#and now my degree made me pick it up again and suddenly i feel so smart

[smolalienbee]

if you told me at 15 that i'd eventually end up reading the entire the name of the rose and then also be writing an essay on polyphony in literature using that book and postmodernism as examples i'd be like. WHO? ME???

[system-to-the-madness]

His Decision - Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 134 Warnings: one mention of human sacrifice… Summary: a drive to a diner reveals unexpected feelings between Dean and you Prompts: left, the other left! A/N: Who would have thought I’d ever write for Dean. Until about 6 hours ago certainly not me. For Cas? Sure. Even for Sam, but Dean? Don’t misunderstand me, I love him more the older I get, but I think he’s just hard to grasp, so don’t be too harsh with me on this one.

“Okay, continue straight for about one mile,” you directed.

Rain drummed against the windshield of the Impala, and the headlights reflected brightly off the wet street. It was not even that late at night and yet it was completely dark already as Dean and you rode the impala from the motel to what you had been told was the closest diner. The grumpy lady at the front desk had pointed it out for you on the map, while Sam had decided to stay in the room and do some more research on your current case. But your stomach had been empty since shortly after lunch, and Dean was always hungry anyway, so you had decided to go buy dinner together. And it gave you some alone time with the older Winchester, which was always appreciated. On your end anyway, you had no idea how Dean felt about it. But what did it matter, not like there would ever anything happen between you.

“This weather is shit,” Dean complained. “I don’t mind the rain, but the cold? Come on, that’s not what I think off when I head autumn! I want pumpkin patches and apple orchards!”

At the choking sound you made at his last words, he shot you a glance with furrowed brows. “What? Not a fan of apple picking?”

“I don’t mind apples. Or apple picking. But remember what happened at the last apple orchard we went to? Oh, go right here.”

Dean slowed the car down and turned right as you had instructed him. “Uhm, no, what happened?”

“That Vanir, this Pegan god that the villagers sacrificed travellers to?”

“Oh, right,” Dean nodded. “Yeah, that can be a buzzkill, I guess.”

“My word,” you agreed. “Left. No, the other left!”

Dean had turned right again, hitting the breaks abruptly as you almost screamed at him, shocked that he had taken the wrong turn.

“No need to scream my ears off, woman,” he hissed, skilfully stirring the car into a 180 degree turn on the deserted street.

When you were back on track, he tapped the steering wheel, almost nervously, as you noticed. “So, what’re you gonna have? For dinner,” he asked.

“Hm,” thoughtfully you watched the road up ahead. At the side of the street, a neon sight in the distance already announced that the diner was nearby. “I think I’ll see if I like their special, and maybe some apple pie for dessert. I’ve been craving that stuff like crazy lately.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Dean laughed, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Yeah, sure,” you rolled your eyes, avoiding looking over at him. Sometimes having a crush on the person who was one of your best, and well, only friends really sucked.

“Hey, what’s with the sarcasm,” Dean demanded to know, turning into the diner’s park lot. “I mean it!”

“Yeah, I don’t really think you do,” you told him, suddenly feeling upset. Dean had probably guessed your feelings for him ages ago, and now was teasing you. Moving to get out of the car, you turned to open the door, but Dean leant over and caught your hand.

“Wait, wait, no running away,” he protested. “I mean it, I appreciate a woman who loves pie as much as I do!” He shot you his usual smug grin, which quickly faded away when you only stared at him unimpressed. “But, since we’re already talking about it,” he continued while letting go of your hand. “Why did we never, you know? Try something?”

Irritated you tried reading his intention. “What?”

“I mean,” he grinned again as he gestured between you and him. “We’d be good together, no?”

“I… I don’t know?” Why did you phrase it as a question? Wasn’t this exactly what you had secretly been hoping for a while now? That Dean saw you as something other than just the chick that tagged along with him and his brother, occasionally saving their asses from a ghost or a demon. Why were you hesitating to be honest now?

“Nah, we’d be brilliant together,” Dean decided, still grinning. “Why did we never try it?”

“Because we’re friends?”

“Who says we can’t be both friends and the power couple of the century?”

“Since when are you interested in being a power couple with… well, anyone?”

Dean’s grin was unfaltering as he shrugged. “Since I know you, I suppose?”

“Dean, you don’t even like me like that!”

That was what finally made his smug grin fall. For a moment he watched you with a serious expression, before he declared: “That’s still for me to decide.”

Something about the way he was looking at you now sent a shiver down your spine. With how much of an idiot he was being most of the time, it was easy to forget that he was one of the best hunters the country had to offer and that even though he was good at hiding it, he was actually pretty emotionally intelligent.

You swallowed thickly. “Uhm, right. Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” Dean’s serious demeanour was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “How about I treat you to dinner. Not… to take back to the motel, let’s eat here.”

“You always pay for my food,” you argued with a laugh, as you watched Dean get out of the Impala.

“See, I’m the perfect gentleman!”

You shook your head, not sure if he was just messing around or actually being serious, but as he offered you his hand to get out of the car, he pulled you up and close to his chest.

“I just need you to know that if we give this a try,” his expression was serious again, but this time you hardly noticed over how hard your heart was beating at his proximity. “I want to do it right. No half-hearted stuff, no one-night-stand, you hear?”

Swallowing again, you nodded, watching Dean’s eyes skipping over your face as if searching for even just the faintest trace of hesitance. When he came up empty, the cocky smile you liked so much begun pulling his lips up again.

“Good,” he nodded to himself, and wrapped an arm around your waist. “So, a special, if it appeals to the lady and…”

“Let me guess, a double cheeseburger with a side of fries and bacon,” you continued, earning a chuckle from Dean as he guided you towards the brightly lit up diner. “And pie for dessert for two.”

“You know me too well,” he laughed, placing a quick kiss against the side of your head, and as you were walking through the drizzle towards the smell of greasy food and fresh pies, you had a feeling you hadn’t been the only one between the two of you, who had secretly longed for this.

[ronance4everbrainrot]

MMMMore incorrect quotes from Merlin Academy! (with ships) Long post

Maleficent: Listen, we’re done, we’re over! Okay?

Hades: Whatever bitch, you ain’t never gonna find no one like me.

Maleficent: Yeah, that's the point shithead!

(gasp the IT-couple has broken up. I have a feeling it could be like Jade and Beck but they are both Jade)

---

Fay: Fight me!

Hades: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle?

*Later*

Morgie: Why is Hades crying?

Maleficent: Fay kicked them really hard on the ankle.

(Maleficent was impressed)

---

Fay: Why are we friends?

Maleficent: Poor decisions on your part.

(like either of you don't like each other. Ha ha)

---

Fay: So, I heard you like bad girls… I time travel in Animal Crossing.

(I don't even know what that means but okay)

---

Fay: Maleficent.. I'm gonna cry!

Maleficent: Please don't.

Fay, crying: Request denied.

---

Maleficent: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself.

Maleficent: *Picks up Fay*

Maleficent: I’ve only befriended Fay for a day and a half, but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then my self.

(Only she is allowed to bully Fay)

---

Uliana: I'm bored.

Maleficent: Wanna commit first degree murder?

Uliana: Sure!

Ella, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Bridget down!!

(She is the mom of the group for some reason)

---

Ella: Don’t say a word.

Bridget: Fergalicious.

Ella: Bridget, I said no words.

Bridget: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.

(Canon)

---

Bridget: Can you cut me some slack, Ella? I’m sort of in love.

Ella: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Bridget: I’m in love with you.

Ella: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

(duh)

---

Charming: The moon looks beautiful, doesn’t it?

Bridget, looking at Charming: Yeah… but do you know what’s more beautiful?

Bridget and Charming in unison: *sighs* Ella

(🎶I'm sorry that you 🤭 seem to be confused 🤔 she belongs to me 🧐 that girl is mine 😑 🎶 honestly that song has been playing in my head for a while for no reason) (it's now making me realize how Bridgella is kinda giving "it's over isn't it" idk why)

---

Ella: A mouse!

Maleficent, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Hades, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Bridget, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Morgie gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Hook: His name is Remi, dummy.

Ella: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(I just had to. Also she is excluding Bridget from that statement)

---

Hook, to Morgie: I'll be under the mistletoe when you start feeling desperate!

(yeah)

---

Uliana: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Uliana: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

(I mean that thing with the flamingo feathers was your fault 🤷)

---

Bridget: Hey, Ella, have you thought about having children?

Ella: ...

Ella: Does looking over you and the others not seem like I already do? Because I promise you, it sure feels like it.

Hook: But we're not childr-

Ella, already distracted: HADES, PUT THE FIRE DOWN!

(again. She is the mom of the group for some reason. Give her a rest)

---

Morgie: Hello friends!

The Squad:

Morgie: You might be wondering why I’m taped to the ceiling

(you'd think it was Hades and Hook. But they are just as amused and surprised. Idk how Morgie made that happen)

---

Uliana: I should've left you on that street corner where you were standing.

Morgie: But ya' didn't!

(canon? It is now)

---

Hook: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Ella: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Hook: Seize the dick.

(Slay King Slay)

---

Bridget: *Gets down on one knee*

Uliana: Oh my god! It’s finally happening!

Bridget: *Collapses*

Uliana: The poison’s kicking in!

(Yeah. Honestly. It's got something. But idk)

---

Fay: Where have you been all day?

Bridget: Oh, just dealing with things way beyond my maturity level.

(like having broken up without actually dating because it was just a one sided homoerotic friendship)

---

Ella: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Bridget: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Ella: Holy moly-

(See what I mean. Also canon)

---

Hook, Hades and Morgie in the back of Ella's car: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!

Bridget/Fay: We have food at home.

Ella/Uliana/Maleficent: *pulls into the McDonald's drivethrough*

Hades/Hook/Morgie: YAYYYYYY!

Ella/Uliana/Maleficent: *orders one black coffee and leaves*

(Ha Ha. Sad)

---

Hades: Legend says that when you can’t sleep, it means you’re awake in someone else’s dreams.

Hades: When I find out who you are, I’m going to punch you in the face.

(um. It's not me....I swear)

---

Uliana: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

(not like you can easily punch others with your eight arms)

---

Uliana: Stop failing.

Hades: Don’t tell me what to do! I'll fail right now!

Hades: *Succeeds*

Hades: Dang it!

(he finally realized he's a god. But still failed not to listen)

---

Bridget: Morgie told me that brown is just navy orange, and I have never been more disappointed with something I agree with.

(omg I'm a navy ginger)

---

Ella: *sneaking in through their window*

Bridget: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Ella: I was with Charming?

Charming: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

(Gasp. What was Ella doing 👀)

---

Ella: I can’t believe we have to be stuck in this room together!

Uliana, swallowing the key: Truly (poor) unfortunate (soul).

(oh. She was stuck with Uliana...ALSO WHAT- ULIANA?! THE KEY? 😭 Nah)

---

Uliana: I thought you were going to give me a book recommendation or something.

Ella: *laughs* Book recommendation? I can’t read!

(new HC: Ella can't read. Or more like, has a hard time with it. Idk lol.)

---

Ella: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.

(absolutely)

---

Morgie: Don’t mansplain this to me!

Uliana: Wh- I’m a woman! I can't mansplain anything to you!

Morgie: …Well, I’m a feminist, and I believe a woman can do anything a man does!

(he's got the spirit)

---

Hook: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner.

Morgie: Dude, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck.

Hook: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not.

Morgie: Well, I mean yeah.

