#home care Hot Springs AR

[hotspringsseniorcare]

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[hallibahar]

So I had been obsessed with Greek Mythology in like forever and my brain immediately went to this ridiculous Godly!Victors AU, some of them made so much sense then I kind of got...this

For the ones who doesn't know anything about mythology in detail or at all, I tried to summarise as blunt and vibe-y oriented as I could. Enjoy my brainchild

(All the Victors mentioned in this chaos belongs to @lorata)

Callista: Fun fact, she is the reason all of this au started. At first I thought of Aphrodite because, you know, Goddess of Love and Lust and Beauty who also has quite a vindictive nature in some of the myths. But then I realised Dionysus kind of suited her more; God of Wine, Theatre and Madness. He borned twice, turned men into dolphins and also had an insane cult...and I thought, you know what, Calli would absolutely rock as him--like, she parties with you hard but then you slightly, slightly get on her nerves and she reminds you why she is the embodiment of lunacy with one sharp gaze.

Nero: Hephaestus. Had a rough childhood -got thrown out of a window (by?? Well, in some myths Hera, some myths Zeus and sometimes both, you make up your mind) from Mount Olympus-, and is a blacksmith who likes to create things with his own hands, finding it soothing. He does not socialise much, kind of like the Eeyore of the immortals which I juxtaposed with Nero.

Emory: Low aggression, cares about the people, family, is really kind and understanding. She'd be excellent as Hestia. Hestia is the Goddess of Hearth and Home, who also is regarded as one of the kindest and most compassionate amongst all gods but she is also the first child of Rhea and Kronos; the first one who got eaten by her own father because of sheer prophecy, so she is fiercely protective as well. She also is really considerate; Hestia gave her throne to Dionysus -making him the newest and 12th Olympian- in order to prevent the potential war in her siblings.

Artemisia: Another fun albeit useless fact; I misread her name as Artemis, who is Goddess of the Hunt and Virginity when I first started reading wmbk--and it still is with me to this day. Let's leave the laughs aside, i think she'd be great as either Até: Goddess of Mischief and Reckless Impulse or as Hermes: God of Thieves, Travel and also Mischief as well. They are both her vibe to be honest and I love that for her.

Brutus: Persephone. Listen. I know this is unhinged but let me explain. She likes nature (Goddess of Spring, so obviously) but also had been abducted by Hades ->re: bb Brutus, who has a loving home -kind of like Demeter's, Persephone's mother, garden where she grew up safe and sound- going to Centre -Persephone going to Underworld, Hades' domain- and even though he turned out a Victor, he still has his mother's, Heidi's love -Persephone visits Demeter for six months, and stays with Hades six months, results in creating seasons. It's the vibes honestly. And we deserve Brutus covered up in flowers and be happy so how could I resist.

Adessa: Athena. I think this is self explanatory enough -someone needs to be the representative genius-, but also consider this: apart from being the Goddess of Wisdom, Athena is also Goddess of Warfare and Heroic Endeavor. She represents the intellectual and civilised side of the war but also is highly hot tempered even though she shows it by quiet but permanent action rather than showering people with emotions. (re: Athena turning Arachne into a spider and Adessa killing Nero's cougars after over 30 years of planning)

Ronan: Being the First Career Victor Ever™, he obviously was the hot topic back in the day; so Nike, who is the Goddess of Victory would be appropriate for him. But then I switched it to Ares, who is God of War and Courage would be better because: 1. There is a high chance of bb Ronan witnessing the war between the districts and Capitol, 2. Ares' sacred animal is a dog--so yeah, figures.

Lyme: This is as unhinged as Brutus' Persephone but...perhaps it's even more so; I think she would be Aphrodite, who, as I mentioned with Callista, is the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Lust (the third one is unrelated to Lyme but well). At first I was like; yeah, she'd be a war goddess probably, not that deep, then I went --oh, Aphrodite is Goddess of War as well then it just clicked. So my theory with Aphrodite, as in the most modern retellings of myths I see, she changes her appearance to people's ideal vision of beauty--which is pretty diverse (quick headcanon: in this au the first person who saw Lyme's true appearance, which is her canon look, is Nero--he cherishes his girl and says that he thinks the most beautiful thing is one being themselves) and Love because even though she went through an abusive household to the murder academy, she still loves in her own way, like people do. (re: Mentor Lyme with Misha, Claudius and Sloane)

Odin is not here because he is the Odin in the Norse mythology which I think was intentional.

So this means Hera as Hera and Iris as Iris because why not

So these are the main ones I have clear thoughts on, though I might add even more in the future or even write a few thousand words about this whole au because it intrigues me a lot.

[premierwashprosllc]

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[hotspringsvillagerestoration]

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[writing-wh0re]

Billy Hargrove smut where he rough fucks reader in his car 🤤🤤

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests  Likes are great but feedback is golden - Open to all feedback, I know there is room for improvement. 

Hope this fic is what you wanted Anon! Keep the requests coming xx

*FIRST SMUT FIC!!* 

Y/N (YOUR NAME) Y/S/N (Your Siblings Name)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Word Count: 2,111k 

Warnings: Smut 18+, Explicit Language, Daddy Kink (whoops), Slight Praise Kink, Fingering, Vaginal Intercourse, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Angst(?), Arguments. 

Summary: After forgetting your three year anniversary, Billy attempts to make it up to you.

I was walking down the street, hearing the music pumping through the wind as I spotted it. 

Billy’s blue 1979 Camaro sitting in Carol Perkins driveway. I made my way up to the car, feeling the hood still warm, meaning Billy couldn’t have been here for that long. 

“Fucking prick.” I mumble as I start my shuffle and weave through fellow classmates to find Billy. 

“Y/N, Billy didn’t mention you’d be coming? If I had known I would have sent you a dress code sheet.” Carol Perkins states holding her red solo cup against her shoulder. I look down on my outfit quickly, black converse, leather skirt and dark green lace bodysuit. I raise an eyebrow as I look at  Carol’s outfit, sucking my teeth as I roll my eyes. 

Carol drives me insane, she hasn’t liked me from the minute Billy and I started dating and to be honest, the feeling is mutual. Between her bitchy comments and her backhanded compliments, I couldn’t care less about her. 

“Dress code sheets would have been handy because under dressing as a hostess is embarrassing.” I watch as Carol scoffs, looking at Nicole beside her who has a disgust written all over her facial expression. 

“Drink, Drink, Drink, Drink.”

I follow the chanting to the back patio, leaving Carol and Nicole to mumble between themselves. I spot Billy doing his famous keg stand, surrounded by almost all the boys from the football team cheering him on. I watch as Billy completes his keg stand, his shirt open, beer coating his chest causing it to glisten in the light. I lick my lips at the sight, feeling wetness starting to pool between my legs, I shake the thoughts from my head. 

‘Remember why you’re mad at him.’ I remind myself, disliking that my body has such a reaction to him.

I watch as a girl walks up to him, placing her hand on his chest as she whispers in his ear, causing him to bite his lip and chuckle. I lean against the support beam as I watch the scene unfold, Billy turning the girl down as she rolls her eyes and attempts a new technique, only to receive the same result. The girl struts away annoyed as I walk over to Billy, watching as he tenses slightly, knowing he’s fucked up. 

“Hi princess, what ar-” 

“Fuck you Billy Hargrove.” Billy, grabs my forearm and pulls me into him, our chests bumping into each other as he narrows his eyes at me, smirking devilishly. 

“Want to say that again princess?” 

I pull myself out of his grip as I shove him backwards, causing him to chuckle as he looks over to Tommy. 

“I think she’s mad at me, don’t you think Hagan?” Billy chuckles as I whip around to Tommy, holding my index finger up. 

“If you know what’s good for you Hagan, you’ll walk away.” I threaten as Tommy shakes his head at us, putting his hands up in defense and walking back to the house. 

“Honestly Billy, I had to find out you were here from Y/S/N and Max!” 

“That’s the last time I tell Max anything.” Billy says walking towards me as I huff. 

“Not the point, do you remember what today is? Does today have any importance to you?” 

I watch as Billy puts his head down sighing shuffling around in his pocket as he pulls out a cigarette lighting it and taking a draw before answering me. 

“Did you fail a huge test today? Is it a birthday?” Billy questions as I scoff. 

“God, you’re such a prick you know that.” I turn to walk away from Billy feeling sadness fill my chest as I see a small crowd watching our interaction. 

“So what, you’re just not going to tell me why you’re mad at me? I have to play some sort of guessing game? Why did you even come here Y/N, you hate parties.” 

“I think you’re just being a dick on purpose now, have a reputation to keep up?” I question gesturing to the small crowd. “It’s our fucking three year anniversary dickwad!” I yell watching as realisation hits Billy. “And also, I don’t hate parties, I hate parties at Carol’s or parties I'm not invited to, which makes me, us, look fucking ridicolous.” 

I hear a few oo’s and oh’s from the small crowd as Billy forms two fists, anger boiling inside him. 

“Enjoying the show? Get the fuck out of here!” Billy yells to the crowd as they quickly disperse. “Princess, Tommy invited me tonight and I forgot.” 

“That’s exactly what I want to hear, you forgot.” I cross my arms over my chest watching as Billy’s eyes trail over my chest, his eyes lingering as they track down my body, Billy closing the distance between us as he runs his fingers up and down my arm. 

“Did you wear this, all for me?” Billy asks seductively as goosebumps prick my skin, a soft sigh falling from my lips. Billy moves closer, his lips ghosting mine as I feel my eyes flutter closed. 

‘No.’ I think to myself as I pull back. 

“Enjoy your party Billy.” I hear Billy groan in annoyance as I turn to walk away, feeling him grab my hand and rush ahead of me, pulling me behind him. 

“Billy.” 

“What are you doing?” 

All my protests fall on deaf ears as Billy and I shuffle through the bodies and make it outside. 

“Get in.” I raise an eyebrow and notice Billy unlock his car as I scoff. 

“I’ll walk home.” 

“It wasn’t a fucking question Y/N, get in the car and stop being a brat.” I huff as I walk to the passenger side and slip into the leather seat, Billy falling into the drivers as he starts the car and reverses out. 

“You better be taking me home.” 

I hear him chuckle as he takes the corners fast, his car engine roaring through the streets as he continues to drive, my mind not knowing the surroundings due to the blanket of darkness. After roughly five minutes, he parks the car on the side of the deserted back road, between a small clearing of trees. Billy gets out of the car as I look around at our surroundings, nothing but trees, silence and darkness. He opens my door as I look up at him confused. 

“Get in the back.” 

I smirk, licking my lips as I sit forward in my seat slightly, giving Billy the perfect view of my cleavage. “You expect us to have sex here?” I question as Billy huffs, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up to his chest. 

“I have to make it up to you babygirl, now get in the backseat.” 

I open the door and crawl into the backseat, sitting and facing the open door as Billy grabs ahold of my ankles from my outstretched legs, swiftly pulling me closer to him. I feel my breath quicken as he takes off his button up shirt, exposing his toned torso as I bite my lip. I keep my eyes on him as he wiggles my skirt to just above my hips, chuckling to himself as I feel heat cover my cheeks. 

“And I wonder who made you drip like this baby girl.” Billy says as his index finger traces over the dark green lace of the body suit as a small whimper falls from my lips. 

“I asked you a question.” 

“You did daddy.” I whisper as he smirks, kissing my inner thighs, ghosting over my heat as I sigh. 

“Good girl.” 

I feel Billy pull the lace bodysuit to the side as his finger traces small circles around my clit, causing soft moans to fill the air. 

“You can be as loud as you want princess, no one is around to hear us.” 

Billy slides a finger into my tight, dripping pussy as I cup my boobs toying with my nipples. He picks up the pace slightly, adding another finger and curling it upwards as I arch my back. 

“Fuck.” 

I hear Billy moan as his tongue slides over my throbbing clit, my back arching off the leather as I moan in pleasure, my fingers running through his hair as he continues to flick his tongue on my sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Jesus Daddy.” I moan as we lock eyes with each other, causing Billy to moan sending vibrations all over my clit, his fingers picking up their pace. I feel Billy wrap his lips around my swollen clit, sucking softly as I feel the coil inside me tighten as I get closer and closer to my release. 

“Just like that, oh fuck, I’m going to cum.” I warn as Billy stops abruptly, smirking at me as I groan in annoyance at the loss of pleasure. 

“You only get to cum on my dick baby girl.” 

I run my hand down my body to play with my clit, wanting to get back to feeling some sort of pleasure as Billy slaps my hand away. I watch as he swiftly takes off his belt, undoing his jeans and sliding them down only slightly, allowing his dick to spring free, slapping against his stomach as I lick my lips. 

“Move back.” Billy instructs as I shuffle backwards eagerily, allowing for him to get into the car. 

Billy kneels on the leather seat, pulling me closer by my hips as he lines himself up against my pussy, sliding right into place as moans fill the air of the car. 

“Fucking made for me.” Billy praises as he starts to move his hips, not giving me much time to adjust to his size. 

“God, you’re so fucking big.” I moan as Billy raises my legs up to rest against his chest, feet either side of his face, the new angle allowing for him to go deeper. 

Billy picks up his pace, throwing his head back in pleasure as I arch my back. 

“Fuck Y/N.” 

“Daddy.” 

Billy lets go of my legs as he slides out, grabbing my hips as I raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Ass up.” Billy commands as I oblige, turning over, face against the leather, ass in the air as Billy slaps the supple skin. “God, you’re hot.” He praises as I moan softly, feeling him run the tip of his dick around in circles on my clit before sliding deep into my pussy. “Fuck, you’re so tight baby.” 

I moan into the leather as Billy starts to rock his hips into mine, faster and deeper in the new position. 

“Just like that.” I say as Billy grabs a fistfull of my hair, pulling me up slightly as he rubs circles on my clit causing me to cry out in pleasure.

“Are you going to cum for me princess? Cover my dick in cum?” 

I feel the coil tighten again, my eyes squeezing shut as I finally feel it snap, my body flooding with tingles as I cum all over Billy’s dick, my legs trembling as moans and profanities fall from my lips. I feel Billy’s thrusts grow sloppy as he reaches his high, cumming inside of me. 

Billy trails kisses from the top of my ass to my shoulder. 

“Happy Anniversary Princess.” Billy whispers, kissing my neck as he shuffles out of the car to adjust his clothing. 

I shuffle around in the car, wiggling my skirt back down and fixing my body suit as I step out of the car into the slight breeze of summer air. 

“I am still mad at you a little.” I mumble as Billy tuts, shaking his head. 

“Of course you are.” 

“But, that did make up for a little part of it.” I wink as Billy smirks, cupping my face and kissing me. My heart fills with love at the soft affectionate side of Billy.

“I love you Y/N.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I better get you home before your dad loses his shit at me.” Billy chuckles as I nod. 

“Sneak up through the window and spend the night?” I ask as I get into the passenger seat, Billy having made his way to the drivers side. I watch as Billy tosses up the idea as I smirk, placing my hand on his knee. 

“I haven’t been able to give you anything for our anniversary yet.” I whisper as my hand moves up his thigh, brushing against his dick as his breathing grows heavy. 

