#pls feel free to clown with me in this for i fear there is no sign of me stopping

[oneirataxia-girl]

⇝ DRABBLE -- The Faeries In The Woods

this is the first piece of writing i've done in MONTHS, @ariparri the cardverse au has me in a chokehold and this is the product of annoyed & tired alvita doing everything she can to get her mind off schoolwork, ended up writing the first draft in one day (???! i am astonished by this too) and uh yeah, it's rough it's not my usual style but hey, my writing skills are basically the equivalent of sandpaper in terms of roughness so it's definitely going to be bad no matter what lol quick author's note before we get started though: for those who've known me since my hphm phase, you might recognize the "faeries in the woods" as the arcane-zheng family who i criminally ignored in favor of building the alvina/talbott ship (yes i am aware that it was a mistake), but while the basic setup of the fae family is still the same, they all have completely different names which i hope i'll be able to introduce to you guys in a later piece; this is more like "setting the vibe" word vomit than anything tbh. but hope you guys enjoy!!

You're a child, barely able to run without stumbling once or twice; you've met the kids on either side of your house and the ones a little further away too, and you've all got the thirst for information your parents say is natural for a Club to have.

The forest has been off limits ever since you remember, but that doesn't stop you from running with your playmates to the clearing barely a one-minute walk in the woods, nor does it prevent the answering frenzy your parents were in to get you back to the village.

"Don't ever go near the place!" Your papa yells at you, "If the fairies --"

Your mama makes a noise you can't understand, and Papa stops talking in favor of trapping you in a big bear hug. You giggle and wrap your own arms around him too, and you forget all about the silver stars staring at you from the edge of the clearing.

You're older now, knobbly knees decorated with scrapes and bruises from your frequent meetings with the stony ground; your friends are older too, and you all start to wonder why the forest is always shrouded in the dark, even when the sun shines high in the noon sky.

Ma cuffs you on the head for asking, but you keep at it, chipping away at her resolve and Pa's in search of an answer.

Eventually, Pa tells you that all will be revealed when you're eleven.

Eleven? You're barely half past the age of eight! It's going to be ages until you learn anything about the forest.

Pa and Ma are always telling you to fight in your chase for knowledge, and this is something to learn, no? So in order to find your explanations, you gather your best friends and pool your wits together to pursue the thing your family and kingdom puts so much importance on: answers.

Your merry troop marches on the pebble-lined path into the forest as soon as your best friend and a boy you don't like come up with a plan.

You come out of the forest drenched in red; some of it yours, most of it from the barely-breathing boy being rushed to the medical building.

You're not a kid anymore now, scrapes long faded into light scars; not all of your friends are older, and you wonder if the one that is gone was taken away by the faeries.

Faeries, not fairies, because you know now that the things lurking in the trees aren't sparkling-winged fairies ready to grant you a wish, but monsters with silver eyes and teeth stained crimson with the blood of their victims. Pa tells you this while Ma rolls up her left sleeve for the first time in your memory to show you the scars she got from the fae family -- probably the mother of the current set of spawn, she tells you.

"How do you know?" You ask her, leaning your head on her lap.

Ma lifts her arm, the raised skin of the healed wound darker than the rest of her skin, "No animal has claws that can do this kind of damage, Darling."

Your forehead wrinkles as you take in this information, and presently you ask whether it could be a weapon.

Pa shakes his head this time.

"If it was a person, they would've been found soon after they went into the forest," He tells you.

"Maybe they're very sneaky," You argue, "Or maybe they always get in and out from the Spades' side of the woods."

But even as you speak the words, you know that they were just that: words.

No human has stayed in the forest for over a day and survived. The longest surviving one was Ma, trapped in a bog for about sixteen hours on a forage for herbs.

Pa pulls aside later to tell you that when they found her, she was muttering about silver-eyed fae and how they gave her a "message to deliver."

She doesn't remember any of that.

You're tying your bootlaces by yourself now, mentally cataloging the plants you're supposed to provide to help make the prototype for a new distress signal; your friends have all grown up as well, some of them left the village for bigger things and some stayed behind with you, none of them are willing to go back to the forest without a weapon by their side anymore.

Can't fault them, you're the same, too.

The only stars you see are the ones in the night sky, fiery balls of gas that live light years away from the small village on this side of the Clubs-Spades border, and you're forcibly reminded of a time when silver stars plague your head.

You shake said head before you stand up to walk towards the academic buildings. The doctors said it'd get better in time, but sometimes you feel like it's only getting worse.

As you kick away stones in your trot, you bump into a girl -- short and thin, with a mane of dark hair that reaches her waist, she turns around and you take note of the dark shades hiding her eyes and the shaky step she takes to get away from you.

A green cape covers most of her top half and you frown when you notice that both the green fabric and the dark tights she wears are ripped. Did she run away from home? Why was she wearing dark glasses?

"Irene!" Comes a call, you turn to see a older guy with the same dark glasses stride towards the girl. His clothes were also worn, and you catch a few sympathetic glances thrown their way by some of your fellow villagers.

Not from the village, that much was clear. Maybe they were running away from Spades, you hear that they're in terrible turmoil and its people are leaving in whatever way possible.

All hearsay though, no evidence has ever come by to confirm this.

The guy throws an arm around the girl and you notice that he has the same twig-like frame, barely a head taller than the girl; he has the same messy hair though, and he barely spares you a glance before dragging his sister away.

You watch their backs retreat, and you notice that their feet don't make a sound on the gravel ground.

You shrug your shoulders and continue on your way, pebbles crunching underfoot as you walk.

Perhaps the refugee rumors are true after all.

You're finally allowed to drink in the open now, grin wide as you accept your first glass of beer from your ma and act as if you aren't used to the bitter taste linger after you swallow; your friends cheer and clap you on your back, even the ones that went to the big cities, for everyone still alive had come back to celebrate your birthday. You clink your glass with a shy smile at one of your best friends and tip your head back to chug the rest of the beer in one go.

Pa gives you a suspicious look. You try coughing to pretend that it didn't go down like water. It doesn't seem to work, but he only brings a finger to his lips and turns away.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Second, third, and fourth mugs of beer come and go; you toss jokes and barbs at your friends and shrug off their laughing sneers. Conversation flows like your drinks and it eventually follows dirt-strewn trails to the shadowy woods just a few steps from the village borders.

"You remember the faeries our parents used to scare us with?" One of your friend asks, cheeks ruddy from the alcohol.

They've come back from the city just for your birthday, so you bite your lip and stifle the urge to correct their mistake.

Another one of your friends does it for you, this one having lived in the house a five-minute walk from yours for their whole life; it sparks a debate whether there is anything in the forest other than the typical trees that make one lose all sense of direction and odd creatures.

Silver stars blink on the very edge of your vision. You turn around and see nothing but yellow light bathing your party. You turn back and ignore the feeling of something watching you.

Feelings -- such fickle things, you muse, making think there hid things when there are none. No wonder why your kingdom stresses the importance of logic and reasoning.

A fist punches your shoulder, it's your best friend, smile as lopsided as the day you two met, "What do you think? You reckon faeries live there?"

The rest of the chatter dies, eyes waiting for your answer expectantly.

Licking your lips, you hesitate to give an answer. You still recall the silver stars bursting in your head and the wails of your friends, but they seem sharper than they should be, and the stars now just seem like normal migraine-induced sights.

The window allows you to look out at the forest. It's as dark and gloomy as always, not a lick of life shakes its leaves.

Then, your mug crashes onto the floor.

Three -- no, four -- figures emerge from the depths of the woods, three of them with silver stars for eyes; the last one to emerge stands still while the six silver stars blink in unison, the only one to have the faint outline of their silhouette be the only thing separating them from the night.

You hear an exhale close to your ear and you realize that everyone has piled up behind you. It's your ma, she has a hand on your shoulder and you spot the scars running down her arm when your turn your head to look at her.

Her grip on your shoulder tightens and her face goes pale. Whirling your head back to the clear glass, you see six silver eyes pointing directly at you.

A drum starts pounding in your head, so you close your eyes for a fraction of a second to shush it. You open your eyes to meet a sea of black outside your window.

Nothing was left of the four creatures, not even a crunch of a footstep.

A beat.

"What," Someone finally says, "Was that?"

You want to say it was the faeries, but those are anything but fae.

You're woken up by the sound of shouting now, and you leap out of bed when the iron tang of blood assaults your nose.

Bootlaces untied, you run out to carnage: you think someone screams when you see Ma lying on the floor motionless, and you follow the direction of the scars on her arm to see Pa.

Their fingers just barely brush each others'.

Your throat burns a white-hot pain and you crumple to the floor and you crawl to the window to see bodies on the gravel ground. You slide down and close your eyes and beg for this to be just a beer-induced nightmare.

A resounding boom shakes your eardrums and your stomach drops further when you register where the sound came from:

The distress signal. The one you helped to make.

Shouts turn to cries and whimpers and gasps, and then even those are cut off. You glance at Grandma's door and decide you don't want to open it.

Nothing disturbs the gravel path before the front gate squeaks open. You press yourself closer to the wall.

Moonlight bleeds into the room as the front door clicks open, you wonder whether you'll be able to make a run for it.

"Swear I could hear a heartbeat in here."

"Don't these --" You watch as someone seemingly nudges your ma's top half -- "have a kid? You two saw them before, right?"

You think you would remember seeing monsters with silver eyes --

oh.

You did see them before, they just weren't dumb enough to show their eyes.

A cry leaves you as the collar of your jacket yanks you up. Six silver eyes blink at you.

"Sorry," No flash of fangs glitter from the speaker's mouth, "Blame your friend for this."

You struggle and claw at the vice grip on your collar tightening.

You sputter as you suddenly drop to the ground. You think you see white lights and you wonder if you've joined your family as shouts grow near.

Something is shoved in your mouth and you want to wail as the bitter taste of the thing infects your mouth.

A blinding glare shoots through every opening your home has. The three creatures hiss and crouch down to escape the light. They start talking, and you work on getting the foul-tasting thing out of your mouth.

A growl jerks you from your endeavor. You see the smallest of the three standing.

"It's the only way." One of the other two states simply.

The small one scoffs and the light turns her dark hair into a rippling waterfall, "Don't tell me you think we can't take a couple more humans out."

The other speaker turns her head to look at you -- silver stars framed by wide eyes, no flash of teeth when she opens her mouth to say -- "There's only going to be more of them the longer we stay."

"So we should all go!"

"Too dangerous," It's the guy, the one who dragged his younger sister away that time you bumped into her. She's the one they're convincing to do something.

You don't catch the rest of the conversation, your eyes are getting heavier by the second, everything's gone out of focus...

The last thing you hear is a chilling howl, and the last thing you see is Ma offering her scarred arm for you to grab.

[starriegalaxy]

Starrie's B'day Celebration Party!

Click this invite first pls so you can join the space! And this is to the main pinned (meet the artist) post for reference!

invitation link closed as it is a private magma server!

Here's the magma :

"You are formally invited to Starrie's B'day Party!"

"Please come and join 🥺"

Date : 27th Oct 2024

Theme : Starry Night 🌃✨☄️🪐🌌

Hellowwww everyone, with the seasons changing just like the leaves on the trees and a cold breeze is making itself known by winding through the streets, I'd like to invite y'all to draw on this board!!

You can draw anything so long as it's safe for work only - There's also room for your OCs, personas and of course, the daycare attendants! Whichever you prefer to represent you attending the virtual party. All is welcome and hurms, in terms of clothing, we could settle for a fancy glam / painting-esque inspired outfit one or you can stick to your outfit of choice or whatever you see fit in this board according to the theme - Feel free to contribute a background btw ^^

I don't think I'll be doodling in it as I'd like to rest my hands again 🥹 so it'll count as like a surprise gift of sorts for me ✨

P/S : For the writers, you're free to write a little drabble of fluff for me (the starsona with the new hairstyle) and the daycare attendants centred around the b'day theme ✨

Thanks so much in advance, everyone🥹💖✨💥🌌💕‼️

Important :

Remember to sign your tumblr username & make a lil box behind if needed so that it can be seen ^^

This is no pressure and all fun! You're free to do silly poses and whatnot - we'll make use of the 4 boards if needed so go ham and cheese and get the grind on that drawing inspiration! If ya need another board to make another sketch, feel free to use it 👀

Anyways, this magma will be open from 1st Oct - 26th Oct and then I'll post the finished results on 27th Oct! Plenty of time for y'all to cook up ideas and maybe do WIPs 🤣 I'll try my best not to peek until 27th (shaking with curiosity already). Emphasis on try.

Submissions of art gifts are also welcomed for my inbox / messages if ya feel a bit shy (though I'll probs only open my chats to all for like 2 weeks at best but we'll see). You may also just tag me in b'day art that you made and remember to tag accordingly with "Starrie's B'day Gift" 💥

Examples of gifts you can provide (with tags for reference!) :

starsona (#starsona)

fear factor au fanart (# fear factor au / #ffau / #ffau sun / #ffau moon / #ffau eclipse) I WOULD LOVE THIS SO MUCH PL E A SE PLSPLSPLSPLS - 😭😭😭

my OCs (#starrie's ocs) You can find my OCs here 🌠

anything as long as it's sfw and cute! Check FAQ if unsure.

That should be it. If there's any questions, feel free to ask thru my inbox or comment below and good luck 🫶🏻✨💞👻🍁‼️

Tagging the jesties & everyone who's free to join <33 :

@crabsnpersimmons @nighternex @simply-spade @belashadowcat @enduu115 @strawberrytamii @crystalmagpie447 @ghosteii @minxtheeenby @eggcromancer @overly-dramatic-artist @sun-e-chips @pineconecrows @amarynthian-chronicles @martinsorbit @yourfriendlydca @scribbyizhere @mainmoenmomentmaybe @chinchilla-clown @certified-handler @jerrsterrr @rambunctioustoons @way2gosuperrstarr @conspicuous-clown-car @spadillelicious @sleepycupcakesmiles @erarousfire @ryobitheaxololt @pizzabitez @mietziekatz @amberluvsbugs @alta1312 @morning-sweets @kaprisvn @hexcii @ping-ski @nebuladreamz @flowysgonemad @moriah-dooodles @wyervan @trenchcoat-full-of-snails @naiibun

And of course, you! 🫂✨

[furggot]

pls write a fluffy morning with john ward x gn!reader

make them married and have breakfast together‼️🌹

Absolutely! I wrote this on my birthday

John Ward X GN! Reader

You two have known each other for years. At some point, you both gained a crush on each other. It took a while for him to realize he shared feelings for you, like several years. He gravitated towards you in almost any situation. He at first believed his mind defined you as his bestest buddy, and that this ‘friendship’ was, well, friendship. It went on for a painfully long time. You knew you had a crush on him, but you were too stubborn to make the first legitimate move, as much as you adored him.

It took until later into high school that he realized he like-liked you. It was the biggest Ah-hah moment of his life. This Christian boy kept away from any sexual contact whatsoever, and you were the same even if you weren’t religious. You respected his religion, even if you didn’t entirely follow it. You both we mostly still behaved like best friends, aside from the kissing and other romantic gestures and cuddling.

In college, you both shared any free time. You both tried to get into mostly similar classes. You both were the college lovebirds that everyone would see. Unlike your guys’ classmates, you both still didn’t have sexual experience with each other. You both were lucky enough to share a dorm, sharing the bed and many other things with each other. He had a little Bible by his bed to read over if you were doing something without him. Other than a Bible, he’d read other books too, unless he had more homework to do. You had your own hobbies all the same, if it was related to the outdoors, he liked to join you. It was pretty relaxing, and kept him from obsessing with the school work.

When you both graduated college, you both got married as soon as you both could save up for it. Plenty of your relatives were happy to attend your marriage (unless your relationship with your family is fucked). You two danced and enjoyed your time in the church John planned the marriage to take place. He had no family to invite, unfortunately, only a few friends you two shared.

With the process of him becoming a priest, he had to keep you out of peoples’ business. Aside from himself trying to get you more into his religion and meeting church friends. You’d attend his specific church and drive him home if his car would break down or simply wouldn’t start. John is more than happy to ride with you, or have you ride with him. (I’m not sure how living like a priest goes, but I’m pretty sure they’re not allowed to be in romantic/sexual relationships for reasons I can’t remember).

