#for once why can't spring be warmer

[kaereth]

Hey everyone I am camping for the next 5 days in the wilds so there won't be any new art for a bit, sorry! will get back to kofis the moment i'm back in civilization :>

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power on what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

[mistymisfit]

How he shows he loves you

Summary: 3 short blurbs on how Jason shows reader he loves them.

warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, but descriptions are very vague lol.

wc: 2k

a/n: This isn't edited at all, but it has been sitting on y drafts for wayyyy too long

Jokes

Disappointment is not the initial reaction he hoped for when he came in through your front door. Shock would've been a more appropriate response, since your music was too loud and you didn't hear him come in. He decided to pull a prank and scare you, silently making his way to the kitchen where you were having a karaoke session. Which given how quiet he could be when he wanted to, it was not that hard at all. Now Jason tries to hold back his laugh, a boyish grin plastered across his features that he wouldn't be able to suppress even if he tried.

"What are you making?" He whispers next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. If he was being honest, he'd say he is concerned about how long it takes you to notice there's someone else in your apartment. But right now, he's too caught up in the bliss of being in your presence that he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, you're early." You say after the scream you let out when he comes up behind you, seemingly out of nowhere to whisper in your ear.

"Why? You're mad?" He replies, hiding his insecurity behind sass. What if you didn't want him there? What if he's overstayed his welcome? But before he can come up with some convoluted reason for why you don't want him anymore, you're stopping him.

"I just wanted to have this done by the time you got here" You signal back at the food with your head. And he looks over, finally realizing you were cooking his favorite meal.

"What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," You blush "Can't a girl just cook for her boyfriend?"

"Not unless she wants me to make her my wife," He teases, you roll your eyes, growing accustomed to these types of jokes. Once he reached a certain level of domesticity and was comfortable enough in the relationship, he started to talk about how he was gonna marry you. Jason would even jokingly refer to you as his wife. At first, he made you blush, now it was just the usual routine.

You would lie if you said it didn't excite you and make your feelings all mushy when he did that, your heart felt warmer when he showed how committed he was to you. You felt giddy whenever he said "When we get married", he never said if we get married, he was very certain about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he'd drop a detail of his dream wedding, "We're having a chocolate cake, like the one in Matilda" or "I'm kissing the fuck out of you on that altar". One time he said: "If you liked that, imagine what our honeymoon would be", that one got him a soft slap on his chest as you chuckled.

"How did you get here anyways?" You change the subject, going back to your cooking.

"Used the front door" He answers with a smirk, arms wrapping around your waist as he steps closer to you.

"Really? How?"

"Cause I'm your boyfriend," He replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he didn't need to say it like that. "I have been for a while, and you gave me your keys"

"Damn, my doorman just lets anyone in these days" You joke and you can hear the little "tsk" that comes from his mouth as he lets go of you.

"I can leave and come back from your window" He's kidding, but you know him well enough to know he's willing to follow through just for the sake of doing a bit. Instead, you hold his arm, pulling him back to you in between giggles.

"Please, I finally have boot imprint-free windowsills"

He laughs, it's real laughter, not his usual chuckle. It makes your heart work overtime as you watch his smile reach his eyes so much that he ends up closing them. He pulls you in for a kiss before he lets you go to finish the dinner you worked so hard on. The food that when he takes a bite from has him asking:"You want a summer or spring wedding?"

Touch

Even if he's less inclined to admit this, Jason knew that before you met he was touch starved. And now he can't get enough of it, he's constantly on your side or with his hands on you in any way, shape or form. It came as a shock--to him-- how badly he needed you sometimes, he never felt this about anyone before. He swears he's not usually this clingy.

You are walking down the street and suddenly you're not holding his hand or bicep and he's grabbing your hand and putting it back. He could never be one of those boyfriends who don't notice when their partner stops holding their hand, if you ever so that he's immediately holding your hand again and asking what's wrong.

Sometimes his touch is protective. You are going through a crowded space and he has his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you and making sure nothing ever happens to you. It turns a little too protective when another guy tries talking to you and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a kiss.

But most of the time, he's all alone with you, lying down on bed or a couch, and he's tracing shapes on your uncovered skin. He leans his head closer when you play with his hair or God forbid you touch his face, it has his knees giving out. He loves feeling your weight on top of him, loves feeling you're real and that you're with him and not going anywhere. Maybe he sneaks a hand under your clothes if he feels daring, and your attention doesn't shift. It amazes him how he's allowed this, how much access you give him. And over everything else, it doesn't have to be sexual. Casual skin to skin contact did not have to mean anything else; it was just that.

With you he's experienced that not every touch has violence behind it, not every contact has an ulterior motive. So he's so gentle with you, maybe he is not good with words, so he makes up for it. You know he shows his affection in action rather than words, he's not that far from worshiping the ground you walk on. He's specially kind when you know you're vulnerable; he presses kisses to your face as much as he can and to your shoulder blades when he can't. You know he's a big softy since you've pretended to be asleep multiple times as he played with your hair. An more than once you've heard him whisper hushed love confessions he never thought you'd hear. His hands are rough with criminals but you'd never be able to tell by how kind he's around you.

Priority

Jason wants you to know you can count on him for anything, he makes a point of it by telling you multiple times. You ran out of milk? He's buying it on his way to your place Your apartment needs fixing and your landlord won't help? Problem's solved within the hour. Maybe you got terrible cramps, he's there to help you however you want him to. So it's no surprise to you or anyone that the second you're in danger he drops everything else. You're his number one priority.

"Where is she?" He pushes Bruce for information, which he was adamant in not telling him. Knowing Jason, he'd end up acting before he thinks it through, he'd show up unprepared and end up causing a disaster. Or at least that is what Bruce thinks about the son who plotted his revenge against him for years to the last minute detail.

"Jason" He mutters under his breath.

"I swear to God if I find out someone touched a hair in her head because you wasted time-"

"You go with me or you don't" He threatens "at all."

And Jason loves you so much, he's willing to agree to work with him in a heartbeat. He puts all his resentment aside when he thinks it will help you, if it meant working with the bat and abiding by his rules, then so be it. He'll track down the poor fucker who took you and kill him later. He didn't like being around him, it made him feel tense due to the incredibly strained relationship between the two of them. Bruce loved Jason, but sadly his way of showing it translated quite the opposite way in the younger one's eyes.

Bruce was being too quiet about what happened to you. All he knew was that he couldn't reach you, you were not at any of the usual places, and your friends had no idea where you were either. He checked your apartment and things were perfectly placed, no one had broken in--other than him. Then when he tracked your phone, which he only promised to do in extreme situations like today, he found it inside your purse thrown in some dirty alleyway. That's when his panic hit its peak and turned back to get his red hood gear and ask the bats if they knew anything about you.

He got to a warehouse, standing next to Bruce he decides to push him a bit more to get anything out of him. His mind was killing him with questions, were you okay? what happened? how did he know? and couldn't bear another second next to the stoic figure not willing to tell him anything.

"It's Mad Hatter, he's been taking people off the streets for-"

"Is she okay?" He cuts off, he has no space in his mind for whatever crazy thing he had planned against Batman or the city. Not when he's not sure you're safe, when Bruce won't even tell him if you're alive.

"She should be" He gives in "I'll take care of him, you handle hostages"

That's all he needs, he braces himself before following after Bruce, watching every step he made as it could make the difference between losing you or saving you. Jason's a bit pissed he's relegated to hostages much like he was during his time as Robin but decides against questioning for now. He steps and breathes as quietly as he can while he makes his way past the sign that reads "Wonderland". He silently signals to Bruce that they should split and cover more ground, to which he agreed with a curt nod. His masks allows him to have a better vision in the dark, so he can see how filthy the place was and how worn down the wonderland decorations were. He doesn't know if the man was there, but knowing Bruce he sent him on a path he wasn't likely to find him alone.

He finally finds some of his hostages, two twins laying unconscious on the floor. He tried waking them up to no success; he saw their chests move up and down as they breathed, so he knew he could worry about that later. Moving further, he sees a couple more people, all dressed up as characters like the twins were, in the same state. He then moves to the tea party, where another two kids dressed as the animals in the book sat with their heads on the table. He picks one of them up and rests them in a more comfortable position on the floor using what he could to make a cushion for their head, then does the same with the other kid. He thinks it's the least he could do if he couldn't wake them up. After a nerve-wracking walk through Lewis Caroll's nightmare he finds you, he feels his soul getting back to his body when his eyes finally land on you.

You lay on a floor that resembles a chessboard wearing a white dress and a crown, a little blonde girl with a light blue dress is cuddled up on your arms. He kneels down next to you, whispering your name and grabbing your shoulder to shake you in an almost desperate attempt to wake you.

"Please, please" He's sure if someone could hear how pathetic he sounded, his reputation would be ruined forever.

"Jay?" You manage to mutter under your breath, still not opening your eyes.

"Yes, I'll get you out of here"

"Hm, hats" you hummed, he doubted you were even aware of anything.

"I know, baby"

"off" Your voice was low and it seemed to him that you were fighting to stay awake and losing.

He took off the crown from your head and the headband from "Alice's". Listening to your advice, even if you were barely conscious. Once he confirmed you were okay, he carried you out. Then he came back for the little girl next to you, and so on until everyone was out and hat free. By that time police had arrived, and Batman was handing Jervis' ass to the cops to begin the cycle once more. He holds back, watching from afar to avoid getting caught. He watched as Batman shared a few words with Gordon, then Barbara tuned in to let him know which hospital they were taking you to.

When you wake up he is next to you, holding your hand and with the biggest eye-bags you've ever seen him with. He almost starts crying when you call his name in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm okay,"You whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The scene is too touching as you see someone put a hand on his shoulder and tell him something.

"I'll go tell the doctors you woke up" He excused himself, reluctant even to let go of your hand, much less entertained by the idea of being separated from you too long.

You didn't see him as Jason's frame covered the man behind him but now you notice the one and only Bruce Wayne standing in your hospital room. It was too much to take in.

"Oh, Jason must really love me if he was willing to work with you"

[hanihazeljade]

Migration

Red Robin was known to be a migratory bird. He spend the summer and the spring season in Gotham but once the temperature drop to 55 degrees, he was in San Francisco.

Gotham was naturally cold. It's chilled air will bite your skin no matter what time of the year it is, but it was more tolerable suring mid-spring to mid-autumn.

But during winter, it is when it bites the hardest. Timothy knows it from his experience. His simple oversized hoodies can't keep him cold if he was outside of his house. His Robin uniform was not that well cold resistant. His Red Robin uniform doesn't have enough insulation for heating.

So he migrates like a bird, travelling to one place when the trees began to lose it's leaves and come back when it starts blooming again.

No one knows why, but both cities are fine having him in almost Persephone way of visiting and protecting the city. Not even the batfam knows the exact reason why Tim was choosing to spend the colder seasons in California, but just deduce that he might really is fond of warmer climate, or wanted to spend equal time with his friends and grow his career as a new hero.

The citizens of San Francisco and Gotham are convinced that Red Robin is a part migratory bird that's why he needs to switch cities between colder seasons and warmer seasons.

But no.

Tim is just more susceptible to cold because of his lack of spleen. But he will never tell anyone about that because that is just nothing, why he would tell them when they didn't asked first right?

Janet's prime rule is don't talk unless you are spoken to. And maybe he is taking advantage of his mother's teaching so he wouldn't have to explain himself to those jerks.

After all, he is nothing but a placeholder, something that doesn't have any value, right?

[minhosimthings]

You get me so High

Symphony Smut Series Day 17: The Neighborhood's You get me so high.

Lyric: We should stick together, you're my best friend I love you forever.

Pairings: bestfriend!Jake × fem!reader, best friends to lovers eyy

Warnings: smut minors dni, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, dirty talk, mentions of cheating, sex on the couch cause we be wilding, idk any other warning for this, oh yeah ITS FLUFFY AT THE END

A/N: alright the second last day and I'm finishing ths series tomorrow (probably) so for today it is my husband my loml my everything Jake! Tomorrow will be Minho also my loml and my husband.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Once upon a time there lived a princess. And there lived a prince. And both of them were the bestest friends ever. Singing bad karaoke, eating greasy pizza, tweeting the most obscene things about each other and giggling about them, going to parties with each other as friends, and even drunkenly kissing each other only to forget about it in next morning.

And they regretted it.

They regretted that they found other people. People who they 'loved'. Well if the definition of love was pity, then my statement would be true.

And now here they were, wound up cuddling on the prince's sofa, while the princess cried to the prince about parties and cards and people who cheated on one another.

"Princess calm down, you'll pass out." Jake stroked your back with his hand, each delicate finger leaving an impression on you. He was so...soft with you, as if you were a fragile feather.

"Why-would they do that?" You hiccuped, looking up at Jake, your tear stained face breaking his heart even more, "I-I thought-"

"We thought wrong." Jake scoffed, his tone for the first time, laced with venom, "Bitches." He mumbled under his breath. His girlfriend had been a cheating bitch and your boyfriend had also been on the ratio, kissing each other right in front of you and Jake as soon as they thought you two weren't there.

"We're stupid aren't we?" You laughed coldly, "So fucking stupid."

"I'm the stupid one here." Jake breathed out, along with a chuckle.

