#but i was too proud of how these turned out not to share

[wlwsoccerfics]

Clingy Girlfriend (Grace Clinton X Russo Reader)

Summary: If is time England Camp and you finally See your girlfriend again. You two are doing Long Distance because she plays for Manchester United and you okay for FC Barcelona.

Warnings: some talks about siblings having to compete with one another, migraine, throwing up.

"Baby!" You hear Grace voice and then you nearly got knocked over because she was jumping on your back, but you managed to keep her up with your arms and steady yourself so you wouldn't fall.

"hey Love!" You said and smiled gently. "I guess asking If you missed me isn't necessary anymore after this!" You replied and giggled softly. Ella walked over with your sister.

"hey little Sis!" Alessia said and smiled at you.

"thank god you are here! Every day at practice she was talking about you y/n! It was getting annoying!" Tooney told you, playfully rolling her eyes.

"hey Less! Hey Ella! What can i say? I am amazing!" You let them know. Winking softly, obviously joking. "But on a serious Note, GracieBean? Where is my kiss?" You asked. Grace quickly got down from your back and turned you around. Kissing you softly. You kiss back and smile into the kiss.

"get a room!" Your sister yelled out, chuckling softly.

"These two in one room and the entire floor won't be able to sleep at night! They haven't seen eachother in a while! So they aren't sharing!" Leah stated, walking over. Smirking softly.

"hello Captain!" You answered teasingly. Hugging Leah, before hugging your best friend Hannah. "Hi Hampton!" You playfully said. "Hi little R." She answered, hugging you back. Smirking softly.

You shared a room with Beth while Grace shared one with Lucy. It did feel like the two were chosen to make sure the two of you didn't sneak into eachothers rooms. Both of you clearly weren't happy about this.

It didn't take long before there was a knock on the door of your room, which Beth opened and Grace walked straight past her, into your open arms.

"i needed some cuddles!" She informed you.

"you two saw eachother like 40 minutes ago!" Beth stated. "I know long distance sucks. But please remember to Focus on Camp too!" She added.

You and Grace look at her, frowning softly.

"playing for two different countries and making a relationship work is way harder then playing for two different Teams in the same country. Both hard but it's even more challenging for us." Grace explained. She sure didn't sound like a 21 year old. But more like someone in their 30s with way more life experience then she actually had. Same goes for you though. You are 22 years old.

"yeah Beth i agree. For you and Viv it's challenging, for us it's even worse." You replied and held Grace close.

"i know, i know." Beth answered with a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"we are very professional and when we are on the pitch or at practice we will be very focused!" You tell her gently. Offering her a small smile.

"okay good. i will be downstairs and play some games with some of the Girls. So you two can have some alone time, just remember we have practice in three hours." She stated and smiled at you before leaving the room. Leaving the two of you alone.

You cuddle with Grace, fingers intertwined. Kissing every now and then. Just enjoying eachothers company.

"i feel so lucky that i get to love you!" Grace told you. You smile at her.

"you are sweet Babe. But i am the lucky one! I can't believe how much love i always feel from you. You don't make me feel like i am second best or like i have to compete for favorite Russo." You explain to her. "I know it's not a competition and i am proud to be Lessis sister but it just sucks that people always seem to compare the two of us!" You admitted. She kissed your head. Holding you as close as possible.

"you two may be sisters but you both have your own personality! And you are different people! There shouldn't be people comparing you with one another!" Grace stated. "And if that helps, i like your sister but for obvious reasons you are my favorite Russo!" She added and smiled a little. You smiled back.

"i would hope so." You replied with a genuine giggle escaping your lips.

You two get ready for practice in your seperate rooms before meeting up with everyone else in the Hotel Lobby.

"the lovebirds actually managed to make it on time!" Tooney said teasingly.

"i am always on time!" You stated and chuckled softly.

"not always!" Alessia replied, teasingly.