At church, when kids have birthdays, someone would pay clowns to come over. John would call for you quickly because he has coulrophobia/a fear of clowns. If he saw the clown, he would end up unable to breathe and shaking like a cold puppy. If you were stuck at your job, you’d simply leave with no hesitation. You didn’t care what your boss would say to you later, you just hope they’ll understand when you tell them.

After a long day of him being tormented by the presence of clowns and bringing him home, you helped him to bed to hold him and gently play with his hair. This always seemed to calm him down. “…Thank you” Your beloved broke the silence. “Anytime. Now.. do you want something to eat? It’s still before noon, so I think we can have some breakfast, if you’d like.” “…Yes please” John smiles a bit, his breathing back to normal. He sat himself up then stood up with you, following you to the kitchen.

“I can make something for us. Do you want pancakes?” John thought for a moment. “Actually, may I make something? That might make me feel better” “Of course, silly” You let him take the wheel on it. “Other than the.. thing..” He avoids triggering himself “Today was okay. The kids were behaved, and the adults the same. No fighting or rude interruptions so far, and I thank the lord for that. I thank the lord for you.” He walks over to you to give you a kiss. “By the way, I’m making waffles.” John let out a little giggle, as if he was merely a boy, your boy. “I love you too, dingus” You flirted, pulling him by his collar to kiss him yourself. “Now go make your silly little waffles!” You spoke in a playful tone, and he responded with another giggle. You love this goofy boy so much.

After he made you both something to eat, you both sat just across from each other, simply enjoying each other’s company and the meal. “This is lovely, love. You gotta cook for us more!” “It felt fun to do, so I probably will cook more. It was pretty relaxing too, I think.” John admitted, seeming as he said relaxed.

“Either way, I’m happy you’re feeling better. I know fears can eat at you, and lately you’ve been having nightmares. I just want you to be happy and carefree. I don’t know what I have to do to get that freedom for you, but I’ll do whatever I must to help you, John. I love you.” After finishing your meals, you both go to clean each other’s dishes, both sharing a kiss before he has to go rest.

[i-willstealyourtoes]

BACK AGAIN BESTI-

no fr tho this ones just Dallas, but uhhh if your ok with it can I gets Dallas with a silly, immature, younger reader, like not teenager younger, but like 29-30 year old younger so not exactly creepy, but probably not conventional, cuz like uuuhhhh I like older men

Feel free to ignore this one. Tho, hopefully this will be my last one for a bit to give you a break ^_^

Bestie no pls don't be shy- Like if u have an idea u can send it !!!

Dallas with younger/silly s/o

- Okay I feel like Dallas already considers himself young at heart???

- (He does make old people jokes like 'I'm getting too old for this' tho)

- He doesn't really feel as awkward about it as some people

- Though when he started feeling stuff for you he did feel a little self-conscious about it

- He didn't know how you felt about it bc what if you thought of him like... too old

- But when you reciprocated the fears definitely disappeared

- He really likes your youthful look on the world bc he relates sometimes? And plus he likes having another person's view to hear about anyway so (leader moment)

- I mean sometimes he does have those slightly insecure moments

- Like 'why would u like me lmao' kind of thing

- He asks this frequently in the start of the relationship specifically

- Like when you two are alone and snuggling hehe

- 'Why'd you choose me, huh? I'm... old.'

- He's not even that old, nor is the age difference that bad

- It's only like... max 10 years + you guys are both consulting adults

- 'Babe, you're not even that old-'

- 'I know, I know. But still. I know I'm hot, but damn. How'd I get with a person like you?' (/pos)

- He's just a silly little guy ok

- An old silly little guy

- He's probably more confident about it than other people, but yk... it does cross his mind

- If anyone makes fun of him/you about it, my guys confidence does not falter

- 'Isn't he old enough to be your dad?' (said the dumb little dumb dumb)

- If you don't speak up, he probably would

- 'Hey, why don't you mind your own goddamn business? Leave me and my partner alone or you'll fuckin' regret it.'

- Thank you cool guy Nathan Steele that's very nice and brave of you

- I feel like he definitely treats you the same as if you weren't younger?

- OH I FORGOR YOU SAID YOU WERE SILLY AS WELL MB MOVIN ON 💀

- Okay so you and your goofy clown ahh are definitely different from him

- Like not in a bad way, just you have different senses of humour sometimes

- Like if you show him like... memes, like the cursed ones

- He probably won't understand

- 'Hehehehe babe look.' (you point at a video of a fish spinning to funky town)

- '....What. What am I looking at? Why are you watching a spinning fish? How- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING-' (he's not actually shouting, he's just raised his voice)

- I think he kind of likes how silly you are, bc it sort of... keeps him young???

- As for you being immature... it depends?

- If you just have a younger and fresher look on society and stuff, he likes that bc again, second and new opinion is good

- But if you mean like... rlly childish??? Like kind of bratty? Idk if he'd like that I'm ngl

- I assume you just mean you have just a different vibe bc you were born in a different generation, he's perfectly fine with that dw

- Overall, he still likes you as much as he would if you were the same age

- He likes your more youthful view on the world, as well as your silly/energetic personality

- He definitely sometimes doesn't get some of your jokes/sense of humour + he does occasionally feel a little self-conscious about it, but he still loves you vv much

I hope this enough for u!! Feel free to send another request, even if its just of the same prompt idm !!

[clown-demon]

Ti's plotting sheet thingy

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: Ti

OOC Contact: Discord pls.

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

I have too many on this blog to go through them all.. I'd suggest just reading my MUSE abouts.. some of them are a WIP. I work more details into them as I RP them. But thing to note-- All my muses reside in the BSD universe. While they can go to others from Nikolai's ability to allow cross overs and no limits. For sanity sake, I will be using Nikolai, Fyodor, and Dazai as the main three to answer these questions.

Points of interest:

Nikolai: Likes fellow clowns and silly fun people. If you're not a fun person then he'll turn you into something fun. Whether it be annoying the other person or splattering their guts and gore on the wall.

Fyodor: Likes peace and quiet. Also enjoys those who are intelligent and speaking to others in general. He's a bit of a people person, he enjoys and values humanity.

Dazai: Usually likes to do anything to get out of work. Will find something as an excuse to get out of it. Usually out getting crab or going out for a drink. Likes to read books and listen to music and relax.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Nikolai: Currently trying to cope with Fyodor's 'death.' He's still in mourning, but whenever he comes to face with another person, he will automatically put on his happy mask and act as if nothing is wrong. He will act as his good old self, even though it is a mask and he's hiding his true emotions.

Fyodor: Currently in Bram's body, facing off to rid of the world of the Agency and Port Mafia. Behind the scenes, gathering more rats and aiming to take out Dazai firstly. Also has Nikolai on his mind to rid of.

Dazai: Currently trying to rid the world of Fyodor. Trying to figure out how to do that, if he should take a chance and see if he is the only one to be able to kill him. Trying to keep everyone safe. For once in his life, he is taking work seriously.

Where to find them:

Nikolai: Parties, parks, really any public place. He performs magic tricks for his job now that he no longer is part of the DoA. But you can also find him in cafes and amusement parks. Anywhere that is considered 'fun.'

Fyodor: Cafes, libraries, museums, old historical places that are open to the public. You can also often find him on trains and buses, since that is the main way of his transport.

Dazai: Coffee shops, any place that has food, the Agency. On crime scenes. Anywhere really. And anywhere that one can easily commit suicide-- so down a river... a forest, etc.

Current plans:

I don't have any current plans really. I kinda now base my blog with what is happening canon in the manga.

Desired interactions:

Nikolai: Finding new friends and people who understand him. People who will tolerate him and have fun with him. Someone to help cheer him up and get over Fyodor's death. Someone to accept who he is.

Fyodor: New rats. : )

Dazai: Someone to show him a reason to live.. Actually show him value in his life. Treat him seriously and not treat his suicide antics as a joke or nuisance.

Offered interactions:

Just come at me whenever.. asks are always open, starter calls, memes if I ever post any.

Current open post/s:

Anything that isn't a thread with another person is free game.

Anything else?:

I'm right now trying to get caught up with my drafts. I've been MIA due to life placing a bomb on my lap and I'm trying to get my life back on track. So it might take me a VERY long time to get back to you. Patience is key when interacting with me.

[angolicious]

omg i love your aftercare hcs sm, writers rarely put the characters on the receiving hand when it’s so important !!! could you also do ones for sigma Nikolai and ranpo pls ?

Ya’ll really love this man- Huh? Anywho-

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

Sigma

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

I imagine sigma’s hair gets in the way a lot during sex. I mean- have you seen it? There’s so much of it… and i just know it’s everywhere all the time.

I imagine it would be in your best interest to have it pulled back for him during the actual deed- that way it just stays out of the way for the both of you, and gives you optimal movement, and in this case (the case of you topping.) it gives him optimal pleasure.

Of course this leads me to say, imagine how sweet it would be, reaching up to gently pull the hair tie from his long silky hair after the fact, and pause to run your fingers gently through his now slightly tangled locks as he flops back into the pillow below you.

I 100% believe that sigma is the type to get incredibly embarrassed after sex. Despite this… sigma is also the type to be overwhelmed with incredible sensations of love in his post nut clarity.

He is… absolutely enamored with you.

You add soft aftercare to the end of that? Man is WHOOPED. You’re never getting rid of him.

I imagine sigma LOVES getting his hair played with after sex.

He’s exhausted, red faced, and whimpering slightly as he comes down from the high you just gave him, but all of that embarrassed tension seems to gradually leave his body as you run your nails along his scalp.

Please please god praise him. Sigma needs praise to survive. His personal favorites are probably consistent of-

“My sweet baby….”

“You did so good for me…”

“Come here baby, such a good boy…”

It just makes him feel so loved, and wanted, and appreciated.

He’s quick to curl up on your chest, resting his head on your collar bone and curling into your form. He closes his eyes and just allows you to softly coo to him as you stroke his hair.

Help him clean up- and wipe up the ‘mess’ if you get my drift. (In the cases where you didn’t swallow it…)

When you swipe that warm rag along his inner thighs, he might jerk from overstimulation, and Yelp slightly.

Just keep praising him. He’ll be fine.

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

Nikolai

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

First of all- HOW did you get this man to bottom. Like literally how- i imagine he’s up there on the list of people who are like- impossible to top.

It’s not that i think he doesn’t want to. Somewhere deep down inside Nikolai longs to be taken care of like that- that’s just overshadowed by the fear of that feeling of empty rejection if that care isn’t shown when he gives up control. That and… being free is literally Nikolai’s whole thing. That’d look really bad for his reputation.

But somehow- somehow you did it. Congratulations you fucking did it. I imagine you have to try multiple times. Nikolai is a SHIFTY little bastard. He isn’t gonna take normal dominant approaches.

I imagine you literally try to pin him down to the bed one time and you get a shocked little

“OH!” Out of him, followed by furious giggles as he gleefully returns your kiss.

“Y/n! That’s so forward of you! You make me laugh! If you wanted me to fuck you-“

Suddenly, the clown has disappeared into his cape, and just like that… is gone into the mattress.

Until of course- there’s a gloved hand on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress, and his gleeful voice is whispering into your ear.

“All you had to do was ask….”

In theory it’s a win because you get your lights fucked out. But- it’s also a huge loss because you completely failed at topping Nikolai in under seconds.

But- LIGHTBULB! It’s because Nikolai requires a different approach. Don’t be aggressive with him! Ease him into it- gently.

You made this connection one night while you were rubbing his shoulders. You had simply walked up behind him while he was sitting at the dinner table, and slid your hands up over his shoulders, providing a deep pressure right by his neck.

And oh god… the noise he made was ✨divine✨

And that was when it clicked… it all came together like a light bulb… and you understood!

Lean down and gently ask him��. “Did that feel good… Nikolai?”

Now, by all means, when topping Nikolai… you have to be at least a little bit firm. Nikolai is a brat…. And it is of the utmost importance to tame him like the pretty little rope bunny he is. But degradation is a MAJOR no no, at least not anything to serious. Mild condescending remarks are fine, but above all, treat Nikolai with as much respect as you can, while still being firm.

That doesn’t mean you can’t be a little mean though… because… once Nikolai isn’t wearing his cape… there isn’t much he can do to stop you from overstimming the hell out of him. And- he doesn’t ever use the safe word so you know he’s into it.

Aftercare is important though. It’s SO SO important.

Nikolai has very sensitive ribs. It’s just a random little headcanon of mine. While it’s a great eroginous zone to get him going when you’re trying to start something, it’s also a great way to wind him down after the fact.

Gently trail your fingers up and down his rib cage as he’s panting, coming down from his high. I can assure you the first couple of times he’ll look like a deer in headlights, because he’s absolutely shocked he relinquished that control to you.

He’ll probably try to coyly take it back, by shakily offering you a turn beneath him. It’s perfectly fine to allow this, but on the nights when he really looks tired, or you know you’ve really done a number on him. Tell him no.

Remind him that you set aside a night just for him, and though he won’t mention it at that moment, it makes his heart flutter uncontrollably.

Nikolai likes to sleep next to you, rather than on top of you. He curles his body into your side, and rests his head on your shoulder. He typically loves when you rub up and down his side at this point, gently stroking up and down his rib cage.

Drag your touch from the top of his rib cage, alllll the way down to his hip and back up again.

He lets out a little pleasured giggle that turns into a moan, and then a sleepy yawn.

If you sing to him…. Ur done for.

He is DEFINITEFLY more clingy the next day. All over you. So many hugs… and he spins you around so much. Reciprocate, and smile at him, tell him how much you love him. That is equally as much part of the aftercare as the night before.

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

Ranpo

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

PILLOW PRINCESS.

WHINEY. BRATTY. LITTLE BITCH.

He may be bottoming but honestly who’s the one who’s really his bitch. You! You are. You are ranpo’s bitch and the world revolves around him.

Don’t let it stay that way. He’ll try to tell you what to do even when he’s beneath him. Please- please suck the SOUL out of that man.

Literally fuck him until he’s dry, gasping for breath, with tears streaming down his face as you bounce up and down on his cock, and he’s practically begging you to stop because the overstim practically aches at this point. Suck his pretty little cock until his hips are bucking into your mouth, and he’s screaming your name.

You’re in charge. By all means. Remind him of that. He needs a little bit of humility in his life.

But do NOT. And i repeat. Do NOT leave him hanging afterwards. You can degrade him, and overstim him, and torture him all you want during the act. But if you leave that baby laying there all alone afterwards… you are a monster.

Ranpo loves the way you always make sure to kiss him after sex. The kisses you give him after he orgasms are long, and deep, and sweet, and filled with so much more love then lust. He returns them desperately, even though his weak little body shakes in your grasp.

Don’t turn off all the lights, as ranpo can’t sleep with all the lights off. But turn off as many as you can. Make sure the room is nice and cool, and the pillows are fluffed. Clean him up because we all know by the time you’re done with him he won’t be able to move to do it himself.

I imagine gently stroking some of ranpo’s hair, sticking to his forehead with sweat, out of the way so that you can press tender loving kisses across his temple. Praising him all the while.

Rub his back when he finally curls up in your arms. I can promise you he is EXHAUSTED. He’s too tired to even request snacks… and if that’s not crazy i don’t know what is.

You’ll feel him relax slightly into your shoulder when you rub his back, and it won’t be long before his typical whiney self starts showing again.

“Y/n….. rub up higher! I don’t like it thereeee- scratch between my shoulder blades… please- Mm! Ah~”

“Right there… is that where you like it…?”

“Ah~ ah- Mhm-“

Once you find the right spot, he’ll typically drift off pretty quick in your arms, twitching slightly when you hit a spot that really feels good.

Make him breakfast in the morning, and a cup of tea- with how things went the night before…? His throat will probably hurt.

He’ll Wanna eat breakfast in bed. That way he can keep his head rested on your shoulder. Please grant him that.

Because…. 9 times out of ten. He’s gonna complain that his arms are tired from the ropes and you’re gonna have to hand feed him.

If ya give a mouse a cookie- it’s gonna want some fucking milk i guess.

(If you get that reference you’re a god.)