Hook: So come downstairs while they’re still hot.

Morgie: Wait, you just made them?

Hook: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets.

Morgie: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time James.

(Morgie uses Dude romantically. And when he's annoyed at Hook he calls him by his first name)

---

Bridget: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

(that's me with movies/series. She's definitely not talking about Ella and Charming)

---

*The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love*

Ella: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you.

Bridget: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way...

Fay: *has a panic attack* What confession?

Hook: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too.

Hades: So what? Are you going to date me or not?

Uliana: It was a dare.

Maleficent: Your smile is like a magic spell, and it's annoying me daily

Charming: Let's flip a coin. Heads I'm yours. Tail you're mine.

Morgie: Relationships are like a walk in the park. Jurassic park.

(I added the last three myself because I wanted them all to have one. What do you think? Accurate?)

---

Ella: Here's two facts about me.

Ella: 1. I hate hot people/royalty

Ella: 2. I'm a hypocrite.

(canon)

---

Fay: You saved me! Why?

Hades: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

(people being Maleficent, also Ella and Bridget)

---

Hope you liked it!

Does Uliana have a crush on Ella? Maybe. Does Ella like her back? Absolutely not.

Ok byeee

[tomssexdoll]

heyy can you do a bill smut (dreads 2009)?? uhm so the reader sub!fem is taking a shower then bill decides to join it starts off as innocent hugs and touches then one thing leads to another and bill is like bending her over and fucking her roughly then picks her up by her thighs and placed her on the sink counter and began eating her out? dont write if your uncmfortable and add what you want in it love your writing btww!! x

Hi lovely ofc!

Innocent

PAIRINGS: Bill (idk what year) dreads era x Female reader CONTENT: FLUFF (only a little) + SMUT SYPNOSIS: You were showering and suddenly Bill comes in, he decides to join you and exchanges hugs and sweet touches. Then when one thing leads to another things become spicy. A/N: eating a burger rn WARNINGS: bill!dom, reader!sub, p in v, eating out, praising, fingering, sucking on fingers, rough kissing (literally one mention of it at the end)

I got into the shower, I had had such a long day, completeing schoolwork for my college degree. Bill was so lucky, he just had his band, making shit loads of money.

I turned on the water, washing my sweat filled body with soap, making sure to get every crevice. The water fell down onto my body, washing all the soap away.

As I was cleaning myself I felt 2 familiar arms wrap around my waist, "Hi prinzessin" he smirked and kissed my neck lovingly, "care if I join?" I smiled "not at all" I kissed him softly and continued to wash myself.

"Bill have you been using my expensive shampoo again?" I groaned, noticing the huge portion that was missing that I definetly did not use. "Maybe..i'm sorry it just smells so good! Don't get angry!" he whined, holding me close and peppering kisses everywhere on my face, I giggled and kissed his lips softly "it's fine, I could never be mad at you, you're so perfect" I smiled and started to wash his hair, rubbing the shampoo in and massaging his scalp.

He groaned lowly, enjoying it a little too much. "Calm down Bill" I chuckled and washed it off for him. "You know I can't control myself when you give me those massages" he pouted.

Me and Bill were so happy together, he made me feel like I was the only girl in the world, like I'm the only one that he'll ever love. (see what i did there? teehee) He was so kind, gentle and delicate, nothing like I've ever experienced before. In my past relationships I was treated like shit, like a fucktoy they could just use whenever they wanted, I only did that to myself because I wanted some sort of love, even if it was just one sided. But then I met Bill.

As I was applying shampoo to my hair, I felt something hard press against my back, it didn't feel like a hand or fingers or even an elbow. My eyes widened when I realised what it was, I turned around and looked down, his rock hard cock standing an inch away from me. I then looked up at him, a mischevious look planted on his face.

He whispered in my ear sensually "bend over, now" I gulped, nodding and bending over, putting my hands against the shower wall. He grabbed my hips and positioned himself at my entrance. "You ready shatz?" he called out, "mhm!" I responded.

And with that he pushed his cock into me, stretching me out, the water falling onto us didn't help so he quickly turned it off. He pulled my hips closer to him and started to pound his length into me, every inch that went back in and back out was agonizing. I moaned loudly, desperatly trying not to slip from all the water beneath us.

He continued his brutal pace, slamming himself into me, making me scream out in pleasure. Bill never went this rough on me, I don't know what switched in his brain but I could tell he was super turned on, almost drunk on my pussy.

"Mm! Yes!" I moaned loudly, his cock repetedly abusing my hole. Bill pounded into me relentlessly, growling lowly with pleasure as he felt my wet heat surrounding him. "You're so fucking sexy y/n..fuck" His hands gripping my hips tightly, digging his nails into me. I hissed at the pain of his nails but the pleasure made me ignore it.

He continued to thrust into me hard and fast, the sound of slapping skin filling the shower. "Fuckk!" I cried out, his cock hitting deep inside me with every stroke, making it impossible to not scream every time.

He chuckled at my cries and screams, "so good for me aren't you?", I nodded lazily, unable to speak from all the waves of pleasure going through my body.

Finally, I felt my stomach tighten a little bit, "gonna..cum, fuck!" I managed to blurt out, "cmon baby cum with me" he demanded, going faster. With one last deep thrust I came on his cock, I felt him throb for the last time before pulling out and spurting his cum all over my back and ass. "Good girl..such a good girl" he panted.

He cleaned off the cum and as I was about to get a towel he stopped me, "I'm not done with you..need more" he picked me up by my thighs and shoved me onto the bathroom counter in a hurry. He got onto his knees and spread my legs wide open, exposing my wet cunt to him. He instantly dove for my clit, shoving his face into my pussy. I moaned as I felt his tongue lick my sensitive bud, "holy shit!" I moaned loudly, my hands flying to his hair and tugging on it as he ate me out so perfectly.

He groaned at the pain, but not in a bad way..In a way where he was liking it? I smirked and continued to pull on his hair, gaining the same reaction as before.

His arms wrapped around my legs and pulled me closer, shoving my pussy into his face even more as he devoured me. I felt him put a finger in my hole, then two. I moaned as he licked my pussy and fingered me at the same time.

How was he so good at doing 2 things at a time? I would never know.

His fingers felt amazing in my pussy, ramming into me and also curling to hit my sensitive spot. Don't even get me started on how good he ate me out. It was like a state of euphoria, a high almost. It felt so good I was convinced I'd been drugged. He retracted his fingers and stuck his tongue deep into my pussy. His tongue piercing skimming against my g spot.

I moaned as he plunged his tongue into my wetness repetedly, taking it in and out, in and out until he moved back to my aching, swollen clit, desperate for attention again.

He put his fingers back in and started to thrust roughly, squelching sounds coming from my cunt from all the juices. I moaned loudly "gonna cum again! Fuck!" he smirked on my pussy and went harder, curling his fingers faster and licking my heat at an ungodly pace.

I cried out and came all over his fingers, he chuckled and pulled his fingers out, licking all the juices off his fingers, he stood up and put his fingers in my mouth "taste your juices baby..don't I make you so wet?" I nodded and sucked on his fingers eagerly. He withdrew his fingers and a string of saliva followed. He smirked and crashed his lips into mine, kissing me roughly.

E/N: HEY MY LOVELY PEOPLE!! tysm for the person who sent this request I loved writing it! Sorry it took so long to come out <3

[therealslimshakespeare]

| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

💋Hope you enjoyed AND REMEMBER -prompts are now open.

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[the-devils-girl94]

When Their Shy S/O Asks To Do It: Lucifer

((There will be multiple parts dedicated to each character. Hope you guys enjoy Lucifer's part, even though there's no smut. Some suggestive scenes though.))

He noticed you glancing at the clock every now and again. You would fidget with your hands and then steal a glance at him, only to quickly look away. He could tell you wanted to ask him something but your shy nature was preventing you from voicing what you wanted to say. So, he calls out to you,

"MC, what's the matter?"

You blushed and shook your head. "It's-Its nothing!," you stuttered. You could feel Lucifer's eyes boring into you, but still you avoided his gaze. The Avatar of Pride sighed and stood from his chair, making careful strides towards you.

You jumped, startled, when you felt his hand on your shoulder and turned your head to see him sitting beside you. Lucifer brought you to his chest, concern resting on his features as he stared at you.

"Tell me, MC. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

As his arms wrapped around you, your face became buried in his chest. You caught a whiff of his scent and it made your head spin, making your already flushed face heat up a couple more degrees. You were nervous to say what was troubling you.

Nervous to say you were feeling...needy.

You knew Lucifer would never make fun of you for asking. If anything, he would immediately stop what he was doing just to attend to your needs, your unsatisfied desires. But it was hard for you to muster that courage to say it.

Even practicing in front of a mirror couldn't help you.

However, being in Lucifer's embrace calmed your nerves enough to ease your racing mind. You felt you could do it. You had to do it. Otherwise, the rising heat in your belly will never be cooled.

Exhaling out a sigh, you raised your head to meet Lucifer's red eyes. Those concerned, worrying ruby orbs stared back into yours. He watched as your lips parted and you spoke, "I was wondering..."

"Wondering what, love?"

The soft tone of Lucifer's voice had you lower your head again, causing the anxious demon to worry more. Yet, you continued.

"I was just wondering if it's too early...to-to go back to the bedroom."

It was then that Lucifer connected your earlier behavior to now and understood why you were so nervous. He chuckled softly, making you look at him with a red face. You wanted to hide now.

You brought your hands to cover your face, but they were stopped by another pair of hands. Your chin was lifted and you saw Lucifer's smirking face. Blushing, you tried to look away, but Lucifer kept your gaze solely on him.

"My dear MC," he said, his voice soft and caressing your reddened ears. "You want me? Is that what you were trying to tell me, love?"

"Y-yes," you stammered. Looking at the Avatar of Pride was beginning to fuel to the starter fire inside. "I'm saying I want you."

Lucifer let out an amused huff. You squeaked as you were suddenly picked up, only to be laid back down on the sofa with Lucifer on top of you. His eyes were focused on your lips. His smirked widened when he brought his leather gloved hand to your chin, using his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip. You subconsciously licked your bottom lip, making Lucifer sit up to loosen his tie. He stared down at you as he asked you this,

"Then do you want to go back to the bedroom? Or should I take you here on this sofa, right in my office, my needy MC?"

[dellalyra]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏᴏᴋ: ᴀᴋɪᴏ ʀʏᴜ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ɢᴏᴊᴏ

ᴀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

Pixie says: requested by my darling angel mrs.geto (aka @soraya-daydreams) forever ago but I have just finished bc uni has been kicking my booty. i love this - it’s mostly silly but a nice lil extra for FF.

The first time Akio laughed, it surpised nobody that it was his father who elicited the sound. The game of peekaboo had always made the baby smile and gurgle away but today it seemed to especially tickle him as you lay beside him on the bed with Satoru popping in and out sporadically of his field of vision. Satoru popped up with enough gusto to even make you laugh. That’s when the most melodic sound either of you had heard rang across the room. A tiny, bubbling giggle from the stretched out baby on the comforter - you both froze.

“Do it again, ‘Toru.” You whisper, urgently.

So he does.

And he laughs again.

That night you both spent hours coming up with ways to make the baby laugh and recording videos to send to the family.

Safe to say, next time Itadori was over - it became very clear that Akio was a Gojo through and through when he began laughing at Sukuna’s malicious remarks through Yuuji’s cheek mouth.

