#them to be as good as they are i guess it really shows how good these characters are man 😩

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[perdvivly]

Not waiting for chance or fate to dictate the terms of how annoying I’m allowed to be on the internet. I am choosing to answer them all now, unasked as I am.

1) This is mildly variable depending on the amount of effort I’m willing to expend. Typically the common theme is no adulterants. No sugar, no milk, no queen of England. If I’m getting fancy with it I’ll make an effort to time the brewing duration, 3mins for a black tea, 5mins for a green tea, 7mins for a herbal tea. But honestly the sort of depression chic I’ve been serving lately has been leaving the bag in and drinking it straight, tannins be damned.

2) Mandarin. Just seems like it’d be the most useful innit. Also, relatively harder to pick up non-magically given my native Englishhood.

3) God. I try not to honestly. No, but seriously, my sleep schedule has been all sorts of out of shape recently. I should work on that. At the moment it varies wildly day to day and depends on my responsibilities the days before and after the sleep. I’ve pulled a couple of all nighters recently and it gets screwy.

4) Maybe atla? I remember really liking it when it came out but not fully understanding the whole plot because I didn’t see it serialised until later. Maybe the simpsons? There’s something to say here about the earnestness of the earlier seasons and seeing a deeply dysfunctional family care about each other in ways they struggle to express—that gets glossed out as the production value rises in the later seasons—that’s like heroin to someone trapped in an irony poisoned world. But maybe that’s cope? Maybe it’s just the show I had the easiest access to as a kid. I guess I didn’t watch a whole bunch of tv or at least not a whole bunch that stuck with me.

5) Summer ez. (Have you seen her baphomet pics? 🥵)

6) In general, I doubt very much that either the optimist or the pessimist considers themselves such. It’s not really the sort of thing that admits of self-diagnosis in that way… Philosophically, the broader question is what? Do I align with Schopenhauer, Voltaire’s Leibniz, or Russel’s Leibniz? I’m not sure the tumblrinas care about the history of philosophy. I guess I’ll say to the extent that Schopenhauer relies on Indian mysticism, which I think is typically underrated, he’s simply mistaken about the world as will and representation. I’ll say that, I’m *not* a Buddhist. I think the doctrine of dukkha misses fundamental aspects of human existence. I’ll say that people have richer inner lives, deeper felt internal experiences, than you might assume from reading their little words on the internet. And that, on the whole, these are good things.

7) I mean, both ideally. Variety is the spice of life. If I had to choose I suppose it would be sunshine. But I’m terribly glad I don’t live in a world where I have to choose.

8) I have the cutest little book marks. My primary two at the moment are the sun and the moon, which I use for main text and end notes respectively. Though, I have been known to dog-ear in my time. I once got yelled at by my aunt for turning the corner of the page on my copy of Harry Potter and the order of the phoenix because it was a first edition and she was under the impression that it may be valuable some day. I was like, come on man, I’m 7. Don’t even piss. <- I didn’t say these things, but I was *like* that.

9) For the longest time I *only* wore steel toe capped boots because I ran myself over with an electric pallet stacker and tore my toenail off and decided I didn’t want that to happen again. I don’t do that anymore because I interact with heavy machinery less than I used to. Now all that matters to me is that they’re waterproof.

10) *My* signature scent like, I produce it? Or like I like it? I guess one of my favourite scents is lavender. But I've been told... Okay, it's important you guys know I do *not* have a yeast infection... I've been told some parts of my body naturally smell like bread, like, that sort of doughy yeasty (I s2g I do *not* (I did not hit her. I did not! oh hi mark)) smell that you get with bread sometimes. Is that what the question was asking?

11) I mean... That's broadly not for me to decide right? Unless the sort of dragons you're imagining have some sort of glamoury illusion magic, which seems plausible. Anyway, do you guys remember in Moby Dick when he goes on this wild tangent about how St. George and The Dragon was acutally about whales? And St. George's horse was actually a walrus or something. What was that about??

Okay, author's note, there's a time skip here. I've been scrolling through lists of dragons in popular culture for a while now and there are a pretty neat and widely varied selection of designs. I'll get back to you on this one.

12) It depends on why I'm writing! If it's a quick note to myself for future reference it'll generally be cursive, if it's an important document that will be read by other people generally it'll be print. If it's time-sensitive it'll be cursive. I remember writing essays for undergrad that I'm sure were totally illegible by the end of them, I think literally just a line on a page with occasional lifts and dips.

13) There is more information on wookieepedia than existed in my philosophy but a few minutes ago. The typology I've discerned is thus: blue - jock, green - nerd, yellow - geek, red - edgelord. And I'm a little bit of all of these, so I think any would be fine. Realistically though, I'm not sure a lightsaber is the best weapon in fantasy space-past-future where spaceships and lasers are common. Like, I'll let it slide because the original trilogy was doing a kirkegaardian faith thing and the prequels were doing a logic doesn't matter it's cool thing, and those are both respectable motivations to leave logistics aside for a bit.

14) Sad

15) Ice skates! I love ice skating!

16) I'm a youngest. I have an older sister, I think I talk about her here from time to time.

17) Well, how I would use it would depend massively on what it was. If the question is which superpower I think is the best then why not ask that? Which superpower would I have has a faint ring of incomprehensibility about it. It's really not clear which counterfactual is under consideration. *If* what?

Anyway, I think time control powers are up there right? Top five at least, easy. Imagine what you could do if you could stop time and sleep whenever you felt like it. I feel King Leerish about the ability to just be well rested. I would do such things, what they are yet I know not.

18) The problem with romantic relationships is that eventually, all of your most interesting clothing will end up in someone else's closet. I think my day-to-day wear tends to be mostly blues, blacks and whites. Not hugely interesting colourwise.

19) Snake, I think, they have fewer demands and I can't really handle any more pressure in my life than I already have. I would hate to be a bad bird mom... I would hate to be a bad snake mom too, but I think it's easier. Typically regarded as easier. I don't know.

20) Okay, so, it's like this right: medieval battle = will probably die. And it's also like this: behind city walls = safe, my friend and lover and confidant. And so, for very obvious reasons, it's gotta be a bow right? Like, I'm standing way out of the action and I'll shoot some arrows long range. But if that's against the spirit of the ask then it's gotta be some kind of polearm, like a halberd or something. Not even close. The advantage you get from distance is hard to overstate. Yeah, polearm for sure.

21) Mint choc chip, it's just such a classic. But also, I had a "london fog" flavour recently that was really compelling. It's just earl grey and vanilla but it's so good.

22) I'm more of a herbs person than a spices person. Like, hmm, I do really enjoy paprika and ginger and stuff like that, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't really hold a candle to the sheer universality of parsley or basil or oregano or mint. Herbs stay winning.

23) These days it's aptos because I am the worlds most basic bitch. And yes, I do still have a fondness for arial.

ask game that tells a lot about you.

how do you take your tea / coffee?

if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?

when do you wake up?

what was your favourite tv show as a kid?

summer or winter?

realist, optimist, or pessimist?

rain or sunshine?

how do you mark your spot in a book?

what are your favourite shoes like?

what would your non-perfume/cologne signature scent be?

if you were a dragon, what would you look like?

is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix?

what colour would your lightsaber be?

what is your defining personality trait?

roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates?

are you an only child? oldest / middle / youngest?

what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

what’s your clothing colour palette?

pet snake or pet bird?

weapon of choice in a medieval battle

the best ice cream flavour

what spices do you always use when cooking?

default font when typing?

[ifwdominicfike]

you try to get guitarist!matt to listen to one taylor swift song since he apparently “hates” her music

── .✦. ──

“matt im telling you, one song wouldn’t hurt you. or are you just too scared you’ll like it?” you felt the chillest breeze outside and decided to play folklore on repeat because who wouldn’t? anyway, matt was fed up with hearing about “some girl complaining about her failed relationships” but you couldn’t care less.

“sweetheart, it’s literally just the same song but about a different guy. she’s too overplayed i don’t get how you like that shit” he scoffs, making his way around the couch. “everyone says that though, you’ve only heard her pop songs that why — her other songs are masterpieces. all of her lyrics are basically me.” you sarcastically say — but not really.

as he sits down on the cushion you scoot your way over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “pleaseee just one song? i promise you’ll like it, well hopefully i dont know.” you ask with a smile, he lets out a sigh and finally agrees. “yeah sure come on, show me this song then sweetheart.”

you now have the biggest smile on your face and get up from your comfortable position, and turn to make your way to your shared room to grab headphones “wait here” you excitedly say, as if he would vanish the second you were gone.

when you came back with the black bulky headphones he was already looking your way, smiling at your excited state. “this better be good if you’re this happy about this, if i don’t like the song and its some girly girl pop shit, m’clowning your ass for it.” he jokes when putting on the headphones and adjusting them, you were a little nervous — it was obviously something he would never in a million years listen to on his own but he always shows you his music so whats the worst that can happen ?

you figured why not something from your favorite album of hers, folklore. you were going through the tracklist trying to figure out which song until you were pulled out of your thoughts by matt groaning. “come on sweetheart, m’falling asleep over here” he fakes yawns and rubs at his eyes. “shush i have the song ready, now listen its my favorite!”

you click on the song and look up at him to watch his reaction, you obviously can’t hear the music but you already know how it goes “i’ve been having a hard time adjusting, i had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting.”

as the song continues to play you can see matt swaying a little, you smile when you notice the amusement on his face. the bridge of the song starts up and he stops all movement, listening carefully as the lyrics spew into his ears. he looks over at you in disbelief, jaw dropped as the song now fades out and he’s slipping off the headphones.

