#like a lonely person with a connection to the moon and also glows!!

[pipperoo]

wow, y’all really weren’t lying, huh? why are pulp musicals literally the most beautiful thing i’ve ever heard???? what have i been doing, why haven’t i listened to them so much fucking sooner?????

[theomnicode]

Emotional loneliness & the subconscious

One thing we must never forget with Genos.

He will always pay back with dividends whatever action has been taken against him. Be it with hatred, revenge or with his utmost loyalty, support and love.

Maksaa kalavelat takaisin potut pottuina.

(Potut means potatoes, potut pottuina means with equal measure) (Kala means fish, velat means debt, kalavelka means grudge borne from unfair treatment)

So because Saitama lovebombed Genos with the divine power core, Genos will pay it back hundredfold. He's just that kind of guy, prone to extremes.

Just surely as the moon orbits around the earth, does the earth orbit around the sun, it's the universal law that Genos cares for Saitama. You'd have to erase his personality and himself entirely for this to not be true. And man, do the forces that be, try to do exactly that. It's like he can tip the scales of justice in his favour, a balance breaker in this regard.

So, the time to perform is night because OPM God is practically breathing down on everyone's necks and surveying the battlefield from below and above this time around and he wants to wring out some riffraff.

There is very much plenty hints, the chapters are throwing an overabundance of clues around. The amount of subliminal hints, metaphors, allegories, idioms, visual cues, wordplay, etc. is extremely staggering and it's done on purpose to appeal on subconscious level. Murata-sensei and ONE throwing all eggs into the basket for a homerun.

I feel like I'm constantly becoming big brained by looking at new chapters and making all these possible connections with my brain and trying to predict future outcomes lol.

It's like blaring warning sirens if you're suddenly aware of it.

There are many things one can start to predict in OPM. So OPM God can play chessmaster with everyone's emotions as the puppet master he is and get desired results.

But there is...one person that is completely utterly unpredictable...and that person is Genos. Nobody can completely understand Genos and his line of thinking.

Nobody knows what the fuck Genos is doing right now, for instance. We can only make educated guesses.

Except for one thing: he can't turn away from justice. Because he loves people too much. An emotional vulnerability that can and will be exploited. One he is not personally logically seeing.

Large amount of monsters are being released in an area with lots of civilians and being actually called on duty? Trust Genos to race to the scene, no matter what.

And in this it is also a race against time, who can seal the deal with who first. Who can emotionally connect with who first with their emotional loneliness.

Because everyone in this small area, are probably Super Empaths, also known as Heyoka Empath and emotionally lonely in their own ways. They keenly feel when others feel and bleed when others bleed and they can't turn this off. Emotional wounds bleed heavily.

And once you make a deal with OPM God, the God of Death or enroach upon his territory within the preternatural spiritualism, you aren't running away that easily. 4 people in the area are practically glowing with divine power.

What it means is becoming immortal and spending the eternity with this guy. Dead or alive. Sorry Future Garou, your sacrifice was most valiant. OPM God rewrote the script for that, because he did not want Saitama to give Garou therapy and emotionally connect via that, since Garou would've ended up just ranting about everything and confessing everything.

(Also denotes quite a bit about that there will be rivalries between individuals) (Cough death note) (Nice Ninja village leader and Blast ref here)

Like a jealous lover, it wants all the pieces to himself. Probably for some eternity in torture kind of thing. Oh and Genos and Bang have to die, naturally.

So yea, the dimple reference would match, just wants some company because it's alone in the dark...but actually horrifying af. Eternity in pure despair ay...

(I'm so sorry Homeless Emperor, Orochi...)

There is one thing that Saitama is vulnerable to, it's his emotional loneliness. Trying to become a hero to find some kind of intimate emotional connection with a person with similar values.

A heart displaced is a heart swayed.

The choice Genos can make where he chooses to place his heart into, will make it complete or shred it to pieces. The twilight zone between night and new dawn of day is still up. In the front is the sun of the new horizons and behind...the shadow of the looming death, The torii gate.

This race is also portrayed in the OPM ED1.

A race for Genos to connect with Saitama's heart first with his love, before anyone else does and doing so would protect him as well, because they are safeguards to each other's hearts. Monsters outside and inside exploit the desire for kindness, compassion, love and other emotions and when the heart is full, that's when the monsters can no longer find footing.

In short, Genos has to show that he absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, loves him whole-heartedly and confess. So Saitama can show his own vulnerability, his weaknesses like his suicidal ideation and make him strong enough to withstand emotional manipulation and exploitation that OPM God will do, is doing, to him. And in turn, his heart will also find it's home in Genos.

Cuz, Saitama is playing chicken with his own emotional blind spots. They will soon catch up to him and everyone else. Insecurities, unreliability, immaturity, self-confidence, anger, feeling weak...maybe even rebirth.

Saitama just does not have the guts to confess yet himself, he's far from certain about what he actualy feels since INFJ are slow and steady like the turtles racing against the rabbit in love business...but time is running out too fast to actually wait for the turtle to win the race because the rabbit fell asleep.

Dawn of the Last day, 24 hours remaining.

Saitama would just chicken out. Like bugs bunny under the rock face. Get second thoughts from not being absolutely certain that his emotions are reciprocated and shy away with his insecurities.

Saitama has a bucket list to go with him, so there's that.

jänistää (jänis = bunny) (jänistää = chicken out and run away)

livistää arkuuttaan (chicken out and run away due to shyness)

luopua aikomuksestaan uhkaa koettuaan (give up on doing something due to a perceived threat)

(Ah the Tanabata)

You can see the deformity in Saitama's eyes when he goads Garou into trying to hit him by appearing vulnerable while looking at him directly in the eye and seeing a glimpse of his soul. I don't think he likes that at all, since he's not the violent sort.

And oh, does this paint a clear metaphor, about what else can be found from the blind spot, upon the forehead, if he were to delve far too deep into the rabbit hole of his own psyche.

No wonder he's uncertain about Genos. There's definitely some kind of preternatural phobia or something involved. About the third eye/mind's eye. Definitely eldritch.

(Think Shimazaki from Mob psycho)

--

So, how does one Seal the deal with a God anyway?

A gesture in agreement, probably a hand gesture (since spiritual people seem to be doing that a lot) but also a sentiment with emotional attachment to that specific emotion, I would say. And wholeheartedly agreeing with the sentiment.

Genos already made a deal with a god by becoming his disciple and got an impartation of power; access to Saitama's emotional strenght via his empathy.

To seal the deal completely?

I mean, what else can it be but a kiss on the lips and a love confession from this utterly infatuated idiot.

To wake up the sleeping beauty like in the fairy tales. How romantic to soulbound with someone for all eternity. And cursed when their fates get twisted and they never find each other. Romantic tragedy, Romeo and Juliet.

I say idiot fondly because it's exactly what he would want right now, but Saitama is not ready if he were to get a sudden influx of feedback loop of emotions. He would not know where he begins and Genos ends, like two people living under the same egghead, if he hasn't build up some mental walls first. Individualization would be almost impossible. The shadow snuck too close for comfort.

If Saitama the antenna, that makes Genos the wi-fi signal. As in the mural.

Oh and Genos is definitely not ready yet either, he needs more mental strenght first to handle it. Saitama's emotions, his divine power, are strong af. He would probably explode.

I can predict about as far as Genos arriving to the scene...but it remains to be seen what kind of actions he will take.

He will probably end up doing something stupid or crazy though. But he will have to, to flip the webcomic script on it's head.

That will determine their fates. Because Saitama will need affirmation that he's not going to be left in emotionally lonely hell when the time comes. And neither will Genos, because Saitama would not allow it.

Clear skies, full hearts, can't lose.

(The most hilarious and unpredictable thing would be for the romantic comedy to begin and Saitama and Genos make out in the base, in front of everyone else without any inhibitions, because Genos has the unholy hots for sensei and by sealing the deal, have this feedback loop.)

(Saitama would totally fall for Genos and even cosplay villain mafia boss if he had to and become anything at all for Genos.)

(ONE gonna go "Keep the change you filthy animals." when he feeds the shippers. But also because he's the biggest troll and it would be fucking funny to see the oldest joke in the series utterly dismantled and watch the fireworks.)

(Looks quite a bit to me that you're swinging that way indeed and walking in tandem. I don't believe that horsecrap saitama lol, nobody does)

(Tbh those also look like socks and or heels to me...Saitama & socks = sensuality and heels would def be sexuality.)

(Hehe Genos fighting for his love against opm god because Saitama is the rose bride from utena ahahaha, that would be some tug of war)

(Funeral suspenders btw)

[chazz-anova]

tagged by the wonderful @socially-awkward-skeleton to do a couple uquizzes! you're the best 🥰

tagging @depyotee @glowwormsmith @simonxriley @cassietrn @dumbassdep @v0idbuggy and anyone else who'd like to do it!

What does your OC’s heart look like?

iced over, out of the sun Your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? Is your fortress of ice self-made? Are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? Are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? Vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. You will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

a bird struggling to get loose Your heart can never hold still. It pounds against your chest frantically, always turning your sights to one thing after the next. When was the last time you were certain? The last time your life was stable? Maybe this is how you prefer things. On the move constantly, not tied down to one person or place. You chase one goal after the next. Can you ever really feel complete without a place to land? Shouldn’t you build yourself a nest?

a compass that doesn’t waver You are someone who is certain of what you want. Maybe you always have been, or maybe you made a discovery that you haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from. Your heart is set and certain. You fight endlessly for your goals. Above all else, you know who you are and what you are trying to achieve. Just be careful not to tear yourself or others apart in pursuit of your ideals.

iced over, out of the sun Your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? Is your fortress of ice self-made? Are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? Are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? Vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. You will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

What does your OC’s path lead to?

The Lighthouse A light cutting through the dark, a hope in desperate times. Are you the lighthouse or the ship in the fog? Are you the seeker or the lost? She is waiting, a steadfast watcher at the shore of oblivion. Her light will never go out, never flickering, never wavering. Howling winds are clawing at her hair, obscuring her face. Still, she continues her vigil for her work is never done, she is free but has shackled herself with love for she refuses to leave anyone behind. (If you concentrate, you will see that she has no face, just a blank space in which she carries infinity and everyone who has ever loved you.)

The Path The memories left behind by others, each one taking their next step along side you. Softly rustling leaves in the wind, the full moon bathing the forest in a silvery light. A beaten path between towering trees, giant shadows slinking between them. Glowing eyes staring down at you, the animals' gazes piercing right through you. The fluttering of thousand of moths, each flap of their wings accompanied by whispers and the knowledge that somewhere someone's fate has taken a new path.

The Protostar If you listen closely, you can hear the heartbeat of the star. Someday, their hearts will cease to burn but not yet. Not now. You are just at the beginning, still finding gathering yourself. You are an amalgamation of the people that have touched on your life, for however long or short this was. Oh, you are so very beautiful, my darling. You are a wonderous canvas of shifting colors, paintstrokes by hands that have loved you so very much. (And hands that hurt, hands that were cruel, have also left their traces but my dear, you don't have to leave them to scar, you can always fill the fissures, nothing must be broken forever.) Everything finds an end someday but not yet, dear heart, not now, a beginning is what you make of it, there is always time to start anew.

The Memory Numbers never stopping, memories etched in each line of code. Are you uploading your soul or are you erasing your essence, one maintenance at a time? What makes a human? What makes a person? You have been afraid for a long time now, trying desperately to cling to your memories, your feelings and thoughts. Are you sure you need those things? Are you sure those are what makes you you, makes you human? You dream of darkness and static and wake up afraid. Are you sure you are dreaming? Or is your dream reality? Do you know? You wanted to leave your mark on this world, stretched yourself and uploaded your consciousness into the depths of the net. You are everywhere now, my dear, everywhere but where you should be. (Do you care?)

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

[tendouluvr]

songs i associate hq!! boys with [2]

- characters: kita, kuroo, kenma, kageyama

- warnings: newly-weds/domesticity in kita’s, talk about death in kuroo’s (nothing too dark though, just some nightly sleep talk), mentions of bickering in kageyama’s

- wc: 240, 376, 220, 312

a/n: i forgot abt this series for a fat minute

KITA : wabie - hey lover!

#! kita never would’ve thought he could get someone like you in his life. he wasn’t a bad person, no, his grandma raised him right. but he also wasn’t the best either so how, how did he get to spend the rest of his life with you? was he some kind of a philanthropist in his past life who saved thousands of lives? he doesn’t know, but what he does know is that you’re currently sound asleep in his arms. it’s the morning after your wedding and kita is showered with the feeling of a new type of domesticity. the plan for a honeymoon was heavily contemplated on between the both of you, wanting some time for yourselves away or save the money for much more important stuff in the future. kita was fine with anything, as long as you were happy. after a lot of thinking was done from the both of you, it was decided that the money will be kept locked up for the future (future as in the baby). kita’s loving gaze was still on you when you started stirring in your sleep. he softly smiles at you nudging yourself even closer to him, and moved around so that you can lay on top of his chest while he has his arms wrapped around your back. humming softly to lull you back to sleep, he whispers a small, “i love you.” before closing his eyes once again.

KUROO : the girl and the dreamcatcher - glowing in the dark

#! “what would you do when i die?” your voice hoarsely mutters into the dark silence. you were both in bed cuddling, your back to his chest and his arm going around your waist to slip his fingers into yours. kuroo was about to doze off when you asked him that so he blinked at the sudden question. “what do you mean? are you dying, babe?” he tucks his head down to rest the top of his head on your back, it was previously laying right beside your own head. you softly laughed, “no, but i’m just curious. y’know what i would do if you died? well, i would be sad obviously but then i’ll-,” he made a small noise which caught your attention so you stopped talking, “are you okay?” you asked him after a few seconds of silence went by and he was still. “just sad?” he whined from behind you while shaking the arm that was wrapped around you, causing your body to shake with it. “i can’t believe all you’ll feel is sad, do you not love me ynnnnn?!” he dramatically whined continuing to shake you even harder. you scoffed and held his arm so he could stop moving and turned around to face him, “shut up, you know what i meant when i said sad. stop crying,” you said in between small laughs when he raised his head up to look at you. it was peaceful while you stared into each other’s eyes and a sly smile slowly made its way onto his stupid face. “well, when you die-,” his big emphasis on when made you raised your eyebrows, “-i’ll probably bury myself in work to forget how lonely it is.” the smile slowly falls off of his face the more he talked and before you knew it, your face was quickly smashed onto his chest. “i don’t wanna talk about this anymore, i love you. maybe to the moon and back.” he felt your smile against his chest and held you even tighter, burying his head into your neck. a few minutes passed, it was silent again, and kuroo was once again about to doze off when you whispered into his ear, “i love you, too. maybe to the moon and back.”

KENMA : playboi carti - @ meh (llusion & banakula remix)

#! it was late at night and you were both in the car driving around with no destination in mind. kenma’s arm was across the center console grabbing onto your open hand, both of your clasped hands resting on your thigh. his phone was connected to bluetooth and the relaxing catchy instrumental of the song was playing in the background while you looked out of the window. the street lamps were on and kenma’s driving zoomed past them making you see blurs. you were both still in your pajamas, thinking that you had no reason to be getting out of the car. you felt kenma slightly squeeze your hand before raising it up to press a quick kiss against the back of your hand. no talking was needed, no words exchanged, all you needed was to look at kenma’s side profile while he was driving with one hand to feel giddy. “what are you smiling at?” he asked after noticing how long your eyes were still on him. you didn’t answer him, but instead smiled even more before taking your still conjoined hands and press it onto your face so you can hide behind it. kenma was quick to let out an airy laugh through his nose because he knows you currently had the widest smile on your adorable, embarrassed face.

KAGEYAMA : clairo - bags

#! “where are you going?” kageyama asks as he’s standing in the middle of the living room watching you move around. the little bickering you guys just had was honestly annoying you to the point that you couldn’t stand being in the apartment with him right now, so you decided to grab some of your things to go stay with your best friend until tomorrow morning. “b-babe? why are you leaving?” he stutters out, legs still stuck to the floor. “because your presence is irritating me. i’m annoyed right now so i’m going to leave for the night. i’ll be back tomorrow, don’t worry. good night kags.” you opened the door but before you could step out, the door quickly shut with the force of kageyama’s hand. he finally got his legs to work again and rushed over to you. “don’t leave. please. put your bags down. i’m.. i’m sorry. sorry for not listening and being stubborn. just stay with me, please.” his arm was outstretched in front of him, trapping you against the door. your back was still facing him, not wanting to turn around yet. “i can take the couch tonight if you’d like. i don’t care, just don’t go.” his voice so small you almost didn’t catch everything. a few moments of silence passed before you said, “ok, i’ll stay,” letting out a sigh, you turned around to look at him, “please just be a bit more considerate of what i told you about earlier. i can’t deal with you if you refuse to listen and see things from my perspective any time i speak up about something.” he quickly nods his head and agreed, holding out a pinky in front of your face. you gave him a small smile at his gesture and wrapped your pinky with his, locking in the promise he just made to you that night.