"okay you two leave the little lovebirds alone!" Mary answered with a soft smile. You walked to the trainings pitch, holding Grace' hand while talking to Hannah.

You did some drills and partnerd up with Grace, no one was surprised about that. The two of you were working well together. It was like, you didn't even have to talk to one another ,but still managed to communicate with your eyes.

After that you did some practice games. 3vs3 and you played with Ella & Leah against Beth, Lucy & Jess. This was alot of fun and a good way to start of England Camp.

When practice was done you all went to shower and decided to meet up for Team Dinner later that day.

You got out of the shower and dried yourself off. Putting on some England shorts & an England Hoodie, before walking out of the bathroom and over to your bed. Beth went to take a shower next. You felt a migraine coming up so you took some meds, hoping you caught it just in time. But unfortunately around 10 minutes later you realized that it in fact was too late so the migraine was in full swing now.

You laid on your bed. Legs pulled up to your stomach. Eyes closed. Focusing on your breathing, wanting to breathe through the pain.

Beth walked out of the bathroom, dressed up in an outfit that was similiar to yours. She saw you lying there and knew right away what was going on. Having seen that many times when Viv had a migraine. Cause unfortunately the dutch Woman struggled with it as well.

"sweets, anything i can do?" Beth whispered out. You sniffle softly.

"can you get Grace for me, please?" You asked her.

"yes of course." She answered but closed the blinds before she left, walking to Grace' room. Lucy was the one who opened the door.

"what's up, Meado?" Lucy asked.

"is grace here? Y/n is asking for her. She is having a full on Migraine right now." The blonde answered.

"damn, poor, Russo!"Lucy stated, not having much time to say anything else because Grace was already walking past them. In a hurry to get to you. Beth quickly followed her. When the door to the room was opened you weren't in your bed anymore though. No both Grace & Beth could hear you throwing up.

"i will be hanging out with Leah, good luck!" Beth turned around and walked out quickly. She wasn't good with hearing people throwing up but always managed to pull through when it came to Viv.

Grace walked into the bathroom , kneeling down next to you. Rubbing your back and holding your hair. "I have got you babe." She whispered out.

After a few minutes you were finally done. Leaning against Grace.

"i am so angry with myself." You sobbed out. Grace was really confused, frowning softly.

"Love this isn't your fault!" She said softly. Kissing your head gently.

"feels like my body is betraying me! We see eachother only a few times a year and i now manage to ruin one of the times with a migraine. I am sorry Baby!" You sighed sadly and tried to stop yourself from having a full on emotional breakdown.

"hey stop. This isn't your fault! You didn't ask for that migraine!" She answered. Cuddling you and managing to calm you down. Helping you brush your teeth before carrying you back to bed. Holding you close. Laying down with you. You took a hold of her like a koala baby did to it's momma, but you didn't care how clingy you were right now. All you wanted was to be close to your girlfriend.

You ended up sleeping for the rest of the day, Grace staying with you the entire time. She even spend the night and Beth stayed with Lucy.

You felt much better the next day but everyone still was keeping an eye on you. Especially Grace but also your sister. It was good to know that you both were clingy. And neither one of you cared.

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[bitchinbarzal]

Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

[lilbitofsomthin]

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash in a happy ending AU I made up :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D

[castleskies]

how it was it will never be again

Two weeks after Elgar'nan is defeated, the Veilguard dismantles – or, I listened to the new SYML album.

Spoilers for Veilguard's ending, ft. Rook de Riva and romanced!Lucanis.

Someday I'll get this on A03 (if you'd like to see it there instead, let me know!)

i.

Emmerich is the first to leave. He has, after all, proper duties to attend to as a professor in the Grand Necropolis. One might argue that his job is even more in demand, with the recent conclusion of events. The party that escorts him is sizable – Rook follows him to the eluvian in the Crossroads; Manfred is personally ferried by Assan, who's taken a shine to the spirit. (Emmerich's worried, but Manfred's so pleased that he can't find it in him to discourage it.)