Now or never isn't it?

Gripping you tighter by your waist, Jake bent down to your level and pressed his lips to yours. It seemed as that moment, that butterflies had erupted out of nowhere, as your lips danced with Jake's ever so delicately. You had never imagined that a kiss from a person you love would feel so.... wonderful. Sure you had kissed other people but, Jake. Jake was different. His lips felt like sweet melted ice cream, and like those caramels he always loved so much.

Although Jake could have stayed on your lips forever, cherishing the soft touch of winter and spring, he knew you needed to take a breath too, so he pulled away, leaving you a bit warmer than you were before.

"I-Im sorry I didn't know why I did-"

Jake didn't have time to finish his sentence as you grabbed his collar and kissed him again.

The sudden passion caught him off guard. Jake's body pinned you against the sofa, but you quickly melted into the kiss, savoring the sensation of Jake's tongue on your lips. Almost instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His left hand gripped your hip firmly, eliciting a moan from you. You allowed his tongue to explore your mouth, experiencing the rough yet passionate and intimate kiss that left you breathless. When the need for air became too pressing, he released your lips, placing his forehead against yours, locking eyes.

His eyes were filled with lust and a need for you, causing shivers down your spine. Aroused by his primal actions, you heard him whisper against your mouth, "You're so beautiful, princess. I can't hold it back."

Jake's kisses moved from your lips down to your neck leaving you breathless. His lips left little spots that would soon turn into hickeys, then shortly moved back to your lips.

Jake'ss lips moved down to your chest, he gripped one of your breasts, it was your turn to groan now. He pulled back and looked down at your shirt, gently tugging at the bottom, silently asking to take it off. you nodded and he slid it up over your head. You were now left in a black lace bra.

"Oh?" Jake raised a brow at you, "You're wearing my gift?"

"Just in case." You giggled, tugging at his curls, as he bent down to peck sweetly at your neck.

Jake dipped his head back down and continued kissing along your breasts. slowing making his way down your chest and along your stomach. you squirmed under his gentle kisses, letting out a desperate moan. Jake's chuckles vibrated against your hot skin, making you want more.

Jake pressed a kiss against your panties then giving a small lick, to tease you. “please Jake,” you half-whispered, half-whimpered out. that was all it took for Jake to essentially rip of your panties. “You’re already soaked,” he said.

"Only for you", you breathed out, and watched as his eyes looked up to meet yous as he went lower, and you hands quickly found their way into his hair as he dipped his tongue inside of you. "Fuck", youmumbled as he licked up to you clit and started to suck at it. You knew he was experienced, but you didn't know just how good he was at it.

You felt his finger enter you as his tongue swirled around your clit in a steady rhythm. Your grip in his hair tightened as you could feel a pleasurable pressure build up inside you.

Jake could tell you was getting closer, he inserted a second finger into you and hooked his fingers, rubbing just the right spot inside you while continuing to lick and suck at your clit.

Your hips roll riding his tongue, pleasure tightening deep inside your core. “Oh Jayeun fuck!” You felt yourself already coming close to the edge. Jake smiles against your clit watching your facial expressions as he flicks his tongue and sucks. It was a beautiful and addicting sight. He slides a finger inside you and watches you gasp at the sudden sensation. “Fuck youre so tight”Your moans falling endlessly out your mouth your hips grinding against his fingers and tongue. “Jake I’m gonna I-“ you can’t finish the words as you feel your climax coming fast.

"Jayeun, jaey- ahhh fuck fuck fuck!"

You moaned his name as you came, your vision going spotty and a light ringing in your ear for a moment as you slowed your breathing.

He finally took his fingers out and kissed the inside of your thigh as he smiled up at you. Jake didn't give you much recovery time as he kissed back up your body, stopping at your neck to suck a mark, his mark, just below your ear. Your hands travelled down his back, scratching as he ground against you.

"Fuck you tasted exactly like I imagined." Jake chuckled, his hands slowly travelling upto your breasts.

"You've imagined that?" You asked meekly, earning another kiss from Jake. "You don't know the things I have imagined." Jake whispered in your ear, sending vibrations throughout your body, "if you did, we wouldn't just be best friends."

"Fuck me properly and then I'll be your girlfriend."

Jake's face lit up as he heard your words. He didn't need to wait for an invitation, but hearing yours made his dick extra hard.

You leaned forward pushing Jake down to the sofa as you captured his lips in a searing kiss and straddled his hips, he ran his hands from your waist down to your thighs as he gripped them tightly "I've wanted thus for so long" you said panting as you pulled back slightly only to move your kisses down his neck.

“Ready to be a good girl for me princess?” his voice was demanding and lustful. Your eyes widen, jaw drops low and you can’t think. Jake drops his pants and his hard erection bounces out. You’re almost drooling at the sight, forgetting now all about what had happened that day. His tip was red and dripping with precum already. You needed it in your cunt.

Suddenly he pins your wrists against the couch and slams his cock into your dripping pussy. You gasp and cry out in pleasure and suprise. He plunges into you not allowing you time to adjust. His cock was thick, stretching you open.

Your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

Your head fills with pleasures, not a single thought could form in your head. “Fuck you feel so good doll” he groans holding your hips down and slamming deeper inside you. “G-god Jake! Feels…s-so good!” You cry. “Is this the dick you wanted? Is it better than his?” he says as he fucks Into you harder.

Your eyes begin to roll back feeling how good he felt. His tip hitting your G-spot making you ready to cum just as fast as before. “J-Jake fuck I’m gonna c-“ you are interrupted by his hand gripping your throat, choking you. “Fuck baby you got wetter just from that… god you're so good” his mixture of degradation and praise had your body a dripping, desperate mess. You couldn’t believe the hold he had over you.

His breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. His tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the sofa with the sheer snap of his hips. Your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine. You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

"Princess are you alright?" Jake cups your cheeks with his hand. He had gotten too lost in his epiphany that he hadn't really noticed about your wellbeing.

"Fuck you Sim Jayeun." You let out a breathy chuckle, "Fuck you for not fucking me like that earlier."

"You didn't ask princess." Jake laughed, carefully lifting you into his arms and taking you to the bedroom.

"From now on, you don't have to ask for it."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

[rottenpumpkin13]

It's spring! The weather is getting warmer, the nature is waking up.

Maybe people should stop doing whatever they're doing that results in pieces of apples being scattered all over the training room because THERE IS A WASP INFESTATION.

While all the Seconds and Thirds are running around screaming, Director Lazard is naturally the most calm, but only because he knows Angeal and Genesis grew up with wasps in Banora, and probably know that rule #1 of dealing with wasps is to stand absolutely still.

Lazard: Everyone, please calm down. Genesis and Angeal are used to wasps and know they can't hurt us, right, boys?

Lazard looks over and sees Genesis trying to sacrifice Sephiroth to a wasp.

Genesis: HERE. TAKE HIM. TAKE HIM TO YOUR QUEEN. HE'LL BECOME ATTACHED TO HER BECAUSE HE DESPERATELY WANTS A MOTHER.

Sephiroth: Don't be ridiculous, Genesis.

Genesis:

Sephiroth: Insects can't provide any comfort.

Lazard looks over and sees Angeal (panicking) instructing Kunsel and Roche on what to do.

Angeal, scared: Alright, so the best way to avoid a wasp attack is to run about 50 feet in a straight line.

Kunsel: Does that actually work??

Angeal, terrified: Absolutely! Here, watch!

Angeal sprints in a straight line, and runs so far that he reaches the wall. He runs right though it. There is now an Angeal-sized hole in the training room wall

Lazard looks over and sees Zack run in with a jar of jam and a spoon

Zack: I have an idea. They're attracted to sweets, right? So why don't we given them some of this? As a peace offering!

Lazard begins dialing the infirmary's number as Zack approaches the horde of wasps with the jam

Zack: Here, friends, have some—OW! OW OW OW OW WAIT I THOUGHT THESE WERE BEES! ABORT ABORT ABORT IT'S WASPS FUCK

Zack runs through the Angeal-shaped hole, screaming as all the wasps in the training room fly after him

Once the training room is clear and everyone runs out, only Lazard and Sephiroth remain.

Lazard stares long and hard at Sephiroth, who has one of the wasps tied to a string.

Lazard: Sephiroth.

Sephiroth, petting the wasp: Yes?

Lazard: What are you doing?

Sephiroth: This one likes me. I've decided to keep it as a pet and train it to terrorize Professor Hojo.

Lazard:

[figthefruitfaeth]

108 "is that my shirt?" with the pairing of your choice please zoey <3

my dear beloved lou—i love this prompt so much, thank you <3 please know i listened to moon river by frank ocean for the entirety of its creation. I hope you like it

steddie | pre-slash/confession (kinda) | 868 words

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

Blue. That's what it feels like. Spring fresh cornflowers in his lungs, the edges of an inky indigo sky staining his fingertips. Blue is the breath he takes, the old ceramic bowl of cereal he's got clutched to his chest, the veins under his skin. 

It's the color of Steve's shirt.

Eddie shifts—presses his back fully against the window frame, the cold seeping through the thin cotton a welcome relief from the heat of the day. He keeps his head titled out towards the street, but his eyes are focused in.

Steve is on the opposite end of the window, head resting against the glass, his own bowl of cereal balanced carefully on both knees. Eddie watches the last of the day curling into his collarbone, the tips of his bangs. His chest moving in slow and easy breaths, eyes just slivers of hazel in the light. A sleepy cat, perfectly content.

Yet despite the quiet peace of the moment, Eddie feels it. Has felt it all day. Something sticking, unsettled in himself. Sleep in the corner of his eyes, the dry coarse grind of sand in his back molars. He's blamed it on the weed, paranoia lurking in the silence between the hum and ding of the microwaved nachos they'd made earlier—his mind trying to makeup for a body that had, for once, slowed down. 

But that didn't stop himself from feeling it, from knowing something is off—no, Eddie shakes his head—different.

Something is different about Steve.

Steve, very carefully, spoons a mouthful of mushy multi-grain into his mouth. Grimaces, then does it again. A drop of milk lands on his shirt, seeping into fabric quicker than it landed. A spot of midnight in a sea of navy.

His shirt is blue. Which, all things considered, isn't different at all. Though he tends to favor the warmer side of the wheel chart, Steve's wardrobe is a rainbow of colors. From steel blue jackets to violet sweaters, Eddie's seen him in it all.

Mouth closed, his tongue runs along his teeth, twists against the edges of the back. Can't quite reach the end. 

A dark blue t-shirt. A little big, not swallowed in fabric but less form fitting than most of his clothes. Old, maybe  second or even third hand if the edges of the sleeves are anything to go by. Or the image splashed on the chest, which is really only a memory of a design—speckled silver to grey in uneven patches. There's still one letter legible, a sharp 't' dead in the middle. 

It looks a bit like a band t-shirt, reminds Eddie of the shirts Wayne gave him when he first moved in, before they could go the Salvation Army together. Smoke and oil clinging to the threads, a reference to a song he'd only heard once on the radio, but stuck. Settled the buzz in his head, let his body move and mean something more than disappointment. Staring in the mirror, hair barely more than a buzzcut, navy stark against his pale skin—

”Is that my shirt?”

His voice is too loud, accidentally overshot by both the shock and last half hour of silence. Steve doesn't seem to be as affected, turning his head against the glass to face Eddie with a smooth nonchalance.

“Yeah,“ he says. Eddie looks at him, brows raised. Steve looks back, bloodshot eyes blinking slowly, seemingly feeling a one word explanation is all he needs.

Eddie searches for something, anything to say, ends up with a choked cough, and then, “Why?” Which—stupid, stupid, stupid.

Glacial blue, Steve looks down at his (his or his? theirs?) shirt, then back up at Eddie.

“Must've gotten it mixed up.”

Must've gotten it mixed up.

What.

Eddie blinks. Feels a bit like a dog as he shakes his head, mouth opening and then closing up tight in quick succession. There's no way Steve Harrington mixed up his clothes. The man spends 30 minutes a night picking out his outfit for the next day. He missed a group movie cause he couldn't find the right jacket. He almost had a conniption when Dustin tried to wash his colors with his whites. 

Steve always wears the gold and red striped socks when he needs a bit of luck and never just throws something on. Steve doesn't ‘mix up’ clothes, not unless he's dying, not unless it means something—

Oh.

“Oh,” he says out loud, dumbly.

Steve smiles like their afternoon—a hazy, sticky sweet honey in his hands.

“Yeah.”

And then Steve winks, and turns back to the window.

Eddie bites his lip, feels his mouth tearing away into a smile anyway. Turns back to the outside before he does something crazy, shovels in another spoonful of nearly disintegrated cereal, watches night settle in. Lights from other, distant homes click on, warm yellow windows bobbing along in the pitch black darkness. 

In the morning, when the sky lives up to its infamous hue, and the weed has left them their usual jittery, overthinking selves—Eddie will ask him other questions, will need more replies filled with complex, compound sentences.

Eddie takes a deep breath.

Navy.

And for now, that's enough.

writing prompts!

[infoglitch]

Love is a dangerous thing (The revenant au.)

