#might scribble some shit on his blog later who knows

[radioactivedadbod]

I miss my wife Tails

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Babysitter SL

Prompt: Shade (lord) is in the midst of final exams and they’re more stressed and tired than usual while babysitting. They accidentally fall asleep in the middle of a calm spell and the god babies become worried. The next time Shade comes over, all of the god babies present a gift they all made together!

By @minnesotamidian-blog​

Shade barely noticed their surroundings as they entered the nursery playroom. Plastic clattered and they sighed as Radiance yelled at the top of her lungs. At least she wasn't screaming. Yet. The scene was set: Unn was still in a crib and chewing on a bar, Root was climbing slowly onto a chair. Radiance was knocking over plastic blocks as Grimm cackled away. For once, Wyrm was playing peacefully with a kick toy, batting at it with his tail. Root got onto the chair and squealed, raising her arms. "Big Root now!" The little blue-eyed godling squeaked out.

Shade picked her up, hugged her to their chest before holding her out. "Now you're a flying Root."

She screamed laughter as Shade tiredly walked her around the room before setting her down near some of her favorite toys. They made sure nobody else had claimed the chair and took a seat, bending over to pick up the fussy moth. "Ancient enemy!" Of course she bit their hand.

Shade winced and just ran a hand over her fluff. "Are you hungry for something that isn't void?" They spoke tiredly.

"Oranges!" She yelled out.

The teen sighed as he went to the mini-fridge with snacks and found some miracle of miracles! pre-peeled oranges. Shade pulled them out and put her in a high chair with one at a time so she wouldn't be tempted to throw the extras at them.

Finals were here and they were really taking it out of the gangly god. Why did they have to know stuff about inorganic chemistry? Why did they have to know about history nobody cared about? There were some fun subjects, but the finals seemed to even suck the fun out of those classes, going over notes and studying everything just in case. They'd been pulling long nights and the night before had been an all-night cram session-and they still had to come to work, they couldn't afford not to. They'd underlined all the stuff the teacher had said was important to remember and had written down stuff from the last finals about each teacher's usual tests.

It made narrowing down what to study from impossible to I'm totally toast. They groaned as they set down a calmer Radiance the opposite side of the room from Wyrm. She found toys that interested her, at least. Root wandered over to Wyrm, who was really into knocking at the kick toy and purring. Root settled nearby and burbled as she hugged and gnawed a plushie.

The teen couldn't help it. The kids were calm for once; their head started to tilt forward, eyes heavy. They were exhausted. Shade's eyes closed and their breathing deepened. At first, their toys were too interesting to notice their babysitter's state; but it didn't take long for Grimm to get bored enough to fly over and notice. "...Shade? Shade's eyes are closed." They landed and the four children not in a crib headed for the batlike godling.

"Is Shade dead?" Wyrm sounded worried.

"Don't be stupid, they're having a nap!" Radiance huffed.

Root looked up and swayed before patting Shade's leg. "Grown-ups don't have nap times." She was tearing up.

"Nuh-uh, they're having bad dreams and it's tasty!" Grimm clamored onto their lap.

The others joined, Radiance grabbing Unn to join them on the sleeping teen. Grimm rested between Shade's horns, Unn was on one shoulder, Radiance on the other, with Root and Wyrm curled up together on Shade's lap, Wyrm purring for once.

When Shade woke up, they were surprised by the weight on their body and forced themself to look down and around before moving. "Uh oh, I fell asleep… sheesh, I'm glad this place isn't a fiery disaster." They picked the godlings up. "You're not dead!" Wyrm exclaimed.

Root burst into tears and even Grimm joined in on the crying spat. Shade sighed and spent the rest of the time comforting them until meal time and settled them down. Time to go home for them all!

But the worry didn't leave the heads of the little godlings. "We should make something for Shade. If they're having nightmares, they might be sad." Radiance sighed. "But that doesn't mean I feel bad for my ancient enemy!" "What do we make?" Root twirled around, slowly turning in place until she fell onto pillows in her dizziness.

"Something of clay! I can burn it dry!" Grimm hopped around.

"But there's no clay." Unn spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "But there's crayons and paper."

"Oooh. We can make a pretty picture for Shade!" Wyrm waved his head happily. The group went for papers and each started to draw on the paper. "You're taking up too much paper!" Wyrm whined.
Radiance complained in turn, pointing at the color he was using. "I want that color!"

Wyrm growled and argued back. "I had it first!"

They started rolling around over their drawings, biting and clawing. Grimm gave a solid scream that startled the two. "You ruined Shade's pretty pictures!" He yelled.

The two looked at each other and hung their heads. "...sorry." Radiance muttered.
"-'m sorry." Wyrm looked away from the moth, skulking. "Start again? You can have the crayon, Radiance…"

Radiance took the crayon and they all picked up the last piece of paper. "I think this is better." Root spoke cheerfully.

It was three days later, once Shade had a solid night's sleep and finals completed that they'd returned to work. A large construction sheet of paper in grey covered in scribbles and rough names and messages was waiting for them.

Feel better soon Shade

Love you

Best babysitter

Tastiest nightmare!

Not the worst anciant ancient enemy.Shade could only feel warmth and laugh, hugging the drawing to themself. There were some days the job felt like the best thing in the world.  ------------------------------- By @tomatotimes

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By @loud-whistling-yes

"No."

The kids protested louder. Shade lifted the TV remote higher up, now above their head.

"Screentime's over, I said no."

Wyrm attempted to crawl up their leg in what was a rather pathetic attempt at stealing the remote, but was promptly shaken off. Grimm tried next, flying overhead to snatch the controller. Shade ducked and grabbed him by the tail before he could send himself flying straight towards the ceiling fan for the third time that day.

"Find something else to do," Shade said as they stuffed the remote deep into their pocket, much to everyone else's dismay. "Look, as much as I'd love to shut you guys up for the whole day, you've all been staring at the TV for hours now and I don't want to get in trouble with your parents."

Louder complaints.

"No, no, no. I am not cracking this time." Shade announced as they pulled Radi, who was hissing like an angry cat, off their jeans and pulled their phone out. "You guys got me last week, never again. No more TV for you, we're doing something else before I lose my money for tonight. Google almighty, what is your suggestion."

activities to do with children

fun activities to do with children

activities to do with toddlers

what can I do with kids that isn't a major headache to deal with goddamnit

Go to the park? Shade took about half a second to consider the thought before wondering why they even thought it was possible anyways. Five kids from the deepest depths of hell, outdoors? No. No park.

Finger painting? A pain to clean up, but better than outdoors. Then they looked up from their phone and considered the idea with greater thought. Grimm's wings, Radi's legs, Unn and Wyrm's… er…. Body?.... Nevermind.

Play pretend? …. If they hear the name Hallownest one more time they might just go insane.

Hide and seek? No. No no no no no. No more hide and seek. Shade was utterly sick of hide and seek. If they had to spend another second stuffed inside the closet or trying to get Radi off the roof they'll probably quit the job right there and then.

Baking?

… That might work. Sure, cleaning up is gonna be absolute hell but it's the only thing Google suggested that they haven't tried yet without horrible results.

Shade stuffed their phone back into their pocket and made a getaway to the kitchen, everyone else following, probably still trying to get the remote back. Butter, eggs, flour, sugar, oh, even some chocolate chips…

"Well then," They declared, pulling every ingredient out of the cabinet and fridge. "We're making cookies! And no, no one is allowed to touch the oven when it's hot. If you guys behave we'll have cookies in like, an hour or something like that."

The kids watched in confusion as Shade ran around the kitchen, pulling out bowls and spoons and a bunch of other utensils while typing furiously on their phone.

Cookies recipe

Cookies recipe easy

Cookies recipe for beginners

Cookies recipe for kids

"What do you guys think about chocolate chip cookies?"

Multiple chitters of approval. "Chocolate chip cookies it is then."

Step one: sieve the flour. Oh wyrm, first step and it's already gonna go to shit.

"Okay, you guys can watch this but for the love of the holy wyrm, do not touch it." Shade measured the correct amount of flour before scooping Wrym and Unn off the floor onto the table so they could see while Radi pulled herself onto the chair. The Lady had already clinged herself onto their sweater and Grimm was doing just fine flying nearby.

“You guys get one chocolate chip each if you guys behave and don’t get flour everywhere.” Shade added. “Now, Lady, hold still and don’t move, I gotta keep my hands steady for this…”

************

"Okay, chocolate chip time." Shade popped open the jar of chocolate as the kids cheered. "Actually, we’re not supposed to be eating this plain, cause it's going into the cookies. But no one actually does that so you guys get five chips each for not setting the kitchen on fire so far."

"The recipe says a cup of chocolate chips but we all know that's a lie." They added while shoving their phone back in their pocket and grabbing a handful of chips before mixing the batter together. "I'm probably not someone you should take life lessons from, but here's one thing I can guarantee you should take to heart: never follow the recipe when it comes to chocolate chips, you count that with your soul."

Final step: oven time. The oven was preheated earlier, and the only thing left was to get the cookies into the tray and into the oven. "Now, who wants to make heart-shaped cookies?"

****************

Three deformed stars, five mutated trees, two malformed cats, several irregular hearts, a couple handfuls of chocolate eaten straight from the jar, and one (1) perfectly round cookie later, the cookies were on the tray, in the oven, and in a surprising turn of events, no one burned themselves… yet. Shade grabbed everyone and made sure no one was in a five-meter radius within the oven before picking up all the dirty bowls and utensils. “Cookies will have to sit in there for about 15 minutes, we’ll be cleaning up in the meantime.”

“Don’t look at me like that, and no whining, if you want cookies you gotta deal with the mess afterwards. That's the payoff, unless you're a wizard who has a passion for baking. Then that's fair, I guess." They dumped all the used utensils they could find and turned on the sink. The sief, three bowls, tablespoons and teaspoons.. Oh wait.

"Radi, the big wooden spoon, please?" Shade called, sponge in their hand and bowls being thoroughly rinsed.

Radi, of course, was not willing to help, because she's basically a feral house cat that just so happened to grow more legs than the average feline. Shade sighed and moved on to finding the next helper they could find.

"Grimm, I know you're touching the oven, stop it. I'm pretty sure you're immune to fire but not everyone else and you're setting a bad example for them. Get me the spoon please."

“Lady, here’s a cloth, help me dry the bowls up. Wyrm, … i have no idea how you can help, no limbs and all but uh, could you go get Unn? I have no idea where she went. Thanks.” The last sentence was to Grimm, who flew over with the mixing spoon and dropped it into the sink while Wyrm scurried away to find Unn, wherever she’s napping at.

"Radi? Radi, I know you're right behind me, stop pretending that you can't hear me. Lady has an extra cloth with her, you're on table wiping duty."

*********

“See? That wasn't so bad,” Shade sent the last of the bowls back into the cupboards and closed it shut. “And the cookies are pretty much done.”

“Also, no. You may not eat the cookies the moment I pull them out of the oven. These rules also apply to Grimm because it's unfair to everyone else.. Don’t look at me like that Grimm, I know you’ll eat them all before they cool and leave us nothing.”

The cookies smelt delicious, and were left on the dining table to cool. “Now that it's cooling down, it's naptime.”

A chorus of groans and wailing.

“It’ll be ready when you guys get up. Up up up, sleep time.”

**********

If you’ve been anywhere near toddlers before, you’d know that getting them to nap in their bedrooms is a near-impossible situation. And Shade was not a person who deals with near-impossible situations well. So following the months old custom, Shade turned on the tv, remote miraculously not pickpocketed, collapsed onto the couch, and waited for everyone piling on them to fall asleep before moving them into their bedroom and pretending they managed to wrangle them all into bed.

And it all goes to plan, the Lady and Wyrm were sound asleep on their lap, Radi and Unn were dozing off on their shoulders, and they're pretty sure the snoring from the top of their head was coming from Grmm. Now, step 2: get everyone off them and onto the beds.

… Or maybe later. It's been a long day, and the couch is pretty comfy. Yeah, just five more minutes, nothing wrong with that…

And if the parents came home to see a cleaner-than-expected kitchen, a tray of chocolate chip cookies, and five kids snoring on top of their babysitter, also sound asleep, then that’s nobody’s business.

And if the originally completely full jar of chocolate chips was pretty much empty, then that’s no one’s business as well.

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By @astronomicartz​

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By @hollow-kin​

Shade lord wanted to take a nap. They are sooo tired, but they are babysitting 5 baby gods for 5$/H. Grimm is a brat, Radiance his sister is also a brat. Unn was ether eating or seeping, same with grub1. Lady was, well sweet and cuddly. they needed to find a distraction for the kids, what would work?

Would tv work, would cartoons work? They had dinner already. Tv had to work or grub and radiance would destroy the house. They needed to take a nap. Now what to watch was a different question, they would have to ask the kids. “so, what do guys want to watch? “Movie!” well they were all in agreement, what was good. “What kind of movie do you guys want to watch?” “Fire!” “dath” “animal” “tree” “ok. No, we are NOT watching fire.” “awww” “i do not know what dath means so no. So nature show it is then.” they go over to the tv and turn it on, then select the world around us. Lady was quick to fall asleep, on their lap. Shade lord slowly fell asleep, and grub nested between grub and shade lord. Grimm climed up to shade lord's head. 

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By @hawaiianbabidoll

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By @neoliberalsatan

A gentle darkness surrounded the shade lord. He finally felt at ease. "finally", he thought, "rest." it didn't take long after that before the darkness started to take shape and a whole new world created out of shadows sheathed him.

But the happiness of the shadows didn't last long. A new and a new sound drowned out their world and all the animals and plants took to hiding back in his head. The shade lord felt the distressed creations stir inside his mind and woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his lowest eyes and accepted the call

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh sorry dear, i know it's terribly late but we got an unexpected call and need to leave. Since you've babysat Unn multiple times we assumed she would like to stay with you. Is it okay for you? Can we bring her to your place?" The shade lord thought for a moment and decided he could use the money. "Yea it's fine, she's always such a pleasure to babysit." The voice on the other side sounded relieved. "Thank you. You're a life saver. We will make sure you're compensated accordingly."

Feeling a bit more awake after the phone call he started to prepare for having baby Unn over. After a while her parents arrived and after some greetings he was home alone with the baby. He walked with her in his arms towards the living room and placed her gently inside the crib. She opened her eyes for a moment after losing the feeling of someone holding her, but then closed them again and fell back asleep.

The shade lord decided he couldn't sleep anymore and made some popcorn and decided to put on a movie. It didn't even take 20 minutes before he got called again.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh yes finally someone who answers. Sorry but you're our last hope. We were going somewhere tonight but our babysitter called off. Do you think you could babysit our lovely Radiance? She's very good behaved and won't cause you trouble." "yea, no problem. You'll just need to bring her to my place if it's no trouble"

Not even 5 minutes later the parents showed up and dropped of their larva. Shade lord looked at it a bit confused but didn't get the time to say anything because the parents left as soon as they handed her over. He closed his front door and gave the larva a good look. She was white and had a fluffy appearance. She had 5 pairs of legs and yellow-orange eyes. She started to writhe a little bit and shade lord made sure to hurry to the living room. He took a pillow and placed it on the couch and softly laid her on it. She seemed at ease and rested on the pillow all stretched out

Shade lord continued his movie, which was finally starting to get interesting, but as usual the commercial break hit. He was in the kitchen making more popcorn when he got another call.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Hello, is this the babysitter?" "Yes, that's the one you're speaking with." "Great, a family member had an accident and i need to be there for them so do you think you could babysit for me?" "Yep, totally." "Thank you, can we bring him to you?" "Oh yea, no problem."

A few minutes later his doorbell rang and he hurried towards it. The father carried his toddler in what could only be described as wing-esque appendages. The shade lord extended his arms for the man to put his toddler in and felt a gentle brush of the leathery membrane. He shivered lightly before feeling a sudden warmth light up in his face, like someone has started a fire. When he looked back up the man was gone and he closed the door. The creature he was holding in his arms was unlike anything he had ever seen. 2 horns sprouted from its black head. The face was as bleak as white linen on a summer day. It seems she likes make-up because she had already 2 black lines running from her cheeks towards her eyes, eventually fading into the darkness of her head. She had the same membranes as her father and no limbs besides it.

He wasn’t even in the living room before he heard his front door being was under siege. He put the weird creature down and opened the front door. Immediately he was assaulted by Hollow, a very energetic child. He was wearing a green cloak today and it finally seemed he was starting to grow bigger than a hand. His horns has also branched into the inside. Immediately after Hollow jumped on his he could hear Pale complain about his unprofessional work attitude. Although he was bigger than most it seems he wouldn’t grow much anymore. His tiny stature didn’t discourage him from being bossy. Finally White entered. By far the biggest of the bunch, she was also the most introverted. Her roots slid elegantly over towards him and even managed to stop Pale from talking for a moment.

He took them inside the living room only to find that somehow the larva and the winged creature had somehow gotten into a fight and now both were in hiding in opposite sides of the room. Normally he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of this if somehow his couch wasn’t full of tiny needles and a chair was on fire. He rushed to the tap to fill a bowl of water to extinguish the little fire. With the attention being diverted Hollow managed to slip from the watch of Pale and could now be found in the corner Radiance was hiding. The larva figured out quickly he liked to play games and had soon enough set up a plan to make him betray Pale.

In the meantime White had climbed the couch and started pulling out the needles while Shade lord had figured out what the membrane between the appendages from the weird creature were for. Namely, for flight. And now she was attacking his horns and he couldn’t reach her. As if her flying was not good enough alone, whenever he raised his arms she would back off and launch a little fireball  All this commotion woke up baby Unn who slowly started to slither away from her crib to find food.

The shade lord finally had enough of the little fire hazard and rushed towards the pantry to get a kettle. Once he had found it he peeked around the corner only to find that fire hazard eating his popcorn! All caution was thrown aside and he grabbed her by the guts and put her inside the kettle. She tried to heat it but he added some water to it. While it evaporated quickly it was apparently enough to bring over the message. Now he could focus his attention back on the larva again, only she could’ve produced those needles, which White was making great progress with removing them as a quick glance told him.

Now back to Pale and Radiance who were apparently having a fight (Darkness, that larva really has a talent to provoke others). They were arguing near the coffee table, because apparently they wanted a fight so bad they just ran to each other and met in the middle. Hollow was climbing one of the legs of the table, but wasn’t noticed by the shade lord because he was too occupied with the other 2. He tried to separate the arguing pair but they were at each other’s throats. They even had summoned a needle and a tiny dagger to fight each other. The shade lord obviously didn’t count on this tiny factor and had soon enough one in each hand. He screamed, trying not to curse, barely not failing miserably, and Pale managed to escape. In any other situation this wouldn’t pose a problem, but Hollow, after eating some popcorn, found himself at the right edge of the coffee table and pulled out his tiny wooden sword he got from Pale. The larva, Darkness curse her, used this to her advantage and made the sign to Hollow to betray Pale. The act of betraying Pale involved jumping off of the coffee table and hitting Pale as hard on the head as possible. Naturally, all of this went according to plan and even brought some extra spectacle. After Hollow had hit Pale on the head he wasn’t prepared for the recoil of the wood and ended up hitting himself in the face.

