#ellas hair disaster

[sturniolos-blog]

So here is my request for dad matt so you have two kids obviously and it's been hard trying to get 'alone time' and when they finally do the baby wakes up and it's a disaster but at the end it works out and they have their 'alone time'

P.S. love ya💙😇☠️

Alone time - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n Oneshot

warnings - smut, cute, swearing, kissing, fluff, interruptions

smut summary: p in v, (unprotected with bc), praising, fingering

—————————

1:47pm

I walk in the house from grocery shopping, holding bags of food.

My two year old looks up at me with toys in his hands, “Mama!” He yells, dropping the toys and running up to me.

I laugh, “Wait, baby, wait.” I struggle with the grocery bags, bringing them into the kitchen.

Mailo tugs on my shirt. Getting impatient as he lets out whines.

“Mailo, baby, wait!” I raise my voice.

Mailo then starts crying as he holds his arms up, wanting to be held.

I try to put some groceries away but with Mailo still tugging on my shirt and letting out whines it was impossible.

I lean down and pick up Mailo, “Can you chill out?” I whisper before Matt comes out with Estrella in his arms, she had tears running down her cheek as she sniffled.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” I asked as Mailo rested his head in the crook of my neck.

“She doesn’t feel good, she threw up.” Matt says, kissing Ella’s forehead as she had her arms wrapped around his neck.

I nod, “Okay, i can call the doctors office and make an appointment for tomorrow.” I walk up to Ella as her eyes were red and teary, i felt her forehead, she was burning.

“Aw, baby.” I mumble. Matt gives me a sad smile.

She perks her head up and puts her arms out to me, “Mommy,” She whines.

I try to put Mailo down but he starts crying and tugging on my clothes once again.

“Mailo stop!” I yell.

He cries, “Pick me up!” He grabs me.

Ella starts whining, “Mommy!”

“Okay, Mailo come on. I think you need a nap, buddy.” Matt says as i take Ella in my arms.

Mailo throws a tantrum, “No! Daddy no!” Mailo yells as Matt grabs him and picks him up.

Ella holds onto me tightly as she sniffles.

“Okay, calm down baby. I’m here..” I whisper, kissing her forehead.

—————————

2:34pm

Matt walks downstairs as im washing dishes, he comes behind me and kisses my neck, his arms around my waist. “They’re asleep..” He whispers against my ear.

I laugh, “We’ll see how long this lasts..” I say as i finish washing the dishes, drying my hands.

Matt chuckles and spins me around, pressing my back against the sink as he takes the towel from my hands, putting it on the counter as he leans down and kisses me.

I smile into the kiss and wrap my arms around his neck, he presses into me making me let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

His lips leave my lips to trail to my jaw, then down to my neck, sucking softly as i run my fingers through his hair.

Matt pulls away to look at me, smirking slightly. “We should-”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Mailo yells from upstairs.

Matt lets out a huff, his head dropping into the crook of my neck.

I kiss his head, “I know, Matt..” I sigh.

“Daddy!” Mailo yells again.

Matt picks his head up and starts to walk away, “Coming, bud!”

—————————

9:47pm

I walk out of the bathroom and let out a long tired sigh.

Matt puts his phone down and puts his arms out for me.

I comply, climbing on the bed and crawling in between his legs, laying down on his chest.

Matt kisses my head and rubs my back.

“Tired?” He mumbles against the top of my head.

“Mmm..” I hum in response, nodding against his chest.

“Let me take care of you..” Matt whispers, his hands trailing to my waist.

I smile, “Matt-”

He cuts me off, “Please?” He pleads.

I sigh and nod.

He chuckles and kisses my head, flipping us over so he’s on top.

He kisses down my neck as he rests in between my legs.

He pulls my shirt up to reveal my breasts since i wasn’t wearing a bra as i was gonna go to sleep.

My nipples were already hard from the temperature change, he smirks and kisses my left breast, sucking on my nipple slightly as i arch into his mouth.

His right hand fondles my other breast as my hands go to his hair.

His hands then move down to my pants, pulling my shorts down along with my underwear with complete ease.

He reveals my pool of arousal. He chuckle, “Aw, baby..” He mumbles.

He rises back up on top of me, kissing my lips as his fingers circle around my clit, i moan into his mouth as i buck my hips up.

He hums, sticking his tongue into my mouth, swirling around as he sticks a finger easily in me.

I pull away from the kiss to let out a moan.

“Matt..” I hiss, rolling my hips against his hand.

“Shh.. don’t wanna get interrupted again, right baby?” He hushes me, adding another finger as i bite my lip.

I shake my head, he chuckles and kisses my cheek.

He then pulls his fingers out of me, leaving me empty, i let out a whine.

“I know, n/n. I know, wait.” He says, now he was fumbling with his sweatpants, desperate as his hard on begs to be released.

He pulls down his sweatpants and reveals his erection. I squeeze my legs together at the sight, begging for some relief.

He spreads my legs apart again and gets ready in between me, him rubbing his fingers up and down my slit again and rubbing his own cock in it.

He then pushes in me slowly, his mouth dropping slightly.

He gives me a minute to adjust since we haven’t had sex in a while, but he then slowly starts thrusting in.

I let out a couple moans, trying to suppress them.

“So, so good. Fuck, y/n.. i’m already gonna cum, so pent up, all these weeks, not fucking you.” He speeds up, clapping sounds filling the room along with Matt’s groans and my whimpers.

I clench around him, “Matt, i’m cumming!” I warn, still trying to be quiet.

“Fuck, baby, me too. G-god, holy, fuck.” He groans before finishing in me, coating my walls with his cum as he continues to thrust in a couple more times before pulling out, watching his cum drop out of me.

He smiles before leaning down and kissing me, “Good job, baby.. let’s get you cleaned up.” He mumbles against my lips.

—————————

the smut was messy and rushed and this like whole fic was like bad personally and sorta short but i hope you guys enjoyed it!

taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo

[strawberryfairi]

TR Guys + Their Types | HCS

Ran, Baji, Rindou, Hanma 💖 pt 1

⚜️Content: Black Girl Edition🤎 What I could see the guys' types being

RAN

~ I feel like he loves a fashionable girl, specifically that like rich girl style (loves to wear heels, dresses, sun hats, etc). ~ Loves a confident, self-assured woman (I could see him loving a woman that gives off Jessica Rabbit vibes, both style and attitude).

~Definitely loves the hard to get type (not PLAYING hard to get but she just literally is hard to get).

~She'll love luxurious things (vacations, restaurants, etc) and will never say no when he offers her one of those types of experiences. ~She'd also be very kind, maybe even mellow personality wise. Like she's very poised, calm, and well-spoken for sure.

~He'd love a talented woman too! I feel like he'd be shook at a vocalist! That speakeasy, jazz standard vocalist type vibe. A smooth, sultry voice (I imagine her singing Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered by Ella Fitzgerald and Ran's just watching like omg...I'm sat🧎🏻).

~Likes a girl that really likes to nap, and do homey activities! Spending quality time together being inside the house is a must or him! For example: Going out to dinner together somewhere beautiful and expensive then come home and just chill and cuddle together with a movie on until y'all fall asleep!

~I could see him absolutely LOVING and OBSESSING over a big afro! Like imagine this look: A gorgeous yellow sundress, white heels, and that gorgeous afro she created out of a braid out, picked out to perfection and framing her face elegantly. Again...he's sat🧎🏻

BAJI

~I could kind of see two different types of girls for Baji so Imma split this one:

TYPE 1:

~ PATIENT...as a mf! Like, she is not out here getting pissed about every little thing. It takes her a lot of pushing before she'd ever get as mad as Baji does about certain things.

~ She's soft spoken (not necessarily like a meek voice but just calm) yet confident, and has no problem correcting or telling anyone off, she's just not going about it like Baji.

~Very compassionate and values family (this goes for type 2 as well). Baji cares DEEPLY for his mom so naturally I feel like he'd gravitate towards a family girl.

~Definitely loves animals for sure. Like just any animal she's cool with, and they're cool with her. (Them adventurous type girls that'll ride elephants and like...idk touch a shark lol. That ain't me chile)

~I could lowkey see that like chill sense of style for her too. Like not nothing fancy with Ran but more everyday/cute casual wear.

~I think Baji would like (in either type) a locs goddess type of girl. Like something about a girl with locs for my boy Keisuke....he's sat 🧎🏻.

TYPE 2:

~ ZERO PATIENCE....like none. If she's set off all hell is breakin' lose chile. It's every natural disaster happening at the same time if someone makes them BOTH mad (just run...).

~Values family for sure.

~Loud, animated personality! The type of girl where you hear her before you see her coming.