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

[crossguild]

my all-time favorite piece of media is one piece (which, if you enjoy w359's character and narrative arcs and humor but wish there was more of it, PLEASE read OP, you will not regret it) and part of why i vibed with w359 is because it's very good at something OP is a masterclass in: recontextualization!

sometimes a piece of media drops a reveal that forces you to reevaluate everything you know about a character or a story, and that reveal changes everything and nothing-- it lets you understand a character on a level you never expected, that you never knew you were missing, but it changes nothing at all because that character is still the character you know and love

the moments that live rent-free in my brain from w359 are the moments where a character is completely recontextualized by a reveal. eiffel's backstory, how he ended up on the space station-- puts his behavior and everything about him into perspective. the moment you realize that his disrespect, laziness, lack of motivation are based in his own self-loathing, it made me go from disliking him in a shallow way to feeling a depth of sympathy, understanding and contempt that i didn't expect. it completely changes the experience of listening to season 1

lovelace, who i already loved, turning out to be an alien explained everything about her reappearance, and then theta scenario gave you both answers and additional questions when it's revealed that sometimes the duplicates will display a stronger personality or trait than the OG. both that and the trauma would explain lovelace's paranoia when she reappeared, but it's still left up to interpretation, and that uncertainty is something that lovelace is wrestling with as well

hera's moment in memoria reveals SO MUCH about why her systems have always been wack (although decommissioned helped as well), but it also put into perspective wtf was going on with pryce and her methods of control. it lives in our heads rent-free because the reveal changed everything and nothing all at once. it was the moment that hera's personhood is demonstrated more clearly than at any other time in the series, not least because of maxwell's insistence on it

and i know i've talked about this ad nauseum, but kepler's framing throughout the series is purely as a Threat, an agent of goddard's interests at the expense of everyone else, so even the relative help and benefit he brings is cast with suspicion and fear. and sure, he doesn't really care how the hephaestus crew feels, and he can and will wipe them out if he sees the need to. the reveal in the finale doesn't change that.

but it DOES reframe the character, because once you know that he isn't just talking out of his ass, that he truly believes in this ideal of humanity that he thought goddard would be able to bring him closer to, u recognize that what reads as a self-interested power-grab with 'the bigger picture' as a weak excuse is done in true and actual service to a misguided cause-- which is why i went from being pretty ambivalent about kepler to having him be my absolute favorite character in a series that's already overflowing with complex, compelling and fun characters.

and that's why wolf 359 has such high relisten value! because once you've understood the text, you go back to pick up the clues that were always there, that you didn't understand as foreshadowing, that you're internally screaming at now that you Get It, and then you yell at all your friends to listen to it so you can watch them experience the reveals the same way you did (: and then everyone suffers emotionally

ETA: and also why i think cutter is ultimately a letdown but also hilarious. his backstory changed absolutely nothing, we knew he was a clown and an evil mfer. get on OP's level with writing villains pls. i want a sympathetic AND irredeemable bad guy. absolute garbage asshole who i hate with every fiber of my being and can't stop thinking about

[nerdysleepybunny]

Pspspspsp hey shroomie what's up. How ya doin. Hope you're doin good, Bumblebee. So like,, I saw you were accepting tpn reason and I went 👀👀👀👀 so!!

May I request some juicy angst with the main trio (+ characters of your liking if you want. If not tho that's fine) and the reader getting shipped away?? I'd prefer it if it's gender neutral + platonic pls and thank you my good Button clown :]]] (maybe the reader was like an older sibling figure or sumn?? I dunno up to you champ)

Sorry if that's a bit much, feel free to cut it down to like one character (if you'd like maybe Emma because I'm seeing a lack of content with her) and have a great day bubs <33

-Loubee >:))))

Hello darling! I’m doing well, I hope you are too! I was originally going to do all 3 but it ended up being a lot so I cut it down to just Emma, hope you don’t mind! Thanks for the request, hope you enjoy. <3

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Fandom(s): The Promised Neverland

Character(s): Emma

Reader: Gender neutral (they/you)

TW: Angst, reader gets shipped out

Style: Hcs

Summary: Emma reacts to you being shipped out.

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Before shipment:

Emma is devastated with the news. Mom came up to you privately in your room and told you, a satisfied smile on her face with your terrified reaction.

You ran crying to Emma, sobbing into her chest. She paused the game of hide and seek for you, and all the other children rushed to surround you, asking what was wrong.

You whispered in Emma’s ear that you’d be getting shipped tomorrow. You’ve never seen her eyes so wide before. Her face was a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow.

Emma quickly lost her cool and sobbed, dropping to her knees on the grass and taking you down with her, holding onto you tightly.

Norman, Ray, Don, and Gilda had a good idea about what you told her, and began to tear up as well. They rushed off to the library to begin discussing a new plan to get you out of here.

“W-We have to make the most of it.. you can’t die yet!”

Once you agreed, the sunshine girl clung to you, not letting you go or taking her eyes off you for even a second. She planned to spend as much time with you as humanly possible.

She took you to the library to join in on the plan.

Once it was all set, Emma and you decided to not speak of it, and to spend as much time together before tomorrow as possible.

She held your hand tightly, walking around with you and keeping you close, and doing any activity you wished.

Shipment day:

Well, let’s just say the plan didn’t really go to plan. Mom caught you easily, and with you being less athletic and less smart like the other three, she caught you with little effort, dragging you to your room and shoving you inside before locking you in there.

Emma was looking around everywhere for you, yet couldn’t find you. She finally headed outside, but felt eyes on her. She looked up at the house, and saw you! You were banging on the window, mouthing what looked like the word help. She gave you a thumbs up before rushing off to get Ray and Norman for assistance.

“You need to go, now!” “But Ray-!” “There’s no time for buts! You need to cut off your goddamn ear and get out of here!” “Stop shouting at them, Ray!” Ray looked at Emma with anger, only to be met with Emma’s serious expression. He sighed and calmed down, sitting on the bed next to you.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I-“

“What are you three doing in here?” “Mom?!”

Mom walked in with a sigh, before smiling and making her way towards you. “My dear child, it’s time to go.. get dressed, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

So now here you were, dressed in the terrifying shipment outfit, standing at the door with Mom, surrounded by all the other kids.

Emma rushed up to you and hugged you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Listen to me, I will get you out of here, you hear me? Don’t ever give up hope. We will get you out, and you’ll escape with us.”

You sobbed but nodded, continuing to hold onto her, the two of you crying together.

“Time to go, (Y/N).” Mom pulled you and Emma apart, dragging you out the door.

You could hear the synchronized shouts of bye’s and we’ll miss you’s from the little ones. You silently cried whilst walking with Isabella, slowly nearing the gate.

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

[in-2004-fandoms-and-counting]

AU where Nico dies (don't hate me pls I'm sorry I love Nico and ship the hell out of Solangelo, this is just to allow for some dark AUs) transporting the Athena Parthenos in BoO.

(Sorry it's such a long post) Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, revered praetor and peace-loving daughter of Bellona, loses the ability to share strength. Now, when she uses her power, she saps your energy, draws on your bravery, and poisons your mind with horrific images. Nico's death has allowed suppressed traits to resurface and overwhelm all her progress since San Juan all those years ago. She picks fights. She becomes a dictator in all but name, abolishing the Senate and making War Games a lot more "realistic": weekly funerals become commonplace, words are spoken under breaths, and terror resides in the heart of every New Roman. And so, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano turns her brilliant mind and poisonous power to Gaea's aid. Gleeson Hedge doesn't seem more than a broken satyr at first glance, his smiles never sincere, his voice never loud, his bat never raised. But when he slips off into the wilderness, he does not sit quietly among the trees and reflect. He whispers into the trees' leaves, his twisted words echoing the bitterness that now consumes his being. He has been tricked too many times: Pan, forcing thousands of satyrs to lose their lives in their quest to find him when he was alive all along; Clarisse, who never tried to connect with nature or understand his own ties to the natural world, who teaches his child the game of death while Mellie watches, fading away, unable to fight back; the gods, who, in their promise of protection, conveniently ignored the nature spirits. He is bitterest about Nico's death: about all he could have done, about what the kid should have done. The glint in his eyes scares even the worst monster that Tartarus could send. But it is Gaea he turns his allegiance to. It is Gaea who promises that he will always be good enough for her. And so, Gleeson Hedge turns nature back to its true mother: Gaea. Hazel Levesque is not someone you want as an enemy. Her golden eyes, gold like the masks of the judges of the dead, seem to see everything. Her powers grow stronger, but now she is able to control them. One glance, and she can cause an entire legion to scream and writhe in agony as she manipulates the iron in their blood, twists their shining armour, forces weapons to turn on their handlers. She stops wearing normal, mortal clothes, and now she wears flowing dresses of molten gold and bronze that no spear could pierce nor hand touch. She calls on the remnants of metal in the cave in Resurrection Bay to rise, and rise they do, twisting and weaving together at her command to form a cathedral-like vault with a solid Stygian iron throne. At the front of her temple lies a chasm from which her first creation arises, complete and healed, at last. Alcyoneus clambers out of the pit, back with his mother's life and Hazel's burning desire for destruction. And so, after seventy years, Hazel Levesque joins forces with Gaea of her own free will. Frank Zhang's arrows are no longer aimed at Tartarus's monsters, but at the people he once considered friends. The ruins of the Zhang family mansion become a shrine to Gaea, the ancient walls falling in blissful happiness into the Earth Mother's embrace. Frank returns often with fresh skulls, unfailingly whole - his arrow pierces cleanly through the eye every time. His piece of firewood safe in Gaea's belly, protected where no flame could reach, he is unstoppable. His shapeshifting causes unforseen problems with the allies' plans, it's very hard to plan how to fight a lion when he could turn into a swarm of bees at any moment. He is the ultimate spy, a literal fly on the wall, and for once, he feels needed. He feels worth something. He feels as though he is good enough, something the gods could never give. All the gods ever did for Frank, he realises bitterly, is take. His mother. His grandmother. His self-confidence. His chance for a stable, loving family. Nico. And so, Frank Zhang finds a different kind of family, one that will not let him down, in Gaea. Piper McLean never wanted to be a tragic love story; that was purely for her mother's entertainment. She

cuts her hair short. She kills Gaea's enemies on sight. Her charmspeak forces even her old family, Camp Half-Blood, to turn against each other, brother against brother, sister against sister, until bodies litter the strawberry fields and the Big House crumbles to smouldering ashes. The gods have her no love. Their boundaries mean nothing to her any more. Her love extends to her favourite mother, her boyfriend, the rest of the Seven, Grover, Reyna and Hedge. Beyond that, it is poison. Gaea takes her hands, looks into her eyes, and tells Piper that she is more than the spawn of an unfaithful, air-headed immortal, more than the damsel in distress. She tells Piper that she is who she decides to be. And Piper agrees. Gaea gives her the opportunity to be out of others' shadows. Piper McLean takes the chance and joins with Gaea, her charmspeak almost her most dangerous feature, second only to her unbridled wrath when Nico's death is mentioned.

Jason Grace owes fealty to only one eternal goddess now. He scours the Underworld with Hazel and Frank, relentless like the wolves he was brought up with. He knows no bounds, his destruction barely controllable by even Piper and her charmspeak. He has obliterated entire cities, counties, even an entire nation. He feels no regret, no remorse, no nagging guilt. He seeks out and electrocutes homophobes as his powers grow in complexity, along with his ability to control them. No matter how much they scream, the same two words shoot from Jason's scarred lips like the lightning bolts he commands: for Nico. As the darkness inside him grows, the son of Jupiter advances on Olympus, eyes and hands blazing, to destroy his father, as one of Gaea's allies, as one of Gaea's found children. Jason Grace vows by Nico's soul and Gaea's love to destroy the gods who shamelessly abandoned them.

Percy Jackson has been close to the darkness before. As just one examole, he's controlled poison to choke the goddess of misery at the edge of Chaos. But now, Annabeth's words at the time - some things aren't meant to be controlled - strike differently. Percy doesn't follow rules any more. That brooding, troublemaking face now alludes to his new form: gone is the class clown, here is something more akin to a devil. Like Hazel, he has made hundreds of people and monsters shriek in pain as he controls their blood, contorting their bodies into unnatural forms and snapping necks with a mere snap of his fingers. If Nico's death is mentioned around the pair of them - Hazel and Percy - both turn on the individual, eyes smouldering with the deceitfully cool ashes of the fire of grief, and slowly unleash their wrath. Percy cannot be controlled. He wants revenge. Part of him wishes he had never given his mother the head of Medusa to kill Smelly Gabe; it tore him to pieces when he made the fluid in her head seep out of her eyes. But she wouldn't stop begging him to leave Gaea. She had to go. She was no longer loving him as he knew he deserved. Now, Percy Jackson takes his support from the mother he should have accepted long ago: Gaea.

Annabeth Chase did not accept powers from her new mother, her better mother. She chose to use her mind as her weapon and Gaea respected that. Gaea gave her the resources she needed to wreak havoc on mortals and immortals alike. Now, instead of studying for a stupid internship in a misogynistic, capitalist society, Annabeth unleashes her fury, her grief, her mind on the world. The gods deserve to pay for what happened to Nico. The demigods need to feel her grief. The mortals started this stupid cycle of overwork and inadequate pay. Annabeth is ready to work with the mother that respects her, that loves her, that nurtures her as she deserves. And work she does. Plan after plan is developed, improved, redrafted, mocked up, redeveloped, and finally executed with clinical precision. Her mind becomes what her enemies most fear, even above her reputation: first child of Athena in millennia to reach Arachne, retriever of the Athena Parthenos, survivor of Tartarus. And she laughs, laughs in a maniacal way that makes you want to take a step back as she strides towards you, grey eyes alight with an unnatural glint as you realise that she knows everything about you and she knows how this will end. She will not let herself or her friends die. She refuses to let another situation like Nico's death happen again. So, Annabeth Chase takes Gaea's resources and turns them into a mass genocide, executed with her new mother's blessing.

Grover Underwood leads the nature spirits now. He commands dryads to extend their unstoppable tendrils through the paths that Gaea forms for them, deep in the earth, then sending them exploding through the surface and reclaiming all that was torn from them under the pretence of friendship. His empathy link with Percy allows him some degree of control, both over the son of Poseidon and over naiads. Grover is betrayed and bitterly disappointed in Pan, in the gods, in demigods, in mortals, in Nico. And so, he turns nature back home with Gleeson Hedge. The hauntingly beautiful whistling of his pipes lures demigods, mortals, even gods to their doom. Apollo is the first to fall, trapped by the music of the satyr whose horns now make him seem diabolical as he dances in the flames. Grover Underwood finds his roots in Gaea and his revenge in destruction.

Leo Valdez wants to burn the world to ashes. There's not a moment he's not on fire, his hair smouldering, his skin aglow. At his feet lies Hera, trussed up like a rodeo calf, bound by the power of the guardian Leo knows he deserved as a child. There is no Piper with her charmspeak to free the ex-queen; at least, Piper is by Leo's side as he blasts her with his searing flames. There's a smile on Leo's face that rivals even Annabeth's as he torches cities, razes acres and lights up the sky with plumes of smoke and columns of fire. His reasoning feels etched into his heart: the gods let Nico die. The gods let us down one time too many. And so he lets the flames go. Gaea stands behind him, her hand on his shoulder, proud and respectful. She knows that he secretly enjoyed starting the war with New Rome. He has fire powers; it's only natural, and that Octavian is enough to drive anyone mad. So, Leo Valdez finally makes his peace with Gaea.

Will Solace goes out like a light as the news of his beloved's death is announced. He lies, broken and silent, in Gaea's arms, tears streaming down his face. He stirs only for Nico's name, and his eyes turn slowly to whoever dared say it. He reaches out an arm, eyes turning black, leaching all the colour from the surroundings as his whisper echoes: there is no hope. Behind him stands Gaea, a tear of her own on her earthen cheek. She feels his pain, raw and fresh. But she takes some of it onto herself. Will Solace shares his grief with Gaea now.

And so they stand, eyes alight and expressions dark and triumphant, by the side of the goddess who did not want to let Nico die.

Gaea smiles.

[1800sunaarinn]

ADULT TRIO + TORTURER READER

anon asks

hiii! and thanks for enjoying my writing, idk idk i always feel like i can’t write for shit lmaoo. not even going cap, i legit got chills when i read this ask, this definitely right up my alley!! pls enjoy, anon!! :)

tw. torture, manipulation, uwu.