All of this lead to 3 crying children (1 of them from laughing, the others from pain) and 1 very angry young adult. He put the larva on the couch and took care of the others while White held a close eye on the damned 10 legged thing. After Pale and Hollow weren’t crying anymore he took the little fire hazard out of the kettle and continued his movie, which was getting to an end.

After the film ended a documentary started and had all the kids hooked. He went to check on Unn only to find an empty crib. He could however see a slimy trail lead up his wall and onto the ceiling. It went through the door into the pantry where he kept his food and toys for the toddlers. He looked up on the ceiling only to find a sleepy Unn with a letter block in her mouth. Suddenly Unn started to make a very weird noise and fell from the ceiling onto his face. He swiped her off of his face onto his shoulder and then washed it.

He returned back to the tv to watch the documentary that was still playing and plopped down on the couch. Not long after he was asleep with White on his left shoulder, Unn on his right shoulder, the little fire hazard on the same arm and Pale curled up in his lap. Radiance and hollow were still awake but occupied with the documentary instead of causing trouble. After the documentary ended they crawled up against his sides and fell asleep.

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By @constantlost 

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By @bugbeee

Exhaustion seeped into Shadelord’s body, limbs weighed down by a heaviness they hadn’t experienced in a while. The smatter of godlings that lay around them on the couch, or on them in Radi’s case, was enough to convince them that they had died and that this was the Eternal Void that was created to punish them for cheating on that test in the 8th grade. In their defence, it had been on rock sedimentation.

Wyrm continued his grumbling from the corner of the couch, still infuriated by the attack on his person only moments before. Root, the aggressor, looked remarkably pleased with herself. Shade knew they should probably punish her further in some way but... well, to be perfectly honest, they simply were not paid enough to do so.

They really should have charged more. Fifteen dollars at least per tiny demon they had to look after rather than the whole bunch. Fifteen dollars was not enough to encourage discipline. It was enough for them to make sure none of the godlings killed the other. And they had thought they had come up with an ingenious plan to secure some peace and quiet.

After much wrangling, they had finally managed to set up two separate playpens, each far enough away that the godlings wouldn’t start screaming if one of them saw their rival. Wyrm and Root in one pen, Grimm, Radi and Unn in another. It was a gamble, but one that thankfully seemed to have paid off. Radi was still exhausted from the tussle she had just had with Wyrm, and Grimm seemed content to chew off the heads of the plastic Garbies they had found. Unn continued to watch, and occasionally helped Grimm execute a Garbie in a spectacular manner. It was both reassuring, and beyond disturbing. Root and Wyrm meanwhile were cheerfully ignoring each other as they both played with their own toys.

It should have been foolproof.

Unfortunately for Shade however, they were dealing with infants instead of fools.

For some damned reason, Root had decided that now was the perfect time to act up, instead of being the sweet little darling she had been so far. Her target, much to their dismay, had been Wyrm. In all fairness, the godling had probably deserved it in some way; most likely he had tried to worm too close in order to steal some of the grubpaste and mushroom sticks Shade had left out as a snack. Root had seen this theft as a cardinal sin, and had subsequently decided that Wyrm deserved nothing less than absolute annihilation.

The momentary doze Shade had managed to fall into was abruptly interrupted by loud shrieking and wailing, resulting in them vaulting over the couch to hurriedly find out which one of the godlings was being tortured.

The scene that greeted them was... well, it wasn’t any less ridiculous than some of the other stuff the little goblins had pulled before.

Using her flexible tendrils, Root had seen fit to wrap them around Wyrm, and aggressively dunk him into the bowl of grubpaste he had attempted to steal from. His shrieks and hisses had woken up Radi and drawn the attention of the other children, who were now cheering on Root’s attack on Wyrm’s person.

“Enough,” Shade declared, shooting a glare behind them, “Root, let him go.” Root looked up innocently.

No, she seemed to say with her eyes, justice must prevail.

“Justice won’t get me my fifteen dollars,” they hissed out in return, and they could have sworn that Root shrugged, turning away from them to dunk Wyrm into the bowl yet again.

“No!” they cried out, quickly whipping down to grab the poor child before he could be further humiliated. After finally being saved from his vicious tormentor, Wyrm decided it was time to go into hysterics, lashing out with a sharp tail to fully show his displeasure. Root simply watched impassively as the rest of the children cheered.

Shade wondered if fifteen dollars was even worth it at this point.

“Alright, alright, enough! Root, you go in time out. We do not waterboard our fellow godlings in grubpaste. Wyrm, calm down, it’s just grubpaste- Settle down!” they yelped out, flinching as something heavy settled onto their head. The soft fluff revealed that Radi had decided to fly out of her pen and taunt Wyrm in person. Shade wanted to sob with frustration.

The door cracked open, and Ghost peered in, head tilted curiously.

Need help? they signed, and Shade wanted to collapse in relief.

“Please,” they begged, and their sibling nodded grimly, even as amusement danced in their eyes. Shucking off their school backpack, they quickly headed over to the other pen and signed to them, bobbing their head up and down in a soothing motion. Grimm and Unn were entranced. Radi less so. She remained seated on their head, but at least seemed to have finally stopped provoking Wyrm.

“I’m just going to clean him up,” Shade explained uselessly, watching as Ghost simply nodded and waved them off. 

With a tired gait, Shade wandered into the kitchen and turned on the tap, listening as Wyrm’s panicked yelps grew louder at the realisation of what was going to happen next. Radi snickered softly, before leaping off and gliding back into the living room.

Bath time, according to the godlings, was a fate worse than death, and something to be avoided at all cost.

Unfortunately for both Wyrm and Shade, it was a necessary evil. Wyrm disagreed. Loudly. And with claws.

He howled furiously as Shade slowly lowered him into the warm water, softly scrubbing at the now-dried grubpaste sticking to his skin. Despite his attempts, Wyrm failed to prevent them from continuing his bath. He turned to pathetic pleading instead, making soft mewling sounds as though he was nothing more than a poor innocent child who had done nothing wrong, ever.

Shade, who remembered the little bastard knocking a glass ornament onto their head, was not convinced. Ultimately there was no escape, and Wyrm reluctantly gave in to the soft scrubbing, though he made sure his rumbling complaints were known.

“Yes, yes,” Shade said quietly, “I truly am the worst. Close your eyes so I can rinse you.”

Wyrm, in a dumb act of defiance, did not close his eyes. The hysterics started again, and Shade contemplated drowning themself in the half-filled sink. Fifteen dollars, they repeated. Fifteen dollars.

Grabbing a tea towel, they quickly dried the godling off, carefully teasing out water droplets from soft scales. He child gnawed on their fingers in revenge. “I’m done,” they announced, wandering back into the living room with a now clean, and furious, Wyrm.

Ghost looked up from their position on the floor, back leaning against the couch as they played with Grimm. Radi immediately perked up at the sound of Shade’s voice, and quickly flew over, making herself at home on top of their head. Unn seemed to have decided to undertake the momentous task of scaling up the back of the couch, leaving a thick trail of slime behind. Root, still stuck in her pen as punishment, let out a wail, demanding to be let out.

Shade was all out of energy to fight back or deal with a tantrum.

“Alright, alright, out you go,” they muttered, depositing Wyrm on the couch before reaching down to lift out the petulant child from her terrible prison. She clung to them desperately until they finally collapsed on the sofa. She quickly wriggled out of their hold and instead plonked down beside them. Wyrm had hissed at the sight of her, and slunk to the other side of the couch to sulk.

Grimm let out a raspy cackle at the sight, before diving down to nip at Ghost’s fingers.

Unn finally made her way to the top of the couch and waved her eyestalks victoriously. All Shade could do was give her a tired pat.

They sank into the couch, the exhaustion creeping back in. It should have been foolproof.

Fifteen dollars.

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By @arandoskeleartist​

[sxltedcxramel]

Screw artists block all my homies hate artists block

Reki x gn!reader

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Reki’s going through the artist’s block, so you help him

: ̗̀➛ Current Word Count: 1015

: ̗̀➛ Chapters: 1/2 (might change)

: ̗̀➛ Tag(s): Reki, Kyan, Reki, p!yn x reki, fluff, slight angst, I'm legit putting my issues on reki and that's ok, sk8 the infinity, Joe

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: slight cursing, slight angst

: ̗̀➛ Taglist: Here

: ̗̀➛ Link(s): Ao3

: ̗̀➛ Notes: Bruh my last piece of writing was a year ago.... hi I'm back "sweats nervously" If you follow my page yk I've been saying I've been writing a story for like *checks watch* some time... Guys in my defence I've been reading fanfics not writing them. But seriously I've been deal dealing with mental health shit and s c h o o l. I'm tryna get in the grove of writing but not force it so I won't go back into writer's block. Also, I know most of my storied were DSMP last year I still write for that fandom (seriously check my unfinished stories) But I still wanna include my other fandoms since this isn't really an MCYT or DSMP-centric blog. But yeah enough rambling feel free to drop into my inbox I don't bite, I'm also accepting requests so shoot! Especially if you're a moot I love talking to you guys (sorry I haven't been active much T-T.

Reki banged his head on his sketchbook endlessly, markers falling off the wooden desk one by one onto the wooden floor. He this close to burning those markers, or chopping his hands off and switching them with a new pair, whichever would cure him of this disease or was it a curse? Wait if this was a cure does that mean he’ll never get over it? The redhead gripped his hair and yelled in pain.

“Will you shut up!” you whisper-shout in annoyance “How’s someone supposed to concentrate in a place like this!”

“Please” Reki grumbled “I’m actually going through something right now unlike a certain someone who’s playing games behind their textbook” he hisses with no malice behind his words ``Seriously who are you fooling.”  You shushed him quickly eyeing around for teachers “Dude you’re gonna get me in trouble, plus it is important.” A cocky smirk appeared on your face “I’m about to put Miya in his place.” 

Reki placed his hand on his chin rolling his eyes “Yeah. Never going to happen he’s like a total boss” 

You gaped at him dramatically “Reki! You don’t have any faith in me” 

“Shh its study hall you’re so friken loud man” 

“Thats rich coming from the loudest guy I know” you glared at the redhead “That reminds me it’s not like your studying either so don’t be a hypocrite buddy”

“Who are you calling-!” a loud smack that could be heard down the hall (if you knew who was in that class you’d know it was Reki who got smacked with the teacher's lesson plan, it effectively shuts the teen up )

You quietly snicker as the redhead pouts muttering something along the lines of ‘I didn’t start it’

You sigh as you put your phone down on the wooden desk grabbing a pen to scribble a note to the boy. 

<I’ll help you cure your disease>

You watch as he frowns trying to open up the note, not even a millisecond later the sun rises from behind that frown. You watch Reki quickly write his response.

<REALLY!! Thank you y/n I owe you one!! :D>

You sighed as you shoved the crumpled note into your binder, between the mess of classwork and notes you had no idea which was which It was like ww3 in your book bag. 

You made two mental notes that day

Organise my shit 

Stop getting involved with sunshine kids I feel myself getting blind by the second

Operation: Destroy the art block monster!

“Alright, first things first!” You smile as Reki stands up straight ready to get to work “As a slime defeating a level 20 boss you have to be absolutely ready to be at your feet at all cost, I don’t want to hear no crying, no whining, no nothing! Got that.” you said in a mock commander voice, this was it you were ready to get to business.

“Yes ma’am!” Reki yelled 

“Our objective” you hit a stick on the brick wall “Defeat the monster blocking your creative vision, for that we need the most powerful weapon of all.” Reki nodded his head eagerly mimicking a golden retriever “Are you ready to know what it is” the redhead once again shook his head excitedly “Good!”

A wave of silence passed through 

“Your wallet” 

“I’m sorry what?”

“You heard me, I’m fucking starving, I’m not doing shit on an empty stomach let's go to Joe’s place.”

Needless to say, Y/N completely obliterated Reki’s paycheck from last week

No seriously, Reki swears flies flew out of his wallet

Reki tapped in annoyance and he wanted his best friend munched happily on their food, he noticed how your whole world turned to colour as you took a bite out of Joe’s food. 

Whoever said food was the way to the soul was right 

‘BUT STILL, I NEED TO DRAW AND ANY TIME THIS CENTURY WOULD BE NICE’ Reki screamed in his head 

Y/N looked up to see the boy bouncing his leg up and down very quickly while narrowing his hazel eyes at the half-eaten plate of pasta. You sigh “Dude chillax your vibe is gonna ruin the food.”

“Y/N!-” 

“I’ll help you  just let me eat” you replied dragging out the syllabus

“Bu-!”

Before Reki could even finish his sentence, shit before he could even finish word Joe showed popped up behind Reki. Propping up his arm onto Reki’s wild hair he put up his signature grin “Y/N, Reki! How are my favourite customers!?” The green-haired man chuckled “Y/N I see you're enjoying the hell out of my pasta” 

You grinned “Joe!” which was followed by a “Hey Joe” from Reki which by the way made the pasta go from ‘Al dente’ to extra hella soft it might as well be soggy noodles

Joe looked at the usually energetic child with concern “Whats up Reki, you usually die for my cooking. Aren’t you going to eat too?”

“Not hungry” he mumbled

Joe eyed you curiously with a questioning look, you sigh softly “He’s going through artist block right now so he’s all depressy” Joe hummed in understanding 

“Y/N said they would help me but all they did was help me blow off my paycheck.”

“S’not my fault Joe have good ass food”

“Exactly it’s not her fault I have good food”

“Stop encouraging them!” He cried out while Joe let out a boisterous laugh and ruffled Reki’s hair and patted yours. “Alright alright, I’ll stop.” He smiled softly really giving off positive dad vibes “But seriously Reki don’t sweat it, there's a process for everything. I’m sure you’re inspiration will come back soon.” Reki smiled softly muttering a ‘thanks Joe’ under his breath “Ok kids I got to go before my chefs blow up my kitchen, I’ll catch ya later tonight, Y/N make sure you help Reki.” 

A chorus of ‘Ok dad, see you later’ came from both the teens after Joe walked away “I am not your dad!” came a shout from the kitchen making both of you giggle.

Taglist: @tanoukiiukii @angstyx

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick. 

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen. 

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes. 

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic. 

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move. 

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own. 

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb. 

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.” 

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same. 

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe. 

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen. 

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand. 

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all. 

~

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll. 

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues. 

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.” 

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation. 

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down. 

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop. 

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside. 

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind. 

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back. 

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy. 

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater. 

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot. 

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee. 

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes. 

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes. 

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag. 

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook. 

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh. 

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more. 

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again. 

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks. 

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.” 

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.” 

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.” 

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows. 

~

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand. 

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting. 

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door. 

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt. 

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before. 

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her. 

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers. 

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

[hskinhome]

[ My kin blog is @juicy-dude ]

Canon calls!! I copy//pasted from Google Docs so some words might seem funky or the layout may be weird. ^^;

Karkat Vantas 1 - Earth C - Dave & John

I don't remember a lot from the meteor other than at one point I think Kanaya was drinking something and then laughed. It was a purple drink (probably faygo oof) and it came out of her nose. I know that Dave liked to fuck around with music and he had that Hella Jeff and Sweet Bro comic he used to do. Nepeta and Terezi vandalized almost the whole meteor with their scribbles but otherwise, I don't remember there being a lot to work within forms of art. As annoying as he was, John was probably my moirail. He was the only other person that bothered to even attempt to pretend he was listening when I went off on a tangent about what was frustrating me other than Dave. That and, when they weren't aimed at me, he'd include me in planning out all these crazy elaborate pranks. I have a couple of memories on Earth C where we went out into some of the woods. I know that Gamzee, Sollux, and John were with me. John kept jumping out of nowhere and Gamzee almost got fed up and bashed his head in with a tree branch. My least favorite memory is of John dying the first time because he was the only human I really talked to at that point. One time Crab Dad and I were sparring and I remember it turned into kind of an arm wrestle with my sickle vs. his claw. Eridan was very manipulative towards Feferi but otherwise, his ego was the size of Mt. Everest towards the rest of us. Dave almost threw hands with fish dick, from what he tells me. Nepeta, Tavros, Jade, and John had a big group roleplay thing going on I think.

____________________________________

Karkat 2 - Doomed - Eridan & Sollux

Anger issues that never got fixed. Big depression from fuck if I know what. Doomed timeline because I don’t remember Earth C from this one. Terezi wasn’t a very fair judge, to put it subtly. She didn’t really share my feelings much to begin with and Vriska used my feelings for Terezi to manipulate me a lot. Terezi knew about it and let it happen. I remember her telling me this herself later on at some point. Eridan and I watched tons of movies together and we talked to each other about Sollux a lot, me in a flushed way and him in more of a pitched light.

____________________________________

Mituna Captor - Dream Bubbles - Cronus & Kurloz

It's mostly memories from before "the accident" where Cronus was a pretty rad friend with whom I exchanged meaningless insults with and shit. It was mean and shit, yeah, but we knew we were just dicking around. Kurloz was my moirail for a long time and the three of us hung out a lot. The only reason Kurloz stopped liking Cronus after what happened was because of his reactions to what happened to me and the impact of the incident on my brain and how I didn't remember him the same way. Latula wasn't all that in the picture until right before the accident and she was a lot like Paige from Atypical (if you haven't watched that show on Netflix, I highly recommend you do) where she had a lot of rules and shit that she needed to work through. I don't know entirely when, but Kurloz eventually was able to get it through my dense, mashed potato brain after the incident that she wasn't all that great for me and, after hyperfocusing on what he'd pointed out for a little while, I found myself agreeing with him and eventually ended my matespritship with Latula. Kurloz and Meulin didn't work out for some reason can't remember, but I know he told me what happened and after a while, Kurloz and I got together as matesprits. I stumbled upon one of those memory bubbles and it happened to be one of Cronus's memories with me before my brain got fried. He caught me "snooping" through the memory and, after realizing what memory he had left laying around, we talked about it and I understood him better, like I did before the accident. It didn't take long for him to worm his way into my pale quadrant. I wore a sweater instead of that suit. It was yellow with black stripes, but still had the Gemini symbol on it. Other than that, I wore jeans and yellow converse-type shoes. I didn’t wear my helmet unless I was skateboarding. Cronus was my grape and Kurloz was my plum. I think I was their banana or something like that but that just came to me so.

____________________________________

Kankri Vantas - Dream Bubbles - Cronus

I took some time away from others to try and have one of those little “self-discovery” things. I don’t think anyone tried to stop me from leaving, but I remember being very close with Cronus. I don’t remember who it was or what exactly they said, but someone had threatened me, which was my final little push to just go. Everyone was sick of my constant talking, so I went on my own for a while. I had found myself a pretty secluded place that wasn’t too far from a salamander village, but it wasn’t too close, either. Their language was beyond what I could learn and so I had to go off gestures for communication, which helped me realize that I didn’t need to speak so much to talk to someone. I worked mostly on my writings and how I portrayed myself to my peers while separated. My writings shifted from mostly lectures to strictly poetry gradually. Cronus and I used to watch Grease very often before I left. It kind of started to change my usual attire too? I know that I didn’t wear just a straight up sweater or the leggings anymore. I wore dark red jeans and a black/red letterman over a thinner red turtleneck. The lettermen jacket had a red cancer symbol on the logo.