Synopsis: in a future where Jaune and Yang are together instead of Yang and Blake. Yang gets killed in the final battle, this leaves jaune heart broken and.. he doesn't heal. He can't heal. Not after already losing others. So he does the unthinkable.. he tries to bring back Yang by shoving the spring maidens powers and.. something else, into Yang's corpse.

----

Branwen camp: 12:35 a.m.

The crackling of flames and the wailing of screams were a symphony to a Jaune.

They deserved this, every last one of them. They all deserve to burn.

That thought ran through Jaune's mind as it was the only justification he needed.. he just needed to find the leader.

Find her, then we can get yang back.. find her, use the machine and we can have our happy ending.. we can have all of it.

It's just one life.

He could see her, her black hair, her face that despite it wrinkles still looked like Yangs. The same face that would make a smile that made his heart skip beats.

It's just one life.

She glared at him with her crimson eyes, which blazed with a fire. But it was only a flame, no crackles, no eruption of light. Just fire... Jaune didn't know why but he couldn't stand it. She stormed towards him as she unsheathed her blade. Jaune drew Crocea mors as and placed a yellow bracelet on his wrist.

The woman darted towards him and slashed, only for Jaune to block it. Jaune and her stared at each other before he was met with the sight of a raven flying upwards as he looked a little confused before he went wide eyed.

Damnit she's got the advantage.

In a moment jaune leaped out of the way as she transformed back and brought her blade down. Jaune turned and was about to strike her only for her to change into a raven and avoid the strike. She flew behind him before changing back and sliced. Jaune narrowly dodged and once landed on the ground he turned and slashed, only to be met with air as he looked around.

Damnit. She could be anywhe- ACK!

Jaune released a choked out yell as she stabbed her blade into his side. Jaune hacked up blood before she removed her blade and kicked him into the ground. Jaune released a groan as he held his side. Before being kicked and rolling over with him being by the blade of her sword. She glared him down and just as she was about to kill him jaune activated the yellow bracelet. It transformed into its true form of Ember Celica with jaune throwing a bunch as a blast of lightning dust was released, the woman released a scream of a pain as she fell back, the front of her body was beginning to show signs of burns burns. Jaune quickly got up and slugged her in the face. With Raven, blacking out.

----

It's just one life

Jaune placed Raven's body in the machine. And as the door to her canister closed jaune walked up to a switch. With him looking at the machine.

There stood a machine which he didn't recognize and didn't know what it did.. until he found its blue-prints before atlas fell. It was some kind of transference device. It was made to transfer so you could send magic into a person of your choice.

Perfect for transferring the maiden powers. All jaune knew what he needed to do was do one little tweak and now you could send the powers to anyone.. even a corpse.

It's just one life.

Jaune gulped softly before pulling the switch as Raven's pod was releasing a blinding white light, before Jaune heard her shrieking. Jaune closed his eyes as he let the machine do its work.

It's just one life.

As Raven's screams died he took a deep breath. Before the same white light shines inside the other pod, Yang's pod. Jaune kept his eyes shut as he waited.

It's just one life.

He soon opened his eyes as he looked to see the light vanished he ran to Yang's pod and quickly opened it. He saw Yang's body begin to fall as he quickly caught her. Her body was warm, so much warmer than it was from when she was in that wooden prison.

Jaune wanted to celebrate but he needed more than warmth. He needed real proof. Which he would receive as Yangs eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed before her eyes focused on Jaune.

Vomit boy? What are you doing here?

It's just one life.

It's just one life.

It's just one life.

It's just one life.

"It's just one life, So why does it feel like it's one million?"

[heartilywrites]

،، 𝒮o this is love ; Korra

< back to part 1

request guide | masterlist

resume: where a single ball changed your life.

content warning: a shit ton of fluff ; angst if you squint your eyes ; Korra x fem!reader ; description of eye color ; r is the fire nation's princess and a blue firebender ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.5k

a/n: this one is the most agonizing fluff i've ever written, has to be my favorite so far. ENJOY :D

" I can see you're scared of your emotions, I can see you're hoping, you're not hopeless. So why can't you show me.ᐣ

The mattress springs sounded once, twice, even three times in less than a minute when you turned again over yourself. Four nights had passed since the ball hosted by your family and your mind was still replaying the short time the mysterious girl and you shared together.

Korra, her name has been resounding in your brain, scratching it in such a way that it was almost impossible for you to forget it.

You’d thought of looking for her, of course, but how would you explain to your parents that you wanted to look for a girl you met at the ball? How would you tell them you needed to go to both Water Tribes to ask if there was any girl with an important rank named Korra? You always liked to keep things to yourself, so telling them about your feelings for the girl was completely out of the table. So that was your life at the moment, sleepless nights and endless days always thinking over and over again about Korra; what you would never know was that she was living the same way as you.

Your name made echo in Korra’s mind when you introduced yourself and since then, she had been repeating it like a broken record while looking at her ceiling. Wondering how you’d look without your mask, if your eyes would shine the same way your smile did, if your hands on hers felt softer… Warmer in a peaceful ambience, if they would fit perfectly with her hands when holding them, if you would feel complete when she was holding you in her arms. The avatar was doomed and her friends knew it the minute everyone came back from the ball, she was deeply in love with a complete stranger.

Unlike you, Korra did try to look for you since the morning after the event. Asking for Asami’s help, saying how it was important to her finding you, but was met with her avatar duties holding her back from her search. Grudgingly she did as expected, fulfilling her tasks like it was nothing and leaving satisfied people.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “General Iroh asked if we could attend the Fire Nation, he said he needs help with…” green eyes narrowed, Bolin frowned. “I can’t understand his letter, what does it say here?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Agh, can’t they just stop requesting us for some days? I need to do some important shit.” Korra pulled her face down a bit with both hands, Asami giggled funnily at her reaction.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Come on, Korra, this could help your super important investigation.” the girl next to her said. “Didn’t you say your impossible love was from the fire nation?”

The southerner straightened up quickly on her seat, as if she just recalled something and smiled big.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You’re so right! We need to go!” suddenly Korra had recovered all her energy. “Asami, set course to the Fire Nation! We have an important meeting to attend!”

And so the group set course, by night the airship used for transportation had landed at the palace zone of the Fire Nation.

At the descendance of the team they were met with the royal family welcoming them to the place. Korra smiled and bowed to everyone, her eyes stopped at your sight; she knew about the princess descendant of Azula, but she had never seen her or heard her name, so it was certain she didn’t know who you were… However, there was something about you that called for her whole attention. Your own eyes fixated on the floor, praying that the whole thing would pass quickly so you could go back to your room to fantasize about your crush.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Princess,” Iroh called you a second time, making you snap back to the present. You looked at him who pointed with his head. “They’re introducing themselves.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m really sorry,” you said, Korra tilted her head a little. “Welcome to the palace, avatar… Guys. I hope you find it comfortable here.”

Your voice sounded different from what she heard at the ball, the one you used at that moment was deeper, more formal, so Korra couldn’t recognize you just by that and you by yourself were too distracted to analyze the voice of the avatar. When your eyes were wandering along the four new members, they stopped at the avatar; warm eyes despite them being cold tone colored, they resulted familiar and at the same time foreign to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “The princess and general Iroh will show you to your rooms so you can settle and rest, tomorrow we can talk about what is needed. You’ll be notified when dinner is ready.” the Fire Lord decreeted making everyone nod.

At first everyone was silently following your cousin and you, but it was the firebender that came with the avatar who broke the silence wanting to chit chat with the general. Everyone moved to where they felt at ease while still walking, Korra went ahead to take Iroh’s place beside you so she could talk with you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey,” she greeted with a smile, you corresponded with one of your own in a shy way. “I’m sorry if we arrived on a bad time, general Iroh called for us suddenly.”

You shook your head softly. “It’s okay, avatar, no need to worry. We… Well, they’re in need of your help after all.” the girl giggled a little bit, your heart skipped a beat to the sound, how? “I’m sure you guys will find it relaxing too, we have lovely areas to be on when you want to be alone.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “So I’ve heard,” she continued, nodding. “And seen, you have gardens around here, don’t you? A beautiful one next to the events salon.”

Amber eyes blinked in surprise. “We do… Have you visited the palace before?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Kind of, I was-” the girl got interrupted by the earthbender calling for her. “Oh, uhm, excuse me.”

Another nod from you letting her jog to her friends who were choosing their rooms. Your eyes now fixated on the avatar, Iroh walked to you catching you distracted and followed your gaze with his own.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you getting along with the avatar?” he asked you, making you now look at him, a smirk was painted on his mouth making you roll your eyes.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “She’s nice, I guess.” you shrugged. “But we don’t know if she likes me, the rumors are still out there, who knows if she heard them.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Trust me, if she had, she wouldn't let them influence her judgment without knowing you.” Iroh tried to assure you, making you sigh and turn to the girl once more.

For dinner you had asked to be excused and allowed to eat by yourself in your chambers, saying how you were making an important task asked by your tutor so you totally missed the joint meal.

Passed bedtime, you found yourself once more thinking about the masquerade ball and decided maybe if you went back to the garden now that the avatar had reminded you maybe you could find comfort. Walking up to the bench where the girl and you passed time, you saw a lantern light that made you frown in confusion.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, Your Highness!” the avatar exclaimed as surprised as you, like she was the one not expecting you to be there.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Avatar,” you greeted back with a nod. “What are you doing here?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Well, I remembered back in the ball which bench I sat on and had such a beautiful view that I needed to see it again.” she smiled; what a weird coincidence, you thought. “You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Not at all, they’re public after all.” you answered, she made space for you to sit and so you did. Looking up at the sky you allowed yourself to relax under the bright moonlight where you found comfort. “Such a beautiful night.” you spat out of nowhere.

Korra’s eyes widened a bit and turned to you, blue sky colored orbs analyzing your profile. Her mind started to wonder. “Gorgeous, I would say.” she murmured back, almost as if she was hypnotized.

You blinked for a couple of seconds, trying to register the deja vu you just felt and turning to the avatar you were met with her eyes. It all suddenly felt as if you already lived that scene, like you were back to the masquerade ball… And the realization hit the both of you so sudden like a bucket of cold water dropping on you. It was her, she was the girl at the ball.

Your eyes widened at the moment, panicking on not knowing what to do.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your Highness-” Korra tried to talk, to get your attention, but you standing up interrupted her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m sorry, avatar, I need to leave now.” just as that night, you shook your head at the weird feeling of repeating the scene.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, wait!” she tried to make you stay, but your own feet were faster to make you almost run back to your chambers while Korra screamed for you, calling you by name.

Your heart felt like it wanted to escape from your ribcage, your whole world felt like it was moving down your feet.

You had the thought that if you found the girl again, it would feel as if everything was complete, but all you felt was anxiety, denial… You felt fear. Fear of her not wanting anything to do with you, fear of her believing what was said about your part of the family, but overall fear of having your heart broken when she realizes that being with you meant disrepute to her title. The avatar with Azula’s granddaughter? A scandal anyone would prefer to avoid.

By morning, Korra woke up early and started walking around the palace in hopes of bumping into you. She didn’t know where your favorite places were or what your daily routine was. Maybe she would’ve lost herself in such a big infrastructure, but it didn’t matter to her. She wanted… No, she needed to talk to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your Highness!” her voice stopped your steps, chills running down her spine. You looked over your shoulder to make sure it was her and at her sight, you started to walk faster; the avatar called your name a couple of times. “We need to talk, I need to talk to you!”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, please!” your voice had a begging tone. “There’s nothing we need to talk about. Our encounter was purely a one night thing, I know what you’ll say.”

Even if you weren’t looking at her, she had an offended look on her face. How could you say that? She knew you felt the same way she did that night alone.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “But you don’t,” she said again, now you frowned with confusion and turned completely her way. “There’s not a single person in this world that could know what I’ll say to you or even think about you, because my feelings are my own and I get to decide who gets to know them.”

You hesitated before putting your hands behind your back. “Alright… Go ahead, avatar.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I get what you mean by what you said and also get your actions,” she began, taking slow steps your way. Like a predator walking towards its prey. “But you have to believe me when I tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night.”

Fire colored eyes fought against iced colored ones, like wanting to prove dominance, but Korra’s eyes were soft, inviting you to let your guard down.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And I am aware of what they say about you and your family,” a small grimace showed on your lips, she shook her head. “I can totally tell you right now, I don’t care about it, at all. That night you allowed me to see you for you, the real you everyone dismisses and take as a facade; I know why you didn’t tell me right there you are the princess, it’s the same reason why I didn’t tell you I am the avatar: we wanted a real connection, one were at least one person didn’t judge us by our title.”

Your hands were playing now with the pieces of lace your robe had on the sleeve, Korra was now at least two steps away from you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “If you allow me to show you appreciation, kindness, even love, I promise you’ll get what you had always deserved. What is per title yours, please, princess, let me be part of your life… You have already latched into mine and I think if you say no right now I will be in shambles.” she finished with a little giggle, her eyes never left yours and now your own were starting to tear up.

There was no way that could be real, could it? A big part of you believed every single word the avatar just said to you, but there was still a small amount of your being telling you that it could be a trap, a cruel trap against you and your feelings. But how would you learn about those romantic feelings if you didn’t allow yourself to feel? To trust someone, to let yourself fall in love for once.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m scared,” you whispered when you noticed how she was just centimeters away from you. “I’ve never felt like this.”