♰ Chrollo Luclifer

pause.

you were dangerously cute, so cute that you bordered on looking naïve. seriously, chrollo could spend hours eloquently describing how cute you were, how your actions made you even cuter, and how your words made you cuter than cuter. mans could even spend hours explaining how naïve you were. and, he could spend even more hours explaining just as eloquently that you were a manipulator.

both in nen abilities and mentality. god, you were a literal demon disguised as an angel, or something. you look cute, spoke cute, acted cute, but those hands were not cute. those soft hands have ended lives, have taken out eyeballs, yank teeth, broke bones, ripped out things that should definitely stay inside the body.

it was scary, but to chrollo, it was sexy. besides the point.

the first time he encountered your torture session was three years ago, when you had joined the phantom troupe as a pseudo member. you were an incredible informant, better than their last one.

when chrollo had left the base with his usual entourage of machi and pakunoda, it had been quiet as mouse. upon returning, he could hear the horrified and pained screams a few kilometers away.

chrollo’s first thought. feitan was torturing someone.

chrollo’s first sight. their sweet little informant torturing someone.

wait, stop the mfing music. [F/N] torturing someone?!?!

his initial reaction was to be frozen in shock, but doesn’t appear as if he was actually in shock by the events unfolding before him.

once he processed the entire thing, he could only stare for a few seconds in morbid fascination before it donned on him that you, [F/N], was actually torturing someone.

but what officially ko’ed him, was the expression on your face.

you looked completely frazzled, hair frizzy, clothes ruffled and spotted with blood. your eyes were wide like plates, pupils so tiny. the skin underneath your eyes dark and bruised. but it was the excitedly wide and sadistic smile on your face that caused him to actually sweatdrop.

chrollo was a refined young man, but seeing you look nothing like the cutesy naïve girl you had was a whole lot of shocking.

when the man had gave one last scream of pure, unadulterated fear, you had ended his life with a slow tug of his heart, pulling it free from his chest. it took a few seconds for him to truly die, you swinging his heart in front of his face with haunting giggles.

you had turned then, meeting chrollo’s eyes, appearance changing in a blink of an eye. you were back to looking cutesy, clothes clean and hair groomed. if you still weren’t holding the man’s heart, chrollo wouldn’t have known that you had just tortured someone to death.

“oh, dancho!” you had smile a true heart tugging smile, eyes forming little smiles as well. “i didn’t see you there~”

“yeah...” chrollo had trailed off, looking behind you and toward the dead man. “what’d he do?”

“hm, i want some cake. do you want cake, dancho?” you asked, before shrugging. “i’ll tell you everything over cake, pinkie promise!”

chrollo could only follow after you.

and, even now, three years later with you as his girlfriend. watching you torture someone will always cause him to sweatdrop.

he lowkey feared you.

🃏 Hisoka Morow

wait.

hisoka in a relationship with a girl who looks way too innocent to even know what —inter 🤢 interco— 🤢 intercourse🤮 is!! now that’s a sight to see.

first off, no one’s going to believe that hisoka, resident bitch clown, could bag someone like you. hell, you can’t even believe it because he is a bitch. b i c t h!

but anyways. hisoka thinks torturing is too slow, too drawn out for him, he likes fast pace things, like fights, and sex. but if it really came down to it, hisoka wouldn’t be opposed to some quality time torturing.

it was supposed to be a normal day, you know? hisoka actually showing up to the area to fight, and to secure his place in the two hundreds. you know, the usual. popping up at your house unexpectedly, and uninvited, was a normal thing. he even had a key.

but what wasn’t normal was hearing screams coming from your house, it was faint and you had to be up on your front door to hear it, but hisoka had good ass hearing.

the screams only grew louder as he entered the house, stalked around a bit to found it and then locating you and your victim in the basement.

you had a basement???! hisoka was bamboozeled.

but, no. what had him shivering his timbers, was you. his cutie pie girlfriend, looking not so cutie pootie anymore with frazzled hair and dark bruised eyes. covered in blood and wearing a bloodthirsty smile that put his to shame.

no, wait,

hold up

let him move his bangs real quick

...

nah, he saw that right

his initial reaction being “hah? why didn’t you invite me, [F/N]-chan, so rude~”

actually processed what the hell just happened. instant turn on. pervert face on, moaning immediately!

not only did you get a fright for your life, but the poor man you were torturing looked scared, disgusted and scared even more.

“oh, hisoka! hi!” you gave the man the biggest eye smile with a cutesy flustered expression, actually hearts and sparkles exploding around you. you didn’t even give the poor man a last thought before you sliced his neck so deep, his head nearly fell from his shoulders.

“what are you doing~” he had practically moaned.

“well, i’ll tell you over cake!” you all but skipped over to him, snatching his hand and bounding up the stairs for cake!

he’s totally using torture as a form of spicing up y’all’s sex lite. damn, perv.

📍Illumi Zoldyck

as the wife of a zoldyck, your ass better know how to torture. literally, it’s a requirement.

but, illumi had thought he would have to teach you how to torture. and how to kill, and how to manipulate, and how to do everything it require to become the best assassin wife.

you see, he was definitely fooled by your cutesy, naïveté act. your innocent smiles, glossy words, and dreamy stares. yes, that was it. you, a fine manipulator yourself, had fooled an even better manipulator.

poor dude was so confused when it came time to teach you how to torture.

like sorry dude, but you’ll be showing illumi a few pointers on which nerve is the quickest to receive a knee jerk scream.

his initial reaction was so stale. all he said was oh and looked on with the same dead fish eyed look.

processing... processing... completed.

“oh, oh! this is good, i don’t have to waste time teaching you.” the man sounded cheery, but he looked so dead.

you strived to have that sorta of resting bitch face.

you see, illumi can also make the weirdest, bizarre, downright ugly faces when it comes to actually releasing his bloodlust. so, seeing your features convert into something out of a horror movie only left him feeling a bit tingly.

why was he feeling tingly? what does it mean?,?!,

he lowkey enjoyed the way you lost yourself when torturing someone. you looked absolutely horrifying, and your sweet tone only added to the affect and your nen abilities working on your victim’s mind only strived to make you even more terrifying.

proud

this man was actually feeling proud of his wife

gah dayum 👨🏾‍🦳!! he found the right one, ladies it’s a wrap.

he definitely demanded little assassin babies.

like,,,,

“who taught you how to torture?” he had asked.

“a friend from my home city, he was so aggressive for such a tiny man.” you had answered absentmindedly, before bursting into horrible giggles as the man gave his last scream.

O.O —.— O.O, that type of beat.

“can we get cake?” you had turned to look at him then, smiling cutely.

“after we have intercourse. i want children, now.”

^.^ -> o.0 “hah???”

📍. 11/20/15

note — i hope you liked it. i absolutely hate the word intercouse, oh my god 😭

[artificialqueens]

Are You in Love With a Notion? (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Ellie wakes up in the Lake District with a hangover, an engagement ring, and her best friend in her bed. It’s not quite Vegas, but it’s still a cataclysmic mess.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon that came to my inbox with the concept “diamond chaney but they impulsively get married one night and have to deal with the consequences later”. it was too good to just headcanon for so it’s now a fully-fledged fic. it’s complete and utter silly nonsense and it’s by no means the most groundbreaking writing in the world, but it is FUN! hope u all enjoy and pls enjoy my continued campaign for u all to board the diamond chaney clown bus xo

(do people still use snapchat? fuck knows, but i needed it for plot purposes. if u like u can pretend this is set in 2016.)

***

Ellie wakes up feeling like a bat has shat in her head.

It feels as if her pulse is contained entirely within her cranium given the way it’s throbbing, and every time she blinks it’s as if each of her eyelashes weigh twenty kilogrammes. She momentarily wonders where she is before the heavy cream drapes and the shiny glass-topped bedside table come into focus and she remembers she’s in the hotel room. A’whora had wanted to splash out for her birthday (“you only turn a quarter of a century old once, ladies!”) and no expense was spared since she’d got that promotion a few months back. She’d covered the difference for any of the girls who wouldn’t have been able to afford to go away and Ellie was thankful for her friend’s kindhearted and generous nature. After all, she’s not the kind of girl who would say no to a treat, and she’ll return the favour as soon as her salon takes off.

(And it will take off. She didn’t study business for nothing.)

But the room right now, even with its four-poster bed and the cosy sheets and the four soft pillows, is providing absolutely no respite from the fact that Ellie is hanging out of her arse. Throwing her arm over her eyes as she squeezes them shut, she gives a small, self-indulgent sob of anguish and suffering.

And as she rolls from her side onto her back, she becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone in the bed.

The dread and fear that grips her heart reminds her of when she went on school camp in Primary 7 and had to jump into one of those freezing cold plunge pools.

She keeps her arm over her eyes for a few more seconds to allow herself to work up the mental stability she needs to face whoever’s at her side. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe this has all been in her mind and in a moment she’s going to wake up hangover-free with her bed blissfully empty.

Ellie brings her arm down from her eyelids and, without knowing what possesses her (aside from the copious amounts of alcohol that remain in her bloodstream), bites down gently on her arm in lieu of pinching herself.

She can confirm she is still very much awake.

It’s not that a one-night-stand is beyond her; she would even go as far as to say that at one point both she and A’whora were infamous for it back at uni, and she’s admittedly glad that “Dirty Diamond” just isn’t as catchy as “A’whora” and therefore that particular nickname hasn’t stuck with her into adult life like it has for her friend. No, what she’s surprised at herself for is the fact she’s brought someone back at her big age. She hasn’t had a random hookup for a while now, and the fact she can’t remember it is even worse.

She presses the hand that’s under the duvet against her thigh and her heart almost gives out with relief at the fact she can feel clothes. She can’t have gone too far, then. This is okay. This is salvageable. As she runs her fingers over the hem of whatever the fuck she’s wearing, realisation slowly dawns on her that it’s her pink playsuit from the night before.

Ellie genuinely can’t tell if the situation is better because she’s not naked, or worse because she’s still in her clothes from last night.

Her pulse skyrockets again, however, as an arm gently thuds over her waist through the duvet and the person, whoever the hell they even are, snuggles into her side contentedly. Only…it all feels too weirdly familiar for Ellie’s liking. The body beside her, the closeness, even the rise and fall of the breathing is all that of someone she feels like she knows.

Lifting her arm off her eyes and to her forehead, opening them, and finally ripping the plaster off to see who’s by her side, Ellie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or slightly horrified.

A purple velvet jumpsuit with a belt to tie her in at the waist that’s coming undone. Black and purple painted nails. Endless waves of thick lilac hair that are fanned out in tendrils across the white pillowslip. An entire face of perfectly painted makeup that’s still clinging on from the night before.

It’s Lawrence. She’s waking up beside her best friend. This is fine. This is totally normal. They’ve shared a bed countless times before back at uni, and it’s not something Ellie’s ever been adverse to- quite the opposite in fact, she thinks, as her stomach does a flip.

Something still feels off, though.

And then, as Ellie brings her hand down from her forehead and something bumps against it, it hits her- physically and metaphorically- all at once.

The ring Lawrence always wears; her pride and joy, her grandmother’s ring. The one that looks like the heart of the ocean on her finger, a huge blue diamond surrounded by eight small platinum ones. The ring Lawrence guards with her life and would only take off if it was physically tasered off her. The ring that could single-handedly obliterate Lawrence’s entire student debt and probably Ellie’s too if she was feeling generous enough.

The ring- that ring- is currently sitting on the fourth finger of Ellie’s left hand. As if it’s an engagement ring.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says without thinking. Her voice is croaky and too-loud in the silence of the room, but Lawrence still takes a while to stir beside her. She pulls Ellie close with the arm that’s round her, nuzzles her face into her arm. Usually the feeling wouldn’t be an unwelcome one, but just now Ellie’s got bigger problems. She hisses again. “Lawrence, wake up.”

“I’m not shagging you, Ruth Davidson, you wee Tory,” Lawrence’s sleep-coated voice comes from beside her, and Ellie finally draws back, reaches behind her and takes the pillow out from under her head to thump her with.

“For fuck’s sake! Lawrence, wake up! We’re in the shit here!”

As Lawrence finally blinks slowly, Ellie watches her go through the seven stages of grief far more rapidly than she’s just done. She feels like an idiot for the way her heart dips in disappointment when Lawrence shuffles back from her and draws her arm away self-consciously. She mumbles, grumpy and tired. “Ellie, I’m not alive.”

“Yes you are, drama queen.”

“No I’m fucking not. I feel how Prince Philip looks,” she groans in despair, obviously as hungover as Ellie is. She screws her face up and rubs her eyes, in turn smearing her makeup over her cheekbones. “Why am I even here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shagged,” Ellie says dryly, before holding the back of her hand up to Lawrence’s face. “Main question is, why the hell do I have this?”

Lawrence’s eyes grow wide in recognition before she groans and thumps her head back against the pillow. “How did you even…? Aw, I don’t know, Ellie, I’m too hungover to be mad about it. Just gies it back before you breathe and lose it or some shite.”

“But why is it…you know. Why is it here?” Ellie asks insistently, pressing her hand against her friend’s face in a deliberately annoying way. Lawrence grabs her wrist and forces it away from her face to get a proper look, and Ellie can see the cogs turn in her head before her face blanches at the implication.

Appearing to try and collect herself, Lawrence frowns, batting Ellie’s arm away. “You were probably getting hit on by some reprobate forty year old man in a suit so I’ll have let you pretend to be married to me. You should be honoured, really, it’s the closest you’ll get to perfection.”

“Piss off,” Ellie rolls her eyes as Lawrence gives a sleepy chuckle. She fiddles with the ring on her finger. It’s a little too small, and taking it off is proving difficult. Combined with the underlying stress of something still not being right, though, and it’s not enough to make Ellie’s dread dissipate.

“Can you remember any of last night?” she asks Lawrence, who’s scrabbling around on the bedside table for her phone.

“Nothing. You?”

“Neither,” Ellie rubs her temples with her fingers as if trying to massage the hangover out of her brain. No such luck.

“A’whora will be worse than us, then, won’t she? Because the last thing I remember is her and Tayce necking the prosecco at pres- oh, shit,” Lawrence has successfully retrieved her phone, and as she cuts herself off she’s frowning at it as if it’s committed a crime against her. “She’s calling just now, actually.”

Ellie already knows A’whora will be perfectly fresh and put together even before Lawrence swipes her phone across the screen to accept the facetime call, and so seeing her looking exactly that plus her girlfriend beside her looking the exact same just makes Ellie want to die even more.

A’whora’s smile is smug on her face as she smirks at them through the phone. “How are you two lovebirds doing this morning?”

Her words are like cold water down Ellie’s spine, and from the way Lawrence’s expression has changed too it seems she’s not the only one. She’s wondering what A’whora’s trying to imply with her joke and really, really hoping it’s just an innocent barb with no meaning behind it. Ellie can’t speak, but Lawrence gets there before her anyway. “What?”

“The married couple! The newlyweds! The babas!” Tayce jumps in, way too energetic and excited and making Ellie feel more hungover just looking at her.

Her words, though, aren’t helping her growing need to spew all over the hotel room floor. “What are you talking about?”

A’whora’s jaw drops open, and she barely conceals a laugh. “Oh my God. What do you remember?”

Ellie doesn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting that the answer’s nothing, but Lawrence is talking before she can get a chance. “Neither of us can remember anything. All I know is that I woke up in bed with this slut and she’s tried to steal my gran’s ring off me to…fuck knows, pretend she’s married to me. She wishes.”

“Lawrence,” Tayce starts, barely audible from giggling. “You two are married. You got married last night.”

What the fuck.

How can they be married? It’s not possible. Ellie tries to think but she can’t conjure up any clear thoughts. She feels the same smack of dread and fear that she felt when she went on that motorcycle rollercoaster at Flamingo Land two summers ago. Lawrence had been by her side then, too, her hand over Ellie’s white-knuckled one and reeling off ridiculous jokes to try and calm her down. She hates rollercoasters, and this one doesn’t seem like it’s going to be over anytime soon.

Lawrence doesn’t seem fazed. “You’re on the wind-up. Els, don’t give them the satisfaction, they’re taking the piss.”

“We’re not!” Tayce gasps, affronted, and A’whora is protesting adamantly too. “There was a wedding party in the bar last night and the pair of you kept moaning about how single you were and how you’d never find love.”