“sweetheart thats you’re favorite song?” he says sniffling “well y-yeah? why is it bad?” you ask confused “no, not at all- s’just really fucking sad” he said chuckles before pulling you into a hug “if y’think thats sad then i need to show you more”

“her music s’not that bad i guess..” he says sarcastically “matt please- you were damn near crying i don’t wanna hear it.”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i love folklore. i AM folklore. anywayyy new blurb!!! im so happyyyy i finally finished ONE of my drafts 😭😭

wait omg i forgot to tag you @bluestriips ik you like guitarist!matt !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott

[lndsismaeverything]

Asking lnds men help to pick a nail design

A/n : was going to get my nails done next week so...(ㅅ˙³˙)♡ though of what would the lnds men choose?

Xavier :

Both of you where on the couch you where looking for some nails insp but couldn't find any . So you turned to your boyfriend and ask him for some help

" you want me to pick a nail design for you?"

He gladly wants to help but is afraid if it doesn't match your style or you don't like it

Since he doesn't know these kind of stuff , but it can't be hard right? It's just going to be looking at pictures and finding the best one out of all of them for you

He spends about a whole hour looking for a design on Pinterest until he found the perfect one

Something that's really suits you and is cute too

" I choose this one " he showed you , you end up loving it and got them done the next day

You snowed them to him

" these look better on you in person "

Zayne :

Even though zayne is really busy, when you are about to ask him but stop mid way because you don't want to bother him with something this so stupid . He has way more important things to then picking out your nails

You decided you'll just pick something it's not that big of the deal right?

" give it to me " zayne said asking for the tablet your holding. He noticed you been scrolling on that app for the past hour. And noticed how your about to asking him but stop mid way

" I don't mind I can take a small break for these files and documents "

After a few minutes he gives you the tablet back , you looked at the picture he choose for you

" it's simple but still elegant... It would look every good on you "

Rafayel :

Rafayel would love helping you pick out some nails design for you

But he would like enjoying designing one for you better

" you want me to pick a nail design for you?"

" yes"

" I have a way better idea. How about I despite one for you? One that stands out from the rest of them. "

He quickly grabs his sketch book and some colored pencils and design your nails

He ended up finishing within a day... Yea a day because he was going all out

After he showed you the sketch, he insisted on you bring him with you to the nail salon. Because he wants to make sure they get the colors correctly

It took the nail artist a full 5 hours on doing your nails because of your boyfriend nagging about how it's the wrong color and how the shape isn't right

" no that's the wrong shade"

" hold on , it isn't straight "

You apologize sincerely to the nail artist and swear you wouldn't bring him again. Or you let him do your nails at home

But you ended up loving them since they have personal touches that reminds you of him

Sylus :

When you first ask sylus to help you out , he didn't really get them, but decided to help you pick a design

" sure sweetie, I don't get why you get them thought. I guess kitten like to get her claws well maintained "

Sylus took in the task every seriously, asking you question if you like pastels, charms, gems etc

You said anything is fine " as long as you pick them "

It doesn't take long for him to pick a design for you

" here kitten, this one would look nice "

After you get them done and showed your nails to sylus. He ended up getting why you get your nails done.

It's because it's pretty and it really suit you . Or he just liked it because he picked it out for you .

Now he's going to pick every nails design for you when you want to get your nails done

[httyd-art-requests]

So the teaser for the live action How To Train Your Dragon film has dropped. Have you seen it? Any thoughts on it?

I just saw it, and BOY do I have some thoughts about it lmao

Live action remakes already annoy me for several reasons, and as much as I want to be excited for "new" HTTYD media, it really misses the mark for me

The movie doesn't look original to me. It's so obviously a remake of something else that it loses any personality it could otherwise have. If the original HTTYD movie had been a live action movie from the start, it would have looked nothing like this, because the creators would have tried to create something that stood out from other movies. This one just feels like a checklist being completed in front of me: "right so we'll have this scene, and then we'll have this scene, and the dragon does this, and the boy does this, and then this is the part the fans like so we're going to recreate it 1:1", but no real understanding of what made the original as beloved as it is.

This trailer just looks soulless to me, but I'm holding out hope that the other trailers will show us more and hopefully prove me wrong

Toothless's design is... fine I guess? They made his hind legs digitegrade for some reason, which just looks very jarring to me. Idk why they felt the need to change it, it's one of the details that made his design feel unique to me. Like dragons' legs are almost always depicted as dinosaur-like and digitegrade, and HTTYD having dragons that have plantigrade legs feels really cool. The wings are comically oversized and he lost a lot of his personality based on the scene recreations shown in the trailer (like the silly People Sit he does in the original, now he just sits like a dog lmao) but it really, really could have been worse.

I slowed it down to catch some of the other dragon species' designs and eeeeeehhhh... They're recognizable, I'll say that. They also lost a lot of the personality that the original models had, they look a lot more uniform in their proportions. I really don't see why making them look "realistic" has to mean that they look more boring, when we have so many animals irl that look fake and made up because of how absurd they look. They could have had more fun with it is what I'm saying

Casting Gerard Butler as Stoick feels like the only actually good decision, his voice as Stoick just can't be recreated. Hiccup's actor is... also fine I guess, no strong feelings whatsoever.

The thing that bothers me the most is the lighting. The original HTTYD movie paid special attention to making the lighting look as realistic and believable as possible. It's atmospheric and helps you get sucked into the world while you watch. "Subdued" is probably a good word to describe it. It very intentionally doesn't go overboard. The lighting in the trailer looks fake as hell. They could be using real actual lighting conditions on set and I still wouldn't believe it's real.

Overall, I have mixed feelings despite all the negative things I just listed. I'm sharing in the excitement of all the people who want to watch it, but I'm still disappointed that it, like, exists at all. No matter what this movie ends up looking like, I'm always going to prefer the original animated movies. I'm open to being proved wrong though, I really hope this movie is going to be better than anything we're imagining rn

[nerd-party]

ill try to answer them all:

genevieve, and I like it!

Yep! I can't draw but I do acting and singing

Yes unfortunately

be on stage as a job

Will Campos waved at me once

not right now, my legs are too fucked

being overlooked: seen but ignored for someone else who is just as good/worse than me

Barret Wilbert weed

I can sing, do card tricks, and I can walk incredibly quietly (ninja style)

absolutely fucking not, just TRY waking me up before 10am at the weekend

Only for bf/gfs but I am down for a nickname

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHA YES

I don't watch shows so I'll list one show and movies: good omens, red white and royal blue, the princes bride

not really lol

Me and my friends from all across my friend groups sitting in an oak tree eighty feet high, smoking weed and passing round a bottle of wine that never emptied. We watched the snow fall and the sun rise and it was literally perfect.

nope

nope again

nope x3

unfortunately I am a social butterfly but I wish I could just be on my own sometimes fr

yep! Never used to be but I guess I'm popular now

bite my nails

I always forget I have mascara on so I rub my eyes and I look stupid- I feel open to attack.

Jon if it's a boy, Elisa if it's a girl, and backup name of Ollie/Yasmin/Jasmine

dont have one but DAMN Andrew Garfield fine

music

Dogs but I do love cats

Literally tumbles my only social. I guess ao3?

@valkzzheart

brother, sister, mum, dad. Pretty standard shit

chocolate 🤤

Yep!

YES I LOVE ROLLERCOASTERS

yep, quite well

I have a. DETAILED PLAN. if y'all want me to tell it exactly lmk and I'll divulge my master plan.

yes, a few

Yep!

Pink/blue!

England!!! TOP BINS MATE OAYYYY

Any musical theatre artist!! Or Conan Gray

yes!! It's a big dream of mine but I don't wanna be super famous

Yes I love dresses but I wish it was warmer where I live so I can wear them more

popular from wicked / astronomy by Conan Gray

talking about it in person yes (especially with parents) online no, actually doing it would be a no

like 12?

Yes I do it all the time, Im in a shooting club

Nope!!

i love horror!!

According to my friends yes and I think I'm good too

one time I got really mad at my parents because I was sent away from the dinner table in my old home so I went upstairs and flushed a whole toilet roll down the bog

pretty exhausted

Yes I was actually

i never used to be able to dance but I can now

Biting my nails again

Yes!! I bleached it just so I could dye it

Blue

ferret

Onstage once yeah but it wasn't my fault (mic cut out, I got made fun of)

Yes!

lots!

My main friend group is GAE 🏳️‍🌈

drama

None

sometimes? It varies

pet sematary (1989) FANTASTIC

Not on TV but in podcasting: Normally 'Ly Oak-Swallows-Garcia-Li-Wilson-Marlowe-Swift-The-Unworthy is just like me fr

need to be at the top and extreme competitiveness I force myself not to think about, plus my extreme feelings about fairness

hiking the mountains and going around the world to beautiful places

If I would never die I would start committing crimes

singing aloud onstage and around the house to practice

who I became friends with would change ASAP and my class too

yes absolutely

Late October

My room with all my DND stuff

Did my singing competition auditions!!

an astrophysicist

A stable career and a consistent home life

I usually speak up, I don't think I have a moment like this

I have to get better at everything.

I feel like that already with how many extracurriculars I'm doing bruh 😭

seeing the sights bro

Houses for me and my friends/family, stable education funds for me, my friends, my kids, my family and all our kids. Keep people safe from bankruptcy

The past, instantly. Live in the 80s and 70s forever

a love of acting and helping others

same one from earlier- hanging with the boys committing crimes!!

The woods would be nice but if get bored. The city

Nope. There's no afterlife. It just ends.

my year 6 teacher was the GOAT

playing Lego with my friend from nursery, Aoife.

Einstein so I can get his last words

I don't really know yet. I've laughed so hard I've cried but it's not the same

that some people are gonna think others are better than you and you just have to deal with that. Favoritism is everywhere and fairness is irrelevant.

Nothing.

kill some people probably /hj

run away/defy authority unfortunately

yes, because no matter what people say, looks matter especially early in life. If youre pretty at school you aren't bullied and people like you. I want to give my kid the best chance. (not saying this is a good thing, I hate this but it's the truth)

idk just kinda happened one day

impending doom and my immense hopelessness and just. General sense of emptiness and failure.

exist.

hey that wasnt 100 you skipped 2!!