Gingerly, the southerner’s hands cupped your face tenderly. “I swear, I won’t hurt you, I would never hurt you if you give me that chance to give you my heart and all my affection, Your Highness.”

There wasn’t a verbal response to what she said, you let for once your impulse guide you and your lips crashed hers in an inexperienced kiss, but it was sweet. You could feel the girl smile under your lips, she then took the lead for the gesture, just when your lungs were crying for air did you pull away from her and a small shy smile was given to her, Korra gifted you a big one, so bright that you knew the sun could envied her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I told you, you were going to like her.” Iroh’s voice caught both of you out of guard and turned to him. A general smiling big still in his pajamas was standing in one of the halls. “Indirectly, I’m like cupid, am I not?” You fought against your impulse to burn him, Korra just giggled happily.

[newtthetranswriter]

Cuddels save lives?

Word count: 861

Paring: Magna swing x Reader

Summary: Cold weather and a disheveled base don't mix, but the Hot headed fire mage may be able to help out with some cuddles.

Warnings: None really, Magna and Luck being themselves, and one slightly suggestive comment form Magna

A/n: WELCOME TO MY WINTER FIC EVENT. Anyway this is the first installment of my first fic event. I decided to go with some Magna Swing fluff for two reasons, 1) I love him and he needs more attention, 2) I want to show my other fandoms my writing and thought Black clover would be a great place to start. Without further ado enjoy the event and remember to Hydrate or Diedrate.

    It was an extremely cold day for the start of winter, and the disheveled walls of the Black Bulls hideout weren’t really helping. Cold air still managed to slip through the cracks no matter what I did. And the pile of blankets I was hiding under weren’t helping. My only hope was for the cold weather to pass quickly and bring back the relaxing temperatures of spring. 

    My day of being bundled in blankets ignoring the ruckus of my squad members was interrupted by a giggling lightning mage bursting through the door. I was about to yell at the blonde when he beat me to it jumping over me and hiding behind the pile of blankets.

    “Quick Y/n you gotta cover for me.” He said, trying to keep his voice down. I was confused until I heard another voice getting closer to my room yelling about Luck being a thieving brat. “Magna thinks I stole his food again, which I did, but this time I think he might actually kill me.”

     I rolled my eyes. These two were always either fighting over food or being terrors together, but judging by the sound of a pissed Magna getting closer and realizing Luck’s fate will be sealed if Magna sees where he is I sighed before speaking. “Fine, I’ll come up with a lie for you but first you need to get out of my room before my already pissed boyfriend does kill you.” A look of fear flashed through Luck’s eyes for what was probably the first time in his life before he swung open my window jumping out.

    Right as he fell from view Magna peaked inside the room seeing me glaring at the open window curled up in a mountain of blankets. “If it’s so cold you need all those blankets, why the hell do you have the window open?” He asked me, moving to close the window. “Also have you seen Luck? That bastard stole my food again and ran off.” Magna said moving towards my cocoon of blankets.

    Looking up at the fire mage, I failed to come up with a lie he would believe, and so decided I’d save Luck without taking the blame for his thievery. “Truth is he ran through just before you came in and jumped out the window.” Watching Magna try to decide whether to follow him or not, I put the rest of my plan to action. “But instead of spending your day chasing someone you’re never going to catch, you could maybe lie down with your partner who is freezing to death and use that flame magic of yours to keep me warm.” I said through exaggerated shivers, making sure to look as pitiful as possible to convince the stubborn mage.

    I watched as his anger about Luck and his food melted away, fading into an expression of care and comfort as he sighed. “You’re right, I’ll get back at Luck later but for now my love is freezing, and we can’t have that can we.” He said taking off his sunglasses, setting them on my nightstand, and hanging up his robe and jacket on the chair by my desk. “Now before I lay down, we gotta get rid of some of these blankets or we’re going to get way to fucking hot.” He started to pull at the layers wrapped around me.

    I struggled against him. “You can take the blankets off once you warm me up. I can't handle a second in the cold Magna, I’ll die.” I complained as he rolled his eyes in response.

    “Well if you didn’t have every blanket in the hideout on you would have already noticed I’ve been trying to make it warmer in here since I came in. Now If you want cuddles get rid of some of these blankets.” He said seriously.

    Looking at him skeptically I inched a hand out from under the blanket mountain, feeling that the room was in fact quite a bit warmer than when I woke up. With that realization I quickly helped him remove all but one of the probably fifteen blankets I managed to cover myself with. Once that was done I pulled him onto the bed and snuggled into his side. We both began to relax, thankful that it was one of the few days off we get so the chance of being pulled away to a mission was slim.

   “Thanks for this Magna, I love cuddling with you.” I said moving closer with a quiet yawn.

   I felt him place gentle to the top of my head before he yawned as well. “No problem next time you get cold, just come ask and I’m positive I can find a way to keep you warm.” Hearing the slight smirk in his voice, I playfully smacked his chest mumbling a quiet ‘I hate you, receiving a chuckle in response. “I love you too, y/n. Now get some rest, who knows what crazy shit Asta will pull us into next.” WIth that we both fell asleep in each other's arms, somehow sleeping through the chaos that is constant in the Black Bulls hideout.

[scarlet-fantasies]

Winter hcs w Eren plz

Hi anon,

This is a good idea, the spring weather hasn't been able to come for us at all so I think it will be relevant to do this because we still have a very cool winter going on.

-Scarlet

Winter w Eren Hcs

::𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬::

sfw & nsfw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡

𝐼𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛

𝐶𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑗𝑜𝑖𝑛 --> 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑒𝑡-𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠 // 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠. 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒. // 2021-𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❄️Eren doesn’t like the winter too much, he prefers the summer. ❄️But after being with you, he’s grown to like winter, especially if you get cold easily. ❄️He'll make it his job to warm you up. ❄️So he loves wrapping you up in blankets where only your face sticks out. ❄️You’ll just be laying on his bed and then he just walks over to you just to roll you in the blanket. ❄️But you literally don’t complain you just sit there. ❄️He laughs once he sees your face before giving you a kiss. "You look so cute, babe." ❄️Sometimes if he doesn’t place you upright you end up leaning or sliding a little on the bed. ❄️Other times he usually pulls you in to cuddle you. ❄️And he wraps his arms around you. ❄️So you usually rest your head on his shoulder or chest. ❄️Which gets him to smile at you and give you a kiss. ❄️Another reason why he likes winter is if you bake stuff since the place is warmer. (If you can bake) ❄️He really likes making cookies or sweets with you. ❄️And especially the cookies because he can decorate them with you. ❄️So gingerbreads are a must even if you don’t like them. ❄️He usually tries to make his gingerbread look like you, so yes his is a girl. ❄️Even though it looks nothing like you he will put things that remind him of you.

❄️And he's not super clean with his design which makes you laugh.

❄️"Is that your attempt at being Picasso?" You'd tease, making him grin.

❄️"I'm not good with art." He'd admit.

❄️"I know. . . ." You'd trail before grinning at him playfully, "but I still like it." You'd admit, kissing his cheek. ❄️Sometimes he messes up your cookie when you’re trying to make it perfect. ❄️“Stop, I want it to look nice!” You’d giggle as he kept poking your sides while you tried to decorate the cookies. ❄️And you can best bet he will put the sugar on your cheek. ❄️“Eren!” You’d yelp, feeling the cool frosting hit your cheek from his finger. ❄️“Alright, alright.” He’d smile, leaning in with a napkin in his hand by your cheek only to lick off the sugar instead as he tricked you. ❄️“Hey!” You’d blush, his hand holding your cheek afterward as he smirked only to crash his lips onto yours. ❄️He likes to have his hands around your waist when you cook. ❄️In fact, his hands sometimes trail to your hips and they sorta stay there. And then when he cannot help himself he of course grabs your ass even though you’re busy. ❄️Sometimes his hand will just graze over it just to see what you’ll say. ❄️"Eren." You'd say biting your lip while trying to push his hand away. ❄️He'd grab your hand gently, preventing you from pushing his hand away, "No, no, don't quit working." He'd grin standing behind you still teasingly saying this in your ear. ❄️You'd giggle, trying to pry him off, "I can't cook like this." ❄️When you two are waiting for the cookies to bake or just in general he puts on a show or movie for you two to watch. ❄️And he of course cuddles with you. ❄️If you’re extra cold he gets you a blanket. But you always, sit in his lap. ❄️He won’t have it any other way. ❄️Teases you about how you two could warm up. ❄️“Sex makes you hot you know?” ❄️“Shut up!” You’d say playfully hitting his arm. ❄️“You’ll feel much warmer, Y/n, trust me.” He’d grin. ❄️“Stop, the cookies are gonna burn if we focus on that.” You’d mention. ❄️Before you knew it your back hit the couch as your arms were pinned above your head by your bf. ❄️“We can always make them again.” He’d smirk. ❄️“Eren, I’m not wasting my hard work for that!” ❄️He’d laugh, “Relax, I was kidding babe.” ❄️When you two decorate he has you sit on his lap. ❄️Sometimes he puts the frosting and you put the gumdrops on, and vice versa. ❄️He sometimes gets the urge to tickle you when you’re trying to decorate. ❄️He likes making a gingerbread house with you too. ❄️I swear he’s used to snow because he’s been to Germany and you might not be so you’re excited to see snow if it happens but he isn’t. ❄️So you have to drag him out to look at the snowfall. ❄️“Please, I really want to see it.” You’d ask, pulling on his sleeve to get to move from the couch while giving him a pout which you knew he wouldn’t say no to. ❄️He’d laugh, ruffling your hair, “Alright, I’ll go with go you.” ❄️He wraps the scarf around you and holds your mitten hand as you two walk outside. ❄️Snowball fight, you started it, not him. ❄️You had been so busy admiring everything and he was completely bored. ❄️So you saw this and got the idea to throw a snowball at him. ❄️When he turned around you saw a very annoyed Eren, so you threw another snowball at him. ❄️"C'mon, don't be grumpy. You look like your dad right now." You'd laugh making him surprised. ❄️"Hey, watch what you say." He'd grin mischievously as you laughed. ❄️"Well, you're acting old and grumpy right now." You'd tease. ❄️"Alright, that's it!" He'd smirk, joining in the snowball fight. ❄️So he instantly took this as an opportunity to get playful. And so the battle began. ❄️I mean, he was so mean he literally shoved the snow down your sweater and made your chest get so cold. ❄️“What are you doing—Ah, stop!” You’d laugh while trying to shield yourself from him as he had some snow in his hand. ❄️“Come here.” He'd grin, pulling you close with his free hand. ❄️“No!” You'd yelp as you felt your chest get cold in an instant with snow. ❄️Your mouth agape as he just kept laughing, "You're so unfair!" You'd smile while getting the snow out of your sweater.

❄️Meanwhile he'd just be laughing his ass off. ❄️Oh boy was his mom mad. It was that she was there but rather she got home, and she didn't think he was being very wise by getting you sick. ❄️"I cannot believe you'd shove snow down your girlfriend's sweater!" ❄️"Mom, we were just playing." He’d laugh. ❄️She'd sigh, "Here, give her this shirt, it will keep her warm." ❄️He’d take the shirt and give to you. “Do you want help?” He’d whisper wiggling his eyebrows. ❄️“Shut up, you’re mom is right there!” You’d whisper making him laugh. ❄️And thanks to your obnoxious bf making you get so cold you actually got a cold later in the day. ❄️Afterwards you two got hot chocolate. Well he made it for you because he felt bad 😂 ❄️Even though you were still annoyed, “c’mon talk to me. Look I promise this stays between us two.” ❄️“Not really, you're mom knows now. It’s not funny, that was literally unfair.” ❄️“What? A little snow?” ❄️“You shoved a handful down my sweater, that’s not a little.” ❄️“Aww, is your bra wet then?” ❄️“Shut up you perv.” ❄️“I’m kidding.” He’d laugh having you smile. “But we could dry it.” ❄️“It’s fine.” You’d say, shaking your head no, “I’m much warmer than before.” ❄️To make up for making you get a cold for a few days he woke you up one night since it was snowing. ❄️“Eren what are we doing?” You’d question seeing he dragged you out into the snow by the frozen lake. ❄️“Shh, just be quiet and put these on.” He’d say handing you ice skates. ❄️“Ice skates? Do you even know how to skate?” ❄️“I have some experience.” He’d say shrugging his shoulders before helping you put on your shoes. ❄️If you do you’re probably going to have to help him since he’s not that good. 😂 ❄️If you don’t know how to skate he will do his best to help you skate. ❄️In fact he catches almost all of your falls. ❄️“I think you got it just try.” He’d reassure you. ❄️“I don’t think so, I think I’m just going to-ah!” You’d scream as you lost balance again before he caught you. ❄️“Okay, maybe I was wrong about you getting it.” He’d laugh causing you laugh as well. ❄️As you two got ready to go inside for the night you felt a bit of cold hitting you. You’d flinch feeling flake of cold hit your lashes. ❄️“It’s snowing.” You’d smile realizing that the cold that hit you was snow fall. ❄️“Yeah it is,” He’d smile, backing hugging you with his hands around your waist. ❄️You’d look over your shoulder to smile at him, “thank you.” ❄️“For what?” He’d ask. ❄️You’d shake your head, “it’s nothing.” You’d trail with his face close to yours. ❄️“Yeah.” He’d grin before leaning in to kiss you.

