 

And he really needs to focus before he runs off the sidewalk and into the road. 

But for the first time in the few months he’s known you, you look free. You look happy. You look all of these things and you’re running. There’s a baseball cap perched backwards on your head, one of his from forever ago that he lent (gave) you when you mentioned you didn’t have any. 

He can smell the sunscreen you’ve slathered all over yourself, see the sweat dripping down your spine. This is the first time you’ve felt brave enough to go out in just a sports bra and a cropped sweatshirt, bright colored biker shorts covering the tops of your thighs. Your frilly socks make it too, just because it shows how much more comfortable you’ve gotten with doing this. 

It turns out you never hated running. You just needed to do it in a different atmosphere, with different thoughts running through your head. And having a good running partner helps, too. 

“There’s a bench up here if you want to rest a second before we finish,” Billy says through a rather aggressive exhale. You’re glad the sun is setting, because that makes it so much cooler than when you try to run in the morning with the sun beating down on you and seeping into your veins.

You sit down, taking a long drink from your water. Billy crouches on the sidewalk, shaking out his hair and retying the mess of a bun he was wearing. 

“You’re doing so good today,” he tells you, winking at you from his place just a few inches to your left. 

You grin into your water bottle. “How long was that?” you ask. 

He rises and sits down next to you, his arm slung behind your back on the bench. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear, rubs over the little hoop you’re wearing. You watch as he does a little math in his head, checking out where exactly you are. “Little over two miles, bee.” 

Bee. Your heart skips every time he says that. It’s a very new thing, but it sort of slipped out one day, and you’ve loved it ever since. 

“What movie you wanna see this weekend, honeybee? My treat.”

When you’d asked why he chose that name for you, he’d teased at first, telling you it was just because you’re so damn sweet. But really it was a little more sappy than that. 

“Well, you are sweet. And bubbly when you want to be. But think about how much shit those little fuckers get done. How persistent and focused. They’re all cute and fuzzy n’ whatever, but they’re like, badass lil’ things, y’know?” 

Your knee bounces excitedly on the pavement. “Really?” That’s the farthest you’ve run so far. And you didn’t even hate it. You had…fun.

Billy laughs, throwing his head back a little and bearing his neck to you. It shines with sweat and it almost looks like he’s glowing. “Fuck yeah. You’ve been kicking my ass this week. I hate running.”

“But you do it with me,” you say.

“But I do it with you.”

You reach over your shoulder and squeeze his hand. “I like running better when it’s with you. Just for the record.” He squeezes back, lifting your hand up gently to press his lips to it. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

A crease forms between your brows as you meet his gaze. “What for?”

“For not giving up.” You start to argue with him, but he continues before you can belittle yourself even the slightest bit. “You’ve kept at this, at trying to get yourself stronger and to try and feel more comfortable in what your body can do. I know you probably still wish you looked like some fuckin’ model or some shit, but I can see how much you’ve eased up, you know?” 

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I do still wish that sometimes. It would be easier. But I’m getting better, I think. I hate to tell you you’re right—,” he shoots you that cocky, prideful grin, “but my body does do a lot for me. I’m starting to accept that it can do a lot for me…” 

You trail off, tapping the toes of your sneakers on the concrete below you. “And I did squat with the bar and those little plates yesterday without a spot.” 

The spot in question was watching you carefully from a few feet away, ready to sprint if you needed help. 

“Yes, you did, bee. You’re kicking ass.” That dimple forms in his cheek, and you know he’s about to say something smart. “Speaking of ass—”

You stand abruptly, turning around quickly so that the area he’s speaking of isn’t directly in his face. You’ve learned he has a staring problem, specifically with that part of you. Not that you mind. Maybe that’s where your pride comes in.

————

The sun has slipped beneath the horizon by the time Billy slips his key into the gate, pulling it securely shut behind him. The first spattering of stars are trying to show in the purple-blue sky. 

The pool is calm, empty, and lit only by the pale bulbs built into it and the two light poles on either side of the patio. 

It was Billy’s idea to sneak in for a late night swim. He thought it would be fun, and he knows you hate swimming in an overcrowded pool. But truthfully, he just wanted to give you another space where you could feel completely without judgment and just exist. 

“What’s the plan here, Billy? I didn’t even think about taking a detour to get a swimsuit.” 

It’s true, you’ve felt so carefree around him that you weren’t overthinking, overanalyzing a scenario like this. You weren’t worried about running inside and finding the most full coverage bathing suit you have because you’re afraid of Billy seeing your body. But right now…you just feel calm. Your body isn’t perfect, but it’s okay if he at least sees your legs. 

Billy is already slipping off his shoes and taking off his shirt. “That’s because the point of this is being spontaneous, bee.” He walks to the far end of the pool and dives in, just in his little running shorts, before you can even blink. 

You’re nervous, just that little bit because this is so different from something you’d usually do, and now you’re just stripping? You’re just living and having a good time? Who the fuck are you?

You step out of your own shorts and pull off your socks. You’re left in your underwear and your little cropped sweatshirt. You register, as you walk down the stairs, that your underwear are blue, and you look just like Lisa from Weird Science. It makes you smile. 

You track Billy’s movements once you're up to your waist and realize he’s heading for you. He squeezes your ankle beneath the water before coming to the surface, a wide grin on his face. His necklace is stuck around his back and on instinct you reach out to straighten it. 

His eyes drag up and down your figure. “Hi, gorgeous.” The low drawl of his voice makes the tips of your ears burn. 

You wade a little deeper into the water, circling behind him. When you’re drenched up to your chest, you splash him. Billy cackles. It is possibly the most joyous sound you’ve ever heard. 

He dives for your waist, hooking an arm around you and swimming off, making you howl with laughter before you have to hold your own breath when he pulls you out deeper than you are tall.

He hoists you up out of the water and gently tosses you to the side, letting you fall into the water on your back. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is magical. 

You keep playing with him, playing, like you’re both kids who’ve never been in a pool before, until you’ve run through most of your energy. You try and teach him a game you played as a child, where one person spreads their legs and your goal is to swim between them without touching their skin, even as they move their legs closer together each time. 

It’s silly, because you inevitably know you’ll touch your opponents legs, but it’s fun. You don’t think about anything else when you do it. He teases you though, trapping you with his calves most times so you automatically lose. 

Now though, you and Billy stand nose to nose, at a depth where you’re not up to your chin so that you can actually speak to him. “This was a really good idea,” you tell him. You push some of his wet hair out of his face and then, rather than pulling away, you set your hands on his shoulders. 

He wraps his arms around your waist. “This okay?” he asks, lowering one arm so he can show you he wants to lift you up. You give him a sweet yes. 

Billy’s hand grips your thigh, coaxing you upward so you can get your legs around his back. You adjust your arms behind his head, him respectfully keeping his hands on the backs of your thighs. He steps back just that little bit more so he can submerge himself further in the water now that you’re held up. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile for this long before,” Billy says. His blue eyes flick back and forth between your own. 

“You’ve given me a lot more reasons to.” Your hand cups his cheek and he swears he could fucking collapse. You’re so gentle with him and Billy never knew he even wanted that. But now he craves it. Craves you. 

That cocky smirk you’ve started to recognize before it even begins makes an appearance. “Yeah? Can I give you one more reason to?”

You hum in agreement, and then Billy is pressing his lips to yours. They’re damp and he tastes a little like chlorine, but…he was right. You smile brilliantly into the kiss, and you’re not sure you stop the rest of the night either. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[caotictimmy]

SO UHH HI MUNCHIES..THIS IS MY FIRST SMUT SO IM KINDA BLUE BALLING IT, but I’ve read so much smut I think I can do it. You can criticize since I always want to be better! Also this is in 2 person pov also it stirred away from the movie,(he just keeps working shifts that’s ir)

My atties @ilovetoomanymen @valez123

Some basic stuff - body worship, cunnilingus, loser mike/hj, Mike is a whimper confirmed, afab reader

“I’m sorry I don’t have the money, could I pay for it in a….different way.”

You were a babysitter for Abby, you understood how hard it was for her brother, and you loved the little girl to bits. She was shy and such a creative girl, and she loved you to for being so patience with her and just generally caring for her. So that’s why you were ok with getting payed very little.You always asked if you could help Michael with anything else, but he would always say no. You respected his wishes mostly, leavening a 20 around the house if Abby needed or wanted something.

You had a good job so you were taken care of, you always made sure they were ok, even if Michael told you they were. You knew it was hard for him. How couldn’t it be? He was a guy just barely scraping by while taking care of his sisters, and now’s he’s having to take night shifts, being away from Abby so long and not getting good sleep, so when he asked you to watch Abby at night while he was at work, you didn’t mind when he was working so hard, and it just ment that your job was easier.

This was about the 2 week into his night shift job, you were asleep on the couch, soon you heard a jingle of keys and the door quietly opening and shutting. You groggily looked up checking the time, it was around 3:26 am.“Mike..?what are you doing here..it’s only 3”, you tiredly say wiping your eyes, slowly pushing yourself to sit up.”Oh. One of the animatronics were malfunctioning and kept messing with the power, so I decided to come home,and I was a little hungry anyways.” He says as he shuffles his vest off, putting it on the table. You slowly get up still a bit tired. Walking to get your bag that he put his vest by. Slowly packing up you heard him pipe up.

“Hey uhm, listen.. it’s been getting harder so-“ you swiftly cut him off, ”Listen I understand, you don’t have to pay me, I know you work hard to provide.“ He looked at you with wide eyes, “and mike you don’t have to do any-“, “I never said I wasn’t gonna do something.”, he said while looking at you. “W-what?” You looked back at him bewildered. What did he just say? He took a couple steps in front of you, sinking to his knees In front of you, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, he slowly looks up at you, “I’m sorry I don’t have the money, could I pay for it in a….different way.”, he asked, he sounded desperate almost pleading with you. And how could you say no, he was on his knees begging to have you, you wanted him.

You quickly nod, brain not nearly processing what’s happening as fast as it needs to. Just as he was about to start taking off your pants, you quickly stated,”I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen”, “Oh- yeah, that would be a bad idea.”, he got up, grabbing your hand and walking to his bedroom quickly, the moment both of you get in his room, he slams his lips against yours, you felt like you were dreaming, and you didn’t wanna stop, every kiss he stole from you felt like you were on cloud 9.

“Mike..we have to keep it down, Abby’s in bed”, you said in between kisses.”I know, I know.” He quickly locks the door, ushering back to you, as you guys fumble on the bed, you felt hot, like fire was spread through out your body,in a blink of a eye he was already removing your shirt and bra. After he got done you whent to take his shirt off, “nuh uh. This is my payment to you.”,he says. As he gets to his knees in front of you. God the way he looks at you from between your legs, looking so focused in between while shuffling you pants down. And he was finally down to the last article of clothing, he both wanted to savor and devour you at the same time, and he decided to pick the latter.

He slowly slipped the last piece of clothing. You thought he was gonna take it slow, well. No, he roughly grabs your hips shoving his face in for his meal, he ate, he ate like a mad, taking long fast drags from his tongue against you cunt,”oh god..mike~”. Flicking your clit when the tip of his tongue gets to it, he couldn’t get enough of you,”more,please more” he whimpers out in between your legs. Your mind was fuzzy and you could barely think, all you could really think about is mike and his godly skill with his tongue.

He groans out in satisfaction. He kept licking, drenching your pussy In his saliva, god he was so messy, “g-god so good” he groaned, he was so messy, saliva and slick drenching his face, and you loved it, you had to bite down on your hand to keep quite soon though he wanted more,he needed more as he slowly got rougher, soon he was stuffing your cunty with his fingers while he suckles on your clit, he ramens two fingers into not relenting on, soon you can feel the coiling in your stomach, you grab his hair roughly, tugging to let him know your were close.

Soon the coiling in your stomach snapped, mike slowly guided you through it, you breathed out a breath you didn’t know you kept in, Mike lapped at the juices on his fingers,soon you felt overwhelmed. As mike started to kitten lick your Pussy not seeming to stop.”mike no,no more”, you breathed out, “please one more just one more right, you can do it right? please just one more, I want more no, I need it please god just one more.” He whimpered out pleading, pleading and begging, you nod. He kept licking, starting to get rougher with the licks soon it was all to much for you again. And soon you were cumming on his tongue once again.

