#okay not RUSTY more like… tarnished

[lesbiangiratina]

Hopped off call a lil before 1 like ahh bedtime and then i spent the next hour trying to do a testament papercraft with a rusty box cutter.

I finished their head.

[yarnprism]

I have been struggling on how to word this, because this is the first time I’m doing a tickle request, but for Gabriel from Ultrakill, all I can imagine is after Gabriel kills the Council, he runs into V1 again, but doesn’t want to fight cause existential crisis. So V1 starts touching and inspecting Gabriel cause he’s curious, and finds out Gabriel is ticklish. I’m not sure how Gabriel would react to that, I’ll leave that up for you to decide :)

Okay I’m not good at writing fics because I deadass haven’t written like this since 2017 so I’m rusty.

But this prompt seemed cute so uh.

THE LAUGHTER OF AN ANGEL

Warnings : ULTRAKILL spoilers kinda. Fluffy tickles (never would’ve guessed)

Word Count : 1.3k (A short one I know)

Also shoutout to my friend @giggleeclown beta read this and gave me grammar corrections and such!! Please go show her blog some love I beg

Pure unadulterated emptiness. That was a fair description for describing how the fallen Archangel felt as he sat by the fire under a sky full of stars. The blood of the people he once both ordered and followed stained his hands: the council. He mourned not for the loss of the Father and the council, but for the part of himself that died with them. Gabriel stared into the flames, taking in the warm colors of the blaze in front of him. The crackling wood brought a sense of peace, like heavy rain in the middle of the night. He looked down at his hands, clenching his fingers into fists before relaxing them. The armor he wore seemed dull, almost tarnished, through his eyes, not wielding the splendor it was once made for. Gabriel sighed, looking back down at the fire. He thought back to the atrocities he committed under the name of the Lord. The thousands- no, millions he had condemned to suffer eternally. To drown, to burn, to be mauled until nothing remained. To experience death for the last time, in the worst ways possible regardless of how big or small the sin. “All in the name of the Lord.” He used to say, but the name of the Lord had long since wilted, only giving disintegrating petals of dimming light. At that moment, Gabriel felt sorry. Sorry for himself, the souls he condemned, sorry for the dying will of the father. He knew feeling sorry couldn’t change the present, but it was all he could muster.

A sudden whirring sound tore him from his thoughts. His eyes shifted and met with the glowing eye of the machine. He wanted to be angry, furious at seeing the thing that beat him twice in his own game. Now, however, he didn't have the energy for it. Gabriel felt more numb than anything, staring silently at V1. It stared back, the crackling of the fire being the only thing to fill the empty air. “Come to mock me, have you?” Gabriel started, staring the machine down. V1 didn't respond, only tilting its head in curiosity and beginning to approach the archangel. Gabriel looked down at the fire once more, expecting the machine to try and kill him. He’d be dead soon regardless, so what did it matter? Instead, V1 just stood by him, eventually sitting beside the angel, still staring with its mono eye. The silence was awkward, the gentle hum of the machine’s inner workings filling his ears. He grumbled as he could hear the cold metal hand of the machine grazing over his blood-stained armor. Logically, he knew it was just the machine trying to soak up the blood that had splattered onto him.

Admittedly, it disgusted him to think that something could be that focused on survival. Only focused on how much blood it can get. Strangely, he understood, V1 just wanted to survive like anyone else. That was its main objective, after all, its purpose. Gabriel couldn’t help but think back to that word: purpose. What was his purpose? Now that the council was dead, and he had practically gone against everything he was made to be, what now? For the first time since he was birthed from the heavenly light, he felt unsure of himself. “I envy you, machine.” He started. “You seem to have everything cut out for you.” The android looked up and tilted its head at Gabriel, stopping its momentary prodding of the angel's body. Gabriel sighed, staring back aimlessly before he turned back to the fire. He let the outer sights of his vision fade away as the fire caught his attention. The way the fire licked the wood it was given for fuel was encapsulating, he admired the wood as it crumbled and crunched down into— “eEEk?!” A squeak suddenly ripped from his mouth as he wasn’t paying attention. Gabriel felt his cheeks burn beneath his helmet as he realized just how undignified it was. He slammed his hand over his mouth, eyes darting down to the culprit at his side. It was V1’s dull claw that had curiously scraped against his exposed skin. The machine tilted its head at Gabriel, wondering why he had made such a sound. Before the angel could protest or move away, V1 inquisitively scratched at Gabriel's side, earning a yelp from him. “H-hehey!! Quit it!” He objected, quickly drowned out by his own incessant giggling as the V1 started to scratch at his exposed sides and tummy. An odd sensation filled him that he couldn’t describe, one that just made him want to laugh and laugh even though nothing at the moment sparked his humor. In fact this was anything but funny. It was humiliating. He shouldn’t be here, lying on his back laughing because of the machine's dull claws.

Yet, still he could do nothing but squeak and giggle like he were some mortal. He silently cursed the blacksmith who made his armor cropped, and he himself for accepting it. “Stahap thihis insoleNCEE!!” His voice suddenly went up an octave as V1 curiously squeezed a part of his midsection. It made an almost happy sounding whir at Gabriel’s reaction, taking it as a sign it was doing this properly. V1 had seen humans do lots of things, they were very social creatures after all. Though it remembered one specific gesture certain humans would do with each other as a form of playing, it never got a name for the action however. Though the way Gabriel laughed and squirmed, it figured it was doing something right, even if it didn’t originally mean to. V1 curiously kneaded its claws into the soft flesh of the other, earning a squeal. The Angel let out a loud, shrieky cackle as the tips of the machine’s claws provided just the right amount of torturous pressure. “N-NOHOHO!! THIHIS IHIS ABSURD!!” He shrieked as V1s ‘nail’ pressed and wriggled where his navel would’ve been, had he been human that is. As he writhed, he couldn’t help but feel a wobbly, almost dare he say giddy smile cross his originally hardened face. For some reason he found himself..enjoying this? The way the laughter poured from him in a shrieky unstable stream, the way his face felt like it was on fire, everything about this felt so…nice. Though a part of him felt admittedly ashamed, he shouldn’t enjoy something like this, only mortal children like this. And he was far from any child.

V1 curiously continued to prod and poke, seeming pleased at Gabriel’s shrill laughter. As its claws pressed just a little bit harder, it appeared to appreciate the almost screams of laughter he let out at even the slightest scratch. “I s-swehear Machine I’ll tehehear yohou lihimb from liMB—EEK!!” He shrieked once more, his wings fluffing up and twitching. A hoarse laugh poured out of him, a wheeze following suit. Though this was fun, he could feel himself growing tired as his laugh grew wheezy with the occasional shriek here and there. “S-stop-! St-STAhap!!” Gabriel pleaded before grabbing the wrists of the machine, forcibly making it stop its onslaught. V1 stopped, and curiously tilted its head at the now panting angel, making an inquisitive whir. Gabriel huffed and felt his body relax, the tension from before leaving his body. Oddly he felt..calmer, almost happier than before, and he had no idea why. He looked back up at the machine and quickly repositioned himself to sit back up, “I uhm..I’m not certain on what that was but..thank you…” He only got a slightly confused whir in reply, but Gabriel didn’t mind the simplicity.

[asexual-spongebob]

The Waves That Lap The Shore - Chapter 23 - Shellington, Peso, Kwazii and Paani and the Amazon

Notes:

Kitty put Kwazii and Paani through the horrors? Yes. But don’t worry they’ll be okay. I was trying to go for OG Octonauts vibes for this one, I hope I captured that well enough- anyway. gotta love how kwaz thought he could out ran an Anaconda 💀 ALSO FUCK YEAH INKLING!!!! AND DASHI!!! sorry abt how inkling doesn’t appear much in this fic- (same w/barna) hopefully he’ll have more moments in future chapters- which I do have planned. (I’m thinking for this second season there’ll be 20 chapters. Like the first. Idk if I’ll be doing a third season but who knows. I already have the epilogue for this fic planned-)

Kwazii, Peso, Shellington and Paani were going to the Amazon to make sure everything was alright.

However, Shellington had to tell Inking one thing before he and the others left.

Shellington walked into Inkling’s library 

“Why hello Shellington! Would you like a spot of tea?” Inkling asked as Shellington took a seat.

“No thank you but I appreciate it! Shellington replied. 

“I came here to tell you something important..” Shellington began, 

“Professor.. Paani became a fish.” Shellington continued 

Professor Inkling spat out ink’s tea. 

“Damn. I should really keep up with the times.” Inkling remarked, placing ink’s tea glass on the side table.

“Thank you.” Inkling said afterwards, then his nose stuck in his book again “no problem!” Shellington said back before leaving.

•••

Peso was walking near the riverbed, until he heard a whimper coming from the water, he had come across an injured river dolphin near the riverbed. 

“It’s okay! I’m not gonna hurt you!” Peso assured “my names Peso! I’m a medic! I help any creature who’s hurt or sick.” Peso added, the dolphin reached out its fin, Peso carefully wrapped the dolphin fin in a bandage. “Thank you!” The river dolphin said before swimming away. 

Shellington was swimming around, until he heard noticed something strange hidden in the sand.

Shellington swam over to get a closer look, digging around through the sand, until he found it.

He wasn’t sure what it was at first, until he pulled out his magnifying glass.

It was an old compass! 

“I should show this to Peso!” Shellington decided. 

Shellington began to swim up  up to Peso

He soon broke the surface. 

“Hey I think a found something pretty neat!” Shellington beamed, placing something on the riverbed, Peso took a closer look.

It was a old compass. Who knew how long it’d been down there. It was rusty and tarnished. 

“Wow… this thing must be really old…” Peso remarked  as it held it in his flippers “fascinating, isn’t it?” Shellington smiled “yeah” Peso smiled back.

“I think we should keep it.” Peso proclaimed “yeah!” Shellington agreed, Peso put it in the pocket of it’s shorts.

Peso wiped some sweat off its face, it then jumped into the water, making a splash.

He noticed some fish, “what are those?” Peso asked, pointing to the fish “oh! Those are freshwater angelfish! They’re basically a freshwater version of marine angelfish!” Shellington answered.

“Oh neat!” Peso remarked, Shellington held out a paw, it was his way of asking “hey wanna swim?” Peso grabbed it as they both swam through the water. 

They glided for awhile, until they both heard something. “Did you hear that?” Shellington questioned, facing Peso. “Yeah.. i did hear that…” Peso replied.

The two looked behind them, only to realize there was a group of caimans chasing after them. “Flappity flippers!” Peso exclaimed “jumpin’ jellyfish!” Shellington exclaimed. “Let’s get away from here. Sailfish style.” Shellington whispered, holding onto Peso’s flipper tightly as they sped through the water like sailfish, thankfully they were able to escape the caimens.

“Are they gone?” Peso questioned, glancing nervously at Shellington, Shellington nodded “phew” Peso panted as he wiped some sweat some sweat off his face.

Shellington glanced around “look at that!” Shellington gushed, pointing at a stingray, Peso was confused “aren’t stingrays saltwater mammals?” Peso questioned “yes usually, but there also a few freshwater stingray species, like the pancake stingray! Which is the one I’m pointing to.” Shellington explained “hm… neat!” Peso remarked as he saw Shellington jotting down the sight in his note pad.

“I wonder what Kwazii and Paani are doing…” Peso wondered “hopefully not something stupid…” Shellington mumbled.

•••

Kwazii had been trying to get away from a anaconda that was chasing him, running as fast as his legs could carry him. 

The anaconda had cornered him. Kwazii showed his teeth and flattened his ears, he began making growling sounds.

The anaconda let out a hiss, “you look tasty” it smirked menacingly, Kwazii back away, unsheathing their  claws, ready to put up a fight.

However, The anaconda was about to snap them in half, until Paani swooped in on a vine Tarzan style. 

“Gotcha!” Paani cheered, snatching Kwazii, Kwazii was shocked how did Paani get here that quick? “hold on! I think we’re GONNA FALL!!!!” Paani and Kwazii let out screams as they both looked down on the ground. 

“SHIVER ME WHISKERS!!!” Kwazii yowled “OH NO!!! OH SHIT! FUCK!” Paani screeched as he and Kwazii fell. 

Kwazii and Paani fell on the ground with a thud 

Paani felt an aching pain in their ankle. 

“ouch!”  they moaned “are you okay?!” Kwazii asked, immediately concerned.

“I’ll be fine, Kwazii.” Paani grunted “it’s only a sprain. I can deal with it.” she assured. Kwazii didn’t buy that, “no matey. I’m going to help you.” Kwazii meowed what would Peso do? Kwazii asked himself, Kwazii looked around leaves! Kwazii then picked on off the tree and wrapped it around Paani’s ankle “does it feel better?” Kwazii asked “yeah thanks” Paani breathed.

“How about I carry you for now.” Kwazii meowed, scooping Paani up and holding him in their arms. Paani liked that. However, the branch Kwazii was standing on started to shake “this doesn’t feel very safe…” Paani mumbled, however Kwazii felt something snap from beneath his paws.

“HOLD ON PAANI!” Kwazii yowled as him and Paani were falling again, he held Paani close to his chest.

They both hit the ground with a thud again.

“Ouch.” Kwazii mrrped “are you okay?” Paani asked concern in their eyes, Kwazii answered with a nod. “Yeah pretty much. Other then the fact me ass hurts.” Kwazii grumbled.

Kwazii let go of Paani, Paani stood up, his sprained ankle lightly dangled against the ground. 

They both realized they were near the riverbed.

And they both felt gross and sweaty. “How about we go for a dip to cool off?” Paani suggested as he ripped off his jacket, “mhm.” Kwazii hummed.

Kwazii and Paani jumped in, making a huge splash, soon their tails appeared.

Paani’s fin still ached but it wasn’t as bad in the water. However the two noticed a school of piranhas. 

“SHIVER ME WHISKERS! ITS PIRANHAS!!!” Kwazii screamed, “WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE MATEY!” Kwazii added, grasping Paani’s hand.

Paani held onto Kwazii’s paw tight, there was no way in hell that she was going to be a piranha’s snack. 

“Watch out! There’s a log up ahead!” Paani warned, pointing to it “this is when having a Mako shark tail comes in handy.” Kwazii said “hold on tight matey!” It added, then leaping out of the water, mako shark style.

“YEEEOOOW!!!” 

Paani was a bit terrified surprisingly, she hoped that he and Kwazii wouldn’t hit something.

Kwazii and Paani landed on the other side, the two heard a big splash. Kwazii let go of Paani. 

Peso and Shellington stood there. Absolutely flabbergasted.

Kwazii and Paani then swam up to the surface. 

“Ahoy mateys!” Kwazii greeted, “do you think you could bandage up Paani’s fin? I tried to with a leaf earlier but I think he needs well… an actual bandage.” Kwazii meowed, turning to face Peso.

Peso nodded. 

“Thanks Peso! It feels better!” Paani beamed 

“What happened to you guys… You look rough.” Shellington asked, noticing the twigs and leaves in their furs. 

“We were almost eaten by an anaconda, fell off trees, got a sprained ankle, almost got attacked by piranhas, but it was okay in the end, right Kwazii?” Paani asked, turning to face the cheeto colored cat “yeah-“ Kwazii heaved, Shellington spat out his water upon hearing that.