@bi-effing-simp @sofijaeger @lucifugovs @xxghoulishspritexx @sp00ksic0la @keithandlevi-ontheroof @songbirdgardensworld

@bubs-world

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[stubblesandwich]

MORE of your house of colour ted talk please, that was really interesting to read!!

Oh my gosh, I'm so happy you enjoyed my mini TED Talk/crazy person rant in your tags. 

For those who don't know what the HECK I'm talking about, I reblogged this fantastic little gif set and went off in the tags about how lucky we all are that Colin O'Donoghue happens to be a winter. 

So for those unfamiliar, everyone fits into a color palette or season, according to House of Color, which came about in the eighties and is based on color theory. The idea is that based on your skin's undertone, hair color, and eye color, you fit into a "season" of color. You're a spring, autumn, summer, or winter. Spring and autumn are on the warm end of the color palettes, and summer and winter are the cooler seasons. Think warm oranges in fall and bright, sunny greens in spring. Bright blues and berry pinks for summer, harsher whites, blacks, blues for winter. Makes sense, doesn't it? (Honestly, it took me a long time to understand it all, but once I did, it kind of broke my brain and I can't unsee these things. 🙃)

Well, I make the case that sir Colin O'Donoghue, our dear Captain, is a winter. And we are so damn lucky that he is. Do you know why? Because winters are the only season who can truly pull off black. 😎 And true red, actually! Because of the high contrast between their features and their cool undertones, winters look amazing in high contrast, vibrant cool colors. Those colors don't wash them out like they would other seasons.

Let's get down to the photo evidence, shall we?

Here we see Colin in all his smirky glory.

Now, we all know what this man looks like, but let me point out the obvious. Dark hair, light eyes. The contrast between the two is high, allowing him to pull off a more high contrast color, such as black, white, and that vibrant blue at his collar. His skin has a cool undertone (which is a whole other thing but just trust me there for now). You can see a more pink look to his skin, instead of a warmer yellow undertone. It's easier to see on people with lighter skin, but you can also determine undertone on folks with darker skin. So, there you have all the makings of a true winter.

What does that mean, in terms of clothing and picking out colors that will complement your features? Let's look at some pictures of Colin NOT wearing colors in his winter palette and maybe you'll see what I'm talking about.

Now, you'll never see me on this website saying this man looks bad in these photos. Obviously you'd be hard pressed to make Colin look unhandsome in anything you put him in. But just take a look at him wearing this muted wine colored shirt. His features don't pop at all, like they normally do. It's doing nothing for him. He'd actually be better off just wearing that white undershirt, in terms of making his features pop. And then the photo with the beige on the right is just... I mean, we can all see that's not good, right? We can all see those colors are doing nothing for him? Winters and beige don't mix. Beige is on a winter's no-no list.

It was actually difficult to find photos of Colin not wearing colors in his season. He actually does pretty well for himself, in that regard. He generally wears cooler colors and a lot of black. Here's another photo example though of him in a warm, olive green. Does he look ugly? Absolutely not. Would this sweater look better on him in black, or almost any shade of cool blue? Absolutely.

The olive color washes him out, actually. Let's compare this to Colin in a bright white and dark blue, below.

See how his eyes pop, and his skin doesn't look so washed out? The olive green sweater seen above is a warm green, which would look fantastic on someone in the autumn season. On a winter, though, it just doesn't work as well. And because I love Colin in blue, here are some more examples of him wearing his colors well.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Tori, you silly goose. You're forgetting about the magic of lighting benefits, and also the magic of facial hair, which is basically makeup for men." Sure, I'll give you that. Most men look better with stubble or a light beard, and lighting helps. I take you now to my next example of Colin not in his best colors.

The white undershirt and the blue tie are great for Colin! The rust brown suit, however, makes me feel yucky inside. I keep using this phrase, but you can see how this color is just not doing the man any favors. It doesn't help bring any vibrancy to his features in any way. Let's compare these now to (the moment we've all been waiting for) Colin wearing black and see if we can tell a difference.

Do you see how his eyes look brighter, and his skin tone doesn't look so muted and washed out? The skin beneath his eyes isn't as shadowed, either. People generally look healthier when wearing the colors that suit them best. Now, add in Hook's eyeliner to make those blue eyes pop, and you've got some real magic.

Winters also look great in red. (Think of Monica Gellar, also a winter, in her signature red from Friends.) Let us not forget Killian's fan favorite "red vest of sex", as seen below. Someone in the costume department really knew what they were doing with Colin, it must be said.

It's also important that they had him wear silver jewelry, instead of gold, as silver goes better with cool undertones. And how fortunate are we that they cast a man who naturally looks so good in black? The whole "little black dress" as a closet staple for women simply doesn't work for so many of us who just don't look good in black. The only season that truly shines in black is the true winter. ✊🏻 More power to them.

TL;DR Colin looks fantastic in black, and there's a scientific reason for it. Emma didn't stand a chance against not falling for Killian Jones, and neither did we.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

[bekyll]

I am participating in @gtgotcha4gaza!

This is a request for @maltesegeek96, who donated! I hope I did your OCs justice, as I know nothing about them!

Request: (Mini giant/human) My beast character, Lysander, reading a book aloud in his private library to his small human son, Cecil.

Lysander had closed his eyes, finally being able to rest in the library. The hearth held a fire and he had a small glass of wine next to him, from which he occasionally took a sip.

Cecil had been brought to bed, so he allowed himself to rest his weary bones. He snuggled in the chair and a satisfied smile curled on his lips. With his eyes closed, he took his wine glass, spun the liquid around and took a sip.

His ears began to twitch as he heard tiny footsteps in the hall. Immediately, he could tell it was little Cecil, who had a certain spring in his step and smelled like the soap he had just been bathed in. Lysander sat upright, eyes locked on the door before it opened.

Cecil had to stand on his toes to reach the door handle, but once he did, he peeked his head. First, he looked towards the fire, and then at the gentle giant in the chair.

Lysander rested a hand on his knees and bowed forward. The tiny boy was in nightgown and walked over to his father.

“What's the matter, boy?” Lysander said gently. He did not want to chastise Cecil for being up this late. Maybe he had been frightened by the tree ticking against the window.

“Dad,” He said softly, almost ashamed, “I can't sleep.” The boy walked to his father and rested a hand on his knee. Immediately, Lysander put a hand in his hair and began to pet him. The boy hummed and closed his eyes.

“Why not?”

“The bed. It's too big… and cold. And the curtain does not close all the way, and I see shadows against the window.”

“Mhm. You should not be afraid.” Lysander waved his finger and booped Cecil's nose.

“Am not!” Cecil said quickly. “I am just … worried-”

“About what?” Lysander had to hide a smile, but he lifted his son up under his armpits to let him rest on his chest. The boy immediately curled up, happy with the soft and warm surface, and the gentle rumble of his father's chest as he spoke.

“I am worried about something outside. What if something takes you.”

Lysander let out a booming laugh, putting his hand on top of the boy so he would not fall off, “Nothing will get me.” He pressed a kiss on the boy's forehead.

Cecil chuckled softly, his eyes closed. “Also, it is warmer here.” He concluded happily.

“Perhaps I should've lit a fire in your room. Add more blankets.”

“But I wanna stay here!”

“Here? But younglings have to sleep early. You want to get as big and strong as me, don't you?”

The boy mumbled something with his face pressed in Lysander's chest. Even with his hearing, he could not decipher it.

“Even I was small like you once, and scared. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Cecil said nothing, so the gentle beast continued, “Let me tell you a story.” Lysander stood up, scooping Cecil in one hand so he was cradled like a baby. His son loved it when he was carried like this, since the ground was rather far away, but he was protected by big, strong arms.

Lysander knew where he had to find the book he was looking for. There was no title on the leather band. Cecil tried to take a peek into the book, but the giant did not reveal its contents yet.

His hooves made soft ticking noises on the tiles as he walked back.

Opening the book, he allowed Cecil to lie on his chest again. They could both look inside the book now. Inside was a scrappy handwriting, like that of a child. The big, curly loops were unsteady but grew more steady over time.

Cecil scrunched his nose, “It's hard to decipher.”

Lysander chuckled, “This is one of my first diaries. I must’ve been your age.” He began to look through the pages. Above every page, there was a date and every entry started with a simple: ‘Hello Dagmar,’

“Who is Dagmar?"

“It's what I named my diary. You know, so I have someone to talk to. As if he is my friend.”

Cecil nodded and marveled at the pages.

Lysander began to read about his adventures as a child. How he loved to explore the outside world, how he had begun to read and collect books at a young age, and how scared he sometimes was.

One scribbly entry was probably written in the dark, as it was written quickly, as if it was done in a hurry.

“I must've heard the tree tick against the window, but I was convinced there was something outside.”

Cecil was quiet as Lysander read the simple paragraph of the young beast trying to come up with an escape plan. Lysander grinned at his own innocence. but there was also a creativity present, with little drawings of various traps to capture anyone that would hurt him.

Suddenly, Cecil looked up at him, “Can you tell me more about Dagmar?”

Surprised by the question, Lysander rubbed the band of the book, “Oh, I suppose he is a good listener. A good friend.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Lysander hadn't thought about this at all. Honestly, it was just a book and a name. “Because it's what I needed back then. A friend.”

“Am I your friend?” Cecil spoke softly, eyes half-lidded because of the warmth.

“My very best friend. And also a little demon sometimes, but very sweet when needed.” He ruffled Cecil's hair fondly, and the boy laughed.

Lysander stopped when he was interrupted by a loud yawn.

“Time for bed.” Lysander said, a little stricter this time.

“N'aww,” Cecil whined.

“I will give you an extra blanket.” He stood up, cradling his son again and walked upstairs, avoiding all the creaking steps of wood. He put Cecil in bed, and felt his heart warm up when the pillows almost engulfed him.

He stroked a bit of hair from Cecil's face and smiled. He looked so small, with round cheeks and a twinkle in his eyes. Cecil looked happy; happy that he could go to his father when he couldn't sleep; happy that he had a belly full of food.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yes, dad. I know.” Cecil said happily, his eyes falling shut. He yawned again and curled under the covers.

Not forgetting his promise, Lysander put an extra blanket on top of him, “There, all warm and cozy.”

Cecil said nothing, but it was dark and late, so Lysander left the room, gently closing the door.

He only went downstairs to put out the fire, and then went to his own room to sleep. He was happy Cecil had disturbed his quiet night. He wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way.

[ggomos-maribat]

Back in the Demon's Den

Part 2 of Heirs Apparent | AO3

Masterlist

The little girl peered from the top bunk when the door creaked open, welcoming the two boys into the room. Night was bleeding into dawn but she was still wide awake, immediately springing down the wooden ladder to get the bandages. One of her brothers had the side of his head matted with dried blood, while the other was pressing on his abdomen.

The girl sniffed. "Not fair."

"What is not fair?"

Waist-length braids swishing behind her, the girl delivered the kit to the edge of the larger bed. She wordlessly took out the necessities: disinfectant, bandages, cotton. The mere sight of her brothers' wounds added a weight to her chest again.

"Why can't I join the missions?" She asked lowly. "Why is it always the both of you who have to get hurt?"

"Mother says you are not ready," Damian replied bluntly.

"You don't want to go on those missions," Danyal added, helping her unfurl the bandage. "They're too dangerous."

The girl bit her lip in frustration as hot tears pooled in her eyes. When will I ever be ready in their eyes? Why must they think that I'm weak? She threw the roll in a fit, hiked up her nightgown, and leapt back to the top bunk. "I don't understand. I keep up with both of you in training. Both Mother and Aunt Nyssa go on missions all the time. Why can't I?"

The two boys shared a look before Danyal began treating their injuries. Night after night, their sister would wash the crimson stains from their skin and treat each cut. She never showed impatience nor blatant worry over them. But this night was different; she had her back turned to them, blanket pulled up to her shoulders in an effort to fall into slumber more quickly.

"We're sorry, Mari." Danyal carefully packed up the kit and returned it to the highest shelf.

"I am not," Damian interrupted.

"Damian—"

"We barely make it out alive in each mission. If we fail, we will be branded as traitors to the League. We return with open wounds, limping, hungry, cold. I am certain you understand we don't want the same fate for you."

Danyal's lips pursed and his eyebrows raised at his brother's statement. It was straightforward, as per usual, but he couldn't disagree.

Yet Marinette remained silent even as they shuffled around to finally get ready for bed.

---

The leather coat draped over her shoulders and the high-neck black top adorned with a modest necklace was hardly a League-traditional attire but it sufficed for the summon. The coat and boots were gifts from her biological mother and the singular braid coming down between her shoulder-blades were reminiscent of her childhood style.

Marinette had nearly forgotten the dry and stiffing air of Nanda Parbat. Her steps were soundless on the concrete walkway but the assassins bowing on either side of the path were repeating loudly: "Welcome, Amira." She maintained her composure, gaze never straying from what was ahead of her.