100 Questions!

Thought these might be fun? Ask me some and I’ll try(I can’t promise) to get something up for you later! these questions aren’t my own

1. What’s your middle name, and do you like it? 2. are you artistic? 3. Have you had your first kiss? 4. What is your life goal? 5. Do you have any expieriences with a famous person? 6. Do you play any sports? 7. What’s your worst fear? 8. Who’s your biggest inspiration? 9. Do you have any cool talents? 10. are you a morning person? 11. How do you feel about pet names? 12. Do you like to read? 13. Name a list of shows that have changed your life. 14. Do you care about your follower count? 15. What’s the best dream you’ve had? 16. Have you ever kissed someone of your same gender? 17. Do you have any pets? 18. Are you religious? 19. Are you a people person? 20. Are you considered popular? 21. What is one of your bad habits? 22. What’s something that makes you feel vulnerable 23. What would you name your children? 24. Who’s your celebrity crush? 25. What’s your best subject? 26. Dogs or cats? 27. most used social media besides tumblr? 28. best friends name 29. who does your main family consist of 30. Chocolate or sugar 31. have you ever been on a date? 32. Do you like rollercosters? 33. Can you swim? 34. What would you do in the event of an apocolypse? 35. Have you struggled with any kind of mental disorder 36. Are your parents together? 37. What’s your favourite colour? 38. What country are you from/do you live in? 39. Favourite singer? 40. Do you see yourself being famous some day? 41. Do you like dresses? 42. Favourite song right now? 43. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? 44. How old were you when you first got your period? 45. Have you ever shot a gun? 46. Have you ever done yoga? 47. Are you a horror girl? 48. Are you good at giving advice? 49. Tell us a story about your childhood. 50. How are you doing today? 51. Were you a cute kid? 52. Can you dance? 53. Is there anything you do that you can’t remember ever not doing? 54. Have you ever dyed your hair? 55. What colour are your eyes? 56. What’s your favourite animal? 57. Have you ever made a huge fool of yourself? 58. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 59. Do you have good friends? 60. Are you close with anyone of the lgbtq+ group? 61. What’s your favourite class? 62. List all the tv shows you are watching. 63. Are you organized? 64. What was the last movie you saw? Opinion? 67. Which tv character do you relate to most? 68. What are some things that stand between you and complete happiness? 69. If you received enough money to never need to work again, what would you spend your time doing? 70. What would you change about your life if you knew you would never die? 71. What would you do differently if you knew that no one was judging you? 72. If you could start over, what would you do differently? 73. Would you break the law to save a loved one? 74. When was the last time you travelled somewhere new? 75. When you think of your home, what immediately comes to mind? 76. What have you done to pursue your dreams lately? How about today? 77. What did you want to be when you were a kid? 78. If you dropped everything to pursue your dreams, what would you be risking? 79.When did you not speak up, when you know you really should have? 80. Describe the next five years of your life, and your plans, in a single sentence 81. What would happen if you never wasted another minute of your life, what would that look like? 82. If you could live forever, how would you spend eternity? 83. How would you spend a billion dollars? 84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future? 85. What motivates you to succeed? 86. What dream that you’ve had has resonated with you the most? 87. Would you rather live in the city or the woods? Why? 88. Do you believe in life after death 89. What teacher inspired you the most? How did they? 90. What’s your fondest childhood memory? 91. If you could have dinner with any one person, living or dead, who would they be and why? 92. What would you have to see to cry tears of joy? 93. What is the hardest lesson you had to learn in life? 94. What do you think happens after we die? 95. What would you do if you would be invisible? 96. What’s something you can’t do no matter how hard you try? 97. Would you want to choose the sex and appearance of your offspring? 98. How did your first crush develop? 99. Is there a feeling you are trying to ignore? What is it? 100. Do you live or do you just exist?

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[whatidonthaveanyhomework]

Enjoying the view?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: basically Natasha takes care of you after a long day (with sex)

Warnings: smut, dom Natasha, sub reader, degradation, mommy kink, biting(?), slight overstimulation, aftercare, subspace

A/N: I’ve never written anything before so idk how good this is, please don’t be mean to me

—————————————————————————

You stumble into your house, tired from your day at work. You had overslept and spent the entire day running from meeting to meeting. All you really wanted to do was come home and spend time with your girlfriend. As you step into the house, you’re greeted with the scent of pizza in the oven. In the kitchen you find Natasha tossing a bagged salad. As you enter the room she comes over to you and leans in for a kiss. 

“Hi detka,” she mumbles against your lips, pulling you into a tight embrace. You breathe in the scent of her shampoo, reveling in the soft domesticity of the moment. 

“Hi love,” you respond, as Natasha pulls back, placing another quick kiss on your lips before returning to her salad. 

“How was your day?” She asks, pouring the salad dressing packet into her salad as you lean against the island in your kitchen. You sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Well, I woke up and my girlfriend wasn’t there to kiss me, and then I nearly missed the bus, and then Steve sent me to all my meetings and then all of Wanda’s since she’s on sick leave, and I got curry on my pants at lunch,” you complain. Natasha gives the salad a final toss before pulling you into another hug, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. 

“I’m sorry angel. That’s exhausting,” she consoles and you nod, pulling her body closer to yours.

The timer on the pizza beeps, and Natasha pulls away, placing an apologetic kiss on your hairline. She takes the pizza out of the oven, and the two of you set the table to eat. 

During dinner, Natasha keeps close to you, always in physical contact with you in some way. You lean into it, grateful for the comfort in your tired state. After dinner, the two of you head upstairs to shower before getting in bed. You climb into the shower and take turns washing each other before changing into pajamas and climbing in bed together to watch a show. 

Climbing into bed, Natasha pulls you onto her lap, holding you against her body tightly. You place your head on her shoulder to admire your girlfriend, noticing her soft lips and ample cleavage her tank top provides. You breathe in her scent, mostly ignoring the show you’ve both seen a million times. 

Natasha looks down at you, an amused smile gracing her lips. 

“Enjoying the view?” She teases and you blush, casting your eyes downward, and nod. 

“Yes Natty,” you say, suddenly very shy. Natasha chuckles softly, lifting your chin with a single finger to meet her gaze. You look into her eyes, and see them darken, heat pooling at your core. Natasha pulls you in, lips meeting. 

The kiss starts soft, but quickly turns more passionate as Natasha takes control, forcing your tongue back into your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation, and Natasha pulls you impossibly closer, her fingers tangling in your hair as the other hand grips your waist. 

Throwing your arms around her neck, you move to straddle your girlfriend’s lap. Natasha trails kisses down your neck, and you sigh at the sensation. She finds your pulse point and sucks on it, leaving a mark. You whimper, wanting more. 

“Oh darling, is someone needy?” She asks in a condescending tone that goes straight to your core. “I need words, detka,” she says, as you try to retake control over your voice. 

“Yes.” You whine, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

“Well, I guess we should do something about that, shouldn't we detka?” She asks, her voice dropping an octave. You nod adamantly as she maneuvers the two of you so that the two of you are laying on the bed, with her on top of you, straddling your waist. Natasha yanks your (her) shirt off your chest, which she quickly follows with her own. 

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sight of your girlfriend shirtless on top of you, and you nearly moan when she grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to kiss you again. 

The kiss is all tongue and teeth and you groan as Natasha bits softly on your bottom lip. 

“Oh, does my babygirl like it when I bite her?” She asks. 

“Yes Mommy,” you sigh out, desperate for her to touch you. Mercifully, she also seems desperate to move her touch lower, and runs one of her hands over your chest, rolling your nipple between her fingers. 

“Fuck,” you cry, back arching up into her body and squeezing your legs together to try to aliviate the ache. Natasha lightly slaps your chest, and you can feel more arousal pooling in your underwear. 

“Watch your language detka,” she commands. “Only good girls get to come.” You nod, breaking eye contact. 

“‘M sorry Mommy. I’ll be good,” you say, and are rewarded a moment later by Natasha’s mouth on your chest as her hands travel down to your stomach, tracing random patterns there before following lower, lifting your hips to pull your pajama pants off. 

She pulls your legs open, dragging her nails lightly down the inside of your thighs. Bringing her hand further up, she ghosts her fingers against your folds over top of your underwear before pressing softly on your clit. You whine, but hold still, knowing Natasha won’t take kindly to you chasing her fingers. 

“Please touch me,” you wine, earning a low chuckle as the redhead slips your underwear off and starts lightly rubbing circles around your clit. You whimper, rolling your hips lightly against her finger. 

“Hold on a second sweetheart.” She said, removing her hand from your clit and planting an apologetic kiss on your lips. You grumble at the loss of friction, pressing your legs together to try to alleviate the ache between them as Natasha rummaged through her nightstand drawers.

“Ah ah keep those legs open for me love,” Natasha said, yanking her harness over her hips. You pull them apart again, whining.

“None of that sweet girl. Let Mommy take care of you,” she said, teasing your entrance with the tip of her strap before sinking into you. You let out a strangled moan. 

“Oh baby do you like that?” Natasha teases, thrusting into you hard and deep. 

“Y-yes Mommy,” you respond, eyes rolling back in your head as you hold the sheets below you in a death grip in an attempt to ground yourself. Natasha speeds up, enjoying your desperate state. You bite your lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure mounts inside you. 

“Ohh baby you look so pretty falling apart for mommy,” Natasha says. She leans down over you, grabbing one of your boobs to gain leverage so she could thrust harder into you. 

“Mommyyyyy,” you moan out. 

“What do you need, princess?” She asks, leaning closer to ghost your mouth. 

“C-can you please bite me?” You ask, your breathing speeding up as you approach your climax. 

“Aww, my dirty girl wants to be bitten?” Natasha mocks, kissing your neck lightly. 

“Please mommy I’m so close I’m so close please bite me,” you cry out. 