[stuckinmy-wonderland]

So hi. This is my first ever written & shared headcanon so it might be missing a lot lol. As long as y’all enjoy, I could care less how I wrote it! So here have a Wolf Gavin~! 💙🐺💙 (who doesn’t love a good wolf boi~? ^//^) and yeah this totally was not influenced by his spicy halloween karma before i read his date owo EnjOy!!

< WEREWOLF GAVIN HC >

APPEARANCE

brown ears are sharply pointed, soft and fluffy to the touch

ears display all the kinds of emotions he might be feeling: flattened for sadness or anger, erect for alertness or curious, etc.

loves his ears to be scratched and rubbed, but won’t say so or deny his joy when MC sees his tail wag slightly

he didn’t want his wolf ears pierced, but had to in order to be accepted into a pack

slit amber eyes, they practically glow in the dark

has an incredible sense of smell and will blush at MC’s scent, but try to hide it

is extremely sensitive to stronger smells

will actually gag or choke on strong smells he doesn’t like; he cannot stand them

his tail is huge and will wrap around MC to either keep her warm or close around her to protect her from danger or guide her away from it

pointed canine teeth i.e. fangs

heightened sensitivity in hearing, eyesight, and scent

his full form is exactly like a normal wolf except bigger; MUCH BIGGER; like the size of a pick up trUCK 😳

brown fur with traces of white on chest and front paws 🐾

lone wolf attitude is now magnified

one time MC managed to sneak up on him and startled him that he yelped/yipped in surprise ☺️

STORY

he was chained up and left by his pack because he betrayed them for not participating in an all out killing spree (killing a village of humans)

“You have the heart of a human…not a wolf’s. Of course that’s no surprise since you were turned rather than born…therefore be cursed with a human heart and face a world that will not accept you on either side; human or wolf!”

his pack magically bound him to the castle and encased his true strength within a crystal heart; his task (or “curse” really) in being bound to the castle is that he must find his place in the world

Gavin believes his place to be in a pack so he must figure out how to regain his strength from the crystal heart in order to find a new pack

he guards his crystal heart so that it does not fall in to the wrong hands as it also holds the power to influence him

the crystal heart could or could not be a part of his curse

MC ventures into the castle for research and clues to her past lineage and stumbles upon the crystal heart

Gavin walks in on MC and almost attacks her

MC shields herself, but then manages to connect the dots that he either needs the crystal heart for something or...

“I’m tasked with guarding it…” he tells her, but MC thinks there is more to it so she makes it her mission to figure that out

MC keeps the crystal heart on her person at all times in her brown satchel bag

Gavin is puzzled why MC keeps coming back to spend time with him; he was also very surprised that MC approached him when they first met

as MC continues to possess the crystal heart Gavin’s ice wall around his own heart begins to thaw and melt

eventually MC learns that the crystal heart holds the power to influence Gavin; so she may or may not use it to gain snuggles and/or affection from him to which he reluctantly bends to her will at first, but warms up to her

MC learns that he changes with the phases of the moon; a full moon he is transformed for the whole night until sunrise, a half moon half night, quarter moon quarter night so forth and is not scared by his full form

MC loves to snuggle with him in his full wolf form on cold snowy nights; he does it to protect her, keep her warm and happy; he is extremely happy that she is not scared of him in his full form

will not hold still while MC tends to his wounds (a few scratches) he got while rummaging around the castle

he acted confused when MC threw a stick one time while they were outside; she was disappointed until she busied herself with something and then turned around to see the stick she had thrown by her feet…

...MC looked at Gavin; he stared back blankly, “what?” and she just chuckled to herself

after a long time together Gavin starts to realize that he doesn’t want MC to leave his side; he hates it when she leaves for a long period of time as he’s worried about her

“I’m a hunter,” he tells her. “A hunter is a better protector than your average person, don’t you think?”

Gavin does tell MC about his curse and why he never leaves/cannot leave the castle; he explains that the story of Red Riding Hood is mostly made up but actually true; his pack killed Riding Hood’s village and her white cloak was stained red with blood from being killed

“Hence,” Gavin explains, “Red Riding Hood”

“And most people pair the wolf who killed Riding Hood and her village…to me,” Gavin sighs

“Well,” MC says quietly. “I had that suspicion, but everything they say about you in the village is wrong. You’re not a bloodthirsty monster…you are just…you.”

“But why did you stick around?” Gavin asks the question he wants answered the most

“Because…I like you.” MC smiles shyly. “You’re funny and kind…you have your own feelings and you deserve to be free like everyone else not trapped in this castle so I stayed because I wanted to help you lift the curse and escape.”

I am incredibly lucky to have her… how is it that our paths crossed? She made our encounter possible…and I couldn’t be more thankful…

in turn MC tells him about her past: “I’m actually a surviving descendant of Riding Hood…and I came here to find the truth about my family line’s disappearance which unfortunately was due to your past pack killing them all.”

Gavin is shocked. “How…?”

“My grandmother was still very young, but she was away from the village at the time of the mass killing and she managed to escape into the woods to the next village over.”

“Riding Hood was my great grandmother.”

Gavin apologizes for his pack’s behavior, but MC brushes it aside saying it wasn’t his fault nor should he be apologizing on their behalf

later that night was a new moon and knowing that Gavin gets antsy when she’s away, MC stays the night with him

at that time some men come to kill Gavin upon hearing the “Legend of Wolf Castle”

MC hears the men and goes to try and peacefully dissuade them from their intent but ends up getting hurt

Gavin is on top of a man like white on rice upon hearing MC’s cry

he cradles MC in his arms, “She had nothing to do with your sole mission of seeking ME out!” his voice drips with anger, “So why did you hurt her?!”

with his teeth and fangs, he cinches the front of MC’s dress with the cord to suppress the light bleeding

MC takes out the crystal heart and hands it to Gavin; he takes it

“I know… you’ll make the right choice,” her voice rasps

his eyes turn to the remaining men…his slit pupils become fine lines, brows furrowing, fangs bared with the cinch cord and blood

“For I will stain your cloak red...” he says only for her. “Red with the blood from my heart…that beats only for you now.”

he crushes the crystal heart to a thousand shards with his bare hand and regains his true werewolf strength

Gavin’s curse is broken by MC as she becomes his new pack and he is the alpha…or rather Gavin realizes that he doesn’t need to be in a pack to be happy, but to have someone he loves by his side

and have someone who loves him

Who says monsters cannot love?

Fin.

[memory-mortis]

Little Kitten (Dio x Reader)

Why hello there! First of all, I have no clue what this is. It’s not smut. It’s not fluff either. It’s just... huh. A random idea I had like 2 days ago. Secondly, to all of you who sent me a request months ago, I am really sorry. Don’t worry! I am still working on them! But it’s taking really long because I just went through a small writing block and I was feeling a little depressed. I will finish them one day, it just might take a while. Anyway, without further ado, let’s get this bread

WC: 1.8k TW: blood, the usual Dio stuff

So this was supposed to be a self-insert, which means the reader was originally meant to be female, but now that I think about it, it could be perceived as gender neutral too. The reader wears dresses, but fuck it, boys and nonbinary folk can wear dresses too, fuck gender stereotypes amirite?

This one contains NSFW themes. 18+ only.

“My, my… what do we have here? A soaked little kitten.”

Those were the first words he ever spoke to you. They came within a fever dream, his voice coated in honey and silk, reaching for the deepest desires hidden within your soul. He clenched your heart in his fists, dug his sharp nails into its tender meat. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Lord Dio had found you on the side of the road, soaked from the rain, beaten and bruised. You were trembling, barely conscious, and the memory of him walking towards you, his steps reminiscent of those of a proud lion, was hazy and blurry. It is safe to say that you were very close to death, and you would’ve had perished had it not been for him. You couldn’t tell to this day why he chose you out of all the poor women lying on the street, but he took a liking to you and while many men and women came to his mansion only to never return home alive, he kept you by his side and even fed you. In return… he made you his little play toy. You didn’t mind. You had nowhere else to go, and no one had treated you as respectfully as Lord Dio. He knew your boundaries, and whenever you asked him to stop, he stopped, and that is exactly why you chose to accompany him to Egypt.

The full moon hung low over the streets of Cairo littered with dots of light created by street lamps. A cool breeze of fresh air poured in through the open window which you stood by, your eyes pinned to the view of the city that opened in front of you. You did not feel cold thanks to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Lord Dio would freak out if you didn’t take care of yourself and that was the last thing you wanted. A sigh escaped your lips in the form of a cloud of mist. While the air in Egypt was hot and dry in the day, once the sun set, the temperatures dropped close to the freezing point. You admired your master for being able to sleep in the scorching heat. You had tried to adjust your own sleep schedule to match his but it was always just too hot to sleep and so you had to settle for seeing him late at night and early in the morning, despite how lonely that sometimes made you feel.

You started reminiscing of your first days spent with Lord Dio. The very first night he took you home you were sick and tired, so you didn’t protest when he cleaned you up and helped you get dressed into warm new clothes. Besides, from the aura he gave off, you knew you couldn’t escape even if you tried to.

“My poor little kitten, malnourished, your cheeks are so thin and your eyes so sunken,” he purred into your ear as he washed your hair. You were so exhausted you leaned back into his touch and didn’t move when he ran his hand over your throat. Dio was pleasantly surprised by your reaction, you could practically feel the smirk growing on his face as he leaned over to smell your neck. “So compliant, so submissive,” he whispered as he stroked your cheek. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

You were not a fool. You knew that Dio wasn’t human from first laying your eyes on him. Everything about him was so surreal, so ethereal, he was inhumanly gorgeous and radiated the glow of a supernatural being. You knew he was a vampire. It wasn’t your first time spotting one. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t care if you were just another meal for him. You fell prey not only to his predatory instincts and tendencies, but also to his otherworldly beauty. You craved every single look of those sharp, golden eyes, you needed his cold touch. His attention was a drug that kept you up at night.

To your surprise, it took weeks for him to show any interest in drinking your blood. In fact, he hadn’t shown himself to you at all in the first few days. Each morning, you would wake up to eggs, bread and tea on your nightstand, and every evening you would find dinner on the floor in front of your door. Lord Dio was elusive, nowhere to be found no matter how hard you tried. Sometimes you would run to the door upon hearing footsteps, only to find a completely empty hallway, and for a moment you thought that you were crazy or living in a haunted mansion.

But then… you found him. He was sitting in an armchair in the library, an open book in his lap. Despite having his back to you, he registered your presence.

“Hello there, kitten,” he greeted you without even looking at you. You shuddered at the sound of his voice, just as soft and alluring as you had remembered. Finally, he closed the book in his lap and set it aside, stood up and looked at you. The view was breathtaking. He gazed down at you hungrily, a couple of golden locks falling into his face. He had no shirt on and his broad chest and toned abs were clearly visible to you. You noticed the scar all around his neck and you would’ve questioned him about it had it not been for sudden anxiety rising within you. Before you could notice, he was behind you, brushing your hair aside to take a good look at your shoulder. “Hmm, you’ve put on some weight. Good, good… now you don’t look like a walking skeleton anymore. Tell me, kitten, what’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and somewhat comforting. You immediately felt at ease, as if intoxicated by his presence alone. “Y/n,” you answered obediently. “Y/n…” he rolled your name over his tongue as if savoring it, engraving it into his memory. “What a pretty name for a pretty little creature. Say, y/n,” he spoke in a low voice, his lips close to your ear. You couldn’t help but lean your head towards him in a trance, drunk from the vibes he radiated. You couldn’t explain it if you tried, but something about him made everything feel right. “What do you say about becoming my personal plaything? I’ll treat you well. I’ll take you everywhere I go.” You nodded all too furiously, which made him let out a chuckle that took your breath away. “Good, good,” he growled excitedly and in a matter of seconds he was gone and back in his armchair. “Go prepare yourself. There are some dresses in your closet. We’re dining together tonight.” You didn’t waste any more time.

Lord Dio didn’t need to eat. He mostly just watched you while drinking his wine. Or blood. Who knew what he held in that wine glass. At first you felt really awkward. The food was really good, but you didn’t like people watching you gobbling down on it. Eventually, however, you got used to it. Every now and then you would look up and see him either reading or smirking to himself. Sometimes, his eyes would linger on the lower parts of your body. The dresses he would bring you every now and then were very pretty, you almost felt like a doll in them. You rather didn’t ask where he got them. But what was even more exciting was him getting you out of them.

The first time, he was surprisingly gentle. You could tell that he wanted to ravish you right then and there, but he held back, just for you. You were his little kitten. He couldn’t let himself break you, at least not so soon. It was a difficult task, but he did his best to make it a pleasurable experience. Still, to this day, your favourite nights were those where he let himself slip. The ones where he would rip your dress to shreds, push your face deep into the sheets of his huge bed and tear your body apart. Every thrust of his hips felt like the first beat of your heart, every “little kitten” whispered in your ear brought you alive, the real you that was not afraid to scream. You didn’t care if Vanilla Ice, or anyone else for that matter, heard you. It was hard to do so with Dio’s cock stretching your insides, the spell he cast upon you made it hard to form a coherent thought during those times.

He loved to hear your moans, he loved the way you called out his name. It gave him an incredible power trip, and his satisfaction brought even more pleasure to you. He never even tried to tone you down. He liked it loud.

You ran your fingers over the laced choker around your neck. It was one of his many gifts, and by far your favourite. Because it was his favourite too. It quickly became a necessity to wear these. After all, you didn’t want to walk around with the bite marks on your throat exposed. He didn’t drink too much. Every now and then he would get excited during sex and drink more than usual, which caused you to be dizzy, but you didn’t mind this either. In fact, it became something of a pleasant ritual. Your brain connected the dots between drinking blood and breeding and after a while you were conditioned so well your core would throb if he so much as licked the wound.

You’d seen the corpses of all the women and men he would drain of all blood. Something about you was special, your blood was different. He said it was like a juicy cherry on top of a cake. That’s one of the reasons why he kept you around. That, and the fact that you didn’t really question his decisions.

“You’re up late,” lord Dio’s voice echoed from behind you and you didn’t even flinch when he put his hands on your shoulders. “Can’t sleep,” you mumbled. “Oh? What’s keeping you up? Need to burn some energy?” He stroked your cheek with his knuckles and you shuddered at his touch. He froze when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, turned you around and lifted your chin up to take a proper look at your face. “What’s wrong, kitten? What’s making you shed those tears? Did someone try to hurt you?” You shook your head in response. “They’re getting close, aren’t they?” Though it was a question, your tone made it sound more like a statement. Dio went silent for a moment. “Are you worried about me, Dio?” he said with a growing smirk. “I am the greatest being alive. They can try to get as close as they want, there is no way they could ever lay a hand on me.”

You sniffled and did your best to stop your quivering lip. Dio looked at you like you were a fragile little flower, wiped the tear on your cheek away with his thumb and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Come, let’s go to the bedroom, little kitten. It seems that you need to be reminded of how powerful I am.”

[everythingthemoontouches]

hello i’d like to join the oracle advice game 😊

a fact about me is that i love to read mangas.

thank you in advance 🙏🏼💕

This is.. Powerful. Have you been working with candle magick?

When you step into your power, you may find yourself alone. Like Fawkes from Harry Potter, it's rumored that there's only one Phoenix in the world at a time and when it does another rises from its ashes.

Phoenix tears are said to have miraculous healing properties. I'd say you look at forms of worship that involve solar / fire Deities.

Have you watched Winx club? Your powers could be a mix of Bloom and Stella. Also does the word Blossom mean anything to you? It keeps coming up as I type. Orange blossoms? Soft red orange candles. You could also be entrusted with a secret soon. Guard your personal artefacts / family heirlooms wisely. Focus on learning and spiritual development. Pay attention what your skills may be. You're not too loud / passionate driven. Your warmth is what keeps you aligned with your purpose. Feel your cheeks tinge red, run, dance, stay active. Spend some time in the sun for it heals and makes you come alive. Do you ha e red hair by any chance? Sorry I'm a bit all over twoth this reading.