“Anyway, why don’t we get back home.” Shellington suggested “yes please. I could use a long ass nap.” Kwazii groaned, Dashi then hovered over in the Octo Ray.

Kwazii had fallen asleep on Paani, and Paani had fallen asleep too. “Wow- they’re really tired-“ Dashi commented “yeah- they had an eventful day to say the least.” Shellington recalled, remembering how he spat out his water upon hearing what happened.

“What happened exactly?” Dashi pressed “you don’t want to know.” Shellington finished, then glancing at Peso. “Thank goodness we didn’t get attacked by those caimans.” Peso sighed of relief, Shellington nodded in agreement.

[amorchai]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ─ j.m

ttpd collection ౨ৎ

pairing(s): jess mariano x reader

summary: two lovers are separated by distance, relying on brief, romantic reunions to keep their relationship alive.

words: 1204

warnings/tags: angst, dean forester hate.

you remember how fast your heart stopped when lorelai gilmore told you jess had been sent back to new york. luke beelining for the storage room at the back of the closed diner when you entered to meet with your boyfriend, leaving a sympathetic female figure to deliver the news instead.

no goodbye that night. tear-strucken duvet cover being thrown aside when your lonely home’s phone goes the following morning, his disgruntled voice on the other line begging for forgiveness. it wasn’t the nicest phone call you shared, most likely the worst, ‘why were you not going to school?’ ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘how could you let this happen?’

you were both too scared to bring up the two words – break up. jess promised to see you again and you felt like a bad partner for doubting him, but you only believed he brought it on himself.

late night phone calls and handwritten letters were the only source you had, the only way your relationship with jess mariano didn’t dissipate into an angsty nothingness. to everyone else, it seemed you had moved on, focusing on graduating and finding what to do afterwards. no one aware that when you arrived home you would sit with dinner and listen to his voice for hours.

dean forester walked you home after a long shift at doose’s market, you were no fan of dean – in fact if there were an ‘i hate dean forester’ club where luke would run it, you would be an avid member. but you made small talk as he stayed only a street away from you. you kept up with his pace as you knew jess would be waiting by the phone at this time.

“lindsay’s wanting a big bookshelf in our bedroom so after shift tomorrow i think i’m gonna be spending my time-” you interrupt dean’s words, restless on your spot metres away from your front door, “yeah, sorry dean, listen- i’m really tired, i’m gonna head inside. thanks again.”

your tone was quiet and short, dean catching on with a swift nod and ‘bye’ before trapsing down the street where his wife awaited him in their small apartment. you let out a sigh, held in for most of the day and fiddle with your keys as you find the right bronze, tarnished fit.

you throw your bag and work apron on the floor, kicking your shoes off in one fluid motion as you walk towards your kitchen to make a pack of instant noodles in preparation of cooping up by the couch.

however, your pace slows down into a freeze as your head turns from the tv you were sure you turned off before you left and to the boy who sits on your couch. he still has his jacket on, trainers on the rug as he sheepishly looks towards you.

your arms, which were above your head as your fingers worked the clasps out your tight hair fell to your sides in disbelief. jess stood while you were silent, walking towards you with a welcoming smile.

“i used the spare you gave me, that okay?” jess asks, flashing the rusty key from his pocket before returning it, now standing in front of you. “how- why are you here?” you ask instead, looking up at his eyes which don’t leave yours, scanning the specks of colour that slightly disappear as your pupil’s widen.

“had to see you,” jess replies before both of his hands find purchase of the back of your neck, giving you a long well-awaited kiss. your achy bones lose tension from the simple touch, missing the inhale of your boyfriend’s scent as your fingers grip his jacket, grounding yourself.

jess’ thumbs are bumping your earlobes as his kiss grows more feverish, desperate to have you as close as possible which you don’t mind complying to. “my mom’s staying with her boyfriend tonight, so i had to come back to see you,” his murmurs are pressed against your lips.

“you don’t live close, jess,” you reply, hands sliding under his jacket to be able to feel warmer, his lips trailing off to your cheek and down your jaw as he hums, “drove three hours.”

your heart swells indefinitely, “that’s why you weren’t texting me back,” you giggle while melting further into his kisses against your skin, tears welling up in your eyes from the emotion of it all. it felt like a secret between you both, having him here in the dim light of your living room, the whole town unaware of his temporary return.

jess moves back to look at your face, wide-eyed and content while his thumbs stroke down your cheekbones in a gentle sweep, and the tears fall where his touch acts as wind wipers do on a car window. he pecks your lips during the conversation, making up for lost time.

“can you stay the night?” your question sounds more desperate than intended, the thought of finally not having an empty bed to lie in sounds too good to be true. “wish i could stay forever, baby. i’d have to leave at four in the morning, mom’ll be coming home early to get ready for work,” but your nose nuzzles his, foreheads brushing as you beg him to stay.

with the promise of waking you up at the time he’s leaving you both enjoy your night together, sharing dinner and kissing amid the television programme forgotten in the background. you had missed him, and if it meant you got this night of peaceful return in exchange of the town not knowing, you were willing to be as quiet as a mouse.

only an hour of sleep went by, spending your night in the gentle touch of your boyfriend, shared kisses and helpless conversations keeping you up. before you knew it, jess was awaking you, a gentle kiss to your forehead, soft touches to your skin alongside as it settles upon you.

you’re in your pyjamas while jess is fully dressed, his old clothes you had kept messily on the floor as you walk with him towards the front door. “i’ll try to come by as much as possible, i know i can come every two weeks because that’s when tj has time off to spend it with mom.”

hands are soothing over his t-shirt, your fingers prodding the material fondly, not wanting him to leave, “that’s a lot of effort, jess. are you sure?”. him driving down three hours each time, maybe applying for a college in new york would be worth your time as well as your relationship.

“if it means i get to see you, i don’t really care,” your heart swoons from the dedication, kisses planted to his cheek as you both bid farewell. the cold crisp air hits your face when you open the front door, continued kisses until he can drag himself to his car, “i’ll see you in a fortnight, baby.”

you stand by the door, watching until the car is out of sight, not caring about your tired eyes or the darkened streets, only willing to wait until you see him every two weeks. a temporary solution until you can find a better way, you were uncaring.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[diredove]

Hello!!! May I request Staff x Reader scenarios or headcanons whichever you feel like doing where the reader gets very flustered and bashful at flirtation and compliments towards them? 👉👈😚

You bet! Thanks for my first ask! <333

This is pretty long since it includes everyone, so most of it is under the cut! Let’s see how I do, hehe

Dire Crowley 

- He gets a major ego boost out of it, your blush can only mean that his charm is still as all-encompassing as it was in his youth!

- He's going to act (very poorly) like he's apologetic about making you shy, but his apology is buried under him having a big head about it

-"Ah, am I too bold for you? I can't help that I am not only kind, but also debonair! It is a curse!"

- Also just because he apologizes for being bold doesn't mean he's going to stop! Now that he knows how much he effects you he's going to flirt with you at every chance and revel in the flush on your face

- "How cute, I've once again put you under my spell! Will you ever recover?"

- You can say goodbye to the days you could walk freely on campus, because now you never know when Dire is going to catch sight of you and yell out some super specific compliment at you even as you try to run

- No seriously, he pops out when you least expect him with the cheesiest lines on the tip of his tongue, if you weren't so busy being embarrassed for yourself you'd be embarrassed for him

- But it's okay, everyone else side eyes him for you, because it's actually painful how proud Dire is of himself whenever you can't meet his eyes

- The man is on cloud nine having an adorable being like you at his whim alright, you really need to understand how big his chest is puffed up because of you

- If you actually asked him to stop, let's be honest, he wouldn't listen at first. Dire is someone who needs it drilled into his head to get the picture and just one scolding isn't enough for him to give up his new favorite pass time

- If you truly mean it, he'll sulk about it and lament the loss of your rosy cheeks dramatically, but he'll back off if you don't budge

Divus Crewel

- Not surprised in the slightest, but highly amused.

- "Precious." Is his first thought, seeing you wring your hands in front of yourself

- Well, of course you're flustered by him, he flusters everyone. However, if it's you, he's less bored and much more playful

- Since he's always making some innuendo or being flirty already, he makes it a point to turn it up to 11 when he's with you. He wants you to know you're special

- "If I lined up every precious puppy in the world, you'd still win best on show."

- He's more sincere with his compliments, and purposely dotes on you more than anyone else so you get the hint he likes your flushing face better than all the others he's seen

- And poor you, Divus is trying to make his intentions known but for you he's just turning up the heat until you can barely speak to him

- At least before you could calm yourself down by saying "He's like that with everyone" but then he goes and says things to you that he most definitely doesn't say to everyone!

- If you tell him off, he will obey. It is never his intention to cause you discomfort, and if his advances aren't returned he's not the type to pursue someone unwilling. That's just plain uncouth.

- If you make your stance clear Divus will go in the opposite direction, making a point to be professional and polite with you to avoid coming off as disrespectful of your rejection.

Sam

- He stops in his tracks and stares. Wait, hold on, you're flustered? By him? Surely you've got the suitors lining up where you're from, right?

- "You're flustered over little ol' me? Well now I'm embarrassed, having flattered a an evening star like you!"

- If you attempt to deflect or downplay yourself, Sam's not having any of it. In fact, now he's just offended because you're trying to convince him he's blind and you aren't the prettiest thing to walk the earth

- Sam is definitely the type to call out your shyness, not to be mean, but to give you some confidence!

- Because, seriously, you're flustered? You should be getting bigger and better compliments than his left and right! Why, have you seen yourself?

- It's too late to try and hide your face from him, no no no, Sam is going to remedy this right now!

- Sam is the best at showing off the good qualities of his products, he could sell a bottle of water to an ocean if he wanted, and now he's putting all that energy into convincing you you're the cat's meow!

- "Look at those eyes, that smile, that sweet demeanor! You can't find that just anywhere, I'll tell you what folks!"

- Every time you buy something now, it comes with a compliment and if you try to reject it he's going on another spiel about your beauty until you get it through your head that you're a dime

- Unlike the others, he is directly against stopping his campaign. He wants you to be confident and sure of yourself, so he's less likely to back off

- He probably wouldn't stop until he got some sort of sign he got through to you, like asking you call yourself gorgeous and tell him your good qualities. If you can manage that, it'll satisfy him enough to stop waxing poetic about you. For now

Ashton Vargas

- He won't ever admit it, but he was shocked. Ashton's a confident guy, but he knows he doesn't have a good track record when it comes to romance.

- He hides it under his bravado, but he's over the moon that you're so receptive to his compliments

- "Oh, you embarrassed? Yeah, I have that effect on people!"

- Inside he's squealing at the idea of you thinking he's worth blushing over

- You being shy over him complimenting you gives Ashton confidence to woo you in other areas, if you like his flirting then you'll totally like his flexing and showing off too, right?

- He acts like a whole fool whenever you're around, he's like a schoolboy shouting "Look at me!!" the moment he sees you

- He could be eating lunch one minute, then you come in and suddenly he's decided to bench press the table. Oh no, you just thought you saw him drinking from his water bottle, he was actually pouring it over his face and shoulders because he's just so hot from his work out!

- He doesn't care who's around, which makes you even more embarrassed because everyone looks at you two and now everyone is looking to see your reaction

- Everyone is sick of him and wondering why you put up with his shenanigans, honestly.

- If it gets too much for you, Ashton will probably take it harder than others. Ah, so it was too good to be true after all, huh?

- He won't let it show to you though, he'll laugh it off and treat you just as well as he treats everyone else. He's past his teenage days of anger at rejection, he's a big boy now.

Mozus Trein

- What do you mean, you're embarrassed? He's mortified!

- He sees your blush and thinks he majorly overstepped, and quickly tries to reassure you that he didn't mean to be so forward

- "M-My dear, I assure you I meant no disrespect! I am not that kind of man, truly!"

- Which in turn makes you want to assure it not his fault at all and you fluster too easily, and now both of you are apologizing in circles

- From that moment on, Mozus basically flees every time you're in the vicinity, he's tarnished your image of him and he can never show his face again

- Don't be fooled, he wishes he still had that bold streak he used to. He could have gone about things much differently and really swept you off your feet!

- But his delivery was all off and he's too old for all this now, he could never charm someone as lovely as you with how rusty he is at romance

- Eventually he'll get over his shame and talk to you as though it never happened, do not bring it up he will cry, but he chooses his words much more carefully from now on to avoid further embarrassment

- He does try to compliment you after regaining his courage, if only to prove to you that he's not always that awkward, but it's always aborted and you never get the chance to flush over it

- You won't have to worry about teasing with Mozus, you'll just have to worry about the fact that one of you shy fawns is going to have to make the first move at some point and neither of you are keen on the idea

[starklyscifi]

All The Princes and Principalities

To be human is to be lonely.

Carin stared at the dramatic teenage scrawl, the yellowed note shoved between prom photos and yearbooks.

“Find anything interesting?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Nothing but teenage angst.”

“I don’t know,” her brother said, joining her in front of the heap of half-gone through boxes. “You were pretty smart in school.”

“Yeah,” Carin said, shoving the box to the side with her foot, “In school.”

Her brother cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, find anything of Mom’s? You know?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. You?”

“Nothing.”

“Weird,” she said. He agreed. They dug through further boxes. The funeral home called twice to sort out billing details, and her brother nearly broke a family heirloom twice, and then it was finally, finally, time to go home.

Carin bolted the door to her apartment and slid down to the floor. It was too weird, being in that house without their presence. Death was an unbecoming black void.

She dug into her pockets and held the locket tightly before slowly pulling it out. They’d always been such different people-her brother and her. Him with his brash and outgoing ways, and all his friends. And her, with her quiet study habits and unnoticeable presence. Maybe that was why she’d learned so many more of their mother’s secrets. Or that was what she was going to tell herself, at least.

The locket was more of a hinged medallion than a tiny heart on a chain. It was ornate and tarnished, gold and ancient—she could feel it bleeding into her hands, down into her bones. It looked more worn than in the photos she had found while researching.

And if it truly was what she thought, her mother had been a fool.

She clenched her fists against her forehead and twisted her eyes shut against the wave of bitter grief. Her nostrils were still filled with the scent of home and being Okay, held safe in her mother’s arms.

Her mother had been a fool, and now she was dead.

Carin stood up, dragging herself forward, and dumped the locket on the kitchen counter. She wasn’t going to repeat her mother’s mistakes. The locket was rusty shut, and it took a knife from the knife block next to the sink to pry it open, but pry it open she did.

A burst of perfume flooded her nose—the same one her mother always wore. For a moment, the traffic from the interstate bubbled up, and she felt alone. Like she had her entire life—a solitary figure stuck in the vastness of the universe.

And then the smoke started, at first a wisp, and soon billowing forth from the locket. It filled the kitchen and stung her eyes and soon she was choking and gasping for breath, bent in half like a snapped twig.

Slowly, her ability to breathe came back to her, and the sight beneath her feet was not chipped linoleum but rough mountain dirt. The air stung her lungs for a whole different reason. She rubbed her arms and stamped her feet as the chill of being thousands of feet above sea level set in. Far beneath her, the lights of cities twinkled like reflections of the stars above them. Something stirred in the darkness to her left.

“Smarter than your mother?” it hissed, circling in a hazy of smoke. Carin found it difficult to focus on it, like a smudge on her glasses.