“Ok honey, you can come whenever you like,” Natasha says. She bites the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, and the coil in your stomach snaps. Pleasure washes over you, and you cry out, clinging onto Natasha. However, Natasha keeps going. 

“M-mommy what are you doing?” You ask, the overstimulation a little much. 

“Mmh-sorry princess mommy’s just so close,” Natasha says, her hips becoming erratic as the strap slams into you, hitting her clit just right. A couple seconds later, she lets out a low groan as she grips you tightly, coming. Then she collapses on top of you. 

You lay there together for a couple seconds before Natasha pulls you into a soft kiss. 

“Are you ok angel?” Natasha asks, softly tracing her hands across your body. 

“Of course mommy,” you say, pulling her back on top of you, just needing to feel her skin on yours. 

“Ok good. You did so well.” She praises, stroking your hair. The two of you stay there for a while, holding each other, before Natasha starts to pull away again. You tighten your grip on her, confused as to why she’s moving. 

“I’m sorry baby girl I have to pull out so we can clean up for bed,” Natasha says, and you reluctantly let her pull away and out, grimacing. 

“Ssh it’s ok baby,” Natasha coos, pulling you back into her arms and picking you up to carry you to the bathroom. She gently wipes between your legs with a wet washcloth, and then proceeds to lovingly wash your face and do your skincare routine for you. You lean into her touch, dimly aware of what’s happening, until you feel her place something in your hand. 

“Hey babygirl,” Natasha says as she sees your eyes focus on her. “Can you brush your teeth for me?”

You nod, lazily running the toothbrush across your teeth, as your girlfriend quickly gets herself ready for bed. She then takes the toothbrush from you, and a few moments later she’s hoisting you up and taking you to bed. She tucks you in before cuddling up behind you. 

“Night angel,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head.

“Mmm love you,” you mumble. 

“Love you too sweet girl.”

—————————————————————————

thx for reading, pls don’t plagiarize me

[granny-griffin]

1. There are a lot of people who think they're the only one who would speak up. Imagine what would happen if everyone who thought they were the only one... Spoke. But even if you do think you're alone... Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

I mean I think it is, and I’ve done it (or tried to). But I do tend to second guess my interpretation of a situation a lot more if I haven’t seen anybody else say something—maybe people sometimes aren’t sure if what they’re looking at is racist or not, and then decide not to do anything with that uncertainty because it would require thought.

2. There is a difference between feeding the trolls and speaking up when something wrong is happening. Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?

I think people are taught that the latter only exists in real life, and that if you try to do it in fandom you’re just yucking someone’s yum. People who do the second one generally receive the same kind of pushback as people who do the first one (even though they don’t deserve it).

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

Because trolls go away when you don’t pay attention to them. But like you already said in question #2, those situations aren’t the same. People are drawing a false equivalence between the two. And as far as bigotry I experience in fandom—I think I just assume that it will be there and not go away no matter what, and I’m pleasantly surprised when that’s not the case. But that’s not really the point of this.

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

I want to annoy bigots XD I love the excuse. Honestly not sure why more people don’t feel this way on tumblr, the website that’s all about being as annoying as you please.

At the same time, I want the annoyance to come because I’m giving them a message they don’t want to hear, not because I’m also being a jerk about it. Maybe it’s weird, but I care about bigots because they’re people, and their bigotry hurts them too, and I want them to listen to me long enough that they hear what I have to say and change what they’re doing. But even that isn’t a reason to try to keep from offending them—coddling somebody in their bigotry isn’t kind either.

I do think that people often don’t want to offend bigots who are good at creating fanworks, because they look up to them as a creative and/or don’t want to drive their skill away from the fandom. Yeah—the better you are at fanworks, the more you can get away with.

The second question is hitting me really strangely—yes, I think everybody deserves to have a comfortable space, and I want to defend that for others. I don’t know if I care to defend it for myself.

5. What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe? (Be honest with yourself!) Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

I mean I plan to listen to them, even if I don’t like the way they’re presenting their frustrations—if somebody’s mad at me for something that I really did (or sat by and failed to stop) then it’s so not my job to critique their attitude.

I don’t think I’m okay with the outcome—that’s why I’ve spoke out in the past—but the parenthetical is psyching me out. Maybe I do ignore things out of fear! I’ll have to keep introspecting.

I don’t want Black fans to assume everyone is against them, and I don’t think other people want that either—but I think fixing the situation requires people to be proactive. I think a lot of people think that just not being antiblack is enough, and then don’t think about it any harder. And so nothing happens, because instead of looking to do something right, people are only trying not to do something wrong.

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

YES 100%!! I don’t think we can accurately judge from within! This is one of my biggest struggles—it goes back to my answer to #1. I want to speak out against racism, but even though I’m trying to educate myself so that I can spot it, sometimes I’m really not sure. And calling somebody racist feels like a really big accusation—if it lands publicly in the right way it could get somebody blocked by all their friends. I wouldn’t want to do it to mistakenly. So I’ve been trying to watch and see when Black people call out racism so that I can amplify/support what they’re already saying.

But maybe we need also to have a less all or nothing approach? If we aren’t sure if someone is being racist, we could start a more private conversation to tell them about our concerns, and see if their response sheds any light on the situation. Sometimes I ask people leading questions about their thought process when making something instead of just telling them to quit being racist.

Inevitably, no matter what I do, I worry that I’m not using the right level of forcefulness. But I guess sitting here and angsting about the appropriateness of my approach is still better than doing nothing.

7. No one really answered my "what is the boundary" question at all. What I should have asked is, are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

Yes, and I think it’s tied to my struggle to judge situations. There’s a certain threshold of racism under which I can’t identify it with enough accuracy to feel comfortable making a callout. But again—maybe “public callout” and “do nothing” are not the only two possible responses.

Okay so after sitting on the responses from yesterday's question, I have some follow up questions to what seemed to be some consistent... Themes in the answers.

Like yesterday, I am asking with intent to listen (and maybe ask more questions) so I will not be arguing- at best, you'll get a "hm" to acknowledge i saw what you said.

My follow up questions:

1. There are a lot of people who think they're the only one who would speak up. Imagine what would happen if everyone who thought they were the only one... Spoke. But even if you do think you're alone... Why is antiracism not worth standing alone for?

2. There is a difference between feeding the trolls and speaking up when something wrong is happening. Do you feel people are more comfortable assuming the former so that they don't have to interact via the latter?

3. Why do we think that bigotry will go away if it goes unaddressed? Is that how you also feel about bigotry that you experience via your other identities?

4. Why should we entertain and prioritize the annoyance of bigots? Why do you not deserve to be here and have a safe, comfortable space any more than they do?

5. What do we plan on doing when Black fans lose their patience due to disillusionment? Are we okay with the outcome of that, of choosing... Well, being racist but safe? (Be honest with yourself!) Would we rather Black fans just accept that it's easier to assume everyone is antiblack, the same way it's easier not to speak up against it as a social norm? If we want to show that there is still a welcome for Black fans, that we are safe, why don't we act to show that?

6. If everyone only hangs around people who aren't antiblack, why is the space still so overwhelmingly antiblack? Have you considered that you cannot adequately judge from within?

7. No one really answered my "what is the boundary" question at all. What I should have asked is, are you willing to recognize that you have a willing tolerance for antiblackness? That there is a certain amount that you are okay with allowing before thinking it's worth speaking up?

*I also want to note that I'm not directing this to Black fans. I know that the context changes when you have to fight. I'm asking the people who have the privilege of fighting antiblackness while not having the identity. I.e. some marginal power in the area.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[ducktoo]

First love…till not?

Aespa’s Giselle x M!Reader

Note: uhhh this is gonna be some angst stuff

You knew it was coming.

It was inevitable, really. The moment you felt the coldness settle between you like a frigid barrier, a silent warning that all was not well.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you thought of love as a kid, all those times you ran across the playground with her, climbing trees and scrabbling through dirt together, shoulders bumping and laughter rising. Those were the days when the world felt simple, like it was just you and her against everything else. But somewhere along the way, things changed.

She changed.

Each day felt like a new level of hell with her, a twisted game of push and pull that you never signed up for. The little comments that once felt like playful teasing morphed into daggers aimed right at your heart.

“Are you really going to wear that?” she'd scoff, eyeing your outfit with disdain. “You know I can’t be seen with someone who dresses like they’ve just rolled out of bed.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the sting lingered.

And then there were the late-night texts, the ones that should have been sweet but instead came wrapped in barbs.

“You’re still at home? Wow, I figured you’d have outgrown that loser phase by now.” She’d dismiss your attempts at conversation with an eye-roll emoji, as if your thoughts were nothing more than noise.

But it didn’t stop there. Every time you shared an accomplishment, her reaction felt like a punch to the gut.

“Nice job, I guess. But did you really think you’d be the best? Get real.” The first time it happened, you’d been so proud of yourself. Now? It just made you feel small, insignificant.

And it wasn’t just the words. Her actions stung too.

When you invited her to your family’s gatherings, she’d show up late, tossing off excuses with a smirk, leaving you to face your relatives alone while they questioned your choices.

“You’re not going to let them set you up with anyone, right? I mean, look at you,” she’d say, and you’d feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

When you confronted her about it, you’d been hopeful, thinking maybe she just didn’t realize how her words affected you.

“Aeri, it hurts when you talk to me like that,” you’d say, voice trembling slightly. But instead of a comforting response, she’d laugh, brushing you off.

“It’s just how I am. If you can’t take a little heat, then maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

Every insult chipped away at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You found yourself hesitating to share anything with her, fearing her reaction would cut you deeper. Wasn’t love supposed to lift you up? Instead, she made you feel like you were constantly on the edge of a cliff, teetering between despair and defeat.

The breaking point arrived like a thief in the night. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Giselle plopped down next to you, scrolling through her own feed. “Why do you spend so much time staring at that? It’s embarrassing to watch,” she said, her tone dismissive, like she was talking to a child.

“Just catching up on things,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but she rolled her eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Just admit it—you’re wasting your life on this junk. You should be out doing something worthwhile instead of living in your phone.”