Rook had thought that Manfred might take the parting harder; but it's Emmerich, who tries for a "My dear Rook–" only to warble at the end that does. Rook tilts her head as she waits for the professor, normally eloquent, to continue; and when nothing else is said, she does what a Crow does best – takes action, by drawing him into a hug (for after everything he's done, a hand stretched into the Fade for her, this feels too little; not enough.)

Beside, Manfred makes a sound of an excited hiss.

Rook draws him into a hug, too.

ii.

It's Taash who leaves, next. The Lords of Fortune don't rest long – always in search of more gold and glory – and their time with the Veilguard is borrowed, after all. Taash forbids any crying or tearful farewells, which is to say everyone is made to be on their best behavior, otherwise.

Rook finds them lingering in Harding's room, the day before they're meant to leave.

"No tears," Taash warns; and Rook smiles the way she's been smiling, worn and wry with lines around her mouth that's sunk a little deeper, after all this time. "I was just going to say the room still smells like cheese, actually," which in turn causes Taash to get misty eyed instead. There's a shared sorrow that hangs between the two of them; the way that Taash is Rivaini and proud but no pride can bear an unending grief for long.

Rook says nothing else, and leaves them there.

They part at the Hall of Valor – Rook smartly sneaks out before Isabela can convince her to go in the ring for one more round.

iii.

Davrin is a man of duty – and while the Grey Wardens arguably have no further purpose, the griffons are still in need of care.

Still, it doesn't make his departure any easier. Davrin takes little with him; leaves more behind, really, a lifetime accustomed to traveling light. Arlathan promises a home, but Rook has a nagging sensation that he won't stay in one place for long – not with the promise of a detective agency opening in Miranthous with Neve, or Bellara's declaration that she'd come by and Rook has no doubt Davrin will be put to work.

Rook thinks he'd enjoy it – keeping busy, doing things with his hands; she'd miss watching him whittle wood while petting Assan in his quarters. He seems to realise it too, pressing a small wood figurine into her palm before he goes. It's easy to overlook how well Davrin sees a person and knows them. It's always been easy to be in his company.

Rook glances down; there's a chess piece of the Tower that he's carved himself. "Don't be a stranger, Rook," he says, as Rook's fingers wrap around the wood figurine. "You bet."

Assan nips her fingers playfully. No tears, Taash had said; but she might have snuck one against the griffon's feathers in a parting hug.

iv.

Neve doesn't quite declare that she's leaving. Instead, she comes for breakfast one day with her bags and a look that Rook can't miss. Lucanis' hands her a coffee for the road – probably the best one you'd get for a while, he says almost exasperatedly, and it sparks a laugh from Rook and a roll of eyes from the detective.

"He's good for you, too," she says slyly, and Rook mirrors Lucanis' exasperation as she shakes her head; never the last word, not with Neve involved, and Rook doesn't examine too deeply how well the detective sees her and the absence of laughter, since – "you stay out of trouble, now."

As Neve shimmers out of sight through the eluvian, Rook is struck with the notion that everyone she started this journey with has left –

v.

But she turns and finds herself embraced: it's Lucanis who draws her close, having come with her as he has, everytime; and walks her back to the Lighthouse.

vi.

Bellara is among the last to leave because she simply cannot pass up the opportunity to be in The Fade for just a little longer – though her relationship with it is strained from the scars of the blight, an invisible undercurrent that perpetually hums beneath her skin even after everything. But Arlathan needs her; Bellara has duties that she holds dear.

"You have to come visit," Bellara all but invokes the promise out of her, sealed with hooked pinky fingers. Bemused, Rook latches on a little longer, and tries to ignore the sting of Bellara leaving.

"Show me Arlathan," Rook says at last, as she withdraws her hand. "The future that you'll make."

vii.