Lawrence narrows her eyes at her through the camera, offended. Ellie is inclined to feel the same.

“And the pair of you eventually decided you were just going to marry each other. Bimini mentioned they’re an ordained minister, so then you both insisted they married the pair of you in the hotel bar.”

“Get so far to fuck,” Lawrence snorts derisively, but it’s still not helping Ellie’s rising, terrified heart rate. “We’re meanty believe this, aye? Why in the fuck would I ever agree to marrying this wee cow, as if I would lower myself!?”

Ouch. Ellie scowls, screws her face up as she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at Lawrence pointedly. “Thanks babes, love you too.”

“But you know what I mean!” Lawrence sort-of-not-really apologises. “Right, then, I’ll bite. If we got married, how did we get to the registry office? What registry office is open at eleven at night on a Saturday?”

A’whora shrugs all blasé. “There’s one in the hotel, we just went there. Caught it just before it closed, I think.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. She wants to believe it’s a joke, so she attempts to pick a hole in the story. “If we were that drunk, though, they wouldn’t have married us? Surely? I mean it’s not Vegas, A’whora, it’s the fucking Lake District.”

“Oh no, baby, the registrar said they get couples turning up drunk all the time! And obviously myself, A’whora and Bimini were much more sober than you, so we were the responsible adults. Or bridesmaids, I guess. We were that classy level of prosecco tipsy, you pair were on the vodka lemonades by eight last night,” Tayce explains.

As the story unfolds, Ellie feels more and more nauseous. She wants to crawl up into a ball like a dead woodlouse. Surely not. Surely not.

“Wedding dresses,” Lawrence says argumentatively. “We didn’t have wedding dresses. It would’ve been so obvious we were taking the piss.”

“Oh, neither of you would stop going on about how the colour scheme was pink and purple! Matching pink and purple playsuits! Which I see you’re still wearing, you absolute hounds,” Tayce wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Everything seems to be adding up to a ridiculously clear and yet blurry degree, and Ellie can’t in any way cope with the magnitude of the situation. She throws her arms over her face and curls up into the foetal position with a groan of self-pity. Through the duvet, she feels Lawrence whack her.

“Ellie, shut up! It’s so obviously a joke,” she insists, and Ellie can hear the roll of her eyes. A’whora and Tayce are cackling down the phone like two little Wizard of Oz witches and Ellie’s never identified more with Dorothy in her life.

“Well, believe us or don’t believe us, still doesn’t change the fact you got hitched,” A’whora says lightly. “I mean, you’ll have the marriage certificate to prove it. You had it last night, it’ll be in your room somewhere.”

Ellie pops her head out from under the duvet in horror. Her voice comes out as a horrified squeak. “Marriage certificate?”

A’whora shrugs. “Yeah! If you don’t believe us then maybe you’ll believe a piece of paper.”

“The marriage certificate that doesn’t exist. Aye, nae bother,” Lawrence says, still clearly disdainful of the story. “You coming to breakfast or what?”

“Oh, babe! Been there, done that! We got up at seven, showered, dressed, makeup, breakfast, and we’ve been out for a walk. Get on our level,” Tayce flicks her hair. Ellie fleetingly loathes her.

Lawrence rubs her forehead with her free hand, clearly headachey. “Well I’m starving, so I’m not hanging around to be wound up by the fuckin’ lesbian Prank Patrol any longer. Time’s check out?”

“You’ve got til half twelve. I got us a late one, figured we’d all need it.”

As Lawrence promises to see the other two later and hangs up, Ellie can’t speak. She’s still in shock at the potential truth from last night; that they actually got married. To each other. Over the years, Ellie’s invented made-up scenarios in her head that involve various things: telling Lawrence how she feels, kissing Lawrence, Lawrence asking her on a date. None of them have involved marriage. She’s never even thought to think that far ahead, but now it’s a reality it doesn’t seem like the Disney-princess dream she’s always expected it to be.

It actually feels sort of like a nightmare.

A thud from a pillow brings her back to reality. “Ellie!”

Ellie looks at her friend, who’s managed to crawl off the bed and is standing beside it, looking expectantly at her. Ellie blinks in bewilderment, rubs her eyes before she speaks. “What?”

“I’m gonna go shower and get changed and then we can go down to breakfast? I’ll come back and knock in about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie can’t believe she’s so calm. Sitting up in bed and feeling her head sting again, she looks pointedly at Lawrence. “You’re not in any way bothered about the story the girls just told us? The fact we might have got married?”

Lawrence snorts. “Oh, Ellie, please. You’re so gullible I swear to God someone could tell you Davina McCall’s the new Pope and you’d just nod and accept it.”

“But the marriage certificate, though? The ring? Which, by the way, won’t come off,” Ellie tugs on it again, trying not to panic when it doesn’t budge.

“There won’t be a marriage certificate! You said it, it’s the UK, it’s not Vegas. There’s a reason shotgun weddings aren’t a thing here. You honestly think we could just rock up to a registry office and get married?”

Ellie falls silent. She should feel reassured, but she doesn’t.

“I’m away to scrub the first ten layers of alcohol sweat out of my pores, awrite? You better be ready by the time I’m back.”

Lawrence leaves and Ellie is left on her own with her thoughts, which all seem to ricochet off her brain and pummel it to a husk, making her hangover worse. She still searches lazily for the fabled marriage certificate in between showering and getting ready, looking fruitlessly under discarded clothes on the floor and under furniture. Lawrence is right- she knows Lawrence is right- but there’s still a part of Ellie’s mind that’s niggling away with a what if on a loop.

By the time Lawrence knocks on her door again, Ellie is back not knowing what to think. She finds herself frantically babbling to her on the way down to the hotel restaurant in the lift, but her friend won’t entertain it.

“You’re too easy to prank. How can you believe them, it’s obviously a bam up!”

“Well, it could’ve happened! They brought it up before we even said we couldn’t remember anything, right? I mean, why else would you give me your ring? You barely trust me to hold your phone for two seconds to take a picture,” Ellie runs a hand through her hair, which she didn’t wash and is still in its big curls from the night before.

“Aye! Because you dropped it in the road when we went out for Jazz’s birthday!”

“That was two years ago! And I paid for the screen repairs!” Ellie cries in indignation, but the memory still makes her blush. She grows quiet again before her mind takes her back to the apparent events of last night. “The story makes sense.”

“The story does not make sense!” Lawrence sighs, agitated. “What proof do we have? You’re wearing my ring and our pals have told us the plot of a Hangover film? Honestly, hen, if we got married last night I’ll buy you an Uber back to Dundee.”

As they reach the dining room, the pair of them stop dead in the entranceway. Because there in the middle, almost as if it’s framed, is a table for two surrounded by inflatable red heart-shaped balloons, covered in red sparkly confetti, with champagne flutes and roses and polished silverware.

“What time’s my Uber booked for, then?” Ellie deadpans sarcastically. She doesn’t know why she’s making a joke. She isn’t in a joking mood. She’s nothing short of horrified.

“Calm down. That won’t be for us. A’whora said there was a wedding party last night, remember? It’ll be for them,” Lawrence reassures her, but Ellie doesn’t miss the distinct lack of self-assuredness to her voice that had been there before.

A waiter approaches them and asks for their name. Lawrence speaks (because Ellie can’t quite manage), and in return the waiter fixes them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, on behalf of us all at the Old England, we would like to wish you many congratulations and happiness on this most special occasion. Please, follow me,” he reels off before walking in the direction of the over-the-top, Valentine’s Day-style photoshoot set-up that is apparently where they’re having breakfast.

Ellie is going to be sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Lawrence whispers all in one breath, before sleepwalking towards their table and sitting down with a tight smile of thanks to the eager waiter. As Ellie sits in the chair opposite, she notices the affectionate smiles from couples at other tables and feels her face flush with hot embarrassment. The waiter disappears with a promise to be back for their order soon, and the pair of them are left sitting in stunned silence.

“Lawrence,” Ellie says first. Her gaze is stuck on the table, shocked and stunned.

“Don’t,” Lawrence replies. When Ellie finally looks at her she’s sitting with her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of strained concentration.

“What are you doing? You look constipated.”

“I’m trying to wake up from this abject fucking nightmare,” Lawrence says through gritted teeth.

Even though Lawrence is right- it is a nightmare, it’s a bad, terrible dream- it doesn’t stop the way her words feel ever-so-slightly like a blow to the crush Ellie’s harboured for an embarrassingly long length of time. She can’t think about that, though. There are bigger issues at stake here. Like the fact they’re married.

“Do you believe me now? Why the hell would the hotel do all this if we didn’t get married in their registry office the night before?”

“It’ll be…” Lawrence begins, trying to explain it away then putting her head in her hands when she realises she’s at a loss. “Fuck, I don’t know. We need A’whora or Tayce down here to talk it through with us. Or Bimini. If it’s A’whora and Tayce’s prank then they might not be in on it.”

“They had to go back to London early for a shoot, remember? They’ll have already left,” Ellie reminds Lawrence, and her face falls in dismay.

The waiter returns holding a bottle of champagne and Ellie watches Lawrence turn over her flute with a little aggressive thud and doesn’t say when until the bubbles climb to the very top of the glass. They both order pastries, Ellie’s appetite completely gone and Lawrence’s appearing to be the same.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Lawrence as she watches her glug the bubbles down. “How the hell can you be drinking at a time like this? Are you not hungover?”

“I am hungover, yes. But I need to be drunk to deal with this situation. So I’m hoping this’ll at least take the edge off a bit,” she says dryly. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Being drunk got us into this situation, it’s not gonna get us out of it,” she sighs helplessly, realising too late that she sounds too much like her Mum. Lawrence responds appropriately; shaking her head at her moodily and staring off into the distance as she keeps sipping from her glass.

Ellie cups her cheeks, thanks the waiter weakly as he puts down a tray of pastries in front of the two of them. She tries to go over the events of last night in her head but draws a blank every time. According to A’whora and Tayce they’ll have been at the bar, decided to get married…Bimini had married them, somehow and somewhere, and they’d gone to the registrar…then they’d presumably got even more drunk and had a dance, and then…

How had Lawrence ended up in her room? Unless they’d…no. They’d both still had their clothes on from the night before.

But that wouldn’t have stopped them making out.

“Oh, God,” Ellie groans, unable to hold in the regret and the constant pain of her headache. Lawrence shoots her a funny look. Ellie’s loath to explain herself. The idea that the first kiss she’s shared with Lawrence has been messy, drunk, and one she can’t even remember is one that makes her feel stupid amounts of disappointed, but she’s not exactly going to share that with her friend.

“Loz, what if we did something last night?”

“What, aside from get married?” Lawrence talks through a mouthful of croissant. Then, as realisation dawns, her chewing stops. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

“Nah,” Lawrence finally shrugs as she resumes eating. “Because we both still had our clothes from last night on when we woke up?”

“Yeah, but we still could’ve kissed,” Ellie pulls a face, the words feeling too awkward and childish as they come out of her mouth. Lawrence seems to hesitate for a second before smirking across the table at her.

“Aye right. As if I’d ever let you near enough to me for that to happen.”

“Rich from the girl who was wrapped around me when I woke up,” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at her, and it’s Lawrence’s turn to fall silent.

Breakfast doesn’t last long. Between their hangovers and the fact that they’re both trying to make sense of the whole crazy situation neither of them can eat much, and they’re dragging themselves back to their rooms before too long. They continue to discuss everything, purely because there’s not much else they can talk about when the prospect of them being married is hanging over their heads like the world’s heaviest cloud. This time, though, it’s Lawrence who’s doing most of the nervous talking.

“I’m sure it’s easily explained away. They probably just got our table confused with the wedding party’s from yesterday. That’ll be what it is. Just some big coincidence. There’s a reasonable explanation to it all. Have you got that fuckin’ ring off your finger yet?!”

“I’m working on it,” Ellie grumbles. The best she’s managed is getting it halfway to her first knuckle before realising it was cutting the blood circulation off even more and she could get it no higher, so she’d immediately pushed it back down again.

She hears herself huff with annoyance. All she wants to do is sleep but they have to somehow deal with this first, and it’s more inconvenient than she’d ever hoped her first marriage (her only marriage) would be. Thinking for a second, she gives a little gasp as she has an idea. “Why don’t we just go down to the registry office and ask?”

Lawrence stops walking, fixes Ellie with a look as if she’s sprouted another head. “Have you lost the bloody place?! You want to go up to the registrar and go, ‘sorry to bother you, but can you please tell us if we’re married or not?’ We’d get sectioned!”

Ellie thinks that, even though it sounds as if it’s the easiest course of action, Lawrence is probably right.

“Besides,” Lawrence continues. “If there’s the possibility that we did rock up three sheets to the wind last night, I don’t particularly wanty show my face there again.”

“Right,” Ellie agrees. She bites her lip as she reaches the door to her room and puts her key card in. Lawrence waits beside her, a mutual understanding that she’s coming in to continue the conversation.

Ellie supposes she’s her wife now, so it makes sense.

“Who could we phone to confirm it, then? The government?”

Lawrence pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Ellie, you did not just ask me if we could phone the gov-”

“Oh my fucking God.”

Ellie cuts Lawrence off without thinking, and upon seeing the inside of the room Lawrence is rendered speechless too. There’s more balloons, ones without weights that cover the ceiling over the bed. The bed itself and the floor surrounding it is covered in rose petals, and on top of the pristinely made duvet there’s a box of chocolates and two bathrobes origami-d into swans.

Lawrence is the first to march into the room. She snatches up a small note that’s sitting on top of the chocolate box, unfolds it and reads aloud. “Congratulations to the happy couple, we wish you both a long and happy marriage. From all the staff at the Old England hotel. Fuck me, this canny be real.”

Ellie lets the door swing shut, walks over to the bed and sits on its edge precariously. An idea occurs to her as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. “Here. Check your phone. Messages, photos. There might be clues.”

She doesn’t look up to see if Lawrence is nodding or not, but she assumes she’s following her suggestion. Ellie is busy with her camera roll (where there’s nothing, and the last photo is a terrible, blurry, unflattering selfie of her and Tayce) when Lawrence gives a hum of recognition.

“I got a snapchat from you at one in the morning.”

Ellie cranes her neck. “What does it say?”

Lawrence, oddly, is keeping the phone out of her view. She’s quiet before she brings the phone back into Ellie’s line of vision, and the picture, whatever it was, is gone. “Just a drunk selfie. Nothing that could give us any clues.”

The pair of them are quiet as Lawrence taps against her phone screen. Ellie reflects. They’ve been in the shit like this together before: when they were eighteen and both their phones died before Lawrence’s Mum could pick them up from T in the Park and they got yelled at the whole way home when she’d eventually found them both, when they’d been stopped by the police because Lawrence had carried a traffic cone through the City Centre and tried to put it on top of the existing one on the Duke of Wellington statue. But this is a whole different level of shit.

Through it all, though, Lawrence has always been there with a joke and a laugh and reassurance for Ellie that things are never as bad as they seem. She always has this panicky way of staying positive, delivering comforting words through a voice that’s shaky with her own anxiety. Ellie always helps her in return when she needs it, has done for years: she’s usually good at staying calm, she’s chatty and can talk Lawrence through anything, and she’ll always reach out to take her hand or be there with a hug and a reminder that as long as Lawrence has got her, she’s never on her own. They’ve always seemed to take turns being each others’ anchors, and their friendship is a weird sort of pendulum of support. Today, however, they’re both blindly stumbling through their own process of coming to terms with this situation, and Ellie supposes neither or them are being much of a help to each other. She wishes she could be more helpful, because she cares about her friend so much.

Too much for it to be explained away as a friendship.  

“What are you looking up?” Ellie asks as Lawrence lies back on the bed with a thud, eyes still glued to her phone. Craning her neck, Ellie can see she’s typed how to get divorced into Google.

“Why are there no ordained divorce lawyers?” Lawrence mutters under her breath. “We can get married in a hotel bar but we can’t get divorced in a hotel room? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”

Ellie lies back too. It’s not lost on her how close together their heads are. “Why are you trying to get us divorced? We might not even be married. I still think we should phone up the government.”

“Nicola Sturgeon’s got bigger fish to fry, babes, there’s an election in May.”

“Not the government, obviously,” Ellie rolls her eyes, scrolls her own phone absent-mindedly. She’d look something up to try and help but she’s at a loss. “Like…the offices! The records of marriage and stuff. They’ll have a department for this sort of thing, won’t they?”