____________________________________

Mallek Adalov - Tegiri & Lanque

Tegiri and I were big nerds for ninja/martial arts type shit. We nerded out at convention type of things and he eventually became my moirail. Lanque started out as my kismesis but at some point we quad jumped and he ended up as my matesprit. He and I spent a lot of time on rooftops overlooking the city and talking about everything. I think that’s when we quad jumped. We moved in together at some point and we couldn’t decide on the color for the walls, so it ended up looking a lot like the dress from Sleeping Beauty. MC’s route with me was the one where they yeeted out of my car so I never really got to know them. Diemen was a close friend, but he shut me out of his more personal life a lot.

{Please let me know if this entire thing sent or not if you see this!}

Go message them if any of this sounds familiar! @juicy-dude

-Mod Nepeta

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

TRIGGER WARNING: Angry Angel, Angel almost killing some guy, kind of gory I guess, be careful. And you must be 18+ to be on this blog Thank you! Enjoy!

Angel steps into his favorite diner, Gilly and Coco on his heels and Ez holding the door. Sitting at their favorite table, Angel’s eyes rest on you waiting another table. You and Angel Reyes were friends outside of work and he often came to show you affection at work.

“‘Aye yo! Pretty waitress!” Angel calls, waving you over to him. You peek over your shoulder while handing out drinks to another table. Giving him a little smirk, you crinkle your nose as your cheeks flush. Of course he would embarrass you. “Yo! You sexy lil mami, come on over here.” Holding up your index finger to your guests, you turn to Angel and scowl, wagging a finger at him before turning back to your guests.

“Alright, what can I get started for you?” After taking the table’s order, you head to Angel’s table and giggle the whole way there.

“Hey there ma! How are you?” Angel stands to greet you with a kiss to the knuckles and sly grin.

“Fine, Casanova. You here for a burger and cherry pie?” She snorts, scribbling it down.

“You know me so well.” He swoons, tipping back in his chair to look up at you.

“You order the same exact thing every time.” You roll your eyes as you take Coco’s, Gilly’s, and Ezekiel’s. Just as you walk towards the counter you hear Angel let wolf whistle. After serving the Mayans their food, you head outside for a smoke break. As you breathe in the nicotine and exhale, someone hits you upside the head. Groggily coming too a moment later you see your assailant is none other than your ex boyfriend Diego. You feel him clobber you once more before you hear him start to leave and you stagger inside.

Angel’s mid bite when he hears a shriek let out from the back of the kitchen and his eyes snap up to see something that almost makes him sick. He sees the dark purple bruises on your face and blood running down your face.

“Oh shit.” Angel rushes to your side, grabbing you and placing you in a chair. “A towel, ice, get that first aid kit!” He shouts, shushing you as he smooths a hand down your puffy cheek. “Who was it.” He growls.

“Diego.” You whisper, gripping the front of his shirt as Ez rushes out the door with Coco and Gilly on his heels.

“It’s okay, mi amor.” He whispers as another older waitress starts to bandage. “I’ll be back.” He kisses her forehead and heads out the front door. The door bell give your heart a painful twinge. You were afraid of what Angel might do.

You get sent home, someone drove you. In a daze, you don’t really know who was driving but you catch a glimpse of someone off in the distance of the desert and it looked strangely like Angel, and a couple other bikers.

“Hey, pull over there.” You point to the group. She drives you over there and you all but tumble out, stumbling towards Angel. You can barely see him, but you know it’s him. His fist drives downward a few times before you almost get to him when arms tangle around you.

“Miel, let him do this.” Coco assures, hugging you as you scream at Angel.

“Angel! Stop!” You scream, wriggling in Coco’s strong grip. Angel’s in a different world as he wails on the bloody remains. He wasn’t sure the man was even alive at this point. The sound of police sirens fill the air as cops. Pile out of a car and one tackles Angel to the ground, slamming cuffs onto his wrists with a harsh click. Yanking your Mayan up from the red sandy desert floor, they drag him to a car. Angel can’t help the grin on his face as he’s all but stuffed into the car and hauled away.

“Miel, lemme take you home.” Coco whispers, pulling you blindly to his bike and taking you home. He sits with you all night until the sun rises and you get dressed and get ready for work.

Almost a month goes by and you hadn’t heard from any of the Mayans in so long, you were scared you’d done something. The door dings and you don’t quickly glance to see who it is, you just greet them with the standard and keep rolling napkins.

“Damn, twenty-three days away and you think I’m dead?” Calls a familiar voice. You glance up from rolling napkins and your eyes meet golden pools of caramel belonging to Angel Reyes. “So, you think I could get a phone number after defending your honor?” He chuckles making his way to you.

“Holy shit, Angel.” You whisper, a gasp escaping between your fingers.

“What?” He snorts as he stands in front of you. “C’mere.” He whispers, and you let him pull you in, holding you warmly against him.

“Angel Reyes, never leave for that long again.”

“I can’t promise that, but you give me a chance I promise I’ll never do that,” his fingers brush gently around the scar on your cheek. “To you, ever. Go on a date with me, please.” He hushes, holding your hands.

“Jesus Christ, that took you too long.” You laugh, letting him pull you back in and kissing you gently.

[h2bakugou]

‘match’stick | katsuki bakugou

summary: everyone in the class knows there’s tension between you and backugou, who denies it even when it’s not brought up, so when mina and kirishima try to play matchmaker, you realize bakugou isn’t so much of a stubborn guy after all.

a/n: hi, the name of this blog is supposed to be me trying to say h2o but h2bakugou sounded cool too. idk how much i’ll post on here but here’s this for starters

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color

warnings: fluff, swearing

word count: 1,231

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Katsuki Bakugou, or the blonde flame ball full of pure anger and hormones that sat a few seats in front of you, was someone you were undoubtedly crushing on.

You cursed yourself for catching feelings, let alone for someone who didn’t give off the romantic vibe. You’d practically set yourself up for heartbreak, or so you thought.

Mina and Kirishima were quick to notice the glances you shot at Bakugou, until he’d catch on and yell at you and cause a scene.

Needless to say, there was some sort of tension, whether it be romantic or not, it was obvious.

- - -

You bit the end of your pencil, stress riding through your body as you stared at the assignment in front of you. It wasn’t rare to see some sort of paper assignment in your class, although it seemed odd.

You couldn’t help but look to Bakugou, watching as his hand moved, scribbling down answers onto the paper.

Mina smiled and nudged Kirishima.

“She’s doing it again, look.” Mina whispered, causing the spikey red-haired boy to look in your direction. Kirishima laughed quietly, following your gaze right to Bakugou’s desk.

You heard whispers and turned your head to see Mina and Kirishima smiling at you. You shook your head and felt your cheeks burn bright red. They’d been determined to out your feelings for Katsuki, but you’d both denied having any sort of feeling toward one another, and even if Katsuki did, you doubt he’d tell anyone.

Of course, that was as much hope as you could give the situation.

After finishing your assignment, you looked out the window. It didn’t help that Bakugou was sitting in the direction, so even unintentionally it looked like you were gazing at him.

You just wanted to watch the rain pour outside.

“Hey! You got some sort of staring problem!?” Bakugou’s voice interrupted your thoughts of serenity and peace. He waved his hands in your direction, blocking your view of the rain.

“H-huh?” You questioned, shaking your head.

“I was looking out the windo-”

“Stop staring at me!” Katuski’s eyes softened a little, going almost unnoticeable to you. If his hair had fallen in front of his face, you wouldn’t have caught it, but he faltered, just slightly.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly, looking down at your desk.

Bakugou wasn’t the one for love and romance, but he’d be lying if you hadn’t caught his attention. He’d sworn his main focus was hero work, and being the best hero.

But maybe he could get a little distracted, as long as you weren’t trying to distract him from his goal, a little love here and there wouldn’t hurt.

- - -

“So we’re just gonna slip notes into their bags like something out of a movie?” Kirishima asked, looking at the folded piece of paper.

“Yes. Your closet to Bakugou, you can slip in unnoticed, I’m counting on you.” Mina smiled, holding her note that was supposedly from Bakugou.

It was a terrible idea really, it was rushed, and had no main structure, but Mina had carefully crafted two notes, both very detailed and, in her opinion, very alike in the way that the respected person talked.

Mina slipped the note in your bag and Kirishima did the same with Bakugou. And then they played the waiting game.

- - -

You were in your room, or dorm as you’d gotten used to calling it. That’s when you found it. A crumpled note. You unfolded the paper and read the words.

‘This is so stupid, but you keep looking at me and it’s driving me crazy, so can we fucking settle this, please? Meet me by class later tonight. -k. bakugou’

You were almost shocked to see his writing. It was neat, and his signature was almost perfect.

You thought it odd, Bakugou didn’t seem like the love letter type, but maybe it was a side he didn’t want many people to see, which was understandable.

Mina and Kirishima had hid around the class, awaiting the arrival of the destined duo.

Bakugou was fuming. There was no way you’d wrote him some stupid love note, but he was on his way to see you, and probably scare the shit out of you.

- - - 

You stood by the class, looking out the large windows. That’s when you heard him.

“(L/n)! You are so dead, this isn’t fucking funny!” Bakugou called, storming at you.

“H-Hey!” You called holding up a sheet of paper.

“What the fuck is that?” Bakugou stopped a few feet away from you.

“Your note, you wanted to talk about uh the thing.” You outstretched your arm, te note resting in your hand.

“I didn’t write that shit.” Bakugou chuckled.

“What? Then why are you here?” You questioned, pulling your hand away,

“Because you wrote this stupid shit.” Bakugou handed you the note you'd supposedly wrote.

“I-I...”

“This is a waste of time-”

“Mina and Kirishima.” You said softly.

“Huh?” Bakugou looked at you, raising an eyebrow at you.

“They know how I feel about you, I guess they thought this would be funny.” You laughed, crumbling the notes up, aiming for the trashcan.

“How you feel about me, what the fuck?” Bakugou grabbed your arm, causing you to look at him.

“Are you obvious to all the comments made in class? Of course, you aren’t, you hear them just as much as I do, and it should be obvious by now that I-I like you.” You looked down, feeling embarrassed.

“I really want to call you pathetic right now.” Bakugou muttered, removing his hand from your arm.

“Why aren’t you? What’s stopping the almighty Katsuki Bakugou.” You tossed the paper balls.

“Because I-”

“I told you!” Mina whispered, playfully pushing Kirishima. Kirishima toppled over, exposing their cover.

“W-What? Kirishima! You bastards get back here!” Bakugou started running after the two, leaving you alone in the hallway.

- - -

You’d made it back to your dorm, trying to rid yourself of the embarrassment you felt. You were preparing for Bakugou to tease you about the incident, and for falling for such an obvious prank.

But the aggressive knock at your door startled you.

When you opened the door to see Bakugou, you were confused.

“What are you-”

“Let me in.” Bakugou groaned, walking in after you’d stepped aside. Bakugou plopped onto your bed and sighed.

“If you say anything about this, I won’t hesitate-”

“To make my life hell.” You whispered the rest of his usual taunts. Bakugou looked back at you with a grin.

“Shut up.” Katsuki grumbled.

“Why are you here?” 

“Well if we’re going to like each other shouldn’t we spend time together?” Bakugou sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. It clicked.

Bakugou did like you back. He was just stubborn enough to not show it. And of course it drove you mad, but maybe it was worth it. Maybe he was just a big teddy bear under the mask of anger and stubbornness.

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered.

That night you learned, just as you’d predicted, that under all of Katsuki’s stubborn and hard-headedness, he was kind of sweet.

He still poked fun of you, but you did enjoy that he knew how to braid hair., or how he was really warm when you cuddled.

Needless to say, Mina and Kirishima had actually helped you out, despite feeling like they might have ruined any chances you’d gotten to begin with.

————-　★　————-              masterlist

[sunlightdances]

Focal Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Prompt: “What’s with this…sassy lost child?” Rating/warnings: PG. Warnings for Bucky being a cocky idiot.  Summary: You take PR photos for Pepper Potts and are semi-successfully navigating your giant, unavoidable crush on one James Buchanan Barnes.  Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes’ 3k writing challenge! Congrats, Hannah, and thanks for hosting! As always, please don’t repost my work on any other sites (wattpad, ao3, etc.) without my permission. Reblogs are gold!

Links are broken - you can find my full Bucky master list on my blog! May not work for some mobile users. Sorry!

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You’re standing off to one side as Bucky and Sam answer a few questions from the small crowd gathered, mostly kids and their parents. Sam, as always, is re-telling the PG events from their last mission with blistering enthusiasm, leaving Bucky shaking his head.

It doesn’t matter - the kids are eating it up. It’s times like this you really love your job. You’re… you don’t know what your official job title is, actually. There are days when you’re not even sure if you’re technically employed by Stark Industries, or The Avengers, or some other secret organization. All you know is that one day you showed up to volunteer at an event for Pepper Potts, and the next thing you know, you’re at all the events. You take photos, you help make sure they stick to schedule, and essentially make sure they’re in the right place at the right time. It’s public relations, but it doesn’t feel like that a lot of the time. They make you feel like you fit in, like you’re a friend.

This event in particular is your favorite - at a local children’s hospital, shaking hands and spending time with the kids. Pepper arranges it so the team can do it a few times a year if they can, and their visit is always anticipated by kids and their parents.

It’s anticipated by you, too, because-- you’re not dumb, these superheroes are somehow more attractive when they’re accompanied by small children.

Now, Bucky is crouched down next to a little girl, his eyes lighting up as she tells him a story, her arms flailing as she goes, and he nods and oohs and ahhs at all the appropriate points. It’s adorable, and you feel yourself blushing when he glances over and catches you staring. But really-- how else are you supposed to react? He winks, like he’s conspiring with you somehow, and it makes you feel… things. You turn away quickly before you look like an even bigger idiot.

You snap a few photos for parents and a few shots to send to Pepper, and then you’re all piling in the van to go back home, and you back to work. You have an office in the Avengers compound, which doubles as Stark Industries these days.

“Make sure you send me those photos of my good side,” Sam says from the backseat, and you smirk.

“Which side is that?” You ask, laughing when you hear Bucky and Steve’s reaction - a loud laugh from Steve and a surprised noise from Bucky.

“That was harsh. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have a bad side, Sam.” The three of you are stupidly handsome, you think.

The rest of the ride back upstate is quiet. Bucky’s reading, Steve is scribbling in a well-worn journal, and Sam’s asleep. You flick through your camera, making mental notes about which photos to delete and which ones to edit and get back to Pepper.

Your thumb hovers over the delete button on a photo of Bucky and Sam, the two of them laughing about something. Bucky’s looking straight into the lens. It’s not something you’d use, normally, but you find yourself hesitating. It’s like he’s looking right at you.

Bucky clears his throat in the backseat, and when you look in the rearview mirror, he’s already looking at you. Shit. You fumble with your camera. Did he just see you staring at his photo like some lovesick teenager? You feel your face flushing with embarrassment.

Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival at the compound, and you practically leap out of the van and high tail it to your office.

“No goodbyes? Cold!” Sam calls, but you ignore him.

Safely inside, you shut the door behind you and sit back in your chair, eyes closing. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself, trying to regain your composure.

“Is everything alright? Your pulse is elevated.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rings out. Called out by the AI? Great. Not to mention if she realizes your pulse is elevated, there’s no way Bucky and Steve didn’t notice too.

“I’m fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y., thank you.”

Trying to relax, you log on to your computer and scroll through a few emails that came in while you were out, responding to a few, but deciding ultimately to start editing those photos.

When you get to the one of Bucky and Sam, you upload it, but delete it off the camera. Fidgeting, you open a new email.

Subject: Photos from Hospital Trip - attached Sergeant Barnes, Thought you might want this photo from the trip today. Won’t be using it for PR, so I attached a copy. I’ll send one to Sam, as well.

You hit ‘send’ before you can talk yourself out of it, and get busy editing so you’re not tempted to stare at your inbox all day.

.

.

.

The next day, a knock at your office door breaks your concentration, and you peer at the door overtop your reading glasses.

“Is this a bad time?”

Bucky.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, come in.” You stand and start to clear some paperwork from your desk, shoving everything in a drawer in an attempt to look like you’ve got it together. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see the other pictures from the hospital trip, if that’s okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling. “The one you sent was… good. You mentioned if I wanted copies…”

“Sure, yeah. I can pull them up…” you slide back into your desk chair, fingers flying over your keyboard. “I just finished editing them this morning. Any in particular?”

“Just want to see whatever you’ve got, if that’s okay.”

You realize what a predicament you’re in when he comes around your desk to peer at the screen, his large frame taking up more space than you’re prepared for. He’s close. He also smells really good, like clean laundry, and something woodsy… you clear your throat, pulling up the photos he wants to see.

“These are really good,” he murmurs, and you can just tell that he’s smiling.

You open your mouth to say something flirty, you hope, but you’re interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Sergeant Barnes? There’s a visitor waiting for you in the lobby.”

You can practically feel him tense up. Everyone he knows lives here.

“Who is it?”

“She says you met at the hospital, sir. Allison Smith?”

Bucky’s face screws up in confusion. He looks down at you. “I better go see what this is about.” He pauses, halfway to the door. “Thanks again,” he says, a slow, devastating smile stretching across his face. You feel your heart rate speed up again, and curse him under your breath when he leaves.

He’s definitely under your skin, and you just wish he wasn’t so… stupidly handsome. Maybe then you’d be able to just treat him like another coworker.

.

.

.

A few hours later, you’re in the common area looking for Pepper. You need her to sign off on a few marketing proposals, and want to ask her about the photos from the hospital trip. When you get to the sitting area, you’re struck by the sight of a small girl sitting there, a stuffed animal in her lap.

“Um.” You say out loud, not really expecting an answer.

“Who are you?” She asks loudly.

“Who am I?” You sputter, “I should be asking you that.”

“Do you have super powers?”

You blink. “What? No. I’m--”

“You’re just normal, then?” She asks, deadpan.

You open your mouth to reply but then Bucky and Steve come into the room, both with furrowed brows and slightly wide eyes. They look a little shell shocked. You’d laugh if you weren’t so confused.

“What’s with this…sassy lost child?”

“She ran away from home. I guess she hit it off with Bucky yesterday while we visited with her sister at the hospital, and wanted to come see him.” Steve says, and you watch as Bucky goes to sit next to the small girl, asking her something in a low, gentle voice.

“How did she get here?”

“Stole some money from her Mom’s purse and took a cab,” Steve scowls, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Gotta give it to her, she’s got guts.”

Bucky, meanwhile, is showing the girl something on his tablet, the sound turned down but whatever it is makes her laugh. You can’t help but smile. Honestly… it’s like the universe is engineering these moments to force you to realize how attractive you find him.