Rook knows that Lucanis has been delaying his departure for her. It's not lost on her that the First Talon is in demand; and now that gods are slain (twice over!) his services have only become more coveted, for the right price. He says he can stay as long as he can put off the Crows, but if Viago's latest letter indicates anything –

Idiot, it begins with, as if he is not addressing a Hero of the Veilguard (or so the Minrathous papers write).

– it is that the Crows give no respite for rest.

"First Talon." Rooks attempt lacks Davrin's gravitas, but draws Lucanis' attention all the same. Her fingers are threaded through his hair as he lies next to her; she smiles, wry, at the attention. "Can't put the Crows off forever."

Which is to say – he'll have to leave, tomorrow. They will return to Treviso; pick up pieces of a life that's been all but put on hold – since Viago had sent her away; since the Ossuary had held him under. Things aren't the same as they were back then, but it's not a bad thing.

Things are changing; she knows he wants it to.

viii.

It's Lucanis who asks, this time, as they stand before the eluvian into the Cantori Diamond.

"I have you."

It's Rook who takes his hand, and squeezes it. "You do."

[liriocism]

summary: you go on an appointment with your therapist. on your home, you feel a small wave of the well-known melancholy creeping on you again. your husband, notices that, reassuring your concerns and listening to your thoughts.

genre: mild angst/fluff

Gojo had been waiting patiently in the waiting room for you. He sat in a chair, his arms crossed, and his leg over the other. He looked up as you exited the office room, and a soft smile appeared on his face as he saw you.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Gojo greeted you, standing up from his chair and closing the distance between you. He reached out and gently took your hand into his. "How did it go?"

"It was good, though I was a bit nervous. I feel better now." you said softly, caressing his hand, which surprised him.

Gojo was pleasantly surprised by your touch, but his expression stayed calm. He gently squeezed your hand, a small sense of appreciation within him, "I'm glad to hear that," he replied softly. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"I appreciate it... You took a day off to accompany me." you held his hand as you left the clinic. A cold, rainy breeze greeted you two.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze sincere. "Did they ask any hard questions?"

"No. I just told them our plans to conceive a baby." you chuckled softly, walking to the car. The sky was gray with heavy clouds.

"Once a week is my session with Dr. Tomazaki. Also, I appreciated you taking a morning off to accompany me." you completed, bit your bottom lip nervously.

Gojo nodded understandingly as you shared the details of your session. He opened the car door for you, letting you get in before walking around to the driver's side.

"Once a week is pretty manageable, you won't be overwhelmed." he agreed, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the car. He briefly looked at you before his attention shifted to the car gear shift, ready to start it.

"And you're alright with the plan to conceive?" he asked, his tone a bit low but still casual. True to his heart, he was nervous. After all of these years of marriage, he would treat your feelings so carefully in fear to make you upset. You both waited for each other for so long. But in his eyes, you were the most patient and loving person. He couldn't ask for anything more.

"If you're still agreeing in trying for a baby, I am as well. We've been trying for some months..." you said in a murmur, sitting on the passenger's side comfortably, fidgeting with your fingers. Then, you felt the will to caress your belly, imagining a baby there with a half shy and half awkward smile.

Gojo noticed your subtle action, the way you instinctively caressed your belly. It seemed to trigger a feeling of warmth in him. He glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He didn't answer at first, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. The idea of having a baby with you was both exciting and a bit daunting. He was too afraid to upset you. He couldn't bear to see you heartbroken. There was a hint of nervousness in his expression, and he remained silent for a few seconds before finally responding.

"I'm still agreeing," he said softly. "Yes."

With his answer, you nodded positively. You turned your face to the car's window, observing the landscape. The air inside of the car was pleasant due to the air conditioning. You were lost observing the landscape passing by like a hurry outside the window. Your attentive eyes pictured every element, the sky with heavy clouds, the giant skyscrapers in the background, mixed with normal housing and different tourist spots in the city.

Gojo noticed your distraction, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery. He took a quick look at you and couldn't help but feel a slight pang of affection seeing you so fascinated by something as simple as the view. You were always like that.