“You have me wrapped around your finger princess and you know it.” Billy smirks as he starts the car and begins the drive to my home. 

It’s going to be a sleepless night. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

coming in | h. aki 

➳ tags ;; smut, fem!reader, unprotected sex, intimacy, clothed sex, aki fucking you in a dress shirt good lord, mild praise kink, multiple orgasms, creampie

➳ wc ;; 1.6k

➳ a/n ;; this man has been rotting my brain for so long. can’t believe i didn’t write this sooner ngl lmfao. anyways.. aki.. hand in marriage. 

➳ plot ;; aki comes home to you after a mission

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“You left the lights on,” 

You’re startled by his presence. Maybe that’s only natural. Aki has gotten so good at hiding the sound of his footsteps - it’s easy to miss. You can feel his presence though. It’s familiar, the imagery. His silhouette is shadow-laden - hair still tied up neatly, suit and sword and all. He only just got home. 

You’re tired but not tired enough to sleep so you merely blink at him wistfully, yawning. How many days has it been since he’s been home? It had to have been at least 3, maybe 4. You mask your excitement with nonchalance, a gentle roll of your shoulders. Cracking your knuckles, you yawn. 

“I always do,” 

“Always?” 

You chuckle at his surprise. You don’t mean to be cheesy, after all. But it’s hard to miss the little sway in his voice, the overwhelming adoration. He takes off his shoes. 

“Always,” you parrot. He almost seems hesitant to approach you. Only when you unfurl your form and place your feet on the ground - arms open, does he think about coming towards you. He gives you a half smile. In the low-lights, the way his coat slides off his body seems more substantial than it ever did. The way it slides of muscular shoulders and gets placed over the back of the couch. 

Next to come is his tie, loosens it slowly and carefully but doesn’t take it off. It always stays around his neck like everything that comes with him. Still, he approaches you. Sits next to you on the couch and leans over one side. 

For a while you two simply face each other, the comfortable company. His eyes are full of an unbearable love but his expression is dull. It’s a misery even you can’t wash away. 

You don’t try, and neither does he - sitting there and admiring each other is enough. He rests his cheek on your couch and hums. 

“Doesn’t the light bill get expensive?” 

You laugh. 

“I make more than you,” 

He doesn’t take any offense. It’s a reminder that you’re human, wholly so - and he finds himself smiling again. It grows quiet for a while, your heart thumping in your chest. His shirt is unbutton just beneath his chest and you can see all the lean muscle in his skin. The veins in his forearms as they cross over it. You swallow. 

“Come here,” ― he instructs, sitting down on the couch and patting his lap ― “I missed you,” 

His voice is so nice. A little raspy, but so pleasant and soothing. Like cold water against your warm skin. You crawl towards him, but he pulls you over until you’ve straddled his hips. With his hands at your waist, he presses you down firmly. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders to hold you steady, and he laughs at you. 

Without another thought, his mouth moves against yours with longing that you can feel in your core. He’s really something when he kisses - his tongue is so expert, you would’ve believed he’s done it a thousand times. His hand presses against your cheek as he kisses you, travels down to your neck and holds it. It’s not forceful but commanding. 

Your hands are fisted in his shirt, breath snatched right out of your lungs. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and tug - dark eyes looking right into yours with desire so heavy it burns. You whine - soft and low. You know he’ll take care of you, know it in the way his hands settle on your hips and make you brush against him slow. 

“Keep kissing me,” is all he says as he travels his hands underneath your pajama shorts. Aki’s fingers are long, steady - you can always feel how easily they could reach inside of you without trying. You whimper into his mouth when he toys with your clit - but he kisses you more forcefully, forces all of your attention right on him. 

“Aki,” 

“Be patient,” 

He always seems so calm - so collected. He always does how he pleases with your body, knows how to work through your first orgasm with easy. When he breaks away from the kiss, his mouth wraps around your tits underneath clothes. He’s a tease through and through, tongue licking at the fabric covering your nipples till they’re hard in his mouth. 

“Your t-shirt is so thin” ― he kisses the hardened bud with a hum ― “I can almost see through it,” 

Your brain feels fuzzy with thoughts of him. You feel hazy and sleepy and taken care of it - urged to do more for him even though he wont let you. He’s too busy playing with your clit, making your thighs ache and twitch as an orgasm rocks through you with almost violence. You feel starved for his touch in a way you didn’t know you were - rocking your hips against his hand. 

Aki is always like this - loves you so much it can feel obsessive. His head is always cool but his teeth sink into your neck and his fingers tear you apart with an orgasm like it’s nothing. Your body is molded to the shape of his palms, the blade of his sword, the heat of his mouth - it’s all his anyways. It could never been anyone elses. 

The tension in your belly is so taught, your trembling over his. Your kisses grow more desperate, sloppier with too much tongue and saliva. You’re begging into his mouth.. for what? 

“Aki, aki  - ‘m gonna cum ― !”  

You squeal, burying your face in his neck as an orgasm rips your being in two. You’re soaked through your pants, running down your thighs. You can feel his fingers still, brush gently over the swollen nub. 

“Good job, baby” his praise is simple, but the words are strained. You can feel his cock pressed against the shape your pussy and you whimper a little. Your eyes have a hazy lust that Aki always seems taken aback by. Like, for some reason, he’s shocked you want him.

But you do, which is why you’re hands ar fisted and banging his shoulder.

“Aki, please,” 

And he gets the message, he really does. Still, he can’t resist the urge to tease you a little longer. He unzips his slacks slow, lets his hard cock spring free until it leaks against his work-shirt. It’s red on the tip - swollen and pretty and long. Instead of fucking you right away like he knows you’re so desperate for, he grins. Loose black hairs cover his face and eyes - he looks prettier than ever. 

He bangs the head of his cock right against your puffy clit - rubs it between your folds while he holds your hips down and forces you to grind on it. It makes you feel so restless - so helpless. You can’t do anything bu wrap your arms around his neck and hold back a moan. 

“You want it that bad? So wet you’re gonna stain my clothes,” 

You whine. 

“Aah, aah,” 

“Speak up for what you want, Y/N” ― his grin is wide, egotistical. He knows your body better than anything in the world. That’s why he’s pulled your shirt up over your tits, curving the outline with his mouth ― “What do you want so bad that you sound like this?” 

“Fuck me, Aki - please,” 

He’s amused with the way he laughs. 

“Watch me while I do it then” 

He makes you look down at it when he does - watch it go in inch by inch. You’ve crumpled his shirt with your hands, wrinkled it bad enough he’ll have to iron it later. You make a pretty little sound that makes him groan. Stretching your walls out inch by agonizing inch - it feels so good you drool. 

“It’s tight,” he hisses. He presses his lips to the crown of your head before holding your ass in his palms. He pulls you apart to fuck you proper - lets his cock thrust into you with deep strokes. The rhythm isn’t too fast. It feels like he’s massaging your insides with his dick - confidence to make you cum. 

He rests his hand on your belly, his thumb against your clit. 

“Take it easy and cum one more time for me,” ― he punctuate his words with a kiss “Give me one more” 

You whine something so hoarsely you barely hear it. The pressure from him against your g-spot so achingly slow, the pleasure from your clit. Your second orgasm hits you in a heavy blown, like a mallet on hot iron. You’re spasming around his cock without another chance to breathe. 

“Oh, Aki -” 

Whatever words left seem to die in your mouth as Aki fixes you with a praise and chases his own high with a relentless pace. It’s so hard and fast - overstimulating you completely. You’re distracted by heady groans about how much he loves. Too drunk on the feeling, you simply hold his shoulders and beg for his cum. It’s what he deserves, anyway. 

He finishes - with a loud fuck and his forehead pressed against yours. You can feel him inside, peppering his face with kisses as he rides out his high for you. 

It’s all tender, all warm. The yearning in your chest has subsided steadily as you hold each other in heated embrace. He looks at you softly, smiling. 

“You wanna know something?” 

“Hm?

He chuckles. 

“I really like doing it with the lights on,” 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[choclatecoveredlove]

Hello May congratulations on reaching 200 followers :D !! If it’s alright can I have a twisted wonderland matchup (oh and if possible can I be matched with two people? I’m polyamorous ^^")

Name and pronouns: My name is Ares or you could call me bean whichever is fine and I don’t really care what pronouns people refer to me as so any pronouns!

Characters I would not like to be matched with: Floyd he’s too clingy for my liking and kinda invades personal space which I very much like

Personality: I’m really quiet unless spoken too Im also usually in my own thoughts because of that, I generally find it hard to start conversations with strangers or I don’t start them at all unless they approach me first tho it’s not to bad if it’s friends but still I don’t start conversations myself too often. I think I am independent or that’s what people + my parents tell me. I’m pretty considerate when it comes to other’s needs seeing as I put others before myself and I can be very compassionate/empathetic making me the therapist friend. I find myself being very patient especially with friends if they’re venting or just talking in general. When I grow comfortable around people I can be a bit more talkative even more so when they have the same interests as me I’m also pretty bold time to time I make dark themed jokes mostly towards myself and I’m kinda dense when it comes to subtle romantic advances. Okay for personality traits I think some people would find difficult, I’m sensitive and very self-critical but I don’t voice it too much, I’m emotionally driven, I can be very closed off even with friends because I don’t wanna be a burden like venting about my problems, I sometimes hold quiet grudges, I’m pretty pessimistic but again I try not to say it out loud and I can sometimes be self deprecating. I find it difficult to complete tasks on my own or when I’m not given direct instructions because I find it hard starting it on my own, I have a short attention span which usually ends up with me daydreaming which I do A LOT. (Also I’m an INFP)

Hobbies: I really like doing art I don’t usually finish what I start unless I have a lot of motivation, I like playing video games I’m not the best at them and rhythm games are my favourite. I enjoy cooking/baking more because I like tasting the end results, I sometimes do photography too. I enjoy watching anime and reading manga in my free time or when I’m not on social media and I adore late night drives my favourite thing to do even tho my sister is the one who usually drives

Likes: I absolutely love sweets I have huge sweet tooth, music, the rain, sweet/fruity scented candles, anime, video games, rhythm games, art, spring weather, naps, monster energy, thunderstorms(as long as the power doesn’t go out), cats, dogs and I like pastas

Dislikes: bitter things, asparagus, the dark kinda, snakes, bugs, loud sudden noises, getting yelled at, not respecting boundaries, Extreme possessiveness, getting pushed around(example: getting told what to do in a harsh manner), strong smells like axe body spray, yanderes, super hot/cold weather, liars, confrontation, drunkards, Christianity, loud obnoxious people and the feeling of getting left out

Ideal date: My ideal date would probably be something pretty simple like for example maybe going to a cafe that’s not too busy or it would be going to an arcade because I love arcades but I wouldn’t mind staying home with my s/o just to chill around and watch movies, anime or play video games

Fashion Style: My fashion style would probably consist of Alternative, Grunge and Goth type of clothing I normally wear dark colours very often but sometimes I enjoy wear other colours too like red, yellow and pastels

Extra info: I cherish my personal space, I’m often pacing around my room because of maladaptive daydreaming, I don’t always have motivation to do stuff like homework and chores, I constantly have headphones to block out sound of to listen to music which I do a lot and I collect plushies and anime/game figurines

Yup Yup 2 matchups coming up!! Hope you enjoy!!

Matchup one: Silver!

your personal knight

you two have pretty similar personalities which is nice!!

but it’s also troublesome because that also means you might zone out while he falls asleep and nobody can wake you two up

while silver is a pretty determined and motivated himself (he just has trouble acting on it) he has trouble getting you to be the same

his favorite thing is to listen to you talk, he really likes the sound of your voice! sometimes he’ll fall asleep while he listens to you but he doesn’t mean it!! it’s just how he is

he also really likes to nap with you, though the naps aren’t intentional most of the time, he just falls asleep and you join him

he also likes to play video games with you! playing with lilia late into the night has helped him become pretty good at them too

he also really likes your fashion style!! he likes how it matches with the diosomina aesthetic

“ Ares..? oh I must of dozed off.. i’m sorry. now that i’m up wanna go play some video games?”

Matchup two: Trey!

therapist friend and mom friend solidarity 🤝

trey absolutely adores baking with you!! it’s literally his favorite thing to do!! he also thinks it’s very cute when you immediately eat the end result

he also really likes to give you homemade sweets for gifts and stuff! he thinks your reaction is adorable

trey is really good at motivating you! he’s firm about it but not mean or overly pushy!

trey will always let you vent to him, he cares about you and he wants to help you with your problems and he makes it clear that you are never burdening him!!

trey isn’t shy by any means so he will always start conversations with you because he likes talking to you!!

he isn’t super interested in video games but he will definitely play with you if it makes you happy!

“Sweetheart come here, you have flour on your face. there you go, now let’s get back to balding shall we?”

[ambrial-blog]

Someone had left the gates open, and he had slithered past them,  watching the apple red horse from afar flutter about his amber-hued-ruby-red eyes, alluring beckoned him from the shadows. Spiral yellow eyes narrowed as he listened to the candy-coated colt chatter away with the prestigious Ares Goeita.

Striker's tail wraps around Blitzo's midsection,  pulling him closer and away from the Goeita pony. Blitz blinks back in confusion. One moment, he was talking to a flirtatious Stolas who was offering him a bite of apple underneath the apple tree.

Next, he was staring into the blazing yellow eyes of a peach-skinned  Feral.  Blitzo gulped, taking a step back, listening to his tail rattle. This was bad. Blitzo was trapped in a corral with a Feral in heat.  His older brother: The Moxie Pony, had drilled into his head two things at a very young age. One: you must never go near another pony while they are in the heat: and two never mingle with the wild ones: the untamable brutes who like to bully and harass the smaller.  

Striker was both- a pure hybrid self-sufficient and always on the prowl looking for a Superior mate. Taking what he wanted regardless of anyone else.

The snake pony hissed evilly, Cornering Blitzo while nuzzling his cutie mark.  Forcing Blitz onto his back, his hooves stomping onto tiny bat-wings keeping Blitzo pinned beneath him. His cowboy hat shades his face as he dips down, nuzzling and nipping at Blitzo's neck. Striker has his skull choker in his mouth, dragging Blitz along, making a pleasing chortling sound as Blitzo drags his hooves on the ground.

"Let go! I am not ready for this! " Striker nuzzles his butt before nipping his ear.  He uses his nose to push the red-skinned pony further into the open. Forcing Blitzo to the ground, he bares his teeth. Nuzzling his nose into Blitzo's chest. Blitzo stares up, his hooves half curled into Striker's red bandanna as he tries to push against his chest. His ruby-red eyes shine as an apple drops onto Striker's head from above.  

The Ares Goeita pony is circling them, his wings gliding in the wind.  Striker pushes Blitzo against the wall and hides him from view as he snarls at Stolas for interrupting. Blitz manages to wiggle out, running through Striker's legs, but before he can run far,  Striker lays on him, his entire body engulfing Blitz crushing his wings.  Striker laughs, swatting Stolas away: like a pesky fly with his tail.