At 5 months, Akio was on his play mat on the living room floor while you made some food with your husband. Music from the speaker had coaxed your husband into twirling you around and wrapping you in his arms as he laughed at whatever nonsense you were babbling on about, pressing kisses to your cheeks and nose. You’re spun like a princess and when you see the baby mat, you gasp. Satoru stops, looking at you - then the mat.

Akio wasn’t on his back anymore chewing on his teething ring - he was sitting up.

Sitting up and staring at you both.

With a murderous glare of an angry cat, exactly like his father.

“He sat up.” Satoru whispers.

“Yeah, with first degree murder in mind, I think.” You reply.

You approach the baby (cautiously).

His face suddenly changes into a bright smile, wide and cheerful as he has another first.

He reaches his chubby little arms out and makes grabby hands toward you.

Gasping, you scoop him up.

“My baby! Of course you can have a cuddle, my smart little man!” You coo, nuzzling his little head.

Satoru leaps over the back of the sofa and comes to join in.

“Grabby hands and sitting up in one night! Baby boy, you’re spoiling us!” He says, reaching to squeeze his arms around your waist.

The baby frowns.

Satoru pulls away.

Akio smiles.

Satoru lifts Akio from your arms, and he’s fine and dandy, nuzzling his papa.

Satoru goes to kiss you both on the cheek but when he gets to you he’s met with a scowling baby again.

“Holy shit - kid, am I not allowed to touch your mama?!” Satoru gasps.

You test the theory and find that Akio loves cuddling you both still, just - separate. The minute Satoru tries to kiss you it’s back to the scowl (luckily, not a tantrum).

“Listen here - she was my wife first.” He narrows his eyes at the baby he has suspended above his head.

“He’s bound to be a little possessive, he did come out of me.” You roll your eyes, laughing at the two Gojo boys battling for your attention.

Satoru pouts, sulking.

“Yeah well, I come in you.” He retorts.

“You are so lucky that child is only 6 months old and you haven’t scarred him for life like you did with Megumi.”

At 7 months - you and Satoru were waving goodbye to Megumi on a Sunday evening as he went back to stay at the dorms for the week, with Akio on your hip. Feeling movement from the baby, you look at him as he clumsily waves his hand around toward his brother.

“Look! ‘Toru! He’s waving bye-bye! You waving bye-bye to ‘Gumi, baba?” You coo, as Megumi stands at the gate for an extra minute just to wave at his little brother being doted on by his parents. Ijichi, here to collect Megumi, receives a wave too.

8 months - Akio’s hand and finger movements are improving rapidly, slightly advanced for his age if anything. He can grab and pull and push and pick things up now - much to the entire families amazement.

One sunny Thursday evening, the designated day every week for ‘Kooking with Kento’, as you named it back in High School. The tradition formed when Nanami first made enough food for an exhausted young and Satoru one day after a particularly long and frustrating mission, and has been a weekly occurrence since. Nanami would come to the house, you and him would cook and then the family would eat together. This week, with it being a balmy April evening - you sat outside in the garden together, a bottle of wine split between you all and Akio on his Godfather’s lap. Mid-sentence, Kento was cut off as Akio reached up to grab his Uncle’s sunglasses off his face.

It was silent for a moment as the baby waved them around, before you and Satoru burst into cacophonous laughter.

Nanami couldn’t help the small smile as he fitted the glasses on the babies small face.

First word was unsurprising. A day trip out with his parents, sitting in a cafe as you and Satoru share two large slices of cake and milkshakes and Akio drools over the sight in from of him. He begins jabbing his little hand at the plate, poking you both in the face and babbling nonsense.

“You had some cake, ‘Kio!” You laugh.

“This is my cake. Papa’s cake.” Satoru says.

“Eh? Mama and Papa’s cake. ‘S mine too!” You pout, batting his fork away with yours.

“I’m bigger than you, so I should get about 70% of it.” He reasons.

“Absolutely not. I wanted my own slice, you insisted on sharing because it would be romantic so it’s a 50/50 split or go get your own, Satoru Gojo.” You glare. Cake’s a serious topic in your house.

“It is romantic!” He argues.

“I agree, it’s adorable, and I love that you suggested such a cute thing - what’s also adorable is cake. We split the cake 50/50, Satoru. It was literally in our wedding vows that all cakes be split in half so that we can both live happy lives.” You contribute, still sword fighting his fork.

“Cake!” Came an angry little voice.

“Mama’s cake!”

“Papa’s cake!”

There’s silence.

Akio is looking at you both.

You look at him, then each other. Tears spilling in both your eyes.

“Cake!” Akio claps, shouting the word again.

You both let out a sob. Hugging him and then each other and pressing kisses to every face at the table.

“As much as you want, sweet baby!” You say, feeding the 11 month old a bite of your cake.

“Any cake! All of it!” Satoru nods, beaming and ordering three more slices.

His first steps, came toward his father.

Satoru had been training with Megumi all afternoon in school, before they both got into his car and drove home to you and Akio. You had returned to work a month prior, continuing to teach the second years and had picked up Akio from your mom’s that afternoon before driving home.

You were sitting on the floor with your baby, playing with his blocks and reading him stories before the jingle of keys could be heard at the front door. Your son crawled out of your lap and toward the hallway, stopping at the coffee table as the door unlocked and in walked his father and older brother.

“Hi, my loves!” Satoru calls, smiling and blowing kisses toward you both as he takes off his sunglasses and coat.

“Hi mom.” Megumi calls.

Akio squeals, hearing the two voices, using the edge of the table to pull himself onto his feet as he’d been doing for a month now.

The two men come around the corner, and Megumi leans against the archway to the room and Satoru kneels down on his haunches as he always does to let Akio crawl to him.

However, nobody expected him to pull his hands away from the table and begin to take wobbly, determined steps toward him.

“Oh my god!” You gasp.

“Yes, baby! You got this! Come see papa!” Satoru calls, delight evident.

Megumi straightens up, walking around the side - ready to pounce at any sign of a tumble.

The baby makes his way just to his father’s feet on his unsteady feet before his legs give way and he tumbles straight into his father’s large, waiting arms.

The three of you crowd over him, cooing and kissing and crying (you and Satoru), and later when he walks toward Megumi - you record a video - a very precious video to save to the collection.

At 14 months, a trip to the playground reveals a lot.

You and Satoru, Megumi and Itadori (Nobara is shopping, unsurprisingly) are sitting having a picnic as you watch the baby toddle around the area playing with the giant abacus and building blocks, and thoroughly enjoying the sandpit.

You see his little head follow something, eyes locked intently on it. Following his line of sight, all you can see is a playhouse. A cute, wooden playhouse.

Looking to your side, you see your husband is staring at the same spot.

“Satoru?” You ask.

“He’s looking right at it.”

“Huh? The playhouse? Why’s he so focused on it?” You puzzle, there’s one in the garden at home so it’s not a new sight for the baby.

“No. There’s - Y/N - there’s a fly head in it.” Satoru says, eyes flicking between the boy and the playhouse.

Your head snaps, toward the baby.

You follow his line of sight, and sure enough he’s staring directly at the top left corner of the playhouse roof.

“Is it in the top left corner?” You ask Satoru.

He nods.

“Holy shit.” You whisper.

“He’s got it.” Satoru says, breathless in wonder.

“Huh? Got what?” Itadori asks through a mouthful of strawberries.

“Shut up, just watch.” Megumi elbows him.

“How…? I thought - ” You begin.

“It’s said to be impossible but… I always wondered with the strength of your cursed energy - combined with my bloodline, if it would create another one.” Satoru says, serious and thoughtful.

“He doesn’t have my cursed energy though? Only yours.” You ask.

“It’s only Gojo energy he has, yeah, but what Gojo energy would have been weakened by one parent being a less powerful sorcerer was bolstered by the fact you’re a special grade yourself. It strengthened my genes to create another one, fully powered.” He says, breathless in his awe.

Your jaw drops. Shocked.

Akio - has broken the mould.

Two wielders of the Six Eyes now exist in the world.

You look back at the baby, grabbing Satoru’s hand who squeezes it three times (I love you.) You squeeze it back four. (I love you too).

The baby pulls himself up. Toddling in the direction of the playhouse. You go to stand up, a flick of a finger from any adult or student sorcerer would exorcise a fly head. You’re pulled back down, onto your husband’s lap.

“They’re harmless alone. It won’t hurt him.” He says.

You know he’s right, and wouldn’t ever let anything hurt a hair on that baby’s head so you sit, leaning back against his chest.

As Akio approaches the playhouse, the fly head comes out and perches on the little bench beside it.

Akio stares at it, tilting his head like a curious kitten.

Itadori jumps up, ready to go fist fight in a playground - but Megumi pulls him down.

“Watch this.” Megumi says, quietly.

The fly head moves toward where Megumi’s divine dogs are flanking the baby and lands on Akio’s shoulder. He just looks at it, curious - until it pulls on his fluffy white hair. Without a sound, just a frown - and a smack of a pudgy fist - the fly head drops to the ground, fizzling into nothing.

You and Satoru just look on in awe, silent and amazed by your beautiful baby boy.

“He’s something special.” Satoru says, voice full of love.

“Course he is, he’s part of you.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Itadori is just sitting slack jawed.

“Did the baby just -” He mumbles.

“Welcome to the Gojo household.” Megumi smirks.

His first conscious choice of style came with a decision at two and a half. He marched into the living room where you sat, his papa’s head on your lap as you stroked his hair. Papa had the same hair as Akio, just shorter.

“Mama! Papa!” He says, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yes, sir?” Satoru says, one eye open and saluting the child.

“Change my hair!” He says, determined.

Your heart nearly broke - hoping he wouldn’t ask for it to be cut - you adored his long white locks you tied in a little bun. Yet, if he wanted it cut - you’d agree.

“What do you want to do, ‘Kio?” You ask, still combing your hands through the head of hair on your lap, where your husband sat nuzzling the growing bump and whispering sweet nothings to you and the baby inside.

He pats the top of his head, looking at you both from in front of the fireplace.

“Up here! Like Uncle Soso!” He says, smiling.

You and Satoru just smile at him (relieved he’s okay with keeping his precious long hair).

“You want two little buns like Uncle Soso?” You confirm.

He nods, very assuredly.

“Your Uncle Soso’s hair is pretty fire, kid, good choice.” Satoru smiles at him, beckoning him to sit on his lap where he lays.

“Yeah, ‘s so fire.” The baby nods, smiling and grinning.

“Okay, how about we do it the next time we go see him at school?” You suggest.

The baby cheers and claps and tosses himself onto his father’s lap like an Olympian, thanks to his tall height for a 2 and a half year old and then hugs you both.

“Mama? Maybe we watch Toothless? Papa loves Toothless. As a s‘prise for him?” He whispers (he doesn’t, he’s got all the subtlety of his father).

“Oh, is it for Papa? I thought we watched How To Train Your Dragon for Akio?” You smirk.

“No - for papa.”

You look down at your husband.

“No. He’s right. It’s for papa.” Satoru confirms, smirking up at you both before flicking on the film as the three (four) of you curl up under a blanket.

Akio’s first little sibling was a day of great excitement for him. He sat, not patiently, on the floor of his ‘Uncle Soso’s’ apartment, playing with blocks and toy animals with him (his Uncle Soso was very fun to play with, he thought) and asking every 20 minutes if the baby had come. Every time, Uncle Soso would say “not yet, ‘Kio, but soon.”