“Her name is Allison.” Steve smiles, despite himself. “Her parents are on their way, but they live in the city. It’s going to be a little while. Any chance you can help keep her occupied?”

You snort. “I don’t know, she wasn’t very impressed with me.

Almost as if on cue, you feel someone tugging on your pant leg. “Excuse me? Mr. Bucky says you have a camera. A big one. Can I see it?”

You look over at Bucky, who shrugs.

“Sure thing,” You crouch down, “I might even know where we can get some candy, too.”

Allison’s eyes light up, her small hand gripping yours. You straighten up, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Coming, Sergeant?” You ask, and Bucky’s eyes flash with… something, before he nods.

“Sure. Can’t leave my best girl alone, can I?” He asks, coming over to take Allison’s other hand.

You swallow hard, and the three of you start walking towards the elevators.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let you know when her parents are here,” Steve calls, and Bucky waves his free hand over his head in acknowledgement.

The three of you make quite the sight walking through the halls of the compound, both holding hands with the small girl, who keeps chattering away, telling you both about her class at school.

You meet Bucky’s eyes over top of Allison’s head, and he raises his eyebrows as he smiles. You smile and duck your head, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to get through this day without turning into a literal puddle on the floor at Bucky’s feet.

In your office, Bucky takes up his spot by the door, sitting on the arm of a chair, arms crossed over his chest. Allison practically drags you to your desk, where your camera is sitting out.

You stand behind her to help her put the strap around her neck and show her how to look through the viewfinder. She giggles when Bucky makes a face at her when she aims the camera in his direction before snapping a photo. The sound is apparently satisfying, because she takes five more, and you step back, letting her do it on her own.

After an hour or so, she gets bored, and starts asking Bucky about his arm. At first you’re worried he might shut down, but he does the opposite. He gets down to her level and starts making up some grand story about how he got it, winking at you when he conveniently glosses over a lot of the details you know to be true.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts after a bit, letting you know that Allison’s parents are downstairs. The girl looks distraught.

“I’m gonna be in trouble!” She says, eyes welling up.

“I think we can work something out,” Bucky assures her, sweeping her up in his arms and tickling her sides as he pulls her over his shoulder. Her laugh is loud and bright, and you grin as you follow them out of the room and down to the elevator.

Steve is already there talking to Allison’s parents when you get to the lobby, Bucky holding Allison’s hand as you follow behind.

“I don’t want to go home,” She says sadly.

Bucky kneels down in front of her. “You can come visit whenever you want, okay? Just make sure your parents come with you next time.”

She nods. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Bucky.” She looks up at you. “Will you be here next time I come, too?”

You’re a little surprised she even cares, considering what a big crush on Bucky she has. “If you want me to be, sure. I’ll let you help me take more pictures.”

She grins, giving Bucky one last hug before scampering over to her parents, who look equal parts upset and relieved to see her. After they leave, Steve heads off to who knows where, and you find yourself back in the elevator with Bucky.

You feel fidgety, like you don’t know what to say. You also feel like the air between you is charged, and it’s making you nervous.

“You were good with her,” you say finally, not able to stand the silence anymore.

He smiles softly. “I like her. She reminds me…” he trails off, shaking his head. “She reminds me of my kid sister.”

The smile on your face fades. He notices, and reassures you. “It’s okay.” He swallows, looks away for a moment. “You were good with her too. She liked you.”

You blush, “It helps when you have a camera.”

He scratches his beard. “She’s not the only one who likes you, you know?”

Before you can even formulate a response other than what is happening right now, the doors open, signalling your floor. He gestures for you to walk out ahead of him, and the rest of the walk to your office is silent. You think he can’t possibly have meant what you want him to mean. What reason would he have for liking you?

You’re moving around your desk trying desperately to put space between the two of you before he can say anything. “So, I’ll send you copies of those photos, and some of the ones Allison took today, if you want. If not, I’ll just--”

“Hey,” he says gently, coming up closer to you. “Hang on. If I was out of line back there, I’m sorry.”

Your brain is short circuiting. “No! No, you werent, I--” You’re flustered, unable to get your words out. All you know is you can’t let him leave. You stop yourself, briefly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I like you. I do, but you make me so nervous.”

Bucky has the most smug smile on his face when you open your eyes. “Yeah?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, god. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try not to,” he says, smiling, his eyes intense on yours. “Any chance you’re free for dinner tonight?”

“I could probably pencil you in somewhere.”

A surprised laugh escapes him as he takes a few steps backwards out of your office, pointing at you. “Oh, you’re good. Yeah, see if you can make room for a recovering amnesiac to go out to dinner with a pretty girl, will you?”

Your mouth falls open. “Bucky! That’s not funny!”

He’s still grinning. “It was a little funny.”

“You’re… you’re so…”

He changes course, coming a few steps closer to you. “Go on…” His eyes are practically smoldering.

You blush furiously, trying not to keep smiling like a total idiot. This man just… god, he has a way of making you feel like a teenager again.

“I don’t have plans tonight.” You tell him.

Triumphantly, he claps his hands together. “Perfect how that worked out.”

“Uh huh.”

One more step closer.

“For the record, I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks. You make me a little nervous, too.”

His voice is like honey poured over gravel. Smooth but rough at the same time. You think you’d listen to him read the phone book.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

He hums in agreement, but whatever he was about to say next is interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. saying he’s late for training with Natasha.

“Does seven work for you?” He asks.

“I suppose it does.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. “Trouble. I should have known you’d be trouble.” He backs out of the room again. “I’ll see you at seven.”

You almost collapse into your desk chair when he leaves, struggling to keep your heart from beating its way right out of your chest. God. You have a date tonight. A date with Bucky Barnes.

Your computer still has that shot of Bucky and Sam pulled up, the one where he’s looking straight into the lens, and you can’t help the butterflies that start up in your stomach. You glance at your watch and suddenly can’t wait for seven o’clock to arrive.

[hotforharrison]

Meet & Greet ch 13

Chapter 12 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 14

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: You missed out on a Tom Holland meet and greet, but a stranger, who you are pretty sure is a Tom Holland lookalike, rescues you from your pity party for one.

Word Count: 1,507

Warnings: The usual smut and language

A/N: I’m surprised how much love this has gotten. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

Your fantasies before you’d met Tom were mostly of the ‘boring’ vanilla variety. You’d definitely enjoyed all of the vanilla things you tried with him, and liked repeating your favorites. Trying new things held a different sort of excitement, though.

You had the sex toys you hadn’t gotten to yet waiting in his bedroom, but you still had over a week to get to those before your trip was over, and an indeterminate amount of time after.

You really wanted to know what other options were out there. It led to you browsing suggestions for things people tried to spice up their sex lives and definitions of fetishes and sex acts that hadn’t even occurred to you before.

Some of it was a definite and immediate, “no,” but other things piqued your curiosity. Role-playing sounded particularly interesting to you. You were worried it wouldn’t be good for Tom, though, since his job was essentially the same thing. Minus the sex part. (Although he’d make a good porn star.)

“”Is that a list of kinks?” Tom asked, looking over your shoulder from behind the couch.

You jumped, startled, and instinctually clutched your phone to your chest to hide it. After a moment, you tipped your head back to stare up at him, upside-down. “Maybe?”

“Is there something you should tell me?” He smirked down at you.

“I’m just curious,” you admitted. “People like so many different things.”

“They do,” he agreed. “Anything strike your fancy?”

“Well…” You shifted nervously.

“Well?” he prompted you to continue.

“How do you feel about role-playing?” you asked nervously.

“Depends. What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to try the teacher-student thing,” you confessed nervously.

“I know my assignment is late, but ma’am I can-” he started in his Peter Parker voice.

With a groan, you interrupted, “don’t do that!”

There was now a major disconnect in your mind with Tom Holland, movie star and Spiderman, and Tom, the (relatively) normal guy you’d thoroughly enjoyed spending the last few days with. You liked the latter much, much better.

“Don’t do what?” he asked, still using the accent, and sporting a shit-eating grin.

“You know what. Sound American. It’s weird.” You couldn’t help but laugh, though.

He leaned over, lips meeting yours, and gave you a long and thorough Spiderman kiss. That you actually really liked, even if the angle was a bit strange at first.

After he reluctantly pulled away, you asked, “Are you done being Peter Parker now?”

“Sorry, love,” he apologized, obviously not sorry, but at least in his natural British accent. “I am.”

A moment of silence passed, before you told him, “when I fantasize about it, it’s not like that.”

“I know. I figured you’d be the one who wanted to do anything necessary to earn her A.”

You nodded. “It’s not weird for you, though, since acting is your job?” you asked, still concerned.

“Not at all,” he reassured you. “Work is scripted, and more importantly, I don’t get to cum at work.”

You chuckled and watched him walk around the couch and over to the coffee table. He picked up the pen and notebook that contained The List and turned to a blank page. He scribbled something down, tore out the piece of paper, and handed it to you.

Then, he walked behind you and sat down at the kitchen table with the notepad and pen in front of him, looking down at it and pretending to work.

You glanced down at the paper. It said “EXAM” in large letters in the middle of the page, with a circled F at the top, and “See me!” written next to it.

Your heart rate picked up as you approached the kitchen table, already wet in your panties and you hadn’t even started yet. You took a deep breath. “You wanted to see me after class, sir?”

He looked up from the notebook. “Yes. You failed your exam, and you’re very close to failing the course. A levels are soon, and you’ll never get into uni at this rate.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You paused, crinkling the paper in your hand nervously. “Is there something I can do to bring up my grade? Maybe some extra credit?”

“If I offer extra credit to you, I have to offer it to everyone,” he pointed out.

“Please, sir,” you begged. “I can’t afford to fail this class.”

“I don’t know.” He tapped the pen against the notebook, looking pensive. “Well, there might be one thing you can do for me.”

“I’ll do anything!” you quickly responded, wondering what that ‘anything’ was going to be. Maybe he’d fuck you while you were bent over his ‘desk.’ You hadn’t tried anything in the kitchen yet.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

You paused, uncertain what the answer was supposed to be, or if it even mattered. “No, sir,” you eventually settled on.

“I must admit I’m surprised. You’re a very attractive young woman,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” you responded, looking down shyly, “but what does that have to do with my grade?”

“You’re always nibbling on the end of your pen, biting your lip, sticking the tip of your tongue out while you’re thinking, drawing attention to your mouth.”

You started to realize where this was going, and tried not to smile. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” you said, coyly.

“You’re going to stop being a tease today.” He stood and pushed the chair back in. “Are you ready to earn your extra credit?”

You knew your arousal was probably palpable at this point, and your mouth was already starting to water at the thought of sucking his cock again.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, knowing you weren’t doing a great job of hiding how eager you were.

He used your shoulders to push you down to your knees in front of him. The paper you were holding slipped from your fingers down onto the floor.

You could see the outline of his erection against the fabric of pants, and watched as he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped them. Who was being the tease now? He finally pulled his cock out.

There was a drop of precum on the tip, and you glanced up at him as you made a show of licking it away. You alternated between unhurriedly running your tongue over and wetly mouthing at the head, the shaft, down to the base and back up again, curious what he’d do next.

“I thought I said you were going to stop being a tease,” he eventually commented.

You pulled your mouth back and looked directly up at him. “I’m sorry, sir.” Then, you actually took his cock in your mouth and started to bob your head shallowly, glancing up at him again through your lashes. He seemed unimpressed.

“You don’t listen very well, do you?” He buried his fingers in your hair and guided your head to move over him faster and deeper, but obviously still mindful of your gag reflex.

This was new, and you were definitely into it. You couldn’t help but moan around him as he fucked your mouth, taking what he wanted instead of waiting patiently for you to give to him. It was evidently working for him, too, because it didn’t take much time before you could tell he was getting close.

You slipped your hand into your pants, then panties, as inconspicuously as you could, afraid he’d tell you to stop. He fortunately didn’t. When your fingers found your clit and started rubbing it slickly, you moaned louder around his cock, and moved your fingers faster. It didn’t take very long to push you over the edge.

While you were in the midst of your orgasm, his thrusts into your mouth grew rougher and more erratic, less careful about avoiding your gag reflex. You choked a bit on his cock, but found that it didn’t bother you. Maybe another thing to revisit at some point.

Long moments later, he spilled onto your tongue, crying out your name, fingers flexing in your hair.

Already coming down from your high, you swallowed quickly, the taste only briefly on your tongue. He soon softened enough to slip out of your mouth, but left his hands where they were. You rested your head against his still clothed thigh, breathing hard.

“Sorry,” he apologized eventually. “Didn’t mean to make you gag.”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, voice a bit rough. “I didn’t mind.”

His fingers started gently massaging your scalp. You leaned into his touch. “Did it live up to your fantasies?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “I’m not really an actor, though.”

“I could tell,” he said, drily, carefully pulling his fingers out of your now slightly tangled hair.

“Was it good for you?” you asked, hopeful, as he helped you get to your feet again.

“It was.” He paused. “Are there any other scenarios you’d like to try?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “Let me think about it.”

He kissed you before saying, “I look forward to hearing what you come up with.”

Tag list: @drown-me-before-dema-does @tom-hollands-blog @tylers-ankles-beebos-forehead @moorehollandplz @delicatepeterparker @thollandss @musicalburrage @captainbuckyy @adayasgeorgia

[the-desolated-quill]

We Need To Talk About James Gunn - Quill’s Scribbles

This could prove to be the most controversial Scribble I’ve ever written on this blog, and the sad thing is it really shouldn’t be, in my opinion.

First off, a couple of disclaimers because I know some people are going to accuse me of ‘bias’. I’ve never been very fond of James Gunn as a filmmaker, it’s true. I thought the first Guardians Of The Galaxy movie was okay at best and I absolutely hated the sequel, but I confess that’s less to do with any inherent flaws in the films themselves and more to do with the fact that I just don’t like Gunn’s style of humour. Oh don’t get me wrong. There are still legitimate problems, which I’ll go into later when they become relevant, but I’m big enough to admit that my dislike for his brand of comedy and storytelling is merely due to my own subjective tastes (the same is true of Taika Waititi and Thor: Ragnarok).

Okay. So. Let’s talk about James Gunn.

As I’m sure most of you know, in July 2018, an alt-right conspiracy theorist called Mike Cernovich unearthed tweets made by Gunn between 2008 and 2012 where he made offensive jokes and remarks about sensitive topics such as rape, child abuse and paedophilia. While James Gunn did apologise and vowed to ‘do better,’ Disney, fearing the public backlash, fired Gunn as director of Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol. 3 and dismissed him from any role in producing and expanding Marvel’s planned ‘Cosmic Universe.’ The result was the public backlash Disney were trying to avoid in the first place. They received a lot of criticism from various entertainers and filmmakers, as well as many media outlets such as Collider and The Independent, the cast of Guardians wrote a letter urging Disney to reconsider their decision with Dave Bautista in particular being very vocal in his criticism, and there was a massive outcry from fans who petitioned for Gunn to be rehired. Guy Lodge, writing for The Guardian, asked the question ‘Was James Gunn the first undeserving victim of Hollywood’s new zero tolerance policy?’ Now I’d argue the answer to that question is a definitive no, but apparently, and surprisingly, that’s not a very popular opinion among liberals. So I’d very much like to challenge them as we explore James Gunn’s moral character and ask ourselves why he’s being defended so passionately.

Before we go any further, I think it would be a good idea for me to show you some of the tweets that we’re talking about, just to remind everyone what we’re dealing with here.

Now I hope we can all agree that this is objectively disgusting. Only an amoral, depraved and utterly moronic individual would find offensive tweets like these even remotely funny. But I should make it clear that, by James Gunn’s own admission, these tweets represent who he was rather than who he is. In his apology, he described himself as a ‘provocateur’ during the early days of his career, making shocking statements for the purposes of ‘satire.’ But it’s okay because he’s a better person who has grown and matured fully and will never do this again. Fair enough, you’d think. He admitted what he did was wrong and apologised profusely. That was a very honourable and decent thing to do.

Except we’ve seen this song and dance before.

In 2012, roundabout when Marvel announced they were making a Guardians Of The Galaxy movie with James Gunn directing, an old blog post of Gunn’s resurfaced entitled ‘The 50 Superheroes You Most Want To Have Sex With.’ The original post has since been deleted, but cached versions still exist here and there around the internet if you know where to look. Here are a few quotes from said blog:

[on natasha romanoff, the highest ~debut] “considering she’s fucked half the guys in the marvel universe, that’s quite a feat”

[on batwoman] “i’m hoping for a dc-marvel crossover so that tony stark can turn her; she could also have sex with nightwing and still be a lesbian”

”Many of the people who voted for the Flash were gay men. I have no idea why this is. But I do know if I was going to get fucked in the butt I too would want it to be by someone who would get it over with quick.”

Needless to say, this was quite offensive and causing bad PR, so James Gunn issued an apology:

“A couple of years ago I wrote a blog that was meant to be satirical and funny. In rereading it over the past day I don’t think it’s funny. The attempted humor in the blog does not represent my actual feelings. However, I can see where statements were poorly worded and offensive to many. I’m sorry and regret making them at all.

People who are familiar with me as evidenced by my Facebook page and other mediums know that I’m an outspoken proponent for the rights of the gay and lesbian community, women and anyone who feels disenfranchised, and it kills me that some other outsider like myself, despite his or her gender or sexuality, might feel hurt or attacked by something I said. We’re all in the same camp, and I want to do my best to make this world a better place for all of us. I’m learning all the time. I promise to be more careful with my words in the future. And I will do my best to be funnier as well. Much love to all – James”

Sound familiar?

Now of course it’s unfair to judge the man based on past actions that he himself apologised for. What matters is the present. Whether or not he has demonstrated to a reasonable standard that his work has grown and matured and that his offensive idiocy is a thing of the past. So let’s look at the Guardians Of The Galaxy movies.

While the first movie received critical acclaim, a few people (particularly fans of the source material) complained about how Gamora was treated. The so called ‘most powerful woman in the galaxy’ was reduced to a love interest, an occasional damsel in distress and there were a few odd occasions where she was objectified and degraded based on her sexual history. The most prominent example of which is when Drax describes her as ‘a green whore.’ The context being that he was ignorant of how offensive he was being despite trying to compliment her and call her a friend, and this was played for laughs in the movie. The second movie has more examples. Gamora’s role still paled in comparison to the role she played in the comics, and a new female character called Mantis was introduced whose power level from the comics was also significantly reduced for the movie and whose character was effectively reduced to be a punchline/punching bag. There’s also a scene involving Drax where he frequently describes her as ugly, saying that "when you're ugly and someone loves you, you know they love you for who you are. Beautiful people never know who to trust." Again this is played for laughs. Except I’d argue that an adult man constantly fixating on a woman’s appearance isn’t even remotely funny. 