“Will we even be on the system if our marriage is less than twenty-four hours old?” Lawrence wonders out loud. “And if we got married here, would we be registered in England, then? Aw fuck, so many questions and not a single answer.”

Ellie frowns to herself as she thinks. “What if we do have to get divorced? Will we need a lawyer? I don’t have that kind of money, Lawrie, and neither do you.”

Lawrence hums in worried agreement, and Ellie presses her lips together. It’s weird dealing with all of this when there’s a crush at play. In amongst frantically trying to figure everything out and clarify it all, a tiny part of Ellie wonders…would it really be so bad to be married to Lawrence? There’s not really an excuse for them not to date now. It’s really the perfect way of ruining the friendship she’s been so worried about ruining for the past few years; it’s not awkward to say she has feelings for her literal wife, she supposes. But every time those thoughts rest in her brain for a few seconds, Ellie forces herself to chase them away- because really, hen, are you insane? The sheer scale of the situation isn’t lost on her, she knows they have to figure it out somehow and mop this mess up. But pretending would be nice, and safe, and far, far away from this alcohol-soaked bubble of horror she appears to have woken up in.

It’s out before she knows it, though. “What if we just stayed married? If we are. If we just stayed married until we could afford to get divorced?”

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” Lawrence drops her phone onto the bed, covering her eyes with her hands in resigned exhaustion.

“No, think about it! There must be loads of benefits to getting married,” Ellie explains, feeling as if she has to justify the ridiculous thought now. “You get, um. I think you get extra money from the government?”

“The tories have never given out extra money. To anyone,” Lawrence glares at her.

(Ellie knows it’s not what she should be taking from this, but it occurs to her that the way Lawrence has done her eyeliner today makes her eyes look really pretty.)

“Oh! Here, it says you get tax breaks if you get married. It would be good to not have to pay council tax for a bit,” Ellie says, looking up from her phone where she’s just googled what are the benefits of getting married UK.

Lawrence pauses beside her. When she speaks, she sounds contemplative. “Well, you’d be taking my last name, because am I fuck taking yours.”

Ellie gives a choked noise of indignation. “Fuck off, I’ve got the best last name out of the two of us! Diamond?”

“It’s the last name of a porn star! I’m not living my daily life like that!”

“So you want me to go by Ellie Chaney? A name that rhymes? Like a character from Balamory?”

“You already dress like a fuckin’ character from a kids’ TV show, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” Lawrence starts giggling, and Ellie can only fix her with an unimpressed pout. “Nah, this wouldn’t work, Els. We’re already arguing and it’s only been one day. We couldn’t stay married. Besides, I’ve got fucking standards, you know? I could so do better than you.”

It’s silly, Ellie knows, but the last comment from Lawrence stings more than it should. It’s got nothing to do with the concept of the two of them actually being married, but more the fact that Lawrence has basically just rubbished any hopes that Ellie’s ever had of maybe-someday-oneday them breaking out of their little bubble of friendship and trying to be anything more. She’s always done it; that’s Lawrence’s way, to shit on Ellie, to gently bully her, but Ellie has always known there’s no malice behind it. Except today it all hits differently, it hits a sore spot that she’s too tired of trying to keep hidden.

“Sorry that being married to me is such a disgusting prospect,” Ellie snaps without realising, turning over on the bed and standing up so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to the comment she already regrets.

“When did I say that?” Lawrence fires back, and Ellie can tell she’s confused by her reaction.

“We need to find this fucking marriage certificate,” Ellie ignores her, opening the drawers of the bedside table even though she sort of knows it’s a futile endeavour since she’s already searched.

Lawrence pushes, though, never one to back down from a confrontation.  “Why are you suddenly raging at me, what am I meant to have done?”

“You don’t have to act like you got landed with the booby prize on a game show, Lawrence, I’m still your friend. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Ellie continues as she crosses the room to look in the drawers of the dressing table, hating the way she sounds like a petulant child but being unable to help the way her words just seem to be coming out.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air like fog, and then Lawrence’s voice comes again. It’s softer, a comforting note to it that makes Ellie’s heart lift cruelly. “Ellie.”

Ellie opens the wardrobe doors, realising too late what a ridiculous place to look it is but committing to the idea anyway. She’s still way too hungover to cope with any of this, and the prospect of an argument with Lawrence, especially over this, isn’t one she’s able to face. Accepting she’s not going to find the certificate, she sighs and walks back over to the bed. As she sits on its edge and keeps her back to her friend she fiddles with the ring on her finger, and it finally, mercifully, slides off.

Lawrence’s voice is stripped of all its aggression and incredulity from before as she speaks again. This time she’s quiet and sincere. “Ellie. What’s this really about?”

Before Ellie can consider the gravity of the question or indeed contemplate how to word an answer, Lawrence’s phone vibrates against the bedcovers. Neither of them speak as she reaches up to grab it, but when A’whora’s name flashes up on screen again they share a look of weary exhaustion, neither of them wanting to face their friend’s smug expression.

A’whora’s smiling cheekily as Lawrence answers the call. “How’re the young lovers doing after their breakfast, then?”

Lawrence’s nostrils flare. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“So all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then. Just calling to see if you liked the wedding presents.”

Ellie feels like a crumbling sandcastle as she rolls onto her side next to Lawrence and looks at A’whora through the screen. “What?”

“The decorations at breakfast! The ones in your room! Just thought they’d really add to the atmosphere,” she smirks, unable to keep from laughing.

More confused than ever, Ellie frowns in bewilderment. “But that was from…the hotel did that?”

“No, I did that. I just phoned down and got them to set it up. They still had a bunch of wedding shit left over from that pair that got married last night. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it to give the pair of you the romantic equivalent of everyone singing happy birthday to you at a restaurant,” A’whora explains, still giggly.

Ellie and Lawrence are silent as they stare at their friend through the phone. A’whora seems perturbed, then narrows her eyes at them before she speaks again.

“You two didn’t actually…believe you got married, did you? I thought you knew it was a bullshit prank.”

Before she can register Lawrence’s reaction, Ellie’s mouth drops open in shock. She grabs the phone from Lawrence’s hands and yells at A’whora as if she’s in front of her and not in her own room down the corridor. “A’whora! I am going to fucking kill you!”

A’whora’s laugh comes through the phone like a crackly screech, and Ellie doesn’t miss the unimpressed look from Lawrence at having been unable to style out the fact they’d both been duped. Ellie can’t even let that bother her, though, because she’s too busy tripping over herself to retell to A’whora their rollercoaster of a thought process from this morning.

Lawrence shakes her head beside her, loath to admit she’d been fooled too. “I didn’t believe it for a second. She’s talking out her arse.”

Ellie cries out, affronted. “You were telling me I had to take your last name not even five minutes ago!”

A’whora has to wipe tears from her eyes by the time the pair of them have told her the whole story. “Oh my God, guys. This has been the best birthday present of the weekend. I actually think I’m gonna wee myself. Fuck!”

“I can’t believe you told us we got married and we just…believed you!”

“Well, no, you did get married,” A’whora says.

With this revelation, it crosses Ellie’s mind to lock herself in the hotel sauna until she’s cooked through. “What in the name of God-”

As she continues to speak though, A’whora clarifies. “Or at least, you said you both wanted to marry each other. That conversation did take place. Bimini started joking they were an ordained minister. They showed you their provisional drivers’ license and told you it was a minister’s license. You were both so drunk you believed it.”

“Christ in a wheelie bin,” Lawrence groans.

“But you’re not actually married married. It was just pretend. And hey! We had fun. You should do it for real some day,” A’whora cackles.

If she was in the room with her, Ellie would slap her.

They finish the call with the promise to be packed and ready to meet to check out at half twelve, and when Lawrence locks her phone the pair of them laugh softly about the idiots they’d both been. Ellie is glad A’whora phoned. The conversation that had been taking place prior had been about to go down a route she hadn’t wanted it to, and she’s glad there’s no reason for it to be brought up again. She can go back to keeping her crush on her friend a secret, never to be unearthed.

“I should probably go and start getting packed, then,” Lawrence says decisively, getting up from the bed and making to leave. Ellie remembers what she put on the bedside table, and reaches out to pick it up as she tells Lawrence to wait.

As Lawrence turns around, Ellie holds out her grandmother’s ring, feeling a little awkward as she does so. “Here. Since we’re not married anymore. It came off in the end.”

Lawrence looks a little sheepish as she accepts it with a soft thanks. She gives it a little smile, then shoots the same one at Ellie. “Thank fuck for that.”

There isn’t any malice to her words. If Ellie was being hopeful she’d maybe even say there was regret.

Lawrence leaves and she can’t shake the little niggling feeling of sadness that embeds itself under a synapse in her brain.

***

The cold air that comes with the beginning of Autumn is welcome to Ellie as she sits and waits on Tayce to bring the car round. She’s not quite fully recovered from her hangover, but packing, checking out and getting a can of Monster from a vending machine in the lobby has done wonders for her mood. There’s also the fact that she doesn’t have a potential marriage to consider, so that’s good. That’s a relief.

A crunch of gravel behind her makes her turn around, and seeing Lawrence wrapped up in her black hoodie makes Ellie feel mixed emotions. She feels silly for getting so caught up in the whole idea of them having been married, the way she’d panicked and immediately thought it was all real, taking A’whora and Tayce’s comments at face value. She’s embarrassed at how she’d taken it all so seriously, and most of all she’s embarrassed that Lawrence was there for every reaction.

“Hey,” she greets her, already feeling a blush grow on her face. “You recovered?”

“Just about, yeah,” Lawrence laughs softly. She gestures to the mango loco that’s in Ellie’s hand. “Can see you’re clearly feeling loads better.”

Ellie matches her laugh, raises the can up in a solo cheers. As she drops her arm again, she sighs a little.

“Listen, Lawrence, sorry about…this morning. Immediately panicking and getting so worked up and intense with it all. I was just hangy and emotional and I had the fear…you know what it’s like.”

“It’s no problem. Don’t worry,” Lawrence brushes her off. Her expression is troubled though, as if there’s something else she wants to say. The unspoken words are loud and stifling, and then Lawrence finally meets her gaze with a nervous one of her own. “Well, marriage didn’t really work for us. But…d’you think drinks would be better?”

Ellie’s heart is going to give out. She can’t cope with the events of the day at all. She can already feel her pulse speeding up with hope so she frowns at Lawrence slightly, clarifying like a child tugging the string of a balloon to bring it back to earth. “Drinks?”

“Yeah, like,” Lawrence shrugs, looks to the ground bashfully. “For a date. If you want.”

All at once it’s as if her blood has just suddenly exploded in her veins. It feels like Ellie is on some sort of other-worldly come-up as she blinks at her friend, her friend she’s had a crush on since fuck-even-knows-when, and is stunned into silence.

“The snapchat you sent me last night,” Lawrence continues, scrolling her phone and holding the screen out for Ellie to see. “I’ve felt like that too for a while now.”

Ellie is cringing as she reads the white text against the black screen- a screenshot of her message sent to Lawrence at one in the morning, which reads “so glad whe’re marrrued for rwal vc ive reallt luked you for ages and i quitr fancg u a lot acfually x"

“How did you even manage to read what that says,” Ellie screws her face up, failing to address the bigger picture.

Lawrence smiles, a little hint of a twinkle to her eyes that makes Ellie’s heart thump. “I knew what you meant.”

There’s a small pause where Ellie blushes and looks to the ground, handing Lawrence her phone back. Lawrence uses the silence to keep talking.

“I know I like to rip the piss sometimes, and I know I can take it too far. But today all of that was about…verbalising everything I thought you were feeling about me. Trying to reassure you that I wasn’t interested in you because I thought that’s what you wanted. Once I started I just…didn’t stop, I guess. Damage control, you know? I’m sorry, Ellie,” she reels off quietly. She’s not hiding behind any jokes and she’s not making fun of Ellie and she’s not making fun of herself. It’s honest and simple and raw and everything Ellie’s wanted.

She scuffs some gravel with her shoe. “You feel the same, then?”

Lawrence presses her lips together. Ellie can tell she’s nervous. “Yeah. I do.”

“I do? Is that some kind of sick joke?!” Ellie laughs, and as Lawrence joins in she suddenly hesitates. “Wait. This isn’t a joke, is it?”

“Well, I’ve had enough fucking pranks for one day and I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The pair of them share a laugh, and as Tayce’s car appears from round at the hotel car park, Ellie fixes Lawrence with a smile.

“Drinks sound good.”

Tayce and A’whora appear from the car and pop the boot open, and Lawrence and Ellie try and fail to bite back the smiles they’re shooting each other as they carry their suitcases over, a mutual agreement that they’ll talk more about their plans when they don’t have their nosy and shit-stirring friend and her equally nosy and shit-stirring girlfriend with them on their way to drop them off at the train station.

It’s not quite a shotgun wedding, and it’s not quite a marriage in Vegas. But a date and a drink with the friend she’s hidden her feelings from for too many years is a good place to start.

[openforjean]

her dad’s birthday

Bucky Barnes x Mexican!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, a lil sad

A/n: this story is mostly for me but I hope u can enjoy it too

for the love of god pls reblog with ur thoughts

Bucky’s pov 

Y/n. 

I’ve been seeing her for a four months now. We’ve been on ten dates to dinner and eight movie dates. And I don’t plan on letting her go. 

Today is her father’s birthday, and I know this because Y/n has mentioned it a hundred times now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I forgot her dad’s birthday? 

“What do you think I should wear?” I ask. she whips her head to me and she sizes me. “He won’t care, I promise, so don’t worry,” she says. I look down at my shirt and flatten it. Yes, I’m nervous. I’ve never met her father nor her mother, she doesn’t have much a connection with her mom but it’s different with her dad. She loves her dad, she talks about him a lot, she visits him often too. She buys him candy and balloons. It’s sweet really, she’s a great girl. 

I really scored with Y/n. I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone better than her. She’s it for me.

“You look good, okay? Don’t be nervous, he won’t test you. Just be yourself,” she says, pulling my waist to her. She kisses my cheek and smiles. “I’ll try, I just don’t wanna mess up with him. I just- I really like you and I’d hate to ruin it,” I admit. Her face falls but her hand goes to my cheek, “there is no way you’d mess anything up. You’re a gift Bucky, you are a gift to my life. The past month has been the best month of my life in...a long time, you won’t. He’ll have to like you cause I lo- I like you. I like you a lot, now let’s get going. I need to buy him some stuff,” she says. She rubs my cheek, I take that hand and I kiss her knuckles. I love her too. And it might be too early to say but that’s what I feel for her. 

We walk down the street hand in hand, it feels right. Her skin is soft and warm, she glances at me sometimes to see if I’m still staring. Which, I am mostly likely am. She’s too beautiful and captivating to look away from, and if people got to know her personally, there’d be a fight for her hand. 

We walk into the local grocery store and she immediately went straight to the flower section. I follow her and she begins to browse. “Maybe roses?” I suggest, she simply responds “nah”. 

“I got him roses last time, I’m thinking sunflowers and daises. What do you think?” She asks, picking up both bouquets. “I think you should get both?” I suggest. She gives an approving hum and takes them in her hands. 

“You can pick out a balloon as I go get a cart, okay?” She says. “Yeah. that’s okay. I’ll be at the balloon section,” I answer. Y/n walks off and I head to the balloons. 

I scan the balloons, deciding which one to get. But my eyes catch something even better, a SQUARE balloon. That’s awesome, this is my first time seeing one. Kinda freaky...anyways, I’ll get that one for him. 

“Excuse me, can I get the green squared happy birthday one filled up?” I ask, the man nods and takes the balloon from the drawer and begins to fill the balloon up. I hope her dad likes it. 

“That’s a cool balloon, Buck,” she says, pulling up next to me with the cart. “You think he’d like it?” I ask. “He’ll love it, it’s whimsical,” she responds. The employee hands me the balloon and I take it. I turn to Y/n to place it in the cart, since it has a weight at the bottom. But...I get distracted. A big smile and bright eyes take over her face, I could just feel her happiness and excitement. I place the balloon in the cart and the flowers are in there too. 

We check out and we head to the next stop. Guadalupe’s Produce, a small Mexican store that is farther down the street. I’ve been there before, they have great vegetables and wonderful fruit selection. Y/n also knows the owner.