When the phone rang, and Choso answered Megumi’s call saying the baby was here and it was time to come to the infirmary - he scooped up Akio and said,

“Wanna go meet your sister?”

Akio was enamoured with Mirai from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was so tiny, even tinier than his baby dolls and looked like a pretty snowflake. She had the same hair as him, white and fluffy but her eyes looked like his Mama’s. He kissed her softly on the forehead, trying to remember all the things ‘Gumi and Uncle Soso told him about being a good big brother.

He was so attentive, insisting on playing quietly in the same room as Mirai when she napped so he could keep an eye on her - and keeping a little cloth in his toy box so he could help Papa or Mama if she had too much milk. He would sit and tell her stories every night, trying to remember the ones Mama and Papa told him about the heroes who saved the world, the Knight with the Pink Hair (he thought that one was cool, since his Jiji (Yuuji) has pink hair), The Prince of Shadows, The Piercing Princess and the Wizard Kendo. He told her the love stories of the King and Queen in the stories too, he liked those characters a lot - The Honoured King and The Queen of The Forest. Sometimes, he would wake up in the morning and see Papa asleep, with Mirai on his broad chest and Mama asleep in bed and crawl into bed between them, holding their hands and kissing his baby sister, before drifting back to sleep with them.

The first secret he had to keep was the ring. He was 6 and ‘Gumi was sitting at the table with him, Mirai and their parents.

“Mom, dad - I - um… wanna show you guys something.” He said, awkwardly as ever.

Akio didn’t look up, his pasta was too good.

Well, he didn’t look up until he heard his Papa gasp and his mama shout ‘No fucking way!’.

On the table, in front of Megumi was a tiny black box with a gold ring inside. Whats so special about that? Mama and Papa both wear rings all the time.

“You’re gonna do it? You’re gonna ask him?” His mama asks, voice sounding funny.

“How? Is it super romantic? Oh my god, our baby boy is getting married!” His papa shouts.

“I haven’t asked him yet!” Megumi retorts, his face really red.

“Like he’d ever say no.” His dad rolls his eyes.

“Your dad’s right, ‘Gumi - he adores the ground you walk on! When are you going to ask him? Do you need any help? We can book out a restaurant or something for you!” You squeal in excitement.

“Tomorrow. I’m not going to do anything extravagant - you two always said your private, quiet proposal was really special so I’m going down that route.” He says, shrugging but face focused.

“What’s a posal?” Mirai asks, face covered in sauce.

“When you ask someone to marry you, ‘Rai.” Akio responds to her.

“How did you posal, mama and papa?” She asks, poking her dad in the arm.

“Your papa made a pretty picnic and we sat out in the garden in the summer and he gave me a pretty ring and asked if I would marry him. It was just us two, and it was perfect.” You say, tilting your head to kiss your husband, both softly smiling.

“Of course it was, everything I do is perfect - just look around this table. I’m the strongest.” Satoru nodded, winking.

“Of course I said yes, and we got married and that was 12 years ago! Then we had you two squirts.” You says, sticking out his tongue. You stood up, walking to put your arms around Megumi’s shoulders and kiss the top of his head, eyes teary and smiling.

“And she’ll never get away!” Satoru says, running to lift you up and over his shoulder, tickling your sides as you squeal, before he sits back down, now with you on his lap, arm around his neck. Papa and Mama were always touching, he liked seeing them cuddle, it made them both smile a lot.

“So ‘Gumi is gonna marry Jiji?” Mirai asks.

“I’m gonna ask him to, yeah. Is that okay with you two, because if we get married he’ll be your brother too.” Megumi asks, serious.

“Yes please! Please, please, please!” Akio pleads.

“Get married tomorrow!” Mirai squeals.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow, how about that?” Megumi smirks.

“Deal.” Akio says, nodding.

The next time Megumi came over for dinner, three days later, Yuuji was wearing the gold ring.

[da-rulah]

Jealous secondo with a sibling of sin he's had his eye on? 💚

Let's get SPICY. (because all I seem to be able to write the last two days is spice...)

18+, MDNI BELOW THE CUT!

Secondo hated these functions, these silly little pomp and circumstance balls for Yule or All Hallow's Eve.

What he hated more, was having to sit and watch the siblings and clergy mingle, dance, drink while he sat atop his throne until the moment of the Papa's Waltz - usually around an hour into any function.

For now, he sat and watched - torture, because all he could stare at was you...

As you chatted, danced, flirted with the other siblings.

How stunning you looked in your Yule ballgown, a deep green that complimented your skin tone with gold embellishments.

He had no right to be jealous of course, he'd never once made a move towards you other than dark glares your way during Mass - you thought he hated you.

But when Cardinal Franklin got a little too close, whispering sweet nothings and promises into your ear, his grip on the arm rests of his throne tightened.

Cardinal Franklin was a tosser, and you deserved better. A woman so stunningly, achingly beautiful deserved a throne of her own.

The bells signalled Papa's turn to dance, the floor clearing way for him to walk through and pick the lucky sibling of his choice.

He didn't hesitate, skulking over to you with eyes dark and piercing, offering his hand.

Surprised, you take it, allowing him to whisk you to the middle of the floor as the music begins.

He holds you impossibly close to him as he dances with you, eyes stern and never leaving yours.

"Are you with him?" You're confused, eyebrows creasing. "Cardinale Franklin." He spits the name.

"N-no..." you stutter.

"Good."

The clergy join after a while, then the siblings. Suddenly you're surrounded by couples dancing the Papa's Waltz.

"Why me? You hate me... You glare at me all the time, Papa..."

Papa grins wickedly, scoffing at your accusation.

"Hate you? No, dolcezza... I glare as I undress you with my eyes, no?"

He feels impossibly close, you know he can feel the heat rising on your cheeks. Papa's dark glares had unnerved you all this time, but turned you on to a degree of horny you couldn't ignore... Like an animal stalking his prey.

Papa dances with you all night, ignoring the mutterings of other siblings wishing they might get a turn, and the disapproving glares of the clergy.

Cardinal Franklin was seething with anger, he wanted you, he had you, right in the palm of his hand.

But he never had you. You were simply being polite.

"I cannot stand to see you go home tonight with that stronzo, Sorella..."

You smirk a little, playing him at his own game. "Are you jealous, Papa?"

Oh, you were feisty. He liked that. A woman who could match him, stand up to him. It made his cock stir in interest.

"Sì." he admitted with confidence.

"Would you like me to go home with you instead tonight, Papa?"

He pulled you tighter against him, enough to feel the outline of his solid length against your hip through both his robes and your dress.

"I think it's important that you do, no?"

And you do.

That night, he marks you as his over and over again. You couldn't have picked Cardinal Franklin out of a line up by the end of the night, fucked dumb and exhausted but trained well...

"Who do you belong to now, dolcezza?"

"You, Papa... you..."

[mybelovedwoo]

a hero can save me now

seonghwa x f!reader

fluff, angst, forbidden love/ wc: 1.4k

warnings: drinking alcohol, oc being tipsy, a very annoying guy, seonghwa being a savage

note: seonghwa is literally what we all need. it is impossible to not fall for him TTTT please tell me all you thoughts about this drabble. thank you for reading it!!

seonghwa masterlist - main masterlist

Being drunk with "friends" you're not really friends with wasn't the best idea you've ever had. But what could you do when you're classmates from university invited you to have a couple of drinks with them as you all finished your exams, it was supposed to be a celebration or whatever, but it turned around real quick when a group of guys joined you all. Not gonna lie, they made you feel a bit uncomfortable with their nagging. They wanted you to drink more, when you were already tipsy enough to feel unsafe with them. You've already had enough for today.

You tried to grab your phone from your pocket, but it was quite stuck there. It took you a couple of tries to actually succeed with this easy task. You scrolled through your contact list, looking for who would be the most worthy to call at this late hour, because you're sure it's not a good idea to go home like this all by yourself. Your hands stopped at Yunho's name, you probably should not call him, because the moment he tells your sister about it, your screwed. But your finger already pushed the call button, he is kinda like your big brother and probably your safest option right now, you trust him.

When the phone rings, all you can think about is that you have to end it before he actually picks it up, he's probably already fast asleep and you should not bother him. But before you can do that, a voice speaks from the other end "Hello?" But it's not Yunho's, although it's a very familiar deep voice. "Y/n is it you?" asks the unknown person on the other end of the line.

"Who is asking? And where is Yunho?" you are very confused and the alcohol in your body is not helping either to understand the situation. "Look, I don't know who you are, but please give him the phone, it would be very important."

"I can't, he's in the shower, that's why I picked it up." Great, then you can't ask him either to come get you. "And I'm Seonghwa by the way. Is everything okay tho?" Oh shit, not him, please. You literally can feel your whole face heating up, it feels like it's a hundred degrees inside suddenly.

"No- I mean yes- But not really. I should hang up the phone, it's pretty late already." You're stuttering, this god damn alcohol is not helping you hide your nervousness. After your last encounter, you've been thinking about him a lot. He was just so nice to you when he didn't have to.

"Y/n, did you drink?" Now you're speechless, suddenly you don't know what to say. Should you tell him the truth or just lie to him and let this thing go in peace? But before you could say anything, one of the unknown guys interrupted you. He crawled into your privacy, putting his arms around your shoulders when he sat down next to you. You gave him a look of disgust. "Who are you talking to? Your boyfriend maybe?" Now he's not just being disrespectful, but also embarrassing you. You try to shove his arms from you when you hear Seonghwa talk again.

"Tell him it's your boyfriend! I'm on my way, just tell me where you are!" And before you could process what he said, your mouth acted before your mind and told him your location, then he just hung up without another word. Now this didn't turn out the way you've planned. Instead of your big brother, your crush is coming to get you, and he's gonna see you like a mess.

-

You decided to wait outside instead. To be honest, you couldn't endure the presence of those annoying guys anymore, also you felt very hot, you felt like your whole body was boiling from the inside, so it seemed better to wait in the fresh air. You sat down on the windowsill, where people usually go out to smoke and have a conversation with their friends. Luckily no one was there right now.

You didn't have to wait long before you saw your savior in your sight, hurrying to the pub. You buried your head in your hands to sober up a bit, since everything was spinning around you. You still couldn't believe how you ended up in this situation.

Seonghwa's eyes already found you sitting there by yourself. He never saw you in such a vulnerable state, and to be honest it stressed him out a little. He didn't understand this feeling, but the moment he heard that you were not safe on the phone, he ran out the door, he wasn't even thinking about it, god he even forgot to tell Yunho about the situation.

You felt a pair of hands stroke your hair, so you took all of your strength and raised your head, only to find Seonghwa tower over you. Suddenly you felt so small next to him, he felt like a shield from everything that possibly can harm you. "Hey there." Now that reality hit him, he didn't know what to say or do, he acted before thinking, and now he don't even know what he's doing here. "Can you stand up?" He asked you.

When you didn't answer him, he held out his hands to help you, but you didn't take it. You braced yourself on both sides of you and struggled to stand up, but eventually, you were standing in front of the taller man. But he still kept his hand there, in case you still needed his help.

"Seonghwa why are you here?" It just came out of your mouth, you couldn't think of anything else since he hung up on you. You had so many questions that were confusing you. Maybe it's just the alcohol, but suddenly you feel very brave, that you can ask him all your unanswered questions.