Im feeling thus reddish orange glow and I may have burnt my upper lip a little warming my hands and face over the stove as an offering before your reading. Agni and swaha are Deities I'd recommend looking into. Or their counterparts from your own culture. Surya, Apollo, Ra.

Trust your own judgement. Be wary of Greeks bearing gifts. Treat any spiritual teacher with skepticism. Put in proper protections in place before trying to connect to entities or your guides. Wear carnelian / orange/ summer / Fiery hues.

Be unafraid to stand alone for it can get a little lonely at the top. There's only one of you. Stop trying to hide in the shadows when you were born to stand out!

The chatter fades when u walk in alignment with who you're meant to be.

Atlantis and Lemurian connections perhaps?

Drink soup. Heat replenishes you. I'm guessing you could have a fire moon /northnode

[dp-marvel94]

The Mystery Shack Spooks - Part 4

For Holiday Truce 2020

Summary:  Elle Fenton had hoped for a normal summer, a chance to make normal friends with people who know nothing about her crazy family, ghosts, or, most importantly, her status as a clone. But ghosts always seem to find her, even in Gravity Falls. Now the Mystery Shack is haunted by a unknown apparition with an unknown connection to Dipper and Mabel, and to Elle herself. The half ghost struggles to open up to her new friends and to find a way to help this lonely ghost.

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4(Here) -> Part 5

Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net

Note: 

Did I say this was going to be the last chapter? Ops....well I wrote what was supposed to be the last chapter and it ended up super long so I cut it in half. I'm posting the first part and once I edit the rest, I'll post the actual end in a few days.

Also, I really need a proper name for this story. So if anyone has any idea or suggestions, I'll take them. If anyone comes up with something that I ended up using, I'll be sure to credit them. 

Finally, happy reading!

Her mind was anything but silent. Her brain swarmed with thoughts, throughout a quiet dinner and half-hearted attempt at board games (unsurprisingly the twins weren't enthusiastic after that sobering encounter). Long past the time she should be asleep, the half ghost found herself staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting. She sighed, her heart still clenching with guilt- over not telling Dipper and Mabel about Tyrone and about her status as a clone. But if she could find some way so that the twins could see and hear the other ghosts or if Tyrone would show up so they could brainstorm…..

With a huff, Elle sat up. She wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon, not like this, and she was getting sick of staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should go flying or sit on the roof for a bit. With barely a thought, she triggered her core to transform and floated off the bed. She flew through the roof, pausing as the light of the moon fell on her face. She let out a breath, sitting down on the ledge of the roof. The view really was beautiful; maybe she’d wait and watch the stars.

Some time passed as she looked at the sky and tried (and failed) to not worry about Tyrone. Then a creak sounded behind her. Elle turned, finding a familiar boy behind her. With the moonlight, he almost glowed ethereally; for a moment she thought he was-

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, voice without even a hint of echo.

Elle frowned. “ Dipper, it’s you.”

“Yeah, It’s me.” He looked at her strangely, repeating. “What are you doing up here?”

The girl blushed. “Oh, I was just...I was...thinking about our ghostly friend.”

“Oh…” His confused expression bled into something sad. “You’re trying to figure out who he is?” 

Elle bit her lip, debating. She knew who the ghost was but she couldn’t exactly tell her friend; Tyrone had begged her not too. She sighed. “I’m thinking about how we can help him. If you and Mabel could see him...or if I could actually talk to him….”

“Oh yeah…” Dipper huffed, coming to sit beside her. “I barely thought about him today.” He looked down, guiltily.

“We'll figure something out.” Elle said half heartedly. “But anyway, what’s got you up?”

The boy sighed, studying a particular spot on the roof. He glanced at her cautiously. “Can I...can I tell you something?”

The half ghost blinked, startled by the question or really, by his attitude. He looked uncharacteristically upset. About the ghost haunting the Shack maybe? After a moment, she answered. “Yeah?”

“I keep thinking about… I keep thinking about….Tyrone.” He whispered.

Elle tilted her head, not expecting that. She was really, really not expecting that. It was like...it came from nowhere. But maybe he’d realized -

“You have?” She asked, part hopeful and part cautious.

Dipper nodded. “Since we told you about the copier and you said...what you said, that Tyrone was my clone but maybe not actually me….” Nervously, he picked at his nails. “That keeps...ringing in my head. I can’t stop thinking about it and about what happened to him and…” He trailed off.

“Oh” The girl bit her lip, suddenly guilty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought that up.”

Dipper shook his head. “No, don’t be. You….you made me realize I miss him. I’ve missed him so much this year. But...I didn’t understand that that was what I was feeling or why. I mean….the two of us…we were so in sync, really the perfect team. We thought the same, like we were really the same person and….no one understood me like he did.” He looked down at the last part. “But….I kept replaying that idea, what you said, in my head and….” His voice quieted, turning pained. “I don’t…I don’t know how I didn’t see it then but…there was something different about him, compared to the others. And not just ‘cause Tyrone had a name but….the two of us actually talked and came up with the plan to dance with Wendy together. I didn’t really talk to the others, just told them what to do and they did it. And…” He laughed humorlessly. “Tyrone’s the one who got mad at me for not following our plan and the other clones just followed when he locked me in the closet.” He shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “The doofus left me snacks and a coloring book in there in case I got bored or hungry. And…Tyrone figured out how to escape the sprinklers.” He clenched his shaking fists, taking a deep breath. “There was…a light in his eyes, a spark that just wasn’t in the others. And I…how didn’t I see it?”

The girl startled at the words, the honesty. She reached out to comfort. “It’s okay.” 

“No it’s just.” He ripped his arm away. “For the past…for the past year, I told myself that he wasn’t real. That missing him was ridiculous and narcissistic and the only reason I did was because I didn’t have any friends other than my sister. But….” His voice broke. “He was real, wasn’t he? Tyrone was a real, actual person. And…he’s not melted, he’s dead. He’s dead. And it’s my fault because I made him in the first place. And I gave him that freaking pit cola and just watched it happen. I’m the only one who even knew him and I haven’t even mourned, because I thought he didn’t deserve it because he wasn’t real.”

Dipper wrapped his arms around his knees. To Elle’s surprise, he’d started crying at some point. The girl shifted slightly, before tentatively putting one arm around him. Her heart ached as she let him cry. But she said nothing, too stunned to force any words out. She had...she had no idea he actually listened and thought about her words. But he had. Dipper had taken them to heart and now he was mourning and… He knew Tyrone was someone, a real person. Her heart skipped a beating, remembering the ghostly clone’s broken words. Just a copy. What will they think of me? What would they think…. Well, Elle didn’t know about Mabel but Dipper….Dipper saw his personhood, his potential. Her eyes widened; she had to tell-

The boy started talking, cutting off her thoughts. He sniffled. “But yeah, sorry to dump that on you. It’s not your fault but…I keep thinking about him, especially since...earlier...I thought I saw...” 

Elle gasped, just managing to squeak out. “You saw...?”

Dipper swallowed. “I think...I think...I..I had this dream where Tyrone was floating over my bed. He was crying and….” His voice choked. “He begged me to see him and talk to him. And I could see him but….I was frozen. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. Then I woke up and I remembered that it happened a year ago.”

“It…? A year ago?” The half ghost would blush at her parroting if she wasn’t busy freaking out.

“A year ago.” The boy nodded. “ I used...I used that freaking copier and somehow it made Tyrone.” A sickly smile covered his face. “He’d be a year old now if….” His expression flipped, turning into a hateful sneer. “If I hadn’t killed him a f-cking can of Pit Soda. Instead he’s dead so yeah, happy DeathDay Tyrone.”

With that, the boy roughly pulled away from her and tightly clenched his fists. He looked like he wanted to scream or hit something, his shoulders tense with self-directed anger. Beside him, Elle was frozen, her mind short circuiting. Tyrone…how…why…could he really…did he really…. Her blood ran cold. Dipper actually saw him earlier. She had no idea how, when he hadn’t been able to last night. But he must have; there was no other way. But he thought it was a dream, a fantasy or a nightmare conjured by his unconscious mind. He hadn’t realized it was real, meaning….

Her core flickered with her anxiety, ice flowing through her veins.

Dipper shivered. “It’s cold. Elle, is that you? Or is our ghost friend here?”

No, their ghost friend, Dipper’s clone, Tyrone was not here. Because he was downstairs thinking that Dipper just saw him as a copy, not worth mourning. But…

“Elle?” The boy ventured.

Cold pulsed from the half ghost’s core as her mind continued to race. She had...She had to tell him, to tell Dipper that Tyrone wasn’t gone. He wasn’t...well he was still dead but he was still here. The two of them still had a chance. But...she bit her lip. She’d told Tyrone she wouldn’t; she couldn’t break his trust now. But….with all she’d told Dipper, with how Dipper just poured out his heart, how can she remain silent about this? But...she promised the other ghost. The girl felt torn in two directions by the choice.

“I need to find him.” She suddenly spat out. 

“Who?” Dipper blinked at her.

Elle ignored as ice crept across the roof tiles. She ran fingers through her hair. “We need to talk. Maybe...maybe...I can convince him and We’ll-” 

The other teen cut her off. “Elle?! What are you talking about?” 

Her mouth snapped shut as she blushed in embarrassment and shame. “I...I’m sorry. The...the Shack’s ghost...I...I promised him...I can’t tell you.”

Dipper glared, open mouthed. “But-” 

Elle didn’t hear the rest of his plea as she flickered invisible and phased through the roof.

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

Moments later, Elle phased through the roof of her room. "Tyrone!" She called, hopefully. He had to be here. "Tyrone!" The half ghost tried again, to silence. "Please, we need to talk. I think...I think Dipper saw you tonight but he thinks it was a dream. If we just...if I just tell him, then-"

Tyrone's sudden appearance cut off her words. His eyes were wide, brow wrinkled with shock and worry.

Elle sighed in relief anyway. "You're here! I was worried." She shook her head. "Anyway. I need to tell Dipper about you."

The ghostly clone's eyes widen even more. He wavered backwards, waving his hands. No. For once, the static was clear.

"Please Ty. I can't… I can't keep lying to Dipper and Mabel. Plus …." Her pleading tone shifted into something more hopeful. "He told me some things today. And….he'd be so happy to know you're here."

Tyrone looked doubtful. His mouth opened to argue but then, the door burst open.

Gasping, the half ghost jumped back as Dipper barged in. 

“Elle!” He exclaimed. “What are you-” The boy cut himself off, eyes widening. 

The girl’s brow wrinkled for a moment in confusion; he’d probably come down here to figure out why she ran off so why-

“I must be dreaming.” Dipper muttered, voice shaking. “There’s no way. This isn’t...it’s not...it’s not real.” He furiously shook his head. “No. He’s...he’s not…”

The half ghost felt her heart stop, her blood run cold. Slowly her eyes drifted from the living boy in front of the door and to his ghostly double. 

Tyrone’s jaw dropped in shock. He wavered forward in the air, eyes pinned in the other boy. A long moment later, his voice warbled with static.

“No. You’re not...you’re not here.” Dipper choked. “I..I killed you.”

The living boy was shaking, looking like he would collapse or flee from the room. All the while, he stared at the misty form of his ghostly clone. More static cracked as the ghost boy tried to speak again, reaching forward.

Dipper pinched his eyes closed. “I’m just dreaming...You’re not real.”

With that Elle’s mind finally caught up. “No Dipper, he’s here…” She swallowed. “I can see him too.”

The human boy’s head whipped up. With wide eyes, he whispered. “What?”

“I can see him too. He’s real.” The half ghost said, pleadingly.

“He’s….?” Dipper’s breath caught in his throat, hope leaking into his voice. With shakingly legs, he stumbled towards the other boy. 

At the same time, the ghost boy floated forward again, tentatively. He stopped, only a foot away so the two were eye to eye. It was strangely similar to last night, except…..this time Dipper’s eyes knowingly fell on the figure in front of him. 

“Tyrone?” He asked, his voice quivering with a dozen emotions but paramount was hope.

The other boy nodded, slowly cracking a smile. Hey, Dipper.

“Tyrone. You’re...you’re here. You’re real.” The boy sounded like he could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. 

The ghost boy nodded eagerly. “Yes...I’m here.”

That seemed to encourage Dipper. “You’re here. You’re actually here! I…” His eyes started watering with joy. “I missed you so much. I-” 

He moved to wrap his arms around the other boy but his arms passed right through the insubstantial figure. Dipper shivered and tried again, brow furrowing. A third time gave the same result, making the living boy’s lip quiver. “Why can’t...why can’t I touch you?”

Tyrone whimpered, a grieved muttering exiting his mouth as he tried to return the hug.

Dipper stopped, rapidly stepping back. “I can’t….I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

The ghostly clone tried again but his words just sounded as a cacophony of desperate static.

The living boy’s eyes widened and he started tearing up. “Tyrone. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Distressingly, the statement just seemed to make the ghost boy more upset. Tyrone reached forward, hand again going through Dipper’s. His lip trembled.

The other boy sniffled. “I...I’m sorry.” His eyes trailed down the semi-translucent body. “I can’t touch you or understand you or….” A tear fell down Dipper’s face “I still don’t know how to help you….”

Dipper trailed off, shoulders starting to shake. Again, Tyrone reached forward but paused before actually reaching for the other boy’s hand. He swallowed, a look of concentration covering his face. The color of his hand shifted, the limb losing some of its transparency. Then he took Dipper’s hand in his. 

The living boy’s eyes widened. “I can...I can feel that.” He sounded awed.

The ghost nodded, pinching his eyes closed. “We’ll figure this out….together.”

Something in the statement bolstered the other boy. He half-smiled, despite his still watering eyes. “Yeah. Together.”

There was a pause. Then the ghost asked. “You….you missed me?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah.” He whipped his wet face with his free hand. “I missed you so much, man.”

Tyrone squeezed the hand he was holding. “I missed you too.”

“You did?” The other boy said, part disbelieving and part hopeful.

The ghost nodded enthusiastically. 

Dipper swallowed. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry about everything that happened. For using you and the others like that, for….melting you. For…” He took a deep breath. “For not seeing that you were real, back then.”

The ghost’s image flickered, his hand falling through Dipper’s as his mouth fell open. After a long moment, he shook his head and said something that was lost in static.

The corner of the other boy’s mouth twitched down at his lack of understanding.

Then Tyrone tried to speak again, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Real?”

“Yes. Of course, you’re real.” Dipper frowned, looking down. “Maybe if I’d understood that then, you’d still be here in the flesh.” He bit his lip. “Or whatever you call enchanted paper and ink.”

The ghostly clone's eyes remained wide, taking in what the other boy had said for a long while. Eventually his shock faded into a soft hope, his gaze kind. “But...we have another chance now, right?”

Dipper looked up. Slowly, the corner of his lip turned up. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

The ghost’s staticy voice buzzed in agreement. There was a silence for a while as the two boys just looked at each other. Not staring at each other in shock or disbelief. Not with judgement or scorn. But with soft happiness and wonder. Pure joy at being reunited shined in the pair’s tear-filled eyes. The two stepped forward in sync, Dipper’s arms wrapping around the cold mist of Tyrone’s chest and the ghost’s insubstantial arms returning the favor. It wasn’t quite a hug but a close approximation. As close as the living boy and his double could get when Tyrone remained unable to become fully solid and Dipper couldn’t turn intangible.

“I can still barely believe this is happening.” Dipper was saying softly. “So much has happened since...you know. I should probably tell you about it… if you want.”

The ghost boy nodded eagerly, muttering something in static.

Meanwhile, Elle shuffled awkwardly as she watched the tender scene. She bit her lip. A large part of her was overjoyed to see Dipper and Tyrone reunited but at the same time…it felt like she was spying on something intimate. This moment belonged to the two boys in front of her, for them to reconnect as best they could and to figure out who and what they were to each other.

She averted her eyes and coughed softly. “Uhh...sorry to interrupt. I’m gonna…” She jabbed her thumb towards the door.

Both boys turned to look at her. Dipper’s eyes widened as he stepped out of the semi-hug. “Oh….we’re in your room. We can uh….” He glanced at Tyrone. “We can go somewhere else to talk. Maybe the roof?”

The ghostly clone shrugged, mouthing. ‘Sure’. He floated up, pointing to himself and then towards the ceiling. He then pointed at Dipper and to the door. 

The other boy nodded in understanding. “I can meet you up there.” Then he bit his lip nervously, looking between Tyrone and the door.

The ghost frowned, his lips moving to form the question. ‘What?”

His original blushed. “I...I’m kinda scared to let you out of my sight. Like...you’ll disappear again….”

Tyrone’s face softened. He floated back down. With some concentration, he grabbed Dipper’s wrists and started leading him towards the door.