She felt bad, but she voiced the thought, anyway. “Apparently.”

“Or.” It shifted to the other side of her, hazy tendrils draping down her shoulders. “Just disrespectful.”

“I want to make the deal.”

“Show first, questions later.” The world began to spin. Her feet stayed firmly planted while the most realistic looking screen—reality—whirled past her glamorous colors. Happy families, sexy dates, laughing friends, fine wine, expensive food. Belonging, comfort. The best the world had to offer—emotional contentment.

“It’s not a deal,” the demon breathed in her ear, as the glitter faded into the night sky, mixing with the stars. “It’s a demand.”

“For my soul?”

“No.”

“Well then, can’t be too bad,” she said, chipper and beginning to freeze in the night air.

“I can offer you the world, and everything in it. All under your domain.”

“I already said okay.”

“Only a fool fails to ask the price.”

“Of what?”

“Your humanity.”

“Whatever.”

It morphed in front of her, almost into the image of a handsome man, all dark hair and sharp cheekbones. It studied her for a moment, breath forming fog in the air, just like her own.

“Well alright then.”

It snapped its fingers and began to fade, leaving something behind.

And that something grew, burrowing beneath her skin. As it grew, and the power flowed through her veins, something withered and something broke, cracking away into dust and vanishing into the dawn, like a breath she’d never taken.

She touched her chest, head still spinning.

“You were given everything, which means you will have nothing," hissed a voice in her ear. It pressed something into her hand, and vanished completely, leaving only the vague impression of a dream upon waking.

She looked down to find her own handwriting staring back at her.

It morphed oddly, until it looked strangely like an alien face, and then the mask of a firefighter. It disappeared all together and was replaced by her brother’s concerned face, and chaos behind him. There were firefighters and people in their bathrobes and TV news crews.

“Are you alright? Your kitchen was on fire, Mrs. Johnson called me, I was so worried.”

That should make her feel guilty, her little brother worrying so. And she should feel disappointed that the whole thing was nothing, but a smoke induced hallucination. She would have believed it a dream, if she hadn’t felt so…..

Utterly inhuman.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[nautiscarader]

Nautiscarader’s Wendip Week day 4: Lost key

Wendy and Dipper find and old drive-in cinema with a locked cabinet inside the projector room...

"lost key" really has almost no connection to the story, it was just excuse to use an idea I've had for a while ;)

One summer the two decided to put their passion for old cheesy movies (the worst they could find (la la la)) to action and try to refurbish and old drive in cinema. It worked for exactly one night, because the projector was haunted.

(Ao3)

===================

Dipper Pines has seen a lot of strange things around Gravity Falls: ancient buildings, communes of magical creatures, tasty fat-free food, you name it. And yet, on occasions like these, despite his years of expertise, he was still stumped by his findings.

- Why would anyone build a huge empty billboard in the middle of the woods?

He scratched his head, walking around a huge once-white rectangle, propped between trees that now have overgrown it, blocking it from sight. Only because of its unnaturally light colour he and Wendy have managed to spot it during one of their many walks around the forest.

And it was Wendy that very quickly made him realise that the thing he was looking at was not exactly what he thought it to be.

- Dude, it's a screen! - she exclaimed - This must have been a drive-in theatre!

She spread her arms, and only now Dipper realised how oddly flat the meadow they were on was. He then noticed more and more evidence of her being right: rusty, metal poles he thought to be part of some fences, turned out to be holders for old speakers, though with very little electronics left.

And a huge, moss-covered rock was revealed to be a half-dilapidated carcass of a car that served as a home to some birds that flew way when Dipper uncovered it.

But there was one more mystery, and Wendy was on it, carefully looking around.

- If that's the screen, then the projector must be...

She turned around trying to spot it in the thick forest that have overgrown the place.

- There! Look!

Wendy pointed to a building on a nearby hill they previously thought to be just an abandoned shelter. But a rectangular hole in its wall, pointing towards the screen proved her right once more.

- Jackpot! - Dipper shouted - Let's check it out.

The two didn't have to break in - the door have succumbed to the passage of time years ago, giving Wendy and Dipper a mesmerising sight of an old projector room, filled with antiquated technology, frozen in time, as if they were the first people to explore it.

- Dude... do you think it still works? - Wendy suddenly spoke, as she looked through the hole in the wall at the place they've just left.

The answer became obvious when Dipper pulled the large handle on the wall, and with low, buzzing noise, the equipment woke up from its slumber, though Dipper put it back to sleep, knowing well not to test a potential fire-hazard too much.

- That's awesome! Do you know what that means? - Er, no... - We could, I don't know, renovate this place! This could be a new local attraction!

Dipper's eyes widened.

- You know, this isn't a bad idea! We would need some movies first, though...

He looked around, until he heard Wendy's playful grunt. The red-head was pointing out to a locked, metal cabinet with "Movies" written on it.

- Jackpot again... er, we just need to find a key.

He pointed to the rather imposing paddlock on the door. Wendy snickered.

- Stay back, man, I've got this.

She grabbed her axe and with a precise move, she hit the rusty piece of metal that practically turned to dust, and with a loud clunking noise, the door moved.

Wendy and Dipper eagerly grabbed each wing and opened it ajar, revealing rows of old circular reels of film, covered in only a thin layer of dust, preserved by time.

Dipper grabbed one of them, and gently blew the dust away, revealing the title.

- "Hare goulash"? - he raised his brow - From 1933... wow, this place is from the forties! Old as heck. - Maybe it's old, but it's still one of our finest!

With a loud, cluttering noise, Dipper dropped the metal reel to the ground when a third voice joined theirs. Wendy jumped back as well, and readied her weapon, though she was not quite prepared for what she saw.

A ghost with thick, bushy eyebrows and a moustache appeared from between the reels of old movies, wearing a tuxedo, a bowtie and a comically large glasses.

- Woah, lady, be careful with that axe, I've already cut down on my smoking!

He pointed a ghostly cigar at her and, contrary to his own words, took it back into his mouth, much to both Dipper's and Wendy's confusion.  

- Who are you? - Me? I should be asking you, I didn't know the circus was back in town! You are the weirdest travelling salespeople we've had in years! - Er... we?

Wendy asked the question, just as the answers revealed themselves to them. With more cluttering, two more spectres materialised from the storage closet, one wearing a bowler hat and the other a rather tarnished cylinder, eyeing the two living beings with eerie, wide-eyed stares.

- Woah, nelly, are we back in action? - the second ghost asked - I sure hope they haven't invented color movies, I only have black and white clothes!

The third ghost didn't say anything, but filled the room with melodious tune of his flute, at least until he looked at Wendy, and whistled loudly.

- Hey, watch out! - Dipper stepped forward. - Watch? - the first ghost chimed back, floating around her - Aren't you the ones to do so? We're the actors here! - What the-

Dipper yelped when his vision was obscured by his own vest being tossed over his head by the other two ghosts.

- Well, great, now the spectres have spectators! So, what are you kids doing here? Cos' I hate to break it you, you ain't gonna sell us any cookies to us.

The ghost with rather thick, bushy eyebrows sat, or rather levitated over the chair and produced a large cloud of smoke from what would be his lungs.

- We've just found this place. - Dipper explained, fixing his clothes - So, do you guys live here?

A loud, horn noise filled the room when one of the ghost produced one from nowhere and honked it at Dipper.

- Time-out for the nosy one! You don't say "live" to a ghost, you know. - Okay, okay - Wendy continued - Were you guys locked in this closet? - No complaints from me - the middle ghost answered - I can't imagine a better company than these two.

He hugged his two ghostly friends, much to their displeasure.

- Imagine that happening for sixty years. And he's the one who thinks he can sing! - Er, do you... do you guys have names? - Moustachio, at my service! - the moustache-wearing one bowed, and reached for Wendy's hand, only to grab and kiss his own. - Chorizo! - the second one lifted his hat, revealing two ghostly mice living underneath it - And this one's Honky, you can guess why.

Another loud sound, this time from a trombone filled the room, when Honky greeted Dipper and played his ghostly instrument.

- Okay, that's-that's neat... I guess. I'm Dipper, and this is Wendy.

Dipper introduced them to the ghosts, still standing a few feet away from them.

- We, uh, we were thinking if we could renovate this place... - Why? Are these cobwebs out of fashion?

The ghost grabbed both ends of his moustache and spread it apart, revealing several ghost spiders on an impressive grid of cobwebs.

- Ew! Stop it!

Wendy automatically swiped her axe, slicing the ghost in half.

- Hey, if you think I need to get back on a diet, you could have just told me! - Chorizo spoke, tugging his lower part back as if it was his pants. - No, you don't get it - Dipper continued - Wendy... Wendy just had an idea that we could bring this place back to li-, I mean, make it work again. - So we could play your movies again! They are all yours, right? - Hey, this one's bright! - Chorizo said, putting sunglasses onto his nose. - Hmm...

Moustachio twirled the end of his whiskers, until he grabbed his two ghostly friends.

- Team meeting! And you two, no peeking!

The see-through ghost turned around and he whispered something to the other two. Chorizo chimed in after a while, and sad tune of violin meant Honky gave his vote on the matter.

After just a few seconds, the three turned around and faced Wendy and Dipper.

- After long and heated discussion we came to a *clear* conclusion. - Moustachio spoke - We're old, you're young, so we hate you by definition. Get out of our lawn, it was nice meeting you!

And with that, the ghosts grabbed Wendy and Dipper and unceremoniously tossed them out of the bunker-like building, closing what remained of the door right in front of their nose.

- Oh, you little-

Wendy got up at once and tried kicking the dilapidated door open.

- Is that the pizza? It better be, it's been half a century!   - Open up, you old farts! - Wendy roared - Uh, Wen-Wendy? - Dipper gently nudged her - Maybe we shouldn't be interrupting them...? - Are you kidding me? We could make this place running and have fun, and these three weirdos think they own the place. - Uh, maybe they do? - Dipper raised his brow - I mean, it looks like this place has a whole set of their movies...

Wendy gave him a disappointed stare.

- I thought you were on with this plan... - Uh, Wendy, listen - he quickly corrected himself - I like watching old movies with you, but you know, at your place. I don't need- - But wouldn't it be more fun? To see them on big screen? - We could just... go to the regular movies, you know.

Wendy's smile faded away.

- You're no fun...

She kicked a nearby rock and turned around, and began walking down the hill.

- We-Wendy, wait!

Dipper slid after her, trying not to tumble down.

- Okay, let's-let's say I'm up with... this crazy plan. How could we do this?

Wendy's freckled face lightened, gracing Dipper with a beaming smile. She reached to her pocket and took her phone out.

- Well, answer this: who are you gonna call?

Dipper's eyes widened, as he understood her plan.

- Oh, great, phoneboxes can fit in a pocket now! Hope the bills are equally small. - Moustachio said, appearing out of the ground.

Several hours and one phonecall later, Wendy and Dipper came back to the abandoned drive-in theater, equipped with the best vacuum cleaners they could get.

The two shared knowing looks, nodded and stormed inside the projector room, ready to kick the ghosts' non-existent butts.

- Oh, good, we were waiting for you! We needed a fourth one. - Moustachio, Chorizo and Honky tossed their cards into the air, as the three left their card game. - And the small one can be the joker! - Hey! - Wendy stepped forward - Don't you ever call him that...

She turned on the portable vaccum cleaner and with a steady hand, aimed it at the three, with Dipper quickly joining her, sucking the stale air, and the ghosts with it.

The three spectres let out sharp yells (Honky using a triangle), and grabbed a nearby rail, as their bodies stretched and thinned, being sucked into the machines Dipper and Wendy pointed at them.

But as the two were sure of their victory, the three ghosts escaped their grip with ease, proving they were never in any danger at all, laughing and pointing at the teenagers, floating freely above them.

- Oh come on, using Hoovers to get rid of ghosts? - Moustachio rolled his eyes - We were the ones making comedies for fifty years, and even that plot is too silly for us. - And I bet you didn't even change the bags, we're kinda sick of the dust and all! - Oh, we were not going to trap you here...

Wendy and Dipper smiled at the same time, reaching into their pockets.

- Don't you know that cameras can trap souls?

And with that, the room was illuminated with flashes of light, as the two began shooting the ghosts with photo after photo, making them twist and writhe in after-agony.

A loud piano tune broke the silence, as Honky waved a white flag.

- Alright, alright, stop doing that! - Moustachio yelled - We've already sold our souls to Hollywood, who knows how much we have left.

At once, Dipper and Wendy lowered their "weapons", still wearing the same cocky smiles.

- So, you youngsters want to spend a night at a cinema, eh? Well, I guess it's yours, we can haunt a vaudeville or something. - Nah, you can stay here. - Wendy eagerly countered - We just wanted to do some cleaning...

The two raised their vacuum cleaners and turned them on, this time pointing to the dusty, dusty floor.

===========

It took Dipper a better part of the day cleaning the projector room, and the next four or five days restoring the parking lot.

Wendy offered to cut down the trees that have overgrown the place, and she came back the next day with a few benches made out of the same wood, as the place was certainly not up for any cars anymore.

Dipper took care of the electric circuits, making sure the place was up to the modern standards ("You don't want to know how much worse the Health and Safety inspectors are in the afterlife, kiddo!").

Wendy also nicked some fresh white bedsheets and used them to repair the white screen to properly display the movie.

By the end of a week of tiring work, the theater, though still looking old, was at least brought to a working state, with Wendy and Dipper excited to be it first customers, before opening it to the public.

They walked into the projector room, where the three ghosts turned on the machine, lighting up the glade with white light. But as Dipper was about to pick up a reel of a movie, Moustachio grabbed it and absorbed them into his see-through body, together with the rest of the collection.

- Hey! What gives? - Wendy shouted back. - You know, we gave it a thought, and we're not just gonna play the movies for ya'. - Moustachio spoke - I figured out how to retroactively file a copyright claim on our movies! They're no longer in public domain, they're in boo-blic domain.

The three ghosts grinned.

- If you want to run this cinema, now you have to pay us! - And we will adjust for inflation! - Chorizo added. - What? No! - We should bust you again just because of that joke. - Dipper added - And besides, who told you how to do that?

By now, Dipper should have learned not to ask questions about money in Gravity Falls.

- Hiya kids! - Grunkle Stan?!

Wendy and Dipper roared in disbelief, as the old entrepreneur casually walked into the room, playfully swinging his cane.

- I see you've met my pals! - he grinned jovially and closed his arm around the ghosts in a brotherly hug. - And I gotta tell you, I have huge plans for this place. Look, I stole some microchips or whatnot from Ford and glued them to the cups.

He tilted a large styrofoam cup he was holding, proudly presenting a small, sparkling device underneath it.

- And apparently, now you cannot get refills! You have to buy a new drink every time! And I only kinda understand how it works!

He burst into maniacal laughter, dragging his ghostly friends with him. The men laughed and walked out of the projector room, though only one of them was able to do it without colliding into a wall.

- Well, looks like this is it.

Dipper sighed and turned away, kicking a half-century old can. But he quickly felt Wendy's hand on his shoulder, as she stopped him.

- Maybe... but guess who made camrips of their movies?

She waved her phone, and Dipper's face brightened, before they too burst into a fit of giggles. With the prize in their hand, the two teenagers were soon running away to a much cozier place.