This caught him off guard, he didn't know what to say either. "I just want to help you. You don't want me here?" He could only think of the worst, what if he is the one that ruined your night and made you uncomfortable?

"That's not what I'm saying, I'm just asking you why are you here? I mean why did you come here to help me?" You accidentally lost your balance when you wanted to go a little further from him because being this close to him made you a little nervous, but luckily he reacted quickly and caught your hands, so you could stabilize yourself once again.

It didn't turn out the way you planned, instead of getting further away from him, you're now literally in his arms. You quickly pulled your hand away so he wouldn't notice how sweaty it was.

"Because ever since we last met, I think of you sometimes." You can't believe what you're hearing, you must be hallucinating. "I realized how cool you are. I like you, I really do and I would like to hang out with you more." You're just dreaming now, right? This isn't reality. Why would a guy like him want to hang out with you? This doesn't sit right. 

"Ohh there you are. And I can see the boyfriend has arrived too." Not this man again. Why does he keep following you, not even speaking about embarrassing you in front of Seonghwa? You roll your eyes at him. "He is not-"

"Yes, that's right, I'm here now."The tall man next to you cut in your words, surprising everyone, even himself, but on the outside, he stays confident. He takes a step forward to stand between you and the man. "So why were you looking for my girlfriend?" He asks him.

You can feel your face heating up, you must look like a tomato right now, luckily Seonghwa cannot see you at the moment. You know he's just lying, so the man would finally leave you alone, but it still feels strange hearing this from him.

The man was speechless, he clearly wasn't expecting this to happen. "I- The- Yes, the others were searching for her, so I thought I'd come find her." The man was stuttering, making up an excuse.

"Now you know that she is with me and we're already leaving, so you can go back, buddy." The man can't do anything, just turns around and goes back to where he came from. Seonghwa turns back to you, just to check on you, he's really worried that his actions made you uncomfortable. But little did he know it did not, in fact you thought it was kinda hot.

"So can I walk you home?" He asked you nervously, making sure he doesn't do anything you're not okay with. You nodded to let him know, you're completely okay with it. 

-

[hopeinthebox]

how do u curate your playlists? they're so good (listening to the glen powell one rn lol)

dearest anon, please know you've made my entire summer with this ask <3333 (here's the playlist in question)

now while i recognise you probably weren't looking for a legitimate breakdown of the process here, you've inspired me to take a deep dive, and i'm prone to getting carried away (and yes, i read high fidelity recently and rewatched the film and the series. but i'm sure that has nothing to do with it). so here goes, under the cut:

Lizzy's Guide to the Delicate Art of Making a Playlist

#1 - What's the Point?

There has to be a theme or mood or connecting thread for the playlist. That being said, as long as it makes sense to you, you've pretty much got this covered.

What's the story? Is it based on a mood, an event, a time in your life, a person, a character, a genre, an era, etc. etc. There's plenty to choose from, so there's plenty of playlists to be made. Go crazy, get weird with it.

(In this example, the overarching theme is: Glen Powell Hot (Twisters Edn.) with a sub-theme, if you will: Country Music for Beginners.)

#2 - Song Selection

Once the theme is set, I gather a few tracks that spring to mind immediately. In this instance:

• Why'd You Come In Here Lookin' Like That - Dolly Parton

• Cowboy Take Me Away - The Chicks

• Country's Cool Again - Lainey Wilson

All of these are fairly self-explanatory if you have been caught up in the Twisters press tour at all recently. No further comment.

From here I flesh out the ~general vibelist~ with more tracks, some classics and some deep cuts. I'm cross-referencing my own musical knowledge, previous playlists, spotify mixes (god forgive me, the occasional algorithm picks), and other user's Powell playlists (topgun-heavy, but you certainly can't blame them).

#3 - Order Matters

There's got to be some sort of flow to the playlist front to back, unless your theme is audio whiplash, for example.

Now here I am a devout follower of the High Fidelity rules, which are as follows:

Track 1 - Open with a killer - sets the tone, gets people invested

(Here, Lady Gaga's You And I ~ it's a banger, and it's country enough to get away with. Can't bring out the banjo prematurely, we'll lose people)

Track 2 - Bring it up a notch - let them know we're just getting started

(Alannah Myles, Black Velvet ~ country-ing it up a notch but staying firmly in the mainstream, because again, we don't want to scare anyone)

Track 3 - Cool it down - now we're settling in

(Chris Stapleton ft. Dua Lipa - I Think I'm In Love With You ~ Dua keeps us firmly rooted in the crowd pleasers, and we can sneak in some Stapleton)

N.B. There is a rule here that I don't abide by, the "only one track per artist" - there's three dolly tracks in this lineup alone and i stand by all of them. Provided you're not adding an entire album or two, I think you can get away with it.

Anyway, this three-track run fires us into a classic (Islands In The Stream) which melts into Tyler Childers and suddenly we're knee deep in Kentucky and you didn't even know it.

The trick is to not overthink it, which is always easier said than done. Ordering only has to make sense to you from start to finish. This journey's gotta go somewhere - throw in a few peaks and troughs, and the songs are just connecting the dots along the way.

#4 - As Does Shuffle-ability

Now, having said all that, I feel like this is a safe space to admit I am a chronic shuffler, so a degree of shuffle-ability is required.

All this means is that your underlying theme is evident throughout. Any wildcards are going to make sense wherever they pop up.

With this one, the thread of country through all of these tracks is what ties the theme together (saving a horse). There are some classics (Faith Hill, Willie Nelson), soul-heavy tracks (Secret Sisters, Leon Bridges), and and few more pop-adjacent (Haim, Ashe) but they've all got that twang - so it's shuffle proof.

#5 - Points for Presentation

A good cover, title and description can offset a multitude of sins. Don't underestimate the power of presentation.

Duration comes into play here also, where anything shorter than half an hour feels like it has nowhere to go, but over three hours feels insurmountable. Unless you're going for a compilation, year in your life playlist, or some background low-fi stuff, keep it tight.

And there you have it folks, my (lengthy) guide to playlist curation. Final note, don't love it and leave it. If you come across something new, jostle things around to get it in. Similarly, if something doesn't fit anymore, toss it. The beauty of the modern mixtape is you can edit it as little or as often as you like.

If you made it this far, I'm personally sending you a little kiss on the forehead. And to the anon who inspired this article of a response, I can only apologise. MWAH

[onlyrains]

walk you home .2

pairing: odajima yuken x female reader

warnings: grammar error, lowercase

note: i decided to make part 2, hope you like it <3

part 1 | part 3

days have passed since the last time you met yuken. nothing have changed and nothing special too, you never heard of him again until yesterday sachio brought him up to the conversation when he and yui walked you home.

“when would you come home?” yui's voice caught your attention.

her brother shook his head. “i dont know. yuken have been acting like someone else.”

“yuken?” you asked subconsciously.

sachio turned his head to you. “do you know something, y/n?” he asked.

you shook your head. “no,” you answered softly. you didnt had enough courage to ask any further even though you were dying to know.

“but its not like you cant go home, right? mom worried about you.” yui argued. you couldnt help to fidgeting your sweated fingers.

sachio ran his palm to his sister's hair, comforting. “i need to make sure he didnt do anything stupid, yui.” he said while smiled beautifully.

you heard it clear. what kind of ‘anything’ was it?

“what do you mean anything stupid, sachio-san?” you asked doubtly.

“he fought with high school Z few days ago. he seems so resentful.”

“by himself?” you couldnt hide your expression.

“by himself.” sachio affirmed. “he was not like this.” he added. he sounded so confused.

and today, after sawamura and yui walked you home, you made your way to a mini market nearby. you thought you need something sweet to drink to distracted you from your own curiosity.

you were drowned in your mind when you tried to picked your drink. thoughts full of the person who walked you home a few days ago and then he suddenly had fought high school Z’s bastards? unbelievable.

you grabbed a strawberry flavored soda in the middle row.

“i prefer the lemon one,” you heard someone talking right behind you.

quickly, you turned your body 180 degree to faced him and you were right. you knew it was him. you knew his voice.

“odajima-san?” you gasped covering your mouth with your palm.

a huge smile appeared on his face. “hi,” he greeted with both hands on his pocket.

and that was the first time you received a greeting with a big-big smile like that. though you couldnt decide if it was a warm or a flirty smile.

“you surprised me!” you blurted.

he clapped once then spread his arms. “surprise!” he exclaimed.

“what are you doing here?” you asked still confused.

“i saw you entered this store alone. where is yui and sawamura?” he raised one eyebrow and somehow you felt intimidated.

you closed the refrigerator behind you. “i was with them but suddenly i want something to drink.” you smiled innocently, showing your straight teeth.

“okay, then,” his eyes landed on your chest where you hold your soda.

“just that?” he asked. you nodded twice.

“okay, let's go, i'll accompany you home.”

you let him pushed your back gently without a word and he followed behind you to the cashier.

you almost got there but then your eyes met someone's in the queue. your reflex made you turned very quick and crashed yuken's body.

he placed his palm on your back and rubbed it before he asked, “something's wrong?”

you looked up to him slowly. “its them—cashier,” you almost trembled, not only worried about yourself but about what yuken would do too.

“ah, them?” he pointed at the high school Z boys without hesitation. “mhm..” you hummed.

“Oi!” he shouted and caught people's attention. you turned making him stood behind you.

they walked towards you and smirked. “you have someone now, huh?” the tall one recognized you so well.

“was he not there that day?” yuken asked the other two guys. “no.” one of them answered.

“you better tell him and make sure he shuts his mouth up before i do.” yuken leaned forward and place his chin on your left shoulder. “my hands tried not to leave my pocket this time.” he continued.

you could feel his breath in your neck for a moment, sending chills on your spine.

without a single word, they left with their stuff unpaid and you breathe as much as you could possibly do. “its fine now, you dont need to be scared like that.”

“you make me scared!” you shrieked spontaneously.

“me?” he pointed himself in disbelief. “why?”

“i thought you were going to do something to them.”

“i did something.”

“i mean physically.”

he smirked. “eh, you worried now?”

you chuckled in annoyance. “you did something to them a few days ago, right? what did you do?” you asked with a stern voice.

he laughed lightly and couldnt help to ruffled your hair. “you are really cute when you try to intimidate me, you know that?”

you swore to god your heart was about to burst but your brain said no. with all your strength, you tried to keep your threatening face and stared at him. “i wasnt joking, odajima-san.”

he chuckled, still. “i gave them a little lesson.”

“what kind of lesson?”

“my favorite lesson.”

“what is it?”

“oh, you want to know more about me?”

you sighed. you couldnt deal with him.

“let's go home.” you walked ahead of him to the cashier.

he stared at your back and smiled before join you in the queue.

at least he knows that you are safe now.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hello!

So I couldn't get Break Me out of my mind and had to read it again and I have a request for a first date or a snippet of what happens after the end...? If it's possible obviously 💜

Sure!

You should technically know what you got yourself into when you agreed to 'trying it out' with Jungkook that night you both finally broke. You've seen that man naked more often than you could ever count, and god only knows all the acts that had transpired in your respective bedrooms together. In a way, you should know him, right?

Wrong. It feels like you know absolutely nothing more about him than the size of his dick and the fact that he loves grabbing your tits while you ride him. It's a little sad, really.

Because he's so much more than that, and you're only now just realizing that on the little weekend trip you joined him on.