“Hey. What are you...?” The living boy asked. “Oh...we’ll go together.”

The clone nodded. Then he paused in front of Elle. His lips turned up into a bright smile. ‘Thank you.’ He mouthed, his eyes shining such incredible gratitude.

“Yeah, thank you.” Dipper nodded, agreeing. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.” His shoulders rose somewhat sheepishly.

The half ghost gave him a comforting smile. “No problem. Of course I’d be here and...I’m really happy you guys found each other.”

Both boys nodded. Then Dipper opened the door. Cautiously, he poked his head out and looked both ways down the hallway. He looked back at his ghostly double and waved him forward. “Come on Ty.”

Elle watched the two walk and float down the hall, towards the stairs to the attic. Soon, the pair were out of sight and the girl closed the door.

With a sigh, the halfa returned to human form and sat down on her bed. Elle smiled. She meant what she said; she was ecstatic to see Dipper and Tyrone reunited, though she hadn’t imagined it going like that. None of the scenarios that had crossed her mind featured Dipper barging in. Granted…. after running off on him, the half ghost really shouldn’t have been surprised that he came after her. But Dipper had. He’d barged in, saw Tyrone, and the two- original and clone- had been tearfully reunited.

Speaking of original….the girl reached for her phone, smiling as her lockscreen picture of her, Danny, and Jazz popped up. She suddenly wanted to talk to her brother, to tell him about everything that happened. But...it was pretty late and with the different time zone, it was even later in Amity. But then again knowing Danny, there was a large chance he was still awake playing Doomed. 

Without anymore debate, Elle dialed his number. On the third ring, her brother picked up. 

“Hello?” He asked, sleepily.

“Hey Danny. It’s Elle. Did I wake you up?” She blushed, suddenly guilty.

“Nah. Just logged off Doomed.” He yawned. “Wait...Elle?” Worry entered his voice, making him sound more awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you.” She bit her lip. “Sorry. I should’ve just waited ‘til the morning.”

“It’s fine.” He said sincerely. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Elle sighed. “So….I found out who the Shack’s ghost is and he’s Dipper’s clone, Tyrone.”

There was a pause. “What?” Danny asked with mild confusion.

“The ghost that’s been haunting the Mystery Shack is Tyrone. I actually saw his face this morning and talked to him.”

“Well, that’s unexpected.” The boy said, shock on his voice.

“Yeah. I can barely believe it but it’s really him. Oh and Dipper found out literally ten minutes ago; he barged in and saw Tyrone when the two of us were talking.”

"Oh, wow …..how did both of them take it?"

Elle smiled. "Really good. They went up to the roof to talk. I think you both really missed each other."

"I can imagine." Danny said knowingly. "They must be really happy to see each other." Then his voice turned sober. "And Dipper saw him die, didn't he? Losing Tyrone like that must have been horrible."The boy swallowed and Elle could imagine his pained frown. But then his tone became something more hopeful. "But finding out that he's not gone, finally getting him back. Dipper must be so happy."

"He is." The corner of her mouth turned up. "And I guess we both understand that."

"Yeah." Again, Danny sounded so certain, so knowing. And Elle understood it completely. How could she not when she and Danny had come so close to being in the same situation?

The half ghost girl remembered the older boy's face as her body fell apart, as she destabilized. She'd been terrified but at the same time hopeful as he dashed in with a solution. But then it hadn't worked. She watched as devastation overtook his features as he pleaded for her to hang on. She'd tried, equally devastated, equally desperate not to die.

She'd blacked out, an unseeing, unfeeling, unknowing puddle. For a moment, it was like she was gone, like she didn’t exist at all. And then suddenly she was back. She had eyes again. She had a head, hands, feet, a body. For a long moment, she blinked slowly realizing she still existed. 

Then her eyes had fallen on Danny, her original, her cousin, her brother. She hadn't dared to even consider that yet. She'd barely been able to think he might see her as anything more than a copy, that he might even love her. But Danny was on his knees, his eyes fixed down. He was crying, muttering apologizes through his sobs.

Elle had floated from the floor. She'd quipped something stupid in a effort to cover how freaked out as she disbelieving shock turned into relieved happiness. She'd back flipped in her elation, her eyes falling on the older half ghost as he whipped around. And-

"You were really happy at Vlad's when I...uhh.. when you saved me with that ecto dejecto." 

His eyes had shone with relief as he rushed forward to embrace her. He’d squeezed her in his arms, holding her tight like she was precious. Together, they'd shared a moment of pure joy, relief, and love. 

Across the line, the boy swallowed. "Of course I was happy. I thought I'd lost you, El."

"But you didn't." The girl said softly. "It turned out okay."

"Yeah, it did." Something in Elle's tone seemed to bolster the other halfa. "Man...we've both really come a long way since then, huhh?"

“We have.” The girl nodded, remembering her conversation with the twins this afternoon about what she and Danny had been through. “You told our parents about your powers. I started going to school.” She chuckled, then her voice turned more serious. “And I actually have a home and family now. I’ve got Mom and Dad and Jazz and...You. You know... you’re a good big brother.”

“Aw, Elle?” The boy’s voice ticked up teasingly. “Are you getting all mushy on me?”

The other half ghost gasped. “I’m being serious! I was gonna say, you’re a really supportive and understanding big bro. And thank you for encouraging me to talk to Dipper and Mabel.”  She crossed her arms, only somewhat mock offended. “But I guess that’s too mushy for you.”

There was a pause as the boy took in the words. When he finally spoke, there was no teasing in his voice but sincerity. “No, sis. It’s...it’s not too mushy. It’s...sweet, I guess.” Elle could hear the smile in his voice. “And you’re a good sister too. I’m really happy to have you in my life.”

“Oh. Thanks Danny.” The girl blushed at the compliment.

The older boy chuckled. “See, I can be mushy too.” Then his tone sobered somewhat. “So you talked to your friends?”

“Yeah, I did. Earlier today actually, before Dipper found out about Tyrone. I told him and Mabel about me being half ghost.” She smiled. “They took it really well.”

“They did?” Danny sounded happy and relieved. “That’s great, Elle.”

“Yeah. We had a snowball fight and everything after I showed off my ice powers.” She chuckled. “I felt a lot better after telling them everything.” Elle frowned, realizing what she said. "Well...almost everything."

"Oh?" Danny asked, wordlessly prompting her to continue. 

"I...uhh….haven't actually told them I'm a clone yet."

"You haven't?"

The younger half ghost shook her head. "No but….I think I'll tell them in the morning."

"Really? Why now?"

"Just….some of the stuff Dipper said about Tyrone and how he reacted to seeing him again." She swallowed. "You and Jazz were right; they're not gonna think any less of me if they know the whole truth."

“Wow….I'm proud of you. And good luck with that. I'm sure it'll be great."

"Thanks Danny." She smiled.

"No problem." The boy sighed. “Man, a lot’s happened since we talked yesterday.”

“Yep. I told Dipper and Mabel that the Shack was haunted. I tried to introduce them to Tyrone when he showed up yesterday...I mean, I didn’t know it was him last night….. But the twins couldn’t see him.”

“Wait…” Danny cut in. “You said that Dipper saw him, like literally could see Tyrone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah I….did.” Elle’s eyes widened. “You’re totally right, I did say that.” She put a hand on her forehead. “I hadn’t even realized. Dipper literally couldn’t see him at all yesterday but now he can. So how does that work?” She started rambling. “Wait...I couldn’t really see him yesterday either. He just kinda looked like a shadow or a cloud. So why could I suddenly see him this morning? I mean...yeah, I worked out Ty’s name so maybe that’s why….but Dipper didn’t have a clue. He just barged in the room unannounced.” At some point, the girl had flopped back down onto the bed. She huffed, contemplatively.

Across the line, Danny hummed in thought. “Well, what changed?”

“What changed?” The other half ghost muttered quietly. What changed? Well, yes, she and Dipper had talked about Tyrone but as far as she could tell, Dipper’s opinion hadn’t actually changed. And somehow the boy had seen the ghostly clone earlier when he was half asleep. But….

Elle’s brow furrowed, remembering something Dipper had said earlier. “It’s been a year...” She muttered.

“What?” Her brother questioned.

Her eyes widened, realizing the older teen was still listening. “Dipper told me earlier that it's been a year since Tyrone...well...died.”

“And traditional ghosts tend to be stronger on the anniversary of their death. Don’t they?” The boy asked.

Elle nodded. “Right. And that’s probably why he’s visible and not just to me. But still...” She sighed, remembering Dipper’s reaction to being unable to touch and understand Tyrone. “Tyrone’s still stuck intangible and almost everything he says comes out as static. I wish I could figure out how to help him.”

Again, her brother hummed in thought. “Huh…. What if you got him some ectoplasm?”

Elle suddenly sat up, hitting her forehead with her palm. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” She stood up and grabbed for one of her bags. “I have ectoplasm. My supplements.” The girl frowned. “Letting him have a few should be okay, right?”

“I think so...it’s not like ectoplasm can hurt a ghost. And if I know Mom, she packeted you like half a year's worth. You should have plenty.” Humor rang in his voice. “And I won’t tell Mom and Dad if you won’t.”

“Yeah, I won’t.” Elle laughed. “I’ll tell Tyrone and Dipper about that idea in the morning  and see what they think.”

“And let me know how it goes, okay?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, of course.” She yawned. “We should both get some sleep though. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, Love you sis.”

Elle sighed. “Love you bro.” She smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.” With that Danny hung up.

The half ghost girl put her phone away and went to sleep.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

just read the “we could get arrested” one shot and I NEED the part 2 PLEASE im in love w college Rowaelin i NEED(!!!) to read about their first kiss please!!!!!

Your wish is my command. Enjoy!

To understand this scene you need to read this one. Also, this scene takes place years after this encounter, for anyone that’s curious to see how they ended up and read a little smut. 

Word count: 1853

Hate to love you

--

Rowan followed Aelin inside the building. Despite his reluctance, he had to fight a smile whenever she turned around to see if he was coming after her. There was something glinting on her eyes, a sort of wilderness Rowan had never been able to achieve even on his most rebellious moments.

Aelin was like wildfire.

And he was a complete idiot for wanting to get so close to it.

They finished going up the stairs and Aelin threw a door open, the chilly air cooling his face again. She stepped outside, opening her arms and throwing her head back, her eyes closed while she smiled. The glow of the moon made her skin shine. He stepped outside, arms crossing as he watched her.

Aelin was an annoying enigma. He couldn’t stop thinking about her sometimes, and the more he thought of her, the less he understood. It unnerved him to no end, and Rowan hated it.

She was always moving, talking or even when she was quiet, her eyes moved way too fast as if trying to take in every detail around her. Now, however, she seemed calm, completely relaxed. Rowan knew she was gorgeous, but the sight of her in that rooftop made his chest ache.

She looked ethereal.

He blew a breath, and Aelin’s eyes opened and her gaze fell immediately to his. She gave him a secretive smile, and his heart started pounding inside his chest. He had been freezing minutes before, but now he could feel his whole body heating.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Aelin breathed, looking at Orynth on the horizon.

“Yeah, it really is.” He approached her, looking at the city. Orynth was known as the city of light and learning, and although Rowan had already seen the learning part, it was the first time he stopped to notice the light part. The whole city was illuminated, the little lights looking like the starry sky. Different songs mixed together from the pubs near them, and Rowan understood why Aelin liked coming here.

She rested her head against his arm, and he almost tensed. He remained forcefully relaxed, afraid that tensing would make her go away. “It makes me feel as if I am alone in the whole world.” She murmured. “As if I can see its whole expanse. I’ve tried painting it a few times but it never does justice.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

She shrugged. “You seem lonely. Not alone, just lonely sometimes. I do, too. Coming here helps.”

“There’s a difference between being lonely and being alone?” His voice dropped to a murmur too.

“Of course. You can be surrounded by people and that will mean you are not alone, but you can still feel lonely. Being alone sometimes is good, healthy. Feeling lonely hurts, though.” She looked up at him. “Feeling lonely with people around you is the worst. You try to connect yourself with what’s happening, with the people around you but still feel adrift.”

He nodded, understanding her all too well. He never thought Aelin Galathynius, the center of attention wherever she went, the life of the party and biggest social butterfly he knew felt like he did sometimes.

“I brought you here because it’s my special place. And because I don’t mind being alone in the world with you.” She rested her head against his shoulder again, and he put a hand on the small of her back. “Your presence is calming. I don’t have to be overly pleasant or always have a joke ready. I just say or do whatever is on my mind. I know you don’t like me too much, but I don’t hate you, Ro.”

Her words punched him on the gut. He did think Aelin could be annoying and she got under his skin way too easily for his liking, but hearing that she thought he didn’t like her was painful. Hearing that she liked him nonetheless was brutal.

“I don’t dislike you, Ace.” He said, using the nickname their friends usually used when talking to her. “Of course I don’t dislike you.”

“I annoy you.”

“I bet I annoy you too.” He looked down at her, and although she was still staring at the city, he could see her smile.

“Yes, you do actually. A lot. There’s so much about you that annoys me, Rowan.”

“Ouch, thank you.” He put a hand on his chest and she laughed, the sound bright and beautiful. “There’s a lot in you that annoys me too, Galathynius.”

“Oh?” She looked at him, and eyebrow raised. “Care to make a list?”

His face felt hot and he hoped he wasn’t blushing. He remained silent, his gaze going back to the city.

“Oh, come on. I showed you my special place and I did tell you that I didn’t need to worry about what I said around you. You can just say what’s on your mind too.” She nudged him, and his eyes snapped back to her.

Looking at her, the winter breeze blowing some strands of her golden hair, Rowan did feel as if he was alone in the world with her. And maybe he would regret the hell out of this later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it as he looked at Aelin’s perfect face. He felt free, capable of saying and doing whatever was on his mind, just as she had described her feeling about him.

“Your face.”

“My face?” She said, brows furrowing in confusion. It wasn’t what she was expecting, that’s for sure.

“Your face annoys me so fucking much.” He said, fully turning to her. “You have no idea how many times I stared at you, your face. It annoys the hell out of me that I know every single detail on it. That I have memorized every single freckle and scar. It annoys me how beautiful you are because I can’t stop staring.”

The crease between her eyebrows smoothed, and her eyes widened as she looked at Rowan. He didn’t want to consider if that was a good thing or not. He just kept talking, saying things he refused to acknowledge until that moment.

“It annoys me how I can recognize your voice, your mannerisms, your tells. It annoys me that I couldn’t leave you alone at a bar or to walk home alone because the worry would eat me alive. It annoys me how I have to forcefully drag my eyes away from your body when you’re walking on my direction or away from me. Actually, you have no idea how much your whole existence, annoys me, Aelin.”

Her eyes were fully wide, her arms limp. She was staring at him with a bewildering look. Suddenly, he was almost mad at her for making him feel like that, for making him say those things.

“You fucking annoy me so much.” He shook his head. “Your smell annoys me. Your looks annoy me. Seeing art annoys me because you ruined that, every time I see any form of art I think of you and what you would think of it. It annoys me how you’ve ruined everything.”

He took a step forward, doing exactly what came to his mind. He cupped her face and bent down to kiss her.

The moment his lips touched hers, Aelin relaxed and got closer to him, her whole body touching his. Her hands hanged lightly on his sides, and Rowan’s hands swept into her hair.

“You know what? You are so annoying that I do actually hate you.” He breathed against her warm mouth, his lips tracing hers. “I hate how much I think of you. I hate that I keep telling myself that I only think of you as an annoying, undesirable person. I hate that I tell that to other people.”

He shoved his tongue inside her mouth, and Aelin moaned at the gesture. Her hands gripped him more tightly, and she started kissing Rowan back with the same fervor he was kissing her.

“You made me a fucking liar, Aelin, and that annoys the hell out of me.”

One of his hands went down her spine and stopped on the dip of her back. He pulled her closer, flushing her body against his even more strongly. She let out a sound from the back of her throat, and Rowan was so tempted to lay her down on the floor and coerce her to make those sounds a lot louder. She bit his lip, her hands in tight fists on his jacket now. He grunted, pulling her hair back so he could deepen the kiss further.

“You are an asshole.” She breathed against his mouth, a whimper coming out of her when he bit her lower lip. “Gods, such a fucking asshole.”

“I hate you right now, Galathynius.” It was his time to murmur against her mouth as she kissed him hungrily. “I hate you because you have no idea how much it annoys me how every single thought on my head right now is screaming at me to fuck you. Every single part of my being is focused on the desire to bury my face between your legs. Or maybe shove my cock so deep into you everything you remember is my name.”