Mike slowly got up, knees slightly wobbling from being on the ground, he slowly wiped the back of his hand against his mouth,”I uh..did you like it?”, “mike if I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, after you gave me the best head in my life.”, he chuckles embarrassingly “well let’s get you cleaned up.”

———

“So are we gonna discuss what happened last night?”, “what do you mean Abby” mike stated confused, “you weren’t very slick last night so, when am I gonna be a auntie?” Mike started back at her stunned,” ABBY W-WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT” mike rushed our embarrassingly, “geez are you gonna answer the question or not?”

———

THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR READING THIS, THIS TOOK LIKE HOURS CAUSE I HAD LIKE SPURTS OF MOTAVATION, SHOUT OUT TO THE PEOPLE WHO WANTED THIS ONE AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY<33

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The Weasley twins Christmas headcanon

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I thought I’d write a Christmas headcanon since I didnt last year. I hope you all have an amazing holiday and New Year. Enjoy the fic, my horny devils.

SFW

~ The build up to the big day would be pretty hectic considering you worked at the shop with the twins

~ A constant cycle of customers asking if you had extra stock or if they could pay less was a nightmare, but it was all worth it when the twins shut the shop late Christmas eve

~ They love the idea of buying matching pyjama sets (matching is all they really know)

~ If you’re a muggle born or a half blood, you’ll show them classic christmas films like Home Alone or It's a Wonderful Life on the tv that you convinced them to try out

~ Christmas baking is a necessity

~ It doesn't even matter that the twins are terrible bakers. Magic does it for you

~ Christmas day at the Burrow is unlike anything you’ve ever known

~ Molly’s cooking definitely gets the chefs kiss award

~ Christmas is the only time you get to meet Charlie and see Bill and Fleur

~ The house is packed (Molly likes to joke that grandbabies would top things off)

~Fred and George decided to try out their new product, a small marble sized ball that grows into a snowball when combined with the engorgement charm

~ Instead of bursting into snow upon impact, they disintegrate like flakes of ash

~ This quickly leads to a snowball fight on the surrounding Burrow land after Molly threatened the ginger flock about getting any ‘snow’ inside the house

~ Ginny wins this fight after hiding in one of the bedrooms and catapulting the ‘snowballs’ down from the window

~ Molly and Arthur always include you in presents, even though you aren't officially a Weasley they still treat you like you are

~ After about half an hour, the floor is covered in wrapping paper and everyone is wearing a new knitted ensemble courtesy of the matriarch herself

~ And by the end of the night, moving has become impossible from the amount of food that has been served and eaten

~ It’s times like this where you appreciate floo travel instead of a several hour car drive

NSFW

~ The Twins didn’t realise that you had one more present in store for them

~ It was only when you called them into the bedroom that they understood why you needed time to ‘get the gift ready’

~ The gift consisted of lacy lingerie and a plastic bow that sat on your head

~ Although this was a gift you gave them often, they were very grateful nonetheless

~ The twins loved their gift so much that they decided to unwrap it immediately

~ It took you more time to get the ensemble on than it did for them to tear it off of you

~ But it was worth it to see the look on their faces, and for the wild ride that came with it

~ The twins pounced on you, breathing in your new perfume that they bought you and the feeling of your soft skin

~ Their hands roamed over you, tugging until the lingerie was discarded on the floor and their clothes followed suit

~ One held you in his arms while the other pushed into you, they made you cum at least twice before switching

~ They only wish they had gotten creative with the mistletoe

~ They would have made sure to kiss you everywhere (not that they needed mistletoe to do so) ~ Lets just say that boxing day was a day spent in bed recovering, and giving a few last christmas presents ;)

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hope you're doing well!! Please take however long you need to get your creative juices flowing <333 may I order a Dogday recognizing Poppy's Angel is actually the former Playtime Co. employee he and many others came to love and cherish due to their kindness? The reader is THAT employee that others envy, many of the toys LOVES them and prefer to be taken care of by them.

Maybe the reader had found out the sinister nature of the company but is understandably afraid to speak up about it as they realized their old co-workers maybe weren't just fired or " quit " out of thin air after all... Perhaps something happened behind the scenes that made the reader " quits " ( Maybe they could be threatened but by a lot of pleading and bargaining, they're spared but has to keep their mouth shut and never come back, otherwise... )

The toys are devastated, angry and just lots of mixed emotions. The reader feeling more and more guilty as they venture through their once happy place and having to harm the ones they once swore to care for.

The rest is up to you! Please again, take care and take your time, all the best in everything <333

I'm So Sorry

Note || oh my hearttt the angstttt, lovely to write this as always. In the form of head canons if that is alright? ^^

WC || 1,035

Sypnosis || you knew otherwise, presumably what went on. You just didn’t mean to harm those around you.

Being aware of something most employees where not had dug you a thorough grave, you didn’t want to leave your beloved friends in the toy factory. A factory misconstrued on a basement of lies and futility you may as well be well over with, and bury it in the ground. Yet, bury in the ground they did. 

Your superiors had learned of your knowledge of these things, and began sending letters. Bit by bit, they had only started off by threatening you; telling you to keep quiet. They didn’t want their precious reputation to be ruined by the likes of you. Still, you continued to stay, you didn’t want to leave your loved ones. All the friends you’ve come to love, eventually becoming like family for you.

You weren’t deaf nor blind to what the superiors at Playtime Co. do, quite literally you’d have to bandage your eyes or plug your ears to ignore all that was happening behind the scenes, you didn’t let it fall on deaf ears however. Eventually soon enough it was eating away at you to actually just quit, just straight up disappear from Playtime Co.’s eyes. 

Among the many toys; Huggy, Kissy, Mommy, and Poppy, hell even CatNap began to wonder where you went. Why did you flat-out depart from working at the Factory so suddenly? One day you were visible and present, the next you had not shown up. Oddly enough they soon had gotten their answer when the Hour Of Joy had occurred, Huggy Wuggy had come across your paper of termination when he had taken upon himself in the act.

So long ago, that was a decade past you left that life behind. You really wished you would have granted them goodbyes before you had gone, yet it seemed you got that chance to do so when you received a paper in the mail that had appeared to be from your co-workers. Word for word you could remember reading, everyone thinks the staff disappeared ten years ago, we’re still here. Find the flower.

The only reason you even had to come back to the factory in the first place was because of the guilt easily overwhelming your logic, you needed answers. You needed to know what happened to your co-workers and all the toys you cared deeply for, yet you had an overwhelming suspicion you really knew what happened to all the staff in Playtime Co. you simply just weren’t present for it. Having technically already left. 

Seeing Huggy Wuggy on the pedestal again brought back some memories for you, he was certainly a hoot. In a way, you really liked him along with the rest of the toys. He was certainly a unique one out of the few–especially along with Kissy Missy. You thought they were a cute pair together, Kissy always managed to calm his murderous tendencies and Huggy was always someone you can count on for a good hug if you ever had a bad day.

Killing is not something you would ever dare think of doing, it was simply not in your mind or blood to do so. So why did you have to resort to killing Huggy? You silently wept, having no time to grieve for him properly as you had to trudge on along to the flower.

Poppy was the last person (or toy, ahem) you expected to find in that case you came across. Now you find yourself in the game station, seeing her get pulled away like that right after she offered to give the code to you had you on the steels of your nerves, you were immediately very close to being in an angry mood. 

Now you had to deal with Mommy’s antics, you felt for her, but you certainly wouldn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to get the code from Mommy. Least of all having to resort to killing her, as she would not listen to your words. Convincing her was impossible to do, trying to make her remember you was a whole different story.

Crap.

Why’d she have to go in a rage? Now she’s dead too, and what in the seven circles of hell did she mean by “HE’LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” You shudder when a mechanical hand comes to pull away Mommy’s corpse, you mentally make a note that is the Prototype. As you’ve come to learn the name after you had scavenged Elliot’s office. 

Soon you learn what Mommy had meant, arguably enough you were angry that Poppy had derailed your only train to get out of Playtime Co. but your heart had ached too much to not finish what you started. Now CatNap was hunting you while you ran around in Playcare, you just never expected to see such an untimely sight that nobody should be put in.

DogDay was hurt, real bad. His legs were severed, he wasn’t long and limber like you remember him to be. His life seemed to be completely drained and sucked away from him, you wince when he moved, movement appeared to be harsh to even put energy into. Your heart bleeds for him, yet you are surprised when he actually recognizes you from before, all those years ago. 

“Angel, you! Y-You're the one that cared for so many of us.” You nod, parental instinct already kicking in to free him from his belts from which he hung from. DogDay doesn’t deserve a fate like this, not then and especially not now. “You don’t need to, leave me here.”

“Oh hell no, you need to live.” You refute, shushing him before DogDay begins to protest. You sigh in relief once he finally is free, as selfish as it may be, he hadn’t ever attempted to kill you. You wanted someone with you that actually remembers you and doesn’t try to gun for you the moment you even step into the vicinity.

Gosh, you really hoped to get this over with. Guilt weighing heavily in mind as you had to kill so many toys, so many that you cared for. 

At Least it meant to be in the name of self defense.

Right?

[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.”

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.

[melon-fodder]

Love You to Death • T. Hiragi

Warnings: angst, crying, insecurities, light sexual content

Word Count: 1k

Note: a @pixelcafe-network challenge! I was given the song Love You to Death by Type O Negative and did not think I’d make it in time, but then I decided harness my bad brain day into something creative. Some of the lines are taken by/based off of the lyrics. Dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

You struggle with it. Often. Wondering if you’re good enough for him—knowing you’re not.

He’s so strong, so honorable, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders while caring for you. You’re just another stressor, just another stomach ache.

Usually you can keep your doubts to yourself, work through them and rationalize. If Hiragi didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be, right?

But there are some days when he can just tell. It’s the set of your jaw, the sag of your shoulders, the way you take things the wrong way and then punish yourself for it.

You don’t deserve him, and he deserves so much more than you.

That’s what you believe, anyway.

Hiragi on the other hand…

“Stop being so fucking mean to yourself,” he tells you, begs you. “Hate when you get like this. What can I do?”

“It isn’t about what you can do, Toma. It’s about what I can or can’t or should do. It’s—” you hiccup, frantically wiping at falling tears. You hate crying because of shit like this. You’re already such a burden, and now it feels like you’re manipulating him. “It’s all the ways I should be better for you.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he insists, taking hold of your wrists to pry your hands from your eyes. “Look at me.”

You don’t, not until he gently takes hold of your chin. “Baby… if I wasn’t happy, I’d talk to you about it. I promise.”

All you can do is try and fail to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wish you’d do the same. Just talk to me.”

“I am happy with you. You make me happy. And you—you do so fucking much for me. I’m just s-so scared that one day you’re gonna—gonna realize that you’re tired of putting up with my bullshit.”

Your voice is all over the place, wet and warbling, squeaky then silent. You can’t control it, can’t control anything about yourself, it seems.

“I’m not putting up with anything,” Hiragi tries, “I’m not makin’ any sacrifices.”

“I don’t believe you,” you respond quietly. It’s not angry, nor is it argumentative. It’s a statement of fact because— “I don’t understand how you could, like, not get frustrated with me.”

Hiragi chuckles, the hand on your chin has moved to the back of your head to lightly scratch your scalp.

“Oh, I get frustrated with you, make no fuckin’ mistake. Just not for what you think.”

You stay silent, just stare at his handsome face, enjoying the weight of his hand in your hair.

“It’s not your little piles or your forgetfulness or your inability to be on fuckin’ time to anything,” he lists, and you clench your teeth to fight back more tears. “I don’t care about those things. Not anymore, anyway. It’s when you let shit fester and start spiraling and you don’t talk to me.”

You rest your head in his hand and shut your eyes, not surprised when you feel him wipe away the droplets streaming down your cheeks.

“Can’t help it,” your murmur. “Chronic overthinker.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” he says, and when you crack your eyes open again you see him smirking.