~Does not like animals like that, but is willing to let him show her and maybe warm her up to different kinds of animals.

~I think he'd like the streetwear kinda style. The kind where she can dress it up or down depending on the day or outing, like maybe she'll add in some heels to jazz up the fit, you feel me?

RINDOU

~Like Ran, I think he'd love a talented woman! Art, music, etc, he'd really like that kind of thing!

~I could see Rin liking a cutesy girl for him! Like pink, skirts, just the stereotypical girly things.

~I think he'd love natural hair so much! Like he'd love to just sit and learn how she does it. She'd be the type to do her hair herself.

~He'd like a girl he can share memes and music playlists with!

~Will love a girl that likes to go out, and be taken out to dinners, clubs, etc. Just texts/calls her outta nowhere like "Get dressed nice babe, I'm taking you out"

~Likes a girl with a warm, velvety, low voice. That deep tone that comes across naturally sensual for no reason.

~I think he'd also like the kind of girl that acts a bit bratty just so he can put her in her place (if you know what I'm sayin' sksksksk)

~Since he's all flexible and whatnot, on his elastigirl type beat, he'd definitely like a girl that would be open to learning about stretches and workouts and things! Would for sure like a lil workout buddy.

~He'd like a girl that's good at communicating and being perceptive of other people.

HANMA

~I feel like Shuji likes a girl that acts like she doesn't like his corny jokes, slight chaos, and flirting but really does

~He'll like a funny girl for sure! Not necessarily cracking jokes 24/7, but she has a sense of humor!

~I think he'd like a girl that' loves adventures too. Hanma likes spontaneity so he'd probably gravitate towards a girl that loves doing random things out of the blue!

~Likes an "angelic" kind of girl. Super sweet, kind of innocent, super kind, and just not violent and crazy like him. Definitely can see him with a girl that'll reign that craziness on in (Like, "We can have fun but we ain't bouta be on all dat...")

~I feel like he'd like though, a bad biddie type of girl too. Like she intimidates guys that see her because she looks so beautiful. Comes across scary gorgeous but she's really not like that at all if they get the chance to know her.

~When it comes to her hair, I could see her being a versatile baddie. She'll be natural, wear wigs, get braids/locs, you just never know! She gon' eat whatever style she feels like at any given time!

~I feel like this will also play into her style too. Like she's the kinda girl that will be giving classy baddy one time, casual one day and streetwear another but she absolutely slays each and every aesthetic like it's her main one!

[swingingthehatchetnow]

A few personal CC HCs (and a few thoughts) now that more people have seen it

- HC that Ella and Tadius explore being romantic with each other. Their dynamic works pretty well, but they decide it isn’t for them (I hc Ella as demiromantic heterosexual and Tadius as a disaster bi)

-HC that Ella weaves Starlight into her hair so it’s always with her so the magic is always working

-HC that Rancilda finds a nice bridge and resides there. Some people actually enjoy her riddles

-Justine and Lucy’s comment about their “bastard brother who hunts trolls” was very specific. I wonder if that’s lore to be expanded on in a different Castle story

-I’m so sorry Jeff but I think it’s time to retire your higher register

-I can’t wait until the YT version comes out when they mix the audio with the soundtrack so it’s cleaner. The vocals live were amazing. The harmonies in Facade didn’t come through as well in the digital ticket for example

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

1 2 3

ao3

“This is…not what I signed up for, Eddie,” Steve says, carding his fingers through his hair and repeating the motion to set it back into place.

“This is actually insane,” Eddie agrees, voice fluctuating in volume slightly, and Steve can see his silhouette pacing back and forth behind the tinted window of the booth.

Steve wishes there were a seat closer to him, but the only decent one in the room is the couch by the booth window. He’s sure there’s a second seat in Eddie’s booth, the one that Robin typically sits on; maybe he’ll ask for it later. “Was Joyce serious when she said it’d take her four hours to get help?” he asks, and he watches Eddie nod. Eddie’s got really long hair for a guy—curly, too—and it bounces in sync with his head. Steve groans. “This guy’s gonna kill half the town in four hours!”

Eddie’s pacing abruptly stops, and he grabs the mic. Steve’s headphones squeak with the feedback. “Steve, that is not helpful,” he says.

Shit, yeah. Especially not when Eddie’s doing most of the phone stuff. All Steve has to do is answer the calls and…maybe save somebody’s life. “I know, I know, I just—ugh,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Who is this Whistling Man dude anyway?”

He watches Eddie’s silhouette plop back down in his chair. Must be nice. “He was this serial killer back in the sixties. Henry Creel. Went around in a freaky mask whistling that one song—Ella Fitzgerald, Dream-something—”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me, yeah, I know the one,” Steve says. That must’ve been the song they’d heard before.

“Well, he killed about a dozen people in Hawkins. Mostly teenagers. He had no reason for it—no motive, he just…did,” Eddie explains.

Jesus, that’s dark. “So…what happened to him?” Steve asks. The most he knows is that the guy died at some point. In a town like Hawkins, a serial killer seems so…out of place. On the outside, the town seems like a run-of-the-mill, middle-of-nowhere, normal place. Steve would’ve never guessed it had such a horrifying history.

Eddie’s sigh is crackly over the speakers. “Well…cops chased him over to the abandoned lab, up to Ellis Point. We call it Whistling Point now. And it was—shit, it was on the—it happened on this night, actually,” he says. So…maybe a copycat? “The cops cornered him, and he jumped into the river. His body was never found.”

“Wait, if his body was never found, is he—is he alive? Dead? What’s the story?” Steve asks.

“Story is, he’s biding his time. Waiting to take revenge on the town,” Eddie says in a low, theatrical voice, and Steve rolls his eyes, fighting a smile.

“Okay, okay, that’s the story,” he says. “What’s the truth?”

Because old Henry Creel is probably, like, sixty, seventy years old by now—unless he’d been, like, a teenager killing teenagers—which means that even if he were still alive, revenge-seeking would probably be out of the question. “Other than we have a whistling killer on our hands tonight?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods. “Shit, Steve, I got no idea.”

Steve shifts, uneasy. “Well, I guess we’ll have to end up finding out what we’re dealing with, whether we like it or not,” he mutters. “But—y’know, chin up, man, we’ll do our best.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “I guess so.”

“At least we got the word out,” Steve says, though that raises another question. “”What kind of listening figures do we get around this time?”

Eddie gives him a snort-laugh. It’s a nice sound, compared to the literal mortal-peril shouts of Joyce from earlier. “On a Thursday? After midnight? Could be…around thirty-five?” he says, and, huh, that’s not bad.

“Thirty-five, as in thirty-five hundred? I didn’t realize Hawkins had that many people,” Steve says, pleasantly surprised.

“No, thirty-five people,” Eddie clarifies. “At best.”

Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.

“Are you serious? We only have thirty-five listeners?” Steve asks, trying to hold back his laughter. It’s absurd, really, just how far he’s fallen. But it’s his own fault, truly. That disaster back in Chicago…God, it’s a wonder he still has any semblance of a career.

“Yep. Thirty-five. It’s a school night,” Eddie tells him, like that makes it any better.

Steve bites back a smile and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And, uh…what’s the population of Hawkins?” he asks.

Eddie makes an uncertain sort of sound. “I dunno exactly. I’m not secretly an encyclopedia, Steve, but it’s…a little over a thousand, I wanna say,” he says. Steve hums. “How many did you get before your fall from grace, my liege?”

“Oh, you mean before my career exploded and I ended up on a midnight hour talk show in a town of a thousand people?” Steve shoots back, easily playful even though it’s still painful to talk about, a little bit.

Snickering, Eddie toys with something behind the tinted window. ��Yeah. Before that.”

That’s a hell of a question. Steve blows out a long breath. “Around five for most shows on the low end, I think. Big guests could pump that up to ten, fifteen, easy,” he recalls. It’s not necessarily that Steve had lived for the attention—although that hadn’t hurt—but it had been nice, honestly, to know that people really enjoyed what he has to say, that people would listen to his ideas and opinions and take them as something with worth.

Eddie lets out a bewildered laugh. “Holy shit, Steve, five thousand on the low end?! We could only dream of that!”

Ah.

“Five million,” Steve corrects.

An unholy noise passes through his headphones, and Steve almost chucks them right off his head, but it stops just as soon as it had started. “Mill-i-on?!” Eddie squawks, pronouncing each syllable like a separate word.

It makes Steve feel a little sheepish. “Yeah, y’know, that’s—sometimes, that’s just the way that it goes,” he murmurs. “At least The Whistling Man hasn’t killed me yet…I guess.”

“I never did ask you—oh, shit, hang on, switch the songs,” Eddie tells him, and Steve watches the ‘on air’ sign flicker back to life as the music fades out.