Hissing and snarling at the Ares Goeita who was fluttering about, his bright red eyes had a murderous glow to them.   "Go get Moxie and Mamma Millie,"  Cries Blitzo as Striker grunts and settles into the dirt, waiting for the blue blood to pass.

The Murderous foal twitched in the sky, afraid if he flew away to find the others, the little red-skinned foal and the lecherous fearl would slink away into the night. "Hurry, Stolas! Cries Blitzo earning another grunt from Striker, the rattler laughing at him from the shade of the tree. "Yea, run along, sweet prince. By the time you get back, I will have sown my seed deep into this spitfire.

"And what is that silly little miniature going to do, talk me to death while going over what's right and wrong and ask me- no, no, I prefer it if he begs me out the goodness of my black heart, to give back this frisky little foal." Striker hisses.

The Outlaw rolls his eyes, laughing as Blitzo sticks his head out, "Stolas! Screams trying to escape. Striker just bends his head, nuzzling Blitzo. His tongue licks his face as he nips on his ear.  Blitzo makes a disgusted face before burrowing into Striker, trying to get the saliva off his face. "I can smell your purity Blitz, no one has broken you in, Blitzy. It must be my lucky day that I happen across your sweet-sweet- almost pheromone-like scent." " you may be only a tiny foal right now, but one day you'll grow into a superior breed, like me, and that's a day I look forward to the most.  I wonder what you'll look like while in heat? Hisses Striker, flicking his tongue at Stolas.   "I'll enjoy listening to the sound of your heat when your begging me to take you and make you mine." "I've been watching you for a long time, Blitz-longer than I care to admit, you smell of wilderness so this corral isn't meant for our type I've come to take you home."

Stolas did one last sweep in the air before flying away to the stables where Moxie and Millie were last seen.  Loony, the wolf-hound, looked up with sleepy eyes as Stolas entered the barn. His eyes burning red, the stables were empty.

Striker stood up so that Blitzo could get a bit of fresh air. The red-skinned pony stood underneath him, flexing his wings. His legs wobbled underneath him. As Striker brushed his face up against Blitzo one last time before running towards an open fence, grabbing a lasso with his teeth, he hooks it around Blitzo's neck.

Blitz reels back as Striker continue to tug, his body scooting across the dirt, looking up, Blitz eyes filled with tears as he no longer saw the Ares Goeita in the sky. Blitz trotted backward in hopes of stalling for Stolas, his ruby wings flapping at his side as he dove for the outsider. Snaring a hoove into Striker's face. Striker snarled, throwing the pony into the side of a barn. "Yes, I'll definitely enjoy breaking you in," hisses Striker.  

A blood-curdling scream echoes from Blitzo's mouth as Striker stomps on his wings, tearing one of them and shredding the other with his teeth. "No more flying away, no more back-talking he grunts as Blitz shoves a hoove into his chest. Striker leans down to nuzzle the little spitfire.

Blitzo cries out as  Striker's teeth sink deep into his neck. He holds Blitzo down while he finishes giving him a mark, out in the open where everyone can see- A premature mating mark. Before taking him by the scruff of the neck. Blitzo had his head bowed, his eyes downcast.

 He was halfway out the coral doors when A bright red horse with a black flowing mane appeared over the horizon, hellfire burning in her eyes. Not far behind was an ivory pony with golden eyes set ablaze while above circled Stolas.

Millie tears down the fields, kicking up fire and brimstone teeth bared; she rams into Striker, knocking Blitzo from his mouth. Who slumps to the ground. Moxie is beside his wife, flanking her while Stolas circled Blitzo.

The tiny foal lay motionless in the hot sun, his battered wings flap helplessly as Stolas lands. He nudges Blitz, but the colt doesn't respond.

"Blitzy... Now, come on- stop playing games, Blitzy." Stolas whines.

Millie tares into Striker's neck, ripping it open,  her hooves claw at his face. Striker laughs through the pain, his teeth stained red with blood. His tail whips smacking across Millie's face. He headbutts her- but gets derailed by Moxie, who slams him into the fence.

Striker licks his teeth, tasting Blitzo's blood and some of his own. Millie staggers to her feet, seeing her husband corner the feral.  She looks for her foal.  Stolas had dragged Blitzo into the shade of the tree and away from the fighting.

He nuzzles the heart-shaped cutie mark giving a soft whine when Blitzo doesn't respond.  He gives a sad little helpless look to the mare. Millie's eyes churn red as she charges over towards where she had last seen Moxie duking it out with Striker.  They were gone. The fence was broken, with blood smeared across it.  She looks around, frightened. She tares back down the brimstone, hearing her mate cry out in pain and hissing laughter.

"Millie... Moxie calls, his voice hoarse. Mildred finds her husband skewered on a broken fence. "He is after Blitz, you need to go back,  Stolas is in danger," Moxie coughs, coughing up blood. "Moxie No!.... NO! we can fix this. It doesn't look too bad," Mox-baby." "Octavia she can fix this," sobs Millie. "Go unless, you want your son to be forcibly  mated to a serpent-pony, I'll be here when you get back, Mills our son needs us," chokes Moxie.

Back in the corral, Stolas had found a dirty blanket underneath an empty basin. He struggled with it before freeing it and heading over towards the red-skinned pony. Pulling the tattered cloth over Blitzo's prone form, trying his best to keep him warm.  He was all-too-aware of how much blood the tiny colt lost and how on earth a slithering feral got into this corral, let alone ranch?.

He nuzzles the colt in hopes of stirring him, but Blitz is out cold. He bows his head as tears fall from his eyes. He nuzzles him repeatedly, sighing deeply when Blitzo's head drops down. " Blitzy, please forgive me for not coming quicker. I shouldn't have left you; I should have stayed, then maybe this wouldn't have happened to you my little impish one."

The Ares Goeita then tries for that empty basin, breaking the water nasal and overflowing the tin basin; he drags the bay over, splashing Blitzo in the face.  He tries to cool down the colt, forcing water into his mouth. But suddenly still upon hearing the distant sound of a rattlesnake.  Stolas springs into action shielding Blitz from those glowing yellow snake eyes and those blood-stained teeth that are pulled into a grin.

Striker was back, and he was ready for round two.

To Be Continued

[mimicutie]

Pit is Autistic - A “Brief” Analysis

Kid Icarus: Uprising is my favorite game of all time, and one thing I love about it is the characterization of Pit. Specifically, I see him as autistic. Of course, this is just a headcanon of mine, but I wanted to write out a little discussion explaining why I see him as such as well as show some of the autistic traits he demonstrates in Uprising (and the occasional reference to the Guidance conversations from Smash).

(fair warning, this is not very brief)

Difficulty Understanding Words and Jokes

It’s made abundantly clear that Pit isn’t the best at picking up sarcasm or jokes. At times, he struggles with understanding words, phrases, and context. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 11.

Pit: Good! There are survivors! Palutena: They’re a stubborn bunch hanging on like that. [...] Pit: Uh… stubborn? Palutena: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.

Here, Pit doesn’t understand what Palutena means by “stubborn.” It’s pretty common for autistic people to struggle understanding parts of speech, such as words being used in different contexts than what they’re used to.

Medusa: Hmm… Now this is a little… bizarre. Pit: I know right? The mouth on that guy! I’d never talk like that! Medusa: That’s not what I meant. Palutena: Sorry. He can be a little… thick.

Once again, Pit is misinterpreting the situation. He doesn’t understand what Medusa is alluding to, thinking that she is talking about Dark Pit’s brash behavior. Palutena’s last comment hints that it’s very common for Pit to misunderstand people like this.

Pit: I’m Pit, servant of the goddess Palutena. I’m here to defeat Dark Lord Gaol. Magnus: So you’re here for a slice of the pie too? Pit: Huh? Pie? Where?

Chapter 2 has several examples of Pit not picking up on obvious jokes or idioms, and here’s one. Pit takes the idiom literally, not understanding what Magnus really means at first.

Viridi: Pit certainly is devoted to you, Palutena. Hades: Only because she squeezes his head wreath when he doesn’t follow orders. Palutena: You mean like… THIS?! Pit: No no no no no! You’ll squeeze my brains out! … (sigh) Why do I always fall for that?

In this example from Chapter 15, Palutena is clearly messing with Pit, but as he stated, he always falls for her jokes. Even though it’s clear she is just teasing, Pit can’t pick up on the fact that she isn’t being serious. He consistently struggles with understanding tone.

Pit: This is so annoying. Lady Palutena, help me out here! Palutena: Deploying the Palutena Super Sensor… Pit: I didn’t know you had a super sensor! Palutena: Hee hee. I don’t. You know I like to make stuff up. Pit: I can’t believe you’re messing with me at a time like this!

This dialogue from Chapter 13 is just another example of Palutena clearly joking while Pit does not pick up on it. Even though Palutena has done this time and time again, Pit still struggles to tell when someone, even a person he is incredibly close to like Palutena, is just messing with him. These are just a few examples. Pit commonly struggles with understanding language and tone throughout the game.

Using Words Differently

We can see that Pit has his own unique vocabulary with his own creative phrases like, “Calamaried!” “Re-defeated!” “Pulverazed!” and so on. Pit also makes LOTS of noises throughout the game, all of his “woohoo”s and “woah”s and whatnot. It’s just how he communicates, even if it's a bit particular or different.

Expressiveness

Pit is excitable. Like, really excitable. Sure, he’s a fun video game protagonist, but he’s always very happy-go-lucky and upbeat in a way that reads to me as autistic. Just look at how he jumps in excitement!

And when he gets the Three Sacred Treasure?! Gifs can’t really do the excitement in this scene justice. (link in case tumblr embed isn’t working)

Additionally, while Uprising doesn’t have a lot of cutscenes with Pit just standing around talking, in the ones where he does he is usually very expressive, using his hands to talk and whatnot. Added with his excitability, I feel that this shows us that Pit is so expressive and emotional because he’s autistic!

Extra Help

Pit needs more help with understanding things in comparison to others. Palutena often goes out of her way to guide Pit, whether it be giving him directions or explaining how to defeat an enemy. While Palutena’s advice does work as a guide for the player, it’s clear that Pit needs the help more than someone else his situation might. The clearest proof we have of this comes from Chapter 22.

Palutena: Watch out for that heart-shaped crystal barrier! You see, it’s— Dark Pit: Reflecting my shots back at me, right? Palutena: Well… yes. Dark Pit: I got it, so stop telling me what to do! 

Palutena is expecting Dark Pit to be like Pit, where she needs to explain to him what’s going on and offer her guidance. However, Dark Pit was able to figure out a strategy to defeat Pandora all on his own. Palutena is very aware that Pit needs a bit more help and prepares accordingly for him.

Accidental Rudeness

Many times throughout Uprising, Pit is shown speaking “rudely” towards gods or characters who have authority over him.

Pit: Oh, great! You’re the guy I’m looking for. Listen, I have a favor to ask you. Would you mind if I borrow your chariot for just a little while? Chariot Master: Your foolishness is matched only by your rudeness. How dare you charge in here, flinging unreasonable requests at me? [...] Viridi: You can’t really blame him for being upset. That was kind of rude.

Here, Pit is talking to the Chariot Master very casually, treating him like a friend despite the fact he is breaking into the Chariot Master’s tower and asking him for a precious artifact. Pit doesn’t see it as rude but Viridi and the Chariot Master clearly do. He is breaking an unwritten social norm by talking so casually to someone of high authority. Autistic people often misinterpret social situations or don’t act appropriately, sometimes resulting in “rude” behavior. There are several examples of this throughout the game, such as in Chapter 24…

Pit: You know, the Three Sacred Treasures weren’t exactly durable. Can you please make sure that this new weapon won’t just fall apart? Dyntos: Palutena, you’d be wise to put a muzzle on your chicken.  Palutena: I apologize for him. Again. Pit: I… I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be rude.

To Pit, he is just stating a fact. However, it comes off to Dyntos as Pit being rude or even insulting his work. This is something that autistic people often do; they are blunt or honest about something, which is again mistaken as being rude.

Pit is also seen being more blunt when under emotional stress, such as in Chapter 20.

Pit: I trusted you because I knew you were on the side of justice, and… and light! But something is blocking that light now. This isn’t the real you. Viridi: Someone cue the strings… Pit: Would you mind holding the commentary for two seconds, Viridi? Phosphora: There are goddesses you’re talking to here, Pit. Watch your tone. Pit: Butt out, Phosphora! The goddess of light has turned dark. Skyworld is destroyed! Everything is wrong, and it’s up to me to make things right! Palutena: Oh, Pit. You’re just as naive as ever. Pit: I’m not naive!

Phew. This scene is pretty noteworthy to me because throughout the game, Pit is never really that angry or upset. He does show hostility, but he never really snaps at anyone, much less gods, like this. But when his home is destroyed and Lady Palutena is not herself, his emotions get the better of him. He doesn’t even seem to care that he is being “rude” to Viridi. I definitely see this moment as Pit having an outburst because of the stressful situation he is under. 

Scripts / Scripting

The most obvious example of Pit using a script is with his “rally cries” that he prepares before fighting enemies. Look at the idol description for this AR Card.

He practices his rally cries a lot in order to be prepared for battles with bosses. Pit even mentions practicing his rally cries in a later chapter.

Pit: Cells of Hades, hear my words! And, um… see my actions! Uh… something, something… I’m going to rain death on you! I can’t remember all the words, but that’s the general gist. Hades: My innards have so longed to hear your battle cry. How could you forget the words? Pit: I didn’t have time to rehearse. I’ve been busy fighting evil, okay?!

While some may see the rally cries as meaningless fun, I think it could be seen as Pit having a script that he likes to fall back to when facing enemies. 

His many references and quotes to video games could be seen as scripting, too. There are lots of instances in Uprising, and especially in Palutena’s Guidance, where Pit quotes famous video game phrases or imitates sounds. Which leads me to…

Special Interest

Pit’s special interest is video games. While Pit’s very vast knowledge of video games could just be because of Uprising’s fourth-wall breaking style of humor, I think it could also be seen as Pit having an intense interest in games. He references various video games such as Metroid, Nintendogs, and Super Smash Bros. in-game. He seems to enjoy bringing up video games or referencing video game mechanics whenever he can, which is very similar to how autistic people enjoy bringing up their special interests in conversations whenever possible. Additionally, while the Palutena’s Guidance conversations aren’t 100% accurate to canon, Pit constantly references and alludes to various video games in them, such as quoting Reyn in Shulk’s conversation or Peppy and General Pepper in Fox’s (which ties back to him scripting). It’s clear that he loves video games and talking about video games!

Pit: Those Aurum troops are doing their best Game and Watch impression! Viridi: Check out the gaming IQ on this guy! You’re a regular video game historian!

See, even Viridi is impressed with his video game knowledge! :D

Sensory Issues

Throughout the game, Pit seems to have an obsession with hot springs. It is never outright explained why he loves them so much, but I’m led to believe it is because of sensory reasons. Many autistic people use extreme temperatures to help soothe or calm themselves, such as cold showers or hot baths. It can often help with sensory overload. Hot springs, similarly to hot baths, may be a way to help soothe Pit and keep his sensory issues to a minimum. 