Fingers dig into your scalp with a little more force, scratching and making you hum in contentment. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with something a little more serious, a little more desperate: “How ‘bout you let me turn that brain off for a bit. Let me prove I mean what I’m sayin’.”

It’s hard to stay sad when he’s looking at you like that, brown eyes darkening a shade, sharp teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

“What’d you have in mind?”

Hiragi doesn’t answer, just pulls your face to his for a deep kiss. He licks the salt off your lips while wiping your puffy, tear-stained face with his thumbs then carefully pushes against you so that you lay back on the bed you’ve spent the last hour crying in.

“I love you so much,” you feel more than hear, the shape of the words molding to your mouth, wrapping around your heart and squeezing.

A knee between yours, he lightly presses it to your core, letting out a quiet groan when you grind down on it.

“Just tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes, kisses down your neck, tongue tracing the curve of it before he stops to suck a bruise onto your heated skin. “Your wish is my law.”

“I want…” you pause for a shaky inhale then guide his face back up to yours. “I just want you to love me. Forever. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Hiragi’s face softens. He sighs thoughtfully, blinks at you slowly before lowering himself to kiss you with a tenderness that makes you want to cry all over again.

“I do. And you won’t. There’s not a bone in my body that wants to leave you.”

His last kiss lands on your forehead, and then you’re both gazing at one another in a way that would make your friends dry heave.

“Close your eyes now, princess,” he says, voice low and full of desire, “m’gonna love you to death.”

You don’t fight him, don’t try to argue that you’re the one who should be begging him, serving him. No, you let him descend on you, let him do whatever he pleases because he makes you feel so good.

His tongue spells out sweetly sinful words on your most sensitive flesh, his fingers insistent and appreciative as they curl into spaces you only bear to him. He moves slowly and deeply, pouring himself into you in more ways than one—adoration and fondness and promises spilling inside of you in warm, blissful release.

As promised, Hiragi manages to turn your brain off, that network of unfathomable connections rendered absolutely useless as he destroys every doubt and self-loathing habit by way of mind-numbing, toe curling orgasms. You suppose there’s a reason the French refer to them as little deaths.

“Good enough for you?” he asks teasingly when you’re both breathless and dazed. His lips are pretty and kiss-swollen, a slick mess dripping between the two of you.

“Too good,” you reply, a lopsided smile spreading across your face. “Too good to me.”

Hiragi raises an eyebrow. “But not too good for you, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “Just perfect for me.”

[shiftingparadise]

Hi! Love your work. I was wondering if you could write a gojoxreader fanfic where it starts off with angst and ends with fluff. Reader and gojo get in a big fight and reader storms out of their shared house late at night. Gojo was still angry so he let her be until some time had passed and reader still didnt return. He tries calling reader but finds she left her keys, wallet and phone at home so he gets really worried and tries looking all over for her. In his search, he thinks of all the places where she could be and eventually finds reader at the spot where they first kissed or where they first said their “i love yous”

Thanks for your request. I loved, loved, loved writing this. I hope you like it 🥰. If you have any other ideas, feel free to ask. My creativity is at an all-time low 😭🤍

Word count: 1485

Warnings: none

“You can’t keep on doing this”, your eyes glossy, “You can’t keep hurting me like this”. “Are we seriously going to do this again?”, he raised his hands in frustration. “What? Am I not allowed to say something about it?”, your eyes widened in disbelief. “She’s just a colleague. How many times do I have to tell you?”.

Satoru normally never raised his voice at you, he’d never look this upset, but somehow the name ‘Utahime’ always set him off.

“I’ve known her since I was just a kid. What do you expect me to do? Ignore her? Stop doing my job every time we need to work together because you’re insecure?!”. “Insecure?”, you chuckle, “That’s not what this is about”. “Oh, it is”, he raised his voice even more, “It’s fucking pathetic how insecure you are, you know that? If I had known you’d be such a pain-“. “Really?”, a tear now streaming down your cheek, “What? You’d what?”.

A glimpse of compassion could be seen in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to stop this argument. Since he got sent on a mission with Utahime a couple of days ago, the tension between the two of you was unbearable. And why shouldn’t it? He always had to work together with Utahime, even though there were plenty of other options. What about Nanami? Or Atsuya? Even Shoko would be fine, but why her? Always her.

“Fuck Y/N”, Satoru sighed before sitting down on the couch, “It’s 1AM, I’ve just got home… I’m tired too, you know?”. “Tired?”, you chuckled, “From what? Hanging out with Utahime? Having dinner together? Wow, must be tiring”. “Yeah, that’s all I do”, he angrily stood up again, “It’s not like I put my life on the line or anything just to save others”.

He was now standing in front of you, towering over you like a hawk. A sharp pain of guilt shot through your chest. You knew he had a dangerous job, and even though he was strong, there was never any guarantee that he’d return home.

“You know what? At least Utahime understands me”, his tone harsh as he turned back around.

Fire. That’s all you could feel in your chest. Whatever guilt you felt was completely gone now.

“Fine!”, you angrily grabbed your coat, “You should ask her to live with you because I’m leaving. You’re such an arrogant asshole!”.

You didn’t care about your voice cracking, or about not knowing where to go. You were done with him.

“Where the hell are you going?!”, his head darted over his shoulder, “Wait a minute!-“, he made his way to the door. “Don’t you dare touch me! Go talk to your precious Utahime”, you slammed the door shut behind you.

You often found yourself wishing he’d stop you from leaving during an argument, but not this time. The words that he had spat out like venom were too much for your heart to take.

“Fuck!”, Satoru let out a frustrated curse before he headed to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or how to feel. “She’ll be back soon”, he muttered the words to himself.

But you weren’t back soon. After an hour or so, he decided to call you.

“Huh?”, his plump lips parted as he heard the familiar ringtone. “She’s got to be kidding me”, he walked to the kitchen where your phone, your keys and your wallet seemed to be. “Great, she’s out at 2 AM without her phone or her wallet”, his voice mixed with concern and agitation. “And then she gets angry when I tell her she’s a pain in the ass”, he angrily grabbed his keys before heading toward his car.

Satoru searched for over an hour. He called every hotel, went to every gas station, every spot where you could be right now. He even called your parents to see if you were there.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, his hands tightened around his steering wheel, “Where the hell is she?”.

He didn’t care about the fight anymore. He just wanted to see you, to hold you and make sure you never leave him like that again.

“Maybe…”, he looked out the window, “I don’t think she’ll be there though”.

He was talking to himself like a madman, but he had to do so to keep his mind from spinning off to the worst-case scenarios.

“It’s worth a try”, he softly spoke before turning his car around.

It was a 10-minute drive, but his heart felt so tired. He’d been killing curses for the last couple of nights, and he desperately could use some sleep. Not to mention how much stress he was under right now. What if a man had gotten to you? That would be far worse than any curse out there. How could you be so foolish? How could you do this to him? Did you really not know how much he loved you?

“Thank God”, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw your silhouette sitting on the grass, “I’m going to put a chip in her. This is the first and last time she’s doing this to me”.

He wasn’t angry, but a hint of disappointment could be heard in his footsteps. He was worried sick, and you were sitting in a park in the middle of the night. Did he seriously have to tell you how dangerous that was? Especially without a phone or anything else.

“You idiot”, he spoke loud enough for you to hear.

“H-huh?”, his voice startled you as you looked behind you. You could see him standing a couple of feet away from you.

“What if a guy saw you like this? What if he took you? What if he-“, Satoru clenched his jaw at the thought. “I’d never forgive myself”. “Thought you only worried about Utahime. Since she understands you-“. “Are you seriously still worried about that?”, he sat down beside you.

Yes. And no. You knew Satoru loved you, more than anyone or anything, but he barely gave you confirmation. Sure, he was kind, and he did everything in his power to give you a comfortable life, but it’d be nice to hear him say he loved you more often.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”, you tucked your knees to your chest. “You don’t think I know my girl?”, he chuckled as he leaned back, his eyes studying the sky.

You couldn’t help but blush at his words, a small smile on your face. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

 “Aw, is my girl blushing already?”, he playfully pulled you closer. “Satoru-“, you let out a sigh. “I know, I know”, he loosened his grip, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll speak to those old bastards, tell them that I don’t want to be paired up with her again”. “A-are you serious?”, your eyes widened as you now looked up at him. “Sure”, he gently placed his thumb under your chin, “Anything for my girl”.

You practically jumped on him after he spoke those words.

“I love you”, you were sitting on his lap, eyes locked on his. “I -I love you too”, the words came out a bit awkward and not as fluent as you’d like.

Satoru noticed the disappointment in your eyes.

“H-hey, it’s still as awkward for me as the first time”, he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, “You remember that, don’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here”.

His smile always seemed to lighten your mood.

“I do”, you chuckled. “Was it here? Underneath this tree?”, Satoru pretended not to know. “You know it was!”, you playfully smacked his shoulder. “We argued, just like this”, a sudden harshness in his voice, “I thought you were done with me-“. “I was”, you pouted. “I know”, a low chuckle before he pulled you closer on his lap, “I promised you’d be the only girl in my life, didn’t I?”. “I-I guess”, you looked to the side, only for Satoru to turn your gaze back to him. “I told you I loved you, despite my fear of getting close to someone. Why’d you think I’d throw this, us, away for a girl like Utahime?”. “She’s not just a girl”, your brows pulled together. “She’s a friend, nothing more. You can’t expect me to ignore her when I’ve known her since I was 17… But”, he continued after he saw your disapproving glance, “I’ll promise to try and join others on missions. I guess those old folks have been putting us two together quite often”. You nodded as your hands gently stroked the back of his neck. “Only if you promise not to pull something like this again”, he gently pushed you off him before standing up, “, I was worried sick”. “I-I promise”, you grabbed the hand that was reaching for you. “Come here, crazy”, Gojo easily picked you up, “We’re going home”.

[itsghvstfvce]

TAKE YOU BY THE HAND

pairing : jenna ortega x gn!reader

summary : the night of the met gala is reminiscent of a special night you shared with jenna

word count : 1k

warnings : none!

a/n: a short little something about jenna at the met gala while i work on the next part for 'what's in a name' <3 thank you all so much for the love you've been giving it! i hope you enjoy this oneee

You sit on your hotel bed as you admire the suit hanging in front of you.

After gaining immense success from your new film, you earned an invite to the Met Gala for the first time. The annual event is known for showcasing some of the best outfits and looks for the year, with hundreds of people tuning in to find their favourite celebrities creatively sporting different luxury brands. Although the Met Gala is known for seeing crazy, big, and loud attire, you and your stylist worked together to be on the simpler side of things for your first appearance.

But if you were being honest, being able to attend the Gala was not the sole reason for your excitement; it’s the fact that you get to attend alongside your longtime girlfriend, Jenna.

The Scream actress was ecstatic to learn that you had also been invited to attend, rambling about how proud she was and how you two should coordinate your outfits. You were on board with the idea and have been discussing with your stylists to make it work. However, Jenna said she wanted to keep her outfit a surprise until you were both ready to make your way to the museum. Even after pleading for hints and sneak peeks, she was adamant on surprising you on the evening of. Respecting her wishes, you eventually stop bugging her about it and tell her you’ll be excited to see the final result.

Your Chanel suit fits you to a tee, and your stylists and manager are stunned at your appearance. You were always attractive, that much everyone knew, but tonight you exude a different aura. You showed confidence and a fierceness that hadn’t been seen from you often, as if a hidden beast was unleashed for the first time.

“I’m sending this to your mother! She’d be so proud to see you,” your manager excitedly snaps pictures of you like they were the paparazzi. You laugh at all of their reactions, feeling your cheeks heat up due to the attention they were giving you.

“Guys come on, it’s just me in a suit!”

“Yeah, but you look so damn good in a suit! Why haven’t we put you in more suits?!” your stylist lights up with glee. Now you were expecting your future premieres and interviews to be done in suits.

After final touches, you head down to the hotel lobby. You patiently wait at the bottom of the grand staircase, conversing with your team. You’re lost in conversation, not realizing that everyone’s attention had been diverted to something else - or someone else. You follow their line of sight to the top of the stairs where you find Jenna.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for one moment. Your gaze is fixed on her as she slowly makes her way down the stairs. Jenna was beautiful, that’s a given fact, but tonight she looked phenomenal. There’s a lack of words on my part to describe how amazing she looked, yet the look on your face was enough to explain how you felt.