And that was it. That was the moment everything fell into place—the endless string of insults, the constant belittling, the nagging voice in your head that told you you were never good enough. You were exhausted, drained from the battle of trying to please her while she tore you down.

“Why do you talk to me like this?” you finally asked, voice soft but strained. “You… you didn’t used to. We didn’t used to be like this.”

For a moment, a flash of something crossed her face—surprise, maybe. But it was gone before you could even grasp it. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe you’ve just stopped living up to expectations. People change, you know. Or did you think you'd be the same forever?"

And there it was, her words hanging in the air like poison. You could feel your grip slipping, whatever shred of patience you’d been holding onto breaking apart. It felt like all those memories—the good ones—were slipping out of reach, fading like distant dreams.

With a deep breath, you gently pried her hand off your wrist, letting it drop. "I loved you, Aeri. So much. But… this isn’t love anymore. It can’t be."

For a moment, the silence was unbearable. She just looked at you, her gaze flickering between a hundred emotions that she was probably fighting to hold back.

But you couldn’t stay. Not this time. Without another word, you turned, letting the pain settle in your chest as you walked away. You didn’t look back—couldn’t look back—because if you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep going.

And as you stepped out into the open air, the weight of it all came crashing down, the memories, the love, the heartbreak.

It was over.

-

The days after the breakup passed in a blur. It was like walking through a fog where time lost meaning, and every step felt heavier than the last. You’d try to distract yourself, burying your head in anything that didn’t remind you of her—work, friends, even old hobbies you’d forgotten about.

But she was everywhere, haunting your thoughts like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

Every morning felt like waking up with a hollow ache, like something vital had been ripped away and left behind a void. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, and the thought of her would drift in, unbidden. You’d remember the warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes used to light up, the small things you’d loved about her before everything went cold. But then, as always, the memories of her words would resurface—the cutting remarks, the icy looks, the way she seemed to take joy in tearing you down. It was a twisted mix of love and hurt, a scar too deep to simply fade.

Yet, every time you felt the familiar ache start to ease, you’d see something that reminded you she’d moved on faster than you could even breathe. A passing rumour, a social media post, or friends mentioning her out at parties, laughing and smiling like she hadn’t lost a thing. It felt like a punch to the gut every time, like she’d left you struggling while she skipped off, unbothered.

One night, as you were out with friends, someone casually mentioned seeing her with someone else, some guy you vaguely remembered from school. “They looked close,” your friend said offhandedly, not knowing the silent chaos those words set off inside you. You forced a smile, tried to shrug it off, but inside, it felt like reopening an old wound. She had already moved on, it seemed. To her, whatever you’d had was just another chapter easily closed.

But for you, it wasn’t that simple.

You’d thought you’d hate her for it, for how quick she seemed to erase you from her life. But all you felt was numbness—a hollow ache that refused to fade. You wanted to forget her, to move on as easily as she had, but that scar ran too deep. It was the kind of hurt that sat heavy in your chest, that kept you awake at night, wondering if you’d meant anything to her at all.

-

For Giselle, it was different.

She had always been good at compartmentalizing, at locking away her emotions somewhere they couldn’t hurt her. To her, breaking up felt like ripping off a bandage—quick, clean, and necessary. She had convinced herself that it was better this way, that maybe her words hadn’t been that harsh, that maybe you just weren’t strong enough to handle her. It was easier that way, to justify it as your fault.

The first few weeks were easy enough. She threw herself into her life, meeting new people, going out more, laughing louder, living harder. To anyone watching, she seemed fine—more than fine, even. But every so often, in the quiet moments, she’d feel the echo of your absence, a strange emptiness that crept in like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She would scroll through her phone, accidentally stumbling upon old photos of you and her, looking so carefree, so close. Her thumb would hover over the screen for a second, maybe two, before she would snap out of it, closing it out and shoving the memories back down. Those images, those memories—they belonged to a time that was over, she reminded herself.

You were just someone she’d grown out of, that was all.

But as the months went on, that hollow feeling gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit. She’d be at a party, surrounded by people, laughing and smiling, but somehow, she’d feel like something was missing. She’d catch herself looking for you in the crowd, expecting to see your familiar face, only to be met with strangers. She’d brush it off, remind herself that she’d made the right choice, that she’d only been honest with you, even if the truth hurt.

But every so often, in the quiet of her room, she’d find herself staring at her reflection, wondering if she’d been too harsh, if she’d let go of something too quickly. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but there was a part of her that felt like she’d lost more than she wanted to.

-

As for you, time passed, but the scar remained. You’d tried moving on, had even gone out on a few dates here and there. But no one quite fit, no one felt like home the way she had. You were left with memories that haunted you, moments that hurt to remember but felt impossible to forget. You knew, deep down, that she wasn’t the same girl you’d grown up with, that the person you’d loved was long gone.

And yet, the weight of it sat heavy, like an invisible chain holding you back.

You stopped going to the places you used to frequent together, stopped listening to the songs you both loved. You thought distance would help, that if you could just put enough space between you and her memory, you’d finally be free. But the scar she left was too deep. The memories didn’t fade; they stayed with you, a constant reminder of a love that had turned bitter.

The worst part was, you realized, that you still loved her in some twisted way. The memories of her, of the good times before everything fell apart, were a part of you that you couldn’t let go. She was a scar you couldn’t heal, a ghost you couldn’t escape.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you was afraid that you’d never be able to let her go entirely.

-

Giselle wasn’t sure what went wrong.

One moment, she was heading home after yet another bad date, heels clicking against the pavement as she clutched her phone, scrolling through a string of half-hearted messages from the guy who’d seemed like a good match on paper but ended up as anything but. He’d been polite, decent-looking, even funny at times. But the entire night had felt… hollow. Forced. Empty in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.

She barely noticed her own steps changing direction, her feet carrying her somewhere familiar, somewhere she hadn’t been in ages. And before she knew it, she was standing at the edge of the old playground where you and she had spent countless afternoons together, racing down slides and swinging as high as you could go, daring each other to jump off at the last second.

The place hadn’t changed. The swings still creaked in that comforting, rusty way, and the worn-out slide was the same as ever. A wave of nostalgia hit her, stirring something deep inside. She almost smiled, but the ache in her chest was too sharp.

What had she even been thinking, she wondered, letting you go like that? She’d told herself it was your fault, that you’d been too sensitive, too weak. She’d built up a wall, convinced herself she’d done the right thing. But standing here, she felt the cracks in that wall spreading, threatening to bring everything down with it.

Her hand brushed over the chipped paint of the slide, a strange sadness bubbling up. She could almost see you there, hear your laughter, the way you’d tease her for being afraid to jump off the swing while you soared through the air without a second thought. Those moments had felt so simple, so… real.

She realized, with a sinking feeling, that maybe she’d lost the one person who had ever truly understood her.

She glanced around the empty playground, a hollow sense of regret settling in. She had dated since then, had gone out with people who showered her with compliments and treated her well enough. But none of them had ever made her feel the way you did. None of them had seen her the way you had. She tried to shake the thought away, but it clung to her, a stubborn ghost that refused to let go.

-

Meanwhile, you were… okay. Better than okay, actually.

It hadn’t been easy, getting over her. For months, the weight of her memory had felt like an anchor, dragging you down, keeping you tethered to a past that hurt to remember. But somewhere along the way, you’d managed to shake it off, bit by bit. You’d thrown yourself into new things, surrounded yourself with friends who brought out the best in you. Life was lighter now, free of the constant ache that used to sit heavy in your chest.

You’d learned to enjoy your own company again, to go out without the shadow of her looming over you. You went to new places, met new people, tried things you’d never thought to try before. There were days you didn’t think of her at all, days when you felt like yourself again, like a weight had lifted and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be.

One night, while out with friends, you found yourself laughing so hard your stomach hurt, genuinely, for the first time in a long time.

It was strange, realizing you didn’t miss her anymore.

The ache had faded, replaced by a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of what was and what could never be again. You were okay with it. You were happy, even.

You hadn’t looked back at the old playground in months, hadn’t let yourself go back to the places that reminded you of her. You’d finally put that chapter behind you.

And it felt…liberating.

-

Back at the playground, Giselle sat down on one of the swings, her hands loosely gripping the chains as she rocked back and forth, letting the memories wash over her. She could almost hear your voice, the way you’d laugh as you tried to push her higher, always challenging her to go beyond what she thought she could. Back then, she’d loved that about you. Now, she felt the loss of it, sharp and unrelenting.

She was supposed to have moved on. That’s what she’d told herself, what she’d wanted to believe.

But in the quiet of the night, alone in a place filled with ghosts of what used to be, she felt the sting of regret settle in her chest like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It was different from her other breakups, the kind that left her with nothing more than a faint memory, forgotten after a few weeks. This one hurt in a way she hadn’t expected, a scar too deep to ignore.

Maybe the both of you were childhood friends? Maybe the both of you were each other's first love? Maybe this was you two's first break up?

It hit her, suddenly, how much she missed you. How much she missed *everything*—the quiet talks, the shared laughs, the way you’d been there for her, even when she pushed you away. She’d tried to bury it, to pretend it hadn’t mattered, but now, sitting alone in the darkness, she couldn’t escape it.

And maybe, she realized with a bitter smile, this was the cost of letting someone who truly cared about you slip away. The echoes of what could have been lingered, haunting her with every swing of the chains, every quiet creak.

She wondered if you’d forgiven her, if you’d moved on the way she was supposed to. The thought hurt more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she’d never get an answer. You were out there somewhere, living a life she wasn’t part of anymore. And she had no one to blame but herself.

The playground was empty and silent as she rose from the swing, feeling the weight of her own choices settle in, unshakeable.

-

The tunes whistled from your mouth were light and airy.