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the dilapidated car, in front of now-empty screen, their faces illuminated by the light of the cellphone. The two laughed, as an actor from the bygone days said the same joke for the fifth time in a row, getting his face plastered with a pie.

- Hey, Dipper? - Wendy suddenly asked, in the middle of a musical number - Yeah? - Thanks for everything. And for... you know, helping me out. - Yeah, shame it didn't work. - Hey, it wasn't that bad. We've had some fun, didn't we?

Even though her face was half-hidden in shadows, Dipper could see a faint blush, contrasting with her gleaming, emerald eyes, which in turn made his cheeks match her.  

Their faces got closer and closer, and suddenly, the warm August night became as hot as noon in the middle of a heatwave. And just as their lips were about to meet, they were drowned in white, bright light and they jumped in their seats as the old speaker crackled with a high-pitched noise.

The two looked at the sign projected on to the screen, and groaned, when the ghost repeated those words.

- Kissing costs extra five bucks!

[shivroyslut]

I just listened to the whole Evermore album and I’m now on my second listen so here is Evermore songs I think are destiel related and whether they’re from Dean’s or Cas’ perspective (or both) - add more lyrics/parallels if you like

willow - both

“Wherever you stray I will follow”

champagne problems - okay tbh i dont see this as either of them but that one line...

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure” - MS SWIFT ??? ARE YOU A HELLER ???? CHEVY, NOVEMBER, AND FLANNEL IN THE SAME SENTENCE ???

gold rush - Cas

“Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush; I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush; I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch; Everybody wants you; Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you; Walk past, quick brush; I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush; I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush” - yeah this is just Cas simping on Dean for so many seasons

“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?” - But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester

 ‘tis the damn season - both

“There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me; But if it's all the same to you; It's the same to me” - uhm this is just them fighting every season then making up a few epis later

“I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave” - PURGATORY

“I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay” - THIS IS JUST THE ENTIRE DESTIEL ARC IN THE FIRST HALF OF S15 LMAO

“Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out; We could just ride around; And the road not taken looks real good now” - this is Dean brooding every time Cas dies

tolerate it - Cas

“I sit and watch you; I notice everything you do or don't do”

“I wait by the door like I'm just a kid“

“If it's all in my head tell me now; Tell me I've got it wrong somehow”

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?” - okay this is dean though

“Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?; I made you my temple, my mural, my sky; Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life” - this is Cas when they are fighting

“Always taking up too much space or time; You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I; Break free and leave us in ruins” - again when Dean is being an idiot and they fight

happiness - Cas

“But there was happiness because of you” - Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. You changed me. 

“Past the blood and bruise; Past the curses and cries; Beyond the terror in the nightfall; Haunted by the look in my eyes; That would've loved you for a lifetime; Leave it all behind” - ms swift are you a Cas girl ??

“All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness” - literally Cas just wanting Dean to forgive him for everything

coney island - Dean

“If I can't relate to you anymore; Then who am I related to?” - every time Dean feels betrayed by Cas but especially in s6 when Cas teams up with Crowley, like my man had so much trust in Cas only for him to be wrong

“Sorry for not making you my centerfold”

“The question pounds my head; What's a lifetime of achievement; If I pushed you to the edge?; But you were too polite to leave me; And do you miss the rogue; Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?; Will you forgive my soul; When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?” - no offence but this is exactly what went through Dean’s head when he was sitting there crying after Cas got yeeted into the empty

“Over and over; Lost again with no surprises; Disappointments, close your eyes; And it gets colder and colder; When the sun goes down” - Dean mourning every time Cas died after the second time

“And when I got into the accident; The sight that flashed before me was your face; But when I walked up to the podium I think that I forgot to say your name” - uhm Dean seeing Cas as his life flashed before his eyes when he got impaled by the rusty nail and wanted him by his side but the writers were cowards he got caught up in the moment with Sammy and didn’t pray for him to come

“But I think that I forgot to say your name; Over and over” - i just think Dean is hard on himself for not keeping Cas closer to him after Cas died in 15x18

ivy - Dean

“How's one to know?; I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones In a faith forgotten land; In from the snow; Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow; Tarnished but so grand” - I’M THE ONE WHO GRIPPED YOU TIGHT AND RAISED YOU FROM PERDITION

“And the old widow goes to the stone every day; But I don't, I just sit here and wait; Grieving for the living” - Dean just wanting a win (Cas back) in s13

“I wish to know; The fatal flaw that makes you long to be; Magnificently cursed” - you know just Cas being very cursed throughout the whole show, and the fatal flaw is his love for Dean humanity

“I'd live and die for moments that we stole; On begged and borrowed time” - i think this is for both cause Cas’ line “Dean you know I always appreciate our talks and our time together” but Dean definitely feels the same way I mean he made Cas watch all those movies

cowboy like me - both (very destiel)

“Never wanted love; Just a fancy car; Now I'm waiting by the phone; Like I'm sitting in an airport bar” - this is painfully obviously Dean

“Eyes full of stars; Hustling for the good life; Never thought I'd meet you here; It could be love; We could be the way forward; And I know I'll pay for it” - very obvious Cas line 

“And the skeletons in both our closets; Plotted hard to fuck this up” - just the universe not wanting them to be together

long story short - Cas

“I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me”

“And I fell from the pedestal; Right down the rabbit hole” 

“When I dropped my sword; I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door; And we live in peace; But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready” - Cas always coming back and willing to give up everything for Dean

“And he feels like home”

“Now I'm all about you”

marjorie - both (but mainly Dean)

“Never be so kind; You forget to be clever; Never be so clever; You forget to be kind” 

“And if I didn't know better; I'd think you were talking to me now” - No I’m not talking to him, *proceeds to talk to and protect each other*

“What died didn't stay dead” - yah

“I should've asked you questions; I should've asked you how to be; Asked you to write it down for me; Should've kept every grocery store receipt; Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me” - Dean keeping the trench coat every time Cas dies

closure - Dean (but a little Cas)

“And seeing the shape of your name; Still spells out pain” - Dean after 15x18 seeing ‘Castiel’ on the table

“It cut deep to know ya, right to the bone”

“Don't treat me like; Some situation that needs to be handled” - can be Cas too

“I'm fine with my spite; And my tears, and my beers and my candles” - his anger stage when hes undergoing his 5 stages of grief after 15x18, and like every time he and Cas fight

“I don't need your closure” - ^

evermore - both ( this song is so destiel make this their fucking theme song)

“Motion capture; Put me in a bad light; I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone; Trying to find the one where I went wrong; Writing letters; Addressed to the fire” - Cas whenever Dean kicks him out and he doesn’t understand why or when Dean just let’s him go; and Dean in purgatory when he realises Cas was hiding from him, when he changed his memory to believe he let go of Cas, when he found out that Cas is the one who let him go. There is honestly so many examples for this line

“And I was catching my breath; Staring out an open window; Catching my death; And I couldn't be sure; I had a feeling so peculiar; That this pain would be for evermore” - Cas when he realises that he is in love with Dean but he can never be with him; and Dean when he thought he left Cas in purgatory and every time Cas died

“Hey December; Guess I'm feeling unmoored; Can't remember; What I used to fight for; I rewind thе tape but all it does is pause; On thе very moment, all was lost; Sending signals; To be double-crossed” - Cas when heaven pushed him away repeatedly and also when Dean pushed him away repeatedly when he was the whole reason he rebelled; and Dean when he just wanted that win in s13 and every other time he had doubt 

“Cannot think of all the cost; And the things that will be lost; Oh, can we just get a pause?; To be certain, we'll be tall again; Whether weather be the frost; Or the violence of the dog days; I'm on waves, out being tossed; Is there a line that I could just go cross?” - you know like whenever they feel hopeless; reminds me of the diner scene in s14e14 where they are talking about Michael

“And when I was shipwrecked; I thought of you; In the cracks of light; I dreamed of you; It was real enough; To get me through; I swear you were there” - Cas simping for Dean; Dean after escaping from purgatory seeing Cas everywhere

Anyways these are just my thought and links don’t attack me I’m just out here wasting time on a ship I was obsessed with in 2015 (I mean I am on break from uni and am jobless). Feel free to add more lyrics or parallels I’m pretty sure I missed quite a few. I do acknowledge that the album is definitely not about destiel and about Taylor herself but its just fascinating to find all these lyrical links to Dean and Cas’ relationship. 

[clonemando]

Meeting the Tribe

Din convinces Boba to join him in meeting back up with his Tribe. Boba really doesn't want to but he can't resist his little brother's puppy eyes. AO3 Link

Boba sighed as he and Din entered a rather populated city together. The stares didn't bother him much, no one would be stupid enough to try to take on a pair of Mandalorians together without a full team and even then, he and Din could handle it. Plus if they recognized him and his armor, which by the terror he could feel as they walked slowly towards the market they did, then that was even more incentive to leave them alone. No, he wasn't so much bothered by the place than by the reason they were there.

Din needed to see his people. See who remained of what was once his tribe. Boba understood that. But what he didn't like was that Din insisted he come too.

"Din, I respect your beliefs but I'm not one of them. They won't want me there. I shouldn't know where the covert is located." He had tried to argue but Din had turned big brown puppy dog eyes on him and damn they were even worse when he could actually see them without the helmet in the way.

"You are one of us through me and they will not challenge that. If they do, I'll deal with it. I need to speak with the armorer. There was a lot of Beskar on the cruiser and it should be returned and used for foundlings. Not to mention you could use some repairs. And as part of my clan, you need the signet somewhere on your armor- if that's okay? I know it was your father's. Maybe we can get a new piece made instead…" Din had dissolved into muttering and Boba knew he wouldn't be winning the battle.

So now here they were slowly making their way around twisting and winding roads. Din finally dragged him under an arch and down some stairs and then they were there. Children were running around, all covered with a buy'ce on their heads but none seeming to even notice as they played. Parents watched nearby, eyeing the newcomers warily with the fierce protective streak all Mandalorians shared for children, especially their own. Boba felt like he was intruding and really wanted to leave but Din strode through like he belonged and getting separated seemed like an even worse idea so he kept up.

Even in the dark, in this place Din had never been, it was like he had a map in his mind and they were shortly standing in front of a forge. Din kneeled and Boba hesitated unsurely before following his example while a woman in a gold plated buy'ce made her way around to look at them. Boba knew this must have been the leader of Din's tribe, the armorer he spoke so highly of.

"You have returned. Was your task successful?" She asked Din, completely ignoring Boba's presence and he wanted to feel upset about it but mostly he was grateful.

"It was. The child has been delivered to a Jedi who can train him. He is safe now." He said and Boba wondered if the Armorer could hear the pain in Din's voice as he spoke the way he could.

"Jate. Good. Now tell me why you have brought this dar'manda amongst us?" She said and Boba winced because she said it so calmly. She wasn't even judging him, it was a statement of fact to her. That he existed with no soul. Maybe she was right.

"He is not dar'manda. He was… echoy'la… lost, searching. A foundling of our own kind found by others. Now he has been returned to us. He has been reborn and should be offered cin vhetin." Din said voice sharp as a knife and Boba could admit he didn't recognize all words. His Mando'a was rusty. But he knew Din was defending him.

"I told you I don't belong here, Din. It's fine. Let them call me what they wish. I'm not a child who needs to be coddled." He hissed at him, not sure how to handle being defended. It felt wrong.

The Armor's gaze shifted. "You brought Beskar." She said ignoring their staring contest to look at the container Din had brought with them.

"Yes. The imperials that we fought to get the child to his people had a large amount. It belongs back with our people." Din said setting the container in front of himself and opening it.

The Armorer examined a bar before looking over Din. "Your beskar'gam is still in repair. What do you wish me to make for you? Or shall it all be used for the foundlings?" She asked and Din met her gaze and held it even through their helmets.

"He is part of my clan and requires a signet. His armor is in disrepair and to let my Aliit suffer injury when I have means to protect him would be to break the creed." He said and Boba wanted to growl that he wasn't part of the damn creed or stomp out and leave Din there despite, or maybe because of, how generous he was being.

The Armorer looked between them again and sighed. "You have always had the most stubborn of hearts Djarin. Very well. What will you have me do for your vod?" She asked and Din looked at Boba who was trying to find a way out of this mess that wouldn't offend Din or shit all over how hard he was fighting for him.

"This armor was my father's I don't-" He started his voice coming out less firm that he wanted it to and more pleading. The Armorer seemed to accept that and she backed away, taking the Beskar and starting to work. Boba didn't know what she was doing but he flinched at the loud sound of the hammer feeling confined and on edge. He didn't belong here. He should have told Din no and stayed on the ship.

"Din, go out now. Paz was hoping to speak to you. When you return I will be finished." She ordered and he saw Din hesitate before nodding and leaving. The Armorer finally directed her gaze to Boba and he resisted the urge to squirm like a child. She wasn't Jango about to give him a scolding for sneaking out to play with the other clones. But she definitely had a similar energy to her.

"Boba Fett. Son of Jango Fett. Son of Jaster Mareel who was once Mand'alor. Din Djarin has claimed you as part of his clan and house. Do you know what that means?" She asked and Boba sighed shoulder's slumping despite himself. So he was getting a scolding. Mandalorians had to drag your whole family line into it too.

"We're just brothers. It's not like we're getting married." He grumbled.

"Family is family, no matter position. Love is love no matter the type. Your houses shall be one and the same. Your past will be his past and his your own. That is our way. Cin vhetin… He wishes for you to be given a clear start. Free of what you were before you were Mandalorian. He is offering a soulless being like you a piece of his own so you might join the Manda when you die. That is what it means. If you tarnish and ruin him, I will find you, and nothing you have ever done will compare to the wrath I will let fall upon you. Do you understand?" She said voice still level and calm, but that only made it worse.

"Yes. You are his mother." He said meaning to ask but it came out like a statement. The Armorer looked towards the door.

"They are all my children but the Mandalorian who found Din and raised him here died when Din was still young. To lose his birth family, and then the one who found him, he needed someone who would not fail him again. I claimed him. And now that means I must accept you. Do not let that make you think I like you, however." She said and returned to her work and Boba's head bowed as silence filled the space now, besides the hammering and sounds of her tools.

Boba wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate her for judging him on a life she knew nothing about. He wanted to tell her to stuff it and that this was all a mistake. But mostly he was tired. He found himself wondering instead how his father would like Din. Jango would probably remind Boba that trusting led to betrayal but he wouldn't dislike Din. He might even eventually come around when he saw how good Din was. His lips twitched slightly at the thought of his father arguing with this woman for the right to take Din as his son the way he had heard him argue with the Kaminoans. It would have certainly been a fierce fight.

"Stand." She interrupted his musing and Boba stood looking at what she held out for him trying to identify what the strip of metal would be used for but she didn't wait for him to ask.

"A neck guard." She murmured and fitted it between his helmet and armor and he felt his mouth go dry.

"Oh" Was all he could say and she met his eyes through their helmets.

"Stay still while I place your signet," She asked instead, and Boba was glad she didn't expect him to say anything. When Din returned followed by a hulk of a Mandalorian in blue painted armor, she had finished adding the mudhorn signet to the pauldron that didn't have his mythosaur.

"Boba, Paz will be coming with us when we return to Tatooine. He has some business there." Din said and Boba turned to pierce his gaze right to where he knew Din's eyes were.