Aelin half moaned, half whimpered. She mover her hips against his, looking for any kind of friction.

They kept kissing for minutes, hands roaming through their bodies, mouths sliding against each other. When they were both breathless and finally drew apart, Aelin was breathing hard and deep, her cheeks flushed and eyes dark with desire. She opened her mouth to say something when they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. Aelin looked down, seeing a police car parked in front of the building.

The footsteps he had heard while Aelin was picking the lock…

“Fuck.” She breathed, grabbing Rowan’s hand and pulling him to one of the little sheds on the rooftop. Instead of going inside, Aelin shoved him into a hidden alcove he hadn’t even realized was there before entering it. Her hand was against their mouths, hiding the sounds of their heavy breathing. Rowan heard more than saw a middle age man walk around the rooftop. He superficially looked into the sheds and corners, and soon later left. They heard him shouting “Clean” to whoever was in the car, and in a matter of minutes the police was driving away.

Aelin lowered her hands and looked at him. They stared at each other for a second before Aelin’s mouth broke into a wide and bright smile. She jumped on him, arms looping on his neck. He held her against his body, smiling back at her. He was laughing when her mouth came down on his, just as hungrily as before but also with some tenderness.

“I hate you so fucking much, too, Ro. You have no fucking idea for how long I’ve hated you.” Was all she said against his lips before kissing him again.

Rowan sighed in content and kissed her back.

The two of them on a rooftop.

Both alone together in the world.

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @queen-of-glass @morganofthewildfire

[cloverachiever]

Fic Masterpost

♡- Fluff ♢- Angst ♧- Mulitchaptered ☆- Au ✎- Series

Fics are sorted newest to oldest, there's more on my ao3 i simply do not interact with the fandoms they are part of anymore and as such will not be linking them

DSMP

Glow Worms ♡; Moving slowly through the springtime air Holding moments in the depth of care

exeunt ♢☆; exeunt (n.); used as a stage direction in a printed play to indicate that a group of characters leave the stage.

Tubbo takes Michael and makes himself a home far from everything he's ever known.

Exit Music (For A Film) ♢; tw: major character death, corpses, suicidal ideation (check tags for more)

Sing us a song A song to keep us warm There's such a chill, such a chill

Tubbo mourns. Spoilers for lore streams 11.28.2021

Me and My Husband ♡♢;

Me and my husband   We're doing better

Little Beast ♢; tw: implied child death, unrequieted love

I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours.

george aches, and sleeps a lot.

eye for an eye ♢♧; tw: implied child death

(quackity nd tubbo angst)

Mars ♢♡♧ ; We were amateurs at war/Strangers to suffering

BEING REWRITTEN

Rot ♢♧ ; rot's my favorite word so i wrote smthn inspired by it

(ranboo & tubbo)

At long last, love has arrived ♡ ; And I thank God I'm alive/You're just too good to be true/Can't take my eyes off of you

beeduo enderwalk fluff :)

'Cause we could stay home and watch the sunset ♡♢ ; But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?"/And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me/Before this ends up as another memory

tubbo and tommy talk

Before you cross the street ♡ ; Take my hand/Life is what happens to you/While you're busy making other plans

tubbo tells michael about l'manberg

You and me need never be lonely again ♡ ; Spin with me endlessly or at least until the end/Please never fall in love again

ranboo monologues about tubbo ig idk man

I still wanna be your favorite boy ♡ ; I wanna be the one/I might just be the one

bro idk they're just being soft platonic husbands, i wrote this as a gift NFHDSKJL love u cherry ur pog

'Cause I don't think that wasting (A second of this time) ♡♢ ; Would benefit the outcome/Of the life I had in mind/I'll refer to you as my special love/The one that set me free

Michael gets sick, Ranboo and Tubbo realize family life is harder than it seems

I can't be the only one who hears you ♡♢ ; Tears falling down at the party/Saddest little baby in the room/Fears, tell me fears, don't get me started

tubbo from ranboo's perspective

Life's too short to worry about things that we got wrong ♡ ; So hug all your friends and let them know/You're not letting go

sam helps tommy make a gift for tubbo :D

I will wait for this to end ♡♢ ; The back and forth; the battery/For you at last to comprehend/The kind of love of which I speak.

spoilers for the finale 1.20.21

we didn't start the fire ✎ ; Canon divergent au with semi-canon sbi family dynamic (Techno's relationship with it is. Complicated.) No L'manburg exploding, and Niki is here bc I love Niki :) It also starts at the first festival, nothing after that is connected to canon in any way.

tell me, atlas. what is heavier? ♢♡ ; the world or its people's hearts?

And if I could, I'd get you the moon c ; And give it to you/And if death was coming for you/I'd give my life for you

takes place a week after the first fic in the series, but can be read as a standalone piece!

BBC MERLIN

Wasn't it love as soon as we knew each other properly? ♡ ; Livin' 'bout half right 'til a certain person got to me/Nothin' is secret, everythin's sacred, how it ought to be/Under the moonlight on a clear night

merlin and lancelot being gay gay homosexual gay

Lungs ♡♢ ; He tried to push through, to make his aching lungs take in more air and keep going, he couldn’t.

At the edges of my fingers ♡♧ ; Never quite closing ‘round it/Oh, that peace like a river/Always going, but never getting

Merlin and Arthur but there's only one bed(roll)

A narrative waste of patches and light ♡♢ ; We grew up in the suburbs then we cut all our ties/Now just take a look at this through Gwyllian eyes/You're wrong my friend, the road, it bends a bit to the right

Slice of life merthur, i guess?

SHAKESPEARE

May their carbon given ♡♧ ; Be an echoing hymn/That goes on and on and on again/So long as I live

mercutio/tybalt

Am I still speaking? ♢♧ ; Yeah I’m long in the wind/I’ll go on and on and on again/If my chest don’t cave in

mercutio/tybalt

ORIGINAL WORK

We've got younger faces ♡♢ ; Than our hearts are letting on

Oc ficlet :]

Hanahaki ♢♡♧ ; ‘Anemone: Forsaken, forgotten love, affection.’

If it doesn't, it was never meant to be. ♢♡; Random oc angst

Ends of the Earth ♡;

To the ends of the Earth would you follow me?

If you won't I'll say my goodbyes to thee.

[infinites-chaser]

//.reverie // mlqc // lucien

print(hello world)

im knee deep in a writing slump bUT i plugged a paragraph of writing into this funky little neural network and kept generating 500 words with it for. an aBSURD amount of time (while also telling it to focus on including the words ‘memory’ ‘dreams’ and ‘color’) and what it spit out was the cOOLEST. and i tried to kinda parse through it to find the most interesting bits and make it slightly more coherent and it ended up being a little like how i’d imagine a series of dreams Lucien might’ve had post ch.18 so i hope someone? enjoys?

warning for non-explicit drug use, general fragmentATion and lack of narrative plot or coherence, the bizarre nature of dreams, spoiler-adjacent content for ch.13 and hinting at stuff from ch.18 onwards

The paragraph the neural network consumed (from watch the universe expand):

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance, coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

prelude.

In his dreams, he has color for days, but that's because his memories are always colored with color. He remembers the colors of all the colors, he knows it, because colors fade in real life, colors can be rearranged. They stay the same in dreams. He remembers colors and faces in dreams, with absolute certainty.

He stands up and steps away from the glass, out onto the balcony. As the darkness reaches all the way to the bottom of the floor, he sees shadows in his mind. He recognizes the colors, the colors of dreams, as colors of real life. He can tell his memory is broken in his dreams, with such clarity that he could read an entire newspaper front page through color and dreams.

(He takes a step closer to the blue sky.)

i.

He remembers when he had first been able to see the constellations in the night sky, just a few short years ago, when his eyesight still had the capability to take in so much. They'd wanted to go to a star party, together, where he could be amazed by a whole world of constellations, but he'd turned it down.

"You were scared of strangers," she says. "It's not a strangers-only thing."

"That's true," he says.

"You're still shy," she says.

"I never was shy,” he says.

I never really grew up, he thinks.

ii.

He feels her warm breath. The scent of her.

"Do you think they look down at us and feel the loneliness of millions of years alone?"

"The stars? I've always imagined they might."

“Do you think they wonder about us, too? Or feel sorry for us?”

He scoffs.

“What’s there to wonder about?”

She shrugs. Her eyes look as distant as the stars. As cold.

"The sadness of losing one's entire species and the companionship of someone who sees and understands the beauty of the stars because of what we lost. Or the loneliness of knowing our species won't survive the disaster we caused."

“What do you mean,” he starts. Her lips curve up into a mockery of a smile.

“You know what,” she breathes. “Ares.”

(He wakes. Calls the dampness on his cheeks a nightmare’s cold sweat and not tears.)

iii.

He shrugs.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

"That's not the way it is,” she says. “The best love in life comes from time spent with another person, the love that never fades or leaves you in darkness, like memories do. Sometimes, it's not the love we give each other but the love we receive from each other. I don't know, I guess the answer would depend on the person."

"Maybe the stars never forget their dreams,” she says. “Or the people they knew, or their color. Maybe they never lose the ability to recognize and remember what they're drawn to. Or maybe they can never forget the color of your eyes."

iii, ii.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

(Do we? He thinks. Thinks they’ve been here, standing atop this balcony before. Thinks he's seen her eyes turn cold. Thinks he's seen her cry.)

He shrugs.

"No," she says quietly, but softly, still looking at the stars, still thinking about the comfort she gave him. (It's never enough, always, to fill the emptiness, the longing, the memories that must remain buried inside him.)

"I don't believe that. I know that the stars up there are as lonely as us, because they're like us, they love each other, they care for each other, they care for us, and love keeps us warm in the cold. Love is the one thing that can save us."

"You're right," he says. (Holds her close. Wishes he could do the same while awake.)

"Love really can save us. I have faith in that. No matter what happens, no matter what we do, we have to find ways to love each other and hold on to each other."

v.

"Do you remember the dreams you've had about the colors, or the faces of the people in the colors?"

She laughs softly. "I can never forget you, or your color, or the color of that sky in your memories, now. But that picture might look a little different in the morning light. Right now, I can't see it very well. You know, sometimes it's hard to remember what color the sky looks like in your memory when it's bright outside. It doesn't really feel like a real memory. You've said that yourself, at least."

"No, I haven't," he says. "It's just a memory."

"A memory?" she asks.

"A memory?" she repeats. “It’s always memories with you.”

He can't tell if she's laughing or not, or if she's teasing him or not.

“What do you mean?”

"It’s a secret,” she says. “You could always just ask me in real life.”

(I can’t, he thinks, but can’t say. Can't remember why.

He wakes.)

vi.

"Color?" she repeats. "Color?"

"Yes," he says. "You're color. You're always ... different, in my memories."

She laughs. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we remember our lives as they were, not what we wish they were. Maybe that means we can forgive ourselves a little more.”

"For what?"

(She's frozen.

She fades.

For what? He thinks, then wakes.)

vii.

"I think I have colors for months in my memory," she says. "See here?"

"What?"

"Colors. In the moon, or this tree, or maybe the sky?"

"You mean right now?"

"No. All of them, at one time or another."

"What color is the sky?"

She laughs, and her voice is beautiful. She tells him that the sky looks the color of memories and dreams.

But then he asks another question. "When you dreamed last night, what did you dream about?”

"I can't remember all of them," she says. “My dreams. They fade.”

"But you do remember that you were dreaming, back there?"

"I was dreaming. About you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the dream felt like a good one."

"It must have been, if you remember it. Did you have the same dreams when you were growing up?"

"Yes," she whispers. "Sometimes."

(“Sometimes I think we must’ve met in one.”

“What?”

“A dream."

"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?")

viii.

“The stars,” she murmurs. “Do you think they dream? Do you think they can escape?"

"Perhaps they can, to some extent," se says. "I'm not sure it works for everyone."

She asks him to step into the blue sky with her. To escape. To return.

"Can you go back? I haven't asked anyone to go back yet, but maybe you can."

He takes a step, closing his eyes. He remembers the color of this blue sky, and he remembers dreaming and dreaming. He remembers colors, and colors are real, so they must be real in real life. So he steps forward into the blue sky.

His skin stretches and stretches and stretches, the colors in his skin growing more vivid as he steps further, he gets closer to the sky. The colors disappear in his memory, which can still contain dreams, so that his skin looks almost white, at first. His body elongates until he looks like he's wearing a strange version of a spacesuit, like the one his friends wore when they had to wear oxygen masks on the surface of planets and robots to stay alive.

He hears his echo. It’s saying that he looks lonely. Pale blue dot— he'll drift through space, he'll miss her in the dark, or he won't but he'll be too late, anyway.

It's hard to figure out which colors in the blue sky he's really seeing. He thinks the color of his skin looks like the sky he remembered, but maybe it isn't really the sky he remembers. He sees colors of the people he knew and the colors of the colors of the sky, but he sees colors that are impossible to connect with other colors.

(He surfaces to darkness, insides twisting, writhing, turned snakes by the venom he's made of his blood. He staggers to the sink, spits up poison. Thinks about forgetting. Thinks about taking more.)

ix.

His color is yellow, the color of a sick leaf, and the first of the colors of his dreams.

"Tell me again what color I look like in your memory," she says.

He tries to focus on that part of her, of her memory, where he actually sees her. He thinks about how good her skin looks, how smooth and pale and slightly glowing. He can't remember her color.

"Do I look just like you remember?" he asks.

"Your color is the color of yellow of the leaves, right?"

"Yes," he whispers.

“You’re sick,” she says, and places a hand on his cold cheek, lets it warm.

“Sick,” he echoes, closes his eyes against her touch. Lets himself fade. Lets himself rest. “Perhaps.”

x.

"I don't remember it," he admits. "Your color."

"But you don't want me to, do you?"

She sighs, and for a moment, it seems she's crying. "No," she whispers. "No, not all."

"You didn't want me to know, did you?"

"Yes, I did. I do."

She bites her lip. Looks down. Looks away.

"I want you to remember. Just— not like this. Never like this."

"Why?"

"Because you'd see the way I laugh and the way I'm breathing, and if you just heard it for yourself, you'd know the way I loved your hair when you woke up from the dream that you shared with me. The way you looked when you talked about your life, when you stared up at the sky, seeing the dreams in your eyes."

(He had forgotten them already, because they were beautiful, those memories, and he knew them without remembering their color. Without remembering her name. Without remembering the truth.

The sky, he thinks, is even more vivid than memories.)

xi.

"I don't know," he says. "Why don't I remember? What am I forgetting?"

"I don't know either," she says. "I think...I must've forgotten, too."

"But maybe it doesn't matter— we do remember colors, don't we? As colors really are. Because we can remember them. You know, that's why color blindness must be one of the most terrible things that's ever been born. For a color-blind person, they see the colors of people and things by the color of their eyes, and they can't tell when the color is off. Just like colors are difficult to remember, and colors are difficult to see."

He smiles at her.

"There's one more way, isn't there?"

“To see color?”

“To remember,” he whispers, and lowers his lips to hers. She flinches under him, he steadies her, then she’s limp, his hands tight around her neck and he—

(He wakes.)

xii.

"Why are you here again?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

"We might be in the middle of remembering," she says. "We're both always in the middle of remembering things in the middle of moments."

"Oh, you're an astrologist, then," he mutters, trying to remember the word. It doesn’t sound right. Nothing does.

"Astronomer?" He asks. She shakes her head. She's smiling, but her eyes are dark. Dark and blue.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," she says. "We should probably stop."

"Stop?"

She smiles again, her eyes bluer still.

No, he realizes. Not blue. Sad.

"It's time to wake up," she murmurs. He reaches for her, but it's too late. She fades, and he's left alone drifting under the stretching stars.

(Astronaut, he thinks, between planets and stardust. He remembers.)

...

fin.

"Are you saying I'm color-blind?"

She laughs again.

"Oh, no," she says. "Not color-blind at all. Your color blindness is just a side effect of your memory. You remember some colors well, and it doesn't matter what color the sky or a flower is, you can recognize it. So, yes. Your color blindness is your memory of colors."

"How is it my memory?" he asks, and though he could never be color-blind, he can still remember colors well enough to recognize the colors of the rainbow on the horizon as clouds drift by the sky.

"Maybe your color blindness is what happens when you spend so much time remembering color and color and color," she suggests, and somehow some part of him knows what she means is remembering me. Remembering my smile.

"Oh," he says. He considers it.

They are silent, for a time, until a sound cuts through the night air, crying through his whole body with a low swish of noise. He thinks he hears a whistling, and then it's back again. Then it's different, maybe growing louder, and he wonders if it's a ringing, but the sound gets fainter, so faint that he begins to think he imagined it.