You decided to take a break from your routine one evening, heading out to grab some groceries. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the streets as you walked down familiar paths, feeling at ease in the skin you were slowly rediscovering. Life felt good, lighter without the weight of your past relationship clinging to you. The grocery store was just around the corner, and as you pushed through the automatic doors, the familiar sounds of carts and chatter surrounded you.

You grabbed a basket and began making your way through the aisles, casually tossing in essentials—bread, eggs, some snacks for your late-night snacks. The mundane act of grocery shopping was comforting, a small, simple pleasure. But as you rounded the corner into the liquor section, you froze.

Giselle.

Arms full of booze, like she was gearing up for a rough night. She wore the same careless look she’d always worn, lips slightly pursed, eyes focused on the labels with a calculated indifference. And then, without thinking, you let out a small, involuntary laugh.

It was almost comical, really.

After everything, after the breakup and the haunting memories, here she was, acting like nothing had changed. Like she could just keep moving on in that easy, self-assured way of hers. But something about the way she clutched that last bottle, fingers trembling just slightly, caught you off guard.

“Hey,” you found yourself saying, before you could think better of it.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly, then narrowed into something unreadable. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was sharp, almost mocking. Same old Giselle. She gave a short, cold laugh, tossing her hair back as if to brush you off like you were nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

“Just… groceries.” You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness settle between you. But something kept you there, rooted to the spot. Despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

She watched you for a moment, her mouth twisting into something almost like a smirk, but there was a crack in her facade that you could see now—a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She tried to hide it, tried to carry herself with that same arrogant pride, but it was different. Her eyes looked hollow, a little desperate.

Without another word, you took some of the bottles from her, your hands brushing for a second. She didn’t resist, didn’t argue. She just looked away, almost embarrassed, and it was the most real she’d been in a long time.

“Let me at least walk you back,” you said, more of a statement than a question. "You don't want to just sleep on the street now, right?"

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Not like I need your help, though.” Her voice was cold, dismissive, but the flicker of pain in her eyes betrayed her. She’d always been too proud to show any weakness, to admit when she was struggling.

The walk was quiet, filled with that uncomfortable silence that you both knew too well. She stumbled once, catching herself on your arm. You didn’t say anything, just steadied her, feeling the weight of everything left unspoken between you. Her grip tightened, and you could feel her fingers digging into your arm, like she was holding on to something more than just her balance.

After a while, you realized where you were headed—a nondescript hotel on the edge of town, the kind that began to run down after a few years, the kind with rooms that can be comparable to a prison cell. She let go of your arm, a bit too quickly, her face flushing as she fumbled with her keys.

“Staying here?” You couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Just for now,” she replied, jaw clenched, defiance in her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Why not just… I don’t know, go home? Or crash at a friend’s place?” You tried to keep the curiosity out of your tone, but the question hung heavy in the air.

She scoffed, but it sounded hollow, forced. “Why would I? I can take care of myself. Don’t need anyone.” But her voice wavered, just slightly, and for a second, she looked like she might break. She didn’t want to admit it, but you could see it in her eyes—she was struggling.

You sighed, a mix of frustration and pity welling up inside you. “Aeri… what are you doing?” You shook your head, feeling the weight of everything come rushing back, all the hurt, the pain she’d put you through. “This is just… horrible. Why are you even putting yourself through this?”

Her eyes flashed, that old arrogance flaring up. “What, you think I need you to tell me what to do?” She crossed her arms, glaring at you, but you could see the hint of desperation beneath the bravado.

“Actually, yeah,” you shot back, feeling your anger rise. “Because this? This isn’t strength, Aeri. This is you hiding, pretending like you don’t need anyone. Like you didn’t just ruin everything because you couldn’t handle being honest.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “Oh, and you’re the expert now?” Her voice was mocking, but her eyes betrayed her. “You don’t get it. I did it for us. I thought… I thought if I made you think I was all you had, that you’d never leave.”

You felt your chest tighten, anger flaring up like a wildfire. “All you had to do was be real with me! All you had to do was let me see the real you, not this… mask you wore every day. You broke me down, Aeri. And for what? Some twisted idea that I’d stay because I had no choice?”

She looked away, her hands clenched at her sides, her mouth a thin, stubborn line. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d actually go.” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability you’d never seen before.

“Well, I did. Because you left me with no choice.” You felt the weight of those words, felt the pain they carried. “And now… it’s too late. I can’t go back to who I was with you. You broke that part of me, Aeri.”

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, she just stood there, staring at you, her pride shattered, her arrogance stripped away. And for the first time, you saw her—really saw her—raw, broken, and alone.

You stepped back, letting out a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Aeri. Our love was great…until it wasn't. ”

As you turned to leave, you heard it—a faint, choked sound, like the start of a sob. You didn’t turn around, didn’t let yourself look back. But in that moment, you knew. She was crying, silently, the first real tears for everything you’d both lost.

And you walked away, leaving her with the fragments of a love that could never be whole again.

[humanelemental]

Ok but picture this, Agatha goes on a life death?changing field trip with Billy. Probably they find Tommy and Wanda, and Wanda restores Agatha’s body since she kind of saved both her kids.

Rio expects Agatha to run as soon as her feet physically hit solid ground again, but she just…doesn’t. Like Rio shows up and is all, “what’s it going to be? Where are you going to run this time coward???”

And Agatha just looks at her, looks around, looks at her and is like, “did I not tell you to fix my damn yard?”

Rio is stunned. Like of all the responses. And Agatha is being (mostly) serious. She clearly expects Death (capital D) to do her damn landscaping. And before Rio can figure out how to react, Agatha is like, “that includes my door and sink. Who tf throws the actual kitchen sink at someone. It’s supposed to be a figure of speech, you overgrown hipster!” And just throws her hands in the air and starts towards the house. Rio is so flabbergasted that she just leaves for a bit. But not before fixing the door. Every time she comes back she expects Agatha to be gone, but nope, there she is, inexplicably hanging out in New Jersey. Sometimes she’s teaching the boys. Sometimes she and Wanda are having philosophical arguments (aka she’s also teaching Wanda but neither is willing to admit it. Rio refuses to leave until Wanda does on those occasions.)

Occasionally she takes trips to other places for various reasons. She nails a note to the door specifically for Rio with detailed instructions for Señor Scratchy and a plea to leave her damn azaleas alone. (Rio does not, and Agatha often comes home to a well fed bunny and man-eating flowers. How one makes azaleas man-eating is anyone’s guess, but Agatha’s money is on semi-divine spite.) Every time she returns to find Rio sulking on the porch. Which is odd because sometimes she has to rush out of the house to get in position. Like Agatha has started to walk up her driveway and seen Rio fling herself out the door and onto the front steps to glare at her. (Señor is a very relaxing bunny and sometimes Rio loses track of time ok.) Neither of them discuss this beyond Agatha rolling her eyes and inviting her back in for a drink or dinner or what have you.

This continues for a truly obnoxious amount of time until Rio finally decides that Agatha is done hiding from her and decides to become the biggest nuisance in existence. Agatha is always annoyed but she never sends Rio away. The worst she does is bitch and moan, and occasionally throw something at her ex-maybe current-wife. If she’s doing something truly important, or, more often, if it looks like Rio is thinking a little too hard about murdering the twins, she’ll tell her to go play somewhere else for a bit. Rio always snarls and growls but she usually heads off for a couple of days. The problem is almost always that she’s either bored or stressed. She always finds herself back in Westview to annoy Agatha eventually. (Sometimes if she’s in a very good mood, Rio will help with the twins’ lessons. But don’t tell anyone.)

Eventually they settle into what everyone else can tell is a relationship, but which they both firmly deny is anything more than a convent arrangement. They make this everyone’s problem, in true agathario fashion, but no one seems to really mind.

Idk, just something I have rattling around in my head.

[ktlurksforsomereason]

Obxanon is not reliable, they're just directing hate away from the Pates and onto Rudy+Elaine.

I'm gonna say this one time and then I gotta jump this ship. And before I get called a Rudy stan or wtfever, I'm trying to be as objective as possible. No one here is in the right. I just want people to think about the bigger picture.

Obxanon is not reliable, and the way they present the information is bias.

I'm not saying that there isn't truth to their story. I'm not saying that nothing happened behind the scenes. I don't believe the producers when they say they planned JJ's death from the beginning. I don't believe the fake PR that says there is no beef between Rudy and Madison. We know there is. We can see the tension between them in the show, and we can see it behind the scenes. There's proof that something is wrong. But we don't know WHAT and WHY.

What I am saying is that just because obxanon has some truth and some insight, it does not mean that everything they say is true. And the way they are presenting us this information paints everyone in a positive light except Rudy and Madison. That's bias.

Obxanon excuses the Pate's decision to kill JJ, saying they were "rightfully upset." That was their decision, not Rudy's. That death and the horrible way it was written is on them.

Obxanon also says Elaine was jealous, but doesn't tell us WHY. They say there was conflict between Elaine and the Pates, Elaine and Lilah, Elaine and Madison, but they don't tell us WHY. That leaves it open to speculation, it leaves people to fill in the blanks. Obxanon offers us zero insight into how Elaine felt, why she was upset, why there was conflict. It just paints Elaine as the problem and forces us to guess WHY.

Obxanon says Rudy decided to leave the show and suggests it had something to do with Elaine, but they don't actually tell us WHY. Again, leaves it open to speculation.

Everything obxanon is saying is BIAS. They do nothing to explain Rudy and Elaine's reasons for anything. I'm not saying they're good people and they made healthy choices, but obxanon is trying to imply that they are BAD people and they made HORRIBLE choices. That is bias.

They are HUMANS. They make choices for a reason. If there was actually conflict between Elaine and Madison for YEARS behind the scenes, there are REASONS for this conflict. And we don't know these reasons. Obxanon isn't tell us. Rudy and Elaine aren't telling us. Madison and Mariah aren't telling us. WE DON'T KNOW.