"Are you suddenly the one who decides who can come onto my ship to my planet?" He asked in a low growl. Din didn't even flinch though at least Boba knew he wasn't losing his touch because the big guy that must have been Paz tensed. Din could just read him too well.

"I forgot. Oh great and powerful Boba Fett, who rules over Tatooine with a fist of Beskar, I beg of you to humbly allow my pathetic brother Paz to accompany us back to your home." Din said dryly and Boba grinned at the offended. "Hey!" From Paz.

"Hmmm… I suppose, when you ask so nicely, we can arrange to have him loaded in with the rest of the supplies." He said and he could feel the heat of Paz's glare which made him grin. This was more comfortable.

"I always wanted to stuff Paz in a box. Let's go then." Din said leading the way out with Boba and Paz following him. Maybe Boba didn't belong with the tribe, but he definitely knew he belonged with Din. So he'd accept this too.

[stclla]

hello loves! my name is bri and i’m so excited to get the chance to write with all of your beautiful muses ♡ i just turned 24 (ew), my pronouns are she/her, and my timezone is est (luckily i live about an hour outside of nyc, and plan to move there permanently in 2021 yay !!!) 

tbh it’s been at least a year since my last rp group and i’m a little rusty, so pls feel free to share your tips and lmk how i’m doing :) my writing style is pretty flexible and i match length, pov, etc. and now !! a little bit of info about my beautiful chaotic bby stella:

ABOUT.

estelle “stella” celestine evans was spotted in the fashion district adorning gucci ankle boots , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to heat waves by glass animals . you may know them as @stella or as that sydney sweeney lookalike . their twenty-second birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be reckless but on the other hand warmhearted . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines .

BASIC INFO.

Full Name: Estelle Celestine Evans

Nickname(s): Stella

Age: 22

Date of Birth: August 4, 1998

Sun Sign: Leo

Moon Sign: Cancer

Rising Sign: Scorpio

Hometown: Beverly Hills, CA

Current Location: Upper East Side, NY

Gender: Cis female

Pronouns: She/her

Orientation: Pansexual

Political Affiliation: Liberal

Occupation: Supermodel, socialite, influencer

Career Highlights: Victoria’s Secret Angel, high fashion runways, print & editorial work, music video appearances, photography, art direction

Goals/Passions: Photography, art direction, fashion design, makeup, social media

Career Claim: Gigi Hadid

BIOGRAPHY.

When your mom’s a legendary supermodel and your dad is a smooth talking Hollywood talent agent, it’s safe to say that you were probably born with a silver spoon in your mouth. But don’t you dare say that shit to Stella Evans. Although she definitely enjoyed the finer things in life growing up and was practically gifted a spot in wealthy elite by her parents, Stella likes to believe that she did it all herself. And underneath it all - the glitz and the glam and the money and the flashing lights - maybe she actually did.

While this blonde haired, blue eyed beauty might be the spitting image of her mother with a few (okay, a lot) more extra curves, Stella tries to distance herself from her family heritage as much as possible. It started in kindergarten when she renamed herself. After all, being named after the notorious Estelle Evans doesn’t make you a lot of friends when you’re five. It makes you the subject of ridicule from your peers, and makes your teachers treat you as if you were the one posing topless in Italian Vogue. And when your mother made you model for a big Baby Guess modeling campaign at the age of 2, kids tended to talk. So she became Stella. Just Stella.

From then on, she did everything she could to separate herself from her parents. If her parents said to stay in, she went out. If they told her to get good grades, she failed her classes in retaliation. Their attention was all consuming, especially her mother’s. After the once popular cover girl had retired, she turned all of her attention to her daughter. Stella’s modeling work had been paused at the suggestion of her talent agent father, Arthur Evans. He wanted her to focus on school and get an education so she could take over the talent agency one day. But when Estelle and Arthur divorced when Stella was 10 years old, all bets were off.

Her mother hopped from loveless marriage to loveless marriage, dragging Stella along for the ride. Her father moved to the Upper East Side, vowing to see her at Christmas each year, while Stella jetted around the world against her will. 6th and 7th grade in Sweden, 8th grade in London, 9th and 10th grade in Paris. It was a long and lonely adolescence, but Stella filled it with booze, bars, and boys and girls to keep her company. Partying was her only escape. And she was damn good at escaping.

She had her first real relationship when she was 16. He was an older French financier who was content to spoil her rotten and show her a good time. Perhaps too good a time. Stella was introduced to the things that would become her vices - namely, drugs and alcohol. Her mother proved to be overbearing but oblivious. She would do things like criticize her daughter’s makeup, clothing, and body, but be completely unaware that Stella was doing things like snorting coke to get thinner. She’d call her trashy for going out to clubs, then look the other way when Stella would wear a short mini skirt when leaving for “study sessions” at the library. With Stella’s clever wit and electric charisma, it really was too easy. The drugs combined with the alcohol made her feel better because she didn’t really feel anything at all. Plus, if her parents hated partying, then Stella would learn to love it.

Shit hit the fan when Stella was arrested in France. Something about being an accomplice to international drug smuggling and being under the influence of a controlled substance - whatever. 16 year old Stella got off with a slap on the wrist due to her connections, promising to move back to New York with her dad until she was 18 and legal. The Upper East Side was her new home, and weirdly enough, she actually kind of liked it. It was easier to start over in New York, where no one cared about her washed up mother. But they did care about money, wealth, and excess, which Stella was more than an expert in, whether she liked it or not. This made her presence in the New York social scene almost magnetic. People would flock to her, drawn in by her ethereal beauty, effortless charm, and “fuck it all” party girl attitude.

Attention was a dangerous drug for a girl like Stella, who had spent her whole life freeing herself from her mother’s tarnished legacy. And when she had finally done it, had finally succeeded in making people call her “Stella Evans” instead of “Baby Estelle”, it made her wild with reckless abandon. All her new friends and lovers wanted to buy her shots and make her feel good any way she wanted, and it was only polite for Stella to let them do it.

The next few years were filled with exclusive clubs, raucous spring breaks, glamorous yacht parties, champagne kisses with boys and girls, social media notoriety, and juicy headlines that cemented her status as an it-girl. Her modeling career resumed with a promise to her father that she would go to college at the same time. Armed with a golden reputation, endless connections, and natural charisma and talent, Stella began to walk all the major runways and was in talks to appear in Sports Illustrated and Victoria’s Secret. Unlike her mother, she proved that she had both high fashion attitude and sex appeal. Stella was unstoppable.

Until she wasn’t. After a night of drinking and an ill-timed bet that she could parallel park her date’s Range Rover (despite the fact that Stella didn’t have a license to speak of), the police charged her with a DUI. This time, she didn’t get off so easy. Her father pulled as many strings as possible to keep her image clean in the press, but word got out anyway. Fucking instagram.

Faced with the threat of losing her big modeling campaigns, Stella agreed to clean up her image. Think rehab, charity work, inspirational interviews. The whole shebang. And it worked - kind of. It’s hard to navigate a world filled with temptation, but Stella doesn’t know how to survive without the glitz and glamour of the wealthy world. She dropped out of college against her dad’s wishes, officially surrendering herself to the New York social scene. Rich girls have more fun, anyway. But sometimes she hates it and wants to be “normal”. Even so, she knows that she never will be and embraces the beautiful chaos that her life of excess brings to her.

As far as rich kids go, Stella is almost down-to-earth. Kind of. She likes to think that she is, but she’s also the kind of girl who would never be caught dead on the subway. Or a taxi. Black cars and private jets only, please. Underneath it all, Stella wants (and frankly, needs) real connections in her life. People who genuinely care about her and have her best interests at heart are extremely rare, so when Stella lets someone get close to her, they’re with her for life. Her reckless, carefree attitude can definitely get her into trouble, so she can be a handful.

But one of her shining traits is that she doesn’t judge, at least not as openly and viciously as her peers. Stella’s life of wealth and status is definitely ingrained in her, but she is also openminded and accepting. Her friends don’t need to be old money. They just need to be real. You can catch her being the talk of the town in her native Upper East Side, but also vibing with the up and comers in Tribeca. Below the layers of superficiality and obsession with the finer things in life, this supermodel has a heart of gold. But don’t fuck with her. Stella is dangerous and defiant when she wants to be, and nothing can get in the way of her getting what she wants. Even if what she wants could destroy her one day.

*** her bio is still a wip and i’m working on some inspo for wanted connections, but definitely lmk if you have any questions or think stella would be a good fit for connections with your muses ! 

[advikaglitteringtreasures]

How To Take Care of Your Jewelry

Seasons come, seasons go, and so do trends. While we try to keep up with these trends, we often end up having heaps of imitation jewelry. Now, that’s great because you have a collection from which you can select whatever you want to wear. But, what about the care of these pieces of jewelry?

With time, artificial jewelry tends to lose its shine, color, and become rusty or oxidized. Now, how do you prevent your jewelry from all this? I am going to tell you exactly that.

Tip 1- When to wear and remove jewelry.

Always remember jewelry goes last and comes off first. You should always put your jewelry after you put on your dress, makeup and are set with your hairstyle. Also, don’t forget to take off your jewelry before you start any physical work such as exercising, gardening, or cleaning clothes or utensils, etc. to prevent the jewelry from moisture and any cleaning agent or harsh chemicals.

Jewelry should also be the first thing to take off, to avoid any scratches or friction.

Tip 2- How to store the jewelry you just took off?

The foremost thing to keep in mind is to wipe off any moisture that is there on your jewelry, with the help of a soft cloth or tissue. Now don’t be harsh with it, be very gentle while cleaning.

Okay, so you have cleaned any precipitation that was there on the jewelry, now find a box, or use the box that the jewelry came in, the important thing is that it should have cloth lining, or you can wrap each piece in soft tissue or anti-tarnish paper and then store it in a box.

A quick fix, if you don’t have soft tissue or cloth, you can use the cloth that comes with spectacles.

Try to use a box or a container that is airtight to prevent oxidizing the jewelry, especially the sterling silver jewelry. You can use the zip lock bags that are often used for storing vegetables.

Another tip for your silver jewelry store it with silica bags or chalk, anything that absorbs moisture, to prevent oxidizing the pieces.

 Tip 3- How to clean your jewelry?

Gold plated jewelry-

Gold plated jewelry tends to lose its color over time and overuse, however, if you take proper care of them.

The most important thing to keep in mind, avoid moisture at all costs. Prevent your jewelry from splashes of water, perfume, sweat, lotions, oils, etc.

Take them off before you dive into a pool, start working out or cleaning.

Never use any jewelry cleaner or solution to clean plated jewelry.

Always pat the jewelry dry using a cotton cloth

And just like for any other jewelry piece, keep them in an airtight container

Gold jewelry -

Solid gold jewelry can be worn daily. It lasts long, sometimes for centuries, for instance take the gold jewelry found with the mummies in Egypt. Gold jewelry does not lose its color or shine and it doesn’t oxidize. So if you’re someone who wants a few pieces of jewelry that go long way, or someone who doesn’t want to change their jewelry often, this is the go -to.

You can wash these with a jewelry solution or a mild soap and water solution. Use a soft brush or cloth.

If you have stones in it or if it is statement Kundan jewelry then don’t expose it to the solution for too long, they might lose its shine.

You should also take it to your jeweler to get it polished and stones tightened every once in a while.

Silver jewelry -

Solid silver jewelry, like solid gold jewelry, can be worn every day. They tend to lose their shine and luster. But you could follow the below-mentioned tips to last them longer-

Use a soft cloth to clean your silver pieces.

Store it in an airtight container to prevent it from oxidizing

Do not use harsh cleansers which have bleach, chlorine, etc. on your silver jewelry.

If the silver jewelry has an antique look and is oxidized then religiously follow the above-mentioned tip.  

Besides, bleach and chlorine try to avoid these chemicals and solutions as well, denatured alcohol, ammonia, acetone, and turpentine.

Brass jewelry-

Maintenance for brass jewelry is more or less the same as for silver jewelry.  

Jewelry with stones-

Jewelry that has stones, gemstones, etc. embedded in it, like the Indian traditional Kundan jewelry, should never be immersed in water or any solution for a prolonged period of time. The stones might come loose and become dull.

Now that you know how to make your jewelry last long, retain its shine, luster, and color, go on with filling your shopping carts on the Best Jewelry Websites Online.

[stefnot-steph]

Evermore

This is my first fanfiction in a long time so be gentle! I’m definitely rusty, but when I was listening to this Taylor Swift song I couldn’t get this concept out of my head. It takes place after the season finale so obvious spoilers. Its my OC Auden and she is the love interest of our favorite Mando. I wanted to write grief from my perspective since I lost my older brother years ago it still feels so real but writing helps me express so much. Anyways I hope yall like this! 

Catching my death, and I couldn’t be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for Evermore.

You couldn’t breathe.

You felt everything in slow motion and all at once. You felt tears running down your cheeks and didn’t have the strength or the care to wipe them away. Your ever so tough exterior was tarnished forever. You made yourself a promise long ago to never let others see you cry. 

Oh hell it doesn’t matter much now anymore does it?

You watched the chaos scene in front of you as Din was making his final goodbyes to the child. The child or Grogu as you both came to know had completely stolen what was left of your heart which you thought was impossible. Your heart which was shattered many years ago when your parents abandoned you and your only sibling. Your older brother took care of you and raised you but by the time you turned 19 he was gone from your life too. Another victim of The Empire, another soul lost in the stars forever. After your world was turned upside down once again you were lost, completely on your own going from planet to planet with no plan for your future. You knew how to defend yourself and did odd jobs when you could to get by, but nothing felt right you were never at peace.

That all changed about 10 years later when you ran into a certain Mandalorian and his odd looking child one night. He saved you from a group of nasty men at a cantina who just wanted to take advantage of you since you were drunk and just looking for another distraction. You welcomed the empty company of a man any other time since it numbed the pain even if it was for just a moment. That life was enough. 

But you deserved more, the universe had other plans for you.

It took a long time but you began to fall in love with The Mandalorian and his child and you swore it over and over it would never happen to you but your heart began to heal, the grief and pain of losing your family started to be replaced by a newfound feeling. It took time but eventually you welcomed with it with open arms. You became a mother to the child, and all the motherly instincts came to you so naturally. 

Happiness

You never thought you could feel that again. 

and now as you come back to the present, you felt your blaster slip from your hands as you watched the Jedi turn away and leave with half of your heart. Finally you felt your legs and started to run, you didn’t give a damn about being defenseless in a enemy ship, you ran past Cara, Bo Katan and Finnec. 

You ran past Din.

Your eyes were filled with tears and your mind was going a mile a minute trying to catch up to the Jedi who was taking your life away. Again.

No. No I can’t do this again, I refuse to lose anyone else.  

You kept running down the never ending hall until you froze. You watched Grogu one last time as he made it out with the Jedi. You knew it was useless, he was gone. Even Din could let him go, and they had a bond like no other.

You were never good at letting go.

You collapsed on the floor in a heap of sobs and screams. Your grief overwhelming you once again like a tidal wave. You were drowning, and this time you didn’t want to fight it. It wasn’t worth it anymore, you had truly lost everything. 

Can’t remember what I used to fight for, I rewind the tape but all it does it pause. On the very moment all was lost. 

You didn’t realize a pair of strong arms picking you up, bringing you back into this moment. You knew who it was and was beyond grateful to feel the familiar coolness of baskar against your cheeks which were stained with tears. 