“Alright, folks, that was Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive,” Steve says smoothly, switching out the records. “This next song is Asia’s Heat Of The Moment.”

The sign flickers off. “Nice work,” Eddie commends.

Steve mimes tipping an imaginary hat in Eddie’s direction. He clears his throat. “Uh, you were saying something about—were you gonna ask me something?”

“Yeah, um—I was just gonna say, I never did ask about how that whole thing went down. The Chicago thing,” Eddie says. Steve feels his gut churn with nerves. He doesn’t like talking about this. It’s one thing to know that the person he’s talking to knows about the biggest screw-up of his career, that they had heard the broadcast, but it’s another to explain it himself. “So…are you gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s not as if Eddie’s an asshole. Sure, he can be kind of a dick, and he certainly knows how to take a bit to the worse end of ‘too far,’ but he’s not, like, awful. Steve sighs. “Okay, so…I was interviewing this politician, right?” he starts, and he sees Eddie’s silhouette nod. “And, uh, he was a contributor at the station. Big-wig type deal, y’know? So, I—the PR people working for the people I interview usually give me a list of stuff that’s off the table, a list of topics that they require I bring up, stuff like that, and—anyway, I’m supposed to ask this guy about the platform he’s running on, his policies, whatever.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, you disagreed with your guest? That’s it?”

Steve takes a deep breath. It’s not like he has issues keeping his temper in check, most of the time; he’d used to, when he’d been in high school, but a career in entertainment has really hammered the value of patience into him. “We’re talking about this guy’s campaign. And he starts going on about how his platform is around family values,” he tells Eddie, running a hand through his hair nervously. “So, now he’s talking shit about the ‘dangers of homosexuality,’ and my blood’s starting to boil.”

“He sounds like a douche,” Eddie says, so quiet that Steve almost misses it.

He nods. “Yeah, he is. I try and steer the conversation away, because I’m a professional, and that’s just what you do when there’s some stupid shit happening on your show, but he won’t stop. He won’t shut up about it,” Steve grits out. It still gets him worked up, thinking about what had happened that day. “Next thing I know, I’m coming out on live radio to fifteen million listeners and yelling at some jackass for ruining my show.”

The silence that stretches after he says it makes Steve tense. For the most part, no one in Hawkins has given him shit for what had happened—not directly, anyway. Steve’s still amazed he’d managed to get hired. He thought he’d be blacklisted. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be, but Owens had given him a job here, and that’s more than anyone in Steve’s position could’ve reasonably hoped for.

It’s why he and Robin had become such quick, close friends. The relief that comes with knowing someone else on his show is queer is indescribable. Chicago—his whole career—had been fantastic, he’d done so well, but it had been really isolating. He couldn’t risk his career, which meant he couldn’t go out and meet people, make meaningful connections, without chancing that they’d go to the tabloids if they were to ever break things off with him.

But, hey, at least he’s got nothing to lose now.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes at last, but the song’s coming to an end.

The sign flickers on, and Steve swaps out the records again. “Our next song comes to us from our intern’s friend—this one’s for you. Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill,” he announces, the sign turning off once the music starts up. Steve clears his throat, an all-too-familiar sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “So…do you totally hate me?”

There’s a half-aborted mix of a squawk and a shriek, and he watches Eddie’s silhouette nearly topple out of his chair. “What?! No! No! Jesus—I wouldn’t—I’m—that’s awful, Steve, I’m…I am so sorry,” Eddie says. “Shit. Shit, it’s so not funny to make fun of your career falling apart, then, oh, Jesus H. Christ.”

Steve lets out a nervous little laugh. “I mean—why did you even make fun of me in the first place?” he asks, because he is kind of curious.

Eddie’s silhouette flaps around in an indecipherable series of gestures. “I thought you were, like, just another radio douchebag! But you’re not! You’re actually a really good dude, and now I feel really bad for making fun of you,” he groans, and Steve smiles at him.

“Well, in your defense, it’s not like I was eager to make the reason why I was fired known,” Steve says. “It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t know why it happened. It was kinda nice, in a weird way…? To get treated like just some guy.”

“Be still, my beating heart! Handsome, charming, and a down-to-earth, good guy? I never stood a chance,” Eddie mock-swoons, and Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, Hawkins is kind of a tiny town, but it’s not, like, awful. I wanna get out of here as much as the next guy, don’t get me wrong, but don’t beat yourself up for ending up here.”

A small smile worming its way onto his face, Steve nods. “Yeah, it’s not half bad. Gotten a couple dirty looks, but you get that anywhere, being queer,” he says, and Eddie inhales sharply. And that…sucks. “I, uh—sorry, I know some people aren’t really cool with just bringing it up casually—”

“No, no, I’m not—I just—I get that,” Eddie tells him gently. “The, um—the dirty looks. I know what that’s like, that’s all.”

Something warm lodges itself into Steve’s chest. “Oh,” he says, “um, cool. Is that because of…?”

“I mean, kind of. I’m—a lot of people assume things, whether or not they have even a grain of truth to them. But they mostly give me dirty looks because they think I’m a satanist,” Eddie snickers. “I mean, I’m not, but—with the way I look, the conclusions people jump to are…definitely understandable.”

Steve tilts his head. “I’ve still never seen what you look like, y’know,” he says, and Eddie’s silhouette tenses a little in the window. “I mean—I’m sure you look—”

“Oh, shit, we’ve got another call coming in,” Eddie tells him, just as Running Up That Hill is beginning to fade into its outro, and Steve clears his throat. “Take it when you’re ready.”

Steve adjusts the volume slider to fade the song out before stopping it completely, watching the ‘on air’ sign flicker back to life as he presses the first phone line button to accept the call. “Hello, caller, you’re live on 189.16—The Scream,” he says smoothly. Then, recalling that this could very well be a 911 call, he winces. “Is everything, uh…alright?”

Heavy breathing is the only thing that he’s met with.

Steve’s brows furrow. “Okay…? Who is this? Are you—hello? Hello?” he tries, because maybe it’s someone that’s been hurt. He hopes it isn’t. Not because he wouldn’t have to deal with the situation, but because he isn’t really sure how efficient Hawkins General’s ambulances are.

There’s just more heavy breathing from the other end.

“Okay, what’s your name, and why are you calling in?” Steve tries, because he can’t help if he doesn’t have any information.

Some whistling comes through the speakers of his headphones, but it’s shaky. The tune isn’t right. “You know my name,” the caller says with a clearly put-on, gravelly voice. “I’ve come back from the dead to kill again! No one is safe!”

Oh, great, some bored dickhead has decided to make light of a murder. “Do you accept requests?” Steve asks, one hip cocked as he crosses his arms. “I’ve got a list of names I’d love to see in the obituaries.”

The caller makes a couple of half-choked noises in confusion. “Uh…maybe,” they say uncertainly. “You must—um—you must make a sacrifice to us—oh, shit—I mean, me! Dude—dude, what do you want? We want cheese dusted pretzels. I mean—! I want cheese dusted pretzels! Or I’ll…cut your face off!”

Eddie groans. “Goddamn kids! I’m cutting them off,” he huffs. He does, and the dial tone is actually a pretty welcome sound this time around. “Sorry, Stevie, I know you’re not big on pranks.”

A small smile makes its way onto Steve’s face in spite of his annoyance. “Needless to say, I won’t be going out to buy anything for these kids, and none of you should be going out tonight, either,” he says. He swaps out the records again. “We’ve got an actual killer out there. Anyway, this next one’s dedicated to all of you staying inside with your doors and windows locked. This is Never Let Me Down Again —Depeche Mode.”

The ‘on air’ sign flickers off. “Hey, Robin just paged. She’s calling in, but she doesn’t want it on air. You good?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods. “Hey, Rob. You’re on with both of us.”

“Guys!” Robin near-shouts, and Steve winces. “Oh my God, okay—Chrissy isn’t home yet. Her jogs never last this long. And I was listening to the show in the car—holy shit, by the way—and now I’m starting to get paranoid, because there’s a killer on the loose, and I just keep thinking about all the different things that could’ve happened, and she took her cell phone, but the thing is huge and clunky, so what if she dropped it while she was getting chased or something? She drives her car all the way out by—”

“Robin, hey, calm down,” Steve says, as soothing as he can make himself sound. “I’m sure she’s okay. Her jogging route goes off Coal Mill, right? That’s so far from the station, and we don’t even know if that whistling asshole is still conscious. Joyce got him pretty good with her taser.”