I just need people to really think about the information we're getting from obxanon and why they might be painting it like this. I think it's PR. I think it is distracting us from how angry we feel about the show, and is channeling that anger onto Rudy and Elaine. Who have never, NEVER spoken about this conflict and have never tried to justify anything. They're private people. They're easy targets for a PR campaign like this.

There is something seriously wrong with obxanon and the way they are giving us information. Netflix and the Pates know this fandom. They know how hateful they can be. Obxanon is just tapping into that and fuelling it away from the show and onto Rudy.

You need to remember where we started. Fans love Jiara because they love JJ. So many people love this show because they love JJ. That's obviously clear, look at the uproar over his death. You know why they love JJ? Because Rudy created him and made us love him. Rudy did that. Rudy gave us that.

We would not care about JJ or Jiara if Rudy didn't do the work that he did. And here everyone is, hating on him. Hoping his career fails. Hoping he breaks up with his partner.

That's gross.

I understand why people are mad. Season 4 was a shitshow. Terrible writing, ridiculous plot holes, character assassination, a loss of chemistry between the fan favourite couple. Finished off with a completely traumatizing and unsatisfying death of the favourite character. The show is irreparably damaged.

THAT IS NOT RUDY'S FAULT.

I'm not saying he didn't play a part in it, but it is not JUST on him. And alllllll of that anger is being directed at him in the form of bullying and hatred.

He's a person. People make mistakes. But they also make choices for themselves, and clearly he felt he needed to make this choice. We can't judge that unless we know the reason and WE DON'T.

I will not watch season 5 and that is the Pate's fault for completely losing the plot. For not understanding why so many fans loved this show.

I also need to leave this fandom because people are so hateful and NO ONE is thinking critically about the situation.

Please try to look at the bigger picture. Please try to understand that these people are human beings. We don't know them. We don't know what happened on that set. We don't know why anyone made the choices we did. So chill out?

Be upset about the show but don't be upset with the actors. They did their job and it's done. Leave them alone.

[smoothriverrocksrock]

(parody)

AITA For unionizing against my shitty boss?

So I (27 C) and my friend O (27 C) have been working at the same job for cycles. It’s in horrible conditions, the mortality rate is crazy, and we don’t even get insurances. But hey, it’s an important job and someone has to do it, right? We’ve been working at this job together for the same amount of time, and we’ve become good friends outside of it. We also had this supervisor, E (29 C), who was super strict, but she was also really good at her job which is a blessing among supervisors so none of us complained. Well one day we had a work accident and E got blamed for it. Totally unfair, and it wasn’t even close to being her fault (she was the reason there weren’t any casualties!). Then O and I found out that if someone - ANYONE - with a high enough ranking in the corporate ladder gets pissed at you they can demote you into oblivion. We found this other guy, B (24 C), and apparently he’s been stuck in the same position for longer than he can remember after that happened to him.

Talking with B, O and I learned that we might have a lead towards finding this really important key the previous boss had lost. So we left. Not quitting, not yet, but we left to find the key. We also found E along the way, so it was myself, O, E, and B. Some time passed and then we met this guy, A (??? C), who turned out to be an old boss at our work who got replaced. He told us all about how workers at the company used to have things like rights and insurance and whatever, and how that all changed after the previous secretary murdered all the other old chairmen (minus A). I, and the others, were understandably pissed!! We also found out that the only reason our shitty job exists is because our new boss somehow fumbled a renewable resource and made it extinct. Honestly for a while I kinda thought our group and I were on the same page after this. I mean, the only obvious solution right now was to unionize, right? Kick out the current boss, reestablish rights, be the change we want to see in the world. A helped us gather some evidence against our boss, and we were going to go show it to everybody when he kinda got kidnapped. It was a whole thing, but what matters is that we learned that a LOT of people got laid-off because of the current boss. It was bad, they all became homeless after losing their jobs and were living in a comunal shelter together. I also gained the homeless group’s respect by beating the shit out of their leader, but again, that’s a whole other thing.

Some more stuff happens (It was a weird two days) and eventually I get the chance to really tell my boss how I feel. So I do. Yeah that didn’t go very well. Luckily O and E crashed a train into the building before I could get murdered, but I was still determined to unionize. I hunted down our boss until I had him cornered, but at the last second O stopped me from unionizing! What?! He said some stuff about morality and some “murder is wrong” bullshit and I couldn’t believe it! The same person who worked with me for cycles, who suffered all the same things I did, who was with me every step of this journey, didn’t want to unionize with me? The fuck? Is he stupid???

BFF for life or not, I wasn’t about to let O stop me. Some kinda personal stuff happened after that, but I did it! I unionized against our boss! The homeless gang was around so I recruited them into my union, but for some reason E and B were really freaking out about what I did. I tried convincing them to join me, but then O started getting in on it, and get this: he had been promoted! And was trying to use his new power against me!! Unacceptable

So I tried to unionize against O, but he just fired me. Now I have to live with the homeless gang, but they’re alright I guess. Our union’s been going good, we have a logo now, but the situation still doesn’t sit right with me

[applbottmjeens]

PREDECESSOR AND PROGENY

tags: mentions of domestic violence, implied abuse, divorced Phillip Graves bc that is a man who has 100% been married before, age gap mention, power dynamic mention, Jack Graves mention, I DO NOT WRITE GRAVES AS A GOOD MAN.

summary: The woman once known as Irene Graves tries to save a girl from a similar fate.

She heard about her only in passing and in fits of frustration. He never called her by name. Just his “bitch of an ex wife” or “the ex”, dehumanizing her and demonizing the mother of his only son.

She's met his son. The closeness in age was enough to shake them. His name was Jack, and he was a splitting image of his dad- with a kindness in his eyes that was missing from it's father.

She recalls meeting Jack being looked upon with a mix of concern, pity, and horror behind a veneer of southern politeness Annie couldn't penetrate.

It isn't until she meets Irene, really meets her, that Annie understands Jack- he has Phillip's face. He has his mind. But that heart, that humanity…

Its all Irene Williams.

Strawberry blonde with red lips and a pair of baby blues that saw right through her. This woman was elegant. Beautiful. Nothing like the vindictive witch Phillip made her to be.

She sits across from her at this Cafe, assuring Anna that “he doesn't know this place. And if he did, he wouldn't think of showing up.” To reassure her. She knows Anna is at an edge. Scared.

Across from her, Irene assesses the fly caught in Phillip's web. She's young. And yet she already looks like he's put her through the fucking wringer. God this man had a talent. She thinks sarcastically, the hunched over young woman sheepishly drinking her tea.

Phillip always did like his share of pretty, tan brunettes. He'd cheated on her with one when they were still in highschool- but she'd forgiven him easily back then- After all, she wasn't being too loyal either.

“...I'm glad you finally decided to answer my emails, Miss Pham.” Irene speaks. “Can I call you Anna?” The girl nods.

Anna finally meets her eyes. Such sad, brown little eyes. “...He always told me to-”

“Ignore them.” They say at the same time.

“Ignore them?- That what I was saying was a bunch of horseshit? Yeah. I figured.” Irene shakes her head. Phillip Graves was still so predictable to her.

She laughs. Anna’s guard is still up. But of course. Irene was always the bad guy in Phillip’s stories.

“How long have you and Phillip been…together?” Irene asks.

Annie pauses. “Officially?...About…Two years.”

“Marriage?” Irene interrogates the girl. She knows she's coming off a bit strong- but from what she's heard of that girl? She should be biting back.

“He…Implies it.” Anna says meekly, almost shy, embarrassed.

“Any babies in the picture?”

“...I have a son.”

“His?” Irene raises a brow, sighing when the younger woman shakes her head no.

“I'm guessing Phillip's sinking his teeth into that one.” Her green eyes glance down at her cup. “I'm not proud to say I deprived that man of fatherhood. I wouldn't let him see Jack till he was around fifteen. Didn't want him ruining my boy.” Irene shifts in her chair. “I suppose Phillip is doing some…compensating on his part for yours.”

She thinks about when Jack told her about his encounter with Phillip's new squeeze when he came to visit once last year- the girl was mortified upon meeting him, but so sweet and bubbly nonetheless.

“I don't think she knew I existed ‘til we met that day.” Jack admitted to his mother over the phone. He recalled seeing his father a bit anxious as Anna told him, “Phillip never mentioned a son to me.” With a strained smile.

She'd never have dated him if she knew he had a kid her age for sure.

Irene was admittedly, a bit miffed realizing Phillip had roped someone else into his bullshit- learning she's young. She's pretty. Not surprised she's military either.

And to meet her and see the damage done is, pitying.

“...What's your son's name?” Irene asks, and Annie takes her phone to show a little baby with the most furrowed brow in irritation she's ever seen- but cute. Undeniably so.

“His name is Sylas Thomas- But…I just call him Tommy.” She says quietly.

“His father is…?”

“...Not in the picture” Annie admits, looking sad. “He…got deported the day I found out I was pregnant. I…I don’t know why he won’t talk to me.”

“...Sad coincidence.” Irene mumbles. Maybe not so much of a coincidence- but it would hurt to kick her while she's still down. It would be just like Phillip to deport her man… And threaten him into no contact. He was fiercely protective of what he thought was his.

“When I found out I was pregnant with Jack, I was already finishing the divorce proceedings.” Irene explains. She had a solid case for primary custody- bruises. Settled out of court, without any charges and he fucked off once he realized she'd won.

“I'm not going to tell you what to do, Anna.” Irene speaks low. “...But I'm sure you've heard your fair share of warnings. And this is me, someone who's been in your shoes, warning you to run before you end up carryin’ his baby too.”

But the girl only wilts like a flower deprived of water.

“I can't go.” Anna sighs. “He's all I have now.”

“He will take more if you keep letting him take at all.” Irene insisted. “...I'm sure you think he loves you. I'm sure he thinks he does too…” Irene's eyes close as she remembers their old life. Church on Sundays. Dancing in the kitchen. Calling when he could. “...Don't let him make you a victim, Anna. Don't make him the one that'll save you- because he won't be.”