"You seem lost in thought," he said softly, breaking the brief silence that had settled between you. "Are you okay?"

"I am." you answered with a small sigh. Briefly, you shift your gaze from the window to his side profile, smiling involuntarily.

"Life is unpredictable... yet, why is it so beautiful to live? I guess it happens when you finally find a reason to be happy." You chuckle, turning your attention back to the scenery outside.

Gojo glanced at you once more, catching your words. He smiled softly, realizing the depth behind them.

"Sometimes, the simplest things in life can be the most beautiful. I would like to have your point of view to see the world." then, he paused for a moment, his gaze flickering from the road to you and then back again to the road.

"And I think it's that sense of wonder and appreciation for life's moments that makes living worthwhile... Like talking with my sweetheart about her world perception in our way home."

"You've been loving me for too long. I'm grateful for that... You waited for me when I was away." you said as a rain droplet slid down on the window, causing you to follow it with your nostalgic gaze.

Gojo listened to your words, his heart stirring with a mix of emotions. They held the weight of their years together, the time he spent waiting for you, and the time you spent waiting for him and the love that had grown over the years.

"I wasn't just waiting, sweetheart," he replied softly, his tone gentle and sincere. "I was missing you. You were always on my mind."

He continued, his gaze flickering between the road and you briefly. "And loving you has never felt like a burden or chore. It's always been natural."

"Thank you." softly, you whispered. Letting your silent tears fall together with the rain pouring outside the car.

"I love you."

Gojo's heart ached as he saw the tears falling from your eyes. He reached over and gently wiped them away, his touch filled with tenderness and love.

"And I love you, sweetheart."

He smiled softly, his gaze tender and filled with affection. "There's no need to thank me. Loving you has always been my choice, and it will always be."

The sound of rain against the car added a melancholy yet intimate ambiance to the moment, their love being strengthened by the gentle droplets outside. Not even years of separation could weaken the feelings they both have for each other. Not even the scariest thunderstorm could make them forget the promises they made a few years ago.

As Jacques Lacan said in one of his seminars, "[...] Love demands love. It does not cease to demand it. It demands it... more... still. More, still, is the proper name of that gap from which, in the Other, the demand for love starts." Lacan, Seminar 20.

author's note: i'm a bit nervous about this. i was (still am) a whirlwind of emotions a few days ago, and i thought it was a good idea to post. it is my first time sharing a story. i felt like i needed to pour years of frustration, lost love, and loneliness on this draft. english isn't my mother language, so i'm sorry for any spelling mistakes. for those reading, thank you for your support!

[dibujosdelavelikiy]

I am very satisfied and happy, proud, tremendously happy with how this drawing turned out, I really think it is an exceptional portrait of Carlos. Well, I know and maybe I am exaggerating a little, yes it may be but some compliments also come in handy.

And if I don't give myself those compliments then who will give them to me?

By the way, I am quite fed up with even those people who hold Carlos in high regard, even those girls, boys and girls in love with Carlos, they don't stop thinking that he was a weakling, a weak person and a simply cuddly person... when I think he was a frankly hottie, a hottie, a man, a thin boy but with his perhaps striking aesthetic peculiarities, today he would be a Kenzo model, for example, and I am serious, I am not saying it as a metaphor or something like that.

well, here I leave you my portrait of the baby.

Anyway, I'm not going to be drawing here Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, eh, I mean, posting too many drawings because this social network seems strange to me, no, I can't quite get the hang of it, it's like my IQ isn't high enough for this social network, I think that must be why, nothing, that, that, just that, but well, whenever I draw something related to Carlitos, my baby Carlitos, only mine, nobody else's. No lie. If I share them with you, I'll only be posting drawings on those occasions.