Pit’s habits with his tunic seem to hint towards sensory issues, too. He doesn’t like to be without his robes, stating that he keeps them on even when he’s in the hot spring. When his clothes seemingly get messed up in Chapter 21, he gets upset, exclaiming that it’s his only tunic. Wearing the same clothes or same types of clothes/fabric is pretty typical for autistic people, and Pit wearing the same tunic everyday is similar to that.

Additionally, Pit’s habits with food could be because of sensory differences. He very well could be hyposensitive to food and tastes, which is why he eats a lot and doesn’t seem to care about what he eats (as long as it isn’t vegetables, according to the Revolting Dinner short ;D ) . 

Small Social Circle

Pit doesn’t have a whole lot of people he can rely on. Before Uprising, the only person he seems to have any affinity for is Palutena. Other than that, he doesn’t seem to talk to anyone else. We don’t have a clear picture on what his relationship with the Centurions is like, but based off of the Revolting Dinner short and Chapter 17, he only really talks to them when he’s working as the Captain of the Army and not as a friend.

While yes, Pit is the only angel left in Skyworld, I still think it’s important to bring up that Pit only really has Palutena to rely on. By the end of Uprising, he has Viridi and Dark Pit as well, but his only clear and completely positive relationship is his mother-son bond with Palutena. I see this as Pit struggling to really befriend others. He’s had over two decades between the original game and Uprising to befriend the Centurions, but again, he only really has Palutena. It’s pretty typical for autistic people to have very small social circles, consisting of just one or two friends. Palutena seems to fit the role of mother and best friend for Pit, and she even remarks that he should make more friends in Chapter 4. 

Working Alone

This is a small one, but still something that I think is worth pointing out. Pit seems very adamant on accomplishing his missions on his own, telling Dark Pit on two separate occasions (Chapter 9 and Chapter 21) that he can handle the situation by himself. Similarly, it’s common for autistic people to prefer working by themselves rather than with others. Paired with the previous point about having a small social circle, this just reads to me as Pit not feeling too comfortable in situations with others.

Conclusion

There’s a few other points that I feel I could bring up but overall I think these are my main points summed up (and yes, I said summed up. this used to be over 2500 words) ! Thanks so much for reading! If you have any other traits that you think Pit has that I didn’t mention, feel free to share them, I’d be more than happy to hear! ^_^

[atlasfreak]

hell is hot from your mistakes

chapter three; Tumblr edition

The afterlife is a mess of time and space.

Dream got the brunt end of that mess, of time, and bad luck follows Tommy even in death.

Dream is mere seconds too late reviving him.

Tommy wakes up in a familiar, unfamiliar world in a familiar, unfamiliar body that looks so much like an old friend of his, and yet he remembers everything when really, he shouldn't. His brother's voice guides him, the Nether is blistering heat and dust and his hands are hoofed.

ArchiveOfOurOwn Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073104/ or THIS

Tommy spends the next day on high alert.

They don't leave the cave, to Wilbur's annoyance; Come on, it'll help things. You- you always took walks when you were upset back before exile, didn't you? His voice floats around distantly - as though he wasn't really back at Tommy's side yet - but Tommy can hear him well enough to be pissed.

"We're not going outside, Wil. We went out fucking yesterday - less than a day ago! And someone fucking died. We stay in here. I wouldn't be allowed to go, anyway."

Fine. Fine. But we should head outside. I have t- I'm rather bored.

"Wilbur, I swear to Philza fuckin' Minecraft-"

Truth is, Tommy did want to go out - he wanted to roam the red fields and forests, counting shroomlights and watching zombified piglins growl at each other. He can't stand it, being cooped up in a cave too empty, space next to him too cold.

But it'll be a long, long while yet before his piglin mother even considers letting him leave the safe sanctuary of the cave.

Speaking of - she's curled in on herself, watching him with a hawk's eye, red from tough Nether tears; tears sapped of all water, tears leaving saline stains along her cheeks. All day she's been torn between getting lost in her awful, awful grief and caring for him, watching over him, protecting him. If not for Tommy, she'd probably sleep the day away in her pain. So Tommy spends the afternoon in the red red cave, trying to entertain his guests and keep his mother from mourning... too heavily. Right now, that means running all around and jumping over her and over the soul soil patch and over the edge of the far side of the cave, where it leads down into a second one.

He's trying, anyway. Wilbur isn't making this any easier. At all.

He sounds in Tommy's left ear. Tommy, if I scout ahead do you- and then he's too quiet for Tommy to hear, -forest? How about that?

"You cut out, Wil," Tommy murmurs, crouching down and bunching his haunches to jump. Mama piglin sprawls out, giving him less of a challenge.

What? You're not just trying to get me to shut up, are you? Wilbur pauses, I'm- I'm cutting out?

"I dunno. You just sound really far away."

I- how long have I sounded far away for?

"A day or so," Tommy mumbles, springing up and landing on all fours on the netherrack behind his mother. She purrs and he feels her tail whip his arm as it wags. Approval. "Ever since you left."

Left?

"To go take brother piglin to the dead zone, right?" Tommy asks. "You know. You went silent. And you were back when I woke up."

Oh! Oh, yes. Yes, I took the piglin to the - how do you call it? The Death Zone, so you could be reunite when you die, Tommy. Lemme tell you, he did not want to leave you guys alone.

"Oh. He's safe then?"

Yes. He's safe - he's with a friend.

The former blonde laughs. "A friend? Yeah, he'll either love or hate Mexican Dream, I think."

Oh, he loved Mexican Dream, Wilbur smiles. Very entertaining fellow, M.D.

Wilbur's voice grows no louder, no closer as they talk; still it sounds far off, distant. Tommy brushes it off and glances to his side. Mama piglin is laying over on her side now, eyes closed.

Tommy rumbles gently at her. Wilbur pauses in what he's saying to stare as Tommy goes to lay beside her -she deserves rest.

Is your mother asleep? Wilbur asks quietly, as if she could hear him.

"Yes," Tommy whispers. "She would've growled back otherwise, even if she's sad."

Good. Come on, let's go.

Tommy glances over, like he'll find Wilbur; like Wilbur will be standing beside him. "What?"

Let's go. Y'know, outside. Come on, Toms, we're going to the forest.

Tommy feels panic flare up in his stomach. "No, nonononono, no. I'm not just leaving her, Wilbur!"

We'll come back, don't worry, Wilbur insists. I'll make sure you don't get jumped. Come on. We need to find- I need to show you something.

Tommy hesitates. He's not.. sure about this. About following Wilbur again. Trust only goes so far when you're TommyInnit, post death.

He voices his hesitation.

Theseus fuckin' Innit, I won't let anything happen to you out there, Wilbur declares. Come on. I'll protect you.

"How're you gonna 'protect me' if you're a fucking voice?"

I'll spec. I'll warn you and scout- it's called ghosting for a reason. It's ok, Toms. I have your back.

"You're sure," Tommy mumbles, casting one last look at his mother. "And nothing- nothing bad will happen?"

Nothing bad will happen. I swear on my life- well. My death.

Tommy swallows and he weighs his options and he makes a decision.

He follows Wilbur's voice out of the cave.

Wilbur does keep his promise, though; whispering Not there, there's a pack of piglins or Watch out to the right, there's a hoglin over there whenever he senses movement. Tommy's head shoots up at every creak or murmur or whistle, jumpier than a chicken on Christmas Eve. Wilbur chuckles.

"Wil, where- where are we going?"

It's somewhere. I don't know exactly.

"Wh- I thought you had a plan!"

I- I kinda do, I don't bloody know!

"Wilbur!" Tommy shouts, "Why'd you lead me out here if you didn't have a plan?"

Keep your voice down. You don't wanna end up like m- mister piglin brother.

"Low ass fuckin' blow," Tommy snarls, but he lowers his volume. "If I die out here, Mama won't even find my body. The hogs will eat it. I don't wanna die again, Wil, I really, really don't."

You won't die, Wilbur says, voice confident as a dying man - take that how you will. If you die, I've failed. You won't die.

"You're so fuckin' weird," Tommy growls as they continue walking - just a little piglin and his disembodied voice of a brother, wandering through the brush. "You're so fuckin' weird today."

Hey, Tommy - look. What's that? Wilbur suddenly asks. His voice is clearer, closer than it's been in hours. Tommy glances over. A little stream of lava falls from the Nether roof and spills across the netherrack floor. Two little red creations bathe in its fiery warmth.

"That's a strider, innit?" Tommy mutters. "You ride 'em cross lava."

Tommy, go up to it, Wilbur whispers. It's friendly.

"How'd'you bloody know that it's friendly?" Tommy grumbles, but he approaches the lava anyway. The nearer strider turns at his footsteps - it sees his hooves one step too close to the heat and it rushes to knock him away at the same time that Wilbur screams Not THAT close!

The strider shivers when it drags itself out of the lava to stand with Tommy - it's young, and Tommy is taller just barely. He moves a hand up to pet it. "Wil, go look for little blue and orange mushrooms. I wanna take the strider home."

I don't see anything, Wilbur says after a moment, but maybe it'll follow anyway.

The purple critter makes a noise akin to a fire crackling and Tommy plays with the frills on the side of its head. "Aw."

Tommy listens to the creak and chattering of his new friend and Wilbur is silent for a moment, then We should keep going.

"We found a strider. We can just head back. No need for all this, it'll keep us entertained for awhile. Little pet strider! I'll name it Shitass."

Wilbur sighs. Awful name. I hate it. What's it gonna speedrun - death? No, and that's not the only reason I lead you out here. There's something else I want you to see.

"Not the only- you wanted me to find a- you're so fuckin' sus today, I swear. Whatever." Tommy rubs his eyes with a groan. "Just tell me what you're looking for. We'll go find it some fuckin- some other day."

Fine.

Tommy blinks.

Then he falls to his knees. His head explodes with hundreds and thousands of voices, all screaming at him, all shrieking at him, all loud, too too loud, too fucking loud-

Wilbur is sus! Aww, Wilbro! Can you name the strider after me? What the fuck is that? Can you say hi to my friend? You missed diamonds. You need blue fungi to lead a strider! Kill it for string. Boat with legs!

Tommy clamps his hands over his ears.

Chat.

"Tommy."

He looks up.

Wilbur is visible.

He's visible! Translucent, yes, but he's there, sitting atop the strider, wearing the dirty old trenchcoat from Pogtopia, hair tangled and eyes gloomy. He points into the distance, across the Nether - the crimson forest ends in a cliff and leads into the wastelands.

"There." he says. His voice is clear as ever - real, not just in Tommy's head. "Over there is a fortress with intact blaze spawners and unlooted chests. It's just over that crest."

"What?" Tommy manages through the mind-wrecking chorus in his ears. He doesn't see anything- no stormy red-black bricks anywhere in sight, just black fuzz creeping into his vision with every new voice, shattering his eardrums. "A- a fortress?"

"You have to learn to fight like this - as a piglin," Wilbur instructs. He tilts his head up. "And you need to get blaze rods. Then- then you can go back."

Woah! DUDUDU! E. Dude just find the smp portal hub, 4head!.Go get them rods, you can take a blaze or two!

Tommy whips around to stare at Wilbur. "I thought you didn't want me to go back."

"I don't," Wilbur sighs. "I really don't. But- but it's not as safe here as I thought it was. I.. you need to get back to the Overworld. Not the DreamSMP specifically, but the Overworld. So.. I'll help you. There's a fortress across the Wastelands, completely untouched. You can get blaze rods and maybe obsidian and gear from it."

Tommy is silent.

Wilbur hops down, but his hand never leaves the strider's head. "That's a long time from now. Prove to me that you can survive it, I'll take you there."

"Why are you so incitement that I can't die?" Tommy demands. "I'll respawn, won't I?"

"Insistent, not incitement," Wilbur corrects with a shake of his head. It's so odd - Tommy still isn't used to seeing him. "You're a mob. You have one life and one life only and Tommy, listen to me. You can't lose it. You can't lose that life. You can't die."

"Wilbur, you're scaring me."

Suddenly, chat is gone. Tommy peaks open his eyes, his head is still aching like a bitch.

Wilbur's gone, too. There's only open space where he had just stood, the strider blinks at him slowly. Must be confused, poor thing. There's no trace that Wilbur had ever been corporeal - just empty air.

Good, Wilbur says; back to a lonely voice, back to being chat. Good.

Tommy swallows.

"Come- come on, Shitass," Tommy whispers after a moment. "Let's.. let's go home."

It's quieter than late nights in the van, quieter than the blanketing silence of L'manburg in chunk-error ruins. Wilbur doesn't speak, but Tommy can hear his breathing. It comforts him; Wilbur hasn't gotten tired of him, hasn't left him behind. The strider follows them without the encouragement of food, and Tommy is grateful. He doesn't want to have to search this place for a single speck of blue just to have a friend that's not a disembodied voice.

"Why don't you do that more often?" Tommy murmurs as they walk. He still isn't heavy enough to leave tracks like his mother, Tommy notes.

Do what?

"Become.. real. Ghostbur."

Other people can hear me, and see me. It's not safe.

"Chat gets really fuckin' loud when you do it," Tommy comments. "It hurts like hell. You're chat, usually, but like... a moving chat. Like you're real, just not visible. When you became see-able, chat came back. Are you blocking them?"

I should be more careful with that first bit, Wilbur hums. But now I want to go ghost less. If it hurts you and there's no point to doing it, why should I?

"Be more careful with w- wait, 'go ghost?'"

It's a reference.

"What to?"

This thing called Da-

Tommy freezes. He feels ice sink through his veins, weighing down his legs. A new sound, a sound neither Wil nor Tommy have ever heard before - it echoes through the Nether, loud and piercing. It hits his ears with the force of a sledgehammer on a bell. The strider pauses and Wilbur shuts his mouth. It's almost like a scream, a cry, a call. A desperate one.

Shit.

"Mama! Mama, it's ok, it's ok!" Tommy can't describe his voice as anything other than frantic, desperate. "Mama, I'm right here, I'm right here, I'm safe!" he shrieks, running through the brush, stumbling over roots and thorns and bushes. The strider follows slowly.

He tries to match her scream, tries to tip her off - I'm right here, I'm right here! - but he doesn't hear her come to him, doesn't see her relieved white eyes. Wilbur is in his ear, whispering warnings and observations and-

"I don't care if there are hoglins, fucking- find her! Find her, you useless fucking ghost!" Tommy screams at Wilbur.

There's just a beat, a single heartbeat of stunned silence. Tommy pants, a mixture of exhaustion and fury trying its hardest to escape him. Wilbur's voice echoes in his mind as he whips around, looking desperately.

If you go forward a bit, there's a cliffside. Below is a very tall tree, far left of the cave. She's standing beneath it.

Tommy runs. He runs faster than he ever had with hooves, maybe faster than he had with feet. His mother glances up as he scrabbles down the cliffside, slipping down jagged rock. He feels hot, wet pain run down his leg but he doesn't slow to check, just tumbles to the ground with a yelp. She shuts her mouth and scruffs him immediately, sniffing his head and checking, reassuring herself, please be alive please be alive please be alive despite the very real squirming and very alive "Mama, please calm down, please, I'm fine."