"Is that the whistle?" she asks, and he can hear the alarm in her voice.

"Did it start again? Is this world going to end?" She whispers it, the sound again, and the sound grows closer, an elongated screech. The whistle never ceases.

The whistling sounds in every direction, like a swarm of insects.

And the smell is the worst, the most awful smell, like bad meat, or a stagnant ditch full of mud and dirt and rotten meat. He can barely breathe, and can barely see through the curtain of fog. He stands, reaching toward her, trying to hear her, but everything around him is changing.

"What is it?" she asks, and her voice is lost, lost in the darkness. She is lost. She is gone.

The smell, a putrid odor like rotten meat, begins to affect his mind, and he cannot remember her words.

There's something blue (sad) behind his eyelids. He tries to look and discovers that he can't.

"What's that?" he asks. He's in the clearing, still dressed in the dark color of morning (mourning), and everything is out of place, though he can't see it.

"It's my color. It's blue." He stares at it.

"My favorite color. Blue. And there's something pink around it. Couldn't see that before. It's pink."

The colors, he thinks. Those are colors. The whistling sound, I must have heard that noise before.

(The whistling doesn't sound like whistling at all. It sounds like heartbreak. It sounds like a scream.)

That's why I can't remember her. I remember colors, and it's like there's a wall in my mind, because I remember color, color and nothing else, color and her smile, the beginning, the middle, and not ever the end.

"I remember colors," he says. "Now let me remember her."

And he remembers pink, he remembers the smell. The whistle (the scream).

(Remembers she died. Remembers he wasn't there to save her.)

There's something red on the sand. It's a bouquet of roses he's picked. Pink and red. Roses. The smell, his nose draws in is the scent of roses.

(He knows they smell like her, but the moment's passed. Once again, he can't remember her.

He thinks, he must not have been hers. She must have not been in love.)

epilogue.

It is dawn when he wants to close his eyes and remember. But he tries not to think about it. He closes his eyes slowly, praying silently to the skies, barely able to imagine that the next time he opens his eyes, maybe they'll be different.

"... like his dreams," he whispers under his breath.

"... and her dreams."

"... like everything here." His steps seem slow today. Steady. Better than any other morning. Fresh.

"Just like his memories. Rest easy, Lucien."

(When the apartment door opens, it’s Ares who emerges.)

this is where im legally obligated to tell u I'm slowly being converted to a comp neuro nerd so i went and read the github of the language learning model inferkit uses, megatron-11b, and it'S hella cool but basically if anyone is worried. no it is not trained on the words u provide it-- the sentence structure/word information that the model 'learns' from is scripts made by the dev. so uh. basically, it's 'learned' all it will about language based on these provided scripts of vocab and sentence structure so when you give it a paragraph of writing, all it's doing is 'reacting' to your words by using its memory of these writing rules to predict (and auto-generate) what words it thinks will come next (the algorithm runs a tON of probability computations and this is the 'thinking' and predicting.)

[jlalafics]

Modern Au dabble where Everlark connect on the roof of one of their houses and then cute kiss leading into ya know? Thanks! You and your books are amazing! -Zeffie ♥️♥️

Hey love! Thanks for this amazing prompt. I hope you wanted this ficlet with a good amount of spice...

Enjoy @hungergamesfangirl02 (Zeffie)!

_____

The moment she steps onto the roof, Peeta spots her.

She is circling the space with her roommates; the sharp-tongued woman with blunt bangs and crimson lowlights and the blue-eyed blonde wearing a crown of flowers. His roommate, Gale, had a one-night thing with the blonde. Peeta can still remember the muttered moaning of her name through the thin walls of their apartment: Madge…Madge…Madge…

Peeta drinks from his red cup, trying to quietly observe the girl in the middle. She’s wearing a cropped jean jacket and a shift burgundy dress with embroidered straps. The ankle boots lengthen her rich-colored legs and he wonders, albeit briefly, what he would see if a sudden gust of wind were to sweep through.

However, it’s summer in the city.

Balmy and warm, the sun just going down and it’s practically another day.

“Peeta!” He turns, spotting Finnick, his other roommate, and Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend. It’s his friend’s birthday and a possible engagement party. Annie doesn’t know, but Peeta and Finnick just picked up the ring from the jeweler this afternoon. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“You know that I’m not the party type,” he tells them with a smile. Peeta eyes his friend. “So…anything interesting going on?”

“Not quite,” Finnick responds, throwing an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Maybe a little later.”

Peeta nods, trying to suppress his smile. It’s not often that his friend is uncertain; he’s known Finnick since they were in diapers and his bronze-haired friend has always moved forward, unafraid of what was ahead of him.

However, when it comes to Annie, the man is total mush.

“You need to circulate,” Annie tells him, her green eyes full of kind concern. “It’s been a year since Delly.”

“Who’s Delly?” comes a brash voice.

They all turn to find the woman with red hair standing before them.

And, right next to her is—

“Katniss!” Annie is rushing towards the pretty girl to give her a hug. Then she goes to Miss Blunt Bangs, embracing her as well. “Johanna!”

They all pull apart and Annie introduces them to Finnick and Peeta.

“I’ve seen you before on campus,” Finnick says to Katniss—Peeta is already in love just hearing her name. “You’re a voice major, right?”

Katniss nods. “Yup, but more song writing and composition than singing.”

“Well, you should talk to Peeta here.” Finnick waves at hand at him, clover eyes sparkling. He knows Peeta well enough to identify when he’s interested in something…or someone. “He’s exceptionally talented when it comes to playing. I don’t think there’s an instrument that he hasn’t experimented with.”

Katniss turns, grey almond-eyes on him. “I’ve seen you around before.”

“I don’t go to Juilliard,” Peeta stammers out.

“No!” She grins and he finds himself smiling back at the way her face completely blooms with loveliness. “I’ve seen you sitting on this roof. You play out here sometimes.”

“Yeah, Katniss has been mini-spying on you,” Johanna informs him.

“Really?” He eyes her and Katniss’ cheeks color—geez, now she’s even more gorgeous. “I’m flattered.”

“I actually live over there—” Katniss points to the adjacent building. It’s at few floors higher, but just enough for someone to look over and see clearly onto their roof. “—sometimes I go up to write or to look at the stars.”

“Don’t lie to the man,” her friend retorts, earning a glare. “At least tell him that you’re a little hot for him holding a guitar.”

“Johanna—” Annie thankfully interrupts. “Thresh has been looking for you.”

“I gave him a blowjob last month and he’s been hitting me up ever since,” she replies. Looking over at Katniss, Johanna winks. “Have fun with your mystery man.”

The two girls walk off, leaving Finnick, Peeta, and Katniss standing together.

“Oh!” Finnick looks around. “I think I better make sure that we still have enough ice and prepare for my birthday speech.” He pats Peeta on the back. “Have fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more obvious setup,” Katniss tells him when they’re finally alone.

“They mean well,” Peeta replies. “At least, Annie and Finnick do. Johanna is a bit of a mystery.” He looks over to the bar. “Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.” They head to the bar; Peeta tries to keep cool as Katniss joins his side. Their hands are a muscle movement away from touching and he stiffens his hand. “I’d love a Corona and lime.”

“Very summer of you,” he replies before requesting it from the bartender. “How do you know Annie?”

The bartender places the tall neck bottle, placing the lime wedge at the opening, before handing it to Katniss.

They find their way to a spot at the far corner of the party and settle down together on a lone bench. Finnick is talking to the DJ and he sees Annie talking to Madge, whose arm is around Gale’s waist. Johanna has found Thresh and they are dancing, both decently tearing up the floor.

It’s the perfect summer night.

“She works with Johanna,” Katniss explains. “I think they’re EAs for the two CEOs, so they’re always working together. I’ve known Johanna my whole life. When I found out I got into Juilliard, I didn’t hesitate to ask her to come with me. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. Her home life was less than ideal.”

“That sucks.” Real smooth, idiot. His tongue is so tied around her, but Peeta takes a breath and searches for another topic. “How about you? What’s your family life like?”

“I have one sister. Sweetest girl you’ll ever know.” Her smile goes soft and sad, lost in thought. “My Dad passed away when I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand goes unconsciously to hers resting between them. Peeta motions to pull away, but her fingers entwine with his.

Their eyes meet, silently agreeing that it feels right.

“It’s fine. He was sick for a long time,” Katniss explains. “When I was 12, my mom met Haymitch and we all kind of loved him from the start. They got married when I was 13 and have been thoroughly happy ever since.” She moves closer. “And you? Tell me about your family.”

“My Dad’s a businessman,” he starts. “Have you heard of Mellark Bakery?”

“Yeah, they have that huge factory across the bridge,” Katniss replies. “Your Dad work there?”

Peeta holds out his free hand, wondering if he should have open this can of worms. However, if this is going anywhere (is it too early to propose?), he should probably tell her about his family.

“Nice to meet you. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss let out a laugh, putting down her Corona to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was meeting with a son of industry!”

“My Dad is actually pretty cool,” he tells her. “He’s always been very encouraging and supportive of me and my older brothers, Emmett and Noel. Emmett is an artist and Noel is a chef.”

“And your mother?”

“Pretty opposite.” Katniss squeezes his hand, listening intently. “She’s a society woman. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

“Oh, she is going to hate me,” Katniss replies.

Peeta grins at her words. “Already planning to meet the parents?”

“Of course. We’ve connected, you know?” she proclaims. “Now that I’ve seen you up close, there’s no going back.”

“And your family?” he counters. “Would they like me?”

“They’re going to love you,” she says, her grey eyes on him. “You seem so easy to care for.”

Peeta looks at his feet, overcome by her words. “How do you know?”

“Last month, I was coming home from school and you were walking out of your building. There was a little old woman coming out of her taxi and she seemed to be struggling to even open the door. So, you opened the door for her, and you helped her set up her walker on the sidewalk. Then, you paid for her cab and helped her inside your building. Nobody does shit like that anymore. Everyone always seems to be looking out for themselves, nowadays.”

“Mags has lived here the longest, so she’s kind of building royalty,” Peeta explains. “Also, her husband died a while back and she has no kids. The people in this building are her family and we take care of one another.”

“I like that,” Katniss tells him.

“I like you,” he blurts out. “I mean, if it hasn’t been obvious enough.”

Katniss doesn’t respond, but she shifts a little bit closer to him as she stares into his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Peeta is intrigued by her abruptness. “What did you have in mind?”

She pulls him by his hand to stand up. He rises and their chests brush against one another. It is brief, but it is enough to light a fire in his belly at the feel of peaked nipples against his thin flannel button-down.

“We’re going stargazing.”

++++++

“For some reason, Johanna has a deal with the maintenance crew in the building,” Katniss recounts as they step onto the roof of her apartment complex. “No one else but myself, Johanna, and Madge are allowed up here.” She leads him over to a set of lounge chairs. “I don’t really know what kind of deal she cut, and I’ve never bothered to ask.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he tells her. “Are you allowed to bring people up here?”

“I’m pretty sure that Johanna and Madge have brought guys up here before.” Katniss turns to him, her eyes glowing under the light of the moon. “You are the only person that I’ve ever brought here…the only person I want to bring here.”

Peeta isn’t sure if it is the moon…or the Corona…or the heat of the night…but something dances inside his chest, telling him to go to her. Her eyes are on him, hunger so intense in them that there is nothing he could do but go to her. Katniss follows suit, marching towards him with determination.

A groan escapes her lips at the feel of him hard against her pelvis. “Peeta, please…”

They meet in the middle of the roof, breaths heavy and Katniss reaches to cup his cheek. His arm rounds her slender waist, pulling her close to let her feel what she does to him.

“What would you like?” he asks, voice roughened with need. His free hand moves along the lines of her body and she whines, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what you want, Katniss.”

“I want you to kiss me.” Katniss’ mouth grazes against him and he nearly crumbles at the feel of heat between her legs. “Then, I want you to fuck me until we both see stars.”

His mouth is on hers, slotting them together. He sucks harshly at her upper lip as her hands reach for him, holding his face in place as she bites at his lower lip. They both moan into one another, tasting lime and alcohol and the fire between them.

Katniss moves them towards one of the chairs, her hands traveling down and reaching to the buttons of his shirt as her tongue sweeps into his mouth. His own hands move to yank at her jean jacket until she shrugs it off.

“Touch me, Peeta,” she says into his mouth. His shirt has been tossed to the ground and her hands roam unabashedly against his heated skin.

Peeta reaches for the hem of her dress and Katniss complies, lifting her arms up so he could pull the dress over her head. Once it is off, he steps back and looks at the beautiful woman under the summer moon.

Every inch of her skin is caramel and Peeta licks his lips ravenously as his eyes rove over lush breasts with rosy nipples…the graceful dip of her waist…full hips…and nude mesh panties that cover a thatch of dark hair.

“You are beautiful,” he rasps.

Katniss slowly sits down on the lounger, resting back. Her chest heaves, nipples pointed in the warm air, as she waits expectantly for him.

Peeta kneels before her. Carefully, he takes her boots and places them next to the lounger. Then, he is at her center, mouthing her through the mesh and sampling the honey pleasure of her core. Her hands go to his hair, fingers running through his hair and nails scratching at his scalp as he sucks and tongues her through the scrap of nothing.

“Fuck! Peeta!” Her wails are like gold and he moans, vibrating against her cunt. “More, please!” He moves the scrap of cloth away from her quim and plunges his tongue inside her. “Oh my God!”

Part of him is thankful for the party next door, the vibration of music sheathing her cries in the air. Peeta loves the sound of her, unabashed in showing him how good she feels. Katniss pushes herself against his tongue, legs wrapping around his head as she humps his face.

He is drenched in her; his new favorite drink for a summer’s night.

Peeta’s hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly.

Pulling away, Katniss whines at the motion until she sees his pants undone. Her eyes, already smoky, have gone obsidian at the sight and he pushes his briefs down, his erection jutting out.

She sits up, one hand pressed to the seat as the other reaches to his length, wrapping her fingers around him. Her thumb moves to the mushroomed head, spreading the precum and he almost seizes at the sensation.

“You’ve given me what I want,” she tells him, her hand stroking him slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want to show you the stars,” Peeta replies, his hand reaching to her panties and she lifts her hips, letting him slide them off until it joins their pile of discarded clothing. He stands before her, reaching for the waist of his jeans and boxers before pulling them off in one motion. His shoes and socks followed, joining her boots.

He stands before her, naked and obviously wanting.

Katniss lays back, pushing herself up onto her elbows, admiring the sight before her.

“I did watch you from here,” she says, her voice strained. “You’d fiddle with your guitar and I’d fiddle myself.”

The image of Katniss, hands on herself…fingers dipping into that dripping cunt is just too much.

Peeta falls to his knees, yanking her down until ass is at the edge of the chair, the backs of her legs pressing along his front.

Then, in one motion, he thrusts roughly into her sodden quim.

The moment Peeta slides into her, her whole body growls.

He can feel her contracting around him and he begins to move, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her slick. Peeta leans down and their lips meet, her body practically folding in half so he can taste her.

Katniss moans into their kiss, tasting her essence against his tongue as they move against one another. The chair creaks under the pressure of their fucking and he can’t imagine that it feels very comfortable.

He attempts to lift her in-between thrusts, but Katniss frantically shakes her head.

“No, just like this,” she gasps into his sweaty skin. Her legs spread away to wrap around his waist. “Won’t be long now…”

She feels too good, silk and sopping around his cock. Her grip on him is the perfect pressure and as he thrusts, Katniss arches up, bottoming out.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you go now.”

Hell, Peeta is already convinced that this woman with the dark waves and smoky eyes is the woman that he’s going to marry. In his mind’s eye, he already imagines her in a white dress…carrying her over the threshold of her dream home…of fucking her against every wall of the house…of filling her to the brim until she’s swollen with his child.

“Don’t let me go,” Katniss cries out, her insides beginning to flutter around him, and he juts his cock shallowly knowing that he’s going to spill inside her at any moment. “I wanted you since the moment I saw you…fuck….oh…” Her muscles pulsate around him and her pelvis rises to meet his thrusts.

Her cries are swallowed into the starry sky above them and Peeta watches her in the beauty of her climax. Her hair flows behind her, her skin glistening, and she’s smiles up, her eyes full of love.

She’s watching him, jaw clenched, as the sky above is suddenly illuminated by fireworks, creating a halo around him.

Peeta comes undone, filling her, his pelvis pressing to hers until he is spent.

After, he lays, pillowed against her chest, her hand smoothing down his mussed hair.