“Close your mouth babe, you’ll catch flies,” she places her hand on your chin to gently shut your mouth. You didn’t even realize how close she’s gotten to you, too mesmerized by her appearance. Your girlfriend giggles at your lack of speech and decides to give you a better view by taking a step back and twirling around.

“Well? What do you think?” you’re finally snapped out of your trance.

“Eh, I think I look better,” you tease. Jenna laughs and closes the distance between you again until she’s standing right in front of you, and she brushes off specks of dust and lint from your suit.

“I can’t deny that you do look amazing tonight, mi amor.”

“Says you. You’re beautiful, cara mia,” you add emphasis on the compliment and Jenna smiles as a familiar pink tint crawls onto her face. You wrap your arms around her waist, hers around the back of your neck.

“You know what this reminds me of?” you hum in response, curious to hear what the shorter girl had to say. “Prom night. The way you looked at me as I was coming down the stairs was the exact same look you gave me when I came out of my bedroom and you saw me in my prom dress.”

Your heart swells at the memory. Due to the pandemic, there was no opportunity for you to take Jenna to your prom. However, you still wanted her to have that experience so with the help of both of your families, you planned a makeshift prom in Jenna’s backyard. When you went upstairs to bring her outside, you remember staring at her from top to bottom and all the way around, ensuring that her beauty would forever be imprinted in your mind.

“Yeah, I remember. I can’t believe that was almost 3 years ago now,” you smile lovingly.

“And do you remember what I said to you when we were dancing in the backyard?”

“When you said you felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and that the entire night felt magical?”

“Your memory truly amazes me, but yes. I feel that way right now and it’s how I feel every moment I’m with you,” the last part of her sentence turns into a soft whisper, loud enough for only you to hear. You scan her face to admire all that is Jenna, taking in the features of her perfectly crafted face and you lean into place a kiss on-

“Y/N! Jenna! Over here!”

A sea of flashing lights and the calls from reporters and the paparazzi catches both of your attention, and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. Your managers tell you it’s time to head to the museum, so you take a step back from Jenna and hold out your hand for her to take. Your fingers interlace with each other in a perfect fit, raising your hands to place a sweet kiss on hers.

“Shall we, princess?” Jenna snorts at the nickname, but finds it endearing nonetheless.

“Lead the way, love.”

a/n: i know nothing about clothing so i didn't want to try and describe our outfit too much TT forgive me lmao but thanks for reading!

[gumnut-logic]

Happy new year

With the new year passing here in under an hour, I would like to wish all and Thunderfam a fantastic new year full of fun and creativity. May 2025 be a good one for everyone.

Also, what would this blog be without a nuttyfic reblog :D

Ten...the match caught and flickered in the breeze. She caught it, wrapping it with her hands, nursing it to the candle, and letting out a breath as flared into life.

Module Four hit the surface of the North Pacific Ocean and immediately started rolling in the swell. Thunderbird Two’s heavy-duty spotlights tracked it as it was tossed about.

“Gordon, you okay?”

“Riding it out. Though I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t over indulge at dinner.” Virgil watched as all the module indicators flicked to green. “We are go for module deployment.”

“Make it fast. That swell is unpredictable.” He would have preferred to have lowered TB4 using the grapples, but the wind gusts were more problematic than the swell. As if to reassure him of his decision, TB2 was suddenly swiped sideways. He compensated hurriedly, bringing her back to stability, her lights once again training on the module. It was the better of two poor choices.

The undersea habitat didn’t have a choice, so here they were, in the pitch dark of the last hour of the year, attempting to fish more scientists out of the deep.

The weather was not cooperating.

Gordon lowered the ramp, and with a speed he would not usually deploy, shot off into the cold and turbulent water.

Virgil grunted as the wind caught his girl again.

Module retrieval was going to be a bitch.

-o-o-o-

Nine...she took the first candle from its holder and gently tilted it towards its brother. The two wicks touched and flickered. The two became one.

Space is silent, but it isn’t. There is always some kind of machinery functioning to keep life alive. Whether it be Thunderbird Three herself, or his own helmet, Alan was always accompanied by sound.

At this very moment, it was his own swearing.

“Goddamnit, move!”

But the airlock refused to obey. Likely fused shut by the explosion that had set the ship adrift, it was between him and the three remaining life signs. He had to get it open, their life support was failing.

“John, what are the chances of me cutting through this?”

“Not great. It is reinforced. Have you tried the Claw?”

The Claw, complete with a capital C, was a piece of equipment designed by Virgil based on his exo-suit. Virgil rarely made it out into space, but there was occasionally the need for heavy lifting out in the void. It used a grip attached to a thruster pack and could be deployed to create force in any direction.

“It was next on my list.”

“You’ve got nine minutes left.”

“Working on it.” He pulled in his equipment pack, tethered to his sled, and grabbed the Claw. Fastening the grip onto the airlock wheel, he deployed the thruster pack to give the correct directional push.

And the wheel refused to budge.

-o-o-o-

Eight...the first candle flickered haphazardly, once again teased by the breeze as she moved it to the second of its brethren. She smiled just slightly as it, too, caught and flared.

“How do they expect me to catch something I can’t see?!”

It was muttered at his instruments and he didn’t expect an answer. All his scanning equipment was trained ahead attempting to locate the hidden exhaust of an experimental plane deployed by the GDF. It would have been an interesting experiment, if the pilot wasn’t currently trapped inside. It was codenamed Nighthawk because the plane was designed to work best at night - apparently testing it during the day would have made Scott’s rescue attempt a little too easy. So here he was after dark, on New Year’s Eve of all nights, flying over the back end of New South Wales attempting to find an invisible plane.

Yet again, International Rescue was the only organisation with the mechanical guts to fix the GDF’s problems.

It pissed him off big time.

His sensors flickered, his arms moved, and Thunderbird One darted to starboard. For just a moment he had the craft clear as day in his sights.

Then it was gone again.

It was only a matter of time before it crashed. He could communicate with the pilot, but the signals were scrambled and misdirected and no use for locating anything. When the GDF screwed up, they screwed up big time.

“C’mon, c’mon!” He brought TB1 to a hover, every sensor combing the darkness around him.

A flicker.

Another.

Nothing.

A godawful metallic screech as something impacted his ‘bird’s hull on the port side. She swung around, spun on her axis, and suddenly Scott was in free fall.

-o-o-o-

Seven...the third candle wouldn’t catch. She bit her lip, and prayed just a little. The breeze threatened.

John Tracy wished he had more hands. Two were not enough when he had four brothers - one in space, one underwater, and two in the air.

“Scott! You need altitude! Impact in twenty seconds.”

His brother grunted as his hologram grimaced, fighting the controls of his ‘bird.

John didn’t need a damage report, TB5 provided him with all too much detail. Damage to Thunderbird One’s port side VTOL and flight stabiliser had her in a spin.

“She’s not responding.”

“You’ve got additional weight on your port side.” John’s fingers flew across the hologram, attempting to ascertain exactly what the readings were trying to tell him. Damn. “You have a mass embedded in her superstructure, despite the fact we can’t see it.” Calculations. “You’re going to have to attempt to land vertically. Use your rear thrusters to support the imbalance.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. Thunderbird One wasn’t designed to be anywhere vertical but on her gantry, but there was no way Scott would be able to sustain a horizontal landing.

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said through gritted teeth.

He couldn’t help but think that if Thunderbird Two had been sharing the same airspace as her sister, she could have pulled her out of her dive.

But she wasn’t.

And John was left to watch.

-o-o-o-

Six...the third wick absolutely refused to light and her heart clenched. Let it rest a moment. She moved onto the fourth candle and touched the flame to the waxed cotton.

Night rescues weren’t really out of the ordinary, but they could be eerie. As he left the reach of Thunderbird Two’s powerful spots, he had to rely on the illumination his own Thunderbird could emit. And Thunderbird Four could shine a considerable wattage.

Underwater nightlife was a whole different ocean full of fish in comparison to that under daylight. Despite being in the middle of open ocean, this particular spot was above the very top of a great undersea mountain, just high enough to support the beginnings of a temperate reef system. No doubt one of the reasons the mobile observatory was in the area.

“Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, this is Thunderbird Four, do you read me?”

The line crackled a moment, but a female voice gasped and answered. “Oh, thank god. We are down to our last module. Please hurry.”

“FAB, ma’am. I’m on approach. Can you give me any further detail on the cause of the problem?”

“It won’t go away and keeps attacking.”

Gordon frowned. “What won’t go away?”

“The whale.”

“A whale?!” And his spots lit up the damaged habitat. It looked as if it had been pummelled with a giant baseball bat. Of the five interconnected modules, only one had any sign of life. “Why would a whale attack you?”

But he didn’t get a chance to listen to her answer as his spots lit up a giant mass of flesh, an eyeball, and suddenly Thunderbird Four was rolling.

-o-o-o-

Five...when the fourth candle refused to light, she took firmer measures and turned to the iron fire pot and touched the first candle to paper. It burst into flame.

“Alan, you’ve got incoming debris!”

“What?!”

But John didn’t need to repeat himself as the first of the projectiles tore through the space in front of his helmet and ricocheted off the hull of the space freighter, narrowly missing his arm.

“Shit!”

“Take cover. Freighter’s starboard side. Now.”

Alan grabbed the Claw and flipped himself vertically to thrust in the right direction and tore around the engine compartment of the ship and hid in a crevice directly opposite the incoming stream. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Apologies, Alan, I didn’t catch it early enough.”

Alan sighed. He knew his brother was stretched thin at the moment. Apparently dangerously thin. He should have been paying more attention himself.

“We’re down to five minutes.”

“I know.” Silent impacts thundered around him. “Is there any other way in that doesn’t require me to be swiss cheesed?”

“Only the maintenance hatch you dismissed earlier.”

“We may not have a choice.” Alan sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but it is going to be tight. It wasn’t meant for ship access.” But he would make it work.

Grabbing the Claw and his laser cutter, Alan darted out from his crevice and along the length of the ship, hiding in its shadow. A snap of a carabiner and he was secured once again.

“Okay, you hunk of junk, I’m going to kick your ass.”

-o-o-o-

Four...The breeze was stronger and the first candle flickered out, leaving just the one burning, flickering sporadically. She added fuel to the fire pot.

The flash was blinding and Virgil swore.

Lightning wasn’t a problem, but the storm was. “Gordon, you need to make this quick, the weather is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. He swore again as a nasty downdraft attempted to shove the cargo plane into the turbulent ocean.

The module below was being thrown about like a cork. Virgil made the decision. “Thunderbird Four, I am submerging the module. You will need to dock underwater.” His fingers darted across controls as Thunderbird Two shuddered through another nasty downdraft. Below, the mechanics of Module Four started pumping water and it slipped beneath the waves to hover at a depth that would protect it from the turbulence.

“FAB, Virgil - Shit!”

“Gordon?”

“We have a pissed off whale down here!”

Virgil watched as his readouts tracked Thunderbird Four. She was darting, rolling and suddenly shoved sideways by massive lifesign. He grit his teeth, unable to do anything to help.

-o-o-o-

Three…she built up the fire pot until it was a massive towering flame.

Scott yanked the lever backwards and let off a prayer to the god of pilots.

Thunderbird One attempted to respond, and he grit his teeth. “C’mon.” Without her port thruster, getting her vertical was a challenge. “C’mon, damnit.” The extra weight dragged and she refused to stabilise.

The air was dark around him, but his instruments were screaming altitude loss and collision warnings, his cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Goddamnit, fly!”

-

Gordon swooped around the mass of angry whale. What the hell was his problem. And it was definitely a ‘he’, a full-on bull sperm whale, a very unhappy one.

He ran through whale behaviours in his head as he swooped and dove towards the habitat. A hand darted across his instruments, searching...

-

Alan hit the hatch with his fist in frustration. Grip, for crying out loud!

He was down to three minutes to get these guys out and he still hadn’t made it into the damn ship yet.