She collapses when she realises he's safe and fine and alive and she's not childless and she holds him close.

If it were anyone else, Tommy would squeal and try to wiggle out, away, but it's his mother. He lets her hold him, forcing a purr. See? I'm fine.

Wilbur's voice rings out, distant. Tommy, what about the strider?

Tommy doesn't respond. He just lays in his mother's arms, eyes closed.

Nevermind, got it! Tommy turns around to see the strider hit the ground right in front of them with a distressed crackle and an OW THAT MUST'VE HURT out of Wil.

His mother has it dead in seconds.

GOD DAMMIT! Wilbur screeches. I JUST GOT THAT B- I JUST GOT THAT DOWN!

Tommy flattens his ears. His mother snarls as the strider falls apart in a cloud of smoke and dust and string.

Wilbur sighs. Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Can't you just bring one back by yourself? You can- you can 'go ghost', you literally didn't need me."

There's no response.

"Wilbur?"

Not even soft breathing. Tommy's tail falls limp. His mother hugs him closer, as if the lack of wagging meant he was about to drop dead, evaporate like the strider had.

Wil's gone. Tommy can only hope he's going to come back, like he did when his brother died.

Maybe Wilbur just doesn't like death.

Tommy leans into his mother's soft fluff.

"I'm sorry for leaving."

She huffs.

"Please never - fuckin' - please never scream like that again."

Her response is a low snort. You made me afraid. I was afraid. Never run away like that, and I will never scream, Tommy understands.

"Ok, Piglin Mama," Tommy murmurs. "Ok."

Wilbur runs his hands through his hair - real hair. Real, physical, human hair. Living hands, real hair.

He's furious. He won't let it show.

"What's this?" He asks, calm and collected and cool. With a soft smile and curious eyes - he's used to playing a mellow role, an innocent role. "What've you done?"

Dream narrows his eyes. "Why now did it work? Why couldn't I bring you back before, Wilbur?"

Wilbur ignores him, instead digging through his trenchcoat pockets. "Oh, I still have my deck!" he chirps. "Wanna play solitaire?"

"Is it why I can't bring back Tommy?"

"Or are you more of a poker guy? What about war? That's easy enough for you, I think."

"Wilbur," Dream hisses. "Listen to me."

"We could play Uno - queen can be pick up two, king can be pick up four, joker can be skip! Or reverse-"

"WILBUR!"

Wil smiles. "Yes, Dream?"

"Why can't I ressurect Tommy?"

"Do you not like card games? I'm afraid I've only got cards." Dream stands and Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "Aw, do you really have to look up to make eye contact with me?"

"It's because you're wearing tall boots. I'm not wearing shoes," Dream insists. "Sam took them," he adds quietly.

"Sure it's the boots, Dream," Wil snickers. "Sure."

Dream blinks. "Don't distract me."

"I didn't do anything."

"Listen up, Wilbur Soot," Dream snarls.

"Bit formal, what with the whole full name bit, but I'm listening. I'm listening, go ahead, Dream." Wilbur tilts his head, insufferably smug.

"You will tell me how to revive Tommy - you'll tell me what you did, you'll stop tampering - or I will kill you. Do you hear me, Wilbur? Do you understand me? I will kill you."

Wilbur sorts through his deck, counting cards and yawning. Unimpressed.

"I will kill you and bring you back and kill you again. Over and over and over, as long as it takes. Every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year until. You. Spill. Your. Secrets. Now do you want to listen to me, and do it the easy, easy, easiest way, or d-"

"Actually, I'm a bit - little itty bitty bit, tiny bit - tired of of this whole living thing, love," Wilbur interrupts. Dream stutters as Wilbur runs past Dream, spins round to face him and fall back, arms spread like a bird and wearing a shit eating grin. Wilbur Soot throws himself at burning, starving lava with a silly salute and bright eyes.

"BYE, DREAM!"

The freckled man can't do anything but stare as Wilbur's face contorts in awful, horrible pain for just a moment, then gone. Fully, completely gone - nothing but a swirl of smoke. The scent of burnt flesh stains the air and Dream feels like he's going to vomit. A charred sleeve falls to the ground in front of him - embroidered patches display old flags.

Dream picks up the cloth.

Green and white and pink, blue and purple with a white... sun? And-

He clenches his hand around the scrap.

Half a black circle, a fine yellow border and a bold yellow x. A line of blue runs along the top, and red along the bottom, and white cuts through the center with two more crosses.

The flag of a fallen nation.

Dream holds the patch with shaking hands, fury racing through his veins like hot fire, the fire that ravaged fur and ravaged flesh. He lifts the chunk of fabric to the lava, flinching as the fire swallows it eagerly and licks at his skin with a flash of searing, searing pain. Tears prick at his eyes as he holds a scorched, damaged hand to his chest, breathing like sailer too close to the sea and its sirens. Dreams turns and he swipes the water off his face and he throws it to the ground, to the ring of red blood (his own, his own blood, his own horrible horrible red blood) and a single glove, a single fingerless glove taken from his own hands, a glove with just traces, traces, traces of a dead man, miniscule little skin cells, gloves he had borrowed long ago from hands stained gray with gunpowder, and he waits for the blood to lighten and glow and he waits for Wilbur to appear again with the same cold, cold eyes.

Wilbur doesn't respond.

Dream punches the wall. "STOP TAMPERING! STOP TAMPERING!"

He almost hears the mocking laughter.

Then stop trying.

Far, far away, a small piglin opens his eyes. He's tucked against a bigger piglin, a sow who had never let him sleep beside her before.

There's a baby strider sleeping in front of him an a kind voice in his ears.

Good morning, Tommy.

"Oh, Wilbur! Wil, you're back! Wil. Wil. Wil. Wil, where were you?"

Off. Visited an old friend, brought a new one. Sorry about- about yesterday.

"It's ok, I think. And, by the way?"

Hm?

"Thank you, Wilbur."

For the strider?

"For... everything, really. Everything here."

Oh.

Tommy doesn't hear Wilbur's quiet ...Don't thank me yet.

[hotspringsseniorcare]

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[friendocheaven]

Picnic Ask

Ask and ye shall recieve @theaxolotleastofthesun it’s long af tho, so it’s under the cut.

 1.       Where and When is the picnic happening? (Gonna take this as ideal location and season basically)

a.       Milo: Prefers someplace a bit south—warmer than the northern parts of the Eye. Summer in Sun Elf territory would be nice. Not south enough to get jungle-y and humid (Glim can take heat, but draws the line at humidity), but someplace he could retreat to the blessed relief offered by the shade of a scrubby tree and have a good excuse to eat his favorite spicy foods and sweat to cool down.

b.      Glim: as stated above, he doesn’t do well in high humidity. Also not the biggest fan of excessive heat, but will put up with it for Milo’s sake. Were it up to him though, he would prefer an autumn picnic in a cozy shady glen under a still-full canopy of rich reds and violets and sunny yellows. A sigh of crisp wind carrying with it the first hint of winter.

c.       Remmi: Love’s spring, especially when it’s still early. They love the way the fruit trees look while still flowering and the cool, but warming, breeze. They would most enjoy something near water, but with plush green grass still under foot. The Northern Reservoir is well tended, with bright, blossoming bushes hedging cobbled pathways. The surrounding park stretches most of the way ‘round. Remmi would most like a quiet day at the eastern edge—farthest away from the great roaring falls that lead into the canyon. Bonus if there are frogs.

d.      Hani: Loves the dead heat of summer; the feel of warm sun on his skin. A midsummer, late afternoon picnic after a day of splashing around the Southern Sea would be heaven. Sure, the food might get a little sandy, but it wouldn’t stop him from eating and enjoying every second.

2.       What food and drinks do your OCs bring? (you fool! You’re enabling me to indulge my fascination with food culture!)

a.       Milo: Goes all out on the spice—picnic with him at your own peril. He packs extra-hot kimchi, seasoned roasted garlic cloves, Zevi’s falafel recipe, and a few other side dishes that reflect his upbringing by a Southern Dwarf familiar with Halfling food culture. He also gets pretty excited with drinks, bringing three; an iced ginger tea made with turmeric and black pepper, buttercup and honey hwachae (most non-halflings just call it wine even though it’s usually not alcoholic) because he’s (not so) secretly pretty sappy and sentimental, and Baekse-ju to finish off with a good pair for spicy food and just a touch of alcohol.

b.      Glim: Settles for light, seasonal snack foods. He brings a bunch of fresh cut in-season fruit like apples (that yes, he does cut the skins to look like bunnies like his mother used to), a couple loaves of bara brith made with ground dried fruits and nuts served with butter, and a whole basket of pic ar y maen (cookies with raisins and currants mixed in). He brings spiced virgin cider and a fine local white wine to wash it down.

c.       Remmi: As a professional baker, they refused to bring anything but their best to their picnic. They pick finger-food pastries—the best from their eclectic cooking experience and travels. Beignets topped with honey and powdered sugar—in a basket enchanted to keep them fresh and hot and crisp because they take pride in their work. An impressive assortment of petit fors lined up and packed tightly in another container. Muffuletta finger sandwiches with toothpicks holding them together for the more savory inclined guests. And finally some cranberry pastila which they hadn’t made in years and was their way of flexing their baker’s muscles. They pack a thermos of milk tea and an iced chocolate drink.

d.      Hani: not a big cook. He was hoping Senya would do most of the cooking. It’s not like he’s particularly picky about what he ingests. To be polite though, he brings a crock of bamia—a stew with lamb, okra, tomatoes, and onion—that his mother would make on special occasions. He also brings an impressive array of drinks; sugar cane juice, carob juice, tamarind juice, and iced coffee.

3.       What are your OC’s wearing to the picnic?

a.       Milo: Largely his usual sort of outfit. A sleeveless turtleneck, cargo capris, and combat boots. He does add a lightweight cotton shawl embroidered with geese in shades of red that he got as a wedding gift from Lian. He wears it to avoid sunburn, but once in the shade and eating, he carefully folds it and sets it aside so it doesn’t get dirty.

b.      Glim: A cream colored tunic and brown tasseled cardigan over dark blue leggings, simple but sleek black ankle boots, and finished off with a simple sapphire teardrop pendant on a gold chain.

c.       Remmi: they opt for something simple and comfortable, but fitting for the season. They wear a yellow wide-band tank top under an oversized baby pink cable knit sweater. The sweater is so big it slouches off one shoulder, reaches their knees, and the sleeves hide their hands if they aren’t scrunched up at the elbow. They pair that with slim, washed out jeans, and a pair of tan slouchy boots. As one final touch, they don cherry blossom studs in their ears.

d.      Hani: he goes for something sporty and comfy. A loose and flowy off-white sleeveless crop top over a pair of baggy gray-blue shorts held round his hips by a broad and colorful sash and a pair of greek sandals that he discards almost immediately. To add a touch of class—after all this is a fun outing so why not—he wears golden arm bands just above each bicep. Those stay on longer, but they, too, eventually get unceremoniously dumped into the picnic basket in favor of total comfort.

4.       Which OC brings a musical instrument to idly play?

a.       Surprisingly enough, Hani. Remmi knows a little piano and harp, but those aren’t exactly available at a picnic. Milo has never learned an instrument (though he finds guitar interesting). And Glim tried playing, but sucked at just about everything; and anything he could play he couldn’t play in front of others. Hani, on the other hand, randomly knows how to play—and is good at—the oud (which is like an Arab lute). And yes, he does attempt to play Wonderwall on it.

5.       How quickly does your OC realize there are ants trying to sneak into their food? What do they do about it?

a.       Milo: He’s very perceptive, so it doesn’t take long for him to notice. He proceeds to squish them then mix them into his food for “extra protein” without hesitation. Despite knowing that Milo was raised eating bugs and still does fairly regularly, everyone still looks at him like he’s gone insane.

b.      Glim: He picks up on it when someone else points it out. It’s only then that he realizes that he forgot to activate the insect repellent rune. He curses under his breath and apologizes before quickly moving the picnic supplies a few meters away and activating it then.

c.       Remmi: They spend the whole picnic low-key looking out for this. Whenever bugs start walking toward or flying around their precious gourmet picnic, they nonchalantly close all the containers up tight then swat them all away without breaking the conversation.

d.      Hani: he doesn’t notice until one of the ants bites his tongue as he’s eating. He spits that one out because it was mean, but all subsequent ones he eats. And unlike Milo, Hani doesn’t mix them into anything, he just pops them into his mouth.

6.       Which OC hides under the shade at first before being convinced to come out into the sun? How do they react?

a.       Glim hates the heat. If you can manage to convince him to leave the tranquility of shade, he will be a drama queen about it. Really laying it on thick and moaning about how “the sun is a white hot laser” against his “poor fragile flesh” and that if he continues on he will surely “burn up, dry out, and die!” and other such dramatic nonsense. He gets weirdly poetic when he’s frustrated or cranky. Needless to say, Milo has ceased pushing the issue.

7.       Imagine your OCs spending their time picking nearby wildflowers and watching the butterflies and bees at work.

a.       Milo foregoes this particular activity, choosing this time instead to just take in the scenery. He’s scared he might upset a hive or get stung or bitten by something so he’d rather just sit back and soak up the atmosphere.

b.      Glim is carefully rooting around for four leaf clovers under a subdued parasol.

c.       Remmi carefully plucks and cuts an armful of flowers and stems so they can make colorful flower crowns for everyone.

d.      Hani chases the bugs and small animals, not unlike a dog would. But he’s having fun so it’s fine.

8.       Which OC foregoes a picnic blanket and sits directly on the ground? Are they concerned by the grass stains on their clothes afterwards?

a.       Hani doesn’t care where he plants his butt and cares almost as little about stains.

9.       Which OC brings a chair because they can’t stand the thought of sitting on the ground?

a.       Remmi, but a lot of it is because they don’t want to risk getting their clothes too dirty and also because the ground is never as soft and even as you think or hope. So sitting on the ground, even on a blanket, hurts their butt.

10.   Imagine your OCs falling asleep after eating their food, content and happy.

a.       Milo is one of the first to nod off and lays down in the shade. He kicks his shoes off and lets the sun warm his feet while the shade keeps his face cool. He wakes up to groggily help pack everything back up.

b.      Glim doesn’t actually fall asleep. He just sort of zones out while playing with Milo’s hair and enjoying the breeze.

c.       After loading up on carbs, Remmi dozes off in their chair and wake up with a tender sunburn spread across their nose and cheeks. They vow to never fall asleep in the sun like that again, but they make the same mistake next time.

d.      Hanni has seemingly boundless energy throughout the day, which is a bit unusual for him as he often naps a lot when the sun is out, but is wired by the time the moon replaces it. As soon as they’ve packed everything up and are headed home, though, the excitement wears off and he crashes hard. He’s asleep the whole way back.

[probably-writing-x]

Admittance.

Guzmán x Reader

Set after the end of Season 3 (assuming Nadia and Guzmán were never a thing)

Request from anon: The reader is Andér’s sister and she found out she is pregnant with guzmán, but they are like not a couple.