By the way, questions are accepted that I know you will never ask but I expect them anyway

I will continue to wait for questions of all kinds but can be questions related to Carlos

... because I am here to talk about Carlos

I know a lot about Carlos

I think I know more than you not more than those who know more... I mean

Not more than those who know more here on this social network

But I do know a lot more than many

I gossiped a lot I like gossip a lot

So none of that Sorry

I am very loose mouth

But I love you Kisses

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

More oc posting just bc I really love how these turned out! This is Arcade he’s a KoF oc of mine

[baalzebufo]

One Star, Brighter than the Rest

y'know what. im probably not gonna get around to writing more of this because im lazy but if it sits in my drafts forever nobody will see it so im posting this fic/drabble/thing. THIS IS for my demon gideon au.

Gideon, at the end of his rope, calls Bill to make a deal. But Bill has bigger plans. Much bigger plans.

---

‘I'm finally ready to make a deal.’

The walls of his solitary cell seemed to shift then, as the buzzing in his ears grew into a wild cacophony of laughter. Gideon stumbled backwards away from the chalk sigil on the wall, his vision blurring and swimming as the dream came into being. The crude drawing seemed to pulse, its single eye blinking. Then, a massive beam of light- Gideon shielded his eyes, and the moment his vision returned he was hovering there before him. Bill Cipher.

‘WELL, WELL, WELL! Look who came craaaawling back!’

---

The triangle squinted at him, throwing his hands up and watching the child flinch at his voice. Gideon felt his back pressed against the cold stone wall of his cell. He had no time to respond before Bill sprung forward.

‘Geez, you look haggard, shortstack! What's wrong, the warden giving you trouble again?’ His tone was mocking- his tone was always mocking. ‘One of your prison buddies finally got fed up and try to shank you? Oh, wait, my bad. That’s supposed to happen next week! Haha!’

Gideon swallowed hard. He couldn’t let Bill get to him. He had summoned HIM- he’s the one in control. He wasn't playing second fiddle to Bill, not now, not ever. He balled his hands up into fists and steeled his nerves, stepping forward with his nose in the air.

‘Listen to me, demon! I called you here because I- I want to make a deal!’ He glared up at Bill with an unearned confidence. ‘You messed up my plan last time, but I'm givin’ you one last shot to prove yourself to me! Y'all're gonna break me out of this joint!’

Bill's eye widened then, before he threw himself backwards into the air with laughter. Gideon seethed. His arms shook as he puffed himself up, standing on his toes. ‘Are you LISTENING to me? Do you want to make a deal or not!?’

He grit his teeth until Bill calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye.

‘Ohhh, kid! You're KILLING me here! You’re really killin’ me!’ He shook himself from side to side, tutting disappointedly. ‘I gotta say, your lack of imagination would be funny if it wasn't so sad, Gideon.’

‘My-’ All at once, rage flared up inside him. ‘WHAT?’ He roared, fully ready to throw one of his tiny fists into the ‘face’ of that smug isosceles jerk-

‘Don't you GET IT, KID?’ He hovered down to Gideons level, put one arm around his shoulders and tugged him in close. ‘You got a personal genie right here, and all you wish for is to get outta prison? Did you even READ my entry in that book you had? You’ve got NO idea what I’m capable of, and here you are, askin’ me for something you could do with one lousy prison riot.’

He patted Gideons shoulder softly. ‘Look, I get it! You’re probably just worn out from all that hard prison labor, aren’t ya? Your mushy little human brain isn’t working right! So I'll cut you some slack just this once. After all, we’re buddies, aren’t we? Haha, yeah we are.’

Gideon froze up, pushed himself out of Bills grasp. He squinted- then frowned. What was he getting at, here…?

‘What are you ramblin' about?’

Bill's laugh cut through him again. ‘You gotta think BIG, shortstack. Sure, I could help you outta this jail, or I could give you the power to do it yourself. I could make you just like ME!’ Bill threw wide his arms and little sparkles flew from his palms.

Gideon blinked, his jaw slightly agape. Bill took his stunned silence as an excuse to carry on his pitch.