I’m holding the balloon and the flowers as Y/n watches the cars go by. She does that, she admires people. It’s interesting. 

We get closer down the street and she sees a taco truck parked right across from the store. “Bucky, we should get tacos. Real tacos, not that Taco Bell shit,” she suggests. Of course I’m going to agree, her taste is way better than mine. 

We arrive at the store and the owner greets us. Y/n starts a conversation with her and I wander around as they speak. I take a basket and place the flowers in there, holding the balloon in my right hand. I walk down the first aisle, it’s filled with books, magazines and comics. All in Spanish. I know Spanish, fluently too. I only whip it out in certain places though. The second aisle is full of chips and candies. Sabritones, Chicharrones, Gansitos, and Paleta Payaso’s. I take three of the clown and a bag of Chicharrones. I couldn’t help but grab a box of Duvalin’s and de la Rosa’s too now. How could I not? 

I walk back near Y/n, it seems she’s almost done talking to the owner. I could hear the owner say, “come to the register” in Spanish. Y/n looks my way, her eyes fall to the basket in my hand. Y/n walks up to me with parted lips. She peeks inside the basket and spots the snacks, she looks back up at me. She takes my face in her hands and brings my lips down to hers. The kiss is like fire, passion and her lips taste like cherry cola. I could live in this moment forever.

She pulls away from my lips and she reaches for my metal hand. She holds it to her heart, “you got his favorite, Bucky”. Her eyes water but she pushes them back. She leads me to the register with her hand in mine. I place the basket on the counter and the owner, Angela, rang them up. But before she could finish, Y/n took a little bottle from next to her and places it on the counter too. I don’t recognize the candy. I hand Angela my card before Y/n could pull hers out her phonecase. Angela takes it and prints the receipt, Y/n pinches my butt.

“Do that again, Y/n,” I joke. Angela bags our snacks and flowers.

She quickly does it again as I take the bag. Y/n smirks as she dropped a ten in the tip jar.

We exit the store biting our tongues, waking across the street to the taco truck.

Once we cross, the entire mood shifts. The music got louder and voices too. People stood around conversing, children playing and families eating on benches. We get closer to the truck and the food hit my nose, it smells so good. The spices and the tacos. The sun barely hits the truck, it’s shady and windy. It’s a perfect spot.

We walk up to the truck and Y/n leans on the counter, squinting to read the menu.

“What kind of tacos do you want, Bucky?” She asks, turning back at me. “Surprise me,” I answer. Y/n smirk and turns back around. That smirk could diet her lead to a good surprise or a prank. I sit in a bench next to a family.

“¡Hola Marco! ¿Come estas? - ¡que bien! - yo qiuero dos platos de tacos con dos Jarritos, por favor,” Y/n says. I can understand what she’s saying, and she knows. So she’s not going to sabotage my tastebuds. Wait- what about her father? Is she getting him food too? Or are we eating here?

She pays the man and walks back to me, I smile. She sits next to me and I wrap my arm around her with the balloon in my hand still. I kiss her temple. “Thank you, Bucky. Thank you for coming with me to visit my dad, I appreciate it. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she says, looking down at her hands. I could hear her heart race as she spoke.

She looks at me and I peck her lips. I rest my forehead on hers and look into her eyes. “Y/n, you don’t need to thank me. I rather be with you than anything else, so really... thank you. I can’t wait to meet your father, I can’t wait to meet the man who raised such a great woman,” Bucky says.

Before Y/n could respond, her name is called. Y/n jumps up and takes the food in her hand. She tilts her head to come to her and I do. I take the bag and the balloon follows. She takes my free hand and she begins to lead me up the street.

“Where does your dad live, Y/n?” I ask.

“Not far, just a few minutes away from my apartment. It’s an easy walk but a long train ride, surprisingly,” she answers.

“You took the subway to your dads house?”

“ONCE! My legs were hurting so bad and I didn’t think it’d take half an hour to get there!” She exclaims, I laugh and she pulls her hand away from mine. “Y/n, I’m kidding. You’re so precious,” I say, pulling her shoulder to mine. “We’re almost there, sorry it’s taking a bit,” she says.

“It’s okay, I’m used to walking,” I answer.

I look ahead and on the left is a cemetery, on the right is a street full of houses. Her father’s place must be on the right. I pull her hand towards the right so we can cross. She stands still as I drift. She looks deep into my eyes and I look at the cemetery. Shame and fear take over her face, her head drops to the ground. I come back closer, realizing what’s going on. I pull her close and I hug her.

Her dad is in the cemetery.

Her father is dead.

We’re visiting his grave.

She’s been visiting him at the cemetery all along.

I hug her tight and I whisper “it’s okay” in her ear. I know she feels guilty, and she shouldn’t feel guilty on this day. She should feel happy, like she was before. She pulls away, wiping her tears and I push her hands down and I wipe them. “Let’s see him, Y/n,” I say.

Y/n nods and leads me to the cemetery. We pass the gate and we walk up the stairs, she leads me to the stone. She places the food down, gently. She immediately drops down to her knees and hugs the stone. Rubbing its back, I remain standing.

“Hey papa, happy birthday. I love you and I miss you. This is Bucky, he’s my boyfriend and we have something for you,” she says. She looks back at me and I hand her the snack bag. She removes the dead roses and pulls out the sunflowers and daises, and places them in the vase next to his stone. She arranges them neatly. “We also got some snacks to eat, we got your favorite...well, Bucky got your favorite,” she says. She looks up at me, her eyes are begging for me to sit on the ground with her.

I sit.

She take the balloon from my hand and ties it around vase. “He seems to know your favourites before he even met you. Crazy, he even got you this balloon. Isn’t it cool?”

Oh man. My heart. She’s talking to the grave as if he’s alive. I think I might cry.

“You can talk to him too, Bucky. He’s friendly,” Y/n says. I nod and I scoot closer to her. “Hi Mr. Y/l/n, happy birthday. I’m honored to meet you, you have an amazing daughter...she’s been a blessing to my life. I hope you like the balloon, it’s green and a square! It’s cool, but yeah, anyways...I’m glad to be here celebrating your birthday,” I say. Y/n’s hand lays on top of mine and she leaves it there.

“We’ve been dating for five months, he makes me very happy. He’s only been good to me and so much more, he’s the guy I’ve been telling you about for so long,” Y/n says. I didn’t know she talked to her father about me.

“We also have tacos! I got him some regular tacos though, nothing too spicy. I don’t want his tongue palette to die,” she says as she takes the drinks out. Now, I’ve had these before. Jarritos. A classic Mexican drink. My favorite flavor is the same as Y/n’s; mandarin.

She passes me my plate and sets my drink next to my foot. She does the same for herself. But before she opens her box, she does this thing and it’s a great thing. She recycles. She takes all the plastics and places it in one bag, so she can recycle it all. It’s admirable.

She hands me her drink because she knows I have a bottle opener on hand. I take it and I open it for her, and mines too. She opens her box and begins to eat.

I take a bite out of my taco. Holy cow, it’s so good. The smell is one thing but the taste, wow. Bucky is in love.

“Oh dad, I forgot to tell you. I paid off my credit card, I’m proud of that. I thought I’d die in debt, but no- I paid it!”

Y/n spoke to her father as I ate, I spoke too. I told him about how Y/n caught her first fish and her first tien going on the Cyclone. Now, she’s finishing her food.

“We need to eat the candy, Bucky,” Y/n says with her mouth full of food. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words all my life Y/n,” I ramble out. I dig into the snack bag and I take out la paleta. I hand one too Y/n, and we unwrap it. They definitely do not look like the packaging and neither of us have hope they ever will.

Y/n holds hers up and says “to you papa, happy birthday”. I hold mines up too and we bite into them.

She finishes her paleta and she takes a small green bottle out from the snack bag. She takes the plastic off and she pushes it into the plastic bag. She twists the bottle and little crystals fall out into her hand, she purposely lets it fall. She licks it off?

“Y/n, what’s that?” I ask, eating my paleta.

“Lucas,” she answers, pouring more onto her bare palm.

“Ummm, sure,” I place my hand out and she licks hers off first. She pours some in my hand and it looks like sugar, I quickly lick it off.

As soon as it hit my tongue, it was too late. The saltiness and sourness hit like a train, I was not expecting that. I wipe the remaining “candy” on my jeans. I take the soda and chug it down to get rid of the taste as Y/n laughs her ass off.

The soda runs out and I put the bottle down and I wipe my mouth. “You’re lucky I love you, Jesus what was that?” I say.

Y/n’s laughing stops. I get concerned and it hit me what I just slipped out.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’ve been waiting to hear those words all my life”.

Sorry this isn’t so good, been really down lately. Hopefully it’s decent💗 pls leave some feedback💗

[dekuscrybaby]

Could I request a super shy reader asking out Bakugou ? Scenario or hcs ! Whichever you like ! She’s like super nervous and just ends up going on a rant on why she likes him and asks him out and he just blushes and says yes . I hope that’s not too specific or something >.

y’all be giving me too much freedom, like tell me to choose one format over another and you will end up getting both because that’s just the type of clown that i am! also, i’ll kinda be loosely basing this on me because i’m pretty shy myself, but i’ll keep it as general as possible! also pls my friend, i have none so feel free to privately message me or we can chat through asks i don’t mind 😌 also, i think i went a little overboard with the “scenario” but i’m not all that sorry bc i love my feral bby but also the scenario is kinda booty so sorry about that

(ps this is literally bakugou as you confess/rant to him)

out of the billions of people you could’ve had a crush on, your heart probably chose the worst person

bakugou katsuki, a very angry gremlin if you please

and i’m not saying that bakugou is ugly or anything

it’s the complete opposite actually, hence why you have a crush on him

bakugou’s physical appearance is far from ugly, he’s hands-down one of prettiest boys in your class

that being said, his personality can be considered an acquired taste

as kaminari once said his personality is comparable to “flaming hot garbage”

but that didn’t stop you from liking blasty boy

your friends know about your crush bc it’s just obvious to them and pretty much everyone else (except bakugou)

you’re always asked “what is there to like about bakugou?”

well, what isn’t there to like?

his ash-blonde hair always looks so soft, you just want to run your fingers through it

his eyes are just so beautiful and you want nothing more than to stare into those ruby orbs for hours and hours

his physique is just so amazing and let’s not get you started on how bad you want his muscular arms to wrap around you

and his thighs? phew, please! is it getting hot in here or what?

answer: it is getting hot and by that i mean your face has lit up all shades of red

confessing to crushes is usually hard regardless of how confident a person is but it’s even harder for you because you’re the shyest person in class a

you’re so shy that you’re just known for your blushy cheeks which turn even redder when you’re in the presence of lord explosion murder

you probably even struggle to get a full sentence in when you’re “talking” to him

you guys know how izuku stutters right? well you’re worse than that

you just have the FATTEST crush on this blonde douchebag

so what do your friends do about this crush?

they do what all friends do for their introverted friends with a huge crush on a huge ass extrovert

put you on the spot

*insert your shy ass mentally screeching*

to be fair, you’ve been crushing on bakugou since like the beginning of the school year

something has to happen before your entire class just decides to scream at bakugou about your very clear crush on him

for the sake of a chaotic confession, i’m gonna say that you’re apart of the bakusquad with mina being your best friend

and mina being mina, she’s SICK of your shit and wants you to tell katsuki how you feel

so what does she do?

she shoves you into the janitor’s closet with bakugou

will not let you out until you spill everything

“hey! raccoon eyes! you better let us out before i fucking explode your ass!” bakugou growled as he pounded on the metal door, obviously he was caught off guard. he was just walking back to class with you and your guys’ friends before mina’s crazy-ass pulled you back and shoved you into a small room.

“not until y/n fesses up!” mina shouted back, pulling on the door handle with all her might. she’s doing this for you, it’ll only help you and bakugou, it’s a mantra mina keeps going over in her head. hopefully, a mantra that will prevent her from being killed by the furious blonde.

“what the hell do you mean fesses up?” the blonde bellows out, still pounding at the door.

as they’re screaming and cursing at each other, you have your face hidden away in the sleeves of your school jacket. your face is the reddest it’s ever been and your mind has never spilled this many thoughts until now. your brain is so overwhelmed that there is practically no filter between your brain and your mouth so at this point you’re babbling on endlessly.

it’s not very loud, probably only loud enough for it to be heard in the small room you’re currently in, but that’s where the problem lies.you’re babbling on and on about your huge crush while he is in the same cramped up room as you are. to make matters worse, you guys are completely alone.

“what do i do now? i’m completely alone with the hottest guy in not just the class but probably even school. is mina really not gonna let us out until i tell him i like him? i mean she can’t keep us in here for too long, right? of course not! class is bound to start soon and she has to go to class. plus she has to let us out before mr. aizawa comes to look for us or something. then again, me confessing can’t go that bad. i mean what’s the worst that can happen? well, if i do end up confessing, then there’s a high chance that bakugou might not even like me back and then everything will be super awkward. he prob-”

you probably would’ve continued to rant on if it weren’t for bakugou’s rough voice pulling you out of your verbal thoughts, “what the hell are you going on about?”

you snapped your head up in the direction of your voice, “huh?”

“you heard me, rosy-cheeks. what are you going on about?” he questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

“r-r-rosy-cheeks?” the new nickname just made even more blood rush onto your already blushed cheeks.

bakugou rolled his eyes a bit, “yes, rosy-cheeks. your cheeks are always red so it suits you.”

“oh! uh, thanks i guess?” you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, not knowing how to respond to the slight compliment you received from your crush.

a quiet snicker could be heard from the opposite side of the door and that ended up provoking bakugou’s short temper.

“fucking let us out, you used tampon!” he began to yell again. (i couldn’t think of any other nicknames)

“i said i wasn’t letting you out until ms. rosy-cheeks confesses!” mina retorts, matching the level of intensity of katsuki’s voice.

“huh? and what should she be confessing?”

“i don’t know, bakugou, maybe you should ask her instead!” now it was bakugou’s turn to snap his head towards you.

“spill, y/l/n.” he said, his voice much softer than it was a few seconds ago.

“w-what?” you stuttered.

“the faster you tell me whatever mina wants you to tell me, the faster we can get out of here,” he grumbled as you began twiddling with your fingers.

“i-i can’t.”

bakugou sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “what do you mean you can’t?”

“i just can’t, bakugou.” you whimpered quietly.

“y/n, class is going to start again in less than ten minutes and i don’t know about you, but i don’t want to be held up after class by aizawa.”

“i’d rather be held up later than tell you,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, fearing that you’d make him upset.

“goddamnit, y/n! just tell me! it can’t be that hard!” he raises his voice and ultimately, this causes something in you to snap.

“okay, okay! i like you, okay? i’ve liked you for so long that it’s actually embarrassing. it’s just that you’re so cute and something about you just has my heart beating out of my chest. i always feel short of breath and lightheaded when i’m around you and i can’t do anything about it. you’re also so so smart and im actually jealous.” you drew in a quick breath before continuing.

“sure, you might not have the best personality ever according to others but i still find your ‘garbage-like’ personality drawing me into you. do you know how many times people come up to me asking why the hell i like you? it’s quite a shocker for them to hear that i basically like everything about you.”

“i like your spiky blonde hair that is probably super soft. i like your eyes that are the most beautiful shade of red and i always find myself lost in them whenever i look into them for even the briefest moments. i like how passionate you are about your goals and i like how you give your all to reach them. you’re just so amazing and i always find myself wanting to confess to you, hoping that you might feel the same way. i would just absolutely love to call you my boyfriend, you know?”

you finally concluded your rant after what felt like an eternity and for some reason, you forgot about the situation at hand. once you realized that you actually said everything out loud, you felt your entire body heat up. this has to be a dream. or maybe someone used their quirk and caused you to say all of that. not missing a single beat, you glanced up at bakugou, only to find him the same position as you. cheeks and even ears, a bright red that could easily rival midoriya’s sneakers.

“i-i-i, uhh…”

“tch,” bakugou interrupted what could’ve started another rant. “you could’ve just said so earlier.”

“what?” you stared at him with a gaped expression as his cheeks heated up even more,

“i’m just saying, you would’ve said this earlier…then maybe i would’ve been your boyfriend already,” bakugou mumbled as one of his sweaty palms, cradled the back of his neck.