My requests are always open❤️

- - - - - -

“Come on, school can hardly get any worse now!” Ander laughs as the two of you walk towards school.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon,” You roll your eyes, smiling as you see Omar walking toward the two of you.

He looked so oddly fitted to the new uniform as he hurries down towards you. He’d had to come in early today to get himself sorted for the introduction into the school. And it lit up your heart when you saw how excited Ander was to see him.

“I’ll meet you inside, okay?” You mention to your brother, walking off ahead as Omar comes running down toward his boyfriend.

It was a completely relief to see them back together now, so comfortable and relaxed back into what was meant to be all along. You couldn’t be as excited to be back as those two were. There were a thousand questions of your future running through your head and you were sure you’d pass out if you kept them to yourself for any longer.

When you get through into the school, you instantly focus on Guzmán only a few metres away. He’s the only person you could focus on at the minute. He’s stood laughing with Samuel about something or other as he clasps him on the shoulder and pulls him in like they’re brothers. It was good for them to have someone like that - both hardly having the best luck with siblings over the past year.

You hurry down the corridor towards him and bypass anyone who didn’t hold that exterior that he did.

“Guzmán,” You say, grabbing his arm to turn his attention toward you.

“Hey (Y/n),” He smiles, “Ready for school?”

“Guzmán I need to talk to you,” You persist, glancing over your shoulder as people begin flurrying in past you.

He must see the concern that the words inject onto your face as he holds your arm to pull you away from the crowds of people.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” It’s Rebeca that joins you and the boys, smiling to Samuel as she does.

Before you can say anything more, Ander and Omar are making their way towards you too, joining the group in a situation you should feel completely comfortable in.

“Nobody gonna tell me how hot I look?” Omar gasps, spinning round proudly in his uniform.

Everyone else laughs but you and Guzmán are evidently uncertain. He didn’t know what you were waiting to tell him. But one thing was for certain - given what happened over summer, he didn’t expect anything good to come from whatever conversation would be had.

- - - - - -

You’d been in first period for approximately twenty minutes before you started to feel it. It was that feeling you’d been suppressing as much as possible all morning but was impossible to avoid now.

Instantly, you find yourself hurrying out of class and straight down to the closest toilets. Hunching over the toilet bowl and trying your best to hold your hair back too.

You slump back against the wall of the toilet stall and sigh, resting your head back as one hand finds its way onto your stomach.

Shit.

When you collect yourself together and come out of the bathrooms, Ander is stood waiting for you on the opposite side.

“What happened?” He frowns, “Are you okay?”

His voice is panicked as he scans you fearfully.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I must’ve just eaten something bad, maybe at dinner last night.”

Your brother’s frown doesn’t release, “I can take you home if you want to.”

“No, don’t be silly,” You shake your head, “It’s probably out of my system by now anyway but I might head home early.”

“Okay, just let me know.”

It kills you to lie to him. The two of you had gone through a lot together. But this summer had been a strange one for both of you. Whilst he was missing Omar and going through the last stages of his treatment, you’d not been as honest with him as you should’ve been.

- - - - - -

“(Y/n)!” Guzmán calls as he strides down the hallway toward you, “What’s going on? What did you need to talk to me about?”

You glance over your shoulder and already spot Samu and Rebe, followed by your Mum not far behind, “Not here,” You shake your head.

“Yeah, okay,” Guzmán nods, “My house is free, we can go to mine.”

He settles a large hand on your back and leads you through the school until the two of you start a silent walk back to his house. You weren’t about to confess this to him on a random sidewalk. In fact, you weren’t sure if there was any way you could confess this to him.

- - - - - -

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks calmly, opening the fridge, “I mean we don’t have much in...”

“I’m fine, honestly,” You encourage, “Thank you.”

“So, what did you need to tell me?” He turns around and leans back against the kitchen counter across from where you sat at one of the stools by the island.

“Okay, I don’t know how to tell you this and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner...” You can feel yourself starting to ramble so quickly hold it back to stop yourself, “But I’m pregnant, Guzmán.”

His face falls instantly, his folded arms slacking slightly, “You’re- you ar- you... pregnant?”

You don’t say anything, that already felt like it had drained you of all energy anyway.

“I- Is it mine?”

“I didn’t really spend my summer fucking multiple people Guzmán,” You snap, “Of course it’s yours.”

“But we... we were careful!” He points out, “The majority of the time.”

“Yeah, I guess that two, or three, times weren’t so lucky,” You sigh, “Look, I’m not expecting anything from you b-“

“Who else knows?”

You take a deep breath, “Me, and you. And the twelve tests I took to make sure.”

He can’t help but half laugh at that, “Have you been to the hospital? Told your Mum? Ander?”

“No, Guzmán,” you sigh, “I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to process it myself, and I didn’t want to do anything until I told you. So, no.”

He inhales deeply and runs a hand over his growing hair, “Shit.”

You fiddle with your hands in your lap and keep your eyes away from him, practically ashamed at your own admittance.

That’s how the two of you stay for a while. Both of you in silence, trying to process what this meant for practically everything in your lives. This summer had been an interesting one. It had started by you spending time with Guzmán whenever he was at the hospital for Ander, and then he’d walk you home when Ander had to stay at the hospital with you. Then it turned to him offering for you to stay at his when both of you would be home alone. Then a late night kiss that turned into more very quickly. And suddenly? The two of you were hooked on each other like you wondered how you ever went without. You both craved each other. It was only towards the end of summer that you both called things off completely - admitting that neither of you wanted things to go any further. Now? Any further had developed a completely different meaning.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as that growingly familiar feeling starts to flood your veins once again.

You find yourself hurrying to the nearest toilet instantly and repeat the events of earlier that morning. Only this time, you’re not alone in the school bathroom stalls. In moments, Guzmán is with you. His hand moves up to bunch your hair together behind your head, whilst the other rubs circles onto your back soothingly.

“You’re okay, you’re fine,” He repeats, though you’re not sure if he’s speaking more to you or to himself, “You good?”

You groan and sit back away from the bowl, flushing it away like it would get rid of any of the fear and terror that this whole process was causing for you.

You slumped back against the cupboard behind you and he sat opposite, drawing his knees close to his chest.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” You say quietly, “I know it’s probably not the kind of news that anybody wants to hear.”

“(Y/n), don’t say it like you should be feeling sorry for me,” He shakes his head, “You’re the one really going through it.”

You give him a sympathetic look to match, “I don’t think this is easy for either of us.”

The silence falls again and you fear that things will never be the same in your life, in that exact moment it all seems to hit you. You’d told Guzmán, Ander could easily freak out and hate you for getting with Guzmán in the first place, your Mum could hate how you’ve jeopardised your future, you-

“You know you won’t be alone, right?” Guzmán cuts through like a knife into your overpowering thoughts, “Whatever decision you make, whatever path you think is best for you, I’ll be there every step of the way. I know this isn’t what either of us expected but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ever let you go through it alone, I promise.”

It might be the overwhelming hormones but you find yourself bubbling with tears at those words, spilling before you have a chance to stop them.

“Oh god I didn’t want to make you cry!” He chuckles, shifting around to sit beside you.

Guzmán wraps an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him. And the two of you stay like that for as long as you need.

- - - - - -

It’s a few days later when you’ve finally booked to get a doctors appointment. And, just as he’d said, Guzmán is right by your side. He meets you at your house in the car, offers you a smile and had even brought a drink and snacks with him in case you felt like you needed it. He also managed to reel off what the entire process of this appointment would entail - having done his extensive research last night.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?” The nurse calls with an all too bright smile on her face and an unsettling welcome brightness in her eyes.

You take in a shaky breath and glance down at your stomach like you were trying to change the results of whatever they’d tell you.

“Hey, I told you, I’m right here,” Guzman’s hand locks with yours and he squeezes tightly, “Both of us together, okay?”

The two of you had never been more than that summer fling, you’d never even thought of him that way until the summer came, but he was showing himself in a different light now. And it settled you instantly.

The doctor is nice enough and goes through the procedures to tell you exactly what you’d expected. You were currently five weeks pregnant.

“Now, there are certain different options available to you (Y/n) and I encourage you to look into what works best for you,” The doctor explains as you lay atop the risen reclining chair with Guzmán seated beside you, “There are some leaflets I can provide you with, and I am more than happy to answer any questions that you have.”

You nod like you’re taking in all of the information he is saying, when you’re really hoping that Guzmán is instead. All of this felt too overwhelming to absorb.

“I encourage you to remember that this is your choice. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this decision and you should not base it on any other moral compass than your own,” He looks between the pair of you, “Your choice, completely.”

“If we chose to... when would we have a scan?” You ask cautiously, glancing down at your unmoving stomach.

The doctor smiles gently, “It would be scheduled for a few weeks time, that would be when the foetus would likely be visible and we could get a clearer understanding of what’s going on in there.”

Guzmán nods along and it looks as though he’s digesting it all. When you see him sat beside you, it’s like he has an odd maturity that you’ve never seen before. His shoulders carry him like he’s confident and collected, and he’s asked all of the right questions this whole time. What surprised you most was that his hand still hadn’t left yours.

“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” The doctor states before exiting the room and closing the door behind.

Guzmán turns to you and furrows his brows just a little, “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

You let out a shaky breath, “This is a lot Guzmán, and I don’t want to be making any decisions that you aren’t comfortable with or you don’t feel are right. This baby would be mine as much as it would be yours.”

“(Y/n),” Guzmán stops you, shifting closer in the chair than he had been before, “I know. And if you choose to have that baby, I’ll do my half. I’ll do it all, I’ll make it work, and I’ll be there every step of the way through the pregnancy and for every day after that. But I need you to remember that it’s your body, and you know how you feel.”

“You really think we could do it?” You let out a little laugh, “All from a summer fling?”

He chuckles gently but it curls his lips into the most delicate of smiles, “I think any man would be lucky to bring a baby into the world with you, (Y/n). And this might not have been the way you expected things to happen, or who you expected them to happen with - but I’ll be that man if you want me to be.”

With that, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to your hand that was intertwined with his. And some of that fear just about manages to dissipate. You feel like you’re finally letting that weight settle into his shoulders too and it’s not as scary as you’d imagined it to be. Sure, there was still a LOT more to come after this. You were yet to tell anybody else beyond this boy next to you. You’d have to go through the fearful process of pregnancy and child birth before you even managed to bring this child into the world. But somehow it seemed just a fraction more manageable as Guzmán was a man of his word. And the way his eyes smiled when the doctor confirmed your expectations had already told you enough. He would be that man. You didn’t have to be married, engaged, or a couple at all. You just had to have trust, trust that you’d both be there. And as he kisses your hand again, you become even more certain that he is.

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 10)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 10) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,014 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Chap 9 || Chap 11 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

The next envelope that showed up contained an airline ticket to Hawaii.

I feel the need to make up to you. I sincerely apologize for my miscalculation. Please use this ticket to meet me and I can apologize in person. Inclusive stay and all. Yours truly, Castiel.

You tore the ticket and the note up and put the pieces as far down in the trash can as you could to avoid Sam and Dean spotting them. Slamming the lid closed, you stormed out of the kitchen.

Avoiding being vague on the details of your call with Castiel, you confided with them that you had snapped at him. Your calling him out outright only made this situation all the more unstable, and they needed to be in the loop. Rightfully so, Dean and Sam were not keen on you going out alone for walks anymore. Or out alone at all for that matter and for once during this whole debacle, you agreed. They did not leave you alone at the bunker either and you found yourself biting your nails whenever one of them would leave. Horrible things crossed your mind about what Castiel would do if he kidnapped one of them.

The days passed, your body refusing to fully relax. You were having trouble sleeping again and more than once you found one or both of the boys up and about at an ungodly hour, same as you. Netflix was sure getting its use.

One afternoon, Sam knocked on your door, peeking his head through the crack. You lowered your phone, pausing your dissection of the historical non-fiction you were reading.

“Jody called.”

You began to sit up, concerned, “Is she—”

Quickly, Sam added, “She’s fine. Don’t worry.” You relaxed back onto your elbow, waiting for him to continue. He stepped further into the room. “She’s got what sounds like a case. She doesn’t want to go it alone though. So…”

“So.”

“Are you comfortable going? It was a little awkward I had to tell her I needed to call back. Made up some excuse about your feeling unwell and I needed to check cause the vomiting I was hearing.” He sighed and came another step closer. “I don’t want to force you. But I don’t want to leave you here alone especially with this being states away. If you aren’t comfortable, I can reach out to some others in her area and have them help her out instead of us.”

Too quickly, you said, “That won’t’ be necessary. We can do it.” Sam said nothing, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “Really. She’s our friend. The least we can do for all the help she’s given us is go for her. I’d feel pretty selfish if we didn’t.”

Sam took that in, nodding in understanding a few moments later. “I get that. Well, I’ll give her a call back. Tell her yeah we can do it and that you’re just hungover; no need to worry about the vomit.”

You chuckled, “Seems believable enough.”

<> <> <>

Falling back onto the couch, you sighed content. Jody was making dinner in the kitchen, a thank you for the assist on the hunt. You could hear Sam in there helping her out. Freshly showered and wrapping yourself up in a fuzzy blanket, you turned the TV on. Dean would come out shortly after he finished showering.

Coming to a stop on Walking Dead, you put the remote down on the coffee table. Zombies were one thing you never wanted to face down, but it was fun to watch.

Jody poked her head into the room, seeing the TV. “Rerun. I was about to tell you to not spoil it if you had Netflix on. I’m only on season six.”

“Super far behind.”

“What can I say? Not usually a lot of time for TV. You want a drink? I’ve got pretty much everything.”

You nodded, asking her for your go to, and thanked her.

As she turned to leave, your phone lit up.

Great.

Reluctantly, you picked it up, nervous about what you were going to find.

I hope you are not still irritated with me, kitten. Perhaps something lowkey to smooth things over? Dinner? We are overdue.

Snorting annoyed, you tossed your phone back down onto the table, refusing to respond.

<> <> <>

When you returned home a couple of days later, he tried again.

What must I do to get back into your good graces? I am at your mercy.

“You were never in my good graces,” you muttered out loud to no one.

<> <> <>

“Zeek invited us down for his birthday, We didn’t go last year.”

This invitation is how you found yourselves in Hot Springs, AR. Admittedly, you had been going stir crazy after coming home from the hunt with Jody and a bar sounded like a good escape. Especially one with friends and even more so, friends who were all hunters. Surrounded by them made you feel more relaxed. Or it was the alcohol. Or a combination of the two. Regardless, you were having fun.

Reaching across the table, you grasped Sam’s arm. “Alright, it’s been a half hour. Can we have another shot yet?”

“Uh, I said an hour. Not a half hour.”

“Man, fuck this. You aren’t our dad,” Dean declared, slamming his hands down on the table as he got up.

You snorted as Sam shook his head, “You’ll regret it in the morning, Dean.”

Defiantly, Dean pointed at Sam and said, “For that old joke, I’m gonna take two now!”

“You’ve already had four and two beers!”