He's currently humming to the tune of music from his phone, playfully moving his hips, such a light sense of relaxed happiness in his entire being ever since starting the trip, and it infects you like a virus, making you giggle while you watch him dance all silly to the random spotify track that's filling the hotel room. He laughs back, smiles so bright that the outside of his eyes wrinkle a little, dimples showing.

He holds out his hands. You roll your eyes.

"Come on now babe, dance with me!" He laughs. You're not sure where that almost childish happiness comes from with him. He's not even remotely drunk, only a single can of beer currently flowing in his veins from the dinner you both had earlier.

You eventually take his hands, and they're a lot larger than yours, though not threatening. They hold yours with a certain confidence you've never noticed outside any bedroom activities- and even the close proximity to him still dressed and in no way entangled in the sheets makes you feel a little uneasy. He smells nice. His body is warm. His voice sounds a lot deeper than you ever really noticed.

Suddenly you realize what that awkwardness is that's constantly interrupting your thoughts.

It's guilt.

"What're you thinking about, huh?" He asks, moving your hands to lay over his shoulder around his neck, his own holding your waist, before he instead wraps his arms around you to hold you close.

"You." You tell him, and he grins again, has to lean his head back probably so you don't notice how ridiculously shy it makes him when you say that. "I feel bad."

That makes him look at you again, eyes worried and all round.

"Why?" He wonders, clearly confused. One of your hands find his face, thumb running over the two piercings on his bottom lip.

"I guess.. I mean, I pretty much just used you-" You start, and he tilts his head before he sighs, a small growling sound accompanying it.

"Aish, I told you we're good." He says, looking at you with reassurance. arms continuing to hold you close. "Just let me try and make you happy." He chuckles, and you stare at him for a moment, before your eyes tear up, a hand of his gently pushing your head against his chest. "You worry so much."

"I do." You admit. "I don't wanna fuck this up." You tell him, and he laughs.

"Then let me handle it." He offers. "That way it'll be my fault if we screw up." He jokes.

"I don't want that." You shake your head, when he suddenly leans down and picks you up, catching you off guard as he rather clumsily lets you fall onto the hotel bed, before he crawls over your body, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you baby~" He sings fairly well towards you as he leans down to peck your lips. "As long as you're with me you'll be just fine~" He laughs towards the end of the sentence, clearly a bit embarrassed-

but the fact that he made you smile again makes it all worth it.

And maybe the song's title could be more than just that, you think, as you decide that maybe trusting him isn't such a bad idea after all. If he loves you to such a degree that he can forgive you all the hurt you caused-

then the least you can do, is let yourself love him back just as much.

[lexosaurus]

Twelve Hours: Chapter 5

Part 5 of 5 of my fic for Ecto Implosion, the DP reverse mini-bang (artists go first, writers go second)

This chapter is accompanied by art from @tytach AND IT'S SO SO COOL literally screaming crying throwing up I love GIW art so much. Do yourself a solid and check it out!

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Harriet Chin, GIW Tags: Identity Reveal, Flashbacks, Runaway Danny Fenton, Angst Chapter WC: 4453 Summary: When the GIW revealed Danny to the world, the only thing he could do was run. Run and run and run until he escaped to Chicago, trying desperately to disappear. Too bad it didn’t work.

****

“The day of your arrest, you’d been on the run,” Harriet Chin stated.

“I had,” Danny responded. Even though it’d been years, talking about the actual captivity—or as they’d put it in legal terms, arrest—still made his heart stutter.

Well, most things still made his heart rate pick up.

“They found you in Chicago,” Harriet continued. “And they arrested you at approximately two in the morning in Albany Park. Reports say you’d been in the city all day. First, I just need to ask, why? Why go to Chicago of all places?”

Danny steeled himself. He’d been expecting this. “I thought I could blend in there. I figured there were so many people in the city that everyone would look past another homeless kid. Obviously, that didn’t work. People recognized me.”

“What happened during the arrest? I think most people would have expected you to turn invisible and fly away, but that didn’t happen.”

“It’s not that easy with the Ghost Investigation Ward. Their glasses can see through invisibility, and they had me surrounded.” Danny pressed his lips together, fighting the imagery of him diving into his only chance of escape. It hadn’t worked. “It was futile, anyway.”

Harriet leaned back, a slight awe seeping into her tone as she said, “Three years, huh? That’s a long time.”

It had been. Oh god, it had been an agonizing time. And it probably would have gone on longer if not for Vlad’s incredible legal team.

Of course, that didn’t make Vlad suddenly his best friend. The asshole only really did it to try to make Maddie fall in love with him, that bastard. Well, that and the underlying terror of the government figuring out how to create a halfa, which would have been disastrous.

Thankfully, Danny managed to avoid both potential outcomes there. He’d gotten out, spent a year in and out of surgery, rehab, and PT, and then tried his best to restart his life. He got his GED, signed up for some community college courses, attained an associate degree, then transferred and finished his bachelor's. 

It hadn’t been easy or smooth. In between associate and undergraduate degrees, he’d suffered a breakdown and had to take a gap year…or two. Then, after he finished his undergraduate, the soul-crushing reality that he was Danny Phantom and also job hunting so he could move out and really start his life hit him again, and he faltered.

But somehow, he made it. He was still figuring it out, but he was here. Alive.

“I survived,” he decided, setting his jaw.

****

01:00:00

Danny had no idea where he was anymore. He’d run till he found a train stop, then he took that further into the city and switched once. He’d gotten off and walked around—invisibly—his heart pounding in his chest the whole time because even a meager amount of invisibility was enough to ping any agent nearby of his ectosignature. Thankfully, there were no GIW sirens, no white fans, no tall men in white suits ambushing him from the street corners or jumping at him from the alleyways.

Still, just to be extra safe, he got back on the train and rode it for another hour till he’d reached a residential neighborhood, peering out the window before he got off the train to check and double-check for any sign that the Guys in White were waiting for him.

But there was nothing. He was safe. At least, for now, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. But when he glanced over his shoulder again and again, he saw no one behind him.

It seemed like the three thugs hadn’t followed the instructions from those horrific billboard signs watching block, they hadn’t dialed 449 to contact the emergency ghost-sighting number, they hadn’t tattled that Danny Fenton Phantom himself was in front of their home, that they’d nearly kicked the shit out of him.

Which, ouch. He touched his cheek, hissing as it whined in return. It was likely thanks to his frayed nerves, growling stomach, and lack of sleep that allowed the bruises to blossom on his skin instead of dwindling to nothing like they typically would with his advanced healing.

By morning, they would probably be gone. So long as he survived the night first, that was.

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops,” a voice behind him growled.

Danny whipped around, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. He nearly forgot to double-check that his hood was tugged safely over his head. 

Peering out of a house window was a pudgy, balding man in a wifebeater. His raised eyebrows created rivets in his shiny scalp. He looked to Danny not with recognition, but aggravation, as if Danny were a cockroach trying to sneak into his pantry.

Some strange, queasy filling filled Danny’s stomach. He almost preferred the fear people gave him when they recognized his ghost form to whatever this was.

A raindrop hit his eye, and he cursed, reeling back to wipe his face. “Sorry,” Danny said, glancing around. He was safe from the storm under this banister, but outside it was pouring. “I’m just trying to figure out where to go.”

“You’ve been here for a half fucking hour. Either go home or find a fucking shelter.”

Danny’s silence must have spoken for him.

“Or, don’t,” the man huffed. “I don’t give a shit, just get the fuck off my fucking porch!”

Danny felt like he’d been punched in the face all over again, but he tried to let it go. He tried to not let his head hang so far down as he stepped into the cosmos of rain, which didn’t hesitate to cling onto his hoodie, seeping through the fibers until water kissed his skin.

If the rain’s gentle touch was supposed to be a comfort, it failed miserably. Instead, Danny’s throat tightened, and he failed to block out the gruff, “See? Was that so fucking hard?” from behind him as he made his way to the sidewalk.

Despite his cold core, he shivered. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he was going to be soaked to the bone, and then he would have to have to sleep like that.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he pressed into the night. He had no idea what time it was, but it was late. Most of the city had long since gone to sleep, and yet here he was, still awake, shuffling down the road while water squelched into his converse.

Hairs prickled the back of his neck. He glanced behind him, but no one was there. Not even the man in the window.

He was just being paranoid. That was all.

He walked down the road and passed a half-decrepit brick wall with the GIW logo spray painted on in green. Under it was the DP logo, which someone else embellished with red devil horns.

Don’t look, don’t look…

His bangs were sticking to his forehead now. He could just turn intangible, but if anyone saw him turn transparent, then they’d definitely report him for being a ghost, if not the Phantom.

He would just have to be wet until the air decided he could begin to dry, however long that took.

That ever-present lump in his throat grew like a tumor as he tried to ward away thoughts of his family who were probably home, maybe sleeping, maybe huddled in the living room with bleary eyes glued to the television as they waited to see any news about him.

But he’d made it this far, hadn’t he? Soon he’ll have survived the streets overnight on his own, soon he’ll become adept at blending into the city, and soon no one will give him a second glance. Especially not some busy-body white-suited government employee.

And then maybe his family could go to sleep.

The rain continued, unrelenting, but with his newfound determination, Danny refused to let it weigh him down. Even though his paranoia was telling him to panic, and nausea was at his throat, he wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t back down. 

He would survive. 

The houses blurred into each other, and every light out of the corner of his eye seemed to glow green. Every siren in the distance was the unmistakable chirp of the Guys in White vans, and every pattering on the pavement was a clicky black shoe. It was a hell loop that expanded with each step, burning into his eyes, ears, fingers, and core. But it was just his anxiety at play. It was nothing, Danny, it was nothing.

He was fine, of course. Soaked down to his intestines, but fine. And now, he stood below a street lamp facing a tan townhouse with an iron fence outlining its entrance. To its left was a larger, sleeping blue townhouse, and to its right was a short, red-bricked apartment with the anti-ecto billboard hovering over it.

Seriously, how much fucking money had the US Government wasted on advertising their stupid new GIW emergency number?

He turned around, choosing to walk across the street where another row of brick townhouses and apartments stood at his wake. 

“Fuck you too,” he hissed, failing to resist tossing a middle finger up to the sign behind him.

As predicted, the sign had little to say in return. Though, perhaps smugly, Danny just pretended it was because he’d won. He’d found an alley, a place to call home—for now. And unless the stupid Guys in White had followed him here—which they hadn’t—then they had lost him. Officially. And Danny would lay low here until the world abated, and then…who knew. He’d figure it out.

He settled onto the wet pavement, not caring that his soaked shoe was edging on a puddle. The rain probably wouldn’t let up for hours anyway. He was just glad Tucker had thought to add that emergency waterproof bag in his backpack for his phone and charger.

If he peered out of the alley, he could still see that odious sign trying its best to get under his skin. He could see the way the sign’s Phantom glared down at passersby with contorted, grisly eyes that promised nothing but agony for anyone who happened to cross his path.

“That’s not true,” Danny whispered to himself, or the sign. “You’ll see. Someday.”

He dropped his head to his knees, fatigue hitting him like a cannonball. Someday…perhaps. But not today.

It was still raining.

****

Harriet leaned forward, the soft glow of the lights against her skin now matching her tone as she asked, “And the people who protested against your release? What would you say to them if they were here?”

“I don’t have anything to say to them. Not anymore,” Danny said truthfully.

“Why is that?” she pressed.