Robin takes a deep breath. Steve kind of hates that he knows Hawkins’ layout enough to reassure her like this, but how can he really hate it when he hears her quietly laughing in relief on the other end of the line. “Right. You’re right. I’m being—ugh. Sorry, you know how anxious I get sometimes,” she sighs, and Steve hums. “She’s probably just fine. Thanks, Steve. I’ll keep the radio on just in case something does happen, but I won’t go anywhere, don’t worry.”

“You’ll page me if—you’ll page when Chrissy gets home, right?” Eddie asks, and, shit, Steve can’t believe he’d forgotten how close Eddie and Chrissy are.

“Yeah, ’course I will, Eddie,” Robin says, and her voice is soft. “You guys just…keep your heads up, okay? I believe in you. Talk to you soon.”

The dial tone sounds again, and Steve sighs. “Hey, Eddie?” he asks, and Eddie hums. “What the hell was that? Not—not the thing with Robin, the whole…kids pretending to be a killer, who, right now, is stalking the town…thing.”

Eddie groans. “It’s…a thing.”

“A thing?” Steve repeats, incredulous.

“Kids around here, they pull pranks pretending to be The Whistling Man. They think it’s funny! But it’s not. It’s not funny at all,” Eddie mutters darkly.

Steve stews in his own nerves. “So there’s no chance that our Whistling Man was just a prank, right? That Joyce…”

He can hear Eddie swallow. “No, that…that was real,” he says, and Steve swears under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He watches Eddie’s silhouette sit up a little straighter behind the tinted glass. “Let’s stay positive! We still have a show to do.”

“I’m gonna need a seat that isn’t halfway across the universe if I’m gonna get through the rest of this,” Steve tells him, gesturing over at the couch. “You got a spare in the booth?”

There’s a long pause.

Steve calls Eddie’s name after a solid thirty seconds of silence. “Yes, I—yeah, I do. Give me a second to put it outside the door,” Eddie says.

“I’ll just come grab it from you,” Steve tells him, “no big deal.”

“No, no, it’s okay, really, I—I’ll just put it out there. Just wait.”

He watches Eddie’s silhouette move towards the corner of the booth, and Steve makes his way over to the door. They’ve got, like, a little over a minute left until the song’s done and they’re left with dead air, so he might as well save them some time. The hall’s wide and warm, and Steve waits outside the door to the sound engineer’s booth, hands in his pockets. The door swings open, and he’s face-to-face with Eddie Munson for the first time since he’d arrived in Hawkins.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with surprise, big and brown under the curly bangs of his hair, the rest of the curls cascading down just past his shoulders. He’s pale, with a light line of freckles right under his eyes, going across his nose, and his plush, pink lips are parted in a perfect ‘o.’ He stands up straight—he’s about Steve’s height, maybe a little shorter—and brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, ringed fingers catching slightly on the dark curl. Steve follows the line of his arm, scans over the tattoos there, and he registers the giant letters of some heavy metal band sprawled across Eddie’s shirt, right over his chest. His eyes drag back up to Eddie’s face, a pretty pink color slowly spreading over his cheeks as Steve looks at him.

He’s kind of gorgeous.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

[noaashmoore]

𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞.

when fighting your demons alone, you know you're FUCKED or fated. destiny couldn't be sicker.

aesthetic : having a heart full of fire offering warmth to those close and scorching remarks to those in the wrong, running away from all your problems, staying up all night to see the sunrise just to make sure it still comes up, oversized sweaters with ripped leggings, mirrored shades to poorly hide the rbf, the grim days beginning to overshadow the good ones, denial doesn't suit you nearly as well as optimism did, the warmth of the sun on your skin, holding your cat a little tighter after another nightmare, a heart too big to only wear on your shoulder, paint-splattered clothes. you had always been convinced in happy endings, but now it feels like the end, and there’s no happy ending in sight.

compare to : sophie sheridan ( mamma mia! ), sybil crawley ( downton abbey ), alice cullen ( twilight ), rapunzel ( tangled ), sabrina spellman ( the chilling adventures of sabrina ), kinsey locke ( locke & key ), guinevere beck ( you ), waverly earp ( wynonna earp ), annie january ( the boys ), robin buckley ( stranger things ), alina starkov ( shadow & bone ), ty lee ( avatar: the last airbender ), angela montenegro ( bones )

( ANTONIA GENTRY, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) NOA ASHMOORE the TWENTY-FIVE year old is said to remind people of RUNNING AWAY FROM ALL YOUR PROBLEMS & STAYING UP ALL NIGHT TO SEE THE SUNRISE JUST TO MAKE SURE IT STILL COMES UP. they are known to be CHARISMATIC and BRASH which makes sense when you think about how they are a ELEMENTARY SCHOOL ART TEACHER who lives in WOODLAND VILLAGE.

✧ pinterest ✧

*:･ﾟ ⸻ 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name : noa jane ashmoore nicknames : noa age : 25 birthday / zodiac : may 15 / taurus gender / pronouns : cis woman, she/her sexual orientation : demisexual romantic orientation : panromantic occupation : elementary school art teacher / aspiring artist

*:･ﾟ ⸻ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

personality traits : charismatic, obstinate, compassionate, brash, curious, impatient, loyal, anxious, hardworking, independent likes : her job, bonfires, summer, baked treats, romance novels, beach days dislikes : cold showers, being late, oranges, surprises, horror movies, late shifts secret talents : outrageously good baker, calligraphy goals & ambitions : make enough to live on just through being an artist memorable traits : a kindness that seems to radiate from her pores, sometimes snorts if she's laughing too hard character alignment : neutral good labels : the artisan, the cataclysmic, the icarian vices : cowardice, stubbornness, impatience virtues : loyalty, creativity, authenticity

*:･ﾟ ⸻ 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

eye color : dark brown hair colour : brown, slightly highlighted hair type/style : naturally curly, but worn straight semi-frequently height : 5'1 build : slender/athletic exercise habits : regularly goes running & to the gym dominant hand : left glasses/contacts : has glasses for reading tattoos : various small tattoos scars : small burn on left hand from cooking disaster, small scars on knees from falling off her scooter & refusing to wear kneepads piercings : ears pierced multiple times faceclaim : antonia gentry

*:･ﾟ ⸻ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

parents : jacob ashmoore ( father. deceased ), ella ashmoore ( mother ) siblings : n/a spouse/partner : bennett wilson ( husband, deceased ) children : n/a pets : a grumpy old cat named whiskey, a pair of ferrets named cherrie & chewie extended family : john ashmoore ( uncle, deceased ), william ashmoore ( grandfather ), charlotte ashmoore ( grandmother )

*:･ﾟ ⸻ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

trigger warnings : mentions of parental/spousal death

noa was born to a seemingly happy family. the typical white picket fence life that seems straight out of a hallmark movie minus all the drama in-between. instead, her life was filled with guilt trips and constant warnings of what could happen if she strayed from the path they had set before her. after all, that's what happened to her namesake, her uncle john noah ashmoore, murdered before she was even born. her parents married a year after john was killed, claiming that life was too short to wait to finish college or anything else they wanted to accomplish. and noa was born a couple years later.

growing up with fairly normal for noa. her dad was overprotective for sure but it was clear he loved her more than anything. of course, it's always those people who you lose. and for noa, she lost her father during her freshman year of high school to an unexpected illness.

after high school, she fled the place she'd lived her entire life as quickly as possible. she had gotten a full ride scholarship across the country and took the chance to become the artist she'd always dreamed of. and while she was there, she met the person she thought was her soulmate, bennett. they married a week after graduating and moved to new york city where he had a cushy job as a lawyer waiting for him at his father's firm, and noa could work on her art without having to worry about a finding a job to support herself. it seemed like a dream come true.

her mother had gotten into an accident six months ago and while driving to go visit her, noa & bennett were in a car accident of their own. one he didn't make it out of. after his death, she moved back to town to help her mother out in the hopes that she could forget everything she's lost. she got a job at the local elementary school and has tried to move forward with her life.

noa was lucky; that's what everyone says. a few scars to add to the collection, but nothing as bad as it could have been. she can't help but to wonder why she lived when her husband didn't. he was the kind soul who wanted to help the less fortunate; she was just an artist who couldn't seem to make it big. and if it was just a sick twist of fate that she lived when he didn't, then what comes next?

[whichuniverseisthis]

Part two of giving Pokémon to the td cast, this time with Pahkitew Island. I was already picking at straws for some of them. The first part with the reboot cast is here.

Amy: Volbeat - I thought about the two Pokémon people probably confuse the most. You know, beside Silcoon and Cascoon.

Beardo: Tympole - I tried to think about all the sound based Pokémon, and I believe this one is the closest thing to what Beardo does.

Dave: Minccino - This was probably the easiest of them all. A clean freak and a Normal type is just Dave coded.