“Auden. Please look at me. Please, I’m right here its goin-g to be okay.”

Through blurry tear soaked eyes you gathered the strength to look up at the man who you do anything for.

You lost your breath again as your dark eyes met his own. Time stopped once again. You couldn’t find your voice, all you could do was stare. 

My gods he is beautiful. He’s everything I imagined he’d look like and more.

You reached up and touched that mysterious, beautiful face of the man you’ve fell in love with. He closed his eyes leaning into you as he started down the hall still determined to get you out of there and to be safe. 

“D-din you’re creed, what about the creed and everyth-.”

You were cut off by his mouth touching you lips. Nothing else needed to be said. Finally. Finally

You both embraced the kiss, it was long overdue and you swore you saw stars in your overwhelming amount of emotions. It was how a kiss should feel, powerful and full of life and passion.

You two broke apart reluctantly and just stared at each other. Even with your grief and loss still very real and raw, you just knew things would be okay. Maybe not everything but isn’t that just life?

“Come on Auden, lets get out of here. I’ll explain everything, I-I did want I had to. He needed to be safe, We I-I couldn’t give him that.” Din sighed, his brown eyes red and swollen from his own tears and inner torment.

“I know Din, I-I know it just caught me off again, I can’t stand to lose anyone else.”

Din looked down to you and gently put you down knowing you could feel your legs again.

“You’ll never lose me. Ever. That’s a promise I will keep, I love you.”

You took his gloved hand in your own and smiled. 

“I know.”

I couldn’t be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain wouldn’t be for 

Evermore.

[bowieandqueen11]

If You Believe / Beverly Marsh Imagine

Request: Hi, love! I'm so glad you're back!!! Do you think you could write an imagine where Beverly Marsh has an insecure girlfriend? If you're okay with that of course. 😊 

Of course love, I’m always here for some Beverly love! <3

All comments and requests are much appreciated!

As your hips sway, catching the last traces of the pelting wintry drops of rain on this overcast grey afternoon, you sigh slightly to yourself as the rain patters over your head, the soft splashes bombarding sparkly beads of water onto you and the nearby tarnished and rusty streetlamp you pass. As you gaze wistfully up at the streaky clouds hiding the last rays of sunlight, your pace quickens slightly, your shoes starting to pound against the pavement as you want nothing more than to just get home and have this day end.

Not paying attention, you nearly slam straight into a small newsstand on the verge of the street before your shared apartment. Unable to help your curiosity, you peer in slightly, avoiding the contentious frown from the man running the shop as he lifts another magazine before his eyes. The bold headline catches your eye, screaming in immense, crass block letters: ‘Fashion designer Beverly Marsh finds flirtatious new fling?’ Gazing away quickly from the gorgeous picture of the model you vaguely remember noticing in passing at the fashion party last week, your mind hones in on the thought of Bev’s hand lingering on the slight curve of his back during the night, her slender fingers dancing lightly over his shoulder. They looked like the perfect couple, and as you turn away quickly, your eyes blurring with hot tears as your fingers curl into a fist, clutching the edge of your shirt as your eyes flash over a rack of tabloid newspapers without you in them, it reminds you too much of her and Bill. Of that summer.

Skidding on the wet pavement, your hands are a blur as you fumble the key out of your pocket and hurry through the front door, the tears falling down your flushed cheeks mixing with the remnants of the rain in hot drops. However, you’re too distracted to notice Bev half-running, half-jumping down the stairs, sliding along the wooden corridor in his woolly socks and flowing satin dressing slip, and finally clashing into you with the most beautiful, cherishing grin lighting up her face.

‘God, I’ve missed you so much. Being sick is the absolute worst, and if I have to look at one more piece of satin...’

Turning fearful suddenly, Bev’s face turns into a quick and anxious frown as her hands land as soft as embers against your waist, her hair tumbling slightly down in front of her eyes like petals.

‘Y/n, please tell me what’s wrong, what has you so upset my love’.

You can’t bare to look at her, choosing instead to bite your cheek as you whisper, ‘Bev, why did you choose me instead of Bill? Why would you ever have chosen me against anyone?’

Staying silent for a moment, one slender finger running slightly over the curve of her chin as she gazes out the front door, pondering, she finally bursts into life.

‘Y/n, do we remember when we first met?’

The halls of Derry High School are shadowed by the black and white checker board tiles that Beverly’s black Velcro shoes tap upon, echoing over the emerald green lockers.The whole building sends a chill down Bev’s spine as she marches down the hall, her feet squelching wet and leaving tiny little droplets splattered on the ground like blood, her bag thwacking painfully against her spine, the sickly feeling of wet plastic and garbage sliding down onto her leg. Wrapping her arms around her chilled body, Bev ignores the laughter and nervous conversations from the few pupils late for class that litter the hallway, turning her eyes down to the frail edges of her skirt to avoid the burning gazes as they snigger, huffing lightly and just praying her dad will still be at work so early on during this Friday afternoon.

Bev sighs to herself, rolling the cigarettes back into her sleeve as they slip down, stepping out the school door, her shoes a dead weight against the stone. There is no sky today, only a rough woollen blanket of mottled grey smothering the sky and sweltering the air in a thick dullness. The air is heavy with the dampness of a coming storm, and it is quiet out, unnaturally so. Thin streaks of red break through the cloud, slipping through the cracks like dripping blood and making Bev shiver lightly, a sense of fear and dread in the air that makes her young heart patter.

Rolling forward, she decides as she steps onto the crunchy dying grass to not bother even attempting to go home, the fear of her dad was worse than the fear of being caught skipping school. The tree she decides to thump down under, placing her backpack by her dripping arm stands mute in the air, the humidity encasing them both as the boughs above her stand silent and bare like a billion watchful eyes. Each leaf above her is so tiny, she thinks as she lays down, placing her hands tight behind her head; together they almost obscure the last straggling sun rays that bring this unbearable heat. Even the birds are silenced, statue like as they seem to turn towards her like statues. She twists on the soil, the roots clumsy and coarse against her back as she closes her eyes, but the only things she sees behind her eyelids are the Dead Lights, the razor sharp teeth of Pennywise stretching into oblivion, her eyes glazing over as she startles awake.

‘You look very… damp? Oh god, no, sorry, that sounded so weird. My name, my name is y/n, and this is the worst first impression I could have given.’

Bev manages to chuckle lightly, her heart still racing like galloping horses as she shifts onto her elbows, making out your silhouette against the shaking trees as you sit down on the grass opposite her, your backpack thumping sickly against the ground.

‘It’s okay, really, but what are you doing out here?

‘I saw you leaving, and thought you might need a friend. Greta Bowie really can be such an asshole, and I’ve only been here a month.’

‘Ohhh, you’re the new kid?’ Bev glances at you, a smile dancing on her lips as your eyes scan her face, searching for a sign of what her sparkling eyes, glittering like blooming spring blue bells hide deep within the shadows that swirl behind her face. The only thing you see, however, are the freckles on her face lighting up like the constellations in the night sky, making your heart rate kick up a notch as your hands tighten into fists by your side, your fingers clenching with nerves.

‘If you’d like, me and some guys are meeting at the Quarry later this afternoon, if you want to join?’ Bev tucks stray curls behind her ears, burning like winter fire as she finds herself unable to lock eyes with you, hoping you don’t see the blush that rushes like peonies up her cheeks, and the slight constricting of her throat, such an unnatural feeling, that leaves her slightly breathless.

‘Yeah, yeah Beverly, I’d love to.’

Before you made to leave, you turned towards Bev, reaching behind your back to unclasp your necklace before handing it to her, a faint blush on your cheek at the curious surprise on your face. As her finger fiddle with the heart shape, you say 

‘It can kill monsters, if you believe it does.’

‘What?’

‘Love.’

‘And I’ve worn it every day since, y/n, because you were right. Your love has helped me defeat every monster I’ve ever had. I just need you to believe me now when I say I love you more than anything.’

[peachyteabuck]

cold-blooded & perfect

summary: In a move less orthodox than your father, Lagertha invades a country expecting to raid it, but instead merely takes its princess – you. While you’re surprised, you’re not necessarily unhappy with her sudden change of heart.  

pairing: Lagertha x Reader

words: 2,896

trigger warnings: kidnapping, taking of virginity, vaginal fingering, poor family ties

notes/other: Breaking into the Vikings fandom hell YEAH. feels good. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The Vikings invade your homeland with fire in their eyes and bloodlust on their tongues. The small, untrained army assigned to protect your country is defeated in a matter of minutes, those left with heartbeats either taken captive for later use or killed when they drop their swords. Your father, still in his most lavish robes from the festivities the night before, is forced out to the capital’s center with his hands up and his spine perpendicular to the sharp blade of one of their savage warriors.

From your place in your unscathed room, far up in the vast castle, you anxiously watch the exchange between the leaders. It’s there, as your eyes follow your father’s footsteps, that you notice the rest of the army fathering round him like flies swarm an almost-deceased rabbit; nearly vibrating with excitement, unable to stop their twitchy movements as they circle his shaking form.

While your country is small, its position lining the ocean shore makes it a necessary siege on the pathway to the more inwards parts of the continent. You’ve known this all your life, you know your father has known this for all of his, and you know the foreigners’ leader knows this now.

You can’t quite understand how this woman, this woman decked in the same armor as her underlings, has climbed her way to the top of whatever hierarchy they’ve formed. You can tell she’s powerful though, can tell she isn’t afraid to grasp whole worlds in her hands. As she speaks to your father, the small smirk her lips have twisted themselves into manipulates your insides in a way you cannot describe, and do not try to begin to.

“So,” she asks him, words choppy and accented and curious. “You are king here?”

Like those loyal to her, she circles him. Unlike the rest of them, though, she is not waiting for the creature to give up. Oh, never would she miss the chance to take down anyone who stood in her pathway to victory, to gold, to whatever it is she craves. Her bright teeth remind you of a she-wolf, and your father’s trembling body reminds you of an injured goat.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. His works shake worse than his limbs as she replies to his numerous questions.

“And do you value the protection of your people?”

Your father gulps but stands a little straighter. “Of course. God gave me the crown to serve Him as well as my people.”

The woman shrugs and leans on her sword, with its sharped point in the ground and the handle covered by her hands. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about your god, you single, individual god,” the women and men behind her chuckle, but she remains stoic. “Does this god accept sacrifices?”

“He sacrificed his Son for us, and in turn we sacrifice for Him, to show our love and appreciation,” your father speaks lowly, words more confident and steadier. The rehearsed string of sentences flowing easily from his lips, and you roll your eyes and pull away from the window. The king, your father, the ruler of your country, the father of your motherland, is no holy man. The mistresses he’s had out-number the maggots in a deer’s corpse, he couldn’t identify the Holy Bible from a child’s drawings made in pools of mud, the cross he supposedly wears has become tarnished from lack of human touch.

Whatever. If he gets beheaded in the town’s square the man you’ve been betrothed to since the very second the doctor turned his nose up at your absence of a penis. You know very little about the Viking culture, their religion, their gods, but you assume they’re smart enough to know killing a princess gains them nothing but a martyr for the opposite side.

The sound of your name pulls you from your disgusted internal monologue.

“And how old is this daughter?” The woman asks. Your father is now on the ground – not injured, just a coward.

“Old enough to wed,” he replies. He doesn’t seem scared anymore. You, though, tremble in fear.

“Then a truce,” the woman smiles brighter than the sun and her eyes gleam. “I will take the woman and we will leave your land. If you promise no contact, my people and I will not invade as long as I am ruler.”

“Okay,” your father agrees immediately. “I will allow my daughter to go with you for my country’s safety.”

Your eyes bulge as you realize what just happened.

What the fuck.

You have mere heartbeats to process the chaos your future has been thrown into before several men are storming into your room. To your surprise, the men don’t grab at you – they simply stand by the door to prevent you from leaving. You’re their captor, but at least they’re passive about it.

From behind them, the blonde woman from the square emerges. She smirks as her eyes trail your body from your bare feet to your sleep-mused hair.

“Congratulations, princess,” she tells you, playful tone floating through the air like fae. “You’ve saved your nation from the savage beasts that are the Vikings.”

You’re allowed to pack one trunk – the woman, who introduces herself as Lagertha as you shove your mother’s locket deep into the pocket of your favorite winter coat - already knows your name, and soon her routine questions and vies for attention turn personal, intimate.

Nevertheless, your answers remain curt through the entire time you’re with her in your chambers.

“I heard your mother died when you were young. I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” she whispers in the darkness of night as you both lay in her temporary bed, a straw thing a few feet from your own plush amenities.

You don’t say anything back, forcing through the uncomfortable silence with purse lips.

A beat. You can hear Lagertha turn to face you as she speaks. “Do you miss her?”

You sigh, then nod. “Sometimes. I don’t really remember her. She died when I was pretty young, and she had a lot of kingdom-y stuff to attend to when she was alive.”

Another beat. Your breaths come out shaky, your attempts not to shed tears

“Do you have any siblings?” she tries to change the subject as she notices the tears welling up in your eyes and reflecting the bright half-moon.

“Six older sisters,” you tell her honestly. “All married off and living in foreign lands, like I was supposed to…”

The silence between you two is heavy, blanketing you heavier than the furs keeping the cold night air from your skin. Neither of you speak for a long time, unsure of how to proceed. It’s awkward, painfully so, when you’re shoved into a small ship and told to sit with a woman who had injured her ankle hunting a few hours prior to boarding the small boat.

You and her are silent most of the journey, the conversations you manage to get yourself to engage with short, choppy, impersonal. Similar situations happen with Lagertha each time she offers food, water, an extra fur, someone else to sit next to.

The first full sentence you speak is when you’re brought to Lagertha’s bed, the trunk carried by two of the most muscular women you’ve ever seen in your life.

It’s once they exit that the words leave your lips. “Are the women here warriors as well as the men?”

Lagertha laughs a little as she drinks from a gauntlet you don’t remember seeing before now. “Of course. They’re women, not frail babies.”

You don’t respond, simply looking around the room. Lagertha leaves you alone after that, allowing you to unpack your things and learn the map of the house of which you’ll be living.

The two of you don’t speak until dinner, an affair she keeps small for, it seems, your benefit. It’s just one of her sons – Bjorn, and his wife. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen the Vikings eat, nor is it the first time you’ve heard them speak in their native tongue, a language foreign to your ears. But, it is the first time you haven’t been able to hide yourself from such savagery.

They bite into their meats like bears tasting the first taste of flesh in months and their unintelligible babble rakes in your ears like rusty knives through hardened wood.  All of their words seem angry, biting, even when they laugh or smile.

For the entirety of the meal Lagertha keeps her hand on your lower back, a gesture you believe (hope) is meant to comfort you.

The verbal exchanges between you two are scarce, especially since you’d insisted of sleeping in a different bed as your captor.

It’s about a week in this new, still-strange place when Lagertha approaches you as you hunt through your things for something, anything to do. She can tell you’re bored, mind-numbingly so as you spend your days pacing her keep. It reminds her of a dog locked in a pen without straw or bones or rocks and far enough away from society they and their masters do not breathe the same breaths.

She seems to understand what you’re looking for, sitting on the bed. You’re kneeling on the floor, and you can feel her feet bump at your hip as she speaks.