“Because,” he started, cocking his head. Then, his eyes flickered to hers, and he wondered if maybe the outer rings of his pupils were hinting at a green glow. “I don’t have anything to say to a person who thinks that because of who I am, what I am, I should be destined to a life as a science experiment, torn apart and put back together over and over, beaten to the point of collapse and punished for not standing back up. Someone who thinks that when my hands were bound behind my back and I was forced to eat off the floor, or when I was locked for days or weeks in a dark cell, chained to the wall with no one to talk to except myself, that I deserved all this just because some of my blood cells were replaced with ectoplasm. And if that sounds blunt, I don’t care. Anyone who thinks a teenager they’d never met should live that sort of life isn’t a person I wish to try to reason with.”

****

00:00:00

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

Something was beating overhead. A large…bird? Maybe? 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t important.

Lethargy wrapped his consciousness back in its warm blanket again, shielding him from the pouring rain that had soaked through every molecule of his body, and his mind…went…

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

It was louder now. Closer. He peeked out from the mental box he’d locked himself into, cracking the lid just enough to notice that the whomp, whomp, whomp didn’t really sound like a bird. And wow, it was really close.

Was that…an issue? It was weird, wasn’t it?

He tried to separate what was normal from what wasn’t, but it was hard, and he was exhausted. Why was he so tired? And wait…why was he wet? Why wasn’t he home in his bed?

Maybe he’d just forgotten to change after patrol that night. Yeah, that had to be it.

But the—wow, that noise was pretty weird.

He craned his neck further out of the box, but his exhaustion protested. If he went much further, he’d never be able to go back to sleep. He was already beginning to notice the crick in his neck, the aching in his back, and the green tint of what was supposed to be only noir behind his eyelids…

Wait.

Green?

He mentally patted his core, but it was completely dormant.

Green…why was…

He wasn’t in his bedroom, was he?

No.

No.

No.

Green! His consciousness yelled, cleaving him from his little mental box. His core spiked, and he ripped his head from his arms to see green lights reflecting off every surface, strobing into the rainy night air.

Adrenaline impaled his pores and snapped him upright, his hands high and glowing before he even knew what to aim at.

The lights flashed more aggressively, and Danny’s heart plummeted. They had him surrounded. Whoever was here, they had him surrounded.

He could have screamed in frustration and sorrow for being so stupid as to get his hopes up that he wasn’t in the streets of Chicago, homeless because the government exposed him and was determined to hunt him down and turn him into their little plaything.

Fucking hell, fuck, it hurt so bad, so fucking bad. It was only a few moments where he believed with every fiber of his being that he was safe and home but he wasn’t and he might as well have let the GIW drive a pike through his heart.

“Freeze,” a deep voice said to his left.

He tried to look up, right, everywhere, everywhere. The helicopter lit a spotlight down on him, and he winced, shielding his sensitive eyes from the glaring supernova of bright, hot light spearing him. 

He tried to step away, but the light followed him, and he realized with horror as he turned invisible that the light was still casting a shadow where he stood. 

Fuck. 

FUCK.

“Stand down!” the voice repeated, deep and throaty.

Operative O, Danny realized, and the shadow mimicked his movements as he backed away from the two prowling figures at the alley entrance.

Lights began flicking on in the surrounding houses, further lighting up the scene around him.

His invisibility flickered in and out. It was useless, either way. All the Operatives were wearing their sunglasses, and Danny knew the only reason they’d be wearing them at two in the morning was if they did more than just block the sunlight.

He turned, and more operatives with more glowing guns stood at the other end of the alley.

Above them, a glowing dome shot out of the helicopter, plunging into the pavement where Danny knew it connected. 

Shit. He was trapped.

He dove into the building to his right, stumbling into a hallway with a woman in a bathrobe and a satin hair wrap frozen on the staircase before him. She screamed as if Danny had stabbed her, throwing her body into the wall. Her head hit a picture frame, and it fell, cracking against the wooden planks on the stairs.

“No, no!” Danny raised his arms in a plea, but they were still glowing, and the woman screamed further.

A man appeared at the top of the staircase, a gun in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, shooting Danny at once. 

Although human bullets had little effect on an intangible body, he still cried out, “Stop!” 

Bullets whizzed through his chest, shoulder, and stomach, and he flinched as holes indented the wall behind him. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Oh god, oh god!” the woman wailed. “HELP! HELP, GERALD!”

“GET OUT!” The man, presumably Gerald, bellowed, shooting Danny square in the face. “LEAVE MY WIFE ALONE!”

Danny’s vision blurred, and he stumbled as though he’d actually been shot, “Please, stop! I’m–they’re—”

“Danny Fenton Phantom, we have you surrounded. Please come outside with your hands in the air.”

The woman sank to the floor. “Don’t hurt me. Oh god, don’t hurt me.”

The man was out of bullets now, but he wasn’t finished. He tossed his gun to the side and rolled up his sleeves. Storming down the stairs with fists clenched, he hollered, “You don’t fucking touch my family, you zombie freak!”

Danny stumbled into their kitchen, and green lights flashed into their windows. He tried to put his hands down to steady himself, but his intangibility nearly sent his body careening through a stack of magazines sitting on the table. His hands were shaking—badly—and lightheadedness was encompassing all of his senses and skin with a relentlessness that would surely drive the strongest man insane.

This is it, he thought. Behind him, Gerald’s footsteps had reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Please, stop,” Danny croaked. Though, he had no idea who he was talking to. His hands flew up to his scalp, and he tried to right his head as his throat narrowed into a coffee straw. Before him, green light blinded his vision, pulsing off the beige wallpaper and setting fire to Danny’s entire life.

He felt the man’s fist sail through his head and hit the wall, and he heard the slew of curse words that followed.

“Face me like a man!” Gerald snapped.

“I can’t,” Danny whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t win.”

“Come out with your hands in the air,” the voice outside repeated.

Danny walked through the man and faced the woman crumbled on the staircase, clutching the picture frame to her heart and weeping gut-wrenching sobs that stabbed through all the layers of panic and adrenaline until he too was crouching down in the hall with Gerald still hovering over him, his intangible hands gripping intangible strands of his hair as he fought the urge to throw up bile all over their weathered wooden hallway.

“Oh god, oh god!” the woman howled.

“I can’t win,” Danny repeated. If he dove underground, the helicopter would just pull him up. If he stayed here, the GIW agents and SWAT would just capture him. But if he went outside, he would be walking straight into the lion’s den.

There was no winning. No way of escape. They knew he was Phantom—they must have been following him—and Danny didn’t have to test it to know that the shield was keyed to his ectosignature, able to affect him no matter which form he took. He could feel it more clearly than any shield-static he’d experienced as a ghost.

He’d been so fucking arrogant before to think he’d escaped them. This was the government, and he was just a kid. Just a goddamn kid from Amity Park with two weird parents and a nerdy sister and oh god, he’d never see them again, and he never got to say goodbye. 

Gerald’s footsteps disappeared in front of Danny, and he almost breathed relief before he blinked, realizing what the man was doing. 

“No!” Danny yelled, jumping up and tripping over his feet. His intangibility slipped from his skin, and he crashed into a side table, knocking an urn to the floor. It shattered, permeating the floor in gray powder, and Danny reeled, colliding into the bullet-ridden drywall. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, stricken, then turned to face them but it was too late. Gerald was yanking his wife into the foyer and reaching for the door. 

“NO!” Danny shot forward, his hand brushing the door handle simultaneously with Gerald. Danny turned them both intangible, and the woman slipped through her husband’s grip with a shriek.

“June!” Gerald cried out, reaching for an arm that was no longer there.

Danny let go, stepping back. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Gerald turned to him once more, his face setting in fierce determination. “June, get out! I’ll hold him off!”

“No, Gerald!” June scrambled upright.

“GO!” Gerald commanded.

Danny looked into June’s grief and terror-stricken eyes as she pleaded, “Please don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him, please.” And for the first time in his life, Danny felt like every bit the grotesque monster whose eyes bore down from the GIW billboards across every city in America. 

He took a step back, and nausea crept further up his throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The green light pulsed brighter, faster. The helicopter’s whomp, whomp, whomp swelled to a deafening pressure. The orchestra of dozens of boots arranging themselves in position, sirens wailing in the distance, commanding voices from the street, and the click of the megaphone that Danny could no longer understand blended together until he was sure he couldn’t discern reality from the madness of his mind anymore.

“Please don’t open the door. I’ll die.” Danny’s voice crackled. With dawning horror, he realized this was his final attempt at survival.

“Go, June,” Gerald said, ignoring him.

“I’ll die. They’ll kill me.”

June sobbed, reaching for her husband instead. 

He batted her hand away. “I said, go!”

“Please,” Danny begged, his voice weak, but it was useless. This random couple wasn’t listening to him. 

They didn’t think he was human enough to deserve a voice in the first place.

June hesitated, her amber eyes crashing into Danny’s one last time before she finally reached for the door.

Danny didn’t stop her.

She slipped out as Gerald made one last valiant attempt at charging Danny, his voice hollering a war cry that echoed down the block. 

But Danny stood still, only barely caring enough to turn his body intangible for the man to pass through him before returning to his solid form.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing behind him, and Danny vaguely registered that they must have had a backdoor entrance in their kitchen, but he didn’t move. He could have, probably. He could have stopped Gerald from unlocking the deadbolt and dragged him back into the foyer to use his body like a shield against the GIW agents.

But he could see the billboard taunting him through the open door high above the white vans, green sirens, and teams of men and women dressed in GIW white, SWAT black, and police blue. That damn billboard with those damn eyes that ridiculed him with the warbling, “Is this what you really are?” 

A second later, men poured into the foyer to slam Danny to the ground. They turned him over and cuffed his hands behind him. Another set of hands snapped an inhibitor around his neck, there was a shout, and then all touch left his body just before his world was overtaken by electricity. Hot, blazing lightning traveled through his skin, arteries, into the tendrils that connected his core from his body, severing each thread one by one. 

It was the portal all over again. Blinding, catastrophic, screaming in his mind before some part of Danny realized it was his voice, it was his screams of pain and torment ripping his lungs from his body and spilling them onto the aged floor. 

Then, it stopped, and the only thing left was the smell of burnt hair and his wavering vision.

“Clear!” a man shouted, and hands grabbed him again, this time hauling him up and dragging him across the floor.

“No,” Danny wheezed, but no one heard him. They lugged him down the front steps where dozens of guns were waiting to welcome him.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his scalp, and Danny cried out as his head was forced upright. He blinked, and once his eyes focused, he wished they hadn’t because before him was a lording, square-shouldered figure clothed in white.

“Daniel Fenon Phantom,” Operative O began. “You are in violation of Article 1, Section 1, Sub-section A of the federal Anti-Ecto Control Act and are hereby under arrest. As you are not considered human by federal law, you are not protected under the Fifth Amendment. You do not have Miranda Rights, nor do you have the right to due process. Do I make myself clear?”

Danny didn’t respond, but it didn’t seem to matter. He wasn’t human, so the GIW didn’t need something as silly as his confirmation before they began towing him to a white van that seemed to glow brighter by the second.

“Don’t worry,” Operative O continued, his voice a hiss. “After the last few years of terror you’ve put this country under, I’m going to make sure our time together is special. And you, you, you…” 

Operative O threw Danny onto the cushioned GIW van. A click of a button later, and the walls of the car and cage separating the back of the van from the front were lined in an excruciating green light. It sizzled, lapping at Danny’s skin and hair. He squirmed, and it seemed to chortle in response, whispering to not even try, there’s no escape, Danny, no escape at all.