Ella: Swablu - A singing, little bird with cotton as its wings. Mega Altaria later is even a Fairy type.

Jasmine: Roserade - She wants to open some kind of flower store if I remember correctly, and Roserade is a pretty cool and strong flower Pokémon, it seemed very fitting for her.

Leonard: Dunsparce - People want to believe it's secretly OP, but the truth is it's just a dumb think.

Max: Pancham - A bully who wants to be the bad guy, but can only reach their full evil potential if a more evil creature is with them (Scarlett and other Dark types).

Rodney: Bewear - The biggest, softest bear in existence.

Sammy: Illumise - Look at Amy above.

Scarlett: Malamar - The XY anime probably traumatized me enough for this one. Well, they do have the same hair, I think.

Shawn: Absol - Look, I know Absol is too cool for Shawn, but hear me out: Absol is believed to bring disaster, and Shawn is a doomsayer who thinks the apocalypse is upon us. It's perfect.

Sky: Mienshao - I really had no idea what to give her. Mienshao seemed like the most fitting Fighting type to represent her agility.

Sugar: Oinkologne - I originally wanted to give her a Miltank, but then I found out about this thing (reminder that I haven't played SV) and I couldn't not give a fucking pig to her.

Topher: Sudowoodo - Trying to imitate specific things and failing.

[the-slapshot-series]

Welcome to the Slapshot Series!

Enter below ⬇️

To get you started here is how this series works. Each story is interconnected through the casts, knowing each other in some way, shape or form. Each book can be read as a stand alone, but after book 1, there will be spoilers through each book that will point to a chapter or event that had happened in a previous book. This won't affect the outcome of you reading the story you picked, but reading in order will help you understand some things within the story. (but the path you choose is totally up to you! Don't feel obligated to read about a player you don't like.) Below is the books in order of how I would read them based on the events that happen within each story. Main blog Masterlist

*** Loosely based around the song "God Made Airplanes" by Jason Aldean. Set in 2021***

Tyler Seguin thought he found the woman of his dreams. A perfect girl, a perfect engagement and the soon to be perfect wedding, he had everything down to a T. Or so he thought. Just a few short weeks before what was supposed to be the most perfect day of his life, turned into him booking a one way flight to Pittsburgh to spend the summer with his Best Friend and forget about his cheating ex fiancee. Wanting to shut out the world, his parents and most of his friends for the time being, Tyler find refuge with the only person who really seems to know the real him, Arabella Kerfoot, who plays for the Pittsburgh Penguins. While spending his summer hiding away, his best friend not so sneakily plays match maker with her childhood best friend, Quinn Canton. Sparks soon begin to fly, and a whirlwind summer romance takes hold of these two burnt out hearts. But when hockey starts back up, and old partners come back to burn them to ashes, can they withstand the distance between them, or will it be to much for them to handle?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Arabella Kerfoot is the younger sister of Alex Kerfoot and she one of the only female hockey player in the league. Ella as she likes to go by is the wild child of the family and also of the Pittsburgh Penguins. With a reputation of the "Wild Cinderella" Ella is the media's #1 target. Her best friend is Tyler Seguin, who had a bad reputation in Boston before going to Texas, so he understands her better then her own family and is trying to help work through her rebellious reputation. After a wild and not so pretty night out on the town Ella is quickly not the favorite anymore in Pitt and is soon traded to Toronto who is looking for a power forward with the speed and risky skill set she brings to the table. The catch: they need to fix her tarnished reputation before the Toronto media tears her apart. The solution: have her fake a relationship with Morgan Rielly to show she is determined to settle down and leave her wild Cinderella life behind, and make a fairytale lifestyle in Toronto instead. Only Ella wasn't planning on falling for the red haired man who offered the solution to her problems. With the media and her brother breathing down her neck to fix her past, her best friend telling her that a fake relationship will only hurt her and the man she never new she needed in front of her, she is about to ether live out a Hockey-Ella fairytale or an ultimate disaster.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[lovecanbesostrange]

*nasal voice* as an artist: movie ask 3! also 5 and 11 (bc I, too, love me some "problematic" tropes sometimes)

3. Post a screenshot and ramble on about why this one frame visually appeals to you (colors, blocking, expression, set decoration whatever).

omg this question is so hard. It could be random, like pick the last movie, take a screen, write. But I ended up clicking through dozens of films, watching a lot of fav moments. From Firth & Moore on the carpet in A Single Man, to Ken Watanabe standing in front of Godzilla in G:KotM, then the whole ending to Midsommar, had a quick cry about seeing the hanging shoes in Jojo Rabbit, looked at the way Amy returns in Gone Girl, that shot through the bars in Hustlers, or all the gorgeous bizarre shots that make up Annihilation, also I went through the whole of Fox' X-Men franchise, because I have so many moments I cherish (it is the best superhero franchise as a whole, even though the parts alone are mostly just mediocre, the sum of it is amazing)... then I was downstairs for a snack and a tv spot reminded me that Cruella exists, so I cave with this one:

You hear the name Cruella and what do you think about? Dalmatians and a black&white theme. With the fur she wants and the hair she has. And then this movie gives us a theme party. And it is very, very important that everything is strictly black and white only. It's a whole thing. Except Cruella has a plan and she's gonna be a distraction. She is disruption. She will make everybody look. With the color red. And I am here for it!

This moment was in all the trailers, you know it's coming. Yet while watching I'm always excited nearing this fabulous entrance. And it's not the effect of how she gets rid of her white coat with the flame, it's the absolute contrast to everything around her. Perfectly framed in... a door frame. An entrance for the ages. Introducing herself. Introducing the alter ego. The different persona. I am so here for that.

The whole film is about style. The visuals are gorgeous, the music filling the rest of the mood. This is what movies are for! Colored pictures in motion with sound - to invoke feelings. And here you know something big is happening. There is a stage set. It's all planned. In-story for the characters and for the viewers watching the screen.

There is nothing new or super groundbreaking. It's all about using well known tools in an effective way. And it tells us something about the character. Ella is used to being in the background, while dreaming about fashion she tries hard to not stand out (that would interfere with her little criminal endeavours and get unwanted attention for sure). But this is the birth of Cruella on the scene. Bold. Loud. Drawing all eyes on her. (And also startling people, because being a bit scary is fine.)

*chef's kiss* Sometimes a little bit of flair is all I need. Not even attached to any emotional outburst. Can we just applaud films for using the full spectrum of the medium for its own sake every once in a while, just to entertain?!

5. A character who deserves their own spin-off.

The very obvious, tumblr-friendly answer: Riley Johnson (Aubrey Plaza) from Happiest Season. Show me her life, show me she's good at her work and give me some fun disaster dates she goes on, trying to find somebody a bit more longterm. Witty, forgiving, a bit guarded and then opening up in a non tragic way. Hmm, sadly that's it. I don't even have fancasts for a row dates or anything. Just give me romcom fun with a dash of that specific Plaza-charme. (Not against reuniting her with Rachel Keller from Legion.)

11. A trope or setting you know is mishandled a lot and carries a huge problematic/toxic burden, yet you do enjoy it?

I am highly aware how terrible representation and portrayal of anything mental health/illness related films (and tv) overall are. Especially how most people are not knife wielding dangers to the general public. I am very much about treating people with dignity and respect, not judging but helping. I have seen/experienced things, I know reality.

However horror (next to sci-fi) is my fav genre. And you give me a movie that starts with "in a mental asylum", I'm in. Be it A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 with teens thrown in a hospital (despite telling the truth and not self-harming) or Grave Encounters with supernatural shenanigans in a former bad place. I love M. Night Shyamalan's Split, because James McAvoy plays all those personalities so well. Nobody ever should think about that film when talking about actual disassociative identity disorder!

We need to have that conversation about demonizing mental illness. But yes, here I sit being audience for horror films using it as a gimmick (always glad when it leans into supernatural territory).

I am also absolutely the audience for films like Girl, Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Both dvds are on the shelf. Great films. But sometimes I just want John Carpenter's The Ward or plain old Psycho. A film like The Babadook working with metaphors for deep dark soul dives isn't exactly an easy watch, so I'll take some "criminally insane" slashers as well.

[glamgoblin]

Get to know me ask game

RULES: bold the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it.

Tagged by the adorable @ella-norah ty for the tag!!!!

Appearance

blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

Hobbies and Talents

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

Relationships

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // ✨I have a crush✨// I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together// I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

Aesthetics

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching// I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean// I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

Miscellaneous

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

Tagging @loveable-sea-lemon @wintercrushes @disaster-j but zero pressure as always!!