“What did you back in your home country?” Lagertha asks you.

“Not much,” you admit. “Back home for me is…it’s quite different from here…” Even as you speak your native tongue, you struggle to find the right words. “Women don’t do much. They, they all, they all think that we’re weaker somehow, that we can’t do much. As a royal all I was permitted to do was learn to sew, cook. A servant once taught me some medicinal skills – so I studied those old books sometimes.”

Lagertha sees you struggling, and as she speaks she attempts to comfort you with a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to continue those things?”

You inhale deeply, considering the question. Lagertha’s not a malicious woman – at least not to you. So far she’s been kind, welcoming; doesn’t seem like the type to deny you such basic commodities as the ones you would ask for. In hopes of not feeling the sharp pain of rejection, you respond with the polite passivity you’d had quite aggressively drilled into your vernacular. “It’d be a nice pastime, yes.”

Lagertha smiles, your eyes locking together. Hers are bright, playful, while yours remain stilled with fear. “You are quite small in your speech, princess. I hope you in time learn to be more upfront with yourself, your wants, your needs.”

You swallow at the thick knot in your throat, one that isn’t quite terrified but still shakes when she pushes a small strand of hair behind your hear. “It is improper for a lady to be so forceful.”

Lagertha simply laughs. Big, chesty, head thrown back laughs. “Is that what they taught you? To be some meek little doll?” You nod meekly with small movements. “Then I hope you learn life is much different here.”

It’s the day after that you find some crude crafting supplies laid out onto your bed – some thick, blunt needles and furs and rough fabric and thread. It’s sweet, despite not being what you’re used to, despite not being the finer things the servants taught you with. No more brightly-colored silken thread and soft, thin fabric. Nonetheless, it is still a gift – and one you treasure.

Winter in this region comes much sooner, and much harsher, than you had expected. Of course, the locals giggled each time you shivered at a mere featherlight kiss of the wind, but even the seer couldn’t predict how poorly the fragile skin wrapping your body was able to withstand such cold.

It’s a few night falls into the deep season when you find yourself on the small bed just outside the kitchen, shaking so hard your teeth clack together and your very bones feel as if they are freezing. In the dead of this night is when Lagertha appears to take pity on you, calling for you across the homestead for you to join her in her bed.

You reluctantly you do, body shivering violently at the raw exposure to air.

Under the furs Lagertha’s body is warm, almost painfully so against your frigid flesh. If the queen notices you shaking against her, she doesn’t say anything about it.

Wordlessly, she curls herself around you, pulling you two together. It’s not an action that’s unwelcome, but it’s still one that makes a specific type of shive run up your spine. This sort of intimacy, especially between two women, was forbidden back home.  To think of a maiden or one of your father’s servant bursting in to find you – little, unmarried you - in the muscular arms of some woman who fights like a man, your heart quickens at the scandal it would bring. Just imagining the villagers, the people your father rules over, having such ammunition would plunge your country, your nation, your people, into despair.

The woman wrapped around you senses your distress. “Are you okay, love?” she asks, voice low like she’s talking to your father’s dog – a small white thing that shakes every time it rains.

Your words barely reach above a whisper. “Just thinking of home.”

She mmms in a way that makes you think she knows you’re hiding something. “Good memories or bad?”

You pull away from her a little bit, trying to find purchase on the slick furs. “They’re not memories at all.”

Lagertha pulls you back to her, resting her chin on the top of your hair. “Let me help, love,” she whispers just over the shell of your ear. “Let me help you.”

Her rough fingertips, her scarred hands, they run over your skin with featherlight touches over your many skin blemishes inherited from your mother.

Still, you lay passively, not sure what to do. Your headmistresses over the years had described sex not just as an act between man and wife, but also something that will hurt, that will be quick, that will simply be to solidify an heir, then to strengthen the diplomatic capabilities of the family you’d be married off to. No matter your education, you can still feel the heat between your legs pool slightly faster than your trembling heart can convince you to stop.

Lagertha daintily pushes the two sides of the slit in your address apart, just enough to give her access to the side of your hip and upper thigh. Lightly, as if not to scare you, she places her calloused, scarred, battle-torn hand there. It’s nice, surprisingly enough, it’s nice to see her warmth there. “Have you ever been with a woman?” She asks. It’s not accusatory, rather inquisitive. A genuine question stemming from genuine interest.

You think of the time you kissed one of your lady’s maids when you were twelve and she was thirteen, of the time you snuck away under a table in the kitchen and palmed at the breasts of a kitchen maid when you were both sixteen. Each experience more intimidating than this one – most likely due to the lack of dread from the idea of your father or headmistress or anyone finding you in such a state of sin.

Lagertha’s teeth bite into the tender flesh of your neck, leaving marks there. You’re happy your thick hair covers such an intimate spot, but something inside you whispers to expose such skin to the murderous winter as to alert the fellow Kattegat residents of your newfound status as lover rather than captive.

Her fingers dip into your virgin heat with patience, the woman watching your face’s every movement as she works each digit into you. “Do you like that, princess?” she asks, voice deep and low. “Do you like the way I feel inside of you?”

You nod, unable to speak anything but high-pitched whines.

“Good,” she purrs. Soon she has three fingers working in and out of you, crooking them so that all you see is hot white with her thumb rubbing at the crest of your center so behind all that is stars. It’s not long before the hot coil in your lower intestine becomes too tight, too tight to bear and you’re screaming for her to keep going don’t stop please my queen do not stop for anything in the world and she’s smiling into the base of your neck and nipping at your collarbones and telling you she wouldn’t let go of you for promise of Valhalla and suddenly-

Suddenly you’re both gasping and unable to breath, squeezing your eyes shut and keeping them locked on Lagertha’s form now over you with her hand driving into you, body relaxed and tense.

You collapse (when did you sit up?) onto the furs with your chest expanding painfully. “Oh, God,” you moan with the world still spinning around you.

“That’s not me,” Lagertha says with a smirk. “But I’ll happily take the compliment.”

You almost, almost have the energy to laugh at her stupid joke, but instead you merely throw her a small smile and curl back into the warmth of her body. Part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe this is the start of a love you don’t have to fear.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Hurts to be Human: Chapter 1

Here’s the link to the: Prologue 

Shout out to @songforhema for helping me out XD 

Summary: Bucky and you had struggled for a while, maintaining a less than healthy relationship before finally deciding that maybe simply wanting someone isn’t enough anymore. So what happens when time passes, people change, but feelings never leave? (Bucky and Reader eventually get back together!)

Warnings: Cussing, references to a negative past, fluff

Also! I’m going to be doing my best to post gifs that have something to do with a particular moment in the chapter. So yeah, have fun!

Chapter One — Time Heals All Wounds? I Call Bullshit.

“Hey, Y/N, when you’re done with that table, you can go home.”

She looked up, a relieved smile appearing. It made the corners of her eyes crinkle sweetly. Normally Y/N was the last person to leave, locking up and putting everything away because he trusted her to not break anything. However, there was one day once a month where he let her leave early so she could get a goodnight’s rest for her morning session. It was a relief, in all honesty, having someone like a boss who understood that mental health was just as important as her job. And Michael? He was like that dorky dad kids would normally get embarrassed by, trying to keep up with the times and tell “relevant” jokes. Still, she found herself staring at his appearance, struggling to get used to his shaved head and glasses. It was a recent change and after knowing him as the guy with the silver ponytail and goatee, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. “Thanks, Mikey!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Y/N laughed before turning her attention back to her customers, she offered that warm smile and Southern charm that she’d learned and developed over her years in this town. It provided better tips for her and usually, the customers were friendly, so it came almost naturally to her. Any assholes normally got the boot from the big guy. “So what can I get for you guys?”

Click!

The sound of her key turning in the lock signaled her arrival back to the apartment. Four years and even after all this time she still couldn’t bring herself to call the place home. It didn’t feel right. Kicking the door shut behind her, she didn’t bother turning on the lights, instead simply relying on the moonlight streaming through the window. “H.D.,” you called, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. “Here, kitty, time for dinner.” The little runt of a kitten was something she’d found in the apartment when she’d first moved there. Its two faces, one half pitch black and the other a vibrant orange, reminded her of her favorite comic villain — Harvey Dent. Why she named the cat after a villain, she wasn’t entirely sure, but it stuck. H.D. stuck with her, never warming up to any guests that came by. She was a ferocious little beast. Setting her bowl on the counter, Y/N filled it with wet food and set it on the counter, confused as to why the cat hadn’t made an appearance yet.

“Don’t you think this middle-of-nowhere town is a bit of a step down from New York?”

Immediately Y/N reached into the drawer next to her, grabbing her gun and aiming at where the voice had come from. Across the bar, hiding in the living room’s shadows on a recliner was none other than Nick Fury. In his hands was a content H.D. purring as if there was no tomorrow. A knowing smirk was on Fury’s features as H.D. looked up. A small meow escaped the feline as if she was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch, Agent Y/L/N.”

Y/N knew Fury wasn’t a threat. She knew he wouldn’t be here unless there was a reason. However, even knowing that, she didn’t lower the gun. She had walked away from his neck of the woods years ago and had no intention of going back. “You always hide out in women’s apartments?” Raising an eyebrow, she watched as H.D. hopped out of Fury’s arms and crossed the room, her target being the food that Y/N had laid out for her.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not really. How are you, Y/L/N?”

“I was doing just fine until about two minutes ago.” They studied one another, calculating each possible move that could be made in the next few moments. When she didn’t see him reach for a weapon, didn’t see him make a call for help, she lowered the gun. “What are you even doing here, Fury?”

“I’ve had Maria keep tabs on you.”

“Of course you have.” There was no surprise there. Fury liked having an eye on the whole deck of cards. Whether she had quit or not, she had the training and know-how to be a potential threat. Still, it unnerved her to know that he had gone so far as to pay a personal visit.

“How’s therapy?”

Through gritted teeth, “Fine.”

“Nightmares?”

Fist clenched, “I have coping mechanisms.”

“Healthy ones?” He took her silence as a yes. “Your anxiety attacks?”

Shoulders tensed. “Maintained.”

“Suicidal thoughts?”

The air grew tense. Why was he skirting around his reasons for being here? Why was he talking to her as if they’d been friends all this time? “What is this about?”

Fury studied her. “You seem healthier.” He had to make sure it was true, that Maria wasn’t feeding him false information by accident.

“Guess the country does wonders for the brain.”

He laughed. “I call bullshit on that. You’re a city girl, Y/N. Always have been.”

“People change.”

“No. They don’t.” Oh, she wanted to punch him. But maybe it was right. Maybe this was why she couldn't convince herself even after all this time that this wasn't home. “They get better, sure. Healthier, stronger, or the opposite, but that sort of thing? Not so much.”

“Is this some fucked up doctor’s visit?”

“Not at all. I have a mission for you.” He made it sound so simple, so matter of fact. That was Fury though. She shouldn’t be surprised.

Her mind drifted to the team, the Avengers. They had been her family for almost three years. Then… She shook her head, not wanting to think about that one particular guy. Every time, her heart sped up in a way that made her wish she never left. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you still got it.” He was hiding something. She could tell. “They need you.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Y/N,” he muttered, rolling his eye. Fury took a seat and leaned back, crossing his right leg over his left knee. She knew that move, that lean. This wasn’t just a boss coming to give orders, but a friend asking for help. “They have faced Loki, Ultron, Hydra, each other, and Thanos twice…Each time they barely made it and that’s a little unsettling for a man like me. Over those years people have come and gone and you are one of them. However, the reason you left wasn’t that you weren’t cut out for the superhero gig.”

“I wasn’t —“

He kept talking as if she hadn’t interrupted. “It was because you needed to take care of yourself. And that’s fine, I understand and can certainly respect it. I don’t know many people that would have taken the steps you did. Hell, Stark didn’t.”

“He tried.”

“He couldn’t,” Fury corrected. “But all that being said, the Avengers have been a fractured bunch for a while. Wanda and Vision are doing their own thing. Banner is enjoying retirement on a beach somewhere.” She chuckled, appreciating that Bruce took that chance. “Thor and Danvers are off-world and don’t need to be around for everything.” His voice trailed off, showing he was running out of options.”

“T’Challa?”

“Is there if we call, but he’s a bit busy running a kingdom. I’d rather not call him in if I can help it. As for his sister, she visits frequently to help with new tech.”

“Strange?”

“I dealt with Stark’s attitude for years. I’d rather not do the same with him.”

“Okay,” she muttered, setting the gun on the counter and shoving her hands in her back pockets. “There’s still more, Fury. Peter? Scott?”

“Both are Avengers, but Parker’s a minor. He’s not around as much as he could be in the future. Scott works with what he can, helps often, but the man does have a daughter.”

“Same with Clint,” which meant he wasn’t an option either. “Sharon?”

“Recruited already.”

“Then why do you need me?”

Fury watched her curiously, knowing she was running out of people to list off. He’d never force Y/N to come back to the Avengers. She’d fought her skeletons for years just to get to this point. She was happy, whole without having to use anyone as a crutch. He wouldn’t allow himself to take that away from her when he’d known her almost as long as he’d known agents like Hill, Barton, and Romanov. He’d already lost one of those agents, but Fury wouldn’t let himself lose any more. Not if he could help it. But watching her, he could tell she was itching to come back. Her instincts weren’t all that rusty. All she needed was a chance to get back in. So now was time for the pitch. “Your guys are struggling.” She flicked as he referred to them as hers, looking away and running her fingers through H.D.’s fur. “It seems the government is making another attempt to rid the world of Wilson’s role”

“He isn’t Captain America. Hell, he’s insisted he isn’t.”

“Dons the shield, gets the name. That’s how everyone’s looking at it at least.”

“Get Sharon and Peggy to take care of it.”

“I would, but” he trailed off, earning more of her attention. That could only mean one thing.

“What did Bucky do?”

Disbelief rang clear in his voice as he asked, “Do you not watch tv?”

“Nope. It isn’t recommended to me. You know, all things considered.”

He could understand that. It seemed every channel was talking about the next awful thing or the latest bombing or some form of violence. She didn’t need to have something that filled her brain with 24/7 negativity that she would feel responsible for. “Barnes hasn’t done anything yet. He’s been doing a lot better.” Fury noticed how she smiled but chose not to say anything. For now. “That being said, we have people like that Quentin Beck guy coming out and tarnishing the Avengers name.”

“And since Bucky has his history, all eyes are on him?”

“You know how he handles the pressure.”

“Still don’t see how does this include me.”

“You’re the face everyone associates with Bucky’s first glimpse of growth. Every press junket, every interview, you were there. It became this whole thing where one of you was always associated with the other. You keep, not only Barnes but also Wilson in check. That is something we desperately need right now.” He sighed softly. Here goes nothing. “We think there’s another guy like Quentin lurking around, biding his time till one of these guys makes a mess we can’t cover-up. Then —“

“The hero ‘Captain America’ gets forced into retirement and out comes a new ‘hero.’”

Fury nodded, glad that he was talking to someone who fully understood his concerns. “Exactly.” Sharon had argued with him when Fury had mentioned bringing Y/N into this, thinking it might be worse for her and the soldier back in New York. Watching Y/N now, he could feel in his gut that he was making the right call. “There have been calls, videos, photos — you name it and the press has had it. Their reputations are getting tarnished, but this isn’t exactly something that requires all the heroes on my contact list.”