“a-are you serious?”

“do i look like a liar to you, rosy-cheeks?”

“well, uh, no?”

“damn right. now let’s get to class, i’m pretty sure raccoon eyes heard the entirety of your rant and if she reacted anything like me, then she should be satisfied.”

you were still too shocked to properly digest what just happened that you for some reason didn’t feel bakugou take your hand to lead you out of the janitor’s closet. after you walked out with him, you turned your head and noticed mina grinning at you, congratulating you on what was your new relationship with the boy you’ve been pining over for ages.

[valuehope]

BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. (feel free to add your own!) REPOST DO NOT REBLOG.

tagged by: @bokushingu​

tagging: ... i pressed post and forgot to do this so literally just steal it from me i guess i’m so stupid pl- ​

Fears and Discomforts ( * all following the events of thh )

the dark ⋆ dimly lit areas ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ isolation ⋆ crowds ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ open spaces ⋆ change ⋆ war ⋆ failure ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ forest ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ witches/witchcraft ⋆ heights ⋆ loss ⋆ dying ⋆ death ⋆ love ⋆ intimacy ⋆ commitment ⋆ staying single ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ lack of noise ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ insects ⋆ dogs ⋆ cats ⋆ snakes ⋆ horses ⋆ birds ⋆ amphibians ⋆ illness ⋆ doctors ⋆ hospitals ⋆ fire ⋆ thunder storms ⋆ tornados/hurricanes ⋆ being watched ⋆ being vulnerable ⋆ needles ⋆ knives ⋆ guns ⋆ clowns ⋆ zombies ⋆ dolls ⋆ mannequins ⋆ robots/animatronics ⋆ mirrors/your own reflection ⋆ shouting/yelling ⋆ germs ⋆ clutter ⋆ alcohol ⋆ driving ⋆ riding in a vehicle ⋆ flying ⋆ men ⋆ women ⋆ children ⋆ getting old ⋆ halloween ⋆ your birthday ⋆ being buried alive ⋆ being restrained ⋆ school ⋆ sleep ⋆ holes ⋆ crossing the street ⋆ imperfection ⋆ stairs/slopes ⋆ pain

[thecrimsondandelion]

pls can u just rant about 1990s eddie, everything and anything, he needs more love 🥺

Okay. Finally getting to this.

So, I L O V E Miniseries Edward Kaspbrak.

 This might be all over the place, and long, this will mostly be adult Eddie, and at the end I’ll talk a little about young Eddie. (I have only read half of the book ffr) also some of this is from notes I took while drunkenly rewatching the miniseries. So it might not be great, but you only asked for a rant <3 

Firstly, I don’t really like what It Chapter 2 did to Eddie, a risk analyst is a huge discredit to Eddie I think, because despite his traumas and abuse, in the book/miniseries Eddie owned his own limo business - which was VERY successful. Starting a business can be a huge risk, and that alone speaks volumes for his character. But looking into it, it shows he had intelligence, charisma, perseverance and bravery. You could put a lot of money into a business venture and have it completely flop, it’s a gutsy move. And Eddie Kaspbrak took a risk, and became damn successful. 

Which leads me to my next problem with Ch.2 Eddie. The clothes he wears. Eddie’s fashion in the miniseries is immaculate, he dresses fucking amazing. Like described in the books, gucci loafers wearing bitch. He owns a successful business and he LOOKS like it, he shows pride in what he does and his achievements in how he dresses, in designer SHIT. He knows what looks good, he’s stylish and fairly effeminate - which I think is really great representation for other men, especially for when the movie was released/when it was set. miniseries Eddie Kaspbrak said no to toxic masculinity, you can be well put together, stylish, not to conform to typical overly masculine traits, and still be successful, brave and no less of a man. Successful and the only male adult loser with s t y l e. I’m sure there were so many men who felt relieved to see a character like Eddie Kaspbrak in the media. 

Adult Ch.2 Eddie’s clothes were fugly which goes with his fugly stupid job. But something I didn’t really connect was in @letsgetreddie‘s post recently (which finally gave me the boost to finally get this ask done, thank you btw <3) was that adult ch.2 Eddie dressed how his mum dressed him as a child. Which, is just... another huge discredit to him as a character. I understand that’s probably what they were going for, but I still think it’s a huge discredit!!!! He was so much more than his mother’s abuse, and his fashion in the miniseries really amplified that to me. And as they also said in their post, that ain’t cute. 10 points to miniseries Eddie. 

One of my favourite moments is when Eddie goes to the pharmacy and sees Mr. Keene. Eddie thanks him for trying to tell him the truth about his fake medicine, Mr. Keene (who at a point seemed to be Pennywise) grabs him, Eddie’s terrified but he doesn’t react violently, doesn’t shout, he very kindly asks to be let go. He doesn’t want to inflict any harm, and as somebody who’s worked in a care home, I really appreciate the kindness he had at that moment. That he wouldn’t harm Mr. Keene despite evil clown man being in him. 

Eddie Kaspbrak in the miniseries, like I’ve seen in the book so far, at his core is very loving and kind. He’s not the “dude” “bro” snapping constantly at his friends type of guy. He loves the Losers, he thinks they’re hilarious, but he also stands up for himself, and can be a funny snarky shit (I hate it when you stutter my name Bill, you sound like Elmer Fudd - like damn child Eddie. Not an exact quote, but it was along those lines) 

Speaking of kid Eddie. There’s the trauma he goes through living with his mother, the placebo medicine, the Munchausen Syndrome by proxy. He’s very sheltered and afraid of a lot of stuff, he panics a lot. But it’s so beautiful how strong he is when he’s with the Losers. For example at some point, when the Losers give him a concerned look (I think it was as they were going into the sewers) he says “I’m with my friends, right?” He sounded so brave and assured in himself.

When they’re fighting It as kids, after Stan is captured by Pennywise, Beverly is fumbling to get the slingshot and silver, and Eddie steps forward with his inhaler, and gives out the famous line “This is battery acid, you slime.” despite his sheltered lifestyle from his mother, her saying she didn’t want him to be around the Losers anymore, despite the fears he has, he steps forward to save his friends without hesitation. Which is SO FUCKING BRAVE, they’re CHILDREN.

Not only that, but when the pact is made, he also agreed to come back with no hesitation. With the Losers he’s brave and FREE. 

I’ll just be adding on to the drunk notes I took while watching the miniseries last. I’m starting to lose concentration so this part won’t be structured at all, it’s just short ramblings. 

- He still lives with his mother and I hate that. -10/10

- Didn't cut his fortune cookie with a fork 1/10 (Great moment in the book. Loved it. Sad that it didn’t make the miniseries)

R E D D I E. Eddie lying on the floor with Richie, cuddled on the couch with Beverly and Richie. The Reddie vibes are way stronger in the miniseries, and their moments together are so tender and sweet. The scene in the library where they’re giggling and playing with each other and he holds up the thing that says silence????? *CHEFS KISS* 

He’s so damn SWEET in the miniseries, he looks like he’s having fun with the Losers, he looks free and at ease, like how it showed him as a kid. He looks safe with the Losers, and the whole thing with the Losers is that they stick together and feel safe with one another. 

Obviously thinks Ben's hot - I wrote this when I was drunkenly watching so I don’t remember the part in particular, but I believe myself. 

Eddie is giggling always, and I LOVE IT, I’m pretty sure he giggles a few times in the book, so where was it in the movies?? I love that they didn’t try to make him overly masculine, because from what I’ve read, that just isn’t Eddie. It doesn’t make him a weak character or person, he cries and that’s damn realistic, there’s an evil space clown that killed children. It’s just great that they made him so open, I love that. 

Immaculate hair - Wrote this note drunk, but we all know his hair is immaculate, no need to say any more. 

"I don't know what's going to happen when the sun comes up, but I do know that I appreciate what you've done for everyone" GIVES MIKE THE RESPECT AND RECOGNITION HE DESERVES. 

H a n d s o m e Dennis Christopher is so handsome, and Eddie is one of the more attractive members of the adult miniseries Losers Club (along with Mike and Bev)

Eddie: convinces Richie to stay with a look and a touch - another quick note I took, this is as Richie talks about the chance of leaving Derry. Honestly, they’re in love, and I love it. Like I said, the reddie vibes are way better in the miniseries. 

The “i believe in santa/tooth fairy/Easter bunny, but I don’t believe in you.” And then again, “this is battery acid, you slime” scene, this had me in tears when I first watched it. Again he puts himself in front of the Losers, to protect his best friends the others he LOOKS INTO THE DEADLIGHTS WITHOUT BEING CAUGHT IN THEM, and gets the other losers out of it. He’s gone through a lot of trauma, he still lived with his abuser in the miniseries, but he’s just so GOD DAMN BRAVE. 

The only Eddie to get out of the sewers/neibolt street. And that’s how it SHOULD BE. 

In conclusion. I love Miniseries Edward Kaspbrak, he’s a cutie, but he’s also brave as fuck. And I respect the fuck out of him. Isn’t a stupid risk analyst who  says dude and bro like the movie. But also isn’t fatphobic like in the book. 

I would trust Miniseries Eddie to watch my drink, he’s so sweet, and caring. And he’s the best adult Eddie.

[itsthebiiii]

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route up to chapter 15

So I've reached the point in Yves' route where I could choose which ending route (? idk) to pick and lemme just say that it's been cute... up until chap 15-ish. Also I drained my wallet dry just to get the premium avatars and his povs because imma simp for Yves so RIP me I guess

Okay, so summaries mean spoilers so imma put them all under the cut for all yall who don't wanna get spoiled. I may or may not have missed some points (especially about the plot i’msosorry) and maybe I understood some things wrong so feel free to correct me (pls). This is SUPER messy so proceed with caution

So first of all.

YVES IS SO CUTE WTF ???????

I mean he gave me strong Jonah vibes at first, it’s still there but kinda... different?

On MC's first day at the castle, while she was strolling around, she notices Yves  watching her from behind a pillar wtf. When he's found out he was like "i-it's not like I was worried about you stfu" and afterwards he told MC that he's gonna keep an eye on her because he's not sure she’d do her job as Belle right but he says he's only doing it because he's doing his duty as a prince yea right

Later they bumped into Nokto who reminded MC about the Belle system (MC: dafuq is that???). After they explained all that Yves was like "yo you better not fall in love with me or else" and MC replied with "bruh if you ever steal my heart then I'm all yours for eternity" then Yves comes back with "if you ever steal mine then imma do the same. But i kid you not, that will NEVER happen" and they both laughed it off like it's nothing. Meanwhile Nokto's just listening from the side like "HA HA BET"

Anyway, part of Yves keeping an eye on MC means he'd spend some quality time™️ with her and him going to her room to wake her up 😂 also, he decided to show her around and tell her about the princes so she can get a grasp of them to see who is the most suitable to be the next King. So he gives her a memo pad to write their deets down on and she got to talk to everyone except Chevalier cuz that dude scary 😭 MC's feeling down because she really wanted to know what his plans are if he becomes King. Seeing this, Yves comforts her with a leFtOvEr piece of cake from dinner. MC goes on bout how being affected by this whole thing is a disgrace to her Belle title so she's determined to try again. Yves is impressed by this so he silently supports her. In the end, ye, MC got Chevalier to talk and all is well not

After all the introductions, our girl MC straight out tells Yves "Aye this is great and all, but you've never really told me about yourself fam" because ye, she got a point tho. He kept singing praises about the other princes but never really talked about himself

SO... he takes her out to town on a date the next day to show (yes, show) her, and while walking she notices that everyone they passed by whispered under their breaths about how Yves has such a doll-like face and all that. But that's not all...

They also whispered bout how they shouldn't go near Yves and his backstory is revealed: Yves has some Obsidian blood in him, and the Obsidian kingdom, let's say, have some beef that's as old as time with Rhodolite and the other kingdoms(??). Also his earring was given to him by his mother who is from Obsidian 🥺 But he doesn't hate her from what I've read so, there's that

SOOO ye. Everyone avoids him and spreads rumors bout him, he thinks everyone hates him but he doesn't give a fuck bout that. He says as long as he realizes his own self worth, all those don't matter to him. But MC notices that Yves hates himself more than anyone does. That he puts up this proud façade just to hide his real feelings. That before you can even ask him to spit it out, he's just gonna sweep all that aside with his 'idgaf' attitude. He also revealed that he plans to bring the Kloss family’s honor back if he becomes King. Oh, and he mentioned there may come a time when he’ll betray Rhodolite so... o.O

Returning from the date, MC bumps into Leon who decided to spill some tea bout why Yves actually wanted to keep an eye on her (I'm sorry but I kinda breezed through this part so this was all I could remember 🙇‍♀️). Then one day Leon and Licht (either or both of them, idk) told them Jin suddenly collapsed or smth, so they rushed to the kitchen and saw Jin looking weak as he laid on the floor. Yves was worried af, while MC just noticed how Leon and Licht were all chill bout the whole thing, so she realized they were clowning Yves lolol. Jin dramatically tells Yves how he would die if he weren't to eat some of Yves' sweets and Yves was like "??? U CLOWN you even got MC worried-- wdym you caught on??? Haaa!?" And they teased him loool. In the end, Yves bakes a cake for them, when MC notices that it looked like the leftover cake Yves gave her one time. MC asked Yves if it was and he was in full panic mode. Licht was like "leftover??? But whenever Yves bakes smth there are never leftovers 🤔" so Licht tells her that Yves might have baked it just for her, to which the latter denied lolol u tsun

Anyway, to get to know Yves more, MC spends more time with him, yada yada, all that stuff, until they go out to town again. There they notice a group of performers playing and she also notices how interested he was. She then asked him if he wanted to watch them, but Yves declined since he's worried he'll only ruin the mood (iirc he thinks of himself as a bad luck magnet of some sort?). MC manages to persuade him and after he plays, everyone is in awe and like "omg, Prince Yves is actually good :O" And for the first time, Yves felt like he actually belonged and wasn't feared by the Rhodolites.

Everything was cute and all until they get caught in the rain, yada yada, and when they get home they both get sick so Sariel tells them to rest up. Oh, and did I mention they SHARED A BED? No? Well, they did 😏

When Yves wakes up, he notices he's been hugging MC in his sleep and he's SHOOKETH. He then has a slight internal conflict bout why his heart is going doki doki with just hugging MC, then as if he's struck by lightning he's like "omg, I like MC???" When she wakes up he immediately sputters "i don't like u ok!!?!" Then he rushes out to go to the library and look up the meaning of love lololol then he finds they are all applicable to what he feels for MC. But he still denies it because of the stupid system 🙄 then he's found by Luke and gets teased 🤣

After the gathering, she runs to the kitchen and finds Yves there. He told her he spent the night preparing a whole FEAST for MC to reward her for going through all that shiz and MC immediately feels guilty so she cries. She tried to play it off like it’s nothing and the next thing she knew Yves was kissing her tears away. It was her turn to be SHOOKETH but before she could comprehend shit Yves remembered he forgot smth then zoomed out the kitchen. Once outside, he was in panic mode yet again because he didn’t mean to actually do that. He’s like “oh no I like MC I’m screwed”, but in the end, he thinks MC is the one in trouble because she’s liked by someone like him boi I can’t wait for him to see the light istg

After all that, MC is informed bout a gathering Rhodolite is to hold with Benitoite and Jade so she gets ready for that, and when the day comes she’s kinda nervous and stuff. Before going she bumps into Yves who decides to ease her nervousness by fixing her hair (ugh get you a man 💯) and they talk some more about him, how Yves put more effort into acting and looking like a prince to hide the fact that he’s actually 'defective goods’ or smth and through that he feels like he actually has some value. Then he cheers her up by returning the words she’d told him before and it works like a charm ❤ MC then learns that Yves won’t be going to the gathering because “no Obsidian peeps allowed” and since he’s half Obsidian... 🥺 She did promise to meet him at the kitchen once it’s over. Anyways, MC meets diff people, until some punk from Benitoite or Jade talks smack about Yves and comments how he should just be sent back to Obsidian. As much as this pissed her off, all she could do was be silent and wait for the convo to end.

Also, by the end of chap 15, some stuff happens that will actually get the plot moving lol

Aaaaand that’s that for chappies 1~15! I might make another one for the remaining half or when I finish an ending. If you made it this far, here's this leFtOvEr cake from Yves 🍰