[therealwomangay]

Ella’s long blonde hair stuck to her back as the relentless downpour of the thunderstorm tried to batter her into the mud, her bluebell eyes searching for a way off of this godforsaken estate. She could hear her step sisters, Drizella and Anastasia, running after her. Suddenly, Ella slammed into an iron fence. It was the property line. If she could scale the fence then she would be free.

As Drizella’s cackling got closer, Ella got higher. Her right hand, pruney from the constant rain reached up, both of her feet planted on the bars, her left hand was slipping against the rain. Three of her limbs planted, one was moving, Ella told herself. She looked up, squinting against the rain. She was nearly there and then disaster… her hand slipped on the soaked iron fence, sending her tumbling down, right into Anastasia’s open arms.

Ella woke up in a cold room, something was tickling her cheek. Several squeaks and chirps that sounded strangely celebratory came from the sil of the heavily barred window. She smiled. It was a miserable smile but a smile nonetheless, as Jaq skittered onto her outstretched hand. For a second she could imagine her father was still alive, her stepmother was kind and thoughtful, her stepsisters didn’t float around like wraiths waiting for their next meal. When everything was light and friendly. Maybe it still would’ve been if she didn’t listen to that loathsome hallucination.

Ella couldn't let herself cry. No matter how horrid her life was she could never let tears fall down her hollow cheeks. Gus let out a small concerned squeak as she sniffled, she let out a sad sort of chuckle. At Least she would always have her friends. The wind howled as she stepped out of her room and started her chores. On her way to the barn Ella walked past her sisters’ dressing room.

Ella’s stepsisters were, by all beauty standards, average at best. Their skin was pockmarked, their cheeks always looked like they had a few too many drinks, their lips looked no more alive than the spider that had gotten caught in the wet paint a few years ago, their eyes did not sparkle and the twin’s teeth were a dull yellow at best. In fact they were so far removed from the ideal beauty of their time that Ella was surprised that Lady Iris Tremaine bothered with the various powders and formulas that she had servants smear on her two daughters’ faces everyday. That woman had invested her hope and money, that was lawfully Ella’s, in the wrong project. *

Ella could hear her sisters preening when she walked past to muck out Major’s stable. She silently scoffed as she tied her hair up with a scrap of blue ribbon she had found on the ground. It was ridiculous, she thought. Animals had always made more sense to Ella anyway. They didn’t bother with these mad practices. Her bloodhound Bruno joined her, trotting by her ankles. As she neared the stables she froze, that infernal shadow was there. It was gesturing away from the stable. As if it didn't want Ella to go to the barn, she shook her head and continued on her way. When she got to the stables her stepmother was there… and she had something in her hand.

Kit Charming woke up to something slamming against her body. When she looked around she noticed her wife thrashing around next to her. She touched her hand to Ella’s shoulder. Ella jolted up, gasping for air. She looked around trying to centre herself. When she turned to Kit, Ella was shaking and her stunning bluebell eyes were wide with fear. Kit smiled, hoping to calm her down. Slowly, Ella stopped shaking and collapsed against her. As Kit stroked her wife's honey-blonde hair she thanked the stars that she had found Ella’s slipper after that ball.

[to-pick-ourselves-up-7]

The Marks of Running Ink pt.90

The Walking Dead [Soulmate AU]

Pairing: Negan x Tory Miller (ofc)

Summary: Peace had a way to be boring and exciting at once, for Tory Miller, it was lonely until it was not. Her life was about taking it slow, one day at a time.  

Warnings: SLOW BURN, angst, swearing, death, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, child endangerment, general trauma, drama, mentions of infidelity and polygamy, general lack or morals, mentions of nudity, graphic sexual scenes (nsfw), mentions of blood, apocalyptic world. As always, I don’t want to give the story away in the tags, read at your own risk.

Author’s note: This is the epilogue forThe Marks of Running Ink. It contains a major character death, a sixteen-year time-skip and it's sad. And when I say SAD, I really do mean business. If you prefer the happy ending, stay back in chapter 89. Heed my warning. If you prefer the gritty stuff, do go on and read under your own risk.

•••   •••   ••• •••   •••   •••

She Chose to Love

Alexandria, VA.

Ella sighed softly and deposited the flowers over the grave, she liked coming here on her own.

Tommy was always a weeping mess and her Dad was too sad to even go around to the grave, but Ella could forgive that. They missed her. She missed her too but...she'd had her for a lot longer than they did.

“They miss you, Mama, but I promise they love you,” she told to no one in particular. The graveyard was empty, except for her and her voice speaking to her mom.

With another sigh, she stood straight and read the inscription on the headstone. 

Victoria J.M. Smith

She chose to love every day

Her mother had been so many things.

Of all things it could have been, it was what her Dad had picked. Her mom had been part of the Council of Communities, she was one of the surviving members of Alexandria, she’d become a doctor without real training, she was a mother and a wife and a friend. 

Yet, the words stared back at Ella with stark clarity. 

She chose to love every day .

She wanted to ask her Dad what they meant, but she feared he’d go into an early –or late grave – himself.

Ella walked back home to find Tommy working on the front garden. Her little brother had inherited their father’s green thumb, so Ella could focus on her carpentry work.       

“Hey, Tommy, all good?” she asked, checking on him before going to the garage-slash-workshop. Her little brother turned his head to her with a little smile. Fuck, he looked so much like their mom. 

“All good, Ells,” he said. “Just de-weeding some of the basil plants, you know how Pa’ gets about it.”

She chuckled. “Give him a break, he is old.”

“I heard that, young lady!”

They both turned to see their dad. He was getting out of the workshop and Ella wondered what disaster she’d find in her wake. Their father walked firmly and with energy, if a bit lopsided at times, he was still their old man, but his hair had turned almost completely white since their mother had died. 

“You know I have permission to call you old, you’re my dad,” she said, echoing old words and making Tommy chuckle behind a cough. 

Her father kissed her forehead and went inside grumbling and saying there would be spaghetti for dinner. 

Once she couldn’t hear him anymore, Ella turned to Tommy. “How is he really?”

“He didn’t cry this morning, but he’s acting a bit weird,” her little brother said, his frown was just like Grandpa Roy’s. “You’ve come to keep an eye on him?”

“Yeah, it’s her birthday today.”

•••   •••   •••

By all means, it was a life well lived. 

Tory held onto Negan’s hand as the diagnosis she already suspected was given to them.

It was so fucking cruel.

She could see Negan crumple inside because they knew what would come would be terrible. 

“I don’t have enough tools to tell you exactly how much longer, Victoria, but…”

“It’s bad, I get it. Thank you, Henry, really.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She’d pulled Negan away from the little office and to the horses that would take them to Alexandria. He was numb, but she could understand. It felt like a joke, a sick joke from destiny. 

Tory knew there were many things they hadn’t done just yet. Many things that they would need to do yet. So many things they should have done. 

They rode to Alexandria in silence.

They arrived late enough for Ella to be gone and Tommy to be already in bed. They showered the grime from the road and went to bed in silence. 

Negan’s arms surrounded her and held her closely. 

Her voice was stuck under a knot in her throat, but the darkness was the only thing that would keep them from shattering completely. Tomorrow, they would have to be strong, they would be parents and figures of authority and all the reassurances would have to be for their children. 

Ella was twenty-four, but Tommy was only sixteen.

“Can you believe my father will outlive me? The old bastard.” Of all things, it was the first that came to mind. Negan kissed the back of her neck, warming her body and making her forget the ever-present ache that –she now knew – would never go away.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he whispered, finally bringing up the topic she was dreading.   

“You choose to live, every day, you choose to be better for them, every single day, until it’s over for you too,” she whispered back. Tory knew she didn’t need to say their children’s names. 

“It should be me, fuck,” he choked out. 

“But it’s not, Negan. We have to accept it,” her voice trembled in the end and she didn’t sound so sure anymore. 

“I can’t put you down,” he said, his voice breaking as he sobbed against her back. It shattered her heart, splintering it into oblivion. 

“We’ll tell Henry. He’ll help us and I’ll be with you and the kiddos, Negan.”

“Why is it always you?” he asked, demanding an answer she didn’t have. “Lucille, Elle, you… It’s not fucking fair.” She turned into his arms, inhaling deeply his fresh scent. Pine and mint and fresh water, with a bit of the orange soap they had at home.

“No, it’s not fair,” she confessed, tears rolling to the tip of her nose and the side of her head. “But it’s what we have, the shit hand we’ve been dealt with. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’ll never be your fault.”

•••   •••   •••

Tommy had been a surprise. They were happy with Ella, despite the time Negan had been put away in a cell. Tory had never expected to have another child, they were definitely not looking to get pregnant. It just happened. 

Ella had been over the moon at the idea of being a big sister and Negan was happy with another child, whatever came their way. 