There was no sound in space, other than the scream in his own helmet as suddenly the entire side of the ship was torn away, a chunk of rock tearing through its hull.

The Claw spun off into space.

-

John bit through his lip, his concentration total on all four brothers. One hand played his holographic controls like Virgil played his piano, data shunted off to where it was desperately needed at the flick of a finger. The other spun between views, scans and acquired information at the full speed his highly advanced Thunderbird could manage.

“Virgil! Waterspout!” And the information was shunted directly to TB2.

-

“Waterspout?! What the hell!” Thunderbird Two groaned as he forced her sideways out of the path of the anomaly. The crosswinds were shit, and she dipped noseward. Damnit!

He kicked in her rear thrusters, killed the VTOL and tore across the ocean in an arc, circling around to return for pickup. She bucked like a rebellious mare.

-o-o-o-

Two...she grabbed all five doused candles in one fist.

Gordon swore again as the whale clipped him on one side. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this. Undersea Habitat Victor-Two-Zero-Romeo, I want you to kill all transmissions. All kinds. I want you silent as the grave.”

“What?”

He spun TB4 on her axis. “Now. If I think what is happening is happening this is your own fault, do what I say!”

He sighed as all transmission bands went silent. He scanned the full spectrum. No....no...ah, damn there it was. “I said all of them!” And it finally disappeared.

Another dodge of a whale fluke and Gordon peeled off in a curve.

-

Alan tasted blood. He had bitten clean through his cheek. He spun slowly in space, the ship in front of him sporting a jagged hole in its side.

Just big enough for an astronaut to crawl through.

Two minutes and counting...

-

Thunderbird One bucked like a mule, but he finally managed to get her vertical enough to fire her rear thrusters. Their plummet slowed.

The holographic ground was still coming up fast.

-

Virgil homed in on the module’s signal, finding once again his place in space. Lightning flashed in warning.

-

John held his breath. Seconds ticked by...

-o-o-o-

One...with determination she thrust all five wicks into the roaring flame of the fire pot. Burn damn you.

Scott yelled as his thrusters made contact with solid ground.

Gordon flicked a control and Thunderbird Four sung into the darkness.

Alan dove into the ship, calling out in desperation.

Virgil swore yet again as Thunderbird Two bucked.

John wished he could close his eyes.

-o-o-o-

All five candles burst into vibrant flame, the five merging into one, defying the breeze, taking on the energy of the fire pot and burning strongly.

Just as midnight passed over Tracy Island, Sally Tracy separated out the five candles and placed each of them in their holders. She smiled just slightly as each eagerly leapt up brightly, dancing.

“Grandma? Have you heard anything from John?” Kayo walked across the comms room towards the balcony where Sally had set up the fire pot. The breeze tousled her hair as it lay loose around her shoulders.

“Not in the last ten minutes.”

Kayo came up close and hugged her. “Happy New Year, Grandma.”

She kissed her granddaughter on her cheek. “Happy New Year, honey.”

-o-o-o-

Epilogue

As dawn lit up the sky on Tracy Island, the sun was witness to five very tired brothers flying home. Thunderbird Two had Thunderbird One grasped under her undercarriage, the severely damaged craft sporting a massive dent in her port side. Her pilot sat very unhappily beside Virgil in the cockpit of TB2. Gordon was asleep in the seat behind them.

The sky roared as the great red rocket of Thunderbird Three tore out of re-entry and spun in for landing.

She was followed by the ever-silent drop of the elevator from Thunderbird Five.

Virgil lowered his brother’s ‘bird to the side of TB2’s runway. He and Brains, and no doubt Scott, would be out later to assess the damage and plan repairs. As fast as possible. Scott was intolerable when his ‘bird was down.

He rolled his shoulders as he brought his own ‘bird into land. There would be no shortage of checks to be done on Thunderbird Two, either. Gordon was already complaining about the work to be done on both TB4 and Module Four, and he wasn’t even fully awake.

Thunderbird Two spun in her hanger and he powered her down.

All three brothers sighed.

“Debrief in ten?”

Scott muttered an affirmative and while Virgil ran through post flight, his brothers crawled out of their seats and headed up to the villa.

In the distance, Thunderbird Three roared as she docked in her hanger.

-o-o-o-

“The idiots were emitting random noise on a frequency that could have been designed to piss off a sperm whale. Once I had them kill it off, I dug up something that would interest, but keep that same whale calm, and I led him off. When he was gone, it was easy to grab the three idiots. We docked with the module, surfaced, and then had wonder pilot over here do his retrieval magic. I have to say, Virgil, that was some damn fine manoeuvring.”

Virgil blinked at the unexpected praise. Gordon must be seriously tired. “Thank you. I admit it wasn’t easy, but we made it in one piece. Brains, I will need to do some thorough checks on the grapple launchers and the module connectors, they were put under some serious strain.”

The engineer nodded.

Scott blinked as if he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Good job, Gordon, Virgil.” He turned to their youngest brother and frowned. Virgil followed his gaze and found Alan asleep in the corner of the couch.

“I can report for Alan.” John looked as tired as Virgil felt. “All the crew of the freighter were saved. In spite of the unexpected debris storm Alan encountered. Virgil, he will need a new Claw. He might have some modification requests on that front as well. “John yawned. “Sorry, full report will be available as soon as I’ve had enough sleep.”

“Scott, your turn.” And despite himself, Virgil yawned as well.

“I’ll keep it short. Stop doing that.” And Virgil grinned as Scott caught the yawn bug. “The GDF night camouflage is pretty damn good. I had a lot of trouble locating their craft. That problem was solved by said ship colliding with Thunderbird One’s port side. You’ve seen the damage. She’s down for repairs. We’ll know for how long as soon as Brains has a chance to assess it. Pilot was a lucky bastard and survived with only minor injuries. Apparently, the camouflage works both ways and navigation from inside the ship is extremely difficult. It’s back to the drawing board for the GDF.” And he spat the acronym. “Brains, you might want to check out One’s logs on what she could detect. All I can say is that Thunderbird Shadow walks all over them.” There was no shortage of smugness in that statement either.

Accompanied by another yawn.

“Well done everyone.”

They all muttered something congratulatory, punctuated by another round of yawns.

“Oh, and Happy New Year.”

A couple of grunts followed that.

“Get some sleep and we’ll look at throwing some belated fireworks.”

More grunting.

“Dismissed.”

Virgil stood up with creaking bones and stumbled towards the stairs.

And almost collided with his grandmother.

“Oh, so sorry, Grandma.” He steadied her with one hand, suddenly aware of four brothers lining up behind him. In the corner of his eye, Alan was wobbling with Gordon holding one of his arms to keep him steady.

Grandma grabbed him in a hug. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

He startled and immediately returned the embrace, dropping his chin onto her head and holding her tight. “Happy New Year, Grandma.” He kissed her hair. His eyes darted to his brothers, all four frozen to the spot.

She let him go, but looked up at him and smiled, before darting to Scott and repeating the process.

Virgil frowned, staring just a little as she moved from one brother to another, wishing each of them a Happy New Year and hugging intensely.

His attention was suddenly drawn away, however, as, silent as always, Kayo appeared and wrapped her arms around him. “Happy New Year, Virgil.”

His eyes widened, but he hugged her and wished her the same. She smiled up at him and then, just like Grandma, moved onto Scott and, hugging him, wished him a Happy New Year.

Virgil simply stared.

Once all the brother hugging had been completed, both women stood back and Grandma started ushering them up the stairs. “Well, off to bed with you. We can celebrate later tonight.” She smiled at all of them.

Kayo’s smile was a little smaller, but just as genuine.

Virgil decided he was too tired to work out what the hell was going on. He turned and began to tackle the stairs. He would think after he had slept.

-o-o-o-

Sally watched her boys climb the stairs wearily.

They were home safe. Tired, but safe.

So far it had been a good year.

-o-o-o-

[snzysimper]

Merry Christmas All!!

I’ve wanted to write a Radio/dust fic for a while but never had any good ideas. Thankfully some anon hate given to @hehkshew was just the creative spark I needed!!

Merry Christmas friend. Together we can keep Radio/dust from dying!!

Haters gonna hate

1400 words

| I am allowed to write what I want and would appreciate you keeping whatever rude comments you have to yourself |

Angel Dust and Alastor. Not two names you often hear in the same sentence together. At least, not in a positive way. Most of the time the two are seen going at it with each other. Angel makes some sort of sexual comment and Alastor says something smart back. Angel always has to have the last word which leads to it dragging on for quite some time.

This of course is in the presence of others. Behind closed doors things are much less…hostile. Their relationship is a bit complicated. They are dating but are more of each other's “boyfrienemys”. In the end there aren't any hard feelings.

Not everyone is quite so fond of their “special” friendship. Charlie was ecstatic to hear that the two were getting along. Vaggie on the other hand, while supportive, was mildly annoyed that two of her least favorite people in the hotel could now team up to drive her insane. Husk was indifferent, Nifty didn’t really care and Sir Pentious…well, he was dead. But that’s not important. This isn’t about him.

“The fuck do ya want Al?” Angel is met by his antlered friend outside of the porn studio. The deer flashes his usual smile. “I was sent by our lovely princess to come and retrieve you.. Is that such a problem?”

Angel rolls his eyes. “I don't need a personal escort just ‘ta come back from work.” Nonetheless, the spider follows behind his partner.

On the walk back, the two make casual conversation. The two almost seem to be enjoying each other's company. “Don’t touch me.” Alastor glares at his companion. Angel Dust playfully pokes his cheek. “Aww, don’t be like that Al.”

“Why can’t you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Oh, trust me. People pay the big bucks for me to put my hands all over ‘em.”

“Repulsive.”

Angel makes a kissy face. “C’mon baby, lighten up.” Alastor growls. “I suggest you remove your hand if you wish to keep it.” The spider proceeds to ruffle the other’s hair. “Be honest, y’know you’d never do that ta lil ol me.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I care about you,” he says in hardly a whisper. Angel mocks the deers radio voice. “You’ve heard it here first folks, the Radio Demon has a heart after all!!”

Alastor wouldn’t be caught dead saying the ‘l-o-v-e’ word, let alone in the presence of others. “Shut up.” Perhaps they aren’t both enjoying each other's company after all.

The clouds turn dark and cover the sky. A light drizzle becomes a downpour within a matter of seconds. “Ugh, shit.” Angel turns to notice that his “personal chauffeur” is nowhere to be found. He stands in the rain briefly, looking around in every direction. “Al?” He soon finds him under an overhang. That cheeky bastard. “Oh, yeah. Don’t bother takin’ me with ‘ya.” The spider hurries over to the deer.

“Thanks asshole.” The deer laughs. “You’re welcome my dear.” Angel groans. “I fuckin’ hate you.” The deer sustained minimal damage from the rain, meanwhile Angel is drenched. He does his best to shake some of the excess water off of his fur. “Watch it,” Alastor puts his arm up to shield himself from the flying water droplets.

It doesn’t take long before other sinners join them underneath the overhang, seeking shelter. “It appears we may be stuck here for a bit.” Alastor looks up at the dark, cloudy sky.

Angel can’t help but endlessly complain. “I fuckin’ hate this. I’m cold, wet and exhausted. I worked all damn day. I just wanna crash in my room and not wake up till tomorrow.” As he keeps complaining, Alastor gives the occasional “Mhm” to assure his partner that he is listening and offering moral support.

“Perhaps if you didn’t wear such little clothing and covered up a bit more you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Angel raises his fist. “Why I outta-!!” The deer closes one eye, the other’s cornea turning black. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Angel groans. “Oh fuck you.”

Angel suddenly turns to his boyfriend, almost in a fit of rage. “Wait, can’t you just use your voodoo magic shit to teleport us back?” Alastor grimaces. “I’d rather not risk overshooting seeing as the hotel is quite the distance away. Especially in the rain.”

“Besides, I’d rather the two of us not be seen so closely together,” Alastor quietly hisses at Angel. Angel crosses his arms. “You and ‘ya damn ego. Are you really that ashamed of being seen with me?” The deer looks around before leaning towards his companion. “Not specifically you, although it certainly doesn’t help considering your…profession.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Angel shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. “Fuck it’s cold. How much longer we gotta wait here?”