Another disturbing aspect of the Guardians 2 was the way it seemed to romanticise and excuse abusive relationships. Obviously there’s Drax and Mantis, but the biggest example is Star Lord and Yondu. The first movie did a reasonably good job establishing what drew Star Lord and Gamora together. They were both trying to escape from abusive father figures. The second film does a complete U-turn, calling Yondu Star Lord’s ‘David Hasselhoff’ and giving him a gratuitous and overly sentimental funeral as though he were a noble hero. While I’m sure the death of Yondu would emotionally impact Star Lord to a certain extent (he did raise the kid after all), to say that he’s like ‘David Hasselhoff’ because he’s a better dad than Ego the Living Planet was seems like a very low bar to clear. By that logic, Hitler was a good person because he didn’t kill as many people as Stalin did. It’s tone deaf, lacking in nuance and just a little bit insulting.

Bearing all this in mind, has James Gunn grown and matured since the period between 2008 and 2012? That’s for you to judge. I’d personally argue he hasn’t. Sure he’s no longer as extreme or provocative as he once was, but that’s not necessarily proof that he’s matured. Rather he’s just gotten better at hiding his immaturity. And in my own subjective opinion, based on his work, I think Disney made the right decision in sacking him. Now let me be clear, I don’t think Disney sacked him in order to take a moral stand as a lot of the problematic elements in the Guardians films have carried over into other MCU films. Gamora is still treated like shit in Avengers: Infinity War, and Thanos, who, like Yondu, was clearly established in the first Guardians movie as an abusive father figure, has been woobified and turned into a kind of sympathetic anti villain who actually cared about his daughter and only killed her because he had no other choice (as opposed to, you know, because he is a maniacal despot who’s a few Oompa Loompas short of a chocolate factory). The reason Gunn was fired was because of bad PR. Disney had dealt with this shit before in 2012 and they weren’t prepared to deal with it again, so they dropped the baggage, as it were. It’s a very common occurrence in Hollywood. Which is what makes the public backlash against this decision so puzzling to me.

I can understand being upset that the director of your favourite franchise has been fired, but can we try to get some perspective here? What happened to Gunn is nothing unique. This kind of thing happens all the time. A filmmaker does something controversial or has been revealed to have done something controversial in the past, the studio sacks them in an attempt to save face and everyone gets on with their lives. The situation with James Gunn is no different. The only reason I can see why people are so passionately against this is because of how these tweets were unearthed in the first place. Because the discoverer of the tweets, Mike Cernovich, is a member of the alt-right, the liberal community seem predisposed to dismiss this out of hand, which I think is incredibly dangerous. Okay, yes, Cernovich is a Nazi and almost certainly didn’t do this out of the goodness of his heart, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. It doesn’t change the fact that the tweets still exist and that they’re still incredibly offensive. And all the things I’ve heard people say in defence of James Gunn sound very similar to things the right would say about the likes of Brett Cavanaugh and Donald Trump. ‘It was x number of years ago.’ ‘It’s not relevant to who he is now.’ ‘He’s changed.’ ‘You can’t judge someone based on their past mistakes.’ I mean... come on guys! Either everyone should be held to the same standard or nobody should be held to standards at all. You can’t just change tact just because the person in question has the same political ideals as you. What are we saying? It’s okay for liberals to hold conservatives accountable for past actions and behaviour, but the right can’t do it to the left because apparently it’s not as funny when they do it? It’s classic ‘them and us’ mentality and it’s got to stop.

So, why am I bringing all this up, you may be asking? This happened over six months ago Quill. Aren’t you a little late to the party? Well a couple of days ago, it was announced that Warner Bros and DC Films had hired James Gunn to write and direct a sequel to Suicide Squad.

Well... sequel isn’t quite the right word. Apparently it’s more along the lines of a reimagining. Titled ‘The Suicide Squad’, the film is going to follow a whole new cast of characters and effectively start from scratch. No doubt this is part of WB and DC’s attempts to salvage the DC Extended Universe after the critical and financial disaster that was Justice League, as well as a response to people’s criticisms of the previous Suicide Squad film.

Writer/director David Ayer’s version of Suicide Squad was... let’s be charitable and call it problematic. Many people criticised the film for being misogynistic, borderline racist due to the one dimensional characterisation, and particular outrage was directed toward Ayer’s attempts to romanticise the relationship between the Joker and Harley Quinn. So it’s quite ironic that WB and DC are relying on James Gunn - James Gunn?!?! - to fix Suicide Squad when similar criticisms have been made toward the Guardians Of The Galaxy movies. That’s like hiring Harvey Weinstein to investigate sexual harassment claims.

And do you know what the funny thing is? We’ve been in this exact same situation before. In February 2017, news media started to report that WB and DC were eyeing Mel Gibson, the Oscar nominated director of Hawksaw Ridge and professional arsehole, to direct Suicide Squad 2. I even wrote a Scribble on it then. I heavily criticised WB and DC for caring more about snagging an Oscar nominated director to bolster their failing franchise than about holding certain ethical standards of decency within the industry. Oh, sure, Gibson has said many sexist, homophobic and antisemitic comments for years and has never at any point showed any hint of remorse for the amount of offence he’s caused, but he just made a good movie about Spider-Man fighting in World War II, so it all balances out, doesn’t it? We’re good, right? We’re cool. Gibson’s cool now. Yeah?

And now here we are seeing this play out again. James Gunn, a man who has said some incredibly offensive things over the years, is being hired by WB and DC to helm a new Suicide Squad movie and conveniently ignoring all the problematic shit surrounding him because he’s the guy that made those sci-fi films about the talking raccoon. People love those films. Let’s get him on board.

I’m getting so sick to death of actors and filmmakers getting away with shit and avoiding the consequences of their actions. James Gunn and his offensive tweets, Mel Gibson and his shitty behaviour, Kevin Hart and his temper tantrum when he was expected to apologise for being a homophobic prick. And the few times there are consequences for said actions, people of influence within the industry end up undermining it. WB and DC hiring James Gunn so soon after he was sacked by Disney, and Ellen fucking Degeneres ringing the Academy and persuading them to let Kevin Hart host the Oscars. Thankfully, and to his genuine credit, Hart turned it down, but seriously, what the actual fuck Ellen?! You’re LGBT, aren’t you? Why are you giving him a free pass? Do you have short term memory loss like the fish you voice in Finding fucking Nemo? Jesus Christ!

Finally, to people saying that Disney treated James Gunn too harshly for the tweets, may I remind you that when ‘The 50 Superheroes You Most Want To Have Sex With’ resurfaced in 2012, Disney still kept him on! He still got to write and direct two Marvel movies before finally getting the sack. And he was in talks to lead production in all future ‘Cosmic’ Marvel movies going forward before the resurfaced tweets made that impossible. Too harshly? I think he got off extremely lightly, frankly. I think he’s grotesquely lucky he’s still got a job at all. Let alone a job where he continues to direct tentpole blockbusters. For someone who was treated ‘too harshly’, he’s sure done alright for himself, hasn’t he? He’s not Oliver Twist begging movie studios to give him a film, cap in hand, ‘please sir, may I have some more?’ His position hasn’t changed one iota. That’s what we should be pissed off at. Not that he’s being unfairly punished. That he’s not being punished enough roughly seven years after the fact.

So what should we take away from all this? That we need to hold everyone accountable for their past actions and behaviour, regardless of whether they share our political beliefs or whether they were involved in films we actually like, and that the industry needs to do a better job of upholding the consequences of said actions. And regardless of whether you thought Disney were right to sack James Gunn, it cannot be denied that WB and DC handing the keys of another profitable franchise over to him so soon after this controversy is an incredibly irresponsible thing to do.

[mackdizzy]

hey brother, do you still believe in one another?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667843

Fandom: GRAVITY FALLS

Pairings: Stan and Ford (NON-ROMANTIC/NON-INCESTUAL)

Rating: T

Warnings: Eye Trauma/Horror, (Nothing too graphic!) Mental Trauma/PTSD (On Ford’s part,)//brief Bill mentions, etc. 

Summary:  intergalactic bounty-hunter AU. 8 pages of teeth rotting stan twins hurt-comfort, because I need nothing more in this world, apparently.

A/N: My first published one-shot, after I've done a lot of publishing and deleting; I think I'll keep this one up for good, though, I'm quite proud of it. Inspired by an rp I'm hashing out with @lemonpie , the entire love of my life. Also dedicated to those on the Fandom Fields discord server. You guys have made my week, seriously.

AU that Probably Has A Name But I Don't Know It in which when Mullet!Stan came back to see Paranoid!Ford, instead of fighting like idiots they made up, got Ford better, and are now intergalactic, multidimensional bounty hunters who love eachother a lot and care about eachother a lot.

It's pretty simple, guys. 8 pages of fluff because my poor little heart needs it.

First things first: shoes off. Ford hates the dirt.

It was surprisingly early when they returned to the room; barely breaching 4 in the afternoon. Apart from the trouble of finding a place to stay (you thought hotels were hard to find in your own dimension?), Stan and Ford usually stayed out late enough anyway. There was evidence to gather, there were clues to collect, there were people to bring to safety; all of this denouncing the fact that there was usually also something to kill, of course.

It had been almost a year since they’d completed the portal and left that old house behind. Not left it behind for good, per say; they would come back every now and then to drop off old gear and pick up new stuff, make sure nothing bad had gotten in when they were away--sometimes they just needed a break from all of….this. But not always, not usually. Breaks were appreciated, but the work was exciting, dutiful, and never-ending. Breaks were best (and usually) taken at moments like these, when they had the time to spare; him fixing the weapons, Ford poured over one of his journals or a book he managed to find, both of them hashing over what they were going to do tomorrow over cheap interdimensional food (strawberry waffles tasted good in any multiverse, his brother would always insist).

The routine wasn’t always as straightforward as that, but nothing the two of them did would ever really be considered straightforward. There were bumps in the road; there had been bumps in the road all year, really, but after the first week in that house “alone” with his brother, that was sort of to be expected. They did what was natural; they worked them out. Because that’s what family did, and because there was nothing he’d rather have done.

Currently they were located--precisely, he noted, pulling out the pocket compass-- at -36.85271, -68.54629, 1.56. If they were back at Ground Zero, he’d note them somewhere in South America (Argentina, maybe, or Chile). Here in the moonshine dimension (which apparently had nothing to do with liquor, despite the fact that he felt drunk every time he looked out the window), the cliffsides remained, but that was about all; the grass was magenta and the sky was a deep purpley color, and the stars saturated the sky so richly, 24/7, that they were almost blinding. Stan would’ve been happy to sit by the windowsill and stare all night, but they had work to do---and besides, they never left the windows open.

Normally, they found absolutely any living space that felt hospitable and plopped down for the night--they were the opposite of picky--but after a couple of rough nights in a particularly rough part of the southern woods, he was delighted to hear Ford say matter-of-factly that he had connections in the mountains, and that’s where they were headed. They’d spent the entire morning traveling, and 4 hoverbuses in plus a lot of hiking later, he’d made the executive decision to check them in and call it a day. Unconfronted yet with the roofwalker who owned the place, someone who Ford had said it would be crucial to talk to, they’d checked themselves in nonetheless and taken the elevator up 38 stories to the bedroom arrangement.

Kitchenette in the corner, desk and 2 chairs, television, bookshelf (empty). Attached bathroom and bedroom--another TV, 2 chests of drawers. And 2 beds. They were always given 2 beds, and they always started out arranging themselves across both, and yet both beds were never actually slept in.

Still: shoes off first, because Ford hated the dirt. He unlaced his boots and threw them casually by the door, hoping that wouldn’t annoy his brother too much. What happened next was calculated routine. He took the window bed, threw his massive bag down. Crossed to the window, locked it, pulled the shades tight, wrapped the cord around the lock to keep them shut. Repeated the process with the window in the sitting room. Moved to the door, locked it tight, pulled the door bolt. Checked the lock on the bathroom and then checked all four locks again, just for safety measures. Next he spot-checked the room, corner to corner; their reputation wasn’t massive, but it was still slightly dangerous, so every inch was scrubbed for cameras, bugs, and any geometrically-suspicious looking artwork. Finally, lights on, buzzing radiator off, windows weatherstripped for sound prevention, tea on the kettle.

Ford never really watched him do any of this; it was more of a safety-net set of activities than anything. Ford didn’t stare at the windows so much if he knew he’d locked them, didn’t direct so much erratic attention to the corners if he knew they’d been checked. So once everything was underway, tea included, he made his way into the bedroom, to find Ford cross-legged on his bed, poured over one of his journals, referring to the other two and a general mass of paper around him as he scribbled. Stan leaned on the doorframe and raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Ford, what are the beds for?” He tried not to sound too naggy, but he knew Ford’s sleep habits improved significantly if he wasn’t doing most of his work in the same place. He’d read that on a travel blog somewhere ...he thinks.

“You’re not my mother, Stan.” Ford grumbled in return, but it was half-hearted, and he stood anyway, gathering the paper in a messy armful and carrying it to the desk anyway. Stan took the chance to stand behind his brother and peer over his shoulder, where his loops of neat script had begun filling the newest blank page of the journal.

“Shapeshifters, huh?” He noted, fingers drumming against the back of Ford’s chair. They’d only dealt with shapeshifters once or twice--most of them were nasty, selfish creatures, the conscientious ones interested only in self preservation. With such little regard for the species, he wondered how they populated, but he supposed that could be said for some lines of human lineage as well.

“I believe that is what we’re working with, yes. With all we’ve encountered, I’ve yet to do an official entry.”

He leaned further against the hard-backed chair Ford was situated in, squinting his eyes at his handwriting. His dyslexia had never made it easy to read any of the perfect, neat script Ford had started writing in around age eleven. He did really like the drawings, though; his brother was an amazing artist, something they’d never really known about until he’d started drawing the things they encountered. He let himself stare a bit and wonder at the ways Ford was even able to make something with no defined shape come alive on the page, and all his little frantic scribbles; messy with excitement, not panic. It was a nice sight, but Ford kept stopping to---well, at first he thought he was just brushing away his hair or fixing his glasses, but the 7th or 8th time in about two minutes, it finally set in.

“Hey, hey.” He said gently, nudging Ford’s shoulder. “Your eye ok?”

“Fine.” Came the simple response, which was Ford-speak for No, but I’m totally busy doing my nerd shit and don’t want to be bothered.

Still, Stan could be good for one thing, and it was this. “Let me see.” He sounded slightly naggy again, and Ford rolled his eyes at the ceiling, but some things couldn’t be helped, and he was grateful it worked when Ford spun awkwardly around in the seat and gave him a fixated stare.

“It’s swollen.” Stan said under his breath before even really getting a good look at it, because it was. Pretty red, too. “Look at my finger.” He said, directing his brother’s eye around. Motion was good, that was a start.

“Is it bleeding?” Ford asked, and the sad, wounded little tint in his voice might have been enough for him to lie about it if it was (as if he could ever lie to Ford), but luckily, it wasn’t. “No.” He said, gently. “It’s red, though.” And then he grabbed the chair from the desk across from the room and sat across from Ford, placing his hands on his lap, and Ford rolled his eyes and went to face the journal, but Stan pawed at his arm, infuriated, so he eventually turned around to face him.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Ford mumbled, averting both eyes. “Stan, I’d really like to get back to m--”

“Ford.” Just the slightest edge tinted his voice.

“It’s not fair!” Ford shot back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Stan could tell he was starting to get a little worked up, and he tilted his head, half in curiosity, half in concern. “It’s not fair that I have to be the one with a---full blown facial anxiety tracker!”

“You know I would’ve noticed anyway.” His voice tried to be gentle, not all-knowing or condescending, and the sentiment was enough to get Ford to crack a smile (albeit a wounded one), which was all he needed, really.

“It’s also quite unfair how you notice everything, Stanley.”

And that got him to laugh, and then he extended a hand and Ford took it. He stroked his thumb along the backside of Ford’s hand and he felt all six of his fingers relax in his grasp, and once they were both pretty calm, he tried again.

“What’s up?”

This time around there was more honesty. Ford looked at his hands for a moment before shutting his eyes tight, taking a shaky breath. When he spoke, it was very quiet. “Haven’t been sleeping.”

“Really? You’ve seemed pretty restful to me.” Inside he’s cursing himself, though, guilt overflooding him. He should’ve been paying more attention, but Ford hadn’t asked, hadn’t brought this up, and he never wanted to seem too pressing. Still, Ford was right, he did notice everything, or at least...he was supposed to.

“Yes, well, my body’s alright, but my mind---haven’t been dreaming right, keep going to the mindscape, I’m stuck, stuck with---with---stuck with-”

“Alright, alright.” He gave Ford’s hand a little squeeze, stopped him before he had to say it out loud. “That’s what I’m here for. Do you ...do you think it’s real?” He had to admit, the thought dried up his throat a little bit. What he’d seen was pale in comparison to what he’d heard from Ford, but the scars didn’t lie, and neither did his own haunting memories of that twisted, inhumane laugh coming from Ford’s lips.

“...No.” Ford replied, but it was hesitant, and it took a moment. “No.” He said again, more resolutely. “Just--just me in my head. It’s getting worse, though, it’s not real REM.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“About two weeks?”

“Ford.” He groaned, his hand covering his eyes, another sharp wave of guilt consuming him. “Jesus Christ. Two weeks? Why didn’t you tell me, Ford?”

“You always worry so much.”

“That’s my job, doofus.”

Ford didn’t say anything in response to that, so he stood, stretching his arms above his head, and yawned, throwing his coat onto his bed. “Alright. Executive decision. Showers and then we’re sleeping. That--” He pointed to whichever journal that was-- “Can wait for the morning.”

Ford’s eyes turned to the clock. “Stan, it’s barely 5.”

“Yeah, well, it’s 2 o’clock somewhere.” He yawned again, and this time Ford caught on and yawned back, flipping him off (with two fingers as per usual) lazily for making him catch it. He laughed, and Ford stood and sluggishly made his way towards the bathroom.

“Want me to come?”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you, though.”

He nodded and made his way into the bathroom off the sitting room, taking the tea off the kettle for when they were both out. Once he was done he fetched it and poured two glasses, making his way into the bedroom to see if Ford was done yet. He wasn’t, but he’d been expecting that, so he set both of the cups on the desk, set on his own bed, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He’d gotten quite good at just waiting--sorting through his thoughts, and though Ford was the list-maker, planning; these days, boredom was nonexistent, any downtime was appreciated. But he did start to worry slightly when 45 minutes later Ford was still in the bathroom, and he was about to go knock on the door when he heard a scream.

Ford’s scream.

He grabbed the gun out of his holster, changed the setting on it to the most powerful stun setting; not enough to knock Ford dead, but if something was in his body that shouldn’t be there, it would be enough to get it out. He’d had to use it twice before, and neither time had been pretty, so he hoped Ford was in control enough for it not to be necessary.

The bathroom door was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. He considered getting the lock kit from his bag, but hearing another scream was enough for him to discard that idea; he kicked at the hinge-points to loosen everything and then shouldered it hard enough to unlodge the lock before kicking it open the rest of the way. Hotel doors were always shit, no matter the dimension.