“I see stars…” she whispers against him.

“Annie must have said yes,” he explains. “I picked up the ring with Finnick today.”

Katniss snorts. “When Finnick does something, he goes hard.”

“So do I,” he tells her.

She kisses the top of his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see.”

They are married three months later.

 FIN.

[fortune-fool02]

The Power of Respect

Caesar Zeppeli x Gender neutral Pillarman reader

Requested by: anonymous

This is the first Pillarman reader request I have had so forgive me if I get it wrong. Please enjoy.

Deep rumbles shook the stone structure of the building, cracks running up and down the walls, spreading off like branches as pieces began to fall. Caesar -drained and balancing on the brink of life and death- awaited his fate, praying that his death would not be in vain. 

The growing shadow of the rock consumed him, ready to erase his existence off the face of the Earth. As the rock’s rough texture brushed against his blonde locks, it stopped. Wamuu’s eyes widened slightly at this, noticing how the large rock seemed to be stung up by some form of thread like a spider’s but far more stronger than anything a spider could create. His eyes followed the threads to its source, seeing a figure standing among the shadows, away from the glaring sunlight.

“Wamuu.” the figure spoke, their voice carrying a darkness to it that made the shadows seem bright. He fell to his knees, head low as he bowed before the figure, recognising the power behind their voice without needing to see their face. 

“Master [Name], it’s an honour to see you in person again.” The [Hair colour] figure approached, the threads connected to their fingertips glimmered softly in the dim light. Their expression hollow, unreadable, as they took in Wamuu’s injured form and then the blonde man. With a wave of their hand, the threads threw the large rock away from the man -Caesar, if they heard correctly- and examined him. Blood pooled around him as he held onto the thread of life. 

“If I may, Master, what are you doing?” he asked, watching as their hand waved over Caesar’s wounds, each one knitting itself together with the threads that fell from their fingertips. 

“This human has a mastery of Hamon I have not seen in many moons. Why extinguish such a bright, burning flame when you can keep the fire alive?” 

Unlike the other Pillar Men, [Name] wished to preserve life as it was. Mastery of Hamon may be something to fear for their kind but there was a beauty of this that they wished to keep for themself. Of course, Kars would refuse this and terminate the man himself if he found out.  

[Name] was always a child in his eyes, no matter what they did. That was wrong, [Name] understood the value of something. If all Hamon Masters were wiped out then the art itself would cease to exist. A lost art never to be found again. Like them. If the Pillar men were all killed then the world would never see their kind again. 

That was why [Name] healed Caesar, and took him with them. 

***

When Caesar had awoken, he believed he was dead. His lungs burned but no where near as bad as it did during his battle with Wamuu. That was when he shot upright, only to groan in pain from his wounds. Wait, if he was dead, why could he still feel pain? 

“Usually humans don’t awaken so earlier after being healed.” Caesar turned to see the [Hair colour] figure sitting close to where he laid. Their outfit they dawned was similar to that of the Pillar men, their [Skin colour] skin decorated in markings and patterns that Caesar had never seen before. 

A Pillarman. This person was a Pillarman!

“Don’t fret, human. I have little interest in your demise.” Caesar glared at them, not trusting their word. [Name] turned their attention from their book to him, “If I did, I would have let that rock crush you.” They could see the confusion glow in Caesar’s eyes. Setting the book down, they turned to him. 

“I can sense your confusion. You have three questions, and only three.” Caesar blinked, the hostility in his aura fading somewhat upon noticing the lack of hostility in [Name]’s aura. His eyes fell down to his healing wounds. 

“Who are you? Where’s JoJo and Coach Lisa Li-” [Name] held their hand up, silencing him. 

“Only three questions. Choose them wisely.” Caesar stopped and thought. He needed to choose his questions carefully and not blunder out useless ones. But, for his first question, there was too much curiosity.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone set in a way that told them that that was his first question. 

“I am [Name], one of the ‘Pillar men’ as you humans call us. Before you ask, no, I have no desire nor wish to follow Kars or Esidisi. Think of me as a lone rouge, of sorts.” They spoke, reassuring Caesar of any fear he may have had of their connections. In truth, [Name] didn’t share the perceptive that Kars did therefore, had no quarrel against humans. 

Caesar took in this information. There was a sense of power radiating from this Pillar man but... it wasn’t as dark nor twisted as the others. if anything, it was calm. No, he couldn’t allow himself to be tricked. Taking a breath, Caesar focused his Hamon to his hands to summon his bubbles only for nothing to happen. 

His eyes widened, shock setting in as he tried again, and again, and again to earn the same result each time. His Hamon... 

“You can no longer use your Hamon abilities.” he snapped his head up at [Name]. “You sustained fatal wounds to many sections of your body, your lungs being one of them. It took quite some of my ability to heal your lungs but you are incapable of using Hamon again.” Just by his eyes alone, [Name] could see that this was a horrible truth for him. 

And it was so. The Zeppeli family were proud of their Hamon and now, Caesar could not use it. That linked to his second question. 

“Why did you save me, if your one of those Pillarmen?” [Name] leaned against the wall, the shadows dancing across their body, their entire demeanour seemed calm and relaxed, and that almost unsettled Caesar. 

“I saved your life because, much to Kars’ opinions, I do not wish to see the art of Hamon be lost.” they answered, catching Caesar off-guard. Why would something that can be killed by Hamon wish to keep the very weapon alive? Many would do everything in their power to destroy the sole thing that can kill them. “Hamon is an art, a technique that few humans can master. And from your impressive display against Wamuu, you had a mastery over it in such a unique way that I had never seen before.” 

In truth, the fact this man’s Hamon ability was expressed through bubbles did amaze [Name]. In their years of battling Hamon Masters, they always flowed their ability through swords or other weapons like that, so for them to see something as strange as bubbles caught their interest. Sad that they would never see it again due his the injuries of his lungs.

Caesar’s gaze fell down for a moment. He had one last question and he had to make it count. What did this Pillarman intend to do with him now that he no longer could use Hamon? He looked up at their [Eye colour] orbs that seemed to glow in a way no human’s ever could. It was beautiful in the sense of way that the glowing moon was beautiful against a star-filled night or the colours thrown during a sunset. 

“What do you intend to do with me?” There, his final question. [Name] crossed one leg over the other, their arms folding over their chest. 

“Once your wounds have fully recovered, I will release you.” they answered. “From one warrior to another, I have the upmost respect for your creativity in battle, your resilience and your determination. The fact that you had almost killed Wamuu is no easy task and deserves the respect expected for a human to battle against something close to a God.” 

With that, [Name] rose from their seat and stood in front of Caesar before lowering themself to their knee, head low in a bow. Caesar blinked, shock and surprise filling his body at this. This Pillarman was sparing his life -no, they saved his life- because they respected his talent of Hamon and determination of his human soul. He didn’t believe such a thing was capable for these things. 

Slowly, Caesar rose from his seat and lowered himself down their level, also bowing to them. “As a way to express my gratitude for saving my life, I thank you for it.” Both rose up and Caesar saw a smile on the Pillarman’s lips. Not a malicious one like Kars’ had nor a pitiful one Wamuu had, but a genuine smile. 

For a moment, he felt all suspicion fade from his body. This [Hair colour] individual was unlike their brethren and that could be a good thing. 

[ambvrs]

                𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄   𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐍     /     𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝   𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬.

𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈   𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒔     —     @opalsmedia​     !

𝒊.   𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆   𝒘𝒆   𝒎𝒆𝒕   𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔     ;     open  to  anyone  .

(  ♫  )     —     josephine’s  life  between  scotland  and  strathmore  is  vague  at  best,  other  than  she  moved  into  her  own  place  after  graduation  and  spent  a  year  working  in  london  before  her  first  year  at  strathmore  began  (  a  time  frame  that  puts  her  in  line  with  the  opals  first  year  /  immediately  pre  -  strathmore  prodigies  ).  a  bond  formed  from  a  chance  encounter  by  the  river’s  edge  one  summer  or  fall  evening,  two  strangers  simply  sharing  company  and  conversation  before  strathmore  or  the  society  or  life  had  the  chance  to  intervene.  one  meeting  turned  into  several,  someone  she  might  consider  one  of  her  first  friends  in  the  city  and  they  became  more  of  a  rock  in  her  life  than  she  would  ever  admit  to  them,  letting  her  forget  the  darkness  of  the  world  for  even  a  short  while.  perhaps  time,  and  strathmore  and  society  duties,  have  created  distance  between  them  that  they’re  not  sure  how  to  close.  not  in  a  bad  way,  of  course,  but  in  the  way  that  life  always  seems  to.

aesthetics  :  the  warm  glow  of  the  street  lamps  as  blue  skies  blossom  into  shades  of  flame,  shoulders  brushing  against  one  another  as  steps  fall  in  tandem,  quiet  laughter  that  melts  into  clamoring  of  the  crowd,  the  same  sense  of  ease  that  accompanies  picking  up  long  -  forgotten  novel,  secrets  shared  the  same  as  clandestine  smiles,  cobblestone  paths  that  lead  to  nowhere  in  particular,  the  twinkle  of  an  excited  gaze,  the  comforting  press  of  fingertips  into  the  crook  of  an  elbow,  a  collection  of  polaroids  tucked  away  like  perfect  memories.

𝒊𝒊.   𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔   𝒘𝒆   𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕   𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅   𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉   𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓     ;     open  to  anyone  .

(  ❤  +  ❤  +  ❤  )     —     two  people  that,  under  any  other  (  or  relatively  normal  )  circumstances,  would  certainly  not  have  considered  themselves  friends.  but  recent  circumstances  have  brought  them  closer  and  they’ve  found  a  sort  of  solace  in  one  another.  separately,  they’ve  seemed  to  function  just  fine  on  their  own,  or  they’ve  simply  done  everything  they  can  to  keep  it  all  to  themselves.  perhaps  it’s  a  slow  -  burn  friendship,  they  didn’t  like  each  other  all  too  much  starting  out  or  simply  butt  heads  over  the  most  trivial  of  things,  but  they  slowly  grow  to  lean  on  each  other  for  small  things,  figuring  there  are  worse  people  to  rely  on.  or  perhaps  it’s  been  a  friendship  that’s  been  blossoming  slowly,  both  caring  a  great  deal  about  the  other  (  even  if  they  never  really  talk  about  it  )  &  who  they  trust  to  talk  about  secrets,  feelings,  the  society,  you  name  it  without  worrying  about  repercussions  or  what  they  may  think  of  them.  two  people  that  come  to  rely  on  each  other,  one  way  or  another,  and  will  do  anything  to  help  them  succeed.  platonic  twin  flames  who  know  each  other  almost  as  well  as,  if  not  better,  than  they  know  themselves.

aesthetics  :  pinky  promises  shared  in  an  empty  room,  waiting  with  baited  breath  as  quiet  confessions  are  offered,  hesitant  smiles,  hours  of  long  conversation  that  slip  into  comfortable  silence,  trusting  someone  to  keep  a  secret  you  would’ve  taken  to  the  grave,  arms  embraced  in  a  hug  that  borders  on  almost  too  tight,  a  knock  on  your  bedroom  door  at  two  am,  long  night  drives  with  no  destination  in  mind,  shared  blankets  under  a  starry  sky.

𝒊𝒊𝒊.   𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕   𝒕𝒐𝒐   𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕   𝒇𝒐𝒓   𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍   𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔     ;     open  to  anyone  .

(  ✧  /  reversed  )     —     josephine  is  truly  soft  -  hearted,  down  to  her  very  core,  and  is  often  far  too  kind  and  compassionate  for  her  own  good.  she  chooses  to  see  the  best  in  people,  even  if  it’s  not  always  there.  that  being  said,  they  aren’t  being  friendly  just  for  the  sake  of  being  friendly  and  whatever  sort  of  ‘  friendship  ‘  they  have  is  formed  for  the  sake  this  person’s  own  gain,  be  it  academically,  as  a  bit  of  romantic  payback,  or  even  because  they  feel  she  can  benefit  their  growth  in  the  society.  there’s  a  lot  of  room  for  creative  liberties  here  (  and  plenty  of  angst,  if  we  wanted  ),  but  i  think  it  would  do  her  some  good  to  face  the  truth  behind  typical  rose  -  colored  glasses,  even  if  she’s  completely  oblivious  to  it  for  now,  for  a  while  ?  forever  ?  perhaps  she  knows  but  will  simply  pretend  she  does  not  see  because  she’d  rather  live  in  the  illusion  than  face  the  truth.

aesthetics  :  smiles  that  do  not  quite  reach  the  eyes,  lies  veiled  beneath  honeyed  tones,  the  steady  rapping  of  raindrops  on  window  panes,  gifted  roses  already  on  the  verge  of  wilting,  bribes  offered  in  the  way  of  i  -  owe  -  you’s,  rain  check  texts  one  hour  after  a  read  message,  the  slip  of  smoke  through  outstretched  fingers,  large  sunglasses  shielding  disinterested  gaze,  company  offered  out  of  convenience  rather  than  genuine  desire,  the  dying  embers  of  a  flickering  flame.

𝒊𝒗.   𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕   𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆   𝒃𝒖𝒕   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈   𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆     ;     taken  .

(  ♫  +  ❤  )     —    two  people  that  dance  a  fine  line  together,  and  perhaps  they’ve  been  dancing  it  since  the  beginning  of  her  first  year  up  to  joining  the  society  (  or  maybe  they  still  are  ).  push  and  pull,  always  like  two  moths  to  a  flame,  this  connection  is  the  prime  example  of  what  could  be  if  life  wasn’t  in  the  way.  the  two  have  obvious  chemistry,  but  there’s  something  that’s  keeping  them  from  being  together  -  could  be  the  society,  their  parents  or  friends,  or  some  other  outside  influence.  physical  or  emotional  boundaries  aside,  they  are  the  epitome  of  the  right  place  at  the  wrong  time  and  perhaps  they’d  be  together  if  they  could  but  instead  they  fight  against  it,  flirting  the  line  of  you  could  be  mine  and  it’s  just  not  the  time.  perhaps  they’ve  already  put  it  behind  them,  but  they  both  just  have  that  knowledge  that  in  another  life.

aesthetics  :   fleeting  glances  shared  across  a  crowded  room,  grazing  fingertips  in  a  fleeting  touch,  the  lingering  tendrils  of  darkness  in  the  break  of  dawn,  the  way  the  moon  controls  the  tides,  harmless  invitations  for  coffee  that  grows  cold  in  conversation  lapses,  knowing  coffee  orders  like  the  back  of  your  hand,  shared  smiles  hidden  in  the  crooks  of  necks,  faded  photographs  of  a  simpler  time,  handwritten  notes  tucked  neatly  between  book  pages.

𝒗.   𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆   𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔   𝒘𝒆   𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆   𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈   𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏     ;     open  to  anyone  /  one  -  two  people  .

josephine  tends  to  her  friendships  like  a  neat  little  garden,  cares  so  wholly  for  each  of  them  in  their  own  special  way.  but  in  light  of  recent  events  (  and  moving  forward  amidst  a  still  missing  society  member  ),  it  only  makes  sense  for  a  couple  of  her  close  relationships  to  start  fraying  at  the  seams.  whether  they  consider  them  friends  is  neither  here  nor  there,  she’s  taken  to  applying  that  term  to  pretty  much  everyone  in  the  society,  truly.  their  friendship  is  well  on  its  way  to  dissolving,  or  at  least  a  very  close  breaking  point,  whether  it  be  because  of  the  stress  of  everything  going  on  (  or  went  on  or  will  go  on  ),  or  they  feel  that  she’s  somehow  betrayed  their  trust  in  some  way  (  could  be  trivial,  could  be  completely  valid  ),  or  perhaps  they’ve  come  to  learn  that  she’s  played  a  part  in  previous  disruptive  rule  breaking.

aesthetics  :  fraying  ends  of  a  friendship  bracelet,  the  bitter  taste  of  black  coffee,  dark  bags  under  tired  eyes  (  no,  they’re  not  prada  ),  the  ache  of  a  disappointed  gaze,  the  torn  pages  of  an  old  notebook,  waves  cresting  the  shore  to  simply  retreat  again,  empty  roads  at  4am,  a  table  for  two  but  party  of  one,  the  crinkling  static  of  a  tv  left  on  too  long,  four  missed  calls  and  a  ‘  we  need  to  talk  ‘  text,  curtains  drawn  in  once  familiar  windows.