As Angel continues complaining, he suddenly inhales sharply, his head leaning back slightly before jerking forward and bending at the waist as he sneezes. “hH’EhT-kKT’shUH!! ” He groans as he rubs his face. “Motha’ fuck’a, I swear to god if I’m gettin’ sick I’m gonna fuckin-hHI’ETDd-Zziew!! Ugh, fuck.” Alastor remains silent, seemingly ignoring Angel’s struggles and misery.

Alastor pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I would appreciate you keeping your germs to yourself.” Angel laughs, accepting the handkerchief. “Aww, you worried bout me antlers?” The deer growls, a warning for him not to push his luck.

Angel takes a step back. “Ok ok, calm down. Geez.” The two sinners seem to be particularly enjoying themselves. “Looks like the porn star finally found someone who thinks he’s worthwhile.”

Angel rolls his eyes, sniffling. It’s hard for him to roam the streets unrecognized. If he’s not being cat called then he’s being thrown a derogatory comment. “Assholes,” he mutters to himself. Considering his job in the porn industry, he’s used to people only caring about him for sexual benefits. Thankfully enough Alastor couldn’t care less about using Angel for sex.

Alastor can’t help but notice Angel’s mild change in demeanor. “Just ignore them, dear. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.” He remains facing forward, not making eye contact with Angel or the other sinners.

“Aww, how cute. Is the big bad radio demon trying to make you feel better? Can’t even stand up for himself. No wonder he’s the sub.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow slightly. He generally wouldn’t give it a second thought but something about seeing Angel’s face hearing the insults makes him mildly annoyed. “I’d refrain from antagonizing him if I were you. It’d be a shame if it were to escalate unnecessarily.”

“Al, don’t. It’s fine. I’m used to it anyway.” Angel doesn’t sound so much hurt or offended as he does pissed off. This only fuels the fire.

“Yep! Keep telling yourself that! You can’t really think that Alastor of all people would give two shits about you. If you can’t keep an average sinner around, what makes you think you can win yourself an overlord?”

As if almost natural instinct, Alastor casually empales both sinners with a black tendril. They are flung off to lord knows where.

“Oh, damn. Uh,” Angel watches in awe. He’s not quite sure whether to feel touched or terrified. Either way, he blushes, smiling. “Thanks for that, smiles.” Alastor sighs. The two are now alone under the overhang.

“Don’t let them get to you. They know nothing about you or who you really are.” Alastor looks almost embarrassed as he says this. Angel laughs. “Wow, you’re bein’ bold today, ain’t ya? Complimenting me out in public. Damn, maybe you really do have a heart after all…hH’EKk-DdsHIE’uUh!!”

Angel sniffles as he rubs his face again, this time with the provided handkerchief. Alastor sighs. “Come on,” he removes his coat and drapes it over Angel so it acts as an umbrella. “The sooner we get back, the sooner you can dry off.”

The spider laughs. “Aww, you sure are bein sweet to me. You sure you didn’t fall an’ hit your head…II’Hh-GgsSh’EUGH!!” He grimaces, clearing his throat quietly. “Ow…”

Alastor begins walking. “I assure you my love, I am quite alright. You on the other hand won’t be if you are out here much longer.”

Alastor promptly takes Angel by the arm and continues down the sidewalk. Angel blushes. This is about the closest they’ve gotten to holding hands in public. And probably the closest they’ll get for a while.

Angel sighs, smiling. “Thanks Al.”

“You’re welcome, Angel.”

[cosmiccardistry]

Pick A Palette: A Message From The Person On Your Mind

(Minors DNI + DNF!) Hello everyone, I'm Cosmic and this is my first post on Tumblr! The focus of this post will be on giving people a detailed message from a specific person that they have in mind! There will be three different palettes to choose from. When choosing a pile, look at the colors before you. Truly take them in. After that, shut your eyes. Breathe in and out until you feel calm - almost empty. Once you are calm, allow the color palette that corresponds to the person you wish to receive a message from to appear within your mind. DISCLAIMER: I do tarot for fun and as a means of entertaining other people. This is not something that I intend for people to take one hundred percent seriously! Also, this is a collective tarot reading. I am not reading your specific energy alone, so not everything here will likely apply to you. Be discerning and use your own intuition!

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Palette One - "No More"

Shufflemancy/Channeled Song(s) - Without Me - Mac Demarco, Hello You - Arctic Monkeys Channeled Keywords - LGBTQ+, 76, strawberry milk, brownies, fight, horse, cat, take a shower, hat, hats off, smell, perfume, happy, without, no more, sleep, eat, take care of self (someone here needs to do self-care, or both of you do), blue, open door, open book, grave, grave situation, rough, angry, sunflower, flower, sleep, sad Base Cards - Ace of Pentacles (Reversed), Nine of Cups, The Moon (Sideways), Ace of Swords (Reversed), Judgement (Bottom of Deck #1), Nine of Wands + JUDGEMENT REVERSED (Bottom of Deck #2)

When I was closing out your reading, I abruptly felt really saddened. Like I was saying goodbye to someone who didn’t want me to leave. I think this person misses you, Palette One, like, a lot. Their cards suggest that they had multiple, positive opportunities in this relationship with you and they took none of them. They were confused - the Moon showed up twice. Sideways each time. They refused to work with you at every turn because they often only felt content - emotionally - by themselves. They saw you as a wrench in the way of them… being alone. They had all nine of their cups and they were happy with each of them, not believing in your ability to give them their tenth. They didn’t even seem to want a tenth cup. At every turn, they refused to put effort into your relationship - disliking sharing true intimacy, creativity, and passion with you. They were stubborn, even downright selfish. If someone hasn't “stolen” your attention yet, they will. The Emperor showed up - clarified by the Seven of Swords. My intuition is telling me that this Emperor isn't bad, even despite the clarification. To me, the Seven is further proof that they fear you being “stolen” by someone else. The Tower was a clarification card as well. Losing you will be a Tower for them, even if this hasn’t happened yet. As I said before, though, they want to fight for you now - no matter how confused they may be. They do not want the Tower to fall and for this relationship with you to be over forever. The Chariot is clarified by Strength, and Strength is clarified by Death reversed. They refuse to let this die, and they’re coming in fast. Or... as fast as they can, what with how all over the place they seem to be. Putting their want to be alone aside, they may have also chosen money, and/or stability over you. All the pentacles are sideways or reversed. If not, they might be having money trouble right now. This is someone who decided they wanted to be alone, but now they don't want to be. Their Message To You - “I’m so confused about our relationship. I don’t know what to do, or how to fix this - how to fix us. I feel that I’m happy alone, but… I often miss you. A lot. I know that I’ve had many chances to get this right, but I want another. I hope for another, even if I don’t deserve it. I want to fight and prove to you that I can fix this and take care of you. I might have said some things I regret. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I still don’t. I didn’t mean anything I said, or did - just… come back. I’m sorry, I know I ruined this. Please just… say something. Anything. Talk to me. About anything. Tell me I’m a prick, I don’t care. We can’t end like this. We could be happy together, and we both know it. Again, I miss you, and... I hope you know how wonderful you are.” ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Palette Two - "Sinking Ship"

Shufflemancy/Channeled Song(s) - Hopelessly Devoted To You - Olivia Newton-John, Let Her Go - Mac Demarco, White Flag - Dido Channeled Keyword(s) - Love, 3, 7, beautiful, happy, unrequited, delta, airline, airplane, vroom, banana, puppy, puppy love, kitty, cat, meow, roses, sad, rose, titanic, sinking ship, brain, sad, yellow, sunshine, sun will rise again, blunt Base Cards - Two of Pentacles (Reversed), Ace of Swords (Reversed), Six of Pentacles (Reversed), King of Wands, Queen of Wands (Reversed) (Bottom of Deck #1), Nine of Cups (Bottom of Deck #2) They are very interested in you! They aren't confused about their feelings for you at all - not interested in juggling you with anybody, or anything else. They see you as the one opportunity in their life right now that they wish to go straight toward. However, they feel like something has gotten in the way. Have you rejected this person? There is so much happiness here, directed at you, and yet... there is conflict. They feel defeated in this situation. Like there is no more fight left for them to give. They don't think their feelings here are reciprocated - they see the effort being put into the relationship as not at all equal. At the same time, though - again - they want to rush right toward you! Show passion! Put even more work into the bond! There is no victory here. There was, and - maybe - still is, an opportunity for happiness, love, and affection, but someone has to step up and it isn't gonna be them. Not anymore. With the Ten of Swords, I see them accepting their defeat and regaining control over their feelings with the Emperor. They tried to love you, but loving you hurts... so they have to stop. They'll let you go completely.

Their Message To You - "Hey, I know it's been a while. I do miss you. I just can't go back to where we were before. Whatever we were. You know... I thought we'd end up together forever. But I was wrong. I was wrong about you. You didn't feel the same. I tried so hard to get you to see me. To hope for me like I hoped for you. But you didn't. Maybe you just couldn't...- Maybe there's something wrong with me - something that I cannot see. It's hard to say, without you here to tell me so. I know I said I loved you, but now I'm not so sure. I'm confused. Like I'm waiting for someone or some event that will never come. Someday I just hope that I will feel content again. Content to never see your face, or hold your hand. Content to have never truly had you." ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Palette Three - "Stay Or Go?"

Shufflemancy/Channeled Song(s) - Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash, Cry - Cigarettes After Sex, Lollipop - MIKA Channeled Keyword(s) - Nature, 1010, Ben 10, Futurama, happy birthday, Cancer, Aquarius, ban, cool, peony, green, dreary, cold, mate, medicine, fish, fingerprint, fingerprint cookies, sweet, paint, color, chocolate, mom, purple, Breen, Star Wars, caution Base Cards - The Fool (Reversed), Page of Swords, Page of Wands (Reversed), Five of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune (Reversed) (Bottom of Deck #1), Two of Cups (Reversed) (Bottom of Deck #2)

This was confusing for me to read, I’ll admit that much. There seem to be three people here, in this situation. Maybe more than that, but the main players seem to stop at three. There is the King of Wands (Reversed), the Queen of Cups (Reversed), and the King of Cups. King of Wands (Rx) is being clarified by the Empress (Rx). This situation feels like this is happening somewhere where a lot of people are. Because, again, I… felt and saw a lot of people (in the cards) while I was reading. So… work? Maybe school? A home? It’s hard for me to say. King of Wands (Rx) + The Empress (Rx) - My first assumption about this person was that they are selfish- When King of Wands and the Empress are reversed that’s the first word that comes to mind - ‘selfishness’. They will come out of this selfishness, though, I can feel that. This could be somebody hasty and impulsive, they don’t think through their decisions well enough. They could also be without proper confidence as well. Negligent and unmotivated with trouble healing from their past 100%. I think this person doesn’t see their entire worth, which is why they act this way. I don’t think this person is bad. They are an Empress! Even if they are in the reversed position right now. I feel the Queen of Cups (Rx) and the King of Cups are a couple or are good friends and work together well. If not, then they definitely could be. There might be a third party in the way - probably this King of Wands energy. If there is definitely not a King of Wands (Rx) energy standing in the way, then it is the Queen of Cups (Rx) who is standing in their own way of this relationship. They are either too emotional or not emotional enough - or they vacillate between both. They need to heal and balance themselves. The Emperor came out reversed - it feels connected to the King of Cups. All three of these people seem intertwined somehow. I hate this, but I heard and felt, ‘twinflame-soulmate paradigm’? Someone is not sharing how they feel in this situation. Maybe multiple people are not. Even the most "emotionally mature" person - the King of Cups - is guarded out of a scarcity mindset. There is financial security in whatever relationship exists here, but is there genuine security without love? Affection? Again, there is fear in allowing the Five of Swords to turn into the Six of Swords - the Six representing, to me, someone leaving and going somewhere else. Their Message To You - "Don't be sad. Please don't cry. I see so much in you - I need you to know that before I say what I'm about to say...- I broke you, I can see that. but you need to let go. We both need to let go of each other. We can't keep sneaking around in circles, and causing argument after argument. There are two of you and only one of me. I can't have both, I don't want both. Not anymore, at least... I'm so anxious right now. To fall asleep is difficult for me. All I think about is what I've done, and all the problems I've caused for the people I care about. I'm trying to come up with the courage to make sure everything pans out well for everyone. We were all so happy together. Sometimes... I want to wait for you forever. Put in the effort, too. We don't even have to become romantic again, we could just keep being friends. Right? All of us - friendly again. I know that's not what you want to hear, though, and I don't blame you. I'm trying to slow down and really think about things before I act. Before when I just... acted, I fucked things up so badly that I don't think they can be returned to normal. Forgive me for what I've done, forgive yourself, too - if necessary. I just want to be happy again. Together. I'm not trying to sneak away from our problems. Or I don't want to sneak away... I just... don't know anymore. We should focus on ourselves, for now. I'm sorry." ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ If you're reading this, I want to say thank you very much! This is my first time posting and I would really appreciate any support and/or advice I can receive! Take care of yourselves! :-)

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hey! I love your writing, you have quickly become one of my favorite blogs on this site! I was wondering if you could do more yandere Superman stuff. There isn't alot of it on tumblr and your other ones have been awesome! As for ideas maybe one about the reader having powers or a mental illness similar to gaps? No matter what you decide to write I look forward to it reading it though! 🤗

Thank you so much 💕💕💕! You have no idea how flattered I am, agshshd.