Wry smile in place, she shook her head as she asked, “Just a stubborn former Avenger and agent?”

Fury grinned. There she was. “How’s it sound? Got a deal?”

——

The Avengers Compound felt emptier now that heroes seemed to come and go as if the exit was a revolving door. It was irritating, but something these two men could understand. They continued on their morning run, Bucky easily passing up Sam over and over again. It was getting to the point where Bucky would say, “On your right.”

After hearing it for the fifth time, Sam shouted, “Cut it out, old man!”

“Old man?” Bucky laughed, the belly laugh bursting through him as he grinned from ear to ear. “If that’s the case, why can’t you keep up, Birdbrain?”

Sam growled, fighting every fiber in his being to send Redwing after him. That’d give the soldier a workout, he was certain. “I swear to god, Sharon is going to have to keep me from kickin’ your ass.”

“Gotta catch it first!”

Bucky took off, feeling the burning hole in the back of his head that came from Sam’s intense glare. Yeah, Sam would find some sort of way to get payback, but for now? It was just entertaining as Hell.  “Hey,” Sam shouted after him, slowing down when he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. Answering it, he was confused as to why Sharon was calling him. She knew he’d be on his run. “What’s up, Carter?” He looked at Bucky’s back as the man continued running, a frown appearing as he heard what the woman had to say. “And no one thought that was information we needed to know?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’ll let him know.”

Hanging up, he saw the jet slowly approaching and tried shouting after the idiot in front of him with a loud, “Hey, Buck!”

Bucky looked up when he heard Sam, brow furrowing when he saw the jet ahead. He slowed down as it landed nearby, both men shielding their faces as the autumn leaves were sent flying through the air. He was confused, knowing that Sharon normally let them know about these sorts of things. What Avenger was paying a visit? As the jet-powered down, he looked at Sam and asked, “You know anything about this?”

“Only about ten seconds ago,” Sam grumbled, irritated not at Bucky, but rather at being left in the dark. He looked over his shoulder as Sharon came outside. It was clear she was trying to keep her face void of emotion, but he knew her. She was just as concerned for the man standing next to him as he was. “Maybe you should head inside, Buck. Sharon and I got this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning away from the jet to focus instead on his friend. He knew Sam was concerned and there was cause for it. It had taken a while for Bucky to make progress in therapy and took an even longer time to get him to this level of ease. Assuring him, Bucky explained, “Sam, I’m not nearly as much of an ass as I used to be. I can handle greeting an Avenger.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Sam winced as Bucky looked back, the sound of Fury’s voice catching him off guard. However, that feeling was nothing compared to when he saw who was standing just behind the spy. He felt his stomach churn as if a bunch of butterflies took off simultaneously. His heart twisted, beating so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. Fingers fidgeting, he clenched them into fists as he took a shaky breath and tried to keep himself from running. Towards where his gaze was fixated on or in the opposite direction, he wasn’t sure. But either way, there she was, walking straight towards him.

Y/N.

On top of her head was a pair of sunglasses, her hair cut in a style he had never seen her try before. Where she had developed an eating disorder during their last months together, she looked healthy now. She was practically glowing, that sparkle in her eyes back where it belonged. Time worked in her favor and suddenly he found himself feeling extremely self-conscious.

“Hey there, Y/N/N,” Sam teased, unable to keep himself from smiling when he saw her. While he didn’t appreciate this being thrown at them out of the left-field, he would be one of the first to admit that he missed having Y/N fighting alongside them.

“Hey, Sammy.” She grinned and Bucky felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. That smile made the whole world seem brighter, better. A part of him, a big part of him, wished she’d smile at him like that. Her gaze shifted to him, bright smile dimming, but still just as sweet.

Fidgeting from one foot to the other.

Biting the corner of her lip.

Fiddling with the strap of the duffel hanging off her shoulder.

He knew her tells. She was nervous.

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiled and noticed how her shoulders almost immediately relaxed.

“Hey, Buck.” There was a moment of silence before she pointed to his head. “You cut your hair.”

He felt his cheeks burning, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…yeah, I did.”

“It looks good.”

Sam looked from one to the other. If he could raise his eyebrow any more, it would be on top of his head. These two… Looking at Y/N, he gestured to the cage in her left hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” She looked down at the cage and that smile of hers came back. “This is H.D.”

“A cat?” The boys asked the question at the same time, equally confused. When Y/N was part of their team, she didn’t want an animal. She thought they were too dependent on people, too needy. Now, not only did she have an animal, but she was carrying it with her like it was family.

Bucky was curious. He had to ask, “What made you get a cat?”

“It’s — Um, it’s kinda a long story.”

She readjusted her bag and Fury said, “You two can catch up with her later. Sharon?” The boys looked behind them, not realizing that Sharon had made her way to stand only a couple feet behind them. “Can you take Y/L/N to her room?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on, Y/N.”

“See you later, boys.” She walked between them, her shoulder bumping Bucky’s. It seemed the touch was registered not only by him but also by Y/N. He noticed how she quickened her steps, determined to create as much distance between them as possible.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she walked was similar to the girl he’d first met. Each step was filled with that same confidence, but there seemed to be something else, something more. He just didn’t understand it. Scratching the back of his neck, he couldn’t help but grumble to himself, “I thought the time was supposed to heal all wounds.”

Sam watched him, that all-knowing smirk resting almost lazily on his lips as he glanced from Bucky to Y/N and back again. Shaking his head, he knew this was going to be a lot of trouble. Part of him was hopeful, wanting the two to find a way to grow and work things out. The other? The other was more realistic, knowing the odds weren’t exactly in anyone’s favor. Watching Bucky out of his peripheral vision, he told him, “Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that.”

Chapter Two - Can We Pretend

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @yogi-bogey-box!

*****

The Prince And The Knight

Once upon a time lived a prince in a castle far away. The villagers whispered of a cruel uncle locking away the king’s sole living heir as to keep the precious crown of power on his head. A crown that was tarnished with neglect and lost over time. The cruel uncle was loving and warm in his life. The only cruelness was the hollowness he left in the aftermath of his death. No, it wasn’t the uncle that locked the prince away but himself.

All through the kingdom rang stories of a beast holding the royal hostage. “It’s not real,” scolded parents while children laughed about pet dragons curled around turrets. Three brave knights were sent to rescue the boy.

Not a boy no more he killed them. Or so whispered the village with fear as the only trace of the knights were their armor covered in blood and shredded like silk.

***

The days have been colder lately. The rusty wood stove leftover from a different time cranks out warmth yet only a breath reaches the tiptop of the old farmhouse leaving a chill in people’s bones.

“Everyone, get your ass down here,” comes Cora’s loud mouth. The stampede of feet down the stairs pulls Derek from his thoughts. He loves his life but honestly, five more minutes of sleep would be nice too. “That includes Derek too, you lazy ass.” She honestly knows him too well.

Stumbling down the stairs Derek is greeted by an army of teenagers. I guess this is his life now. Raising children who have no other home.

***

One little boy, in particular, was fascinated by the rumors surrounding the prince. They had met once about a year before the King had died. The little boy was the son of the constable and while being dragged along on very important business the two boys met. The one and only time they thought yet marks started to form on their arms linking the soulmates together by the universe.

Years later, not a boy no more but a man on the cusp of freedom the Constable's son risks becoming the fourth victim to the cruel prince in order to discover the secret behind how their souls became intertwined all those years ago. His father kind yet broken from the death of his wife only gave him a solemn nod and good luck as he ventured into the woods with only his closest friend to protect his back.

***

“Come on, Scott. We’ll go look around a bit and come home. Nothing to worry about.” Scott raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Stiles. (Allison and Lydia dragged him on a spa date last week.)

“Nothing to worry about? We’re going to snoop around the house of Derek Hale and his merry band of recluses.” Derek was known around town as an oddball with a screw loose. He does odd jobs to pay for the repairs on his decrepit farmhouse and all the teenagers he’s taken in but other than that not much is known about him.

“He’ll never catch us. Besides, it’s for my dad and he’ll be disappointed if I don’t investigate.” Stiles has started helping out around the station since he graduated a month ago and he’s very hands-on when it comes to mysterious cases.

“Fine, I’ll go but if it turns out that he’s a vampire or something I’m bolting before I’m bitten.”

“Scaredy-cat.”

“Smart one,” he corrects. Well, he’s not wrong.

***

“Sometimes the turret dragon disappears,” whispers the brave knight to his friend.

“Of course. It has to hunt.” He doesn’t believe in Dragons and crazy uncles. He’s way too boring to believe in fantasy.

“But it changes colors.”

“And sometimes it blends in with the castle.” He points to the towering structure leaning from neglect. There’s no dragon.

“Maybe the prince is the dragon.”

***

The Wolf is hurtling itself towards Stiles before he can think to run. One second he’s gripping the mysterious birthmark on his arm in pain and the next he’s being mauled by an animal. As its fangs sink into his throat it lets go and sniffs Stiles arm in wonder. Slowly the animal licks the dark brown swirl on his forearm causing it to shimmer gold before turning black as the wolf’s fur. As quickly as the attack had begun it was over.

Weird. He still has nasty bite marks so he goes to find Scott who’s sitting on the ground in bewilderment. “Wolf. Smell. Golden mark. Somethings seriously messed up here.” Stiles kneels beside him.

“Were you bite.”

“No. It was more concerned with the mark on my hip.” He stares at Stiles’s neck. “You’re bleeding and hairy.”

“Hairy.”

“Yeah. Hairy like one of those cheesy old horror films about werewolves.” It dawns on them. “Dude. They’re werewolves. You must be going through a mild transformation since you were bitten on the full moon.”

“Probably. Let’s get home and we’ll call Allison in the morning to help us investigate since her family is into that mumbo jumbo.”

***

The companions stumble back into the village promising never to whisper a detail to anyone. Fair maidens giggled about how brave they are while young men scoffed in disbelief at their tales yet no one noticed the soul marks glimmering like liquid onyx tainting their skin. The marks are covered with shame. No man wants a mark of the dragon for only soulmates are branded with the mark.

***

There’s nothing more undignified than waking up naked with an acorn lodged up your ass. “Damn full moon,” Derek mutters to himself trying to locate how far he is from the house. Luckily only over the hill. He starts the walking trying to cover his dangly bits as gracefully as he can muster. As he opens the front door Cora and Isaac both gasp. “I know I’m naked. Leave me alone.”

“It’s not that,” Cora looks away in disgust. “You’re soulmark has darkened. Sometime last night you found your mate.” Derek only vaguely remembers meeting some boys in the woods last night and in his rage biting one of them.

“Shit. It had to be the Sheriff’s kid. He and his little friend were snooping around outside.”

“And what happened to his friend?” asks Cora causing Isaac to go flush. He suddenly lifts up his shirt to reveal a delicate vine pattern extending from his right hip to his left shoulder. It’s ebony like the keys on the dusty piano in an untouched part of the house.

“I did. I wasn’t really aware that I had feelings and I can’t control myself in wolf form and-“

“Is he a werewolf?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well fuck. While I don’t condone biting-“

“Even though you did,” smirks Cora.

“Fuck off. I was going to say that dating non-werewolves are a complicated matter.”

“Because you’re ex might be a werewolf hunter.”

“Shut up. Shit, we’re in trouble. Isaac, go put on shoes because we’re going to sort this mess out.”

***

A decree sent by royal doves was delivered to the constable’s son. He and his brother in knighthood were to return to the castle for once mates are bonded they become deathly ill if divided for long.

So the men started into the woods not confining in a soul other than one fair maiden who comes from a long line of dragon slayers for She foretold of an age of peace between the beast and the peasants. The only people who could bring upon this age being the knights themselves.

***

Stiles, Scott, and Allison are sitting on Stiles’ bed trying to figure out what everything means. “So what does the mark on my arm mean.”

“And my chest,” adds Scott.

Allison leans forward tracing the marks on Stiles. “Anima mea marcas.”

“And that means?”

“Soul marks.”

“So we’re soulmates because I really don’t want to marry Scott.”

“No. These are werewolf marks. Stiles’ are alpha marks. You can tell from the placement and style. And Scott,” She reaches for Scott. He lifts his shirt in curiosity. “Scott’s are from a beta which is odd considering they seem to be a strong one at that.”

“How do you know?” There’s a knock on the door downstairs cutting off the conversation. Peeking through the curtains they can see Derek and Isaac. “Shit.”

***

The Knights' arrival at the castle is met with hostile stares from the Knights lost so long ago. The rumored kindness of the Prince is gone and left in its wake is a hollow coldness.

***

So Scott and Isaac are making out in a bathroom leaving Derek and Stiles to sip coffee in silence. “So. Scott and Isaac seem to be getting along well. I thought I heard something about how both mates needed to be werewolves ”

“You’re incredibly young,” growls Derek in disgust cutting off Stiles’ ramble.

“I’m eighteen.”

“Barely. Why is my soulmate a fucking child?”

“What are you going to do about it. Sourwolf?”

“I’m really uncomfortable with you being so young so I have a deal. We give ourselves a year to become friends then we’ll date.”

“What if we hate each other?”

“Doubtful but it doesn’t matter. For our health and the happiness of Isaac and Scott we have to get along.”

“So if we don’t date we’re going to turn into bitter divorced parents.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Meet you back here in one year for our second date.”

***

The prince isn’t cruel but misunderstood. He never had someone to talk to once his uncle passed until his soulmate came along. The pair explored the castle and the Prince’s heart too until his frozen heart grew puddles.

***

Turns out Derek Hale can be kind if he chooses. From watching bad romcoms to learning to play the piano together he’s warmed up to Stiles. To bad Stiles is slowly falling in love.

***

The prince and knight danced the nights away pretending they attend balls among foreign monarchs for the knight never knew what royalty was like. Though they knew it was wrong the pair started to grow closer than friends.

***

They were slow dancing in the living room when it happened. Derek had claimed that it was unrealistic for the people on the TV to find dancing in their living room normal and Stiles wanted to prove to him that it was cute. Well, Derek was being a little too cute and Stiles made the mistake of following his impulses and kissing him.

***

The knight flees on horseback ashamed of his actions. He should have never kissed the prince. Still, he can’t forget how his heartbeat when their lips touched and how it stopped when the prince ran his fingers through the prince’s hair so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. He can’t forget what it’s like being in love.

***

He’s crying in his room and pigging out because he’s fallen in love and it hasn’t been a year.

��I’m just a child,” he groans. The knock downstairs frightens Stiles. He didn’t order pizza and Scott is on his weekly date night (Not that Scott knows how to knock.) He drags himself from his pity party to answer the door. On the other side stands Derek. He’s out of breath like he ran a marathon and he has flowers.

“May I come in?”

“I don’t care.” Lies Stiles.

“Actually I’m not going to come in because I only need to do one thing.”

“What?”

“Kiss you.” They’re pulled together like magnets. Hands are everywhere yet everything feels gentle and loving when it should be rough. Neither one of them wants to hurt the other. Derek pulls away slowly. “God I’m an idiot for making a stupid rule. I’ve fallen so madly in love with you I feel like I’m going to go insane at how much I love you.”

“Derek. I-“

“Make it quick Stiles.”

“No. I feel the same way. We’re such idiots.”

***

The knight and prince lived happily ever after. The end.