Not that he had the energy to try. His limbs felt like lead, and his head pounded in his ears. 

Operative O’s hands were back on him, forcing him upright while another operative strapped his body and legs into the seat. 

This was it. He was going to die. Painfully, and slowly, but he was going to die. He would never see his family again. He would never hear Sam and Tucker bicker about food, he’d never laugh at Mr. Lancer trying his hand at teen slang, and he’d never feel the warm, and sometimes crushing embrace of his parents wrapping him in a hug.

He was going to die. 

“Let’s see if your nervous system is really as human-like as the reports say. And if it is? Well.” Operative O chuckled, propping an arm over the door. “Well, you’ll be in for a world of pain.”

He shut the door, the bang rattling Danny’s skull. Outside of the van, inaudible chatter of the officers filled the neighborhood, but inside, only the static whispers of the ghost shield spoke to him.

It’s over, they reminded him. You lost.

The end.

****

previous

****

Thanks for reading!

[read more of my stuff here]

[goodluckclove]

In researching for a scene I was trying to delve into particular Canadian slang and idioms. The dangerous thing about research on Google for me is not the Googling itself, but the tangentially related People Also Ask questions - because those get so wild so quickly.

Take, for example, 85 Ways to Say Thank You, a listicle from Shari's Berries that totally has a reason to exist until you think about it for more than twenty seconds. I immediately skimmed the list, which I am almost certain was written by a sad English major who imagined a better use for their degree (We've all been there, man), and I just wanted to pick out some of the gems and how they made me feel.

I just wanted to write to say thanks a bunch for the gift!

So a lot of these seem to be ideas for things to write in thank you cards, either in response to getting a gift, or perhaps when giving a loved one some chocolate covered berries from a company that someone reviewed with just the word "don't". My problem is this: I get people might not know what to put in a thank you card. Not everyone is a writer. That's why humanity has managed to last for as long as it has.

But on the other hand, I have to imagine giving a thank you card with a message that says this is a thank you card i wrote in to thank you for the thing you gave me would be most people's first thought. It's less "sweet sentiment" and more "surface-level observation". I am worried for the person that reads this and has something suddenly click for them.

The coffee mug you sent is so me. Thank you for making my mornings brighter.

A few mentioned specific gifts in their examples, which is fine. But they didn't mention how you can alter the message to mention the gift you were given. So I am a little worried someone is going to give a thank you card in response to a new car or cat or child that just says "i love this coffee mug i cannot wait to sip the fluids within it". I can see that causing problems.

I know you spent a lot of time picking out the perfect gift for me and I feel blessed to have such a thoughtful friend in my life.

This right here is presumptuous at best and passive-aggressive at worst.

There were other categories for Thankful Occasions (Or Thank-asions as I call them), like when someone does a kind deed for you. Some shining quotes to use in this case rely heavily on implying that you are so grateful that it's pushed you into some sort of psychosis.

My stomach (and I) want to thank you for that delicious meal.

I have a childhood friend that I've legitimately known since the second grade who's coming up to visit me and my wife next month. If I made him dinner and he unironically said that his stomach wants to thank me for the meal, I would never speak to him again. Case closed.

You made me feel so at home that I forgot I wasn’t! Thank you for having me.

This feels like something I would say to a friend if I visited them while in a social anxiety spiral. Just like "hey i'm so glad you invited me over. side note that whole night i had no fucking idea where i was and even now i'm not that much more confident".

Or what if you want to thank a friend, just for continuing being their friend even though you keep sending them shit, overpriced fruit that usually shows up moldy?

Thank you for helping me through that difficult time. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I have two for you.

What does this mean? Are you a robot trying to one-up someone else's kind thought? Dave offered you a shoulder to cry on? Cry on both my shoulders. Cry in my mouth. Dave is soft and weak. His bones aren't bird-hollow but they might as well be. Here's some mold it was sixty dollars.

The ones that are the most baffling to me have to be the ways to thank a boss or colleague at work.

Thank you for your email, it was really appreciated.

"Dave you send great hentai but I'd love it if you stopped sending it through our work emails and work computers."

Thank you for sharing your opinion. I value your honesty and will respond as quickly as possible.

I have worked a LOT of jobs, and there isn't a single job I've had where I would be able to receive this message and not immediately view it as a threat.

Thanks for your attention on the matter.

This is so unfathomably vague I cannot imagine it not being in reference to a crime. Or like a message someone in a cartel or mob sends alongside a batch of Chocolate Covered BOO Berries that were custom ordered to be all ghosts just so the eminent crime scene has a touch of panache.

Anyways I got totally sidetracked but the next time I need to either communicate gratitude for a prior felony or provide warning for an upcoming one, I have tons of ideas to work with. Thanks Shari.

[fromtheboundlesssea]

Never thought a show could get worse with their writing decisions till now, because literally what are they doing, so many characters are different from who they were in the first season, their motives are all over the place, I honestly don’t care what aemond did to aegon if it wasn’t for the fact it was in the midst of the war, they now literally only have one dragon on their side to fight, they should have made this a mistake like in the book instead of trying to change and go on a whole diff arc that doesn’t make any sense.

I feel like this might be my last season. It’s just getting so bad. I feel like all the things certain people wanted in game of thrones (Starkbowl, as in Dark!Sansa and Arya actually following through on her threats to Sansa, savior Targ vs villainous redhead) plays out in this show. And every episode just gets worse and worse.

The thing about GoT is that while the last couple/few seasons of the show were not great, D&D had at least built a sort of rapport with the audience so we trusted them to a degree. When they had books to adapt they did a decent job and it’s only when they had to make things up that they started messing up, but even then we initially didn’t think it was *that* bad because we got episodes like Battle of the Bastards and, until they cut their seasons shorter, they did at least attempt to give opposing sides even amounts of intrigue that let you cheer for them even if you did not really want that side to win. LOVED the Lannisters despite I knew they would be doomed.

We had YEARS with the cast. We watched the younger cast grow up and saw the older cast age.

We don’t have any of that with the GoT cast despite the cast being excellent here. We glossed over so much time in season 1 and we’re told off handedly about what happened without any indication of how this affected the characters. I honestly don’t think the writers contemplated what the characters were actively doing between timeskips. They either change drastically (Rhaenyra going from not wanting any marriage or children to suddenly popping out three bastards, or Aemond being proficient at swords) or remain so stagnant that nothing has apparently changed in the near decade we last saw the characters.

The writing, while bad last season, was at least somewhat entertaining with the cast really being able to shine through in quite a few of the scenes. This season is more sparse with its quality scenes that are then thrown away in the very next episode so they don’t really matter anymore. Season 1 characterization goes out the window. Where we left off characters is not where we pick them up. We miss very important scenes that would help us establish things.

Again, this might be my last season and it’s making me even less hopeful for the Dunk & Egg show. They really should have stayed away from characters that we have more set understandings of.

We should have gotten the Starks and the Long Night show as we know they would win, but we would know nothing about these characters or their motivations. Or that show that had Naomi Watts (I think) as a Lannister. Those could have been interesting shows where Condal could have made up crap to his heart’s delight.

It gets so annoying when shows that are based on books become inspired by instead. I understand Fire & Blood is a history book, but they could have fleshed the characters out more. We could have done dual historic perspectives like The Last Battle (not a great movie but an intriguing premise) or a dual timeline where we could see the past and the present intermingled.

It’s just… bad. This truly might be my last season for HotD to watch intently. I might watch next season, but not with any excitement. I would be surprised if we get a fourth season at the rate they’re going.

[themoonsbride]

hello my darling ❤️ yesterday i was feeling soo insecure about my body, especially my thighs, and i wanted to ask you - could you write something where y/n is feeling insecure about the same thing as me and when she's trying on her new dress from jamie she can't stop looking at her thighs and when jamie notices he tells her she's beautiful and he gently kisses her thighs (don't worry i don't wanna smut!! just pure fluff!) 🤧🫶🏻 love you sweet girl, keep writing cause you're amazing ❤️ Mia xxx

hello amazing Mia !!! I'm so sorry you weren't feeling the best the other day, insecurities are awful to handle, but you're absolutely stunning and always will be !! :) xox

You're Beautiful .

pairing; Jamie Bower x Fem!reader

summary; in the request!! Reader is feeling extremely insecure about herself (specifically her thighs) and once she tries on the dress he bought for her, he quickly catches onto her feelings and kisses her thighs . <3

warnings; feeling insecure, almost crying, thigh kissing (fluff !)

a/n; I have another request that I should be able to get out this week hopefully !! (trying to come up with ideas for my first Anthony Hope imagine. . . .)

--×♥︎×--

It was mid spring, the weather was getting warmer by each day, it was currently 78 degrees outside and you were supposed to go out with your boyfriend tonight.

He was out at the moment, and wouldn't be home until night fall.

You got up for about the 5th time that hazy noon and walked in front of the mirror, observing yourself.

You groaned groggily looking at your thighs.

God they seemed so hideous in your eyes and you couldn't stand it, all of the women on your media feeds had beautiful bodies that only made you feel envious and more insecure.

'How am I supposed to go out tonight when I look like this?' your mind seemed to like to torture you today and it was completely draining you to your core.

You placed your head in your hands and decided to crawl inside of your bed until it was time for you to get ready.

--×♥︎×--

You'd been switching between binge watching TV and scrolling through your phone when you heard the keys rattle inside of the knob to your front door and footsteps start to come closer to your bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, Jamie.

"Darling I'm ho- What are all the lights off for in here love?" He went from happy to concerned within seconds.

"Forgot to turn them on, sorry" You had been able to frame your voice to seem like you were okay when you weren't, Jamie always knew you were faking even if you were doing a pretty amazing job at acting like you were.

"I'll be here if and when you want to talk about it okay? I'm going to be getting ready now love" He smiled empathetically at you, his brows cruved in a worried expression.

You weren't always one to speak up at first but after awhile you'd be able to have it inside of you to be able to speak up and let him know what was bothering you.

After Jamie had left into the bathroom to get into nicer, fresh clothes you sighed and walked over the closet between the two of you and picked up your dress, quickly getting the fabric on your skin before waltzing over to that forsaken mirror again.

You started to examine yourself, Jamie had picked out your dress, it was black and the hem had lace on it as well as the v neck collar and tank top like sleeves, and the crimson red roses scattered about make it beautiful to look at.

But the way it had looked on you, how your thighs were so noticeable, atleast thats what you had told yourself. Your lips started to quiver and your eyes became soggy.

"oh lovely please don't feel bad about yourself." Jamie's voice suddenly broke the silence between you and your self hatred as you turned to look at him.

"You're absolutely gorgeous Y/n, you should never cry over your body." He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead, gently wiping a tear that started grazing mid-way down your cheek, that you hadn't even realized.

"I, I'm so-"

"Don't, apologize dear, please."

He grabbed your hand gently and had you sit down on the bed that had been to the left of the both of you, and then leaned down onto his knees.

"Jamie babe I'm not in the mo-"

"That's not where this is going babe, just trust me okay?" His voice was small and comforting, almost like it was wrapping you in a warm hug before you nodded slowly.

Then, he started pressing gentle soft kisses against your chilled skin that you'd currently felt deep hatred for, but within seconds Jamie was soothing you into feeling better and started to feel like your happy self once again before you both stood and headed your way out to dinner.