Since you didn’t specify, I’ll do a platonic yandere, since I am much better at writing those 😅. Enjoy!

The standard warnings in all my works (really only implications of stalking in this case) apply here! Reader is a meta, with a teleporting ability!

One would think that being able to teleport at a moments notice made life easier. You would be able to go to work, go to school, save money on gas money, all at the drop of a hat whenever you decided to use your ability.

It did not. In fact, it made your life actively harder with all the criminals that routinely tried to extort, blackmail, or manipulate you into using their powers for them.

“Listen, if we’re going to do the whole song and dance of you threatening me, can you at least be creative about it?” You drawl, absolutely exhausted. The man in front of you is dangerous, sure, but no more dangerous than a common criminal and you were already late for work. “I have dealt with this more times than I can count, can you maybe just like, not?”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of death wish you have to be talking to me like that, but I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you.” He threatens, brandishing the gun in your direction. You huff. He was hardly as threatening as he liked to think he was.

“You’re holding the gun wrong.” You point out, and he blinks, adjusting his flimsy grip on the gun. He was still holding it wrong.

“Shut up! Listen, just come with me, and no one gets hurt.”

“That’s not going to happen.” A strong voice echoes from the alley way, and you tilt your head, recognizing it. Your attacker does to, and he pales, turning his gun toward the speaker frantically before dropping it. You hiss out a curse. He was lucky the thing didn’t cook off when he dropped it.

“Superman! I was just- we were just-!”

“You were just going down to the police station to turn yourself in. Unless of course you’d like me to help you get there?” A raised brow, challenging the man, who shakes his head frantically. Given that the police station wasn’t very far, you were curious as to which option Superman would go with.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” There’s not even a blur, and he is behind the man, lifting him up by the back of his jacket.

He turns to you, and his eyes soften.

“Why don’t you head on to work? And stay out of any dark alleys, yeah?” He jokes gently, and you snort, nodding. “Once I have this guy sorted out, I’ll join you.”

He’s gone. You leave the alley, leaving the gun on the dirty floor. He would come back to collect it, you knew, and you had no desire to touch a firearm that had been pointed at your face.

It takes him less than five minutes to catch up to you. You know by then he had already gotten the gun to the police, talked to the officers, and dropped off your would be kidnapper.

“That’s the second time this week you showed up, you know.” You comment. He flies alongside you, the cape rustling with the wind. “You’re starting to make a habit of it.”

“This is also the second time this week you’ve been held at gun point, and it’s not even Friday.” He points out, and there’s a concerned frown on his face. “Why didn’t you teleport away?”

“He would have gone to my house instead. Better to keep him occupied until I could come up with a plan.” You shrug, and he only frowns more, eyebrows furrowing. You sigh, pushing your hair back from your forehead. Your hands were shaking, now, from the excess adrenaline.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with criminals constantly hunting you for your ability.” A warm hand on your shoulder, and you smile, a little bitter, a little sad.

“Not much that can be done about it. People see a power, and they want it, and a lot of the times they don’t care about whether that power is attached to a person or not. It’s how the world works.”

You had been dealing with this since you were a child, when your powers first manifested, and sure it didn’t exactly make for a stable childhood or a well-adjusted adult, but you knew how to handle it. You knew what to do.

“It doesn’t have to be. You know that, right?” He looks… so hopeful. Earnest. You wonder how he can keep that up when he sees and fights the worst things humanity has to offer. When humanity doesn’t even like him because he was strange and other, even though he had saved the world so many times you had lost count.

Maybe it was different for you. You had been young when the Justice League formed, had been even younger when Superman became a known hero, maybe you just grew up with it.

“I do.” The relieved smile he sends you lights up his entire face, and your stomach swoops low with a strange sort of anxiety. You weren’t used to this level of… transparency. Everything he did seemed written on his face like a book, and it was new and strange.

“I’m glad. I, uh, wanted to give you something. Here.” He holds up a small item, and you take it, curiously.

It was a watch. Silver, and blue, your favorite colors although he couldn’t have known that. A strap made of some undetermined fabric, the wrong texture to be leather but to thick to be anything else.

“It’s basically a panic button.” He explains, rubbing at the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Press the dial used to adjust the time and it will emit a frequency only I can hear, so I can come and help.”

He takes it gently, affixing the strap to your wrist with gentle hands. It was strange to think those same hands could bend steel, that you had seen them bend steel.

“I… thank you. I really appreciate it.”

It was a strange level of care, your new watch, but it makes your chest warm. You had never had anyone show this much concern over you before.

“Well, with everything that’s happened, I figured you could use a direct line just in case, you know? I don’t want you to get hurt. And since I tend to only give them to civilians who are my friend..”

You laugh, grinning.

“Is this you asking to be my friend? I would think we were a bit past that after the fourth rescue.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” He defends, hands up in mock surrender, laughing. You both stop. You’re at the door to your work, and he smiles.

By now, it’s almost routine to wish him goodbye, and while the warm and quick hug surprises you just a bit, it’s pleasant enough that you don’t simply teleport out of his grasp in surprise.

There’s a faint smile on your face the whole day as you work. It was nice to have a friend after having been alone for so long.

[edgy-ella]

Okay so this is mostly in response to stuff I’ve seen on Twitter but I have to get this off my chest

I hate this new discourse of like “oh no! <insert universally hated piece of media> was cancelled/sold poorly! Now everyone working on it is out of a job!” Are you serious?

Obviously, it’s important that artists, no matter what field they’re in, find work. I wish everyone who worked on stuff like Velma or Concord or whatever the best. I hope you can keep paying the bills doing what you love. But come on, you guys. Do you really think that keeping bad shows alive with pity points will do the industry any favors?

Studios shouldn’t hold animators/writers/game devs/etc. hostage to make us to consume their garbage. Taste is subjective, of course, and you can absolutely love and adore something that doesn’t land with critics or audiences. But if a show gets bad ratings, it gets cancelled. If a game sells poorly, they’ll stop selling it. If a movie doesn’t make back its budget, it won’t get a sequel. And that’s a good thing.

You want to know what the alternative is? Studios pumping out low effort, bad faith media that lives and dies by if they can generate enough shock value to drum up any initial hype and/or discussion. Then once those products launch, people continue to engage with them out of fear that the poor creatives that were forced to work on them will lose their jobs otherwise. Do you really think that’s a healthy path for any industry to go down?

As with most things, you’ll find that the issue here isn’t that the show was cancelled or the game didn’t sell well or, as I’ve seen some circles claim, that the writers behind these things are all talentless hacks. You can almost always point your finger at the producers, the CEOs, the fat cats that decided to invest in something that was realistically always a bad idea. Did anyone really want a gritty Scooby-Doo spin-off that seems ashamed to be a Scooby-Doo spin-off? Did anyone really want to see a Joker sequel where the Joker gets raped in prison? Stop pretending you did just because some studio executive is an asshole for firing their artists after these ✨masterpieces✨ don’t land with audiences.

I get that the entertainment industry is in a rough spot right now. CEOs are all too willing to shut down studios and lay off workers just to line their pockets, and it’s frustrating when projects get the boot, whatever form that may take. I’m still reeling over Coyote vs. Acme. But keeping something like Velma alive, a show that was promoted almost exclusively through hating its own audience, will just make the problem worse in the long run. Who’s to say the animators working on it wouldn’t have gotten fired anyways the second a cheaper alternative entered the scene?

You are the audience. Demand better. Don’t feel pressured to support a show or movie or game you don’t like for the sake of the people working on it, because chances are, they don’t like it any more than you do.

[eilaafterhours]

Captive Crossroads [Eila Alelid | Caleb]

Content: Homecoming Wings: Night Unending Part 9: Captive Bird Spoilers, Homecoming Wings: Night Unending Part 10: Crossroads Spoilers, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Swearing

Pairing: Eila Alelid/Caleb

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“Honestly? I really wish that were the case.” Eila shook her head, wishing she could believe her own words. “I wish that chip was the fucking excuse for how you’re acting right now, but we both know the truth. That nasty side of you? Yeah, I remember it and it’s only gotten worse. So much worse that it’s turned you into a completely different person. When you died, the good parts of you died too, Caleb.”

Eila did everything she could to get away from him, but with the wounds of the fight seeping her strength, she knew that her punches were nothing more than light taps to him. She didn’t even bother screaming because obviously something sinister had taken root in Skyhaven, and he was at the center of it. Who would go against him to save her? So, she begrudgingly let him take her back to his home—her prison. 

The moment he sat her on the couch, she attempted to flee, but he just roughly pushed her back down. “Sit first. We need to tend to your wound.” She struggled, but he easily subdued her. 

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home when we were kids? We kept it in the backyard, but that cat always kept trying to run away before it fully recovered.” The glance he made at her was dark, and unfamiliar. She hated that. 

“I can tend to my own wound.” She attempted to get up again, but this time he stopped her with his Evol. The pressure on her body was gentle, but the pressure on her soul was crushing. 

“Do you know what I did in response?” He handled her wound quickly and efficiently. “I got a collar with a bell and put it on the cat. That way it couldn’t escape without being noisy.” 

“If I had that kind of bell right now…” His hand ran from the top of her knee to her ankle. “I should make you wear it right?” It wasn’t a question. 

She glared at him as she gritted out, “Fuck you.”

He ignored her, instead taking her wrist into his hand, and putting a bracelet on her wrist. “I know it’s unfair. But…” The bracelet quickly analyzed her vitals, indicating that her wound was in fact infected. “Because of that monster, your wound is infected.” He looked up at her. “Is there truly a way for you to run around without getting injured?” 

She snatched her wrist out of his grasp. “Shut up! I’ve had enough of your protection.”

He took a shuddering breath as his now empty hand balled into a fist. He looked away from her, taking more breaths until he paused to take one deep one.

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with it for three more days.” He stood, heading toward the door.

Her heart stopped. “What are you going to do?’ The words came out frantic.

It was happening again.

“Tie up loose ends.”

It was happening again. 

“And then…All of this will be over. I just need three days,” 

And then the door slammed shut as a chorus of thunder and lightning tore through the room. 

IT WAS HAPPENING AGAIN

Eila stumbled off the couch, shoving herself into a corner of the room. Her hands were slapped over her ears while her eyes were screwed shut. 

Suddenly she was a little girl again, all alone trapped in that attic. She cried and cried and cried. Where was her grandmother? Where was he? Why was she all alone? Why wasn’t anyone coming to save her? Had she been a bad girl? Is that why she was left all alone here?

“Caleb…save me…” She paused, that didn’t sound like herself. The voice sounded older than her regular voice. “Caleb…?” She tried again, still sounding foreign. She kept trying until finally, she felt right with herself. 

“Caleb…you bastard. You won’t get another tear from me.” She scrubbed her face raw then staggered up to her feet, heading to the bedroom. “I cried enough last year. You don’t deserve my tears anymore.”