When she reached the warmer interior of the temple, she found a lone figure waiting for her. Marinette quickened her pace, going straight into the arms of Talia al Ghul.

"Mother." She missed her. She hadn't realized how much so.

"Marinette, my amira. You are here early." Talia looked at her as if checking for signs of hurt.

"What happened, mother? Why was I summoned?"

"I suppose I should tell you now." Her mother's eyes hardened, the same cold green Marinette once saw in her brother. "Your grandfather is dead."

Her arms fell to her sides. "By whose hand?"

"We do not know yet. The body was taken."

To keep him from being revived in the Pits, her mind immediately supplied. It had not crossed her mind that someone would finally strike down Ra's al Ghul. Envy simmered in her gut, as she wished she'd been the one to end his life.

"I see." That was her reply.

"I arranged for the summon so we can . . . discuss what to do." Talia seemed to be gauging her reaction, maybe waiting for an eruption or a vehement refusal of her involvement.

But even Marinette could barely comprehend what to feel. First, her head spun at the implications of the demon's death on the League. There was the question of who the next in line will be, and whether the members will accept the heir. They had to find the killer and the body  and figure out how to manage the base at the sudden absence of their leader.

"I'll go around while we wait." Marinette trudged past her Mother and deeper into their home.

Home? Was it even a home? There was a sense of familiarity in the place that could be mistaken for longing. Almost nothing had changed since she left. But the League's base couldn't be a home. It was where she fought, killed, suffered. Taking a deep breath, Marinette climbed down a post and jumped to the lower level, continuing as far as she could. The strain of moving around without the suit awakened her muscles once more.

Tikki stirred in her coat pocket and she patted the spot to reassure the kwami that she was fine. It wasn't long before she reached her destination: a murky green pool bubbling with a bright glow and smoke.

Marinette crouched at the edge of the Lazarus pit. The energy from the pool was surprisingly balanced, as it was made from the essence of both destruction and creation. She had gone straight to the Pit to make sure there was no chance, no possibility of the unwanted revival of her grandfather.

She sighed heavily. Of the emotions rooting inside her, there was no sliver of remorse.

Tikki stirred again and flew out of her coat, settling atop her cupped palms. "The Lazarus Pit," the kwamis said pensively.

"The Pit of Madness," Marinette echoed. "I don't understand . . . the power of the Wish can make something like this?"

"We can't create something out of nothing of course," Tikki explained. "What the Wish did is take the raw material and make it more stable for humans so it can bring back the dead."

"That raw material." She locked her eyes on the pool. Thick, pungent, scalding. "Ectoplasm?"

"Normally, the Miraculi aren't compatible with ectoplasm or ectoplasmic beings. The Wish is the exception."

"No wonder it's so green, huh?"

Marinette's head snapped up to meet a pair of eyes reflecting the hue of the Pit, which slowly mellowed out into a blue akin to hers. "Akhi," she breathed out, rushing over to tackle her brother into a hug.

"How did you get. . ." She looked back at the pool. "Don't tell me, is the Pit a portal?" 

Danyal laughed, tightening his warm embrace around her. "No, not the Pit. I did travel via the ghost zone though. Much quicker." 

Tikki floated up to give the newcomer a small welcome of her own. "Mother told me you were here." He cocked his head. 

"Did she tell you?" 

He nodded and pulled her up to her feet. "I'm surprised it happened; no wonder we were called right away." 

They began to make their way to a secluded meeting room. Like her, Danyal didn't look like he was grieving. He seemed relieved, in fact, for a reason she wasn't certain of. 

They pushed the double doors in tandem, greeted by Talia, Nyssa and Damian gathered around a pentagonal table. Marinette glanced at her other brother, resisting the urge to lock him into a hug. It was a time for discussion for their family, and she must put on her facade of formality.

Damian cleared his throat. "I apologize for taking too long. I had to shake a few birds off before coming here."

Talia set her palms on the glass surface of the table. "The League is divided as of now. Some are strongly against me or Nyssa on taking the position as the next head. They think that we will be twisting Father's ideals."

"Which is not exactly false," Nyssa added, a slight smirk on her lips.

"They want one of us to take the mantle," said Danyal.

"Others want another leader. A new one." Talia pursed her lips. "Such as Lady Shiva."

"Or Deathstroke?"

Nyssa made a scoffing sound at her nephew's incredulous remark.

"What?" Damian crossed his arms. "We all know he's behind grandfather's death. He must be waiting to strike the League again now that we are vulnerable."

The memory flashed in Marinette's head: the day Slade Wilson staged a coup in the League but failed to complete his ultimate goal of killing Ra's al Ghul. That same day led to the separation of her and her brothers.

"Regardless, our new leader will face animosity. I do not have the intent to make one of you ascend as the head. There are differing opinions on the three of you," Talia relayed.

Marinette looked away. It's not like any of us want to.

"What do you mean by differing opinions?" Damian asked.

"There's an entire group that advocates for Damian," Nyssa began, "Because Ra's favored you the most. For them you have the most similar leadership style as your grandfather."

There was a twitch on Damian's jaw, Marinette saw. They couldn't be any further from the truth.

Their aunt eyed the heir to her left. "But there's another faction that wants Danyal. A softer, tactical rule that will help preserve the League for more centuries. And finally—" Eyes landed on Marinette herself. "—There are those who want our amira to lead because of your inclination to magic."

Marinette's fingers drummed on the engraved tabletop. She didn't know or expect herself to have any followers.

"None of them will assume the position," Talia repeated. "For now, I need the three of you back in hiding while Nyssa and I temporarily lead the League. Our situation has changed—you must now expect enemies wherever you go."

A shimmer, a rare glint appeared in Talia's eyes, breaking through her usual stoic expression. The same look from Sabine Cheng upon first seeing Marinette distraught over the incident in her school. It was that moment when Marinette knew how risky everything had become.

Talia was afraid for them.

"We understand, Mother," she voiced out clearly, speaking for the three of them.

---

The sisters sent them away to a separate room so the two could talk to the other League members. The three settled on taking over the kitchen after Marinette expressed her hunger. As soon as they left the meeting room, she took the chance to give Damian a careful hug. 

"So, shake off a few birds huh?" Marinette smiled, breaking away as Damian handed a snack to Tikki. 

"Tt. It's difficult to leave the manor without one or two of them sticking to me." 

Danyal's eyes widened. "I'm surprised they haven't found out until now." 

Marinette moved to the counter to prepare her ingredients. She'd spotted a few things she could use to make a simple meal. Her brothers moved at her requests to reach for what she asked. 

"They will not find out if they think there is nothing to pry into," said Damian. 

Marinette glanced at their eldest triplet. She suddenly remembered the little trinkets she kept in a hidden compartment of the Miracle box, two pins in the shape of the League's emblem to remind her of her brothers: one in gold and green and one in gold and blue. She knew Danyal kept trinkets of his own, the sheaths of the first knives they used as children. 

But Damian couldn't keep any mementos, lest his family came to know the truth. 

"But they know about the League." She smoothed down the wisps of hair that escaped her neat braid. "They'll understand if you tell them." 

Damian raised an eyebrow. "How do you think Father will react when he finds out about the existence of two children he knew nothing about?" 

"Touché." Danyal mock-shuddered. Their father would obviously stop at nothing to dig deep into their lives, and it would be a disaster if he found out about the Miraculous or Danyal's partial death. 

"Though I am not sure if Pennyworth or Cassandra somehow know, but I will be keeping this from the others as much as possible." 

Marinette nodded as she began to cook. They couldn't have the luxury to tell the truth even once. 

"And you both?" Damian questioned. 

"Ugh, Jazz and my friends will freak," Danyal groaned. "I don't think they'll get to know soon. Or ever." 

"Same here," Marinette said quietly, recoiling a little when she popped the heat on. "I don't know how to bring this up after my partner and I revealed ourselves to each other." 

Danyal sucked in a breath. "You and—?" 

A sour look overtook Marinette's grim expression. "Only recently, we decided to trust each other with our identities. I care about him, I really do, but . . ." 

"You know him. In civilian form," Damian continued for her. 

"I avoided him for days. I'm scared we'd get close, too close that I might hurt him. Or this kind of life hurts him." Marinette glared at nothing in particular. "I'd rather none of them get involved." 

She noticed it in her brothers and herself. Distance as a coping mechanism, to protect themselves and the people they love. As much as she advocated for the truth, she valued her friends' and allies' lives more. 

"What about Hawkmoth?" Danyal walked over to her side, putting a hand on her back. 

Marinette sighed bitterly. "Same old. Akumas showing up. Then we defeat them."

"We are ready to extend our help if you need it." Damian looked at her intently.

Damian and Danyal had both offered her help in the Paris situation but she had always stood her ground and refused. Paris was hers and hers alone to handle and she had no plans of putting her family into an emotional hostage like all other Parisians.

"No, it's okay. Now that Chat and I know each other, we can make more progress to investigate Hawkmoth's identity." She smiled weakly. "I wouldn't want to to keep Gotham's best vigilante and the Ghost King busy."

"But really, amira, come straight to us if you need anything, okay?" Danyal frowned.

She could only nod in response. Her brothers were her last resort, her fail-safe if worse came to worst. But she couldn't imagine bringing them into the mess, even if they were qualified.

She laughed a little, finishing up the meal she made and helping the boys portion the food into wooden bowls. "I just realized . . . the powers we have now would've sent Grandfather rolling in his grave."

"God, you're right," Danyal agreed, cracking a smile. "He coveted the Miraculous for ages and tried to research ectoplasm himself. The things he worked on for so long were cracked by his grandchildren."

"Grandchildren who don't want to inherit his position," Damian pointed out.

Marinette let her tense shoulders relax. She didn't know when she could see her brothers again, and it hit her how much she missed them. Taking a shaky breath, she focused on eating to keep her emotions at bay. Maybe in another life, she'd be living peacefully with them without danger lurking behind their backs.

In another life she could tell Adrien the truth behind her past.

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[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

I think I know what's coming (and I just don't care.)

Summery:

Martyn lives an everyday life, he goes to work, he deals with his personal traumas away from the view of everyone else. And he likes to think he's rather smart.

Scott has a nice house he got after the death of someone in his family, he has a decent job, even if it is customer service. And he likes to think he's rather normal.

In which Scott tip toes the lines of mortality and his so supposed normalness, and martyn in his intelligence.

TW!! Kidnapping, violence, a party scene involving alcohol, and that sort of thing!!

Bata read but not edited!!

(This fic goes to @toomanyfandomsorkinafs!! <3 I thought I might follow this up with a nice note, as your Christmas gift, it's like I'm giving you a card!! Take a look at the bottom of the fic once done<333)

Now, martyn likes to say he's no idiot. When you come from a bad home. You don't tend to be one, even when you're disconnected from reality, you still keep your ears sharp, and mind running.

Waliing to the bookshop is a very normal thing now. He doesn't care to do the math, but he got this job early spring, and bow its late fall, the small drown building with the front covered in windows to display the books, welcoming him. He waves at the batista in the cafe just next door, cramped together on the street, side to side. The blue haired man, nodding to martyn, a large grin on his face, yet relaxed. He seems almost pleased. But martyn doesnt bother. Huffing a laugh, he pushes open the glass and dark oak doors. Rough concrete turning to soft, but itchy short carpet.

Working behind the counter, her shift almost over is cleo. Long wavy orange hair pulled back into a bun on the back of her head thats honestly seems lose enough to be almost falling apart. And Cleo is tense, she keeps on flexing her hands, but her face stays neutral. She must have gotten in another fight with etho over their sons. Bdubs and scar. She's only like this after a really tense argument. His brain can't help but supply. He doesn't really question why his eyes can't seem to focus, but he can notice cleos body language.

He takes the flat billed baseball cap off, hanging it up on the coat rack. Along with his too long trench coat he got from the thrift shop down the street, just a few days ago after work, just to fight off the cold for a little bit.witu snow on the horizon, he feels he might need to go back and get something a little warmer.

Cleo shuffles out from behind the small counter, nodding at martyn as she grabs hers own coat and more suitable for the weather, beanie. Pulling her hair out of the frankly awful, and stressful bun, she tugs the hat right on over, she doesn't bink when putting on on the beanie. Grumbling when it gets her bangs a bit in her eyes.

They don't need to say anything, they've know eachother long enough to know this isn't a day for words. Cleo most definitely had another custody argument. And she looks at martyn, how he seems to be far away, deep in his head, and his hands shake with tremors, and his jaw stays locked. They don't need words today, not when the sound if a too loud car makes martyn freeze in his place, half way to the counter.

Cleo walks out with a nod, the bell dinging behind her. And martyn wastes no idea digging into the new inventory. Boxes pilled in the back that they just haven't had room for yet, just calling his name. A simple task he doesn't have to tune in for. Perfect.

Martyn isn't sure how long he takes, but 3 out of God knows how many, boxes down, and the tremors are subsiding just a bit.

He isn't quite sure what set him off today. He had went to make breakfast, but he had to wash a few dishes first, and he couldn't find a fork, and since he was already doing a few, he decided to just do them all, but he couldn't find his gloves either, and when he did he already lost motivation, but he still did them, and next thing he knew, his podcast was too loud, and his hands hurt from holding dishes, his feet also hurt from standing, weird, he swore he hadn't been standing that long, and fuck, a plate broke. A plate fucking broke and can't find all the pieces, and he doesn't want to ruin his gloves and-

Well, he was shaking, and his breath was uneven, and his Brain felt clogged, and his lips were far too dry.