When the baby boy had been put in her arms, Tory fell in love. 

They had toyed with names for months, but her baby boy demanded a good name. 

“Thomas Nathan Jones-Smith,” she’d told Negan, who’d rolled his eyes at her insistence on hyphenating their names, but not contradicting her. 

“Tommy for short,” was all he said. 

Tommy had come to complete their family and fulfil their lives with his smiles and antics. He was a calm baby in a way Ella hadn’t been. But the bond Tory shared with Ella was akin to the one Tommy shared with Negan. She would never begrudge her son or husband for that relationship.

They had sixteen blissful years.

•••   •••   •••

Tory did not regret a single day.

She wrote letters to them. For all of them. 

Even for Carl, who was now the leader of the Hilltop and had a family of his own. Tory wrote to him about how grateful she was for the bond that had become a friendship and how she admired him for doing what was needed. 

She wrote to Ella about being a mother and how she had changed her life for the better, how she had filled her days with love and smiles. How she had taught her to forgive. 

She wrote to Tommy about all the things she still wanted to teach him, how much she’d loved him from the moment she knew he would come into the world. 

To Negan, Tory couldn’t write a letter.

She told him every day, every morning. Something that hadn’t changed in sixteen years was unlikely to change now. 

“I’m choosing to love you today as well,” she’d say every morning as they woke up. And she continued to say it until she couldn’t leave their bed anymore. “But it’s time.”

Negan held her hand until it cooled between his, as tears rolled, silent and inevitable down his face. 

•••   •••   •••

She was as peaceful as Elle had been. She looked so young, despite the few grey hairs he could see.

It was all rather silent and anticlimactic. 

Negan always imagined Tory would go out of their world with a bang, yet, she left with a smile, her pretty eyes closed. Her last words seared on his skin forever. An indelible ink-like mark that would never let him forget. 

Today, he was reading those words again. 

I’ll never stop choosing you .

He couldn’t explain how every choice Tory had made for more than half her life had been a choice made out of love. It hadn’t always been for love of him, fuck no , he couldn’t claim such an honor. But Tory had loved her mother and chosen her over her father, she had loved her step-dad and her first lovers so much, she’d chosen them above her own safety. She’d loved Maggie enough to save her and that child of hers. She’d loved him enough to keep secrets that others would have aired for sympathy. 

Ella had asked him why he’d picked the words of her mother’s gravestone to be that. He had never fought with his daughter, but he fought for those words nail and tooth. 

And how fiercely she’d loved Ella and Tommy? He couldn’t even describe it. 

She’d chosen to die in a way that would not torment him too.

He wanted to make that choice too, but he knew it wasn’t his time yet.

But when the time came, he hoped his good choices would outweigh the bad ones, because the road was still long ahead of him.

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.68--Episodes 7-8

I have watched through S7E8; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Just when I thought I couldn’t love Hook any more, he stayed in a tower alone to raise his daughter that he didn’t expect to have. He’s just the best!

—Regina’s cold-shoulder plaid shirt has got me reeling. And that wavy hair? She is absolutely heaven on earth.

—I think Alice needs one of those shirts with the Sappho quote on it about being unable to weave bc ✨pretty girl✨ She just kinda ran headlong into disaster lesbian territory.

—Hook’s poisoned heart (I guess I missed the fine print on that when they explained it a little while ago, because I was a bit confused) keeping him and Alice apart is incredibly sad. I’m having trouble remembering when his heart was supposed to have been cursed, but obviously it wasn’t for a while, because he had to be able to raise Alice.

—That thing where the lockets started glowing for Ella and Henry was awesome. Although…I still don’t like Ella very much? I think she’s the closest this show has come to girlboss *derogatory* territory, and I hate that kind of character. No thanks.

—That being said, she has shown a little bit of emotion in episode 8, so I choose to think she’ll get better. I would say she just needs to have her walls come down, but Emma didn’t girlboss all over the place when she first showed up, and she had like sixty-foot-high cement walls with barbed wire and bear traps, so that’s not an excuse.

—Gothel still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. And while she doesn’t really need to, and all I need her for story-wise is being a generic magic user, I’ve come to expect more from this show, so I’m guessing she’ll probably get some backstory later. At least something to explain why Regina’s wigging about her being free.

—I also don’t get why a plant is supposed to bring Anastasia back.

—I’d like to know what Rumple’s up to. If he’s going to be an ass to Regina *still affectionate* *not loving him has become an impossibility* then I’d like to have some confidence that he has a good reason.

—Because holy cow, my love for Regina has existed for several seasons, but today it hit me like a six-ton truck. I might have her name carved on my heart only below Rumple’s, when it comes to OUAT. She’s a great mix of incredibly storytelling, a redemption arc to die for (you just know I’m a sucker for one of those), amazing fashion sense, enchanting personality, and gorgeous looks. Wow.

—It was fun to see Hook in full pirate mode again. That red vest is the best.

—When Gothel was pretending to be Rapunzel, that dress was sooooo pretty.

—Hook setting up a weekly chess game with Alice is my new favorite. He has no clue, and he’s still reaching out to her.

—Squeeeeee White Knight!!😍

—Actually, the Wonderland references in episode 8 were excellent. The Walrus restaurant with the oysters? Well, first of all, it proved to me that oysters are beyond disgusting and that trying to swallow one would probably make me sick, but that was a delightful reference. Bonus points for being something that isn’t as obvious as the Cheshire Cat or the Queen of Hearts.

—Also, I cannot believe I finally got to see a tea party in Wonderland! Kind of a depressing, sad little tea party, but I’ll take what I can get.

—Alice’s Wonderland clothes were gorgeous. That red skirt is to die for.

—How old is she supposed to be? The timelines in this season are messing with my brain, and given how old this Hook was when we first met him I’m guessing she’s a young adult, but I can’t figure it out with logic and it bothers me. Based on her appearance, I’d say she’s in her early twenties, but I’ve never been that good at puzzling out people’s ages based on their looks.

—Regina and Henry having a roadtrip to San Fransisco is fun. Although I’m terrified that the person who hates her in San Fransisco is Zelena, because I know Zelena appears later in the season (nothing more, though) and after everything they’ve been through it would destroy me to see them not getting along again.

—But then again, there are probably still a lot of people who hate Regina, so maybe it’s not her. Besides, as far as I know Zelena wasn’t around to get cursed.

—It bothers me how much of this season takes place in a bar. They’re tryna get the Granny’s vibe back, but could they not have found any better eatery than a bar? The amount of drinking most of the characters have done in this season is bonkers compared to the other six seasons. Maybe Regina should’ve had a bakery or something.

—I am ashamed of myself for not getting the Star Wars reference. Smh.

—It amuses me that the song Henry was listening to in episode 8 was called “Bizarre Love Triangle” because I am getting some kinda vibes between him, Ella, and what’s-his-face collectively.

—I love the bracelet Rumple’s been wearing lately. It’s hard to see because he’s usually wearing a jacket, but it’s cute and I would love to get a clearer shot of it.

[xkiriaxx]

Not so true... // Ashlynn Ella

Squeal of Briar x fem reader

Prompt: this takes place after the true hearts day party where Hunter and Ashlynn broke up (male reader will be refer as Satoru/yes going to use JJK Satoru Gojo), son of the strongest sorcerer although weaker than Luna (female reader), as Ashlynn was in danger, he jumped in to save the day or that's what they all think but in reality it's Briar girlfriend, Luna (fem reader/y/n)

True Hearts Day party, where the atmosphere is vibrant and filled with joy. Ashlynn stands near the enchanting decorations, her gaze soft as she watches the students dance and mingle. Amidst the cheerful ambiance, there's an undercurrent of tension due to her recent breakup with Hunter.

Ashlynn adjusted the floral arrangement on the table, trying to distract herself from the lingering ache in her heart. She caught glimpses of Hunter across the room, his eyes occasionally meeting hers before darting away. It was a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

Meanwhile, Satoru, the enigmatic and powerful sorcerer, leaned casually against a nearby wall, his blue eyes scanning the room behind his sunglasses. His sharp senses picked up on the unease in Ashlynn's demeanor, despite her attempt to hide it behind a soft smile.

Satoru observed Ashlynn discreetly, noticing her glances towards Hunter and the slight quiver in her voice when she greeted her friends. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Satoru had a connection with Luna, the mysterious silver-haired heiress, who was hiding in plain sight at the party.

As the festivities continued, a sudden commotion disrupted the celebration. A magical mishap caused the towering ice sculptures to teeter precariously, threatening to collapse and potentially harm the students.