There was blood all over the counter, and it stained in the shower as well. Ice filled his veins and he could almost feel his breath stop, but Ford was still alive, still in there, needing him. One hand on the gun he pushed the shower open with the other, shoulders trembling. “Ford?” He said, concern in his voice, but a slight edge too; a warning, to anyone else.

Ford (Ford’s body?) was huddled in the corner, arms tight around his shoulders, his whole body trembling. Since he was undressed, it was easy to scan for the blood, and he was at least a little relieved to see that it was all coming from his eye--better for no blood at all, of course, but no self-decimation had occurred, and since that was usually Bill’s first step, it meant if there was possession, he was fighting it.

“Ford? Ford, are you with me?” He got down on his knees and reached out, safety out the window in lieu of his desperation to make things right, make things okay. Ford met his eyes, and another wave of relief--those eyes were so unmistakably his brothers, large and brown and mousy and right now they looked terrified, the left filled with tears, the right pouring blood. Those were Ford’s eyes, not anyone or anything else’s; so what mattered now was assistance, not violence, and he re-sheathed the gun, holding out both hands.

“Stan--Stan--” Ford gripped his sleeves and held on tight, tugging aimlessly, and he moved in closer, pulling his brother to his chest. It relieved him once again to see Ford clinging on; it meant he was processing things, he was still here, still recognizing him. “Stan, he’s--he’s coming, wants in, been too long without, Stan he’s angry, make me pay he wants me to pay Stan, I’m not safe you’re not safe watching, he’s watching, he’s--he’s--”

“Alright, Alright, Shh, shh--” There was blood in Ford’s hair from where he grabbed at it, blood on both hands, blood smeared on his face, and Stan just wanted to take him in his arms and gather him all up and make everything better for him. He held him close against his chest and whispered things into his hair as he ran his hands through it, down his back; useless, pitiful reassurances, I’m here, it’s okay, he’s not real, I’m real, you’re safe, until Ford’s racing mind finally gave out and he collapsed flat against his chest, head by his heartbeat, silent, still.

“There we go.” He soothed softly, tilting Ford’s chin up. “Whatever your head’s been givin’ you for the past two weeks, it’s bullshit. It doesn’t matter. I matter, and I’m right here.” Ford was soft like putty in his arms in a way that showed he trusted him, which of course meant the world to Stan after everything. Ford’s eyes met his solidly for a moment and he very briefly smiled but then he was out again, somewhere baseless and mindless, just breathing softly against his chest, the fingers on his left hand twitching gently against his leg. He stepped back just for a moment and turned the shower setting into the bath setting, laying Ford back in the tub with his head propped against the rim.

At that point he stepped out, getting a bundle of fresh towels from under the counter. He grabbed a couple of the mouthwash glasses (so as not to get blood in the tub) and used them with the water and shitty hotel soap from the tub to clean off Ford’s hands and face, taking his time and never stopping that soft mumbling, that soft reassuring Ford that he was safe, would be safe so long as he was here with him, and he was so brave and smart and strong, and that he could tell him anything at all, any time.

Eventually he set the soap down and doused the washcloth in water a few times, but he couldn’t even reach Ford’s eye before he felt six slim fingers close around his wrist. Gently he pulled back and caught Ford’s eyes, soft, and his smile, gentle.

“Hey.” Stan spoke, his voice barely audible above the dull running of the bathwater, beginning to work on Ford’s eye. His brother had since let go of his hand to let him work, but Stan had met his grasp with the other one, and rubbed his fingers alongside the back of Ford’s hand for the next few minutes as he worked to get him cleaned up, keeping his handiwork as gentle as possible. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Mmm.” Came Ford’s only response, half-cognisant, and he chuckled back, wringing out the last of the washcloths before brushing Ford’s messy curls away from his eyes.

“Alright, Brainiac. How about we hit the sack? I’m making sure you actually sleep tonight, idiot.” Ford nodded, half playfully half sleepily, and he stood, turned off the water, picked Ford up bridal style like he weighed nothing; he grumbled softly and fussed at first, and Stan was about to put him down when his brother apparently changed his mind, resting his head back against his chest. He set Ford down on his bed, and it only took a minute before he was sitting up, rubbing at his (good) eye sleepily. They both changed for bed, Ford climbing under the covers, and Stan sat on the edge of his bed but didn’t do anything further. “You want me here, or over there?”

A singular moment of silence, then Ford beckoned him over with two fingers. He wasn’t expecting anything less, not after tonight’s earlier confession, and frankly, he didn’t want anything less, so it was with no hesitance that he made his way over to the other bed; not by much, but big enough for two, and they’d slept in much more cramped spaces before. He laid on his back, one arm underneath Ford, the other one in his curls. It was a position that was nothing but familiar to them, albiet one he’d missed the past weeks, and he was happy to be giving something back to Ford for once; a night of good sleep was not arbitrary, not to them. Ford gently set his head on his chest, managed to get his arms over him and their legs tangled up in his sleep. He was cute when he slept, endearing when he mumbled math equations and excerpts about the paranormal.

It wasn’t long before he drifted off himself; day and night cycles didn’t exist here, so he set his alarm for a good solid 10 hours--way more than usual, but Ford needed it and they’d both earned it. He felt well-rested when it finally buzzed, and he was overjoyed to see Ford’s head still on his chest, his own chest still gently rising and falling, curly hair a mop around his head. He stirred gently when he heard the alarm, too, wiggling off Stan to rub at his eyes, and Stan placed a gentle kiss to his forehead before throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and stretching.

“Stanley?”

It was a very soft, very genuine call, and there was some caution as he turned his head, tilted it gently, furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, Ford?”

“Thank you...for what you did last night.” Ford met his eyes. “I don’t think I say thank you enough, Stanley.”

“‘S alright, Ford.” He said, walking around the bed and sitting on it next to him. Ford’s head lazily collapsed onto his shoulder. “I told you, that’s what I’m here for.”

But Ford wasn’t done. “And that I love you.” Their eyes met again, Ford’s at somewhat of a crossed angle from his head on his shoulder, and Ford’s hands went to his sleeves, gripping somewhat urgently. “I need you to know that, Stanley.”

He laughed slightly, pressing another soft kiss to his twin’s forehead. There was a minute of silence, just the rustling of the trees outside and the smell of last night’s forgotten tea in the air and the two twins who needed nobody else in the world cuddled close. Then Ford jumped to his feet, laughing.

“Race you down the stairs!”

“Seriously, Poindexter?” Stan stood too, brushing himself off. “You think you’re gonna beat me in a footrace?”

“Never said footrace.” Ford laughed, hefting his travel bag with one shoulder and the portal gun with the other. But Stan always had an extra trick or two up his sleeve.

“Ford?”

“What?”

“Love ya’ too.” When Ford’s face softened, like he’d never needed to hear any other words in his life, Stan took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his now-relaxed hand and toss it on the bed, sprinting for the door.

“Last one to the bottom buys waffles!”

If you liked this, I’d really appreciate some reblogs and even better, some feedback. Or if you think there’s something I can improve upon!! Hell, use the tags to tell me what you had for lunch. I don’t care. I hope you all enjoyed my first real fanfic though!!

[larryssunflower]

TRR AU- You Opened My Eyes

Pairing- Drake and Mc (Elle Garden)

Fake relationship girlies!!

Nsfw eventually (not this chapter)

tagging-Tagging my usuals, if you don’t want to be tagged, just let me know! - @simplyaiden-blog @butindeed @mfackenthal @confessionsofabrokegirl @american-duchess @drakelover78 @monosodiumglutamateme @crookedslimecreatorpasta @mrsdrakewalkerblog @traeumerinwitzhelden @gardeningourmet @speedyoperarascalparty  @agent-zephyrkah @snyggflicka

——

Elle’s Pov-

The ancient elevator creaks as it finally reaches my floor, and I step out, sighing and rubbing my forehead in exhaustion, my limbs feeling like lead. Another full night shift at the hospital working in the maternal unit. Apparently pregnant women love to give birth at three in the morning. I drag myself down the hallway, dropping my heavy bag at the door when I reach my apartment. I jiggle my bronze key in the old door, trying to get it at the right angle to eventually unlock it, grabbing my bag and pushing it open with my shoulder. I smack right into someone, making me yelp, jumping back. “What the fu-“ I start in surprise, my hand to my racing heart. On the ground in a crumped heap, blushing furiously, is a brunette girl in a sparkly black dress, smudged makeup and ruffled hair.

Oh another one of Drake’s girls. How sweet. I clear my throat awkwardly. “Heh. Sorry about that,” I say reaching my hand out for her. She smiles and grabs my hand gratefully. “Thank you,” She says in a sweet southern voice, wobbling slightly on her heels. “It’s no problem,” I say, smiling slightly. “I usually don’t do this kinda thing- ya know- one night stands, but Drake is just- different,” She gushes, as if she needs to explain herself to me. Oh poor girl. You have no idea what you just set yourself up for. I’m about to give her he bad news when she speaks up. “Well, Drake never told me his roomate was a gorgeous blonde,” she says, laughing and tucking her hair behind her ear bashfully.

“Aw you’re sweet, but seriously don’t feel threatened, Drake and I... would never happen,” I assure her, and she smiles warmly. “Okay well, I need to make it to my lecture,” She says, and I quickly move out of the way for her. “Oh yeah yeah, go ahead.” I smile, and she passes me gratefully, waving when she turns around the corner. I sigh, bending down to grab my bag and walk into our apartment. I hate that Drake is always hurting good girls like that. They don’t deserve it.

I kick the door shut behind me, and drop my keys and bag on the counter, slipping off my shoes. I groan in pain, shuffling down the hall to the bathroom, desperate for a shower.

—

After cleaning up and having a short nap, around noon I walk back into the kitchen, my stomach twisted in hunger. On the couch, not very far away sits Drake, scribbling on papaerwork, looking stressed. “Hey,” I mumble, opening the fridge door. “Hey Garden,” he mumbles back. I put together a sandwich silently, still half asleep. “ I met your friend this morning,” I say pointedly, slathering butter on the whole wheat bread. Drake chuckles.

“Heh. So you met... Amber- or was it Julie...” Drake says, stuttering and thinking to himself. I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You don’t even remember her name?” I ask, not with suprise but disgust. “Hey in my defense I was highly intoxicated last night,” Drake states, making me roll my eyes again. I plate my sandwich and plop down next to him on the couch. “Preying on poor college freshman in bars is really messed up-“ “-Shit!”Drake cuts me off, a look of pure horror on his face. “What? did you just realize what a monster you are?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

He turns to me, his eyes wide. “Next friday is Christmas!” He says with dismay and I nod slowly. “What’s your point?” I say, squinting my eyes at him. “I- I made a bet with Liam that I would have a serious girlfriend by Christmas,” Drake says, looking down with a look of disbelief on his face.

“That was a dumb bet,” I snort, taking another bite of my sandwich. “You know I can’t lose to Liam,” he says seriously, and I look over at him. “Well you better find a girlfriend fast then,” I say, shaking my head. Drake and I have known each other since middle school, so I know his family really well. They are basically my family. His brother, Liam, has always been outshining Drake, being the star football player with a 4.0 gpa. They are always trying to find ways to compete and almost all the time the competition gets really serious.

“Elle, I can’t just go onto the street and beg some girl to be my girlfriend.” Drake says, running his hand through his hair, agitated. “Just call up Julie or whatever her name is then,” I say simply. “You know that everyone will be asking questions. She doesn’t even know my last name! I need someone who knows me.“ he mumbles, looking throughly worried, as he runs his hand through his hair, looking down.

I can’t feeling a pang of pity. His and Liam’s dynamic is pretty intense. And Drake almost never ‘wins’ their competitions, always making him feel self conscious. Thinking, I bite my lip. I sigh, looking up in annoyance at myself and my selfless ways. “What if we pretended to be dating?” I suggest, and he turns to me in shock. “W-What?” He asks. “Drake, we’ve known each other for years, and your family already loves me. We can just pretend while you visit them for the holidays then tell them we broke up after New Years. No biggie,” I say, shrugging. Drake thinks it over for a minute before slowly nodding. “Alright, sounds like a plan,” he grins.

—-

Three days later:

Drake and I hop out of the taxi, grabbing our suitcases out of the back. “Thank you!” I say through the window to the taxi driver who just nods before pulling away. Drake and I start walking towards the check-in desk at the airport. Once the sliding doors open, Drake and I groan in unison, throwing our heads back at the huge lines and crowds.

“I hate Christmas,” I mumble as we make our way to our airline desk. I feel a hand on my arm, and I look over at Drake leading me away from the people. “What are you..?” I start but he shushes me, stopping at a secluded spot behind the lines, zipping open his suitcase. “I have an idea,” he whispers, still hunched over his now open suitcase. I just sigh, rubbing my forehead in exasperation. He finally stands up, handing me the deflated shell of a soccer ball, folded onto itself, creating a half spheric shape . “What do you want me to do with this?” I ask, turning it around in my hands. He zips up his suitcase wordlessly, before grabbing the soccer ball and shoving it under my jacket, right in front of my stomach.

I jump back, my hand on it. “What the fu-“ I start, but a women passing by cuts me off. “Congratulations!” She says, pointing at my stomach. It’s suddenly dawns on me. I shoot a quick glare at Drake, who has a smirking to himself, and plaster a fake smile on my face. “Thank you ma’am,” I say kindly, and she nods, wobbling away.

I near Drake, pointing a finger at his face angrily. “No! I’m not doing this,” I say sternly in a hushed tone, about to rip the ball out from my clothes, but he stops me. “Everyone gives pregnant ladies perks! Come on, if we want to make our flight this is our only option.” He says and I just glare at him for a minute.

“Fine. But I’m taking it off as soon as we land,” I grumble, snatching up the handle of my suitcase. “Yes ma’am,” Drake grins in triumph, following me. We get to the right lane, which also happens to be one of the longest lines. I take a deep breath before tapping the shoulder of an elderly couple near the front. “I’m so sorry, but could we please jump up front with you? We might miss our flight back home, and someone needs to come out soon!” I say in a fake but friendly tone, patting my stomach. The old couple’s faces light up with understanding. “Oh of course! Go right ahead!” The man says graciously, motioning for us. We gratefully go in front of them. “Good luck!” The wife chuckles, patting my shoulder. I chuckle lightly “thanks!” I say with a grin. “May god bless you,” Drake says kindly, making their faces light up with smiles. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes.

“‘May god bless you’? Seriously?” I whisper to Drake who just shrugs, grinning. He’s enjoying this too much. We get called up front and quickly check in our bags. We grab our boarding passes and make our way to security.

Amazingly, we pass through quickly, the bored tsa workers waving us through. Soon enough, we’re sitting on the plane, waiting to take off. I barely manage to strap in myself over the ridiculous ball. Drake snickers as he watches me adjust in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I shoot him a glare once again. “I swear to god I’m going to get you back for this Walker,” I snarl quietly, before going through my purse, grabbing my headphones.

The flight to Montana is short, I mostly just listen to my music, trying to block out Drake and his comments like “oh Elle do you want complementary champagne? Oh wait... you can’t!” His stupid satisfied smirk on his face. We finally make it off the plane, heading to the arrivals terminal.

“My mom sent me a text saying to look for a sign with our names and large red balloons,” Drake says, making me laugh. “Only Bianca,” I say to myself, shaking my head. I freeze. “Shit, my fake bump!” I whisper to Drake, who widens his eyes. “Fuck, go change in the bathroom,” He says, motioning to the nearest restrooms. I nod, heading that way quickly. Once I get into the stall I take the soccer ball out from under my jacket, and stuff it into my purse.

I take a deep breath, hoping no one saw me as I exit the stall. I quickly wash my hands, and rush to the door. I nearly bump into a woman on my way out. “Sorry!” I say apologetically and she just smiles. “No problem...” she starts and my gut drops as I realize it’s the same woman as before. The one who let us cut in line. Her eyes wander down to my now (nearly) flat stomach, her smile fading.

“Okay bye!” I say quickly, rushing past her. I run back up to Drake, breathing heavily. “Go go go!” I chant breathlessly, snatching my suitcase and his eyes widen, sprinting away with me. Once we are a safe distance away, I sigh with relief. “What?” Drake asks, eyeing me. “The woman who let us up in line bumped right into me after I took the ball out,” I say, gasping for air. “No shit!” He says, a grin forming on his face. “Come on, lets get out of here,” I say, laughing lightly at our bad luck.

As we near the sliding door, I start to get nervous and slow down. “I’m not sure if this is right...” I trail off, my stomach twisting nervously. Drake slows down and stops next to me, the door to the arrivals a couple feet away. “Come on Elle, it’s only for a couple days.” Drake implores. “We’ve come this far. We both know you don’t have any family to spend the holidays with, and they love you.” He says, and I nod. “Yeah all I have to do is pretend that I like you in that way, vice versa. No big deal,” I say, making him nod. “Y-yeah no big deal,” he nods. I take in a deep breath. “Okay let’s do this,” I say and we start walking, the automatic doors starting to open. Drake suddenly grasps my hand, making me look up in suprise. He just raises his eyebrows, his eyes telling me to go with it. I get the message, intertwining my fingers with his.

We look around the crowd, before quickly spotting red balloons. We make our way over, and our welcoming group comes into view. Bianca stands, holding the large sign with our names, Savannah grins at us, her toddler Bartie on her hip, and Liam is smiling, his arm around his girlfriend Olivia. We grin as we walk up to the group. “What’s up little man?” Drake says, poking Bartie gently on his stomach, making him giggle, cuddling closer to his mom.

Bianca turns to me, her expression warm, her chocolate eyes on mine. “Hello Elizabeth,” She says fondly, opening up her arms. I smile, dropping my bags, hugging her tightly. She’s one of the only people who I let call me by my full name. “Hey Bianca,” I grin, enjoying her aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon. She pulls away, resting both her hands on my shoulders. Ever since my mom died when I was fourteen, she was there, taking care of and loving me.

“I’m glad you’re here sweetheart. I’m even more glad that you and Drake are finally together!” She exclaims, making both me and Drake laugh awkwardly. ”She’s right! It’s about time!” Savannah jumps in, making me smile politely, guilt prickling within me.

I hug her anyway, minding the toddler holding tightly onto her. “it’s good to see you,” she says to me, a kind smile on her face. “Yeah, I’ve missed you!” I say. I then turn to Liam, who I hug tightly. Once we part he shakes his head. “Wow! and I thought Drake could never have an actual girlfriend let alone you, but here you are!” Liam says in disbelief. I just laugh, nodding. My laugh dies in my throat as an arm snakes around my waist, a hand resting protectively on my hip. “Well Liam, sometimes people change,” Drake says from my side, cocking his head slightly as he looks at Liam. Challenging him. They stare each other down for a moment, until Olivia breaks in.