Eila spent the next three days ignoring him, and organizing her thoughts. Caleb attempted to make contact with her, but she quickly shut him down every time. She attempted to call Zayne, to see if he had, by some miracle, gotten in contact with Kevi, but she learned that the network was down. Meaning that “tying up loose ends” probably meant that the lockdown that was already in effect was reaching its climax. So, with no contact with the outside world, and the only person around her being her captor, Eila instead focused her time on collecting and organizing her thoughts on the current situation regarding the Fleet, Ever and him. 

On the night of the third day, there were three knocks, a signal for her dinner being dropped off. However, Eila could still feel his presence on the other side of the door. She frowned, not too keen on listening to whatever he had to say.  

“Tomorrow, The Fleet will return to the Deepspace Tunnel. You’ll be safe. For now.” 

“Okay.” She responded, hoping that was the end of it. 

However, she heard his mirthless chuckle before he continued. “I’ll be gone. Aren’t you happy that you won’t have to see me then?” 

Anger flared through her at his words. This man was dead a year ago, reentered her life and tried to continue like it was nothing—like her tears were nothing. 

“I’m about to leave. It’d be nice if we had a meal together.”

“I don’t want to eat with you.”

Caleb sighed. “You can be mad, but don’t let it affect your health.” 

“Then just leave my food at the door like you have been.” 

Her words fell on deaf ears. “You know, growing up, we knew each other so well. Better than most, even, I could see through your lies when you’d blink. Bite your lip, and I could tell you were upset.”

She slammed her fist on the door. “Then what the fuck am I thinking now? If you’re really that Caleb, then tell me—” She ripped the door open, staring up into those eyes she could no longer recognize. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh I know.” His tone shifted, an in between of the nice and scary boy she knew—thought she knew. “You’re thinking some chip got put into my brain, right? And now, I’m no longer who I used to be.” He smiled, he fucking smiled. “What if I told you I was always like this?”

“Honestly? I really wish that were the case.” Eila shook her head, wishing she could believe her own words. “I wish that chip was the fucking excuse for how you’re acting right now, but we both know the truth. That nasty side of you? Yeah, I remember it and it’s only gotten worse. So much worse that it’s turned you into a completely different person. When you died, the good parts of you died too, Caleb.”

“Well maybe that was for the better.” He bullied her back into the bedroom. “Your life has threats around every corner.” He crowed into a corner, shoving his hands against the wall by her head. “The people who are after your power, who wanna hurt you—they should all just…disappear. You’re only safe when you're by my side—”

She shoved him, he didn’t budge, but that didn’t stop her. “And now you’re one of those people who are hurting me, Caleb! If you’re gonna be like this, then I don’t need you—”

His breath hitched, and he shook his head. “You don’t need me? Is that what you think?” He grabbed her hands that were still on his chest. “All right. What do you need? You can tell me.

“We can return to Linkon if that’s what you want. If you want to return to the past, we’ll rebuild our old house and move in. And if one house isn’t enough, I’ll build you a whole maze.

“I’ll decorate it with everything you could ever want, It will be the most beautiful, stunning garden you’ve ever seen.”

He cupped her face, and although his gaze was steady, his words were crazed yet genuine. “No one will be able to find you ever again. I’ll protect you forever.” 

Eila held that gaze with her own that was filled with vitriol. “I’d rather die than be held your captive a moment longer.”

That broke him. The fake sweet boyish charm faded, and something else more muddy took the surface. It broke through the cracks of his mask, causing his face to twitch. “Really? Eila, I’ve always held myself back and endured. Day, after fay, after day. It was suffocating.” Thunder clapped and lightning flashed, illuminating one side of his face, while casting a shadow upon the other. “But now, I’m sick and tired of playing these games.” 

“You're tired? I’m tired!” She roughly removed his hands from her face. “All you do is talk about the past! I can’t keep living in the past, Caleb! I mourned you for a year—Hell! I still am! And you want to act like nothing happened?” She shoved him again, and this time he did stumble. She moved past him, getting some needed distant from him before continuing. “Maybe for you, seeing me again is what kept you going, but I had to force myself to keep moving on without you! And now you wanna intrude on that? When the fuck did I say you could, you bastard!” 

Then suddenly, she deflated. The emotional and mental fatigue finally catching up to her. “I just…I don’t want you to die in the Deepspace Tunnel—I can’t go through that again. But I also can’t be around you when all you want to do is cut my wings and put me in a glass cage, Caleb.” 

A scattered dream that’s like a far off memory.

She was remembering less and less these days. Every day feels like a dream. She wakes up, she falls into a dream, she wakes up and forgets. 

“Why are you crying here by yourself? Who bullied you? It’s okay, I’ll avenge you.”

Her brows pull together, she doesn’t know this boy, but he talks as if they know each other. 

She tilts her head at him, and he smiles. 

“It’s okay. I’ll always be there for you, and I won’t hurt you,”

A far off memory that’s like a scattered dream. 

He holds his hand out to her. 

“Hold my hand. You won’t have to worry about losing your way when I’m here.” 

She takes it.

I wanna line the pieces up.

“Remember this. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.”

She really hopes so.

Yours and mine. 

“All right. I’ll be going now.” He’s met with silence. “Make sure you eat on time. Look after yourself.”

Her eyes don’t reach the sky until the sound of the fleet’s ship engines disappear. Only then does her gaze meet the horizon. 

Finally, it was time to go home. 

Without him.

“I was so bored without you. I almost became a shriveled-up peach.” Tara had phoned her a few times during the lockdown, and only now was she able to call her back. “By the way, Jenna mentioned you were at Skyhaven for a wedding. But what kind of wedding lasts that long?”

Eila shrugged. “It’s their culture.” 

“What culture—huh?” Tara paused, then hurried rushed off the phone. “Ack, my boss is calling. Let’s catch up in person, okay?” 

Eila started at her reflection in the black screen. It was gaunt, she looked like a shell of who she was. All that time in Skyhaven, no…all that time being around him had sucked the life out of her. She clutched her phone, but then stopped when she felt something off about it. Turning it around and removing the case, she was met with the reason. 

It was a yellowed piece of paper, decorated with crayon, and written in an unmistakable handwriting. 

“Forgiveness coupon for Caleb. Valid for 100 years.”

A chuckle bubbled to the surface, that popped and fizzled into loud sobs. She felt pathetic. She said she wouldn’t waste any more tears on him, and yet here she was. Because despite the harsh words that she said, he was still in there. 

Her Caleb. 

And she’d be damned if she let him die on her again.

:) I've had many thoughts about this story update. And what better way to express them than in the form of fanfiction lmao

Eila is tired. And I'm not helping her lmao.

Anyway, see y'all in Endless Summer, which was supposed to be uploaded before this (and posted tomorrow), but I let the angst take over me for a bit.

Side Note: IF THERE'S ONE THING ABOUT ME, I'M GONNA TIE IN KINGDOM HEARTS LMAO

Masterlist | Bluesky

[littlemisssquiggles]

I'm not sure if you heard the news yet but rooster teeth is getting shut down by Warner Bros and Warner Bros is trying to sell RWBY off to another company at the moment

I hope that the people working at rooster teeth are able to get jobs or have jobs that they can help tie them over till they find new work for a while

And maybe if we're lucky when it comes to RWBY some company will maybe pick them up this year and will possibly get volume 10 by the end of next year or the year after that we'll just have to wait and see I'm not sure if they're still doing RWBY beyond that they were planning to do to cover some stuff that was happening with long and I but I hope the future for this franchise gets better and that this isn't the end

Hi there anon-chan. Yes, I have heard the news about RT shutting down. Heard it as soon as it came out yesterday. I just don’t have much to comment on the matter since I’m still pretty much processing it.

I mean, I’ve been hearing certain-certain Youtubers making bold statements about the end of RT for quite some time now; given all of its recent scandals. But even then, I still sorta wished to hold out on the belief that what they were saying wasn’t entirely true.

I mean, I know RT has definitely been under fire for a while but that was mainly due to the actions of some of the folks that were working in the company. And even then, I was of the opinion, that all the problematic people bringing the company down would just be removed, leaving RT itself to basically rebuild its reputation and get back in the good spirits of both its fans and potential investors; y’know what I mean?

Bottomline, I didn’t want to believe the possibility of RT shutting down since I thought they would’ve been able to make  a comeback somehow. At least when it comes to RWBY.

I’ll be frank with you m’fam. Outside of RWBY (and maybe Red Vs. Blue and Camp Camp; even though I haven’t caught up on those series since their earlier seasons), I have no other personal investment in RT.

I mainly followed RT for RWBY and the members of the CRWBY who worked on it. And even now, in light of the news of its upcoming shut down, I’m more concerned for what the future of RWBY will be beyond RT.

In respect to the CRWBY, I’m genuinely not that worried for them finding work since they’re all very talented creatives who are very, very good in their craft. So I definitely have high hopes for them scoring new work after RT. No doubts about that.

I have heard about WB trying to sell RWBY though; and this is where my main concern lies. I am worried about who RWBY will be sold to next or whether anyone will pick up the IP at all. I know some FNDM members like to hype up RWBY as this big deal series. However, the reality is, outside of the FNDM, RWBY honestly isn’t as well-known as some folks may think. Especially when you consider the fact that all the negatives of RWBY are talked about just as much; maybe even more so than the positives of it.

In the realm of potential buyers for RWBY, I don’t have high hopes for this because, isn’t this not what happened to  GenLock? Who do we blame for the fall of that IP? RT or WB? Didn’t they not “sell” GenLock over to HBO and they ended up butchering the hell out of its second season?

Either way, I don’t want the same to happen to RWBY. It’s already butchered enough by the way RT and its showrunners have been handling it since V3.

My one saving grace is a tweet from Dillon Goo. Apparently, he’s an animator who formerly worked on RWBY back in the days of Monty. Yesterday on Twitter, he expressed interest in purchasing the rights to RWBY to continue the series along with his team.

I don’t know how serious he is about this but I have seen some of his work and it’s actually quite good. I would rather RWBY go to the hands of someone who worked on the show and seems  genuinely passionate about continuing the series and its story as opposed to it going to some mega-money corporate conglomerate who are only interested in making money off the franchise and don’t really give a rat’s ass about its story or appealing to its fanbase.

As a long time fan of RWBY, all I want is for the series to be given to someone who actually gives a shit about RWBY.

Not just as a franchise name but as a story with characters and a world they genuinely enjoyed and wished to continue and expand upon out of a genuine love for it.  

Whether that’s continuing from where the original CRWBY Writers left off or rebooting the story from the ground up, I just want RWBY to be handled by creatives who care about it and want to tell a good story with it.

No senseless pandering that serve nothing for the story or appeasing the “woke crowd” or whatever!

Just telling a genuinely GOOD and CONSISTENT story with these characters and the world they live in.

I rather RWBY be handed over to a fan whose got the money, time and most importantly, the drive to keep the story going rather than another who just wants to milk it for its “brand”.

Ironically, this is what RT has sadly been doing with RWBY for the past couple of years. Since the dawn of its existence, RWBY has spawned books, comics, manga, videogames (console as well as mobile), its own movie (albeit it’s a crossover) and even its own Japanese anime adapation. All these different novelties that were supposed to help expand the world of Remnant and look how far it got it?

Pretty much nowhere because we got all of this expanded material for RWBY and we’re still nowhere close to finishing the main core story from the OG 3D animated series.

Speaking of, regarding the fate of RWBY Beyond, I’m not sure myself anon-chan. I was of the naive notion that since RWBY returning to RT and the debut of RWBY Beyond were announced prior to the news of RT’s shutdown that the company would still move forward with this move and it would mark the official send off for not only RWBY but the company that made it as well. That’s what I was hoping for and what I’m still hoping for since I don’t recall their being an official date for RT’s shut down.

We know the company is dead, we just don’t know the date of the funeral, basically. So until that time comes, I’m gonna innocently hope we still get to see RWBY Beyond before RT shuts down.

I can live with RT shutting down and even RWBY ending if RWBY Beyond is treated as the official final chapter to the story. But that’s just me.

~LMS (2024)