He decided on just eating a granola bar.

He doesn't know why the tremors stayed all the way till work, and hours later, bit, he can't do much about them, not really, he just has to deal with it, and no think about how his ears are ringing, and his legs are shaking too, oh fuck, his legs are shakin-

His thoughts were cut off when his legs decided to attempt to fall in, like martyn thought of them magic word. Barely catching himself on a bookshelf.. only for, well, everything tends to go wrong when your over stimulated, doesn't it?

Martyn composed with the bookshelf, and the books, and, he cant...he can't think straight, his mind and eyes too blurry, he's shaking too much.

"F-Fuck..." his voice trembled out the angry words, trembling like his hands, his breath, his legs.

It took martyn far longer, and far more trouble to get the books and bookshelf back up. He couldn't stop shaking. Afterwards, with his aching just, body. He thought it was best to sit behind the counter. Checking his watch it had only been and hour since he got in to work. He swore it should have been longer. But his mind lies about the time, and the clock doesn't.

Too far, or too little into the time, the ble haired man walks in, all confident, browsing the books. Scarf tight to keep the cold out, work uniform still on. And a thick, bushy coat. He sighs in relief at the warm and martyn can't help but find him beautiful.

Martyn loves the people that come into book stores sometimes, friendly tired moms, who try to be as nice as their young ones beg to leave. Elderly who call him sweetie, and promise to bring cookie next time, but always forget. Students just trying to get their school books just a little bit cheaper. People aimlessly looking for a gift for someone, even if they don't read a lot.

And if course, pretty, young people, looking for something to occupie their mind for a little bit.

The blue haired man falls under that category, with curled blue hair to one side, and blue eyes like ice. Lanky with a sort of elegance that almost feels dangerous. And his he/him pronoun pin, and gay man pride flag pin.

Everyday, but thrusdays, that he head into eirk, the man is at the cafe, and they wave, and once a week. Sometimes more, he comes in, buys a fantasy novel, or a queer romance novel, and leaves on his way. With small talk that makes martyn both nervous, and a little excited.

The man walks just as he foes everywhere week, seems almost drawn to the horror novels, but ingotes it, ignores it and goes to the romance. Martyn wonders a little, why he doesn't look at it. Why he doesn't buy one, why his handshakes over the covers, then Jenks back like he was burned. Martyn can't say he loves the horror they get, but he does enjoy it, every so often, he'll sir down with one of them, read ad long as he can, and let the idea someone could love him so much, they go insane, rot in his mind.

But, maybe the man has skeletons in the closet he isn't ready to show. Martyn can't Blane him, when he has some of his own. The soft music plays. And martyn can't help but chuckle as the man sways to it as he searches. Mouthing the words as he reads the back of a book. And martyn can see the edges of a scar from his neck but it doesn't matter, the man is walking up, a book in hand, and martyn is ready.

"Soooo, blondie, you haven't told me your name yet?" The tall man huffs happily, a grin playing at his lips, and like the rest of the day is gone, martyn huffs a laugh, holding his hand out of the book but the man just leans on the counter. Hunched over, elbow on the counter, head in his hand, tilted at martyn like that man would rather be no where else.

"Gimmie your book asshole..!!" Martyn huffs out, voice a laugh, eyebrows scrunching, and he's glad he pinned back his bangs today, he would hate for them to get in the way of the view when the man rolls his eyes.

"Nope!! Name first!!" He giggles while poping the p, to really add to it, tilting his head almost completely upside-down at martyn, clearly trying to get him to laugh, and martyn hates to admit he snorted at it, his face wrinkling. And the man's kinda stares, face going a bit red around the edges, but his grin only grows.

"I don't even know your name!!" Martyn huffs, crossing his arms, raising an eyebrow at the now pink in the face man. His flush only getting worse, and martyn knows the logical answer, probably just getting embarrassed, nothing big.

"I'll tell you my name, and give you the book, if you tell me yours first!!" The man tries to bargain, setting his head the right way once again. Curled hair falling just a enough to get in his eyes.

Martyn huffs, feeling his own face redden. Shaking his head, he can't believe how just...silly this all is!! He also can't believe his own tounge. "Martyn. Martyn littlewood." He sighs, unable to wipe away his own grin, as the man sits up, and passes him the book, smoothing down his outfit.

"Scott major, it's wonderful to formally know you martyn!!" He practically giggles out as the loud ding of martyn swiping the book rings out.

"Well, Scott major, your total is 24.67"

Martyn isn't ashamed to say it goes on like that for a while. A few more weeks go by, once a week, turns into twice a week, turns into buying a book twice a week, but coming to visit 2 other days. And before martyn knows it. He's spending his lunch at the cafe with Scott. He's even stopping for a coffee before work.

He has absolutely no clue what Scott is doing with all these books, but honestly, they're spending so much time, dilly dallying at their workplaces, martyn forgets to ask.

Martyns remembers it very very clearly, mostly becuase it had been one of the most nerve wrecking moments in his entire life. Martyn had been sorting the shelves when Scott came in, pearl working behind the counter, her hair pulled back, and in a rather simple winter outfit, a tan turtle neck, a pair of black high waisted jeans, and tan winter boots. Martyn won't deny, it looked good on her. But, well, Scott frozen in his place from the sight of pearl and martyn talking. He could see the man's hands twitch, and martyn felt an inkling of fear. Of worry.

But this is Scott. There's nothing to worry about, Scott that refused to let martyn pay for his coffee, Scott, who's shift got over 2 hours before martyns, and always made sure to stop in. Scott who he well, he trusted. And well, he hopes he can trust him for no conflict. In the times Scott had been coming, martyn was almost exclusively alone. Cleo had the morning shift, martyn had the day shift, and pearl had the evening shift. Early, 5am, cleo would open, work till 1pm, then martyn would come in, hed work till 8, and in their over night book store. Pearl would work from 8, to 3am. Little business but, you'd be surprised how many people go wandering late at night for a book. But all in all, this is almost everyday. Big B would work in a range of shifts, and he often worked martyns shift on Saturday.

But really, there normally wasn't enough of them, to work multiple at a time really. So, for Scott to see pearl, well, it was a bit of a surprise to say the least.

Martyn rose to his feet with a groan, his back poping from the hunched over position he was in on the floor. Hand on the bookshelf he was sitting infront of for just a moment to bend back and pop his back once more, before walking over to the counter, and waving Scott over.

Scott seemed almost hesitant, but, he smoothed out his shirt, and a look of almost anger, turned into one of calm, relaxed details. Walking over with a small grin he waved to martyn, seeming to be ignoring pearl.

"Scott, this is pearl, my coworker, she normally has the shift right after me" he gestured to pearl, a small grin on his face as he looked Scott in the eyes, blue eyes seeming to calm down at the sight of martyn paying attention to him.

"Pearl, this is Scott, my regular, and, well, a friend of mine, he works at that cafe" he chuckled, gesturing to Scott. But looking pearl in the eyes. He isn't quite sure why he brought up where Scott works, he is in his work clothes still, after all.

Scott wouldn't say he's a jealous person. Not really. But rage boiled in his chest, the Jaws of an ugly beast threatening to wrap around and crush any chance at a friendship him and pearl have. He isn't quite sure why it bothers him so much. Martyn can have friends outside of him. For fucks sake. Scott has friends outside of martyn!!

"It's nice to meet you pearl!!" He chuckled, looking pearl in the eyes and sticking out his hand. It almost seemed like dead movement martyn acknowledged. And martyn can't see the look in scotts eyes, but he can see the shiver up pearls spine, he can see how she almost looks uncomfortable around him. Shaking his hand almost hesitantly

"Pleasure to meet you..." she mumbled, looking him in his eyes, squinted as she tried to read something about him. Before nodding, relaxing, a grin coming to her mouth as she let go of his hand.

Martyn nodded to where he was sitting before, a delight grin on his face as he jabbed Scott in the arm.

"Come on, we, have some cds to sort" he giggled walking away as he heard the cafe worker gasp in offense, following after. He can see Scott come to stand next to him out of the corner of his eye, slowly sitting back down in his spot. The blue eyed man following suit.

"Since when did it become 'we'?!" He huffed, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward, tilting his head at martyn, much like a puppy would before starting to play with you, and martyns cheeks couldn't help but redden at the thought.

"I'll have you know, I just got off work, I cane to hang out, and now you're having me be social, AND, do your job?!"He sat back, crossing his arms with a huff, turning his face away, a pout playing at his lips that only made martyns cheeks a brighter red.

And still, martyn, has absolutely no clue why he did it, it may have been an impulse, or he just felt it was right, or he just, really wanted to. But martyn leaned over, and kissed the man's cheek. "Will that make you help me out some?" He whispered, voice quiet, and almost trembling, as he stayed in scotts personal space. The blue haired man lighting up in a beautiful shade of red that had martyn leaning back and turning into a red faced, giggling idiot.

Scott just nodded limby, mouth slightly open in surprise, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Scott doesn't know why he did it. He can't come up with a single reason why. This isn't the kind of thing he'd do. He had no clue why he was so ready to do it. He just...hell, he may havel been planning it. He doesn't know. He can't even been super sure he even regretted it.

It had happened by pure coincidence really. He got invited to a holiday party joel and his girlfriend lizzie were hosting and it really just, turns out that lizzie knew pearl. She knew pearl well. The shorter women followed around by pearl, casually talking the entire time. In his hands was a far too sweet cocktail he believes mumbo made, he couldn't be sure, but it coated his throat in syrup and left a sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth.

He saw pearl stand there awkwardly as lizzie got whisped away by some other people. All their voices too loud, all their cups mostly empty, and all smelling of the sickeningly sweet alcohol. So with far too much confidence and bad intentions. He moved across the too loud room, people shoving into him, almost making him spill his drink. His nose wrinkling at the strong smell of fireball one left behind.

He huffed in relief as he flopped down on the chair neck to pearl. On the couch just a few feet away, a man was snorring while sitting up, his girlfriend holding his sleeping hand as she talked with people who came and went, talking softly even if the room was roaring in sound. Scott nodded to them as they paid not an ounce of attention to him

"Well, would you look at that..!! Chivalry isn't dead..!!" He chuckled, and pearl snorted, finally looking over to him. A sad sort of grin on her face, as she sat down on the floor, back to the arm of the chair. Legs curling up to her chest, cup abandoned at her side.

Scott let her stay silent for a moment, clearly thinking something, or not having the words in her. Loud stupid pop music playing on some speakers. Pearl seeming to almost be breathing heavily, eyes still trained on lizzie.

“I heard they might be getting married…” Pearl whispers out. And Scott doesn't need to her to say who she's talking about her voice shaking lightly.

“I'm so sorry about that…if it makes you feel any better, I once dated a man for 2 years, only to find out he was married the entire time, had a family and all!!” He huffs, scowling slightly before sighing, a small laugh bubbling up in his throat. And pearl let's out a hiss in sympathy, and Scott just pats her shoulder. “What I'm saying is she isn't the only one like that out there. You'll find someone else who takes your breath away all over again” he says, voice soft as he moves to be leaning back.

Pearl flounders for words, leaning back against the chair, hair a tangled mess getting onto scotts lap. “I…I'm just…so tired of being so just…alone. All the time..” she whimpers, hands coming to wipe away the forming tears as she starts to bable “and she just…she made me feel like I wasn't alone, like I had somewhere, where someone wanted me, where she wanted me…and now she's off,possibly about to be engaged, like we didn't hang out at my place last week, watching Christmas movies and cuddling, and just…” she groans out. Curling back up into a ball, refusing to look anywhere else.

And Scott sees this as his chance really. Standing up slowly, he holds out a hand for her, a reassuring smile on his face, but his blood boils. He feels it popping and snapping in his chest. And he isn't quite sure why.

“Come on, I don't think we need to be here anymore.” He trials off, his grin only growing as she uses his hand to pull herself up, shaking slightly in the legs. But nodding all the same. Letting her eyes drift to the floor. Scott almost feels bad. Key word, almost. The ugly beast still snarls and shows its teeth, ready to bite down and shred her to bits.

He guides her through the rows of too loud music, and too many drunk people. He can hear cheers as mumbo does some kind of trick with the mixer. It isnt much of a surprise. Mumbo has been bartending for almost a decade at this point. He makes it a point in almost every conversation that he simply loves his job. But Scott can still hear him apologize, and say it's really nothing. That it's rather quite simple. No one believes him in the slightest. Not when Scott and pearl are half way to the door, and they can both see the metal cups flying through the air above the crowd. Too many people in the too fancy house.

Lizzy cam from a far too wealthy family Scott is starting to think. She says she had a comfortable childhood. But. That feels like a bit of a lie.

The door is soon approaching, and pearl leans on Scott as he guides her too it. Not interested in being here longer then he needs to be. Not with the plan starting to form in his mind as he practically shoves her out the door.

“Hey…do you want me to drive you home?” He chuckles, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. Already knowing the answer as she weakly nods. Brown hair that once was done up all nice now falling in his face. As she stares at the floor. Unsure of what's going to happen.