“Im usually for any fighting or drama, but it’s Christmas and you guys promised Bianca you wouldn’t fight,” She says, crossing her arms. They nod, clearing their throats and looking away. She turns to me, her stony expression gone. “Ugh men. Always fighting for no reason,” She says, making me chuckle. “Hey you,” She says, a grin on her face. “Long time no see!” I say, hugging her. “Yeah last time we hung out, I was still crushing on this loser,” She says jokingly, bumping her elbow against to Liam. He just grins. “What can I say? I’m irresistible,” He says, shrugging. Olivia rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face. “Well, should we head home?” Bianca suggests, making us all mumble in agreement, turning and heading to the parking lot.

Two hours of being squished into Pam (an old, red suv hat has been the family car since the beginning) later, we arrive to our destination, snow swirling around us. “Home sweet home,” Drake says beside me, and I nod, a warm feeling of nostalgia bubbling up in me. We all get out, Liam grabbing our bags out for us from the trunk. Drake rolls his eyes, trudging after them into the house. I follow them after taking a deep breath.

I can do this.

I climb up the worn stairs of the porch and as soon as they open the door, out comes a blur of yellow which leaps right into me, knocking me over onto the wood porch. “Oh! Hey boy!” I say in surprise. Ziggy, the family Labrador Retriever, licks my face aggressively, his tail wagging quickly back and forth.

“You better get him off before he does your job for you,” Liam says, elbowing Drake with a grin, who sends him a glare before hauling the excited dog off me. “Come on Zig,” He says as Liam grabs his collar, holding him back. Drake then offers his hand to me. I smile in thanks and take it as he helps me up. “Sorry about that, I think he missed you,” Drake laughs, and I look down at the excited brown eyes of the dog. “Ya think?” I ask, chuckling. The rest of the group laughs as they make their way inside, Liam dropping our bags at the base of the staircase for us. I hear the crackling of the fireplace as I follow the rest of the group into the living room. I’m taken aback by the sheer amount of red, Green and gold as soon as I enter. It’s heavily decorated, paper chains and stockings hung up, a twinkling Christmas tree to the side of the lit fireplace.

On one of the couches is my old friend Maxwell. “Aye!” Maxwell shouts as he scrambles up, hugging me tightly. “What’s up Maxwell? It’s been forever!” I say excitedly, hugging him back. “Yeah what the fuck is up with that?” He asks, his eyes not too different from Ziggy. “Language!” Savannah says under her breath, walking in and settling Bartie down onto the couch. “What the fuck!” Bartie suddenly says with delight, giggling at his mothers horrified face. The rest of the adults laugh, also settling down onto the couches.

I sit down beside Drake, watching with amusement as Savannah scolds Maxwell. “I can’t believe you too are finally together! I mean, I could tell from the beginning that you guys would end up screwing each other,” Liam says with amusement, making Drake choke as I widen my eyes at him. “We were fourteen you pervert!” I say incrediously. He just shrugs, a knowing smile on his face.

“Okay guys. Give them some air! I’ll show them their room, and then I’m sure they can come down and join us for a bit before bed,” Bianca interrupts, and Liam backs up a bit. “See you guys later?” Drake says, and they all nod before starting their own conversations and with that we start walking upstairs.

“I thought we were going to stay at a hotel or something,” I say quietly to Drake as we go upstairs. “You know my mom would never let us,” Drake whispers back, as we reach the landing. Bianca opens a familiar door at the end of the hall, revealing a small room with a double bed and posters hung around the walls. Drake’s old room. “It’s not as big as you probably remember it, but I hope it’s okay,” Bianca says, as we put our bags down. “No! No it’s great Bianca thanks,” I grin, and she nods. “Well come on down in a bit if you want, no rush,” she smiles, before going back downstairs.

Drake turns to me, a slight grin on his face. “You’re sleeping on the floor,” I say, with a deadpan expression. He just nods, smiling to himself as he puts a blanket and pillow on the ground. I place my bag down, glancing around the room. “This is your old room right?” I ask, turning to him. He looks up, nodding. “Yeah, mom has definitely changed it to make it more of a guest room,” he says absentmindedly as he rummages through his bag. I look at an old cork board over his desk, pictures and medals hung on them. He used to be on the swim team, and was pretty fast, but Liam’s football always won the attention. My fingers graze over a picture pinned of me and Drake when we were fourteen.

We are in a tree, Drake on the branch lower than me, laughing as he looks up at me, and it looks like I’m obnoxiously screaming something to the camera. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face. “We look so young,” Drake says, sounding close behind me. I nod, turning to look at him. I feel the urge to back up when I realize how close he is to me, less than a couple inches away. I look up at his dark eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, That- that was a long time ago,” I say, pushing past him gently. I pause at the door, looking back. “Let’s go downstairs, I’m sure they want to see us,” I say, and he nods, his back to me. I start walking downstairs and I hear him following.

—-

What do you guys think? Do you want to read more? Let me know! ☺️

[our-smooty]

Take Me to Church Chapter 18: Redemption

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

Stuart woke up groggy, disoriented, and with a pressing need for a piss. He was well versed in the art of hangover bathroom trips and he managed to get to the toilet without much problem. Wrapping things up quickly he leant over the sink to wash up, gazing idly into the mirror. The bags under his eyes looked worse than normal and he looked a little pale, even for him.

Bits and pieces of last night came back to him as he stared. He’d taken a lot of pills, and most of the night was a blurry mess. He remembered that Murdoc hadn’t come home, and Russel was out looking for him but after that, it was all a fuzzy. The easiest way to know if the problem had resolved itself was to check Murdoc’s room. The singer shuddered.

OK, he could do this. Murdoc probably wasn’t even awake, he could just crack the door open, peek inside, then go back to hiding in his room. It was only once he left his room and was standing with his hand on the doorknob to the bassist's room that he realized he was shirtless and dressed only in his sleeping pants. Oh well, Murdoc had seen him in worse.

The door creaked open quietly as 2D looked inside. Luckily the bedside lamp was on, and 2D could see the shape of the bassist sleeping tangled in the sheets. Relief swept through the singer like a wave. Murdoc was home and safe. 2D hadn’t realized how worried he actually was until he saw the other man there. The urge to walk in and crawl into bed beside the man was strong, but then he remembered their argument the day before and closed the door, walking back to his bedroom.

He’d meant what he said yesterday. Whatever was going on between them was a mistake. He knew that he’d been sending out mixed signals lately--he was confused himself--but when Murdoc had brought up their relationship he knew he had to put a stop to things. 2D wished he’d been able to do it at a better time but now that he knew the bassist was home, he figured that everything turned out alright.

But… why did he feel like he’d lost something? There was an aching in his chest that he could only attribute to his argument with Murdoc. He should be happy that Noodle was awake and talking, that she was going to be ok! But instead he was acting like a love-sick teenager who’d had his first breakup--and they hadn’t even been dating!

“Get it together, Stu,” he whispered to himself, sitting idly at his keyboard. There were papers full of notes and music all over the bench and floor, some in his writing, others in Murdoc’s. They’d been going over some of 2D’s song ideas for the past week, making notes and goofing off. He reached down and grabbed a random one, setting it on the holder and beginning to play.

It was one of the songs he’d written in his journal, currently untitled and only half formed. The only lyrics he had so far was for a chorus and he sang those quietly to the audience of his empty bedroom.

“I will always think about you. That's why I'm calling you back on my way through.

He paused to scribble a few notes for his future self on the paper before shuffling it back into a random pile. Music writing didn’t hold the same spark it did when Murdoc was around to listen.

He checked the time and realized it was well into the afternoon. Russel would be awake for sure, and 2D knew he should go apologize for his behaviour the night before. There was no good reason for him to get so high and leave Russel to sort everything out himself.

With a groan, he stood from the bench and left his room, though not before reaching into his pill stash and popping a couple painkillers. Not as many as the night before, but enough to fill him with a comfortable warmth once they kicked in. Stuart ambled down the hall to the drummer's room and knocked. Immediately he heard a “come in”.

“Hey Russ,” he said, standing sheepishly in the doorway. “I wanted t’say sorry for last night…”

Russel was seated in his reading chair, a book open on his lap. He looked up at 2D and the singer felt guilty at the large, dark circles under his friend's eyes. “Thanks, D.  I’m not gonna say it’s fine, but thanks for apologizing.”

2D took a seat on the bed. “How’d everythin’ go las’ night?” Russel shrugged.

“He came home himself eventually, completely wasted.” Russel closed the book and set it aside. “Said he’d been doin’ more than just drinkin’ so I spent most of the night checkin’ up on him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He was really upset about your fight yesterday.” Overwhelming guilt crept through 2D’s system. He didn’t want to make the bassist upset, but he also didn’t know how to fix things.

“You think I should go make it up to him?” he asked. Russel was usually the level headed one of the bunch and Stu was hoping he could tell him what to do.

“To be honest D,” Russel began, “whatever’s between you and Murdoc is your business, and you gotta deal with that yourself. I don’t think I can tell you want to do.”

2D scuffed his socks against the floor. “But, say you were me. What would you do?”

Russel looked at him, raising a brow. “D I’ve punched Murdoc in the face multiple times. Do you think I’d even get to this point?”

“Good point, nevermind,” 2D answered, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Sorry I’m putting all this shit on you, Russ.”

Russel shook his head. “It’s alright D, I get it.”

Changing the subject, 2D perked up. “What are you up to today then?”

“Not a lot, reading. Might go out later.” 2D’s interest peaked.

“Where had you been goin’ so often Russ, you got a sweetheart?”

Russel flushed a little, looking away. “I mostly go on walks around town to avoid hearin’ you and Murdoc screwin’ each other's brains out."

He should have seen that one coming. Russel was quiet, but he knew how to throw down with the best of them. “Fair enough, sorry again.”

“It’s fine D. Maybe try to keep it down past 10?”

2D smirked. “No promises.” He stood up. “Guess I shouldn’t put this off anymore. Thanks again.”

“Good luck D,” Russel said, waving.

The hallway had never looked for long. The space between Russel’s room and Murdoc’s couldn’t have been more than 20 feet, but to 2D it looked like a monumental hike. He really, really didn’t want to deal with Murdoc right now, and he was sure Murdoc didn’t want to deal with him. Was he really going to walk into the Satanists room, wake him up, and demand answers?

The bedroom door was right in front of him, and 2D didn’t allow himself the luxury of hesitating. The bassist was still sleeping, fully clothed. Russel’s charity must have run out after getting him to bed. The singer wasn’t really sure where to go from here; as usual, he didn’t have a plan. He knew that if he woke Murdoc up, he better have a good reason. But he really, really didn’t think this through, so instead, he tiptoed to the bed and slid into the warm comfort of the bassist's bed. It was easy to pretend that yesterday hadn’t happened when he was wrapped up in the warm blankets. Curling onto his side, facing Murdoc, Stuart could feel the other’s stale breath against his cheek. With extreme care, he lifted an arm and placed it around Murdoc’s waist. He was surprised when Murdoc didn’t wake up but instead snuggled in closer to the embrace. 2D felt his cheeks heat at the sight.

He could have this, every morning, if he wanted. He was pretty sure that Murdoc wanted that too, but the memories of how Murdoc used to treat him not that long ago were holding him back. It was almost like they were two different people, the Murdoc he knew now, who was trying to be better, and the Murdoc he used to know, who hit him and kept him on that rotten island. 2D still had nightmares tinted bubblegum pink and echoing with whale noises.

Murdoc twitched in his sleep, his arm reaching out and grabbing onto Stu’s pant leg. Sleeping like this it was hard to imagine him as he’d been on Plastic Beach. 2D wasn’t sure how much of the beach Murdoc even remembered, he’d been awfully drunk and awfully mad. Any time someone brought it up around the bassist he either laughed it off or got in a mood and walked out. 2D wasn’t sure how to talk to him about it without causing a blowout, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d have to, and soon.

But for the time being, Murdoc was asleep, and Stuart was warm. The important stuff could wait a little while.

Murdoc woke up warm, but incredibly uncomfortable. His jeans--why was he wearing his jeans in bed?-- were digging into his hips and he still had his shoes on for some reason. He thought back but everything after he’d found some teenager selling drugs in an ally off the high street was a complete blank. Obviously, he’d made it home, and he’d either dragged himself up to bed and passed out, or one of his bandmates had done it for him. Judging by the fact he was still fully dressed in his day clothes and boots, it’d been Russel.

As he began to toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, he realized he wasn’t alone in the bed. Had he brought home a bird? Maybe it was that lanky bloke he remembered talking to outside the second pub. Either way, he really didn’t want to deal with a clingy one-night-stand and he was about to tell them to get the fuck out when he spied a shock of blue hair peeking out from the comforter.

Murdoc was afraid to breathe. What the hell was 2D doing in his bed? He remembered them having a fight yesterday, or more accurately, he remembered trying to be honest with the singer for once and 2D shooting him down. He remembered feeling the world fall out from underneath him in that break room and then spending the rest of the night trying to forget that feeling. Thought things were fuzzy he didn’t think they made up last night, so what was he doing in Murdoc’s bed?

Normally, this would be a good sign. A pretty face in his bed after a night of binging was usually a good thing, especially now that he’d admitted to feeling something for the singer. But it was soured by the fact that as far as he knew 2D had rejected him completely and utterly. Did the singer still want to be friends with benefits? Murdoc wasn’t sure if he could handle that, now that he’d had a little taste of so much more. Finally able to move he peeled back the covers to reveal 2D’s sleeping face and hands curled under his chin. He looked like an angel.

So badly, Murdoc wanted to curl into the singer, wake him up and ask 2D to hold him as they both drifted back to sleep. Instead, he settled for shimmying close enough to feel the warmth from the other man, reaching out a hand to thread his fingers through the others. Was this going to be the last time he had the chance to do this, would he ever get the chance to be this close to Stuart again? A nagging, sinking feeling told him there was a good chance of that happening.

2D murmured in his sleep and Murdoc hushed him. “Shh, love. Get some rest,” he whispered, kissing his forehead ever so gently. The singer settled down with a slight smile on his face and Murdoc allowed himself to smile back, just a little. He wanted to commit every inch of this moment to memory so that when the other did wake up and leave him for good and Gorillaz was over, he’d have something to think back on.

He stayed like that for a long while, letting the singer drool all over his pillow in a fit of uncharacteristic kindness. Occasionally 2D would move around, or mumble in his sleep and each time Murdoc felt his adrenaline kick in. By the time the other man did rejoin the world of the conscious, Murdoc was an anxious mess.

“Mmm what time is it?” 2D asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. Murdoc shrugged; he hadn’t checked the time when he woke up, too shocked to find the singer in his bed.

“Wait, what am I doin’ here?” Ah, there it was. Maybe the singer had been smashed as well, and wandered into Murdoc’s room by mistake? Wouldn’t be the first time.

“How the hell should I know, faceache?” Stuart flinched at Murdoc’s tone. He sat up and Murdoc tried not to let his eyes wander over his bare chest.

“I-I’m sorry Muds. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” 2D stuttered, looking away. Murdoc continued to frown as he sat up as well, coming face to face with the singer. His nervous posture made Murdoc wanted to reassure him, but the pain of yesterday’s rejection was still too fresh.

“Well, get out then,” he snapped, fists clenched in the sheets. Anger, resentment, those were things he could understand, things he could use.

“B-but I…”

Murdoc bristled. “You what, Stuart? Did you wanted another go at me, another chance to tell me to fuck off?”

2D shook his head quickly. “N-no, Muds I--” but Murdoc interrupted, angry now.

“Then what do you want! Y-you know how I feel, so why are you makin’ this harder?” the bassist shouted. He was getting emotional now. “Why won’t you just go?”

2D was quiet, so Murdoc continued. “You can’t have it both ways, Stu.”

“I know,” he answered, head bowed. “I jus’ wanted to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Murdoc waited, his temper simmering under the surface. 2D didn’t look like he knew what to say, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“I-I like you, Murdoc, you’re my best mate,” he began, “and I think we made a right mess of things, sleepin’ together.”

“You think?” Murdoc interrupted again and 2D frowned.

“B-but I also think that maybe you’re right,” the singer looked up, “there’s something between us. It's been there from the beginin’ and we’ve been ignorin’ it.”

Murdoc stayed silent, waiting for the other to continue. “It’s so fucked up though, because y-you used to hit me, and y-you kept me on that fuckin’ island. You hurt me, Murdoc, so many times.”

Murdoc’s chest ached. He had hurt the singer, he knew that, just like he knew he didn’t deserve the other man’s attention. “I know, Stu. A-and I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re tryin’ to be better, but it’s a little messed up, me lovin’ someone who hurt me so bad.” Murdoc’s eyes widened as 2D blushed at his slip-up.

“D I--” 2D held up his hand, telling Murdoc he wasn’t finished.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Murdoc. Last night I was so worried about you, but I was so angry too. Sometimes I don’t know if I love you, or hate you.” Tears were forming in the corners of the younger man’s eyes. Murdoc took the risk and reach out, weaving his fingers between the singers. He had to do something right now to fix this. If he didn't, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” Murdoc began quietly, “y-you said somethin’ about findin’ a doctor to talk to, one of those psych tossers.” He looked up at the singer, catching his eye. He wanted to let 2D know he was serious. “I’ll go with you, o-or on my own. If you want.”

“You will?” Stu asked, surprised. Murdoc nodded.

“You know I’m not good at talkin’ about things,” the bassist paused, “but I think… I think there’s something good between us. And, there’s something in me that’s all twisted up and bad but I-I’d be willing to try, if you are.”

2D looked thoughtful, his brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth. It was criminally cute and made Murdoc want to scoot closer, but he wasn’t sure if that would be appreciated. Instead, he tightened his grip on the singer's hand and waited.

“Muds…” the singer sighed, staring down at their hands. “Do you really mean that?”

Murdoc nodded, bringing their hands up to his chest, practically hugging them. “D, I promise. I don’t want to fuck up again. I-I can’t lose you or the band.”

2D continued to stare at their hands. Murdoc hoped he believed him, though a small part of him still insisted he didn’t deserve it. But he was so close. So close to breaking through all the self-hatred and shit and starting to heal.

Finally, 2D looked up. The tears from before had dried, and he had an almost comical stoic expression on his face. “OK.”

“OK?” He’d been hoping, but he hadn’t expected the singer to actually agree.

“Yeah, OK. If you’re serious--”

“I am!” Murdoc interrupted, desperate to make thing singer understand that this time, against all the odds, he was telling the truth.

2D smiled a little, but quickly sobered. “But it can’t be like it was before. You can’t beat on me, or call me nasty things.” Murdoc shook his head. He didn’t want to hurt 2D ever again and he knew, looking at the other man in that moment, that if he did it’d be the end of everything.

“I’m goin’ to be better this time D.” He didn’t know how exactly, but he was going to try. 2D nodded and looked again to their joined hands. He was leaning in a little, the stoop of his shoulders making him look older and more tired than he should have. Murdoc leaned in as well, angling himself so their hands and his chest was pressed right up against the other’s side as close as possible. Even though 2D had said OK, he wasn’t sure if it was alright to move forward. Luckily, Stu took charge and closed the gap, tipping the bassists head back and kissing him. To Murdoc, it felt like a new start, a chance at redemption that he couldn’t afford to waste.