‘I've been working on something special while you've been away, and I've got it all figured out! I could make you a bona-fide demon, kid! You could get my powers with all the perks. Think about it- getting into the nightmares of everyone who's ever crossed you, tormenting their every waking moment! Phenomenal cosmic power, right?'

'You're basically the perfect candidate, too. I mean, look at you-' He gestured vaguely at Gideon- for once in his life, speechless. 'You're almost crazy enough for it. I mean, hey, I saw that time you nearly gutted Pine Tree with those shears! In front of his sister, no less! That was DE-LUXE, kid. No hesitation. You've got the murderous ambition to really go far.'

'Honestly, you're probably the only person in this lousy town who could HANDLE this kind of power. So hey, just this one time, let me make YOU a deal you can't refuse! Haha!'

Bill blinked at him- ‘Wink!’ and held his hands out wide. If he had a face, Gideon could tell there would be the biggest toothy smile plastered on it. He swallowed.

Bill was dangerous. He knew this much. He knew you should never- ever- trust a demon at it's word. And yet...

‘You're insane.’ He muttered, shaking his head. ‘You can't do that, it- it just ain't possible.’

‘Gideon, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION. What's ‘possible’ is whatever I WANT to be possible!’ Bill drifted, floating upside down as he spoke. ‘I defy the laws of nature just by EXISTING, so who's to say I can't do anything I want? You're talking to a criminally insane triangle, kid! Start BELIEVING. Here, let me help you.’

Bill snapped his fingers, a teal flame shooting up from his hand and forming a portal of sorts- within it, figures started to form. Gideon saw…

He saw himself.

He saw himself laughing. He was wreathed in flame yet somehow still cast in shadow in the middle of a chalk pentagram, his five-pointed star burning bright. Gravity Falls around him lay in ruins. He stood in the burning husk of what was once the Mystery Shack. The Pines lay crumpled, crushed beneath burning timbers. The smell of ash and blood thick in the air.

And hovering before him, as if in a deep fairytale sleep, was Mabel.

Sweet, sweet Mabel.

He saw a vision of his victory. All the power he had ever wanted coursing through his veins. Everyone who had ever slighted him was dead by his hand. And his only love- she was all his, forever.

His vision reached out, took her hand so gently. He could almost feel her hand in his, her skin so… so soft. He hadn't felt it in so long. His hands shook, and he reached out.

And then, the vision erupted back into flames with the click of Bill's fingers.

Gideon stood, spellbound, holding a breath he didn't think he could let go. The teal flames still flickering in the back of his mind.

‘Yup, I knew you'd pick up what I was puttin’ down, kiddo.’ Bill flipped himself upright and straightened his little bow tie.

‘It’s about time you got everything you deserve, isn't it?’

All at once, Gideon seemed to snap out of his stupor. He blinked, shook his head. He took a step back again, swallowing down the lump in his throat. No- no… this had to be too good to be true. The devil was a tempter, he knew this much. But if there was a chance- the smallest chance- that this future could come to pass... He hardened his expression as best he could, trying to gain back his swiped upper hand.

‘But wait.. what would you get outta all of this? There's no way you'd be helpin’ me just outta the ‘goodness of your heart’… if you even have one of those.’

‘HAHA! You got me there!’ Bill swiped at him playfully. ‘But I'll have you know I have at least NINE hearts, and several other heart-adjacent organs! Wanna see?’ He wiggled his fingers before sticking one hand straight down into himself- a horrific CRACK sounded along with a spray of what looked like television static, a horrible thick black something trickling out to the floor down his arm- up to the elbow in his chest. It took all of Gideon's willpower not to scream.

‘Answer the question!’ He snapped. Bill huffed, let his hand flop out of his body- the relief when he didn't drag some sort of horrific organ out was palpable. He brushed himself down, the wound closing as easily as it had appeared.