Reacting swiftly, Ashlynn sprang into action, using her innate ability to communicate with animals to summon the forest creatures. However, before she could avert the disaster, Satoru swiftly intercepted, weaving intricate spells that stabilized the sculptures, shielding the students from harm.

Gasps of relief echoed through the room as the crisis was averted, everyone unaware that it wasn't Ashlynn but Luna who orchestrated the rescue behind the scenes.

Ashlynn, her heart racing from the adrenaline, turned to Satoru with a mix of gratitude and surprise. "Thank you! That was amazing!"

Satoru merely offered a casual smirk behind his sunglasses. "Just doing my part."

Throughout the rest of the evening, Satoru and Ashlynn found themselves drawn to each other, sharing lighthearted conversations and laughter. As the night wore on, they found solace in each other's company, a welcome distraction from their respective heartaches.

Luna, observing from the sidelines, couldn't help but smirk at the unfolding events. She exchanged a knowing look with Briar, her girlfriend, who grinned mischievously, realizing that fate might have something unexpected in store for Ashlynn and Satoru.

The party continued with renewed energy, and amidst the dancing and laughter, a subtle shift occurred, weaving the threads of destiny in ways unforeseen by the attendees.

As the night drew to a close, Ashlynn and Satoru found themselves lingering, reluctant to part ways. There was an unspoken connection between them, a spark of something new and unexpected that had blossomed amidst the chaos of True Hearts Day.

Little did they know, this chance encounter was only the beginning of an unforeseen journey that would intertwine their lives in ways they never imagined possible.

The night ends with Ashlynn and Satoru exchanging shy smiles, a hint of newfound hope glimmering in their eyes, while Luna and Briar share a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the brewing romance that fate seemed to have in store for their friends.

[tragcdyfallen]

This woman captivated every ounce of his awakening soul. Thoughts and dreams, they all began to intermingle and he couldn't find it within himself to decipher. He couldn't leave now though if she truly requested his departure then he would accept it, grumbling along the way. He didn't want to walk away now. Withstanding the emotions swirling like a vortex that only they were caught in, he stepped closer. The ambient sounds of outsiders fades into the oblivion of inconsequential.

His fingers twitched at the sound of her voice, soft and too fragile. Another urge soars through his being, the urge to soothe her. That wasn't in his nature, at least he wasn't sure of that anymore. Her presence raised something within him that he couldn't formulate. He knew with certainty that his soul reached for hers, he just didn't know why. His brows furrow in confusion, trying to comprehend every word she told him. Complicated? " I don't think it is. Not really. "

Brushing away a stray strand of her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. Ella burst into his life and he wasn't scared of the disaster she might leave in her wake. He would pick up every broken piece if that was what made her happy. " That is something I will not do, Ella. I'm already quite comfortable here by your side. Leaving you to whatever is troubling you is not an option for me. " he finally spoke, " What are you so afraid of? " and how can I vanquish it?

Nothing had changed. A few moments alone with him and she became the person she truly felt she was. Not what anyone else expected or asked of her, just... Ella. He'd been the only one who had ever been able to do that, and she knew too well why it was. It was him, it was always going to be him. Why had fate done this to them? Why was it doing any of this?

"I don't" she replied softly. It had been where she had gone wrong, that promise to her father that she wouldn't leave. Instead letting herself be beaten down into someone she didn't recognise all to hold onto a promise. Wasn't that the irony of it, it took him seeing her for who she was that made her strong enough to leave, and now he didn't see her, not anymore.

In her heart she knew she should pull away, yet she didn't. "Chris... you don't understand how complicated it is" and what was she meant to do? Tell him he was from a fairytale? He needed to be free. "It already hurts, more then you know. But that is mine to handle, I won't let it hurt you as well" now she likely wasn't making any sense, but this was the kind thing to do. She could handle her broken heart, she wouldn't hurt his.

[llama--plumbobsims]

[patrice-bergerons]

Ahhh these prompts look so fun! If you are still taking prompts, maybe 6 (head pat) or 18 (squishing the other’s check)? Any pairing is fine, and no pressure or course.

Sorry this took me ages! I offer 00q and kid fic shenanigans alongside my apologies-

“Do that again and I’ll kill you.”

Good God.  

Bond’s voice drifts through the hallway and makes Q break into a near run, except it is shortly followed by a chorus of giggles.

Giggles of pure delight.  

Then again, perhaps Q should not be surprised.  Perhaps the only one who can understand the chaos demon children is a chaos demon himself.

He looks up to the metaphorical heavens for strength and approaches the room with trepidation, afraid of what horrors await him inside. 

What he finds is this:

Bond is sitting on the edge of the sofa, flanked by Q’s three nieces on all sides.  Lessi, lounging to his right, has Bond’s hand hostage and is busy—dear Lord—painting his nails hot pink—directly on the sofa cushion itself to boot.  Ella, standing behind him, has made a plastic tiara meant for a head half as small fit on Bond and is now piling his hair with small hair clips, with her twin, standing to Bond’s left, in charge of the supply chain and coordinating the artistic vision.  

The revelation that Q’s eldest sister’s husband has been cheating on her has forced an emergency family meeting.  Bond was lounging at Q’s house when the call came, and hearing that neither sister could secure childcare, and for a completely inexplicable reason, volunteered himself for the task. 

That’s that then, Q thinks, taking in the tableaux in front of him with a twinge in his chest—no doubt for any alternative careers Bond may have envisioned in nannying post-retirement but also for-  Well, Bond was at his place only out of boredom and despair to begin with.

“Girls,” he says, crossing his arms at his chest and dusting off a tone of voice he tends to reserve for misbehaving 00s, “we said no dress up.”

They notice him then, all four of them; Bond’s eyes are as piercing and blue as ever when he looks up.  But if he meant to say something, the little criminals cut him to the quick.

“We are only helping him,” Lessi offers, a bit miffed to have to state something so obvious.

“He likes it!” Ella agrees, putting another clip on Bond’s hair.

Millie squeezes his cheek, nearly giving Q a heart attack.  “And he is simply adorable.”

You silly child, Q thinks sharply.  You don’t say or do that to a 00 and expect to live.  

Not that Bond would ever harm them, Q knows that, Christ.  But.  He has a temper and this is too much to expect anyone who is not family to put up with.

“Alright-” Q says, striding to the sofa to snatch Millie away, when Bond turns first to her and then to him.  

“Isn’t Q- Colin the adorable one?”

Q stops mid-step.  

Perhaps it is hearing Bond say his given name and perhaps it is the cadence of his voice or the smile dancing on his lips.  Once when Q was sick-  He was running a terrible fever and Bond was there then, in his flat, somehow, his hand cool and dry against Q’s clammy forehead.  Q was babbling.  I swear if you don’t leave 007, I will make sure all your pens explode, explode ink all over your expensive suits, yeah, every one of them and then you will have nothing at all to wear…  And instead of leaving, Bond had given him a smile.  This smile.  The way Q thinks he might be over the comms sometimes, on the odd mission where they have all the time in the world and no one can see.  

Adorable—not many people call Q that and live to tell the tale either.

The girls agree, if their assessment is a bit harsh.  Following a chorus of “noooo”s,

“He is ugly,” Ella declares.

“He is boring,” Millie adds.

“And we dress him up all the time,” Lessi finishes.

Bond on the other hand—he kind of is, between the tiara with plastic blue gems that match his eyes and the disaster trio having the time of their lives around his shoulders.  For a split second Q is taken by a vision of him at piano recitals and football games, squeezing Q’s hand, tiptoeing ever so quietly down the stairs after bedtime to give Q-

To give Q another look, this time one that burns in Q’s cheeks.

“Do you, now?” 

Ah.

“I find the path of least resistance to be the best babysitting tactic with this lot,” Q says, gesturing in the direction of his nieces.

It is the truth, or close enough to it at any rate.  He reels back the foot he had suspended mid-air like a cartoon character.  He is a gay man who has grown up with two sisters and Six does not get to see that side of him.  

Bond chuckles as his hair gains, this time, a butterfly shaped clip.

“You and me both.”

Q searches his frame for telltale signs of tension and finds none.  

“You alright?” he asks, still.  

He has come here to check up on Bond who gives such little thought to decisions he commits himself to, when, nevermind Silva and his kind, this lot will eat you alive if you so much as blink.  He has a temper and little experience when it comes to kids.

But Bond says “don’t worry about us,” and his eyes are equal parts fond and determined.

Perhaps this is what he looks like before walking into a fight reason says he cannot win.  Perhaps this is what he looks like on a Sunday afternoon when golden light slants in from the windows and the world slows down just for the span of one breath.

He will no doubt expect to be repaid in kind and make Q’s life hell. 

This was no doubt a terrible idea from the start.

And still.

Still.