Irene gives her her number. She registers it under “Salon” in case Phillip peeks through her contacts again. He’d begun doing that lately.

Irene leaves that Cafe hoping she got through to her somehow. That even if she stays, she won't let that bastard step on her.

Phillip Graves was a wound on women. He couldn't help but forget they're people, not toys. It was in his nature to conquer.

And that girl was finding out the hard way.

“Bless your heart, Annabelle Pham.” Irene murmurs as she gets in the back of her chauffered car.

[cryptid-killjoy]

Seven knew Piper was one of the special ones. No matter how many paramours Pierre went through he could tell Piper was different to him, just like he and Zero were different to him. Seven never was about calling anyone the one or putting people in some ranked order. What he knew was what he saw. Piper meant something to Pierre. He and Zero were his best bros for a reason and that was that, just like Brigette had a way of being special to them all too when she was alive. There were just some people that stood out.

Zero was feeling that kind of special right then. When Pierre said he'd be sandwiched soon it was all he could to do hold back from howling as he gave a little yes jump in his stride as they walked. Memories filled his mind of lazy days in bed, the smell of weed in the air mixed with Seven and Pierre's cologne totally spent. The tv would be on and nobody would be paying attention it all hands on him petting him in the afters. The two best friends he ever a guy could ever want. He stood there with a dreamy face for quite a while after that. Those were the days.

Piper laughed out right. "Okay. Yes. I missed the mane." She even reached up to run her hands through both sides. She couldn't quit smiling either.

Clotho, the blonde had a way of being pulled in the most by the beautiful compliment. They were nothing less than the Sanderson Sisters by comparison. There was no black flame candle needed, but they were the sort to do what needed to be done when their age was showing. It was probably noted over the years of knowing Seven that they might look more washed out at times, even grey, and then show up rather revived and youthful again the next time. But it was Clotho who held youth dearest to her heart.

"I'm feeling rather ravishing, thank you. You always were a favorite friend of Seven's to me." Oh yes, she'd return the compliment in the most self-indulgent way. "You were a boy that always noticed, but how could you not?" Oh yeah, she was feeling good tonight. "We'll all be glad to have you back, my boy."

Piper, who did not know the Fate sisters until recently could only marvel at the interaction and think it made sense now why Seven was the way he was surrounded by such personalities. She never once imagined people might look at her and dissect Kuzco and Clopin and think all her mysteries were unlocked.

Everything was explained to Pierre and despite it appearing as if it might have rattled him that Seven was going first, everyone held strong.

This was it.

The moments ticked and the moments tocked after Piper and Seven disappeared into the magic of the string.

Zero continued to shift involuntarily in his nervousness. So, Pierre would keep feeling the change of a full body to the wisp of cold holding onto him. No matter the form Zero didn't let go. Pierre was his grounding stone. It was anxiousness, but it was also excitement. The longer it took the antsier he got and it was harder to hold still. Zero's energy was amped to a wattage he could barely contain making his hips shake. All the things he kept inside that were pent up as he held onto Pierre's side just burst out of his mouth in one big roll like periods were never invented for sentences much less breaths.

"I'm-sorry I never visited you on the other side even though I could I really wanted to sometimes I just couldn't do it again I just couldn't do it not again I've done it before searching and searching for a lost friend and I guess they didn't want to be found because I never found them and I couldn't feel that way again I just couldn't I couldn't feel like I wasn't wanted again I was scared I was just fucking scared not of the other side just of that feeling I feel it so much and I just really want to be sandwiched okay?"

His way of saying he used to feel wanted when Pierre and Seven were alive. Being a loyal as a dog best friend is hard when he's been the dog people left in the woods like they were going for a walk together but ran not realizing he was being ghosted, pun intended.

Then right when he got his final words out and as he was searching Pierre's face for a reaction and finally taking a big breath Seven and Piper reappeared.

Zero's eyes turned first. A smile started to grow. He turned completely tangible.

Seven stood there with that oh so Seven smile.

"Oh that was fun, mates."

He kept moving his hands and his fingers trying to feel the difference than before. Zero ran for him. Everyone was hugging him. His mothers were in the way. It left Zero bouncing on the outside until Seven pulled him.

Piper shook her head at all of it.

"We don't have time for this. Come on Pierre. Your turn. Welcome homes later. We're on a clock." Then she put out her hand.

Seven heard that and went, "Go, go, go!"

Seven's mothers were quick to get on their duty pulling a cut and very dead looking string along with a live string as the crunch for time set in. Piper would grab his hand. The same procedures would run with the twist of the hourglass.

Then the next thing Pierre would know he'd see himself and Piper before them through the view of a cracked door.

In a bath.

Intimate.

Music was coming from another source outside of that room. Violins.

The Piper that was still holding his hand pulled down fast to hide. "Shh." She clued him in quick to be quiet as they stayed hunkered down behind the crack of a closet door. They were in some sort of castle interior. A roaring fire was crackling. She whispered quite soft, "We don't want to be seen." Still, she couldn't help but smile. "Guess we're attracted to one another in every universe."

Turning an hourglass was never an exact science in comparison to a clock. She was close. She'd been here so many times to practice. She knew there was a little time to pass before their big moment. Time to tell Pierre the plan.

"We have to wait for just the right moment. We're going to live body snatch and leave your dead body in this time just seconds before the moment of your death here, so it doesn't disrupt much of the timeline. We steal it while it's still alive. They were about to be dead here anyway. Your job is to possess it when I say. It will leave your tangible earth walking Halloween body here. Then you come home with your own body. For now, we wait."

It was the same instructions she gave to Seven. He'd stolen another body from another timeline and left his tangible Halloween body in its stead. When the night ended there and it decayed faster than normal or disappeared it might seem a mystery to those left behind, but the people themselves were going to be dead anyway. If she pulled a person from their death and switched them out the Fates already knew they were able to step into a new universe and continue to thrive. These were magics that skirted darker ethics Piper had been learning from the Fates in secrecy because secrecy was part of the vow she took to be able to learn them. It was very Geppeto and Willem when it came to respect of their darker arts.

She'd look back at the pair in the water and smirk. Then she'd look at her deceased friend beside her. "Self porn. Who knew you could watch it live?"

“Real sex, real sex, real sex,” Pierre started up a little chant, pumping his hand up in the air like he was some sort of ringmaster in a circus. That’s one of the things that he missed the most, and he wasn’t ashamed to say it.

“Man, I miss that girl,” He said, knowing that he had fucked it up with her forever that day that the Laveaus had stormed upon his house. That’s what it had felt like. An assault. A complete siege, with his mother and sister saying that they were leaving, packing their things, and his father just being an asshole and nodding, letting it happen. Though he did regret how it went down, he didn’t regret being the only one that was fighting for his family to stay together. Big lot of good that did. There was no family anymore.

He’d caught sight of her for a moment at the ball, but hadn’t dared approach, not that he had the time. Piper had been the one to claim all of it, and then gave him strict orders to meet her by the tree, which he was following, though perhaps a little more leisurely than she might have liked.

He moved up behind Zero, and put his hands on his hips, dancing his fingers over the jutting hipbones. He always was a skinny little guy. The picture-perfect definition of a twink. “Of course, pup. You’re going to be sandwiched in no time,” He promised.

He only let go of his boys when Piper took over his attention again. She had a way of doing that, of drawing all eyes to her. Like the rest of the world could be entirely blocked out, he was scoped right in. He wrapped his arms around her, thin waist and all, as she seemed to groom him, making him chuckle. “You missed the mane, didn’t you?” He teased lightly, holding her closer, nuzzling his nose against her cheek and kissing it.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” He said, eagerly, his dark eyes looking into her bright violet. The most beautiful eyes that he had ever seen, he would attest to that. No other ones had ever compared to the shocking color, made all the more bright and beautiful in contrast with her skin tone, and the naturally dark lashes that she had.

He looked over her shoulder at Seven who was getting all of the hugs from his mothers, and he chuckled, pulling back a little from Piper but he kept his arm around her, like he was scared of disappearing again. Which he was. Another year of waiting for this kind of communication, for this kind of chance? It would feel like an eon down there.

“Ahh, you know,” He laughed, keeping it casual with Seven’s moms. “The humidity isn’t great for the hair but I can’t say I ever got bored. Good to see you three ladies, looking as beautiful and youthful as ever.”

The moms huddled and Pierre looked back down towards Piper. “So you really figured out a way to bring us back? You’re … incredible,” He said, breathing heavily. Of course it was Piper. And he was confident enough in himself to believe that he was her first choice to do this with. But it still blew his mind that all of this was happening, and so fast.

He listened to the instructions and he felt a little nervous too that Seven was going to be going first. What if something went wrong? What if they couldn’t do it, and Pierre would have to return to Hell alone because Seven was put into some sort of limbo? He had to breathe again and he nodded towards his friend, his Hell-mate. “You got this, dude. And of course, Piper and Pierre, we can do anything.”

He nodded towards Piper though, understanding. Wait your turn. He wasn’t generally good at that but he could wait in this circumstance. “I’ll be good and patient, don’t worry,” He said, putting on his most charming grin.

He was reluctant to let Piper go too, though it was to help Seven. He’d keep a hand on her, squeezing hers, and then lightly touching her fingertips with his own until she was too far away to do so. Was he braver than before like the women were hinting? In some ways, perhaps. Time would tell. He may still do a Scooby-Doo jump into whoever was closest if there was ever a jumpscare, or seeing one of the fates with their hair in rollers and a green facemask. But he was going through with this, which was much scarier.

“I’ll be here,” He said, again. When Zero came to take Piper’s place, he put his arm around Zero’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. He kept it stiff, for when Zero went into his ghostly form, letting it hang on the air, until he became a little more corporeal again.

Pierre wasn’t changing his mind. No - he was watching intently, with wide eyes, one arm still out and the other going through his hair, like a comforting habit, pushing it up and out of his face.