‘Okay, sheesh! Keep your hair on.’ Bill rolled his eye, leaning forward. ‘Obviously, I wouldn’t do it for free. We can do a trade. I’ve got some stuff I need to finish up in the physical realm, see. So I’d just-’ He mimed jumping with his fingers. ‘- hop on into your body for a bit. Temporary possession.’

‘My body-!?’ Gideon clasped his hands over his heart, realizing his back was pushed against the wall again. Bill wanted to POSSESS him?

‘Yeah! Geez, you look like you’re going to pop an ulcer, kid. You wouldn’t be in it, obviously!’ He scoffed. ‘We take you out, put me in, you get all my powers an’ I get to use your chubby little hands to finish some personal business. I won’t even keep it that long. Think of it like a vacation! And when I’m done with it, you get my powers for keeps. There’s basically no downside!’

Bill floated down to the floor and folded his hands together. He shrugged. 'It's all up to you now, kid.'

Gideon got very quiet. He took in a deep breath, then hopped up to sit on the edge of the metal slab they called a ‘bed’ in here. He fiddled with the fringe of his blanket, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. Bill was surprisingly silent as he watched him struggle with this. Then, he hopped up next to him on the cot.

‘Listen to me, Gideon. You've always known you were different, right? I mean, hey. You were born a freak. I get it! I was born a freak in my world, too.' Gideon frowned, but Bill held one hand up to stop him from interrupting.

'I GET it. They only call us freaks 'cause they can't handle that we might be BETTER than them. It happened to me once- now it's happening to you too. They want you to roll over and conform, to bury your head in the sand and be ''normal''. Well, that ain't gonna happen!'

‘And it's because fate had something bigger in store for you. Why do you think you were born different? Why do you think you're so much smarter than everyone else here? Hell- why do you think YOU found that journal in the woods, and not one of the village idiots?'

'It wasn't dumb luck, Gideon. It was fate.' Bills voice grew... darker. More intense. It prickled at the fear response in Gideon's head, and yet... he found himself entranced, somewhat.

'I saw you had potential. I knew you were destined to do more than sell cars, grow old, and die. You could be so much more. So I kept my eye on you until I knew you were ready for it. Now's the time, Gideon. I see EVERYTHING.'

He looked up- Bill was hovering in front of him, now. His eye was glowing with a vision of the void. Within its depths, universes swirled. Galaxies shifted in their positions. And at its heart he could see one star, shining brighter than the rest.

‘And you can see, too. All you need to do is-

shake.

my.

hand.’

He extended his arm forwards, and it erupted in a familiar cold blue flame.

‘And I'll show you.’

…

Gideon swallowed hard. Nothing good would come of this. He was making a pact with a demon. One that had ended poorly, before- how badly would it end THIS time? What if Bill was lying? What if their plans were foiled before completion? What if, what if, what if, part of him repeated.

But the other part of him… the selfish, cold, cruel part of his heart burned brighter than ever. Ever since his amulet and his journal had been taken away and he had been thrown into this cell, he’d felt powerless. He had crawled his way up from being ostracised, weak, and alone to basking in fame and fortune. And then it had all been taken away.

No longer loved, and barely even feared. What did he have in here? A handful of schmucks who gave him their seconds in the mess hall? How long would it be then, until THEY tired of him, too? They’d cast him aside eventually. And then he would have nobody and nothing but a cold, dark cell and a life to regret.

He needed that power back. No- he needed more. He needed enough to wrestle the world back into his hands. To know that all he had to do was will it, and it would be crushed back into stardust.

His eyes were cold. He looked up.

‘It’s a deal.’

He took Bill's hand.

.

.

.

[cutetinyartist]

Highkey obsessed with Lisa Frankenstein rn 🥹🖤✨️

[peridotporygon]

peridot PmdAU version

[raddest-laddest]

gentlemen, im wildin my shit

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.

[remitiras]

I was bored at work so I made a custom logo for our openshift test cluster.

(I drew it in ms paint and then deleted the background and added a border in Photoshop)