𝒗𝒊.   𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔   𝒕𝒐   𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕   𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅   𝒕𝒐   𝒃𝒆     ;     taken.

the  two  had  dated  previously,  prior  to  either  of  them  joining  the  society.  whether  it  happened  during  her  teen  years,  the  lull  between  life  and  strathmore,  or  right  up  to  their  time  in  the  society  -  it’s  very  much  open  -  ended.  josephine  has  always  loved  too  deeply,  and  it  could  have  been  their  downfall  or  what  had  kept  them  together  as  long  as  they  were.  i  imagine  they  didn’t  end  on  the  best  of  terms,  but  she  still  cares  deeply  for  them  and  their  well  -  being,  regardless  of  where  they  stand  now,  and  perhaps  there’s  lingering  feelings  that  they  both  simply  deny.

aesthetics  :  tba.

𝒗𝒊𝒊.   𝒘𝒆   𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆   𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓   𝒐𝒇𝒇   𝒂𝒔   𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔    ;     open  to  anyone.

someone  that  josephine  has  history  with;  either  they’ve  kissed  or  hooked  up  a  few  times,  or  just  went  on  a  couple  casual  dates  but  there  was  nothing  ever  really  there.  no  hard  feelings  at  all,  they  mutually  decided  there  was  nothing  between  them  and  they  were  better  off  as  actual  just  friends.  they’re  probably  pretty  close  because  of  the  fact  and  it’s  just  something  that  they  joke  about  now.

aesthetics  :  tba.

𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊.   𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆   𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆   𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈   𝒔𝒖𝒏    ;     open  to  anyone.

they  were  sleeping  together  out  of  convenience  at  some  point,  perhaps  they’d  turn  to  each  other  on  a  lonely  night  or  they’re  hanging  out  and  they  don’t  mean  for  it  to  happen,  but  they  end  up  tangled  together  in  one  of  their  rooms,  gone  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  before  the  other  ways.  or  perhaps  it  was  a  one  or  two  time  thing,  a  moment  of  weakness  or  split  decision  that  they  pretend  didn’t  happen.  truly  no  strings  attached,  neither  of  them  expecting  anything  from  the  other  because  it’s  not  supposed  to  mean  anything,  so  they’re  always  gone  by  morning,  before  anyone  can  see  them,  because  there’s  nothing  casual  about  deep  conversations  when  you’re  half  -  asleep,  bodies  pressed  together  and  hands  intertwined.

aesthetics  :  tba.

☆   𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔   ☆     ;     aka  a  collection  of  six  -  word  stories  /  musings  that  would  also  be  fun  plots  but  i  simply  did  not  have  the  brain  cells  to  type  up  .

i.   𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍   𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉   𝒎𝒆   𝒊𝒏   𝒎𝒚   𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔   ;   ii.   𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕   𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆   𝒎𝒆   𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎   𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇   ;   iii.   𝒊   𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕   𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇   𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒘𝒂𝒚   ;   iv.   𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅   𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘   𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓,   𝒅𝒐   𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓   ;   v.   𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆   𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒔   𝒊𝒏   𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔   𝒐𝒇   𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒕   ;   vi.   𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏   𝒊   𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈,   𝒊   𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕   𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔   ;   vii.   𝒕𝒘𝒐   𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔   𝒐𝒇   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆   𝒄𝒐𝒊𝒏   ;   viii.   𝒊𝒇   𝒘𝒆   𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕   𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆   ;   ix.   𝒊   𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅   𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕   𝒊𝒏   𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓   𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒚     .

this  +  this  +  this  +  this  +  this  .

[queerebrum]

It’s late and I (cannot seem to find my way home tonight) | 2k | Jackson-centric. Written for @jacksonwhittemoreweek​ 2020, day 5: part of the pack!

also on AO3!

Jackson had hated everything about London almost as soon as he’d arrived. Sure, at least he hadn’t died here. He hadn’t terrorized an entire town and everyone in it. Here, he was just another face in the crowd. He was nothing at all, really. 

It was freeing and heartbreaking. 

Most of Jackson’s life had been spent searching for a connection, for a family. He’d tried to be the best son, everyone’s best friend, the best boyfriend he could be for Lydia. He gave everyone the best of him, and yet none of it even touched the emptiness inside him. David and Jacqueline Whittemore cared about him, had raised him, given him every opportunity to succeed, and even claimed to love him.

But….to Jackson, love was supposed to be more than a word. It wasn’t supposed to be a burden, like he was just another ‘to do’ on the list of things his father wanted to accomplish with his life. 

The closest Jackson had gotten to feeling like he was actually a part of something had been those brief weeks in Beacon Hills as a werewolf.  While Derek and Peter had done their best to shove a lifetime’s worth of instruction on how not to become a mindless killing machine (again) into a few weeks of time, he’d felt like maybe he was actually connected to them. The bonds of the pack, they were real, tangible. Jackson could feel them: Derek and Peter, Isaac, and even, faintly, Scott. He’d felt connected, felt included.

And then, he’d crossed an ocean, and now all he felt was alone.

“Whittemore!”

His name shook him out of his head and he turned away from the window he’d been staring through to see the closest person he had to a friend, the son of one of his father’s business associates, waving at him. Jackson gave a halfhearted wave back and shoved his hands into his pockets, wandering towards him and the few friends he’d brought with him.

“Little birdy told me you’ve got a birthday coming up,” Andrew said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Any idea what you want to do for it?”

Go home. “No,” Jackson answered. His birthday was a full moon. He was sure that, alone somewhere quiet, he could keep his wolf anchored enough not to hurt anyone, but to do that somewhere with loud music and strangers? It felt dangerous. “I’m not sure I’m up for anything. It’s not like I know anyone here.” 

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then he smirked and gave a quick shake of his head. “You’ve got to, mate. It’s your birthday. I’ll plan something for you. I certainly know people.” 

“I’m really not sure--”

“Unless you’ve got a reason not to have a birthday party ,” Andrew smirked. “You won’t have to do anything, I promise. It’ll be fun.” 

With a resigned sigh, Jackson nodded. Andrew beamed, and then moved like he might grab Jackson’s shoulder. At the last moment, he hesitated and then waved for Jackson to follow him out of their fathers’ office building and into the sights and sounds of London. 

--

Planning, it turned out, was something that Andrew took a lot of pride in. That meant that all Jackson had to do was sit back and let him take care of everything. There was a pub to rent out, music to arrange, and catering to handle. Andrew made it all look easy. Andrew and Lydia, Jackson thought casually, would probably get along well. 

It also turned out that he had dramatically miscalculated his ability to control his shift on a full moon, but by the time he realized, it was too late to take it all back. 

And so, as the moon rose outside, he found himself hiding in the corner of a loud, dark room crawling with bodies. One of his clawed hands was clenched tightly in a fist, and he was keeping his eyes forcefully closed so as to not alert the entire pub to the glowing cobalt blue of them. 

His wolf didn’t want loud noises and strangers. His wolf wanted his pack, wanted to be let off the leash to run and play and exist with the closest thing he really had to family. Jackson couldn’t help but realize that that was what he wanted too, not just his wolf. He’d run from Beacon HIlls, afraid of the mess he’d left behind, not ready to face the terror of what he’d done. He’d crossed an ocean and hoped that he’d be able to forget what it was like to be a monster, to pretend he was just normal.

Just your everyday, ordinary, American werewolf in London.

The pumping bass of the music was agony on his overly sensitive ears. He was unable to tune it out, to focus on anything else. His control, tenuous as it was, began to slip and then, out of nowhere, a scent hit his nose. Beneath the scent of sweat and alcohol, he smelled home, safety …

Alpha.

Jackson heard footsteps approaching him, the scent was tangible and real and here. He didn’t flinch away when a broad, warm hand reached out to grip the back of his neck. Jackson fought to not let out the high pitched whine that grew in the back of his throat. 

“Get it together, Jackson. Find your anchor.” Derek’s voice was always gentler than Jackson expected it to be. He spoke like a man who knew what it was like to be broken and handled poorly. It wasn’t kind per se, but it wasn’t harsh either. Derek was prepared to cut himself repeatedly on his own sharp edges before he’d let anyone be hurt like he’d been.

Jackson dragged in a few breaths. Derek’s scent and presence blocked out the noise. He could feel the pack bonds, now glowing and warm rather than weak and brittle as they had been. Slowly, once he was sure he was back in control, he was able to open and take in the image of the man in front of him.

Derek was dressed casually and, when Jackson wasn’t overwhelmed by the scent of alpha , he sort of smelled like stale air and the city. Jackson shook his neck out of the alpha’s grip and unclenched his hand, keeping it angled away from the masses so nobody saw the slowly healing crescents from where his claws had pierced his palms. “What are you doing here?” 

“It’s your birthday,” Derek answered, still standing closer to Jackson than he would have expected. “And a full moon. Lydia said sometimes your birthdays meant you made poor choices.”

Jackson couldn’t help but smile at that; nobody knew him better than Lydia Martin. “So you just decided to get on a plane and fly here to make sure I didn’t make any poor choices?”

Derek raised both eyebrows and pointedly moved his eyes in a slow circle. “Apparently I was too late to stop that.”

“I didn’t plan this,” Jackson said. “I got...bullied into it.” 

“You got bullied?” Incredulity dripped from Derek’s voice.

“Jackson! There you are.” Jackson winced at Andrew’s voice. Derek shifted so he was beside him instead of blocking him from view. Andrew stopped a few paces away from them, his eyes flicking to Derek. 

“Who’s this?” Andrew asked, his voice carefully paced and even-toned. A half-empty beer bottle dangled from one hand, his other motioning towards Derek.

Jackson saw Derek take in the other man, watched his jaw clench imperceptibly, saw the way Derek’s hands flexed, ready for a fight. In control, with all of his senses heightened by the moon and his alpha by his side, Jackson could smell the wolfsbane, the gun oil and lighter fluid that marked Andrew as the hunter that he was. Did Andrew or Andrew’s father even know Jackson’s father? Or had this all just been a setup, designed to end with him dead?

Obviously displeased that Jackson hadn’t answered him, Andrew turned to Derek, “Were you even on the list?” And then asked Jackson,  “Has he been bothering you?” 

“I’m just -” Derek started.

“This is my boyfriend, Derek,” Jackson finished quickly. “From California.” He wrapped one of his arms through Derek’s and leaned his head over to rest against the curve of Derek’s shoulder. “We’re not really still a thing but I told him I missed him. It’s my birthday, so he came.” 

“Oh,” Andrew said, still tense and flicking his eyes to Derek sparingly. “Well, cheers, Derek.” Andrew tilted his beer bottle towards him. “Jacks, there’s someone I want you to meet.” He held out a hand towards Jackson.

“In a little while,” Jackson said, pressing one hand to Derek’s chest, not daring to look up and see if he was playing along. “Derek just got here. I’ll find you in a few minutes, okay?”  

“Sure.” Andrew eyed the pair warily once more, and took a few steps backwards before spinning and disappearing into the crowd.

“We’re leaving. Now, ” Derek said into Jackson’s ear. The beta agreed, letting Derek tug him through the kitchen towards the back door of the pub. “Did you know he was a hunter?” 

“Not until two minutes ago.” Jackson said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as they walked. “I thought you were just overblowing the whole ‘lone wolf dies, pack survives’ thing.” 

Derek gave Jackson a hard look. “It’s not just a mantra. I lived it.”

“Well, turns out that I’ve spent the last six weeks being seduced by a hunter.” Jackson gave a harsh exhale, frustration tugging at his control. The pull of the moon was strong in his blood. 

“Did you sleep with him?” Derek asked, grabbing one of Jackson’s shoulders and tugging the beta around to face him. Jackson was surprised by the vulnerability in Derek’s eyes, something he’d seen only sparingly before. “Did you?”

“No,” Jackson answered, blinking rapidly. “No, I haven’t been...feeling well since I got here.” He’d been dedicated to ignoring the fact that being in London had all but killed his sex drive. “But I’m beginning to think this whole thing was a setup to get me to lose control so they could kill me.” 

Relief washed over Derek’s face.  When they got to the back door, they found the way blocked with mountain ash. Derek swore, pulling out his phone. “Yeah,” he said, giving Jackson a deadpan glare. “I’d say it was a setup.” He dialed and put the phone to his ear. 

Jackson frowned. “Who are you even calling?”

“Backup.” Derek’s face went sour as Jackson heard the person on the other end of the line go, ‘So I was right?’ Derek frowned, but gruffly responded, “Gloat later. Come get us out of here.” 

--

Jackson didn’t distinctly remember mentioning Andrew’s name to Lydia, but it turned out that at some point he had. And, in a very fortunate series of events, Lydia had mentioned it to Allison, who had mentioned it to Chris, who had recognized it as the name of an English hunting family. It hadn’t taken long to put the pieces together: Jackson was in danger.

The fact that Jackson’s birthday was on a full moon had only prompted the pack into action faster . 

The Argents, Isaac, Stiles, and Peter had accompanied Derek to London, and it was the five of them, along with Derek and Jackson, that remained in the pub after they’d cleared it out. Allison had Andrew tied neatly to a chair. At some point, he’d been gagged with his own tie, because Stiles of all people had gotten sick of listening to his unending tirade against werewolves and all things supernatural. They were waiting for the arrival of Andrew’s father, so that Chris Argent could exert his ancient hunting family dominance and put a stop to the facade.

“Did you have to tell him I was your boyfriend?” Derek hissed to Jackson, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Jackson glanced up at Derek and chuckled. “It was the first thing I thought of that would get him to leave us alone. I didn’t want to make him even more angry by pointing out that my alpha had crashed his party.”

Derek’s face went through a complicated series of microexpressions before landing on fond amusement. There was a tilt to his lips that Jackson thought might have been a smile.

Before Derek could reply, the door slammed open and a furious Harrison Deighton appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the occupants. He was accompanied by a pair of men, large, imposing figures that didn’t move more than a few feet from their leader. “Release my son,” he snarled.

Chris Argent sat lazily on a barstool, one foot dangling, not yet looking at the newest additions to the room. “Did you know he was planning this? A birthday party for a new werewolf on a full moon? Loud, full of strangers?” Even Jackson appreciated the force of Argent’s ice blue gaze as it flicked up to meet the Englishman’s furious one. “A werewolf that has killed no one in your territory and was here for a fresh start?” 

“He’s got blue eyes,” Harrison answered. “Drew’s seen them. You sent a blue-eyed werewolf to my territory, Argent .” The name was laced with hatred. “Your father and sister would never --”   

“Aunt Kate is dead,” Allison said firmly, stepping forward. “And my father didn’t send Jackson here. I did.” She held her head high. “I assumed that the hunters in this region weren’t codebreakers.” She flicked a disdainful look at Andrew. “Turns out I was wrong.” 

“He’s got blue eyes .” 

“Would you shut up about his eyes already?” Peter rolled his own eyes and, in a feat of control Jackson was sure came with thirty-plus years as a werewolf, half-way through the roll they began to burn their deep cobalt color. “Or we’re going to have bigger problems.” 

Chris shook his head at the theatrics. “You’re going to leave him alone, Deighton. You and your son. An attack on him without a valid excuse and I will go to the Hunter Council about this. Am I clear?” 

Deighton shot Jackson a hateful look before turning back to Chris and nodding. At that, Isaac stepped forward and, with a bright and triumphant grin, used his claws to cut through the rope holding the younger hunter to the chair. Andrew’s hands shot up to pull the tie out of his mouth. 

“Get away from me, you animal.” 

Harrison turned and, accompanied by his men, left the building. Andrew moved quickly to follow, sidestepping around the werewolves in his way. As he made it to the door, Stiles stepped up to block the doorway with a tight, serious expression. “Lay one finger on him and it won’t be the wolves that come after you.” Jackson watched something spark in Stiles’ eyes, the brown of his irises glowing ethereally for a moment before fading away. “Have a nice night.” 

Well, that was new.

“Are you guys gonna tell me why you’re really here?” Jackson asked once they were sure the Deightons were gone. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Lydia worried about me and you all figured out there was a hunter after me, sure, but did six of you really need to come to London just to protect me?” 

“You’re pack,” Derek answered, his eyebrows drawn in confusion, but the look slipped from confusion into something harder to interpret. He stared at the floor, hands clasped together.

“You’re pack, and we’re a little short on that these days,” Stiles picked up the slack for Derek from his place near the door. “Erica and Boyd are still missing.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I can’t lose any more betas,” Derek said finally, looking up. “Letting you leave was a mistake. Sending you here alone, without a pack, was a mistake. If you want to come home, Argent, Peter and I will negotiate it with your parents.”

Jackson was almost embarrassed by how quickly he agreed, but two days later he was seated beside the alpha on a plane back to Beacon Hills, and he couldn’t remember feeling so content in his life.