He makes his way to his car, making sure to not have parked too far away, back when he thought he was going to leave with a bad attitude and ready to just drive off. Opening the passenger door he does a joking bow, and pearl doesn't even try to give a smile at it. Sliding into the seat almost limply, and Scott can't help but smile. It almost feels far too easy. As he walks around, opening his door, and sliding into his own seat. Looking to the door to see the small pistol he keeps there as a just incase scenario. He does feel he'll need it as he starts up the car.

With the roar to life, he slowly turns on the music, turning it to an older station and watching as pearls noise wrinkles as the final count down starts to play. He turns on the heating to keep her warm in her too little clothing for the weather. “Sooooo, you're gonna have one he'll of a hangover at work tomorrow?” He asks with a chuckle, slowly buckling in. She does the same and shakes her head. “Don't got work for the next few days, holiday weekend and all. With new years being in a day. Heard martyn and bigB are still working tho.” She says, almost numbly as she looks out the window, something still so sad about her. And he doesn't know why, but her bringing up martyn makes the thing in his chest snarl.

He decides to let the car idle for a moment, not wanting to mess it up too bad. Even if he is about to kidnap pearl. And she's going to let him. He knows it. Deep in his chest. It feels far too easy, and yet to right. “That's good. That's good, well, not good for martyn or big B, but. I'm glad you have a few days off…” he kinda trails off, rubbing the soft steering wheel cover. The two falling into almost awkward silence. Pearl too busy I'm her own head of thoughts of lizzie, Scott too busy in his with thoughts of making sure pearl certainly gets a point.

“Hey, you wanna head over to mine? I have some ice cream and shit? Make you feel all better?”

“....what streaming services do you have?”

“....Netflix, Hulu, paramount, and Disney-”

“-Yeah, let's head over to yours.” She cuts him off before he can finish, looking up out of the car window, and Scott snickers. Putting his car into drive.

Come morning and sunlight streams through the curtains of his old family house. Bathing the place in light. Stretching his arms far above his head with a yawn, making sure to keep an eye on the sizzling bacon and the soon to be done pancakes. A sense of pride boiling in his chest.

one hand grips the handle of the skillet, the other holding the black plastic spatula. Gently edging the pancake onto the already made stack. A low hanging grin on scotts face as he turns off the burner. The room filled with soft music and savory smells as scott moves around. Picking up a plain pancake to eat as he puts two onto a different, metal plate. Still warm bacon following suit. He turns to the peanut butter, opening it up, and smearing it onto the two pancakes on the glass plate. Putting a little too much bacon on the plate. Chuckling softly to himself as he spins. Taking long strides back to the pantry to put up the peanut butter. Mind buzzing with things to say, things to do. He really didn't get to do too much last night, by the time he had gotten back, she has fallen asleep, and he got her tired to the chair? He was far more then beat, arms and legs just aching.

Quietly picking up the plates, he turns to the basement door. Flicking on the light switch, and nudging open the door, he starts his decent.

From morning light and savory smells of breakfast, to dim light bulbs, and the smell of went stone. Depending the stairs, he makes sure to close the door behind him, watching as it suddenly becomes much much darker, and his eyes have to adjust to the lighting of the stairs. The stone brick walls with moss and such creeping up them, welcome him like an old friend. Too bad he doesn't get along with friends from the past anymore.

He represses a shiver as he steps down each step, counting as he goes, making sure to keep his voice a light hum. And isn't that splendid!! He can hear pearls muffled screams and thrashing already!! She's awake!!

He sighs happily as he makes it to the 32nd stair. The very bottom, turning he sees just what he left. A metal dinning table. Pearls hair seeming to have gotten even more knotted!! He'll make sure to brush it tomorrow, if he let's her free like he's planning. Tears and pure anger, yet fear fill her eyes, and scarf gagging her has spit soaking through, and Scott tries not to wrinkle his nose, but he can't help it really.

Her arms tied behind her back, and then to the chair, just to be safe. And each ankle tied to the front two legs of the chair. She leans as forward as she can go without tipping, and with her glare, as she screams nonsense, Scott almost feels like she's growling at her really!!

He sets both of the plates down on the cold stone floor, praying nothing crawls into his food as he's a bit busy. Slow, steady movement as he walks behind her, lifting her hair up as he slowly unties the soft red scarf. As soon as it drops she's starts to scream.

“LET ME GO YOU CRAZY ASSHOLE!! LET ME GO. I SWEAR I WONT TELL ANYONE, JUST LET ME GO!!”

He voice is almost horse, and Scott can't help but roll his eyes and sigh. Walking back around, jerking his hand away as she tries to bite at him. Letting out an almost offended gasp as she pauses, huffing for breath. Hair still falling forward. “Gods!! And you're not even here for anything personal!! You would think we had some long lasting enemies thing with how you're acting!!” He says, voice rising as he scrunched his brow. Not much of a fan og pearl right now, with all her screaming, and drooling, and crying in total.

He huffs. Honestly, he didn't think kidnapping would be this messy. The women letting out what almost sounding like a snarl. And Scott Scoffed in return. practically storming off from her. Something still boiling in his blood he doesn't care to give her the plate right now. Hands sliding into his pockets, gripping the pocket Knife with all the strength he has left.

“I'm not a violent person pearl.” He snarls, voice dripping with rage, or is it blood lost as she spits, going far enough to land on his new slippers.

“Like hell you arent.” her voice as much of a snarl as his. And well, Scott doesn't think before he's plunging the knife into her shoulder.

He thinks it's easy to listen as pearl screamed. head throwing back at an odd angle as she thrashes.

Martyn didnt even flinsh when the bell to the shop rang loud. Pearl hadnt replied since friday night. Hope in his eyes as he looks up, only to see Scott in the doorway, a nervous sigh leaving his lips. With slow movements he looks around the shop, noticing not a soul in the place. He let's him sag forward at the fact its just him and scott. elbows on the counter as martyn slowly slides onto, a worry noise leaving him as his hand slide into his hair, pushing his hair back. And martyn swears he doesn't mean to grip his hair tight enought that he's pulling it. He really didn't mean to.

He can hear scotts step become hurried as he reaches martyn, martyn doesnt even look at Scott as he pulls his hands out of his hair. Gently taking the hand into his own, running his fingers over his knuckles with such gentleness martyn feels he has to look up. Tears starting to form in his eyes as he takes in a shakes inhale.

Scott looks worried, almost frustrated. Eyebrows scrunched, and frowning. His jaw far too tense. But just the look of worry made martyn cave.

“Gods, I'm, scott, I'm, I'm just so worried about her scott..!!” He croaks out, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels tears start to fall. Squeezing scotts hands like his life depends on it.

He isn't able to see the way scotts nose wrinkles. He doesn't know that Scott knows who he's talking about. He doesn't know the way the beast that Scott has gotten used to in his chest, is beyond man, leaving deep gashes that Scott can almost feel.

“Oh martyn…what happened, what, what's going on?” Scotts voice is an attempted softness, but jealousy is lacing each world to the point he stutters. Martyn can't hear it, as his voice catches and he let's our a low whimper.

“Pearl…shes…oh gods…no one has seen or heard from her in 3 days, and..they, they reported her missing this morning” scotts own breath catches on that. As he slowly removes his hand from one of martyns, martyn isn't sure where her takes it, untill the soft hands, calloused from coffee burns, is wiping away tears as they fall. Martyn breath catches. Slowly opening his eyes once more, tears catching on his lashes, and keeping his vision throughly blurry as he leans heavily into scotts hand. A shaking sob leaving him once more.

“Oh I'm so sorry martyn….I'm sure she'll be found soon..” I'll make sure of it goes unsaid. scotts voice was layer in a sweetness, he knew, sounded fake. But martyn didn't care. His breath hitched once again as his sobbing picked up.

The question is if she'll be alive is on the tip of his tounge, waiting to slither out, and bite at anyone it can. But as a sob shakes him, he knows he won't say it.

His empty hand grabs scotts by the wrist, nails digging in and causing crescents into the skin of scoots wrist. And Scott knows they'll bruise due to his low iron. But he doesn't care, he let's martyn hold him like his life depends on it.

With a gentle attempt at a smile that doesn't quite reach his lips, he tilts martyn head up by the chin, leaning in just a bit.

Martyn stares into his eyes with one's of sorrow. And Scott can taste, can feel, the hickuping breaths. Scott figures its alright to steal just a little bit more breath from martyn.

The kiss is light, it doesnt take more then a minute. But it leaves scotts head spinning, and it leaves martyn bringing the hand he's still holding to his chest. And curling into the one on his face. Leaning awkwardly over the counter.

“She'll be ok martyn, i promise.” And martyns heart skips, and he thinks he believes scott.

(HEYYYYY YOUVE REACHED THE END, LOOK AT THAT!!!!! kina. You're the friend I've had for the longest on here, and I really do love you/p you look simply amazing in everything you wear, and that time you show me how you pulled up your hair was, to put it simply, awesome<3 you've super fun to talk with, and I wish life would align just a little bit more for us to talk even more then we do now. You truly are a great friend, and I love you, and you're writing to death<333 I could probably go back and find when you first commented on that pist of mine, but do I really need to? It feels like it's been years knowing you already, when I know it's been a year at max. You're awesom3, and every conversation with you leaves me a smiling mess, just at the fact you enjoy talking to me of all people!! And that honey moon you proposed? I would simply love to go biking with you, in, Norway was it? Besides the point, maybe you could take me to the arcade too<3)

(ALSO, 5K FUCKING WORDS, LONGEST THING IVE EVER WROTE, JUST FOR YOU BABES<333)

(I'm not actually wake, this is a scheduled post, so I won't respond instantly<333)

[dis-agreeable]

going to ramble a bit below the cut (feelin not very good atm so cw for feelsbad syndrome)

i know realistically i should be putting this in my journal but doing that seems monumental right now. sitting and typing this out on my big clacky keyboard while looking out the window and not looking at the screen just feels better, like i don't have to confront it as much and just brain dump. i wish i could call my boyfriend but he's at the gym and also the last time he saw me like this i'm not sure if it scared him.

all day i've been slipping deeper and deeper into a state where things are wrong. i don't know much else to describe how i feel, but is just reverting back to being thirteen and not having the therapy speak to describe it. but that's what it is. i feel like something is wrong. i feel like something has gone wrong, disasterously wrong, and i haven't noticed it yet. i feel like there's a meteor about to land on top of me and the only thing i can feel is being in its shadow.

i havent finished the last bite of my lunch and i can't bring myself too. it's been over forty minutes now so it's ice cold anyway. its a small bad habit i keep noticing - not finishing the last bite of my meals - and i wish i could change it but for some reason i can't. there's so many things that for some reason i just can't do them, and i can't explain why, even though i know that they're morally neutral actions, like taking a multivitamin or not sending both elevators to the first floor. it's like there's an invisible wall between me and certain behaviors and outcomes and i can't break that wall down no matter what. ocd!

i keep thinking about when i went to lean back thirty minutes ago and the upper vertebrae of my neck made this horrible crunching sound and it's been ringing in my ears since. i'm hyper aware of my jaw and my tongue and my teeth in my mouth. worst of all is my most common and beloathed feeling that someone is gradually gripping my head tighter and tighter. not like a headache, but like bands being piled onto my forehead until it snaps like a watermelon. i've always gotten this physical sensation when i'm overwhelmed and nobody i've talked to about it knows what i'm talking about.

i know what state i'm in right now. the state of quiet despair in which my eyes get wider than usual and just dart around a bit, and i can't answer anyone with more than a few words, and it looks like someone just caught me in a pair of headlights. i never know what to do to fix it, this feeling that something is so so so wrong and i'm too obtuse to notice it. i can't even say what it is that might be wrong. me, or someone i love, or someone i hate, or the world, or the plumbing. something is just not the way it is supposed to be. something has fallen out of alignment and it means that disaster will arrive any minute in any form.

i feel like i want to burst into tears but at the same time i'm stretched too tight to even do that much. and cry about what? whatever it is that's wrong, i suppose.

thinking about how the sound of a theremin was once described as "a cello lost in a dense fog, crying because it does not know how to get home." thinking about how the air smells slightly sweet and how that always seems to be the hallmark of spring. thinking about how many bones there are in my hands. thinking about the things i've done that i wish i hadn't done and the things i hadn't done that i wish i did do. thinking about how now it feels tight around my eyes too.

i don't know where to go from here, except that i do because i can be the child theorizing about the end of the world in the corner of my mind and also have to be the adult that deals with what's left. i'm going to take a shower and change into slightly warmer clothes and go to rehearsal, and run through my recital music beforehand with a judgement free mind (or as much of one as i can), and go through rehearsal not thinking much of anything on purpose so i can actually survive it, and then come back home and hopefully go to bed on time but in actuality probably be irresponsible and stay up too late.

anyway, if anyone is actually reading this far and not scared by the wall of text, i know i'll be okay. probably. the meteor probably won't fall on my head or whatever awful horrible thing that's waiting around the corner isn't there. it just feels like that right now and it's something i'll have to learn to live with, like i've been living with it since i was a kid and fixated on... well. bad things happening. time is a flat circle.