Zeek came up from behind Sam, slurring his words, “Have as much as you want, Dean. It’s my birthday!”

“Hell yeah, it is! Happy birthday!” Dean returned loudly, causing a chorus around him to shout out happy birthday in agreement in Zeek’s direction.

Again, Sam shook his head, smirking a little. “Not the people you should be taking drinking advice from right now.”

“We’ll get you one too, Sammy. Loosen up that stick that’s in your ass,” Dean told him, clapping him on the shoulder as he went by.

“You’re supposed to help me, Y/N,” Sam jokingly scolded you. “Letting me down big time here.”

To appease him, you took a long drink of water. “Better?”

“The only way you won’t be hung over tomorrow is if you keep that up between shots.”

“Duly noted.” Looking around, you asked, “Wasn’t there supposed to be nachos coming?”

Suddenly remembering as well, Sam followed your gaze to the kitchen. “Yeah…”

“Who’s drunk now?”

“Better off than you,” Sam quipped. “I’ll go check on it. It has been awhile. Don’t take the shots without me.”

“Scouts honor. I might go to the bathroom though, so don’t take them without me!”

Sam promised and left the table. You sat for a few moments, tapping your fingers on the table. You really did have to go to the bathroom. Better do it before they got back. When you stood up, you stumbled a little, quickly correcting yourself.

“Whoops,” you giggled quietly to yourself. You took another long drink of water for good measure and then headed towards the bathroom.

You held back a groan seeing how long the line was. The men’s room was on the other side and you contemplated playing too drunk to notice if anyone said anything about you going in there. Solid enough plan. You backed away from the line and turned to go across to the other hall.

When you entered the hall, you frowned realizing the door said ‘exit’ not bathroom. There were woods outside… or maybe an outhouse.

It was a process to make sure you did not pee on yourself as you squatted in the woods right outside the bar. Proud of yourself, you stumbled back through the sticks and undergrowth to the door, barely avoiding tripping over a spare piece of wood that you hissed a curse at.

The door did not budge when you pulled.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you groaned. “It should say locks behind you!”

You gave the door a swift kick of annoyance before huffing and turning away from it. You pouted as you began to walk around the building towards the front to go back inside. You were sure Sam and Dean would tease you mercilessly so you thought you should keep it to yourself and say you had just gone outside for air.

Coming around the corner, you startled, letting out a small yelp as you came face to face with Castiel.

“I am beginning to have the suspicion you are actively avoiding me,” he informed you calmly. He was dressed in an all blue, crisp suit, black gloves adorning his hands, completely out of place for this backwoods bar.

Swallowing sharply, you felt the numbness of shock thrumming through you at the fact he was standing there in front of you. Your eyes flicked to the front deck, where no one was standing despite the warm air inside and all the smokers.

“Love, you know I took risk coming here to this hunter’s den all so I could speak with you,” Castiel remarked, moving his head to lock eyes with you to get your attention back. He rose his brows expectantly, “Can you please grant me a few moments considering that?”

Defeated at being cornered, you made to shrug but lost your balance, having to quickly catch yourself on the side of the bar.

Castiel reached out protectively to catch you, his hands holding you tight. “How much have you imbibed? Truly? You know that is terrible for your body.”

Snorting at generally everything he said, you told him, “Really? You’re going to chastise me about drinking?”

Steadying you, Castiel informed you tightly, “Quite so. Nobody else in your life appears to care about your health. I should order my men to teach those Winchesters a lesson, frankly, for allowing you to get so damn drunk. When I told them to watch out for you in my absence, I meant it.”

He had his cell out and you realized he really meant to text his men. This meant they were really inside and despite all the friends, they could seriously injure the guys before they got taken down most likely.

“Don’t!” you exclaimed, reaching for his phone.

He yanked it away from you quickly. “Kitten, it is rude to try to reach for other people’s things without permission.”

“Sorry,” you blurted, recoiling. “Don’t do that please. I’m listening. I swear.”

A fleeting smile, “That is all I wanted.” His cell was slipped neatly back into his jacket. He took a step closer to you, “I was beside myself with loneliness in Hawaii. The beaches lacked luster without you. Being stood up… have you ever been? No, I do not imagine you have. It is not a good feeling to say the least. Especially since it was you that did it. And then refusing to even politely decline dinner?”

Before you could say anything, he pressed on, “Come. Join me at my rental. It is on the lake and I am sure you will find it more than agreeable.”

You looked at him taken aback at this invitation to join him overnight. Castiel had a tough time holding back his frustration, “Y/N, please. Give me more credit than that. I do not think of you as some cheap trollop. On my word as a gentleman, I expect nothing more than your company.”

Mind racing, you weighed your options. If you refused him, his men might hurt Sam and Dean. If you went with… you were at his mercy. All alone.

“Come now,” Castiel held out his hand for you to take. “I am sure by now you are being sought out due to absence. Please do not make me spend the night alone in that big empty house.”

He was elated when you placed your hand in his and he helped you to his car.

Driving away, you remembered your phone was still at the table.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

[momostodoroki]

lord knows i’ve failed you time and again (but you and me are alright)

so i absolutely forgot to post this fic i wrote inspired by @vertigospirit‘s lovely art which everyone should be fawning over imho

so anyways enjoy fighting!shoto and stressed-out-because-of-him!momo, they’re my babies i adore them

-

 '"Oh, not again, Todoroki-san."

 Yaoyorozu's tone is mildly scolding. He's sitting in the nurse's office despite his protests that his split lip and bleeding nose don't actually bother him.      You should have seen the other guy    , he tells his black-haired classmate as she dabs at his lips with antiseptic. When she presses the cotton swab against his lips instead of scolding him, he holds back a groan and chuckles so he can see her cheeks color with irritation at his carelessness.

 The truth is, Shouto doesn't know why he keeps getting into fights. He knows      when     it started (it involves the birth of his scar and a life-changing visit from CPS), and he knows the only person he's hurting is himself (and hey, also the douche who called his mom a psycho), but every time his common sense tells him to take the high road, there's an image of his father commending him for 'upholding the family name' and he just… loses it. Next thing he knows, he's sitting in the school principal's office, waiting for Fuyumi to pick him up.

 He also doesn't know how he ended up bagging Yaoyorozu's friendship. He remembers her in the school entrance exams, proud but humble about her first place - an odd amalgamation of what his life could have been like, had his father not been so incredibly shitty. He also remembers her falling apart in their seventh year project for Mr. Aizawa's class, and supporting her through it. Next thing he knew, they went from saying 'good morning' from neighboring seats to spending the evenings studying together.

 It's not like he doesn't like it. He's come to enjoy Yaoyorozu's presence in his life just as much if not more than that of his other close friends: Midoriya, Iida and Uraraka. Shoto knows he can trust her.

 Especially at times like the one he's in right now, when the school nurse has all but given up on him (      I literally just treated that split lip last week, Todoroki-kun    , she'd said upon his entrance) and he's kind of a chicken about applying disinfectants. She shows up out of nowhere, school jacket forgone in the temperate spring days, hair held up in a no-nonsense ponytail. When she treats him, her hands are tender but precise, and it makes a weird warmth settle under his ribcage.

 "Todoroki-san, please stop looking for trouble." she chides, sitting beside him as she's done looking after him. Shouto would never admit it, but when Yaoyorozu looks at him with a mixture of annoyance and exasperated fondness the way she is doing right then, he's thankful that the nurse refuses to treat him anymore.

 "It's nothing." he replies, offering her an only slightly bloodied smile. "Don't worry."

 Yaoyorozu's brow furrows. They've had this conversation a hundred times - sometimes over tea, sometimes sitting down at the park while petting whatever stray cat has approached them that particular time. She hates his getting into fights, hates seeing him bruised and having to watch as his sister takes him home to get yet another 'talking to' from his father.

 (but Shouto loves the adrenaline, loves disappointing his father and, most importantly, loves having her over to bring him their homework when he's dismissed early.)

 "You're going to be the death of me." She declares, standing up and offering him her hand.

 "Or someone else, probably." he quips, following her to lunch. She gets him cold soba, and Shouto ends up thinking it's her who is going to kill him.

  -

He's really done it this time.

 Momo is standing in Todoroki-san's room, watching his sister dab ointment on the swollen skin around his left eye.      Well    , she thinks,      at least whoever he fought this time had the decency to punch him in a discrete place.  

 Todoroki-san is Momo's favorite person in the whole world. She thinks she started developing feelings for him sometime between their weekly study sessions in eighth grade and the silent but unwavering support he provided when she and her team participated in the school sports festival against Itsuka Kendo-San from class 1B. But even obviating the romantic aspect of her feelings for him, Todoroki-san is just… dependable.

 Or he would be, if she didn't have to constantly look out for him to make sure he hasn't gotten into yet another fight. She sort of gets why he does it, though not really. She knows he has a complicated family history and trusts he will tell her about it if he ever needs to or feels comfortable doing it - and for her, that is enough.

 But he's been doing so good lately, barely even gotten into a fight in almost a month. She thinks it has something to do with his last fight being against Midoriya, and the conversation that followed. He's even seemed… Happier. Not happy exactly, but more relaxed, softer around the edges.

 Momo has always admired his serious personality, but privately thought he seemed lonely. She'd felt happy to see him open up, to see him direct small smiles at her from the other side of the cafeteria. Elated to know, without a single ounce of proof, that the tingling sensation at the nape of her neck was from him having touched her hair in passing as he exited their classroom.

 She'd even begun believing he might reciprocate her feelings. She'd finally managed to ask him, heart pounding in her ears, if he'd like to grab a bite sometime, and he'd said yes without a blink of his mismatched eyes. When she'd rushed to clarify that she meant her offer in a more-than-friendly way, and he'd very faintly blushed before reassuring her that the answer was still affirmative, she had been sure this was the start of something new for them.

 And then he goes and stands her up in favor of getting into yet another fight. Momo is going to kill him - bust first she's going to get some answers.

 -

Fuyumi is the worst sister in the world.

 A great big sister wouldn't have let Yaoyorozu in. Instead, Fuyumi leads her into his bedroom and, as soon as she's done putting ointment on his bruise, leaves them alone, door closed behind her. She is      not     getting a birthday present from him.

 Yaoyorozu sits on his desk chair. For a moment, neither of them says anything: her looking straight at him with those big onyx eyes, him looking everywhere but at her. Eventually, Shoto hears her sigh, and then she speaks.

 "I waited for you outside of school." she says, and Shoto can just picture her wearing the very same red turtleneck and black skirt and standing by the door, onyx eyes hopeful. He feels like an even bigger douche, letting some idiot get the best of him and in doing so, letting her down.

 " I'm sorry I missed our date, Yaoyorozu." Shouto says, pulling at a loose thread on his blue sweater's sleeve. "I was looking forward to it."

 "May I ask why, if that was the case, you missed it?"

 Shouto thinks that if she knew, Yaoyorozu would forgive him. But he doesn't want Yaoyorozu to hear the way that disgusting jerk talked about her. He lowers his eyes, looking at her fisted hands.

 "A guy said some things about me and I… lost control." it is, technically, not a lie, but he doesn't think it's enough of the truth to salvage their budding relationship.

 "Todoroki-san…"she laments, digging into her forehead with the heel of her hand. "How many times will I have to ask you to stop getting into trouble?"

 She leaves not long after that, and though Shouto is rarely ever cold, the room seems to lose warmth without her.

-

Momo's heart is going to explode.

 She's searched and searched around the school, but she can't find Todoroki-san. She knows, realistically, that this can wait until tomorrow. She is also aware that her parents would greatly disapprove of the way she is running around and interrupting conversations and classes just to find one boy - but she might actually shatter into pieces if she doesn't talk to Todoroki-san right now.

 Because he didn't not want to show up to the date. He was freshening up after basketball practice when some idiot from class 1B started talking about how Todoroki-san had 'bagged the hottest chick in their year' and 'totally' needed to 'share the deets on her bod when he was done with her'. Todoroki-san, her kind, caring Todoroki-san, hadn't been willing to humor that douche's disgusting comments. He had fought Monoma and beat him to a bloody pulp, but had to face detention and pay for the guy's hospital bills. That's why he'd stood her up.

 And after a week of barely talking, Ashido-San had finally had enough, and let her in on the incident (which she'd learned through Kirishima-san). Needless to say, this information gave Momo a different perspective.

 So she runs, to no avail because he's nowhere to be found, and neither are her friends, so she starts the way back home. When she's waiting for her ride, she notices a commotion in the school's adjoining park. There's a crowd surrounding something, or rather some people , as she finds out when she approaches. One of the people in question is Todoroki-san, shirtless and with a gash on his arm, green uniform pants stained with dirt. The other one is a short freshman with purple hair, clearly in over his head in regards to the fight. Covering her mouth with one hand in worry, Momo approaches the fight. She doesn't notice the way the crowd parts for her, but she does feel a spark of anger ignite in the pit of her stomach.

 Soon she is at the edge of the circle, close enough that when Todoroki-san throws a punch and hits the shorter guy square in the jaw, she can't help but yell his name in horror.

 "Yaoyorozu?" Todoroki-san asks, looking around for her. She's so mad at him for getting into yet another fight and also being so hot while not wearing a shirt, so she channels that anger into grabbing him by the hand and running towards the thicker part of the little wood in the park.

 Once they're alone, she lets the anger blaze.

 "Do you have a death wish? Are you out of your mind? Is this how you're going to be all of high school?" she scolds, holding one shoulder in her arm and poking his chest with every question. "I am      tired    of watching you hurt yourself, Todoroki-san."

 "Yaoyorozu…"

 "I'm not done! I know you fought Monoma-san and stood me up because he was being disgusting about me. I would have appreciated it being you who told me that instead of Ashido-san" she tells him, narrowing her eyes at him. In response to that, Todoroki-san's cheeks turn faint pink, and he looks away in apparent embarrassment.

 "I'm sorry, Yaoyorozu." he apologizes.

 "But Todoroki-san… Does this mean you didn't just get into a fight to let me down gently?" she asks, looking at him, her onyx eyes full of hope.

 "Of course not." he replies firmly. "Yaoyorozu, I would have never consented to a date with you if I weren't sincerely, positively interested in you."

 And then she's kissing him. It's the single most impulsive, inappropriate thing she has ever done. Her etiquette tutors would have her head. But it's also the greatest thing she's ever done. Especially when Todoroki-san gets over the shock and holds her cheek with one warm hand as he returns the kiss. Meanwhile the other, oddly cooler hand undoes her ponytail so he can tangle his fingers in her hair.

 There's so much still wrong with them, but in that moment, everything is perfect.

 "Todoroki-san?" she calls after they part.

 "Yes, Yaoyorozu?"

 "Are you okay?"

 "Don't worry." he reassures her, taking her hand in his as they walk back to procure his shirt. "I'm doing just fine."

 And he really is.