[impalaimagining]

Ma Petite

Pairing: Misha Collins x Reader

Word Count: 1,165

Warnings: nervous reader, brief implications of depression/suicidal thoughts (seriously, it’s very minor but it’s there so I want to warn for it)

A/N: Commission for @holyfuckloueh <3 you’re such a kind soul and I apologize profusely for how long this took me. Happy early birthday, love! <3

Masterlist - Commission Information

It’d been a long time in the making. You didn’t know how long you’d saved up your money to make it to the convention, but there you were, standing in line at registration, waiting for your gold package lanyard and wristband. The gold admission package put you there for every event of the weekend, but you were most excited for Saturday. 

Misha’s panel flew by, and from the second he came out on stage, you were completely taken with him. Sitting at the end of the second row, you were basically front and center, and Misha’s eyes kept falling on you.

He’d give you a smile every now and then - no, those beaming grins couldn’t be for you. You raised your hand to ask a question; it’d been up the entirety of the panel, and you swore he was out of time after the question he’d just been asked, but he chanced a look around the stage, trying to spot his handler, but she was nowhere to be found.

“You.” Misha pointed at you as he looked into your eyes from his spot on stage. “What’s your question?”

You gulped as your eyes went wide and your breath caught in your throat. The closest volunteer brought a microphone to you and pushed it into your palm gently. “Hi.” You choked out.

“Hi.” Misha laughed, giving you a warm smile. 

“I’m - sorry, I’m really nervous.” You confessed with a breathy laugh.

“That’s okay.” Misha’s eyes found yours again and he gave you a quick wink.

You cleared your throat after a brief squeal bubbled up from your chest. “My question is-” you were cut off by Misha’s handler standing at the side of the stage with her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your question because now I’m being booted off the stage.” Misha looked at you apologetically. “Do you have a photo op with me later?” He rushed out the question and you nodded. “Ask me then!” He stuck his tongue out at his handler teasingly and dropped the microphone dramatically before running backstage like a child running from punishment.

You sat in your seat, looking around for anyone you thought you might recognize. No one. You chalked it up to being new to the fandom, but even still, you thought you’d made some friends.

Your photo op number was 151, so you had to wait until the fourth group was called to see Misha again. They ran through the first three groups relatively quickly, and then it was your turn. Standing in line outside the photo op room, you heard Misha laughing and instantly your heart pounded.

The line seemed to move at lightning speed after that, and you were not ready for what came next. Misha looked after the girl in line in front of you as she was walking away from him, but quickly turned his attention to you.

“Hey!” He beamed. “I am so sorry about your question earlier.” Misha’s eyes found yours and you knew hew as being sincere.

“It - it’s okay.” You stammered, in completed disbelief that he even remembered the situation, let alone the fact that it was you.

“Are we huggin’?” Misha’s grin grew as you nodded. “Sweet.” He pulled you in and held you against him gently. After the flash went off, you turned to look at Misha again, and he was giggling.

“Wh- what?” You blushed, thinking you’d surely done something embarrassing.

“You’re so tiny.” He chuckled, looking at you up and down. Your blush deepened. “Oh, no, I don’t - I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His eyes became apologetic. “You’re cute!”

Your eyes went wide and you swore your face was on fire. “Th- that’s not helping with the blushing.” You laughed nervously.

Misha laughed, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching as he looked into your eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. Okay, quick before we get interrupted again - what was your question?” You opened your mouth to speak and the woman to Misha’s left shooed you out of the line, stopping you from asking your question once again. “Shit! Little one!” Misha called after you, and you turned around, smiling at the nickname he’d already given you. “I’ll see you at autographs?” You nodded and gave him your best smile, despite your feeling of defeat. 

Three hours after your photo op, your row was being called to get in line for Misha’s autograph. Clutching your photo op carefully against your chest, you stepped slowly toward the table.

“Ma petite!” Misha beamed, opening his arms. He glanced at his handler, who gave him a bit of a side eye as he stood and hugged you quickly. “Ask me your question! Go, go, go!”

You giggled and nodded, sliding your picture onto the table for Misha to sign while he listened to you. “I was just curious, um, since we hear it a lot from Jared, and even Jensen, but I want your advice. Is there anything, um, you would tell someone who feels like they, um, they want to give up?” Your eyes watered and you cleared your throat. “I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I don’t want to cry. I’m sorry for asking such a heavy question. You - you don’t have to ans-”

Misha cut you off when he reached up and grabbed your hand. He looked up into your eyes and squeezed your hand in his. “Don’t apologize.” Misha shook his head. “This is the only thing I can tell you, love.” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes before staring into yours and holding your hand tightly. “You’re worth it. You are worth your fight, and you are worth every single day you’re given.” His thumb ran gently across your knuckles. “Look around.” He nodded toward the room full of people. “They’re your family. I am your family. We’re here for you. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

You used your freehand to hastily wipe at your tears, then nodded. “Thank you.” You choked out. “Thank you so much.”

Misha smiled kindly at you and gave your hand one last squeeze, then scribbled something onto your photo and passed it back to you. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, little one.” He winked and sent you on your way.

You didn’t look at your photo op again until you returned to your hotel room ten minutes later. You were too busy buzzing from your interaction with Misha, clinging to his every word and knowing you’d always have that memory to hold onto when your days were tough.

After your door had closed and you sank down onto your bed, you finally chanced a look at the autograph Misha had left you. Your eyes filled with tears again as you read them and covered your mouth with your hand, muffling your sobs.

Ma Petite - 

Fight your fight, you are worth it. And remember - “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

gif: x

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Misha Tags: @ellen-reincarnated1976 @melbelle45 @metallihca @newtospnfandom

[vallkyr]

Soft Q&A

I was tagged by @youlooklikeabrian thanks! 💕

Rules: Answer the soft Q+A’s and tag 5 of your most recent followers and 3 of your biggest fans

What's the smell of your shampoo?

I have no idea? It only says on the bottle that it's with amla oil so I guess that's it? I have absolutely no idea what amla oil smells like outside of shampoo.

What's your aesthetic?

I honestly have no idea because for once I love leather jackets, tattoos and piercings to some extent but I'm also a sucker for cute and fluffy stuff but also my apartment consists of mostly plain white furniture while I usually like really bright and colourful things? I'm a complex creature.

What's your favourite time of the day and why?

Late evening to night I guess because at home that's my time to chill in front of the TV with my parents and write fanfics. For some reason I'm most creative during times when I'm supposed to be asleep. Now that I moved out the evening is the time when I meet up with my friends because we try to cook dinner together whenever possible and afterwards we sit together and play games (it used to be Uno but lately we're getting into Poker) so yeah it's just a really nice time when I get to be with people I love and do things I like.

What do you like most about the beach?

I really enjoy just lying on the beach, underneath a sunshade and reading. I also like swimming but I kind of have a problem with the "things" in the water, I don't like getting too close to fish or touching plants floating around and such. As nice as the water may be I never really get used to that part.

What do you worry about constanly?

Not doing enough. I always feel like I'm not studying enough, back in school as well as now that I'm at university. I want to do more but when I have time for it I can never get myself to study and it always makes me feel like shit when I'm in lecture and notice how much I lack. It's the same when it comes to creating content. I have tons of unfonished fanfics and even more ideas that I haven't even touched beyond the usual planning and I'm so sorry about that. I wanted to do more after graduating but I kind of had a down at that time and didn't write anything for ages. Same goes for drawing, I love drawing, I have ideas and I want to do it but I just don't. What I do is scribbling stuff on the sides of my notes during lectures. I can never seem to channel my inspiration and motivation into actual productivity.

What's a song you've cried to before?

The ones I remember most are First love and The last. It might be because both songs remind me of a sort of fanfic idea I have, or more of an OC and his backstory. But also Yoongi's rap just really gets to me?! He pours his entire heart into it and you can just feel the emotions inside of him and just djsnklsf so yeah. I love those songs and I have definitely cried at least once listening to them.

What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

It really depends on the situation? For general relaxing I like to draw and listen to music but in stress situations I guess the classical stuff like taking deep breaths, drinking some water, I also tent to ball my hand to a fist and dig my nails into the heel of my hand to distract myself from what is "stressing" me (that's mostly when my phobia kicks in, we'll get to that later)

What are some things that make you tear up?

I really can't think of anything on the spot. I sometimes cry during really emotional scenes in movies?

What is your favourite from each sense?

Seeing: I have no idea, I love a lot of things? For example flowers or bright colourful things, I really like teal. I also have a thing for art, I kind of like the earlier works of Kandinsky and I'm absolutely fascinated by John Bramblitt (I used one of his paintings as a header until recently) I love his art. I guess the most "unique" thing is architecture? Every since we had architecture as a topic in arts class I just love it, I love looking at beautiful buildings of different kinds, for a while I even considered studying architecture.

Hearing: Uhm, kpop? I don't really know what else to say except for maybe the sound of the sea, have you guys ever been to a beach at night? I can definitely recommend that, it's beautiful and you get to hear the sea without all the people around, which is really nice.

Smelling: I absolutely love the smell of bakeries. Which might have to do with the fact that my dad had an apprenticeship as a pastry cook and thus is responsible for making cakes and pastries whenever there's a birthday or some sort of party. It's a treasured part of my childhood.

Tasting: I have a sweet tooth. I'm not that much into crisps amd stuff like that as I'm into chocolate and gummy bears and so on.

Feeling: Fluffy things, give me a fluffy pillow or carpet or whatever and I will run my hands over it the entire time, I love fluffy things. But also: wind. I love feeling wind on my skin, especially if it's strong. It gives me a sense of freedom.

What is one alternative reality you'd like to be in?

I think being able to use magic would be really cool, living the life of a fairy in some ancient forest and flying around all the time. Yup, that sounds lovely.

What are some troubles you face on a daily basis?

Aaand now we're getting to the already mentioned phobia. I'm afraid of dogs and it sucks. It wasn't too much of a problem when I was in school because I was driven/rode the bus and mostly I only had to walk a pretty short way from the bus stop to my school and usually wouldn't encounter any dogs (there was a Husky who was occasionally tied to a tree on the way but that dog was so calm and didn't butch no matter how many people walked past so after a few times that wasn't too much of a problem) but now I live fairly close to uni and taking a bus is more of a hassle than an actual benefit. The worst part is that my way leads through some sort of park right before uni and there are a lot of dogs, especially in the morning and even more so on the weekend (I have a lecture on Saturday morning) and I've sometimes encountered dogs who weren't on a leash or who were wildly barking at each other. As you can imagine that's kind of my worst nightmare (I'm feeling a little uncomfortable just remembering these situations) that has already lead me to take huge detours and in one case being a little to a lecture because there were dogs on the way. It's okay if they're on a leash, near their owner and rather calm but sadly that doesn't apply to all dogs. Sometimes I feel like I make progress but then I have a "problematic" encounter again and everything just goes to hell again.

Then there's also the fact that after two and a half years I still have to watch after my leg and often have to go slow. My knee often hurts after I walked a lot or after I sat in a chair in a normal way for too long my knee takes the gays can't sit properly thing way too seriously. So yeah I often have to tell my friends to slow down, try avoiding stairs (especially descending stairs) or try to take the bus for longer ways (which isn't always possible) and still I have some trouble with my leg pretty much every day.

What is one scene from a book that makes you really sad?

The first thing I remembered was a scene from a book I read many years ago, I can't find the English name but to sum it up: the protagonist (who was heavily pregnant at that time) was attacked and her child was injured. Shortly after the birth she and her husband received the message that their child had died from the injuries. They emigrated to the US and never found out that something had gotten mixed up and that a different child had died, not their daughter.

Say something to your followers:

I feel like my soft Q&A turned into a kind of serious Q&A, especially because of my ranting about my phobia, so I want to apologize for that. But also thank you all so much! Every single one of you means a lot to me and I'm really thankful that I can share my thoughts with you. Again, thank you for following me, I hope my blog is able to brighten up your day a little! 💕

Okay so five of my most resent followers are: @tatasbby, @jimiinsbf, @changbuns, @chanskitchen and @charlesgasly and my three biggest fans according to the tumblr statistics are @excuseme-jimin, @sunshineshouyo and @notbangchanmain

(You don't have to do this if you don't want to but it would be cool)

[meetnombre]

I promised myself that would keep this blog sfw. That I would fill it full of things that would make many other people happy and to help them escape from the outside world. It was supposed to be my little corner of the web that would be free from real world politics. I guess, today is finally that time where I have to break that promise.

The whole thing started just as Hasbro released the last episode of the first season of My Little Pony. I discovered it all at once when I marathoned through the first season. For 6 months afterwards, I have been following the pony fandom with a passion, but from a distance. Checking out other peoples art, lurking in forums, sending anon messages to other people’s tumblrs. That kind of stuff. (what can I say? To this day, I am still a bit of a social outcast)

It wasnt until one fateful day when I came across a certain someone’s tumblr blog through another person’s livestream. Not gonna mention any names (SilverBlaze! XD), but anyways! It was through this person’s tumblr that I was encouraged very strongly to introduce myself to someone from the fandom for the very first time. What pretty much happened was that I whacked this awesome guy an anonymous donation through his paypal associated with his new tumblr. What immediately happened afterwards was that his OC absolutely freaked out. Maybe I shouldnt have anonymously sent the post: “Here! Have a bag of free money!” as an anon...oh well XP This person helped me to muster the courage to create an online identity that I could use to interact with the fandom a lot better. He drew me my very own pony! (I still remember the livestream, where Silver started drawing “nombre” without a reference…remember the “meet nombre” image that used to be at the top of my tumblr? That was a modified screenshot of what Silver actually drew for me XD. He then scribbled it out, and began drawing my very own nombre! He asked me if I wanted nombre to be a boy or a girl, as he already started to draw long eyelashes for nombre. I was like “Nombre is a boy! NOMBRE IS A BOY!”, and he quickly removed the eyelashes after that X) ). I eventually took my brand new oc, created my very own tumblr…but then decided to wait until a better time to reveal my tumblr, as I kind of accidentally got Heart Lift, Sparks, and Toast Lift to swap bodies on purpose XP

But yeah! Finally went public with my tumblr, and eventually met someone else (Kappa! XP). I visited quite a few of her livestreams (when silver wasnt streaming, obviously XP), and we just…talked. We caught up with each other so much…we really gotta catch up with each other some more. But what happenned eventually was that Kappa invited me to a group chat where Silver and so many other awesome people got to hang out with each other. I met so many idols of my time and so many new faces, all of which soon became mutual friends. I literally felt like one of the richest people on the planet. I even met someone (Andie!), who soon became my girlfriend!

I still remember bits and pieces of the first group voice chat that I had with this group. One of the guys first impressions was “Is this guy serious?” (Kaipo XP), and “I’m more concerned that this guy works with live explosives for a living” (Rainboom XD)

It didnt last forever. Nothing lasts forever. One of my close friends from that group was forced to leave because he kept on getting anonymous hate from someone else. He didnt know who it was, so he was about at that stage where he was going to shut himself off from ‘everyone’. Good job anon! Good job! *slow clap*

I remember very well the time when that group that helped me with my depression got themselves a new certain member. Things were all good for a while…until that certain member made a techno remix, and asked the group as to what they thought of it. The problem was the title that he chose for it, as it was completely unrelated to the music itself, completely unnecessary, and pretty offensive to a lot of people (I’m pretty sure it was something like “Retarded Austistics” or “Autistic Retards” or something simular…..yeah…). That person was eventually removed from the group, but there was a bit of mayhem in the process, as ‘every single member of the group had moderator powers’. The incident served as a wakeup call to the group, so what happenned was that everyone was disbanded from the old group, and a new group was established…

…but here’s the thing. Not everyone was allowed into the new group. There was one person, who apparently the slim majority at the time decided that they didnt want in the new group. A lot of dramas happened since this event, but this particular separation in my opinion was a pretty big deal, as she was kind of a big part of the group at the time, and a big part of my life.

So! The one big group of people who meant so much to me ended up splitting into 2 separate groups. I stayed silent about the whole thing since then, hoping that someday maybe everyone will let bygones be bygones, because we were all friends once. Instead the opposite happened. Years later, a lot of people started forgetting each other. I could have been more proactive at the time to try and preserve what we all had, but I was worried about hurting someone in the process. I didnt know what to do.

My girlfriend broke up with me, and it was pretty much my fault. After being together for 3 months, she approached me and said that she needed some time apart...and I absolutely flipped my shit. I ended up saying a ‘lot’ of stupid shit that sent her into an absolute chronic panic attack. This drove her to the point where she told me straight up that I was no different from any of the other horrible people in her life. I felt like a real asshole when she said that. I said a lot of things that I shouldnt have said that day.

I was very fortunate to still have her as a friend after all of that. ‘Very’ fortunate.

It was about 3 months after this however that she decided to close her tumblr and delete her skype. She told me that she found happiness outside of this world that she built up. Over 2 years passed since she sent me that post, 2 years that she went missing. That’s long enough to legally declare anyone dead (not kidding either. After all of the low’s that she had been through, my mind was really starting to wonder into some pretty dark places as to what might have happened to her. I was so scared). But everything was okay! I actually got a message from her after all of those years from her telling me that she was doing very well and has settled down with someone else.

All I wanted was the best for her and for her to be happy. Nothing has changed. Even if is with someone else, I dont care. She ‘is’ happy, and she ‘is’ doing what is best for her, and thats all that matters. Hell, I’d approach this guy and shake his hand if it wasn’t for the fact that it would probably make things awkward for everyone XD

But as for me, I’m stuck. I dont really know what to do with myself anymore. When you give someone your heart and things dont work out, most people would get over it. Most people would have found a rebound relationship right now or something, but I guess I’m just not like most people. It’s not just because of my past, but its also because of my toxic present and future. I work in a workplace that can be pretty toxic at times. It’s like, you go back to work after your rostered days off to be meeted by ‘many’ old fashioned people who ask you inappropriate questions like “Hey Nombre! Did you get a root on break?” or “Hey Nombre! You should go get a hooker! You might like it!” over and over because they think its funny to do so, it just puts me off so much. I’m fine as I am! I dont mind being single, even if its for the rest of my life...but there are a lot of people out there who think its okay to treat other people like shit because they are ‘different’, when in reality, my workplace is full of old dirty perverts.

Meanwhile, I’m hardly ever online anymore. Every time I do manage to return to eavesdrop on everyone, it feels like everyone is just becoming more and more isolated from each other. I saw a post on ‘that’ group from someone who said that they wondered what I was up to, to which someone else replied that I pretty much only use tumblr now...and that really hurt me a lot. I cant blame them for thinking that way though, given that I hardly appear anymore. I deserved that.

Every time I look into my tumblrs past posts, I always have dramas. This was supposed to be a place of fun, but because the peak of my tumblr career involved the misadventures between myself and my ex and a certain red horse, looking back always brings up a lot of repressed memories.

I dont want to quit tumblr. But at the same time, I dont want to keep going. I dont know what to do. I really wish that things could have been like they were back in the first quarter of 2013. I liked that.

Over 5 years since then, and I dont know how to move on. I really dont.