[wanderingdungeoneer]

War & Peace

War & Peace

This came to me a little while back as I had been reading a few different headcanons and fics. I figured I’d put in my own 2 cents and get in on the magic. I hope you guys enjoy! Also, I welcome constructive criticism. I know the perspective jumps back and forth a bit, and I tried to make it as simple as possible, but my brain likes to jump around before I finish stuff. I tried to keep them as close to in character as possible, but I’m sure I’ll get some notes about that :P This is a repost from my previous blog under the same name.   He stood at the top of the hill, his best friend by his side. He looked to her, taking in the curls in her blonde princess hair, now pulled up into a ponytail. The smoothness of her lightly tanned skin underneath the dirt and grime. Her stormy grey eyes, how her brows knit when she was planning something. He couldn’t help but smile. He had cared for her since he was twelve. Now, at twenty-two, he had a decade with her as a friend, eight years as his best friend, and five years as the love of his life. For ten years, he had faced the worst the world could throw at him. He proved his innocence at twelve. He helped retrieve the Golden Fleece and save his Best Satyr friend, Grover at thirteen. At fourteen, he traveled across country to save his best friend from a Titan. At fifteen, he braved Daedalus’ Labyrinth to stop an invasion of Camp Half-Blood with nothing more than the people he needed most by his side. At sixteen, he was responsible for the choice that saved the western world and he fought Kronos just to get there. At seventeen, side by side with his best friend and love of his life, he stopped Gaea from rising. He fought for every inch he and Annabeth took in Tartarus. It had changed him. It changed her, and he knew it. For months, even years afterwards, they both would have nightmares about their trek through the deepest, darkest pit. It only brought them closer, as only they knew how to soothe each other’s nightmares. Now, today, he was standing in front of a new army. An army seeking revenge for stopping the rise of Gaea. It really put a damper in what he had planned for today.

              “I love you Wise Girl.” He said, lacing his fingers with hers. He squeezed her hand three times in rapid succession, a habit he had fallen into a year and a half ago. She returned the squeezes. He turned his head at the vast army of monsters ahead of them. His smile faded. He reached into his pocket, feeling his pen having reappeared there. He pulled it from his pocket, and he felt her eyes on him.

              “I love you too, Seaweed Brain.” He looked at her. She had that smile across her lips, which usually meant he had done something stupid, but she still loved him. He gazed into her eyes for what seemed an eternity and she returned his gaze. Those stormy grey eyes had always enveloped him. At first, they had intimidated him, but for the past five years they had given him strength and solace. His smile returned.

              “Marry me,” Percy felt himself say, without thinking. Annabeth’s smile grew.

              “Ask me again when this is over. Then we’ll see.” She said, kissing him. “Come back to me,” she said, releasing his grip, drawing her knife. The look in her eyes told him that she was scared, but she wouldn’t show it.

              “Always. I’m never leaving you again.” Percy promised. He uncapped his pen, and it elongated into his xiphos, Riptide. His attention turned to the monsters ahead of him. He felt a familiar tugging in his gut, and a roaring in his ears. He was the Son of Poseidon, and the rage of the Sea was begging to be unleashed. He had felt this multiple times before, but this time, restraint wasn’t an option.

              He charged.

              Annabeth watched him charge the army, just as he had done many times before, with her at his side. His green eyes had enveloped her, just as it had done before. Today was a special day, Percy had told her, and he had planned a few things. She didn’t know what he was talking about, because it had taken her by surprise. Marry me. Was that it? A proposal? Annabeth couldn’t think about that right now. She had a camp to lead. Marry me echoed in her head, and something in her chest fluttered, and melted. She raised her arm to signal preparation for the catapults behind her. The Son of Poseidon, her seaweed brain, was going to be overwhelmed. A tear tugged at the corner of her eye, and she heard him shout the signal, “FOR OLYMPUS!”

              Her arm dropped, as she screamed, “FIRE!” and the celestial bronze boulders flew from over the hill. The boulders rained like brimstone falling from the sky, smashing into the enemy line, causing many to panic, while others were vaporized from the impact and the heat. Her leg muscles tensed, ready to charge, but the phalanx wasn’t in place yet, and the Romans from Camp Jupiter wouldn’t make it in time. A voice from behind her shouted, “Go get him, Wise Girl. I got it!” It was Clarisse La Rue. Her legs had minds of their own and she tore after Percy. I’m coming, Seaweed Brain. Behind her, she could hear the daughter of Ares shouting orders to form lines, and to immediately charge when formed.

              He was a whirlwind. Parrying, slashing, stabbing, rolling, dodging. Every monster his sword connected with, they exploded into dust. They weren’t going to take his life, his family away from him. Even if he had to go down fighting, he would make sure they were safe. But he could feel his strength waning. He felt a sharp, white-hot pain spring from his left side, and he let out a horrible cry of pain. He slashed with Riptide, and the monster exploded into dust. He dropped to one knee; his sword pointed to the ground to give him support.

              “Percy!” Annabeth’s voice was too far to help him. He breathed heavily, and he could feel his life force draining. Fear welled up in his chest as he gripped the hilt of Riptide in both hands. He was becoming surrounded. The monsters around him were laughing in delight. They finally caught up to the Son of Poseidon. He looked behind him and saw the love of his life charging toward him. He held out an arm, a signal for her to stop. He had a plan. He looked up at the heavens, offering a silent prayer to Athena. Please, I know you hate me, but please, please, pleeeease help me this one time! He glanced at the monsters around him. This was a horrible idea. The King of bad ideas. What choice did he have? Oh, gods. He was terrified, and he knew he was unlikely to receive any help from the goddess, Athena. Annabeth was coming, but she was too slow. He was on his own.

              “Perseus Jackson, you are mine!” a monster sneered and prepared to pounce. Percy returned the monster’s gaze with his wolf’s stare. It recoiled for a moment, but regained its posture with a snarl.

“No,” Percy growled, “I will never be yours. I’m spoken for.” He gripped his sword and lifted it up, and with a roar like a wave crashing upon the shore, he drove his sword into the earth.

              Annabeth stopped dead in her tracks when she saw what Percy was doing. Think! Annabeth thought, but the earth began to quake underneath her feet, and fissures opened around her beloved. He turned to look at her, and he began to sink into the earth. She stared in horror, “Not again…” she muttered to herself, and sprinted for Percy.

              Percy pulled up his sword and leapt for his life. He wasn’t really the best at rock climbing, but when adrenaline filled his veins, he felt he could do anything. His sword fell into the pit he had just created, and for a moment he panicked, thinking it would be the last time he would ever see that sword. Still, he began to climb. Twice, he nearly lost his footing. Twice his hand holds slipped from his grasp. Above him, a figure appeared. “Percy! Take my hand!”

              Annabeth. He gazed up at her, and the ice-cold feeling that had gripped his heart began to melt. His arms ached. He was shaking. His arms finally came under his control, and he began to crawl back from the depths, each breath burning in his lungs. He was finally within arm’s length of the love of his life, and he used what left of his strength to reach for her. He missed. As he was starting to slip once again, but Annabeth didn’t miss the second time. Her hand grasped his forearm, and Percy found his purchase with hers.

              “You made a promise Seaweed Brain! Never again!” Percy couldn’t help but smile. He could see her face, hidden partially in shadow. Her eyebrows knit in concern. He thought he could almost see a tear in the corner of her eye.

“I’ll always come home to you, Wise Girl.” He grunted; Annabeth helped haul him up. A second face appeared next to Annabeth, then a third, then a fourth. Clarisse, Connor, and Travis Stoll. They each grabbed a part of Percy’s arms and helped pull him up. Behind them, a roar of victory from the campers erupted. Percy didn’t care. Annabeth was there, her hands cupped around his face.

“Hey, Wise Girl.” He whispered.

“Hey, Seaweed Brain.” She replied, pulling him into a kiss. He happily returned the kiss, but finally, the searing pain returned to him. His Orange Camp Half-Blood tee shirt was soaked on his left side with blood. His vision lost focus, darkness creeping up on the outskirts of his vision. He slipped from her grasp and rolled to his side, the blood pooling beside him. It was all he could do to reach up to caress Annabeth’s face when his vision finally fell dark. The last thing he could remember hearing was his name being called and pleading for a medic.

No. No. No. NO! Annabeth cradled Percy’s head in her lap. His pulse was getting weaker. She quickly tore his shirt off him. Percy was more toned than most people would have given him credit for, with a plethora of scars from various encounters with monsters. With his tanned skin, it provided a kind of network of stories most people wouldn’t have understood. She had compared his scars to that of a mature great white with various scars on its flesh the first time she had gotten a good look at a few of his scars. The thought had made Percy laugh, of course, but she knew he liked it. He had once described how some of the guys on the swim team had been put off by the scars when they had first seen them. Percy refused to tell the mortals about how he got them, because 1) they wouldn’t have believed him anyway, and 2) he liked that it gave him an air of mystery that the guys couldn’t figure out. It also freaked out the competitors when they saw him. But that was years ago.

Under different circumstances, she would have marveled at the sight of her… boyfriend? Fiancé? She had thought about this before. He wasn’t just her best friend or even boyfriend. He was far more than that, and for much longer than what the mortals in their school in New York had thought. Did she already think of him as her husband? Probably. With all that time with him, he might as well have been. He had inadvertently proposed to her when they were twelve, though it wasn’t strictly binding. But the more she thought about it, the more she preferred to think it was. Marry me. With all her attention on Percy, she didn’t notice that the army hadn’t advanced to go in for the final blow. When she took her eyes off Percy, she saw why. A large crevasse had been opened in front of Half-Blood Hill, fifteen feet wide and maybe thirty feet long. under normal circumstances, she would have marveled at the amount of power Percy possessed, but she was more concerned with how big of a chunk had been taken out of him.

Will Solace had appeared next to her, “Annabeth, I know you’re worried, but I need your help. I need you to hold down on his wound and keep his head elevated, okay?”

“He’s weak, Will.” Annabeth stated, doing as he asked. “I don’t know how much longer he’s got… Where’s Nico when you need him?”

“Oh, I’ve been asking myself that question for the past two days. He’s late.”

“Focus, Solace!” Annabeth urged. He immediately got back to work wrapping Percy’s wound. The dressing was finished within moments, in which Will Solace moved on to his next step: Pulse check. Weak and getting weaker. He muttered a curse in ancient Greek. He pulled out some ambrosia and nectar.

“Keep his head steady. I don’t want to choke him.” As Will began to drain his canteen of nectar, Annabeth felt a sense of dread come over her. Please… Don’t leave me, Annabeth thought. She planted a kiss Percy’s breath was shallow and labored but became deeper with every passing moment. It appeared that the ambrosia and nectar were doing their job. This was her chance.

“Solace, help me.” She said, slipping Percy’s right arm over her shoulders. Annabeth placed a hand over the small of his back out of pure instinct. It wasn’t his Achilles heel any longer, not since he had to cross the Little Tiber, but she couldn’t let go of the memory of when he had told her where he could be killed. Will made a look of protest but thought against voicing his concerns. He slipped Percy’s left arm over his shoulders and together, they lifted the fallen hero to his feet. He made a groan of pain, his eyes fluttered open for a moment.

“Annabeth–?” he croaked.

“I’m here Seaweed Brain. You bought us some time. Now come on! Put your legs to use!”

He groaned a reply but managed to gain a footing. He grasped the shoulders of Annabeth’s and Will’s shirts. The phalanx at the foot of the hill split open, allowing the trio to enter the camp. Percy started muttering curses in ancient Greek.

“Put me down, by the tree. Thalia’s tree.” Percy growled. Annabeth and Will looked at each other but complied. They sat him up against the Pine tree; he grimaced as he looked once again to the heavens. He looked past them, at the army past the fissure he had created. Will looked at the two of them.

“I’ll need to make sure the medical supplies are ready to go. Need me to grab anything while I’m at the big house? I can grab Chiron…”

“A bottle of water?” Annabeth replied, remembering a crucial piece of information, “And a cup of salt? And don’t get Chiron. He needs to make sure the party ponies won’t destroy anything.” Will arched his eyebrow, thought about it, and nodded. He sprinted down the hill towards the big house.

“Today did not go as I planned.” Percy winced, holding his side. Annabeth knitted her brow, a smile fighting to show.

“You were going to propose.” Annabeth said matter-of-factly. Percy looked at her, a glint in his sea green eyes. A smile crawled across his paled face, and he nodded silently.

“I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be memorable for the best reasons,” the smile faded from his face into a frown. Percy broke eye contact briefly to look at the army he had fought single handedly. Annabeth sat down on his good side, as Percy wrestled a small, black velvet box from his pocket. Percy struggled to open the box, until Annabeth finally took it from his hands and opened it for him. She gasped, taking in the details of the ring.

The band was a polished silver, with the sides of the inset in the designs of Athena’s cabin symbol: The Owl. The rest of the band was simple bonded silver, with an inscription on the interior, reading as

Κάτι μόνιμο

“Something permanent,” Annabeth sighed. She continued studying the ring. There were two gems inset on the ring. The gems inset were a Ruby and a Peridot. Their birthstones. She looked at Percy, a glint in her eye that said You’re incredible. She slid the ring down her left finger, and it fit perfectly. Percy gleamed, the answer clear, even to him. She wrapped her arms around her fiancé’s shoulders and planted a kiss on his lips. She let her lips attack his, cupping his face in her hands. He returned the kisses, with just as much fervor. His lips were as salty as the sea.

“I love you, Perseus Jackson.” Annabeth breathed into his ear.

“I love you, too, soon-to-be Annabeth Jackson.” Percy replied huskily. A tingle went down his spine when she said his full name.

“Did I miss something?” Will said, panting as he charged back up the hill. He had the ingredients in hand. The couple looked up at Will, and Annabeth couldn’t keep her smile down.

“He’s going to be okay.” She said, reaching for the water bottle and cup of salt. Will handed over the ingredients, blinking in confusion. She poured some of the water into the cup of salt and handed the remaining bottle to Percy. He started swigging down the water. The color began to come back to him almost as fast as it had when the nectar and ambrosia were administered. Annabeth quickly mixed the salt with the water. It was counter intuitive, making salt water to drink. Any rational mortal or demigod would tell you that. Even Poseidon himself would tell you that. But this was Percy, the son of Poseidon. In between purified freshwater sips, he would take in a bit of the salt water. Annabeth’s brain was screaming at her to stop him from drinking, but before she could act, Percy made the one logical move she could think of: After only sipping twice from the salt water mixture, he dumped the rest over his head. This gave Percy just enough strength to stand. He took a deep breath and thrusted a hand in his pocket. He retrieved his magical sword, Riptide. His shoulders fell an inch, as if a weight had been lifted. It was then when Will took notice of what really had happened.

“Well, damn. Now I miss all the fun. Congratulations, you two.” Will smiled. Percy looked at Will, and then to Annabeth. He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“It wasn’t what I had planned, but what matters is her answer.” Percy had that trouble-maker’s side smile on his face. Annabeth looked up at him, a good couple inches shorter than Percy and gave her signature lip curl at him. Almost as soon as it was there, it was gone, as her brow knitted and looked at the hostile forces. The sun was beginning to set.

“Oh, gods.” Annabeth breathed. Where had the time gone? It was just the early afternoon.

“Damn.” Percy cursed. “Looks like we’re gonna be late for that reservation dinner.”